There are points in time that connect. We rarely notice unless we look for them. Some times it is only a matter of the smallest things insignificantly connecting to each other through small moments leading to a larger intersecting out come. Threads tie all to a spot; they pull together to weave the mass tapestry that is the planet Earth, connecting the microscopic to the largest completed beast. It is always the same; even the great vast Universe and its alternatives have points of contact that many call destiny or divine intervention. It is with in this that we begin this story. The changes to a planet bought on by the lives of a unique few that some how pulled on these strings that connected to a bigger scheme of events started in the future. Or is it really the past?

They are a part of an organization called Torchwood. But that just a small part of the Universal chaos that caused a small City in Wales to change.

Through Love, It's the only way.

This is the continuing saga that began with two boys named Blue and Andy.

Almost three and a half years later, Mark is lost with out John…

Failings of Necessity:

The sweet sound of a shared climax brought both men to a halt. They lay there entwined in the bed sheets as their bodies slowed. Breathing heavily, lips were sought as an after tenderness kiss was shared.

"You are gorgeous! God where did you come from…?"

"If you say heaven I will leave this time for sure," came a dry reply. The words barely left his lips as Ben kissed him again. Mark gave into the temptation again, running his tongue over Ben's sweaty upper lip as the final pass.

"You are amazing, but you never smile. What stops you? We have been like this for a month, but you never smile." Looking into those deep brown bottomless eyes, Ben waited for the answer. He waited for answers to all his questions. He also knew the response.

"I have to go." Mark pushed himself out from under Ben and sat on the side of the bed for a moment before he stood to put his clothes on. He needed to leave; this was getting to be too comfortable. But every time he went to see John in their little play world, he longed for physical contact. He needed to pretend just for once that he was really in this world with the man he loved.

And what had John done the last few times? Pushed him away. "You need more than this, Mark. The children need a real father, not an imaginary Dad. I think you should let me go." John walked away. There was the heartbreaking sound as Jolein cried for him as John left the little world Mark and he had created for their visits.

Three weeks later, Ben came into the picture holding a coffee cup. He asked if the seat was taken in the packed establishment and a quick stare up and a shake no was all he needed to be hooked on the erotic man. He watched in silence as Mark sketched some pictures, not the slightest bit aware that he was being watched with fascination.

"You are very good," Ben commented leaving the thought open for a response. He was dying to hear this man speak. Mark didn't move, he just continued to draw. Ben sighed.

So with a grin on his face at finding someone to sit with, he opened up his laptop and began typing. The words, 'a young artist that is beyond beautiful for words sits before me and says nothing.' He stared at the words, not knowing what he should do next. But it was a start. It was the first words he wrote in months and he let the rest flow. He was smiling; some things were just too good.

Two hours later Mark stood, grabbed his pad and got up to leave. Ben stopped and looked up at him. The brown hair was worn long. He had a bearing of a young man but something made him seem older. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, the resting spot of the length of his brown hair. Ben couldn't quite peg it; there was just something that didn't quite fit with this guy. But he was a sight and he did clear his writer's block. Ben stood to say good-bye.

"Thanks you cleared up my writer's block, um, I'm grateful." He hesitated when all he got was a blank stare; Mark was not really looking at him.

"Oh great. Bye." Brown eyes, soft brown eyes gazed at him for an instant and he walked away just like that, disappeared into a black SUV that pulled up.

Ben caught a glimpse of the dark haired older man that was driving. "Great, not only is he beautiful and an artist, but he has a rich boyfriend to boot!" He sighed and went back to writing, after he got another cup of coffee. He was thrown out at closing.

Weeks of pursuit of the coffee shops and the galleries in Cardiff turned up nothing of the young man. But Ben kept on writing. He just wished he could locate this muse that seemed to trip something inside and bring out months of blocked thoughts.

A month went by. Then it was two months, six months, a year and no sign of the muse. Ben sold his book and it went on the charts. He was rising up and the world was a wonderful place. All except for the memory of the man who sat before him and made it all happen. He decided that it was better this way. Being on cloud nine with success was good thing. It was enough that a momentary encounter changed his life.

He was out for a stroll in the park one Wednesday afternoon where sitting on a bench to his right was his muse. Again with the sketchpad and completely oblivious to the world, the young man worked.

Ben stood from afar and watched, he didn't dare to move for fear of disturbing the muse. They can be fickle, he was once told. Besides, he was had a great view of the man and he was getting turned on.

The muse ripped something out of the pad and walked unseeingly over to Ben. Ben stood still, his heart raced and his palms began to sweat. Not much had changed for this man in a year. But the one thing that was different was that his hair was shorter, a good 6 inches shorter. Its brown was sun streaked and it was wavier. The bouncing movement of his hair and the long gate of his legs screamed sex to Ben. He was excited, that was for sure. The images of what would happen when his muse reached him just made it impossible to not to shake.

Mark just looked straight ahead, and with little effort and no eye contact, passed the paper off to Ben.

Ben's mouth hung open as his fantasy walked past without even a hello. But the paper, what was that all about? Recapturing his lost thoughts and herding them into focus on the paper, he just blinked. A board grin focused on his face as he saw the drawing of him that night a year ago in the coffee shop. He looked up and saw the divine Muse, walking towards the street and out of the park.

He picked up his pace and pursued this wonder, this time he was going to a least get a name.

"Wait! Stop I just want to thank you!" Ben was shouting, causing others in the area to stare. He didn't care anymore. This was serious.

The words prompted the muse to stop and like an old film or a dramatic effect, Mark turned to let the other man catch up.

Ben smiled when he saw the gesture. He jogged up to the muse and laughed. "You love the chase, don't you? I must have been through all of Cardiff looking for you. You did this that night?" He held up the drawing.

"No I did it just now, a few minutes ago actually. I just remembered you from that night." He was stone-faced, not a smile escaped the matter of fact tone.

"That was a year ago! This is amazing! Look, I just wanted to thank you. That night I was reborn, not to sound too flowery, but you kick me in the ass. I wrote a novel and it is selling like crazy. How about I buy you dinner? That would be a start. At the very least you could tell me your name."

Ben held the muse's name on his tongue tasting it as Mark spoke it in haste.

He smiled, revealing a crooked tooth under his well-kept blond hair. His eyes were simple blue. Not like Jack's blue, just blue. But something, maybe it was that slight boy inside the man that had Mark thinking of John. He was suddenly aware of how close they stood to each other. The smell of Ben's excitement was pouring off his body, turning Mark on in the worst way.

'This isn't right,' Mark thought, aware that he was beginning to breathe a little funny with the onslaught of a panic attack. 'I just want John; I want him in this world. He thought of the man he called partner, sitting on the bluff overlooking the imaginary ocean waiting for him. He also thought of the conversation they had weeks ago. A year to the day of the first time John pushed him away.

"Mark, it has been three and a half years. Go have a real lover for a bit. We know that won't change how we feel. You need to be really touched. My lovely, I know how bad this is for you, for the twins, and us but we have to do what we can to survive. You need another body to take my place for a bit, just until I get out of this." He reached for the sobbing Mark and brought him tight his body.

John was losing hope again. Mark could feel that. He was being pushed away from John very slowly. It would just be a matter of time before he asked to be let go from this world. Mark didn't want to think about that possibility. He just wanted John to come home. He was also losing faith in Torchwood's miracles now that James was gone. To keep John with him for a little longer, he took to heart what his partner said.

They made love through the tears and the pain and in the end Mark stayed with John for a longer time than was safe for astral travel. The result almost cost him his life.

While Mark was sick, Jack told him that he was not allowed to go see John unless someone was in the room and he was limited to three hours and a psychic alarm clock. Mark agreed for the children's sake.

The Ben with dinner was casual and the food was fantastic. The conversation went well. Ben was sure that Mark just didn't believe in laughter. For lack of not wanting the evening to end, Ben asked Mark up to his place.

The door shut behind them. Mark was all over Ben. Ben was all over Mark. The two males sucked, and kissed and met somewhere in the middle for an amazing finish.

Ben smiled from ear to ear as he traced light patterns on Mark's shoulder, cuddling after their first encounter. Mark didn't smile. Ben just held him tight as if to make sure he didn't disappear.

"That was brilliant! You are amazing. Thank you!" He rolled Mark over to kiss him. It ended with Mark kissing back, squirming out of the hold, and making a lame excuse that he had to go, that he would call him. Put some of his clothes on and walked out the door. Ben just let him go. The reality was that he was crushed, but his brain justified it to himself that he sucked that much, or Mark must be in a dark place, so maybe in time he would come around.

The next encounter was three weeks later. Mark just showed up with a bottle of wine. They shared bottle and bed for a while and with not much said, Mark then left. Ben was feeling alone and frustrated. But there was an aura of mystery surrounding his artist lover and that kept fueling the writer's soul.

He framed the drawing and hung it behind his desk. He finished his next book in a month.

As time went on Mark's visits became more frequent, some times as many as three times a week. He talked more as well. Ben just let the encounters happen. But it was starting to ruin his social life. His best friend Hunter told him so. She was sure he was being used. It was just not a normal situation for Mark not to want to go out with Ben or meet his friends. Ben explained that they didn't talk like that. Personal lives were never mentioned. They just talked, had mind blowing sex and Mark would leave. Ben didn't think of it any more than that. Hunter shook her shaggy red hair at him, and crinkling her little freckled nose, called him a fool and he was setting himself up for a fall. She knew him well enough to know he was already in love.

Hunter's words, "You love him! You don't even know his last name, or were he lives! Ben what if he is just some kind a strange homeless whore? You could be hurt in more ways than a broken heart this time!" stung him, because he realized it was true. But did he love Mark or just the idea of Mark? Also there was a strong sense about the danger, but that was part of the thrill. He was living a real romance not a lie of one. So with this in his head, he wrote staying home at night waiting for Mark to show up. Then next encounter there were going to be answers.

It wasn't too long of a wait, Mark showed up two days later, bottle of wine in tow and he had a bandage on his arm.

"What happened?" Ben asked as he reached to hold him. Mark pushed past him and went straight for the kitchen and the cupboard with the wine glasses. After he poured each of them a glass he downed his and reached for the bottle.

"Nothing to concern you." His own words stung him. He realized that in the long time he had been coming here, he never noticed that the color of the kitchen was sea foam green. It was peaceful. His eyes took in the sights of the place. He began to wander around the tiny apartment looking at all the things that were Ben.

Ben just took his wine and followed the vision as he caressed objects, looked at the bookshelves and studied the colors of the room. He realized it was like watching a kid discovering something for the first time. But what made Ben blink was the slight almost imperceptible smile that played on the lips that he had kissed so often. Mark was reacting to the things he saw. Stopping at the entrance to Ben's office, Mark noticed the picture hanging on the wall. He turned to capture Ben's eyes.

"My doctor, who is a friend, says I'm keeping too much in lately and I'm taking it out in my work. I don't know if that is true. We need to talk." The deep frown creased his smooth brow. The beginnings of the smile faded.

Ben was nervous. He was afraid the talk would revive his worst fears of this relationship. The man in the SUV was one of those fears, another was Mark was sick and dying. His writer's mind played out both scenarios in his head. Neither was very positive of a future with this calm soul who so inspired him by just being there.

"I have feelings for you," Mark began. "But they have a limit. I have a family to think of. A little boy and a girl, twins, they are the light in my dark life. It is hard to keep my emotions from revealing what you are doing to me. They are picking up almost everything. I have a husband. I miss him so much. My life was a joke without him. He made me whole." Mark threw his head back, showing off his smooth neck. Looking up at the ceiling for strength, he continued. "It has been almost four years since he went into the coma. No one can figure out how to save him." He was crying.

Ben took him in his arms and let him cry. His heart was breaking for the pain that racked Mark's body. His shaking subsided as the tears halted. "I love you Mark. I know that makes things worse, but if I could stop your pain, I would." He felt warm and sleepy, as he kissed his lover. They undressed there in the middle of the room. The act of lovemaking went slow as each explored the other. Ben was in heaven when he came.

He was smiling at Mark's amazing smile. It was like sunshine. But he was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. "I'm sleepy. It must be the wine." He was given a tender kiss and a brilliant smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Mark cleaned up the mess he made adding himself to Ben's life the best he could.

The picture was removed from the wall.

The next day, Hunter asked Ben if he had seen Mark. Ben replied. "Who?" Hunter laughed. Now things could go back to normal.

End Teaser part 1