[Closed] for hofficoffi Like seeing a ghost.
"Yeah," Jack said, seemingly to nobody as he headed along another corridor. He was scoping out the base, trying to work out what was where and why. Knowing something would be a start and at the moment they knew barely that
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It was dim. lined with containers that Ianto couldn't pry open, and a few that he could. Of those, two were empty and one was full of optical discs that the computer wouldn't read.
Ianto had slipped one into his pocket anyway.
He continued, lighting the way in front of him with a small work torch he'd found earlier in the day. Hopefully, at the other end the corridor would lead to somewhere more fruitful.
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Ahead of him e could see the shape, a form of the person. Male? Humanoid. And in a suit, it seemed.
A pinstripe suit.
And... no. No. No, Jack knew that form. He knew that shape. And it couldn't be. It couldn't.
It bristled him down to his core.
"Put your hands in the air and turn around!" he barked out the command. Whatever this thing was, he wasn't going to let it mess with him like that.
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Ianto knew it so well. Despite the harsh tone, which in and of itself was familiar, he felt a surge of relief.
He was not stupid, however. And he did not particularly want to be shot because of a case of mistaken identity. Especially on Mars.
He raised his hands and turned around. In the shadows, he saw the figure of a man.
"Jack," he called out, almost a question. Just loud enough. A short pause, to allow for recognition, and then, "It's me. You can put the gun down."
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It looked so much like him.
His hair, his eyes, his nose. It was a perfect facsimile. And Jack hated it.
"Shut the hell up," Jack said, practically snarling, continuing to level the gun in the direction of this impostor.
"I've got no idea what the hell you are," he said dangerously, "but you've picked the wrong guy to try and fool."
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Something was very, very wrong.
That was definitely not the reaction Ianto was expecting, and the force of it caused him to take a half-step back in surprise. He felt like he'd been physically assaulted.
All of his body language changed suddenly: shoulders tensed, forehead creased in confusion.
"Jack?" he questioned again, his voice softer, a slight stuttering on the J.
Uncertain.
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"What are you?" he hissed again, a little shakiness in his own voice now.
Why Ianto? Why him? It was so recent. Months hadn't been enough to erase and weaken that pain. The death, his death, and Jack's fault. How could that weaken?
And he missed him. He missed all of them. It hurt to see him, even if it was a copy.
"I'm giving you thirty seconds to give me an answer I like the sound of," he said and he cocked back the safety on his gun.
"29. 28. 27. You might want to get on it..."
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None of this made any sense. A little wariness--that he expected. But this?
Standing in a dark corridor, pain in Jack's eyes, a gun aimed, safety off?
Ianto thought he would never, ever be in this situation again.
His eyes flickered to the barrel of the Webley then back to Jack's face. He was beginning to panic. Quickened heartbeat. Shorter breaths. He chewed on his bottom lip, the seconds ticking by.
"Uh," he started, and he closed his eyes. "Ask me something," he said finally. Desperate. "Anything."
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But even with that knowledge, even with all of it, it made him falter. Maybe it was just because he wanted it to be him.
"Fine," he said sharply, "tell me how you died."
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How he died?
"But I'm not--" he started. But he couldn't. "I didn't--"
He stopped, and he sighed. Either he was dead or he would answer this question incorrectly.
"Torchwood."
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Things could mimic. They could mimic a body and mimic a voice, they could mimic memory and thought, but there was always problem, always mistakes. They never knew, never understood.
Only someone who knew Torchwood could understand.
And Jack was stricken.
He frowned, confused, and he lowered the gun down.
"Ianto?" His voice was shaky. It couldn't be.
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But as Jack lowered his gun, Ianto pushed all thoughts of death, of his own death, from his mind. He had to. There would be time for that later.
His eyes now open, he met Jack's almost defiantly. Look at me, he thought. Look. I'm alive.
"Yes," he replied, a touch of exasperation, because he was Ianto Jones and that was how Ianto would respond.
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"How--" Jack started but stopped. He thought about what he'd discovered so far, what he'd seen of the place. It was time. Something had happened to time.
"Where are you from?" he amended. "When?"
He didn't step close to him or close any distance. Because there he was, and if he was really him? Jack didn't want to get him hurt again.
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"I, we were in my flat," he said. "I woke up here."
He paused. Jack wanted to know when he came from. That would have seemed an odd question, had Ianto not met a Doctor who didn't recognize his name or his face, had Jack not referenced future events.
"Uh. The Daleks, about a week ago. Stole Earth."
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He remembered that well, of course, how could he not. But it were proof if any were needed that something was seriously wrong here. If this was really Ianto, and he really was from that point in his timeline, then Jack shouldn't be able to be from one that he'd been removed from.
But here they were.
And yet more than that... here he was.
"It's really you," he said, and there was a little more belief in it now. He took a step forward, just one, as if scared to go closer and almost urging Ianto to do the same.
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For a moment, he just watched Jack thoughtfully. Frowned. There were a lot of emotions on Jack's face, some of them just hints of what lay beneath. But Ianto, he could see enough.
He hesitated, but then he decided he didn't care. They weren't terribly demonstrative, not usually, but there were always exceptions. This was one. It had to be.
He moved forward, and he opened his arms. An offer, an embrace. Almost willing Jack to reciprocate.
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Yet here he was.
And Ianto was there, arms open for him. How could he not? So like a snap decision made, he moved forward and wrapped his arms tight around him, his head dropping to rest against Ianto's shoulder.
It was him. And Jack could do nothing but close his eyes tight and hold him.
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