The impact knocks the wind from me as I hit the grass. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I assess my body - no major injuries, just bruises. My rifle remains clutched in my hand, warm metal against my palm. The sky above is grey-tinged yellow, either dawn or dusk.

I sit up, removing my beret and tucking it under my epaulette. In the dim light, I count seven bodies - three face down, four in a heap. A groan from the nearest figure prompts me to scramble over.

"Don't move," I order, checking his neck and shoulders. "Jenkins?"

"I think I broke my nose," he responds thickly. I help him turn over, careful with his rifle strap. His face is bloodied but his eyes are clear.

"We're alive," he says.

"Unexpected bonus," I agree, helping him up. "Fix yourself up, I'll see to the others."

I move among the fallen, checking pulses. Wright and Jordan are unconscious but breathing. Kucherenko has three bodies on top of her - Soweta, Smith, and Parker, all dead. I drag them off and collect their identification, stuffing it in Jordan's pack.

"Any idea where we are, Captain?"

I look around properly for the first time - ten meters away sits a park bench. In the distance, a familiar shadow against the sky.

"Bute Park," I say, surprised at the certainty in my voice.

"Where?"

"Cardiff," I reply. "How did we end up here?"

"Last I remember was you shouting to set off the bomb," Jenkins says. "Reckon we took care of the 456?"

"Reckon we did," I say, checking my UNIT mobile - no service. "We're displaced."

Jenkins groans. "Brilliant."

As we gather the team and formulate a plan, I notice movement in the distance. A silver car pulls up, and a woman climbs out - long dark hair, leather jacket, sidearm visible. She turns toward us, and her eyes widen when our目光 meet. Recognition dawns on her face, followed by shock and something like grief.

"Captain Ianto Jones," she says when she reaches us, her hand going to her weapon.