Torchwood Hallowe'en by a_silver_story | Epilogue
Title: Torchwood Hallowe'en
Chapter: 08/08
Characters: Janto Team!fic
Author: a_silver_story
Genre Horrorrrrrr.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Erm ... hopefully it's scary. Minor gore.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto decides to do the decade-ly inventory of the Archives - with rather scary results (and I'm not talking about bad organisation skills). Slight crossover with Doctor Who S3.
Note #1: This story was written the October before 'The Time of Angels' and 'Flesh and Stone' aired, so please don't message me regarding any inconsistencies with canon you may find.
Note #2: I've deleted the original version of this from LJ, and am posting this corrected version one chapter at a time, one day at a time.
At least he wasn't in pain any more.
Owen had pumped him full of painkillers, to the point where he could just about think clearly - if a little dopily - and breathe and talk without any discomfort. His eye sockets were redressed, and his eyes themselves left in a kidney dish. Owen didn't know how they could put them back in, but that didn't really matter. The wound in Ianto's leg was too deep. They hadn't nicked the artery, but his flesh had been hacked into so long ago and allowed to bleed copiously, his vital signs were too weak and his breathing becoming too shallow. Owen hadn't needed to bother making sure he didn't give him too many painkillers.
The best they could do was make him as comfortable as possible.
Gwen and Toshiko were huddled up to Owen while they cried quietly, and eventually he guided them up to the sofa and left Jack and Ianto alone in the medical bay.
"It's not that bad," Ianto told him, his voice getting weak, "At least I'll be high as kite."
"Yeah," sniffed Jack, grasping his hand.
"Hold me?" Ianto asked.
Jack climbed up onto the gurney behind him, settled Ianto's torso between his legs and let his head rest on his shoulder. Jack tried to cry quietly, but his gasping sobs couldn't be hidden.
"I know, Jack. I know," Ianto squeezed his hand. "Me and the coffee machine in one night - how can you go on?"
"I d-d-don't kn-know." He sobbed harder.
Ianto would have rolled his eyes if he'd had them. Clearly, Jack didn't get that the coffee machine bit was a joke.
Around them there were several clunks and mechanic whirs as the lockdown lifted.
"It'll be getting light outside," sighed Ianto wistfully as Jack cuddled him tighter. "November first ... made it through Hallowe'en at least."
"Yeah ..." Jack buried his head in Ianto's neck, inhaling his scent, committing it to memory.
"We didn't get any trick-or-treaters," complained Ianto. "Last year some kids came to the Tourist Centre. I gave them sweets and chocolate ... I was looking forward to this year ..."
Jack was rocking slightly, still cradling Ianto in his arms, kissing his cheeks and face and nose.
"I'm trying to speak, Jack," he complained. "I don't generally get to talk much, and when I do you always kiss me!"
"It's that deep timbre and the Welsh vowels. I can't help it," Jack smirked, even though Ianto couldn't see.
"You're smirking, aren't you?" Ianto practically whispered, a smile playing on his own pale lips.
"How did you guess?" Jack asked with a small laugh, wiping away more tears.
"Because I'm The Ianto - I know everything. I want that on my memorial stone by the way: 'The Ianto: He Knew Everything'. And above that I want a picture of me with my thumbs up."
"Are there any pictures of you with your thumbs up?"
"Fair point. We could take one now. At least we're not in any danger of unexpected red-eye."
The joke made Jack cry even harder, his rocking more profound.
"Jack ... you're giving me motion sickness."
"S-s-sorry!" Jack managed to cease his rocking, running his fingers through Ianto's hair and kissing the flesh of his neck. Ianto sighed regretfully.
"I've been thinking ... when was the last time I saw your face? I think it was ... we were sat by the sofa ... Gwen was on the lift dressed as a mouse. You kept glancing over at me and smiling in that way you do ... that way that means even though you're concentrating on the task in hand, you're finding time to also concentrate on what you're going to do to me when the task in hand is complete ... What were you thinking, Jack? What were you planning?"
Jack took a shuddering breath. "I was thinking ... maybe go to your place. We've only been once, and we were too drunk to remember properly." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I was going to lay you on the bed, undress you so slowly ... Take you so slowly ... I fantasised about it ... for weeks I've been thinking it ... tonight ... I put it off for so long ... and ... tonight I promised myself I'd show you how much I ... I ..."
"I love you, too,” Ianto told him, knowing Jack wouldn't be able to say it. Jack hiccoughed and gave him a squeeze, wiping away more tears on Ianto's jacket. "Jack ... I need you to do some things for me ..."
"Anything."
"... My sister. I need you to tell her that I'm sorry I wasn't around. Tell her I was ... anti-terrorism or something. No! Tell her I was a spy. Like James Bond, only less promiscuous and even better dressed. I didn't pop by as often as I should because I was too busy chasing criminals on speed boats in Venetian Canals ."
Jack gave a small laugh. "Okay ... sure. Sure."
"There's about seven years' worth of birthday and Christmas presents for them in the walk-in wardrobe. Make sure you don't box them up with my things. Make sure they get them."
"I promise," Jack sniffed.
"There's some for you, too."
"Yay!" Jack perked up.
"They're all wrapped already - Don't ask why. But you have to save them for Christmas."
"Okay."
"Tell my niece and nephew how much I loved them, even if they were little brats who I couldn't stand sometimes."
"Will do."
"And ... one last thing ... before I go ..."
"What is it?"
"The Archive container ... what ... wh-what was in it? What was it they wanted?"
"I haven't looked yet. I'll ... I'll go and fetch it."
Jack ran as quick as he could, grabbed the box without looking at the rest of the team, then bound back down to Ianto. Ianto told him his code, and he typed it in quickly followed by his own. It hissed and creaked, and the top popped open. Pushing it back fully, Jack looked inside and frowned.
"What is it, Jack?" Ianto asked weakly. "Quickly! What is it!"
"A bit of ... coral ... and a note and ... and ... and ... a fobwatch."
"I'm going to die because they wanted coral and a timepiece?" Ianto growled, his breathing becoming short and ragged. Jack didn't reply, staring at the swirls and circles and shapes engraved into the watch, knowing he'd seen this exact same kind of watch before ...
"Jack! Jack where are you?"
Jack snapped out of it. "I'm here, Ianto ... I'm right here ..."
He reached forward to climb back onto the gurney behind him, watch still in hand. It slipped a little, and Jack accidentally depressed the pop on the top, and the cover sprung open.
Instantly, Jack knew what had happened. The memories of Yana came back - the Master - and panic set in. Was this the Master again? A different Time Lord? Good or bad? What would it do without its owner's body close by? Was the body even alive still? How long had it been waiting?
"What's going on? What's that tingling?" Ianto asked, sticking his arms out, trying to feel.
Jack tried to close the watch, but it wouldn't go. The Vortex energy and the Time Lord soul were forcing their way out, so bright it hurt Jack's eyes. He grabbed at Ianto, holding him close as the Energy snaked and coiled and ... aimed for him.
Thrown backwards, Jack gasped and groaned on the floor, half shielding his eyes from the blinding glow. Ianto was calling his name, then suddenly ... silence.
Owen, Gwen and Toshiko appeared on the balcony, staring down at Jack on the floor and Ianto sat far too upright. He was moving slowly, gracefully. Tentatively pressing fingers into the dressing over his eyes, ghosting fingers over the solid form of his chest and arms and neck.
"This body is dying," he said regretfully, and pulled himself off the gurney.
The other three stared on in shock as Jack dragged himself up from the floor, Ianto - or Ianto's body - standing up straight.
"Don't regene - no!" Jack shouted, as the yellow, blinding light burst forth from neck and hands, engulfing them with the Vortex Energy. Gwen, Toshiko and Owen were covering their faces, watching through the lattice of their fingers. They could hear Ianto screaming and yelling, and Jack stared on, helpless.
The figure in the yellow Energy moved, crossing his arms over, pointing the Energy and redirecting it to ... the eyes. Less than thirty seconds later, the Energy dispersed, and Ianto - or the same body as Ianto had had - staggered backwards into the gurney.
"What ... the ... fuck ...?" breathed Owen.
Ianto was pressing his fingers into the eye-dressings again, but this time he was peeling them back.
"Ianto ... don't ..." Owen began, then stopped in shock as two sparkling baby-blues met his, and cheeky grin playing on Ianto's face. He pulled the whole dressing back and tossed it onto the gurney, then tested his leg to see if there was any aches or difficulty moving.
"You ... you ..." gasped Jack. "... you're a Time Lord? How come you didn't ... change?"
"Ianto wasn't. I am. Does that make sense? He was human, I'm Time Lord. See - two thump-thumps." He pointed at the scanner on the wall - sure enough, two hearts. Or 'thump-thumps'. "I didn't change because the extracted eyes served as a biological match for the form I wanted to keep. Fix the body, syphon the excess energy into them. Why change? I like this form. You do, too," he winked.
"What else does he have two of?" Gwen muttered.
"Yeah ... 'cause I don't get that all the time. And don't get any ideas, Mrs Williams - I know your track record for fidelity."
Gwen turned crimson, and everyone felt suddenly awkward - except Jack.
"You ... you fixed him so ... just ... go back in the watch. Go back in the watch ... Give him back ..."
"I ... I don't want to go back in the watch," said the Time Lord. "He's in here, though, Jack. He's still part of me."
Jack shook his head. "Not the same." His voice rose high as he fought back tears. "I want him."
"I'm sorry, Jack. He ... he's in me, but ... you'll never be able to draw him out and keep him separate. Even if I did go back into the watch - which I won't - the human body I'd leave behind would be a blank slate."
"I don't get what's going on," Owen called from the balcony. "What was all the glowy-ness? Is he possessed or something?"
"I'll explain," began the Time Lord, straightening out Ianto's bloodstained and crumpled shirt. "This watch isn't a watch. It's a ... Thing. This Thing keeps a lot of Vortex Energy and the soul of a Time Lord inside - extracts the Time Lord from the Time Lord's body and leaves a human form behind with false memories and a false life. The Time Lord is safely hidden, and human potters about and lives and lives until the time is right for the Time Lord to come out again."
"Ianto was a Time Lord all along?" Gwen frowned.
"So ... Ianto's ... dead?" asked Toshiko.
"In a manner of speaking," shuffled the Time Lord. "So much of me was in him, and so much of him is now in me. All his memories are my own, and all my memories were always his. A melding."
"But you are the dominant party?" Jack asked bitterly.
"Of course. Time Lords are far, far, far, far superi - I'll end that one there."
"What's your name?" asked Jack.
"The Archivist. But you may continue to call me Ianto: I really, really like that name. Ianto Jones. Ianto Jones. Ianto Jones. Ianto Jones Ianto Jones Ianto Jones Ianto Jones. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"
"So why did the Angels want you?" Owen asked, folding his arms and thinking to himself resolutely this is not Ianto.
"They weren't particularly concerned about the watch. I mean, they knew it was me, but I wasn't their concern as long as I stayed in the watch," the Archivist explained. "They wanted my little baby ..." From the box he pulled the coral, that had grown significantly since the fobwatch had been activated. He set it on the gurney, cooing at it. "This is my little baby TARDIS, full grown there would have been enough Vortex Energy swirling around inside her that the Weeping Angels could have channelled and absorbed and switched off the sun. Not that switching off suns is hard - all you need is a really long hosepipe, about a three planets' worth of water and a massive fire engine. Or just a really, really, really, really big candle snuffer. I love that word: snuffer. Snuffer. Snuffer. Snuffer snuffer snuffer. Snuff. I like snuff. I'll never understand why snorting something up your nose in public went so out of fashion. In most circles anyway. Actually - fashionable for a different reason rather than in decline. Snuff. Enough. Had enough of snuff. Ha!"
"This is the most I've ever heard Ianto say. Ever," Owen told them, gaping a little.
"That's because he's not Ianto," Jack scowled. "I'll ... I'll be in my office."
"Jack!" called the Archivist. "Jack ... wait!"
"What?" Jack snapped, turning suddenly, part way up the stairs. They stared each other down a second.
"Nothing ..." sighed the Archivist. "We'll ... we'll talk when you've calmed ..."
"Will we?" Jack narrowed his eyes.
"Yes."
"What makes you so certain?"
"Because I know everything," he said bluntly, then winced at the pain that flicked through Jack's eyes. "I meant because of the Vortex!" he called after him as Jack turned on his heel and shut himself in his office.
Gwen, Owen and Toshiko all brushed past him on their way back to the rec area.
The Archivist stood alone by the steps to the medical bay, looking around as if hoping someone might be there.
He hugged himself.
t
Three days later, and the Archivist was still hanging around. It was hard to mourn Ianto when someone so like him - physically, and personality-wise - was wandering around doing all of his chores, dressing in his clothes and using his voice. He avoided them mostly, but would occasionally ask them something, or give them pointers on a case, or identify several mis-labelled or new things.
Jack never looked up when he brought him coffee or reports or paperwork. Toshiko would only 'mm' her thanks when he pointed out a glitch or left her her favourite biscuits. Gwen would occasionally smile if he found a missing link, noticed a mistake or took her a sweet latte. Owen ignored him completely.
Shortly after the incidents of Hallowe'en, Jack had researched Ianto's sister. As the Archivist had said, she was a false memory. As were her husband and children, parents, grandparents, friends, exes, bosses, workmates ... all were false. And Ianto had spoken so affectionately and animatedly of them; he'd believed them as real as he was.
He heard the cog door roll open and closed as Owen finally left for the night. The Archivist generally shut himself down in the Archives, re-arranging rooms, re-labelling wrongly labelled things and tending to his now slowly-growing TARDIS. Tonight, however, he took an extra cup of strong, black coffee to Jack, and set it down with some pastries and a hot chocolate for himself. He didn't wait to be asked before sitting down, sipping his own drink and waiting for Jack to acknowledge him.
"What?" asked the Captain gruffly, realising he wasn't going away.
"It's Tuesday," replied the Archivist.
"And?"
"On the first Tuesday of every month, I 'randomly' bring extra coffee, pastries and some hot chocolate for myself ... and we talk."
"Ianto and I used to do that. You are not Ianto."
"You won't give me a chance? I brought jam doughnuts."
Jack leant back in his chair, folding his arms and watching him with narrowed eyes. "You're not going to go away are you?"
The Archivist knew he meant more than just going away tonight. "You're not going to send me away, either though?"
Jack glanced away. "Why have you stayed?"
"I ... want to. I want to stay here. I want to ... I want to find what ... To find what we had before. We can find it again, Jack."
"You're not Ianto."
"I'm a version of him. With add-ons. A little more mouthy, and an extra thump-thump ... but he's still here. The core of him is still here. I'm still here."
Jack regarded him coolly, drinking in the plain back suit, the purple shirt ... the waistcoat. Everything that was Ianto's armour ... but even on Ianto's body, there was something different. Was the Time Lord somehow neater? Cleaner? How was it he looked so much sharper, so much more dapper? His hair was so perfect, his skin so smooth, his eyes twinkled so bright - and Jack recalled those eyes so dark with lust, wanton and glistening as they stared up at him, or down at him, or back at him. The memory of those same eyes discarded on the stone floor of the vault came back to him too, and he shuddered.
"You're not Ianto."
"I'm not," agreed the Archivist again. "But he's still here. And the part of me that's him is missing you so much. You're not the only one who's lost, Jack. I love you."
Jack hid his face in his hands, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. He made a sudden movement to get up, but the Archivist had anticipated it, moving quickly and holding him, not allowing him to run away. Tentatively, Jack's arms wound around him to hold him back.
"I am Ianto. I can be Ianto. And I shall never leave you. For as long as I can I shall never, ever leave you, Jack." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm not the Doctor."
Jack pulled back a little to look him in the eye. He cupped his face hesitantly, examining the blue depths.
"Oh ..." he breathed. "There you are, Ianto ..."
They kissed with a new passion, an new understanding and a new relationship. For millions of years they sailed the stars together, hand in hand, smiling, saving a planet or saving the Universe: it didn't matter. They had each other, and they had their TARDIS. The caused chaos, restored order, freed the poor, set right the rich ... and tried to re-trend the use of snuff throughout the Space Time Continuum.
It didn't really take off again, to be honest.
Existence had had enough of snuff.
Previous Part
Chapter: 08/08
Characters: Janto Team!fic
Author: a_silver_story
Genre Horrorrrrrr.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Erm ... hopefully it's scary. Minor gore.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto decides to do the decade-ly inventory of the Archives - with rather scary results (and I'm not talking about bad organisation skills). Slight crossover with Doctor Who S3.
Note #1: This story was written the October before 'The Time of Angels' and 'Flesh and Stone' aired, so please don't message me regarding any inconsistencies with canon you may find.
Note #2: I've deleted the original version of this from LJ, and am posting this corrected version one chapter at a time, one day at a time.
At least he wasn't in pain any more.
Owen had pumped him full of painkillers, to the point where he could just about think clearly - if a little dopily - and breathe and talk without any discomfort. His eye sockets were redressed, and his eyes themselves left in a kidney dish. Owen didn't know how they could put them back in, but that didn't really matter. The wound in Ianto's leg was too deep. They hadn't nicked the artery, but his flesh had been hacked into so long ago and allowed to bleed copiously, his vital signs were too weak and his breathing becoming too shallow. Owen hadn't needed to bother making sure he didn't give him too many painkillers.
The best they could do was make him as comfortable as possible.
Gwen and Toshiko were huddled up to Owen while they cried quietly, and eventually he guided them up to the sofa and left Jack and Ianto alone in the medical bay.
"It's not that bad," Ianto told him, his voice getting weak, "At least I'll be high as kite."
"Yeah," sniffed Jack, grasping his hand.
"Hold me?" Ianto asked.
Jack climbed up onto the gurney behind him, settled Ianto's torso between his legs and let his head rest on his shoulder. Jack tried to cry quietly, but his gasping sobs couldn't be hidden.
"I know, Jack. I know," Ianto squeezed his hand. "Me and the coffee machine in one night - how can you go on?"
"I d-d-don't kn-know." He sobbed harder.
Ianto would have rolled his eyes if he'd had them. Clearly, Jack didn't get that the coffee machine bit was a joke.
Around them there were several clunks and mechanic whirs as the lockdown lifted.
"It'll be getting light outside," sighed Ianto wistfully as Jack cuddled him tighter. "November first ... made it through Hallowe'en at least."
"Yeah ..." Jack buried his head in Ianto's neck, inhaling his scent, committing it to memory.
"We didn't get any trick-or-treaters," complained Ianto. "Last year some kids came to the Tourist Centre. I gave them sweets and chocolate ... I was looking forward to this year ..."
Jack was rocking slightly, still cradling Ianto in his arms, kissing his cheeks and face and nose.
"I'm trying to speak, Jack," he complained. "I don't generally get to talk much, and when I do you always kiss me!"
"It's that deep timbre and the Welsh vowels. I can't help it," Jack smirked, even though Ianto couldn't see.
"You're smirking, aren't you?" Ianto practically whispered, a smile playing on his own pale lips.
"How did you guess?" Jack asked with a small laugh, wiping away more tears.
"Because I'm The Ianto - I know everything. I want that on my memorial stone by the way: 'The Ianto: He Knew Everything'. And above that I want a picture of me with my thumbs up."
"Are there any pictures of you with your thumbs up?"
"Fair point. We could take one now. At least we're not in any danger of unexpected red-eye."
The joke made Jack cry even harder, his rocking more profound.
"Jack ... you're giving me motion sickness."
"S-s-sorry!" Jack managed to cease his rocking, running his fingers through Ianto's hair and kissing the flesh of his neck. Ianto sighed regretfully.
"I've been thinking ... when was the last time I saw your face? I think it was ... we were sat by the sofa ... Gwen was on the lift dressed as a mouse. You kept glancing over at me and smiling in that way you do ... that way that means even though you're concentrating on the task in hand, you're finding time to also concentrate on what you're going to do to me when the task in hand is complete ... What were you thinking, Jack? What were you planning?"
Jack took a shuddering breath. "I was thinking ... maybe go to your place. We've only been once, and we were too drunk to remember properly." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I was going to lay you on the bed, undress you so slowly ... Take you so slowly ... I fantasised about it ... for weeks I've been thinking it ... tonight ... I put it off for so long ... and ... tonight I promised myself I'd show you how much I ... I ..."
"I love you, too,” Ianto told him, knowing Jack wouldn't be able to say it. Jack hiccoughed and gave him a squeeze, wiping away more tears on Ianto's jacket. "Jack ... I need you to do some things for me ..."
"Anything."
"... My sister. I need you to tell her that I'm sorry I wasn't around. Tell her I was ... anti-terrorism or something. No! Tell her I was a spy. Like James Bond, only less promiscuous and even better dressed. I didn't pop by as often as I should because I was too busy chasing criminals on speed boats in Venetian Canals ."
Jack gave a small laugh. "Okay ... sure. Sure."
"There's about seven years' worth of birthday and Christmas presents for them in the walk-in wardrobe. Make sure you don't box them up with my things. Make sure they get them."
"I promise," Jack sniffed.
"There's some for you, too."
"Yay!" Jack perked up.
"They're all wrapped already - Don't ask why. But you have to save them for Christmas."
"Okay."
"Tell my niece and nephew how much I loved them, even if they were little brats who I couldn't stand sometimes."
"Will do."
"And ... one last thing ... before I go ..."
"What is it?"
"The Archive container ... what ... wh-what was in it? What was it they wanted?"
"I haven't looked yet. I'll ... I'll go and fetch it."
Jack ran as quick as he could, grabbed the box without looking at the rest of the team, then bound back down to Ianto. Ianto told him his code, and he typed it in quickly followed by his own. It hissed and creaked, and the top popped open. Pushing it back fully, Jack looked inside and frowned.
"What is it, Jack?" Ianto asked weakly. "Quickly! What is it!"
"A bit of ... coral ... and a note and ... and ... and ... a fobwatch."
"I'm going to die because they wanted coral and a timepiece?" Ianto growled, his breathing becoming short and ragged. Jack didn't reply, staring at the swirls and circles and shapes engraved into the watch, knowing he'd seen this exact same kind of watch before ...
"Jack! Jack where are you?"
Jack snapped out of it. "I'm here, Ianto ... I'm right here ..."
He reached forward to climb back onto the gurney behind him, watch still in hand. It slipped a little, and Jack accidentally depressed the pop on the top, and the cover sprung open.
Instantly, Jack knew what had happened. The memories of Yana came back - the Master - and panic set in. Was this the Master again? A different Time Lord? Good or bad? What would it do without its owner's body close by? Was the body even alive still? How long had it been waiting?
"What's going on? What's that tingling?" Ianto asked, sticking his arms out, trying to feel.
Jack tried to close the watch, but it wouldn't go. The Vortex energy and the Time Lord soul were forcing their way out, so bright it hurt Jack's eyes. He grabbed at Ianto, holding him close as the Energy snaked and coiled and ... aimed for him.
Thrown backwards, Jack gasped and groaned on the floor, half shielding his eyes from the blinding glow. Ianto was calling his name, then suddenly ... silence.
Owen, Gwen and Toshiko appeared on the balcony, staring down at Jack on the floor and Ianto sat far too upright. He was moving slowly, gracefully. Tentatively pressing fingers into the dressing over his eyes, ghosting fingers over the solid form of his chest and arms and neck.
"This body is dying," he said regretfully, and pulled himself off the gurney.
The other three stared on in shock as Jack dragged himself up from the floor, Ianto - or Ianto's body - standing up straight.
"Don't regene - no!" Jack shouted, as the yellow, blinding light burst forth from neck and hands, engulfing them with the Vortex Energy. Gwen, Toshiko and Owen were covering their faces, watching through the lattice of their fingers. They could hear Ianto screaming and yelling, and Jack stared on, helpless.
The figure in the yellow Energy moved, crossing his arms over, pointing the Energy and redirecting it to ... the eyes. Less than thirty seconds later, the Energy dispersed, and Ianto - or the same body as Ianto had had - staggered backwards into the gurney.
"What ... the ... fuck ...?" breathed Owen.
Ianto was pressing his fingers into the eye-dressings again, but this time he was peeling them back.
"Ianto ... don't ..." Owen began, then stopped in shock as two sparkling baby-blues met his, and cheeky grin playing on Ianto's face. He pulled the whole dressing back and tossed it onto the gurney, then tested his leg to see if there was any aches or difficulty moving.
"You ... you ..." gasped Jack. "... you're a Time Lord? How come you didn't ... change?"
"Ianto wasn't. I am. Does that make sense? He was human, I'm Time Lord. See - two thump-thumps." He pointed at the scanner on the wall - sure enough, two hearts. Or 'thump-thumps'. "I didn't change because the extracted eyes served as a biological match for the form I wanted to keep. Fix the body, syphon the excess energy into them. Why change? I like this form. You do, too," he winked.
"What else does he have two of?" Gwen muttered.
"Yeah ... 'cause I don't get that all the time. And don't get any ideas, Mrs Williams - I know your track record for fidelity."
Gwen turned crimson, and everyone felt suddenly awkward - except Jack.
"You ... you fixed him so ... just ... go back in the watch. Go back in the watch ... Give him back ..."
"I ... I don't want to go back in the watch," said the Time Lord. "He's in here, though, Jack. He's still part of me."
Jack shook his head. "Not the same." His voice rose high as he fought back tears. "I want him."
"I'm sorry, Jack. He ... he's in me, but ... you'll never be able to draw him out and keep him separate. Even if I did go back into the watch - which I won't - the human body I'd leave behind would be a blank slate."
"I don't get what's going on," Owen called from the balcony. "What was all the glowy-ness? Is he possessed or something?"
"I'll explain," began the Time Lord, straightening out Ianto's bloodstained and crumpled shirt. "This watch isn't a watch. It's a ... Thing. This Thing keeps a lot of Vortex Energy and the soul of a Time Lord inside - extracts the Time Lord from the Time Lord's body and leaves a human form behind with false memories and a false life. The Time Lord is safely hidden, and human potters about and lives and lives until the time is right for the Time Lord to come out again."
"Ianto was a Time Lord all along?" Gwen frowned.
"So ... Ianto's ... dead?" asked Toshiko.
"In a manner of speaking," shuffled the Time Lord. "So much of me was in him, and so much of him is now in me. All his memories are my own, and all my memories were always his. A melding."
"But you are the dominant party?" Jack asked bitterly.
"Of course. Time Lords are far, far, far, far superi - I'll end that one there."
"What's your name?" asked Jack.
"The Archivist. But you may continue to call me Ianto: I really, really like that name. Ianto Jones. Ianto Jones. Ianto Jones. Ianto Jones Ianto Jones Ianto Jones Ianto Jones. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"
"So why did the Angels want you?" Owen asked, folding his arms and thinking to himself resolutely this is not Ianto.
"They weren't particularly concerned about the watch. I mean, they knew it was me, but I wasn't their concern as long as I stayed in the watch," the Archivist explained. "They wanted my little baby ..." From the box he pulled the coral, that had grown significantly since the fobwatch had been activated. He set it on the gurney, cooing at it. "This is my little baby TARDIS, full grown there would have been enough Vortex Energy swirling around inside her that the Weeping Angels could have channelled and absorbed and switched off the sun. Not that switching off suns is hard - all you need is a really long hosepipe, about a three planets' worth of water and a massive fire engine. Or just a really, really, really, really big candle snuffer. I love that word: snuffer. Snuffer. Snuffer. Snuffer snuffer snuffer. Snuff. I like snuff. I'll never understand why snorting something up your nose in public went so out of fashion. In most circles anyway. Actually - fashionable for a different reason rather than in decline. Snuff. Enough. Had enough of snuff. Ha!"
"This is the most I've ever heard Ianto say. Ever," Owen told them, gaping a little.
"That's because he's not Ianto," Jack scowled. "I'll ... I'll be in my office."
"Jack!" called the Archivist. "Jack ... wait!"
"What?" Jack snapped, turning suddenly, part way up the stairs. They stared each other down a second.
"Nothing ..." sighed the Archivist. "We'll ... we'll talk when you've calmed ..."
"Will we?" Jack narrowed his eyes.
"Yes."
"What makes you so certain?"
"Because I know everything," he said bluntly, then winced at the pain that flicked through Jack's eyes. "I meant because of the Vortex!" he called after him as Jack turned on his heel and shut himself in his office.
Gwen, Owen and Toshiko all brushed past him on their way back to the rec area.
The Archivist stood alone by the steps to the medical bay, looking around as if hoping someone might be there.
He hugged himself.
t
Three days later, and the Archivist was still hanging around. It was hard to mourn Ianto when someone so like him - physically, and personality-wise - was wandering around doing all of his chores, dressing in his clothes and using his voice. He avoided them mostly, but would occasionally ask them something, or give them pointers on a case, or identify several mis-labelled or new things.
Jack never looked up when he brought him coffee or reports or paperwork. Toshiko would only 'mm' her thanks when he pointed out a glitch or left her her favourite biscuits. Gwen would occasionally smile if he found a missing link, noticed a mistake or took her a sweet latte. Owen ignored him completely.
Shortly after the incidents of Hallowe'en, Jack had researched Ianto's sister. As the Archivist had said, she was a false memory. As were her husband and children, parents, grandparents, friends, exes, bosses, workmates ... all were false. And Ianto had spoken so affectionately and animatedly of them; he'd believed them as real as he was.
He heard the cog door roll open and closed as Owen finally left for the night. The Archivist generally shut himself down in the Archives, re-arranging rooms, re-labelling wrongly labelled things and tending to his now slowly-growing TARDIS. Tonight, however, he took an extra cup of strong, black coffee to Jack, and set it down with some pastries and a hot chocolate for himself. He didn't wait to be asked before sitting down, sipping his own drink and waiting for Jack to acknowledge him.
"What?" asked the Captain gruffly, realising he wasn't going away.
"It's Tuesday," replied the Archivist.
"And?"
"On the first Tuesday of every month, I 'randomly' bring extra coffee, pastries and some hot chocolate for myself ... and we talk."
"Ianto and I used to do that. You are not Ianto."
"You won't give me a chance? I brought jam doughnuts."
Jack leant back in his chair, folding his arms and watching him with narrowed eyes. "You're not going to go away are you?"
The Archivist knew he meant more than just going away tonight. "You're not going to send me away, either though?"
Jack glanced away. "Why have you stayed?"
"I ... want to. I want to stay here. I want to ... I want to find what ... To find what we had before. We can find it again, Jack."
"You're not Ianto."
"I'm a version of him. With add-ons. A little more mouthy, and an extra thump-thump ... but he's still here. The core of him is still here. I'm still here."
Jack regarded him coolly, drinking in the plain back suit, the purple shirt ... the waistcoat. Everything that was Ianto's armour ... but even on Ianto's body, there was something different. Was the Time Lord somehow neater? Cleaner? How was it he looked so much sharper, so much more dapper? His hair was so perfect, his skin so smooth, his eyes twinkled so bright - and Jack recalled those eyes so dark with lust, wanton and glistening as they stared up at him, or down at him, or back at him. The memory of those same eyes discarded on the stone floor of the vault came back to him too, and he shuddered.
"You're not Ianto."
"I'm not," agreed the Archivist again. "But he's still here. And the part of me that's him is missing you so much. You're not the only one who's lost, Jack. I love you."
Jack hid his face in his hands, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. He made a sudden movement to get up, but the Archivist had anticipated it, moving quickly and holding him, not allowing him to run away. Tentatively, Jack's arms wound around him to hold him back.
"I am Ianto. I can be Ianto. And I shall never leave you. For as long as I can I shall never, ever leave you, Jack." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm not the Doctor."
Jack pulled back a little to look him in the eye. He cupped his face hesitantly, examining the blue depths.
"Oh ..." he breathed. "There you are, Ianto ..."
They kissed with a new passion, an new understanding and a new relationship. For millions of years they sailed the stars together, hand in hand, smiling, saving a planet or saving the Universe: it didn't matter. They had each other, and they had their TARDIS. The caused chaos, restored order, freed the poor, set right the rich ... and tried to re-trend the use of snuff throughout the Space Time Continuum.
It didn't really take off again, to be honest.
Existence had had enough of snuff.
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