Ianto's Birthday by a_silver_story | 06
Title: Ianto's Birthday
Chapter Complete 6/6
Author a_silver_story
Genre: Alternate Universe, 'Fix it'.
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: Sex, swearing
Summary: A re-edit of a section of my IM series so that it stands alone as its own fic. Jack fires Ianto in an attempt to keep him safe, Ianto has no idea where their relationship is really at and Gwen rolls her eyes a lot at the silliness of boys. All the while, Jack is being buffeted about through time, not quite realising that if he doesn't do something about it soon, existence itself will completely and utterly unravel. Cue hard decisions, a visit from a Doctor and some impromptu babysitting.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Ianto seemed more relaxed about the idea than Jack did. He sat on the bed in the medical bay, sleeves rolled up, staring into space while the Doctor explained what they were doing for a third time. Jack paced, or fiddled, or sat by him to hold his hand. He wouldn’t stay still, and his tetchiness was making Ianto more and more nervous - not that he wasn’t already getting frightened.
“You don’t have to do it,” Jack told him quietly when the Doctor left them to give them space. “Really, you don’t. We can’t even know the chances of this working, and calculating it would be near impossible.”
“Jack ... this ... You have to be honest with me. Would - Would you have chosen me a hundred hears down the line, after I was dead and gone?”
The Captain thought for a moment before answering.
“Do you want me to lie?” he replied simply, and Ianto looked away. Jack curled his fingers under his chin, turning his head to look back at him. “Ianto: don’t think like this. You and me ... we’re here now. And we go together now. I … I'm with you now.”
“I never want to leave you,” Ianto whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “And if this doesn’t work ... I’ll have to leave you sooner than-”
“I have faith in the Doctor.”
“I don’t.”
Jack bit his lip, moving his hand to caress Ianto's cheek. He leaned into the touch, and Jack fought back the fear building in his belly. “If you can’t have faith in the Doctor, have faith in me.”
Ianto gave a weak laugh. “Faith in you and faith in the Doctor is the same thing in this scenario.”
“You don’t have to do it,” Jack repeated.
“You keep saying,” Ianto replied. Jack put his arms around him and squeezed him tight. “I’m ... I’m frightened Jack.”
“Me too, Ianto.”
“I don’t want to die yet, but I don’t want to live forever. And nor do I ever want to have to leave you.”
Jack rubbed his arm comfortingly, unsure what to say. He’d have to give up something no matter what happened.
“The Doctor reckons we can leave it a few more hours. Think about it some more,” Jack muttered into his hair, tucking his head under his chin.
“How are you planning on ... on euthanizing me?” Ianto asked, deciding he didn’t like the words ‘kill’ ... or ‘murder’.
“Quick injection. Totally painless. You’ll just ... fall asleep, and everything will stop.”
Ianto nodded. “Will you ... would you do it?”
Jack nearly jumped at the question. “Wh-what? You want me to ... to ...”
“I’d rather die at your hands than his,” Ianto told him resolutely. “However temporary.”
“Why don’t you like him?”
“He called you ‘wrong’,” Ianto replied simply. “Which means he’s going be calling me ‘wrong’ too. Considering everything you’re going through for him - in the past, and the present, and everything in your future - he could at least show you a little bit of respect.”
“He also called me ‘brilliant’ earlier. Does that cancel it out?”
“Not really. Not yet.”
They fell silent for a moment, but Ianto needed his answer.
“So ... would you do it, then? Would you give me the injection?”
Jack fought back tears, but they trickled forth anyway. He nodded, then buried his head in Ianto's neck, pinning their bodies together. His shoulders shook as he openly wept, clinging to Ianto so hard he would leave bruises. Ianto stroked his hair, shushing him, telling him it would be okay.
“I’ll do it,” Ianto whispered. “I’ll ... take the chance. Because you need me.”
God, he really hoped this worked.
~*~
“So ... here’s the plan,” began the Doctor,
pushing a sheet of paper with doodles on it across the library desk towards Ianto. Ianto liked the library. He had hoped to have a proper look around, but was now very aware of the fact he might never get the chance. Jack was stood behind him, hands leaning on the back of his chair defensively. They both looked at the diagrams the Doctor had drawn.
Ianto raised an eyebrow.
“What makes you so sure Jack’ll be on top?” he asked, trying to make light of the situation and relieve the growing tension. The Doctor didn’t get it. “So ... what exactly are the chances of me not coming back?”
“No idea,” shrugged the Doctor. “This has never even been thought of before, never mind attempted. I could try and calculate your chances of coming back, but I don’t think Jack would like it ...”
He nodded silently. “Doctor ... why ... why me?” Jack’s hands lightly pressed onto his shoulders comfortingly.
“Equal and opposite,” the Doctor repeated, yet again.
“Am I?”
“Opposite?”
“No ... equal ...”
“You’re right. You are better than him,” winked the Doctor. Ianto turned a delicate shade of pink.
“I’m frightened,” he admitted.
“You ... you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Jack repeated quietly, almost timidly.
“Who else is there?” asked the Doctor. “I suppose we could use someone who’s already dead. But then I can’t be certain as to the equal and oppositeness of them ....”
“Time Travel?” suggested Ianto.
“No guarantee I’ll get where I want to go. Even the TARDIS is struggling with our location in the Timey Wimey now.”
“So ... it’s me because I’m convenient?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor.
“No,” said Jack.
“Well ... not convenient as such,” the Doctor backtracked after receiving a glare from Jack. “Conveniently ... perfect. Maybe the Timey Wimey is going wrong in this time period because ... erm ... woah!”
Jack staggered forward, Ianto's shoulders suddenly gone from under him. Instead there was a little boy - Jack recognised him as Ianto with little difficulty. He was looking very shocked and frightened. His big eyes stared around, his bottom lip wobbled and Jack instantly sprung into action, scooping him up and cuddling him close.
He yelped as little teeth bit down hard on his neck nearly dropping the child, who landed on his feet and scurried away, finding somewhere to hide so fast the Doctor and Jack lost track of him. Jack could feel the tiny crescents in his neck where the little teeth had imprinted, and was fairly certain they were going to bruise.
“Ianto?” he called. He heard a whimper from the shadows between the books. “Ianto, it’s okay. My name’s Jack. I know you’re frightened, but you’re safe here; I’ll take care of you.”
There was movement in the shadows, and a little head poked out from behind a stand-alone shelf. Realising Jack had seen him, Ianto pulled back and hid again, his big blue eyes still wide and scared. Slowly, Jack made his way toward him, the Doctor watching cautiously from behind his desk. He crouched down low, Ianto backing up against the wall as if hoping it would absorb him and protect him from this stranger who knew his name.
“Ianto? Come out from there. I can help get you home if you come out.” He extended his arm, open-palmed, reaching for him. Ianto whimpered again, then slowly moved forward. Jack placed his age at around three, or only just. His little hand closed into Jack’s, and he helped him out from the shadows. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled him into his lap, trying to get him to relax even though he remained resolutely stiff. Eventually he crawled to sit on the floor next to Jack instead.
He’d stopped crying now, and was simply staring at the floor ignoring Jack and the Doctor’s attempts to talk to him. He pulled at his t-shirt, drew patterns on the floor with his finger, but he refused to speak to them or let them touch him. The Doctor frowned.
“Does his adult self not generally like being touched, by any chance?”
Jack thought about it. “He touches me,” he shrugged. “Though ... most of the time he just ... hints he wants to be touched, and waits for me to ... What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. Just curiou- oh!”
The child
was replaced by a full-grown Ianto in a Marks and Spencer’s suit, half-way through chewing a sandwich. His eyes roved around in confusion, his jaw frozen mid-chew, and he gave the sandwich an accusatory glance as if it was solely responsible for the change in scenery.
“What ... the ... fuck ...?” he eventually asked, tired of the Doctor and Jack - evidently strangers - staring at him.
“Erm ... what year is it?” asked Jack.
“2005,” answered Ianto, his eyes darting from one to the other. “Um ... have you ... kidnapped me? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna tell you nothing.”
Jack blinked. “You ... you just used a double negative ...”
“You just stole me from the canteen!” scowled Ianto, taking another bite of his sandwich as if frightened that was going to be stolen next.
“Woahhhhh freaky ...” Jack suddenly exclaimed, and the Doctor noticed the subtle differences of his shirt and braces, his boots looking a little less worn and his hair darker. “Oh ... hi, Ianto.”
“Um ... how does he know my name?” Ianto asked the Doctor.
“Timey Wimey.” replied the Doctor.
Jack was staring at the Doctor, as if trying to place a face he knew but couldn’t quite remember where from. “D-D-Doctor?” he choked out.
Ianto changed again - this time shirtless and panting. He stared around, wide-eyed, sinking onto the floor next to Jack, obviously thinking he’d been taken from the same place.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Jack, realising that Ianto had been replaced by a future version of himself - or less naked one, at any rate.
“You ... y-you don’t know either?” panted Ianto in reply.
“Timey Wimey,” the Doctor told them, just as Jack suddenly donned a Victorian waistcoat and dress trousers, shiny shoes and fob watch. He looked around, spotted shirtless and flushed Ianto sat by him, and grinned.
“Well hello there!” he held out his hand. “What’s a pretty young thing like you doing getting yourself kidnapped by a strange, lanky man like that?”
“Oi!” exclaimed the Doctor indignantly.
The TARDIS began to shake, the effort of trying to right the now Explained Temporal Displacements wracking her to the core. In a flash of yellow light and a slightly nauseous feeling, Jack and Ianto found themselves back in their proper time, sat on the floor of the TARDIS library.
Ianto massaged watering eyes, not wanting to talk about where he’d been or what he had seen.
“Let’s ... let’s go and get this started ...” he eventually murmured, getting up and heading away from the library without waiting for confirmation from either Jack or the Doctor.
~*~
The plan was that Jack himself would absorb the Vortex, bring Ianto back permanently, then let the Vortex flowing through him fry his brain. Hopefully, when he woke up, Ianto would be there, first thing he’d see, eyes twinkling and laughing with relief.
The Doctor led them to the little medical room, and this time the bed was set up far more comfortably. It was also on wheels, so that it would be easier to move Ianto's body into the control room once the drugs had ... 'taken effect'.
Ianto sat on the bed, and true to his word, Jack was preparing the lethal injection, filling the syringe and fastening a tourniquet to Ianto's arm. The Doctor had wandered off to give them more time alone.
“Wonderful thing about Welsh skin,” Ianto commented. “It’s so pale, it’s practically translucent. You barely need the tourniquet to find the vein.”
Jack ‘mmm’d’, and flicked the air bubbles from the syringe.
“It’s a lethal injection, Jack,” Ianto pointed out. “I’m hardly worried about air bubbles. Come to think of it: why do they use sterilized needles for lethal injections? Defeats the object, really.”
“You’re babbling,” Jack told him quietly, though the affection in his voice was evident.
“Sorry,” Ianto smiled.
“Okay ... ready?” Jack asked.
“No. But go on.”
Jack took a deep breath, lowered the needle to Ianto's arm, applied a little pressure to the skin and ... jumped back before
he could pierce it and poison the bloodstream.
“Jack?”
“Sorry ... I ... sorry ... Try again ...”
He rested the point on Ianto's vein again, took a deep breath and ... he couldn’t do it. He actually couldn’t physically do it.
“I ... I can’t ...” he sniffed.
“Oh for pity’s sake!” sighed Ianto. “Give it here.”
He snatched the needle from Jack’s shocked hand, punctured his vein with a hiss, pressed the plunger and removed the syringe, tossing it aside onto the bedside cabinet. Jack was still in shock, staring at the empty syringe lying innocently on the side, flicking his gaze to Ianto and back again.
Ianto was calmly removing the tourniquet, and turning to lie down as if it was only some form on anaesthesia he’d just administered himself.
“At least I made it to twenty-six. Just about,” he sighed distantly. “A nice, round thirty would have been okay, too. But twenty-six isn’t so bad. Then again, from this side of a lethal injection, three hundred does sound very promising.”
“I ... can’t believe you did that ...” Jack stammered, taking Ianto's hand, still staring at the syringe.
“I knew I’d have to do it myself, Jack,” Ianto muttered. “But I also knew you’d want to pretend you were strong enough to do it.”
Jack sniffed. “I ... I want to see you again.”
“You will,” Ianto insisted.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because when it comes to leaving someone dead, you’re the most stubborn person I know.”
~*~
“What do we do now?”
He knew the Doctor was stood behind him, even if he couldn’t see. Jack leant his hands on the bed, Ianto still and lifeless just inches from him. He hung his head, squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
“We should take him to the control room,” said the Doctor quietly. “Just like we planned. We’ll see instantly if it worked that way.”
“I’ve had nightmares about this,” murmured Jack.
“About this?”
“About him ... dying. About the day it happens. I never thought I’d have to stand by and watch his life taken away by his own hands, doing nothing but holding him until he was gone.” Jack tutted loudly. “His hair’s a mess ... I’m no good with his hair. It never does what I tell it to ...”
“His life is in your hands, now, Jack. You can bring him back. You can save him; and you can save existence along with him.” The Doctor stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Jack squeezed it, took another deep breath and prepared to wheel the bed up to the command console.
“The TARDIS will help you,” explained the Doctor, “but only to an extent. She can’t control your will. Don’t try and bring anyone else back. The paradoxes will cancel out anything we did bringing back Ianto, and the Universe will unravel.”
“I understand that,” Jack sighed, pushing the bed, keeping near Ianto's head, pretending he was only sleeping. The flush in his cheeks was fading, and his skin was starting to look clammy. Soon it would be hard to pretend he was only unconscious; his complexion would be pasted and waxy, his lips pale and greying. Jack tried to move faster.
“Here we go!” the Doctor tried to grin, but it didn’t quite happen.
Jack was feeling sick and nervous, running his fingers through Ianto's hair, trying to tease it into something neater. He fought back the grief, biting it down and pushing it away to be dealt with later, waiting while the Doctor muttered low to the TARDIS as he wandered around the console, running fingers over the surface of it and finding where he was going to pull her open.
“Jack?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Ready?”
Jack nodded mutely.
“Remember: look straight into the light. It might hurt a little but ... you’ll be fine. Should be fine. It’s you. I’m sure you’ll be fine ...”
“Okay,” Jack moved closer. “Shall we count to three?”
“On three, or a second after three?”
“Whichever you feel most comfortable with,” grumbled Jack. “Just hurry up, Doctor.” He glanced over at Ianto's body and bit back annoyance at himself. Why could Jack never get Ianto's hair to behave? He only ever messed it up more ...
“One .... two .... three ....!”
The Doctor wasn’t lying.
It really did hurt.
~*~
Ouch. Aching.
Did the pins and needles happen every time?
His joints ached worse than they ever had in his entire life - he’d definitely need a massage a later, and he knew exactly who he’d want to give it to him.
He smiled to himself, then remembered where he was. The TARDIS.
The mesh metal of her floor was digging into his back, warm underneath him and humming her comfort. Odd, he thought. I don’t remember falling over ...
Everything came crashing back in an instant.
He prised his eyes open, lifting his head with aching muscles and staring around, hauling himself to a sitting position as his entire being screamed in protest of movement. Sore throat feeling like it was on fire, he forced out a croaked word:
“Doctor?”
There was a moment of silence before he got his reply.
“Over here, Jack.”
~*~
With a great effort, Jack pulled himself up. He groaned as his legs yelled out against his weight, and staggered over to where the Doctor was stood by the bed.
He was beaming.
“He woke up! Went into hysterics and hyperventilated a little, but he’s fine.” He nodded down at the bed, where Ianto lay. He was pale, but breathing deeply and evenly. Tears had tracked down his cheeks.
“‘Hyperventilated a little’?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “He ... passed out ...”
“I knocked him out, actually.” The Doctor shuffled nervously. “He was panicking about you. You were in pain and he was going to kiss you and he had to be stopped. Otherwise the Vortex energy would have passed into him and lord knows what he’d try and do with it.”
“He’d try and turn the national drink of the UK from tea to coffee and make Archiving skills mandatory to the curriculum.” Jack smiled to himself, reaching out to brush a brown curl away from Ianto's face. He felt strangely calm within himself, warm and happy. Complete.
He tapped the side of Ianto's face with his palm, urging him to wake up. He smiled as a hand batted him away, and a sleepy murmur escaped Ianto's lips.
“Leave him a bit,” sighed the Doctor. “I don’t think he’s concussed ...”
“Has ... everything sorted itself?” Jack asked, smiling and playing with the buttons on Ianto's shirt.
“There was a minor ... Time hurricane. About a hundred trillion years whipped around and around while the Timey Wimey made sense of everything. Pity you missed it, it was strangely beautiful … And I now know the exact moment Johnny Depp’s age finally starts to show.”
“Mmm,” replied Jack, adjusting Ianto's tie, still smiling a little dopily.
“I think everything should be fine. Everything ... feels fine.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re fine, Ianto's fine, the TARDIS is fine, Time’s fine, I’m fine.”
“Mmhmmm.”
“Are you listening?”
“I agree”
“Jack?”
Jack jerked his head up and looked at the Doctor. “What?”
“You weren’t listening.”
“Sorry,” said Jack sheepishly, then lowered his eyes to Ianto again. “Can I wake him up yet?”
Post Too Large - Click here for next section
Chapter Complete 6/6
Author a_silver_story
Genre: Alternate Universe, 'Fix it'.
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: Sex, swearing
Summary: A re-edit of a section of my IM series so that it stands alone as its own fic. Jack fires Ianto in an attempt to keep him safe, Ianto has no idea where their relationship is really at and Gwen rolls her eyes a lot at the silliness of boys. All the while, Jack is being buffeted about through time, not quite realising that if he doesn't do something about it soon, existence itself will completely and utterly unravel. Cue hard decisions, a visit from a Doctor and some impromptu babysitting.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Ianto seemed more relaxed about the idea than Jack did. He sat on the bed in the medical bay, sleeves rolled up, staring into space while the Doctor explained what they were doing for a third time. Jack paced, or fiddled, or sat by him to hold his hand. He wouldn’t stay still, and his tetchiness was making Ianto more and more nervous - not that he wasn’t already getting frightened.
“You don’t have to do it,” Jack told him quietly when the Doctor left them to give them space. “Really, you don’t. We can’t even know the chances of this working, and calculating it would be near impossible.”
“Jack ... this ... You have to be honest with me. Would - Would you have chosen me a hundred hears down the line, after I was dead and gone?”
The Captain thought for a moment before answering.
“Do you want me to lie?” he replied simply, and Ianto looked away. Jack curled his fingers under his chin, turning his head to look back at him. “Ianto: don’t think like this. You and me ... we’re here now. And we go together now. I … I'm with you now.”
“I never want to leave you,” Ianto whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “And if this doesn’t work ... I’ll have to leave you sooner than-”
“I have faith in the Doctor.”
“I don’t.”
Jack bit his lip, moving his hand to caress Ianto's cheek. He leaned into the touch, and Jack fought back the fear building in his belly. “If you can’t have faith in the Doctor, have faith in me.”
Ianto gave a weak laugh. “Faith in you and faith in the Doctor is the same thing in this scenario.”
“You don’t have to do it,” Jack repeated.
“You keep saying,” Ianto replied. Jack put his arms around him and squeezed him tight. “I’m ... I’m frightened Jack.”
“Me too, Ianto.”
“I don’t want to die yet, but I don’t want to live forever. And nor do I ever want to have to leave you.”
Jack rubbed his arm comfortingly, unsure what to say. He’d have to give up something no matter what happened.
“The Doctor reckons we can leave it a few more hours. Think about it some more,” Jack muttered into his hair, tucking his head under his chin.
“How are you planning on ... on euthanizing me?” Ianto asked, deciding he didn’t like the words ‘kill’ ... or ‘murder’.
“Quick injection. Totally painless. You’ll just ... fall asleep, and everything will stop.”
Ianto nodded. “Will you ... would you do it?”
Jack nearly jumped at the question. “Wh-what? You want me to ... to ...”
“I’d rather die at your hands than his,” Ianto told him resolutely. “However temporary.”
“Why don’t you like him?”
“He called you ‘wrong’,” Ianto replied simply. “Which means he’s going be calling me ‘wrong’ too. Considering everything you’re going through for him - in the past, and the present, and everything in your future - he could at least show you a little bit of respect.”
“He also called me ‘brilliant’ earlier. Does that cancel it out?”
“Not really. Not yet.”
They fell silent for a moment, but Ianto needed his answer.
“So ... would you do it, then? Would you give me the injection?”
Jack fought back tears, but they trickled forth anyway. He nodded, then buried his head in Ianto's neck, pinning their bodies together. His shoulders shook as he openly wept, clinging to Ianto so hard he would leave bruises. Ianto stroked his hair, shushing him, telling him it would be okay.
“I’ll do it,” Ianto whispered. “I’ll ... take the chance. Because you need me.”
God, he really hoped this worked.
~*~
“So ... here’s the plan,” began the Doctor,
pushing a sheet of paper with doodles on it across the library desk towards Ianto. Ianto liked the library. He had hoped to have a proper look around, but was now very aware of the fact he might never get the chance. Jack was stood behind him, hands leaning on the back of his chair defensively. They both looked at the diagrams the Doctor had drawn.
Ianto raised an eyebrow.
“What makes you so sure Jack’ll be on top?” he asked, trying to make light of the situation and relieve the growing tension. The Doctor didn’t get it. “So ... what exactly are the chances of me not coming back?”
“No idea,” shrugged the Doctor. “This has never even been thought of before, never mind attempted. I could try and calculate your chances of coming back, but I don’t think Jack would like it ...”
He nodded silently. “Doctor ... why ... why me?” Jack’s hands lightly pressed onto his shoulders comfortingly.
“Equal and opposite,” the Doctor repeated, yet again.
“Am I?”
“Opposite?”
“No ... equal ...”
“You’re right. You are better than him,” winked the Doctor. Ianto turned a delicate shade of pink.
“I’m frightened,” he admitted.
“You ... you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Jack repeated quietly, almost timidly.
“Who else is there?” asked the Doctor. “I suppose we could use someone who’s already dead. But then I can’t be certain as to the equal and oppositeness of them ....”
“Time Travel?” suggested Ianto.
“No guarantee I’ll get where I want to go. Even the TARDIS is struggling with our location in the Timey Wimey now.”
“So ... it’s me because I’m convenient?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor.
“No,” said Jack.
“Well ... not convenient as such,” the Doctor backtracked after receiving a glare from Jack. “Conveniently ... perfect. Maybe the Timey Wimey is going wrong in this time period because ... erm ... woah!”
Jack staggered forward, Ianto's shoulders suddenly gone from under him. Instead there was a little boy - Jack recognised him as Ianto with little difficulty. He was looking very shocked and frightened. His big eyes stared around, his bottom lip wobbled and Jack instantly sprung into action, scooping him up and cuddling him close.
He yelped as little teeth bit down hard on his neck nearly dropping the child, who landed on his feet and scurried away, finding somewhere to hide so fast the Doctor and Jack lost track of him. Jack could feel the tiny crescents in his neck where the little teeth had imprinted, and was fairly certain they were going to bruise.
“Ianto?” he called. He heard a whimper from the shadows between the books. “Ianto, it’s okay. My name’s Jack. I know you’re frightened, but you’re safe here; I’ll take care of you.”
There was movement in the shadows, and a little head poked out from behind a stand-alone shelf. Realising Jack had seen him, Ianto pulled back and hid again, his big blue eyes still wide and scared. Slowly, Jack made his way toward him, the Doctor watching cautiously from behind his desk. He crouched down low, Ianto backing up against the wall as if hoping it would absorb him and protect him from this stranger who knew his name.
“Ianto? Come out from there. I can help get you home if you come out.” He extended his arm, open-palmed, reaching for him. Ianto whimpered again, then slowly moved forward. Jack placed his age at around three, or only just. His little hand closed into Jack’s, and he helped him out from the shadows. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled him into his lap, trying to get him to relax even though he remained resolutely stiff. Eventually he crawled to sit on the floor next to Jack instead.
He’d stopped crying now, and was simply staring at the floor ignoring Jack and the Doctor’s attempts to talk to him. He pulled at his t-shirt, drew patterns on the floor with his finger, but he refused to speak to them or let them touch him. The Doctor frowned.
“Does his adult self not generally like being touched, by any chance?”
Jack thought about it. “He touches me,” he shrugged. “Though ... most of the time he just ... hints he wants to be touched, and waits for me to ... What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. Just curiou- oh!”
The child
was replaced by a full-grown Ianto in a Marks and Spencer’s suit, half-way through chewing a sandwich. His eyes roved around in confusion, his jaw frozen mid-chew, and he gave the sandwich an accusatory glance as if it was solely responsible for the change in scenery.
“What ... the ... fuck ...?” he eventually asked, tired of the Doctor and Jack - evidently strangers - staring at him.
“Erm ... what year is it?” asked Jack.
“2005,” answered Ianto, his eyes darting from one to the other. “Um ... have you ... kidnapped me? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna tell you nothing.”
Jack blinked. “You ... you just used a double negative ...”
“You just stole me from the canteen!” scowled Ianto, taking another bite of his sandwich as if frightened that was going to be stolen next.
“Woahhhhh freaky ...” Jack suddenly exclaimed, and the Doctor noticed the subtle differences of his shirt and braces, his boots looking a little less worn and his hair darker. “Oh ... hi, Ianto.”
“Um ... how does he know my name?” Ianto asked the Doctor.
“Timey Wimey.” replied the Doctor.
Jack was staring at the Doctor, as if trying to place a face he knew but couldn’t quite remember where from. “D-D-Doctor?” he choked out.
Ianto changed again - this time shirtless and panting. He stared around, wide-eyed, sinking onto the floor next to Jack, obviously thinking he’d been taken from the same place.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Jack, realising that Ianto had been replaced by a future version of himself - or less naked one, at any rate.
“You ... y-you don’t know either?” panted Ianto in reply.
“Timey Wimey,” the Doctor told them, just as Jack suddenly donned a Victorian waistcoat and dress trousers, shiny shoes and fob watch. He looked around, spotted shirtless and flushed Ianto sat by him, and grinned.
“Well hello there!” he held out his hand. “What’s a pretty young thing like you doing getting yourself kidnapped by a strange, lanky man like that?”
“Oi!” exclaimed the Doctor indignantly.
The TARDIS began to shake, the effort of trying to right the now Explained Temporal Displacements wracking her to the core. In a flash of yellow light and a slightly nauseous feeling, Jack and Ianto found themselves back in their proper time, sat on the floor of the TARDIS library.
Ianto massaged watering eyes, not wanting to talk about where he’d been or what he had seen.
“Let’s ... let’s go and get this started ...” he eventually murmured, getting up and heading away from the library without waiting for confirmation from either Jack or the Doctor.
~*~
The plan was that Jack himself would absorb the Vortex, bring Ianto back permanently, then let the Vortex flowing through him fry his brain. Hopefully, when he woke up, Ianto would be there, first thing he’d see, eyes twinkling and laughing with relief.
The Doctor led them to the little medical room, and this time the bed was set up far more comfortably. It was also on wheels, so that it would be easier to move Ianto's body into the control room once the drugs had ... 'taken effect'.
Ianto sat on the bed, and true to his word, Jack was preparing the lethal injection, filling the syringe and fastening a tourniquet to Ianto's arm. The Doctor had wandered off to give them more time alone.
“Wonderful thing about Welsh skin,” Ianto commented. “It’s so pale, it’s practically translucent. You barely need the tourniquet to find the vein.”
Jack ‘mmm’d’, and flicked the air bubbles from the syringe.
“It’s a lethal injection, Jack,” Ianto pointed out. “I’m hardly worried about air bubbles. Come to think of it: why do they use sterilized needles for lethal injections? Defeats the object, really.”
“You’re babbling,” Jack told him quietly, though the affection in his voice was evident.
“Sorry,” Ianto smiled.
“Okay ... ready?” Jack asked.
“No. But go on.”
Jack took a deep breath, lowered the needle to Ianto's arm, applied a little pressure to the skin and ... jumped back before
he could pierce it and poison the bloodstream.
“Jack?”
“Sorry ... I ... sorry ... Try again ...”
He rested the point on Ianto's vein again, took a deep breath and ... he couldn’t do it. He actually couldn’t physically do it.
“I ... I can’t ...” he sniffed.
“Oh for pity’s sake!” sighed Ianto. “Give it here.”
He snatched the needle from Jack’s shocked hand, punctured his vein with a hiss, pressed the plunger and removed the syringe, tossing it aside onto the bedside cabinet. Jack was still in shock, staring at the empty syringe lying innocently on the side, flicking his gaze to Ianto and back again.
Ianto was calmly removing the tourniquet, and turning to lie down as if it was only some form on anaesthesia he’d just administered himself.
“At least I made it to twenty-six. Just about,” he sighed distantly. “A nice, round thirty would have been okay, too. But twenty-six isn’t so bad. Then again, from this side of a lethal injection, three hundred does sound very promising.”
“I ... can’t believe you did that ...” Jack stammered, taking Ianto's hand, still staring at the syringe.
“I knew I’d have to do it myself, Jack,” Ianto muttered. “But I also knew you’d want to pretend you were strong enough to do it.”
Jack sniffed. “I ... I want to see you again.”
“You will,” Ianto insisted.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because when it comes to leaving someone dead, you’re the most stubborn person I know.”
~*~
“What do we do now?”
He knew the Doctor was stood behind him, even if he couldn’t see. Jack leant his hands on the bed, Ianto still and lifeless just inches from him. He hung his head, squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
“We should take him to the control room,” said the Doctor quietly. “Just like we planned. We’ll see instantly if it worked that way.”
“I’ve had nightmares about this,” murmured Jack.
“About this?”
“About him ... dying. About the day it happens. I never thought I’d have to stand by and watch his life taken away by his own hands, doing nothing but holding him until he was gone.” Jack tutted loudly. “His hair’s a mess ... I’m no good with his hair. It never does what I tell it to ...”
“His life is in your hands, now, Jack. You can bring him back. You can save him; and you can save existence along with him.” The Doctor stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Jack squeezed it, took another deep breath and prepared to wheel the bed up to the command console.
“The TARDIS will help you,” explained the Doctor, “but only to an extent. She can’t control your will. Don’t try and bring anyone else back. The paradoxes will cancel out anything we did bringing back Ianto, and the Universe will unravel.”
“I understand that,” Jack sighed, pushing the bed, keeping near Ianto's head, pretending he was only sleeping. The flush in his cheeks was fading, and his skin was starting to look clammy. Soon it would be hard to pretend he was only unconscious; his complexion would be pasted and waxy, his lips pale and greying. Jack tried to move faster.
“Here we go!” the Doctor tried to grin, but it didn’t quite happen.
Jack was feeling sick and nervous, running his fingers through Ianto's hair, trying to tease it into something neater. He fought back the grief, biting it down and pushing it away to be dealt with later, waiting while the Doctor muttered low to the TARDIS as he wandered around the console, running fingers over the surface of it and finding where he was going to pull her open.
“Jack?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Ready?”
Jack nodded mutely.
“Remember: look straight into the light. It might hurt a little but ... you’ll be fine. Should be fine. It’s you. I’m sure you’ll be fine ...”
“Okay,” Jack moved closer. “Shall we count to three?”
“On three, or a second after three?”
“Whichever you feel most comfortable with,” grumbled Jack. “Just hurry up, Doctor.” He glanced over at Ianto's body and bit back annoyance at himself. Why could Jack never get Ianto's hair to behave? He only ever messed it up more ...
“One .... two .... three ....!”
The Doctor wasn’t lying.
It really did hurt.
~*~
Ouch. Aching.
Did the pins and needles happen every time?
His joints ached worse than they ever had in his entire life - he’d definitely need a massage a later, and he knew exactly who he’d want to give it to him.
He smiled to himself, then remembered where he was. The TARDIS.
The mesh metal of her floor was digging into his back, warm underneath him and humming her comfort. Odd, he thought. I don’t remember falling over ...
Everything came crashing back in an instant.
He prised his eyes open, lifting his head with aching muscles and staring around, hauling himself to a sitting position as his entire being screamed in protest of movement. Sore throat feeling like it was on fire, he forced out a croaked word:
“Doctor?”
There was a moment of silence before he got his reply.
“Over here, Jack.”
~*~
With a great effort, Jack pulled himself up. He groaned as his legs yelled out against his weight, and staggered over to where the Doctor was stood by the bed.
He was beaming.
“He woke up! Went into hysterics and hyperventilated a little, but he’s fine.” He nodded down at the bed, where Ianto lay. He was pale, but breathing deeply and evenly. Tears had tracked down his cheeks.
“‘Hyperventilated a little’?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “He ... passed out ...”
“I knocked him out, actually.” The Doctor shuffled nervously. “He was panicking about you. You were in pain and he was going to kiss you and he had to be stopped. Otherwise the Vortex energy would have passed into him and lord knows what he’d try and do with it.”
“He’d try and turn the national drink of the UK from tea to coffee and make Archiving skills mandatory to the curriculum.” Jack smiled to himself, reaching out to brush a brown curl away from Ianto's face. He felt strangely calm within himself, warm and happy. Complete.
He tapped the side of Ianto's face with his palm, urging him to wake up. He smiled as a hand batted him away, and a sleepy murmur escaped Ianto's lips.
“Leave him a bit,” sighed the Doctor. “I don’t think he’s concussed ...”
“Has ... everything sorted itself?” Jack asked, smiling and playing with the buttons on Ianto's shirt.
“There was a minor ... Time hurricane. About a hundred trillion years whipped around and around while the Timey Wimey made sense of everything. Pity you missed it, it was strangely beautiful … And I now know the exact moment Johnny Depp’s age finally starts to show.”
“Mmm,” replied Jack, adjusting Ianto's tie, still smiling a little dopily.
“I think everything should be fine. Everything ... feels fine.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re fine, Ianto's fine, the TARDIS is fine, Time’s fine, I’m fine.”
“Mmhmmm.”
“Are you listening?”
“I agree”
“Jack?”
Jack jerked his head up and looked at the Doctor. “What?”
“You weren’t listening.”
“Sorry,” said Jack sheepishly, then lowered his eyes to Ianto again. “Can I wake him up yet?”
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