Jack sat at his desk, reading the letters of instruction that had been left to Torch Wood all of those years and had finally been read. It was about Tommy, the World War One soldier that had been frozen for years and years. He recognized Ianto's footsteps immediately, and started to speak a little bit. Ianto responded with those beautifully articulated Welsh vowels. Jack started to think deeply. What if he hadn't been killed by Daleks what seemed like such a long time ago? What if he hadn't picked up where Torch Wood left off? What if he hadn't met Ianto? Or Gwen? Or Owen? Or Tosh? So many things would have been different. Especially if he hadn't picked up The Doctor's severed hand and traveled once more across the stars? The incident with the Master wouldn't have happened, and he would have never had to gone through that experience.
He set down the papers, and folded his hands, continuing to talk a little bit. Ianto asked a couple of questions, and the conversation seemed to draw out a little bit. They looked at each other. Jack looked into the gray and light-blue welsh eyes, and smiled. He continued talking for a couple of sentences. Ianto suddenly leaned forward and brought Jack's lips to his own. Jack's mind suddenly went very blank—which it almost never did, no matter who he was kissing—and he had no choice but to act on instinct. Ianto was amazing at kissing, almost on par with Jack. Almost.