Jack Harkness cut a striking figure as he stood at the Cenotaph, lost in thought. There was a red rose clasped loosely in his hand, and a faraway look in his eyes. He'd seen so much death, but nothing had gutted him like this loss. He wasn't sure which was worse - the memory of Tosh's blood splashed throughout the Hub, or Owen just being…gone.

He knelt and laid the rose at the base of the memorial. A solitary tear tracked down his cheek as he rested his hand against the cold stone.

"Is that for your granddad?" an older gentleman asked kindly. He leaned on a cane, and carried a bouquet of red carnations.

"No," Jack said quietly. "It's for a friend who…doesn't have a grave."

"Oh, lad…I've heard about them roadside bombs on the news. Terrible things. Korea was plenty bad, but the things you boys went through in Iraq…I don't think I would have made it."

Jack rose slowly to his feet. The old man's guess was plausible enough, and it wasn't as though he could tell the truth. "You never know what you're capable of until you find yourself in the middle of it."

"True enough." He bent awkwardly to place his flowers.

"Please, allow me," Jack offered.

"Nope. These are for my mates who never made it home. I'll do it myself," the old man insisted stubbornly. "But that's not to say I wouldn't mind a spot of help," he added, with a slightly pained smile.

Jack grinned in reply and carefully helped him to stand.

The old man sighed. "I was just a lad when the king unveiled this for the second time, in 1946."

Jack didn't think it appropriate to mention that he'd been there for the Peace Day Parade in 1919.

"This here," the old man continued, "this was built for my grandfather, and his mates. The ones what never made it home."

"For all the ones who never made it home," Jack concurred.

"If you don't mind my saying so, you have old eyes, for such a young man."

"War does that to you."

"It does, indeed. It's filthy, and cruel, and bloody, and I seen things I wish I never had, but I did my bit. I made my peace with that. Someday you will, too."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure."

"I want to take a stroll over to Westminster Abbey, to pay my respects. I'd be glad of some company."

"It would be my honor, sir," Jack replied.

"Honor, is it? That's a word you don't hear much these days. But I've a feeling you know what it means."

"I try."

"That's all any of us can do, lad."

Thanks to Dev, for so patiently answering all my questions.