1980

It was a typical Welsh summer in Cardiff. The rain was bouncing up off the pavements. Splashing through the puddles, and cursing as the rain made his woollen coat heavy, Jack Harkness ran towards Bute Park. There had been an incident and someone else was using the Torchwood vehicle.

As he pounded along the soggy streets, he wasn't really taking a whole lot of notice of what was going on around him. As a result, Jack failed to see the group of women stepping from out of a pub. He ploughed, unceremoniously, into one of the women. The pair of them landed heavily, with Jack managing to twist the fall so that she landed on top of him. He looked up into intense, yet somehow soft, blue eyes.

"Sorry about that," he said, with a dashing smile. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied, with a slight smile. "You can let go now."

Jack made sure that young woman was on her feet before he got up. He kissed her hand, flashed another dazzling smile and then ran off.

"Are you okay Love?"

The woman turned towards the voice and saw a very attractive man approaching, with a few of his friends.

"No harm done," she told him.

The world seemed to slow as something sparked between them.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"Angela Jenkins."

"I'm Hywel Jones."

1983

"We're almost there Mrs Jones. I can see the head."

Angela Jones had been in labour for almost thirty hours. Her husband Hywel sat by her bed feeling both useless and proud. The door suddenly slammed open to reveal a handsome man in a military coat, carrying a gun.

"We need to evacuate the hospital," he barked, in an American accent. "I'm Torchwood."

The midwife looked at the intruder with incredulity.

"Mrs Jones is a few minutes from delivering," she pointed out. "We aren't going anywhere."

Jack Harkness looked at the scene properly and realised there would be no moving the woman. He could see the baby's head emerging. Pulling out his walkie-talkie, he contacted Alex.

"I have a woman giving birth who can't be evacuated," he told him.

"Okay Jack, stay with them."

"Will do," he replied, and then turned to the Jones'. "I hope you don't mind."

At that moment, Mrs Jones was assailed by another contraction.

"I don't care," she snarled through gritted teeth.

***********************************************

Two hours later, there was a knock on the door of the delivery room. Jack looked through the small window to see Alex giving him the thumbs up. The Captain opened the door to allow his colleague in.

"Sorry about that," said Alex. "Everything is okay now. Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," Mr Jones told him.

His wife held up her son to show the two men.

"Meet Ianto Hywel Jones."

Jack looked at the baby and a strange feeling washed over him. He couldn't describe it, but he felt as though this child was going to impact on his life and the world somehow.

1989

"Santa Claus won't come if you don't go to sleep, Ianto."

The six year old Ianto Jones let his mother tuck him into bed, but was back up at his window as soon as she closed his bedroom door. He figured he had a brilliant chance of seeing Santa from their seventh floor flat.

At about eleven in the evening, Ianto was losing his battle against sleep. His eyes were very heavy and his head was dropping. This changed when something caught his eye. Ianto was suddenly wide awake, thinking that Santa had finally arrived. Only it wasn't the jolly fat man in red. The person little Ianto could see was a grim looking man in a blue coat. The coat flapped around in the wind, looking very much like the cape of a superhero.

On the roof, Jack looked out across the city. He didn't go in much for religious festivals, but he liked to see the decorations and Christmas lights shining up from the many windows he could see. He became aware of being watched. Turning his head, Jack could see a young boy staring at him, open mouthed. The kid was obviously waiting for Santa Claus. He wondered how many more years would pass before the boy stopped believing. There was something familiar about the blue eyes he was looking into, but Jack couldn't place him.

"Ianto Jones, get back into bed this minute!"

"But, Mam..."

"Now!"

When Ianto turned back to the window, he was disappointed to see the man had gone from the roof.

1992

Several mothers, fathers, grandparents and relatives gathered around the primary school gates, waiting for their various charges to emerge. Sian Jenkins had been asked to pick up her nephew, Ianto.

As the children swarmed across the schoolyard towards the gate, Sian waved to Ianto. Being too engrossed with controlling his football, the boy barely acknowledged his auntie. She followed him along the footpath, chatting to the mother of one of his friends. Suddenly, her heart stopped in her chest as she saw the ball bounce into the road. Sian knew instinctively that the child would follow it without thinking. Sure enough, he ploughed onto the road, paying no heed to the car which was barrelling towards him.

"IANTO!"

The car began screeching to a stop, but wouldn't be able to stop in time. Ianto was too shocked to move and simply watched the vehicle coming. From out of nowhere, a man in a pale blue overcoat ran to the boy and picked him up. Wrapping himself around Ianto, Jack Harkness stumbled away from the danger. His momentum caused him to fall forwards and he rolled onto the path.

Sitting up, Jack looked at the boy in his arms. The child started crying as the reality of what had just happened hit him.

"Oh my God," said Sian, also crying. "Thank you, so much."

"My pleasure," Jack replied.

The captain handed the child to his relieved auntie and stood up. As he waved them off, something pricked at the back of Jack's mind. That child meant something. He just couldn't figure out what.

1996

At thirteen years old, Ianto was the youngest member of the gang. The leader, sixteen year old Dafydd, was his next door neighbour and had always had a soft spot for Ianto.

The seven members of the gang were bored and looking for trouble. They'd already kicked all the glass out of two phone boxes but it hadn't satisfied them. Then, Dafydd saw a man wearing a fancy dress costume. He seemed to be dressed as a wartime pilot and Dafydd decided he was a perfect target for a mugging. They all ran towards the man, apart from Ianto who held back. He recognised him as the man who'd saved him from being run over a few years ago.

Jack Harkness heard all the footsteps behind him and turned round. He was in no doubt as to what was about to happen. Casually, he pulled his coat back and gave them a good view of the Webley sitting in its holster. The gang immediately changed direction, pretending it was they were planning all along, and ran out of sight. Jack noticed one kid left standing on his own. He seemed familiar.

"What's your name?" he asked, walking over.

"Ianto Jones," the kid mumbled in response.

"Well, Ianto Jones. I suggest you go home, do your homework and stay away from that lot."

As Jack walked away, he heard the boy say, "I like your coat."

1999

Sixteen year old Ianto Jones followed his mother out of the courtroom with his head hung low. He just been handed a suspended sentence for shoplifting and his Mam was not best pleased. They walked to her car in silence but before they could get in, a voice called across the car park.

"Mrs Jones," shouted a man with an American accent.

Mrs Jones waited for the man, who was wearing a military style coat, to reach them before demanding to know what he wanted.

Jack Harkness had seen Ianto's name on the court lists, which he read regularly, and recognised it. He recalled coming across the boy on a number of occasions and decided to stop the kid descending into a life of crime. Jack couldn't figure out why he was doing it, but knew that it was important.

"I represent an organisation which gives college scholarships to young people who have minor convictions."

Mrs Jones looked at him with suspicion but let him carry on.

"We want to give Ianto a new path and keep him off the streets, so to speak," he continued. "We will apply to colleges on your son's behalf and you should receive an acceptance within a couple of weeks."

With that, Jack shook Mrs Jones's hand, and then walked away.

"Someone seems to be watching out for you," she said, as she got into the car.

"Who cares?" Ianto mumbled in reply, not giving away the curiosity he felt towards the American he'd seen so many times before.

2003

Ianto Jones looked up at the huge Canary Wharf tower. He'd not long since graduated from University with a first class honours degree in Modern Language Studies and he was about to start his first real job. The Welshman almost hadn't gone for the interview. He hadn't yet applied for any jobs so was slightly taken aback when the letter had arrived offering him an interview. Eventually, curiosity had gotten the better of him and he attended what was probably the world's shortest job interview.

Ianto had been in the personnel office all of five minutes when he'd been offered the position of Junior Researcher. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he'd accepted immediately and was told to report for duty the following Monday.

Monday had arrived and Ianto was in a very upbeat mood. Junior Researcher didn't sound all that exciting but it was work, with an excellent salary and had good benefits. It meant leaving Cardiff, but at that time it was no bad thing. As he passed through reception, he didn't see the two people in quiet corner.

"You owe me for this, Captain. Torchwood doesn't usually take on unknowns."

"Trust me, Yvonne," said Jack Harkness, with a dazzling smile. "That boy is going to be important."

Jack just wished he knew why he was so damned certain.