Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 2)
Chapter Title: Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 2)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Meet Mr. Black
Warnings: This is a heavy chapter. Grab a glass of wine and enjoy. :) Highlight for Warnings-may contain spoilers: * Character Death*
A/N: Much as last chapter, this is a mammoth, gi-normous chapter - ranging somewhere in the 20k-30k word range *g* edit: clocks in at about 28k words - go me. But, as last chapter, it needs to stay together. Here is Part 2 due to size and LJ limits. 1 chapter left!
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22
Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 1)
UNIT provided a buffer between Torchwood Three and the mobbing reporters shouting questions the entire stretch of pavement back to the Information Center. Questions about Stephen, questions about what Ianto (Mr. Black) intended to do. Questions as to why he hid his identity. Questions about his mother. Questions about everything.
Ianto didn't speak. Not once.
Neither did Torchwood Three, all strangely silent as Rhys and Owen carefully wheeled the gurney beside them, a white sheet masking the figure beneath.
Ianto didn't think about that, either.
It wasn't until they'd arrived at the lift, a quick gesture to the soldiers to station guards at the entrance leaving Ianto fairly comfortable that they would be left undisturbed in the Hub, that anyone spoke.
"So, you're Mr. Black then? I thought it was Jack."
Bless her for all her faults, but Gwen had truly remained innocent despite Torchwood's corrupting influence. Ianto rather hoped it never changed.
He smiled a flash of a smile, nothing to it, no feeling, no warmth, that was much beyond him given the quarters they shared. More than large enough for a gurney, but a tight fit for five others.
"For how long?"
Tosh answered Gwen's question for Ianto, relieving him of the task of speaking, for the moment. "Since Ms. White was killed when Avalon fell, the day Ianto had his migraine and was absent for four days." Ianto wondered how long she had had that figured out. Tosh's focus fell on Ianto; he could feel the weight despite not lifting his gaze from the white sheet carefully folded over the corner of the gurney. "I'm sorry, Ianto. I didn't realize she was your mother."
Ianto nodded, lifting his head with a sigh to rest it on the wall of the lift. Jack hadn't spoken a word since the Plas, but Ianto could feel a hand slip beneath the coat he wore, palm broad and reassuring against his back. Jack would demand to continue their conversation, but for the moment, Ianto leaned into the touch, drawing confidence he certainly didn't feel. "We were unsure who had attacked Avalon and I was unwilling to leave my post here. Stephen agreed to be the public face-" Ianto's voice cut off of its own volition, leaving him struggling to continue. The lift sank in silent descent while Ianto found his control again. "He swore his life, to protect mine."
"Well, don't be expecting me to be doing anything of the like, tea-boy. I only got a pittance of a raise this year, and don't think I don't blame you for that one."
Rolling his head against the lift wall, Ianto lowered his gaze to fall on Owen and felt his face warm in an honest grin. Typical Owen bluster. Ianto still remembered the shadow falling over him, Owen stepping to cover him and claiming to be Mr. Black. He had been risking his life for Ianto, and he wouldn't soon forget that.
Besides, he'd approved the maximum raise for Owen, just as he had the rest of the team.
Something in Ianto's smile made Owen flush and turn away, muttering about tea-boys and caffeine addiction and idiocy, much to Jack's amusement apparently as he began chuckling softly beside Ianto.
Further conversation was halted when the lift alert 'dinged,' announcing their arrival at the base's ground level. Rhys and Owen disembarked first, announcing their intent of transporting Stephen's body to Owen's autopsy theater. Jack, Gwen, and Tosh stayed behind, all looking fiercely determined. Ianto raised his hand, quickly dialing Lana to send her to Avalon, bringing with her all the elders she could contact.
They would need it.
Clicking off the phone, Ianto turned to the others.
"What can we do? The dragon was lying, they can't be here for peace."
Ianto had no more than opened his mouth to respond to Tosh when his mobile rang. Sheppard, again. He assumed this would be an enlightening conversation.
"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing? You can't go to that ship! It's a fucking trap! How can you be so stupid to agree to something like that? Jesus Christ, Ianto, have you got no sense? Kavanagh's got more brains than you and McKay swears the man has one the size of an atom of hydrogen which is apparently seriously fucking small. You-"
"How's the work on the shields coming?" Ianto interrupted Sheppard's tirade smoothly with the question, receiving his answer by the silence from Sheppard's end. Ianto continued, not stopping even when Sheppard tried to speak over him, voices escalating as they each fought for control of the conversation. "I appreciate your concern, but unless you have some demands for the negotiations, I really can't afford to waste time that could be spent trying to figure out a way to eliminate the threat to Earth. Keep me updated on the shields."
Ianto snapped his mobile shut, cutting off Sheppard in the middle of whatever he had been trying to say in defense of his argument. Owen and Rhys walked back into the Hub about the time the 'argument' had reached its highest pitch, and looked to the other three for an answer. No one moved, no sounds except the steady fall of water. Ianto's gaze fell instead on Jack who leaned against the railing, arms crossed, his expression set in the most severe Ianto had yet seen. A conversation awaited, probably along the lines of Sheppard's earlier rant. Jack wouldn't be as easy to brush off, in fact, he couldn't quite hang up on the man. Ianto's mind spun wildly as it tried to logically deal with the situation, rationale for his actions and why Jack couldn't take his place outside the obvious.
Because, god, even if the dragons weren't telepathic, this Jack was younger. Torchwood needed the elder Jack in its past; Ianto needed him in his past. Time made little sense to Ianto when it fell out of linear passage, but he knew this. He understood paradox.
This Jack had to live.
Ianto needed every moment, from his assignment to his first meeting in that dingy old Information Center to Lisa to the time spent at his father's after Avalon had burned and all the moments on scattered rooftops across the city.
He needed Jack for that first 'date,' when the insufferable Captain had dragged him to the invisible lift, determined to rid Ianto of that fear.
Jack had such a guiding influence on Ianto's recent years he wasn't quite sure where he'd be without him.
Fuck. Their first date.
Ianto could remember each word so clearly, how Jack looked that night, his greatcoat swirling about him as he stood in front of the Millennium Centre, the doors opening and the crowds pouring out but there Jack was, speaking words which at the time Ianto had a hard time believing.
"I don't know that I could, if it were you."
"But you've stood back for others."
"None of them looked nearly as good in a suit."
Ianto had thought at the time, when Jack had said he couldn't stand back and watch Ianto die, that the Captain had most certainly loved in the past.
Loved and lost.
Fuck, how much had that Jack known?
Cold ice raced down Ianto's spine as pieces fell into place, scattered and pulled from all the snapshots of time within his mind. He became aware that the Hub had grown silent in his silence, staring at Jack as Jack stared back. Taking a moment to straighten his leather jacket, just to give him an excuse to pull his eyes away from Jack's in case any of his thoughts shown through, Ianto smiled the most proficient business smile he'd cultivated in all his years of lies and deceit.
His life was built upon them. What were a few more to ensure the past?
"Gwen, Rhys, Owen, Tosh, I need you to search the Archives for information regarding Fornaxian engineering. That galaxy cluster was home to hundreds of technologically advanced races through the centuries. For all their arrogance, I have a suspicion that these dragons are collectors, not creators. There may be information we failed to compare in our databases because those records are quite antiquated."
"What? But that's-"
"Do as you're told for once, Owen," Ianto snapped back as he turned his phone 'off.' No interruptions. "It's filed under either 'E' for engineering or 'F' for Fornax. Tosh can teach you the alphabet if you're confused. Jack." Ianto gestured towards Jack's office, the other man pausing only a moment before nodding, shoulders set and his entire body-line hard as stone.
A storm was brewing.
Ianto waited long enough that he saw each of the team exit towards the Archives, grumbling confused arguments as they went, before he gathered himself and walked to Jack's office. He closed the door behind him, hoping to keep any sounds of shouting from the Archives; it would do no good for the team to hear he and Jack argue.
Or anything else.
"You can't do this."
Ianto smiled briefly, walking around to Jack's desk to sit in his chair. "And what if they speak the truth? They mean to make peace, to rebuild their civilization ravaged by a terrible race." He rifled through the desk drawer contents, moving objects around noisily. He was searching, looking. At least that's what he lied. "We would truly be doing a disservice to the human race by portraying ourselves to be equally ruthless and savage." Ianto held up the key that had been the excuse for the search. Unlocking the bottom drawer, Ianto removed the bottle of aged single malt Scotch Jack kept hidden for times such as these.
And this most certainly was one of those times.
"You don't believe that."
"Don't I?" Ianto located two glasses, pouring a finger of the amber alcohol in each. He paused, god, he didn't even fool himself with those lies. But he knew, he knew with certainty that Jack would attempt to stop him no matter the greater good, no matter the big picture. And at the current moment, there were no other options. "Jack, would you ... " Ianto started and lost his confidence.
"Would I what?"
Ianto could feel Jack step closer, the heat of his body just inches away from his. Even without immortality, the fire of life still burned with in.
God, this Jack had to live.
"The other ... you. The older you, we had this tradition," Ianto laughed in mockery of memory that wasn't real. "When things turned sour, we'd ..."
"Get blistering drunk?"
"No, well, yes, sometimes. But we'd toast, then perform a sacrilegious act and shoot the first round. Second, we'd act civil. But ... please? I need this." Ianto twisted and held up a glass, bearing the weight of Jack's contemplative look. They never really talked about the other Jack, it was a bit of taboo when it came to conversation. Ianto couldn't blame Jack; living up to a memory of one's self would be a challenge no matter the legends. And Jack had to deal with that plenty with the others of Torchwood Three, but it had never been broached between them.
Until now.
Jack looked resigned, but took the glass anyways, perhaps in acknowledgment of the fucked up situation Torchwood Three was in or maybe it was just concession to this one odd request of Ianto's. "And what did you toast to?"
Ianto refrained from reacting negatively to the words, just smiled and held up his glass. "To Torchwood."
Jack arched a brow in response to the toast, but clinged his glass against Ianto's all the same. "To Torchwood." Glasses raised and Scotch was drank, one drink, one swallow, Jack standing so close Ianto swore he could hear each neuron fire as throat muscles contracted to swallow. He was beautiful. Captain Jack Harkness. Ianto wondered what his name was.
Smiling a smile Ianto didn't feel, he poured their second drink, tucking the bottle back in the bottom drawer.
"You can't go."
Ianto rolled his eyes, standing up to pace the office, drink in hand. He needed a plan, in addition to the one he currently was executing. "I don't want to go, Jack, but that doesn't mean I will shirk my responsibilities. If we don't have a plan to lower their shields, I've no other choice."
"They'll kill you!" Jack stood in front of him, stopping Ianto's pacing. "They killed your mother. What makes you think you'll be any different?"
"What else am I supposed to do? You once told me this is where these things start. Small decisions that become mass slaughter." Ianto could hear every word as he spoke in time with the memory in his head, "these creatures regain a foothold by exploiting human weakness. Weakness, Jack. It will start with a meeting with someone craving power. Unlimited power," Ianto laughed as he quoted Yvonne. Fuck, he was not cut out for this job. He didn't know anyone who was. "I don't go, someone else will. And then we might as well have raised the white flag for the warriors and given Earth over then, sparing Avalon. They'll come and take a base. Rebuild their forces, you said. And before you know it, the whole bloody dragon race is spreading out across the universe, erasing worlds, assimilating populations. All because of the tiny beginnings here, Jack!"
Jack's hands shook as he sipped his Scotch, Ianto could see the tremors. God, Jack was angry, but Ianto knew he was right. He had to be.
"Small decisions, huh, Ianto? What about yours?" Ianto watched as the vein in Jack's forehead, the one that only throbbed when Jack was the most angry, and at his most stubborn, began to throb in tempo with Ianto's heart. "You don't think this could become mass slaughter? You leave, Mr. Black is gone."
"If I don't, the dragons will come." Ianto ran his fingers over the buttons of Jack's shirt, feeling the slight curve and thread, memorizing before moving down to the next, and the next, tracing the line of Jack's chest through the tiny bits of plastic.
"No," Jack pushed Ianto's hand away, shoving him off-balance and while Ianto stumbled to maintain his footing (though he lost control of his Scotch, a pity), he pulled his Webley from its holster. "I will not stand by and watch you die!"
Fuck it was confusing, which Jack was Jack. Conversations overlapped, reaffirmed and assured that this was certainly no impostor. Ianto looked down the barrel of a gun, for the countless time in his life, but he knew this time, there'd be no death, even if Rani wasn't present. "Are you going to kill me, Jack?" Ianto smiled sadly, remembering the last time Jack had held a gun to his head. He rather thought Jack was serious at that time and he didn't doubt Jack now. "Stop death by doling it out yourself?"
"I won't let you leave. You won't show up, we'll fight the dragons just as we did before."
"With what, Jack? What will you fight with? Avalon's out and their shielded ship is bigger than our moon." Ianto smiled as he saw the gun waver, the strength in the grip failing. "You're right though. You wouldn't just let me leave. You'd do something foolish, play the hero. Have I ever told you how many times you've died for the team, Jack? How many times you've sacrificed your life for the greater good? Of course," Ianto smiled ruefully, "you were immortal then. Not so much now."
Jack shook his head, Ianto assumed to clear his vision more so than denial though it could have been a bit of both. Carefully, he removed the gun from Jack's hand, not a difficult feat as Jack only seemed to notice after the gun was gone that he ought to fight him off. Ianto barely managed to slip it onto the desk before Jack's knees gave way and he caught the bulk of the captain's weight before he toppled to the floor. Ianto helped him into a chair, setting the glass on the arm, remaining expressionless despite Jack's accusations.
"What have you done?"
Ianto leaned against Jack's desk, deliberately not remembering the times he and Jack had worked off the emotions and energy of a particularly rough mission and instead focused on his plan. Jack's words were a bit slurred; but Ianto would not underestimate how much a species might have physiologically evolved in three thousand years. "What I must to keep you and Torchwood Three safe."
"Retcon?" Jack's laughter sounded so wrong, so off, a sluggish, rasping chuckle that Ianto heard after a night of sex and too little sleep. "Won't work."
"I assumed as much." Ianto watched as Jack's head dropped forward only to jerk back up again as he fended off sleep, the instinct to reach out and touch, to hold Jack so strong Ianto had to cross his arms to remain still. "Whether your body or your mind would repel any attempt at conditioning, I couldn't be certain. Doesn't matter, so long as the sedative worked." Ianto broke from his lean, straightening with business-like efficiency, desperately depending on old habits to carry him through this. He walked to the wall safe, where the most dangerous of finds were kept, and quickly entered the code.
"We've hours before deadline, I'll wake up."
"Wake up and kick your ass from here to Glasgow." Ianto's mind helpfully supplied. He smiled at the idea, pausing a moment before opening the safe; whether in regret or second thought he wasn't sure but it was so tempting to push it shut, leave it be and forget the plan had ever been considered. Ignoring any doubt, he pressed on, taking each locked box out one by one. "You will wake," Ianto sadly agreed, refusing to think about where or when. His hands began to shake as he removed box after box, but he doubted it was due to physical strain.
God, he couldn't do this. Not to Jack.
"Ianto?"
His name was stretched across syllables and lifetimes, sounding for the first time hesitant and tasting just slightly of fear. It shattered Ianto's resolve to remain untouched, aloof, a model of Torchwood One's dispassion and arrogance with just a breathed word.
No, he had to. Jack had to live.
Ianto pretended he was doing this to preserve timelines, to make sure the past played out in Jack's future. But he wasn't quite as good at lying to himself as he was to others, he never really had been, and Jack's life was more important now; Jack wasn't immortal. He'd do something to stop Ianto and he would ... The doubts crept in again, tingling at the back of his neck just above his spine, stretching its shadowed tendrils out to numb his hands, force the release of the last box tucked into the furthest recesses of the safe. It had the opposite effect, however, the numbness; Ianto gripped the handle even tighter, removing the clear-walled box from the confines of the safe to its new resting spot on top of Jack's desk.
He snapped the seals, refusing to look at Jack, trusting the sedative to maintain its grip a little while longer. Not much longer, Ianto realized as he withdrew various objects he'd studied during Jack's absence. He knew essentially what each should do, in theory and based on what he had learned during his training at Torchwood One. A plasma weapon, a utility knife which functioned as a portable medical trauma analysis system, various bits and bobs and finally, a slim device. Shaped rather like a malformed wishbone, the twin curved prongs cursing out from the central point in dove-grey innocence. At the center, a rather simplistic computer system masking an enormous storage array, built on science far beyond the 21st century.
All of them, stamped with the mark of the Time Agency.
"Don't do this."
Jack's sky-blue eyes bore into his, awake but Ianto knew it was probably more to do with a burst of adrenalin than the sedative wearing off. Jack had yet to move from the chair and Ianto hoped this energy would not lead to a fight, not that Ianto would blame him if he tried.
He just couldn't fight Jack.
"Earlier, I wondered how much you knew, the older you. And I realized you knew nothing." Ianto slowly rounded the desk and held up the device. Jack's eyes followed, but he made no attempt to move. "You wouldn't have left, knowing this day was coming, when the Earth you fought to protect would be so threatened." Ianto crouched in front of Jack, sinking so he could better look at Jack, knowing this left him terribly open to retaliation, but he needed this; he needed to be close to Jack.
He just hoped Jack didn't have the alertness to kick.
"You would have tried to stop me, months, years ago. And you'd still attempt to stop me now, risking your life to do something foolish because that's what heroes do." Ianto traced Jack's cheek, regret fueling his determination when Jack pulled away. He didn't miss the anger or the betrayal in Jack's glare; Ianto couldn't deny that he deserved it. He deserved all of Jack's recriminations, all his hatred, and as Jack attempted briefly (and weakly) to fight him off, Ianto admitted he deserved the pain as well.
Fuck, he couldn't be doing this.
The struggle seemed to take everything from Jack as he sagged back into the chair, Ianto carefully restraining Jack's fists with a hand pressing them firmly into Jack's thighs to prevent another fight. He didn't think it'd happen as Jack looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. "Two years, you said, two years you couldn't remember." Ianto quickly programmed the device, holding the prongs to Jack's temples. "I can't stand aside and let you die. Not for me, not for Torchwood."
Ianto looked over the device, framing Jack's piercing eyes as though to converge the fury like a magnifying lens the sun. It worked, too, burning straight through Ianto's defenses to explode into guilt which threatened to suffocate for all its intensity. Ianto could scarcely breathe, much less speak, and it took everything he had to croak out the words he'd spoken so long ago, when he'd chosen Rani's safety over Jack's life. "I'm sorry, Jack."
He didn't close his eyes; he deserved to see, to remember every moment within his unforgetting mind just what he'd done to Jack. Ianto pressed the button to activate the device without hesitation, feeling what little remained of his innocence curl fetal within his mind, screaming denial as Jack's head slammed back, trying to escape the arching ends that glowed so brilliantly. Ianto's eyes watered; he blamed the light as it pulsed impossibly bright, searing the vision of Jack, betrayed, so deep into his mind he'd see it upon waking and even after he closed his eyes at night.
The device shut off, leaving Ianto's vision struggling to keep up with the drastic changes but it didn't stop him from seeing the vacant expression written upon Jack's face, eyes wandering from object to object within the room, drowsily smiling at nothing and everything.
God, he felt sick.
"Jack, remember." Ianto whispered, touching Jack's face in an attempt to draw those vibrant blue eyes towards his, nearly weeping when they failed to lock on his face. God, he deserved this last memory for what he'd done. Standing enough to make it possible, Ianto placed a gentle kiss on Jack's lips, warm but so coldly unresponsive. "Remember, the 21st century is when everything changes. And you have to be ready." Jack had to be. He had to prepare Torchwood Three. Cardiff would not survive the attack without Torchwood Three, especially not after Torchwood One fell to the Daleks and Cybermen.
Ianto paused before speaking low into Jack's ear, though no one else was listening. "I love you, Jack." With a smile that didn't reach his eyes and resolve more firmly rooted in desperation, Ianto straightened, first slipping the Webley into Jack's holster before walking away, leaving Jack alone, sleepy and lost as his mind healed around the missing memories.
He didn't look back at Jack, he couldn't. Now after he'd done it, Ianto could hardly stand to be in the same room as the living reminder of everything monstrous about him.
He wondered if this was how his mother had felt when Torchwood One had fallen.
Picking up the pocket knife-med kit, Ianto depressed the button he assumed was the emergency beacon. With hope that the device still had power to alert the proper individuals across whatever time and space it needed to, Ianto sank into Jack's chair and stared at the treasure-trove of artifacts Jack had collected over the years. Of course the ugly statue with a hole in its middle was there ...
Wilson had turned out all right. No permanent damage.
Ianto wondered if he should hit the signal button again.
Time passed, Ianto knew so because he had counted forty-eight breaths before Jack's office walls seemed to ripple, carrying a current of light that shouldn't have been. Ianto slowly turned in the chair, unsurprised to find two weapons pointed at him; one he recognized the tech, though it was a significantly advanced version from what he had seen in training, and the other looked remarkably like an old Winchester rifle, Model 1892 if his eyes weren't mistaken, though it appeared a custom build. The clothing of woman and man were remarkably eclectic as well, ranging from what looked like Korean War era on the boy to dark brown pants of the Western era, leather gun belt and vest on the woman, though he supposed it shouldn't have surprised him given Jack's penchant for fashion. The man looked barely old enough to hold a pistol, much less be aiming a weapon at him.
Ianto supposed Time Agents did have to go through training as well. He pitied the poor individual stuck with Jack as a youth.
"You are unauthorized to use this equipment."
He snorted and eyed the younger one who had spoken in a clipped, remotely Irish accent before focusing his attention on the elder. Ianto nodded slowly to the chair behind them, not wanting to draw their ire. Upon reflection, maybe this hadn't been one of his wiser ideas, given what Jack had said about his time with the Agency and the limited intel from Torchwood One. He skipped the obvious part of the conversation, knowing that if they were familiar with the equipment at all, they would recognize the effects. "He's also been dosed with a double-strength sedative. I trust you have facilities which can provide care."
The older Agent definitely recognized Jack though she tried to hide it, the rifle unwavering as it aimed at Ianto. The hard edge was unmistakable; he had seen the expression on Jack's face before. Military, maybe found skills in a war or two. Seen a lot of death, lived a hard life. She was beautiful though, or maybe it was the hard edge which gave her the beauty. "We don't take kindly to attacks on our own."
Ianto bit his tongue at what he wanted to say, instead he nodded his acknowledgment of her threat. He didn't particularly know what to believe when it came to Time Agents, cons and ploys all part of the job. This act could be as much artificial as Owen's preferred cheese. "He doesn't belong in this time. I assume you can safely transport him to the correct period."
"You'll be handing over his memories then."
"No." Ianto knew with a certainty of only one he would trust with such a treasure outside of himself. And even that respect was questionable of late. He stood, placing his hands on the desk and gestured to Jack. "You will transport him away and see to his safety. His memories stay with me."
"You have no authority to tell us what to do!" The kid finally spoke, his voice rising defiantly, though he might not have been much younger than Ianto, Ianto still felt old next to him.
"What he means to be sayin' ..." the woman drawled, glancing at what must have been a new recruit. It made sense, answering a medical emergency signal wouldn't demand fully trained operatives. "... is you're not exactly in a position to be making demands. Our equipment comes with us."
"They are Jack's personal possessions and memories. They stay with Torchwood." Ianto raised his chin, daring the woman to argue. He really had no leverage, nothing he could even offer in return. He just knew the device, storing the memories, could not leave with the pair. He would fight for them, if he must.
"Torchwood?" The woman looked around, clearly not all that impressed with the Captain's office. The kid was another story, taking a new interest in his surroundings. Ianto hoped he didn't get too comfortable, the team would be back soon and these people needed to leave "What's your name, mister?"
Ianto didn't hesitate. "Mr. Black. And you might be?"
"Mr. Black?" The kid started firing off a language Ianto had never heard, but the woman seemed to understand. She jabbed him in the ribs with her rifle to shut him up; Ianto had to smile and thought of how many times he would have liked to have done that to Owen. And have it work so well.
The woman caught the smile, and Ianto could almost swear he saw shared amusement in her eyes as well. "Of course, sir. We'll just be taking our Agent and be on our way."
Ianto blinked in surprise as the two Agents turned to Jack. No further argument? He had been prepared for a fight, and instead, compliance? For all the kid had appeared lanky, he was strong, hefting Jack easily to a standing position as out of it Jack appeared. He finally found his voice, talking to the woman directly, more plea than an order of any kind. "You'll not harm him and breathe no word of how or where you found him."
She looked at Jack, slumped and semi-conscious on the shoulder of the kid, then back to Ianto. She seemed to understand him far better than the kid; Ianto supposed that maybe, she had felt something equally as protective at some point in her life. "I'll make sure the kid keeps his tongue. A pleasure, Mr. Black."
The woman punched something into a wrist device similar to Jack's and the walls shimmered again, dancing with sparks of light. The whole act was soundless, at least to Ianto's ears, and he watched as they simply walked into the light without harm, carrying their burden with them.
Fuck. He'd done it.
His knees shook so hard he was forced to sit in Jack's chair, staring mindless at the wall for a few moments to collect himself. Just a few moments, he knew that was all the time he had to dwell but he needed it, needed the quiet to reflect, to consider what he'd done and how if the dragons didn't kill him, a returning Jack most certainly would.
But Jack's life was worth the consequences. Jack would live to play hero another day.
With a deep breath forcing dark thoughts from his mind, Ianto stared at the office with a clear head, noting the disarray and things that needed to be done. He stood quickly, gathering all the Agency objects, save for the memory device (he'd never gotten the name of the device, perhaps he'd refer to it as the Mind Bind) and placing them back in the safe box. Renewing the seals, Ianto placed the box back in its home within the safe, buried deepest and furthest from detection. Then he began restoring all the boxes to their original home, pausing when he encountered a few devices which caught his eye. He left those out, they might work well into future plans.
Cradling the device (Mind Bind) in his hands, Ianto scowled as he tried to anticipate future events in order to convey a package, especially difficult for someone with no gift of clairvoyance or time device. The Time Agents -- they had appeared familiar with the name Torchwood, surely Torchwood survived? Or maybe it had been destroyed, and Torchwood's infamy carried through as a lesson to those who wished to challenge dragons, which would make storage at Torchwood Three illogical.
Fuck.
Ianto stared, desperately willing the innocent-looking device to give some indication of how to convey a message. A quiet hum distracted him from his unwavering stare; it was barely audible, in fact, Ianto was fairly certain it wasn't audible at all. He felt it more than heard it, resonating on a pitch that tingled his nerves, making them dance in awareness. Looking about the room, Ianto searched for the source; it was light, spirited, not dark and oppressing as the dragons, and his heart raced just a little. He couldn't explain it, couldn't explain how he knew but this was his answer. Something was ... just at the edge of his public mind, tickling awareness.
It'd be unnerving, if it wasn't so comforting.
His eyes fell on the bit of coral Jack kept on his desk, a coral which through the years had appeared to grow despite lack of sea water or rock. A single touch, just a bare brush of his fingertips had that awareness in the corner of his mind sparking into life, crackling with intensity and nearly overwhelming his senses as no thought entered his mind, no image, just a feeling of ... 'right'. It was beautiful, a shattering awe of something exuding both timeless age and wisdom, yet an innocent youth which reminded him of his sister swinging on the old wood swing back at his father's, laughing with a gaiety as only a child could laugh.
He didn't know why he did it, it just seemed the right thing to do and really, he knew he hadn't consciously decided to act, but his hand was moving, setting the memory device upon the coral in a depressed curve which Ianto swore hadn't been there before. Ianto's eyes widened in amazement as the coral moved, curling about the device, securing it and protecting it in a blanket of replicated or altered growth he knew was too fast for an ordinary piece of coral. In a panic, realizing there was no explanation, Ianto grabbed a piece of paper from Jack's desk -- a requisition slip, but Ianto wasn't picky. He jotted a quick note, then nabbed another piece, this time a letter from the Prime Minister about funding. Scribbling one last note, he addressed both and set them carefully atop the coral as well.
In a breath, the paper had disappeared and the coral looked as it had once before.
Shaking, Ianto's mind caught up with what he had just done. Jack's memories were ... gone. He'd trusted the security of Jack's memories to ... an old piece of coral? He was both foolish and brash, he had no reason to believe that the device would ever reach the one person Ianto knew would secure the memories and keep them safe until they were returned to Jack.
But yet, he was rather assured they would.
Ignoring what he could no longer change, Ianto broke into the boxes, slipping one blue-tinged pebble-shaped object into his pocket and keeping the larger, cross-shaped weapon out. He had no plan, no concept of what to do, except he knew they might come in handy for any plan they did come up with.
***
That was how Rhys found him some time later, sitting in Jack's chair, absently spinning the weapon on his finger at irregular intervals, the weight of the object carrying it completely through its revolution without falling, a most disastrous thing given that Ianto presumed it could fire, shoot a hole through the office walls (or himself) but he was feeling a bit reckless.
"Sir, I've taken the liberty of cataloguing the information the other mindless lot researched, given they had no skills for tracking or any sort of methodology. So far, we've found one hundred sixty-three instances of engineering cross-referenced with Fornax, fat lot of good that did as most of it was just rubbish hair trimmers or gizmos to fix a leaky faucet-" Rhys stopped tapping his pencil on the clipboard, to Ianto's relief, as a thought must have struck him. "Oh, I've been had. They figured I'd walk in on you and Jack buggering over his desk or something, like that'd shock me after I caught Owen and that alien gal with, never mind. Ah, where's Jack?"
The question instantly stopped the spinning, making Ianto clutch the weapon with a ferocity which startled him. He knew he should have come up with an explanation, something rational to legitimize his disappearance. For once, his mind still calculating every permutation for plans and theories based on weapons on hand and intel on the the alien species, theories and plans far more often than not discarded as futile, for once he was left without an answer. "He left," Ianto said simply, lacking a better response.
"Left?" The statement didn't even seem to phase Rhys. "Do you need me to phone him? We best be putting all our minds on this, can't have you wandering off to some space ship filled with vicious little aliens without a plan. We're going to have a plan, right?"
"We'll have a plan," Ianto reassured, unconvinced himself if they actually would. None of his plans were creating a viable outcome. "No leads with the Fornax technology?"
"No, sir. Lots of engineering, but mostly household items. Could stand to find one of their laundry units, myself. None of this sorting by colors nonsense."
Ianto felt his eyebrow arch into his hairline as Rhys spoke, more disbelief than annoyance, the word sounded more foreign than when a complete stranger had spoken it less than an hour ago. "Rhys," Ianto interrupted, only strong will preventing himself from laughing at the ludicrousness. "We've been on first names for months. Why the 'sir'?"
Rhys shrugged, as though the answer should be perfectly clear to Ianto. Which, it wasn't. Ianto waited, and finally the other man responded. "Seeing as how you're in charge of things and aliens are asking for you by name, can't well be calling you by name like I would my mates. Besides," Rhys grinned and Ianto wondered how it was that despite everything, the man could be unfailingly happy, "look at the missus. I work best following orders. Keeps her happy and lets me get away with more in the end."
With a snort, Ianto ran a hand over his face, scrubbing away any sense of tiredness and stress, least of all the absurdity of someone older than him addressing him as 'sir.' Which reminded him of Jack and the brief levity faded. With a sigh, Ianto looked at Rhys with sudden concern as to what the man may be trying to get away with. He'd hid a Cyberwoman in the basement, after all. "Remind me later to scan the security logs to ensure you've not slipped anything toxic into the creamer Owen prefers."
"Now, that'd be right deviant of me, wouldn't it, sir?" Rhys just smiled the innocent smile of the cat who caught the canary and Ianto began to question how much Rhys truly knew about the secrets of Torchwood and the affairs she hid.
The quiet types. Always the underestimated.
"So, should I phone Jack, then?" Rhys continued, resuming his pencil-tapping.
"No, we'll plan without Jack as he won't be joining us."
"Who won't be joining us?"
Ianto glanced up as Tosh's voice sounded behind Rhys. With no warning, all the other Torchwood Three members had filed into the room, shifting about so all could stand within sight of Ianto, an action Ianto found incredibly unnerving. They were all looking at him expectantly, like he had an inkling of how to continue, of where to guide them. "Jack." Ianto sat back in the chair after setting the cross-shaped weapon (too dangerous a distraction to be toying with at the moment) down on the desk. "He won't be joining us. He's left for another mission again."
It was sickening, feeding that story to the team, but Ianto could hardly admit to what he'd done. He'd confess later, when the fate of the world wasn't upon their shoulders.
"Jack's gone? Again? But why? Surely he left an explanation after last time. Did you see him leave? What did he say?"
Gwen's rapid questions, her constable mind in overdrive it seemed given the frantic escalation in tone, tweaked his headache again, and Ianto rubbed his temples, ignoring the flashes of slim prongs touching Jack's in perfect symmetry, ravaging his mind to steal the memories of the past two years. "He didn't say. He said he was sorry, but he had to leave," Ianto lied, the words sounding false even to him.
There was a time when such a lie would have come easy. Now, it all sounded so wrong.
He had no time to second guess the lies as two hands tore him away from the chair, spinning him until his back hit the wall (luckily missing the row of shelves, that would have been dreadfully painful), an action Stephen would have chided him for failing to deflect but he had been admittedly distracted at the time.
And Gwen was admittedly pissed.
"Don't lie to me, Ianto. Where is he?" Gwen's hands pushed his crumpled tee up and against his throat; revealing what had to be an inordinate amount of pale skin for the others to see but they were either too stunned by Gwen or they agreed too much with her questions to make any effort to assist him. "He wouldn't have left us again, not when we need him. Tell me, where is he?"
Her hands shook with the effort it took to keep him restrained against the wall, not that Ianto didn't believe he couldn't have broken her hold with minimal effort. But he rather feared his actions would be stronger, driven far more by jealousy -- jealous of her anger, jealous of her loss of control, jealous of her apparent fixation on Jack that had never really left him since Gwen had arrived that first day -- than naught and she didn't deserve that sort of petty revenge. She was frantic, he understood that. Hell, they probably all were a little stressed-to-breaking at this point in time. They had more time to think, more experience to fear and far less certainty than their previous battle against the dragons. Small wonder she had reacted so fiercely.
Small wonder he couldn't help but be more than a little jealous of her freedom to react.
"He's safe." Ianto's voice cracked, but he had nothing more he could say. The others weren't safe; he knew that. None of them were. And hearing himself admit his concern for Jack's safety, well, it felt so shallow and unimportant to the concerns Gwen had for herself, Rhys, and her team. But, he reminded himself, he was protecting the team as well, protecting their past by saving Jack now. That had to mean something.
The click of a gun distracted him from Gwen's stare; Ianto didn't bother hiding his surprise at Owen. Not that he should have expected anything less, he'd actually shot Owen. A little threatening in return wouldn't be so amiss.
"Gwen, put Mr. Black down."
Course, Owen always managed to do precisely the opposite of what Ianto believed he would do.
"Can't you see, Owen? Jack's gone. Torchwood needs Jack. There's a bloody ship the size of a moon coming and there's nothing stopping an all out attack. We need every man here and Ianto's more concerned about his boyfriend's safety than Cardiff's."
"All right, that's about enough threatening, luv." Rhys stepped with surprising casualness in front of Owen's gun, prying Gwen's hands from Ianto's throat. Gwen protested, of course, complete with the requisite angry tears but Ianto was more concerned with straightening his shirt and breathing than comfort at the moment. "She just needs a moment and we'll be back."
"Take as much time as you need." Ianto nodded his thanks to Rhys before he left with the struggling Gwen, still determined to get answers from Ianto. He wondered if a sedative wouldn't be necessary, perhaps he should have Owen leave with them.
Which reminded him of the two watching the whole ordeal with what amassed to contemplative quiet; Ianto could almost see the gears cranking in their minds.
He needed a plan, not accusations.
"You sent him away, didn't you?" Tosh spoke softly, but her voice seemed to echo about the office in the silence that had followed Gwen and Rhys' departure. Owen was still silent, hand on his chin, staring at the abandoned glasses. She wasn't accusing, just commenting, her tone gentle like she was scared she'd startle a deer into bolting.
Maybe she was right.
Ianto thought about lying and knew that'd be a hopeless gesture at this point in time. "Yes," he said quickly, moving back behind the desk to add a barrier between him and the other two. Not that he feared for himself, but the truth just felt better coming with a shield in place.
"That wasn't our Jack you saved at Torchwood Four." Again, another statement, not a question. Tosh had apparently put together a lot more than Ianto had given her credit for.
"That's why all his labs were off!" Owen shouted, causing Ianto to flinch at the sound. He'd have said something, but Owen continued, the proverbial light bulb on and fueling the theory. "Couldn't make sense of it, especially with you going all sacrificing in order to save his bloody immortal life. But if he wasn't able to come back all smiles from death's door, and you knew ... fuck, Ianto. What other bloody secrets are you keeping?"
"You sent him away because he hadn't yet lived our past," Tosh continued before Ianto could say anything about secrets and aliens and well, anything, her voice rising in excitement as her theory gained ground in her head. "He was unsurprised with time travel, when we went back to 1941. He was younger, wasn't he?"
"And he'd've acted like a bloody fool and gotten himself killed tomorrow," Owen concluded with a smirk.
Ianto had nothing to say, just stood there, staring at his team in stunned silence. He hadn't assumed they'd figured it out, not that they weren't observant, well, Tosh was, Owen was questionable at times. But he hadn't considered a time when they might know. Maybe he should have said something upfront; though it had seemed such a good idea at the time to keep it from the others. He was underestimating people again, misjudging.
He was definitely not cut out for this job.
Quietly, a small voice inside him hoped they never asked how he'd sent Jack off. They might forgive him for lying to them about Jack, but they'd never forgive what he'd done. He had a hard enough time forgiving himself.
His arms were suddenly filled with a slight, female figure, wrapping him in a hug so tight he could hardly breathe. Ianto was fairly certain Tosh was crying, but after recent events he could not fathom how to comfort what he had no idea was causing the emotion He supposed it was losing Jack. Losing him twice, actually. He held her, rubbing soothing circles as he did so often with Elaine. While she clung, Ianto took a brief glance at Owen (not desperate, though it might have appeared as such) who just shrugged and smirked at Ianto's situation.
Ianto wasn't amused.
She pulled away just as quickly as she'd arrived, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek as she'd done times before. It wasn't so much the action that surprised him, but her words, spoken in a whisper, "Your team loves you as well, Ianto."
Tosh smiled as she pulled away, leaving Ianto flushed red as he tried to figure out what the hell she meant by that and how much she'd understood about his concern for the team. As her earlier confidence dissolved into the Tosh that Ianto understood much better, Tosh's eyes darted to every surface but Ianto or Owen as she wiped her cheeks dry. "I'll just ... I've some reports to run." And with that, she dashed out of the office, leaving Ianto and Owen staring at each other.
"Don't ask me, I'm shite with women." Owen threw his hands up then flopped with typical Owen-flair into the chair Jack had once sat, the half-full glass still on the arm. Ianto sat as well, watching as Owen sniffed the glass curiously (Ianto placed quick two-to-one odds that Owen would actually drink the contents), then set it down. "Give me credit, Ianto. Jack wouldn't have willingly left. Which brings me to my next question."
Ianto blinked as Owen's sidearm again made an appearance, this time most certainly aimed at him.
"What other secrets, tea-boy? Cause I'll be arsed if you put the rest of the team in danger. Are you even human?"
Resting his elbows on the chair, fingers steepled at his lips, Ianto stared down the barrel of the gun, growing rather tired of the sight. "You're the doctor, you'd know better than me if I weren't human."
He had to give Owen credit. The statement didn't seem to faze him, nor did the gun ever waiver. "I'd believe that if the wool weren't pulled over my eyes about Jack; I should've been told. And you still haven't answered my question."
"What, secrets?" Ianto felt on far more familiar ground with this line of questions. Jack was his downfall, he knew, but lies about family, his past, those came much more easy. "Or human? If I'm not, what would you do then? Kill me?" He quirked his eyebrow with a small nod at the gun. "Or maybe I am perfectly human, but you believe I'm lying and kill me anyway. Either case, you're left with an appointment with the dragons tomorrow and no Mr. Black."
With a curse, Owen lowered the gun, checking the safety before setting it in his lap. "Fine. Who the bloody hell are you? That mess in the kitchenette, should we expect faeries to be poppin' out the woodwork?"
"I'm Ianto Jones, same as I ever was." Faeries popping out of the woodwork did raise another question, and Ianto quickly considered (and equally dismissed) seeking help from the faeries for their plan. Working with the faery was like herding cats and Ianto would never attempt to herd old Banshee at his father's, much less attempt to work with the faery. Like Gwen said, they didn't play fair. "My mother was the former Ms. White, my father lives in a small home in Wales with my sister and her two sons."
"That tells me absolutely nothing, you know that, right?" Owen rather peevishly pointed out.
"Of course," Ianto smirked, then licked his lips, craving a cup of coffee to melt the tensions of the day knowing full well the time to process all the events would have to wait until after his meeting with the dragons. He'd take a few weeks off, have a breakdown in a secluded cottage somewhere on the coast and return to work the calm and collected Ianto Jones, a.k.a. Mr. Black to the rest of the world. But until then, the comforting dark-roasted coffee. "Owen," Ianto leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "I understand you want to protect the team. But I am no more a threat to them than you. Perhaps less, since I'm a better driver."
"Oh, hah hah," Owen grumbled, standing with a stretch before grabbing the glass, prepared to drink after what for him must have been an exhausting conversation; Ianto couldn't remember any time when they'd actually spoken civilly (if one considered a gun aimed at the other civil) for any length of time, although Avalon might have ranked a close second.
"You might not want to drink that," Ianto warned before the glass touched Owen's lips. As much as he didn't want to admit anything which had happened with Jack, he needed Owen conscious and remembering the events of the day.
Owen smirked. "Figured. I won't hesitate to shoot you, you know. If you threaten the girls I will not stop."
Ianto stood, hefting the cross-shaped weapon to his shoulder, grinning as Owen's eyes widened a fraction. He must have remembered the damage the last time it was fired. After checking his pockets for the pebble and turning on his mobile, Ianto gestured towards the door. "If I threaten the team, I would expect nothing less."
He honestly laughed as Owen turned away and cursed all the way to Tosh's desk about overcompensation.
Part 3
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Meet Mr. Black
Warnings: This is a heavy chapter. Grab a glass of wine and enjoy. :) Highlight for Warnings-may contain spoilers: * Character Death*
A/N: Much as last chapter, this is a mammoth, gi-normous chapter - ranging somewhere in the 20k-30k word range *g* edit: clocks in at about 28k words - go me. But, as last chapter, it needs to stay together. Here is Part 2 due to size and LJ limits. 1 chapter left!
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22
Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 1)
UNIT provided a buffer between Torchwood Three and the mobbing reporters shouting questions the entire stretch of pavement back to the Information Center. Questions about Stephen, questions about what Ianto (Mr. Black) intended to do. Questions as to why he hid his identity. Questions about his mother. Questions about everything.
Ianto didn't speak. Not once.
Neither did Torchwood Three, all strangely silent as Rhys and Owen carefully wheeled the gurney beside them, a white sheet masking the figure beneath.
Ianto didn't think about that, either.
It wasn't until they'd arrived at the lift, a quick gesture to the soldiers to station guards at the entrance leaving Ianto fairly comfortable that they would be left undisturbed in the Hub, that anyone spoke.
"So, you're Mr. Black then? I thought it was Jack."
Bless her for all her faults, but Gwen had truly remained innocent despite Torchwood's corrupting influence. Ianto rather hoped it never changed.
He smiled a flash of a smile, nothing to it, no feeling, no warmth, that was much beyond him given the quarters they shared. More than large enough for a gurney, but a tight fit for five others.
"For how long?"
Tosh answered Gwen's question for Ianto, relieving him of the task of speaking, for the moment. "Since Ms. White was killed when Avalon fell, the day Ianto had his migraine and was absent for four days." Ianto wondered how long she had had that figured out. Tosh's focus fell on Ianto; he could feel the weight despite not lifting his gaze from the white sheet carefully folded over the corner of the gurney. "I'm sorry, Ianto. I didn't realize she was your mother."
Ianto nodded, lifting his head with a sigh to rest it on the wall of the lift. Jack hadn't spoken a word since the Plas, but Ianto could feel a hand slip beneath the coat he wore, palm broad and reassuring against his back. Jack would demand to continue their conversation, but for the moment, Ianto leaned into the touch, drawing confidence he certainly didn't feel. "We were unsure who had attacked Avalon and I was unwilling to leave my post here. Stephen agreed to be the public face-" Ianto's voice cut off of its own volition, leaving him struggling to continue. The lift sank in silent descent while Ianto found his control again. "He swore his life, to protect mine."
"Well, don't be expecting me to be doing anything of the like, tea-boy. I only got a pittance of a raise this year, and don't think I don't blame you for that one."
Rolling his head against the lift wall, Ianto lowered his gaze to fall on Owen and felt his face warm in an honest grin. Typical Owen bluster. Ianto still remembered the shadow falling over him, Owen stepping to cover him and claiming to be Mr. Black. He had been risking his life for Ianto, and he wouldn't soon forget that.
Besides, he'd approved the maximum raise for Owen, just as he had the rest of the team.
Something in Ianto's smile made Owen flush and turn away, muttering about tea-boys and caffeine addiction and idiocy, much to Jack's amusement apparently as he began chuckling softly beside Ianto.
Further conversation was halted when the lift alert 'dinged,' announcing their arrival at the base's ground level. Rhys and Owen disembarked first, announcing their intent of transporting Stephen's body to Owen's autopsy theater. Jack, Gwen, and Tosh stayed behind, all looking fiercely determined. Ianto raised his hand, quickly dialing Lana to send her to Avalon, bringing with her all the elders she could contact.
They would need it.
Clicking off the phone, Ianto turned to the others.
"What can we do? The dragon was lying, they can't be here for peace."
Ianto had no more than opened his mouth to respond to Tosh when his mobile rang. Sheppard, again. He assumed this would be an enlightening conversation.
"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing? You can't go to that ship! It's a fucking trap! How can you be so stupid to agree to something like that? Jesus Christ, Ianto, have you got no sense? Kavanagh's got more brains than you and McKay swears the man has one the size of an atom of hydrogen which is apparently seriously fucking small. You-"
"How's the work on the shields coming?" Ianto interrupted Sheppard's tirade smoothly with the question, receiving his answer by the silence from Sheppard's end. Ianto continued, not stopping even when Sheppard tried to speak over him, voices escalating as they each fought for control of the conversation. "I appreciate your concern, but unless you have some demands for the negotiations, I really can't afford to waste time that could be spent trying to figure out a way to eliminate the threat to Earth. Keep me updated on the shields."
Ianto snapped his mobile shut, cutting off Sheppard in the middle of whatever he had been trying to say in defense of his argument. Owen and Rhys walked back into the Hub about the time the 'argument' had reached its highest pitch, and looked to the other three for an answer. No one moved, no sounds except the steady fall of water. Ianto's gaze fell instead on Jack who leaned against the railing, arms crossed, his expression set in the most severe Ianto had yet seen. A conversation awaited, probably along the lines of Sheppard's earlier rant. Jack wouldn't be as easy to brush off, in fact, he couldn't quite hang up on the man. Ianto's mind spun wildly as it tried to logically deal with the situation, rationale for his actions and why Jack couldn't take his place outside the obvious.
Because, god, even if the dragons weren't telepathic, this Jack was younger. Torchwood needed the elder Jack in its past; Ianto needed him in his past. Time made little sense to Ianto when it fell out of linear passage, but he knew this. He understood paradox.
This Jack had to live.
Ianto needed every moment, from his assignment to his first meeting in that dingy old Information Center to Lisa to the time spent at his father's after Avalon had burned and all the moments on scattered rooftops across the city.
He needed Jack for that first 'date,' when the insufferable Captain had dragged him to the invisible lift, determined to rid Ianto of that fear.
Jack had such a guiding influence on Ianto's recent years he wasn't quite sure where he'd be without him.
Fuck. Their first date.
Ianto could remember each word so clearly, how Jack looked that night, his greatcoat swirling about him as he stood in front of the Millennium Centre, the doors opening and the crowds pouring out but there Jack was, speaking words which at the time Ianto had a hard time believing.
"I don't know that I could, if it were you."
"But you've stood back for others."
"None of them looked nearly as good in a suit."
Ianto had thought at the time, when Jack had said he couldn't stand back and watch Ianto die, that the Captain had most certainly loved in the past.
Loved and lost.
Fuck, how much had that Jack known?
Cold ice raced down Ianto's spine as pieces fell into place, scattered and pulled from all the snapshots of time within his mind. He became aware that the Hub had grown silent in his silence, staring at Jack as Jack stared back. Taking a moment to straighten his leather jacket, just to give him an excuse to pull his eyes away from Jack's in case any of his thoughts shown through, Ianto smiled the most proficient business smile he'd cultivated in all his years of lies and deceit.
His life was built upon them. What were a few more to ensure the past?
"Gwen, Rhys, Owen, Tosh, I need you to search the Archives for information regarding Fornaxian engineering. That galaxy cluster was home to hundreds of technologically advanced races through the centuries. For all their arrogance, I have a suspicion that these dragons are collectors, not creators. There may be information we failed to compare in our databases because those records are quite antiquated."
"What? But that's-"
"Do as you're told for once, Owen," Ianto snapped back as he turned his phone 'off.' No interruptions. "It's filed under either 'E' for engineering or 'F' for Fornax. Tosh can teach you the alphabet if you're confused. Jack." Ianto gestured towards Jack's office, the other man pausing only a moment before nodding, shoulders set and his entire body-line hard as stone.
A storm was brewing.
Ianto waited long enough that he saw each of the team exit towards the Archives, grumbling confused arguments as they went, before he gathered himself and walked to Jack's office. He closed the door behind him, hoping to keep any sounds of shouting from the Archives; it would do no good for the team to hear he and Jack argue.
Or anything else.
"You can't do this."
Ianto smiled briefly, walking around to Jack's desk to sit in his chair. "And what if they speak the truth? They mean to make peace, to rebuild their civilization ravaged by a terrible race." He rifled through the desk drawer contents, moving objects around noisily. He was searching, looking. At least that's what he lied. "We would truly be doing a disservice to the human race by portraying ourselves to be equally ruthless and savage." Ianto held up the key that had been the excuse for the search. Unlocking the bottom drawer, Ianto removed the bottle of aged single malt Scotch Jack kept hidden for times such as these.
And this most certainly was one of those times.
"You don't believe that."
"Don't I?" Ianto located two glasses, pouring a finger of the amber alcohol in each. He paused, god, he didn't even fool himself with those lies. But he knew, he knew with certainty that Jack would attempt to stop him no matter the greater good, no matter the big picture. And at the current moment, there were no other options. "Jack, would you ... " Ianto started and lost his confidence.
"Would I what?"
Ianto could feel Jack step closer, the heat of his body just inches away from his. Even without immortality, the fire of life still burned with in.
God, this Jack had to live.
"The other ... you. The older you, we had this tradition," Ianto laughed in mockery of memory that wasn't real. "When things turned sour, we'd ..."
"Get blistering drunk?"
"No, well, yes, sometimes. But we'd toast, then perform a sacrilegious act and shoot the first round. Second, we'd act civil. But ... please? I need this." Ianto twisted and held up a glass, bearing the weight of Jack's contemplative look. They never really talked about the other Jack, it was a bit of taboo when it came to conversation. Ianto couldn't blame Jack; living up to a memory of one's self would be a challenge no matter the legends. And Jack had to deal with that plenty with the others of Torchwood Three, but it had never been broached between them.
Until now.
Jack looked resigned, but took the glass anyways, perhaps in acknowledgment of the fucked up situation Torchwood Three was in or maybe it was just concession to this one odd request of Ianto's. "And what did you toast to?"
Ianto refrained from reacting negatively to the words, just smiled and held up his glass. "To Torchwood."
Jack arched a brow in response to the toast, but clinged his glass against Ianto's all the same. "To Torchwood." Glasses raised and Scotch was drank, one drink, one swallow, Jack standing so close Ianto swore he could hear each neuron fire as throat muscles contracted to swallow. He was beautiful. Captain Jack Harkness. Ianto wondered what his name was.
Smiling a smile Ianto didn't feel, he poured their second drink, tucking the bottle back in the bottom drawer.
"You can't go."
Ianto rolled his eyes, standing up to pace the office, drink in hand. He needed a plan, in addition to the one he currently was executing. "I don't want to go, Jack, but that doesn't mean I will shirk my responsibilities. If we don't have a plan to lower their shields, I've no other choice."
"They'll kill you!" Jack stood in front of him, stopping Ianto's pacing. "They killed your mother. What makes you think you'll be any different?"
"What else am I supposed to do? You once told me this is where these things start. Small decisions that become mass slaughter." Ianto could hear every word as he spoke in time with the memory in his head, "these creatures regain a foothold by exploiting human weakness. Weakness, Jack. It will start with a meeting with someone craving power. Unlimited power," Ianto laughed as he quoted Yvonne. Fuck, he was not cut out for this job. He didn't know anyone who was. "I don't go, someone else will. And then we might as well have raised the white flag for the warriors and given Earth over then, sparing Avalon. They'll come and take a base. Rebuild their forces, you said. And before you know it, the whole bloody dragon race is spreading out across the universe, erasing worlds, assimilating populations. All because of the tiny beginnings here, Jack!"
Jack's hands shook as he sipped his Scotch, Ianto could see the tremors. God, Jack was angry, but Ianto knew he was right. He had to be.
"Small decisions, huh, Ianto? What about yours?" Ianto watched as the vein in Jack's forehead, the one that only throbbed when Jack was the most angry, and at his most stubborn, began to throb in tempo with Ianto's heart. "You don't think this could become mass slaughter? You leave, Mr. Black is gone."
"If I don't, the dragons will come." Ianto ran his fingers over the buttons of Jack's shirt, feeling the slight curve and thread, memorizing before moving down to the next, and the next, tracing the line of Jack's chest through the tiny bits of plastic.
"No," Jack pushed Ianto's hand away, shoving him off-balance and while Ianto stumbled to maintain his footing (though he lost control of his Scotch, a pity), he pulled his Webley from its holster. "I will not stand by and watch you die!"
Fuck it was confusing, which Jack was Jack. Conversations overlapped, reaffirmed and assured that this was certainly no impostor. Ianto looked down the barrel of a gun, for the countless time in his life, but he knew this time, there'd be no death, even if Rani wasn't present. "Are you going to kill me, Jack?" Ianto smiled sadly, remembering the last time Jack had held a gun to his head. He rather thought Jack was serious at that time and he didn't doubt Jack now. "Stop death by doling it out yourself?"
"I won't let you leave. You won't show up, we'll fight the dragons just as we did before."
"With what, Jack? What will you fight with? Avalon's out and their shielded ship is bigger than our moon." Ianto smiled as he saw the gun waver, the strength in the grip failing. "You're right though. You wouldn't just let me leave. You'd do something foolish, play the hero. Have I ever told you how many times you've died for the team, Jack? How many times you've sacrificed your life for the greater good? Of course," Ianto smiled ruefully, "you were immortal then. Not so much now."
Jack shook his head, Ianto assumed to clear his vision more so than denial though it could have been a bit of both. Carefully, he removed the gun from Jack's hand, not a difficult feat as Jack only seemed to notice after the gun was gone that he ought to fight him off. Ianto barely managed to slip it onto the desk before Jack's knees gave way and he caught the bulk of the captain's weight before he toppled to the floor. Ianto helped him into a chair, setting the glass on the arm, remaining expressionless despite Jack's accusations.
"What have you done?"
Ianto leaned against Jack's desk, deliberately not remembering the times he and Jack had worked off the emotions and energy of a particularly rough mission and instead focused on his plan. Jack's words were a bit slurred; but Ianto would not underestimate how much a species might have physiologically evolved in three thousand years. "What I must to keep you and Torchwood Three safe."
"Retcon?" Jack's laughter sounded so wrong, so off, a sluggish, rasping chuckle that Ianto heard after a night of sex and too little sleep. "Won't work."
"I assumed as much." Ianto watched as Jack's head dropped forward only to jerk back up again as he fended off sleep, the instinct to reach out and touch, to hold Jack so strong Ianto had to cross his arms to remain still. "Whether your body or your mind would repel any attempt at conditioning, I couldn't be certain. Doesn't matter, so long as the sedative worked." Ianto broke from his lean, straightening with business-like efficiency, desperately depending on old habits to carry him through this. He walked to the wall safe, where the most dangerous of finds were kept, and quickly entered the code.
"We've hours before deadline, I'll wake up."
"Wake up and kick your ass from here to Glasgow." Ianto's mind helpfully supplied. He smiled at the idea, pausing a moment before opening the safe; whether in regret or second thought he wasn't sure but it was so tempting to push it shut, leave it be and forget the plan had ever been considered. Ignoring any doubt, he pressed on, taking each locked box out one by one. "You will wake," Ianto sadly agreed, refusing to think about where or when. His hands began to shake as he removed box after box, but he doubted it was due to physical strain.
God, he couldn't do this. Not to Jack.
"Ianto?"
His name was stretched across syllables and lifetimes, sounding for the first time hesitant and tasting just slightly of fear. It shattered Ianto's resolve to remain untouched, aloof, a model of Torchwood One's dispassion and arrogance with just a breathed word.
No, he had to. Jack had to live.
Ianto pretended he was doing this to preserve timelines, to make sure the past played out in Jack's future. But he wasn't quite as good at lying to himself as he was to others, he never really had been, and Jack's life was more important now; Jack wasn't immortal. He'd do something to stop Ianto and he would ... The doubts crept in again, tingling at the back of his neck just above his spine, stretching its shadowed tendrils out to numb his hands, force the release of the last box tucked into the furthest recesses of the safe. It had the opposite effect, however, the numbness; Ianto gripped the handle even tighter, removing the clear-walled box from the confines of the safe to its new resting spot on top of Jack's desk.
He snapped the seals, refusing to look at Jack, trusting the sedative to maintain its grip a little while longer. Not much longer, Ianto realized as he withdrew various objects he'd studied during Jack's absence. He knew essentially what each should do, in theory and based on what he had learned during his training at Torchwood One. A plasma weapon, a utility knife which functioned as a portable medical trauma analysis system, various bits and bobs and finally, a slim device. Shaped rather like a malformed wishbone, the twin curved prongs cursing out from the central point in dove-grey innocence. At the center, a rather simplistic computer system masking an enormous storage array, built on science far beyond the 21st century.
All of them, stamped with the mark of the Time Agency.
"Don't do this."
Jack's sky-blue eyes bore into his, awake but Ianto knew it was probably more to do with a burst of adrenalin than the sedative wearing off. Jack had yet to move from the chair and Ianto hoped this energy would not lead to a fight, not that Ianto would blame him if he tried.
He just couldn't fight Jack.
"Earlier, I wondered how much you knew, the older you. And I realized you knew nothing." Ianto slowly rounded the desk and held up the device. Jack's eyes followed, but he made no attempt to move. "You wouldn't have left, knowing this day was coming, when the Earth you fought to protect would be so threatened." Ianto crouched in front of Jack, sinking so he could better look at Jack, knowing this left him terribly open to retaliation, but he needed this; he needed to be close to Jack.
He just hoped Jack didn't have the alertness to kick.
"You would have tried to stop me, months, years ago. And you'd still attempt to stop me now, risking your life to do something foolish because that's what heroes do." Ianto traced Jack's cheek, regret fueling his determination when Jack pulled away. He didn't miss the anger or the betrayal in Jack's glare; Ianto couldn't deny that he deserved it. He deserved all of Jack's recriminations, all his hatred, and as Jack attempted briefly (and weakly) to fight him off, Ianto admitted he deserved the pain as well.
Fuck, he couldn't be doing this.
The struggle seemed to take everything from Jack as he sagged back into the chair, Ianto carefully restraining Jack's fists with a hand pressing them firmly into Jack's thighs to prevent another fight. He didn't think it'd happen as Jack looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. "Two years, you said, two years you couldn't remember." Ianto quickly programmed the device, holding the prongs to Jack's temples. "I can't stand aside and let you die. Not for me, not for Torchwood."
Ianto looked over the device, framing Jack's piercing eyes as though to converge the fury like a magnifying lens the sun. It worked, too, burning straight through Ianto's defenses to explode into guilt which threatened to suffocate for all its intensity. Ianto could scarcely breathe, much less speak, and it took everything he had to croak out the words he'd spoken so long ago, when he'd chosen Rani's safety over Jack's life. "I'm sorry, Jack."
He didn't close his eyes; he deserved to see, to remember every moment within his unforgetting mind just what he'd done to Jack. Ianto pressed the button to activate the device without hesitation, feeling what little remained of his innocence curl fetal within his mind, screaming denial as Jack's head slammed back, trying to escape the arching ends that glowed so brilliantly. Ianto's eyes watered; he blamed the light as it pulsed impossibly bright, searing the vision of Jack, betrayed, so deep into his mind he'd see it upon waking and even after he closed his eyes at night.
The device shut off, leaving Ianto's vision struggling to keep up with the drastic changes but it didn't stop him from seeing the vacant expression written upon Jack's face, eyes wandering from object to object within the room, drowsily smiling at nothing and everything.
God, he felt sick.
"Jack, remember." Ianto whispered, touching Jack's face in an attempt to draw those vibrant blue eyes towards his, nearly weeping when they failed to lock on his face. God, he deserved this last memory for what he'd done. Standing enough to make it possible, Ianto placed a gentle kiss on Jack's lips, warm but so coldly unresponsive. "Remember, the 21st century is when everything changes. And you have to be ready." Jack had to be. He had to prepare Torchwood Three. Cardiff would not survive the attack without Torchwood Three, especially not after Torchwood One fell to the Daleks and Cybermen.
Ianto paused before speaking low into Jack's ear, though no one else was listening. "I love you, Jack." With a smile that didn't reach his eyes and resolve more firmly rooted in desperation, Ianto straightened, first slipping the Webley into Jack's holster before walking away, leaving Jack alone, sleepy and lost as his mind healed around the missing memories.
He didn't look back at Jack, he couldn't. Now after he'd done it, Ianto could hardly stand to be in the same room as the living reminder of everything monstrous about him.
He wondered if this was how his mother had felt when Torchwood One had fallen.
Picking up the pocket knife-med kit, Ianto depressed the button he assumed was the emergency beacon. With hope that the device still had power to alert the proper individuals across whatever time and space it needed to, Ianto sank into Jack's chair and stared at the treasure-trove of artifacts Jack had collected over the years. Of course the ugly statue with a hole in its middle was there ...
Wilson had turned out all right. No permanent damage.
Ianto wondered if he should hit the signal button again.
Time passed, Ianto knew so because he had counted forty-eight breaths before Jack's office walls seemed to ripple, carrying a current of light that shouldn't have been. Ianto slowly turned in the chair, unsurprised to find two weapons pointed at him; one he recognized the tech, though it was a significantly advanced version from what he had seen in training, and the other looked remarkably like an old Winchester rifle, Model 1892 if his eyes weren't mistaken, though it appeared a custom build. The clothing of woman and man were remarkably eclectic as well, ranging from what looked like Korean War era on the boy to dark brown pants of the Western era, leather gun belt and vest on the woman, though he supposed it shouldn't have surprised him given Jack's penchant for fashion. The man looked barely old enough to hold a pistol, much less be aiming a weapon at him.
Ianto supposed Time Agents did have to go through training as well. He pitied the poor individual stuck with Jack as a youth.
"You are unauthorized to use this equipment."
He snorted and eyed the younger one who had spoken in a clipped, remotely Irish accent before focusing his attention on the elder. Ianto nodded slowly to the chair behind them, not wanting to draw their ire. Upon reflection, maybe this hadn't been one of his wiser ideas, given what Jack had said about his time with the Agency and the limited intel from Torchwood One. He skipped the obvious part of the conversation, knowing that if they were familiar with the equipment at all, they would recognize the effects. "He's also been dosed with a double-strength sedative. I trust you have facilities which can provide care."
The older Agent definitely recognized Jack though she tried to hide it, the rifle unwavering as it aimed at Ianto. The hard edge was unmistakable; he had seen the expression on Jack's face before. Military, maybe found skills in a war or two. Seen a lot of death, lived a hard life. She was beautiful though, or maybe it was the hard edge which gave her the beauty. "We don't take kindly to attacks on our own."
Ianto bit his tongue at what he wanted to say, instead he nodded his acknowledgment of her threat. He didn't particularly know what to believe when it came to Time Agents, cons and ploys all part of the job. This act could be as much artificial as Owen's preferred cheese. "He doesn't belong in this time. I assume you can safely transport him to the correct period."
"You'll be handing over his memories then."
"No." Ianto knew with a certainty of only one he would trust with such a treasure outside of himself. And even that respect was questionable of late. He stood, placing his hands on the desk and gestured to Jack. "You will transport him away and see to his safety. His memories stay with me."
"You have no authority to tell us what to do!" The kid finally spoke, his voice rising defiantly, though he might not have been much younger than Ianto, Ianto still felt old next to him.
"What he means to be sayin' ..." the woman drawled, glancing at what must have been a new recruit. It made sense, answering a medical emergency signal wouldn't demand fully trained operatives. "... is you're not exactly in a position to be making demands. Our equipment comes with us."
"They are Jack's personal possessions and memories. They stay with Torchwood." Ianto raised his chin, daring the woman to argue. He really had no leverage, nothing he could even offer in return. He just knew the device, storing the memories, could not leave with the pair. He would fight for them, if he must.
"Torchwood?" The woman looked around, clearly not all that impressed with the Captain's office. The kid was another story, taking a new interest in his surroundings. Ianto hoped he didn't get too comfortable, the team would be back soon and these people needed to leave "What's your name, mister?"
Ianto didn't hesitate. "Mr. Black. And you might be?"
"Mr. Black?" The kid started firing off a language Ianto had never heard, but the woman seemed to understand. She jabbed him in the ribs with her rifle to shut him up; Ianto had to smile and thought of how many times he would have liked to have done that to Owen. And have it work so well.
The woman caught the smile, and Ianto could almost swear he saw shared amusement in her eyes as well. "Of course, sir. We'll just be taking our Agent and be on our way."
Ianto blinked in surprise as the two Agents turned to Jack. No further argument? He had been prepared for a fight, and instead, compliance? For all the kid had appeared lanky, he was strong, hefting Jack easily to a standing position as out of it Jack appeared. He finally found his voice, talking to the woman directly, more plea than an order of any kind. "You'll not harm him and breathe no word of how or where you found him."
She looked at Jack, slumped and semi-conscious on the shoulder of the kid, then back to Ianto. She seemed to understand him far better than the kid; Ianto supposed that maybe, she had felt something equally as protective at some point in her life. "I'll make sure the kid keeps his tongue. A pleasure, Mr. Black."
The woman punched something into a wrist device similar to Jack's and the walls shimmered again, dancing with sparks of light. The whole act was soundless, at least to Ianto's ears, and he watched as they simply walked into the light without harm, carrying their burden with them.
Fuck. He'd done it.
His knees shook so hard he was forced to sit in Jack's chair, staring mindless at the wall for a few moments to collect himself. Just a few moments, he knew that was all the time he had to dwell but he needed it, needed the quiet to reflect, to consider what he'd done and how if the dragons didn't kill him, a returning Jack most certainly would.
But Jack's life was worth the consequences. Jack would live to play hero another day.
With a deep breath forcing dark thoughts from his mind, Ianto stared at the office with a clear head, noting the disarray and things that needed to be done. He stood quickly, gathering all the Agency objects, save for the memory device (he'd never gotten the name of the device, perhaps he'd refer to it as the Mind Bind) and placing them back in the safe box. Renewing the seals, Ianto placed the box back in its home within the safe, buried deepest and furthest from detection. Then he began restoring all the boxes to their original home, pausing when he encountered a few devices which caught his eye. He left those out, they might work well into future plans.
Cradling the device (Mind Bind) in his hands, Ianto scowled as he tried to anticipate future events in order to convey a package, especially difficult for someone with no gift of clairvoyance or time device. The Time Agents -- they had appeared familiar with the name Torchwood, surely Torchwood survived? Or maybe it had been destroyed, and Torchwood's infamy carried through as a lesson to those who wished to challenge dragons, which would make storage at Torchwood Three illogical.
Fuck.
Ianto stared, desperately willing the innocent-looking device to give some indication of how to convey a message. A quiet hum distracted him from his unwavering stare; it was barely audible, in fact, Ianto was fairly certain it wasn't audible at all. He felt it more than heard it, resonating on a pitch that tingled his nerves, making them dance in awareness. Looking about the room, Ianto searched for the source; it was light, spirited, not dark and oppressing as the dragons, and his heart raced just a little. He couldn't explain it, couldn't explain how he knew but this was his answer. Something was ... just at the edge of his public mind, tickling awareness.
It'd be unnerving, if it wasn't so comforting.
His eyes fell on the bit of coral Jack kept on his desk, a coral which through the years had appeared to grow despite lack of sea water or rock. A single touch, just a bare brush of his fingertips had that awareness in the corner of his mind sparking into life, crackling with intensity and nearly overwhelming his senses as no thought entered his mind, no image, just a feeling of ... 'right'. It was beautiful, a shattering awe of something exuding both timeless age and wisdom, yet an innocent youth which reminded him of his sister swinging on the old wood swing back at his father's, laughing with a gaiety as only a child could laugh.
He didn't know why he did it, it just seemed the right thing to do and really, he knew he hadn't consciously decided to act, but his hand was moving, setting the memory device upon the coral in a depressed curve which Ianto swore hadn't been there before. Ianto's eyes widened in amazement as the coral moved, curling about the device, securing it and protecting it in a blanket of replicated or altered growth he knew was too fast for an ordinary piece of coral. In a panic, realizing there was no explanation, Ianto grabbed a piece of paper from Jack's desk -- a requisition slip, but Ianto wasn't picky. He jotted a quick note, then nabbed another piece, this time a letter from the Prime Minister about funding. Scribbling one last note, he addressed both and set them carefully atop the coral as well.
In a breath, the paper had disappeared and the coral looked as it had once before.
Shaking, Ianto's mind caught up with what he had just done. Jack's memories were ... gone. He'd trusted the security of Jack's memories to ... an old piece of coral? He was both foolish and brash, he had no reason to believe that the device would ever reach the one person Ianto knew would secure the memories and keep them safe until they were returned to Jack.
But yet, he was rather assured they would.
Ignoring what he could no longer change, Ianto broke into the boxes, slipping one blue-tinged pebble-shaped object into his pocket and keeping the larger, cross-shaped weapon out. He had no plan, no concept of what to do, except he knew they might come in handy for any plan they did come up with.
***
That was how Rhys found him some time later, sitting in Jack's chair, absently spinning the weapon on his finger at irregular intervals, the weight of the object carrying it completely through its revolution without falling, a most disastrous thing given that Ianto presumed it could fire, shoot a hole through the office walls (or himself) but he was feeling a bit reckless.
"Sir, I've taken the liberty of cataloguing the information the other mindless lot researched, given they had no skills for tracking or any sort of methodology. So far, we've found one hundred sixty-three instances of engineering cross-referenced with Fornax, fat lot of good that did as most of it was just rubbish hair trimmers or gizmos to fix a leaky faucet-" Rhys stopped tapping his pencil on the clipboard, to Ianto's relief, as a thought must have struck him. "Oh, I've been had. They figured I'd walk in on you and Jack buggering over his desk or something, like that'd shock me after I caught Owen and that alien gal with, never mind. Ah, where's Jack?"
The question instantly stopped the spinning, making Ianto clutch the weapon with a ferocity which startled him. He knew he should have come up with an explanation, something rational to legitimize his disappearance. For once, his mind still calculating every permutation for plans and theories based on weapons on hand and intel on the the alien species, theories and plans far more often than not discarded as futile, for once he was left without an answer. "He left," Ianto said simply, lacking a better response.
"Left?" The statement didn't even seem to phase Rhys. "Do you need me to phone him? We best be putting all our minds on this, can't have you wandering off to some space ship filled with vicious little aliens without a plan. We're going to have a plan, right?"
"We'll have a plan," Ianto reassured, unconvinced himself if they actually would. None of his plans were creating a viable outcome. "No leads with the Fornax technology?"
"No, sir. Lots of engineering, but mostly household items. Could stand to find one of their laundry units, myself. None of this sorting by colors nonsense."
Ianto felt his eyebrow arch into his hairline as Rhys spoke, more disbelief than annoyance, the word sounded more foreign than when a complete stranger had spoken it less than an hour ago. "Rhys," Ianto interrupted, only strong will preventing himself from laughing at the ludicrousness. "We've been on first names for months. Why the 'sir'?"
Rhys shrugged, as though the answer should be perfectly clear to Ianto. Which, it wasn't. Ianto waited, and finally the other man responded. "Seeing as how you're in charge of things and aliens are asking for you by name, can't well be calling you by name like I would my mates. Besides," Rhys grinned and Ianto wondered how it was that despite everything, the man could be unfailingly happy, "look at the missus. I work best following orders. Keeps her happy and lets me get away with more in the end."
With a snort, Ianto ran a hand over his face, scrubbing away any sense of tiredness and stress, least of all the absurdity of someone older than him addressing him as 'sir.' Which reminded him of Jack and the brief levity faded. With a sigh, Ianto looked at Rhys with sudden concern as to what the man may be trying to get away with. He'd hid a Cyberwoman in the basement, after all. "Remind me later to scan the security logs to ensure you've not slipped anything toxic into the creamer Owen prefers."
"Now, that'd be right deviant of me, wouldn't it, sir?" Rhys just smiled the innocent smile of the cat who caught the canary and Ianto began to question how much Rhys truly knew about the secrets of Torchwood and the affairs she hid.
The quiet types. Always the underestimated.
"So, should I phone Jack, then?" Rhys continued, resuming his pencil-tapping.
"No, we'll plan without Jack as he won't be joining us."
"Who won't be joining us?"
Ianto glanced up as Tosh's voice sounded behind Rhys. With no warning, all the other Torchwood Three members had filed into the room, shifting about so all could stand within sight of Ianto, an action Ianto found incredibly unnerving. They were all looking at him expectantly, like he had an inkling of how to continue, of where to guide them. "Jack." Ianto sat back in the chair after setting the cross-shaped weapon (too dangerous a distraction to be toying with at the moment) down on the desk. "He won't be joining us. He's left for another mission again."
It was sickening, feeding that story to the team, but Ianto could hardly admit to what he'd done. He'd confess later, when the fate of the world wasn't upon their shoulders.
"Jack's gone? Again? But why? Surely he left an explanation after last time. Did you see him leave? What did he say?"
Gwen's rapid questions, her constable mind in overdrive it seemed given the frantic escalation in tone, tweaked his headache again, and Ianto rubbed his temples, ignoring the flashes of slim prongs touching Jack's in perfect symmetry, ravaging his mind to steal the memories of the past two years. "He didn't say. He said he was sorry, but he had to leave," Ianto lied, the words sounding false even to him.
There was a time when such a lie would have come easy. Now, it all sounded so wrong.
He had no time to second guess the lies as two hands tore him away from the chair, spinning him until his back hit the wall (luckily missing the row of shelves, that would have been dreadfully painful), an action Stephen would have chided him for failing to deflect but he had been admittedly distracted at the time.
And Gwen was admittedly pissed.
"Don't lie to me, Ianto. Where is he?" Gwen's hands pushed his crumpled tee up and against his throat; revealing what had to be an inordinate amount of pale skin for the others to see but they were either too stunned by Gwen or they agreed too much with her questions to make any effort to assist him. "He wouldn't have left us again, not when we need him. Tell me, where is he?"
Her hands shook with the effort it took to keep him restrained against the wall, not that Ianto didn't believe he couldn't have broken her hold with minimal effort. But he rather feared his actions would be stronger, driven far more by jealousy -- jealous of her anger, jealous of her loss of control, jealous of her apparent fixation on Jack that had never really left him since Gwen had arrived that first day -- than naught and she didn't deserve that sort of petty revenge. She was frantic, he understood that. Hell, they probably all were a little stressed-to-breaking at this point in time. They had more time to think, more experience to fear and far less certainty than their previous battle against the dragons. Small wonder she had reacted so fiercely.
Small wonder he couldn't help but be more than a little jealous of her freedom to react.
"He's safe." Ianto's voice cracked, but he had nothing more he could say. The others weren't safe; he knew that. None of them were. And hearing himself admit his concern for Jack's safety, well, it felt so shallow and unimportant to the concerns Gwen had for herself, Rhys, and her team. But, he reminded himself, he was protecting the team as well, protecting their past by saving Jack now. That had to mean something.
The click of a gun distracted him from Gwen's stare; Ianto didn't bother hiding his surprise at Owen. Not that he should have expected anything less, he'd actually shot Owen. A little threatening in return wouldn't be so amiss.
"Gwen, put Mr. Black down."
Course, Owen always managed to do precisely the opposite of what Ianto believed he would do.
"Can't you see, Owen? Jack's gone. Torchwood needs Jack. There's a bloody ship the size of a moon coming and there's nothing stopping an all out attack. We need every man here and Ianto's more concerned about his boyfriend's safety than Cardiff's."
"All right, that's about enough threatening, luv." Rhys stepped with surprising casualness in front of Owen's gun, prying Gwen's hands from Ianto's throat. Gwen protested, of course, complete with the requisite angry tears but Ianto was more concerned with straightening his shirt and breathing than comfort at the moment. "She just needs a moment and we'll be back."
"Take as much time as you need." Ianto nodded his thanks to Rhys before he left with the struggling Gwen, still determined to get answers from Ianto. He wondered if a sedative wouldn't be necessary, perhaps he should have Owen leave with them.
Which reminded him of the two watching the whole ordeal with what amassed to contemplative quiet; Ianto could almost see the gears cranking in their minds.
He needed a plan, not accusations.
"You sent him away, didn't you?" Tosh spoke softly, but her voice seemed to echo about the office in the silence that had followed Gwen and Rhys' departure. Owen was still silent, hand on his chin, staring at the abandoned glasses. She wasn't accusing, just commenting, her tone gentle like she was scared she'd startle a deer into bolting.
Maybe she was right.
Ianto thought about lying and knew that'd be a hopeless gesture at this point in time. "Yes," he said quickly, moving back behind the desk to add a barrier between him and the other two. Not that he feared for himself, but the truth just felt better coming with a shield in place.
"That wasn't our Jack you saved at Torchwood Four." Again, another statement, not a question. Tosh had apparently put together a lot more than Ianto had given her credit for.
"That's why all his labs were off!" Owen shouted, causing Ianto to flinch at the sound. He'd have said something, but Owen continued, the proverbial light bulb on and fueling the theory. "Couldn't make sense of it, especially with you going all sacrificing in order to save his bloody immortal life. But if he wasn't able to come back all smiles from death's door, and you knew ... fuck, Ianto. What other bloody secrets are you keeping?"
"You sent him away because he hadn't yet lived our past," Tosh continued before Ianto could say anything about secrets and aliens and well, anything, her voice rising in excitement as her theory gained ground in her head. "He was unsurprised with time travel, when we went back to 1941. He was younger, wasn't he?"
"And he'd've acted like a bloody fool and gotten himself killed tomorrow," Owen concluded with a smirk.
Ianto had nothing to say, just stood there, staring at his team in stunned silence. He hadn't assumed they'd figured it out, not that they weren't observant, well, Tosh was, Owen was questionable at times. But he hadn't considered a time when they might know. Maybe he should have said something upfront; though it had seemed such a good idea at the time to keep it from the others. He was underestimating people again, misjudging.
He was definitely not cut out for this job.
Quietly, a small voice inside him hoped they never asked how he'd sent Jack off. They might forgive him for lying to them about Jack, but they'd never forgive what he'd done. He had a hard enough time forgiving himself.
His arms were suddenly filled with a slight, female figure, wrapping him in a hug so tight he could hardly breathe. Ianto was fairly certain Tosh was crying, but after recent events he could not fathom how to comfort what he had no idea was causing the emotion He supposed it was losing Jack. Losing him twice, actually. He held her, rubbing soothing circles as he did so often with Elaine. While she clung, Ianto took a brief glance at Owen (not desperate, though it might have appeared as such) who just shrugged and smirked at Ianto's situation.
Ianto wasn't amused.
She pulled away just as quickly as she'd arrived, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek as she'd done times before. It wasn't so much the action that surprised him, but her words, spoken in a whisper, "Your team loves you as well, Ianto."
Tosh smiled as she pulled away, leaving Ianto flushed red as he tried to figure out what the hell she meant by that and how much she'd understood about his concern for the team. As her earlier confidence dissolved into the Tosh that Ianto understood much better, Tosh's eyes darted to every surface but Ianto or Owen as she wiped her cheeks dry. "I'll just ... I've some reports to run." And with that, she dashed out of the office, leaving Ianto and Owen staring at each other.
"Don't ask me, I'm shite with women." Owen threw his hands up then flopped with typical Owen-flair into the chair Jack had once sat, the half-full glass still on the arm. Ianto sat as well, watching as Owen sniffed the glass curiously (Ianto placed quick two-to-one odds that Owen would actually drink the contents), then set it down. "Give me credit, Ianto. Jack wouldn't have willingly left. Which brings me to my next question."
Ianto blinked as Owen's sidearm again made an appearance, this time most certainly aimed at him.
"What other secrets, tea-boy? Cause I'll be arsed if you put the rest of the team in danger. Are you even human?"
Resting his elbows on the chair, fingers steepled at his lips, Ianto stared down the barrel of the gun, growing rather tired of the sight. "You're the doctor, you'd know better than me if I weren't human."
He had to give Owen credit. The statement didn't seem to faze him, nor did the gun ever waiver. "I'd believe that if the wool weren't pulled over my eyes about Jack; I should've been told. And you still haven't answered my question."
"What, secrets?" Ianto felt on far more familiar ground with this line of questions. Jack was his downfall, he knew, but lies about family, his past, those came much more easy. "Or human? If I'm not, what would you do then? Kill me?" He quirked his eyebrow with a small nod at the gun. "Or maybe I am perfectly human, but you believe I'm lying and kill me anyway. Either case, you're left with an appointment with the dragons tomorrow and no Mr. Black."
With a curse, Owen lowered the gun, checking the safety before setting it in his lap. "Fine. Who the bloody hell are you? That mess in the kitchenette, should we expect faeries to be poppin' out the woodwork?"
"I'm Ianto Jones, same as I ever was." Faeries popping out of the woodwork did raise another question, and Ianto quickly considered (and equally dismissed) seeking help from the faeries for their plan. Working with the faery was like herding cats and Ianto would never attempt to herd old Banshee at his father's, much less attempt to work with the faery. Like Gwen said, they didn't play fair. "My mother was the former Ms. White, my father lives in a small home in Wales with my sister and her two sons."
"That tells me absolutely nothing, you know that, right?" Owen rather peevishly pointed out.
"Of course," Ianto smirked, then licked his lips, craving a cup of coffee to melt the tensions of the day knowing full well the time to process all the events would have to wait until after his meeting with the dragons. He'd take a few weeks off, have a breakdown in a secluded cottage somewhere on the coast and return to work the calm and collected Ianto Jones, a.k.a. Mr. Black to the rest of the world. But until then, the comforting dark-roasted coffee. "Owen," Ianto leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "I understand you want to protect the team. But I am no more a threat to them than you. Perhaps less, since I'm a better driver."
"Oh, hah hah," Owen grumbled, standing with a stretch before grabbing the glass, prepared to drink after what for him must have been an exhausting conversation; Ianto couldn't remember any time when they'd actually spoken civilly (if one considered a gun aimed at the other civil) for any length of time, although Avalon might have ranked a close second.
"You might not want to drink that," Ianto warned before the glass touched Owen's lips. As much as he didn't want to admit anything which had happened with Jack, he needed Owen conscious and remembering the events of the day.
Owen smirked. "Figured. I won't hesitate to shoot you, you know. If you threaten the girls I will not stop."
Ianto stood, hefting the cross-shaped weapon to his shoulder, grinning as Owen's eyes widened a fraction. He must have remembered the damage the last time it was fired. After checking his pockets for the pebble and turning on his mobile, Ianto gestured towards the door. "If I threaten the team, I would expect nothing less."
He honestly laughed as Owen turned away and cursed all the way to Tosh's desk about overcompensation.
Part 3