Author's Notes: I'm not picking on Rex. Really, I'm not. I'm just trying to look through the eyes of a World War II veteran, and I can't imagine Rex's habit of calling Jack 'World War II' because of the way he dresses would go over that well with Carlyon. (And really, I don't find Jack's style of dress all that strange) As to the meeting between Carlyon and Jack, I thought about a kiss. However, Carlyon is 'played' in my imagination by Christopher Lee, and my brain shut down every time I considered a kiss between the characters. Sorry. I hope Carlyon's affectionate gesture works just as well.

Chapter Three

A Proposition Between Friends

An abandoned filling station outside the metropolitan area of Amarillo, TX

10 am

"Ganda, is Mommy coming?"

Carlyon Tregarth looked down at the child clinging to his fingers. Five year old Ailsa looked up at him with trusting brown eyes, clinging to his fingers. Carlyon looked down at the child, stroking his free hand over her light brown hair tenderly as he replied, "Yes, darling. I just spoke with Mama Priscilla and they'll be joining us in just a few minutes. You've missed your mummy, haven't you?" Ailsa nodded sadly and Carlyon stroked her hair again, murmuring, "As have I."

But that was only part of the reason for his. . .discomfort. Natalie wasn't the only one who was coming. He had waited forty years for this day, and now that it was finally here. . . Yes, he was nervous. He rested a hand against the side of the moving van. His entire world was in this van. . .or rapidly approaching. There were three cars coming. . .one contained his two grandsons. In another car was his middle daughter Octavia and former CIA agent Rex Matheson (and he had a few things to say to the agent). And finally, in a van much smaller than this one, his oldest daughter approached with Ailsa's mum, young Esther Drummond, and Captain Jack Harkness. And it was this final individual that was causing Carlyon's anxiety.

Ailsa squealed, jumping up and down happily, "Ganda! There they are, there they are!" Indeed they were. He couldn't help smiling at the little girl's excitement, even as he winced at the pressure she was putting on his poor, abused fingers. Ailsa kindly released his hand and flung her short little arms around his leg instead. That was, he suspected, as much to make sure she didn't run out in front of the cars as it was a demonstration of affection. Priscilla and Natalie both drilled that into her head. Wait until the car stops!

The pickup was the first to park, and a few seconds after the engine was shut off, his two grandsons emerged. Ailsa looked up at him beseechingly, but he shook his head. Not until all three cars were present and parked. She pouted, just a little, but waved wildly at the boys. Jason growled and sped across the short distance, swinging Ailsa up into his arms and around, much to the little girl's delight. Lucas called after him, following at a slightly more sedate place, "Just remember, if she hurls, you get to clean her up!" Jason responded with a classical hand gesture, which made Carlyon roll his eyes.

The car driven by Matheson and Jack from Colorado was the next to arrive, and no big surprise, Octavia was driving. Also not a surprise. . .the bickering he heard coming from his middle daughter and the former agent as they exited the car. What did surprise him was what they were bickering about. As the pair started toward them, Octavia was saying, "You've gotta be on crack, Matheson! Def Leppard outclasses Poison by a country mile and in this part of the West, that's saying a lot!" Ailsa giggled, Tavia's two sons groaned and face-palmed, and Tavia left off harassing the agent to squeal, "Ailsa! Oh, come here, honey! I haven't gotten a hug from you in days!"

Ailsa happily lunged out of her cousin's arms and into Tavia's. Carlyon winced, hoping that his daughter didn't further injure her back. But if she was hurting, she didn't give any sign of it. She told the agent, "This beautiful, amazing child is my niece. . .Ailsa Kerren Tregarth. And before you accuse Natalie of making up her name, it's a variation of an old Cornish name, 'Kerensa.' Nat thought 'Ailsa Kerensa' sounded weird, so she chose 'Kerren' instead. They'll be here in a minute, Dad. I'm guessing that the incoming van gets abandoned with a nasty little surprise for the Families?"

"A very nasty surprise, my dear. In fact, if your sons wouldn't mind assisting me, I'll get that ready while we're waiting for the others," Carlyon replied. Octavia inclined her head to her boys, who readily joined Carlyon at the back of the moving van. Matheson followed suit, and as the door slid open, Carlyon added, "It's the first three crates. Mind you leave the large one alone, and don't kick the generator. It should have enough energy for the rest of our journey, but I don't want to run the risk."

"Got it, Grandfather. . .we've done this before, remember? Okay, Agent, if you wanna help, you can take the crate from me after Lucas passes it down. Ailsa, baby, stay with Mom so you don't get hurt, ok? Your mom would hurt us if anything happened to you," Jason observed. Oh yes, she would. And Carlyon would help her. Jason went on, "First crate incoming. . .guh, Grandfather, what do you have in here, chopped up body parts? It smells bad enough!" Matheson's brows shot into his hairline and Octavia snickered.

"Indeed, dear boy. . .low tech has its place, after all," Carlyon informed his grandson, never cracking a smile. It wasn't necessary. . .both Octavia and Ailsa were giggling hysterically. Matheson was staring at him, as if not entirely sure what to think, and Carlyon sighed, "It was a joke, Agent Matheson. Although, I suppose I shouldn't blame you, since you only met my family today. Jason and Lucas were being unusually restrained today, mainly because they wished to protect Natalie."

"I should be used to it, travelin' with World War II for all that time," Matheson grumbled as he placed the first crate carefully on the ground. Carlyon felt ice surge through his veins and as the agent straightened up for the next crate, he found himself face to face with a highly-perturbed eighty-nine year old Torchwood operative and World War II veteran. Matheson took a half step back, saying, "Uhm. . ."

"That man fought in World War II, Agent Matheson. He fought in World War I, and he has shed blood for this world many times over. He sacrificed his life and pieces of the soul. For those sacrifices, he has been called a monster and worse. And when you call him World War II so derisively for the way he dresses, you dishonor him and you dishonor the boys who served with us. They deserve better than that," Carlyon snarled. He glowered down at the other man, who blinked and swallowed hard.

"Daddy, he doesn't know any better. He's younger than I am, and I was born nearly fifteen years after the war. You never talked about it, and Mama just got a haunted look in her eyes," Octavia pointed out as the other van pulled up. She murmured as Ailsa began squirming, "On the other hand, the agent may be jealous because he couldn't pull off that look if he tried. . .and it fits Jack perfectly. In more ways that one." Carlyon shot his middle daughter a hard look. Octavia merely shrugged and pointed out, "I'm a widow, Dad, I'm not dead. And Priscilla wasn't the only one with a crush on Jack."

"MOMMY!" Ailsa shrieked, nearly deafening poor Octavia. She carefully set the little girl down and propelled her forward with a swat to her little bum. Ailsa was too excited seeing the tired-looking young woman who emerged from the back of the van to glower at Tavia, instead choosing to speed off, shrieking, 'Mommy!' all the while. Carlyon had the pleasure of seeing Natalie's tired expression dissolve into a bright smile. She dropped to one knee and opened her arms to the little girl. Ailsa threw herself into her mother's arms, giggling joyfully as Natalie scooped her up and twirled in place.

"Oh, now everything's all right," Octavia murmured as they watched the reunion. No, not quite. But it soon would be. He signaled his two grandsons to continue working. Carlyon would give them this time. After all this time, that was the least he owed Natalie. That, and letting her sleep as long as she needed to once they returned to the homestead. Strange. When he first arrived in the States, he wanted nothing to do with the stark landscape of Oklahoma, yet he now longed for the red dirt and houses three and four miles apart. But first. . .

There. Octavia and Priscilla both told him that he hadn't changed noticeably. Maybe he would notice the changes later, but for now, the dark-haired man walking toward him with Priscilla and a slim blonde girl. . .he looked just the same as he did back in 1965 when Carlyon last saw him. Octavia murmured, "Go to him, Dad. Have faith that he won't deck you." Carlyon glared at his daughter, only to find her staring at him seriously as she repeated, "Go to him. Explanations can wait. You've missed him even more than Pris and I have. Go to him."

Jack was staring at the laughing, dancing mother and daughter, and Carlyon wondered what he saw. Was it his daughter and grandson? Former lovers or wives with their children? What did he see? Did Carlyon have a right to know? Then he caught sight of Carlyon himself and the familiar grin slid into place. Good thing that Carlyon knew Jack too well to be fooled by that smile. He approached the other man and said, "It's good to see you. I was worried about you during Miracle Day, Jack. Even before the Colasantos poked their collective noses in."

"Yeah, Pris and Tave mentioned that you knew Angelo," Jack answered, neatly side-stepping that horrifying night. Typical Jack. The immortal continued, "Thank you, for the information and the assistance in rescuing Esther. I admit I don't understand what was in it for you, but I'm grateful, nonetheless." Carlyon forced his hand to stay at his side, where it was safe. Now that Jack was closer, the toll of the years could be seen in his old friend's eyes. And Carlyon could not escape the knowledge that he caused some of those shadows. But he would make things right. Jack continued, "Should I even ask how you and Angelo knew each other?"

"Angelo was the first person I met when I moved to the Southwest in the early 1970's. It was Angelo who told me about the Families, and I knew I had to help take them down. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, ending the Miracle still fell on your shoulders," Carlyon explained. Octavia rolled her eyes. Yes, he was quite familiar with his middle daughter's feelings on that. She made her thoughts about just about everything known very clearly on a regular basis.

"What Dad is failing to tell you, Jack, is that during the Miracle, we were struggling to take care of our community. As you can imagine, there were food shortages almost immediately. We all had food stored away, in case of inclement weather and such. Most of the people whose parents or grandparents lived through the Depression and the dust storms during that time period had food stored as well, but some of the newer people didn't," Octavia explained.

"So, we distributed food where we could. I mean, it was a community-wide effort, but we were right in the thick of it," Natalie put in, walking over with Ailsa still in her arms. Ailsa was tucked herself against her mother's chest, head resting on her shoulder. Natalie was stroking her hair and back, as she went on, "We had some interesting moments. Adriane was in Washington DC, but she refuses to tell me what she was doing." His eldest daughter coughed, 'spying on Jack,' and Natalie added, "Yeah, well, she was doing more than that. Something traumatized her while she was there."

"You don't know Harkness," Matheson put in, and then quailed at the look he got from all three adult Tregarth females. Carlyon himself blinked, and wondered just what Matheson did to infuriate all three. The rising tension in the parking lot was becoming increasing uncomfortable, to say nothing of being counterproductive, when Ailsa giggled unexpectedly. Matheson stared at the little girl, shocked by this turn of events, when his face began to crease into a smile. He folded his arms over his chest, asking, "You think that's funny, do you?"

"Uh-huh. You're a funny man!" Ailsa announced brightly, and the tension began to dissipate. Nat buried her face in her daughter's hair. Esther simply covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, while Octavia and Priscilla simply smiled at each other. Ailsa continued after a moment, "You're a silly man, too. And he's the pretty man." Matheson roared with laughter at that announcement, as the little girl indicated Jack, who just smiled gently at her. Ailsa studied his face, before adding solemnly, "He's a sad man, too. Pretty and sad."

"Not so much anymore, little one. Do you need help setting up whatever that is, Carlyon? Or. . ." Jack began. He stopped in mid-sentence as something caught his eye. Something that was not quite hidden away but also not out in plain view. Carlyon swallowed, but watched in silence as Jack approached the open van. He jumped lightly in the back, still as cat-like as Carlyon remembered, and then approached the large box. It was the same box that Carlyon told his grandsons to avoid, and Jack ran his fingers lightly, reverently, across it. Ah. So he did see it. Or rather, did see her. Carlyon wondered, and he wondered if he realized what it meant. Jack looked up, whispering, "You brought her. So, she's. . ."

"I couldn't bear to bring her out of it before it was over. And then, when it was over, I couldn't bring myself to wake her. I knew she would be worried sick about you, so the awakening was pushed back until we saw you again. It'll have to wait until we get home to Oklahoma, and then hopefully we'll be able to wake her in a few weeks," Carlyon replied. That also meant there were other secrets that would need to be told, and God forgive him, but he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that.

Matheson jumped into the back of the van, moving too quickly for Lucas or Jason to stop him, and looked at the box that Jack was touching so reverently. Even from this distance, Carlyon could see the shock on his face as he stumbled away and blurted out, "What the hell are you doin,' totin' a dead woman around the country?" This time, it was only Priscilla and Octavia who snarled at him. . .but then, they would. Jason and Lucas just looked at each other, shook their head, and began carrying the crates to the disposable van. A very tired looking Esther Drummond sat down on top of the car, while Natalie joined her, still holding Ailsa.

"That 'dead' woman is our mother, Agent Matheson, so I suggest you show a little respect! And she's not dead, she was cryogenically frozen to save her life and the life of our younger sister. Dad wasn't about to leave her in Oklahoma, not with civilization itself still dancing along the edge of disintegration," Priscilla fired back. She bit her lip, as if she was struggling against saying something devastating. Carlyon put his hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. Because naturally, where Sophia was concerned, Priscilla was still that fourteen year old girl who turned on the object of her affections because she saw him as standing in the way of her mother's recovery. Something for which Priscilla still hadn't entirely forgiven herself for.

"I don't mean any disrespect to you or your mother. . .but that's not possible. You can't cryogenically freeze a living person, much less a living person and a fetus," Matheson argued as he jumped down from the van. Jack just shook his head, looking exasperated, and followed suit. However, once he was down, he picked up the remaining crate and carried it over to Jason and Lucas. Octavia offered Jack a half smile, before returning her stare to Matheson. Ahh, so Priscilla was going to let her younger sister take care of this one. He wondered how they would work that out. It wouldn't surprise him if they were still working on it. A moment later, he realized it was a double-barreled effort.

"We're Torchwood, Mr. Matheson. . .'impossible' really doesn't apply to us. Now, if you'd like to stand around and argue about what is and isn't possible, be our guest. But we are not sticking around for the Families to catch up with us, and catch up with us they will!" Priscilla snapped. She turned to Carlyon, asking, "What do you need me to do?" Carlyon simply pointed to the car, leading to Ailsa, Natalie and Esther vacating its front bumper. Priscilla nodded, observing, "Load up the car and the truck, got it. Esther, honey, which vehicle would you prefer to ride in? Agent Matheson will probably be in the car again, and I'm willing to bet that Captain Harkness will be riding with my father. They have a lot to talk about."

"It really doesn't matter to me, Miss Tregarth. I feel like sleeping the rest of the way to Oklahoma anyhow. Is there a place in the pickup truck where I can sleep?" the girl asked almost apologetically as she and Natalie joined him. Carlyon wasn't sure if the apology was intended for Priscilla or for Jack, especially after Esther glanced toward his old friend. But Jack's smile was gentle, reassuring the girl, and she relaxed. That answered that. Esther didn't want to be seen as choosing one over the other.

He leaned over and whispered, "Well played, my dear." She looked up at him with a shy smile, and he added, "And before you fall asleep, you can explain to my grandsons what Torchwood is. Because they're Torchwood, and so are you. Are you not." It was a statement, not a question, and Esther Drummond more than fulfilled his faith in her when she bobbed her head, her dark eyes filled with determination. Oh yes. Yes, she was. Carlyon beamed at her, adding, "And maybe you can get them to explain why they put that poor boy in the very back, rather than in the passenger cab!" That made her laugh, but Carlyon was truly curious. He hoped she would find out.

TWTWTWTWTWTW

Within fifteen minutes, Carlyon set up whatever unpleasant surprises he had for whichever Families representatives might have tracked them down. Jack's heart bled for them. Really. It did. All right, no, it didn't. Jack bled quite enough for the Families, thank you very much. . .the first time was unwillingly, the second time was to stop the Miracle, and twice was more than enough. So he didn't protest whatever Carlyon and his grandsons were doing in the van Jack vacated when they arrived here. Not that it would have mattered, even if he did protest.

Rex made a token attempt at doing just that, but it fell flat when Carlyon pointed out that these were the same individuals who burned Dr. Vera Juarez alive. Ouch. Which was technically not true, but at the same time, it was. And Rex made no more protests after that, though the Tregarth ladies all looked uncomfortable at the introduction of Vera's death into the conversation. Jack didn't blame them. He needed some time to come to terms with Vera's death, and his sense that he could have saved her if he accompanied them to the camps. Esther insisted that it wouldn't have made a difference, and she was likely right, but the guilt lingered. He imagined it was even worse for Rex, who was right there at the camp and watched her die.

He and Octavia Tregarth were the first to leave, although Octavia was still glaring daggers at Rex for the perceived insult to her parents. That would likely be a fun trip. Jack didn't envy Rex, being in the same car as an angry Octavia Tregarth, not at all. It was agreed that Natalie and her little girl would join Esther, Lucas and Jason in the pickup truck (Jack firmly told his imagination not to bother thinking about those four adults in bed, thank you very much, much less in bed with him). They were the next to leave, Ailsa nearly asleep in her mother's arms, and Natalie listing against the elder of her cousins as he helped her into the passenger cab of the truck. That left Jack, Carlyon and Priscilla. . .and Priscilla, he learned, would be riding in the back of the moving van to monitor her mother's unit.

Sophia. Sophia Imogen Wellington Tregarth was the oldest daughter of an American diplomat and his Swiss wife, and the beloved wife of Carlyon Tregarth. She was beautiful, terrifyingly intelligent, and with a wealth of compassion. Jack remembered nights when Sophia held him after horrifying nightmares, usually triggered by especially brutal missions. Carlyon wasn't always in charge of Torchwood Three, and by the time he was, Jack was hardened by what he saw, what he experienced, by what he found himself doing to protect Earth and humanity. That triggered another nightmare, as Jack feared he was losing his own humanity. It was a few months before the initial 456 encounter and Sophia was then four months pregnant with her third child. Another girl, she told him, beaming happily. That was fine. She had four older brothers as well as her three younger sisters. It all worked out.

She told him that night his nightmares proved that he wasn't losing his humanity. She seemed so sure of it. And then, just a short time later, everything fell apart. Beautiful, flame-haired Sophia was stricken with an illness and in desperation to save her and their unborn daughter, her husband recommended to the Crown a course of action that couldn't end well. . .a course of action with which all the other Torchwood directors concurred. But it was all for naught. Sophia continued to deteriorate, further endangering herself and their baby. The doctors within the Institute gave Carlyon two choices: take the baby early and risk her life or cryogenically freeze mother and unborn child, with the intention of waking them both up when Sophia was, at the very least, strong enough to give birth to the child. Carlyon couldn't choose between his wife and his daughter, and so, he chose the second option, hoping he could save them both.

In 1966, Carlyon packed up his wife's frozen body, his two young daughters, and left England forever for the United States. He had no intention of returning to his ancestral home. And Jack? Jack remained in Cardiff, understanding that sometimes, you couldn't stay. Not if you wanted to keep your own sanity. It happened to him in the past, more than once. He understood. Of course he did. And he knew that Sophia would have understood as well. She was one of the few people who knew about that horrifying night in 1928 New York City, the night that eventually led to the Miracle.

And now? Now, Sophia's body lay in a cryo unit behind Jack in the moving van. Somewhere nearby, her oldest daughter was watching over her. And Sophia's husband was heaving himself into the cab of the moving van after putting the finishing touches on the surprise party for the Families. Carlyon sighed quietly, resting his head against his wrists for a moment, and then he said, "We should get on the road. I hope to be in Lawton by dinner time. Even if no one has the energy to fix dinner. I don't anticipate that being a problem. After things began to stabilize once more, people began bringing food to us, rather than the other way around. Although, I believe some of that has to do with the shots fired into Ailsa's bedroom one night when things got particularly tense. They saw Natalie's temper, and believe me, it wasn't pretty."

Perfect opening, especially since that the immortal noticed something interesting while they were traveling from New Mexico, and just needed the proper opening to ask his question. Jack noted as Carlyon started the engine, "I would imagine she inherited that from her mother." Carlyon's hands froze on the steering wheel, and Jack went on, "I have known you for far too long, Carl. And I realized after spending about an hour with the girl that Natalie Sophia Tregarth isn't your granddaughter at all, but your daughter. She is, in fact, tour youngest daughter, the child whom Sophia was carrying when things fell apart. It ended up taking ten years before Sophia was strong enough to give birth?"

"It would have taken longer," the other man admitted numbly, "if not for Angelo Colasanto. Not just his business and technology, but his money as well. Nat often says that we were frenemies and she could never quite be sure where the two of us stood together. However much we argued about the best way to deal with the Families, though, I've never forgotten that my beautiful Natalie is alive because of Angelo. He's the only reason she's alive, and that's the only reason I didn't kill that granddaughter of his years ago. Believe me, I wish now I had."

"Natalie's worth more to you than that, Carlyon, and don't try to tell me otherwise. So, Sophia improved enough to give birth to Natalie, somewhere around thirty-five years ago, was conscious for the birth and hopefully long enough to hold her, and then it was back into the freezer for her. How long has it been since she was strong enough to be revived?" Jack asked next, avoiding the entire topic of Olivia Colasanto, about whom he still had very mixed feelings, even five months later. Carlyon leveled a very dark glare at him, and Jack realized what he said. Damn. He was actually doing better with that whole bit about not thinking before he spoke. Mostly.

"Don't apologize, Jack, because that's exactly what happened. You need to know. Angelo was never interested in immortality for the sake of immortality. He wanted to live long enough to see you again, and know that you forgave him," Carlyon said, waving off any apology Jack might have made. He was silent for a moment, before calling over his shoulder, "Priscilla, send the signal now, if you please." There was a faint affirmation from the back, and Carlyon explained quietly, "It's how I'm sure that only the Families will be harmed when my surprises go off. And as I was saying, Angelo wanted to live long enough to see you again and know that he was forgiven. It seems that my say-so wasn't enough for him. I don't blame him."

"That's why he died when I kissed him," Jack murmured, mentally replaying those last few minutes before Angelo died, "it wasn't just the null field chip that I confiscated from the compound. He was holding on until I got there. When I kissed him, he knew that he was forgiven. There was still some brain function, some part of Angelo still trapped within his failing body." Carlyon nodded solemnly and Jack sighed, "I forgave him not long after. I just couldn't trust him anymore. And. . . I really didn't understand him, any more than he could understand me."

"Neither of you had a point of reference for the other, however much you might have loved each other," Carlyon observed and Jack bobbed his head in agreement. His old friend continued softly, "That brings me to the present. How long did it take you to forgive me, Jack, and would you be interested in giving me a chance to win back to your trust?" Jack inhaled sharply; he was not expecting that. Carlyon went on, sounding very old and very tired, "I'm eighty-nine years old, Jack. I have maybe five years left in me, if I play my cards right, and you know I was always a terrible card player. At the very least, I want things right between us, and at most. . ."

His voice trailed off, and while Jack knew he was being played like a violin, he had to ask, "At most, what, Carl? At the very least, you want to know that things are okay between us and at most, you want what?" The truth was, like Angelo before him, Jack forgave Carlyon years earlier. It was forgiving himself that proved to be hardest, for everything that he did, everything that he failed to do, all the people whom he hurt, all the people whom he failed to save. And as for trust, well, he already trusted him to help them rescue Esther, something that Carlyon delivered with spades. Jack was pretty sure that trust was already being rebuilt between them. Especially since Carlyon hinted that he wanted Jack there when they woke Sophia from her frozen coma.

"I want to work with you again. Re-establish Torchwood, the two of us, just like it used to be. All right, as much as it can be like the old days, given my age. You would be in charge of the field, while I acted as the figurehead, dealing with UNIT and heads of state and other agencies. . .all the things you hate to do. Agent Matheson and Miss Drummond would be welcome to join us, once they earned my trust. I do trust you, Jack, but my daughters and grandchildren are part of the picture, and I need to be sure that I can trust them both with the safety of those I love," Carlyon replied. Jack just smiled faintly.

"I'd have to check you for alien possession if you didn't take those steps, Carl. And I'm not sure how I feel about your proposal. Give me a few days to think it over and time to rest, and I'll get back to you. In the meantime, you can tell me how Priscilla came to raise her younger sister as her daughter. I'm guessing you chose the 'hide in plain sight' option, rather than giving her to someone else, due to the safety factor?" Jack questioned. Carlyon immediately shook his head.

"No, old friend. . .it was pure selfishness on my part. I couldn't bear to lose my baby, my last tie to Sophia, so long as she remained in the coma. Priscilla offered to raise Natalie, and I simply couldn't say no," he replied. Quick math told Jack that Priscilla was barely out of college when Natalie was born, assuming she did go to college. She was a very young woman, just starting her life. Carlyon added heavily, providing the missing key in a very soft voice, "A few months before Natalie was born, Priscilla and her fiancé were involved in a terrible accident. It killed her fiancé and Priscilla miscarried her own child." Oh God. Jack closed his eyes, and Carlyon murmured, "I think taking care of Natalie helped to ease some of Priscilla's grief."

"Besides, it prevented my baby sister from being lost to the family. Don't look at me like that, Dad, I know you and I knew you would need to explain about Natalie, especially when I noticed the way Jack was listening to her and watching her. I figured Jack worked out that Natalie is my sister, rather than my daughter. And since we'll be waking Mom up soon, it's time we told Natalie the truth. Actually, it's long past time that we told her the truth, but she has to know before Mom wakes up and the first thing she asks is, 'is Natalie all right?' And you know damn good and well, Dad, that will be the very thing she asks," Priscilla pointed out. Yeah, that was Jack's take on it as well.

However, Carlyon didn't argue with them. He sighed, "I know. I know. I've thought of nothing else for the last two months." Priscilla and Jack exchanged a glance, and Carlyon added testily, "When I wasn't creating viruses to annoy the Families, and other painful surprises for them, is that better, Priscilla Jeanne?" She nodded with a bright smile, leaning her head against Jack's forearm. Without really thinking about it, Jack reached over with his free hand to cup her cheek. Carlyon glanced over and smiled, saying, "I didn't think I would ever see that again." Jack blinked and realized what he had done. He grinned at both Priscilla and Carlyon, wrapping his arm around Priscilla properly, just as he always did when Priscilla was a young girl. She slid her own arms around his waist, content to lean against him.

"I didn't think I'd ever get to do this again. I'm so glad you've come back to us, Jack, no matter how long it lasts," Priscilla murmured. Jack kissed the top of her head, smiling as she cuddled closer, and then laughed as Priscilla added, "Mmm, you feel just the same as you did when I was a kid. Mom was right, you do smell good. Really good." He looked down at the top of her head with amusement, and Carlyon simply gave a long-suffering sigh. Jack responded with his cheekiest grin, one that. . .oh yes, he still had it. Carlyon's breathing hitched and Priscilla giggled, "Jaaaaaaack, you're terrible."

"And impossible, and. . ." Jack began, breaking off when Priscilla's fingers danced mischievously over his sides. Oh, he forgot about that particular habit of hers, and it seemed that time hadn't changed that aspect of her personality. He wondered if the time was right to tell them what he learned from the Doctor four years earlier. For that matter, he wasn't even sure if he was ready to talk about that time, even with old friends like the Tregarth family. He wasn't sure if they were ready to hear about the Year (always and forever capitalized in the minds of those who lived through it).

"You are the most impossible man I've ever met, Jack Harkness, and that's simply a fact. But the truth is, my daughters and I wouldn't want you any other way," Carlyon responded. Jack could have laughed. . .he was a Fact. However, he didn't say anything. He didn't have the chance to say anything. . .they were at a stop light, and Carlyon twisted in his seat, reaching across the console to cup Jack's face. He ran his thumb over Jack's lower lip, causing Jack's breath to catch, and then feathered his thumb over Jack's right cheekbone. Carlyon smiled softly and murmured, "Still the same Jack. Still beautiful, still cheeky, still stubborn, still impossible, still loving."

"You wouldn't know what to do if I changed. And light's green, so you might wanna get going. As lovely as the idea of a threesome with you and Priscilla is, I really don't think this is the place for it, especially not with Sophia in the back seat. . .OW! Dammit, Priscilla, that's the second time you've hit me!" Jack retorted, glowering at the woman who just swatted his hip. True, it didn't hurt as much as the punch to the ribs earlier, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Hey, I've got forty-plus years of swats saved up for you, darlin,' and believe me, we both will be collecting," Priscilla retorted, snickering. Oh really? Jack smirked down at her. . .and she realized the danger she was in entirely too late. Her eyes widened and she started to pull away, only to find one of Jack's arms clamped tightly around her upper body. Priscilla squeaked, "Oh, no. No, no, no, don't you dare, Jack Harkness! Jack! Dad, stop him!" She squeaked again, dissolving into giggles as Jack began to ruthlessly tickle her and squirming.

"I'm driving, my dear, and you're always telling me to focus on my driving. And didn't I always tell you to be careful about Jack's retaliation?" Carlyon asked dryly. He paused, waited until Priscilla's giggling stopped, and then said, "Besides, you should be grateful that he's tickling you instead of spanking you." Jack quirked an eyebrow and Carlyon added sternly, "That is NOT a suggestion, Jack, especially since we're in the car right now! And despite the fact that Jack is approaching two hundred, people would assume that you're a lynx."

"Cougar, Dad," Priscilla corrected breathlessly once Jack's fingers stilled. She leaned heavily against him, repeating, "It's 'cougar.' And yes, Jack, we do know about the two thousand years you were buried alive. Technically speaking, yes, you're over twenty-one hundred years old, but since when has this family cared anything about technicalities? Those two thousand years you spent buried alive by that little bastard don't count against you, because you weren't living and laughing and loving and learning."

"That little bastard, as you call him, was my little brother, Priscilla. He was my responsibility, and because I couldn't keep hold of his hand when the invaders came, Tosh and Owen died," Jack observed quietly. Priscilla's eyes hardened, but Jack insisted, "Would you let anyone talk that way about Octavia or about Natalie? Gray was my responsibility, it was my responsibility to take care of him, to get him to safety, and I failed him. He spent countless months and years being tortured because of my failure. And that's something I have to live with for the rest of my life."

"If either of them ever hurt other people to get back at me, in that situation, you're damn right I'd let people talk about them that way! And if you want to talk about people falling down on the job, let's talk about your father, who put a thirteen year old boy in charge of his eight year old brother, with mass pandemonium going on. There's no reason in the world why he couldn't have put Gray on his hip, carrying him, while the three of you looked for your mother. He failed you and Gray. You didn't. But you've thought that way for two hundred years, and I can't change your mind," Priscilla said, shaking her head. Jack started to protest, but was cut off. . .this time by Carlyon.

"She's right, Jack. I've wanted to tell you the exact same thing for so many years. It's a fine thing, taking responsibility. . .but you take responsibility for your own actions and your own misdeeds, not someone else's wrongdoings. You three should have stayed together. Oh, I can see why your father did it. He wanted you boys safe. But you were both far safer with him, just as he was safer with you. And I truly believe that if he was here today and heard you blaming yourself for his mistake, he would tan your bum, no matter how old you are. It's been two hundred years, Jack. Did you drop his hand? Or did he drop yours? Did his sweat-slicked palm slip from your hand, did he trip over a rock, did he see something that caught his attention? You were just a child, Jack, a boy of thirteen. How can you be so sure that you were the one who failed?" Carlyon asked.

Jack couldn't answer. He believed this for so many years that this was a fact. Priscilla changed tactics, asking gently, "Put yourself in your father's position. Your home has been invaded. You can't find your wife. Do you place your eight year old son in the care of his older brother, who is very young himself, while you search for your wife or do you stay together? Jack, it was chaotic. . .how did he know he would find you again after it was all over? I'm sure not everyone on the Boeshane Peninsula were good people, two frightened young boys would have been easy targets for unscrupulous individuals. Oh, you never thought of that, did you? What would you have chosen to do?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out her words. Carlyon said with equal gentleness, "Hindsight is twenty/twenty, Jack. You know this. But there was plenty of blame to go around that day. You shouldn't take all of it on your shoulders. That little boy who had his family ripped away on that day isn't strong enough to carry that burden. Let him process this, Priscilla. It isn't easy, having your view of the world and yourself ripped away. Look after your mother. . .it's going to be a long drive. And Jack? As much time you need to decide, you have." Jack nodded numbly. He would need that time. This wasn't an easy decision to make. But which of them really were?

TWTWTWTWTW

Some two hours after the three vehicles left that abandoned filling stations on the outskirts of the still-reeling Amarillo, Texas, a van exploded, killing ten Cousins. The Cousins in question followed the signal left by discarded, disposable cell phones to the van. It was not a good day for the Families, losing so many Cousins at once. It was even worse when you added the three women who died, failing to recapture Jack Harkness. And since he was reunited with his friend Carlyon Tregarth, the picture got even worse. The Families were wary of Torchwood. With just four people, Jack Harkness ended the Blessing. He would be even more dangerous in a partnership with Carlyon Tregarth.

After their primary mole within the CIA killed himself, one of his agents, and Olivia Colasanto, once the CIA left the compound, the Families intended to raid the manor. Whatever information Angelo Colasanto managed to retrieve, they wanted. It couldn't do the CIA any good, but it belonged to the Families. The thief stole it, and they wanted it back. In addition, they wanted whatever technology Colasanto had taken from the Torchwood Three Hub after Jack Harkness was blown up, and any research he accumulated in his search for immortality.

However, when they reached the complex, they discovered that it was already stripped clean of the Families' secrets, of the technologies stolen from Torchwood, to say nothing of all research. It took very little time to discover that Carlyon Tregarth's two daughters were the culprits. . .all of thirty seconds, since Octavia Tregarth made it a point to stick her tongue out and wave at one of the cameras. No doubt that was one reason why her thirty-four year old niece was the one sent by Carlyon himself to watch over Esther Drummond. And now, she was gone, as was Harkness. The new head of the Families was not pleased. No, not pleased at all.

And so, four hours after the explosion at that filling station, the head of the Families made a single fateful call to the Families representative in Britain, saying four simple words, "You have a go." Torchwood might be rising again. . .but so were the Families.

The Beginning