Fic - Torchwood Big Bang: Shattered in Aspect 2/5 [PG-15] TW/HL/DW crossover
Title: Shattered In Aspect
Author: A Lanart
Beta: idontlikegravy
Artist: idontlikegravy
Characters/Pairing(s): Torchwood Team and CoE characters, Methos and Joe from Highlander: The Series, OFC and the Doctor.
Pairings: Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Methos, Jack/Methos, (background of Methos/Jack/Ianto)
Rating: PG-15 (M)
Word Count: 28,120
Warnings: It’s a non-fixit Children of Earth story - character Death. Lots of Angst; tissues might be required.
Disclaimer: Not Mine! Everything you recognise belongs to either the BBC or Panzer/Davis
Summary: Methos, Jack and Ianto deal with events - and each other - both during, and in the aftermath of the 5 days that changed their world.
Author's Notes: : Crossover with Highlander: The Series and Doctor Who (set in my ongoing AU, The Mystery verse).
Some dialogue from Days 2-5 of CoE is used in the fic.
The title is from the song ‘Shattered in Aspect’ by Faith and the Muse, as is the longer quote near the end. Other quotes are from the song ‘No Time to Cry’ by the Sisters of Mercy.
Each part takes place on a separate Day of Children of Earth, starting from Day 2 and continuing beyond Day 5.
Shattered in Aspect
Day 3
~*~
~ No time to run and hide ~
*
Ianto was pleased that the old Torchwood One warehouse in Battersea was more or less intact and secure after its long years of neglect. Like so many other things it had been forgotten in the aftermath of Canary Wharf; he was just glad it was a place that didn’t have any associations with Lisa as even now he wouldn’t have been able to tolerate staying if it did - his post Canary Wharf memories weren’t good ones and he’d tried to forget that time as much as he possibly could without retcon. He wasn’t pleased that Jack seemed to be turning in on himself, withdrawing from the contact they’d established in the journey to London but he wasn’t sure enough of himself to push too hard. Every time he considered it he couldn’t get past the memory of Jack in pieces and if *he* felt like that, how much worse must it have been for Jack growing back painfully cell by cell? Ianto shuddered, and let Jack have his space, even though it hurt to have him sit as far away as possible as the size of the ratty old settee allowed; he knew it was time for Jack to be the Captain, and not the man. Knowing it and feeling it were entirely different things however, and he felt downright unappreciated for all the work that he’d put in to get them this far and it came to something when *Rhys* was the only one who seemed prepared to make a go of it. He berated himself silently for having such feelings, the oh so familiar guilt about not being good enough coursing through him in an unwelcome tide.
Ianto gave Jack a sidelong glance; he could swear the man was *trying* to create more friction between them all with every word out of his mouth, something that was confirmed by the little smirk on Jack’s face after he very carefully made sure that Rhys was aware that they’d known of Gwen’s pregnancy first. Great. Bloody Great. Just when Ianto thought he was beginning to make some inroads into understanding the complexity that was Jack, there was another twist, another turn and he was reminded that he barely knew the man at all, no matter how he felt about him. He sighed; it was just his luck to be involved with possibly the two most enigmatic people on the planet, but then he’d never made things easy for himself. At least he had a handle on what made Methos tick, even if he didn’t always understand the guy, but Jack seemed so *alien* at times that he doubted he’d ever manage it, even if he lived to a ripe old age. With a last glance at Jack, Ianto scrambled upright, he had to move, had to do *something* or else he’d go mad and that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all himself.
Later, as Ianto perched on the stairs watching everyone carefully avoid each other, he chanced a brief call to Mac who lived over the road from Rhiannon. He couldn’t ring her, he knew the line would be bugged, but if he kept the call short he hoped that whoever was searching for them wouldn’t notice his phone being used. It was a risk, but one that Ianto deemed was worth it; he had to let Rhi know he was alive as she, Johnny and the kids were all the family he had left - apart from Torchwood.
*
Methos woke with a mouth that tasted of sawdust but no other ill effects from his alcoholic over indulgence the night before. He’d slept better than he’d expected but his body sometimes helpfully looked after itself like that when his mind was distracted; it was one of the things that had given him the edge in surviving when others didn’t. He didn’t *feel* any better, but at least he knew he was physically ready for the day ahead. He padded into the shower to wake himself up the rest of the way and avoided switching on the television - he had no desire to listen to the lies the politicians were making up about the current situation, he’d probably heard them all before at some time or another. All he wanted was for it all to be over so he could get on with living, preferably as a continuing thorn in the side of Jack and Ianto. He squashed any other thoughts of his two lovers brutally, he didn’t have the time to indulge himself and he didn’t want his body getting ideas to the contrary.
He was more than prepared to leave immediately, but Siannon mother-henned him into having a cup of coffee and some breakfast first. He capitulated just to shut her up; he wasn’t in the mood for her nagging and he knew from experience just how much she could go on if she was so inclined. Going by the smile she tried to hide behind her teacup, she was more than aware of the fact. Methos hid a smile of his own; despite everything, it was good to have her company.
Before much more time had passed, he was back in his car and heading towards London again. This time he at least made the effort to try and obey the speed limit even if he didn’t always succeed, Siannon’s Renault an ever present image in his rear view mirror to remind him.
*
Though initially somewhat nonplussed by Gwen's comment about being criminals, Ianto had to stop his almost semi-automatic eyeroll as she elaborated further and he saw the grin spread over Jack's face. Jack may not be a conman any more but Ianto was sure he'd got himself away free and clear when he was from a lot worse than the Cardiff constabulary but if Gwen didn't know, Ianto wasn't going to take it upon himself to enlighten her. As for Jack, he obviously still enjoyed the thrill of being one step ahead of the law. Ianto also had no idea if Gwen had read his file but even if she had that lone shoplifting conviction wasn't really an accurate reflection of how he'd spent a chunk of his life when he was younger. What it had been was the kick up the backside he'd needed in order to start turning his life around but Gwen of course was blissfully unaware of this. Rhys seemed to be unopposed to the idea of walking on the other side of the fence - another good mark on his side as far as Ianto was concerned - so Ianto began to make a mental list of what they needed and what *he* thought might be useful. Partway through his lists he realised he would probably end up spending longer than the others away from their temporary home. Chasing quickly on the tail of that thought came another... Ianto glanced at Jack again - he was still wearing his 'Captain' face - and came to a decision that would at least be beneficial to him and at best also would benefit Jack, and therefore all of them. First he would need a new phone, there was no way he was going to risk using his current one to make *this* call.
Ianto drew a strange sort of enjoyment out of their 'criminal' efforts, even more so when he got to swing a few friendly punches at Rhys but at the end of the day it had gained them some useful items and that was the important thing.
After Gwen and Rhys had left him to take the laptops back to the warehouse and Jack had disappeared goodness only knows where, Ianto took the cracked credit card and bought himself a pay as you go phone that conveniently used the same battery as his own. He ensconced himself in the relative privacy of a shadowed doorway to make the call, hoping that Methos had returned to his flat and wasn't still in Reading; if he was, the plan would come to nothing.
It was no surprise when Methos picked the phone up in his usual terse manner, but that changed when Ianto announced himself and the relief he heard in the immortal's voice was almost palpable. Ianto allowed himself the luxury of immersing himself in the pleasure of just hearing Methos speak before he got down to business.
“Are you back home, now?” Ianto eventually asked.
“At the moment, yes.” Methos' tone implied that he'd change that at a moments notice with no problem, something that Ianto had been hoping for, but had not wanted to assume.
“I need you to do me a favour,” he said.
“Name it.”
Ianto hadn't expected blind agreement; he doubted that Methos had done that in more years than Jack had been alive, but he was pleased with the response. He began to elaborate,
“We need supplies. I can deal with the mundane things, plus clothes for the rest of us, but I want to replace Jack's coat at least if I can and I don't know of any army surplus places around here...”
“Leave it with me,” Methos interjected. “I know someone on Portobello Road who will probably have what's needed.”
Ianto sagged against the brickwork as the tension ran out of him; he'd been fairly certain that Methos would be able to help but he hadn't realised just how much he'd counted on it.
“Thank you. I know Jack will appreciate it. He's... not quite back to being himself yet.”
“And you want to do what you can. I understand. Whereabouts are you?”
Ianto reeled off the name of a road not too far from his current position and where he'd spotted a couple of potential places for a meeting away from the possible eyes on the street.
“I know it. I'll be there soon.”
As Methos cut the call, Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. Although his ulterior motive had been to try and find something more suitable for Jack than his current attire - he'd had a point, tracksuit bottoms weren't a good look on him - what Ianto had so desperately craved was to see Methos. Maybe it was selfish of him not to involve Jack, but he needed to see Methos alone and he'd been taught by the old guy himself that a little selfishness wasn't necessarily a bad thing, not in a relationship with two immortals anyway. With that thought in mind, Ianto stepped out of the doorway and made his way to the agreed street; the places he needed to drop into on the way already mapped out in his head. By the time Methos arrived his acquisitions would be complete.
*
Siannon watched the door close behind Methos and threw herself down on the sofa with a woosh of expelled breath. Much as she wanted to go with him to reassure herself that Ianto really was OK, she'd kept her mouth tight shut on the request. She'd recognised the look in Methos' eyes, even if he had not acknowledged the thought; he was going to say goodbye to Ianto. There was no way on earth she would let her presence interfere with that; there was no doubt that if Methos had wanted her company he would have asked for it. She hoped with all her heart that it would only be a temporary goodbye and that they would all be able to look back on these days with a sense of amused disbelief, much as they did with the other things Torchwood had thrown at them. Siannon wrapped her arms around herself as a finger of cold foreboding ran down her spine; more than anything she wanted to be optimistic but the situation appeared to be increasingly grim and though she hoped that Ianto - and Gwen and Rhys - survived unharmed she couldn't quiet the insidious whisper that implied it was a futile hope.
*
Methos chuckled as he spotted the place where Ianto had suggested they meet. It was a small, good quality, non-chain coffee shop - the sort that Ianto always seemed to able to find without trying, jokingly referring to the ability as having a coffee radar. He stepped through the door and into the reassuring dimness beyond, scanning the area for his objective. Ianto was on a sofa in the corner that looked like it offered a decent view of the whole shop although it was also the furthest from the door, a selection of bags stacked neatly beside him. Methos approved of his caution, though it didn't surprise him; Ianto looked wary and on edge. Not for the first time, Methos silently cursed Torchwood for what it did to people. As he moved closer the wary look lifted from Ianto's eyes and a smile lit his face. Methos couldn't help but smile in return, and was still smiling as he bent down to press a heartfelt kiss to Ianto's lips before he slithered into the seat next to him, biting back the grin that threatened to escape as he took in Ianto's slightly startled but appreciative expression; he obviously hadn't expected such an enthusiastic greeting, not in such a public place at least. Methos decided he'd best give Ianto some sort of explanation and felt that the unvarnished truth was the only thing that would do.
"I've missed you, and I'm glad you're alive," he said simply. Ianto reached for his hand while giving him the shy and sweet smile that never failed to kick Methos in the guts, and should probably be counted as an offensive weapon. It was probably just as well that Ianto only ever seemed to use it on him and Jack, with often devastating effect. Ianto broke eye contact first, though he didn’t relinquish his hold on Methos’ hand about which Methos was inordinately pleased - he didn’t want to lose the contact. Ianto glanced down at their joined hands with a quirk of his lips, then back up at Methos, still smiling even though it had become a little twisted around the edges
"Funnily enough, I'm glad I'm alive too," he said and though he didn't return the 'I've missed you' Methos heard it nonetheless. Considering that everything seemed to be falling apart with great rapidity, Ianto was taking a chance in meeting with him, and Methos was selfishly glad of that fact. He leaned forward to pick up the coffee that was waiting on his side of the table and took a sip; it was actually pretty good, though he still preferred Ianto’s, something of which Ianto was only too well aware judging by the faint smile hovering on his lips. Methos settled back into the cushions of the sofa, coffee in one hand, Ianto’s fingers clasped in the other - he wasn’t letting Ianto go until he had to.
“Any idea who ordered the Hub destroyed? Or why?” Methos tried to make his tone as light and conversational as possible - he didn’t want to give anyone with over curious ears any cues that there was something potentially earth-shattering being discussed between the two guys on the sofa at the back of the coffee shop, though he doubted anyone would understand the actual words; Welsh was not exactly widely spoken in London after all. “Considering what you do for Cardiff I wouldn’t have expected you to be declared anathema to the extent where they wanted you ‘neutralised’ even if you are considered dangerous.” Methos almost snorted as he said that - they were considered dangerous for the very good reason that they *were* dangerous, just not in the way that most people expected.
Ianto sighed, and took a sip of his own drink. Methos reflected that it was a sound so full of world-weariness and acceptance it should be way too old to be coming from someone of Ianto’s age - but that was Torchwood for you; you were old before your time, in some cases literally.
“The ‘who’ is the government, or more accurately another branch of the civil service,” Ianto said.
“The Hub was blown up by civil servants?” Methos couldn’t help the irreverent image of men in bad suits wearing glasses and waving big guns that surfaced in his head, and shook it to clear it; bad humour was unlikely to help in this situation, even if under normal circumstances Ianto would appreciate it.
“Hey, Torchwood is nominally part of the civil service…” Ianto protested, then added, somewhat sheepishly, “but, yes, it seems that way.”
“And you’re sure UNIT wasn’t involved?” Methos asked; he knew that Torchwood and UNIT were sometimes at odds with each other, but couldn’t imagine the military organisation willingly being involved in something as underhanded as the attempted destruction of Torchwood Cardiff and all its personnel.
“Not as far as we can tell. Our contact on the inside of UNIT was out of the country when everything went to hell and we daren’t attempt to reach her now - she’ll be under surveillance at the least. Same probably goes for the other people who might be able to help. We can’t put them at risk if they aren’t already; we’re on our own.” Methos squeezed Ianto’s hand a little, just to remind him that they weren’t *quite* on their own, even if he wasn’t exactly an army. Ianto returned the gesture, and gave Methos a small but thankful smile in acknowledgement.
“I presume the why is something to do with the children?”
“We think so, but right now we aren’t exactly in position to confirm that. We’re working on that, though.” Ianto patted the laptop on the seat beside him. Methos didn’t miss the pleased near-smirk that flitted across Ianto’s face. He grinned in response.
“You’ve been making acquisitions, then?” He asked. Methos was fairly certain he knew more about Ianto’s somewhat chequered background than most people apart from Jack, but then Ianto knew more about him so there was a kind of symmetry to it all.
“Just a few. Which reminds me…” Ianto didn’t need to ask the question for Methos to hear it, but he did need to hear the answer.
“It’s in the car,” Methos said. He’d been lucky that his friend on Portobello had been able to supply everything, including the right sort of boots, and wrap it into one tidy package.
“Thank you,” Ianto murmured.
“I wish there was more I could do to help.” For all his apparent ducking of responsibilities at times and his determination to survive, Methos meant every word. What he really wanted was to disappear off somewhere with Ianto and Jack and surface when someone else had sorted the problem out, but he knew that wasn’t an option, not with those two. And if he couldn’t disappear then it seemed stupid not to use certain of his abilities.
“I know, but…”
Methos cut Ianto off with a gesture.
“Ianto, I’m immortal and I’ve been around for a long time...” Methos found himself being interrupted in turn.
“But you’re not indestructible. Jack needs - hell, *I* need - to know you’re not part of this mess,” Ianto said, his voice almost trembling with barely restrained vehemence.
Methos sighed, he’d encountered Ianto’s steadfast determination before and there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do to dissuade him from a path once he’d decided to take it but he had nothing to lose by trying, and a hell of a lot to gain.
“There’s only the three of you up against people who obviously have no scruples,” Methos said blandly.
“Four. There’s Rhys.”
“Four then.” Methos fought the urge to roll his eyes in a way that Ianto would find way too familiar. “But Rhys isn’t Torchwood and even if he was, the power of Torchwood wasn’t enough to prevent you all nearly being killed. Do you really think you can make a difference when you’ve got none of that power behind you?”
Silence stretched between them - dark, heavy, emotion laden silence. They stared at each other, fingers still firmly tangled together. Methos swallowed, mentally kicking himself for pushing too hard. He hadn’t meant to, but where Ianto was concerned he’d found himself doing a lot of things he hadn’t meant to so what was one more to worry about? He suspected Ianto’s answer would be painful to say the least.
“We’ve got to try. If we don’t, who will?” Ianto said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Shit. To him it probably was, and all Methos could do was bite his lip to hold back the retort he wanted to give and let Ianto carry on. “Jack changed the way Torchwood worked in Cardiff so we were there to protect people as much as anything else and we can’t stop doing that now even if we’re trying to protect them from their own. If anything it’s more important now than it ever was. And Torchwood was never just the Hub; it’s the people as well. Jack *is* Torchwood, and we’ve got make sure he stays that way.” Ianto’s impassioned tumble of words ceased and Methos sighed, closing his eyes to get away from the accusing blue glare of Ianto’s. He still didn’t let go of Ianto’s hand, though.
“Where the hell did I go wrong?” He whispered, almost to himself. “I can’t seem to escape from twice-damned bloody heroes!”
“We’re not heroes; we’re just doing our job.” Ianto sounded so genuinely puzzled that Methos couldn’t help the disbelieving snort that escaped. He decided to elaborate.
“Ianto, people walk away from ‘jobs’. You don’t walk away from Torchwood, not intact anyway. Even *I* know that.”
“And you think I don’t? None of us are whole, Methos, not even Jack - especially not Jack - but Torchwood gives us something *more* to live for; it’s like family.”
“I’m quite aware of that - I even understand - but it doesn’t mean I have to like it! Torchwood was there before Jack and the rest of you and it will be there after - *you* won’t be.”
And there it was, out in the open - Methos’ entire motivation for his behaviour - he doubted it would make a difference but at least he couldn’t be accused of holding things back this time.
“That doesn’t change anything,” Ianto said gently.
“I didn’t think it would, but it had to be said. I just wish… Oh never mind. You always were Torchwood’s first and foremost, you always will be.” Methos took a deep breath and let it out noisily. Another. Damn bloody intransigent mortals getting under his skin until he cared too much.
“Would you want me to be any different?” Ianto asked quietly, carefully avoiding Methos’ searching glance. Methos decided he might as well continue being honest, it seemed to be the day for it.
“If you were different you wouldn’t be you, so no.” ‘No matter how much it hurts,’ he added silently to himself. Ianto probably already knew that.
“Part of my charm, then?” Ianto asked with a raised eyebrow as he took his turn to lighten the mood between them, which made Methos smile.
“You’ve been around Jack too much.”
“Then when this is over you should remedy that. Spend some time with us.”
Such simple, gentle, heartfelt words and yet Methos found himself almost fighting back tears. If they all still lived when this was over he wouldn’t just spend time with them, they wouldn’t be able to get rid of him. Ever. Maybe he would join Torchwood just to keep an eye on the two of them and to enjoy every moment possible with them both. Somehow he didn’t think he’d get the chance. No matter what he thought might happen, it didn’t change how truly he wanted, and meant, the answer he gave Ianto.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure, Ianto Emrys Jones.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Methos raised Ianto’s hand to his lips, and kissed his fingers gently.
“See that you do.”
*
Ianto watched the Jaguar XK8 disappear into the distance, Methos’ last kiss still tingling on his lips from the touch of Quickening that had been put into it, then he hefted the parcels and bags and started walking the rest of the way to Torchwood Cardiff’s temporary London home. He knew Methos would have been more than happy to take him to the door, but Ianto had preferred that he didn’t know exactly where they were staying - what he didn’t know couldn’t be forced out of him. He was somewhat surprised by the rather swanky Boxter S parked next to Johnny’s Vectra, decided it must have been Jack who picked that up - it was the sort of thing he would do - and was still trying to hide his smile at that thought as he entered the warehouse. They’d obviously managed to get the electricity up and running while he was gone and though the light didn’t make the place exactly welcoming, it was certainly less inhospitable. He was also faintly amused that it was Jack who chewed him out for being gone longer than expected; he had thought it would most likely be Gwen going by how Jack had been before they set out. They all changed their tune when they found out just what his ‘essentials’ included, especially the clothes, but the reaction he really wanted to see was Jack’s to the bulky, paper-wrapped parcel that Methos had given him. He walked toward Jack, parcel in hand, unable to keep the smile from his eyes, though he thought he’d mostly succeeded in keeping it off his face.
“And for you, sir… Army surplus Special.”
And unless Jack asked, Ianto wouldn’t tell him just how special it was either. Whether he did or not, Jack’s reaction was everything he’d hoped for - the flicker of hope and anticipation in his eyes as Ianto moved closer, coalescing into a pleased and almost shocked grin as Ianto handed the package over.
“Oh, you’re kidding me?!” Jack exclaimed. Ianto knew his answering smile was more than part smirk, but at that point he didn’t really care. He raised his hands as if to say ‘all part of the service’ and took a step back, not missing the glint of something else in Jack’s eyes as he did so. Jack knew, or at least suspected, where - or rather with whom - Ianto had been but wasn’t going to question it and for that, Ianto would be eternally grateful.
Ianto knew he’d made the right decision to involve Methos when Jack rejoined them by the fire looking very much himself again. Part of it was illusion, Ianto was well aware of that, but if having the familiar armour of a half-decent suit on his back affected him, then how much would the familiar trappings of coat and braces and boots - not to mention the rest of the clothes - mean to Jack. The coat was *him* in a way that transcended the fact that it was merely a garment, an item to keep you warm. On Jack the coat was not just a coat, it was a badge of honour.
Despite the fact that they all seemed to feel ready to face whatever the government and the unknown aliens might throw at them, Ianto had to suppress a smile that it needed a less than subtle reminder from Rhys to get them moving. If he also felt a stab of envy for Rhys’ wish for the return of a normal life he paid it no mind; Ianto had given up on normal so many times it was beyond count, right back to when he first saw the lightning of an immortal Quickening in a place he was not supposed to know about, never mind actually being there.
The three of them settled into work mode easily with Rhys an unobtrusive presence in the background which amused Ianto no end. However, he wasn’t amused by the fact that his mind wouldn’t move as fast as he wanted it to, seeming to be determined to linger on thoughts of Methos and Jack and wondering what it must have been like for Jack to resurrect slowly, only to be killed again possibly just as slowly - it was a hell of a time for his morbid curiosity to decide to surface. It was a welcome distraction when Gwen had her idea about using the contacts and actually asked him a concrete question. It was something he *could* answer and it diverted him from the unpleasant spiral his in which mind had inexplicably got caught. It also meant he felt like they were actually *doing* something instead of floundering around in the dark.
Later, with Gwen despatched to intercept Lois Habiba with the Torchwood contacts - the logical choice seeing as Lois had only met her and Rhys - the warehouse seemed a lot emptier. It was easy for Ianto to almost forget that Rhys was still there, puttering away behind them. Jack was concentrating on the Whitehall files, musing aloud as he read.
“Frobisher's the key to this. He's just a civil servant, he's nothing. What makes him start authorising executions?”
Ianto knew he should be listening, offering an opinion but he found he couldn’t, found he didn’t actually *care* at that point. Jack was so much *there* - alive, filling his senses, driving him to distraction by merely breathing - to the extent that Ianto couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t helped by the endless and macabre game of chase the thoughts of death, resurrection and Jack were playing in his head. He knew that if he didn’t bite the bullet now, no matter how inappropriate it was, he never would.
“What did it feel like? I mean, getting blown up,” Ianto asked.
“It wasn't the best of days.”
Jack’s answer was too flip for Ianto’s current state of mind - he realised that Jack probably didn’t want to dwell on it, but he *had* to know more, with a need that was verging on irrational and surprised him with its intensity.
“No, but... did you feel it?” Ianto’s breath almost caught in his chest as Jack turned to face him, the look in his eyes acknowledged that while he didn’t understand *why* the hell Ianto needed to know this - not now - he was prepared to answer. Ianto continued, “Or did everything just go black?”
“I felt it.”
“Shit.” Ianto turned away with a shudder, he honestly hadn’t expected that. He couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been.
“Yeah,” Jack agreed.
Ianto knew he really should leave it there, but if Jack really was prepared to give an answer to things he would usually brush off there was no way Ianto *could* leave it, not when he had so many questions, not when there was so much he didn’t understand about Jack.
“Do you ever think that, one day, your luck'll run out? That you won't come back.”
Jack turned to face him, but didn’t quite meet Ianto’s eyes.
“I'm a fixed point in time and space,” he said. “That's what the Doctor says.” He paused; Ianto hardly dared to breathe in case he shattered the moment, and waited for Jack to continue, their eyes finally catching and holding each other. The expression on Jack’s face was almost too much for Ianto to bear. “I think that means it's forever.”
“So... one day, you'll see me die…” Ianto decided he was going to be optimistic and added a bit of wishful thinking, “….of old age... And just keep going.” He nodded slightly; that was the way he’d like it to go as right now the thought of growing old with Jack was one of the most comforting thoughts he’d had all day. Jack going on without him was something he’d known would happen for a long time, though he didn’t usually think about it.
Jack gave him a twisted little smile.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“We better make the most of it, then,” Ianto commented matter-of-factly, a brief smile flickering across his face.
“Suppose.” Jack’s own smile became wider, and a lot less twisted before he turned away.
Ianto continued to gaze at him, wondering if he could really get away with saying what he wanted, before deciding that he had nothing to lose. Carpe Diem was such a good expression…
“Like right now?”
“Ianto, the world could be ending.” Jack looked like he didn’t know whether to be pleased or surprised - or more likely it was a mixture of both. For a moment Ianto was reminded of Owen and his views on what to do if the world was ending.
“World's always ending,” Ianto murmured. “And I have missed that coat.”
Jack turned away with a splutter of half-realised laughter, then seemed to decide that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all and turned in his chair to face Rhys.
“Rhys, do you want to take the car and go to those shops, down by the Wharf? We need some disks for these things. Should take about... 20 minutes?”
Twenty minutes? Yeah, right. If they *could* get rid of Rhys, Ianto wanted longer than that, not much longer though or he’d be worrying.
“30 minutes,” he corrected.
“30,” Jack added.
“I'll go later, the beans are almost done!” Rhys said, sounding as if he thought that was the best thing in the entire world. Ianto rolled his eyes. Of course they were almost done, right when he didn’t want them to be.
“The beans are almost done,” Jack said blandly.
“Bloody beans,” Ianto growled. He’d give Rhys beans - preferably all over his head with a whack from the pan for good measure - it might knock some sensitivity into his thick skull. He was all set to turn back around and tell Rhys to get the hell out or he wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences when Jack stepped over to stand behind him, his hand warm and vibrant on Ianto’s shoulder, even through the layers of the suit. Ianto swivelled to look up at him, question and challenge vying for puzzled supremacy in his mind and no doubt showing in his eyes. Jack gave him a lop-sided and kind of discomforted shrug.
“I’ve probably had too many deaths for le petit mort anyway. Leave it.”
“But I…” There were too many things to say, too many reasons why Ianto didn’t need exactly *that* from Jack, but did need time with him and somehow he couldn’t articulate any of it. He clenched his hands in frustration, fingernails digging into his palms. Jack’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
“I know,” Jack whispered. “I’ll make it up to you when this is over.” There was no spoken promise, but Ianto felt the kiss that followed Jack’s words was promise enough. He threw himself into it heart and soul, trying to say everything he couldn’t say aloud with his lips, teeth and tongue - if a kiss was all he could get then he was going to make the bloody most of it. He pulled away when he could no longer ignore the need to breathe and gave Jack a smile that was as full of promises as the kiss had been. Jack’s fingers lingered on his face for a moment before he moved back to his chair, and Ianto could almost see him wrapping the ‘Captain’ round himself once more. Their eyes met, and Ianto gave him a business-like nod, indicating his understanding. As was sometimes the case, satisfying their needs - or *his* needs at least, Ianto mused somewhat glumly - was secondary to what Torchwood demanded; she was a harsh mistress. Ianto smothered his sigh of disappointment - he really *had* missed the coat - and resolutely focused on the screen in front of him. If Jack needed his archivist and researcher more than his lover, then that was what he would get; Ianto was perfectly capable of being professional, no matter *what* he really wanted. He sighed quietly as he brought up the next piece of software.
In virtually no time at all, Ianto was immersed in his work. He’d always gained a sense of Tosh’s presence whenever he used any of the more complex programmes on the Torchwood server although he would have drawn an odd sort of pleasure from using any piece of such finely crafted software. Tosh had always seemed to glow whenever he complimented her work and he was convinced she’d taken extra care with anything he was likely to be using - a personal touch for her partner in computer geekdom. It felt good to know she was still with them in some way, even to saving their lives as she had done with the dalek and the time lock. He missed her and he always would, especially when he used something she’d written with him in mind.
He’d just discovered that Clement MacDonald had been arrested and was actually in London himself when Gwen rang. Luckily it didn’t take much to convince her to spring him out of custody. A quick glance in Jack’s direction as the call ended showed he was engrossed in the photo of Clement MacDonald on the laptop he was using. Ianto turned back to his own screen.
“So Ianto, what's his story?” Jack asked
Ianto flicked through the files, refreshing his memory as he told Jack the salient points so the sudden movement as Jack rose out of his chair and moved closer caught him by surprise.
“Show me those people.” It wasn’t a request, but Ianto hadn’t followed Jack’s train of thought and needed clarification.
“What people?” He queried.
“Andrew Staines, Ellen Hunt, Michael Sanders. The ones that were killed the same day as me.”
Something was bothering Jack and Ianto had no idea what. He tried to gain a bit more information.
“Why, do you think there's a connection?”
“Show me!” Jack demanded brusquely. Ianto complied, still none the wiser as to what was going on in Jack’s head, but becoming increasingly anxious as to the cause especially as he felt like he was being completely left in the dark. The images he called up onto the screen showed three people on the wrong side of 60 years old.
“No, no, give me their history, show me them 40 years ago.”
“What for?” Ianto glanced at Jack - he still didn’t understand, and he always preferred to know *why* he was doing something. Jack glared at him.
“Just do it!”
A few keystrokes later and Tosh’s software obliged with images of the 3 of them as they must have appeared in the 1960s. Jack stared at the screen as if he’d just discovered something shocking.
“Who are they, Jack? Did you know them?” Ianto asked carefully - he was getting steadily more worried.
“I never knew their names.”
“Who were they?” He was still getting no answer so Ianto decided to push a little more. “Jack, tell me. Did you know them?”
Jack’s only response was to grab his coat and head for the door.
“Jack!” Ianto called after the retreating figure, trying to demand an explanation. Jack didn’t acknowledge him, and didn’t look back. Ianto tried to not let it hurt, and failed. He sighed. Secrets, always more bloody secrets. Ianto doubted that he would discover even a tenth of them if he lived a full life and while some might say it added to Jack’s mystique he found it was becoming downright tiresome to be reminded at every turn just how little he knew about the enigma that was Jack Harkness - and he was privy to things that Gwen wasn’t. Still, Jack or no Jack, he had a job to do. He turned back to the computer.
*
Ianto and Rhys watched the news feeds with shared concern; Gwen still hadn't returned and with Jack gone they both felt the need to stick together. Rhys had gone up another notch in Ianto's estimation when he cottoned on that the kids were pointing at Britain and when Ianto realised *precisely* where they were pointing to he took off for the roof with Rhys only a couple of steps behind him. Ianto was filled with gut-churning horror as he watched the pillar of alien fire descend on Thames House and judging by the death-grip Rhys had on him, he was feeling fairly terrified too. Now, more than ever, they needed Lois to use those contacts and he couldn't bring himself to share Gwen and Rhys' optimism that she would come through for them. He felt so useless having to rely on other people to do things when all he could do was watch. It was kind of ironic really, considering that Watching was what he'd intended to do with his life before Torchwood had got hooks into him, especially now when watching was no longer enough.
It was almost full dark by the time Gwen returned, and there still had been no news from Jack. Rhys seemed determined to make the best of things as he gently teased Clem and made sure they all had something hot to keep body and soul together. Ianto felt like a cat on hot bricks and couldn't understand how Rhys could be so calm, which was probably why he overreacted to Clem's 'queer' remark. He didn't miss the expression on Rhys' face after he tried to back-pedal with a comment about it not being 1965 any more either, and he came to the conclusion that Rhys and Gwen actually were perfect for each other, warts and all, even with the added complication of Torchwood and aliens. Ianto doubted he'd ever have perfect, but he at least wanted to have the chance to *try*, no matter how difficult it seemed at times and Jack's continued absence rankled on so many levels. He was able to put it out of his mind to a degree when the I5 software went live and he joined Rhys and Gwen in a huddle round the laptop, watching with bated breath as they finally saw what was on floor 13 of Thames House through Lois Habiba's eyes. The glimpses they had of the thing in the tank were disturbing enough for him, and Ianto shuddered to think what it must be like for her; yet she retained the presence of mind to capture the words of the 456 using shorthand. That was a development that made Ianto feel less useless, even if he was just as frustrated. Trust Jack to still be swanning off just when he was needed. Still, they'd coped without him before and they'd do their best now in just the same way.
Clem's uneasiness about 'The Man' unsettled them all, distracting them from what was being transmitted from Thames House, but Ianto hadn't expected his abject terror when Jack walked through the door, or the revelation that terror forced Jack to make. He felt for Clem, he really did, but concern for him became secondary to the swirling morass of emotion he'd become - disgust and disbelief and despair were all churning around inside him. He knew Jack's past was less than clean, he'd been around too long for that, but to find out something so important from another, as if it - or Ianto - hadn't been important enough to admit to, *hurt*. Then Clem's fright turned to fury and Ianto found himself hurting *for* Jack as he stumbled through a useless apology, voice thick with remorse. He was already moving when Clem went for Gwen's gun, but he was too late and Jack died - again - with blood blooming across his chest from the gunshot. Ianto ignored the commotion around Clem - if Gwen and Rhys couldn't deal with him then they were all screwed anyway - and concentrated on Jack, falling to his knees beside him so he could heave the body into his arms. Jack might be going to live forever, but Ianto felt the same every time he died, he couldn't help it; couldn't help the fear that maybe *this* time he might not come back, he might leave them all - leave him - despite everything he'd said to the contrary. He cradled Jack tenderly, even though he couldn't feel it, and watched with wary eyes as Gwen finally talked the gun out of Clem's hand. The first frantic gasp of life returning still took him by surprise, but Ianto held on tight as Jack clutched at him, eyes still clouded by pain. Ianto hated this; hated seeing Jack so vulnerable and hated the way the way it made him feel but it was one of the few times Jack truly needed him so they clung to each other desperately as Clem disappeared into the dark, both seeking and giving what reassurance they could. Too soon, Jack pulled away and Ianto reluctantly let him go - Jack didn’t seem to like dwelling on his vulnerability. Ianto scrambled off the floor and took a seat by one of the computers. He didn’t even pretend to be working; he had too much to think about, all wrapped up in two words: Jack Harkness. Jack asked - demanded - that they trust him, knew so much about them - even things that Ianto hadn’t admitted to another living person in years, Watchers included - and it was sobering when Ianto was reminded how little they really knew *him* - they didn’t even know his name.
Ianto stared unseeingly at the screen, trying not to dwell on it and failing miserably when Jack came to sit on the desk beside him. Ianto kept his eyes fixed to the screen and the familiar restful patterns of the Torchwood screensaver; he daren’t look at Jack, not just yet, he was too choked up.
"I can't believe you didn't mention this before," he said.
"They didn't speak through kids back then. I didn't recognise the signs at first."
Trust Jack to take him literally. Bloody typical. Ianto turned to face Jack, knowing that his eyes would reveal far too much of what he thought and felt and found himself hard-pressed to remember why that was a bad idea; it no longer seemed to be important.
"That's not what I meant." Going by the expression in Jack’s eyes as they finally met his, Ianto was hopeful that he might actually get an explanation. The moment was broken by Rhys approaching, which made Ianto want to grind his teeth in frustration.
“They're coming back,” Rhys announced with a jerk of his thumb toward Gwen and Clem. Ianto turned in his seat to face them as Jack slid off the table and moved away from him. Clem still looked terrified and about ready to bolt as he faced Jack. Ianto could relate to that, even if he still didn’t forgive him for shooting Jack.
“The man who sent me and my friends to die, can't die himself,” Clem said, in horrified sounding wonder. Ianto didn’t miss the quick flick of Jack’s eyes toward him, and then Rhys, but he didn’t know what Jack was looking for, never mind whether he’d actually found it.
Jack was given the Third Degree by Gwen, even as he finished changing out of his bloodstained shirt. Ianto remained silent, but he watched carefully from a distance as Jack tried to justify his actions with an unlikely ally in the form of Rhys. Ianto only joined them at the computer again when Lois went back into the room with the 456, for this much at least, they needed him. He forced himself to keep watching as the cameraman went into the tank, even when Jack broke away and sat apart from them all, desolation apparent in every line of his body as his past came back to haunt him in a way he must never have anticipated. Ianto knew that if Jack had had any inkling of what lay ahead of those children, he wouldn’t have parted with a single one and he only hoped that they could find a way to keep them safe this time or Jack’s burden of guilt would be so much the heavier, even if it meant saving the rest of the planet. He glanced at Jack where he sat with his head hanging in defeat and made a decision; they would find a way - God only knew how - but they would; they had to.
*
~ Part Three - Day Four ~
Author: A Lanart
Beta: idontlikegravy
Artist: idontlikegravy
Characters/Pairing(s): Torchwood Team and CoE characters, Methos and Joe from Highlander: The Series, OFC and the Doctor.
Pairings: Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Methos, Jack/Methos, (background of Methos/Jack/Ianto)
Rating: PG-15 (M)
Word Count: 28,120
Warnings: It’s a non-fixit Children of Earth story - character Death. Lots of Angst; tissues might be required.
Disclaimer: Not Mine! Everything you recognise belongs to either the BBC or Panzer/Davis
Summary: Methos, Jack and Ianto deal with events - and each other - both during, and in the aftermath of the 5 days that changed their world.
Author's Notes: : Crossover with Highlander: The Series and Doctor Who (set in my ongoing AU, The Mystery verse).
Some dialogue from Days 2-5 of CoE is used in the fic.
The title is from the song ‘Shattered in Aspect’ by Faith and the Muse, as is the longer quote near the end. Other quotes are from the song ‘No Time to Cry’ by the Sisters of Mercy.
Each part takes place on a separate Day of Children of Earth, starting from Day 2 and continuing beyond Day 5.
Shattered in Aspect
Day 3
~*~
~ No time to run and hide ~
*
Ianto was pleased that the old Torchwood One warehouse in Battersea was more or less intact and secure after its long years of neglect. Like so many other things it had been forgotten in the aftermath of Canary Wharf; he was just glad it was a place that didn’t have any associations with Lisa as even now he wouldn’t have been able to tolerate staying if it did - his post Canary Wharf memories weren’t good ones and he’d tried to forget that time as much as he possibly could without retcon. He wasn’t pleased that Jack seemed to be turning in on himself, withdrawing from the contact they’d established in the journey to London but he wasn’t sure enough of himself to push too hard. Every time he considered it he couldn’t get past the memory of Jack in pieces and if *he* felt like that, how much worse must it have been for Jack growing back painfully cell by cell? Ianto shuddered, and let Jack have his space, even though it hurt to have him sit as far away as possible as the size of the ratty old settee allowed; he knew it was time for Jack to be the Captain, and not the man. Knowing it and feeling it were entirely different things however, and he felt downright unappreciated for all the work that he’d put in to get them this far and it came to something when *Rhys* was the only one who seemed prepared to make a go of it. He berated himself silently for having such feelings, the oh so familiar guilt about not being good enough coursing through him in an unwelcome tide.
Ianto gave Jack a sidelong glance; he could swear the man was *trying* to create more friction between them all with every word out of his mouth, something that was confirmed by the little smirk on Jack’s face after he very carefully made sure that Rhys was aware that they’d known of Gwen’s pregnancy first. Great. Bloody Great. Just when Ianto thought he was beginning to make some inroads into understanding the complexity that was Jack, there was another twist, another turn and he was reminded that he barely knew the man at all, no matter how he felt about him. He sighed; it was just his luck to be involved with possibly the two most enigmatic people on the planet, but then he’d never made things easy for himself. At least he had a handle on what made Methos tick, even if he didn’t always understand the guy, but Jack seemed so *alien* at times that he doubted he’d ever manage it, even if he lived to a ripe old age. With a last glance at Jack, Ianto scrambled upright, he had to move, had to do *something* or else he’d go mad and that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all himself.
Later, as Ianto perched on the stairs watching everyone carefully avoid each other, he chanced a brief call to Mac who lived over the road from Rhiannon. He couldn’t ring her, he knew the line would be bugged, but if he kept the call short he hoped that whoever was searching for them wouldn’t notice his phone being used. It was a risk, but one that Ianto deemed was worth it; he had to let Rhi know he was alive as she, Johnny and the kids were all the family he had left - apart from Torchwood.
*
Methos woke with a mouth that tasted of sawdust but no other ill effects from his alcoholic over indulgence the night before. He’d slept better than he’d expected but his body sometimes helpfully looked after itself like that when his mind was distracted; it was one of the things that had given him the edge in surviving when others didn’t. He didn’t *feel* any better, but at least he knew he was physically ready for the day ahead. He padded into the shower to wake himself up the rest of the way and avoided switching on the television - he had no desire to listen to the lies the politicians were making up about the current situation, he’d probably heard them all before at some time or another. All he wanted was for it all to be over so he could get on with living, preferably as a continuing thorn in the side of Jack and Ianto. He squashed any other thoughts of his two lovers brutally, he didn’t have the time to indulge himself and he didn’t want his body getting ideas to the contrary.
He was more than prepared to leave immediately, but Siannon mother-henned him into having a cup of coffee and some breakfast first. He capitulated just to shut her up; he wasn’t in the mood for her nagging and he knew from experience just how much she could go on if she was so inclined. Going by the smile she tried to hide behind her teacup, she was more than aware of the fact. Methos hid a smile of his own; despite everything, it was good to have her company.
Before much more time had passed, he was back in his car and heading towards London again. This time he at least made the effort to try and obey the speed limit even if he didn’t always succeed, Siannon’s Renault an ever present image in his rear view mirror to remind him.
*
Though initially somewhat nonplussed by Gwen's comment about being criminals, Ianto had to stop his almost semi-automatic eyeroll as she elaborated further and he saw the grin spread over Jack's face. Jack may not be a conman any more but Ianto was sure he'd got himself away free and clear when he was from a lot worse than the Cardiff constabulary but if Gwen didn't know, Ianto wasn't going to take it upon himself to enlighten her. As for Jack, he obviously still enjoyed the thrill of being one step ahead of the law. Ianto also had no idea if Gwen had read his file but even if she had that lone shoplifting conviction wasn't really an accurate reflection of how he'd spent a chunk of his life when he was younger. What it had been was the kick up the backside he'd needed in order to start turning his life around but Gwen of course was blissfully unaware of this. Rhys seemed to be unopposed to the idea of walking on the other side of the fence - another good mark on his side as far as Ianto was concerned - so Ianto began to make a mental list of what they needed and what *he* thought might be useful. Partway through his lists he realised he would probably end up spending longer than the others away from their temporary home. Chasing quickly on the tail of that thought came another... Ianto glanced at Jack again - he was still wearing his 'Captain' face - and came to a decision that would at least be beneficial to him and at best also would benefit Jack, and therefore all of them. First he would need a new phone, there was no way he was going to risk using his current one to make *this* call.
Ianto drew a strange sort of enjoyment out of their 'criminal' efforts, even more so when he got to swing a few friendly punches at Rhys but at the end of the day it had gained them some useful items and that was the important thing.
After Gwen and Rhys had left him to take the laptops back to the warehouse and Jack had disappeared goodness only knows where, Ianto took the cracked credit card and bought himself a pay as you go phone that conveniently used the same battery as his own. He ensconced himself in the relative privacy of a shadowed doorway to make the call, hoping that Methos had returned to his flat and wasn't still in Reading; if he was, the plan would come to nothing.
It was no surprise when Methos picked the phone up in his usual terse manner, but that changed when Ianto announced himself and the relief he heard in the immortal's voice was almost palpable. Ianto allowed himself the luxury of immersing himself in the pleasure of just hearing Methos speak before he got down to business.
“Are you back home, now?” Ianto eventually asked.
“At the moment, yes.” Methos' tone implied that he'd change that at a moments notice with no problem, something that Ianto had been hoping for, but had not wanted to assume.
“I need you to do me a favour,” he said.
“Name it.”
Ianto hadn't expected blind agreement; he doubted that Methos had done that in more years than Jack had been alive, but he was pleased with the response. He began to elaborate,
“We need supplies. I can deal with the mundane things, plus clothes for the rest of us, but I want to replace Jack's coat at least if I can and I don't know of any army surplus places around here...”
“Leave it with me,” Methos interjected. “I know someone on Portobello Road who will probably have what's needed.”
Ianto sagged against the brickwork as the tension ran out of him; he'd been fairly certain that Methos would be able to help but he hadn't realised just how much he'd counted on it.
“Thank you. I know Jack will appreciate it. He's... not quite back to being himself yet.”
“And you want to do what you can. I understand. Whereabouts are you?”
Ianto reeled off the name of a road not too far from his current position and where he'd spotted a couple of potential places for a meeting away from the possible eyes on the street.
“I know it. I'll be there soon.”
As Methos cut the call, Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. Although his ulterior motive had been to try and find something more suitable for Jack than his current attire - he'd had a point, tracksuit bottoms weren't a good look on him - what Ianto had so desperately craved was to see Methos. Maybe it was selfish of him not to involve Jack, but he needed to see Methos alone and he'd been taught by the old guy himself that a little selfishness wasn't necessarily a bad thing, not in a relationship with two immortals anyway. With that thought in mind, Ianto stepped out of the doorway and made his way to the agreed street; the places he needed to drop into on the way already mapped out in his head. By the time Methos arrived his acquisitions would be complete.
*
Siannon watched the door close behind Methos and threw herself down on the sofa with a woosh of expelled breath. Much as she wanted to go with him to reassure herself that Ianto really was OK, she'd kept her mouth tight shut on the request. She'd recognised the look in Methos' eyes, even if he had not acknowledged the thought; he was going to say goodbye to Ianto. There was no way on earth she would let her presence interfere with that; there was no doubt that if Methos had wanted her company he would have asked for it. She hoped with all her heart that it would only be a temporary goodbye and that they would all be able to look back on these days with a sense of amused disbelief, much as they did with the other things Torchwood had thrown at them. Siannon wrapped her arms around herself as a finger of cold foreboding ran down her spine; more than anything she wanted to be optimistic but the situation appeared to be increasingly grim and though she hoped that Ianto - and Gwen and Rhys - survived unharmed she couldn't quiet the insidious whisper that implied it was a futile hope.
*
Methos chuckled as he spotted the place where Ianto had suggested they meet. It was a small, good quality, non-chain coffee shop - the sort that Ianto always seemed to able to find without trying, jokingly referring to the ability as having a coffee radar. He stepped through the door and into the reassuring dimness beyond, scanning the area for his objective. Ianto was on a sofa in the corner that looked like it offered a decent view of the whole shop although it was also the furthest from the door, a selection of bags stacked neatly beside him. Methos approved of his caution, though it didn't surprise him; Ianto looked wary and on edge. Not for the first time, Methos silently cursed Torchwood for what it did to people. As he moved closer the wary look lifted from Ianto's eyes and a smile lit his face. Methos couldn't help but smile in return, and was still smiling as he bent down to press a heartfelt kiss to Ianto's lips before he slithered into the seat next to him, biting back the grin that threatened to escape as he took in Ianto's slightly startled but appreciative expression; he obviously hadn't expected such an enthusiastic greeting, not in such a public place at least. Methos decided he'd best give Ianto some sort of explanation and felt that the unvarnished truth was the only thing that would do.
"I've missed you, and I'm glad you're alive," he said simply. Ianto reached for his hand while giving him the shy and sweet smile that never failed to kick Methos in the guts, and should probably be counted as an offensive weapon. It was probably just as well that Ianto only ever seemed to use it on him and Jack, with often devastating effect. Ianto broke eye contact first, though he didn’t relinquish his hold on Methos’ hand about which Methos was inordinately pleased - he didn’t want to lose the contact. Ianto glanced down at their joined hands with a quirk of his lips, then back up at Methos, still smiling even though it had become a little twisted around the edges
"Funnily enough, I'm glad I'm alive too," he said and though he didn't return the 'I've missed you' Methos heard it nonetheless. Considering that everything seemed to be falling apart with great rapidity, Ianto was taking a chance in meeting with him, and Methos was selfishly glad of that fact. He leaned forward to pick up the coffee that was waiting on his side of the table and took a sip; it was actually pretty good, though he still preferred Ianto’s, something of which Ianto was only too well aware judging by the faint smile hovering on his lips. Methos settled back into the cushions of the sofa, coffee in one hand, Ianto’s fingers clasped in the other - he wasn’t letting Ianto go until he had to.
“Any idea who ordered the Hub destroyed? Or why?” Methos tried to make his tone as light and conversational as possible - he didn’t want to give anyone with over curious ears any cues that there was something potentially earth-shattering being discussed between the two guys on the sofa at the back of the coffee shop, though he doubted anyone would understand the actual words; Welsh was not exactly widely spoken in London after all. “Considering what you do for Cardiff I wouldn’t have expected you to be declared anathema to the extent where they wanted you ‘neutralised’ even if you are considered dangerous.” Methos almost snorted as he said that - they were considered dangerous for the very good reason that they *were* dangerous, just not in the way that most people expected.
Ianto sighed, and took a sip of his own drink. Methos reflected that it was a sound so full of world-weariness and acceptance it should be way too old to be coming from someone of Ianto’s age - but that was Torchwood for you; you were old before your time, in some cases literally.
“The ‘who’ is the government, or more accurately another branch of the civil service,” Ianto said.
“The Hub was blown up by civil servants?” Methos couldn’t help the irreverent image of men in bad suits wearing glasses and waving big guns that surfaced in his head, and shook it to clear it; bad humour was unlikely to help in this situation, even if under normal circumstances Ianto would appreciate it.
“Hey, Torchwood is nominally part of the civil service…” Ianto protested, then added, somewhat sheepishly, “but, yes, it seems that way.”
“And you’re sure UNIT wasn’t involved?” Methos asked; he knew that Torchwood and UNIT were sometimes at odds with each other, but couldn’t imagine the military organisation willingly being involved in something as underhanded as the attempted destruction of Torchwood Cardiff and all its personnel.
“Not as far as we can tell. Our contact on the inside of UNIT was out of the country when everything went to hell and we daren’t attempt to reach her now - she’ll be under surveillance at the least. Same probably goes for the other people who might be able to help. We can’t put them at risk if they aren’t already; we’re on our own.” Methos squeezed Ianto’s hand a little, just to remind him that they weren’t *quite* on their own, even if he wasn’t exactly an army. Ianto returned the gesture, and gave Methos a small but thankful smile in acknowledgement.
“I presume the why is something to do with the children?”
“We think so, but right now we aren’t exactly in position to confirm that. We’re working on that, though.” Ianto patted the laptop on the seat beside him. Methos didn’t miss the pleased near-smirk that flitted across Ianto’s face. He grinned in response.
“You’ve been making acquisitions, then?” He asked. Methos was fairly certain he knew more about Ianto’s somewhat chequered background than most people apart from Jack, but then Ianto knew more about him so there was a kind of symmetry to it all.
“Just a few. Which reminds me…” Ianto didn’t need to ask the question for Methos to hear it, but he did need to hear the answer.
“It’s in the car,” Methos said. He’d been lucky that his friend on Portobello had been able to supply everything, including the right sort of boots, and wrap it into one tidy package.
“Thank you,” Ianto murmured.
“I wish there was more I could do to help.” For all his apparent ducking of responsibilities at times and his determination to survive, Methos meant every word. What he really wanted was to disappear off somewhere with Ianto and Jack and surface when someone else had sorted the problem out, but he knew that wasn’t an option, not with those two. And if he couldn’t disappear then it seemed stupid not to use certain of his abilities.
“I know, but…”
Methos cut Ianto off with a gesture.
“Ianto, I’m immortal and I’ve been around for a long time...” Methos found himself being interrupted in turn.
“But you’re not indestructible. Jack needs - hell, *I* need - to know you’re not part of this mess,” Ianto said, his voice almost trembling with barely restrained vehemence.
Methos sighed, he’d encountered Ianto’s steadfast determination before and there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do to dissuade him from a path once he’d decided to take it but he had nothing to lose by trying, and a hell of a lot to gain.
“There’s only the three of you up against people who obviously have no scruples,” Methos said blandly.
“Four. There’s Rhys.”
“Four then.” Methos fought the urge to roll his eyes in a way that Ianto would find way too familiar. “But Rhys isn’t Torchwood and even if he was, the power of Torchwood wasn’t enough to prevent you all nearly being killed. Do you really think you can make a difference when you’ve got none of that power behind you?”
Silence stretched between them - dark, heavy, emotion laden silence. They stared at each other, fingers still firmly tangled together. Methos swallowed, mentally kicking himself for pushing too hard. He hadn’t meant to, but where Ianto was concerned he’d found himself doing a lot of things he hadn’t meant to so what was one more to worry about? He suspected Ianto’s answer would be painful to say the least.
“We’ve got to try. If we don’t, who will?” Ianto said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Shit. To him it probably was, and all Methos could do was bite his lip to hold back the retort he wanted to give and let Ianto carry on. “Jack changed the way Torchwood worked in Cardiff so we were there to protect people as much as anything else and we can’t stop doing that now even if we’re trying to protect them from their own. If anything it’s more important now than it ever was. And Torchwood was never just the Hub; it’s the people as well. Jack *is* Torchwood, and we’ve got make sure he stays that way.” Ianto’s impassioned tumble of words ceased and Methos sighed, closing his eyes to get away from the accusing blue glare of Ianto’s. He still didn’t let go of Ianto’s hand, though.
“Where the hell did I go wrong?” He whispered, almost to himself. “I can’t seem to escape from twice-damned bloody heroes!”
“We’re not heroes; we’re just doing our job.” Ianto sounded so genuinely puzzled that Methos couldn’t help the disbelieving snort that escaped. He decided to elaborate.
“Ianto, people walk away from ‘jobs’. You don’t walk away from Torchwood, not intact anyway. Even *I* know that.”
“And you think I don’t? None of us are whole, Methos, not even Jack - especially not Jack - but Torchwood gives us something *more* to live for; it’s like family.”
“I’m quite aware of that - I even understand - but it doesn’t mean I have to like it! Torchwood was there before Jack and the rest of you and it will be there after - *you* won’t be.”
And there it was, out in the open - Methos’ entire motivation for his behaviour - he doubted it would make a difference but at least he couldn’t be accused of holding things back this time.
“That doesn’t change anything,” Ianto said gently.
“I didn’t think it would, but it had to be said. I just wish… Oh never mind. You always were Torchwood’s first and foremost, you always will be.” Methos took a deep breath and let it out noisily. Another. Damn bloody intransigent mortals getting under his skin until he cared too much.
“Would you want me to be any different?” Ianto asked quietly, carefully avoiding Methos’ searching glance. Methos decided he might as well continue being honest, it seemed to be the day for it.
“If you were different you wouldn’t be you, so no.” ‘No matter how much it hurts,’ he added silently to himself. Ianto probably already knew that.
“Part of my charm, then?” Ianto asked with a raised eyebrow as he took his turn to lighten the mood between them, which made Methos smile.
“You’ve been around Jack too much.”
“Then when this is over you should remedy that. Spend some time with us.”
Such simple, gentle, heartfelt words and yet Methos found himself almost fighting back tears. If they all still lived when this was over he wouldn’t just spend time with them, they wouldn’t be able to get rid of him. Ever. Maybe he would join Torchwood just to keep an eye on the two of them and to enjoy every moment possible with them both. Somehow he didn’t think he’d get the chance. No matter what he thought might happen, it didn’t change how truly he wanted, and meant, the answer he gave Ianto.
“Nothing would give me more pleasure, Ianto Emrys Jones.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Methos raised Ianto’s hand to his lips, and kissed his fingers gently.
“See that you do.”
*
Ianto watched the Jaguar XK8 disappear into the distance, Methos’ last kiss still tingling on his lips from the touch of Quickening that had been put into it, then he hefted the parcels and bags and started walking the rest of the way to Torchwood Cardiff’s temporary London home. He knew Methos would have been more than happy to take him to the door, but Ianto had preferred that he didn’t know exactly where they were staying - what he didn’t know couldn’t be forced out of him. He was somewhat surprised by the rather swanky Boxter S parked next to Johnny’s Vectra, decided it must have been Jack who picked that up - it was the sort of thing he would do - and was still trying to hide his smile at that thought as he entered the warehouse. They’d obviously managed to get the electricity up and running while he was gone and though the light didn’t make the place exactly welcoming, it was certainly less inhospitable. He was also faintly amused that it was Jack who chewed him out for being gone longer than expected; he had thought it would most likely be Gwen going by how Jack had been before they set out. They all changed their tune when they found out just what his ‘essentials’ included, especially the clothes, but the reaction he really wanted to see was Jack’s to the bulky, paper-wrapped parcel that Methos had given him. He walked toward Jack, parcel in hand, unable to keep the smile from his eyes, though he thought he’d mostly succeeded in keeping it off his face.
“And for you, sir… Army surplus Special.”
And unless Jack asked, Ianto wouldn’t tell him just how special it was either. Whether he did or not, Jack’s reaction was everything he’d hoped for - the flicker of hope and anticipation in his eyes as Ianto moved closer, coalescing into a pleased and almost shocked grin as Ianto handed the package over.
“Oh, you’re kidding me?!” Jack exclaimed. Ianto knew his answering smile was more than part smirk, but at that point he didn’t really care. He raised his hands as if to say ‘all part of the service’ and took a step back, not missing the glint of something else in Jack’s eyes as he did so. Jack knew, or at least suspected, where - or rather with whom - Ianto had been but wasn’t going to question it and for that, Ianto would be eternally grateful.
Ianto knew he’d made the right decision to involve Methos when Jack rejoined them by the fire looking very much himself again. Part of it was illusion, Ianto was well aware of that, but if having the familiar armour of a half-decent suit on his back affected him, then how much would the familiar trappings of coat and braces and boots - not to mention the rest of the clothes - mean to Jack. The coat was *him* in a way that transcended the fact that it was merely a garment, an item to keep you warm. On Jack the coat was not just a coat, it was a badge of honour.
Despite the fact that they all seemed to feel ready to face whatever the government and the unknown aliens might throw at them, Ianto had to suppress a smile that it needed a less than subtle reminder from Rhys to get them moving. If he also felt a stab of envy for Rhys’ wish for the return of a normal life he paid it no mind; Ianto had given up on normal so many times it was beyond count, right back to when he first saw the lightning of an immortal Quickening in a place he was not supposed to know about, never mind actually being there.
The three of them settled into work mode easily with Rhys an unobtrusive presence in the background which amused Ianto no end. However, he wasn’t amused by the fact that his mind wouldn’t move as fast as he wanted it to, seeming to be determined to linger on thoughts of Methos and Jack and wondering what it must have been like for Jack to resurrect slowly, only to be killed again possibly just as slowly - it was a hell of a time for his morbid curiosity to decide to surface. It was a welcome distraction when Gwen had her idea about using the contacts and actually asked him a concrete question. It was something he *could* answer and it diverted him from the unpleasant spiral his in which mind had inexplicably got caught. It also meant he felt like they were actually *doing* something instead of floundering around in the dark.
Later, with Gwen despatched to intercept Lois Habiba with the Torchwood contacts - the logical choice seeing as Lois had only met her and Rhys - the warehouse seemed a lot emptier. It was easy for Ianto to almost forget that Rhys was still there, puttering away behind them. Jack was concentrating on the Whitehall files, musing aloud as he read.
“Frobisher's the key to this. He's just a civil servant, he's nothing. What makes him start authorising executions?”
Ianto knew he should be listening, offering an opinion but he found he couldn’t, found he didn’t actually *care* at that point. Jack was so much *there* - alive, filling his senses, driving him to distraction by merely breathing - to the extent that Ianto couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t helped by the endless and macabre game of chase the thoughts of death, resurrection and Jack were playing in his head. He knew that if he didn’t bite the bullet now, no matter how inappropriate it was, he never would.
“What did it feel like? I mean, getting blown up,” Ianto asked.
“It wasn't the best of days.”
Jack’s answer was too flip for Ianto’s current state of mind - he realised that Jack probably didn’t want to dwell on it, but he *had* to know more, with a need that was verging on irrational and surprised him with its intensity.
“No, but... did you feel it?” Ianto’s breath almost caught in his chest as Jack turned to face him, the look in his eyes acknowledged that while he didn’t understand *why* the hell Ianto needed to know this - not now - he was prepared to answer. Ianto continued, “Or did everything just go black?”
“I felt it.”
“Shit.” Ianto turned away with a shudder, he honestly hadn’t expected that. He couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been.
“Yeah,” Jack agreed.
Ianto knew he really should leave it there, but if Jack really was prepared to give an answer to things he would usually brush off there was no way Ianto *could* leave it, not when he had so many questions, not when there was so much he didn’t understand about Jack.
“Do you ever think that, one day, your luck'll run out? That you won't come back.”
Jack turned to face him, but didn’t quite meet Ianto’s eyes.
“I'm a fixed point in time and space,” he said. “That's what the Doctor says.” He paused; Ianto hardly dared to breathe in case he shattered the moment, and waited for Jack to continue, their eyes finally catching and holding each other. The expression on Jack’s face was almost too much for Ianto to bear. “I think that means it's forever.”
“So... one day, you'll see me die…” Ianto decided he was going to be optimistic and added a bit of wishful thinking, “….of old age... And just keep going.” He nodded slightly; that was the way he’d like it to go as right now the thought of growing old with Jack was one of the most comforting thoughts he’d had all day. Jack going on without him was something he’d known would happen for a long time, though he didn’t usually think about it.
Jack gave him a twisted little smile.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“We better make the most of it, then,” Ianto commented matter-of-factly, a brief smile flickering across his face.
“Suppose.” Jack’s own smile became wider, and a lot less twisted before he turned away.
Ianto continued to gaze at him, wondering if he could really get away with saying what he wanted, before deciding that he had nothing to lose. Carpe Diem was such a good expression…
“Like right now?”
“Ianto, the world could be ending.” Jack looked like he didn’t know whether to be pleased or surprised - or more likely it was a mixture of both. For a moment Ianto was reminded of Owen and his views on what to do if the world was ending.
“World's always ending,” Ianto murmured. “And I have missed that coat.”
Jack turned away with a splutter of half-realised laughter, then seemed to decide that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all and turned in his chair to face Rhys.
“Rhys, do you want to take the car and go to those shops, down by the Wharf? We need some disks for these things. Should take about... 20 minutes?”
Twenty minutes? Yeah, right. If they *could* get rid of Rhys, Ianto wanted longer than that, not much longer though or he’d be worrying.
“30 minutes,” he corrected.
“30,” Jack added.
“I'll go later, the beans are almost done!” Rhys said, sounding as if he thought that was the best thing in the entire world. Ianto rolled his eyes. Of course they were almost done, right when he didn’t want them to be.
“The beans are almost done,” Jack said blandly.
“Bloody beans,” Ianto growled. He’d give Rhys beans - preferably all over his head with a whack from the pan for good measure - it might knock some sensitivity into his thick skull. He was all set to turn back around and tell Rhys to get the hell out or he wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences when Jack stepped over to stand behind him, his hand warm and vibrant on Ianto’s shoulder, even through the layers of the suit. Ianto swivelled to look up at him, question and challenge vying for puzzled supremacy in his mind and no doubt showing in his eyes. Jack gave him a lop-sided and kind of discomforted shrug.
“I’ve probably had too many deaths for le petit mort anyway. Leave it.”
“But I…” There were too many things to say, too many reasons why Ianto didn’t need exactly *that* from Jack, but did need time with him and somehow he couldn’t articulate any of it. He clenched his hands in frustration, fingernails digging into his palms. Jack’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
“I know,” Jack whispered. “I’ll make it up to you when this is over.” There was no spoken promise, but Ianto felt the kiss that followed Jack’s words was promise enough. He threw himself into it heart and soul, trying to say everything he couldn’t say aloud with his lips, teeth and tongue - if a kiss was all he could get then he was going to make the bloody most of it. He pulled away when he could no longer ignore the need to breathe and gave Jack a smile that was as full of promises as the kiss had been. Jack’s fingers lingered on his face for a moment before he moved back to his chair, and Ianto could almost see him wrapping the ‘Captain’ round himself once more. Their eyes met, and Ianto gave him a business-like nod, indicating his understanding. As was sometimes the case, satisfying their needs - or *his* needs at least, Ianto mused somewhat glumly - was secondary to what Torchwood demanded; she was a harsh mistress. Ianto smothered his sigh of disappointment - he really *had* missed the coat - and resolutely focused on the screen in front of him. If Jack needed his archivist and researcher more than his lover, then that was what he would get; Ianto was perfectly capable of being professional, no matter *what* he really wanted. He sighed quietly as he brought up the next piece of software.
In virtually no time at all, Ianto was immersed in his work. He’d always gained a sense of Tosh’s presence whenever he used any of the more complex programmes on the Torchwood server although he would have drawn an odd sort of pleasure from using any piece of such finely crafted software. Tosh had always seemed to glow whenever he complimented her work and he was convinced she’d taken extra care with anything he was likely to be using - a personal touch for her partner in computer geekdom. It felt good to know she was still with them in some way, even to saving their lives as she had done with the dalek and the time lock. He missed her and he always would, especially when he used something she’d written with him in mind.
He’d just discovered that Clement MacDonald had been arrested and was actually in London himself when Gwen rang. Luckily it didn’t take much to convince her to spring him out of custody. A quick glance in Jack’s direction as the call ended showed he was engrossed in the photo of Clement MacDonald on the laptop he was using. Ianto turned back to his own screen.
“So Ianto, what's his story?” Jack asked
Ianto flicked through the files, refreshing his memory as he told Jack the salient points so the sudden movement as Jack rose out of his chair and moved closer caught him by surprise.
“Show me those people.” It wasn’t a request, but Ianto hadn’t followed Jack’s train of thought and needed clarification.
“What people?” He queried.
“Andrew Staines, Ellen Hunt, Michael Sanders. The ones that were killed the same day as me.”
Something was bothering Jack and Ianto had no idea what. He tried to gain a bit more information.
“Why, do you think there's a connection?”
“Show me!” Jack demanded brusquely. Ianto complied, still none the wiser as to what was going on in Jack’s head, but becoming increasingly anxious as to the cause especially as he felt like he was being completely left in the dark. The images he called up onto the screen showed three people on the wrong side of 60 years old.
“No, no, give me their history, show me them 40 years ago.”
“What for?” Ianto glanced at Jack - he still didn’t understand, and he always preferred to know *why* he was doing something. Jack glared at him.
“Just do it!”
A few keystrokes later and Tosh’s software obliged with images of the 3 of them as they must have appeared in the 1960s. Jack stared at the screen as if he’d just discovered something shocking.
“Who are they, Jack? Did you know them?” Ianto asked carefully - he was getting steadily more worried.
“I never knew their names.”
“Who were they?” He was still getting no answer so Ianto decided to push a little more. “Jack, tell me. Did you know them?”
Jack’s only response was to grab his coat and head for the door.
“Jack!” Ianto called after the retreating figure, trying to demand an explanation. Jack didn’t acknowledge him, and didn’t look back. Ianto tried to not let it hurt, and failed. He sighed. Secrets, always more bloody secrets. Ianto doubted that he would discover even a tenth of them if he lived a full life and while some might say it added to Jack’s mystique he found it was becoming downright tiresome to be reminded at every turn just how little he knew about the enigma that was Jack Harkness - and he was privy to things that Gwen wasn’t. Still, Jack or no Jack, he had a job to do. He turned back to the computer.
*
Ianto and Rhys watched the news feeds with shared concern; Gwen still hadn't returned and with Jack gone they both felt the need to stick together. Rhys had gone up another notch in Ianto's estimation when he cottoned on that the kids were pointing at Britain and when Ianto realised *precisely* where they were pointing to he took off for the roof with Rhys only a couple of steps behind him. Ianto was filled with gut-churning horror as he watched the pillar of alien fire descend on Thames House and judging by the death-grip Rhys had on him, he was feeling fairly terrified too. Now, more than ever, they needed Lois to use those contacts and he couldn't bring himself to share Gwen and Rhys' optimism that she would come through for them. He felt so useless having to rely on other people to do things when all he could do was watch. It was kind of ironic really, considering that Watching was what he'd intended to do with his life before Torchwood had got hooks into him, especially now when watching was no longer enough.
It was almost full dark by the time Gwen returned, and there still had been no news from Jack. Rhys seemed determined to make the best of things as he gently teased Clem and made sure they all had something hot to keep body and soul together. Ianto felt like a cat on hot bricks and couldn't understand how Rhys could be so calm, which was probably why he overreacted to Clem's 'queer' remark. He didn't miss the expression on Rhys' face after he tried to back-pedal with a comment about it not being 1965 any more either, and he came to the conclusion that Rhys and Gwen actually were perfect for each other, warts and all, even with the added complication of Torchwood and aliens. Ianto doubted he'd ever have perfect, but he at least wanted to have the chance to *try*, no matter how difficult it seemed at times and Jack's continued absence rankled on so many levels. He was able to put it out of his mind to a degree when the I5 software went live and he joined Rhys and Gwen in a huddle round the laptop, watching with bated breath as they finally saw what was on floor 13 of Thames House through Lois Habiba's eyes. The glimpses they had of the thing in the tank were disturbing enough for him, and Ianto shuddered to think what it must be like for her; yet she retained the presence of mind to capture the words of the 456 using shorthand. That was a development that made Ianto feel less useless, even if he was just as frustrated. Trust Jack to still be swanning off just when he was needed. Still, they'd coped without him before and they'd do their best now in just the same way.
Clem's uneasiness about 'The Man' unsettled them all, distracting them from what was being transmitted from Thames House, but Ianto hadn't expected his abject terror when Jack walked through the door, or the revelation that terror forced Jack to make. He felt for Clem, he really did, but concern for him became secondary to the swirling morass of emotion he'd become - disgust and disbelief and despair were all churning around inside him. He knew Jack's past was less than clean, he'd been around too long for that, but to find out something so important from another, as if it - or Ianto - hadn't been important enough to admit to, *hurt*. Then Clem's fright turned to fury and Ianto found himself hurting *for* Jack as he stumbled through a useless apology, voice thick with remorse. He was already moving when Clem went for Gwen's gun, but he was too late and Jack died - again - with blood blooming across his chest from the gunshot. Ianto ignored the commotion around Clem - if Gwen and Rhys couldn't deal with him then they were all screwed anyway - and concentrated on Jack, falling to his knees beside him so he could heave the body into his arms. Jack might be going to live forever, but Ianto felt the same every time he died, he couldn't help it; couldn't help the fear that maybe *this* time he might not come back, he might leave them all - leave him - despite everything he'd said to the contrary. He cradled Jack tenderly, even though he couldn't feel it, and watched with wary eyes as Gwen finally talked the gun out of Clem's hand. The first frantic gasp of life returning still took him by surprise, but Ianto held on tight as Jack clutched at him, eyes still clouded by pain. Ianto hated this; hated seeing Jack so vulnerable and hated the way the way it made him feel but it was one of the few times Jack truly needed him so they clung to each other desperately as Clem disappeared into the dark, both seeking and giving what reassurance they could. Too soon, Jack pulled away and Ianto reluctantly let him go - Jack didn’t seem to like dwelling on his vulnerability. Ianto scrambled off the floor and took a seat by one of the computers. He didn’t even pretend to be working; he had too much to think about, all wrapped up in two words: Jack Harkness. Jack asked - demanded - that they trust him, knew so much about them - even things that Ianto hadn’t admitted to another living person in years, Watchers included - and it was sobering when Ianto was reminded how little they really knew *him* - they didn’t even know his name.
Ianto stared unseeingly at the screen, trying not to dwell on it and failing miserably when Jack came to sit on the desk beside him. Ianto kept his eyes fixed to the screen and the familiar restful patterns of the Torchwood screensaver; he daren’t look at Jack, not just yet, he was too choked up.
"I can't believe you didn't mention this before," he said.
"They didn't speak through kids back then. I didn't recognise the signs at first."
Trust Jack to take him literally. Bloody typical. Ianto turned to face Jack, knowing that his eyes would reveal far too much of what he thought and felt and found himself hard-pressed to remember why that was a bad idea; it no longer seemed to be important.
"That's not what I meant." Going by the expression in Jack’s eyes as they finally met his, Ianto was hopeful that he might actually get an explanation. The moment was broken by Rhys approaching, which made Ianto want to grind his teeth in frustration.
“They're coming back,” Rhys announced with a jerk of his thumb toward Gwen and Clem. Ianto turned in his seat to face them as Jack slid off the table and moved away from him. Clem still looked terrified and about ready to bolt as he faced Jack. Ianto could relate to that, even if he still didn’t forgive him for shooting Jack.
“The man who sent me and my friends to die, can't die himself,” Clem said, in horrified sounding wonder. Ianto didn’t miss the quick flick of Jack’s eyes toward him, and then Rhys, but he didn’t know what Jack was looking for, never mind whether he’d actually found it.
Jack was given the Third Degree by Gwen, even as he finished changing out of his bloodstained shirt. Ianto remained silent, but he watched carefully from a distance as Jack tried to justify his actions with an unlikely ally in the form of Rhys. Ianto only joined them at the computer again when Lois went back into the room with the 456, for this much at least, they needed him. He forced himself to keep watching as the cameraman went into the tank, even when Jack broke away and sat apart from them all, desolation apparent in every line of his body as his past came back to haunt him in a way he must never have anticipated. Ianto knew that if Jack had had any inkling of what lay ahead of those children, he wouldn’t have parted with a single one and he only hoped that they could find a way to keep them safe this time or Jack’s burden of guilt would be so much the heavier, even if it meant saving the rest of the planet. He glanced at Jack where he sat with his head hanging in defeat and made a decision; they would find a way - God only knew how - but they would; they had to.
*
~ Part Three - Day Four ~