Into Gethsemane (11/11)
Title: Into Gethsemane (11/11)
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Lois, Johnson, Rupesh, Martha, Mickey, Tish, Rhys, John, Alice, Steven, OCs, many cameos
Pairings: mostly canon
Rating: R
Warnings: AUTHOR CHOOSES NOT TO WARN (but will answer PMs for any content questions)
Spoilers: up through COE
Words: 60,000 (5,900 this part)
Betas: eldarwannabe and fide_et_spe both performed major heavy lifting on this story, and have my deepest thanks for their efforts
Summary: A secret movement within the government successfully placed Lois Habiba as a spy inside Torchwood, and the trap is ready to be sprung. Meanwhile, Jack has received worrisome news, leading Gwen and Ianto from one danger into another. Loves, loyalties, and everyone's lives are on the line as the force behind the conspiracy finally comes to light.
A/N: Final fic in a fake third series where Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh have joined the team. Can be read as a stand-alone but will make more sense in context of the other stories.
Master Post
Chapter Ten
***
Chapter 11
***
"It's sorted," Jack said, emerging from his office, his hair askew in a fashion suggesting he'd been worrying at it. He didn't have many nervous habits, and this one only showed when he was exhausted. He'd returned very late last night, practically this morning. Ianto, Gwen, and Perry had switched off taking watches in case of a retaliatory attack which hadn't come, while John kept watch over their prisoners and their not-exactly-prisoners. Ianto was awake to see Jack's return, but they hadn't had time alone in the midst of getting Alice and Steven settled, and then Jack had shut himself in his office to make call after call until he reached a particular contact.
"Alien," Jack had told Ianto privately and after much prodding. "Can pass for human, but super-intelligent. The family got stranded on Earth in the early seventies. I got them set up, and they did the rest. Heart-warming immigration success story, really: the older son went into government service for his adopted Queen and Country." He'd left bits out, Ianto could tell, but the "Don't tell Gwen" was clear in the message.
"How sorted?" Gwen's face was closed.
"Enough. My contact is still embarrassed about letting the Saxon thing go as far as it did the first time, and he's horrified what Gloucester managed to slide through. He's very interested in ensuring this round is dead and buried. We won't see any more trouble from their side. He's also agreed to see to it Mr. Weeds doesn't bother us again, in exchange for our permanently mothballing the giant space death laser."
"What about Gloucester?" Ianto asked.
"They're sending a car. My friend will be in the car so we know it's legit. Mr. Gloucester and his followers are no longer our concern." The people he'd drawn to him would have their memories altered. Gloucester would disappear, be disappeared. Just like Lucy had been.
Jack's alien friend in the government had fixed things for them because he owed Jack. Favours begat favours instead of rules and oversight; it was no wonder why some factions elsewhere in power looked on Torchwood as more sinister than supportive. Even if Gloucester had been mad, he wasn't wrong. Torchwood had almost destroyed the world, and the only line of defence they had against doing so again depended on how good a man Captain Jack Harkness was.
Gwen wasn't appeased. "So that's it? Everything's sorted. We all nearly died because one part of the government couldn't pay attention to what another part was doing. Trent did die."
"His family will be taken care of. Everything's being arranged now." A word pinged in that sentence, but Ianto would let Gwen go through the fuss with Jack looking for timing on the other shoe.
Gwen asked, "What about Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh?"
"That was part of the arrangement. They're Torchwood. We deal with them ourselves."
Just like before. "You execute her or I'll execute you both." Who watched the watchmen, other than each other? Who could?
Ianto had already collected a familiar folder. It hadn't even had time to get dusty. "So we're back to square one in finding a new medic."
"Maybe not," said Jack, hands in his pockets.
"Spill," Gwen said.
"I'm doing my contact a favour in return. A doctor he knows, looking to get back into practise. Veteran from Afghanistan, he says."
"Oh good, more soldiers in the Hub."
"Since I'm not allowed to train him to use a gun, I'd think you'd be pleased."
Gwen and Ianto caught each other's eye. Ianto made a note to check the Retcon supply.
Jack said, "Call Mickey and let him know it's safe for everyone to go back to London. Then, we need to have a conversation."
***
Tom had a car, which was much easier than dealing with the series of stolen vehicles they'd taken. Jack said it was dealt with, and the cars would be returned to their proper owners. Torchwood stuff technically did make it Mickey's problem, but not right now. Tom gave Tish the keys, and he and Martha settled into the back together as Mickey rode shotgun.
Tish looked exhausted. Mickey asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"
"I'm fine. How can it only be Wednesday? It feels like three weeks at least."
Mickey shrugged. He could bullshit his way through an explanation of Rift-related time dilation effects, but he had the feeling Tish wouldn't be half as impressed as he was picturing.
"What time is it?" Martha asked suddenly, leaning forward.
"Almost eleven," Mickey said, reading the dash.
"The ultrasound is at one-thirty. I wonder if they cancelled it."
Back in the other universe, Jackie had framed her monochrome images of the alien head creature that had popped out as little Tony. Creepy.
The car accelerated. Mickey grabbed the door handle, glancing at Tish's foot hard on the pedal. "We can make that," she said.
Surprisingly, they did, and weren't arrested along the way. Tom helped Martha inside for her appointment; Mickey and Tish stayed with the car.
"I should call Mum." Tish sighed. "After, I guess."
"After's better. You can tell her it'll be triplets, and they all look like Jack."
Tish laughed. "Better not be. Martha's mad enough as it is." But she smiled, and despite having been on the run, not taking a shower in days, and spending a night in a damp prison cell, she was still very pretty, Mickey could not help but note. He'd noticed some time ago that she was brave, and clever. And she even already knew what he did for a living. It occurred to him that Tish herself probably would enjoy a long chat with someone who understood her own unique history.
Mickey had begun stranger friendships on less.
"They'll be busy for a while. Want to get some lunch?"
Her smile stayed. "Sure."
***
It was, Perry thought later, like a game show. He was addicted to the blasted things, stuck to the edge of his chair, heart pounding, shouting (if he was alone) for the contestants to give the proper answer, choose the right doorway. Jack was kind about that, and told Perry about his own television addiction after the boxes with their grainy black and white images first appeared. That didn't mean Perry could beg off work to watch "The Weakest Link," but it did make him feel better, and he liked having something in common with Jack that didn't hurt.
This? This was something else, and the burning in his stomach had nothing to do with any hopes the people coming through the door would walk out with a new kitchen set.
Three doors, three choices, three items on the desk, as Rupesh and Johnson and Lois would be brought in one by one. A pill and a gun, these were what Torchwood always offered as their severance package. Traitors, mutineers, and those who just didn't work out, they were handed one or the other, and the argument over which was kinder had yet to be resolved. Gwen had her opinions on the subject. Perry wasn't allowed any.
"I'm part of the team," he said, seeing Jack's two favourite shadows in his office. "Why don't I get a voice?"
Jack closed his eyes. "Perry, did you kill anyone in the war?"
"You know the answer to that."
"Ever kill anyone who wasn't shooting back?"
"Of course not."
"We have." He tilted his head to his friends. "Right now, I need to decide if three people you know and care about are going to die, and if I choose wrong, a lot more people might die. I'm willing to make the call. Gwen and Ianto are, too. The million-pound question is, could you live with yourself after?"
Perry dropped his eyes. But he stayed in the room to listen as they debated, and he didn't object as Hart led in each one.
Rupesh was handed a pill.
Johnson was handed a gun.
Now Lois sat in the chair, hands folded quietly in her lap. Perry wanted to watch her, and he wanted to look away. He didn't know what to do with his own hands. Gwen and Ianto stood to either side of Jack's desk, where Jack himself sat like a king. Perry envied the two of them, a little, for knowing where they belonged. He stood to one side, wondering how the rest of his life was going to unfold after this.
Three items on the desk. Three choices.
Jack said, "We had a long chat about you."
Lois nodded.
"You know the rules. More, you know us. We let you in, we showed you our secrets. That was my fault. We're supposed to monitor new people, and not trust them, and I knew that and I let you in anyway. It's not the first time I've made this mistake." He glanced to one side. "And I've been reminded I handled the aftermath outside of the strictest protocols." He indicated the desk. "You get to choose where you go from here."
Lois looked at the three items. "I recognise the first two."
"Yeah." He brushed the pill. "We would remove about a year of memories. Not just of your time here, but also of your work leading up to us." He indicated the gun. "You know what that is."
She nodded again. "And the envelope?"
Perry's stomach burned again. The argument had gone on a long time, the three of them talking loudly over each other. He'd stayed silent whilst they'd discussed their options until Jack, face clouded with anger, had said, "Just following orders is never an excuse."
Perry had piped up, "When my commanding officer told me to fire, I never once believed he wasn't pointing at an enemy who wanted me dead."
Jack, rounding on him bitterly, had said, "You don't obey illegal orders."
"No, you don't, not after you find out they're illegal. Mr. Gloucester didn't put up his forcefield because of us. He put it up because she tried to stop him."
There'd been more after, much more. But the mood had changed, and Jack's hand had rested on the coral he kept on his desk. Perry noticed Jack touching the coral again now.
"Employment papers. You stay. You work for us, and we have your complete, unwavering loyalty."
"I betrayed you."
"It's not unprecedented. I seem to have a knack for bringing on people who eventually try to kill me."
"You didn't want to kill anyone," Gwen said. "That's in your favour."
Jack added, "If you stay, you'll have to be around us every day, knowing we don't trust you anymore, wondering if we're going to believe anything you say ever again."
"This isn't the soft option," Ianto said. His expression was kind.
"Your choice," Jack said, and he sat back watching her, the game show host in charge of the universe.
***
Numbness guided Lois's every motion as she went through her tasks. They needed assistance cleaning up the huge mess that had been made of the Rift manipulator, and she was on suspension as soon as the big debris was cleared.
She glanced at Jack's office again. The door was open, and she could hear him talking to Rupesh.
No, his name was Nirankar now. She'd watched the files print out for his new identity.
"And thank you once again for volunteering," Jack was saying, in his jolly-the-troops voice. "The hospital is always in need of new doctors such as yourself."
"Thank you for the opportunity," said Rupesh. "Not many places would be so understanding."
"Memory loss is nothing to be ashamed of. You've recovered from your accident otherwise, you say you still remember your medical training."
If she tilted her head just so, she could see him nod, befuddled. With the amount of Retcon he'd taken, he was going to be out of sorts for a while, and not remember much even of this planted conversation. But he was a warm body with a pair of hands and Jack hadn't obliterated all his schooling. Dr. Milligan knew distant clinics in need of help, including where they'd set Mrs. Saxon to work out her penance for her past sins.
It wasn't exactly just, and it wasn't exactly fair, but it beat dying.
"I almost forgot," said Jack, who hadn't. "Let me introduce you. Violet?" Johnson came into Jack's office, and stood by Rupesh. "This is Violet Richardson. You're going into dangerous territory. Violet's going with you to help with security."
"Nice to meet you," Rupesh said, without a trace of recognition. And yes, Lois really was staring now instead of doing her work. They'd known Rupesh for months, but he was just ... gone. And someone new was walking around wearing his face and about to live a whole new life. It was gruesome.
As for 'Violet' ...
"A pleasure," she said stiffly, shaking his hand. "Are we ready?"
"Yes. My assistant Mr. Jones will drive you to the airport and ensure you get onto the plane safely." Jack stood and shook their hands. "Good luck."
"Thank you," said Rupesh, still muddy. He left the office with Johnson beside him. She had a gun at her hip.
As Johnson walked by, she winked at Lois.
***
Three hours later, Ianto drove back from the airport alone, all the while thinking they should have Retconned Johnson, whatever Jack said. But the pair were gone now, and he'd have to hope they'd seen the backs of them, aside from the tabs Torchwood would continue to keep to ensure his Retcon and her good behaviour both held.
Ianto parked in the underground car park, and came into the oddly quiet Hub.
"Is it wrapped up?" Hart detached himself from the wall. He'd made himself at home here in the last day, a skulking shadow that nevertheless filled spaces otherwise empty. But his face was set, ready to travel again.
The last of the catastrophic curve Ianto had been riding dissipated behind him. "Yes. It's done."
"Good. No notes in your pocket this time?"
Ianto felt into his pockets and turned them out for Hart to see. Only his keys, his wallet, things he wouldn't need where they were going. He set them atop Johnson's abandoned workstation. Jack and Gwen were talking in Jack's office. Perry was in the basement, digging up parts for the rebuild of the Rift manipulator. Lois was out on suspension for the next two weeks.
No goodbyes, he decided.
"I should leave Jack a letter. If he doesn't think I went with you willingly, he'll come looking." He cast his eyes to the desk. A slip of paper would be enough. He found the back of an expense report Johnson would never file. With a shaking hand, Ianto found a biro and wrote, "Dear Jack."
But how to finish? Have gone off with John. Don't follow. That'd never work. Leaving you, sod off. Bit more likely to work, but harder to face. This is for the best, and I love you. Please don't follow us.
"Haven't you overstayed your welcome?" Jack stood outside his office, watching Hart carefully.
"A fine thank you for everything I've done." Hart rolled his eyes. "If you're in that much of a hurry, Eye Candy and I will be leaving. Come along, you."
The pen fell from his hand to the desk. Ianto turned, not looking at Jack.
"What's going on?" Jack came closer. Ianto took a step away. If Jack came too close, Ianto would be pulled into him, like a pin snapping onto a magnet, and extricating himself would be even more painful.
"We had a deal," said Hart in a delighted, insinuating tone. "And it's time to pay up. Full agreement, isn't that right, Ianto?"
Jack's attention turned fully onto Ianto. "Care to explain?"
"John and I are going. It's for the best. I'll need you to explain things to Rhi." He intended to say the words as atonally as possible, aimed for brisk, heard them come out of his mouth in a mumbled blur.
"Huh?" Jack's confused face would have been more adorable, but it was the last expression Ianto would ever see from him. He'd been selfishly hoping for more than mere bewilderment.
"See you around, lover," Hart said, and began manipulating his wrist strap.
Jack stalked up, slowly, catlike, inserting himself between the two of them, focusing on Hart. "I've had a lot of long days. It's taking me a minute to catch up. Are you stealing my boyfriend?"
"I gave him a few rides. He promised me money, and," Hart laughed breathily, "a few rides of his own. Nothing to do with you. Well, I say nothing. Apparently the hundred thousand pounds he owes me is your hundred thousand?"
Ianto said, "I was going to tell you. Sorry."
"We need to talk about you spending all the money," said Jack. He said to John, "Two hundred thousand pounds, and you leave him here. Deal?"
"No."
"I can give you three hundred thousand," Jack said. "It'll take me a few days to get my hands on it. Investments."
"Not interested." He was still working his wrist strap. It dawned on Ianto that Hart was stalling. He was turning down money?
"Then what is it? I can't let you have your pick of the Archives, but we can strike a deal."
"I've done you enough favours. You still haven't paid me back properly for the last one."
"Be more specific?" Puzzlement was back on Jack's face, though he tried to hide it.
"'Help me, John,'" said Hart in a mocking voice with Jack's accent. "'Just one favour. One little planet.' Some drug-dealing aliens you wanted leaned on. You sent me back fifty years to do it. Sound familiar?"
Jack shook his head.
Hart growled. "You begged me. Got on your knees, and I do mean, on your knees, Gorgeous. Asked me to turn them in to the rhino-heads for trying a protection scam on Earth." Ianto scratched through his memories, came up with nothing. He'd read most of the back reports. Jack looked equally lost.
Hart examined Jack's face. "But you don't remember, do you?" He threw up his hands in disgust, then began slapping Jack's arm to punctuate his rant. "You idiot, you're not supposed to rewrite your own timeline! Fucking amateurs. I don't know why I put up with you."
Jack jumped on the opening. "Because I keep you entertained and I'm prettier than your normal haul."
"I'm doing well right now." Hart's gaze drifted back to Ianto, who suddenly felt naked. "I've got what I want." He'd stopped even pretending to punch in coordinates. Hart went toe to toe with Jack, evil little face grinning up at Jack's growing desperation.
"No, you don't. Oh, Ianto's cute, and I have no doubt you'd have a great time with him. But you don't want him. You want me." Jack took his hand. "So trade. Ianto stays. I go with you."
Horror and revulsion, never far from his feelings on John Hart, boiled back up. "Jack, you can't."
Hart grinned widely. "Agreed." Of course he hadn't wanted Ianto, he'd wanted a bargaining chip to negotiate for Jack's favour. Saving Ianto, threatening him, every step had been made with Hart's real goal in the forefront of his mind, and he had succeeded. Ianto could be discarded. Hart had Jack, exactly as planned.
"I'll need time to tidy things up here," Jack said lightly, breaking contact and walking off.
"I've heard that before. Two days? Three?"
"One hundred years."
Hart's laugh echoed. "You're kidding me."
Jack pointed to John's wrist strap. "What does it matter how long? You and I aren't subject to time. One hundred years for me, ten seconds for you. And then you've got me, for whatever you want, for however long you want." The corners of Jack's mouth tilted into a lascivious smile.
Hart yanked his wrist away. "Five years."
"Ninety-nine."
They haggled as though Ianto wasn't even in the room. Jack fought for every year, and won sixty. "To the day," said Hart.
"On the Plass. I'll meet you there with your money and my bags packed."
"See you soon." With an obscene little wave to Ianto, he vanished in a flash.
Sixty years. Ianto was sure he'd be dead in two or three. Didn't he joke with Gwen about retiring together on his thirtieth birthday -- he to his unicorn farm and she next door to her straw spinning -- precisely because neither expected to survive that long? But Jack had just bought time of his own. If Ianto lived to see the end of Jack's days on Earth, he'd be eighty-six.
Jack stood where Hart had disappeared, watching Ianto. "You heard him. Sixty years from today. Better make a note in my diary, shouldn't I?"
"You can't go with him."
"I can, but not for a long time." He came closer, slowly, as if Ianto were some wild creature he didn't want to spook. "And when I do, I can handle him."
"He'll hurt you."
"He might. Or he might get bored first."
"What was he talking about? Drug-dealing aliens?" Somewhere in the back of Ianto's mind, the scenario felt familiar, like a nightmare he'd forgotten upon waking, a dark vision he'd shivered through until, burrowed safely within Jack's arms and Jack's heat and Jack's scent, he'd fallen back asleep to far more pleasant dreams.
"No idea. Knowing him, he probably made the whole thing up." Jack dismissed the thought with a wave, and the last vestiges of nightmare faded as if they'd never been. "Not important." He let out a deep breath, a lifetime or more of weight slowly releasing from his lungs. Jack was mourning Frank, Ianto could see in the way his eyes dropped from time to time, or looked faraway into another era until he was pulled back here. But Jack had been mourning his son for years, as his life had slipped away. This grief was thoughtful, and old. The wound of his loss would heal cleanly, and with no scars.
Jack said, "This has been the longest week of my life, and it's not over yet. What do you say we leave Gwen and Perry to mind the store, and go home?" He'd finally reached Ianto, placed his hands on each of Ianto's elbows, and brought their legs together. This was far outside their boundaries for the workplace, but Ianto decided this time, they could let it slide.
"Home sounds good." Since they were ignoring the rules for now, Ianto refused to feel bad about nuzzling in for a kiss. Nothing more than a kiss, because Gwen could walk in on them at any moment and they'd been through that enough, thank you.
"I'll let Gwen know we're heading out. Call ahead for dinner. Something we can take home." Jack kissed him again before disengaging to walk back towards his office.
"All right." Ianto headed for the kitchenette, where he stored the takeaway menus. As Jack reached the stairstep to his office, Ianto said, "Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"About ... about what we were talking about, the other day." Or a hundred years ago, as the Vortex Manipulator flew. "Um."
Jack paused, eyebrow raised in an encouraging, 'Will you hurry up?' fashion.
Ianto said, "Yes."
"'Yes' what?"
Ianto waited, but Jack's expression didn't change. Either he didn't remember, or he wanted Ianto to say the words, and this was not a fight they were having at work. "Give Gwen my love. I'll meet you at the car park."
Jack whirled on one foot and headed to his office. Ianto tapped his ear. "Perry, we're headed home for the day."
"Acknowledged. I'll be here a bit. I've got some notions about improving the next go-round of the Rift manipulator, and I want to reread Dr. Sato's notes."
Ianto had the oddest mental picture of Toshiko narrating information to a man she'd never met. Instead of hurting, like so many memories of Tosh had ached over the past year, this image pleased him. She would have loved explaining her ideas to someone as bright as Perry, who would take her work and build on it. He could almost see the pride in her smile.
"Don't stay too late."
"No fear." There was a long pause as Ianto shut down his system and double-checked everything in the butler's pantry was turned off. Perry said, "Hypothetical question. Call it wondering about etiquette in the twenty-first century."
Half a dozen memories flickered like fireworks through Ianto's mind: empty nights that lasted years; Tosh and Owen scanning his bedroom for alien technology, unable to meet his eyes; Gwen dropping by once to check on him, and fleeing as soon as she could; the heavy knock on his door that turned out to be Jack with takeaway, and a dimmed smile, and his unsure, "Can we talk?"
Ianto told Perry now, "You should definitely go by her flat to check on her. Take a pizza. She likes veggie, God knows why."
"Thanks. I'll do that. Good night."
Ianto finished up what he was doing, placed their order, and was almost to the cog wheel door when he heard Jack say from his office, very distinctly, "Oh!" Gwen's question in response was lost as Jack flew out of his office, nearly tripping as he ran across to where Ianto waited, trying not to laugh at him.
"That conversation!" His eyes were alight, and the glee on his face lit up the room.
Ianto, enjoying the moment, pointed out, "You forgot your coat."
"Ignore the coat."
"I can't. I love that coat. You bask in the secondary glow of my admiration for your couture." He turned, activating the door. Jack reached his side and took his arm, preventing Ianto from walking away.
"I love your suits, but I'm even happier when you're naked." His forefinger stroked Ianto's sleeve. "The suits definitely come in second."
"So it's agreed, we love each other's tailoring." The smile was far too difficult to keep off his face. Ianto stopped trying.
"You said yes."
"Let's go home and talk about it."
They left the coat. They went home.
***
Epilogue
***
Gwen, Ianto, and Perry held the fort when Jack and Alice drove to attend Frank's funeral. Alice didn't speak much to him, too upset with the most recent upheaval of her life, as well as the loss of the woman Jack wasn't happy to consider she'd likely been sleeping with.
When they arrived, Bonnie introduced them to the rest of the family. Jack recognised faces from photographs and surveillance. Alice took the opportunity to be friendly, coaxing smiles even as the rest mourned Frank and celebrated his long life. Bonnie made her promise to bring Steven up to meet his relations, clucking to the rest about how sweet a lad he was, spitting image of his cousin Graeme. Jack hung back, watching his grandchildren and their families, seeing a familiar feature here, a reminder of his own mother and father there. Phil Jr. looked very little like his namesake, but a great deal like Gray would, if Gray grew old. And Alice was perfectly placed among them, making small talk and strongly considering one more upheaval.
"It'd be doing a favour for the other side of the family," she lied when they asked. "That estate in Glasgow we visited. They're recruiting a new manager, and I do love the area."
Funerals were supposed to hurt. Jack had attended enough of them to know.
He lingered the longest at the old photos artfully arranged for the service: Frank with his wife Livvie; Frank, Livvie and their children; and a single black and white photograph Jack remembered Meg snapping on a warm spring day in 1929, Frank and Phil arm in arm and grinning as only brothers with no care in the world could do.
***
The flat had been tossed. Books and DVDs had been opened and dropped carelessly to break on the floor, all the kitchen was upturned, the wardrobe was a huge mess, and they'd even hacked roughly into the fabric of the sofa and the bed, looking for God knows what. Dirt from their one plant had been ground under boots into the floor, and the poor little cutting lay wilted amidst the broken shards of its pot.
The other day, Ianto and Jack had taken one look at the mess, and turned heel, and gone to a hotel.
Alone, for Jack was still in Scotland, Ianto sat on the one unbroken chair, had a stiff shot of whisky, then got his broom from the cupboard. Hours later, sore and tired, the rooms looked a bit better, and he promised himself he'd have the rest sorted before Jack came back. A new bed and sofa had been ordered and would be delivered tomorrow. He would replace the broken door and mend the frame. He would put the snaps of their loved ones back on the wall, replacing the glass. The music box he'd given to Jack months ago needed repairs but was intact. When he had time, he'd look into finding an expert in fixing delicate mechanisms. For now, he set it on the table and listened to the damaged tune.
The phone rang. Expecting Jack, he answered. "Hello."
"Are you ready to talk?" Rhiannon asked him.
Damn. He looked around at the mess he had yet to clean. He ought to drop the phone back into the cradle.
Instead, he sat on the ruined sofa. "Yeah."
"Tourist offices don't get targeted by government manhunts."
She would know if he lied, just like Mam. "I can't tell you everything."
There was a sigh from the other end. "Tell me what you can."
***
The house was a tip, courtesy of the UNIT troops acting under Gloucester's faked command, but they took a page from one of the magazines Gwen had read, and they made a game of it. Rhys would impersonate someone famous, and then Gwen did the same, and they played at cleaning up the mess as Jamie Oliver and Miss Moneypenny, laughing so hard at times they almost made it worse.
The thing Gwen occasionally had to remind herself of was that, while she loved spending time with Jack and Ianto both, her best friend in the world lived with her, and he could do a mean impersonation of Tony Blair.
When they were too tired to lift a single broken picture frame more, they collapsed on the sofa together, Gwen resting her head on Rhys's soft stomach. "I was thinking," he said. "We have the spare room, we could just shove the rubbish in there for now, and deal with it when you've got more time." Not that they ever had more time.
To be fair, although Cardiff's normal assortment of alien troublemakers weren't taking a holiday, the Rift had been quiet. Whatever they'd done, and Gwen still wasn't sure, couldn't say, and wouldn't guess, it had worked wonders. Jack had said there were plenty of other folks in Cardiff with burgeoning gifts. The Rift wouldn't stay quiet forever, not with thousands of cranky people above it every single day. For the moment, Gwen thought about blue skies and calm seas, and that seemed to help.
Funny, thinking of the Rift as more than a pain in the arse, as something positive. Everything you've ever wanted, Gwen thought, if only you know how to ask.
Rhys's stomach gurgled. She smiled quietly and patted his belly. And the best day of your life was the one you found out everything you really wanted overlapped precisely with everything you already had.
Almost.
"No, Rhys Williams, we are not hiding the rubbish in the spare room. We will take it all out to the skip tomorrow." She settled her head more comfortably. "We decided the spare room is going to be the nursery."
"We don't need a nursery right now." He stopped. "Do we?"
She never had told him about her pregnancy scare some months back. Perhaps it was time to tell him, but more likely, it was time to stop being scared.
"Not yet. But we could make a need for it." She sat up, and she pressed her lips against his, until he finally wised up.
And wouldn't you know, they had a little more energy after all.
***
Jack's depression had returned with him from Aberdeen, and there was nothing to be done. He'd recover, he had to, this was his life. Ianto could be there for him because that was his life, too. They broke in the new bed two hours after Jack's return, and the new sofa the following morning. Not bad, Ianto considered, but sorrow had never put a damper on Jack's libido.
As they showered, enjoying the late start to the day, Gwen phoned. "The Rift's being a bastard again," she said apologetically into Ianto's wet ear. "Perry's collecting data now."
"Right," said Jack, taking the phone. Gwen would love to know he was stark naked and dripping wet, but Ianto wasn't going to share. He got a towel as Jack talked to Gwen. "Call Lois, tell her to get her butt in to the Hub. She can monitor." There was a pause, but Ianto couldn't hear what Gwen was saying as he ran the towel over his own hair.
Jack said, "And I'm saying, never mind. Bring her in. I can suspend her again tomorrow. You and Perry get to the site. We'll be there soon."
Ten minutes later, they were in the car, their lazy morning sacrificed to Torchwood. Typical, really. Jack turned the radio to a station he liked and began singing under his breath, something light and catchy and innocently romantic from another time.
Ianto said, "I put together a guest list. I can show you tonight."
"Any special surprise guests I should know about?"
Ianto had a very brief, very terrifying mental image of the Doctor showing up in the middle of the ceremony. "Not if we're keeping things small, no. I told Rhi. She'll be there. I've got Alice and Gwen, and I put down Martha and her family. Mickey has already said he's sending a gift instead. I didn't know who you wanted to ask to cover the Hub that day, but we can finish the invitations when you decide."
"Let me think about it."
Everything you've ever wanted, thought Ianto, if you only know how to ask. And the best day of all was the one when what you wanted more than anything stood in front of you, smiling and wanting you right back.
Jack took his hand, keeping his eyes on the road.
Gwen's voice came staticky over the comm: "We've reached the site." A moment passed. Then she made a strange noise.
"Gwen? What's wrong?"
The sound changed, and then resolved into laughter.
"Gwen?"
In the background, there was a low, rumbling noise, like nearby thunder.
"We'll be there in ten minutes."
"Five," said Jack, gunning the engine.
"Don't," Gwen said, gasping for breath. "Oh, but get here soon. It's wonderful." Her voice filled with awe and tenderness. "The things that came through the rift. Oh, Ianto. They're unicorns."
***
The End
***
Final Note: I'd like to extend a tip of the hat to the late, great Dwayne McDuffie, as well as Rich Fogel and Bruce Timm, whose work on "Justice League: Starcrossed" heavily influenced this story series. (Probably obvious to anyone familiar with JL, credit where it's due for everyone else.)
Fake Third Series Main Post
My Master Fic List
AO3 version (for PDF)
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Lois, Johnson, Rupesh, Martha, Mickey, Tish, Rhys, John, Alice, Steven, OCs, many cameos
Pairings: mostly canon
Rating: R
Warnings: AUTHOR CHOOSES NOT TO WARN (but will answer PMs for any content questions)
Spoilers: up through COE
Words: 60,000 (5,900 this part)
Betas: eldarwannabe and fide_et_spe both performed major heavy lifting on this story, and have my deepest thanks for their efforts
Summary: A secret movement within the government successfully placed Lois Habiba as a spy inside Torchwood, and the trap is ready to be sprung. Meanwhile, Jack has received worrisome news, leading Gwen and Ianto from one danger into another. Loves, loyalties, and everyone's lives are on the line as the force behind the conspiracy finally comes to light.
A/N: Final fic in a fake third series where Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh have joined the team. Can be read as a stand-alone but will make more sense in context of the other stories.
Master Post
Chapter Ten
***
Chapter 11
***
"It's sorted," Jack said, emerging from his office, his hair askew in a fashion suggesting he'd been worrying at it. He didn't have many nervous habits, and this one only showed when he was exhausted. He'd returned very late last night, practically this morning. Ianto, Gwen, and Perry had switched off taking watches in case of a retaliatory attack which hadn't come, while John kept watch over their prisoners and their not-exactly-prisoners. Ianto was awake to see Jack's return, but they hadn't had time alone in the midst of getting Alice and Steven settled, and then Jack had shut himself in his office to make call after call until he reached a particular contact.
"Alien," Jack had told Ianto privately and after much prodding. "Can pass for human, but super-intelligent. The family got stranded on Earth in the early seventies. I got them set up, and they did the rest. Heart-warming immigration success story, really: the older son went into government service for his adopted Queen and Country." He'd left bits out, Ianto could tell, but the "Don't tell Gwen" was clear in the message.
"How sorted?" Gwen's face was closed.
"Enough. My contact is still embarrassed about letting the Saxon thing go as far as it did the first time, and he's horrified what Gloucester managed to slide through. He's very interested in ensuring this round is dead and buried. We won't see any more trouble from their side. He's also agreed to see to it Mr. Weeds doesn't bother us again, in exchange for our permanently mothballing the giant space death laser."
"What about Gloucester?" Ianto asked.
"They're sending a car. My friend will be in the car so we know it's legit. Mr. Gloucester and his followers are no longer our concern." The people he'd drawn to him would have their memories altered. Gloucester would disappear, be disappeared. Just like Lucy had been.
Jack's alien friend in the government had fixed things for them because he owed Jack. Favours begat favours instead of rules and oversight; it was no wonder why some factions elsewhere in power looked on Torchwood as more sinister than supportive. Even if Gloucester had been mad, he wasn't wrong. Torchwood had almost destroyed the world, and the only line of defence they had against doing so again depended on how good a man Captain Jack Harkness was.
Gwen wasn't appeased. "So that's it? Everything's sorted. We all nearly died because one part of the government couldn't pay attention to what another part was doing. Trent did die."
"His family will be taken care of. Everything's being arranged now." A word pinged in that sentence, but Ianto would let Gwen go through the fuss with Jack looking for timing on the other shoe.
Gwen asked, "What about Lois, Johnson, and Rupesh?"
"That was part of the arrangement. They're Torchwood. We deal with them ourselves."
Just like before. "You execute her or I'll execute you both." Who watched the watchmen, other than each other? Who could?
Ianto had already collected a familiar folder. It hadn't even had time to get dusty. "So we're back to square one in finding a new medic."
"Maybe not," said Jack, hands in his pockets.
"Spill," Gwen said.
"I'm doing my contact a favour in return. A doctor he knows, looking to get back into practise. Veteran from Afghanistan, he says."
"Oh good, more soldiers in the Hub."
"Since I'm not allowed to train him to use a gun, I'd think you'd be pleased."
Gwen and Ianto caught each other's eye. Ianto made a note to check the Retcon supply.
Jack said, "Call Mickey and let him know it's safe for everyone to go back to London. Then, we need to have a conversation."
***
Tom had a car, which was much easier than dealing with the series of stolen vehicles they'd taken. Jack said it was dealt with, and the cars would be returned to their proper owners. Torchwood stuff technically did make it Mickey's problem, but not right now. Tom gave Tish the keys, and he and Martha settled into the back together as Mickey rode shotgun.
Tish looked exhausted. Mickey asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"
"I'm fine. How can it only be Wednesday? It feels like three weeks at least."
Mickey shrugged. He could bullshit his way through an explanation of Rift-related time dilation effects, but he had the feeling Tish wouldn't be half as impressed as he was picturing.
"What time is it?" Martha asked suddenly, leaning forward.
"Almost eleven," Mickey said, reading the dash.
"The ultrasound is at one-thirty. I wonder if they cancelled it."
Back in the other universe, Jackie had framed her monochrome images of the alien head creature that had popped out as little Tony. Creepy.
The car accelerated. Mickey grabbed the door handle, glancing at Tish's foot hard on the pedal. "We can make that," she said.
Surprisingly, they did, and weren't arrested along the way. Tom helped Martha inside for her appointment; Mickey and Tish stayed with the car.
"I should call Mum." Tish sighed. "After, I guess."
"After's better. You can tell her it'll be triplets, and they all look like Jack."
Tish laughed. "Better not be. Martha's mad enough as it is." But she smiled, and despite having been on the run, not taking a shower in days, and spending a night in a damp prison cell, she was still very pretty, Mickey could not help but note. He'd noticed some time ago that she was brave, and clever. And she even already knew what he did for a living. It occurred to him that Tish herself probably would enjoy a long chat with someone who understood her own unique history.
Mickey had begun stranger friendships on less.
"They'll be busy for a while. Want to get some lunch?"
Her smile stayed. "Sure."
***
It was, Perry thought later, like a game show. He was addicted to the blasted things, stuck to the edge of his chair, heart pounding, shouting (if he was alone) for the contestants to give the proper answer, choose the right doorway. Jack was kind about that, and told Perry about his own television addiction after the boxes with their grainy black and white images first appeared. That didn't mean Perry could beg off work to watch "The Weakest Link," but it did make him feel better, and he liked having something in common with Jack that didn't hurt.
This? This was something else, and the burning in his stomach had nothing to do with any hopes the people coming through the door would walk out with a new kitchen set.
Three doors, three choices, three items on the desk, as Rupesh and Johnson and Lois would be brought in one by one. A pill and a gun, these were what Torchwood always offered as their severance package. Traitors, mutineers, and those who just didn't work out, they were handed one or the other, and the argument over which was kinder had yet to be resolved. Gwen had her opinions on the subject. Perry wasn't allowed any.
"I'm part of the team," he said, seeing Jack's two favourite shadows in his office. "Why don't I get a voice?"
Jack closed his eyes. "Perry, did you kill anyone in the war?"
"You know the answer to that."
"Ever kill anyone who wasn't shooting back?"
"Of course not."
"We have." He tilted his head to his friends. "Right now, I need to decide if three people you know and care about are going to die, and if I choose wrong, a lot more people might die. I'm willing to make the call. Gwen and Ianto are, too. The million-pound question is, could you live with yourself after?"
Perry dropped his eyes. But he stayed in the room to listen as they debated, and he didn't object as Hart led in each one.
Rupesh was handed a pill.
Johnson was handed a gun.
Now Lois sat in the chair, hands folded quietly in her lap. Perry wanted to watch her, and he wanted to look away. He didn't know what to do with his own hands. Gwen and Ianto stood to either side of Jack's desk, where Jack himself sat like a king. Perry envied the two of them, a little, for knowing where they belonged. He stood to one side, wondering how the rest of his life was going to unfold after this.
Three items on the desk. Three choices.
Jack said, "We had a long chat about you."
Lois nodded.
"You know the rules. More, you know us. We let you in, we showed you our secrets. That was my fault. We're supposed to monitor new people, and not trust them, and I knew that and I let you in anyway. It's not the first time I've made this mistake." He glanced to one side. "And I've been reminded I handled the aftermath outside of the strictest protocols." He indicated the desk. "You get to choose where you go from here."
Lois looked at the three items. "I recognise the first two."
"Yeah." He brushed the pill. "We would remove about a year of memories. Not just of your time here, but also of your work leading up to us." He indicated the gun. "You know what that is."
She nodded again. "And the envelope?"
Perry's stomach burned again. The argument had gone on a long time, the three of them talking loudly over each other. He'd stayed silent whilst they'd discussed their options until Jack, face clouded with anger, had said, "Just following orders is never an excuse."
Perry had piped up, "When my commanding officer told me to fire, I never once believed he wasn't pointing at an enemy who wanted me dead."
Jack, rounding on him bitterly, had said, "You don't obey illegal orders."
"No, you don't, not after you find out they're illegal. Mr. Gloucester didn't put up his forcefield because of us. He put it up because she tried to stop him."
There'd been more after, much more. But the mood had changed, and Jack's hand had rested on the coral he kept on his desk. Perry noticed Jack touching the coral again now.
"Employment papers. You stay. You work for us, and we have your complete, unwavering loyalty."
"I betrayed you."
"It's not unprecedented. I seem to have a knack for bringing on people who eventually try to kill me."
"You didn't want to kill anyone," Gwen said. "That's in your favour."
Jack added, "If you stay, you'll have to be around us every day, knowing we don't trust you anymore, wondering if we're going to believe anything you say ever again."
"This isn't the soft option," Ianto said. His expression was kind.
"Your choice," Jack said, and he sat back watching her, the game show host in charge of the universe.
***
Numbness guided Lois's every motion as she went through her tasks. They needed assistance cleaning up the huge mess that had been made of the Rift manipulator, and she was on suspension as soon as the big debris was cleared.
She glanced at Jack's office again. The door was open, and she could hear him talking to Rupesh.
No, his name was Nirankar now. She'd watched the files print out for his new identity.
"And thank you once again for volunteering," Jack was saying, in his jolly-the-troops voice. "The hospital is always in need of new doctors such as yourself."
"Thank you for the opportunity," said Rupesh. "Not many places would be so understanding."
"Memory loss is nothing to be ashamed of. You've recovered from your accident otherwise, you say you still remember your medical training."
If she tilted her head just so, she could see him nod, befuddled. With the amount of Retcon he'd taken, he was going to be out of sorts for a while, and not remember much even of this planted conversation. But he was a warm body with a pair of hands and Jack hadn't obliterated all his schooling. Dr. Milligan knew distant clinics in need of help, including where they'd set Mrs. Saxon to work out her penance for her past sins.
It wasn't exactly just, and it wasn't exactly fair, but it beat dying.
"I almost forgot," said Jack, who hadn't. "Let me introduce you. Violet?" Johnson came into Jack's office, and stood by Rupesh. "This is Violet Richardson. You're going into dangerous territory. Violet's going with you to help with security."
"Nice to meet you," Rupesh said, without a trace of recognition. And yes, Lois really was staring now instead of doing her work. They'd known Rupesh for months, but he was just ... gone. And someone new was walking around wearing his face and about to live a whole new life. It was gruesome.
As for 'Violet' ...
"A pleasure," she said stiffly, shaking his hand. "Are we ready?"
"Yes. My assistant Mr. Jones will drive you to the airport and ensure you get onto the plane safely." Jack stood and shook their hands. "Good luck."
"Thank you," said Rupesh, still muddy. He left the office with Johnson beside him. She had a gun at her hip.
As Johnson walked by, she winked at Lois.
***
Three hours later, Ianto drove back from the airport alone, all the while thinking they should have Retconned Johnson, whatever Jack said. But the pair were gone now, and he'd have to hope they'd seen the backs of them, aside from the tabs Torchwood would continue to keep to ensure his Retcon and her good behaviour both held.
Ianto parked in the underground car park, and came into the oddly quiet Hub.
"Is it wrapped up?" Hart detached himself from the wall. He'd made himself at home here in the last day, a skulking shadow that nevertheless filled spaces otherwise empty. But his face was set, ready to travel again.
The last of the catastrophic curve Ianto had been riding dissipated behind him. "Yes. It's done."
"Good. No notes in your pocket this time?"
Ianto felt into his pockets and turned them out for Hart to see. Only his keys, his wallet, things he wouldn't need where they were going. He set them atop Johnson's abandoned workstation. Jack and Gwen were talking in Jack's office. Perry was in the basement, digging up parts for the rebuild of the Rift manipulator. Lois was out on suspension for the next two weeks.
No goodbyes, he decided.
"I should leave Jack a letter. If he doesn't think I went with you willingly, he'll come looking." He cast his eyes to the desk. A slip of paper would be enough. He found the back of an expense report Johnson would never file. With a shaking hand, Ianto found a biro and wrote, "Dear Jack."
But how to finish? Have gone off with John. Don't follow. That'd never work. Leaving you, sod off. Bit more likely to work, but harder to face. This is for the best, and I love you. Please don't follow us.
"Haven't you overstayed your welcome?" Jack stood outside his office, watching Hart carefully.
"A fine thank you for everything I've done." Hart rolled his eyes. "If you're in that much of a hurry, Eye Candy and I will be leaving. Come along, you."
The pen fell from his hand to the desk. Ianto turned, not looking at Jack.
"What's going on?" Jack came closer. Ianto took a step away. If Jack came too close, Ianto would be pulled into him, like a pin snapping onto a magnet, and extricating himself would be even more painful.
"We had a deal," said Hart in a delighted, insinuating tone. "And it's time to pay up. Full agreement, isn't that right, Ianto?"
Jack's attention turned fully onto Ianto. "Care to explain?"
"John and I are going. It's for the best. I'll need you to explain things to Rhi." He intended to say the words as atonally as possible, aimed for brisk, heard them come out of his mouth in a mumbled blur.
"Huh?" Jack's confused face would have been more adorable, but it was the last expression Ianto would ever see from him. He'd been selfishly hoping for more than mere bewilderment.
"See you around, lover," Hart said, and began manipulating his wrist strap.
Jack stalked up, slowly, catlike, inserting himself between the two of them, focusing on Hart. "I've had a lot of long days. It's taking me a minute to catch up. Are you stealing my boyfriend?"
"I gave him a few rides. He promised me money, and," Hart laughed breathily, "a few rides of his own. Nothing to do with you. Well, I say nothing. Apparently the hundred thousand pounds he owes me is your hundred thousand?"
Ianto said, "I was going to tell you. Sorry."
"We need to talk about you spending all the money," said Jack. He said to John, "Two hundred thousand pounds, and you leave him here. Deal?"
"No."
"I can give you three hundred thousand," Jack said. "It'll take me a few days to get my hands on it. Investments."
"Not interested." He was still working his wrist strap. It dawned on Ianto that Hart was stalling. He was turning down money?
"Then what is it? I can't let you have your pick of the Archives, but we can strike a deal."
"I've done you enough favours. You still haven't paid me back properly for the last one."
"Be more specific?" Puzzlement was back on Jack's face, though he tried to hide it.
"'Help me, John,'" said Hart in a mocking voice with Jack's accent. "'Just one favour. One little planet.' Some drug-dealing aliens you wanted leaned on. You sent me back fifty years to do it. Sound familiar?"
Jack shook his head.
Hart growled. "You begged me. Got on your knees, and I do mean, on your knees, Gorgeous. Asked me to turn them in to the rhino-heads for trying a protection scam on Earth." Ianto scratched through his memories, came up with nothing. He'd read most of the back reports. Jack looked equally lost.
Hart examined Jack's face. "But you don't remember, do you?" He threw up his hands in disgust, then began slapping Jack's arm to punctuate his rant. "You idiot, you're not supposed to rewrite your own timeline! Fucking amateurs. I don't know why I put up with you."
Jack jumped on the opening. "Because I keep you entertained and I'm prettier than your normal haul."
"I'm doing well right now." Hart's gaze drifted back to Ianto, who suddenly felt naked. "I've got what I want." He'd stopped even pretending to punch in coordinates. Hart went toe to toe with Jack, evil little face grinning up at Jack's growing desperation.
"No, you don't. Oh, Ianto's cute, and I have no doubt you'd have a great time with him. But you don't want him. You want me." Jack took his hand. "So trade. Ianto stays. I go with you."
Horror and revulsion, never far from his feelings on John Hart, boiled back up. "Jack, you can't."
Hart grinned widely. "Agreed." Of course he hadn't wanted Ianto, he'd wanted a bargaining chip to negotiate for Jack's favour. Saving Ianto, threatening him, every step had been made with Hart's real goal in the forefront of his mind, and he had succeeded. Ianto could be discarded. Hart had Jack, exactly as planned.
"I'll need time to tidy things up here," Jack said lightly, breaking contact and walking off.
"I've heard that before. Two days? Three?"
"One hundred years."
Hart's laugh echoed. "You're kidding me."
Jack pointed to John's wrist strap. "What does it matter how long? You and I aren't subject to time. One hundred years for me, ten seconds for you. And then you've got me, for whatever you want, for however long you want." The corners of Jack's mouth tilted into a lascivious smile.
Hart yanked his wrist away. "Five years."
"Ninety-nine."
They haggled as though Ianto wasn't even in the room. Jack fought for every year, and won sixty. "To the day," said Hart.
"On the Plass. I'll meet you there with your money and my bags packed."
"See you soon." With an obscene little wave to Ianto, he vanished in a flash.
Sixty years. Ianto was sure he'd be dead in two or three. Didn't he joke with Gwen about retiring together on his thirtieth birthday -- he to his unicorn farm and she next door to her straw spinning -- precisely because neither expected to survive that long? But Jack had just bought time of his own. If Ianto lived to see the end of Jack's days on Earth, he'd be eighty-six.
Jack stood where Hart had disappeared, watching Ianto. "You heard him. Sixty years from today. Better make a note in my diary, shouldn't I?"
"You can't go with him."
"I can, but not for a long time." He came closer, slowly, as if Ianto were some wild creature he didn't want to spook. "And when I do, I can handle him."
"He'll hurt you."
"He might. Or he might get bored first."
"What was he talking about? Drug-dealing aliens?" Somewhere in the back of Ianto's mind, the scenario felt familiar, like a nightmare he'd forgotten upon waking, a dark vision he'd shivered through until, burrowed safely within Jack's arms and Jack's heat and Jack's scent, he'd fallen back asleep to far more pleasant dreams.
"No idea. Knowing him, he probably made the whole thing up." Jack dismissed the thought with a wave, and the last vestiges of nightmare faded as if they'd never been. "Not important." He let out a deep breath, a lifetime or more of weight slowly releasing from his lungs. Jack was mourning Frank, Ianto could see in the way his eyes dropped from time to time, or looked faraway into another era until he was pulled back here. But Jack had been mourning his son for years, as his life had slipped away. This grief was thoughtful, and old. The wound of his loss would heal cleanly, and with no scars.
Jack said, "This has been the longest week of my life, and it's not over yet. What do you say we leave Gwen and Perry to mind the store, and go home?" He'd finally reached Ianto, placed his hands on each of Ianto's elbows, and brought their legs together. This was far outside their boundaries for the workplace, but Ianto decided this time, they could let it slide.
"Home sounds good." Since they were ignoring the rules for now, Ianto refused to feel bad about nuzzling in for a kiss. Nothing more than a kiss, because Gwen could walk in on them at any moment and they'd been through that enough, thank you.
"I'll let Gwen know we're heading out. Call ahead for dinner. Something we can take home." Jack kissed him again before disengaging to walk back towards his office.
"All right." Ianto headed for the kitchenette, where he stored the takeaway menus. As Jack reached the stairstep to his office, Ianto said, "Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"About ... about what we were talking about, the other day." Or a hundred years ago, as the Vortex Manipulator flew. "Um."
Jack paused, eyebrow raised in an encouraging, 'Will you hurry up?' fashion.
Ianto said, "Yes."
"'Yes' what?"
Ianto waited, but Jack's expression didn't change. Either he didn't remember, or he wanted Ianto to say the words, and this was not a fight they were having at work. "Give Gwen my love. I'll meet you at the car park."
Jack whirled on one foot and headed to his office. Ianto tapped his ear. "Perry, we're headed home for the day."
"Acknowledged. I'll be here a bit. I've got some notions about improving the next go-round of the Rift manipulator, and I want to reread Dr. Sato's notes."
Ianto had the oddest mental picture of Toshiko narrating information to a man she'd never met. Instead of hurting, like so many memories of Tosh had ached over the past year, this image pleased him. She would have loved explaining her ideas to someone as bright as Perry, who would take her work and build on it. He could almost see the pride in her smile.
"Don't stay too late."
"No fear." There was a long pause as Ianto shut down his system and double-checked everything in the butler's pantry was turned off. Perry said, "Hypothetical question. Call it wondering about etiquette in the twenty-first century."
Half a dozen memories flickered like fireworks through Ianto's mind: empty nights that lasted years; Tosh and Owen scanning his bedroom for alien technology, unable to meet his eyes; Gwen dropping by once to check on him, and fleeing as soon as she could; the heavy knock on his door that turned out to be Jack with takeaway, and a dimmed smile, and his unsure, "Can we talk?"
Ianto told Perry now, "You should definitely go by her flat to check on her. Take a pizza. She likes veggie, God knows why."
"Thanks. I'll do that. Good night."
Ianto finished up what he was doing, placed their order, and was almost to the cog wheel door when he heard Jack say from his office, very distinctly, "Oh!" Gwen's question in response was lost as Jack flew out of his office, nearly tripping as he ran across to where Ianto waited, trying not to laugh at him.
"That conversation!" His eyes were alight, and the glee on his face lit up the room.
Ianto, enjoying the moment, pointed out, "You forgot your coat."
"Ignore the coat."
"I can't. I love that coat. You bask in the secondary glow of my admiration for your couture." He turned, activating the door. Jack reached his side and took his arm, preventing Ianto from walking away.
"I love your suits, but I'm even happier when you're naked." His forefinger stroked Ianto's sleeve. "The suits definitely come in second."
"So it's agreed, we love each other's tailoring." The smile was far too difficult to keep off his face. Ianto stopped trying.
"You said yes."
"Let's go home and talk about it."
They left the coat. They went home.
***
Epilogue
***
Gwen, Ianto, and Perry held the fort when Jack and Alice drove to attend Frank's funeral. Alice didn't speak much to him, too upset with the most recent upheaval of her life, as well as the loss of the woman Jack wasn't happy to consider she'd likely been sleeping with.
When they arrived, Bonnie introduced them to the rest of the family. Jack recognised faces from photographs and surveillance. Alice took the opportunity to be friendly, coaxing smiles even as the rest mourned Frank and celebrated his long life. Bonnie made her promise to bring Steven up to meet his relations, clucking to the rest about how sweet a lad he was, spitting image of his cousin Graeme. Jack hung back, watching his grandchildren and their families, seeing a familiar feature here, a reminder of his own mother and father there. Phil Jr. looked very little like his namesake, but a great deal like Gray would, if Gray grew old. And Alice was perfectly placed among them, making small talk and strongly considering one more upheaval.
"It'd be doing a favour for the other side of the family," she lied when they asked. "That estate in Glasgow we visited. They're recruiting a new manager, and I do love the area."
Funerals were supposed to hurt. Jack had attended enough of them to know.
He lingered the longest at the old photos artfully arranged for the service: Frank with his wife Livvie; Frank, Livvie and their children; and a single black and white photograph Jack remembered Meg snapping on a warm spring day in 1929, Frank and Phil arm in arm and grinning as only brothers with no care in the world could do.
***
The flat had been tossed. Books and DVDs had been opened and dropped carelessly to break on the floor, all the kitchen was upturned, the wardrobe was a huge mess, and they'd even hacked roughly into the fabric of the sofa and the bed, looking for God knows what. Dirt from their one plant had been ground under boots into the floor, and the poor little cutting lay wilted amidst the broken shards of its pot.
The other day, Ianto and Jack had taken one look at the mess, and turned heel, and gone to a hotel.
Alone, for Jack was still in Scotland, Ianto sat on the one unbroken chair, had a stiff shot of whisky, then got his broom from the cupboard. Hours later, sore and tired, the rooms looked a bit better, and he promised himself he'd have the rest sorted before Jack came back. A new bed and sofa had been ordered and would be delivered tomorrow. He would replace the broken door and mend the frame. He would put the snaps of their loved ones back on the wall, replacing the glass. The music box he'd given to Jack months ago needed repairs but was intact. When he had time, he'd look into finding an expert in fixing delicate mechanisms. For now, he set it on the table and listened to the damaged tune.
The phone rang. Expecting Jack, he answered. "Hello."
"Are you ready to talk?" Rhiannon asked him.
Damn. He looked around at the mess he had yet to clean. He ought to drop the phone back into the cradle.
Instead, he sat on the ruined sofa. "Yeah."
"Tourist offices don't get targeted by government manhunts."
She would know if he lied, just like Mam. "I can't tell you everything."
There was a sigh from the other end. "Tell me what you can."
***
The house was a tip, courtesy of the UNIT troops acting under Gloucester's faked command, but they took a page from one of the magazines Gwen had read, and they made a game of it. Rhys would impersonate someone famous, and then Gwen did the same, and they played at cleaning up the mess as Jamie Oliver and Miss Moneypenny, laughing so hard at times they almost made it worse.
The thing Gwen occasionally had to remind herself of was that, while she loved spending time with Jack and Ianto both, her best friend in the world lived with her, and he could do a mean impersonation of Tony Blair.
When they were too tired to lift a single broken picture frame more, they collapsed on the sofa together, Gwen resting her head on Rhys's soft stomach. "I was thinking," he said. "We have the spare room, we could just shove the rubbish in there for now, and deal with it when you've got more time." Not that they ever had more time.
To be fair, although Cardiff's normal assortment of alien troublemakers weren't taking a holiday, the Rift had been quiet. Whatever they'd done, and Gwen still wasn't sure, couldn't say, and wouldn't guess, it had worked wonders. Jack had said there were plenty of other folks in Cardiff with burgeoning gifts. The Rift wouldn't stay quiet forever, not with thousands of cranky people above it every single day. For the moment, Gwen thought about blue skies and calm seas, and that seemed to help.
Funny, thinking of the Rift as more than a pain in the arse, as something positive. Everything you've ever wanted, Gwen thought, if only you know how to ask.
Rhys's stomach gurgled. She smiled quietly and patted his belly. And the best day of your life was the one you found out everything you really wanted overlapped precisely with everything you already had.
Almost.
"No, Rhys Williams, we are not hiding the rubbish in the spare room. We will take it all out to the skip tomorrow." She settled her head more comfortably. "We decided the spare room is going to be the nursery."
"We don't need a nursery right now." He stopped. "Do we?"
She never had told him about her pregnancy scare some months back. Perhaps it was time to tell him, but more likely, it was time to stop being scared.
"Not yet. But we could make a need for it." She sat up, and she pressed her lips against his, until he finally wised up.
And wouldn't you know, they had a little more energy after all.
***
Jack's depression had returned with him from Aberdeen, and there was nothing to be done. He'd recover, he had to, this was his life. Ianto could be there for him because that was his life, too. They broke in the new bed two hours after Jack's return, and the new sofa the following morning. Not bad, Ianto considered, but sorrow had never put a damper on Jack's libido.
As they showered, enjoying the late start to the day, Gwen phoned. "The Rift's being a bastard again," she said apologetically into Ianto's wet ear. "Perry's collecting data now."
"Right," said Jack, taking the phone. Gwen would love to know he was stark naked and dripping wet, but Ianto wasn't going to share. He got a towel as Jack talked to Gwen. "Call Lois, tell her to get her butt in to the Hub. She can monitor." There was a pause, but Ianto couldn't hear what Gwen was saying as he ran the towel over his own hair.
Jack said, "And I'm saying, never mind. Bring her in. I can suspend her again tomorrow. You and Perry get to the site. We'll be there soon."
Ten minutes later, they were in the car, their lazy morning sacrificed to Torchwood. Typical, really. Jack turned the radio to a station he liked and began singing under his breath, something light and catchy and innocently romantic from another time.
Ianto said, "I put together a guest list. I can show you tonight."
"Any special surprise guests I should know about?"
Ianto had a very brief, very terrifying mental image of the Doctor showing up in the middle of the ceremony. "Not if we're keeping things small, no. I told Rhi. She'll be there. I've got Alice and Gwen, and I put down Martha and her family. Mickey has already said he's sending a gift instead. I didn't know who you wanted to ask to cover the Hub that day, but we can finish the invitations when you decide."
"Let me think about it."
Everything you've ever wanted, thought Ianto, if you only know how to ask. And the best day of all was the one when what you wanted more than anything stood in front of you, smiling and wanting you right back.
Jack took his hand, keeping his eyes on the road.
Gwen's voice came staticky over the comm: "We've reached the site." A moment passed. Then she made a strange noise.
"Gwen? What's wrong?"
The sound changed, and then resolved into laughter.
"Gwen?"
In the background, there was a low, rumbling noise, like nearby thunder.
"We'll be there in ten minutes."
"Five," said Jack, gunning the engine.
"Don't," Gwen said, gasping for breath. "Oh, but get here soon. It's wonderful." Her voice filled with awe and tenderness. "The things that came through the rift. Oh, Ianto. They're unicorns."
***
The End
***
Final Note: I'd like to extend a tip of the hat to the late, great Dwayne McDuffie, as well as Rich Fogel and Bruce Timm, whose work on "Justice League: Starcrossed" heavily influenced this story series. (Probably obvious to anyone familiar with JL, credit where it's due for everyone else.)
Fake Third Series Main Post
My Master Fic List
AO3 version (for PDF)