[FIC] Holding to the Ground {Part Two} | Jack/Ianto (Hard R/NC-17)
TITLE: Holding to the Ground
AUTHOR: thescarletwoman
BETA(S): flyingtonowhere and halfspell
ARTIST: rotaryphones
CHARACTER(S): Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, the Doctor, Gwen Cooper, Various OCs. PAIRING: Jack/Ianto
RATING: Hard R/Bordering on NC-17
WORD COUNT: ~22,000
WARNINGS: character death (though brief), AU, Spoilers through Children of Earth
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood and Doctor Who belong to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended. Reference quotes come from Episode 1x01 'Everything Changes' and some ideas come from the musical RENT.
AUTHOR'S NOTE(S): This has been quite a wild ride -- and one I wasn't sure I'd see through to the end. But thank you to my wonderful friends who pushed me to see this through until the very end. And a special thank you to Cap -- who helped me find the voice of the Doctor when I needed it the most. Thank you to my wonderful betas, any remaining mistakes are mine.
SUMMARY: Jack has never dealt with grief well and this is no exception. Running away from all of his responsibilities, he leaves Gwen alone to try to rebuild the crumbling Torchwood. Jack travells the world until something pulls him back to Cardiff -- to discover something he never thought possible. The only problem is he needs the Doctor's help, and who knows when he'll return again?
LINK TO FIC: Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Home but not home.
Cold but not cold.
Dead but not dead.
Confused.
Need answers.
None there.
***
It was strange being back in Cardiff after so many months of travel. His first stop had been at a military supply store, replacing his tattered greatcoat with a similar model. Bless the surplus stores and their stock (though limited) of 1940s RAF greatcoats. Having his coat back and in pristine condition went a long way toward making Jack feel like himself again.
If he hadn't been the result of the crater in the centre of the Plass, Jack never would have known an explosion had rocked Cardiff to its very core. The Plass looked as it once did: flagstones in place and the water tower stood proudly, both identifying and hiding the Hub from view. Jack knew the Hub (no longer his Hub, just the Hub) had long-since been rebuilt -- he had seen all of Gwen's messages, even if he refused to respond to a single one. Jack knew he never should have returned to Cardiff in the first place, no matter how his body yearned to return to familiar soil. If he turned his back on the Hub now, Jack was certain Gwen would see it and read his action as a final abandonment. The Gwen he knew would have already reinstalled the CCTV cameras that kept watch over the Roald Dahl Plass so he knew she'd see him leave.
And yet... Jack knew he couldn't walk away. As much as he wanted to say 'fuck you' to Torchwood, a century of service ingrained a sense of duty into Jack.
Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his greatcoat, Jack bent his head against the wind and marched towards the lift, pausing just before his foot touched the flagstone. The woman who was walking behind consequently slammed into Jack when he stopped abruptly, showed her displeasure by cursing at Jack in Welsh.
"I might not speak it, but I think I can guess what you said," Jack muttered under his breath.
Really, she should have been thanking him. At least -- she should have under normal circumstances. Only belatedly did Jack realise he had no way of activating the lift and if he could there was no perception filter to hide the gaping hole. Jack was suddenly struck by a memory standing out so stark and clear in his mind's eye it actually brought a smile to Jack's face.
"How does it work?"
"No idea. We know how to use it, not how it happens, but if I were to guess, I would say that there was once a dimensionally transcendental chameleon circuit placed right on this spot which welded its perception properties to a spacio-temporal rift. But that sounds kinda ridiculous. Invisible lift has got more of a ring to it, don't'cha think?"
"But hold on, if no one can see it when the lift's coming up, there's a bloody big hole in the floor, don't people fall in?"
"That is so Welsh."
"What is?"
"I show you something fantastic. You find fault."
The lack of a lift meant only one thing -- Jack was going to have to go in through the front door. His head turned, eyes following the path he knew led to the Tourist Office and shuddered. There were only two entrances to the Hub: his lift or through Ianto's office. To be quite honest, Jack didn't want to have anything to do with the 'front' business of Torchwood and didn't fancy entering without seeing the smiling face of the Welshman behind the desk. However, there was no other entrance. Fuck.
Jack gritted his jaw, withdrew his hands long enough to turn his collar up against the cold wind and began the slow march to the Tourist Office. Small memories pricked at the back of his mind and while he tried to keep them at bay, they began to come unbridled. Memories of the team going out for drinks (or in Jack's case, water), Ianto harassing him and pushing him into hiring him with bribes of coffee, Weevil hunting and returning to the Hub bruises and worse for wear, falling into bed with Ianto and needing the solace they could afford one another.
Things that would never again occur.
Jack opened the door to the Tourist Office, surprised to find it unlocked. Boxes littered the floor of the office and Jack wondered if they were the remnants of orders Ianto had filled or if someone was thinking of taking it over. The shop itself was dusty, Jack's boots kicking up small clouds as he walked, adding to the trail of footprints on the floor. He almost smiled -- almost -- thinking how Ianto would have rolled over in his grave seeing the state of disrepair in the office. Even as Ianto's job had morphed over the years, moving from 'butler' to 'general support' to 'lover' to 'full-fledged operative', Ianto had never once shirked when it came to the duties he originally bargained for when Jack hired him. Of course, the thought of Ianto rolling in his grave made Jack's stomach turn.
And Ianto had wondered if Jack would still remember him in years. What a silly, silly thought, Mr Jones. The question was: would Jack ever be able to forget him?
In the back of his mind, Jack knew he was being unreasonable: the role of a guilt-ridden lover didn't suit him well. Jack had gone from having a family one moment, something he rarely allowed himself to have, to being completely alone in the Universe the next.
Without looking at the rest of the office, Jack reached around the desk and pressed the hidden button, letting the cog wheel slide out of place to reveal the passageway behind. Head down, Jack headed through the door and walked through the corridors leading down to the Hub, passages he knew like the back of his hand yet seemed unfamiliar due to their rebuilt nature. And, really, the place didn't even smell right! Where was the smell of must that accompanied his sewer chic design sense?
"Oi! Who're you?"
Jack frowned, eyebrows knitting together. He moved to look at the owner of the unfamiliar voice that called out to him.
"Could be asking the same thing as you. Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my Hub?" Jack paused, the words slipping off his tongue far too easily. "The Hub," he quickly amended. "The Hub."
"You always this prickly?"
"Let's call it a result of a very bad week," Jack replied dryly. "Or a very bad year. Take your pick. So now, answer the question."
"I asked you first."
Oh this was going fantastically. Jack drew his lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing. "I'll ask you one more time," he said, enunciating each word carefully. "Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?"
"Jack!"
At last, a voice he knew. Jack turned away from the brunette, his sour expression replaced by something that could almost be called a smile. Wow, Jack could remember how to smile. Amazing.
"Gwen Cooper. As I live and breathe!"
The accent was horrible, mocking old American films, southern hospitality dripping from his accent. For the briefest of moments, Gwen stayed rooted to the spot, staring at Jack as if he had grown a second head. Which, for the record, had happened once or twice before, leading to a fantastic night with another two-headed being (and a three-headed thing with six mouths), but that was beside the point right now. Whatever spell Gwen had been under broke as her face cracked into a wide grin. The 'Gone with the Wind' accent never failed to bring a smile to Gwen's face. Without a word, she launched (and by launched, Jack meant 'waddled quickly') herself at Jack, throwing her arms around him as best as she could with her enlarged stomach.
"Christ, you're as big as a house!" Jack observed, once Gwen finally released him from her death-grip hug.
"Always this observant, Harkness?" Gwen teased, gesturing to her belly first, then put her hands on her hips. "I seem to remember you being the first to know I was pregnant."
"Oi! Who's the bloke in the coat?" The unknown girl's shrill voice rang out once more, Jack had forgotten she was there once he caught sight of Gwen.
Jack twisted away from Gwen and glared once more -- eyes narrowed, upper lip curling, the whole nine yards. He wasn't in the mood for this, nor was he inclined to deal with some little pissant who wanted to show her teeth by biting into him. He was too fucking old to deal with this shite. Jack growled softly under his breath before pointedly turning his back on her and returning to his conversation with Gwen. Gwen, however, was staring open-mouthed at the girl behind him.
"Janice! Is that any way to talk to your boss?
Enter pandemonium, stage right.
"He's not my--"
"I'm not her boss!"
They exploded in unison, though Janice abruptly shut her mouth after receiving yet another death glare from Jack, and had the good sense to take a step backwards. Smart girl to put space between herself and Jack. Maybe Jack misjudged her -- naaaah. He was an excellent judge of character.
"As I was saying," Jack continued, ignoring Janice once more. "I'm not her boss as I sure as hell didn't hire her."
"Well you would have if you answered any of my messages," Gwen pointed out, poking Jack in the chest. "You didn't so I took the initiative to get some help. If you haven't noticed, I'm a wee bit on the pregnant side right now. Not to mention that you left me Jack!" Gwen stepped forward and shoved Jack hard, forcing him backwards and into Janice. "Though after all this time, I'm not sure why I'm even surprised any more! Just keep running off and leaving us to fend for ourselves. Only this time I was all by myself, Jack. Ianto --"
"Enough!" Jack erupted, "I will not have you lecture me on things you don't fucking understand." Jack stepped away from Janice after a muttered apology, his soft voice sounding strange after the volume he'd achieved a few moments ago. He took a step towards Gwen, squaring off against his employee. "It's not always all about you, Gwen." Jack's voice was low, dangerously so, pointing a finger in her face.
"I lost him too!" Gwen shouted, her voice echoing across the Hub.
Jack's jaw tightened as he stared at Gwen. Janice, he could imagine, wanted to be anywhere but where she was. "You can go," he said, tossing the words over his shoulder. Jack heard a grateful 'thanks' sent in his direction, followed soon by the patter of feet as she made her way back to her workstation.
Now it was down to Jack and Gwen. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, words to shout, but none of it was for Gwen's ears. They were words owed the man laying frozen in the vaults. Jack moved, giving Gwen the view of his back while he watched Janice pick her way through the Hub.
"By the way?" Jack called down to the girl. She paused, looking up at Jack. "Welcome. What's your name, then?"
"Janice. Janice Thompson."
"Pleasure," Jack said, his voice as smooth as caramel which he knew would piss Gwen off all the more. "Cap'n Jack Harkness."
She offered up a small smile and Jack knew they had some bit of a truce between them. Just because he was pissed at the world didn't mean he could take it out on anyone and everyone, no matter how much he wanted to. God, maybe he was finally on the road to recovery! He actually thought about someone other than himself. He watched Janice make her way to her area -- Tosh's he noticed with a sigh. So many times over the years, Jack had watched those work areas change hands; yet another curse of his extended life and that of Torchwood. Ianto had always focused on the number of people that died before the age of thirty -- Jack hadn't put much stock in it until now. He never wanted to think about losing Ianto before he died a natural death at the ripe old age of one hundred.
"Jack--"
Jack held up his hand, shaking his head. "Don't. We can do the apology thing; kiss and make up later." He offered her a half-smile, pushing past Gwen and made his way through the Hub. Again, Jack was struck by the difference in the scent of his Hub and the new Hub as he wound through -- but in five years, Jack knew the two Hubs would be virtually indistinguishable. Furthermore, deep down, Jack knew he would be around in those five years to watch the Hubs meld together in his mind.
As Jack wandered through, he noticed bits and baubles that had been salvaged from the wreckage. Jack had to admit that Gwen had done a damn good job rebuilding this place and he knew he couldn't have done it better himself. Hearing a screech from somewhere within the Hub, Jack breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was safe. Apparently Myfanwy hadn't been in the Hub at the time of the explosion. Thank god for letting her roam free at night to hunt. Jack passed by the cells, poked his head in and winced when he found them to be empty. Janet... well... apparently Janet hadn't been so lucky. But then again, wouldn't take them long to capture another Weevil and cheekily rechristen it Janet the Second.
Winding through the Hub, Jack felt his pace slow as he reached the vaults... the cold storage area that contained all of the dearly departed Torchwood employees. He knew he needed to say goodbye, but at the same time Jack didn't want to see Ianto in his final resting place. Up until now, Jack had been able to hold out for some sort of a miracle but now? This was finality.
Jack heard steps behind and knew Gwen was following him. Fine, he didn't care what she did, it wasn't as if she would listen if he told her to leave him alone.
"Jack there's... something you should know about--" Gwen said, stopping to stand beside Jack.
"What vault number?" Jack asked, interrupting.
"Zero-Zero-Seven."
Jack closed his eyes and smiled. Yes, Gwen would have done something like that, putting Ianto in the space marked '007'. Hell, Jack would have done the same thing, knowing it would have appealed to the Ianto's warped sense of humour.
"Really, Jack, there's something you need to know."
Ignoring Gwen once more, Jack pulled the cryo-chamber out, rubbing away the frost that immediately clung to the glass. Everything appeared to be in order... wait. What were those? Jack frowned, looking at the monitors attached to the outside of the glass box, a soft blip registering every ten seconds. It was a steady beat, a beat that had no right to be there.
No, it couldn't...
"What is this? What...?"
Jack felt a hand on his shoulder while an impossibly large lump formed in his throat. He gulped, trying to swallow it but to no avail. He didn't dare dream for the miracle he had hoped for.
"He's alive," Gwen said softly. "We don't know how, only that he is."
The floor fell out from under Jack.
"How--"
Gwen shook her head, thumb lightly rubbing Jack's back. "He's alive. Isn't that enough?"
Jack turned back to Ianto and nodded, feeling a sense of purpose slip back into his life once more: to bring Ianto back from whatever had tried to kill him. Once Torchwood had taken everything from him, and now, it had returned something. The alien tech they salvaged and studied was about to be bent his own whims and bring Ianto Jones back from 'the dead'. Jack knew he would need the Doctor for this, knew he would need the man's knowledge to make this work -- but Jack would try his damnedest in the meantime.
"By the way? You might want this."
Jack twisted his body toward Gwen, seeing her holding out his Vortex Manipulator, surprisingly not even singed from when it had been blown apart with him. Well, maybe it seemed that everything he was wearing at the time was indestructible. Shame he'd gotten rid of those leather trousers in the seventies. Jack took the wrist strap without a word, buckling it onto his left wrist once more. Piece by piece, bit by bit, Jack's life was returning to some semblance of normalcy.
Slowly, things were beginning to look up.
***
Anger. Rage. Denial. Acceptance.
Disbelief?
Comfort. Old friend. Lover.
Partner.
Help coming.
Thump........thump........thump.
***
Jack's subsequent trips abroad had been cancelled and his thoughts turned to one purpose: pulling Ianto from whatever stasis he was in. Jack didn't know if his body was still fighting off the virus courtesy of the 456 or if it was something else that had kept him alive, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this. The time he wasn't researching or pouring through files in the archives were spent down in the vaults with Ianto.
At the end of yet another long day, Jack found himself on the stool beside Ianto's cryochamber. When he was down here, the rest of the team knew not to bother them. They were good kids, if a bit young, but Jack knew that Gwen had found the best group for the job.
As he did every night, Jack opened the door to chamber '007' and slid the box out. A quick check of the monitors confirmed that everything was as it should be: the slow, steady heartbeat continued to pound, a small blip registering every ten seconds.
No change -- it was both a good and a bad thing.
Jack stared at the frozen form of his lover, using this time to (once more) let his guilt take over. While he couldn't sit at Steven's grave knowing full well that Alice would have his head if she found him there, this was the only place he could go to mourn everything he had lost that day. Jack rested an elbow against the frigid glass, drawing a pattern in the condensation with his finger. By the time he was done, he had drawn the outline of a tattoo, the same tattoo he had traced with his tongue on any number of occasions. To think he had mocked Ianto the first time he had found it. As their relationship turned from professional into that of lovers, Jack had grown to love the dragon that curled around his lover's waist.
Not to mention the fact that he knew it existed beneath those perfectly pressed suits. Jack smiled, lightly kissing the glass over where Ianto's heart was.
"Not today," Jack murmured, even though he knew Ianto couldn't hear him through the glass chamber. "But I'm getting there."
Closing his eyes, head leaning against the door to chamber '006', Jack let himself slip into the comfort of a memory, allowing his body to catch up on a few hours of sleep.
"Busy?"
Jack picks his head up and smiles catching sight of Ianto standing in the doorway, leaning and trying to look casual. His eyes flick to the twin cups of coffee in Ianto's hands and Jack's smile grows. Coffee and Ianto: is there anything better?
"Not particularly," Jack replies, holding his hand out for the cup of coffee. There's no 'please' and the only 'thank you' Ianto receives is Jack's hand on Ianto's knee as he settles on the edge of the desk. "Finishing up the last of the work for the night." He takes a sip and sighs. "I swear, you put cocaine in this."
"Sir?"
"It's the only logical explanation as to why I can't go a day without a cup."
"You mean a day without downing an entire pot?" Ianto corrects, raising an eyebrow.
"Sure, argue semantics," Jack replies with a roll of his eyes, sliding his hand up Ianto's thigh.
"I will do what I want. I'm the one who brings you the coffee and you would do well to remember that as well," Ianto answers dryly, pushing Jack's hand away from his groin and back to his knee. "Sir, one of these days you'll remember that the main wall of your office is made entirely of glass and I don't fancy exposing myself to the rest of the Hub."
Jack slides his hand back up Ianto's thigh, though this time Ianto doesn't push it away. Sensing a bit of a victory, Jack slides his chair closer, forcing Ianto's knees apart to put his body between his thighs. There is a hint of a smile on Jack's face, though it's hard to tell if it's because of the coffee he's consumed or how close he is to Ianto. Ianto sighs, as if he knows better than to dissuade Jack -- but the way his long fingers brush against Jack's cheek belie any further protestations made on his part.
"Jack..." Ianto murmurs, drawing the vowel out in his soft tones.
Resting his chin on Ianto's knee, Jack looks up at Ianto with the best air of innocence he can manage. Innocence isn't an expression that fits Jack's face well and, instead makes him appear almost devilish in nature. Ianto sighs, shifting his body closer to Jack while his fingers begin to trace patterns in Jack's scalp. Jack knows he's Ianto's weakness and he loves that he can get under the skin of the Welshman so easily.
Jack's hand has travelled slowly upwards, nearing the growing bulge in Ianto's trousers. He is nearing his goal when Ianto's fingers clamp down around Jack's wrist, effectively halting his progress. Jack's head turns, eyebrows knitting together in a silent question. Rather than responding, Ianto downs the rest of his coffee and pulls the stopwatch out of his waistcoat pocket.
Instantly, a smile spreads across Jack's face.
"Ten minutes," Ianto says, pressing down the top button of the stopwatch and the accompanying sound of mechanical clockworks fills the near-silent office.
Jack slides his chair back to allow Ianto to stand up, though his hand still lingers on Ianto's hip. Ianto bends down, brushing his lips across Jack's in one of his frustrating, teasing kisses: deep enough to get the heart racing but not long enough to satisfy. Ianto flicks his gaze to the ticking stopwatch and smiles.
"Nine minutes, eighteen seconds," Ianto murmurs as he picks up his coffee mug and quickly exits, leaving Jack alone with his coffee.
The minutes seem to tick by agonizingly slow. Jack glances at his watch every few seconds as if willing the second hand to move faster. Three minutes to go and Jack has finished his coffee, tapping his foot anxiously against his desk.
Two minutes and Jack has removed his spitfire cufflinks, setting them on his desk. There is a bounce in his step as Jack winds his way through the Hub, making his way down to bowels and the Archives. Jack no sooner opens the door to Section D when he is forceably grabbed and pulled inside. The kiss from the office was nothing more than a warmup and Jack is finally able to reach that level of satisfaction he has been craving. Jack may have made the first move up in his office, but down here and away from prying eyes, Ianto is all action.
Jack spreads his legs just enough as Ianto works his knee between his thighs, slowly rutting against the appendage. Ianto's hands seem to be everywhere at once while they kiss, Ianto's tongue mapping every centimetre of Jack's mouth. The friction feels fantastic, though rather than providing any sort of relief it only adds to his arousal. He feels his braces slipped off his shoulders, followed quickly by Ianto carefully unbuttoning his oxford. Oh Ianto -- even in the heat of passion, Jack loves how Ianto still takes care in undressing him.
Sliding his hands up from Ianto's hips, Jack's fingers race along the buttons of Ianto's waistcoat, taking care to properly unbutton each one. He's been on the receiving end of a few 'talking tos' after buttons were ripped from the pinstripe fabric. However, Jack's eagerness gets the better of him by the time he reaches Ianto's shirt, buttons half unbuttoned properly, half popped open. Ianto groans into his mouth and Jack's unsure if it's from the speed or because he'll have to mend his shirt.
The buttons hit the floor like stilletto taps are but soon forgotten as soon as Jack's fingers touch heated flesh. Reluctantly, Jack breaks the kiss and manages to flip their positions, Ianto's body bouncing against the closed door. Jack takes a moment, raking his gaze over the form of his half nude lover and licks his lips in anticipation.
With a predatory grin, Jack dips his head to Ianto's chest and the oh so tempting tattoo that curled around his body. Jack still remembers the first time they played and the shock at seeing such a tattoo marring Ianto's skin. The nice, proper Welshman -- with a tattoo that covered most of his torso. Of course, over the course of the next few months, Jack came to realise the suits hid one hell of a dirty mind.
A mind he so adores.
The tip of Jack's tongue peeks out, running along the outline of the tattoo, just below Ianto's nipple. He feels Ianto shudder under his ministrations and he redoubles his efforts, wanting to hear a groan edged with that delicious accent. Ianto's hands thread through Jack's hair in an attempt to urge him downwards, but Jack refuses to be budged. Instead, his tongue flicks along the red dragon, nipping every so often, though any marks to the skin are hidden by the red ink. It's not the mark that matters but the way Ianto reacts to Jack's ministrations. He grins as he feels Ianto shudder under his touch, hands threading through his hair in an attempt to be pushed to his knees.
Jack is only too willing to slide to the cold concrete, hands sliding along Ianto's trouser clad thighs. He looks up at Ianto through his lashes, leaning forward and rubbing his nose against Ianto's straining erection. From above, he can hear Ianto suck in a breath and Jack redoubles his efforts. Lips part and Jack presses open mouthed kisses to his trouser front, still not pulling down his zip.
"Dammit, Jack," Ianto hisses, tugging at Jack's hair. "Infernal. Tease."
Every word is enunciated, punctuated by pushing his hips forward. Ianto is begging with his hips, his body pleading for some bit of relief from his lover. While Jack would like to keep Ianto on that proverbial high-wire, his own arousal is growing and he wants, no needs to taste his lover. Ianto sighs in relief as his belt is unbuckled, followed by the top button popping open and the zip being pulled down.
Jack tugs the elastic of his boxers down just enough to expose his cock. He wastes no time and leans forward, sucking Ianto down. Thank god there's so much concrete and stone between them or someone may have come down to investigate what could make that loud of a moan. It is, however, music to Jack's ears. He completely assaults Ianto's cock with tongue and pressure, alternating between sucking only on the head and taking as much of him into his mouth as possible. Jack lightly grazes his teeth along the underside while his hand slides between Ianto's legs to rub at his balls. Ianto is almost vibrating, his nails grazing Jack's scalp, then running along his face. They don't need words any more -- actions speak louder.
He knows Ianto is close, he can tell in the way Ianto shifts his weight and in how his breath hitches. Jack redoubles his efforts, slackening his jaw to pull him completely into his mouth. Above, Ianto whimpers, hips slowly thrusting as he fucks Jack's mouth.
Close. Ianto is so close. Just a little more --
Jack jerked awake, neck stiff from the way he fell asleep and pissed at his unfortunate timing. He scrubbed at his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes and gingerly righted himself. Ianto was still in his frosted-over chamber, that blip still beeping every ten seconds. He brushed away the frost with his hand, looking down through the swath his hand created. He'd figure it out -- somehow, he'd find away to bring Ianto back.
Deep down, Jack knew it would take intervention by the Doctor to set things right. In the past two weeks he clocked more hours in the Archives than he had in the past hundred years. If Jack couldn't figure out on his own, it meant Jack would have to 'phone a friend'. Only problem was that said friend didn't have a working phone line. And there was one other problem: Jack wasn't sure he wanted to see the Doctor again or how it would feel to see the Doctor again for that matter. The Doctor had screwed them all when he had abandoned Earth as he had. Therein lay the conundrum: see the Doctor and fix things -- but not wanting to ever see the Doctor again.
Well, fuck.
One thing was for certain: there was a fist with the Doctor's name on it. Well, maybe he did know how he'd feel when the Doctor finally showed his face in Cardiff once more and had played it out repeatedly in his head.
"He'll come," Jack murmured against the glass, his hot breath fogging it over once more. "And if he doesn't, I'll bloody make him come." Jack pressed his lips to the glass, first over Ianto's forehead, then his lips, before sliding him back into the chamber and closing the door.
***
Faith. Hope.
Coming.
Jack.
LINK TO FIC: Part One | Part Two | Part Three
AUTHOR: thescarletwoman
BETA(S): flyingtonowhere and halfspell
ARTIST: rotaryphones
CHARACTER(S): Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, the Doctor, Gwen Cooper, Various OCs. PAIRING: Jack/Ianto
RATING: Hard R/Bordering on NC-17
WORD COUNT: ~22,000
WARNINGS: character death (though brief), AU, Spoilers through Children of Earth
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood and Doctor Who belong to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended. Reference quotes come from Episode 1x01 'Everything Changes' and some ideas come from the musical RENT.
AUTHOR'S NOTE(S): This has been quite a wild ride -- and one I wasn't sure I'd see through to the end. But thank you to my wonderful friends who pushed me to see this through until the very end. And a special thank you to Cap -- who helped me find the voice of the Doctor when I needed it the most. Thank you to my wonderful betas, any remaining mistakes are mine.
SUMMARY: Jack has never dealt with grief well and this is no exception. Running away from all of his responsibilities, he leaves Gwen alone to try to rebuild the crumbling Torchwood. Jack travells the world until something pulls him back to Cardiff -- to discover something he never thought possible. The only problem is he needs the Doctor's help, and who knows when he'll return again?
LINK TO FIC: Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Home but not home.
Cold but not cold.
Dead but not dead.
Confused.
Need answers.
None there.
***
It was strange being back in Cardiff after so many months of travel. His first stop had been at a military supply store, replacing his tattered greatcoat with a similar model. Bless the surplus stores and their stock (though limited) of 1940s RAF greatcoats. Having his coat back and in pristine condition went a long way toward making Jack feel like himself again.
If he hadn't been the result of the crater in the centre of the Plass, Jack never would have known an explosion had rocked Cardiff to its very core. The Plass looked as it once did: flagstones in place and the water tower stood proudly, both identifying and hiding the Hub from view. Jack knew the Hub (no longer his Hub, just the Hub) had long-since been rebuilt -- he had seen all of Gwen's messages, even if he refused to respond to a single one. Jack knew he never should have returned to Cardiff in the first place, no matter how his body yearned to return to familiar soil. If he turned his back on the Hub now, Jack was certain Gwen would see it and read his action as a final abandonment. The Gwen he knew would have already reinstalled the CCTV cameras that kept watch over the Roald Dahl Plass so he knew she'd see him leave.
And yet... Jack knew he couldn't walk away. As much as he wanted to say 'fuck you' to Torchwood, a century of service ingrained a sense of duty into Jack.
Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his greatcoat, Jack bent his head against the wind and marched towards the lift, pausing just before his foot touched the flagstone. The woman who was walking behind consequently slammed into Jack when he stopped abruptly, showed her displeasure by cursing at Jack in Welsh.
"I might not speak it, but I think I can guess what you said," Jack muttered under his breath.
Really, she should have been thanking him. At least -- she should have under normal circumstances. Only belatedly did Jack realise he had no way of activating the lift and if he could there was no perception filter to hide the gaping hole. Jack was suddenly struck by a memory standing out so stark and clear in his mind's eye it actually brought a smile to Jack's face.
"How does it work?"
"No idea. We know how to use it, not how it happens, but if I were to guess, I would say that there was once a dimensionally transcendental chameleon circuit placed right on this spot which welded its perception properties to a spacio-temporal rift. But that sounds kinda ridiculous. Invisible lift has got more of a ring to it, don't'cha think?"
"But hold on, if no one can see it when the lift's coming up, there's a bloody big hole in the floor, don't people fall in?"
"That is so Welsh."
"What is?"
"I show you something fantastic. You find fault."
The lack of a lift meant only one thing -- Jack was going to have to go in through the front door. His head turned, eyes following the path he knew led to the Tourist Office and shuddered. There were only two entrances to the Hub: his lift or through Ianto's office. To be quite honest, Jack didn't want to have anything to do with the 'front' business of Torchwood and didn't fancy entering without seeing the smiling face of the Welshman behind the desk. However, there was no other entrance. Fuck.
Jack gritted his jaw, withdrew his hands long enough to turn his collar up against the cold wind and began the slow march to the Tourist Office. Small memories pricked at the back of his mind and while he tried to keep them at bay, they began to come unbridled. Memories of the team going out for drinks (or in Jack's case, water), Ianto harassing him and pushing him into hiring him with bribes of coffee, Weevil hunting and returning to the Hub bruises and worse for wear, falling into bed with Ianto and needing the solace they could afford one another.
Things that would never again occur.
Jack opened the door to the Tourist Office, surprised to find it unlocked. Boxes littered the floor of the office and Jack wondered if they were the remnants of orders Ianto had filled or if someone was thinking of taking it over. The shop itself was dusty, Jack's boots kicking up small clouds as he walked, adding to the trail of footprints on the floor. He almost smiled -- almost -- thinking how Ianto would have rolled over in his grave seeing the state of disrepair in the office. Even as Ianto's job had morphed over the years, moving from 'butler' to 'general support' to 'lover' to 'full-fledged operative', Ianto had never once shirked when it came to the duties he originally bargained for when Jack hired him. Of course, the thought of Ianto rolling in his grave made Jack's stomach turn.
And Ianto had wondered if Jack would still remember him in years. What a silly, silly thought, Mr Jones. The question was: would Jack ever be able to forget him?
In the back of his mind, Jack knew he was being unreasonable: the role of a guilt-ridden lover didn't suit him well. Jack had gone from having a family one moment, something he rarely allowed himself to have, to being completely alone in the Universe the next.
Without looking at the rest of the office, Jack reached around the desk and pressed the hidden button, letting the cog wheel slide out of place to reveal the passageway behind. Head down, Jack headed through the door and walked through the corridors leading down to the Hub, passages he knew like the back of his hand yet seemed unfamiliar due to their rebuilt nature. And, really, the place didn't even smell right! Where was the smell of must that accompanied his sewer chic design sense?
"Oi! Who're you?"
Jack frowned, eyebrows knitting together. He moved to look at the owner of the unfamiliar voice that called out to him.
"Could be asking the same thing as you. Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my Hub?" Jack paused, the words slipping off his tongue far too easily. "The Hub," he quickly amended. "The Hub."
"You always this prickly?"
"Let's call it a result of a very bad week," Jack replied dryly. "Or a very bad year. Take your pick. So now, answer the question."
"I asked you first."
Oh this was going fantastically. Jack drew his lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing. "I'll ask you one more time," he said, enunciating each word carefully. "Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?"
"Jack!"
At last, a voice he knew. Jack turned away from the brunette, his sour expression replaced by something that could almost be called a smile. Wow, Jack could remember how to smile. Amazing.
"Gwen Cooper. As I live and breathe!"
The accent was horrible, mocking old American films, southern hospitality dripping from his accent. For the briefest of moments, Gwen stayed rooted to the spot, staring at Jack as if he had grown a second head. Which, for the record, had happened once or twice before, leading to a fantastic night with another two-headed being (and a three-headed thing with six mouths), but that was beside the point right now. Whatever spell Gwen had been under broke as her face cracked into a wide grin. The 'Gone with the Wind' accent never failed to bring a smile to Gwen's face. Without a word, she launched (and by launched, Jack meant 'waddled quickly') herself at Jack, throwing her arms around him as best as she could with her enlarged stomach.
"Christ, you're as big as a house!" Jack observed, once Gwen finally released him from her death-grip hug.
"Always this observant, Harkness?" Gwen teased, gesturing to her belly first, then put her hands on her hips. "I seem to remember you being the first to know I was pregnant."
"Oi! Who's the bloke in the coat?" The unknown girl's shrill voice rang out once more, Jack had forgotten she was there once he caught sight of Gwen.
Jack twisted away from Gwen and glared once more -- eyes narrowed, upper lip curling, the whole nine yards. He wasn't in the mood for this, nor was he inclined to deal with some little pissant who wanted to show her teeth by biting into him. He was too fucking old to deal with this shite. Jack growled softly under his breath before pointedly turning his back on her and returning to his conversation with Gwen. Gwen, however, was staring open-mouthed at the girl behind him.
"Janice! Is that any way to talk to your boss?
Enter pandemonium, stage right.
"He's not my--"
"I'm not her boss!"
They exploded in unison, though Janice abruptly shut her mouth after receiving yet another death glare from Jack, and had the good sense to take a step backwards. Smart girl to put space between herself and Jack. Maybe Jack misjudged her -- naaaah. He was an excellent judge of character.
"As I was saying," Jack continued, ignoring Janice once more. "I'm not her boss as I sure as hell didn't hire her."
"Well you would have if you answered any of my messages," Gwen pointed out, poking Jack in the chest. "You didn't so I took the initiative to get some help. If you haven't noticed, I'm a wee bit on the pregnant side right now. Not to mention that you left me Jack!" Gwen stepped forward and shoved Jack hard, forcing him backwards and into Janice. "Though after all this time, I'm not sure why I'm even surprised any more! Just keep running off and leaving us to fend for ourselves. Only this time I was all by myself, Jack. Ianto --"
"Enough!" Jack erupted, "I will not have you lecture me on things you don't fucking understand." Jack stepped away from Janice after a muttered apology, his soft voice sounding strange after the volume he'd achieved a few moments ago. He took a step towards Gwen, squaring off against his employee. "It's not always all about you, Gwen." Jack's voice was low, dangerously so, pointing a finger in her face.
"I lost him too!" Gwen shouted, her voice echoing across the Hub.
Jack's jaw tightened as he stared at Gwen. Janice, he could imagine, wanted to be anywhere but where she was. "You can go," he said, tossing the words over his shoulder. Jack heard a grateful 'thanks' sent in his direction, followed soon by the patter of feet as she made her way back to her workstation.
Now it was down to Jack and Gwen. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, words to shout, but none of it was for Gwen's ears. They were words owed the man laying frozen in the vaults. Jack moved, giving Gwen the view of his back while he watched Janice pick her way through the Hub.
"By the way?" Jack called down to the girl. She paused, looking up at Jack. "Welcome. What's your name, then?"
"Janice. Janice Thompson."
"Pleasure," Jack said, his voice as smooth as caramel which he knew would piss Gwen off all the more. "Cap'n Jack Harkness."
She offered up a small smile and Jack knew they had some bit of a truce between them. Just because he was pissed at the world didn't mean he could take it out on anyone and everyone, no matter how much he wanted to. God, maybe he was finally on the road to recovery! He actually thought about someone other than himself. He watched Janice make her way to her area -- Tosh's he noticed with a sigh. So many times over the years, Jack had watched those work areas change hands; yet another curse of his extended life and that of Torchwood. Ianto had always focused on the number of people that died before the age of thirty -- Jack hadn't put much stock in it until now. He never wanted to think about losing Ianto before he died a natural death at the ripe old age of one hundred.
"Jack--"
Jack held up his hand, shaking his head. "Don't. We can do the apology thing; kiss and make up later." He offered her a half-smile, pushing past Gwen and made his way through the Hub. Again, Jack was struck by the difference in the scent of his Hub and the new Hub as he wound through -- but in five years, Jack knew the two Hubs would be virtually indistinguishable. Furthermore, deep down, Jack knew he would be around in those five years to watch the Hubs meld together in his mind.
As Jack wandered through, he noticed bits and baubles that had been salvaged from the wreckage. Jack had to admit that Gwen had done a damn good job rebuilding this place and he knew he couldn't have done it better himself. Hearing a screech from somewhere within the Hub, Jack breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was safe. Apparently Myfanwy hadn't been in the Hub at the time of the explosion. Thank god for letting her roam free at night to hunt. Jack passed by the cells, poked his head in and winced when he found them to be empty. Janet... well... apparently Janet hadn't been so lucky. But then again, wouldn't take them long to capture another Weevil and cheekily rechristen it Janet the Second.
Winding through the Hub, Jack felt his pace slow as he reached the vaults... the cold storage area that contained all of the dearly departed Torchwood employees. He knew he needed to say goodbye, but at the same time Jack didn't want to see Ianto in his final resting place. Up until now, Jack had been able to hold out for some sort of a miracle but now? This was finality.
Jack heard steps behind and knew Gwen was following him. Fine, he didn't care what she did, it wasn't as if she would listen if he told her to leave him alone.
"Jack there's... something you should know about--" Gwen said, stopping to stand beside Jack.
"What vault number?" Jack asked, interrupting.
"Zero-Zero-Seven."
Jack closed his eyes and smiled. Yes, Gwen would have done something like that, putting Ianto in the space marked '007'. Hell, Jack would have done the same thing, knowing it would have appealed to the Ianto's warped sense of humour.
"Really, Jack, there's something you need to know."
Ignoring Gwen once more, Jack pulled the cryo-chamber out, rubbing away the frost that immediately clung to the glass. Everything appeared to be in order... wait. What were those? Jack frowned, looking at the monitors attached to the outside of the glass box, a soft blip registering every ten seconds. It was a steady beat, a beat that had no right to be there.
No, it couldn't...
"What is this? What...?"
Jack felt a hand on his shoulder while an impossibly large lump formed in his throat. He gulped, trying to swallow it but to no avail. He didn't dare dream for the miracle he had hoped for.
"He's alive," Gwen said softly. "We don't know how, only that he is."
The floor fell out from under Jack.
"How--"
Gwen shook her head, thumb lightly rubbing Jack's back. "He's alive. Isn't that enough?"
Jack turned back to Ianto and nodded, feeling a sense of purpose slip back into his life once more: to bring Ianto back from whatever had tried to kill him. Once Torchwood had taken everything from him, and now, it had returned something. The alien tech they salvaged and studied was about to be bent his own whims and bring Ianto Jones back from 'the dead'. Jack knew he would need the Doctor for this, knew he would need the man's knowledge to make this work -- but Jack would try his damnedest in the meantime.
"By the way? You might want this."
Jack twisted his body toward Gwen, seeing her holding out his Vortex Manipulator, surprisingly not even singed from when it had been blown apart with him. Well, maybe it seemed that everything he was wearing at the time was indestructible. Shame he'd gotten rid of those leather trousers in the seventies. Jack took the wrist strap without a word, buckling it onto his left wrist once more. Piece by piece, bit by bit, Jack's life was returning to some semblance of normalcy.
Slowly, things were beginning to look up.
***
Anger. Rage. Denial. Acceptance.
Disbelief?
Comfort. Old friend. Lover.
Partner.
Help coming.
Thump........thump........thump.
***
Jack's subsequent trips abroad had been cancelled and his thoughts turned to one purpose: pulling Ianto from whatever stasis he was in. Jack didn't know if his body was still fighting off the virus courtesy of the 456 or if it was something else that had kept him alive, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this. The time he wasn't researching or pouring through files in the archives were spent down in the vaults with Ianto.
At the end of yet another long day, Jack found himself on the stool beside Ianto's cryochamber. When he was down here, the rest of the team knew not to bother them. They were good kids, if a bit young, but Jack knew that Gwen had found the best group for the job.
As he did every night, Jack opened the door to chamber '007' and slid the box out. A quick check of the monitors confirmed that everything was as it should be: the slow, steady heartbeat continued to pound, a small blip registering every ten seconds.
No change -- it was both a good and a bad thing.
Jack stared at the frozen form of his lover, using this time to (once more) let his guilt take over. While he couldn't sit at Steven's grave knowing full well that Alice would have his head if she found him there, this was the only place he could go to mourn everything he had lost that day. Jack rested an elbow against the frigid glass, drawing a pattern in the condensation with his finger. By the time he was done, he had drawn the outline of a tattoo, the same tattoo he had traced with his tongue on any number of occasions. To think he had mocked Ianto the first time he had found it. As their relationship turned from professional into that of lovers, Jack had grown to love the dragon that curled around his lover's waist.
Not to mention the fact that he knew it existed beneath those perfectly pressed suits. Jack smiled, lightly kissing the glass over where Ianto's heart was.
"Not today," Jack murmured, even though he knew Ianto couldn't hear him through the glass chamber. "But I'm getting there."
Closing his eyes, head leaning against the door to chamber '006', Jack let himself slip into the comfort of a memory, allowing his body to catch up on a few hours of sleep.
"Busy?"
Jack picks his head up and smiles catching sight of Ianto standing in the doorway, leaning and trying to look casual. His eyes flick to the twin cups of coffee in Ianto's hands and Jack's smile grows. Coffee and Ianto: is there anything better?
"Not particularly," Jack replies, holding his hand out for the cup of coffee. There's no 'please' and the only 'thank you' Ianto receives is Jack's hand on Ianto's knee as he settles on the edge of the desk. "Finishing up the last of the work for the night." He takes a sip and sighs. "I swear, you put cocaine in this."
"Sir?"
"It's the only logical explanation as to why I can't go a day without a cup."
"You mean a day without downing an entire pot?" Ianto corrects, raising an eyebrow.
"Sure, argue semantics," Jack replies with a roll of his eyes, sliding his hand up Ianto's thigh.
"I will do what I want. I'm the one who brings you the coffee and you would do well to remember that as well," Ianto answers dryly, pushing Jack's hand away from his groin and back to his knee. "Sir, one of these days you'll remember that the main wall of your office is made entirely of glass and I don't fancy exposing myself to the rest of the Hub."
Jack slides his hand back up Ianto's thigh, though this time Ianto doesn't push it away. Sensing a bit of a victory, Jack slides his chair closer, forcing Ianto's knees apart to put his body between his thighs. There is a hint of a smile on Jack's face, though it's hard to tell if it's because of the coffee he's consumed or how close he is to Ianto. Ianto sighs, as if he knows better than to dissuade Jack -- but the way his long fingers brush against Jack's cheek belie any further protestations made on his part.
"Jack..." Ianto murmurs, drawing the vowel out in his soft tones.
Resting his chin on Ianto's knee, Jack looks up at Ianto with the best air of innocence he can manage. Innocence isn't an expression that fits Jack's face well and, instead makes him appear almost devilish in nature. Ianto sighs, shifting his body closer to Jack while his fingers begin to trace patterns in Jack's scalp. Jack knows he's Ianto's weakness and he loves that he can get under the skin of the Welshman so easily.
Jack's hand has travelled slowly upwards, nearing the growing bulge in Ianto's trousers. He is nearing his goal when Ianto's fingers clamp down around Jack's wrist, effectively halting his progress. Jack's head turns, eyebrows knitting together in a silent question. Rather than responding, Ianto downs the rest of his coffee and pulls the stopwatch out of his waistcoat pocket.
Instantly, a smile spreads across Jack's face.
"Ten minutes," Ianto says, pressing down the top button of the stopwatch and the accompanying sound of mechanical clockworks fills the near-silent office.
Jack slides his chair back to allow Ianto to stand up, though his hand still lingers on Ianto's hip. Ianto bends down, brushing his lips across Jack's in one of his frustrating, teasing kisses: deep enough to get the heart racing but not long enough to satisfy. Ianto flicks his gaze to the ticking stopwatch and smiles.
"Nine minutes, eighteen seconds," Ianto murmurs as he picks up his coffee mug and quickly exits, leaving Jack alone with his coffee.
The minutes seem to tick by agonizingly slow. Jack glances at his watch every few seconds as if willing the second hand to move faster. Three minutes to go and Jack has finished his coffee, tapping his foot anxiously against his desk.
Two minutes and Jack has removed his spitfire cufflinks, setting them on his desk. There is a bounce in his step as Jack winds his way through the Hub, making his way down to bowels and the Archives. Jack no sooner opens the door to Section D when he is forceably grabbed and pulled inside. The kiss from the office was nothing more than a warmup and Jack is finally able to reach that level of satisfaction he has been craving. Jack may have made the first move up in his office, but down here and away from prying eyes, Ianto is all action.
Jack spreads his legs just enough as Ianto works his knee between his thighs, slowly rutting against the appendage. Ianto's hands seem to be everywhere at once while they kiss, Ianto's tongue mapping every centimetre of Jack's mouth. The friction feels fantastic, though rather than providing any sort of relief it only adds to his arousal. He feels his braces slipped off his shoulders, followed quickly by Ianto carefully unbuttoning his oxford. Oh Ianto -- even in the heat of passion, Jack loves how Ianto still takes care in undressing him.
Sliding his hands up from Ianto's hips, Jack's fingers race along the buttons of Ianto's waistcoat, taking care to properly unbutton each one. He's been on the receiving end of a few 'talking tos' after buttons were ripped from the pinstripe fabric. However, Jack's eagerness gets the better of him by the time he reaches Ianto's shirt, buttons half unbuttoned properly, half popped open. Ianto groans into his mouth and Jack's unsure if it's from the speed or because he'll have to mend his shirt.
The buttons hit the floor like stilletto taps are but soon forgotten as soon as Jack's fingers touch heated flesh. Reluctantly, Jack breaks the kiss and manages to flip their positions, Ianto's body bouncing against the closed door. Jack takes a moment, raking his gaze over the form of his half nude lover and licks his lips in anticipation.
With a predatory grin, Jack dips his head to Ianto's chest and the oh so tempting tattoo that curled around his body. Jack still remembers the first time they played and the shock at seeing such a tattoo marring Ianto's skin. The nice, proper Welshman -- with a tattoo that covered most of his torso. Of course, over the course of the next few months, Jack came to realise the suits hid one hell of a dirty mind.
A mind he so adores.
The tip of Jack's tongue peeks out, running along the outline of the tattoo, just below Ianto's nipple. He feels Ianto shudder under his ministrations and he redoubles his efforts, wanting to hear a groan edged with that delicious accent. Ianto's hands thread through Jack's hair in an attempt to urge him downwards, but Jack refuses to be budged. Instead, his tongue flicks along the red dragon, nipping every so often, though any marks to the skin are hidden by the red ink. It's not the mark that matters but the way Ianto reacts to Jack's ministrations. He grins as he feels Ianto shudder under his touch, hands threading through his hair in an attempt to be pushed to his knees.
Jack is only too willing to slide to the cold concrete, hands sliding along Ianto's trouser clad thighs. He looks up at Ianto through his lashes, leaning forward and rubbing his nose against Ianto's straining erection. From above, he can hear Ianto suck in a breath and Jack redoubles his efforts. Lips part and Jack presses open mouthed kisses to his trouser front, still not pulling down his zip.
"Dammit, Jack," Ianto hisses, tugging at Jack's hair. "Infernal. Tease."
Every word is enunciated, punctuated by pushing his hips forward. Ianto is begging with his hips, his body pleading for some bit of relief from his lover. While Jack would like to keep Ianto on that proverbial high-wire, his own arousal is growing and he wants, no needs to taste his lover. Ianto sighs in relief as his belt is unbuckled, followed by the top button popping open and the zip being pulled down.
Jack tugs the elastic of his boxers down just enough to expose his cock. He wastes no time and leans forward, sucking Ianto down. Thank god there's so much concrete and stone between them or someone may have come down to investigate what could make that loud of a moan. It is, however, music to Jack's ears. He completely assaults Ianto's cock with tongue and pressure, alternating between sucking only on the head and taking as much of him into his mouth as possible. Jack lightly grazes his teeth along the underside while his hand slides between Ianto's legs to rub at his balls. Ianto is almost vibrating, his nails grazing Jack's scalp, then running along his face. They don't need words any more -- actions speak louder.
He knows Ianto is close, he can tell in the way Ianto shifts his weight and in how his breath hitches. Jack redoubles his efforts, slackening his jaw to pull him completely into his mouth. Above, Ianto whimpers, hips slowly thrusting as he fucks Jack's mouth.
Close. Ianto is so close. Just a little more --
Jack jerked awake, neck stiff from the way he fell asleep and pissed at his unfortunate timing. He scrubbed at his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes and gingerly righted himself. Ianto was still in his frosted-over chamber, that blip still beeping every ten seconds. He brushed away the frost with his hand, looking down through the swath his hand created. He'd figure it out -- somehow, he'd find away to bring Ianto back.
Deep down, Jack knew it would take intervention by the Doctor to set things right. In the past two weeks he clocked more hours in the Archives than he had in the past hundred years. If Jack couldn't figure out on his own, it meant Jack would have to 'phone a friend'. Only problem was that said friend didn't have a working phone line. And there was one other problem: Jack wasn't sure he wanted to see the Doctor again or how it would feel to see the Doctor again for that matter. The Doctor had screwed them all when he had abandoned Earth as he had. Therein lay the conundrum: see the Doctor and fix things -- but not wanting to ever see the Doctor again.
Well, fuck.
One thing was for certain: there was a fist with the Doctor's name on it. Well, maybe he did know how he'd feel when the Doctor finally showed his face in Cardiff once more and had played it out repeatedly in his head.
"He'll come," Jack murmured against the glass, his hot breath fogging it over once more. "And if he doesn't, I'll bloody make him come." Jack pressed his lips to the glass, first over Ianto's forehead, then his lips, before sliding him back into the chamber and closing the door.
***
Faith. Hope.
Coming.
Jack.
LINK TO FIC: Part One | Part Two | Part Three