John Hart didn’t exactly plan on coming back to Earth—he rarely planned much at all—but when the vortex spat him out over Cardiff again, he figured fate had a sense of humor. The city felt different this time. Quieter. Too quiet. No sign of Torchwood skulking about, no lingering chaos in the streets, just an uneasy sort of stillness that didn’t suit the place at all. He wandered through the familiar roads with a swagger in his step, pretending not to notice the hollow weight in his chest.

It was then that his gaze caught on something plastered against a nearby wall: a poster, weather-stained and glaring. The photograph stopped him cold. Jack Harkness, staring out in black and white, bold red letters scrawled across the page: WANTED FOR QUESTIONING.

For a moment—just a heartbeat—John felt the mask slip. Torchwood gone, Jack branded a fugitive? He hadn’t heard a whisper of it. Whatever had happened here, it was something big. Dangerous. And for once, John Hart found himself unsettled. Concern tugged at him, though he quickly shoved it down beneath a crooked smirk.

If Jack was in trouble, that meant opportunity. Chaos. Maybe even redemption—if John could be bothered. One thing was certain: he was back in Cardiff, and he wasn’t about to leave without finding out exactly what mess his old partner had gotten himself into this time.