When This Long Trick (2/4)
Title: When This Long Trick (2/4)
Author: nancybrown
Artist: kuroneko_tyger
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up through COE
Warnings: some graphic descriptions of injuries, character death
Words: 18,700 (5,800 this part)
Betas: eldarwannabe provided valuable help and suggestions, and fide_et_spe and amilyn brought it home.
Summary: Jack and Ianto are making a living as space pirates smugglers independent businessmen with a flexible approach to local laws, but working for their latest client could change everything, from their past to Jack's future.
AN: Written for the ianto_bigbang, Jack/Ianto Minibang Track. Part of the Intersections series. Familiarity with that series is not required to read this fic, but just in case there is a guide for those who came in late.
Chapter One
***
Chapter Two
***
Ianto woke up in a cell. Again.
Dear Rhiannon, this is the eighth time I've woken up in an alien gaol. No, I tell a lie, it's the ninth. Dad warned me this would happen.
As his thoughts cleared, he set aside the mental letter. He always felt better when pretending he could still communicate with people he'd loved. As a coping mechanism, it worked wonders. As a survival tool, talking to himself wasn't going to get him anywhere. Mindful of any injuries he didn't know about, Ianto sat up and just missed whacking his skull on the bunk above him.
The forcefield he'd heard even in his semi-conscious state, the one that told him "prison," glowed over the entrance of the cell. His aching head had been bandaged with the plasticine-analogue common in this era. His parched mouth didn't taste like anything unfortunate had been put into it. He was still wearing what he insisted on thinking of as the miniskirt but at least he was also still wearing his underwear. All in all, he was breaking even.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello," said a familiar voice, and Bob's face entered his view of the outer room. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."
"Where's Ja… Where's Twil?"
"Missing. So are three others. Base security are furious. Heads will roll." Bob spoke in a monotone, as if he'd heard or said this several times already. His eyeroll sealed the impression.
"Why are you here?"
"To pay your bail. I've already told security everything, so the cover story doesn't matter now." Bob nodded to someone Ianto couldn't see, and then said in Standard, "He's awake."
Ianto's brain caught up with what his ears had been telling him. "You speak English."
"It's handy." Bob stepped aside for the guard to unlock the cell. The forcefield fell. Ianto exited before the guard changed her mind.
"You need to sign out," said the guard, a sinewy figure that Ianto knew could easily wrap firmly around him and crush him like a can. She led him to the entrance to the Base's gaol, where he filled out the form with his current alias and was handed back the credit slips found on him.
When he was officially a free man, Ianto asked, "Is there any word about my partner?"
"Investigation pending," said the guard.
"Do we have some idea who was responsible for taking him?"
"Investigation pending."
He let his voice crack. "Is he still alive?"
"Investigation … "
" … pending. Yes, thank you." He turned to Bob, who only shrugged. "Let's go back to the ship. I need clothes."
Bob held out a sack. "These seemed more your style than his."
Ianto peered in to find a change of his own clothes. "Thanks. How did you get onto the ship?"
He patted the book. "I knew the code."
Ianto rankled at the thought of the stranger in their quarters, rifling through his things, but he took the sack anyway.
After Ianto changed and used the local sanitation facility, they sat at a seedy café to eat and plan. Their breakfast was a wide yeast bread with a ladleful of stewed vegetables in a thin, potatoey sauce, and a cool beverage that tasted of burnt nutmeg. Ianto was ravenous, eyeing the remnants of Bob's meal when he'd downed his own. "How long was I unconscious?"
"Nearly a full day. The doctor induced extra sleep to help along your healing."
Ianto touched the plasticine again. "How bad was it?"
Bob shrugged. "You're alive, you've got all your limbs and motion." He took a drink and scowled at the cup as he set it down.
"I take it this wasn't true of everyone."
"Four deaths. There were injuries, some severe. Five people were blown out into space, but they were retrieved by transmat. Two of them might not make it."
"And there's no sign of Jack." He hadn't meant to use the name, but it wasn't as if Bob didn't already know.
"Not yet."
"How does he get out of this?"
"What do you mean?"
"You have Jack's autobiography. You said he wrote about this time period. What happens?" Ianto had considered the problem as he'd washed his face and hands in the sanitation facility. Bob was from the future. Bob had read about their exploits. He should know how they got out of this mess. He might be averse to telling fortunes, but he could give Ianto a clue.
"This adventure never made it into the book." Bob leaned back in his chair, an arm slung with false casualness over the back. "I thought it meant the event was so uninteresting he didn't bother recording it."
"Or he doesn't remember it later." Which could be for any reason, Ianto knew. Retcon, memory wipes, time loop, Jack had gone through all of them at some point. Honestly, it was a wonder his brain hadn't given in either from the sheer number of memories he carried, or from the damage created by those that had been excised.
"It's possible that, now he knows I'll be reading, he doesn't want to pollute the timeline later by giving me spoilers. No way to know."
"No." Ianto played with his knife. "You know he can't die. Wherever he is, he's alive, and he may be in pain. He's my first priority now. I don't care if you get your time manipulator back."
"That's fair, although I don't relish spending the rest of my life in this time period. There are so many better ones."
"I'll take your word for it." But all he could think about was home, and all he could remember were the faces of friends. Bob could travel through time and space, and he used that power to sell antiques. If Ianto had the ability, he could go back to see Rhi and the children and everyone again. God, he could go back and stop the 456 from the beginning, stop this whole mad chain of events.
On the bad nights, he often speculated this was the reason someone had picked up the Time Agency's toys and put them safely away.
"While the investigation is pending," Bob said, imitating the guard's accent, "we can talk to the other patrons of the auction, see if they know anything."
"The auction was illegal. They won't want to talk."
"Then we'll encourage them."
***
They started with the insectoid, Madame Kikikika. Her bodyguard had been killed in the fray, and she wore the deep purple robes of mourning. She lay on her reclining web in her quarters and would not speak to them directly. Her majordomo, a young female with a name Ianto could not pronounce, answered for her mistress.
The answers were primarily "No."
"But surely you know why that man was trying to kill you?"
"Madame has no idea who he was, and she does not wish to sully herself with the knowledge. He died by his own folly." The humanoid had been killed by crossfire.
Bob kept prodding. "And why did he go after her?"
"He wanted the shifter for himself, obviously."
"Enough to kill for it?"
"Who can say what a criminal will do in pursuit of his crime? Madame is in mourning for her lost companion, as you mourn yours."
Ianto said, "My companion is alive, wherever he is. I need to find him. If Madame has any information, she would have my deepest gratitude."
"You think a small bribe will change her answer? Madame is the wealthiest of her brood." The majordomo extended her mandibles in offence.
"I did not mean to give offence," Ianto said. "As you said, I mourn."
"She understands."
They were escorted out soon after, with no more questions answered. Ianto banked his own anger for the time being. "Save it up," Jack always said. "Use it when you need it, don't waste it."
"Who next?"
Bob checked the list he'd made. "Another of the high bidders. An Altan. Know the species?"
"They're bastards," Ianto said. "We've been hired by Altans before, or they've tried, but mercenary work isn't our style."
"Did you aggravate one enough to be targeted?"
"We weren't the targets."
"You don't know that," said Bob. "Maybe Jack was the target and the auction was a ruse. Someone knew you were coming and wanted payback."
"It's possible, but unlikely."
Bob was the only one who'd known, and he'd been the one to arrange their presence. Just because he'd floated the idea didn't absolve him from suspicion. Ianto liked this job less and less every minute.
They made their way to an adjoining corridor which housed the wealthiest travellers at the Base, their rooms guarded by large aliens with big guns and little imagination. Three of these stood in front of the Altan's door. They were not inclined to give Ianto and Bob passage.
"This is urgent," said Ianto. "It has to do with last night's auction."
Bob said, "We know about the device." This struck a chord with one of the guards.
Ianto played along, though he had no idea what Bob meant. "But we will only speak to your employer."
The first guard sent one of its fellows inside while Ianto and Bob maintained cool faces. When the guard returned, they were brought inside the stateroom, which was far more lush than the insectoid's had been. The internal temperature was set high. Pools of bubbling liquids turned the whole suite into a sauna. A fine perspiration broke out on Ianto's brow.
"Where is the device?" the Altan demanded.
"Safe," said Ianto. "Where are the prisoners?"
"Prisoners?"
Ianto couldn't read the faces on this species very well, but the Altan was doing a passable take on "surprised."
"Those who went missing have been taken somewhere."
The Altan waved a huge paw, dismissing him. "They are dead."
Jack was alive, wherever or whenever he had been taken. Knowing Jack, he was chatting up his guards, easing out of his confinement and working his way back to them. But what if he wasn't, couldn't? Decades had passed, and Ianto still sometimes woke in the darkness of their quarters, the thrum of the ship's engines around him and Jack not in their bunk, and Ianto's heart would be in his mouth, the fear present and real that Jack was encased in concrete or buried under the earth. Not dead didn't equal not suffering.
"Do you know where the bodies are?"
"Vaporised." The Altan didn't care, but again, no-one from his party had been taken.
"Did you kill them?" Ianto asked.
"No."
"Then help us find who did," said Bob.
"Maybe you did. Kill your partner, take his share of the profits."
The banked anger came boiling to the surface. "How dare you."
The Altan's expression didn't change. "The device is mine. Bring it to me."
"Not until our friend is returned to us," said Bob.
The Altan's guard advanced, giving Ianto and Bob no room except behind them. "Bring the device," the Altan said, "or you will join your friend in death."
"Time to go," said Bob, and he tugged on Ianto's arm. The door slid open at their backs, and there was enough space between the guards to rush through. The fastest-witted one fired at their retreating steps -- Ianto felt a hot blaze go by his ear -- and then they were around the corner and running through the expensive corridors where the Altan did not want to make enemies.
"Fantastic," Ianto said, when they were far enough away to rest. "Now we owe the Altan a device we don't have, and we're still no closer to finding Jack. I hope you're happy."
"If you have a better plan than interrogating the other witnesses, feel free to share."
The scowl had returned, and that's when Ianto saw it, in the turn of his chin and the flash of fire in his eyes, like setting two photographs next to one another for the first time. A mix of emotions moved through Ianto, and he had to turn away.
"You know," he said casually. "You look like your mother."
The other man startled. "I don't know what you mean."
Ianto's anger and adrenalin had faded. Now he was merely tired and feeling his age. "Did Alice tell you that we were stuck together for a few months? We weren't friends exactly, but we got to know each other. I was very used to her annoyed look. There, you're doing it again."
The scowl shifted into a hesitant smile. "She told me. You gave her the nanogenes."
"Does Jack know?"
"Your Jack doesn't and can't. It'll be thousands of years for him."
"Steven … "
"Call me Bill."
"Bob."
"Whatever. He can't find out. Timelines. He didn't know that I was coming back."
Ianto tried to understand, but the little time travel he'd done hadn't involved much worrying about conflicting timelines, and the one incident that had been a concern turned out to be a time loop he'd always been part of. "It would make him so happy."
"And it will, someday. Just not today. This isn't easy on me, either, you know." Steven rested against the bulkhead of the corridor, and now that Ianto knew what to look for, he recognised movements and mannerisms, heard the little verbal tics to which he was so accustomed that they'd become unnoticeable. "Granddad practically raised me after Mum brought me back."
Ianto remembered Alice's pain, remembered how much she'd loved her son, could not picture her letting him out of her sight ever again. "Did she die?"
"My personal timeline hasn't run into hers at that point." Steven shrugged. "I tried living with her, but her life is so unpredictable, and Jenny said it was too dangerous. Hilda didn't like me much, either. Jenny said it was sibling rivalry. I say Hilda needs a damn adjustment to her logic circuits."
Ianto cracked a smile. The truculent AI on Jenny and Alice's ship had a mind of her own.
"I lived with him," Steven said, "and Mum came to visit when she could. We had a little seaside house on a colony world. My cousins lived close by. I never wanted for playmates."
Cousins? Logic filled in: Jack would have more grandchildren someday, more children, would marry perhaps hundreds of times. Thousands. His memoirs were crammed with names, the thoughtful records of his lovers and offspring past. It was easy to consider them as part of that past, another to look forward and know vast numbers were yet to come.
Steven's face stilled. "Every night I went to sleep listening to the rush of the waves, and every morning I woke up to the seabirds. They made this noise, almost like a scream. It used to scare me until Granddad taught me how to listen to the differences in the cries, which ones meant good morning, and which meant they were hungry, or to stay away from their nests atop the rocks.
"We had a boat, not much more than a skiff with a little sail. I spent a third of my days out in the water, learning to pilot her, or fishing, or just floating to see where the wind took us. We'd navigate by the stars at night to come back home. I was never, ever afraid, because I knew he was there with me to protect me. None of that has happened for him yet. And yes, I want to tell him now, and I want to have him treat me like he loves me instead of like a stranger, but this is how things are."
There had been a flat in a tower, and a Jack who hadn't known him, either, and Ianto understood. "I won't tell your secret."
***
Jack woke up handcuffed to a wall. Having started many a pleasant day in this fashion, he didn't immediately worry, instead rewinding through foggy memories to figure out where he was, whom he was with, and if they were cute. Everything else tended to sort itself out once he'd established the basics.
Which were …
Dark cell, mostly stone, damp and chilly. Okay, not an auspicious start. He had a roommate, an unconscious Dolesh who was also attached to the wall. Doleshi were technically on Jack's overall ala carte approach to the great sexy menu of life, but were listed well beneath the cheese sampler and just above the proverbial boiled spinach side dish. He sighed. He had to get to that "sorting out" bit sooner rather than later.
Memories recent and not so recent reasserted themselves: self-imposed exile for the duration of his first lifetime in the 51st century, unexpected but welcome reunion with an old lover, a new career adventuring out amongst the stars. He remembered their client and the auction, and he remembered his own attempt to steal the time machine back. Everything else was outlined in a head-throbbing grey blur, followed by the handcuffs.
"Hey, pal, do you know where we are?"
The Dolesh didn't stir. Jack refused to speculate he'd misread "unconscious" for "dead." Imprisonment meant they were wanted and needed for something. Allowing the prisoners to die didn't bode well for good treatment until Ianto figured out where Jack was and rescued him.
"Pal?"
No answer.
Jack tested the cuffs and the chains, but other than advances in materials, these weren't much different from any other set he'd ever been bound by, willingly or no. Given enough leverage, he might be able to do the old "pull the chains out of the wall, with or without dislocating my own shoulders" trick. He'd put that plan on the back-burner for now.
He hoped the bad guy would show up soon. That made things so much more convenient. A little banter, maybe (he hoped not, but he'd been through this before) a little light to moderate torture, and Jack would know who had him and why and what could be done about it. Worse was the possibility that the bad guy wasn't keeping him or his roommate alive, that they'd been tossed here, wherever "here" was, to be forgotten. Starving to death slowly in the dark over and over would be a new hell. Jack would survive for hundreds or thousands of years until the cell itself crumbled around him with only the Dolesh's decaying corpse for company, and Ianto would be long dead all over again.
Funny where the mind went when left alone to eat itself in fear.
***
Ianto and Steven had no better luck with their additional inquiries. The Doleshi had been interrogated and released, and were nowhere to be found. The other witnesses claimed to have seen no more than Ianto had, and knew less.
"They're lying," Steven said after another door was slammed in their faces. "Someone is lying."
"It might've been an accident," Ianto replied without conviction. He checked off another lead on his list with a sigh.
Steven fell into step beside him. Ianto kept to himself his observation that all Steven was missing was a billowing coat. "I doubt that."
"As do I, but it's not impossible. One piece of technology might have interacted badly with another. That happened to us in Torchwood. Put one radio from Clom next to a broken Podisi aquarium vacuum, and the next thing you know, half the Assembly looks like Admiral Ackbar and then not only do you have to reverse the process, but distribute Retcon and fake an entire science fiction convention on five minutes' notice."
Steven grinned with a familiar twist to his lips. "That was the fault of your predecessor, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Who went on to blow herself up when she filed two incompatible artefacts together. Proper organisation systems are underrated."
"So I've heard." He peered over Ianto's shoulder. "Who's next?"
"There are a pair of Byzars we haven't ... " They turned a corner.
The Ilian rested its slick hide against the bulkhead. Were it human, Ianto would think its pose casual. He couldn't read this body language at all. He nodded politely as he and Steven walked by.
He wasn't at all surprised when the Ilian said, "Humans. You are seeking your lost fellow." There was a distinct hiss at each "s" and Ianto was put uncomfortably in mind of a snake as the Ilian detached from the wall and undulated their way.
"We are," Steven said. Ianto saw the outline of his pistol under his travelling cloak.
"I have information."
Ianto made a formal short bow. "We would be grateful for any help." He took quick stock: the Ilian wore the simple clothes of a trader, and he had the same thin, piercing expression Jack did when he was working a deal. "We can pay."
"I need help, not credits."
"All right." Ianto glanced at Steven, but Steven was a stranger to this time. This was Ianto's trade to negotiate. "Would you care to discuss the matter over a drink?"
"No. There's an item I require." The Ilian held up a hologram. "Bring it to me, and I will tell you what I know."
Ianto drew closer to inspect the hologram. "I don't recognise this."
"I do," said Steven. "It's a Brinsin detonator. With the right fuel source, it could take out a star system. They're banned where I'm from."
The Ilian bowed its head. "Your partner," this was to Ianto, with the inflections indicating marital status as well as business associate, "indicated you were willing to perform actions not currently endorsed by the authorities in this sector, for the right price."
Ianto already hated this deal. "The price would be high."
"What is the worth of your partner's life?"
"Are you the kidnapper?" Steven's hand went to his side, near the gun.
"Merely an interested third party. Do we have an agreement?"
Ianto said, "I don't know where we'd find your device. I'm not going to waste time searching when I could be looking for him."
"I know the location."
"We're in," said Steven.
***
The Ilian claimed the Marnites had the Brinsin detonator with them, and that it hadn't been for sale at the auction. Ianto didn't remember the Ilian at the auction but couldn't say for certain if he'd seen the detonator amongst the other items for sale. This added one more worry to his list. If Jack had been taken, his captors might now possess the potential to destroy a star system. Ianto wasn't any happier about the Marnites holding that power, or if it came down to it, the Ilian.
Three bad options, and no time to look for a fourth. Fantastic.
Steven spent two hours on the project, sending Ianto scavenging for spare parts around the ship. "I could do a better job with more time," he said, handing Ianto a fake detonator. "It's not a perfect copy."
Ianto inspected the casing, but he wasn't familiar with Brinsin technology. He thought it looked like the hologram. "It'll have to do. We don't have to fool them long."
Together they returned to the level where the Marnites stayed. Steven approached their door, whilst Ianto knocked quickly at the door to an adjacent cabin. Thankfully, there was no answer.
"Good luck," Steven said. Ianto wet his lips nervously, then activated his phase shifter. This was dangerous as hell on board a space station. As he materialised on the other side of the door, he heard Steven signal for entrance at the Marnites' door.
The bulkhead muffled the argument. Steven shouted at the aliens for stealing his time machine, demanding immediate repayment and threatening to take them to the law. Shouts on both sides grew louder. Most of the flock would soon be by the door to argue with the interloper.
Ianto hoped Steven didn't get himself shot.
When he was sure the Marnites were distracted, he shifted into their quarters. The filthy cabin revolted him, discarded feathers and food detritus piled in heaps all over the floor. The smell was worse, part guano, part mouldy meat. Ianto wanted to retch.
Where would they keep a deadly system-destroying weapon in this mess? And how long could Steven keep them distracted while he looked?
Ianto hurried, holding his nose with one hand, moving things lightly to the side with the other. He'd need a bath after this. The shouts were close by, but he refused to worry. He would find the detonator. Surely they kept their stolen goods somewhere safe. Ianto checked a bedroom. In the dim light, he made out two small, undressed Marnites slumbering together fitfully in a nest of rubbish. Hatchlings? They treated their children this way? He had no way to know. He moved silently, aware of time trickling away from him.
It was in the second bedroom, amongst what to his eye looked like drugs paraphernalia. The gems from the auction were on a tabletop, one crushed and the sparkling powder placed in a scaly, dirty pot with an acrid-smelling solution. The detonator was shoved to the back of the table out of the way, like a useless paperweight.
Ianto quickly stowed the real detonator in his rucksack and swapped it with what he hoped would be a passable fake. With a last look around, he listened at the door to the continued shouts, then let himself out. He found the wall he'd come through, mindful of exactly where he stood so he didn't rematerialise halfway inside a cabinet, and shifted back to the empty cabin.
He touched his ear.
A minute later, the shouts reached a fever pitch. He heard Steven storm away, threatening to come back with base security. When Ianto was sure the coast was clear, he reappeared in the corridor. Right in front of a young couple, Aldorians from the look of them. Fuck.
He smiled. "Just inspecting the walls. Wouldn't want them to be too solid." He rapped his knuckles on the door as they stared.
Then he fled.
Steven met him at the lousy café. Ianto removed a smaller sack from his rucksack and held it on his lap while Steven contacted the Ilian. They ordered their meal and waited.
"My thanks," said the Ilian, joining them at the table, a third bowl of crispy noodles at its place. It began to eat with quick dips of its long neck into the bowl, snapping up noodles in powerful, slim jaws and crunching them loudly.
Ianto placed his hands firmly over the sack. "We've done you a favour. We'd like to request one in kind."
"May I see it?" The Ilian's eyes sharpened as Ianto opened the sack, gave him a glimpse of the device, and hid it away again. "Your partner has been taken."
"Where?"
"Who can say?" As it spoke, its tongue darted out, tasting the air.
Steven smiled tightly. "If you want this, you can. Where is he?"
"Now? I don't know. The transmat was powerful. It could reach the next system."
Ianto's stomach fell. He'd hoped Jack was still somewhere on the base. "Are you certain?"
"I sold it at auction days ago."
Steven asked, "To whom?"
"I forget faces so easily."
Ianto made a fist under the table. "Whoever bought your transmat has our friend. Tell us who it is, or you're not getting this detonator."
Ianto was expecting the weapon before it was in his face, but he'd wanted to be wrong. "I gave you information, as we arranged. Your partner was not killed, but taken with a long-range transmat. What you do with the knowledge that he lives is not my concern. If you do not wish to honour our agreement, then I will take back my information by ensuring you remember nothing ever again."
Its voice stayed calm. Ianto couldn't help noticing that no-one batted an eye stalk at them.
"Here." He handed over the sack. "Much good may it do you."
The Ilian opened the sack again to check Ianto hadn't palmed the device somehow, then nodded and dropped the weapon. It didn't turn his back on them as it slithered away, but Steven and Ianto both kept clear of their own weapons until it was long gone.
Ianto let out a breath. Then he picked up his spoon and took one more bite of his supper. Like the drinks, the noodles weren't bad after he was used to the taste. "How much time do you think we have?"
"It's in a hurry, and it's checked twice. An hour or so." Steven pushed his own plate aside. "I could have done a better job with more time."
Ianto hadn't wanted to spend time. He'd wanted to chase after Jack as soon as they had their lead. "Let's go."
They left money for the food on the table and walked purposefully, not fleeing, not running, back to the Celes Tirra before the Ilian discovered they'd presented it with a second faked detonator.
They boarded the ship. Ianto held out hope that Jack had already made his way back from wherever he'd gone, sending a message or stretching out naked in their bunk. No such luck. He stowed the real detonator in the secure hold until he could ask Jack how to dispose of it safely.
"Keep an eye on the local chatter," Ianto said. "I need a wash."
The Celes Tirra had an honest-to-God shower with a tub. Certain comforts were set by agreement, and Ianto's preference for showers with water instead of sonic waves had neatly dovetailed Jack's preference for long, hot, bubble-filled soaks. Finding and maintaining thousands-year-old plumbing fixtures proved an interesting challenge, as did compensating for the extra water they had to carry, but Ianto felt the luxury was well worth the hassle.
After his shower, Ianto dressed and let himself out into the main cabin, where Steven played with the transceiver, listening for more distant signals. The expression on his face told Ianto enough.
Steven stretched. "Mind if I wash next?"
"Go ahead, but be careful, the dial sticks."
Steven's loud gasp of joy at seeing the shower stall was another perk, if one tinged with sadness that Jack couldn't be here to appreciate it.
Ianto went back to scanning the local frequencies. Any rumour would do, any suspicion. Nothing. Not even the coded channels, which were much easier to crack than the messengers thought, yielded up a single crumb of useful information.
Angry and frustrated, he began pacing the small corridors of the ship. Where would Jack look? What would he do that Ianto hadn't thought of? The last time Ianto had been captured -- he'd been taken by bounty hunters working for a disgruntled magistrate, and honestly, it had been a deeply stupid law anyway -- Jack had literally moved mountains to get him back in one piece. Ianto could and would do no less now.
Dear Gwen, I've got a bit of a problem. I'm trying to think like Jack, and that never works out well. As you know, he always …
His pacing had brought him to Steven's open cabin, where his clothes and belongings were piled. Ianto's eyes caught on one particular possession.
It was right there. No-one, least of all Jack, could have blamed him for wanting to take a peek. Timelines, yes, fine, but Ianto could keep secrets. He'd helped Jack edit the early drafts. Surely he wouldn't drop into a conversation, "Did you know you're going to run into Jinkian pirates in ten thousand years and shag their leader?"
Ianto triggered the controls for the book, setting the language to English.
He skimmed a few chapters, old events that had taken place before he'd even been born, intrigues and liaisons he'd helped Jack tidy up in his memoirs, not dangerous to know. He was curiously pleased to see certain turns of phrase he'd suggested show up in the final work, which he knew wouldn't be published until long after his death.
Maybe he said it out loud. The chapter changed. For a moment, Ianto thought he was reading an account of the Thames House disaster: an alien threat, impossible odds. But Ianto had never visited a planet named Chylla. He turned the virtual page rapidly, heart pounding, though his eyes caught enough words to put meaning to the rest.
He didn't have a time frame, but now he knew.
Pages later, his eyes caught more, and he closed the book file.
"I was so angry with him. He was supposed to have the nanogenes. He was supposed to be okay, and instead he was dead all over again, like he didn't care, like he didn't even want to try. I blew out my vocal cords screaming at him, not that he heard me."
"I should have told you it was sports scores."
Ianto spun, saw Steven watching him from the corridor, clad in just a towel.
"It's my fault," Steven said. "I couldn't have resisted either. What did you see?"
Ianto couldn't answer.
Steven nodded, understanding. "As I said, you can't tell him, you never told him. When he met me again, I think he forgave you then."
A hard lump formed in Ianto's throat, which he swallowed away. "He doesn't find you again for thousands of years, does he?"
"Tens of thousands."
"And he's going to be angry with me that entire time, for … " He didn't want to say the words. "For leaving him alone."
"He will understand someday. I promise. I grew up knowing your name."
"I didn't think it would be a swear word."
He'd never been able to ask anything of Jack, and what Jack gave him freely, absently -- shelter, loyalty, part of his life and his heart -- he only gave (Ianto suspected) because they had never been requested. The one thing he dared say, "This is what I want of you," was for Jack to hold him in his memories. For three thousand years, Jack had kept that promise, losing and finding his name again, committing the past to paper. But from now? Past this? Jack would remember Ianto, Steven was proof, but the memory would be filled with anger and grief for ten thousand years at least until Alice brought Steven to him and told Jack the truth.
Steven watched him. "You can't tell him," he said again, and there was sympathy, and finality, in his words.
An alarm sounded. Ianto dashed out of Steven's room, headed for the cockpit. Were they under attack? Was the base endangered?
His racing heartbeat settled: one of his own alarms had been triggered. He'd left searches running for any unusual activity amongst the suspects. Madame Kikikika and her party had left the base abruptly, and base security thought they were in pursuit of the Doleshi.
The insects knew where Jack was.
***
Chapter Three
Author: nancybrown
Artist: kuroneko_tyger
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up through COE
Warnings: some graphic descriptions of injuries, character death
Words: 18,700 (5,800 this part)
Betas: eldarwannabe provided valuable help and suggestions, and fide_et_spe and amilyn brought it home.
Summary: Jack and Ianto are making a living as space pirates smugglers independent businessmen with a flexible approach to local laws, but working for their latest client could change everything, from their past to Jack's future.
AN: Written for the ianto_bigbang, Jack/Ianto Minibang Track. Part of the Intersections series. Familiarity with that series is not required to read this fic, but just in case there is a guide for those who came in late.
Chapter One
***
Chapter Two
***
Ianto woke up in a cell. Again.
Dear Rhiannon, this is the eighth time I've woken up in an alien gaol. No, I tell a lie, it's the ninth. Dad warned me this would happen.
As his thoughts cleared, he set aside the mental letter. He always felt better when pretending he could still communicate with people he'd loved. As a coping mechanism, it worked wonders. As a survival tool, talking to himself wasn't going to get him anywhere. Mindful of any injuries he didn't know about, Ianto sat up and just missed whacking his skull on the bunk above him.
The forcefield he'd heard even in his semi-conscious state, the one that told him "prison," glowed over the entrance of the cell. His aching head had been bandaged with the plasticine-analogue common in this era. His parched mouth didn't taste like anything unfortunate had been put into it. He was still wearing what he insisted on thinking of as the miniskirt but at least he was also still wearing his underwear. All in all, he was breaking even.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello," said a familiar voice, and Bob's face entered his view of the outer room. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."
"Where's Ja… Where's Twil?"
"Missing. So are three others. Base security are furious. Heads will roll." Bob spoke in a monotone, as if he'd heard or said this several times already. His eyeroll sealed the impression.
"Why are you here?"
"To pay your bail. I've already told security everything, so the cover story doesn't matter now." Bob nodded to someone Ianto couldn't see, and then said in Standard, "He's awake."
Ianto's brain caught up with what his ears had been telling him. "You speak English."
"It's handy." Bob stepped aside for the guard to unlock the cell. The forcefield fell. Ianto exited before the guard changed her mind.
"You need to sign out," said the guard, a sinewy figure that Ianto knew could easily wrap firmly around him and crush him like a can. She led him to the entrance to the Base's gaol, where he filled out the form with his current alias and was handed back the credit slips found on him.
When he was officially a free man, Ianto asked, "Is there any word about my partner?"
"Investigation pending," said the guard.
"Do we have some idea who was responsible for taking him?"
"Investigation pending."
He let his voice crack. "Is he still alive?"
"Investigation … "
" … pending. Yes, thank you." He turned to Bob, who only shrugged. "Let's go back to the ship. I need clothes."
Bob held out a sack. "These seemed more your style than his."
Ianto peered in to find a change of his own clothes. "Thanks. How did you get onto the ship?"
He patted the book. "I knew the code."
Ianto rankled at the thought of the stranger in their quarters, rifling through his things, but he took the sack anyway.
After Ianto changed and used the local sanitation facility, they sat at a seedy café to eat and plan. Their breakfast was a wide yeast bread with a ladleful of stewed vegetables in a thin, potatoey sauce, and a cool beverage that tasted of burnt nutmeg. Ianto was ravenous, eyeing the remnants of Bob's meal when he'd downed his own. "How long was I unconscious?"
"Nearly a full day. The doctor induced extra sleep to help along your healing."
Ianto touched the plasticine again. "How bad was it?"
Bob shrugged. "You're alive, you've got all your limbs and motion." He took a drink and scowled at the cup as he set it down.
"I take it this wasn't true of everyone."
"Four deaths. There were injuries, some severe. Five people were blown out into space, but they were retrieved by transmat. Two of them might not make it."
"And there's no sign of Jack." He hadn't meant to use the name, but it wasn't as if Bob didn't already know.
"Not yet."
"How does he get out of this?"
"What do you mean?"
"You have Jack's autobiography. You said he wrote about this time period. What happens?" Ianto had considered the problem as he'd washed his face and hands in the sanitation facility. Bob was from the future. Bob had read about their exploits. He should know how they got out of this mess. He might be averse to telling fortunes, but he could give Ianto a clue.
"This adventure never made it into the book." Bob leaned back in his chair, an arm slung with false casualness over the back. "I thought it meant the event was so uninteresting he didn't bother recording it."
"Or he doesn't remember it later." Which could be for any reason, Ianto knew. Retcon, memory wipes, time loop, Jack had gone through all of them at some point. Honestly, it was a wonder his brain hadn't given in either from the sheer number of memories he carried, or from the damage created by those that had been excised.
"It's possible that, now he knows I'll be reading, he doesn't want to pollute the timeline later by giving me spoilers. No way to know."
"No." Ianto played with his knife. "You know he can't die. Wherever he is, he's alive, and he may be in pain. He's my first priority now. I don't care if you get your time manipulator back."
"That's fair, although I don't relish spending the rest of my life in this time period. There are so many better ones."
"I'll take your word for it." But all he could think about was home, and all he could remember were the faces of friends. Bob could travel through time and space, and he used that power to sell antiques. If Ianto had the ability, he could go back to see Rhi and the children and everyone again. God, he could go back and stop the 456 from the beginning, stop this whole mad chain of events.
On the bad nights, he often speculated this was the reason someone had picked up the Time Agency's toys and put them safely away.
"While the investigation is pending," Bob said, imitating the guard's accent, "we can talk to the other patrons of the auction, see if they know anything."
"The auction was illegal. They won't want to talk."
"Then we'll encourage them."
***
They started with the insectoid, Madame Kikikika. Her bodyguard had been killed in the fray, and she wore the deep purple robes of mourning. She lay on her reclining web in her quarters and would not speak to them directly. Her majordomo, a young female with a name Ianto could not pronounce, answered for her mistress.
The answers were primarily "No."
"But surely you know why that man was trying to kill you?"
"Madame has no idea who he was, and she does not wish to sully herself with the knowledge. He died by his own folly." The humanoid had been killed by crossfire.
Bob kept prodding. "And why did he go after her?"
"He wanted the shifter for himself, obviously."
"Enough to kill for it?"
"Who can say what a criminal will do in pursuit of his crime? Madame is in mourning for her lost companion, as you mourn yours."
Ianto said, "My companion is alive, wherever he is. I need to find him. If Madame has any information, she would have my deepest gratitude."
"You think a small bribe will change her answer? Madame is the wealthiest of her brood." The majordomo extended her mandibles in offence.
"I did not mean to give offence," Ianto said. "As you said, I mourn."
"She understands."
They were escorted out soon after, with no more questions answered. Ianto banked his own anger for the time being. "Save it up," Jack always said. "Use it when you need it, don't waste it."
"Who next?"
Bob checked the list he'd made. "Another of the high bidders. An Altan. Know the species?"
"They're bastards," Ianto said. "We've been hired by Altans before, or they've tried, but mercenary work isn't our style."
"Did you aggravate one enough to be targeted?"
"We weren't the targets."
"You don't know that," said Bob. "Maybe Jack was the target and the auction was a ruse. Someone knew you were coming and wanted payback."
"It's possible, but unlikely."
Bob was the only one who'd known, and he'd been the one to arrange their presence. Just because he'd floated the idea didn't absolve him from suspicion. Ianto liked this job less and less every minute.
They made their way to an adjoining corridor which housed the wealthiest travellers at the Base, their rooms guarded by large aliens with big guns and little imagination. Three of these stood in front of the Altan's door. They were not inclined to give Ianto and Bob passage.
"This is urgent," said Ianto. "It has to do with last night's auction."
Bob said, "We know about the device." This struck a chord with one of the guards.
Ianto played along, though he had no idea what Bob meant. "But we will only speak to your employer."
The first guard sent one of its fellows inside while Ianto and Bob maintained cool faces. When the guard returned, they were brought inside the stateroom, which was far more lush than the insectoid's had been. The internal temperature was set high. Pools of bubbling liquids turned the whole suite into a sauna. A fine perspiration broke out on Ianto's brow.
"Where is the device?" the Altan demanded.
"Safe," said Ianto. "Where are the prisoners?"
"Prisoners?"
Ianto couldn't read the faces on this species very well, but the Altan was doing a passable take on "surprised."
"Those who went missing have been taken somewhere."
The Altan waved a huge paw, dismissing him. "They are dead."
Jack was alive, wherever or whenever he had been taken. Knowing Jack, he was chatting up his guards, easing out of his confinement and working his way back to them. But what if he wasn't, couldn't? Decades had passed, and Ianto still sometimes woke in the darkness of their quarters, the thrum of the ship's engines around him and Jack not in their bunk, and Ianto's heart would be in his mouth, the fear present and real that Jack was encased in concrete or buried under the earth. Not dead didn't equal not suffering.
"Do you know where the bodies are?"
"Vaporised." The Altan didn't care, but again, no-one from his party had been taken.
"Did you kill them?" Ianto asked.
"No."
"Then help us find who did," said Bob.
"Maybe you did. Kill your partner, take his share of the profits."
The banked anger came boiling to the surface. "How dare you."
The Altan's expression didn't change. "The device is mine. Bring it to me."
"Not until our friend is returned to us," said Bob.
The Altan's guard advanced, giving Ianto and Bob no room except behind them. "Bring the device," the Altan said, "or you will join your friend in death."
"Time to go," said Bob, and he tugged on Ianto's arm. The door slid open at their backs, and there was enough space between the guards to rush through. The fastest-witted one fired at their retreating steps -- Ianto felt a hot blaze go by his ear -- and then they were around the corner and running through the expensive corridors where the Altan did not want to make enemies.
"Fantastic," Ianto said, when they were far enough away to rest. "Now we owe the Altan a device we don't have, and we're still no closer to finding Jack. I hope you're happy."
"If you have a better plan than interrogating the other witnesses, feel free to share."
The scowl had returned, and that's when Ianto saw it, in the turn of his chin and the flash of fire in his eyes, like setting two photographs next to one another for the first time. A mix of emotions moved through Ianto, and he had to turn away.
"You know," he said casually. "You look like your mother."
The other man startled. "I don't know what you mean."
Ianto's anger and adrenalin had faded. Now he was merely tired and feeling his age. "Did Alice tell you that we were stuck together for a few months? We weren't friends exactly, but we got to know each other. I was very used to her annoyed look. There, you're doing it again."
The scowl shifted into a hesitant smile. "She told me. You gave her the nanogenes."
"Does Jack know?"
"Your Jack doesn't and can't. It'll be thousands of years for him."
"Steven … "
"Call me Bill."
"Bob."
"Whatever. He can't find out. Timelines. He didn't know that I was coming back."
Ianto tried to understand, but the little time travel he'd done hadn't involved much worrying about conflicting timelines, and the one incident that had been a concern turned out to be a time loop he'd always been part of. "It would make him so happy."
"And it will, someday. Just not today. This isn't easy on me, either, you know." Steven rested against the bulkhead of the corridor, and now that Ianto knew what to look for, he recognised movements and mannerisms, heard the little verbal tics to which he was so accustomed that they'd become unnoticeable. "Granddad practically raised me after Mum brought me back."
Ianto remembered Alice's pain, remembered how much she'd loved her son, could not picture her letting him out of her sight ever again. "Did she die?"
"My personal timeline hasn't run into hers at that point." Steven shrugged. "I tried living with her, but her life is so unpredictable, and Jenny said it was too dangerous. Hilda didn't like me much, either. Jenny said it was sibling rivalry. I say Hilda needs a damn adjustment to her logic circuits."
Ianto cracked a smile. The truculent AI on Jenny and Alice's ship had a mind of her own.
"I lived with him," Steven said, "and Mum came to visit when she could. We had a little seaside house on a colony world. My cousins lived close by. I never wanted for playmates."
Cousins? Logic filled in: Jack would have more grandchildren someday, more children, would marry perhaps hundreds of times. Thousands. His memoirs were crammed with names, the thoughtful records of his lovers and offspring past. It was easy to consider them as part of that past, another to look forward and know vast numbers were yet to come.
Steven's face stilled. "Every night I went to sleep listening to the rush of the waves, and every morning I woke up to the seabirds. They made this noise, almost like a scream. It used to scare me until Granddad taught me how to listen to the differences in the cries, which ones meant good morning, and which meant they were hungry, or to stay away from their nests atop the rocks.
"We had a boat, not much more than a skiff with a little sail. I spent a third of my days out in the water, learning to pilot her, or fishing, or just floating to see where the wind took us. We'd navigate by the stars at night to come back home. I was never, ever afraid, because I knew he was there with me to protect me. None of that has happened for him yet. And yes, I want to tell him now, and I want to have him treat me like he loves me instead of like a stranger, but this is how things are."
There had been a flat in a tower, and a Jack who hadn't known him, either, and Ianto understood. "I won't tell your secret."
***
Jack woke up handcuffed to a wall. Having started many a pleasant day in this fashion, he didn't immediately worry, instead rewinding through foggy memories to figure out where he was, whom he was with, and if they were cute. Everything else tended to sort itself out once he'd established the basics.
Which were …
Dark cell, mostly stone, damp and chilly. Okay, not an auspicious start. He had a roommate, an unconscious Dolesh who was also attached to the wall. Doleshi were technically on Jack's overall ala carte approach to the great sexy menu of life, but were listed well beneath the cheese sampler and just above the proverbial boiled spinach side dish. He sighed. He had to get to that "sorting out" bit sooner rather than later.
Memories recent and not so recent reasserted themselves: self-imposed exile for the duration of his first lifetime in the 51st century, unexpected but welcome reunion with an old lover, a new career adventuring out amongst the stars. He remembered their client and the auction, and he remembered his own attempt to steal the time machine back. Everything else was outlined in a head-throbbing grey blur, followed by the handcuffs.
"Hey, pal, do you know where we are?"
The Dolesh didn't stir. Jack refused to speculate he'd misread "unconscious" for "dead." Imprisonment meant they were wanted and needed for something. Allowing the prisoners to die didn't bode well for good treatment until Ianto figured out where Jack was and rescued him.
"Pal?"
No answer.
Jack tested the cuffs and the chains, but other than advances in materials, these weren't much different from any other set he'd ever been bound by, willingly or no. Given enough leverage, he might be able to do the old "pull the chains out of the wall, with or without dislocating my own shoulders" trick. He'd put that plan on the back-burner for now.
He hoped the bad guy would show up soon. That made things so much more convenient. A little banter, maybe (he hoped not, but he'd been through this before) a little light to moderate torture, and Jack would know who had him and why and what could be done about it. Worse was the possibility that the bad guy wasn't keeping him or his roommate alive, that they'd been tossed here, wherever "here" was, to be forgotten. Starving to death slowly in the dark over and over would be a new hell. Jack would survive for hundreds or thousands of years until the cell itself crumbled around him with only the Dolesh's decaying corpse for company, and Ianto would be long dead all over again.
Funny where the mind went when left alone to eat itself in fear.
***
Ianto and Steven had no better luck with their additional inquiries. The Doleshi had been interrogated and released, and were nowhere to be found. The other witnesses claimed to have seen no more than Ianto had, and knew less.
"They're lying," Steven said after another door was slammed in their faces. "Someone is lying."
"It might've been an accident," Ianto replied without conviction. He checked off another lead on his list with a sigh.
Steven fell into step beside him. Ianto kept to himself his observation that all Steven was missing was a billowing coat. "I doubt that."
"As do I, but it's not impossible. One piece of technology might have interacted badly with another. That happened to us in Torchwood. Put one radio from Clom next to a broken Podisi aquarium vacuum, and the next thing you know, half the Assembly looks like Admiral Ackbar and then not only do you have to reverse the process, but distribute Retcon and fake an entire science fiction convention on five minutes' notice."
Steven grinned with a familiar twist to his lips. "That was the fault of your predecessor, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Who went on to blow herself up when she filed two incompatible artefacts together. Proper organisation systems are underrated."
"So I've heard." He peered over Ianto's shoulder. "Who's next?"
"There are a pair of Byzars we haven't ... " They turned a corner.
The Ilian rested its slick hide against the bulkhead. Were it human, Ianto would think its pose casual. He couldn't read this body language at all. He nodded politely as he and Steven walked by.
He wasn't at all surprised when the Ilian said, "Humans. You are seeking your lost fellow." There was a distinct hiss at each "s" and Ianto was put uncomfortably in mind of a snake as the Ilian detached from the wall and undulated their way.
"We are," Steven said. Ianto saw the outline of his pistol under his travelling cloak.
"I have information."
Ianto made a formal short bow. "We would be grateful for any help." He took quick stock: the Ilian wore the simple clothes of a trader, and he had the same thin, piercing expression Jack did when he was working a deal. "We can pay."
"I need help, not credits."
"All right." Ianto glanced at Steven, but Steven was a stranger to this time. This was Ianto's trade to negotiate. "Would you care to discuss the matter over a drink?"
"No. There's an item I require." The Ilian held up a hologram. "Bring it to me, and I will tell you what I know."
Ianto drew closer to inspect the hologram. "I don't recognise this."
"I do," said Steven. "It's a Brinsin detonator. With the right fuel source, it could take out a star system. They're banned where I'm from."
The Ilian bowed its head. "Your partner," this was to Ianto, with the inflections indicating marital status as well as business associate, "indicated you were willing to perform actions not currently endorsed by the authorities in this sector, for the right price."
Ianto already hated this deal. "The price would be high."
"What is the worth of your partner's life?"
"Are you the kidnapper?" Steven's hand went to his side, near the gun.
"Merely an interested third party. Do we have an agreement?"
Ianto said, "I don't know where we'd find your device. I'm not going to waste time searching when I could be looking for him."
"I know the location."
"We're in," said Steven.
***
The Ilian claimed the Marnites had the Brinsin detonator with them, and that it hadn't been for sale at the auction. Ianto didn't remember the Ilian at the auction but couldn't say for certain if he'd seen the detonator amongst the other items for sale. This added one more worry to his list. If Jack had been taken, his captors might now possess the potential to destroy a star system. Ianto wasn't any happier about the Marnites holding that power, or if it came down to it, the Ilian.
Three bad options, and no time to look for a fourth. Fantastic.
Steven spent two hours on the project, sending Ianto scavenging for spare parts around the ship. "I could do a better job with more time," he said, handing Ianto a fake detonator. "It's not a perfect copy."
Ianto inspected the casing, but he wasn't familiar with Brinsin technology. He thought it looked like the hologram. "It'll have to do. We don't have to fool them long."
Together they returned to the level where the Marnites stayed. Steven approached their door, whilst Ianto knocked quickly at the door to an adjacent cabin. Thankfully, there was no answer.
"Good luck," Steven said. Ianto wet his lips nervously, then activated his phase shifter. This was dangerous as hell on board a space station. As he materialised on the other side of the door, he heard Steven signal for entrance at the Marnites' door.
The bulkhead muffled the argument. Steven shouted at the aliens for stealing his time machine, demanding immediate repayment and threatening to take them to the law. Shouts on both sides grew louder. Most of the flock would soon be by the door to argue with the interloper.
Ianto hoped Steven didn't get himself shot.
When he was sure the Marnites were distracted, he shifted into their quarters. The filthy cabin revolted him, discarded feathers and food detritus piled in heaps all over the floor. The smell was worse, part guano, part mouldy meat. Ianto wanted to retch.
Where would they keep a deadly system-destroying weapon in this mess? And how long could Steven keep them distracted while he looked?
Ianto hurried, holding his nose with one hand, moving things lightly to the side with the other. He'd need a bath after this. The shouts were close by, but he refused to worry. He would find the detonator. Surely they kept their stolen goods somewhere safe. Ianto checked a bedroom. In the dim light, he made out two small, undressed Marnites slumbering together fitfully in a nest of rubbish. Hatchlings? They treated their children this way? He had no way to know. He moved silently, aware of time trickling away from him.
It was in the second bedroom, amongst what to his eye looked like drugs paraphernalia. The gems from the auction were on a tabletop, one crushed and the sparkling powder placed in a scaly, dirty pot with an acrid-smelling solution. The detonator was shoved to the back of the table out of the way, like a useless paperweight.
Ianto quickly stowed the real detonator in his rucksack and swapped it with what he hoped would be a passable fake. With a last look around, he listened at the door to the continued shouts, then let himself out. He found the wall he'd come through, mindful of exactly where he stood so he didn't rematerialise halfway inside a cabinet, and shifted back to the empty cabin.
He touched his ear.
A minute later, the shouts reached a fever pitch. He heard Steven storm away, threatening to come back with base security. When Ianto was sure the coast was clear, he reappeared in the corridor. Right in front of a young couple, Aldorians from the look of them. Fuck.
He smiled. "Just inspecting the walls. Wouldn't want them to be too solid." He rapped his knuckles on the door as they stared.
Then he fled.
Steven met him at the lousy café. Ianto removed a smaller sack from his rucksack and held it on his lap while Steven contacted the Ilian. They ordered their meal and waited.
"My thanks," said the Ilian, joining them at the table, a third bowl of crispy noodles at its place. It began to eat with quick dips of its long neck into the bowl, snapping up noodles in powerful, slim jaws and crunching them loudly.
Ianto placed his hands firmly over the sack. "We've done you a favour. We'd like to request one in kind."
"May I see it?" The Ilian's eyes sharpened as Ianto opened the sack, gave him a glimpse of the device, and hid it away again. "Your partner has been taken."
"Where?"
"Who can say?" As it spoke, its tongue darted out, tasting the air.
Steven smiled tightly. "If you want this, you can. Where is he?"
"Now? I don't know. The transmat was powerful. It could reach the next system."
Ianto's stomach fell. He'd hoped Jack was still somewhere on the base. "Are you certain?"
"I sold it at auction days ago."
Steven asked, "To whom?"
"I forget faces so easily."
Ianto made a fist under the table. "Whoever bought your transmat has our friend. Tell us who it is, or you're not getting this detonator."
Ianto was expecting the weapon before it was in his face, but he'd wanted to be wrong. "I gave you information, as we arranged. Your partner was not killed, but taken with a long-range transmat. What you do with the knowledge that he lives is not my concern. If you do not wish to honour our agreement, then I will take back my information by ensuring you remember nothing ever again."
Its voice stayed calm. Ianto couldn't help noticing that no-one batted an eye stalk at them.
"Here." He handed over the sack. "Much good may it do you."
The Ilian opened the sack again to check Ianto hadn't palmed the device somehow, then nodded and dropped the weapon. It didn't turn his back on them as it slithered away, but Steven and Ianto both kept clear of their own weapons until it was long gone.
Ianto let out a breath. Then he picked up his spoon and took one more bite of his supper. Like the drinks, the noodles weren't bad after he was used to the taste. "How much time do you think we have?"
"It's in a hurry, and it's checked twice. An hour or so." Steven pushed his own plate aside. "I could have done a better job with more time."
Ianto hadn't wanted to spend time. He'd wanted to chase after Jack as soon as they had their lead. "Let's go."
They left money for the food on the table and walked purposefully, not fleeing, not running, back to the Celes Tirra before the Ilian discovered they'd presented it with a second faked detonator.
They boarded the ship. Ianto held out hope that Jack had already made his way back from wherever he'd gone, sending a message or stretching out naked in their bunk. No such luck. He stowed the real detonator in the secure hold until he could ask Jack how to dispose of it safely.
"Keep an eye on the local chatter," Ianto said. "I need a wash."
The Celes Tirra had an honest-to-God shower with a tub. Certain comforts were set by agreement, and Ianto's preference for showers with water instead of sonic waves had neatly dovetailed Jack's preference for long, hot, bubble-filled soaks. Finding and maintaining thousands-year-old plumbing fixtures proved an interesting challenge, as did compensating for the extra water they had to carry, but Ianto felt the luxury was well worth the hassle.
After his shower, Ianto dressed and let himself out into the main cabin, where Steven played with the transceiver, listening for more distant signals. The expression on his face told Ianto enough.
Steven stretched. "Mind if I wash next?"
"Go ahead, but be careful, the dial sticks."
Steven's loud gasp of joy at seeing the shower stall was another perk, if one tinged with sadness that Jack couldn't be here to appreciate it.
Ianto went back to scanning the local frequencies. Any rumour would do, any suspicion. Nothing. Not even the coded channels, which were much easier to crack than the messengers thought, yielded up a single crumb of useful information.
Angry and frustrated, he began pacing the small corridors of the ship. Where would Jack look? What would he do that Ianto hadn't thought of? The last time Ianto had been captured -- he'd been taken by bounty hunters working for a disgruntled magistrate, and honestly, it had been a deeply stupid law anyway -- Jack had literally moved mountains to get him back in one piece. Ianto could and would do no less now.
Dear Gwen, I've got a bit of a problem. I'm trying to think like Jack, and that never works out well. As you know, he always …
His pacing had brought him to Steven's open cabin, where his clothes and belongings were piled. Ianto's eyes caught on one particular possession.
It was right there. No-one, least of all Jack, could have blamed him for wanting to take a peek. Timelines, yes, fine, but Ianto could keep secrets. He'd helped Jack edit the early drafts. Surely he wouldn't drop into a conversation, "Did you know you're going to run into Jinkian pirates in ten thousand years and shag their leader?"
Ianto triggered the controls for the book, setting the language to English.
He skimmed a few chapters, old events that had taken place before he'd even been born, intrigues and liaisons he'd helped Jack tidy up in his memoirs, not dangerous to know. He was curiously pleased to see certain turns of phrase he'd suggested show up in the final work, which he knew wouldn't be published until long after his death.
Maybe he said it out loud. The chapter changed. For a moment, Ianto thought he was reading an account of the Thames House disaster: an alien threat, impossible odds. But Ianto had never visited a planet named Chylla. He turned the virtual page rapidly, heart pounding, though his eyes caught enough words to put meaning to the rest.
He didn't have a time frame, but now he knew.
Pages later, his eyes caught more, and he closed the book file.
"I was so angry with him. He was supposed to have the nanogenes. He was supposed to be okay, and instead he was dead all over again, like he didn't care, like he didn't even want to try. I blew out my vocal cords screaming at him, not that he heard me."
"I should have told you it was sports scores."
Ianto spun, saw Steven watching him from the corridor, clad in just a towel.
"It's my fault," Steven said. "I couldn't have resisted either. What did you see?"
Ianto couldn't answer.
Steven nodded, understanding. "As I said, you can't tell him, you never told him. When he met me again, I think he forgave you then."
A hard lump formed in Ianto's throat, which he swallowed away. "He doesn't find you again for thousands of years, does he?"
"Tens of thousands."
"And he's going to be angry with me that entire time, for … " He didn't want to say the words. "For leaving him alone."
"He will understand someday. I promise. I grew up knowing your name."
"I didn't think it would be a swear word."
He'd never been able to ask anything of Jack, and what Jack gave him freely, absently -- shelter, loyalty, part of his life and his heart -- he only gave (Ianto suspected) because they had never been requested. The one thing he dared say, "This is what I want of you," was for Jack to hold him in his memories. For three thousand years, Jack had kept that promise, losing and finding his name again, committing the past to paper. But from now? Past this? Jack would remember Ianto, Steven was proof, but the memory would be filled with anger and grief for ten thousand years at least until Alice brought Steven to him and told Jack the truth.
Steven watched him. "You can't tell him," he said again, and there was sympathy, and finality, in his words.
An alarm sounded. Ianto dashed out of Steven's room, headed for the cockpit. Were they under attack? Was the base endangered?
His racing heartbeat settled: one of his own alarms had been triggered. He'd left searches running for any unusual activity amongst the suspects. Madame Kikikika and her party had left the base abruptly, and base security thought they were in pursuit of the Doleshi.
The insects knew where Jack was.
***
Chapter Three