(**) Torchwood Fic - Had I The Heavens (part 6) - COMPLETE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
CHAPTER 6
Tread Softly
Jack knew he should stop pacing, that he was worrying Gwen and John, but he was too unsettled. His eyes kept slipping back to where the man - the murderer, he corrected himself - was tied to a chair, unconscious.
“Do you two want a coffee?” Gwen asked suddenly. Turning to her, Jack noticed with a pang of guilt the sore, red marks on her neck.
“You can actually get that machine to work? I’ve flown easier spaceships,” John joked, unable to hide the hollowness in his voice. Jack turned away from them both again. He’d been avoiding looking at John since everything in the alley.
This man, this strange boy, did something to him that he couldn’t explain - stirred something in him.
“Don’t tell Ianto, but I have a jar of instant hidden in my desk,” he heard Gwen tell John, her voice regaining some of its lightness. Although she had been trying to hide it, she was obviously still shaken by what had happened and that was Jack’s fault too.
He’d thought, after the Doctor and the year that hadn’t happened that he’d been ready to take on leadership, to do it properly. Now he felt everything was escaping him again.
“Jack?” Gwen’s tone clearly suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d asked. “Do you want a coffee?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“What’s going on, Jack?” John asked angrily as soon as she’d disappeared and Jack finally looked at him. Beneath the typical brashness, John seemed nervous.
“Nothing’s going on,” he tried to reassure him, unsuccessfully.
“I saw how you looked at him. Even PC Tea and Sympathy noticed…”
John might have said more, but beside them the murderer stirred, his eyes snapping open with no sense that there was a stage between wakefulness and sleeping.
Those eyes, hard and dark, made Jack feel uncomfortable - they didn’t seem to fit. John seemed frozen, his eyes fixed upon the now conscious figure.
The silent tableau was broken by the sound of Ianto, Tosh and Owen’s return. They were laughing.
“All right,” Owen called as they walked through the door, Ianto in the lead. He froze, terrified, his eyes fixed on the murderer. Behind him Owen continued to talk, not seeing what the room contained. “You should have seen Ianto, he was incredible - people just told him whatever we wanted…” He trailed off.
Gwen reappeared, clutching a mug of coffee, and smiled tightly at the others.
“Is that him?” Tosh asked softly, Jack didn’t respond but saw Gwen nod.
Without another word being spoken they settled into their places, waiting for the interrogation to begin. John stepped back, fading into the background and Jack, reluctant to start, pulled himself together and stepped forward.
“What are you?” He asked, but the man just stared at him, his eyes hard.
“Who are you?” Jack tried again and was greeted with a cold, calculated smile.
“Ianto Jones.”
The words hung in the air. It wasn’t that it was an uncommon name, it should have just been an obvious coincidence but something in the way he said it told Jack than it wasn’t. And the name fitted, suited him in a way that it didn’t suit Ianto.
“What?” He heard Owen ask behind him, but things were slipping into place for Jack and almost before he knew it his gun was in his hand as he turned seamlessly and raised it to Ianto’s head. Ianto’s eyes widened in fear but not in surprise.
“Shit, Jack,” he heard Owen say and nearby Tosh gasped, but Jack ignored them both.
“What’s going on Ianto?” He asked, seeing the other man’s lips thin as he swallowed uncomfortably, struggling for words.
“Jack,” Gwen said next to him, her hand on his arm. “Jack that’s Ianto, remember? Our Ianto.”
“But it doesn’t feel right, it hasn’t felt right for days, he hasn’t been right. I look at him,” he gestured at the murderer, “And I feel more than when I look at you.” He heard the man in the chair laugh. Ianto remained silent.
“Jack. This isn’t right, you know it isn’t right,” Gwen tried to make him look at her but he didn’t take his eyes off Ianto. “I don’t know what he did to you but you know what he tried to do to me… You’re not thinking right.”
“No, this is the first time I’ve been thinking straight for days.”
“Jack, he tried to kill me!”
“Jack,” Ianto’s voice was pleading and Jack felt his certainty waiver for a moment, although he refused to show it. What if he was wrong? What if he was still wrong?
To his side there was a sudden rending sound of bonds being broken and within seconds the murderer was loose, his arms wrapping around Tosh’s neck as he pulled her close to him. Nobody had been watching him.
Jack turned, pointing his gun at the pair and around him he heard the others drawing theirs.
“Let her go,” Ianto shouted, his voice strained.
“Don’t shoot him,” Jack ordered them and he felt more than saw Gwen and Owen’s worried looks. Tosh’s pale face was flushed and she was gasping for air
“Jack!” Gwen said as Ianto spoke again.
“We have to save her.”
Jack hesitated: he knew it had to be him - his decision, his responsibility, his shot. But he didn’t want to do this.
* * * * *
Ianto shuddered to a halt, leaning against the tourist information office, his breathing painfully ragged. His fingers slipped along the wall until he found the place where one of the wooden slats was loose and prised the hidden key from beneath it.
It had been a hard journey. He’d had no money, no idea where he was and there’d been too much chance of being forced to a hospital if he’d asked anyone for help. Instead he’d travelled slowly and secretively across the city.
Again and again, frustratingly, he’d had to stop as the pain increased or the world twisted around him, sinking to his knees in the dirt. He was desperately aware of time moving past him.
He only glanced around the office briefly as he locked the door behind him, and a strangely disconnected part of his mind noted that it was a mess. He pushed the thought aside and headed for the stairs.
He knew something was wrong before he reached the main Hub. He could hear the shouting, but it didn’t prepare him for what he found there.
Nobody noticed him. All their eyes, and their guns, were fixed upon where he... another he, was stood, his hands wrapped around Tosh’s neck. Choking her.
Almost before Ianto could react, Jack fired. The bullet buried itself into his double’s head and he fell backwards in an untidy arc, pulling Tosh to her knees. In a moment Adam was by her side and with a sickening feeling Ianto saw how she gripped his arm, sinking against his chest, comfortable and comforted.
For a moment everyone relaxed. He could feel the tension in the room dissipating and then Owen glanced backwards at the door, towards him. His eyes widened and turning quickly he raised his gun.
“Fuck,” he spat.
Ianto pressed himself, subconsciously, against the door and raised his hands above his head, his arms screaming against the effort. He was uncomfortably aware of how he must look - filthy, pale and covered in blood - the mirror image of the man who had just attacked one of them. He couldn’t stop his eyes resting for a moment on where his double lay dead at Jack’s feet. Turning, Jack raised his gun again, like a terrible premonition.
“How the hell did you get in?” Owen spat at him.
“I work here,” the words hurt his throat and he could hear its roughness as Owen looked sharply at Jack.
“What’s your name?” Jack asked, his voice surprisingly soft. Their eyes met.
“Ianto. Ianto Jones,” He refused to look away, willing Jack to remember. Pleading him silently.
“For fuck’s sake,” Owen swore. “Not this again.”
“Don’t believe him.” Adam snapped harshly. He stood behind Jack as if he belonged there and angrily Ianto stepped forward, knowing almost immediately that it was a mistake.
“He did this - he can change people’s memories,” he managed to say as he felt the world tilt strangely around him, an inescapable force dragging him towards the ground.
Everything went black for a moment. Then he felt large, warm hands gripping him, pulling him back to consciousness as they lowered him gently to the ground. The hands continued to hold him even once he was safely there, supporting him as he sat. He looked up blearily at Jack, aware of Owen’s fingers, professionally exploring his throat, checking his pulse.
“Jack.” The word felt as if it had to travel a long way, but he forced it out. He needed to know that it was going to be all right, that he’d told them quickly enough.
“Ianto?”
He laughed in uncertain relief, the sound catching in his throat, choking him. He was conscious of the feel of Jack’s hand against his back, supporting him as the painful coughs shuddered to a halt.
“He said you’d forgotten me,” he tried to tell him, the words slurring together as unconsciousness claimed him again.
* * * * *
John watched in disgust as Jack held Ianto softly in his arms, his eyes fixed upon him. The boy was murmuring something, too quiet to hear. Then he sank backwards, his head lolling to the side. They waited, uncomfortably silent, for a moment and John forced himself to release the breath he had been holding.
If he was lucky the boy would die.
“He’s alive,” Whatever his personal opinion about his patient the doctor in Owen was clearly angry. “Stable. Looks like he’s been fucking tortured though.”
John glanced furiously at Adam, but he ignored him, his eyes fixed on Jack. This was Adam’s fault and as soon as he had found a way out of this John was going to make him suffer.
“Look after him,” Jack pushed Ianto into Owen’s arms and then, standing slowly, turned to face Adam, raising his gun again.
“He’s lying,” Adam tried.
“It’s always you, isn’t it?” Jack snarled at him, his anger spilling out.
“Jack, you have to trust me,” Adam reached out to touch him. Almost instinctively John pulled out his gun: he wouldn’t let him touch Jack. Across the room he heard another gun being cocked.
He turned slightly to see Tosh, her eyes wide and glistening, her gun pointed at Jack, and felt another surge of anger at Adam. And at himself - he should never have given him time to do this much damage.
“Tosh, don’t be stupid,” Gwen begged her.
“Are you going to shoot me, Toshiko?” Jack asked, refusing to lower his gun. John saw her flinch.
“You’re not thinking,” she told him. “You can’t hurt him… I know him, Jack. I love him. Please.”
“Making the same mistakes again?” Jack challenged her. She hesitated for a moment and then, in tears, let her arm fall to her side. Carefully Gwen took the gun from her and John saw the stricken look on Adam’s face.
“Please,” Toshiko begged Jack again but, ignoring her, he turned back to Adam.
“What have you done to us?” He demanded.
“You don’t even know him,” Adam sounded desperate. “How can you believe a man you don’t know… a man who dreams he’s a murderer?” John watched Jack smile mercilessly in an unexpected glimpse of their past.
“And how would you know what he dreams? You never did say how you found out about the Dreamscape.”
Adam looked ready to bolt, his eyes darting from side to side. To Tosh, who was sobbing against Gwen’s shoulders and then to John. John raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled. Adam had made this mess and he could deal with it himself.
“You can’t let him do this,” Adam spat at him and then turned quickly back to Jack, his eyes scared and angry. “It was his plan, he made me do this.”
John moved quickly, reacting, pure instinct and no thought. His fist sent Adam sprawling to the floor, his nose dripping blood. He hadn’t even though to fire the gun, just used its hardness to cause more pain.
He turned quickly, suddenly aware of what he’d done. Jack was staring at him, his head tilted slightly. Not believing Adam yet, but worryingly uncertain.
“He’s panicking, Jack,” John said quickly, too quickly, he realised. “He knows you trust me… he’s trying to confuse you.”
“It’s not felt right, has it?” Adam spoke from the floor, his voice venomous. “You and him. It doesn’t make sense.”
John glanced at him quickly and then turned back to Jack. He’d know him too long, he was too easy to read now. He could see how tired and frustrated and confused he looked. Jack looked like he wanted to escape.
“Owen, Gwen - I want you to put him in the cells,” Jack said firmly pointing at Adam. “Then do what you can for him,” he glanced back at where the real Ianto lay.
“John. My office. Now.”
Almost as soon as they were through the door, Jack threw John against the wall, pinning him there. John almost gasped at the impact, but held himself together. He had to act this perfectly. He’d done too much damage already.
“Is he telling the truth?” Jack growled at him.
“Do you have to ask?” John tried to push him away, to struggle out from beneath him but Jack’s grip was too strong.
“I don’t know.”
“So you’d rather believe somebody you know has been fucking with you? Do you really hate me that much?”
“I don’t hate you,” Jack snapped at him and then let go suddenly, turning away as he ran his hand through his hair. John waited for a few seconds in silence and then reached out to touch his arm.
“You said when you looked at him you didn’t feel anything. What about when you look at me?” It had been a long time since John had felt this vulnerable, laid bare. It had been Jack then as well. It was always Jack.
“I… it’s…” Jack was clearly struggling for an answer.
“Do you feel nothing?” John pressed him, and Jack finally turned back to face him, shaking his head. “What do you feel, Jack?”
“It’s complicated. It feels complicated.”
“Well, we were always that… but we were fantastic as well.” John stepped forward and pulled him into a kiss, ignoring Jack’s hesitation.
* * * * *
Jack wasn’t sure what to think anymore. He wanted to relax into the kiss, to enjoy it. This felt right, this felt certain, but he knew as soon as they broke apart, as soon as the raw attraction was gone, the world would stop making sense again.
They were interrupted by a tentative knock, Gwen was standing in the doorway.
“Ianto… whoever he is… he says he needs to talk to you, Jack.” He nodded sharply in response and pulled away from John, following her into the Hub. Owen and Tosh were waiting at the door to the cells. Tosh could not quite meet his eyes.
“How is he?” He asked Owen.
“He’ll be all right, he doesn’t look like he’s eaten in a while and there was a lot of blood loss but…” Owen shrugged. “Anyway I’ve only patched him up for now, just in case he turns out to be a blood thirsty murderer - wouldn’t want him back on his feet right away.”
The others followed Jack down into the cells, hanging back once they reached the bottom of the stairs. Only John remained with him, just a step behind. Ianto was waiting for them, leaning against the glass.
“What did you do to us?” Jack asked, not allowing him the chance to speak first. This was his interrogation, not another chance for Ianto to scare and confuse them.
“I gave you new memories, repressed the others, it’s the only way I can survive. I was here before.” Ianto spoke quickly and then, hesitating, looked at John. “But he saved me, he wanted a way into the team - we kidnapped the real Ianto Jones, that was him earlier, and then we changed your memories… it was his plan.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jack said more firmly than he felt. “You’re desperate. You just want to turn us against each other.”
“I’m not. I only ever wanted to help you, he… he…” Ianto paused for a moment, his face was still despairing but he smiled suddenly. “I can prove it.”
Jack almost took a step back. He didn’t know if he wanted this proof, this final nail in the coffin. Ianto’s fingers curled through the hole in the glass and when he spoke again his voice was low - almost seductive.
“I can give the memories back, I just need to touch you.”
“We can’t trust him, Jack,” John said quickly. “What if he changes our memories again? What if he hurts us?”
Jack was silent for a moment testing the idea, desperate to accept this excuse. Finally he nodded.
“He’s right, we can’t trust you.”
“Please, you have to.”
“I trust him.” Tosh’s voice was quiet. Jack turned to look at her. She was standing behind the others, pale and tearful and determined.
“I can’t let you do this,” Jack told her, already knowing that he was fighting a losing battle.
“I trust him. He won’t hurt me. Please.”
* * * * *
Jack stood too close to Adam, his gun in his hand and his stance threatening. Adam felt suddenly very small. They were alone in the cells. Jack had told the others to leave them.
“How does this work?” Jack asked.
“When I put new memories in, I have to suppress others - the ones that contradict them; I can release those memories again. They’re not gone, they’re just buried.”
He had soon realised that all he could hope for now was to convince them that John had been behind this. That it was his fault. He had shown them he could be useful… that they could trust him… If they knew he’d been forced… The thoughts were broken and disconnected, but they were all he had left and he clung to them.
“And what will happen to the false memories?” Jack asked him.
“They’ll still be there… I can’t take them away,” Adam admitted.
“Can’t or won’t?” He hesitated for a moment too long and saw a gleam almost of triumph in Jack’s eyes. “There is a way?”
“It’s like brain damage, I have to damage bits of the brain to make the memories go away… and these aren’t… they’re not normal memories, they’re not always in the right places. If I try to delete them completely I might do serious damage…” He trailed off uncomfortably and was aware that Jack was watching him intently.
“Did you do that to any of us?” He asked. Adam could only nod in reply, his throat tight. “Can you give us those memories back?”
“No.”
“How many of us? How many memories have you taken?” Jack asked angrily. Adam took a deep breath before answering, knowing that he had to be truthful and dreading it.
“Tosh. I took her memories of Lisa because I wanted her to love me,” his voice broke slightly. “Ianto, I took…” he couldn’t say, he just shook his head and powered on. “You. John told me take all the memories of you and Ianto. That you were in love.”
Jack took a step backwards, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“But I didn’t, I didn’t take them all,” he tried to reassure him, but Jack would barely look at him. “He told me to but I didn’t. Jack.”
“Fine,” Jack replied at last. “Fine, we’ll do this. If you hurt her, if you do anything to any of us, I’ll destroy you.”
“What’s going to happen to me? After this, what’s going to happen?” Adam asked.
“I don’t know,” Jack answered coldly as he pushed him roughly up the steps to the Hub.
The others were waiting for them, John sat with his head in his hands and Toshiko stood in the centre of the room. His beautiful Toshiko. She nodded slightly at him and he walked slowly to her, conscious of Jack’s gun focused on his head.
He pressed his hands gently against her cheeks, cradling her face. She didn’t move away. For a moment he held back, desperate not to do this and a small, quickly stifled sob, broke from his throat.
“Shhh…” It was a soft gentling sound.
“You won’t love me anymore,” he told her and heard the sound of the gun being cocked. “You won’t love me.”
And then squeezing his eyes shut he slowly began to unlock the buried memories. She gasped, almost flinching away from him but he kept his eyes shut until at last the job was done. He let his hands fall to his sides. Defeated, he looked at her again.
She moved quickly away, refusing to look at him.
He worked through the others listlessly, Owen first and then Gwen, seeing the growing disgust in their eyes.
As he was working on Gwen, he noticed Ianto stood in the doorway to the medical bay watching them. The others ignored his presence. Once he had finished Adam turned to Jack but the man held up a hand.
“Ianto first.”
Ianto froze in the doorway and then, pulling himself together, he walked over to Adam. Even then he couldn’t prevent himself from flinching as Adam reached out to touch him and Adam had to hide a grim smile of satisfaction. It didn’t take long to retrieve all the memories he could.
Finally it was Jack’s turn. He worked carefully and quickly, unlocking the memories, feeling the building anger. Everyone was focused upon them. It wasn’t until he’d finished that they realised John had drawn his gun and was pointing it at Jack.
“You know you can’t kill me, no matter how many times you try,” Jack’s voice was oddly flat as around him the team drew their guns. They stood silent for a moment and then John lowered his gun, admitting defeat.
* * * * *
Owen’s head was pounding. His memories were unorganised and distorted. No wonder he’d been miserable for the last two days. He looked over at Tosh, worried about her, just in time to see Ianto, the real Ianto, approaching.
She glanced up at him and then turned quickly back to her computer screen, her face frozen and scared.
“I thought…” Ianto began, “I wanted…” Tosh’s head shook slightly, almost unnoticeably. Owen could understand her fear. It was a strange feeling looking at Ianto now - recognition and guilt and loss, and he’d only been his friend.
“Ianto, mate,” Owen called out to him and the boy turned, his expression guilty. “I need to sort out those wounds properly. Now.”
They didn’t talk as Ianto settled himself on the gurney and Owen began to clean and stitch the worst of the wounds, removing a large sliver of glass from his arm.
“You’ll need to give her time,” Owen told him after a while.
“I just wanted…” Ianto winced as he pulled the thread through, “We were friends.”
“I know. And so does she. It’ll be fine, you know Tosh. But right now it’s difficult.”
“What’s it like?” Even as he concentrated on the stitching Owen could feel Ianto staring at him intently.
“Like having two sets of memories,” he told him truthfully, “I know you’re Ianto but I remember he is too. I can work out which one is right if I think about it - he feels less real - but it is a bit confusing.”
They lapsed into silence for a few moments.
“What did they do to you?” Owen asked him eventually.
“Is that a medical question?”
“Not really. Morbid curiosity mostly. Plus for some reason he thought it would be a good idea to convince me that we’re really good friends - so I might be unnaturally nice to you for a few days. Don’t worry, I’ll try to shake the habit. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Fair enough. I think we’re all done. Have you eaten anything? That is a medical question, by the way.” Ianto shook his head. “All right, well I could go and make you a sandwich, although you shouldn’t eat too much at first or you’ll be sick. Maybe I could make you a coffee or something…”
“If you make coffee, doesn’t the world implode?”
“You know, Jones, this disliking you thing might not be as hard as I thought. I’ll leave you to it.”
Owen headed out of the medical bay and was thankful to bump almost immediately into Gwen. He caught her arm.
“Is he alright?” She asked.
“Yeah, annoying as hell but not even challenging. Look I need to head out half an hour. Can you keep an eye on Tosh for me? If Jack needs me tell him I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure.”
* * * * *
John was handcuffed to Jack’s chair.
“Why?” Jack asked him.
“I was bored,” he replied flippantly. Jack shook his head.
“No. Why?” John closed his mouth, refusing to answer. Slowly and securely Jack walked towards him, his fingers stroked John’s neck and then pressed painfully against his pulse, pulling his neck back and up. It wouldn’t do any damage, but it hurt. “I want you to tell me the truth, John.”
“Do you remember the first time I saw you torture someone, Jack?” He hissed at him. Jack laughed and pulled his fingers away.
“You were sick everywhere. It was disgusting. I told you to leave then as well, if I remember rightly.”
“But I stayed.”
“Why did you do this, John? I don’t get it. What was in this for you?”
“Because you sent me away as if I didn’t even matter. Just like before,” John told him. “Just like you always do.”
“So it was revenge.”
“No,” John tried to tell him but Jack wasn’t listening. He leaned heavily against the wall.
“What do I do?” He sounded tired. “I don’t even know how to get rid of him. How do you kill something that doesn’t really exist?”
“Last time you used retcon, made him disappear… but I guess that didn’t work so well,” John told him and Jack groaned. He watched him for a second and then made up his mind.
“He’s not invincible, Jack. He’s made up of how people remember him - if you shoot him - if everyone here remembers that he died. Then that’s what he is. Dead.”
“You want me to execute him?” Jack was staring at John intently, his expression carefully unreadable.
“Yes.”
“I can’t do that."
“You used to be able to. You used to be the man to go to for… well, for a lot of things.”
“I’ve changed.”
Neither of them spoke for a while. John could see Jack thinking. The set of his shoulders spoke volumes about his frustration and confusion.
“I’ll do it,” John said eventually. “Give me a gun, set me free and I’ll kill him. For you.”
* * * * *
Tosh hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. She could see him, sat on the floor, his head resting against the glass. She didn’t know if she could talk to him. She’d almost decided to leave when he suddenly looked round at her and scrambled to his feet.
“Toshiko.” He smiled broadly and something uncomfortable fluttered in her stomach.
“What’s your name?” She asked trying to keep her voice even. “What should I call you?”
“We don’t have names,” he told her, “We don’t use them - they would give us too much power over each other. Mostly we’re alone anyway. But I was Adam once, I’d like it if you called me Adam.”
Tosh looked away again, not wanting to come any closer, ignoring the stirrings of sympathy. She’d been fooled by Mary once as well and she’d already let him use her enough.
“Why me?” She asked.
“I don’t understand?”
“Why did you want me?”
“Because I loved you, because you were lonely. Like me.” His voice was soft. That same voice had whispered to her in the mornings, gentle against the back of her neck.
“I have to get out of here.” Tosh was already half way to the stairs when he called to her.
“Do you love me?” She hesitated but didn’t turn around. “Please,” he begged her. “It was real, we were real. I know you remember…”
“How could I love you after what you did?” She made her voice as cold as she could manage and fled.
She was barely through the door when she bumped into Owen, carrying a bunch of slightly wilting flowers. He shoved them ungraciously into her hands.
“These are for you. Sorry they’re not more impressive, most of the shops were shut.” She blinked in surprise for a moment.
“But you don’t do flowers?”
“Well,” he replied slowly. “We’re friends and I thought you might need something to cheer you up. Just friends though.”
She laughed, but it was uncomfortably close to a sob. Without warning, he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know.” He told her and she nodded against his shoulder. They stood in silence for a few seconds.
The loud bang of Jack’s office door flying open broke them apart. John was stood at the top of the stairs, a gun in his hand. He made his way quickly towards them and gestured for Tosh and Owen to move aside. They edged carefully away, Tosh overly aware that she wasn’t carrying a weapon.
In a moment John was through the door to the cells. It slammed closed behind him and with a terrifying click Tosh heard the door lock.
Jack stumbled out of his office, his lip bleeding.
“Sorry, he took my gun and the keys.”
“What’s he going to do?” Tosh asked and then, realisation dawning, flung herself against the door, trying to force it open. “No!”
* * * * *
Adam straightened as he heard the door close.
“Toshiko?” He’d known she couldn’t mean it.
It was a moment before he realised that it was John coming down the stairs.
“You made a mistake Memory Boy. If you’d left me out of this I might have saved you.”
“Don’t do this,” Adam begged him.
“Sorry, I made a promise and I’m a changed man.” John smiled coldly.
“You know, I’m not even sure this will kill you. I’m guessing you’re tougher than that. But they’ll think you’re dead. Get too close to these people again and I warrant you won’t be feeling too good.”
John unlocked the glass door and kicked it open, raising the gun.
“Please.”
* * * * *
The crack of the gun thudded heavily through the room muffled by the door. Ianto saw Tosh, who had been typing frantically on her computer, her fingers shaking as she tried to call up the CCTV of the cells, freeze. She stood still for a moment, almost strong, and then seemed to collapse in on herself.
There were no tears, no anger, but her grief was palpable. It filled the room. Gwen went to her quickly, took her wrists gently and led her through the arch to the couch.
Owen looked at Jack and Ianto felt noticeably, uncomfortably on the outside, separated from the others.
“Take her home, you and Gwen, make sure she’s all right,” Jack told Owen quietly, “I’ll deal with John.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, this is my problem. Anyway, what’s he going to do? Kill me?”
Owen nodded briefly. He hesitated for a moment beside Ianto and then squeezed his shoulder before disappearing, leaving the two of them alone. Jack’s back was to him and Ianto couldn’t see his expression.
He suddenly didn’t want to be there anymore.
As he turned to leave, Jack looked at him for the first time. Ianto saw the movement from the corner of his eye. He hesitated for a second and then quickly fled the room, not meeting his boss’ eyes. He retreated to the safe familiarity of the archives. They were a mess.
He didn’t know why he was avoiding Jack. Why he couldn’t yet bear to face him. Instead he leant heavily against one of the filing cabinets and waited. He didn’t emerge again until he’d heard Owen, Tosh and Gwen leave; and then some time later Jack and John.
Once he was sure he was alone he showered, washing away the dirt and the grime. He ran his fingers over the old and new bruises, feeling their soreness, careful not to disturb Owen’s dressings.
He took his time, dragging out the experience. He didn’t want to go home yet, knowing that it was ransacked, filled with memories and mementoes of Adam.
He didn’t stop until the water was running cold, and then, dressing in new clothes, he wandered listlessly around the Hub. He tried at first to tidy, but there was too much to take in, too much was wrong, subtle uncomfortable differences.
At last he retrieved his hidden diary, settled in the Medical Bay and began to read.
It scared him how many of the things written in the book were gone now, irretrievable. The diary was no replacement, it had only ever been meant as a reminder, not as a memory itself. The pages felt empty and useless, devoid of meaning and he cursed his own inability to collect and gather his feelings. Even in his private words they were hidden away.
After a while Errol joined him, curling up as a comforting presence by his side.
* * * * *
“Why are we here, Jack?” John asked. They were in a plot of abandoned land at the edge of the docks.
“Philosophical questions already?” Jack’s attempt at lightness seemed empty against the dullness of his voice. He was staring across the dark water; the grey light of dawn hadn’t touched it yet. “There’s going to be rift activity here in five minutes.”
“You’re sending me away? After…”
“What did you expect, John? You killed me…”
“It was a crime of passion. Anyway, so did Owen.” Jack ignored him and John felt a moment of unbidden rage that Jack still wouldn’t look at him.
“You kidnapped a member of my team, tortured them…”
“So this is about Ianto bloody Jones?”
Jack fell silent then and turned to look at him, his face impassive.
“Is he worth it, Jack? Is he worth what you’ll do to him? You know you’re going to damage him,” John kept pressing him until he saw that he’d struck a nerve. “He’ll end up just like me…”
“He’s nothing like you,” Jack replied firmly.
“Really? I was innocent… unspoilt… you turned me into this.”
“Ianto would never shoot somebody in cold blood.”
Something snapped in John then and angrily he pushed Jack away, his fists pounding against his chest, willing him to fight back. But Jack remained still and unmovable.
“I did that for you. I did that because I…”
In anger he pulled Jack into a kiss, pressing their bodies together. Desperation and pain seeping from him. Jack pulled back slightly, although their noses were still almost touching.
“I love you,” John whispered to him. “And you loved me, that wasn’t fake, it wasn’t planted - you wanted me. I could stay… here. Work with you…”
“Why?”
It was a question that John had avoided thinking about, not willing to ask it of himself but unable to hide from it anymore.
The truth was he’d liked it - liked feeling like a big damn hero. He had liked being part of a team. Liked being surrounded by people who cared for him - who he could joke with and rely upon, who would protect him and who he could kill for. And he’d liked being with Jack.
“I want to do… I want to help you, help with all of this.”
“You’ve never wanted to help anyone.”
“I’ve changed. I could be a better person.” Jack shook his head slightly. “Make me a better person. If you love me…”
“I never loved you,” Jack’s voice was cold and hard as he interrupted him. “I felt guilty. It was only ever guilt. I don’t love you. I never loved you. Why do you think I left you?”
He pushed John away forcefully and he stumbled across the uneven ground, his hands clutching at his stomach against a pain that wasn’t physical. He could feel the rift opening behind him, pulling at him.
“Is this where you say good bye?” He spat at Jack, but the man just shook his head, turned and walked away. He didn’t even look back.
* * * * *
Jack looked in despair at the paperwork on his desk, there was too much to sort out. It made his head ache and the team were shattered. They needed time off. He needed time off.
He could still smell John on his clothes. That made him ache as well.
He’d known that the relationship wasn’t right, it had felt wrong but that didn’t mean that part of him hadn’t wanted it; the desire and the closeness and the acceptance. John knew who he was, he had never expected any better of him.
It was a while before he was aware that someone was watching him and he looked up to find Ianto stood in his doorway. Jack smiled at him.
“Are you all right, Ianto?” He knew it was an inadequate question and for a while there was no response.
Jack watched him, giving him time and space. He’d always let Ianto move first. Aware of the problems they faced and frightened that he might scare him away otherwise.
Ianto had obviously had a shower and found new clothes, but still looked oddly scruffy - covered in bruises and cuts, his shirt sleeves rolled up.
The memories, when they’d come back, had for a moment felt overwhelming. Like the first breath when he returned to life and escaping the agony of the death tasted the air again. They’d made him feel more secure than he had in days. Grounded. Forgiven.
Whatever John had said he needed this too much to lose it now.
Ianto held up his diary. Post-it notes bristled from amongst its pages, vivid in pinks and greens and yellows.
“These are all the things I don’t remember, I marked them,” Ianto told him and hesitated for a moment. “They’re all about you.”
Jack nodded gently.
“Do you remember anything?” He asked him unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.
“Bits and pieces, they don’t make much sense - they’re just moments. But I… I remember him telling me he was going to take the memories away. That he was going to take you away and it hurt before he even started. It felt like I was dying.”
Ianto’s eyes glistened with the threat of tears and he quickly looked down at the ground. It only took a moment for Jack to cross the space between them. He took his wrists gently, relieved that Ianto did not pull away and ran his fingers up his arms. He could feel new scars forming, new wounds to add to the familiar collection.
Ianto breathed out deeply but didn’t look up. With one hand he reached to cup the back of Ianto’s head, fingers brushing lightly through his hair. Jack forced Ianto to look at him again and when he did, refused to let him break the gaze.
“Did we love each other?” Ianto asked after a moment. “The diary doesn’t say.”
“I don’t know,” Jack replied honestly.
“What do we do now?”
Jack wasn’t sure if there was a right answer, or even an answer. But he knew what he wanted. Gently he pulled Ianto into a kiss, feeling his lips part slightly, his hand moving down to rest against his neck.
It was not a first kiss for either of them, there were memories of other kisses, but it was the first that they both remembered.