Fanfic - Counting Stars 9/17 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]

[soera]

A/N: Hmm. The previous part didn't get too many comments. I'm sad. =( I love hearing from you lot (both what worked and what didn't; I like constructive criticism!) so please review?
Also, I've tried manually changing the date/time on this post. Let me know if it works now, wrt showing up correctly on notifications, flists, etc?

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight

The alarms went off suddenly, exploding in a cacophony of noise. Ianto jumped, very nearly knocking his laptop off the table. In the next moment, he was up and running out of the archives and into the Hub main. That particular sound signalled an unanticipated, large Rift spike.

“Tosh?” Jack yelled from his office.

“Working on it!” she yelled back over the noise.

“Someone kill the damn alarm!” Owen hollered. Ianto skidded to a halt in front of a computer terminal and obligingly entered the security system, shutting off the sound.

“What was that?” Gwen squeaked in surprise.

“A Rift spike we didn’t predict,” Ianto told her absently.

“I thought those were always unpredictable,” she said.

“The daily fluctuations, the minor spikes, yes,” Ianto explained. “But generally we can predict if it’s going to do something big. Like…” He glanced over at Owen and lowered his voice. “Remember when Diane, John and Emma came through? The Rift monitors showed us for weeks before that something big was going to happen. Whatever’s just happened, it wasn’t forecast.”

“Which means that it’s one of those snapping things the Rift does,” Jack complained as he came up behind them. Seeing Gwen’s confused look, he elaborated, “Think of it like - let’s see - like there’s lots of little arms attached to the Rift, and they’re elastic, stretching out. We can usually calculate the tension so we know when one’ll snap back and bring something with it, but occasionally one stretches faster than expected. So that’ll snap back before it should, which leads -”

“Got the location!” Tosh announced. Jack clapped his hands together decisively.

“Patch it through to the SUV, Tosh,” he instructed. “Let’s get moving, people!”

In a few minutes they were loaded and driving out, Tosh providing directions as they went. Even with Jack’s vaguely suicidal driving, it was just over half an hour before they finally reached the location of the Rift spike. It was immediately obvious what had come through the Rift.

“I’d say that’s an alien spaceship,” Ianto observed as they hopped out of the SUV.

“Good guess,” Jack said. The thing was disturbingly huge. It was lucky that the Rift had chosen an uninhabited region of country to deposit the ship. With any luck, they’d be able to get it out of there before any curious types came around.

“And there’s the alien,” Tosh said, coming up behind Ianto and gesturing at something beside the ship.

It was humanoid in appearance, Ianto noted. It could easily pass as a human woman, perhaps thirty-odd years of age. Birth year around ’75 perhaps? It would need a name that could pass for human, maybe an altered version of its name, if it didn’t already pass - but he was getting ahead of himself. There was no telling if it was even friendly.

They didn’t go in with weapons drawn. The alien had noticed them but was simply standing there looking at them instead of doing anything. Ianto allowed himself to hope that it wasn’t hostile.

“Jack,” Tosh said urgently. “What’s this reading here? I’ve never seen that before.”

Jack fell back a step, Gwen easily moving into the space to cover them. “What reading?” he asked, looking at the meter Tosh held. She indicated the anomalous reading that had spontaneously appeared on it, and Jack’s frown vanished.

“Ah. Psychic,” he said. “It’s trying to communicate - if that picked it up, it just said something broad-based. Not directed at anyone in particular, I mean.”

“Psychic alien,” Owen snorted. “Great. So how do we talk to it?”

“Well… if it communicates on a psychic level,” Tosh said slowly, then shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think we’ve got anything that enables that kind of communication, Jack.”

“And it doesn’t really look friendly,” Owen added uneasily. Ianto considered the alien and thought that it didn’t look particularly menacing. A somewhat blank look on its face, yes, but other than that…

“So what, we kill it?” Gwen asked indignantly. “Just because it doesn’t understand us?”

“No one’s killing anything,” Jack said firmly. He cautiously extended his mental signature, tapping lightly at the alien mind he felt in front of him. The alien started, then looked directly at him. The force of its return inquiry sent Jack staggering, and Ianto barely caught him in time.

“Ow,” Jack commented breathlessly.

“What did it do?” Owen demanded.

“Not it, me. I was trying to talk to it telepathically,” Jack said, waving off their incredulous looks. “But its telepathy is way stronger than any human’s, too much for me to deal with alone.” He eyed them speculatively, mind racing. Ianto had been given plenty of opportunities, and he still hadn’t brought it up, so -

“Gwen, you’re probably the best bet. Mind letting me see if I can use your mind to brace mine?”

“Why me?” she asked, startled.

“You’re the only one who could use the Resurrection Glove,” Jack pointed out. “Which means you’ve got some level of empathy, and if it’s strong enough, I can use that to support myself. If our minds are compatible, anyway.”

Gwen shrugged uneasily. “What do I do?”

“Nothing,” Jack said cheerily, straightening. “Just let me in.” He touched his mind to hers, careful to shield both their thoughts to ensure their privacy. It only took a few seconds for him to realise it wouldn’t work.

“Okay, no,” he said, withdrawing hastily. “Not exactly compatible.” He bit his lip, turning to look at the alien, which had now settled somewhat, as if waiting in anticipation. At least it realised they were trying to communicate - now if he could only figure out a way!

“Try it with me,” Ianto said quietly.

Jack glanced over uncertainly. “You didn’t so much as get a blip out of the Glove,” he pointed out. Which was peculiar, come to think of it.

“I - suppressed it,” Ianto confessed. “I hated the way it felt, didn’t want you to order me to use it.”

“You can do that?” Tosh asked curiously.

“If you’re trained,” Jack said absently. “Okay. You took a TERSE at Torchwood One, right?”

Ianto nodded.

“What was your score?” Jack asked.

“Ninety-eight percent,” Ianto replied, and watched in hidden amusement as Jack’s jaw dropped.

“Nine - are you sure you’re human?” Jack demanded.

“Quite, sir,” Ianto said blandly.

“Ninety-eight,” Jack repeated, and whistled in disbelief. “You know how to do an L-and-S?”

“Somewhat clumsily, perhaps,” Ianto said. “I’d only been training about a month.”

“Try it,” Jack said. “If our minds are compatible, you’ve got more than enough strength to hold up to that alien’s mind. I’ll control our touch, I’m better trained.” He shook his head. “Ninety-eight.”

Ianto smiled and reached out mentally to Jack, shielding his thoughts and brushing against Jack’s mind, the way he’d been taught to ask for entrance. He wasn’t expecting to be pulled in abruptly, both their shields instantly falling, their minds wrapping around each other like they were coming home. For the briefest moment, before Jack’s shields fell, Ianto thought he detected traces of his own mind-touch in them. Then flashes of memory, thought, emotion danced through him, not all of them his.

They both breathed in sharply and stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“Did it work?” Owen asked warily.

“Yeah,” Jack said vaguely. “Yeah, it worked.”

Talk about this later, I presume? Ianto asked.

Oh yes, my Ianto, Jack replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. He readied himself to contact the alien again. We’ll talk about this later. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, sweetheart?

I do try. Ianto nudged Jack’s mind into assuming control, connecting his strength to Jack’s and bolstering him through the mental contact.

Mental communication was always a matter of knowledge rather than actual speech. The language spoken in the privacy of their minds didn’t matter - it was the gist of the sentiments conveyed that came through, translated into whatever language they felt most comfortable in. Telepathic creatures always had the most intriguing minds, simply because they weren’t used to speaking out loud, to putting things in words, and therefore thought in images and emotions instead. The weight of their mental presence was fascinating, but it was also what made it dangerous for someone untrained to try and contact them telepathically.

Hello, Jack said. I’m Captain Jack Harkness. This is my team, Torchwood.

Good day, Captain Jack Harkness, the alien said to them. Its mental voice translated to Ianto’s mind as something vaguely feminine, which fit with the female body it appeared to have. He wouldn’t put it past it (her?) to actually be male, though. I am [starlight][cloud][snowflake]. Ianto drew in a deep breath at the beauty of the images that comprised the alien’s name, even as he wondered what sort of pronounceable human name would do it justice. Might I enquire as to where I am?

This planet is called Earth, Jack explained. It’s the twenty-first Century, by human time. In Galactic time, about… 14-500-24 AB, I think. I’m afraid you’ve been pulled through a Rift in time and space, one end of which is for some reason fixed here.

Oh dear, the alien said slowly. Is there no way of returning?

Not that we know of, Jack said, sending a feeling of sincere apology. Part of what Torchwood does is try to make life more comfortable here for you - you could pass for human, so we’ll teach you how to blend in and all that. And we monitor the Rift constantly, so if something changes and a way to send you back home is found, we’ll let you know immediately. I wouldn’t hold out hope though. Nothing’s changed in the past century or so.

I see, the alien said, and a wave of despondency struck Jack and Ianto’s entwined minds. Even as Jack stumbled back, Ianto braced him, simultaneously reaching a sliver of his mental presence past Jack’s, touching the alien just long enough to send a feeling of sympathy and encouragement.

Oh, the alien said, sounding surprised. Humans are capable of [light, blinding in intensity]?

Ianto paused, eyeing Jack, who looked like he was still recovering. I’m afraid I don’t know what that is, he confessed. Do you know a word for it?

Ah. You speak with language, the alien said thoughtfully. It is a merging of two minds, two beings. The highest form of communion. I have read about humans; that you are capable of this was not known.

We didn’t know, either, Jack said. This is new to us - it happened when we linked to talk to you.

Ah. The alien considered that. Then you should explore the [two beams of light twining together, forming two intricate rings that looped into each other, shimmering, inextricable] without interference. She paused. I should be glad to tell you what I know, if you so desire it.

We might take you up on that, Jack said. For now, is there a way of transporting your ship?

She will become small, the alien said decisively, and the ship obligingly shrunk to the size of a matchbox. The alien picked it up in its hand as the Torchwood team stared in bemusement.

She’s sentient? Jack asked curiously.

She is, the alien replied, and a wave of nostalgia washed over Ianto. It took him a moment to realise the emotion was Jack’s, not his.

I used to know someone with a sentient ship, Jack told the alien. She looks a good deal more impressive than his did, though.

The Doctor. It had to be.

The alien appeared to be listening to something. She thanks you, it finally said, solemnly.

Jack sent back a feeling of cheerful acknowledgement. Would you come back to one of our safe-houses with us? he asked. We’ll start teaching you what you need to know to pass for human.

Very well, the alien said. I… you will… keep in touch, will you not?

Always, Jack assured her. You don’t have to leave our safe-house until you feel confident about integrating. And if you ever run into any trouble, get in contact with one of us and we’ll help. Or even if you just want to talk.

The alien sent back a feeling of gratitude, and Jack slowly eased the mental connection apart before breaking it entirely. Ianto’s presence remained within him, warm and comforting, helping to ground him.

“Okay,” Jack said, rubbing his head to get rid of the lingering phantom touch of the alien’s mind. He could still feel his own mind securely wrapped around Ianto’s. “So, I’ve explained things to - er, we need a name for her.”

“Callista?” Ianto suggested. It means 'beautiful.' And well, her real name -

“It was, wasn’t it?” Jack said, grinning. “Okay, Callista works.”

“What was?” Gwen asked.

“Ah, nothing,” Jack said dismissively. “So Callista knows what’s going on. Let’s get back to the SUV, eh? Ianto -” She seems to like you, and you have the sheer strength to withstand her mind. Now you’ve seen how I initiated and held contact…

“Of course,” Ianto replied. Is touch a taboo?

“Not usually,” Jack said as the team looked between the two of them in utter confusion. “Ask her.”

Ianto nodded and, as Jack ushered the others away, moved to Callista, gingerly reaching out with his mind the way Jack had done so earlier. I hope you don’t mind, he said, But I’ve given you the human name ‘Callista.’ We’ll need something to put down on your documentation, you see. If you don’t like it, we can think of something else.

Callista, she repeated thoughtfully. It echoes well. I thank you.

You’re welcome, Ianto said. Does your culture have a taboo against touching?

Not at all, she said, sounding inquisitive.

Then would you let me take your hand? The terrain here can be somewhat treacherous, Ianto explained.

By all means. And… your name is?

Oh! Ianto Jones, he said, somewhat sheepish at having forgotten to introduce himself. There was a touch of laughter from her mind.

Show me, Ianto Jones, she said as he led her over the rain-slippery rocks towards the SUV and the rest of the team. Show me this world of yours.

He gave her a brief overview as they drove back to the Hub. Jack let Owen drive, which didn’t surprise Ianto at all; Jack clearly wanted in on the conversation between him and Callista, and couldn’t be bothered trying to keep track of the roads at the same time.

Jack’s mind wended its way into the contact, tapping a quick Hello on Callista’s mind before pulling back a little, content merely to observe. Ianto pressed up against him, never faltering as he explained the concept of countries to Callista. The familiar spiel was made even easier by the fact that he could show her his thoughts, could demonstrate through pictures what he was trying to say, without having to use the books he usually had to pull out. And, like most telepathic creatures, she had an incredible capacity for recall, which made his job that much easier.

Knowing something didn’t mean understanding it, however, as Ianto quickly discovered. The idea of facial expressions was so completely strange to her that even when he used Jack as a willing model, she couldn’t quite connect how the movement of a few muscles could demonstrate emotions - and that wasn’t even getting into the subtlety of the varied connotations of the same expression.

I believe it will take some time to acclimatise, Callista finally ventured with what sounded a lot like disgruntlement.

We’ve had others who’ve had similar problems, Ianto told her. It will take time, but you’ll manage it.

I thank you, she said, a touch of happiness and doubt colouring her mental voice.

Ianto had to excuse himself then to take a quick mental break. The sheer weight of her telepathic presence was hard to bear, even with Jack silently bearing him up as he spoke to her. She sent her understanding through and broke the link herself, letting him drift back to his own mind easily, curling against the familiar sensation of Jack’s mind.

“It’s no surprise,” he said finally. Tosh jumped.

“Talking out loud at last, are we?” Owen asked as he signalled for a turn. “Couldn’t have left the psychic babbling for the Hub?”

“No harm starting now,” Jack and Ianto said in unison, then looked at each other in amusement.

“Oh god, they’re being bloody twins now,” Gwen grumbled good-naturedly.

“Little side-effect, I suppose,” Ianto offered.

“Seeing as I have a sudden desire to reorganise my office, yeah,” Jack added. Ianto elbowed him as the others started laughing. “And what’s no surprise, Yan?”

“That she can’t understand what I’m talking about,” Ianto explained. “I mean, with us humans, the bulk of communication actually occurs through body language. Words aren’t exactly a reliable indicator of what we’re thinking, most of the time. But with the way her species speaks…”

“They don’t need the body language,” Jack filled in. “Hard to lie, mind-to-mind.”

“Exactly.” Ianto gave Jack a little smile, one which Jack had to reach up to kiss.

“Oh for god’s sake, get a room!” Owen cried, and spun into a right-turn perhaps a little harder than he normally would have.

“Since you insist,” Jack grumbled, picking himself up from where he’d been flung across Ianto and Callista. “Once we get back to the Hub.”

“I can think of a few places,” Ianto mused thoughtfully.

“Owen’s table,” Jack insisted. Tosh slapped a hand over her mouth before the laughter could spill out.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jack,” Ianto sighed. “That’s rather boring, don’t you think?”

“Been there, done that,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“You are both sick, sick men,” Owen declared through clenched teeth. “And I am disinfecting my table the moment we get back. And everything else I own, for that matter!”

“You do that,” Ianto replied calmly. Only Jack, still in contact with Ianto’s mind, realised that Ianto was suddenly radiating smugness. A quick tapped request for an explanation gave him the reason - Owen had just volunteered to clean out his own ‘biological experiments,’ the ones he left lying around to annoy Ianto. And all it had taken was some innuendo.

You are vaguely terrifying sometimes, Jack told Ianto affectionately.

Thank you, sir, Ianto replied modestly.

They got back to the Hub without incident and Ianto settled down with Callista again. Teaching her the rudiments of the English language was easy, since she didn’t forget anything once she put her mind to it. The various complications of English grammar did trip her up occasionally, but by the end of the day, she’d gained enough fluency to converse in short sentences via telepathy. She wasn’t quite able, however, to temper her usual style of conversation, with the result that Ianto received impressions and images alongside the childish words.

Give it a little time, Ianto told her when she seemed to be getting a little upset. You’ve already made more progress than some aliens who’ve been with us much longer. Why don’t we stop here for today? I’ll bring you to the safe-house now. Tomorrow, Owen will have to give you a check-up to see if there’s anything that might hinder your integration. All right?

She seemed to sigh despondently. Yes. Where - she struggled to find the right words, then gave up and resorted to her normal mode of communication. Where will I be staying?

Little place we have, quite near by, Ianto told her as he gathered up the books on the table. Barely ten minutes away by car. Let’s go tell the others we’re leaving, then.

Callista waved goodbye to the rest of the team, a shy, uncertain smile on her face. Ianto felt ridiculously proud of what she’d already accomplished in the field of human expressions. If Jack’s amused affection was anything to go by, he found Ianto’s delight utterly adorable.

Such a proud papa, Jack teased. Don’t be telling me you want kids, now.

Good grief, no, Ianto said in slight alarm. I’m absolutely rubbish with my sister’s kids. Wouldn’t want to inflict that on myself.

And yet look at you and Naomi.

I’m good with the broken ones, that’s all.

Jack ran a caressing touch through his mind, making him shiver physically. Thankfully, Callista didn’t notice, preoccupied as she was with trying to figure out how a seatbelt worked. Ianto leaned over and showed her how to buckle it into place, then turned the engine over and pulled out.

Still there? Jack asked.

Where else?

True. So, you’re sure you don’t want kids, right?

Ianto frowned minutely. Do you?

Well - no, actually, but if you do…

I don’t.

Okay, good. Well, not like I’d have to carry the baby anyway. Wasn’t fun the first time around.

Ianto considered it a minor miracle that he didn’t crash the car. First time?

That I got pregnant - uh, yeah, I didn’t tell you about that, huh.

… No.

Right. Well. When you get back.

… Right.

Pregnant, Ianto thought faintly. There was a word he’d never have associated with Jack.

“Pregnant?” he asked quietly. Not quietly enough, if Gwen’s suddenly wide eyes were anything to go by.

“Now that’s something really interesting,” Jack said, steering Ianto into his office unhurriedly, voice deliberately pitched to subtly carry over to the others. “See, the first time I was pregnant was, oh, back when I was twenty-two, I think?” He shut his office door, cutting off his voice, then grinned broadly.

“Sadist,” Ianto accused, dropping bonelessly into a chair.

“Just a little,” Jack agreed cheerfully, imagining the rest of the team’s reactions. “Seriously though - I was a surrogate for a couple of friends of mine.”

Ianto massaged his temples tiredly. “Back up. You were pregnant.”

“Yep. Artificial womb,” Jack confirmed. “Of course, it’s all medical procedures and things, the insemination and implanting. All I had to do was take the hormone supplements. And you know, actually carry it. You would not believe the cravings.” He shuddered.

“Cravings,” Ianto repeated.

“Mm. Ice-cream, all the time,” Jack said. “Which wasn’t too bad, but I have it on good authority that watching me eat ice-cream with chillies and Chalcom sap was a bit off-putting.”

“Uh,” Ianto said eloquently.

Jack patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Relax. Had the womb taken out after the birthing, and we don’t have any of the right equipment or supplements in this time anyway.”

“So I’m not going to accidentally get you up the duff,” Ianto said wryly. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Okay. He could deal with this. So his lover - his very male lover - had once been pregnant. Nothing strange about that, nope. Not when they had a pteranodon for a pet, anyway.

“Nope,” Jack said. “Of course, I’m not going to stop you trying -”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve love me to -”

“By all means! Try very hard -”

“Something will be hard, at any rate -”

Ianto was treated to the rather entertaining sight of Jack choking on absolutely nothing.

It was rather awkward getting all the jellies situated comfortably and strapping the tank down in his car, but he eventually managed it. The rest of the team were out investigating a strange death that the police had handed over to them, so Ianto had to do everything himself. The bloom of jellies cooperated as much as they could though, and soon enough, Ianto was driving down to Swansea.

Torchwood had a private boat that would meet Ianto to bring him and his cargo of jellies over the Mumbles Head. The Sanctuary sprawled across part of the inner island, facing the sea, and much of the adjacent waters had been cordoned off as private property. This was where any water-living aliens came to live - where the space whale would have come, had it remained alive - and the new home of the jellies.

“Hello, Jason,” Ianto greeted as the boat pulled up. He’d never met Jason Woods in person before, but they’d spoken on the phone and he seemed like a decent sort. Rather like Angela, as all those in charge of the various safe-houses were - no-nonsense, brisk, efficient types with hearts of gold.

“Ianto, right?” Jason said, grinning as he moored the boat and hopped out easily. “Nice to finally meet you. You alone?”

“You too,” Ianto replied, instantly taking to the other man’s easy-going attitude. “And yes. Something came up that required the rest of the team.”

“Well, we oughtta manage fine,” Jason said, eyeing the tank speculatively. “Grab an end then -”

With two people working, they were able to get the tank into the boat with minimal fuss. Ianto clambered into the boat with a distinct lack of grace while Jason untied the ropes and pushed off, then vaulted in.

“So, any special requirements?” Jason asked as he turned the engine over. It sputtered once, then kicked into motion.

“Not particularly. They’re rather fond of coral - as food, I mean, though they’ll eat crustaceans if you’ve got nothing else,” Ianto said. “Don’t know how well they’ll take to the seas here.”

“Set ‘em up in a seawater tank inside,” Jason said with a nod. “If they don’t do well, we’ll move ‘em to a saltwater pool. Plenty of space and it’s as close to a natural environment as we could get.”

“That’ll do,” Ianto said. “They’re capable of communicating, by the way.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Morse code,” Ianto said, taking a hidden pleasure in the way Jason’s eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline. “No, seriously. I’ll show you later.”

Dah-dah dah-dah-dah dit-dit-dit-dah dit-dit dah-dit dah-dah-dit, the jellies bubbled happily.

It didn’t take long getting the jellies settled into their new home and bringing Jason up to speed on what needed to be done for them. Jason gave him another lift back out to the mainland and left with a friendly wave. They’d gotten along well, but neither of them bothered to suggest meeting up again outside of work. It was almost a pity. Jason seemed like he’d have made a good friend, but sometimes it didn’t pay to get too involved.

Ianto was halfway back to the Hub when it happened. One moment, everything was fine and the next -

Oddly, when he came to, the first thing he thought was: It’s a good thing Joe’s bloom wasn’t in here. The second thing was Jack.

The third was Oh, fuck. Under the circumstances, he thought it was rather appropriate. He looked up blearily, taking in the spider-web pattern all across his windshield. Something warm trickled just past his eye and he tried to lift his hand to brush it away. The agonising pain that ripped through his arm at the slight movement made him decide not to.

“Hey, you awake in there?”

He made a vague sound of affirmation, trying to turn to look out.

“Don’t move,” the same voice told him. “Your legs are pinned - we’ll get you out in just a minute, okay?”

The sound that came from his throat sounded less like an acknowledgement than a whimper. Now that he’d realised what had happened, the pain was beginning to set in. His legs were throbbing sharply, though thankfully they didn’t feel broken. His right arm was another matter altogether - he suspected a fracture. There was an ache all across his chest. And his head was bloody killing him.

He kind of wished he could fall back into unconsciousness, if only to escape the pain. His body wasn’t quite so obliging, however, and so he was forced to stay awake as the rescue personnel cut him out of his car (his poor car, he’d barely had it a year) and then carefully transferred him into the waiting ambulance. Despite their best efforts, every small movement sent pain jolting through his body. Ianto thought he might have bitten through his lip in an attempt not to scream.

“Come on then, stay awake,” one of the rescuers instructed. “Got a nasty hit to your head, we don’t want you falling asleep.”

No chance of that, Ianto wanted to tell him, but was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d start screaming.

“What’s your name then?” the rescuer asked.

Ianto waited until the stretcher had been loaded into the ambulance and most of the movement had stopped, then unclenched his jaws. “Jones,” he told the rescuer hoarsely. “Ianto Jones.”

“All right then, Jones,” the rescuer said briskly. “Any medical history we should know about? Allergies, that sort of thing?”

“No,” Ianto said. “But call my doctor - Owen Harper.”

“Hang on,” said the other rescue worker. “I know that name. Isn’t he the bloke what works for Torchwood?”

“Yep,” Ianto said, closing his eyes.

“Hey, none of that now. Stay awake,” the first rescuer said in alarm. Ianto obediently opened his eyes again.

“So you’re Torchwood?” he asked curiously. There was a small sting in his hand, but Ianto couldn’t be bothered looking to see what they were doing.

“Yep,” he said tiredly, not noticing the looks traded between the two rescue workers.

“So… what do you lot do, then?” the first one asked casually.

“Classified,” Ianto replied automatically. His brain caught up a few seconds later and he turned jaded eyes on the worker, fighting his way through the pain to take control of the conversation. “Very nice of you, asking an injured man to break a confidentiality agreement.”

The rescuers flushed scarlet and busied themselves with monitoring Ianto’s vitals. They didn’t ask him to speak again, though they stopped him every time he closed his eyes. He listened to what they were saying, trying to figure out how long he’d be laid up. It didn’t seem like he had any life-threatening injuries - always a good thing - but he was liable to be under observation for a while before they cut him loose. No doubt they didn’t realise how much of their jargon made sense to Ianto, but he was a good deal more reassured as to his condition by the time they reached the hospital.

His car was a complete write-off, of course. Fortunately, he hadn’t brought his bag with him, and there was nothing incriminating in the car, so that was one less thing to worry about.

The hospital staff tried and failed to get hold of Owen, so he reluctantly agreed to the scans and tests they wanted him to undergo. Once that was done, his arm was put in a cast (he instantly hated the feel of the damn thing) and he was peremptorily shuffled off to an observation ward.

At least he got a private room, he reflected sourly, staring up at the utterly uninteresting ceiling. Though now he finally had the time to think - what had caused him to black out on the road?

He cast his mind back to the moment just before his black-out. Perfectly normal, and then a feeling of absolute coldness, a chilling, terrifying nothingness, and then the darkness. He suspected he’d actually come to a few seconds after the initial black-out, but he’d lost control of the car by then and had been knocked out when he’d crashed. Thank god no one else had been hurt, at least.

But what had it been, that darkness?

The hospital only managed to contact Owen the next day, by which time the staff had thoroughly failed to endear themselves to Ianto by waking him up every hour to ask him his name, the date and who the Queen was. By the time Owen was contacted and got to the hospital, Ianto was in a rather grouchy mood, and inclined to view even Owen’s uninspiring form with a good deal of happiness. Once Owen had been through every test and observation the hospital doctors had made, Ianto was finally allowed out, against the staff’s better judgement. Still, much as Owen’s bedside manner left something to be desired, Ianto thought he’d much rather have Owen patching him up than anyone else.

Owen drove Ianto back to his house with strict instructions about what he was and wasn’t allowed to do, in between muttered imprecations about people who couldn’t bloody well be trusted on the roads. He only stopped when he parked the car and got out.

“What happened with the others?” Ianto asked, seizing the opportunity. Owen gave him a distinctly unfriendly look, but allowed the change of topic.

“The murdered bloke wasn’t dead,” Owen summarised. “Turns out it was an alien playing possum. The coroner’s just lucky the alien decided he didn’t smell good, or he’d have been the meal instead of Jack.”

“Jack?” Ianto asked, his heart skipping in an alarming fashion.

“The alien got him in the throat,” Owen told him. “Broke his neck; must’ve died straight off.” He gave Ianto a measuring look. “Wouldn’t have hurt.”

“It hurts him coming back,” Ianto pointed out quietly. Owen shrugged, stepping back to allow Ianto to open his door.

“Yeah, those bloody headaches he gets,” he grumbled. Ianto didn’t correct him. “Nothing works on those. Nice place.”

“Thanks,” Ianto replied mechanically. “Want some coffee or anything?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Owen said briskly. “Get your skinny arse in bed and for crying out loud, don’t come into work until that arm’s healed. Doctor’s orders.”

“Of course,” Ianto sighed, then froze. “Owen - by any chance, did you notice when it was that Jack died?”

“Eh?” Owen frowned in thought. “When did we get that call?”

“Three thirty,” Ianto supplied. “You’d left by three forty.”

“And it took round about forty minutes to get there,” Owen said. “And maybe half an hour going through the scene, and ten minutes after we were inspecting the body, and that’s when Jack got it.”

Ianto hid the wince. “So, about five then,” he supplied, a distinct sense of uneasiness creeping up on him. When had he blacked out, exactly?

“Sounds about right,” Owen shrugged. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Ianto said. “Did it take him long, coming back?”

“Nah, couple of minutes was all,” Owen said dismissively. “I’ll send him round later, tea-boy, just get in bed now.”

“All right,” Ianto said agreeably. “The others are all right too, aren’t they? Tosh and Gwen?”

“You’re the worst off, and you weren’t even there,” Owen said, disgruntled. “Jack’s been going spare since we realised you were missing.”

Ianto couldn’t even muster up any emotion at the thought. “Right. Well. Tell him I’ll likely be asleep, but he can come around if he likes.”

Owen nodded, for once not making any snide comments about Ianto and Jack’s relationship. “Will do. Bed, tea-boy!”

Ianto politely refrained from asking Owen if there was any particular reason the doctor was so intent on getting Ianto into bed. Instead, he let Owen out, locked up, and then went into his bedroom to collapse.

He remembered glancing at his watch while waiting at a traffic light. Four forty-seven, it had said, and then he’d had smooth sailing through the roads for the next five or so minutes, at his best guess. And then his blackout had hit and he’d gone off the road and into a barrier.

At just about five.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I’m not a bloody invalid, Jack,” Ianto insisted, watching resignedly as Jack set the tray on his bedside table.

“You were in a car accident,” Jack said. “Your car was completely destroyed. You are not getting out of that bed, even for lunch.”

“Most of that destruction was from the rescue workers,” Ianto grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. He’d been on bed-rest the entire day thanks to Owen and Jack’s combined efforts, and he was already going insane.

Jack silently sat down next to Ianto, picking up the plate as he did so.

“Oh, you’re not bloody feeding me,” Ianto groaned.

“Say ‘ah,’” Jack said flatly. Ianto closed his eyes and leaned back in complete exasperation.

“Jack?” Ianto said once he thought he had himself somewhat under control. “I appreciate this, but it’s really not making me feel too good about myself.”

That seemed to do the trick. Jack dropped the plate back on the tray as if it was scalding him, then sat there looking thoroughly miserable.

“Could do with you holding me though,” Ianto added softly.

Jack’s movements were oddly uncertain as he moved up the bed, carefully folding Ianto in his grasp. At Ianto’s instruction, he reached over, placing the plate on Ianto’s lap. Lunch was a simple sandwich with some chips on the side, and though it was awkward eating with only one hand, Ianto managed to polish it off without any help.

Watching his lover eat seemed to restore some of Jack’s equilibrium. Ianto could only imagine how he’d felt over the past day or so. To come back from a bad job to find out that his lover was missing, then to discover that he’d been in an accident and was in hospital, and finally to realise that he couldn’t simply drop everything and rush over. Because he was the team leader and he needed to ensure everything had been taken care of from their latest job. Needed to make sure the world was safe, even at the expense of taking care of his lover.

Even if Ianto had been the one actually involved in the car crash, it had also hit Jack hard. Ianto rather suspected that the reminder of his mortality wasn’t welcome, either.

“How long can you stay?” Ianto asked once he’d finished his meal. Jack had replaced the plate on the tray, but didn’t seem in any hurry to move away from Ianto.

“Long as I can,” Jack sighed into Ianto’s hair.

“Good,” Ianto said. He hesitated, then added, “I wish you wouldn’t - die so often.”

Jack huffed a laugh. “It’s not like it’d take,” he reminded Ianto, sitting up a little to look the younger man in the eyes. “What’s this about?”

Ianto shrugged, avoiding Jack’s eyes. “Just - I know it hurts you coming back,” he said carefully. “And the dying itself too, of course. I don’t like to think of that.”

Jack bussed the side of Ianto’s head gently. “Can’t be helped sometimes,” he murmured. “But I’ll be careful, so long as you promise me the same.”

“Always,” Ianto replied, curling up against Jack’s side.

“You know, you never did tell me what caused the accident,” Jack said, petting Ianto’s hair.

Ianto sighed minutely. He’d been hoping to avoid this particular conversation for a while yet, but Jack had apparently grown tired of the evasions. “I blacked out,” he said frankly, unsurprised when Jack’s hand stilled in his hair.

“Did you tell Owen?” Jack asked in a voice so even it was obvious he was battling emotion.

“Nope,” Ianto said, and before Jack could say anything, he added, “I don’t think it was medical.”

“Then…” Jack’s voice trailed off expectantly.

Ianto hid his face in Jack’s shirt, wrapped his good arm and legs around Jack firmly, then said, “I think it was when you died.”

Jack’s entire body convulsed once, but Ianto held on with grim determination, refusing to let his lover move away. “Yan, let go,” Jack said thickly, obviously wanting out of the bed but unwilling to hurt Ianto by breaking loose.

“Nope,” Ianto replied calmly. “Not until you realise it’s not your fault.”

“It is!” The words burst from Jack’s lips seemingly of their own volition, and with a great deal more vehemence than Ianto had expected.

“Nope,” Ianto repeated, and pressed a kiss to Jack’s chest. The small gesture seemed to take the fight out of Jack, and he went limp in Ianto’s hold. Ianto didn’t relax his grip though, not quite trusting his wily lover to not be faking.

It’s because of this, isn’t it, Jack said.

Possibly, Ianto acknowledged. I don’t think either of us was expecting it. It was just bad luck it happened when I was on the road. I think I was only out a couple of seconds. If I’d been at home or in the Hub it wouldn’t have been a problem.

It’s my fault, Jack said, even the flavour of his mind-voice becoming completely dull.

And I’m telling you it’s not. If anything, it’s the fault of whatever it is that made you immortal.

She didn’t know what she was doing. Jack insisted immediately.

And neither did you, Ianto reminded him. Or did you deliberately link our minds knowing I’d feel your death?

No!

There we go, Ianto said, radiating smugness. Jack was evidently still upset, but willing to let the matter of blame go for the time being.

“We have to figure out a way to undo this,” he murmured regretfully.

Don’t want to, Ianto pouted.

“I’m not letting this happen again, Yan,” Jack said firmly. “What if it’s in the middle of a fight next time?”

Let’s talk to Callista first, Ianto suggested. She might have some ideas on how to control this. She seemed to think it was something other than a simple mental link, didn’t she?

Yes, but - Jack stopped, then continued out loud. “She’s not human, and she herself said whatever this is, it’s not supposed to be possible with humans.”

“Neither is a ninety-eight percent score on the TERSE,” Ianto pointed out. “Have you ever noticed that most telepathic creatures have excellent recall?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, shrugging. “More used to brain gymnastics, I guess. Why?”

“Chicken or egg, Jack,” Ianto said, and tilted his head up to watch the look on Jack’s face as he puzzled that out. It didn’t take long.

“Ah. So you think that’s why?”

“It’s as reasonable an explanation as any,” Ianto said, snuggling back into Jack’s chest.

“That doesn’t solve this - thing,” Jack said.

“It doesn’t,” Ianto agreed. “But Callista might at least give us something to work with.” I don’t want to lose this, Jack. Do you?

No, Jack responded immediately. But if it’s a choice between losing a mental link and losing you…

Eventually, Ianto said, his mind-voice coloured with melancholy. But not for a while yet, I hope.

Jack’s mind twined through his sadly. Me too.

Ianto stared at Misty. Misty stared back as well as a featureless cloud could.

“What’s wrong, girl?” he asked softly. She seemed to droop slightly. She’d been a dull grey for the past few weeks, and nothing Ianto did or said seemed to be making her feel better. To top things off, she’d been refusing to tell him why she seemed depressed, so there really was nothing he could do.

Ianto sighed and reached out to trace a hand along the outer edges of the cloud, feeling the coolness under his skin. The grey had been darkening steadily, and she was hovering on the edge of being black now. “Well, if you’d like to tell me,” he murmured. “I’m going back to work today, so…” He waited, but she didn’t offer any response. “You’re welcome to come, if you’d like. Or I’ll see you at home when I get back.”

She floated to the door with him and bumped his cheek, sending affectionexhaustionloveregret cascading through him. He looked at her uncertainly, and got a prod forward.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and she bobbed tiredly.

Owen’s check-up distracted him somewhat, but the day was otherwise quiet, which left Ianto with plenty of time to worry about Misty. He hadn’t liked the feeling of tiredness that had been radiating off her, and an unpleasant possibility had been slowly weaving its way into his mind.

Jack? he asked tentatively.

Give me a minute, sweetheart, Jack said distractedly. Ianto brushed Jack’s senses, feeling Jack pull him in willingly to share his eyes and ears. He was briefing the others on a new security protocol, once which Ianto had helped design and was therefore already familiar with. Ianto listened idly as he filed the completed folders back in place, working much slower than usual since he only had one hand free.

Remember to give them the codes, Ianto prompted when Jack started wondering if there was anything else he had to say.

Knew I forgot something, Jack laughed, and did so, then dismissed the team. Okay, done. Need me down there for anything?

I was just wondering what you know about the Vixmextis? Ianto asked, cutting the sensory connection carefully.

Misty? Jack asked curiously. Not too much, and I’ve already told you what I know. Why?

Any idea how long they live? Ianto asked hesitantly.

Oh. Jack seemed startled. Ah. Hm. Wait, this needs calculation. Their home world revolves every - god, what is it in Earth time? 73 meros means… 15? I think? And 671 would be… uh, 235. So. 15 hours to a day, 235 days to a year, and they live about fifteen years.

Ianto did some speedy mental calculations. Six years on Earth?

I can’t work out the numbers that fast!

Six years, Ianto insisted. So… if she was already an adult when she came through…

She’s been with us, what, almost a year? Jack asked.

Thereabouts, Ianto agreed.

Is she…?

She seems rather sluggish. And she’s a very dark grey now, almost black. It just doesn’t feel right, but she won’t explain anything to me.

Jack sighed and curled up around Ianto’s mind. Then it does sound like it.

Ianto tried to pull back, wishing he hadn’t been right. Jack seemed to have anticipated that though, and came with him, stubbornly holding on to Ianto’s mind. Ianto was abruptly reminded of the way he’d physically clung to Jack just a few days prior, refusing to let him back away from an uncomfortable situation.

Mind if I come over? Jack asked.

Door’s always open to you, Jack, you know that, Ianto replied, giving up on the idea of moving away. Instead, he burrowed up next to Jack’s mind, settling in comfortably as he continued to type one-handed.

Great. See you later then.

Ianto sent back a feeling of affirmation and they both returned to their work. Neither of them pulled back from their mental connection though. Ianto found Jack’s steady presence rather comforting.

Especially when they returned home to find the flat empty.

Part Ten