An Awful Long Time
Sorry for the dry spell - first my beta left the country, then I started university! Anyone miss me? *grin* Anyhow, I’m back, and fic is happening!
This particular story began life as a sequel to The Asgard Don’t Wear Pants, but by the time I was done a few minor discrepancies had cropped up. And also the tone is quite different. So you can either choose to call it a standalone story, or put the small differences up to the inevitable consequence of a universe full of meddlesome time travellers. :)
Title: An Awful Long Time
Fandom: Stargate (SGA)/Torchwood
Word Count: ~2,300
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ianto's travelled clear across the universe just to bring Jack home.
Notes/Disclaimers: Sadly, none of the characters or settings featured here are mine, nor am I profiting from this in any way beyond the satisfaction I get from writing this stuff. Contains Atlantis spoilers up to early season two. Also, as a CoE fixer-upper (ish kind of), it contains Torchwood spoilers up to the end of season three. Thanks as always to sophia_sol, who continues to make my fics suck less.
25crossovers, prompt #20 "Immortal". Table can be found here.
When the Daedalus visited Atlantis for the second time, it brought with it a young man in a neat suit.
Ianto Jones beamed down with the Atlantis command staff, who dispersed without acknowledging his presence. He took a moment to orient himself, then another to smile, satisfied, at his surroundings - the gate room in Atlantis, for goodness sake; who’d have ever thought he’d end up here? - and then turned on his heel and made a beeline for the personnel quarters.
The Atlantis command staff really needed about twenty-four hours to recuperate from the whole “sentient wraith virus almost flies us into the sun” incident before they’d be ready to hear what Ianto had to say. Which meant that Ianto needed something to keep him busy for a day or so... and all things considered, he didn’t think anyone would have cleaned out Jack Harkness’s room yet.
After all, he’d only been presumed dead for, what, a little under a month now? And it’d been a fairly busy month, at that. Ianto knew for a fact that Jack always liked to upgrade his quarters with extra security precautions, and it was doubtful that anyone else’d had the time or motivation to break through them.
Jack’s rather inventive little tricks didn’t pose more than a moment’s trouble for Ianto, of course, and he soon found himself standing in a tiny room that was, well. Fairly generic. Ianto could tell it was Jack’s - it still held something of him, those little touches that showed Jack Harkness had been there - but to an outsider’s eyes, it would have been nothing more than a soldier’s room. This was a place to rest, and to store the little necessary possessions that no one could help but accumulate. It wasn’t a place to live. The person who slept here was ready to pick up and leave on a moment’s notice.
“You’ve been with the SGC for the better part of a decade, Jack,” Ianto told the empty room, sadly. “And you’re still not at home with these people. When you get back, I hope we get the chance to talk about just what that implies.”
He spent the rest of the day tidying things away, dusting, sweeping, folding clothes into the army-issued duffle bag and carefully tucking Jack’s collection of Pegasus-manufactured sex toys away in amongst the BDUs and workout clothes. He’d smiled to see the toys - it was nice to know that, however far from home one went, some things never changed. The neatly packed duffle bag was nowhere near full, and yet remained too heavy for Ianto to lift in his present state.
* * *
The first thing Ianto did when he left Jack’s quarters, mingling unnoticed with the wide-eyed new recruits , was head for the nearest lab where - sure enough - someone had left a laptop unattended. He hadn’t brought one with him from Earth. If anyone tried to track back what he was about to do, well, it was better for everyone involved if he didn’t used his own computer.
The problem was that the Atlanteans, in their heart of hearts, mistrusted outsiders. And who could blame them? Pegasus had forged them into a tightly blended unit, which didn’t leave much room for those who hadn’t been through that same smelting process. He’d have put good money on their new personnel having some difficulties integrating, at least at first, and they came with the full backing of the SGC. They’d never trust something so simple as an outright statement that Harkness was alive, against all logic - nor would they care to hear a demand for rescue from someone like Ianto.
So, easy enough. They just had to think the whole thing was their idea.
Ianto had prepared as much as he could before departing earth, but the work was still slow going. With his borrowed laptop, he carefully accessed the briefing packets that the command personnel had received from earth, containing all pertinent information gathered since the Atlantis expedition had departed. Into them, he layered the documents necessary to create a work of fiction. As far as Weir, Sheppard, and McKay were going to know, in the time since their departure the British government had come clean and admitted to having an extra-terrestrial defence program of their own, one that long predated the SGC: Torchwood.
The Queen was going to be fairly angry, but that wasn’t Ianto’s problem now. He didn’t answer to her anymore, and hadn’t for quite some time.
In Weir’s data packet, he carefully emphasized how important Torchwood was to the IOA, and placed it in careful conjunction with a few hints that the British government was placing pressure on the SGC to hold someone accountable for the “death” of their erstwhile former commander. Her inner diplomat, he hoped, would find that somewhat concerning.
In Sheppard’s packet, he highlighted Jack’s experiences with Grey, in particular the time Jack spent buried beneath Cardiff, dying again and again. He wanted Sheppard’s “leave no man behind” instincts to be fully aware of the fact that Jack’s immortality in no way lessened the suffering and pain he could experience - quite the opposite, in fact.
In Rodney’s packet, because Ianto harboured no illusions as to the man’s priorities, Ianto subtly brought the incident with Abaddon to the fore. He trusted that the man’s quick and paranoid mind would rapidly conclude that leaving a man with virtually unlimited life force in the hands of the Wraith could only be a bad thing.
All he needed now was for the three to read their data, and compare notes.
In the end, it took a fabricated e-mail from J.Sheppard to R.McKay (“Hey, Rodney, you read that ‘Torchwood’ stuff yet? Is what they’re saying about Harkness possible? -John) to prod the good Doctor into leaving his new lab equipment alone long enough to actually read his mandatory readings.
Ianto had taken to hanging around the lab, quietly topping up people’s coffee cups, tidying up the trail of papers left behind by harried scientists, and bringing fresh whiteboard markers to replace the dead ones. It wasn’t that much of a risk - he’d always had a knack for blending in. These days, it was simplicity itself to go unnoticed. And so he had the luck to be on the front lines when McKay finally opened up his files and started reading. He watched the man’s brow draw in, his mouth slant down, his eyes narrow incredulously. Then, as he looked on, he saw the exact moment that Rodney McKay put two and two together- his eyes widened, and he blurted out “Oh. Oh! No no no no no, very bad!” as his hand snapped up to his ear.
Ianto turned away with a smile - the sound of demands for an emergency meeting with Sheppard and Weir was like music to his ears.
* * *
Things went so smoothly, Ianto almost felt redundant. Weir and her senior staff were in complete agreement: Captain Jack Harkness needed a rescue, yesterday.
Which meant that his role was, well, over. What was he supposed to do, pick up a gun and join the gate-team? Not likely. He couldn’t even help with the rescue plans. His grasp of Atlantis and her resources was nothing compared to John Sheppard’s; his grasp of tactics was better suited to Torchwood’s odd-ball, guerrilla-style fighting than to the well-disciplined men and women of Atlantis’s military. He’d only get in the way. For everyone’s sake, it was best if he stood back, and let Atlantis handle things from here.
So he did what he did best under circumstances like these - fretted, and made coffee. None of the scientists working on the rescue ever had to pause to refill their cups, and he’d be damned if they weren’t enjoying the finest caffeinated beverages this side of Alpha Centauri.
It wasn’t much. He just had to keep reminding himself that he’d already moved mountains to get this far - it wasn’t abandoning Jack if he sat back and watched from here.
It wasn’t.
He found himself spending more and more time alone in Jack’s room, staring at the packed duffle bag. Once, losing track of time, he emerged from solitude to find he’d been there nearly three days, and the rescue plans had made serious advances in his absence. Cursing himself, he vowed to stay away from the little room until Jack was safely back in Atlantis.
When he watched the rescue team march through the gate, he found himself impossibly restless, unable to sit still. He prowled the command tower day and night, peering at view-screens and staring, frustrated, at the empty gate.
Then, “Unscheduled off-world activation! Receiving Colonel Sheppard’s IDC... lowering the shield!”
They were early.
First came Sheppard, followed by a few of his men. Cole, Ianto thought, Reed, and, ah, Yamato, that was it. Rodney came staggering after them, dragged by Parker, one of the marines, and looking like he was about to collapse. He clutched his laptop like a teddy bear. Then Teyla, wild-eyed but with something about the look on her face that made Ianto dare to hope that -
Yes. Next through the gate, fierce and bedraggled and triumphant, was Ronon, with a pale-faced, dirt-smudged Captain Jack Harkness slung over his shoulder.
More people streamed through the gate after them, but Ianto had eyes only for Jack. Ronon knelt, and set Harkness down to lean against one of the pillars that framed the stargate.
“I think we could probably use a medic,” he called out, voice gruff.
As people streamed past Ianto, shouting, and the gateshield flickered into place, Ianto made his way across the floor and knelt down in front of his Captain.
“Jack,” was all he could bring himself to say.
Jack looked up. Grinned weakly. He looked every bit as old as he really was - the last time Ianto had seen him this bad, it was when he’d come back from his little gallivant with the Doctor, and ended up imprisoned on the Valient during the year that wasn’t.
“Hey there, handsome,” Jack rasped. “I’ve gotta say, you’re the best looking hallucination I’ve had... oh, I’d say all month.” He coughed. “Your timing’s rotten, though. I coulda used you a week or two ago. There was this wraith queen, smoking hot but not someone I wanted quality time with, you know? You’d’ve been a nice distraction.”
Ianto smiled despite himself. Same old Jack. “I’m not a hallucination. I’m really here, Jack.”
Ronon was staring at them, eyes narrowed. “Harkness?”
Jack ignored him. “You’re not real. You can’t be, because I definitely saw you die. In my arms and everything. It would have been terribly romantic if not for the dying bit.”
“True,” Ianto admitted. “I did do that. And yet here I stand.” He smiled. “As if I’d let a little thing like dying stop me coming to your rescue.”
Jack laughed - a terrible sound. “So, what, you’re my guardian angel or something?”
Ronon was scanning the room, looking agitated. “Hey! Doc! Hurry up!”
“Or something. I’m sort of... neither here nor there, so to speak. I’m mostly invisible. Mostly intangible.” Ianto hesitated. “You know, in hindsight, it would have helped to plan my speech in advance. I’m running out of time, and I don’t know how to make you understand.”
Jack was silent for a moment. Then, “Mostly?”
Ianto chuckled. “Only you can see me. That’s part of the deal. And I can move small things, if I really concentrate...” Biting his lip, he reached out, and carefully brushed a lock of grey-threaded hair from Jack’s forehead. The Captain’s breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes, leaning in towards the phantom touch. Ianto’s fingers sunk slightly into his forehead, and he withdrew his hand. “See?”
Jack didn’t open his eyes. “Why are you here, Ianto?”
A team of doctors, headed by a frantic Carson Beckett, pounded across the floor towards them. Reaching Jack, they hauled him upright and deposited him onto a stretcher to begin the mad dash towards to infirmary. Ianto kept pace easily, wafting after them with his feet a good two inches above the floor. “I’m here to deliver a message.”
“What message?” he asked.
“We’re almost there, laddie, just hang in there!” Beckett urged Harkness.
“He’s immortal,” one of the nurses muttered. “How much more ‘in there’ can he get?”
Ianto smiled. “The message is: go home, you stupid bastard.”
Jack’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
They took a sharp corner, and Ianto’s drifting path took him momentarily through a wall. When he emerged again, he repeated, “Go home. Go back to Cardiff - go back to Gwen, and Rhys, and their baby. Go back to Torchwood - do you know, she started it up again, Gwen did? Recruited Lois, and that PC fellow, Andy. All they need now is their Captain.”
Jack turned his head away. “That’s not my Torchwood.”
“It could be,” said Ianto. “You know it could be. And don’t try to tell me you’re at home here - I’ve seen that excuse for a room of yours. The Stargate program’s never been more than a stop along the way. Somewhere to hide.”
Jack remained silent.
“Eternity’s an awful long time to be alone,” Ianto added, softly.
A tear traced a track through the dirt that smudged Jack’s face. “Damn you,” he said, feelingly.
Ianto smiled. “I love you, Jack,” he answered.
Jack inhaled deeply, a long, shuddering breath, and opened his eyes. “I can’t face it, Ianto. I can’t look them in the eye again.”
“Yes, you can,” Ianto answered. “You’re just afraid. I’m here to tell you to, well, I think the traditional line here would be ‘fear not’.”
As they skidded into the Infirmary, Jack smiled again, shakily. “Love you, Ianto.”
Ianto Jones smiled, and faded away for the last time. He’d see Jack on the other side, some day. It’d be a long time coming - but he’d travelled back through the veil for his Captain. Jack was worth the wait.
Crossposted to 25crossovers, dw_crossovers, stargate_xing, and crossoverfic.
This particular story began life as a sequel to The Asgard Don’t Wear Pants, but by the time I was done a few minor discrepancies had cropped up. And also the tone is quite different. So you can either choose to call it a standalone story, or put the small differences up to the inevitable consequence of a universe full of meddlesome time travellers. :)
Title: An Awful Long Time
Fandom: Stargate (SGA)/Torchwood
Word Count: ~2,300
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ianto's travelled clear across the universe just to bring Jack home.
Notes/Disclaimers: Sadly, none of the characters or settings featured here are mine, nor am I profiting from this in any way beyond the satisfaction I get from writing this stuff. Contains Atlantis spoilers up to early season two. Also, as a CoE fixer-upper (ish kind of), it contains Torchwood spoilers up to the end of season three. Thanks as always to sophia_sol, who continues to make my fics suck less.
25crossovers, prompt #20 "Immortal". Table can be found here.
When the Daedalus visited Atlantis for the second time, it brought with it a young man in a neat suit.
Ianto Jones beamed down with the Atlantis command staff, who dispersed without acknowledging his presence. He took a moment to orient himself, then another to smile, satisfied, at his surroundings - the gate room in Atlantis, for goodness sake; who’d have ever thought he’d end up here? - and then turned on his heel and made a beeline for the personnel quarters.
The Atlantis command staff really needed about twenty-four hours to recuperate from the whole “sentient wraith virus almost flies us into the sun” incident before they’d be ready to hear what Ianto had to say. Which meant that Ianto needed something to keep him busy for a day or so... and all things considered, he didn’t think anyone would have cleaned out Jack Harkness’s room yet.
After all, he’d only been presumed dead for, what, a little under a month now? And it’d been a fairly busy month, at that. Ianto knew for a fact that Jack always liked to upgrade his quarters with extra security precautions, and it was doubtful that anyone else’d had the time or motivation to break through them.
Jack’s rather inventive little tricks didn’t pose more than a moment’s trouble for Ianto, of course, and he soon found himself standing in a tiny room that was, well. Fairly generic. Ianto could tell it was Jack’s - it still held something of him, those little touches that showed Jack Harkness had been there - but to an outsider’s eyes, it would have been nothing more than a soldier’s room. This was a place to rest, and to store the little necessary possessions that no one could help but accumulate. It wasn’t a place to live. The person who slept here was ready to pick up and leave on a moment’s notice.
“You’ve been with the SGC for the better part of a decade, Jack,” Ianto told the empty room, sadly. “And you’re still not at home with these people. When you get back, I hope we get the chance to talk about just what that implies.”
He spent the rest of the day tidying things away, dusting, sweeping, folding clothes into the army-issued duffle bag and carefully tucking Jack’s collection of Pegasus-manufactured sex toys away in amongst the BDUs and workout clothes. He’d smiled to see the toys - it was nice to know that, however far from home one went, some things never changed. The neatly packed duffle bag was nowhere near full, and yet remained too heavy for Ianto to lift in his present state.
* * *
The first thing Ianto did when he left Jack’s quarters, mingling unnoticed with the wide-eyed new recruits , was head for the nearest lab where - sure enough - someone had left a laptop unattended. He hadn’t brought one with him from Earth. If anyone tried to track back what he was about to do, well, it was better for everyone involved if he didn’t used his own computer.
The problem was that the Atlanteans, in their heart of hearts, mistrusted outsiders. And who could blame them? Pegasus had forged them into a tightly blended unit, which didn’t leave much room for those who hadn’t been through that same smelting process. He’d have put good money on their new personnel having some difficulties integrating, at least at first, and they came with the full backing of the SGC. They’d never trust something so simple as an outright statement that Harkness was alive, against all logic - nor would they care to hear a demand for rescue from someone like Ianto.
So, easy enough. They just had to think the whole thing was their idea.
Ianto had prepared as much as he could before departing earth, but the work was still slow going. With his borrowed laptop, he carefully accessed the briefing packets that the command personnel had received from earth, containing all pertinent information gathered since the Atlantis expedition had departed. Into them, he layered the documents necessary to create a work of fiction. As far as Weir, Sheppard, and McKay were going to know, in the time since their departure the British government had come clean and admitted to having an extra-terrestrial defence program of their own, one that long predated the SGC: Torchwood.
The Queen was going to be fairly angry, but that wasn’t Ianto’s problem now. He didn’t answer to her anymore, and hadn’t for quite some time.
In Weir’s data packet, he carefully emphasized how important Torchwood was to the IOA, and placed it in careful conjunction with a few hints that the British government was placing pressure on the SGC to hold someone accountable for the “death” of their erstwhile former commander. Her inner diplomat, he hoped, would find that somewhat concerning.
In Sheppard’s packet, he highlighted Jack’s experiences with Grey, in particular the time Jack spent buried beneath Cardiff, dying again and again. He wanted Sheppard’s “leave no man behind” instincts to be fully aware of the fact that Jack’s immortality in no way lessened the suffering and pain he could experience - quite the opposite, in fact.
In Rodney’s packet, because Ianto harboured no illusions as to the man’s priorities, Ianto subtly brought the incident with Abaddon to the fore. He trusted that the man’s quick and paranoid mind would rapidly conclude that leaving a man with virtually unlimited life force in the hands of the Wraith could only be a bad thing.
All he needed now was for the three to read their data, and compare notes.
In the end, it took a fabricated e-mail from J.Sheppard to R.McKay (“Hey, Rodney, you read that ‘Torchwood’ stuff yet? Is what they’re saying about Harkness possible? -John) to prod the good Doctor into leaving his new lab equipment alone long enough to actually read his mandatory readings.
Ianto had taken to hanging around the lab, quietly topping up people’s coffee cups, tidying up the trail of papers left behind by harried scientists, and bringing fresh whiteboard markers to replace the dead ones. It wasn’t that much of a risk - he’d always had a knack for blending in. These days, it was simplicity itself to go unnoticed. And so he had the luck to be on the front lines when McKay finally opened up his files and started reading. He watched the man’s brow draw in, his mouth slant down, his eyes narrow incredulously. Then, as he looked on, he saw the exact moment that Rodney McKay put two and two together- his eyes widened, and he blurted out “Oh. Oh! No no no no no, very bad!” as his hand snapped up to his ear.
Ianto turned away with a smile - the sound of demands for an emergency meeting with Sheppard and Weir was like music to his ears.
* * *
Things went so smoothly, Ianto almost felt redundant. Weir and her senior staff were in complete agreement: Captain Jack Harkness needed a rescue, yesterday.
Which meant that his role was, well, over. What was he supposed to do, pick up a gun and join the gate-team? Not likely. He couldn’t even help with the rescue plans. His grasp of Atlantis and her resources was nothing compared to John Sheppard’s; his grasp of tactics was better suited to Torchwood’s odd-ball, guerrilla-style fighting than to the well-disciplined men and women of Atlantis’s military. He’d only get in the way. For everyone’s sake, it was best if he stood back, and let Atlantis handle things from here.
So he did what he did best under circumstances like these - fretted, and made coffee. None of the scientists working on the rescue ever had to pause to refill their cups, and he’d be damned if they weren’t enjoying the finest caffeinated beverages this side of Alpha Centauri.
It wasn’t much. He just had to keep reminding himself that he’d already moved mountains to get this far - it wasn’t abandoning Jack if he sat back and watched from here.
It wasn’t.
He found himself spending more and more time alone in Jack’s room, staring at the packed duffle bag. Once, losing track of time, he emerged from solitude to find he’d been there nearly three days, and the rescue plans had made serious advances in his absence. Cursing himself, he vowed to stay away from the little room until Jack was safely back in Atlantis.
When he watched the rescue team march through the gate, he found himself impossibly restless, unable to sit still. He prowled the command tower day and night, peering at view-screens and staring, frustrated, at the empty gate.
Then, “Unscheduled off-world activation! Receiving Colonel Sheppard’s IDC... lowering the shield!”
They were early.
First came Sheppard, followed by a few of his men. Cole, Ianto thought, Reed, and, ah, Yamato, that was it. Rodney came staggering after them, dragged by Parker, one of the marines, and looking like he was about to collapse. He clutched his laptop like a teddy bear. Then Teyla, wild-eyed but with something about the look on her face that made Ianto dare to hope that -
Yes. Next through the gate, fierce and bedraggled and triumphant, was Ronon, with a pale-faced, dirt-smudged Captain Jack Harkness slung over his shoulder.
More people streamed through the gate after them, but Ianto had eyes only for Jack. Ronon knelt, and set Harkness down to lean against one of the pillars that framed the stargate.
“I think we could probably use a medic,” he called out, voice gruff.
As people streamed past Ianto, shouting, and the gateshield flickered into place, Ianto made his way across the floor and knelt down in front of his Captain.
“Jack,” was all he could bring himself to say.
Jack looked up. Grinned weakly. He looked every bit as old as he really was - the last time Ianto had seen him this bad, it was when he’d come back from his little gallivant with the Doctor, and ended up imprisoned on the Valient during the year that wasn’t.
“Hey there, handsome,” Jack rasped. “I’ve gotta say, you’re the best looking hallucination I’ve had... oh, I’d say all month.” He coughed. “Your timing’s rotten, though. I coulda used you a week or two ago. There was this wraith queen, smoking hot but not someone I wanted quality time with, you know? You’d’ve been a nice distraction.”
Ianto smiled despite himself. Same old Jack. “I’m not a hallucination. I’m really here, Jack.”
Ronon was staring at them, eyes narrowed. “Harkness?”
Jack ignored him. “You’re not real. You can’t be, because I definitely saw you die. In my arms and everything. It would have been terribly romantic if not for the dying bit.”
“True,” Ianto admitted. “I did do that. And yet here I stand.” He smiled. “As if I’d let a little thing like dying stop me coming to your rescue.”
Jack laughed - a terrible sound. “So, what, you’re my guardian angel or something?”
Ronon was scanning the room, looking agitated. “Hey! Doc! Hurry up!”
“Or something. I’m sort of... neither here nor there, so to speak. I’m mostly invisible. Mostly intangible.” Ianto hesitated. “You know, in hindsight, it would have helped to plan my speech in advance. I’m running out of time, and I don’t know how to make you understand.”
Jack was silent for a moment. Then, “Mostly?”
Ianto chuckled. “Only you can see me. That’s part of the deal. And I can move small things, if I really concentrate...” Biting his lip, he reached out, and carefully brushed a lock of grey-threaded hair from Jack’s forehead. The Captain’s breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes, leaning in towards the phantom touch. Ianto’s fingers sunk slightly into his forehead, and he withdrew his hand. “See?”
Jack didn’t open his eyes. “Why are you here, Ianto?”
A team of doctors, headed by a frantic Carson Beckett, pounded across the floor towards them. Reaching Jack, they hauled him upright and deposited him onto a stretcher to begin the mad dash towards to infirmary. Ianto kept pace easily, wafting after them with his feet a good two inches above the floor. “I’m here to deliver a message.”
“What message?” he asked.
“We’re almost there, laddie, just hang in there!” Beckett urged Harkness.
“He’s immortal,” one of the nurses muttered. “How much more ‘in there’ can he get?”
Ianto smiled. “The message is: go home, you stupid bastard.”
Jack’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
They took a sharp corner, and Ianto’s drifting path took him momentarily through a wall. When he emerged again, he repeated, “Go home. Go back to Cardiff - go back to Gwen, and Rhys, and their baby. Go back to Torchwood - do you know, she started it up again, Gwen did? Recruited Lois, and that PC fellow, Andy. All they need now is their Captain.”
Jack turned his head away. “That’s not my Torchwood.”
“It could be,” said Ianto. “You know it could be. And don’t try to tell me you’re at home here - I’ve seen that excuse for a room of yours. The Stargate program’s never been more than a stop along the way. Somewhere to hide.”
Jack remained silent.
“Eternity’s an awful long time to be alone,” Ianto added, softly.
A tear traced a track through the dirt that smudged Jack’s face. “Damn you,” he said, feelingly.
Ianto smiled. “I love you, Jack,” he answered.
Jack inhaled deeply, a long, shuddering breath, and opened his eyes. “I can’t face it, Ianto. I can’t look them in the eye again.”
“Yes, you can,” Ianto answered. “You’re just afraid. I’m here to tell you to, well, I think the traditional line here would be ‘fear not’.”
As they skidded into the Infirmary, Jack smiled again, shakily. “Love you, Ianto.”
Ianto Jones smiled, and faded away for the last time. He’d see Jack on the other side, some day. It’d be a long time coming - but he’d travelled back through the veil for his Captain. Jack was worth the wait.
Crossposted to 25crossovers, dw_crossovers, stargate_xing, and crossoverfic.