Different Sort of Science -- Sacrifice
Title: Different Sort of Science
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sacrifice
Date Written: 10/26/08
Rating: R/M
Word Count: 2,571
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Ianto/Jack, Doctor, Donna, John Hart, past Ianto/Lisa
Spoilers: Doctor Who up through Season 04, Torchwood up through 02
Warnings: AU like whoa, character death, gruesome images
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my gorgeous betas totally4ryo and katestamps, who are my sounding boards, my muses, and betas dedicated enough to call me about fic. Thank you so much girls! We're starting to wind down, everyone... It's looking like this is going to be a round 30 chapters. Hopefully I'll have it done in time for NaNo.
Previous chapters found here.
Book cover by et_muse
"It's been fun, but I guess this is goodbye."
"Don't talk like that. the Doctor's gonna do it. Just, watch him."
"Rose, you are worth fighting for. Wish I'd never met you Doctor. I was much better off as a coward. See you in hell."
-- Captain Jack Harkness and Rose Tyler, The Parting of the Ways
It was a shock when Ianto actually opened his eyes. His lids were heavy, and the scenery was blurry, but he could see.
He was alive.
He blinked a few times, clearing his vision. The image sharpened and it took him a few moments to realize that he was back in Torchwood House, lying in his own bed.
There was a noise to the left and Ianto lolled his head to the side. John Hart was sitting in a chair next to his bed, feet propped up on his desk and crossed at the ankle.
"And here I thought the God and Goddess were being kind to me," Ianto croaked, his throat hoarse.
Hart jumped at his voice, whirling around in his seat. "Eye Candy!"
Ianto rolled his eyes and licked his dry lips. He swore he could still taste Jack on his mouth. "What happened?"
Hart set the book aside and took his feet off the desk, standing. "Let me go get the Doctor. He'll explain it better." He moved towards the bed and, in a gesture that surprised Ianto, pulled the covers up under his chin. "Just try to get some rest, okay?" he said, his voice gentle.
Ianto nodded a little, feeling confused, and watched Hart leave the room. He was almost afraid to close his eyes again for fear of being pitched back into the Void, but the bed was so warm and soft that he found his eyes sliding shut again.
The door opened and both the Doctor and Donna burst into the room, breathing heavily. They must have run to Ianto's room the moment they heard he was awake. He struggled to his elbows and gave them a weak smile.
"Oh thank Rassilon!" Donna exclaimed, rushing over to wrap him in a tight hug. The instant she pulled away her brother was in her place, laughing and thumping his back.
"Your parents aren't here, we sent a messenger out to bring them back," Donna told Ianto over the Doctor's shoulder. "After the battle, they went to check on their home. We told them you had minor wounds, just enough that it would be hard for them to see you."
"What did happen?" he asked as the Doctor pulled away.
"There's no easy way to say this, Ianto," the Time Lord said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "You died. Completely burned yourself out. The only reason why you didn't die immediately is because of Jack."
Ianto nodded. "I... think I remember that," he finally volunteered. He didn't want to share that memory with the others. "It was dark."
Donna reached over and took his hand in hers, patting the back of it with her other hand.
"So why am I here?"
"You know what Jack's like," the Doctor said. "When he gets his mind on something, he never lets it go."
Ianto frowned, shifting a bit to sit up properly. "Where is he?"
The Doctor's face darkened and he looked up at Donna.
"Doctor? Where. Is. Your. Son?" Ianto asked, accentuating every word with a full stop.
"He's in the Healing Halls," Donna said softly. When he tried to struggle to his elbows, she put her hands on his shoulders. "Ianto. He's dead."
-----
Ianto looked down at Jack's still body. His naturally tan skin was incredibly pale, almost the color of the white sheets he was lying on. He reached down and touched his cold, clammy cheek. "What happened?"
"There are spells that never should be used," the Doctor said, looking sadly down at his youngest son. "In the old days, when there were a lot of magic users, we could give pieces of our life to a friend who was dead. Fifty people give someone a year or two, it wouldn't really make any difference." He ran his fingers through Jack's hair. "He insisted he could do it himself. That even if he was drained, he'd still come back to life."
"How long has he been dead?" Ianto asked.
"A day," Donna said.
"What did he do?"
The Doctor didn't look up at him, eyes focused on his son. Behind him, Donna shifted nervously. Ianto turned to look at her. "I want to know."
Ginger hair bounced as she shook her head. "No. I won't tell you."
"Then show me," he said simply.
"No," she repeated. "And if you try to force me, I'll burn your brain inside out."
"I just want to see what he did for me," Ianto said. "Please. Let me see that at least."
"God and Goddess, no means no!"
"I'll show you," the Doctor said suddenly.
"John, no person should have that in their head," Donna protested.
"He wants to see what my son -- what his lover -- sacrificed for him," the Doctor said, fixing his sister with an intense gaze. Donna met his eyes intensely, and Ianto got the idea that the two of them were having a furious mental argument, each trying to get the other to back down.
Eventually, Donna relented. "Fine. It's on your head."
The Doctor walked around the bed, drawing level with Ianto. "You won't like what you see," the Doctor told him.
"I have to," Ianto replied.
The Doctor nodded. "Face me," he said, watching the young Mage do as he'd ordered. He pressed his fingers against Ianto's temples -- first and middle, exactly like Donna -- and they both closed their eyes.
-----
Donna had once described the Doctor's mindscape as fluttering scraps of paper. Ianto had imagined a never-ending snow of parchment. Therefore, it was a complete surprise to find that his mindscape looked remarkably like his study. Every inch of available surface area was covered in papers, but it was still undeniably the Doctor's private room.
The Time Lord marched over to a pile and started going through the paperwork, taking a cursory look at a page in his hand before throwing it aside in short order. Papers started flying through the air and Ianto instinctively caught one that was headed for his face.
There were words on it, but as he started to read them, they slipped and swirled around the page, turning into a picture. It was similar to the way Jack's paintings had swirled about in their frames.
The image showed a black-and-white picture of Queen Rose, color ink swirling into the blank spots. She was young, younger than he was. She looked exhausted, and was holding a bundle in her arms.
"He looks like you," she said, giving the Doctor a tired smile. "No idea where the blue eyes came from, though."
The Doctor kissed her forehead, parting the blankets a little. It had to be Jack, fast asleep and cuddled up against his mother's chest. "My grandfather had blue eyes," he said. "Here, let me take him, you get some rest."
Rose handed Jack off, both of them shushing the baby when he started fussing a little. Sleepy, unfocused eyes opened and Jack looked up at his father, regarding him with quiet curiosity. "Hallo there little one," he said, stroking a chubby cheek. "Welcome to the world. It's dangerous and mad and fantastic and you'll love it."
Jack let out a fussy little whine, and the Doctor laughed, offering his little finger up to the infant. "You're going to be brilliant."
Ianto dropped the paper, embarrassed at accidentally peaking into such a private memory. The picture snapped into neat lines as it fluttered to the ground.
"Ah, here." The Doctor turned and handed over a sheet of paper. Ianto took it, noting the way his hand trembled, and looked down at the shifting ink.
Jack was on a ladder, tearing the library apart book by book. He'd pull one leather-bound volume off the shelf, give the cover a cursory glance, then throw it down to the ground.
"Jack," the Doctor's voice echoed as he dodged another book. "Jack, I forbid you from doing this."
"I am not a child anymore, Dad, you can't forbid me from anything," Jack replied, looking at one tome with interest. He flipped it open, leafing through the yellowed pages.
"If you perform the spell you're looking for, you're going to die," Donna's voice to his left. She was frowning up at her nephew, red hair spilling down out of its bindings, hands on her hips and looking all the world like she wanted to smack him one. "How d'you think he'll feel about that if it takes? 'Oh, you're alive, but Jack's dead as a doorknob.'"
Jack shut the book and jumped down off the ladder, giving that charming grin that was all his mother. "Yeah, but you're forgetting one thing, Aunt Donna."
"What's that?"
The grin turned manic, a mirror of the Doctor when he was on a tear. "I'll come back."
Jack swept out of the library amid Donna's shouts to clear up his mess, the Doctor hot on his heels. "Son, you can't do this. That spell calls for a blood sacrifice."
"Ianto sacrificed himself for us, for everyone," the younger Time Lord called out over his shoulder. "I can do the same for him, so I will."
The Doctor reached out and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him about. "You're the only one left."
Jack gave his father a sympathetic look and pulled him into a tight hug. "You won't lose me," he promised in his ear before releasing him. "Will you help me or do I have to do it myself?"
The Doctor let out a sigh, and Ianto got the idea that the older man had rolled his eyes. "Have I ever been able to stop you when you set your mind on something?"
Jack laughed and shook his head, throwing the doors to the Healing Halls wide. He ordered Martha and Owen out of the room, and the Doctor nodded in silent agreement when the Healers both looked at him. Once they were gone, and the door was locked, Jack went over to the bed where Ianto lay dead.
It was a little dizzying to see it from this angle, and the ink blotted a bit. Ianto shook his head and concentrated, watching the image snap back into clarity.
Jack grabbed the foot of the bed and hauled it out from its line so his -- Ianto's -- bed was smack in the middle path. Jack flipped the book open, leafing through pages before he found one he was looking for. "I have to cast this circle," he said, holding the page up at the Doctor.
The older Time Lord nodded. "In blood. Chalk or ash won't cut it this time."
"Of course." Jack stripped out of his shirt and boots until he was dressed in only his pants. He took a knife out of the cabinets, one that Ianto had seen Martha use when one of the students had gotten an infection and the wound had to be lanced. Jack regarded it for a moment, checking to make sure it was clean before shrugging and pressing the blade into his palm. Blood welled up in his cupped hand and Jack carefully knelt, pressing his hand against the stone floor.
The Doctor stood and watched as his son crawled carefully around the floor, dragging his bloody hand along with him. Jack was murmuring to himself as he worked, so low that he couldn't make out the words, stopping occasionally to double-check his casting against the picture in the book. He had to pause once or twice and press the knife against his palm, letting fresh blood well up.
In the end there was a wide circle of crimson against the floor, numbers and letters and symbols Ianto didn't recognize drawn on both sides of the circle with bloody fingers. Jack rose to his feet inside the circle, clenching his dripping hand shut instinctively to try and ease the pain he was feeling. He was already pale.
Jack gave his father a weak smile. "You might not want to see this," he said.
"You do what you have to, I'll do what I have to," the Doctor replied softly.
"You can't cross the line, Dad," the young Time Lord said softly.
"I know that," he replied.
Jack took a deep breath, looking down at his -- Ianto's -- still form. He traced his clean hand over his face before leaning over to kiss his forehead. "You'll be back soon," he promised. He dug around in his discarded clothing before pulling back the dagger he always kept on him, the same one that had been used to kill his brother.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight. Gripping the knife tight in both hands, he pulled it into his body.
Ianto swayed on his feet when he saw the silver blade sink into Jack's chest, red ink welling up as blood on the page. He felt a strong arm around his shoulder, steadying him, and the Doctor's voice was soft in his ear. "We can stop if you want," he told Ianto. "It's all right."
Ianto shook his head, but didn't immerse himself into the memory like he had before. He watched the crimson blood trickle down Jack's bare stomach, dripping down onto the floor. The circle began glowing, faint red at first but quickly shifting to a blinding white. Before the picture completely whited out, he saw Jack lean over and press his mouth against Ianto's.
When the picture came back, Jack's body was draped across his own, staining the white sheets. As he watched, the body underneath Jack's convulsed for a split second, then started breathing.
"...Doctor, take it away," he finally said, closing his eyes. "I can't bear it anymore."
He felt the Doctor pluck the sheet from his hand. He pulled the young Mage into a fierce hug, letting Ianto cry quietly into his shoulder. It wasn't until he felt another hand on his back that he opened his eyes and realized that they were back in the Healing Halls.
"We don't know what to do," Donna admitted. "We could plan a burial -- "
"No," Ianto said, pushing himself upright and wiping his face. "He's not dead."
"I want to believe that," the Doctor said, "I do, but he's never been dead this long. I'm sorry, Ianto."
"No," he repeated. He walked over to Jack, brushing his hair back from his face. "He won't let something as mundane as death stop him," he paraphrased, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What are you planning?" Donna asked, instantly suspicious.
He took one cold, clammy hand into both of his. "If I do what he did, the cycle would continue infinitely. But I can sit right here until he comes back."
Donna opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor cut her off. "I'll get you a good chair," he said before turning on his heel and leaving the infirmary.
Ianto turned back to look down at Jack's still form. Donna put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her. "Part of us is rooting for him to come through," she told him. "But we've seen enough death to recognize it." She leaned in and kissed his forehead. "You need to grieve, not hope in vain."
"I'm not," Ianto told her, smiling down at Jack. "He'll come back. I need him to."
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sacrifice
Date Written: 10/26/08
Rating: R/M
Word Count: 2,571
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Ianto/Jack, Doctor, Donna, John Hart, past Ianto/Lisa
Spoilers: Doctor Who up through Season 04, Torchwood up through 02
Warnings: AU like whoa, character death, gruesome images
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my gorgeous betas totally4ryo and katestamps, who are my sounding boards, my muses, and betas dedicated enough to call me about fic. Thank you so much girls! We're starting to wind down, everyone... It's looking like this is going to be a round 30 chapters. Hopefully I'll have it done in time for NaNo.
Previous chapters found here.
Book cover by et_muse
"It's been fun, but I guess this is goodbye."
"Don't talk like that. the Doctor's gonna do it. Just, watch him."
"Rose, you are worth fighting for. Wish I'd never met you Doctor. I was much better off as a coward. See you in hell."
-- Captain Jack Harkness and Rose Tyler, The Parting of the Ways
It was a shock when Ianto actually opened his eyes. His lids were heavy, and the scenery was blurry, but he could see.
He was alive.
He blinked a few times, clearing his vision. The image sharpened and it took him a few moments to realize that he was back in Torchwood House, lying in his own bed.
There was a noise to the left and Ianto lolled his head to the side. John Hart was sitting in a chair next to his bed, feet propped up on his desk and crossed at the ankle.
"And here I thought the God and Goddess were being kind to me," Ianto croaked, his throat hoarse.
Hart jumped at his voice, whirling around in his seat. "Eye Candy!"
Ianto rolled his eyes and licked his dry lips. He swore he could still taste Jack on his mouth. "What happened?"
Hart set the book aside and took his feet off the desk, standing. "Let me go get the Doctor. He'll explain it better." He moved towards the bed and, in a gesture that surprised Ianto, pulled the covers up under his chin. "Just try to get some rest, okay?" he said, his voice gentle.
Ianto nodded a little, feeling confused, and watched Hart leave the room. He was almost afraid to close his eyes again for fear of being pitched back into the Void, but the bed was so warm and soft that he found his eyes sliding shut again.
The door opened and both the Doctor and Donna burst into the room, breathing heavily. They must have run to Ianto's room the moment they heard he was awake. He struggled to his elbows and gave them a weak smile.
"Oh thank Rassilon!" Donna exclaimed, rushing over to wrap him in a tight hug. The instant she pulled away her brother was in her place, laughing and thumping his back.
"Your parents aren't here, we sent a messenger out to bring them back," Donna told Ianto over the Doctor's shoulder. "After the battle, they went to check on their home. We told them you had minor wounds, just enough that it would be hard for them to see you."
"What did happen?" he asked as the Doctor pulled away.
"There's no easy way to say this, Ianto," the Time Lord said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "You died. Completely burned yourself out. The only reason why you didn't die immediately is because of Jack."
Ianto nodded. "I... think I remember that," he finally volunteered. He didn't want to share that memory with the others. "It was dark."
Donna reached over and took his hand in hers, patting the back of it with her other hand.
"So why am I here?"
"You know what Jack's like," the Doctor said. "When he gets his mind on something, he never lets it go."
Ianto frowned, shifting a bit to sit up properly. "Where is he?"
The Doctor's face darkened and he looked up at Donna.
"Doctor? Where. Is. Your. Son?" Ianto asked, accentuating every word with a full stop.
"He's in the Healing Halls," Donna said softly. When he tried to struggle to his elbows, she put her hands on his shoulders. "Ianto. He's dead."
-----
Ianto looked down at Jack's still body. His naturally tan skin was incredibly pale, almost the color of the white sheets he was lying on. He reached down and touched his cold, clammy cheek. "What happened?"
"There are spells that never should be used," the Doctor said, looking sadly down at his youngest son. "In the old days, when there were a lot of magic users, we could give pieces of our life to a friend who was dead. Fifty people give someone a year or two, it wouldn't really make any difference." He ran his fingers through Jack's hair. "He insisted he could do it himself. That even if he was drained, he'd still come back to life."
"How long has he been dead?" Ianto asked.
"A day," Donna said.
"What did he do?"
The Doctor didn't look up at him, eyes focused on his son. Behind him, Donna shifted nervously. Ianto turned to look at her. "I want to know."
Ginger hair bounced as she shook her head. "No. I won't tell you."
"Then show me," he said simply.
"No," she repeated. "And if you try to force me, I'll burn your brain inside out."
"I just want to see what he did for me," Ianto said. "Please. Let me see that at least."
"God and Goddess, no means no!"
"I'll show you," the Doctor said suddenly.
"John, no person should have that in their head," Donna protested.
"He wants to see what my son -- what his lover -- sacrificed for him," the Doctor said, fixing his sister with an intense gaze. Donna met his eyes intensely, and Ianto got the idea that the two of them were having a furious mental argument, each trying to get the other to back down.
Eventually, Donna relented. "Fine. It's on your head."
The Doctor walked around the bed, drawing level with Ianto. "You won't like what you see," the Doctor told him.
"I have to," Ianto replied.
The Doctor nodded. "Face me," he said, watching the young Mage do as he'd ordered. He pressed his fingers against Ianto's temples -- first and middle, exactly like Donna -- and they both closed their eyes.
-----
Donna had once described the Doctor's mindscape as fluttering scraps of paper. Ianto had imagined a never-ending snow of parchment. Therefore, it was a complete surprise to find that his mindscape looked remarkably like his study. Every inch of available surface area was covered in papers, but it was still undeniably the Doctor's private room.
The Time Lord marched over to a pile and started going through the paperwork, taking a cursory look at a page in his hand before throwing it aside in short order. Papers started flying through the air and Ianto instinctively caught one that was headed for his face.
There were words on it, but as he started to read them, they slipped and swirled around the page, turning into a picture. It was similar to the way Jack's paintings had swirled about in their frames.
The image showed a black-and-white picture of Queen Rose, color ink swirling into the blank spots. She was young, younger than he was. She looked exhausted, and was holding a bundle in her arms.
"He looks like you," she said, giving the Doctor a tired smile. "No idea where the blue eyes came from, though."
The Doctor kissed her forehead, parting the blankets a little. It had to be Jack, fast asleep and cuddled up against his mother's chest. "My grandfather had blue eyes," he said. "Here, let me take him, you get some rest."
Rose handed Jack off, both of them shushing the baby when he started fussing a little. Sleepy, unfocused eyes opened and Jack looked up at his father, regarding him with quiet curiosity. "Hallo there little one," he said, stroking a chubby cheek. "Welcome to the world. It's dangerous and mad and fantastic and you'll love it."
Jack let out a fussy little whine, and the Doctor laughed, offering his little finger up to the infant. "You're going to be brilliant."
Ianto dropped the paper, embarrassed at accidentally peaking into such a private memory. The picture snapped into neat lines as it fluttered to the ground.
"Ah, here." The Doctor turned and handed over a sheet of paper. Ianto took it, noting the way his hand trembled, and looked down at the shifting ink.
Jack was on a ladder, tearing the library apart book by book. He'd pull one leather-bound volume off the shelf, give the cover a cursory glance, then throw it down to the ground.
"Jack," the Doctor's voice echoed as he dodged another book. "Jack, I forbid you from doing this."
"I am not a child anymore, Dad, you can't forbid me from anything," Jack replied, looking at one tome with interest. He flipped it open, leafing through the yellowed pages.
"If you perform the spell you're looking for, you're going to die," Donna's voice to his left. She was frowning up at her nephew, red hair spilling down out of its bindings, hands on her hips and looking all the world like she wanted to smack him one. "How d'you think he'll feel about that if it takes? 'Oh, you're alive, but Jack's dead as a doorknob.'"
Jack shut the book and jumped down off the ladder, giving that charming grin that was all his mother. "Yeah, but you're forgetting one thing, Aunt Donna."
"What's that?"
The grin turned manic, a mirror of the Doctor when he was on a tear. "I'll come back."
Jack swept out of the library amid Donna's shouts to clear up his mess, the Doctor hot on his heels. "Son, you can't do this. That spell calls for a blood sacrifice."
"Ianto sacrificed himself for us, for everyone," the younger Time Lord called out over his shoulder. "I can do the same for him, so I will."
The Doctor reached out and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him about. "You're the only one left."
Jack gave his father a sympathetic look and pulled him into a tight hug. "You won't lose me," he promised in his ear before releasing him. "Will you help me or do I have to do it myself?"
The Doctor let out a sigh, and Ianto got the idea that the older man had rolled his eyes. "Have I ever been able to stop you when you set your mind on something?"
Jack laughed and shook his head, throwing the doors to the Healing Halls wide. He ordered Martha and Owen out of the room, and the Doctor nodded in silent agreement when the Healers both looked at him. Once they were gone, and the door was locked, Jack went over to the bed where Ianto lay dead.
It was a little dizzying to see it from this angle, and the ink blotted a bit. Ianto shook his head and concentrated, watching the image snap back into clarity.
Jack grabbed the foot of the bed and hauled it out from its line so his -- Ianto's -- bed was smack in the middle path. Jack flipped the book open, leafing through pages before he found one he was looking for. "I have to cast this circle," he said, holding the page up at the Doctor.
The older Time Lord nodded. "In blood. Chalk or ash won't cut it this time."
"Of course." Jack stripped out of his shirt and boots until he was dressed in only his pants. He took a knife out of the cabinets, one that Ianto had seen Martha use when one of the students had gotten an infection and the wound had to be lanced. Jack regarded it for a moment, checking to make sure it was clean before shrugging and pressing the blade into his palm. Blood welled up in his cupped hand and Jack carefully knelt, pressing his hand against the stone floor.
The Doctor stood and watched as his son crawled carefully around the floor, dragging his bloody hand along with him. Jack was murmuring to himself as he worked, so low that he couldn't make out the words, stopping occasionally to double-check his casting against the picture in the book. He had to pause once or twice and press the knife against his palm, letting fresh blood well up.
In the end there was a wide circle of crimson against the floor, numbers and letters and symbols Ianto didn't recognize drawn on both sides of the circle with bloody fingers. Jack rose to his feet inside the circle, clenching his dripping hand shut instinctively to try and ease the pain he was feeling. He was already pale.
Jack gave his father a weak smile. "You might not want to see this," he said.
"You do what you have to, I'll do what I have to," the Doctor replied softly.
"You can't cross the line, Dad," the young Time Lord said softly.
"I know that," he replied.
Jack took a deep breath, looking down at his -- Ianto's -- still form. He traced his clean hand over his face before leaning over to kiss his forehead. "You'll be back soon," he promised. He dug around in his discarded clothing before pulling back the dagger he always kept on him, the same one that had been used to kill his brother.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight. Gripping the knife tight in both hands, he pulled it into his body.
Ianto swayed on his feet when he saw the silver blade sink into Jack's chest, red ink welling up as blood on the page. He felt a strong arm around his shoulder, steadying him, and the Doctor's voice was soft in his ear. "We can stop if you want," he told Ianto. "It's all right."
Ianto shook his head, but didn't immerse himself into the memory like he had before. He watched the crimson blood trickle down Jack's bare stomach, dripping down onto the floor. The circle began glowing, faint red at first but quickly shifting to a blinding white. Before the picture completely whited out, he saw Jack lean over and press his mouth against Ianto's.
When the picture came back, Jack's body was draped across his own, staining the white sheets. As he watched, the body underneath Jack's convulsed for a split second, then started breathing.
"...Doctor, take it away," he finally said, closing his eyes. "I can't bear it anymore."
He felt the Doctor pluck the sheet from his hand. He pulled the young Mage into a fierce hug, letting Ianto cry quietly into his shoulder. It wasn't until he felt another hand on his back that he opened his eyes and realized that they were back in the Healing Halls.
"We don't know what to do," Donna admitted. "We could plan a burial -- "
"No," Ianto said, pushing himself upright and wiping his face. "He's not dead."
"I want to believe that," the Doctor said, "I do, but he's never been dead this long. I'm sorry, Ianto."
"No," he repeated. He walked over to Jack, brushing his hair back from his face. "He won't let something as mundane as death stop him," he paraphrased, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What are you planning?" Donna asked, instantly suspicious.
He took one cold, clammy hand into both of his. "If I do what he did, the cycle would continue infinitely. But I can sit right here until he comes back."
Donna opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor cut her off. "I'll get you a good chair," he said before turning on his heel and leaving the infirmary.
Ianto turned back to look down at Jack's still form. Donna put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her. "Part of us is rooting for him to come through," she told him. "But we've seen enough death to recognize it." She leaned in and kissed his forehead. "You need to grieve, not hope in vain."
"I'm not," Ianto told her, smiling down at Jack. "He'll come back. I need him to."