Get Loved, Make More, Try to Stay Alive (6/8)
part 5
Indy's unscheduled day off school had robbed them of the obvious opportunity for One Last Time. Lying on the opposite side of their soundly-sleeping son through their last night together, Ianto had persuaded himself that it was better that way. Better to remember his last time with Jack only a little shadowed by the knowledge of their coming separation, and not some last, desperate--
What he'd persuaded himself of in the dark of the night before seemed entirely irrelevant, faced with Jack and a chance to say goodbye, as Jack put it, properly. They made it as far as the sunlit kitchen, stumbling and kissing--like overeager teenagers, like drowning men--before Jack pushed Ianto up against the counter and dropped to his knees.
Ianto's head fell back as Jack opened his trousers, fingers as deft as ever. He caught a flash of bright blue through the window, and squeezed his eyes shut--but then Jack's fingers were on him, and Jack's mouth, and Ianto couldn't help but look. When he opened his eyes again, the only blue he could see was Jack's eyes, smiling up at him wickedly.
Jack's hands were still on Ianto's hips, signally failing to hold him back against the pull of Jack's mouth. When his hips jerked, Jack made a sound Ianto recognized as pleased, for all it was choked off. He sunk a hand into Jack's hair and Jack's eyelids fluttered, and Ianto didn't last long after that; Jack didn't let him. His fingers clenched in Jack's hair as he came, and he thought a little dizzily that if he'd pulled out a grey one, two more would grow back in its place, and it would be his fault when there were more.
Ianto's knees gave out, and he folded down to the floor as his hand slipped to the nape of Jack's neck, Jack's hands still steady on his hips. Ianto caught his mouth in a kiss, and then smiled. He'd been quick enough to catch Jack's lips still hot, still a little swollen with abuse. Jack's teeth closed on Ianto's lip in answer, and Ianto huffed a mock sigh against Jack's mouth and slid his hand into Jack's trousers. It was easier to do than it would have been with Ianto's jeans, and he wondered, not for the first time, whether Jack had pioneered the fashion with this use in mind.
Jack was ready for him, past ready, thrusting quickly into Ianto's grip. Gratifyingly, he didn't last much longer than Ianto had, only getting through a handful of frantic kisses before he was coming over Ianto's hand. They didn't move for a while, after--leaning together, and Ianto thought about how much this was just like the old days, the days he was going back to, the hurry-up, mostly-clothed encounter, the furtive spike of adrenaline flavoring the moment. Jack's hand felt familiar and unfamiliar all at once, curled around his shoulder over his shirt as they caught their breath.
Jack's lips were moving against Ianto's temple, inaudible words or lazy kisses. Ianto closed his eyes and told himself he wasn't really losing anything, he was going back to Jack--but this Jack was losing him for good now, and Ianto knew more than enough to know how it would hurt him. He couldn't bear to hasten the moment, but eventually Ianto became aware of his sticky fingers, and the fact that his jeans were still pushed down just as far as they needed to be, and that Indiana was--arguments of sovereignty and dimensional transcendence aside--in the back garden with the Doctor and Martha Jones.
Jack laughed roughly when Ianto tensed, and said, "Yeah, come on, the fun part's over."
He tugged Ianto to his feet, and they went together to the sink, washing up and setting themselves to rights in silence--but when Ianto turned toward the door, Jack caught his arm.
"Hold on. We have to talk first."
Ianto turned back, searching Jack's serious face, and settled his hand over Jack's. "You don't have to tell me--"
Jack cracked a smile, small and sad but genuine. "After all this time, I don't think I'd deserve the chance to say it if you didn't already know. And there are things I can't tell you, of course. But there is a conversation we need to have. Come on."
Jack's hand slid down to Ianto's, tangling their fingers together, and he turned and led Ianto to another door, into a windowless room. It was originally a scullery or pantry of some sort, Ianto thought. Jack used it now as an office, and Ianto had seldom stepped inside; several displays invariably shut down when he did, triggered by some unseen sensor. His one consolation was that when Indiana stepped inside, all the screens shut down, and shutters closed over several shelves and cabinets, while locks audibly engaged on others.
This morning, all was quiet anyway, and nothing changed when Jack led Ianto inside and directed him to the desk chair. Jack perched on the edge of the desk himself, and while the fingers of one hand curled around the edge of the desktop, he drummed against a drawer-front with the others.
"Ianto," Jack said, in a measured, practiced voice. "I know you came here for curiosity. For yourself, because you wanted to see your son. And I know it would be ridiculous to try to thank you for staying."
Ianto folded his arms and waited for Jack to start making sense, but he didn't hold his breath.
Jack acknowledged the motion with a small grimace, and pushed on. "I think you know that--however Indy feels about it right now--staying and letting him get to know you--giving him a year of life with you--"
"This really sounds like you're trying to thank me," Ianto said.
Jack nodded, and looked down at the drawer. "I'm trying to acknowledge that you have given us a gift, and that it has cost you something, and that it will continue to cost you."
Ianto nodded shortly. He was mainly trying not to think about it. It wouldn't be anything like losing Lisa, all grief and guilt, nor like his father's death--grief and anger, mostly, that time. Even if he couldn't see Indy, or this Jack, ever again, they'd both still be with him back there where he belonged, in some sense. And they weren't dying; they'd be safe here in the future. The only one dying was him, and he gathered he wouldn't have to go on being upset about that for terribly long.
He'd miss them; they would miss him. He still had to go back. The future was fixed, and so was the past. There was no use talking about the cost.
Jack opened the drawer, and withdrew a small green glass vial, twiddling it between his fingers.
"I could get you a discount," Jack said. "Retcon's come a long way. Virtually no detectable side-effects, well-controlled area of effect, highly reliable."
Ianto stared, letting his hands open and close on his biceps a few times before he tried to speak. "You want me to forget you. Both of you. All of this."
Jack shook his head. "Never. But if you need to, if you find you can't bear it--"
Ianto looked away, resisting the urge to curl up smaller or lash out. Here Jack went again, protecting him--there were days when Ianto managed not to contemplate how much closer in age he was to their son than to Jack, and how both of them must look equally like children to him, but clearly today was not going to be one of those days.
"Ianto, it's not--I've been trying to remember and I just don't know."
Ianto frowned at the wall, and then at Jack. "You've been trying to..."
It was Jack's turn to look away, with an almost sheepish air. "I don't know. I don’t know if you were dying inside after you came back, or if you were coping with it just fine, or if you had forgotten us and nothing had changed. I don't remember anything changing right then. And I don't know if I can't remember because I've forgotten, or because I never knew--"
Ianto stared at Jack for a moment, and then stood and grabbed Jack by the chin--as if he were Indy--and forced him to make eye contact.
"Are you telling me you want me to forget so that you don't have to feel guilty about not noticing, two hundred years ago, that I was unhappy about something I will have to keep secret from you to keep from destroying both our lives?"
Jack smiled a little, then stopped smiling. "Guilt I can handle. I've got lots of practice with guilt. But I don't want you hurting if I could have helped. He won't be able to help you--I didn't--so I've got to offer now."
Ianto shook his head and dropped his hand. "I'm not going to forget you, Jack."
"Just humor me," Jack said, mercifully not in the same tone he used to coax Indiana to eat new foods. He sounded a little like the old Jack, who never said anything that was less than half an irresistible command. Ianto discovered that he still responded to that--some old, buried reflex (a reflex he'd be needing again soon, if Jack wasn't to remember that anything had changed). He opened his hand and let Jack drop the vial into his palm.
"It's programmable," Jack said, closing his hand around Ianto's, folding his unresisting fingers around the vial. "You concentrate on the period of time you want to forget--most subjects find it helps to draw a diagram of some sort to focus attention. It helps to have a sort of landmark--you'd concentrate on Indy, for example, or riding in the TARDIS. Something that distinctively marks this year. The dose isn't mixed with a sedative; you'll experience some disorientation, followed by a period of mild compulsive behavior. Usually the first thing subjects do is start tidying up--they tend to destroy all evidence of what they've just done, if they self-administer."
Ianto tugged his hand away, but dropped the vial into his pocket to save arguing. "You helped to develop this?"
Jack nodded, giving Ianto another shadow of a smile. "Yeah. Memory's like Swiss cheese these days. Hell, maybe that's why I don't remember. Or maybe I'm just getting old."
That hadn't been quite what Ianto meant, and of course there was no way to say that. He heaved a pointed sigh, instead, and then kissed Jack. "You were going to give this to me."
"If you wanted it," Jack agreed, his hands coming up to hold Ianto's arms gingerly, as though he expected Ianto to bolt and wasn't sure he had the right to stop him. "I admit, I wasn't betting the farm."
"But you would have had time to, if I said yes," Ianto said, leaning his forehead against Jack's, holding on tight. He would have to break Jack's grip eventually--soon, so awfully bloody soon--but not quite yet.
"Oh," Jack said, sounding startled just like he used to, in the old days, before they were quite sure of each other--they'd come all the way round to the point where Ianto could surprise him again, and that was something.
"Oh, yes," Ianto agreed. "Because I know for a fact this door locks, and now it's my turn to say a proper good-bye to you."
Ianto was a little worried about how they were going to get Indiana back out of the TARDIS, but in the event he only had to step through the door. Indy popped up from the other side of the console, wide-eyed.
The Doctor stood up more slowly, tucking a small book into his pocket, and said, "Don't forget your hat, Junior."
Indy looked up at the Doctor, and then disappeared for a moment, popping back into view with a hat on his head that could only be described as fabulous, in every sense: it was a blinding shade of chartreuse with jet beads, rising easily a foot above the top of Indy's head even as it drooped precariously over his forehead, dangling iridescent black tassels on every side.
His eyes were wide, his face pale under the gaudy monstrosity. "Dad?"
Ianto extended his hand, not struggling at all to keep a straight face. "I was just going to take one more walk down to the river. Would you come with me?"
Indy looked up at the Doctor, and then hurried to Ianto's side, grabbing his hand and holding tight. Ianto let himself be dragged out of the TARDIS and away; Indy actually burst into a run as they crossed the lane and headed for the bridle path. Ianto jogged gamely beside him till they got to the bottom of the first downhill, then reined him in. "Careful, you're going to lose your hat."
Indy reached up and adjusted the thing atop his head, slowing to a snail's pace as the path curved. "Doctor--the Doctor--he said I could have anything I liked from the dressing rooms. He showed me four, and he said there's another one but he can never remember where it is! A whole room!"
Ianto nodded. "It is quite a lot bigger on the inside."
Indy nodded back so emphatically the hat slipped down again; Ianto reached out and lifted it by the crown even as Indy raised his hands to adjust it.
"Time Lords can do that," Indy said in a knowing tone. "But the TARDIS does it all by itself. It grew, you know, the Doctor didn't make it."
"Didn't he," Ianto said, and he could just see the report he'd have had to fill out, two lives ago, upon receipt of such direct information about the Doctor's technology. There had been a box to check for witnesses potentially unreliable due to age, mental health, or chemically altered state.
It was reflex to add, "Is that what he was telling you about? How the TARDIS works?"
Indy shrugged. "Just stories. From a book. I couldn't understand all the words, but he said I will sometime."
Ianto smiled and looked down the path. The sparkle of the river was just coming into view; they were nearly at the top of the rise, even dragging their feet as they both were. "When you're older, no doubt."
Indy shrugged, and nodded. His grip on Ianto's hand tightened, and he didn't demand to race Ianto to the riverbank when they reached the peak, as he'd always done, even when Ianto was a stranger sleeping in his Dad's bed. They walked down together, sedately, holding on tight and resisting the nudge of gravity that pushed them to move faster.
Indiana was six years old today--Ianto had been sorting buttons and practicing stitching scraps together under his father's eye when he was six--and Ianto wouldn't be here to see him get any older than this. He'd wanted to give his son something of himself, something to remember, some way to know him, and this was his last chance to say something. Indy would remember this day, for better or worse, and if Ianto was going to say anything--he had to say something--it ought to be something worth remembering, something Indy wouldn't get from Jack. That ruled out a lot of the sensible things Ianto could say, and most of the ridiculous and dangerous things.
Still, there were one or two areas of expertise for Ianto to cover. He mulled his words as they ambled down to the river, and as they sat on the bank, Indy scouring the immediate vicinity for small stones and then handing them to Ianto to skip. After he'd got one to go eight, Indy stopped looking, took his hat off, and leaned against Ianto's side. Ianto put an arm around him.
"Ianto Jones Junior," Ianto said softly, and Indy didn't make even a sound of protest.
"I want you to remember something for me," Ianto said, and Indy's arms closed suddenly around his chest, nearly squeezing his breath out. Ianto hugged Indy back, drew breath against his grip, and continued.
"Someday, Jack is going to do something that you think is really stupid, or really mean, or both. Not just like making you go to bed or stop playing when you don't want to. Something really wrong. Do you understand me?"
Indy pulled away a little and looked up at him warily. "Dad wouldn't."
Ianto had had years of practice keeping a straight face, and he needed all of them just then. "Everybody makes a mistake sooner or later. Even Jack. Someday, he'll do something you don't like, and he just won't listen to you when you tell him he's wrong. My dad did, more than once, when I was growing up."
Indy wasn't looking any less suspicious. If he'd been a few years older, Ianto thought, he'd have actually burst out with the accusation that if anyone was getting anything stupidly, meanly wrong, it was Ianto himself, by saying such things. As it was, the thought was nearly there in his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw.
"Someday, you might find you're really angry at him," Ianto offered, when the silence had gone on long enough for Indy's guard to slip a little. "Really, really angry. Just--try not to be too scared, when it happens. Try to remember that everyone gets angry at their dads eventually, and that Jack will always, always be there for you, no matter what."
Indy kicked a clod of dirt into the river and said nothing. Ianto lowered his arm and looked around for another stone to skip, even though he wouldn't possibly do better than eight, and it was bad luck to keep going and end on a worse throw, a superstition he and Indy had always silently shared.
When he found a stone, he offered it to Indy, instead, and the boy took it from him after an instant's hesitation. "Dad--"
There was a booming sound from behind them--an explosion, from the direction of the house, and by the time he'd consciously identified it Ianto had already knocked Indy flat on the riverbank, shielding his son with his own body. He sat up almost at once--the explosion hadn’t been that big, by the sound of it, and Jack, the Doctor, and Doctor Martha Jones were surely more than capable of dealing with whatever it was.
Indy, however, was staring at him, wild-eyed. "Dad? Dad--"
Indy looked away up the hill, toward the house, and Ianto wasted a second noticing once again how obvious it was to him which of those had been vocative and which nominative. Indy had said his name first, if only because he was closer.
"It's all right," Ianto said firmly, catching Indy by the shoulders to forestall any impulse to run off, toward the explosion or away.
"Jack will be fine." It occurred to him suddenly that Indy still didn't know how true that was, or just what Ianto meant when he promised that Jack would always be there for his son. Now wasn't really the time, either. "And the Doctor and Martha know how to handle all sorts of situations. They've had even more practice at it than Jack."
Indy nodded, obediently, still staring up at Ianto, and Ianto realized that the first instruction drilled into all the kids, every Disaster Day, was wait for an adult to assess the situation. Ianto was the dad here, the adult, and Indy was waiting for instructions.
"Come on, then. Follow me, we'll go and see what's happened."
Indy nodded, solemn, and walked nearly on Ianto's heels all the way up the bridle path--but he never once tried to come alongside, or run ahead. They reached the house in rather less than half the time it had taken them to get down to the river, Ianto hoping with every step that he was taking long enough for Jack to have come round, if he'd taken the brunt of whatever that was. Seeing Jack injured would be frightening enough; if Jack was still down, Ianto would have to distract Indy quickly--and if the Doctor were hurt--or Martha--
But even as they approached the garden gate, Ianto heard Martha, and her voice was wry, exasperated, entirely without panic. "Jack, just let me look at it."
Ianto turned around and swung Indy up into his arms, trotting the last few steps into the garden. Jack was sitting on the ground a body-length from the TARDIS, looking mildly the worse for wear. Martha was applying pressure to Jack's left arm--there was a singed patch of grass near the TARDIS doors, and Ianto wrinkled his nose against the smell.
"Jack?"
Jack looked toward them, flashing a sudden, blinding smile. "There you are. Thought you might come back for that."
Ianto set Indy on his feet, but kept a grip on his shoulder, keeping him from bolting straight to Jack. As they approached, Ianto looked Jack over with his own set of criteria--he didn't look freshly resurrected, just a little dazed.
When they reached Jack's side, it was Indy who demanded, "Dad, what happened?"
"Something you should absolutely never try yourself," Jack said firmly.
Martha rolled her eyes and added, "Boys and their toys, they never change."
Ianto belatedly looked around for the Doctor, but found him standing punctiliously just inside the TARDIS doors, watching. He smiled and waved when Ianto met his eyes, the sonic screwdriver still in his hand. "Sorry. Really didn't think that would happen."
And it was Jack's left wrist, of course, which meant they'd been mucking with Jack's wriststrap--which Jack had always insisted was broken, as far as its most important functions. Nothing the Doctor couldn't fix, Ianto would have thought. Clearly Jack and the Doctor had thought the same.
Indy slipped out of Ianto's grasp, dropping to his knees and burrowing against Jack's right side. "Dad! You should be careful."
"I know, I know," Jack said, curling his good arm around Indiana even as Martha let go of his wrist. "Really, it's not bad at all, look."
Jack peeled the cloth back to show the skin beneath, almost unmarked already. There wasn't even much blood on the cloth--the wound must have been nearly self-cauterized even before it healed.
"Still," Indy said, sitting back on his heels. "Still! You always tell me to be careful and then you--"
Indy stopped short, and looked over at Ianto, nearly as wide-eyed as when they'd heard the blast.
Ianto quirked a smile and closed the distance between them, kneeling down at Indy's side. "Yes, Indy. Like that. Only worse."
Ianto reached for Jack's no-longer-burned wrist--the wriststrap itself was still there, of course, looking perhaps lightly scorched. It was a time-travel and teleportation device; if they'd succeeded in fixing it, Jack could have...
Ianto dropped his hand and looked away. At the same moment, Jack gathered Indy closer to himself and whispered something Ianto couldn't quite catch.
"Dad?"
Ianto turned back, and found Jack and Indy watching him with twin expectant stares.
"We made something for you," Indy said. "A present. So you won't forget us."
Indy held up his closed fist, and Ianto offered an open palm, staring at his fingers and trying to keep them steady. Indy parted his fingers enough to let it drop and dangle--an intricately braided cord, strands of red and blue and grey all twisted together, the same shades as the timeline-model Jack had made for Indy, nearly a year ago. There were three beads strung together at the center of the cord, with faintly visible carving. They had a dull sheen that looked old, as though those designs had been sharp once, and had worn down over uncountable years.
"It's a bracelet," Indy said, nearly steadily. "Will you wear it? So you'll remember us?"
The green glass vial was still in his pocket, but he'd never considered using it. He looked to Jack, whose shoulders twitched in a shrug. He'd had to try, Ianto supposed.
Ianto looked back at Indy and tilted his hand forward, letting the cord brush across his wrist as he offered it. "Tie it on for me?"
Indy nodded, taking hold of both ends of the bracelet and bending his head to focus on Ianto's wrist. Jack leaned in as well. "There you go--right, the fish jumps out of the water, and swims along the reef..."
"And flips his tail!" Indy declared triumphantly. When Ianto was able to see his own wrist again, and the knot in the cord, he had to admit that the protruding end did look rather like a fishtail.
Ianto looked over at Jack, who was watching him intently. "I remember the knot. Drove me crazy, because you never said where it came from, but you always wore it."
Ianto shook his head and gave Jack a kiss--one more, one last--and murmured, "Jealous of yourself. Brilliant."
"Well," Jack said, sounding a little choked, "really, who else would be worth worrying about?"
Ianto reached out blindly to pull Indy in between them. Jack's arms closed around them both, and Indy kept still, silent but breathing fast, deep enough for Ianto to feel the motion against his own chest. He was holding on to Ianto's wrist--his left wrist, the one he'd just tied the bracelet on--the same way he did at night.
The same way he had last night, and wouldn't tonight, or ever again.
A hand touched the back of Ianto's shoulder, and he forced himself to look up, expecting Martha and finding the Doctor. He was looking down at Ianto with nearly the same expression Ianto remembered from a year before, when Jack had thrown a name at him. Jenny. Jack had said then that he would need the Doctor to come and take Ianto back, because Jack could never let him go.
Ianto nodded to the Doctor, who nodded and took a step back.
Ianto shifted his weight, preparatory to standing, and said quietly, "Jack. It's time. You have to let me--"
It was at that point that Indiana appeared to utterly lose his mind.
There weren't even words, just an infant's wail of outrage and pain; he dug his fingernails into Ianto's wrist, clinging for dear life, even as he flailed the rest of his body wildly--he'd have been well on his way to breaking Ianto's arm if Jack hadn't got hold of him and taken his weight after just a second, both of them staggering to their feet in the process. Indy's eyes were wide, fixed on Ianto as he screamed and thrashed, and Ianto had to shut his own eyes tight as he attempted to pry his son's fingers free.
Other hands joined his, and Indy's screaming redoubled. Ianto found the Doctor and Martha bracketing him, each grabbing one of Indy's hands. Ianto tugged his hand back automatically when they broke Indy's grip; Indy's thrashing was nearly enough to overwhelm all three adults. Ianto hesitated for an instant, but Jack was focused on Indy--as he should be--and the Doctor and Martha were entirely occupied with giving him the chance to do what he had to do.
Ianto straightened his shoulders and turned away.
He was nearly at the door of the TARDIS when Indy's screaming cut off; he could hear Jack's voice, hoarse above Indy's muffled sobs, though he couldn't make out the words. Ianto forced himself to take the last step, over the threshold, and only then, holding on to the edge of the TARDIS doorframe, did he look back.
Indy had gone limp in Jack's arms, his face resting against Jack's shoulder and his arms dangling as he cried. One of Jack's hands cupped the back of Indy's head, holding him protectively, like an infant. He was murmuring constantly into Indy's ear, wet tracks running down his cheeks.
Jack looked up, then, and Ianto couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only hold Jack's gaze. There was nothing more to be said. Jack nodded, and the Doctor and Martha brushed lightly by Ianto. He heard the Doctor working the controls, heard the sound start behind him. Jack looked down at Indy, holding him tighter, and Ianto shut the door.
Ianto looked up as the train crossed the Severn, and then looked around. His bag was at his feet--looking deflated--the book was missing--no.
Ianto leaned his forehead against the window. He'd realized the book was still in his bag before the Doctor had left Martha's flat. Ianto had opened it up and scribbled on the last page before handing it over. The Doctor had said he'd be sure Junior got it.
Ianto stared out at Newport as the train rolled through without diverting north to avoid the Cardiff Inlet that wasn’t there. He was nearly home now. He'd hardly been away any time at all. The tea had still been hot in Martha's flat; his return ticket would have been valid for weeks. His hotel room had been reserved for a whole day more, but he'd had nothing to stay in London for.
He'd found the bottle of antibiotics in his bag, beside the book, and stared at them, uncomprehending. Banned toxic substance. They'd been prescribed two days before, by a doctor whose name he didn't recognize. Two days ago he'd met Jana in the street, on his way home from walking Indiana to school. They'd stopped and talked. Ianto hadn't said good-bye, but he'd mentioned that he was due to leave sometime soon. She'd wished him luck, told him to take care of himself.
Ianto shut his eyes. He was going home, to Cardiff, to Jack, to Torchwood. He would have to remember how to be that Ianto--Jack hadn't noticed anything changed--Jack had noticed the knot, the bracelet--Jack had met his eyes, holding their son--they'd both been crying. They'd all...
Ianto squeezed his eyes tighter shut, and dragged the back of his hand across his cheek as he began reciting Torchwood passwords and protocols under his breath. He would look and sound like a madman, like he was praying. At least, for once, no one was likely to try to talk to him.
Ianto was conscious of thinking it, and rolled the words over in his head as he moved around his flat. He'd stopped at his flat before he went home.
There wasn't actually anything to do at the flat; it hadn't been sitting empty for a year, just over a day and a half. He'd left it longer without leaving Cardiff at all. It was surreal, familiar and alien all at once. There hadn't even been any post.
He stood in the kitchen, reciting his neighbors' names and the pertinent details he'd picked up chatting with them in the corridors--he inevitably looked like someone's nephew, cousin, or brother's friend from school. If he could remember everything, he could slot himself back into his life. He thought about unearthing the emergency bottle of vodka--it was in the linen closet, behind the spare set of sheets--but he didn't want to spend another second here.
The thought of facing Jack gave him butterflies in his stomach--like the moment before Indy stepped on stage for the Year One play, like the first time that other Jack had pushed him down to the bed in broad daylight, like finding himself face to face with the Doctor for the first time. There was so much he might get wrong, so much that might be wrong. There was nowhere else in this world he'd rather be.
The Hub opened to Ianto's passcodes and identity scans, welcoming as it had ever been. The last door rolled back, and Ianto stepped inside to the sound of Myfanwy screeching, shaking something more than half her size and tentacled, still struggling and shedding blood from fifteen meters up.
Ianto looked down at the sound of Jack jogging across the grating to him.
Jack was beaming, filthy, shirtsleeves rolled up and collar opened to show sweat and grime and something that was probably some sort of blood--though it didn't have that copper smell, something more like aluminium under hot water. He stopped just short of touching Ianto and said, "There you are!"
Ianto just stared at him for a moment, and then lunged forward all at once--now or never--and kissed him. Jack's arms closed around him at once, and Jack smelled of cordite and tasted like he hadn't stopped to eat or sleep since Ianto had left him. Myfanwy was screaming, Jack was whipcord tense all around Ianto, and he knew this. He was home.
When Ianto pushed back, he looked up at Myfanwy again instead of meeting Jack's eyes and said, "I thought we agreed, no live prey inside the Hub?"
"Hey, it wasn't my idea. The live prey was already inside the Hub--she just pounced when I spooked the damn thing out here. It showed up all of a sudden in the ventilation off the sublevel morgue, so either we've got a leak to the outside and things like that are roaming around Cardiff, or the Rift dumped that thing into our ventilation system. I don't think I even found where it was living--there could be more. Friends, relatives, offspring."
Jack had that mad delighted look in his eye, a job to do, a crisis to face, aliens to fight. Ianto felt his heart start to race, the familiar adrenaline rush that meant he was on the clock. It wasn't a game this time, it was his work, their work, it was Torchwood. Home.
"Or that's the offspring," Ianto suggested. "And its mother is still in the ventilation."
"Ianto!" Jack scolded. "Why did you say that? That's like asking what could possibly go wrong!"
Ianto couldn't help smiling. He hadn't known how much he missed this until he was here, but Christ, he'd missed this. "Time to go hunting, then?"
Jack grinned back. "Bring something with stopping power. Over my dead body's a very real possibility."
Ianto kissed Jack again, because he could, because Jack wasn't expecting it in the slightest. Then Myfanwy screeched, and an entire tentacle fell into the water, close enough for them both to be dampened by the splash.
"Right," Ianto said, heading for the armory. "Shotgun. Give me two minutes."
He was in the shower afterward, mostly clean and standing under the spray with his hands braced on the tile. He was staring at his left wrist--water darkened the braided strands in the cord and dripped from the beads. He knew the feel of everything catching up with him; he'd felt it before right here, in this very shower, standing in this very position.
It kept coming back to him in flashes: Indy screaming, Jack looking dazed before he brought out that smile, the Doctor's face when he tapped Ianto's shoulder, the strength of Indy's hands on his wrist. Martha had put some sort of ointment on it that made the tiny fingernail-gouges fade almost instantly--the Doctor had raised his eyebrows at that, and Martha had said, "Don't worry, I only use it for cheap tricks."
Ianto had moved through it all like a clockwork soldier--Jack had wound him up when he got here, and now Ianto had run down.
He'd barely thought it when he felt a touch on the center of his back, and then Jack was moving up close behind him, naked and solid and familiar. Especially when Ianto wasn't looking at him.
Jack curled one arm around Ianto's waist, but his left hand slid without hesitation down Ianto's left arm, one finger hooking into the bracelet, thumb brushing over the complicated knot.
Ianto's breath caught, but Jack had said he remembered the knot, remembered the bracelet. Jack hadn't--wouldn't, didn't--know what to make of it. It was just a bit of cord and a few beads, just something that had appeared on Ianto's wrist after he'd been away.
"You never said," Jack said lightly, to the back of Ianto's head. "How was your holiday?"
Ianto shut his eyes. Even if he could safely answer that question, there weren't words.
"Unrepeatable."
"Mm," Jack said. "Can't take you camping, can't send you off on your own. What can I--"
The question was going to be a joke, however small, however gently teasing. Ianto shouldn't have flinched from it, but he did, and Jack must have felt it; he fell sharply silent.
Ianto turned his face up into the spray, and Jack stayed close behind him, letting the back of Ianto's head press against his face. When Ianto dropped his chin again, Jack leaned closer, his mouth at the back of Ianto's neck, and Ianto said quietly, "Take me to bed. Please."
He wasn't even sure whether he was being circumspect--he'd be just as happy to sleep or to fuck, as long as Jack took him there and didn't ask him any more questions.
"Yeah," Jack said, the word nearly a sigh as he reached past Ianto and turned off the water. Loud in the sudden silence, Jack added, "That, I can do."
Ianto was on the edge of sleep when Jack suddenly pushed himself up to look down at him. He frowned briefly, and then lay back down to rest his head against Ianto's chest. His ear against Ianto's chest.
Ianto bit his lip, his heart speeding up a little as he realized, but there wasn't any way to fake it. He obediently took a deep breath and then exhaled, two or three times as Jack shifted position, keeping one hand flat to Ianto's side all the time.
"You sound a lot better. It was bugging me--you were breathing pretty hard back there, but you didn't start coughing once, that's what was missing."
"Antibiotics," Ianto offered, conjuring up a wry smile when Jack looked at him. "Wonder drugs."
Jack huffed, but squirmed up to resume his former position, gathering Ianto comfortably close. Ianto let himself be gathered, and tried to find his way back toward sleep--he was so tired, and Jack was here, and it would be enough. He slung his arm over Jack's side, and curled his fingers into a loose fist to keep from feeling for scars that he wouldn't find.
"You're a wonder drug," Jack muttered, in a tone that would have been dire if it hadn't been ruined by Jack trying to suppress a yawn.
Ianto snorted, then chuckled, twisting to try to bury the sound in the pillow--as if Jack wouldn't hear--and then Jack tickled him, the utter bastard, and Ianto was laughing helplessly, shaking with it even as he got hold of both Jack's hands and rolled half on top of Jack. Even knowing Jack was letting him win didn't make it not funny--the sound kept playing over and over in his head, Jack trying for a stupid comeback and not managing even that--and he wound up lying with his head on Jack's chest, resting his weight on Jack to keep him still.
Above him, Jack muttered, "Weren't you going to sleep?"
Ianto shrugged and shifted his hands, still holding Jack's, into a more comfortable position. He fought down a last random burst of giggles to say, "Weren't you?"
He got it out ahead of the sudden yawn, which counted as a victory. Ianto snuggled down against Jack's body, and fell asleep so sharply that--against all odds--he still had a smile on his face when he did.
part 7
Indy's unscheduled day off school had robbed them of the obvious opportunity for One Last Time. Lying on the opposite side of their soundly-sleeping son through their last night together, Ianto had persuaded himself that it was better that way. Better to remember his last time with Jack only a little shadowed by the knowledge of their coming separation, and not some last, desperate--
What he'd persuaded himself of in the dark of the night before seemed entirely irrelevant, faced with Jack and a chance to say goodbye, as Jack put it, properly. They made it as far as the sunlit kitchen, stumbling and kissing--like overeager teenagers, like drowning men--before Jack pushed Ianto up against the counter and dropped to his knees.
Ianto's head fell back as Jack opened his trousers, fingers as deft as ever. He caught a flash of bright blue through the window, and squeezed his eyes shut--but then Jack's fingers were on him, and Jack's mouth, and Ianto couldn't help but look. When he opened his eyes again, the only blue he could see was Jack's eyes, smiling up at him wickedly.
Jack's hands were still on Ianto's hips, signally failing to hold him back against the pull of Jack's mouth. When his hips jerked, Jack made a sound Ianto recognized as pleased, for all it was choked off. He sunk a hand into Jack's hair and Jack's eyelids fluttered, and Ianto didn't last long after that; Jack didn't let him. His fingers clenched in Jack's hair as he came, and he thought a little dizzily that if he'd pulled out a grey one, two more would grow back in its place, and it would be his fault when there were more.
Ianto's knees gave out, and he folded down to the floor as his hand slipped to the nape of Jack's neck, Jack's hands still steady on his hips. Ianto caught his mouth in a kiss, and then smiled. He'd been quick enough to catch Jack's lips still hot, still a little swollen with abuse. Jack's teeth closed on Ianto's lip in answer, and Ianto huffed a mock sigh against Jack's mouth and slid his hand into Jack's trousers. It was easier to do than it would have been with Ianto's jeans, and he wondered, not for the first time, whether Jack had pioneered the fashion with this use in mind.
Jack was ready for him, past ready, thrusting quickly into Ianto's grip. Gratifyingly, he didn't last much longer than Ianto had, only getting through a handful of frantic kisses before he was coming over Ianto's hand. They didn't move for a while, after--leaning together, and Ianto thought about how much this was just like the old days, the days he was going back to, the hurry-up, mostly-clothed encounter, the furtive spike of adrenaline flavoring the moment. Jack's hand felt familiar and unfamiliar all at once, curled around his shoulder over his shirt as they caught their breath.
Jack's lips were moving against Ianto's temple, inaudible words or lazy kisses. Ianto closed his eyes and told himself he wasn't really losing anything, he was going back to Jack--but this Jack was losing him for good now, and Ianto knew more than enough to know how it would hurt him. He couldn't bear to hasten the moment, but eventually Ianto became aware of his sticky fingers, and the fact that his jeans were still pushed down just as far as they needed to be, and that Indiana was--arguments of sovereignty and dimensional transcendence aside--in the back garden with the Doctor and Martha Jones.
Jack laughed roughly when Ianto tensed, and said, "Yeah, come on, the fun part's over."
He tugged Ianto to his feet, and they went together to the sink, washing up and setting themselves to rights in silence--but when Ianto turned toward the door, Jack caught his arm.
"Hold on. We have to talk first."
Ianto turned back, searching Jack's serious face, and settled his hand over Jack's. "You don't have to tell me--"
Jack cracked a smile, small and sad but genuine. "After all this time, I don't think I'd deserve the chance to say it if you didn't already know. And there are things I can't tell you, of course. But there is a conversation we need to have. Come on."
Jack's hand slid down to Ianto's, tangling their fingers together, and he turned and led Ianto to another door, into a windowless room. It was originally a scullery or pantry of some sort, Ianto thought. Jack used it now as an office, and Ianto had seldom stepped inside; several displays invariably shut down when he did, triggered by some unseen sensor. His one consolation was that when Indiana stepped inside, all the screens shut down, and shutters closed over several shelves and cabinets, while locks audibly engaged on others.
This morning, all was quiet anyway, and nothing changed when Jack led Ianto inside and directed him to the desk chair. Jack perched on the edge of the desk himself, and while the fingers of one hand curled around the edge of the desktop, he drummed against a drawer-front with the others.
"Ianto," Jack said, in a measured, practiced voice. "I know you came here for curiosity. For yourself, because you wanted to see your son. And I know it would be ridiculous to try to thank you for staying."
Ianto folded his arms and waited for Jack to start making sense, but he didn't hold his breath.
Jack acknowledged the motion with a small grimace, and pushed on. "I think you know that--however Indy feels about it right now--staying and letting him get to know you--giving him a year of life with you--"
"This really sounds like you're trying to thank me," Ianto said.
Jack nodded, and looked down at the drawer. "I'm trying to acknowledge that you have given us a gift, and that it has cost you something, and that it will continue to cost you."
Ianto nodded shortly. He was mainly trying not to think about it. It wouldn't be anything like losing Lisa, all grief and guilt, nor like his father's death--grief and anger, mostly, that time. Even if he couldn't see Indy, or this Jack, ever again, they'd both still be with him back there where he belonged, in some sense. And they weren't dying; they'd be safe here in the future. The only one dying was him, and he gathered he wouldn't have to go on being upset about that for terribly long.
He'd miss them; they would miss him. He still had to go back. The future was fixed, and so was the past. There was no use talking about the cost.
Jack opened the drawer, and withdrew a small green glass vial, twiddling it between his fingers.
"I could get you a discount," Jack said. "Retcon's come a long way. Virtually no detectable side-effects, well-controlled area of effect, highly reliable."
Ianto stared, letting his hands open and close on his biceps a few times before he tried to speak. "You want me to forget you. Both of you. All of this."
Jack shook his head. "Never. But if you need to, if you find you can't bear it--"
Ianto looked away, resisting the urge to curl up smaller or lash out. Here Jack went again, protecting him--there were days when Ianto managed not to contemplate how much closer in age he was to their son than to Jack, and how both of them must look equally like children to him, but clearly today was not going to be one of those days.
"Ianto, it's not--I've been trying to remember and I just don't know."
Ianto frowned at the wall, and then at Jack. "You've been trying to..."
It was Jack's turn to look away, with an almost sheepish air. "I don't know. I don’t know if you were dying inside after you came back, or if you were coping with it just fine, or if you had forgotten us and nothing had changed. I don't remember anything changing right then. And I don't know if I can't remember because I've forgotten, or because I never knew--"
Ianto stared at Jack for a moment, and then stood and grabbed Jack by the chin--as if he were Indy--and forced him to make eye contact.
"Are you telling me you want me to forget so that you don't have to feel guilty about not noticing, two hundred years ago, that I was unhappy about something I will have to keep secret from you to keep from destroying both our lives?"
Jack smiled a little, then stopped smiling. "Guilt I can handle. I've got lots of practice with guilt. But I don't want you hurting if I could have helped. He won't be able to help you--I didn't--so I've got to offer now."
Ianto shook his head and dropped his hand. "I'm not going to forget you, Jack."
"Just humor me," Jack said, mercifully not in the same tone he used to coax Indiana to eat new foods. He sounded a little like the old Jack, who never said anything that was less than half an irresistible command. Ianto discovered that he still responded to that--some old, buried reflex (a reflex he'd be needing again soon, if Jack wasn't to remember that anything had changed). He opened his hand and let Jack drop the vial into his palm.
"It's programmable," Jack said, closing his hand around Ianto's, folding his unresisting fingers around the vial. "You concentrate on the period of time you want to forget--most subjects find it helps to draw a diagram of some sort to focus attention. It helps to have a sort of landmark--you'd concentrate on Indy, for example, or riding in the TARDIS. Something that distinctively marks this year. The dose isn't mixed with a sedative; you'll experience some disorientation, followed by a period of mild compulsive behavior. Usually the first thing subjects do is start tidying up--they tend to destroy all evidence of what they've just done, if they self-administer."
Ianto tugged his hand away, but dropped the vial into his pocket to save arguing. "You helped to develop this?"
Jack nodded, giving Ianto another shadow of a smile. "Yeah. Memory's like Swiss cheese these days. Hell, maybe that's why I don't remember. Or maybe I'm just getting old."
That hadn't been quite what Ianto meant, and of course there was no way to say that. He heaved a pointed sigh, instead, and then kissed Jack. "You were going to give this to me."
"If you wanted it," Jack agreed, his hands coming up to hold Ianto's arms gingerly, as though he expected Ianto to bolt and wasn't sure he had the right to stop him. "I admit, I wasn't betting the farm."
"But you would have had time to, if I said yes," Ianto said, leaning his forehead against Jack's, holding on tight. He would have to break Jack's grip eventually--soon, so awfully bloody soon--but not quite yet.
"Oh," Jack said, sounding startled just like he used to, in the old days, before they were quite sure of each other--they'd come all the way round to the point where Ianto could surprise him again, and that was something.
"Oh, yes," Ianto agreed. "Because I know for a fact this door locks, and now it's my turn to say a proper good-bye to you."
Ianto was a little worried about how they were going to get Indiana back out of the TARDIS, but in the event he only had to step through the door. Indy popped up from the other side of the console, wide-eyed.
The Doctor stood up more slowly, tucking a small book into his pocket, and said, "Don't forget your hat, Junior."
Indy looked up at the Doctor, and then disappeared for a moment, popping back into view with a hat on his head that could only be described as fabulous, in every sense: it was a blinding shade of chartreuse with jet beads, rising easily a foot above the top of Indy's head even as it drooped precariously over his forehead, dangling iridescent black tassels on every side.
His eyes were wide, his face pale under the gaudy monstrosity. "Dad?"
Ianto extended his hand, not struggling at all to keep a straight face. "I was just going to take one more walk down to the river. Would you come with me?"
Indy looked up at the Doctor, and then hurried to Ianto's side, grabbing his hand and holding tight. Ianto let himself be dragged out of the TARDIS and away; Indy actually burst into a run as they crossed the lane and headed for the bridle path. Ianto jogged gamely beside him till they got to the bottom of the first downhill, then reined him in. "Careful, you're going to lose your hat."
Indy reached up and adjusted the thing atop his head, slowing to a snail's pace as the path curved. "Doctor--the Doctor--he said I could have anything I liked from the dressing rooms. He showed me four, and he said there's another one but he can never remember where it is! A whole room!"
Ianto nodded. "It is quite a lot bigger on the inside."
Indy nodded back so emphatically the hat slipped down again; Ianto reached out and lifted it by the crown even as Indy raised his hands to adjust it.
"Time Lords can do that," Indy said in a knowing tone. "But the TARDIS does it all by itself. It grew, you know, the Doctor didn't make it."
"Didn't he," Ianto said, and he could just see the report he'd have had to fill out, two lives ago, upon receipt of such direct information about the Doctor's technology. There had been a box to check for witnesses potentially unreliable due to age, mental health, or chemically altered state.
It was reflex to add, "Is that what he was telling you about? How the TARDIS works?"
Indy shrugged. "Just stories. From a book. I couldn't understand all the words, but he said I will sometime."
Ianto smiled and looked down the path. The sparkle of the river was just coming into view; they were nearly at the top of the rise, even dragging their feet as they both were. "When you're older, no doubt."
Indy shrugged, and nodded. His grip on Ianto's hand tightened, and he didn't demand to race Ianto to the riverbank when they reached the peak, as he'd always done, even when Ianto was a stranger sleeping in his Dad's bed. They walked down together, sedately, holding on tight and resisting the nudge of gravity that pushed them to move faster.
Indiana was six years old today--Ianto had been sorting buttons and practicing stitching scraps together under his father's eye when he was six--and Ianto wouldn't be here to see him get any older than this. He'd wanted to give his son something of himself, something to remember, some way to know him, and this was his last chance to say something. Indy would remember this day, for better or worse, and if Ianto was going to say anything--he had to say something--it ought to be something worth remembering, something Indy wouldn't get from Jack. That ruled out a lot of the sensible things Ianto could say, and most of the ridiculous and dangerous things.
Still, there were one or two areas of expertise for Ianto to cover. He mulled his words as they ambled down to the river, and as they sat on the bank, Indy scouring the immediate vicinity for small stones and then handing them to Ianto to skip. After he'd got one to go eight, Indy stopped looking, took his hat off, and leaned against Ianto's side. Ianto put an arm around him.
"Ianto Jones Junior," Ianto said softly, and Indy didn't make even a sound of protest.
"I want you to remember something for me," Ianto said, and Indy's arms closed suddenly around his chest, nearly squeezing his breath out. Ianto hugged Indy back, drew breath against his grip, and continued.
"Someday, Jack is going to do something that you think is really stupid, or really mean, or both. Not just like making you go to bed or stop playing when you don't want to. Something really wrong. Do you understand me?"
Indy pulled away a little and looked up at him warily. "Dad wouldn't."
Ianto had had years of practice keeping a straight face, and he needed all of them just then. "Everybody makes a mistake sooner or later. Even Jack. Someday, he'll do something you don't like, and he just won't listen to you when you tell him he's wrong. My dad did, more than once, when I was growing up."
Indy wasn't looking any less suspicious. If he'd been a few years older, Ianto thought, he'd have actually burst out with the accusation that if anyone was getting anything stupidly, meanly wrong, it was Ianto himself, by saying such things. As it was, the thought was nearly there in his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw.
"Someday, you might find you're really angry at him," Ianto offered, when the silence had gone on long enough for Indy's guard to slip a little. "Really, really angry. Just--try not to be too scared, when it happens. Try to remember that everyone gets angry at their dads eventually, and that Jack will always, always be there for you, no matter what."
Indy kicked a clod of dirt into the river and said nothing. Ianto lowered his arm and looked around for another stone to skip, even though he wouldn't possibly do better than eight, and it was bad luck to keep going and end on a worse throw, a superstition he and Indy had always silently shared.
When he found a stone, he offered it to Indy, instead, and the boy took it from him after an instant's hesitation. "Dad--"
There was a booming sound from behind them--an explosion, from the direction of the house, and by the time he'd consciously identified it Ianto had already knocked Indy flat on the riverbank, shielding his son with his own body. He sat up almost at once--the explosion hadn’t been that big, by the sound of it, and Jack, the Doctor, and Doctor Martha Jones were surely more than capable of dealing with whatever it was.
Indy, however, was staring at him, wild-eyed. "Dad? Dad--"
Indy looked away up the hill, toward the house, and Ianto wasted a second noticing once again how obvious it was to him which of those had been vocative and which nominative. Indy had said his name first, if only because he was closer.
"It's all right," Ianto said firmly, catching Indy by the shoulders to forestall any impulse to run off, toward the explosion or away.
"Jack will be fine." It occurred to him suddenly that Indy still didn't know how true that was, or just what Ianto meant when he promised that Jack would always be there for his son. Now wasn't really the time, either. "And the Doctor and Martha know how to handle all sorts of situations. They've had even more practice at it than Jack."
Indy nodded, obediently, still staring up at Ianto, and Ianto realized that the first instruction drilled into all the kids, every Disaster Day, was wait for an adult to assess the situation. Ianto was the dad here, the adult, and Indy was waiting for instructions.
"Come on, then. Follow me, we'll go and see what's happened."
Indy nodded, solemn, and walked nearly on Ianto's heels all the way up the bridle path--but he never once tried to come alongside, or run ahead. They reached the house in rather less than half the time it had taken them to get down to the river, Ianto hoping with every step that he was taking long enough for Jack to have come round, if he'd taken the brunt of whatever that was. Seeing Jack injured would be frightening enough; if Jack was still down, Ianto would have to distract Indy quickly--and if the Doctor were hurt--or Martha--
But even as they approached the garden gate, Ianto heard Martha, and her voice was wry, exasperated, entirely without panic. "Jack, just let me look at it."
Ianto turned around and swung Indy up into his arms, trotting the last few steps into the garden. Jack was sitting on the ground a body-length from the TARDIS, looking mildly the worse for wear. Martha was applying pressure to Jack's left arm--there was a singed patch of grass near the TARDIS doors, and Ianto wrinkled his nose against the smell.
"Jack?"
Jack looked toward them, flashing a sudden, blinding smile. "There you are. Thought you might come back for that."
Ianto set Indy on his feet, but kept a grip on his shoulder, keeping him from bolting straight to Jack. As they approached, Ianto looked Jack over with his own set of criteria--he didn't look freshly resurrected, just a little dazed.
When they reached Jack's side, it was Indy who demanded, "Dad, what happened?"
"Something you should absolutely never try yourself," Jack said firmly.
Martha rolled her eyes and added, "Boys and their toys, they never change."
Ianto belatedly looked around for the Doctor, but found him standing punctiliously just inside the TARDIS doors, watching. He smiled and waved when Ianto met his eyes, the sonic screwdriver still in his hand. "Sorry. Really didn't think that would happen."
And it was Jack's left wrist, of course, which meant they'd been mucking with Jack's wriststrap--which Jack had always insisted was broken, as far as its most important functions. Nothing the Doctor couldn't fix, Ianto would have thought. Clearly Jack and the Doctor had thought the same.
Indy slipped out of Ianto's grasp, dropping to his knees and burrowing against Jack's right side. "Dad! You should be careful."
"I know, I know," Jack said, curling his good arm around Indiana even as Martha let go of his wrist. "Really, it's not bad at all, look."
Jack peeled the cloth back to show the skin beneath, almost unmarked already. There wasn't even much blood on the cloth--the wound must have been nearly self-cauterized even before it healed.
"Still," Indy said, sitting back on his heels. "Still! You always tell me to be careful and then you--"
Indy stopped short, and looked over at Ianto, nearly as wide-eyed as when they'd heard the blast.
Ianto quirked a smile and closed the distance between them, kneeling down at Indy's side. "Yes, Indy. Like that. Only worse."
Ianto reached for Jack's no-longer-burned wrist--the wriststrap itself was still there, of course, looking perhaps lightly scorched. It was a time-travel and teleportation device; if they'd succeeded in fixing it, Jack could have...
Ianto dropped his hand and looked away. At the same moment, Jack gathered Indy closer to himself and whispered something Ianto couldn't quite catch.
"Dad?"
Ianto turned back, and found Jack and Indy watching him with twin expectant stares.
"We made something for you," Indy said. "A present. So you won't forget us."
Indy held up his closed fist, and Ianto offered an open palm, staring at his fingers and trying to keep them steady. Indy parted his fingers enough to let it drop and dangle--an intricately braided cord, strands of red and blue and grey all twisted together, the same shades as the timeline-model Jack had made for Indy, nearly a year ago. There were three beads strung together at the center of the cord, with faintly visible carving. They had a dull sheen that looked old, as though those designs had been sharp once, and had worn down over uncountable years.
"It's a bracelet," Indy said, nearly steadily. "Will you wear it? So you'll remember us?"
The green glass vial was still in his pocket, but he'd never considered using it. He looked to Jack, whose shoulders twitched in a shrug. He'd had to try, Ianto supposed.
Ianto looked back at Indy and tilted his hand forward, letting the cord brush across his wrist as he offered it. "Tie it on for me?"
Indy nodded, taking hold of both ends of the bracelet and bending his head to focus on Ianto's wrist. Jack leaned in as well. "There you go--right, the fish jumps out of the water, and swims along the reef..."
"And flips his tail!" Indy declared triumphantly. When Ianto was able to see his own wrist again, and the knot in the cord, he had to admit that the protruding end did look rather like a fishtail.
Ianto looked over at Jack, who was watching him intently. "I remember the knot. Drove me crazy, because you never said where it came from, but you always wore it."
Ianto shook his head and gave Jack a kiss--one more, one last--and murmured, "Jealous of yourself. Brilliant."
"Well," Jack said, sounding a little choked, "really, who else would be worth worrying about?"
Ianto reached out blindly to pull Indy in between them. Jack's arms closed around them both, and Indy kept still, silent but breathing fast, deep enough for Ianto to feel the motion against his own chest. He was holding on to Ianto's wrist--his left wrist, the one he'd just tied the bracelet on--the same way he did at night.
The same way he had last night, and wouldn't tonight, or ever again.
A hand touched the back of Ianto's shoulder, and he forced himself to look up, expecting Martha and finding the Doctor. He was looking down at Ianto with nearly the same expression Ianto remembered from a year before, when Jack had thrown a name at him. Jenny. Jack had said then that he would need the Doctor to come and take Ianto back, because Jack could never let him go.
Ianto nodded to the Doctor, who nodded and took a step back.
Ianto shifted his weight, preparatory to standing, and said quietly, "Jack. It's time. You have to let me--"
It was at that point that Indiana appeared to utterly lose his mind.
There weren't even words, just an infant's wail of outrage and pain; he dug his fingernails into Ianto's wrist, clinging for dear life, even as he flailed the rest of his body wildly--he'd have been well on his way to breaking Ianto's arm if Jack hadn't got hold of him and taken his weight after just a second, both of them staggering to their feet in the process. Indy's eyes were wide, fixed on Ianto as he screamed and thrashed, and Ianto had to shut his own eyes tight as he attempted to pry his son's fingers free.
Other hands joined his, and Indy's screaming redoubled. Ianto found the Doctor and Martha bracketing him, each grabbing one of Indy's hands. Ianto tugged his hand back automatically when they broke Indy's grip; Indy's thrashing was nearly enough to overwhelm all three adults. Ianto hesitated for an instant, but Jack was focused on Indy--as he should be--and the Doctor and Martha were entirely occupied with giving him the chance to do what he had to do.
Ianto straightened his shoulders and turned away.
He was nearly at the door of the TARDIS when Indy's screaming cut off; he could hear Jack's voice, hoarse above Indy's muffled sobs, though he couldn't make out the words. Ianto forced himself to take the last step, over the threshold, and only then, holding on to the edge of the TARDIS doorframe, did he look back.
Indy had gone limp in Jack's arms, his face resting against Jack's shoulder and his arms dangling as he cried. One of Jack's hands cupped the back of Indy's head, holding him protectively, like an infant. He was murmuring constantly into Indy's ear, wet tracks running down his cheeks.
Jack looked up, then, and Ianto couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only hold Jack's gaze. There was nothing more to be said. Jack nodded, and the Doctor and Martha brushed lightly by Ianto. He heard the Doctor working the controls, heard the sound start behind him. Jack looked down at Indy, holding him tighter, and Ianto shut the door.
Ianto looked up as the train crossed the Severn, and then looked around. His bag was at his feet--looking deflated--the book was missing--no.
Ianto leaned his forehead against the window. He'd realized the book was still in his bag before the Doctor had left Martha's flat. Ianto had opened it up and scribbled on the last page before handing it over. The Doctor had said he'd be sure Junior got it.
Ianto stared out at Newport as the train rolled through without diverting north to avoid the Cardiff Inlet that wasn’t there. He was nearly home now. He'd hardly been away any time at all. The tea had still been hot in Martha's flat; his return ticket would have been valid for weeks. His hotel room had been reserved for a whole day more, but he'd had nothing to stay in London for.
He'd found the bottle of antibiotics in his bag, beside the book, and stared at them, uncomprehending. Banned toxic substance. They'd been prescribed two days before, by a doctor whose name he didn't recognize. Two days ago he'd met Jana in the street, on his way home from walking Indiana to school. They'd stopped and talked. Ianto hadn't said good-bye, but he'd mentioned that he was due to leave sometime soon. She'd wished him luck, told him to take care of himself.
Ianto shut his eyes. He was going home, to Cardiff, to Jack, to Torchwood. He would have to remember how to be that Ianto--Jack hadn't noticed anything changed--Jack had noticed the knot, the bracelet--Jack had met his eyes, holding their son--they'd both been crying. They'd all...
Ianto squeezed his eyes tighter shut, and dragged the back of his hand across his cheek as he began reciting Torchwood passwords and protocols under his breath. He would look and sound like a madman, like he was praying. At least, for once, no one was likely to try to talk to him.
Ianto was conscious of thinking it, and rolled the words over in his head as he moved around his flat. He'd stopped at his flat before he went home.
There wasn't actually anything to do at the flat; it hadn't been sitting empty for a year, just over a day and a half. He'd left it longer without leaving Cardiff at all. It was surreal, familiar and alien all at once. There hadn't even been any post.
He stood in the kitchen, reciting his neighbors' names and the pertinent details he'd picked up chatting with them in the corridors--he inevitably looked like someone's nephew, cousin, or brother's friend from school. If he could remember everything, he could slot himself back into his life. He thought about unearthing the emergency bottle of vodka--it was in the linen closet, behind the spare set of sheets--but he didn't want to spend another second here.
The thought of facing Jack gave him butterflies in his stomach--like the moment before Indy stepped on stage for the Year One play, like the first time that other Jack had pushed him down to the bed in broad daylight, like finding himself face to face with the Doctor for the first time. There was so much he might get wrong, so much that might be wrong. There was nowhere else in this world he'd rather be.
The Hub opened to Ianto's passcodes and identity scans, welcoming as it had ever been. The last door rolled back, and Ianto stepped inside to the sound of Myfanwy screeching, shaking something more than half her size and tentacled, still struggling and shedding blood from fifteen meters up.
Ianto looked down at the sound of Jack jogging across the grating to him.
Jack was beaming, filthy, shirtsleeves rolled up and collar opened to show sweat and grime and something that was probably some sort of blood--though it didn't have that copper smell, something more like aluminium under hot water. He stopped just short of touching Ianto and said, "There you are!"
Ianto just stared at him for a moment, and then lunged forward all at once--now or never--and kissed him. Jack's arms closed around him at once, and Jack smelled of cordite and tasted like he hadn't stopped to eat or sleep since Ianto had left him. Myfanwy was screaming, Jack was whipcord tense all around Ianto, and he knew this. He was home.
When Ianto pushed back, he looked up at Myfanwy again instead of meeting Jack's eyes and said, "I thought we agreed, no live prey inside the Hub?"
"Hey, it wasn't my idea. The live prey was already inside the Hub--she just pounced when I spooked the damn thing out here. It showed up all of a sudden in the ventilation off the sublevel morgue, so either we've got a leak to the outside and things like that are roaming around Cardiff, or the Rift dumped that thing into our ventilation system. I don't think I even found where it was living--there could be more. Friends, relatives, offspring."
Jack had that mad delighted look in his eye, a job to do, a crisis to face, aliens to fight. Ianto felt his heart start to race, the familiar adrenaline rush that meant he was on the clock. It wasn't a game this time, it was his work, their work, it was Torchwood. Home.
"Or that's the offspring," Ianto suggested. "And its mother is still in the ventilation."
"Ianto!" Jack scolded. "Why did you say that? That's like asking what could possibly go wrong!"
Ianto couldn't help smiling. He hadn't known how much he missed this until he was here, but Christ, he'd missed this. "Time to go hunting, then?"
Jack grinned back. "Bring something with stopping power. Over my dead body's a very real possibility."
Ianto kissed Jack again, because he could, because Jack wasn't expecting it in the slightest. Then Myfanwy screeched, and an entire tentacle fell into the water, close enough for them both to be dampened by the splash.
"Right," Ianto said, heading for the armory. "Shotgun. Give me two minutes."
He was in the shower afterward, mostly clean and standing under the spray with his hands braced on the tile. He was staring at his left wrist--water darkened the braided strands in the cord and dripped from the beads. He knew the feel of everything catching up with him; he'd felt it before right here, in this very shower, standing in this very position.
It kept coming back to him in flashes: Indy screaming, Jack looking dazed before he brought out that smile, the Doctor's face when he tapped Ianto's shoulder, the strength of Indy's hands on his wrist. Martha had put some sort of ointment on it that made the tiny fingernail-gouges fade almost instantly--the Doctor had raised his eyebrows at that, and Martha had said, "Don't worry, I only use it for cheap tricks."
Ianto had moved through it all like a clockwork soldier--Jack had wound him up when he got here, and now Ianto had run down.
He'd barely thought it when he felt a touch on the center of his back, and then Jack was moving up close behind him, naked and solid and familiar. Especially when Ianto wasn't looking at him.
Jack curled one arm around Ianto's waist, but his left hand slid without hesitation down Ianto's left arm, one finger hooking into the bracelet, thumb brushing over the complicated knot.
Ianto's breath caught, but Jack had said he remembered the knot, remembered the bracelet. Jack hadn't--wouldn't, didn't--know what to make of it. It was just a bit of cord and a few beads, just something that had appeared on Ianto's wrist after he'd been away.
"You never said," Jack said lightly, to the back of Ianto's head. "How was your holiday?"
Ianto shut his eyes. Even if he could safely answer that question, there weren't words.
"Unrepeatable."
"Mm," Jack said. "Can't take you camping, can't send you off on your own. What can I--"
The question was going to be a joke, however small, however gently teasing. Ianto shouldn't have flinched from it, but he did, and Jack must have felt it; he fell sharply silent.
Ianto turned his face up into the spray, and Jack stayed close behind him, letting the back of Ianto's head press against his face. When Ianto dropped his chin again, Jack leaned closer, his mouth at the back of Ianto's neck, and Ianto said quietly, "Take me to bed. Please."
He wasn't even sure whether he was being circumspect--he'd be just as happy to sleep or to fuck, as long as Jack took him there and didn't ask him any more questions.
"Yeah," Jack said, the word nearly a sigh as he reached past Ianto and turned off the water. Loud in the sudden silence, Jack added, "That, I can do."
Ianto was on the edge of sleep when Jack suddenly pushed himself up to look down at him. He frowned briefly, and then lay back down to rest his head against Ianto's chest. His ear against Ianto's chest.
Ianto bit his lip, his heart speeding up a little as he realized, but there wasn't any way to fake it. He obediently took a deep breath and then exhaled, two or three times as Jack shifted position, keeping one hand flat to Ianto's side all the time.
"You sound a lot better. It was bugging me--you were breathing pretty hard back there, but you didn't start coughing once, that's what was missing."
"Antibiotics," Ianto offered, conjuring up a wry smile when Jack looked at him. "Wonder drugs."
Jack huffed, but squirmed up to resume his former position, gathering Ianto comfortably close. Ianto let himself be gathered, and tried to find his way back toward sleep--he was so tired, and Jack was here, and it would be enough. He slung his arm over Jack's side, and curled his fingers into a loose fist to keep from feeling for scars that he wouldn't find.
"You're a wonder drug," Jack muttered, in a tone that would have been dire if it hadn't been ruined by Jack trying to suppress a yawn.
Ianto snorted, then chuckled, twisting to try to bury the sound in the pillow--as if Jack wouldn't hear--and then Jack tickled him, the utter bastard, and Ianto was laughing helplessly, shaking with it even as he got hold of both Jack's hands and rolled half on top of Jack. Even knowing Jack was letting him win didn't make it not funny--the sound kept playing over and over in his head, Jack trying for a stupid comeback and not managing even that--and he wound up lying with his head on Jack's chest, resting his weight on Jack to keep him still.
Above him, Jack muttered, "Weren't you going to sleep?"
Ianto shrugged and shifted his hands, still holding Jack's, into a more comfortable position. He fought down a last random burst of giggles to say, "Weren't you?"
He got it out ahead of the sudden yawn, which counted as a victory. Ianto snuggled down against Jack's body, and fell asleep so sharply that--against all odds--he still had a smile on his face when he did.
part 7