Sarah Pinborough - Into the Silence

Sighing, he drained what was left of the warm dregs of water that clung hopelessly to the inside of the bottle and felt them fizz into his chest. In a few hours, Detective Inspector Tom Cutler would wake up with a mild headache and all knowledge of Jack Harkness, Torchwood and Torchwood One would be wiped from his memory. The moment that defined his career and revealed so much about the strength of his character would be stripped from him and replaced with burning shame. But on the plus side, he'd also think he'd just solved Cardiff's most brutal serial killer case, and maybe that would go some way to allowing some self-absolution for long ago planting evidence on a guilty man in order to secure a conviction.

Tom Cutler's truth had changed. And maybe the new version might be easier to live with. The one thing Jack knew was that knowledge wasn't always good for the soul.

Watching the barman clean away Cutler's glass, happily destroying any evidence of Retcon, Jack sighed. On the back bar, the front page of the Western Mail was filled with the image of Martin Meloy's weak face, his eyes staring balefully out, as if accusing Jack from beyond the grave. Martin Meloy's truth had changed too. Those who knew him would regale dinner parties for years to come with stories of how they always suspected 'there was something strange about him'. He'd never seemed 'quite right'. And then they'd tell tall tales of his macabre ways, invented so long ago that they'd believe them true themselves. The truth was like that: fluid and mercurial. There was maybe only one other person in the universe that understood that better than Jack, and he was a long way away, having adventures of his own.

Jack could use some time with him right now. He was a man who understood hard decisions and had a core of loneliness that probably beat Jack's own. Signalling the bartender, he thought of the alien and the singing boy, blended as one, probably far across the universe by now. He allowed himself a half-smile.

Some good had come out of this, even if the world would never know.

'A beer and a vodka diet coke, please.' He paused. 'And a brandy for me. Neat.'

Gwen and Ianto would be back soon and they'd raise his spirits with their own undaunted positivity. He was lucky to have them, lucky to have found them and he needed to keep hold of these good times, even if they threatened to be fleeting. One day, he'd need their memory and he couldn't waste the joy of the present when it could be found.

Because this was the twenty-first century. When everything would change. And Captain Jack Harkness intended to be ready.

I'd like to thank the following people for their help with this book. Firstly, best buddy and fellow author Mark Morris for persuading me to have a go at Torchwood , my editor Steve Tribe for making the whole process painless, and Sam and Andy for letting me live in their Scottish hideaway while I wrote it. And I couldn't go without thanking Jimmy George for his constant and boundless enthusiasm for all things Doctor Who / Torchwood -related!