Torchwood Paranormal, Part Thirteen
Well, careers may come and go, but fanfic is forever ;).
This poor chapter of TP has been patiently waiting to be posted, so go here for the last chapter if you need a refresher (which I imagine you do ;) - )
"No, he says he's fine. You and the rest of the crew can take off."
"I am fine," Ianto muttered into his mug. "I wish you'd believe that."
Jack stopped his pacing and pressed his mobile to his shoulder, scowling at Ianto. "Yeah, well, forgive me for thinking that your judgement is as wobbly your knees were not so long ago." He lifted the phone to his ear. "Let's hope what we filmed tonight is enough to complete the episode, because I'm ready to shut this down."
Ianto sighed. "That's the right-"
He stopped when Jack held up his hand. "Right, we'll talk in the morning. Did someone get Toshiko's bags from the hallway? Okay, good. No, we'll be okay. Drive safe. Good night."
Tossing his phone aside, Jack turned to Ianto, his hands on his hips. They were in the sitting area of Jack's suite, Jack in black track suit bottoms and a white t-shirt, Ianto in navy blue sweats. Once they'd entered the Hall, Jack had insisted that Ianto change clothes immediately and then meet him back in his room, and by the time Ianto had arrived, he'd not only changed his own clothes but had started a fire in the fireplace.
His dark hair damp and untouched by a comb, the Jack Harkness who faced Ianto now bore little resemblance to the dashing ghost hunter who'd chased down spectres across Europe with a devil-may-care grin and a well-placed bon mot. There was nothing of the entertainer about Jack now, nothing about him that his fans would recognize. In his place was a man who was deeply troubled by the night's events, and Ianto knew that his choice to host Philip, no matter how well-intentioned, may have fundamentally changed their relationship.
Jack had made it clear before they parted that he didn't want coffee, he didn't want hot chocolate, he didn't want a brandy-all he wanted was an explanation. Ianto had walked in whilst Jack was on the phone, so he set the tray he'd brought on a small table and poured himself a cup of the hot chocolate that Jack had been adamant he didn't want. But after parting from Jack in the foyer, Ianto found he needed something mundane to focus on. Once he'd changed into dry clothes, he'd used the time to re-heat the hot chocolate and prepare himself for what was surely going to be an uncomfortable interview.
Not that he blamed Jack, not at all. Ianto knew he'd frightened Jack very badly, and of everything that had happened that night, that was the one thing that Ianto regretted the most. It had never been Ianto's-or Philip's-intent to mislead Jack in any way. In fact, it was for Jack's protection that Philip had risked the possession at all, and making Jack understand that was now Ianto's priority. It was the best he could hope for-he doubted Jack would ever condone Ianto's decision, which touched a completely different chord in Ianto, one he was hesitant to explore. In a dizzyingly short amount of time, Ianto had won Jack's trust, and now he stood a good chance of losing it.
The thought was devastating.
Everything had gone wrong when neither Philip nor Ianto had realised that once he'd inhabited Ianto's body, Philip would be utterly lost to the seduction of his senses. Sight, smell, the taste of rain in his mouth-Ianto had no doubt that if allowed the chance, Philip would have run headlong into the night, absorbing as much sensation as Ianto's all too human body could stand. Ianto had been there all along, never out of touch with himself, the feel of Philip's mind inside his own allowing him to share Philip's all-encompassing joy at being corporeal again. It had been odd but not at all threatening-they'd communicated telepathically since Ianto was a child, so the only truly unsettling part of their joining was relaxing his mind enough to give Philip control of his limbs.
But now, gazing up at a still visibly upset Jack, Ianto understood that by allowing Philip to get distracted, they'd made a mess of things and quite possibly destroyed that precious trust that Jack had placed in them both.
"Jack, please, sit down. Listen, I know I owe you an apology and an explanation, both of which may take some time. Would you like some hot chocolate?"
"No," Jack snapped. Seemingly surprised by his own sharp response, he ran his palm over his face, then looked at Ianto with something close to a smile. "Yeah, okay."
Glad for the momentary reprieve, Ianto quickly poured out a cup for Jack, then waited until they were both settled in the wing chairs flanking the fire to begin his story. He took a breath and opened his mouth, but was forestalled when Jack leaned forward and spoke up first.
"Listen, Ianto, let's get one thing straight. You don't owe me an apology. I just wish-" he paused, looking down at his bare feet-"I wish you'd talked to me about it first."
"If there'd been time, I would have," Ianto said, "but things didn't go exactly as planned."
Jack raised his head. "Oh? There was a plan?"
Encouraged by the return of humour to Jack's voice, Ianto nodded. "I'd felt Philip's presence as soon as I entered the kitchen, and as glad as I was that he was there, I knew immediately that something was amiss. I couldn't see him as I normally can, and our attempts to communicate weren't working. All I could sense was that he needed to warn us, that someone was at risk, but he couldn't articulate why."
"So, what, he just knocked on your head and asked permission to come aboard?"
"No, it was my idea."
"Your idea?"
"Yes. Knowing that he'd been able to use Lucy in a similar fashion, it seemed like a reasonable choice." Ianto shook his head. "It happened so quickly, I hardly a chance to think it through."
"Well, I can't say that I agree with your choices, but I'm beginning to understand your motivation. What happened after that?"
"Our intention was to find you so that Philip could use me to warn us. We went through the kitchen door, and that's when it happened."
"What?" Jack sipped his chocolate, the casual gesture belied by the white-knuckled grip he had on his mug. "What happened?"
Ianto shrugged. "Philip felt the rain."
"He felt the rain? That's it? He felt the rain?"
"You don't know what it's like for him, Jack." Ianto stood up and walked to the window, pulling aside the curtain to look out into the night. He had no sense of Philip now, not even a faint throb in his bloodstream to tell him that Philip was near. "Neither did I, not really, not until tonight. The loneliness, it's-I don't know how he bears it. To never feel sunlight on your face or touch someone you love, this is what he lives with every day." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass pane. "It must be torture."
He hadn't heard Jack move, yet he was unsurprised when he felt Jack come up behind him, placing his hands on Ianto's shoulders. "But he's had you, Ianto. All these years, you've been in his life. That has to count for something."
Ianto rolled his forehead against the glass, eyes still closed, the cool surface doing little to alleviate the headache that had settled in after Philip had left him. "For very little, I'm afraid. I think-at least I got the impression-that he's been here a very long time, probably before the Hall was built."
Jack's voice was soft. "If that's true-and I think you're right-then there has to be a history of other encounters, either with Philip or the-you know, we can't keep calling it the music room entity." He turned Ianto around, resettling his hands on Ianto's shoulders once they were face to face. "That's quite a mouthful."
"True." Ianto lowered his eyes, focussing on the neckband of Jack's white t-shirt. Jack's proximity, the simple pleasure from the heat of his palms curved around Ianto's shoulders, the change in his demeanour from anger to comfort, Ianto's own turbulent feelings over Philip's possession-it was beginning to make his head swim. He'd tried to be calm for Jack's sake, returning them to some normalcy as soon as possible, but in truth, he'd suffered more than just a case of wobbly knees. Philip had left him, there was no remnant of him lingering in Ianto's consciousness, yet their brief joining had conjured up the kind of internal turmoil that Ianto had only experienced when his father died. Certainly there was the exhilaration of communicating with Philip again, experiencing that warm, caring presence that had shielded him from an uncomfortable childhood, but beyond that, Ianto understood that things had irrevocably changed.
"We've come so far, so quickly," Ianto murmured. "And now you have to leave."
Jack frowned at him. "I do? No, I don't. Just because principal filming is complete, we can still-"
Ianto pressed his fingers to Jack's mouth. "No, you can't. Don't you understand? Philip was quite clear-there's danger here, danger for you if you stay, danger for the Hall as well. You're only making the-whatever we call it-stronger, and if you leave, maybe it will weaken back to a point where we can live with it again."
Curling his fingers around Ianto's wrist, Jack guided Ianto's hand away. "Listen, we've talked about this. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now-"
"It isn't just that. If it was just me, I'd board up the music room and live with it, and that may still be the best option. Rhiannon can't see the ghosts, no one's ever been harmed by what lives inside there, and with Philip to protect me, it still remains that you are the one at risk. I can't see any way-you have to leave, Jack, you have to leave and-" Ianto swallowed "-you can't tell anyone what's happened here."
"I can't-you mean, you don't want the episode to air? What about the Hall, what about the business this is going to bring? Ianto, I can guarantee you'll be booked for months once everyone sees the footage."
"I know, I know." Ianto pulled away, rubbing his temples. "But I don't know what else to do. Rhiannon can find work in town, she's answered phones at Johnny's shop when things were slow. I can start closing off rooms-"
"Whoa, whoa." Jack stepped in front of Ianto, taking him by the shoulders once more. "Where is all this coming from? Only a few hours ago, we'd agreed to continue searching for the source of the dark ghost, with or without Philip's help. It's a problem we can solve, Ianto, I know we can."
Ianto smiled a little, seduced as usual by Jack's insistence that the world was his to bend to his will. Ianto wanted to lean into that strength and draw from it, but his bonding with Philip had shown him all too clearly how selfish that wish was. Any further confrontations with the dark spirit would put Jack at risk, and that was something Ianto would never allow.
"A few hours ago, we hadn't heard Philip saying you were both a catalyst and a target. Your presence here has awakened the entity, you have some kind of bond with it, maybe the kind I have with Philip."
"Now, wait a minute-"
"No, Jack, it makes sense. Maybe these creatures can connect with only one of us, someone like you and I who can see ghosts. If that's true, then you must run as far away from Caernarfon Hall as you can and never come back."
"Sorry, no." Jack's mouth set in a stubborn line. "Everything you've said tonight is pure speculation. Yes, Philip warned me to stay away. He obviously wants to protect you and believe me, I'm more than okay with that. But there's no proof that if I leave, you, the Hall, your family, and anyone else who crosses the entity's path won't be in just as much danger."
He shrugged and stepped away, momentarily turning his back on Ianto. For a moment, Ianto thought that Jack was reconsidering, but one look at his face when he turned back told him otherwise.
"Fine. Kick me out if it will make you feel better," Jack said. "Send us all packing, break your contract, and board up the Hall. But know this, Ianto Jones, you stubborn, gorgeous son of a bitch, your authority ends at your property line, and if I have to I will set up camp on the roadside and wait as long as it takes. You're not getting me out of your life that easily, okay? Not going to happen."
Ianto stared at him, momentarily nonplussed. This was another side of Jack he'd never seen, a version of that formidable will that Jack had no qualms about using against anyone or anything who stood against him. Ianto had no doubt that Jack would do exactly as he threatened, and that reality was equal parts thrilling and aggravating.
"There are laws against vagrancy, you know."
Jack lifted his chin. "Not to sound boastful, but I'm pretty sure I can talk my way around the local constabulary. Hell, I could make one call and have a three ring circus set up in the field across from your driveway."
"You would, wouldn't you," Ianto muttered. "Why are you being so obstinate?"
Jack's eyebrows rose. "Why am I being obstinate? You're the one who's decided to go it alone. The question is why? Why are you fighting me on this?"
Lowering his eyes, Ianto bit his lip. As usual, Jack wasn't letting Ianto close himself off. Jack had developed a special knack for keeping Ianto honest, exposing his vulnerabilities yet safeguarding him at the same time.
"No one's ever cared so much," he said with a small smile. "I'm not used to having anyone be willing to put so much at risk on my account. And as much as I-as nice as that is, I find that your safety has become much more important to me."
Jack pressed his fingertips together and lowered his head, the picture of a man searching for patience. "Then what we need to do is find a way to keep both of us out of trouble. I won't leave you to face this alone and you won't let me stay to help you. I propose a third alternative."
"A third alternative? What is it?"
Jack gestured toward the window. "I propose we let Torchwood Paranormal investigate the music room ghost without either of us nearby. We can sit in the comm van with Tosh and watch the whole thing from a safe distance. I'll bet what we caught on tape yesterday is nothing compared to what we can find if we set our minds to it."
"But what if someone gets hurt?"
Jack shook his head. "They're not like us, Ianto, they can't see what we see. To them it'll just be another investigation, only this time, it won't be for television."
"Then we can't do it. You know I can't afford a private investigation. It must cost a small fortune to hire your team."
"Yes, there are costs, but I'll cover them."
"I can't let you do that."
Jack threw up his hands. "What do I have to do to make you let me help you? Stand on my head? I can do that, you know. Oh, and I can juggle, too. Pretty much anything except maybe chainsaws, they're hell on a manicure. What else-oh, I can dance. Want to see?"
Ianto shook his head, trying not to laugh and give Jack any more encouragement. "No, that won't be-"
Jack slipped his arm around Ianto and grabbed his hand, waltzing him around the room as Ianto dissolved into helpless laughter. That laughter was stilled when Jack's mouth landed on his, stopping their progress.
What started as a playful kiss escalated so quickly that Ianto stumbled. Jack's arms tightened around him and for all Ianto's best intentions to push Jack away for his own good, he found himself returning Jack's embrace with uncharacteristic abandon. Jack's mouth, its shape and texture, the scent of his skin-Ianto wanted nothing more than to give in to everything Jack was offering, but he couldn't risk deepening their relationship when everything was getting more complicated by the minute.
Reluctantly, with a quick kiss as an apology, Ianto disentangled himself from Jack's arms. "Sneaky, Jack." He took a moment to calm his breath. "And yet surprisingly effective. All right, we'll try it your way. But regarding payment, I must insist that the Hall cover the expenses."
"Fine, whatever, we can talk about it later. Look, we were in the middle of a thing here, so can we get back to what we were just-"
Ianto held up his hands and took another step back. "It's late and it's been a long day and a longer night."
Jack folded his arms over his chest. "So that's it? You're going to bed? You do realise we have a pissed off-whatever-just down the hall?"
"Adam."
"What?"
"Philip said the entity was the first of his kind here. I propose we call him Adam."
"Okay, Adam it is. And Adam isn't going away."
"Right." Ianto turned toward the door. "I'll go check on the music room and make sure he's still inside."
"Oh, no, not without me."
"But you're-"
"Can we just drop that for now? I promise if anything feels weird, I'll back off."
Ianto nodded, since he really didn't fancy going near the music room alone. "Fine. But you'll remain at the top of the stairs and not come any closer, is that clear?"
Jack grinned at him. "Yep, I still love it when you order me around."
Ianto opened the door and ushered Jack through. "That's odd, because you don't actually do anything I ask."
"Well, there is that."
***
"Right there, Jack. No further."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm serious."
"I see that. I love it when you're serious, too."
Ianto raised his eyes to the ceiling in futile a search for guidance before slowly approaching the music room, unsurprised and somewhat relieved when Lucy came trotting around the corner. Despite the fact that there were no tell-tale sparkles beneath her paws, he was glad of her company. Within ten feet of the door he felt the temperature change, a chill that deepened with each step he took.
"It's cold," he said over his shoulder.
"I know, I can feel a draft from here."
Ianto immediately stopped and looked back, frowning at Jack. "Can you feel anything else?"
Jack ran the back of his palm along his jaw, his gaze momentarily losing focus. "Yeah, definitely, but it's not much more than a twinge. I think we're okay so far."
"Good." Ianto agreed with Jack's assessment and resumed his approach toward the door, thankful to see that the votive candle he'd used as his makeshift barrier was still stuffed in the hole left by the lock.
"The candle's still here. In fact, it looks frozen in place." He brushed his fingers across the wooden door and over the wall nearby. "The door is like a sheet of ice, but the wall feels normal. I can't see anything else out of place."
"Okay, let's-uh oh, there goes Lucy again."
Ianto looked down to see Lucy sniff at the door, then lift her paw to scratch against its surface. Sitting down, she let out a few yips and tilted her head, her demeanour more curious than confrontational.
"Ianto, I think it's time to back away from the door."
"Wait a minute."
"No, you wait a minute. Here, with me. Away from the door."
Ianto knelt down beside Lucy, watching her as she continued to paw at the door. She seemed neither scared nor upset and, to Ianto's surprise, she backed away from the door, turned around thrice clockwise, curled into a ball, and appeared to go to sleep.
Standing up, Ianto looked down at her with his hands on his hips. "She doesn't seem very concerned."
Jack took a step toward Ianto, then backed off when Ianto frowned at him. "Maybe that's a good sign, maybe that thing-sorry, Adam-is losing his power."
"I don't think so. Look." Ianto moved aside so that Jack could see what he was seeing. Manifesting at the far end of the hall beneath the window were several of the Hall's ghosts, including the flower cutter and the gamekeeper. As he and Jack watched, the woman knelt down next to Lucy and began removing the cuttings from her basket. Taking shears from a pocket, she snipped the ends of the flowers, the discarded stems disappearing into thin air, then magically replenishing for her to snip again. The gamekeeper had taken up a position near the door, leaning his shoulders against the wood as he filled a long-stemmed pipe with tobacco from a pouch dangling from his belt. There were others as well, each of them taking up some abbreviated form of the various tasks that occupied their half-lives, taking no notice of each other but arranging themselves in a rough half-circle near the door.
"Jack," Ianto murmured.
"Yeah, I see it. What do you suppose it means?"
"I don't-" Ianto paused and closed his eyes as the sharp, clean scent of rain-soaked grass filled his senses. Almost before he could grasp its presence, it was gone, but the message was clear.
"Ianto?"
Ianto shook himself and rejoined Jack at the stairs, turning back to survey the gathering of ghosts.
"They're keeping watch."
Jack's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Excuse me?"
"Don't you see? Can't you feel it? Close your eyes, Jack, let them talk to you."
Jack did as he was told, though he did briefly open one eye to express his scepticism. Then he got down to it, and Ianto watched as Jack connected to the otherworld that Ianto once thought only existed in his imagination. It was a connection he could almost see-the spectres behind him settling in, reassuring Jack that at least for this night, he and Ianto could rest easy.
And Jack was silently communicating back to them, gently probing, asking wordless questions. It amused Ianto that even when Jack was talking only with his mind, he was still charming, and wasn't beyond using that charm to try and learn more about the inhabitants of the Hall as well as the entity in the music room. He could sense Jack's eagerness to learn from the gathered spectres as he asked them-
Wait, if Jack wasn't actually speaking, how could Ianto hear him?
Ianto took a stumbling step back as Jack's eyes flew open. They stared at each other, both of them breathing hard as they tried to comprehend what had just happened..
"What the hell was that?" Ianto whispered. "My God, Jack I could hear-"
"You heard me." Jack looked just as shocked as Ianto felt. He rubbed his hand over his face and looked past Ianto to the ghosts. "You were there."
"I was-where was I?"
Jack tapped his forehead with his finger. "In here."
"No." Ianto shook his head. "No, that's not possible. I had to have been imagining-"
"No," Jack shot right back, "you were there. Somehow, you were there. I-well, I didn't see you, exactly, but I definitely felt your presence."
"Felt me?"
"Oh, yes, you were there." Jack appeared to be recovering faster than Ianto as he gave Ianto a mischievous grin. "You thought it funny that I was on my best behaviour with a bunch of spirits."
"I did." Ianto's eyes widened. "I did, and you-well, you were, and you know it, but that's beside the point. I don't-what do you think it means?"
"I'm not sure. Hey, I have an idea."
Ianto folded his arms over his chest. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Let's try an experiment. Here, I'm going to close my eyes and think of something very specific. See if you can pick it up, maybe say something to me."
Not waiting for Ianto's reply, Jack closed his eyes, a frown of concentration wrinkling his forehead. Feeling foolish, Ianto transferred his hands to his pockets and tried to clear his mind. He attempted to recapture the fleeting sensation he'd had when his mind had touched Jack's, not too sure if it was something he wanted to relive but curious to see if it could be repeated.
After a few moments, Jack opened his eyes, his disappointment clear.
"Nothing, huh?"
"Not so much as a tickle," Ianto said with a lift of one shoulder.
"Hmm." Jack cocked his head to one side. "That's too bad. Want to know what I was thinking of?"
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me no matter how I answer that question."
Jack leaned forward, and even in the dim light of the hallway, there was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes. "You and me on a white sand beach, lots of sunshine, and lots of privacy."
"Jack, you're useless." Though his tone was stern, Ianto couldn't stop the smile that escaped, a smile that quickly turned into a yawn that he hid behind his hand.
"And you're exhausted." Jack took Ianto's elbow and began leading him down the stairs. "And rightly so. We've had another long night, and besides, it's not every day you get possessed by a something or other and learn you have telepathic abilities."
They reached the bottom of the stairs and as tired as Ianto was, he wasn't ready to simply give in to the second part of Jack's assessment.
"I don't believe in telepathy. Well," he amended, "not between humans, at any rate."
Jack ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in spots. "And up until tonight, neither did I. But don't forget, most people don't believe in ghosts either, and we've pretty much got that one covered. Maybe it was a fluke, maybe it was the connection you have with the Hall's ghosts that allowed you to be a part of that conversation, but something definitely happened."
"Yet that something hasn't happened again."
"It hasn't happened again yet."
"I don't exactly find that encouraging."
Jack nudged Ianto with his elbow. "Don't you want to read my mind, Ianto Jones?"
Ianto gave a delicate shudder. "No offence, but I can't think of anything more violating than having one's every thought read by someone else. Not even Philip could do that. And whilst I'm sure your thoughts are beyond fascinating, I have enough trouble organising my own."
"I doubt that. Listen, why don't you sleep with me tonight?"
Ianto snapped his fingers. "You see? That is exactly why no one should have access to your thought processes."
"Hey, my motives are pure! Well, sort of pure. Okay, vaguely pure. But my point is that we're all alone in this great big house-"
"Jack-" Ianto warned.
"And if you're in another wing and something else happens, how will either of us know? I don't mean to seem rude, but our crack team up there can't exactly raise an alarm should Adam decide to make a break for it. Don't you think sticking close together for the duration makes more sense?"
Ianto hated to admit it, but it did make sense. With things so unsettled and the events of the past few hours still fresh in his mind, there were no guarantees that they would be allowed a night of uninterrupted sleep, despite the spectral guards keeping watch outside of the music room.
"Very well," Ianto conceded, "I see your point. But," he said as Jack's eyes began to shine once more, "before you begin to make any plans, the suite next to yours has a connecting door. I'll sleep there."
"You're no fun," Jack pouted.
"I beg your pardon," Ianto said, "but you haven't enough information to make a judgement like that." He looked at Jack through the veil of his lashes, making his intent unmistakable. "Yet."
"Oh my," Jack murmured, his gaze drifting to Ianto's mouth. "As if I needed more incentive to solve the mystery of Caernarfon Hall."
"Always good to keep the goal in mind." Ianto turned toward the passageway that led to the family quarters. "I'll be back in a moment."
Half an hour later, they were both ready for bed, albeit different ones with the door between the two suites slightly ajar. Jack had flirted and cajoled Ianto to the very end, though neither of them had anticipated any result other than separate sleeping arrangements.
But beyond Jack's teasing innuendo, Ianto discerned a real concern on Jack's part that things were escalating, possibly beyond their already tenuous control. Even after crawling beneath the cool covers of a guest bed he'd never normally allow himself to sit on, let alone sleep in, Ianto could hear Jack pacing in the room next door. Turning on his side, he stared through the darkness at the connecting door, the gap occasionally illuminated by the bluish light of something electric, a laptop perhaps, or a mobile phone. Ianto thought about getting out of bed to see what Jack was up to, but before he could make up his mind, there was the cessation of all activity and light, signalling that Jack had finally gone to bed.
It had been a long, confusing, at times harrowing night. Philip's brief possession had simultaneously reminded Ianto how much he missed Philip's presence in his life and brought home how precarious their relationship had become. Meanwhile, he was growing closer to Jack, learning to trust him, to seek his counsel. And Jack Harkness-television personality, showman, heart breaker-was letting him in, demonstrating over and over that he was determined to stand by Ianto and see this through, no matter what.
And when it was all over? When the thrill of the chase was gone and the mystery solved, what would happen next? Or maybe the mystery wouldn't be solved at all and Jack and Torchwood Paranormal would have to move on to the next patch of haunted real estate, searching for scarier ghosts and a better time slot on Saturday night. How easy would it be for them-for Jack-to forget about Philip and Adam and all the other ghosts when faced with new adventures around every corner?
Rolling onto his back, Ianto could feel sleep slipping from his grasp as his worries began to gather over his head like a thundercloud. He was well on his way to convincing himself that boarding up the Hall was his best option-and the only way to keep Jack safe-when there was a light touch against his mind, no more than a soft, cedar-scented breeze blowing through his imagination, yet its effect was immediate. Ianto felt his body begin to relax, lulled gently into slumber by that subtle, distinct, and familiar presence telling him, not in words but clearly enough, that it was time to let go.
Part Fourteen
This poor chapter of TP has been patiently waiting to be posted, so go here for the last chapter if you need a refresher (which I imagine you do ;) - )
"No, he says he's fine. You and the rest of the crew can take off."
"I am fine," Ianto muttered into his mug. "I wish you'd believe that."
Jack stopped his pacing and pressed his mobile to his shoulder, scowling at Ianto. "Yeah, well, forgive me for thinking that your judgement is as wobbly your knees were not so long ago." He lifted the phone to his ear. "Let's hope what we filmed tonight is enough to complete the episode, because I'm ready to shut this down."
Ianto sighed. "That's the right-"
He stopped when Jack held up his hand. "Right, we'll talk in the morning. Did someone get Toshiko's bags from the hallway? Okay, good. No, we'll be okay. Drive safe. Good night."
Tossing his phone aside, Jack turned to Ianto, his hands on his hips. They were in the sitting area of Jack's suite, Jack in black track suit bottoms and a white t-shirt, Ianto in navy blue sweats. Once they'd entered the Hall, Jack had insisted that Ianto change clothes immediately and then meet him back in his room, and by the time Ianto had arrived, he'd not only changed his own clothes but had started a fire in the fireplace.
His dark hair damp and untouched by a comb, the Jack Harkness who faced Ianto now bore little resemblance to the dashing ghost hunter who'd chased down spectres across Europe with a devil-may-care grin and a well-placed bon mot. There was nothing of the entertainer about Jack now, nothing about him that his fans would recognize. In his place was a man who was deeply troubled by the night's events, and Ianto knew that his choice to host Philip, no matter how well-intentioned, may have fundamentally changed their relationship.
Jack had made it clear before they parted that he didn't want coffee, he didn't want hot chocolate, he didn't want a brandy-all he wanted was an explanation. Ianto had walked in whilst Jack was on the phone, so he set the tray he'd brought on a small table and poured himself a cup of the hot chocolate that Jack had been adamant he didn't want. But after parting from Jack in the foyer, Ianto found he needed something mundane to focus on. Once he'd changed into dry clothes, he'd used the time to re-heat the hot chocolate and prepare himself for what was surely going to be an uncomfortable interview.
Not that he blamed Jack, not at all. Ianto knew he'd frightened Jack very badly, and of everything that had happened that night, that was the one thing that Ianto regretted the most. It had never been Ianto's-or Philip's-intent to mislead Jack in any way. In fact, it was for Jack's protection that Philip had risked the possession at all, and making Jack understand that was now Ianto's priority. It was the best he could hope for-he doubted Jack would ever condone Ianto's decision, which touched a completely different chord in Ianto, one he was hesitant to explore. In a dizzyingly short amount of time, Ianto had won Jack's trust, and now he stood a good chance of losing it.
The thought was devastating.
Everything had gone wrong when neither Philip nor Ianto had realised that once he'd inhabited Ianto's body, Philip would be utterly lost to the seduction of his senses. Sight, smell, the taste of rain in his mouth-Ianto had no doubt that if allowed the chance, Philip would have run headlong into the night, absorbing as much sensation as Ianto's all too human body could stand. Ianto had been there all along, never out of touch with himself, the feel of Philip's mind inside his own allowing him to share Philip's all-encompassing joy at being corporeal again. It had been odd but not at all threatening-they'd communicated telepathically since Ianto was a child, so the only truly unsettling part of their joining was relaxing his mind enough to give Philip control of his limbs.
But now, gazing up at a still visibly upset Jack, Ianto understood that by allowing Philip to get distracted, they'd made a mess of things and quite possibly destroyed that precious trust that Jack had placed in them both.
"Jack, please, sit down. Listen, I know I owe you an apology and an explanation, both of which may take some time. Would you like some hot chocolate?"
"No," Jack snapped. Seemingly surprised by his own sharp response, he ran his palm over his face, then looked at Ianto with something close to a smile. "Yeah, okay."
Glad for the momentary reprieve, Ianto quickly poured out a cup for Jack, then waited until they were both settled in the wing chairs flanking the fire to begin his story. He took a breath and opened his mouth, but was forestalled when Jack leaned forward and spoke up first.
"Listen, Ianto, let's get one thing straight. You don't owe me an apology. I just wish-" he paused, looking down at his bare feet-"I wish you'd talked to me about it first."
"If there'd been time, I would have," Ianto said, "but things didn't go exactly as planned."
Jack raised his head. "Oh? There was a plan?"
Encouraged by the return of humour to Jack's voice, Ianto nodded. "I'd felt Philip's presence as soon as I entered the kitchen, and as glad as I was that he was there, I knew immediately that something was amiss. I couldn't see him as I normally can, and our attempts to communicate weren't working. All I could sense was that he needed to warn us, that someone was at risk, but he couldn't articulate why."
"So, what, he just knocked on your head and asked permission to come aboard?"
"No, it was my idea."
"Your idea?"
"Yes. Knowing that he'd been able to use Lucy in a similar fashion, it seemed like a reasonable choice." Ianto shook his head. "It happened so quickly, I hardly a chance to think it through."
"Well, I can't say that I agree with your choices, but I'm beginning to understand your motivation. What happened after that?"
"Our intention was to find you so that Philip could use me to warn us. We went through the kitchen door, and that's when it happened."
"What?" Jack sipped his chocolate, the casual gesture belied by the white-knuckled grip he had on his mug. "What happened?"
Ianto shrugged. "Philip felt the rain."
"He felt the rain? That's it? He felt the rain?"
"You don't know what it's like for him, Jack." Ianto stood up and walked to the window, pulling aside the curtain to look out into the night. He had no sense of Philip now, not even a faint throb in his bloodstream to tell him that Philip was near. "Neither did I, not really, not until tonight. The loneliness, it's-I don't know how he bears it. To never feel sunlight on your face or touch someone you love, this is what he lives with every day." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass pane. "It must be torture."
He hadn't heard Jack move, yet he was unsurprised when he felt Jack come up behind him, placing his hands on Ianto's shoulders. "But he's had you, Ianto. All these years, you've been in his life. That has to count for something."
Ianto rolled his forehead against the glass, eyes still closed, the cool surface doing little to alleviate the headache that had settled in after Philip had left him. "For very little, I'm afraid. I think-at least I got the impression-that he's been here a very long time, probably before the Hall was built."
Jack's voice was soft. "If that's true-and I think you're right-then there has to be a history of other encounters, either with Philip or the-you know, we can't keep calling it the music room entity." He turned Ianto around, resettling his hands on Ianto's shoulders once they were face to face. "That's quite a mouthful."
"True." Ianto lowered his eyes, focussing on the neckband of Jack's white t-shirt. Jack's proximity, the simple pleasure from the heat of his palms curved around Ianto's shoulders, the change in his demeanour from anger to comfort, Ianto's own turbulent feelings over Philip's possession-it was beginning to make his head swim. He'd tried to be calm for Jack's sake, returning them to some normalcy as soon as possible, but in truth, he'd suffered more than just a case of wobbly knees. Philip had left him, there was no remnant of him lingering in Ianto's consciousness, yet their brief joining had conjured up the kind of internal turmoil that Ianto had only experienced when his father died. Certainly there was the exhilaration of communicating with Philip again, experiencing that warm, caring presence that had shielded him from an uncomfortable childhood, but beyond that, Ianto understood that things had irrevocably changed.
"We've come so far, so quickly," Ianto murmured. "And now you have to leave."
Jack frowned at him. "I do? No, I don't. Just because principal filming is complete, we can still-"
Ianto pressed his fingers to Jack's mouth. "No, you can't. Don't you understand? Philip was quite clear-there's danger here, danger for you if you stay, danger for the Hall as well. You're only making the-whatever we call it-stronger, and if you leave, maybe it will weaken back to a point where we can live with it again."
Curling his fingers around Ianto's wrist, Jack guided Ianto's hand away. "Listen, we've talked about this. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now-"
"It isn't just that. If it was just me, I'd board up the music room and live with it, and that may still be the best option. Rhiannon can't see the ghosts, no one's ever been harmed by what lives inside there, and with Philip to protect me, it still remains that you are the one at risk. I can't see any way-you have to leave, Jack, you have to leave and-" Ianto swallowed "-you can't tell anyone what's happened here."
"I can't-you mean, you don't want the episode to air? What about the Hall, what about the business this is going to bring? Ianto, I can guarantee you'll be booked for months once everyone sees the footage."
"I know, I know." Ianto pulled away, rubbing his temples. "But I don't know what else to do. Rhiannon can find work in town, she's answered phones at Johnny's shop when things were slow. I can start closing off rooms-"
"Whoa, whoa." Jack stepped in front of Ianto, taking him by the shoulders once more. "Where is all this coming from? Only a few hours ago, we'd agreed to continue searching for the source of the dark ghost, with or without Philip's help. It's a problem we can solve, Ianto, I know we can."
Ianto smiled a little, seduced as usual by Jack's insistence that the world was his to bend to his will. Ianto wanted to lean into that strength and draw from it, but his bonding with Philip had shown him all too clearly how selfish that wish was. Any further confrontations with the dark spirit would put Jack at risk, and that was something Ianto would never allow.
"A few hours ago, we hadn't heard Philip saying you were both a catalyst and a target. Your presence here has awakened the entity, you have some kind of bond with it, maybe the kind I have with Philip."
"Now, wait a minute-"
"No, Jack, it makes sense. Maybe these creatures can connect with only one of us, someone like you and I who can see ghosts. If that's true, then you must run as far away from Caernarfon Hall as you can and never come back."
"Sorry, no." Jack's mouth set in a stubborn line. "Everything you've said tonight is pure speculation. Yes, Philip warned me to stay away. He obviously wants to protect you and believe me, I'm more than okay with that. But there's no proof that if I leave, you, the Hall, your family, and anyone else who crosses the entity's path won't be in just as much danger."
He shrugged and stepped away, momentarily turning his back on Ianto. For a moment, Ianto thought that Jack was reconsidering, but one look at his face when he turned back told him otherwise.
"Fine. Kick me out if it will make you feel better," Jack said. "Send us all packing, break your contract, and board up the Hall. But know this, Ianto Jones, you stubborn, gorgeous son of a bitch, your authority ends at your property line, and if I have to I will set up camp on the roadside and wait as long as it takes. You're not getting me out of your life that easily, okay? Not going to happen."
Ianto stared at him, momentarily nonplussed. This was another side of Jack he'd never seen, a version of that formidable will that Jack had no qualms about using against anyone or anything who stood against him. Ianto had no doubt that Jack would do exactly as he threatened, and that reality was equal parts thrilling and aggravating.
"There are laws against vagrancy, you know."
Jack lifted his chin. "Not to sound boastful, but I'm pretty sure I can talk my way around the local constabulary. Hell, I could make one call and have a three ring circus set up in the field across from your driveway."
"You would, wouldn't you," Ianto muttered. "Why are you being so obstinate?"
Jack's eyebrows rose. "Why am I being obstinate? You're the one who's decided to go it alone. The question is why? Why are you fighting me on this?"
Lowering his eyes, Ianto bit his lip. As usual, Jack wasn't letting Ianto close himself off. Jack had developed a special knack for keeping Ianto honest, exposing his vulnerabilities yet safeguarding him at the same time.
"No one's ever cared so much," he said with a small smile. "I'm not used to having anyone be willing to put so much at risk on my account. And as much as I-as nice as that is, I find that your safety has become much more important to me."
Jack pressed his fingertips together and lowered his head, the picture of a man searching for patience. "Then what we need to do is find a way to keep both of us out of trouble. I won't leave you to face this alone and you won't let me stay to help you. I propose a third alternative."
"A third alternative? What is it?"
Jack gestured toward the window. "I propose we let Torchwood Paranormal investigate the music room ghost without either of us nearby. We can sit in the comm van with Tosh and watch the whole thing from a safe distance. I'll bet what we caught on tape yesterday is nothing compared to what we can find if we set our minds to it."
"But what if someone gets hurt?"
Jack shook his head. "They're not like us, Ianto, they can't see what we see. To them it'll just be another investigation, only this time, it won't be for television."
"Then we can't do it. You know I can't afford a private investigation. It must cost a small fortune to hire your team."
"Yes, there are costs, but I'll cover them."
"I can't let you do that."
Jack threw up his hands. "What do I have to do to make you let me help you? Stand on my head? I can do that, you know. Oh, and I can juggle, too. Pretty much anything except maybe chainsaws, they're hell on a manicure. What else-oh, I can dance. Want to see?"
Ianto shook his head, trying not to laugh and give Jack any more encouragement. "No, that won't be-"
Jack slipped his arm around Ianto and grabbed his hand, waltzing him around the room as Ianto dissolved into helpless laughter. That laughter was stilled when Jack's mouth landed on his, stopping their progress.
What started as a playful kiss escalated so quickly that Ianto stumbled. Jack's arms tightened around him and for all Ianto's best intentions to push Jack away for his own good, he found himself returning Jack's embrace with uncharacteristic abandon. Jack's mouth, its shape and texture, the scent of his skin-Ianto wanted nothing more than to give in to everything Jack was offering, but he couldn't risk deepening their relationship when everything was getting more complicated by the minute.
Reluctantly, with a quick kiss as an apology, Ianto disentangled himself from Jack's arms. "Sneaky, Jack." He took a moment to calm his breath. "And yet surprisingly effective. All right, we'll try it your way. But regarding payment, I must insist that the Hall cover the expenses."
"Fine, whatever, we can talk about it later. Look, we were in the middle of a thing here, so can we get back to what we were just-"
Ianto held up his hands and took another step back. "It's late and it's been a long day and a longer night."
Jack folded his arms over his chest. "So that's it? You're going to bed? You do realise we have a pissed off-whatever-just down the hall?"
"Adam."
"What?"
"Philip said the entity was the first of his kind here. I propose we call him Adam."
"Okay, Adam it is. And Adam isn't going away."
"Right." Ianto turned toward the door. "I'll go check on the music room and make sure he's still inside."
"Oh, no, not without me."
"But you're-"
"Can we just drop that for now? I promise if anything feels weird, I'll back off."
Ianto nodded, since he really didn't fancy going near the music room alone. "Fine. But you'll remain at the top of the stairs and not come any closer, is that clear?"
Jack grinned at him. "Yep, I still love it when you order me around."
Ianto opened the door and ushered Jack through. "That's odd, because you don't actually do anything I ask."
"Well, there is that."
***
"Right there, Jack. No further."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm serious."
"I see that. I love it when you're serious, too."
Ianto raised his eyes to the ceiling in futile a search for guidance before slowly approaching the music room, unsurprised and somewhat relieved when Lucy came trotting around the corner. Despite the fact that there were no tell-tale sparkles beneath her paws, he was glad of her company. Within ten feet of the door he felt the temperature change, a chill that deepened with each step he took.
"It's cold," he said over his shoulder.
"I know, I can feel a draft from here."
Ianto immediately stopped and looked back, frowning at Jack. "Can you feel anything else?"
Jack ran the back of his palm along his jaw, his gaze momentarily losing focus. "Yeah, definitely, but it's not much more than a twinge. I think we're okay so far."
"Good." Ianto agreed with Jack's assessment and resumed his approach toward the door, thankful to see that the votive candle he'd used as his makeshift barrier was still stuffed in the hole left by the lock.
"The candle's still here. In fact, it looks frozen in place." He brushed his fingers across the wooden door and over the wall nearby. "The door is like a sheet of ice, but the wall feels normal. I can't see anything else out of place."
"Okay, let's-uh oh, there goes Lucy again."
Ianto looked down to see Lucy sniff at the door, then lift her paw to scratch against its surface. Sitting down, she let out a few yips and tilted her head, her demeanour more curious than confrontational.
"Ianto, I think it's time to back away from the door."
"Wait a minute."
"No, you wait a minute. Here, with me. Away from the door."
Ianto knelt down beside Lucy, watching her as she continued to paw at the door. She seemed neither scared nor upset and, to Ianto's surprise, she backed away from the door, turned around thrice clockwise, curled into a ball, and appeared to go to sleep.
Standing up, Ianto looked down at her with his hands on his hips. "She doesn't seem very concerned."
Jack took a step toward Ianto, then backed off when Ianto frowned at him. "Maybe that's a good sign, maybe that thing-sorry, Adam-is losing his power."
"I don't think so. Look." Ianto moved aside so that Jack could see what he was seeing. Manifesting at the far end of the hall beneath the window were several of the Hall's ghosts, including the flower cutter and the gamekeeper. As he and Jack watched, the woman knelt down next to Lucy and began removing the cuttings from her basket. Taking shears from a pocket, she snipped the ends of the flowers, the discarded stems disappearing into thin air, then magically replenishing for her to snip again. The gamekeeper had taken up a position near the door, leaning his shoulders against the wood as he filled a long-stemmed pipe with tobacco from a pouch dangling from his belt. There were others as well, each of them taking up some abbreviated form of the various tasks that occupied their half-lives, taking no notice of each other but arranging themselves in a rough half-circle near the door.
"Jack," Ianto murmured.
"Yeah, I see it. What do you suppose it means?"
"I don't-" Ianto paused and closed his eyes as the sharp, clean scent of rain-soaked grass filled his senses. Almost before he could grasp its presence, it was gone, but the message was clear.
"Ianto?"
Ianto shook himself and rejoined Jack at the stairs, turning back to survey the gathering of ghosts.
"They're keeping watch."
Jack's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Excuse me?"
"Don't you see? Can't you feel it? Close your eyes, Jack, let them talk to you."
Jack did as he was told, though he did briefly open one eye to express his scepticism. Then he got down to it, and Ianto watched as Jack connected to the otherworld that Ianto once thought only existed in his imagination. It was a connection he could almost see-the spectres behind him settling in, reassuring Jack that at least for this night, he and Ianto could rest easy.
And Jack was silently communicating back to them, gently probing, asking wordless questions. It amused Ianto that even when Jack was talking only with his mind, he was still charming, and wasn't beyond using that charm to try and learn more about the inhabitants of the Hall as well as the entity in the music room. He could sense Jack's eagerness to learn from the gathered spectres as he asked them-
Wait, if Jack wasn't actually speaking, how could Ianto hear him?
Ianto took a stumbling step back as Jack's eyes flew open. They stared at each other, both of them breathing hard as they tried to comprehend what had just happened..
"What the hell was that?" Ianto whispered. "My God, Jack I could hear-"
"You heard me." Jack looked just as shocked as Ianto felt. He rubbed his hand over his face and looked past Ianto to the ghosts. "You were there."
"I was-where was I?"
Jack tapped his forehead with his finger. "In here."
"No." Ianto shook his head. "No, that's not possible. I had to have been imagining-"
"No," Jack shot right back, "you were there. Somehow, you were there. I-well, I didn't see you, exactly, but I definitely felt your presence."
"Felt me?"
"Oh, yes, you were there." Jack appeared to be recovering faster than Ianto as he gave Ianto a mischievous grin. "You thought it funny that I was on my best behaviour with a bunch of spirits."
"I did." Ianto's eyes widened. "I did, and you-well, you were, and you know it, but that's beside the point. I don't-what do you think it means?"
"I'm not sure. Hey, I have an idea."
Ianto folded his arms over his chest. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Let's try an experiment. Here, I'm going to close my eyes and think of something very specific. See if you can pick it up, maybe say something to me."
Not waiting for Ianto's reply, Jack closed his eyes, a frown of concentration wrinkling his forehead. Feeling foolish, Ianto transferred his hands to his pockets and tried to clear his mind. He attempted to recapture the fleeting sensation he'd had when his mind had touched Jack's, not too sure if it was something he wanted to relive but curious to see if it could be repeated.
After a few moments, Jack opened his eyes, his disappointment clear.
"Nothing, huh?"
"Not so much as a tickle," Ianto said with a lift of one shoulder.
"Hmm." Jack cocked his head to one side. "That's too bad. Want to know what I was thinking of?"
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me no matter how I answer that question."
Jack leaned forward, and even in the dim light of the hallway, there was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes. "You and me on a white sand beach, lots of sunshine, and lots of privacy."
"Jack, you're useless." Though his tone was stern, Ianto couldn't stop the smile that escaped, a smile that quickly turned into a yawn that he hid behind his hand.
"And you're exhausted." Jack took Ianto's elbow and began leading him down the stairs. "And rightly so. We've had another long night, and besides, it's not every day you get possessed by a something or other and learn you have telepathic abilities."
They reached the bottom of the stairs and as tired as Ianto was, he wasn't ready to simply give in to the second part of Jack's assessment.
"I don't believe in telepathy. Well," he amended, "not between humans, at any rate."
Jack ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in spots. "And up until tonight, neither did I. But don't forget, most people don't believe in ghosts either, and we've pretty much got that one covered. Maybe it was a fluke, maybe it was the connection you have with the Hall's ghosts that allowed you to be a part of that conversation, but something definitely happened."
"Yet that something hasn't happened again."
"It hasn't happened again yet."
"I don't exactly find that encouraging."
Jack nudged Ianto with his elbow. "Don't you want to read my mind, Ianto Jones?"
Ianto gave a delicate shudder. "No offence, but I can't think of anything more violating than having one's every thought read by someone else. Not even Philip could do that. And whilst I'm sure your thoughts are beyond fascinating, I have enough trouble organising my own."
"I doubt that. Listen, why don't you sleep with me tonight?"
Ianto snapped his fingers. "You see? That is exactly why no one should have access to your thought processes."
"Hey, my motives are pure! Well, sort of pure. Okay, vaguely pure. But my point is that we're all alone in this great big house-"
"Jack-" Ianto warned.
"And if you're in another wing and something else happens, how will either of us know? I don't mean to seem rude, but our crack team up there can't exactly raise an alarm should Adam decide to make a break for it. Don't you think sticking close together for the duration makes more sense?"
Ianto hated to admit it, but it did make sense. With things so unsettled and the events of the past few hours still fresh in his mind, there were no guarantees that they would be allowed a night of uninterrupted sleep, despite the spectral guards keeping watch outside of the music room.
"Very well," Ianto conceded, "I see your point. But," he said as Jack's eyes began to shine once more, "before you begin to make any plans, the suite next to yours has a connecting door. I'll sleep there."
"You're no fun," Jack pouted.
"I beg your pardon," Ianto said, "but you haven't enough information to make a judgement like that." He looked at Jack through the veil of his lashes, making his intent unmistakable. "Yet."
"Oh my," Jack murmured, his gaze drifting to Ianto's mouth. "As if I needed more incentive to solve the mystery of Caernarfon Hall."
"Always good to keep the goal in mind." Ianto turned toward the passageway that led to the family quarters. "I'll be back in a moment."
Half an hour later, they were both ready for bed, albeit different ones with the door between the two suites slightly ajar. Jack had flirted and cajoled Ianto to the very end, though neither of them had anticipated any result other than separate sleeping arrangements.
But beyond Jack's teasing innuendo, Ianto discerned a real concern on Jack's part that things were escalating, possibly beyond their already tenuous control. Even after crawling beneath the cool covers of a guest bed he'd never normally allow himself to sit on, let alone sleep in, Ianto could hear Jack pacing in the room next door. Turning on his side, he stared through the darkness at the connecting door, the gap occasionally illuminated by the bluish light of something electric, a laptop perhaps, or a mobile phone. Ianto thought about getting out of bed to see what Jack was up to, but before he could make up his mind, there was the cessation of all activity and light, signalling that Jack had finally gone to bed.
It had been a long, confusing, at times harrowing night. Philip's brief possession had simultaneously reminded Ianto how much he missed Philip's presence in his life and brought home how precarious their relationship had become. Meanwhile, he was growing closer to Jack, learning to trust him, to seek his counsel. And Jack Harkness-television personality, showman, heart breaker-was letting him in, demonstrating over and over that he was determined to stand by Ianto and see this through, no matter what.
And when it was all over? When the thrill of the chase was gone and the mystery solved, what would happen next? Or maybe the mystery wouldn't be solved at all and Jack and Torchwood Paranormal would have to move on to the next patch of haunted real estate, searching for scarier ghosts and a better time slot on Saturday night. How easy would it be for them-for Jack-to forget about Philip and Adam and all the other ghosts when faced with new adventures around every corner?
Rolling onto his back, Ianto could feel sleep slipping from his grasp as his worries began to gather over his head like a thundercloud. He was well on his way to convincing himself that boarding up the Hall was his best option-and the only way to keep Jack safe-when there was a light touch against his mind, no more than a soft, cedar-scented breeze blowing through his imagination, yet its effect was immediate. Ianto felt his body begin to relax, lulled gently into slumber by that subtle, distinct, and familiar presence telling him, not in words but clearly enough, that it was time to let go.
Part Fourteen