Fanfic - The Spirit of Torchwood 2/4 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]

[soera]

Part One

When Ianto first saw Eugene Jones trailing after Gwen like a lost puppy, he very nearly groaned out loud.

Instead, he averted his eyes and moved on, following Owen into the house. They let Gwen handle Mrs Jones, and when they could, promptly excused themselves to have a look around Eugene’s room.

“Ugh, hysterical women,” Owen grumbled.

“That’s what we’ve got Gwen for,” Ianto murmured.

Owen flashed him a quick grin. “Right, palm ‘em all off on her, eh?”

“Simply playing to her talents,” Ianto said solemnly. Eugene’s room was a shrine to all things alien, but Ianto could tell at a glance that the vast majority were fakes. Poor kid had had more enthusiasm than skill, and had probably been ripped off multiple times.

“Course we are,” Owen said, wandering over to the desk. He picked up a magazine and promptly knocked half the stack over.

“Shit,” Owen said.

Ianto tried not to watch as Eugene bent to pick up the fallen magazines, only to realise he couldn’t.

He did have to admit, it was kind of amusing watching Eugene’s sheer enthusiasm when he saw the Hub for the first time. He headed off to make a few phone calls, wondering if he should reveal his ability to Eugene or not. As a general rule, he never spoke to ghosts who were connected to people he knew, or ghosts who seemed like they might prove problematic. Eugene was just enthusiastic enough about the unknown that he might decide to stick around longer to find out exactly what Ianto was capable of.

It wasn’t something Ianto wanted to happen. At the very least, though, he could try and give Eugene and his mother some form of closure.

He noted the information he’d just gleaned from the police scanners, and looked up just in time to see Eugene collapse in a dead faint. His lips twitched.

“What happened?” Damien asked curiously.

“Fainted,” Ianto whispered. “Guess he didn’t want to see his own autopsy done.”

“Who would?” Damien asked.

“I suspect Nain would have laughed through the whole thing,” Ianto muttered. He raised his voice as he drew closer, explaining that he’d just found out a drunk driver had hit Eugene. Gwen didn’t look happy, but it wasn’t his problem anymore.

Ianto returned to his workstation, careful not to step on Eugene’s body.

“Back up,” Ianto said tensely. “You saw Eugene.”

“We all did,” Toshiko said. “It was amazing.”

“The Eye’s all about retrospection,” Jack said. “I think it gave him enough energy to hang around for a while, enough to manifest when he needed to save Gwen.”

“I wish he hadn’t had to go,” Gwen said sadly.

“Oh, cheer up already,” Owen said. “He looked happy enough to go, didn’t he? Got to go out the hero. Probably better than he’s ever had in his life.”

Ianto glanced at his hands. They’d seen Eugene. There’d been an object capable of letting others see ghosts.

“So the Eye is what let you all see him?” he asked cautiously.

“Most likely,” Gwen said. “Wish you could’ve seen him, Ianto.”

Ianto’s lips quirked upwards briefly, but he couldn’t sustain the smile. “Mm.”

“Only works if the person uses it while still alive, though,” Jack said, watching Ianto closely. “The Eye’s meant for living people, to see what their lives have been like so far. It was just bad luck for Eugene he got killed right after he swallowed it.”

Ianto nodded absently. “I know.”

Jack frowned. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Ianto said, getting up. “Excuse me. I should be getting back to work now.”

He could feel Jack’s eyes lingering on him as he left.

“Think Jack suspects anything?” he asked Damien. Camilla wandered into the room and climbed up onto his lap, making herself comfortable. Her thumb automatically went to her mouth, and he just as automatically pulled it out.

“Probably only that you’re interested in the Eye,” Damien said. “And right after he’s seen what Suzie did with the Glove, that probably won’t sit well with him.”

“It wouldn’t work anyway,” Ianto said, looking out the window. “Not the way it does for me.”

“Nope,” Damien said. “Besides, would you want everyone to be able to see us?”

Ianto looked down at Camilla. “Can we watch telly now?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure, honey,” he said, reaching for the remote control. He flicked through the channels until he found a cartoon. Camilla wriggled in glee.

“Ianto?” Damien pressed.

“No,” Ianto finally replied in a whisper.

Jack took to watching him at odd hours through the day. Ianto didn’t mind, realising that Jack was just nervous about another member of his team getting obsessive about an alien artefact. But having turned the incident over numerous times - and discussed it with Damien, Corinne and Millie - he was convinced it simply wouldn’t do what he thought it might.

All the same, he was rather curious about it. If he planned on approaching Jack about studying it however, he’d have to be careful.

“Sir?” Ianto asked, hovering in the doorway.

“’Lo, Ianto,” Jack said, casually reaching out and turning off a monitor on his desk. Ianto suspected Jack had been watching him down in the archives.

“I suppose you know why I’m here,” Ianto said with a smile.

“The Eye?” Jack asked, arching an eyebrow.

“One and the same,” Ianto said. “I don’t know how to reassure you about why I’d like to study it, though.”

“Why don’t you try and explain why it’s so important to you?” Jack asked, gesturing at the extra chair next to his table.

Ianto sat down, using the time to collect his thoughts. “It’s not so much the Eye itself,” he admitted. “I suppose it’s more of - the paranormal that I’m interested in.”

“Ghosts?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. “You really believe in that?”

“Hard not to,” Damien said.

“Don’t know,” Ianto said. “I’d like to be able to find out. Back in Torchwood One, my pet field - not that I got much time to myself to research it properly - anyway, my pet field was the paranormal. There’s a lot of information about psychics, telekinetics, telepaths, that sort of thing, but nothing dealing with actual paranormal activity.”

“So you decided to have a look into that?” Jack asked.

“I thought it was a highly untapped field,” Ianto said. “Things like telekinesis, for instance. The general populace would say it’s all a hoax, but we’ve got documented proof of it. So I started wondering, all these supposed ghost sightings and haunted places and all that, what if there was actually an explanation for that besides a few too many pints?”

Jack grinned. “That’s the usual cause,” he said.

“I don’t doubt it,” Ianto replied with a smile. “Truth be told, I’d more or less given up on the whole idea. But then you came along and told me that there was something that enabled you to see a ghost. I know it’s a one-in-a-million series of coincidences that led to you seeing Eugene, but I got to thinking, what if something about the energies of the Eye allowed that? Something that could be reproduced?”

“I think I get it,” Jack said. “You want to see if there’s any connection between that, and supposed ghost sightings.”

“Right,” Ianto said. “If there’s a chance that some people did actually see ghosts because of another series of favourable coincidences - if there’s some kind of energy they or the ghosts were inadvertently tapping into - I’d love to find out.”

Jack leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “Sounds all right to me,” he said, then made a face. “I’m just not sure…”

“I’m sure Suzie’s proposal sounded all right at first, too,” Ianto said wryly. “Look, I understand you might not want me to take on a personal project like this, after that. If you say no, I won’t press it.”

Jack blew out a heavy sigh. “No. No, I won’t do that. You can have the Eye to experiment with. But I want you to give me regular updates, okay?”

“Every week do all right?” Ianto asked.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “And if you get any major results, I want to hear about it straightaway.”

“Certainly,” Ianto said, smiling widely. “Thank you, sir.”

Jack beamed back. “You’re very welcome,” he replied.

Ianto thought that there was a tinge of tiredness about Jack’s eyes. It disturbed him for some reason he couldn’t fathom.

“This time,” Ianto pronounced, “when I say it’s my job, you can’t argue.”

Jack grinned at him. “Well, you do my job often enough for me. Consider this me repaying the favour.”

Ianto gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“John reminds me of me, in some ways,” Jack admitted. “I want to get him settled, see if -”

“All right,” Ianto interrupted. “And Diane and Emma?”

Jack shrugged. “Well, if I’m taking John, I can hardly stop those two, can I?” he asked wryly.

Ianto smiled. “If that’s the case, I expect you all to take full responsibility for your charges,” he said. “At least this gets me out of bringing them shopping.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Jack asked.

“It’s almost Christmas,” Ianto pointed out.

It was almost worth having his usual job usurped, to see the look on Jack’s face.

John Ellis committed suicide. Most successful suicides didn’t stay long. Given those two facts, Ianto was rather surprised to see John following Jack around, looking vaguely bemused.

“He killed himself in your car,” Jack explained. “I couldn’t stop him.” He closed his eyes, sagging in his chair. “Sorry. Take it out of Torchwood accounts if you’re getting a new car.”

Ianto patted Jack’s shoulder gently. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the pantry. If you need anything, I’ll be in the archives.”

“Aren’t you leaving?” Jack asked, peering up at Ianto blearily. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Nothing to go back to,” Ianto said, shrugging. “I’d rather get some work done.”

“All right,” Jack said, turning his head slightly so that his cheek brushed the back of Ianto’s hand. Ianto let the warm brush of skin linger for a few brief moments, before slowly sliding his hand away.

“Archives,” Ianto said pointedly. “For anything.”

Jack smiled at him, closing his eyes again. “Thanks.”

Ianto quietly stepped to the door, snagging John’s sleeve along the way and pulling a very surprised ghost out with him.

“How are you doing this?” John gasped.

Once out of sight of Jack’s office, Ianto let go. “Not here,” he whispered. “Follow me.”

The bewildered ghost trailed in his wake as he headed for the archives, then turned to a side passage that wasn’t well-used. He didn’t want to chance Jack looking for him on the security cameras and finding him talking to seeming thin air. Ianto pulled out one of the foldable chairs placed all throughout the archives and nodded for John to sit down, then leaned against the wall.

“Before you ask me anything,” Ianto said. “Let me give you the summarised version. I can see ghosts. I don’t know why. I’ve had this ability since I was a child. For some reason, other ghosts can’t see each other. Yes, there are a few others here, but they can’t see you either. Yes, I can interact with all of you. No, no one else knows because I don’t fancy being an experiment for some curious scientist. Any questions?”

“I think you’ve just about answered them,” John said slowly.

“All right,” Ianto said. “Now I have a question for you. Why are you still here?”

“What do you mean?” John asked defensively.

“You killed yourself,” Ianto said pointedly. “Why are you still hanging around here instead of moving on? Don’t try to tell me you can’t feel the pull forward. I know all of you feel it.”

John pursed his lips. “I wanted some answers,” he said. “About that Captain of yours, and why he didn’t die.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“He was in that car with me,” John said. “We both died. I woke up to see my own body laying there. And then he woke up.”

Ianto frowned. “I presume you don’t mean his ghost.”

“No,” John said, shaking his head. “I mean, he suddenly gasped for breath and came back to life.”

“Maybe he wasn’t dead,” Ianto said evenly. “He wasn’t in there as long as you were, correct?”

“Well, yes, but long enough for me to die,” John protested. “And he said he’d died once.”

Ianto sighed. “You can’t always take him literally. And death plays funny tricks on you, Mr Ellis,” he said gently. “Often, you don’t measure time accurately. What seems like an hour to you could have actually been a minute, or the other way around. Does Jack seem dead to you?”

John looked away.

“Exactly,” Ianto said. “He still seems very tired and sleepy, so I have no doubt that he did inhale some carbon monoxide. But it wasn’t enough to kill him, and once he got out, he started recovering.”

“I don’t know,” John said. “I just don’t know. He said he was out of his time too, you know, that he was born in my future and lived in my past. It seems far too odd.”

Ianto shook his head. “Be that as it may,” he said, voice hardening. “You hardly have any right to be voyeuristically looking over Jack’s shoulder.”

“I’m not -” John began indignantly.

“Your suicide did kill Jack,” Ianto interrupted. “He saw himself in you, you know. And knowing he couldn’t give you enough reason to adapt to a new life, that’s killed him. It’s still killing him. And you did it deliberately, knowing how desperate he was for you to live. Did you even think how he might feel? Did you care, or were you too focused only on yourself?”

“Ianto,” Damien said in alarm.

“I didn’t intend to hurt him,” John said angrily. “You have no idea what it’s like for me. My son - my own son -”

“I know,” Ianto said. “You’ve made your choice. So why spend any more time here? Because of some desire to know Jack better? You lost that right the moment you killed yourself.”

A beat of silence.

“Move on, Mr Ellis,” Ianto said in a low voice. “Or I will make you go on, and you might not like where I choose to send you.”

John’s eyes snapped to him, something like fear in them. A few moments later, he began to glow, then vanished. Ianto glared at the empty space for a moment longer, then sagged back in his chair.

“You can’t make us go if we don’t want to,” Corinne said in amusement.

“Good thing he didn’t know that,” Ianto said, closing his eyes.

“Pretty angry, weren’t you?” Damien asked, taking the seat John had just vacated.

“Did you see Jack?” Ianto asked. “Of course I was angry!”

“You really do have a thing for him, don’t you?” Corinne asked. Ianto ignored her with an ease born of practice.

“What John said,” Damien said. “You lied well enough, but you know as well as I do that there’s something odd about his story.”

“Jack can’t have died,” Ianto said, staring up at the ceiling. “He’s alive and well in his office right now.”

“That’s the odd part,” Damien said dryly.

Ianto shook his head. “Millie?” he asked. “What do you think of John’s story about Jack?”

“Suspicious,” she said promptly. “Definitely something weird going on there. If John was alive when Jack got there, and Jack stayed at least until John died, there’s no way he’d have been able to get out of the car alive. He’d be too weak by then.”

Ianto nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “Should I ask him?”

Millie shook her head. “I don’t think he’d tell you,” she said. “I could keep an eye out,” she said hesitantly. “Not follow him home or anything, but if he’s out on a call, that sort of thing?”

Ianto nodded. “Just don’t intrude on his privacy,” he said. He turned to Damien. “Millie’s going to have a look around,” he said, finally pushing away from the wall. “And I’d best get back to my workstation, in case Jack does show up.”

“Give him a Christmas snog!” Corinne yelled after him.

“He died, okay?” Millie said, half-hysterically. “That Weevil went straight for his throat, and he died, he was dead, his neck was ripped out, nothing’s surviving that even with immediate medical attention, okay? Weevil takes off, I’m trying to decide whether to come back and get you or not, ‘cause, well, he’s dead, no two ways about it, and then he lets out this huge gasp, flails around a bit and gets back up.”

“But he was dead,” Ianto said numbly.

“Who was?” Camilla asked in a tiny voice.

Ianto glanced over at where the little girl was standing in the doorway. “It’s nothing important, honey,” he said reassuringly. “Why don’t you go play in the living room for a bit, okay? I’ve got to talk to Aunt Millie here.”

“Okay,” Camilla said uncertainly, and padded off. When Ianto looked back at Millie, she appeared marginally calmer. He briefly summarised what Millie had just recounted to Damien and Corinne, who were both positively fidgeting with impatience.

“He was definitely dead,” Millie said. “I saw the injury up close. His neck was shredded. Took my eyes off him for a few, looking to see where the Weevil went, turned back when I heard the gasping. And the wound was gone, just - completely. Looked like he’d never met a Weevil at all, except for the blood on his shirt.”

“Okay,” Ianto said, taking a deep breath. “So he was definitely dead, but…”

“He came back to life,” Corinne supplied helpfully. “Just like -”

“Any comments about Lazarus or Jesus and I will hurt you,” Ianto told her flatly. She grinned and backed off, miming zipping her lips shut. “He came back to life,” he confirmed with Millie, who nodded vehemently.

“Not exactly normal behaviour for humans,” Damien observed mildly.

“No, not quite,” Ianto agreed, suddenly calm. “But never mind. We’ll leave it be, all right? If he really is capable of coming back from death, I can understand why he’d want to keep it hidden.”

“Scientists,” Corinne said thoughtfully. “Yeah, probably safest not to poke that hornet’s nest.”

“So we leave him be?” Millie asked almost simultaneously, sounding disappointed.

“Please,” Ianto said, meeting her eyes. “Clearly, he doesn’t want anyone to know. I want to respect that.”

Millie held his gaze for a few long moments, then sighed and nodded. “Fine,” she said. Her next few words were lost to Ianto when Damien spoke up.

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” he said.

“Wonder what?” Ianto asked.

“How long he’s been around,” Damien said.

Ianto suddenly felt cold.

He did some research after that. Jack had covered his tracks well, but a little determined digging unearthed a few records in the old archives that he’d missed. There was nothing in the electronic database; just the paper records, which explained why they’d gone undetected so long. Not many people ventured down into the old archives.

The records didn’t, however, prove that Jack had been around at least since the earliest of them - 1926. Perhaps he’d done a little time-travelling himself, perhaps the rumours about him travelling with the Doctor weren’t just rumours. Or maybe the records were true. There was just no way of knowing.

At least, not until Ianto found Emily Holroyd’s scientific journal, carefully preserved in an alien lock/preservation-box.

The problem with trusting Owen not to do something stupid, Ianto reflected, was that his usual good sense generally deserted him when he was emotional.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he whispered, as lights flashed and the Rift slowly opened. “Oh, bloody, buggering hell.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Damien murmured.

“Sorry, Ianto,” Adrian said, upset. “If I’d been a bit faster getting you, you might’ve been able to stop him.”

Ianto discreetly brushed his hand against Adrian’s. His voice, when he spoke, was nearly lost in the cacophony. “It’s all right,” he told the ex-field agent. “I wasn’t expecting this either.”

He stepped forward, knowing that there was nothing further he could do to mend what Owen had done. “Is it worth it?” he shouted over the noise. “Potentially destroying the world on the off-chance you might get Diane back, is it worth it?”

“Bugger off, tea-boy!” Owen yelled back. “What would you know about it?”

Ianto thought of the look in Lisa’s eyes, just before she’d moved on. “Enough,” he retorted. “D’you think you know anything about me to say I don’t?”

Owen glared, but didn’t respond. Ianto shook his head, then hurried over to Toshiko’s station, checking the information displayed there.

When Gwen called in to say that Jack and Toshiko had returned safely, any relief Ianto felt was far overshadowed by the ominous readings he’d just seen.

“The calm before the storm,” Jack said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a few cautious steps into the archives.

“No doubt about it,” Ianto said, shelving a file. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise what Owen was up to.”

“It’s all right,” Jack assured him. “You’re not a mind-reader. Owen should have known better.”

“He gets… emotional, sometimes,” Ianto said carefully. Despite Owen’s acerbic personality, he was rather fond of the doctor. That didn’t mean he was happy about what he’d done, though, and Ianto knew that Jack was feeling even more annoyed than him.

“Diane hit him hard,” Jack acknowledged. “He’s not had the best life, and Diane’s the first really good thing to happen to him in a while.”

“I know,” Ianto said.

“He tell you anything?” Jack asked slowly.

“Not intentionally,” Ianto said. “I brought him back to his place, he had a bit much to drink. Talked about his family. His mother.”

“Ah,” Jack said. “Well.”

Ianto shrugged. “If it had been me with Diane,” he said, “given my own family, and after what happened with Lisa, I don’t know that I’d have been any stronger. I don’t feel right judging him on that.”

Jack tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think you would have. But I’d be more inclined to cut him a break if he was at all sorry for what he did.”

Ianto hid a grimace. Owen had been thoroughly unapologetic, going to far as to get in a screaming fight with Jack as he defended his actions that day. It hadn’t been a pleasant sight, especially when Owen turned on Toshiko as she tried to defuse the situation. In the end, Ianto had quietly asked Gwen to take care of Jack, then taken Owen’s arm and bodily steered him out of the Hub.

Owen had been spitting invectives for half the ride back to his place. The other half had been spent in complete silence. When they’d arrived, Owen had headed straight for the whiskey. Ianto had planned to leave after depositing Owen at home, but seeing the determined way Owen was chugging down the alcohol, he’d changed his mind.

If Owen decided to do anything stupid, Ianto fully intended on stopping him.

Thankfully, Owen had turned out to be a chatty drunk. He’d told Ianto probably more than he’d otherwise have wanted to about his life. Then he’d quietly passed out. Ianto had put him to bed and let himself out, feeling drained.

After hearing all that Owen had had to say, he just couldn’t sustain any anger against him. He still thought that Owen shouldn’t have done what he did, but he’d forgiven him.

Jack clearly hadn’t.

“It’s Owen,” Ianto said. “You know he gets defensive when he knows he’s wrong. And…”

Jack sighed. “You don’t get much more defensive than he was today,” he said. “Not without things turning violent.” He looked away, staring hard at nothing in particular.

Ianto patiently continued to organise his work on the shelves. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have time to get much work done over the next few days.

“The last time the Rift was opened,” Jack said quietly, “some very unfriendly things tried to come through. A young girl sacrificed her life to seal it again.” He took a seat at Ianto’s desk, folding his hands in front of him. “I don’t think the incident’s recorded anywhere. I found out by word of mouth about what had happened. Apparently, there was no other way to stop them, but for that girl to give up her life.”

Ianto set the last file into place and turned. “You’re afraid the same thing will happen here.”

“The really eerie thing,” Jack said, “is that that girl, Gwyneth, she looked exactly like Gwen does.”

“Relative?” Ianto asked.

Jack laughed. “No,” he said. “Definitely not. I can’t help but worry though. I don’t want history to repeat itself.”

Ianto nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on Gwen, sir,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll protect her as best I can.”

Jack didn’t smile back. “At the cost of your life?” he asked, and Ianto nodded again without hesitation. He wasn’t overly concerned about it. He knew Gwen was important to Jack, and to keep Jack happy, he’d do whatever was necessary. Besides, he had a better idea than most about what came after death. The idea didn’t scare him at all.

“That’s not any better,” Jack said, standing up and coming up to Ianto. “Losing you isn’t an option either.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow.

“Not an option, Ianto Jones,” Jack repeated, giving him a ghost of a smile. “You keep yourself alive, or I’m going to be very unhappy.”

Ianto considered that for a moment. “All right,” he said, feeling an unaccountable flush start to creep up his neck. “But what if it’s the same as last time, if something tries to come through and it takes a sacrifice of that magnitude to stop it?”

Jack shrugged. “If it wants a life,” he said, turning and heading towards the exit. “I guess I’ll have to give it one.”

The world went to hell.

And Owen decided to open the Rift again, with Gwen and Toshiko in full agreement this time.

“Not going to join them?” Jack asked bitterly. Ianto didn’t look away from Jack.

“We both know the full team’s needed to get past all the security,” he said placidly. Besides, Corinne, Millie and Adrian were keeping an eye on each of the others, ready to get Ianto if it seemed like they might manage a by-pass. “They won’t get far, even with Tosh.”

Jack’s eyes lost a little of their anger as he looked at Ianto. “You’re not joining them,” he said. “Didn’t you see anyone?”

Ianto nodded. “Lisa,” he said. “My own little apparition.”

“Obviously not her,” Damien snorted.

“Of all of you,” Jack said, “that’s the one reason I could have understood. Trying to get back someone you lost through no fault of yours.”

“I think,” Ianto said carefully, “that Lisa was happy to go on. The Lisa I knew would have never wanted to hurt anyone, and I think there was enough of her left to realise that that was what would happen. She was prepared to die, that’s what I think, and she was happy to go when things came to what they did.”

“Doesn’t help if the others think that -” Jack started, then cut himself off, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Focus,” Damien said. “Do we have any other options?”

“The thing is, sir, what else can we do?” Ianto asked.

“What do you mean?” Jack said.

“The theory is sound,” Ianto said. “Right now, the Rift energy’s building up behind the fault line, forcing hairline fractures all through time-space, radiating over Earth. If the Rift is opened, that excess energy is all released at once, stopping the leakage everywhere else.”

“And Cardiff gets the worst of it,” Jack said. “Whatever is hiding in there, it’ll appear here in Cardiff.”

“It will,” Ianto agreed calmly. “And if we can’t stop it here, then there’s no telling if it won’t spread across the world anyway.”

“So we can’t -” Jack began.

“But if we don’t stop the build-up of energy,” Ianto interrupted, “eventually something’s going to give and the Rift energy will explode out across the entire world, and whatever’s lurking in there will escape anyway.”

Jack took a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly.

“Either way, the world’s going to end,” Ianto said softly.

“It’s like with Jasmine,” Jack said, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes looked suspiciously glossy. “One girl for the world. One city for the world. Except this time I don’t have any guarantee it’ll work.”

“I don’t see that we have a choice, sir,” Ianto said frankly. “We have no other way of stopping the build-up. One way or another, whatever Manger is trying to release will get out. The least we can try and do is limit the damage solely to this region.”

Jack nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and then going completely still. Ianto watched him in slight amazement as Jack’s movements suddenly became sleek, silent silk. There was a hunter looking out of Jack’s eyes when he caught Ianto’s gaze.

“Let’s go,” Jack said. “I’ve got work to do.”

In the end, things went on much as Ianto and Jack had predicted it would. Abaddon was released, and it didn’t look like it was planning on stopping at just one life.

Jack met Ianto’s eyes for one heart-stopping moment, then glanced back at Gwen. “Just you,” he said.

Ianto licked his lips nervously as he watched Jack run off with Gwen. Millie and Adrian followed hot on their heels.

“Bugger it,” Owen said with heartfelt sincerity.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Ianto said.

“That’s my line,” Damien protested.

“Okay,” Toshiko said, as if trying to order her thoughts. “Should we get back to the Hub to monitor things?”

“You do that,” Ianto said. “See if you can’t get those news people out of the way. Divert them - and the police, if you can, they’ll just get themselves killed if they come too close. Let’s try and cut off traffic, gridlock the streets so fewer people get in the shadow. Clear streets away from it, block lanes towards it.”

“But how?” Toshiko demanded.

“Traffic lights,” Owen suggested. “Kill a few. Advisories on the radio, warning people away from an accident or something.”

“Chemical spill,” Ianto said. “If it’s not something that threatens them, they’ll probably drive by to gawk.”

“Let’s go, then,” Toshiko said hurriedly.

“You go on,” Ianto said. “Torchwood credentials have to be good for something. I’m going to see if I can’t get some of these people out of the way.”

“I’ll help,” Owen said immediately.

“All right,” Ianto said. “Tosh, keep in contact with us, let us know where we can go once you start blockading things.”

“Got it,” she said. She took off towards the Hub, while Owen and Ianto wheeled about in the opposite direction. They could hear confused yelling all around them. Without discussing it, they peeled off in different directions, towards the loudest screams.

“Off to save the world,” Damien observed.

Ianto was at the scene of a car crash caused by Abaddon’s appearance when the call came in. “Hey, Torchwood,” Jack’s voice crackled in his ear. “Open channel to all of you. I’m going to try something a bit crazy and a lot dumb. If Gwen shows up lugging me, listen to what she says to do with me, okay?” There was a beep as Jack hung up without letting anyone answer.

Ianto was just reaching up to try and contact Jack when his earpiece went off again. “What are you doing?” he asked in greeting.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Jack said, a laugh in his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back to you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Ianto lied, heaving a child into his arms and bringing him over to a paramedic standing by.

“I know,” Jack said. “Look, I just wanted to tell you, darling, I -”

“Jack?” Ianto prompted when Jack fell silent. He handed the whimpering child over, whispered a brief reassuring word, then headed back to help get the child’s mother out.

“Never mind,” Jack said abruptly. “Just - take care of yourself. Be safe.”

“I will,” Ianto said. “Please try and do the same.”

“Sure,” Jack said, laughing outright now. “I’ll come back.”

“I know,” Ianto said.

“Bye, now,” Jack said, and the line went dead.

“Damien,” Ianto said pleadingly.

“I don’t know,” Damien said softly.

Ianto swallowed the sob and returned to work.

Millie and Adrian explained what had happened. It didn’t make Ianto feel any better to know the truth, rather than Gwen’s insistent lies.

Ianto leaned against the table, looking at Jack’s still, cold body instead of the arguing trio behind him. Gwen was maintaining that Jack had told her he was going to try something - no details, of course - and that he might look dead for a time, but he wouldn’t be, that it might take him a while, but that he’d come around eventually.

Owen wasn’t buying it, and even Toshiko was just frustrated enough with the whole situation that she’d joined in the argument. Jack certainly looked dead. He had no pulse; he wasn’t breathing, and Owen hadn’t detected any brain activity in the minute he’d had Jack hooked up, before Gwen had ripped off the sensors.

“She knew,” Millie said. “She didn’t look surprised at all when he keeled over and died.”

Ianto gently brushed the back of his hand against Jack’s cheek. There wasn’t even any stubble on it.

Gwen had known. Jack had known she’d known, so he’d likely told her.

“Ianto, honey,” Corinne said gently, taking his hand. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

Ianto blinked hard, willing his eyes to clear. When he felt a little more in control of himself, he gave Corinne a tremulous smile.

“I know I like to tease you about it,” she said. “But you really do love him, don’t you?”

Ianto didn’t respond, but he did squeeze Corinne’s hand gently.

“We don’t know enough about his ability to predict when or if he’ll come back,” Damien mused. “Based on the little we’ve seen of it, it’s highly probable he will. The duration, though, that’s the problem.”

“Well, he’s not here now, so he’s not dead. What’s the longest he’s ever taken?” Ianto whispered, his voice easily lost in the noise. It sounded like Gwen was now accusing Owen of never caring about the impact his actions had on others.

“About four hours,” Millie supplied instantly. After the first time, she’d taken to following Jack around when he was out on any missions, and had witnessed multiple deaths. Ianto hadn’t liked hearing about any of them, but had listened anyway, trying to understand what it was Jack was going through.

“Four hours,” Ianto whispered, glancing at Damien out of the corner of his eye.

“But this Abaddon thing,” Damien said. “It was literally sucking the life energy out of him. All we’ve seen so far are injuries that healed quickly, and then him jolting back to life. This isn’t an injury like those, it’s… insidious. I’m thinking it’ll take far longer than usual. Maybe days.”

“A week?” Ianto murmured.

“Give it that,” Damien said. “It shouldn’t be that long, but…”

Better to err on the side of caution. Ianto reached down and unhooked a few safety catches. The stretcher came loose from the fixed attachments and he carefully wheeled it over to the recovery room by the side. It wasn’t often used, but it was still in good condition. Ianto hefted Jack out of the stretcher and into the small bed with some effort, then carefully arranged him so he was comfortable.

He hesitated for the briefest moment, then leaned in and gently brushed his lips across Jack’s.

Then he straightened up and briskly strode over to the lights, turning them down to the dimmest setting. He didn’t want Jack to wake up in complete darkness, but blindingly bright lights wouldn’t be pleasant either. Satisfied that Jack would be comfortable when he awoke, he closed the door behind him and looked back up at where the others were.

Amazingly, they were still arguing.

“Good lungs, between the lot of them,” Corinne observed.

Ianto observed them for a moment longer, then shrugged and headed up to Toshiko’s workstation. She’d cobbled together a few temporary fix-its for the damaged equipment, but it was obvious that they wouldn’t last too much longer. Carefully avoiding the patch-ups, Ianto began clearing away the debris and damaged equipment.

Twenty minutes later, he’d managed to clear off Toshiko’s workstation completely. He’d already cleared out the medical bay when Jack had been first brought in, so he went over to Gwen’s desk next. He was nearly halfway through organising it when the others finally noticed that Jack was missing.

“I put him in the recovery room,” Ianto said calmly, raising his voice just enough that they could hear him.

“You’re not buying this, are you?” Owen asked in disbelief.

“He’s not demonstrating the classic signs of a DB,” Ianto replied. “Rigor mortis and livor mortis are atypical - by which I mean that there’s not the slightest sign of either, six hours after Jack’s supposed death. You know as well as I do that that doesn’t make sense.”

“And the lack of heart and brain activity doesn’t tell you anything?” Owen asked in frustration.

“It tells me that there’s something peculiar going on here,” Ianto said. “If he starts to rot, we’ll presume he’s dead and put him in cryo. Until then, it doesn’t do any harm to wait and watch. We’ll give it a week to start with, and make any further decisions after that. Now, if you’re through arguing with each other, there’s a lot of work to be done in restoring the Hub.”

The trio glanced at each other guiltily.

“The sooner we’re done fixing things up here, the sooner we can start helping the city get back on its feet,” Ianto said pointedly. “And I rather think we owe it to them to help.”

After Gwen spent an entire day closeted in the recovery room, Ianto finally put his foot down and dragged her out. He could understand her guilt; even if she’d known Jack would come back, it still had to be difficult watching him walk to his death. He felt the same way, even if he’d been a lot further from Jack than she had been.

But the fact was that they couldn’t afford the reduced manpower, no matter how guilty any of them felt. Owen was working like he was on autopilot, but at least the medical bay was completely restored thanks to his efforts. Toshiko had managed to get all the monitoring equipment back up and running, and had set up a few programmes to automatically scan the city and make sure nothing serious was happening. In the meantime, she and Ianto buckled to, soldering wires and clearing debris and generally restoring the Hub to its normal condition. It was that hard manual labour that Gwen finally joined them in, on the second day.

“Do you really think he’ll come back?” Toshiko whispered.

“He’ll come back,” Gwen said with an unsteady smile.

“He will,” Ianto agreed, and Gwen glanced at him in pleased surprise at the unexpected support. “He’s been in the recovery room, no preservation of any sort, for nearly two days now, Tosh. If he was dead, we’d know it.”

“We’d smell it,” Owen called out from the medical bay.

“Exactly,” Ianto said. “So we’ll operate under the assumption that he’s not dead. And if so, there’s always a chance he can come out of whatever odd coma he’s in. We just have to hope that he knew what he was doing, and knows how to get out of it.”

“Well, it’s Jack,” Toshiko said with a sigh, shoving a computer into place. “He does always seem to come out of things fine.”

“Half the time he dies,” Damien commented. “Not quite what I’d call ‘fine.’”

Ianto tried hard not to grimace.

Part Three