A/N: Just the feeble beginning to a story that wouldn't stop bugging me. I've realised my problem with another story I'm writing is that I always feel I'm not doing him justice when writing from Jack's perspective, so here's something focusing on everyone but Jack.

I know this chapter looks totally AU as opposed to being set where it says in the summary, but please bear with me and things will make sense soon

This will be continued but on no particular schedule, as I know where it's going, but am not entirely sure how it's going to get there as of yet.

Prologue

It was a cold, rainy morning in Cardiff, of the kind that makes one want to shut the blinds, roll over and go right back to sleep, and across the city four ordinary people were having four ordinary mornings.

In a small house out in the suburbs, Police Constable Gwen Cooper balanced a small bowl of what had once been apple, but now more closely resembled gruel in one hand and her mobile in the other. The spoon that accompanied the bowl was held tight between her teeth while she checked her messages, a situation which seemed to cause the child in the highchair no small amount of glee.

Suddenly realising her predicament, Gwen dropped the phone on to the nearby kitchen counter and removed the small plastic spoon from her teeth. She turned to her son, bowl of gruel at the ready.

'Here you go, love,' she said, offering a small spoonful to the child, who happily accepted it, 'now I'm afraid I have to go to work today, but you be good for your Dad, okay?'

Gwen couldn't be sure whether opening his mouth for food counted as eight month-old Dylan acknowledging her words, but she chose to believe it did, and tried to let that ease her worries. She'd returned to work part-time nearly two months ago now, but still hated to leave her baby in the mornings, even as she acknowledged it was good for Rhys to spend some time with him too. Her long work hours were now filled with thoughts of Dylan, hoping he was okay, resisting the urge to ring Rhys and check. Everyone insisted this was perfectly normal, but Gwen couldn't shake the feeling sometimes that there really was something out there to be afraid of. Like some constant, intangible fear that kept her alert and on guard.

She fed her son breakfast without fuss, while Rhys made toast and chatted on about some issue with the new driver at work. They both knew that Gwen was only paying partial attention, but neither acknowledged the fact. Too soon it was time to kiss Rhys and Dylan goodbye, put on her hat and coat and sprint for the car.

The morning had been like any other, but as Gwen drove off in the direction of the police station she felt a nagging urge to go another way, like she had something dreadfully important to do but she couldn't remember what it was.

It was the same feeling she got every morning.

As Gwen Cooper left for work on that rainy Tuesday, Doctor Owen Harper was returning from it.

Even the use of his sturdiest umbrella had not been able to prevent Owen's clothes from becoming soaked in the downpour that now battered against the windows of his flat, obscuring their view of the bay. Usually he would be cursing loudly to whoever might be listening (whether they wanted to hear or not), but last night had been a long one, and Owen remained quiet, yearning only for some much needed sleep.

Dumping his bag on the kitchen bench, Owen proceeded to leave a trail of wet clothing leading to the bedroom. Slipping into bed, he barely had the presence of mind to acknowledge that he was supposed to call his wife this morning. Working different shifts in different hospitals in different cities was an intense strain on their relationship, and Owen had tried many times to broach the topic of moving permanently to Katie. Unfortunately, whenever he did so she reminded him that it was his transfer to the Cardiff A&E that was intended to be temporary, that their lives were in London. What was in Cardiff anyway? She would ask, and he would be unable to provide an answer. It sounded stupid, he knew, but there was something that drew him to this city, some inexplicable pull that told him patching up people in the Cardiff A&E was where he would do the most good.

Owen buried his head in the pillow at that thought. He sounded absolutely mad, even to himself.

After deciding he would call Katie when he woke it took barely five minutes for the doctor to fall into a deep sleep. When his dreams began they were the same he'd had every other night. He was chasing monsters through the streets of Cardiff, gun clenched firmly in his hand; talking to people he was sure he'd never met through a device in his ear. Then suddenly he would be in what looked like a super villain's underground lair dissecting bodies, some of which he was certain were not human.

By the time Owen Harper was falling into an uneasy sleep, Ianto Jones had already been at work a good few hours, and was well settled in to his daily routine.

Ianto enjoyed opening up on weekdays, and so his boss and co-workers were more than happy to let him work the ridiculously early hours alone. The customers that came in between five and eight were by far his favourites, as they tended to be all businesspeople in need of their early morning caffeine fix. Clientele who were always polite and didn't seem to feel the compulsion to make small talk made weekday mornings Ianto's element.

He was midway through preparing a large flat white, on that particular Tuesday morning, when the woman who had ordered it broke stereotype and spoke to him.

'Excuse me,' she began, a note of curiosity in her voice, 'who is this on the poster?'

Ianto smiled slightly, this question was not an uncommon one. 'I'm afraid I don't know, one of our regulars asked us to put it up.' he half-lied, 'Why, do you recognise him?'

'Oh, no,' she replied quickly, 'I was just curious. Usually these sort of things have photos instead of drawings.'

'They're not usually put up in coffee shops either?' Ianto deflected in a joking tone as he finished up the woman's beverage.

'No, I suppose not' she replied, smiling slightly. Ianto handed her the large takeaway cup and she left, bidding him a distracted goodbye. He watched her shelter from the rain under the coffee shop's overhang and wondered briefly where she had parked, before realising she was headed for the building next door.

Faced with no customers, Ianto set to re-wiping the already pristine bench tops, feeling slightly disappointed at the woman's lack of insight as to the mysterious man in the poster. He had been so sure for a second that she recognised him. Upon reflection, Ianto wondered if perhaps he should have been honest and told her that he'd had one of the other baristas, who was halfway through an art degree, compose the sketch from his own description. No, he decided, she probably would have just thought him mad. After all, who tries to track down a man they've never met, purely because they can't get his image out of their head?

Not for the first time, Ianto decided he would simply have to accept his own irrationality. Still, his mind fixed itself on the image of a man in a long, blue coat, flashing a ridiculously charming grin.

In the same way that the Asian woman in dark jeans and boots did not know it was Ianto Jones who had put up the poster, the barista in the red waistcoat did not realise that Toshiko Sato had indeed recognised the man it depicted.

Her morning had begun as typical as any other. She woke up to her alarm, showered, got dressed, ate a quick breakfast and was off within the hour. The sprint to her car was only short, and Toshiko was soon on the road. She worked for a small but promising software company, and had always enjoyed the work and gotten along well with her colleagues. Today, however, the thing she liked most about her place of employment was that it boasted underground parking, as the rain only seemed to be getting worse.

Before she went up to her floor to begin the day's work, Toshiko stopped off at the ground floor. As luck would have it, her building was right next to a tiny coffee shop that did a flat white the likes of which Tosh had never tasted before, so close that even rain like this would be of little bother.

It was empty save for one customer and a barista in a red waistcoat, the same one that was here every weekday morning. Inside the coffee shop was lovely and warm compared to the current miserableness of the outdoors, and the dark wood and soft lighting gave the whole place a comfortable aura. Tosh waited until the other customer, a blonde man, had taken his order before approaching to place hers. She handed over the money for it before her attention was caught by the hand drawn, full-length portrait of a strikingly familiar man depicted on a poster taped to the counter. The text beneath it was simple: 'Have you seen this man?' followed by an e-mail address.

The only feeling Tosh could compare to hers upon seeing the portrait was that of the most intense déjà vu she'd ever experienced.

She enquired as to whom it was, but the barista claimed no knowledge. Toshiko tried to smother her disappointment, but quickly memorised the address. She left the coffee shop, searching the deepest vaults of her mind for some trace of the man from the poster, but finding any associations hovering just out of reach.

As rain raged across the city of Cardiff, four people who thought they were ordinary were trying to have four ordinary mornings.