Season of Mists, Part Four: The Season of Mists (part two)
*
The Valiant Files
[Note: The following message was found scrawled on the inside of the first folder of the Valiant Files. The handwriting does not correspond to any samples currently on file; it has been suggested that whoever brought the files to the Project is responsible for writing the message, but this cannot be proven. The message has been reproduced here in the interest of completeness.]
WHAT IS DONE CAN NEVER TRULY BE UNDONE. NOT AS LONG AS ANY LIVING SOUL REMEMBERS.
*
Dr. Shepherd was waiting for them at Archie's apartment, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled neatly back. He watched them come in, Jack carrying Captain Hart, the Time Agent cradling Ianto's body, Gwen half-carrying Simon, and Andy following behind, leaning against the wall with his good arm, the other limp at his side. His eyes passed over them all, widening a little bit at the two Jack Harknesses with their burdens, then stepped forward to press fingers to Ianto's neck. "Is he --"
"He'll be fine," Simon said, leaning heavily against Gwen, and she wondered how much longer she could hold him up. "Captain Hart was hit in the lower abdomen. I cleaned it up as best I could, but I have no idea how deep the bullet went. If it hit something --"
"Right." Dr. Shepherd looked at Jack, then at the Time Agent, then back to Jack. "This way," he said, and hurried towards the back of the flat, Jack following in his wake.
Archie watched them go, then turned to the Time Agent. He didn't look particularly surprised to see him. "Let's put Mr. Jones in the spare room for now," he said, businesslike. "Come on."
That left Gwen and Andy to get Simon sat down on the couch. He was pale, his face pinched, and Gwen knew that she was going to have to do something about that bullet in his leg. "Andy, get me something to prop his leg up," she said. "And I'll need water. And some towels."
When she reached to pull Simon's shoes off, he tried to shoo her away. "It's -- you don't need to --"
"Shush," she said, dodging his hands, and managed to get his shoes off. He only fought for a moment, before sagging back into the couch and letting her fumble with his belt. "Raise up a bit."
Between the two of them, with one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders and the other pushing against the arm of the couch, they managed to get him lifted up just enough for Gwen to pull his trousers down; he let out a gasp as Gwen jostled his leg, but didn't complain.
Andy returned with a mixing bowl full of steaming water, and what looked like half of Archie's linen closet draped over his shoulders. He helped Gwen prop Simon's leg up on an ottoman (a towel spread on top of it to protect it from the blood), then crouched near them, watching anxiously as Gwen started daubing at Simon's wound with a wet cloth. "Anything I can do?" he asked.
"My kit," Simon said. "In the ambulance. There's antibiotics, painkillers..."
"Right." Andy tottered slightly as he stood, but gamely made his way back towards the door (for once, left unlocked) and down the stairs.
Gwen went back to cleaning the clotted blood away from Simon's wound, although the water in the bowl had already turned red. The wound didn't look especially deep, and she thought she might be able to get the bullet out, but decided against it. She'd done it once, but that was in the Hub, and it had been Owen's leg, Owen talking her through it. And even then, he'd spent most of the time lecturing her on how she should never, ever, try this under anything less than hospital conditions. She reckoned this flat, full of dusty anachronisms, wouldn't exactly suit. Her eyes flooded with unexpected tears; she wiped them with the back of her hand and kept going, cleaning up the blood, only stopping when someone took the cloth from her hand and replaced it with a fresh one, replaced the bowl of red water with clean. She looked up and saw Archie crouching next to her. "All right, Ms. Cooper?"
"Yeah," she said. "Just..."
He patted her shoulder. "I'll let you get back to work, then."
At some point, Andy returned, with a red box full of gauze and antiseptic ointment and various pills in little amber bottles. Gwen slathered the wound with ointment, hoping it would help, then layered gauze on top of it. She had to lift Simon's leg a little to wrap a long strip of gauze around it, hoping it would hold the wound. He hissed, flinching against the pain, his eyes tight shut.
"There, now," she said, when she'd finished. "It'll hold you together for a bit. Let me get you something for the pain."
Simon murmured something, inaudible. "What was that?" Gwen asked, looking up at him. His eyes were still closed.
"I killed them," he said, quietly. "All those people. You didn't know about the bombs, but I did. Planned it out. I even..." Gwen pulled herself up onto the sofa next to him; he didn't seem to notice, still hadn't opened his eyes. "They weren't all involved. Janitors, some of the techs... they didn't all know what we were doing. I tried to make sure that most of them wouldn't be working, when... But even if they'd all been there, I still would have done it." Gwen pulled his head down to her shoulder, stroking his hair, murmuring soothing nonsense. "I was supposed to help people," Simon continued, his voice strangely detached, strangely calm. "I was supposed to save lives. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be like this."
Gwen closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to his forehead, still stroking his thick, dark hair. Her first kill had been... that bloke with the knife, she thought, the one who raped that girl. Accidental, but even still, the first was hard. Tosh had been the one to really help with that one -- the others all had a kind word, or a hot tea, or just a look of gratitude, but Tosh was the only one who'd really understood what it was like. But that had all been so long ago that Gwen wasn't sure she remembered how it had felt anymore. "It's all right, sweetheart," she murmured, petting and soothing him like he was a child. "It's all right now."
Simon buried his face in her neck. He wasn't crying, or even really shaking, but he clung to her as if his life depended on it. "It's all right," Gwen said again. She thought maybe she should be crying right now, but she didn't think she knew how. She was beyond exhaustion, in that strange place where nothing was real, and all the pain was so far away.
"Reckon you didn't have much of a choice," Andy said, as encouragingly as he could. It didn't ring entirely true, and Gwen frowned at him.
"Time Agents, playing around with us to get us to do what they think we should," Simon mumbled. "Fixed points. Don't know if I have any choice left at this point."
"There's always a choice." Gwen craned her neck to see Jack staring down at them from behind the sofa. There was blood on his hands. It always wound up that way, blood on all their hands. "Even if it's just a choice between running from your fate as long as possible or facing it head-on. It's still a choice."
Simon twisted in Gwen's arms, looking up at Jack. "Which did we do today?" he asked. An honest question, not a challenge.
Jack considered it for a moment. "I don't know," he said. "Little bit of both."
Simon sighed, relaxing back into the sofa. Jack crossed around to crouch down by Andy. "How's Captain Hart?" Simon asked, watching as Jack picked up a bottle from the red box, studying its label.
"Stable, but he needs a hospital." Jack turned the bottle in his hand, watching the pills slide up and down. Then he closed his fingers around it, looking straight at Simon. "So do you."
"Not right now?" Simon's voice was oddly pleading. "I just want to... I need to know if Ianto's going to be all right."
Jack nodded. He twisted the cap off the bottle, tipped one pill into his hand, and then broke it in half. He held the bit of pill out towards Simon, who took it with only a moment's hesitation. "Just to take the edge off," he said.
Simon swallowed the pill fragment dry.
Jack offered the other half to Gwen, but she waved it off. It'd only knock her out, and she couldn't, not right now. She needed to know if Ianto was going to be all right, too. Andy hesitated, then finally, reluctantly, took the pill. "Shoulder that bad?" Jack asked.
"Not exactly good, no," Andy admitted. Frowning, Jack turned to kneel in front of Andy, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it down off his shoulders. Andy winced, turning his face up and away, but didn't fight. Gwen tried to remember the last time she'd seen Andy move that arm. She couldn't.
Jack grabbed a fresh washcloth from the stack, dipped it in the water, and started to clear the blood away from Andy's shoulder. "I don't think it's deep," he said, once the first layer of grime was off. "Might be able to take care of it here, although Dr. Shepherd should really be the one to make that call. I could --"
"I'll take him." Hearing Jack interrupted by his own past self gave Gwen an odd, creepy feeling; seeing the two of them looking at each other, one kneeling in front of Andy, one standing near the hall, made it hard to believe she wasn't hallucinating. "I should say goodbye to John, anyway."
"You're going back?" Jack said, pushing slowly to his feet. Gwen had to look away when he stood toe-to-toe with the Time Agent; it was too peculiar, and she didn't have the strength to deal with it at the moment.
"Time to stop running," the Time Agent replied. "I have to ask -- Is he worth it? He seems so... so normal."
There was a pause before Jack spoke again. "What?"
“I'm about to go back to the Time Agency and get two years of my memory stolen,” the Agent said, only a touch patronizing. "Which, somehow, leads to me becoming a fixed point in time and space, which means that I can and will be killed over and over again, but I'll never truly die. And it all seems to come back to this one man. Granted, it'll be nice to have someone around who's as eternal as I am, but I'm not sure he's exactly the person I'd want to spend infinity with. Then again, you know him better. So what I'm asking is, is he worth it?"
Jack laughed. Somehow, he sounded more like himself than he had for the last several days."You really don't get it, do you? It's not about Ianto." He paused, considering. "It's not just about Ianto. It's about all of them." Gwen finally managed to look up, and saw Jack smiling down on her. "And yes, they are worth it. Each and every one."
"I'm not sure if you're preaching to me about teamwork, bragging about all the lovers you've had in the past, describing an orgy, or all three," the Time Agent said, frowning. Jack just shrugged. After a moment, the Time Agent's face cleared. "Well, if nothing else, I do have the twin acrobats to look forward to."
"There is that," Jack said, grinning. He was still smiling when the the Time Agent pulled him in for a long, very thorough kiss.
"Figured if I'm going to lose my memories, I might as well make it worthwhile," the Agent murmured, still holding Jack's face in his hands. "I get good at that."
Jack ran his thumb over his doppelganger's cheekbone. "You weren't that bad to start off with."
The Time Agent laughed, pulling away. "Well." He reached a hand out to Andy; after a moment, Andy let himself be pulled to his feet. "Let's get you to the doctor." Then he turned to Gwen. "I'll see you later. Much later." Finally, he turned back to Jack, and, much to Gwen's surprise, saluted. "Captain."
Jack returned the salute. "Agent 21177."
Halfway down the hallway, one arm slung around Andy's waist, the Time Agent turned back. "Oh. Since it sounds like some of you were worried that Mr. Jones wouldn't come back, I thought I should tell you that his wound is healing. He'll probably be coming around soon. Just so you know." He winked before turning to walk away again.
Gwen and Jack looked at each other; for some reason, Gwen found it strangely hard to breathe. "Don't know if I'm ready," she admitted, quietly. "What if he's confused again? What if he's not --"
"Then you'll have to help him, that's all," Simon said, giving her knee a slightly awkward pat. "It'll be all right." He reached out to Jack. "I think I'll need you to help me up," he said.
Jack pulled him up without hesitation, supporting him as they crossed over to the spare room. Gwen followed, feeling helpless to stop herself. She wanted to see Ianto open his eyes, more than anything, but she knew he'd changed, and she wasn't sure what to do with that. She wanted her Ianto. She wanted her friend. She wasn't sure she could face starting over.
Archie was in the spare room already, arranging chairs around the cot, two on the side nearest the door, one on the other side. Gwen wondered, briefly, how he'd made them all fit. "Bigger than it looks," Archie said with a smile, as though he'd read her thoughts. He took Simon's arm, took his weight from Jack's shoulders, and helped him into the lone chair. Jack and Gwen settled in on the opposite side -- Jack near the head of the bed, Gwen near the foot.
As soon as Simon was settled, he reached out to take Ianto's left hand, turning it over and pressing two fingers to the pulse point. "Nothing yet," he said, after a bit.
"Can I --" When Simon nodded, Jack trailed fingers down Ianto's right arm before very gently taking his hand. "He's warm," Jack said, sounding a bit awed.
“It won’t be long now,” Simon said.
They waited in silence, all of them staring at Ianto. Someone, possibly the Time Agent, had taken off his hospital gown, cleaned him up and tucked him in. The wound to his chest was gone, and although he was still pale, he wasn't grey anymore. He didn't look dead, just asleep.
Gwen had seen Jack come back to life over and over again, watched him for days after Abaddon, but even that hadn’t been anything like this - he was dead one minute, awake the next. This was worse, somehow, this slow surfacing. She closed her eyes, slumping into her chair. No one spoke for a long time. “There,” Simon said, at long last. “Feel that?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, after a moment. His voice was very hoarse.
“Keep your eyes on his chest,” Simon said. When Gwen opened her eyes, she saw him leaning forward as much as his wounded leg would allow, one hand resting on Ianto’s bare chest. It was still, no movement at all, and then she thought she saw something, the faintest of movements. “Nearly there now,” Simon said, glancing briefly at his watch. Then his expression twisted, and he shook his head, as if repulsed by what he’d just done. Gwen wondered if she’d see him wearing a watch any time in the next week. She didn’t think she would.
Jack was at the edge of his chair now, hovering over Ianto, still holding his hand. He glanced at Gwen; there was no reading his expression, and even if there was, she was too exhausted to try. “Is it always this hard?” Jack asked, softly. “With me, is it like this?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “With Abaddon, it was… it was bad, then.” Harder for Ianto than for her -- he’d only seen Jack come back the once, and didn’t really believe it. He’d come down to sit with her; he’d try with all his might, but he could never stay long.
Jack nodded, and turned back to Ianto.
The moments seemed to stretch -- Ianto was breathing visibly now, his heart was beating, and yet his eyes refused to open. Maybe something had finally broken and he’d never really come back, just a body with no mind. Or maybe he was already awake, and just couldn’t bear to open his eyes again. If he thought he was still in that place, in the Project, wouldn’t he cling to unconsciousness a little longer? What would he be like when he came to? He’d been so strange when they saw him the first time, eyes glazed over, almost childlike. Was that the drugs, or was that him now? Who was he, now that he couldn’t die?
Just when Gwen couldn't stand it any longer, and knew she was about to bolt from the room, Ianto took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. “Ianto?” Simon asked, leaning in a little bit.
“You again,” Ianto sighed, without opening his eyes. “Here I was hoping that maybe I was actually free.”
Simon almost smiled. “Can you move your arms and legs?”
Ianto sighed again, but obediently twitched his hands and feet. The twitch became a slow lifting of his legs, a raising of his arms (Jack’s hand still holding fast to Ianto’s, moving with him), and then Ianto lay very, very still indeed. “What’s going on?” he asked, and the suspicion in his voice broke Gwen’s heart. “What is this?”
“Open your eyes, Ianto,” Simon said.
“I’m not sure I want to,” Ianto said, but his head turned towards the sound of Simon’s voice, and after a moment, his eyes flickered open. He looked at the doctor for a long time, without speaking at all. “Why aren’t you wearing any trousers?” he asked. It was so perfectly normal, so perfectly Ianto, that Gwen wanted to sob. She let out a choked sound, and Ianto turned towards her, pushing himself slowly up off the bed. “Gwen,” he said, quietly, sitting up, Jack’s hand still held in his. Ianto’s eyes settled on him. “Jack.”
“Hi,” Jack said, his voice very small.
“But I was dreaming,” Ianto said. “I was on the ship, and you came, and... It wasn't real. Nothing that happens on the ship is real.”
“It was real,” Simon said, quietly. “Remember? You were confused at first, but then you realized where you were. You were at the Facility, and we came and got you. That's what happened, and it was real.”
“Can’t have been,” Ianto said. “There were two Jacks.”
“It’s… it’s a long story,” Jack replied.
The look that Ianto gave Jack then was enough to break Gwen's heart -- fond, amused, slightly exasperated. It passed quickly into sadness, and Ianto laid his free hand on Jack's cheek. "I haven't seen you look guilty for a while," Ianto said. "Mostly I just see you..." His hand fell away, and he shook his head. When his head raised, he carefully avoided Jack's eyes, looking instead at Archie, standing watchful but silent in the doorway. "Who're you?"
"Archibald McLeod the Third, Torchwood Two," Archie said, with a little bow. "Good to finally see you. Didn't reckon it'd be like this, but life's a queer thing."
Ianto smiled, brief but broad, and Gwen's heart caught. "Archie," he said, then frowned. "But I thought... They dissolved..."
Archie shrugged. "Takes more than a piece of paper to get me to stand down, lad," he said. "Even if they didn't see why they needed me, I always have."
Ianto smiled again, but it was a shallow reflection of the first. "I feel... strange," he said, quietly.
"How so?" Simon asked, sounding a bit worried. "Are you --"
"It's not like on the drugs," Ianto said. "Just... I can't describe it. Like when your dreams are so vivid that waking up doesn't seem real. Although that's not... I'm sorry. It's not coming to me."
Still frowning a bit, Simon levered himself onto the cot, leaning across Ianto's chest to shine a penlight into his eyes. Pulling back, he waved the penlight back and forth in front of Ianto's eyes -- Ianto obediently tracked it. "Well, your pupils aren't dilated, and your vision seems normal enough," Simon said, finally. "Are you dizzy?" Ianto shook his head. "Think you can stand?"
"I'll try," Ianto said. Turning, he swung his legs off the side of the cot, bare feet brushing against Gwen's shins. He stopped there for a moment, looking at Gwen, really looking at her, before reaching out to touch the gash on her forehead. "You're hurt," he said, accusatory.
She managed a small smile. "Just a scratch."
His eyebrow shot up, so familiar that she could have laughed, could have cried. Then he sighed, letting his hand trail down to her cheek, cupping her face in his hand. "But you're not dead," he added.
"I'm not dead," Gwen said, and let herself reach out to touch his face, mirroring his gesture. "Neither are you."
"Sometimes I'm not sure," Ianto said, quietly. "There's things... I've forgotten so many things. And there are things that I remember that can't be true, and I don't know where to put them or what to do with them, and..."
"We'll figure it out." Gwen glanced over at Jack, and he nodded. "Together. We'll figure it out."
Ianto laughed. "I'm not sure I want to," he said, quietly.
"Let's not worry about it now," Jack said. "Let's just get you on your feet, all right?" When he stood, Gwen stood, too, both of them holding tight to one of Ianto's hands. Ianto looked up at them, boyish and uncertain, then bit his lip and nodded. He planted his feet on the floor, closed his eyes, and slowly pushed to his feet. He swayed slightly, unsteady, but Jack and Gwen were waiting to catch him, their arms sliding around his back, holding him up.
After a few seconds of just standing like that, Ianto finally opened his eyes. "I think... I think I'm all right," he announced.
Gwen looked at him, then looked at Jack, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe at all. Then she closed her eyes again and wrapped both arms around Ianto's waist, her head resting against his chest. He wasn't all right. None of them were all right. And she knew that nothing was over.
But he was there, and he was still theirs, and she'd make do with that for the moment.