Suspension 1/7
Title: Suspension 1/7
Authors:
leofuller and
the9thdoctor
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: 15ish
Spoilers: Season 1 only - This is our Post-Cyberwoman fic!
Summary: Every decision made changes the future. For better or worse, Ianto wakes up in a universe where he never had a chance to hide Lisa in the basement - A universe where he died in the wreckage of Canary Wharf and somebody else went to Cardiff with a deadly secret...
Chapter 1
The sound of crashing footsteps echoed down the corridor. Ianto froze. They were coming for him. He knew he shouldn't have left the archives, but the idea that the metal things were doing something to Lisa was too terrible to keep him there.
He'd heard a scientist a few minutes ago calling the monsters 'Cybermen' but it just proved how scared Ianto was when his first reaction wasn't to search out all the available information.
The footsteps sounded again - thankfully heading away. Ianto fought against the almost overwhelming desire to hide in a cupboard with his hands over his ears and set off again.
Find Lisa - that was his first priority. She had to be around somewhere. He had been sneaking through the tower for almost twenty minutes and he hadn't yet seen her. He refused to think that she could be dead. It just wasn't possible. There was no room in Ianto's mind for the thought.
He stopped again when he found the next body, the logical part of his mind - the bit that liked alphabetical lists to an extent that seemed to outweigh mortal terror - had been keeping a list of his co-workers that would now never have a chance to draw their pension.
Ianto rolled the body over. He didn't recognise the face, but a ID card clipped to his jacket proclaimed him to be 'Morris, Brian' from security. Ianto blinked down at his corpse for a moment, wondering if he had ever sat at the same table in the canteen with him, or passed him in the corridor, or had any contact with him at all. He didn't know, but he knew for a fact that a member of Torchwood security force would carry a gun. A gun that might not do any good against an invading alien force, but would probably make Ianto feel better about crawling round his place of work. He patted down 'Morris, Brian' and found the pistol in a holster at his back. There were only four shots left. It would do.
It didn’t do. The bullets were useless against the silver monsters, and there was nothing Ianto could do to stop them. He found Lisa when the Cybermen took him to join the line of terrified people, corralled in the corridor, shuffling ever closer to the screaming. Lisa clung to him, shaking, as they crept inexorably forwards.
They took her away from him when he reached the front of the line, and he could hear her screaming for him as they strapped him in, as the whirling blades came towards him...
Ianto sat bolt upright, sweating, struggling to catch his breath. It took a moment for it to sink in that he’d fallen asleep on the couch again. He crossed the room and dragged open the curtains, letting the sodium glow of the street lamps illuminate his living room.
Ianto stared at the room with blank incomprehension. Where was all his stuff? Where were the boxes he’d been sorting through? Where were his books? Where was the bloody TV?
He felt in his pocket for his mobile, pressed speed dial one and held it to his ear.
Jack answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you sir, but I’ve been burgled.”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Ianto, sir.”
“Who?”
When Jack had killed Lisa, Ianto was fully expecting to be executed. When Jack had sent him home, Ianto was fully expecting to be retconned.
When Jack announced four weeks suspension Ianto didn’t know what to expect, but he wasn’t ruling out recton just yet. He turned his attention to sorting out the flat he’d been neglecting. The furniture which came with the rented flat sat forlornly amongst the boxes he’d brought from London.
He'd lasted for three days before he realised that he had only actually unpacked two boxes. He would open one of the cases and sift through the contents - usually an odd mixture of books, photos, ornaments and tech he'd taken from the ruins of Canary Wharf - before running across something that would trigger a memory and leave him staring blankly at the wall, or force him back to bed in a sobbing mess.
The boxes remained mostly untouched after that, and the things he had retrieved sat in piles that he would trip over or accidentally kick on his way between the bathroom and the couch.
He needed to go shopping, but he couldn't face leaving the flat. He needed to clear away his things, but he couldn't bring himself to look at them. He needed to sleep, but couldn't close his eyes.
Ianto was a wreck and he knew it.
Jack phoned him occasionally. Ianto wasn't sure why - to make sure he didn't have to organise the retrieval of Ianto's dead body, probably. Every time the phone rang, Ianto would watch it, wondering what would happen if he didn't answer. Would Jack rush round to check up on him? And if he did, would he be pleased or disappointed to find him alive?
Ianto dropped his head into his hands and sighed. Maybe he should make himself some coffee and try to stave off the nightmares for a few more hours.
Three jugs of coffee later, it was approaching four am and Ianto was totally absorbed in his unpacking. He’d designated the empty boxes for “personal items” (his and Lisa’s) and “alien tech” (scavenged from Canary Wharf in case he could use it for Lisa). If Jack decided to let him stay at Torchwood, Ianto knew that he’d be the one left to archive all of this stuff, so as the hours had passed and more boxes became available, the alien tech had been split into “possibly dangerous” “not at all dangerous” and “unidentified”.
Ianto took another swig of rapidly cooling coffee and studied the next item.
It was black, roughly square and apparently completely benign. Ianto was hovering between “not dangerous” and “unidentified” when a sudden crash from the hallway made him jump and he dropped it.
There was a flash of light. Ianto cried out, shielding his eyes from the glare, staggered backwards and collapsed on the couch.
Ianto sighed. He was sick of Jack playing his little games.
“It's Ianto.” he repeated, trying to remain calm. “I've been burgled.”
There was a pause. “Well... Ummm... Ianto, shouldn't you call the police?”
Ianto resisted the urge to hang up or shout at Jack for being so dense. The man knew exactly what Ianto had in his apartment, and that thieves would probably have taken more than his stereo.
“I'm not going to call the police, sir,” he ground out finally. “Unless you want them to know about all the tech from Torchwood One.”
There was a longer pause. “The tech from Torchwood One?” Jack repeated finally. “Look, who the hell are you and how have you got your hands on stuff from Torchwood?”
“IT'S IANTO!” Ianto yelled, his resolve cracking slightly. “For God's sake Jack! Stop playing games!”
“Where are you?”
“At my flat, where the hell do you think I am?”
“Listen, mate, I have no idea who you are. You call me up out of the blue and tell me you have tech from Torchwood One. You tell me where you are right this second.”
Ianto took the handset away from his ear, staring down at the screen to make sure that he had the right number.
Jack's phone number stared back at him. It was correct. Perfectly correct - not a single transposed digit. He could hear Jack's muffled shouting from the device. He put it back up to his ear and in a horrifyingly calm voice that felt as though it was coming from somewhere else, recited his address to a man who should already have it memorised.
Jack complicated things further by turning up fifteen minutes later and demanding an explanation at gunpoint. It was only too clear that Jack had no idea who Ianto was, and Ianto found himself ordered down to the SUV and taken to the Hub practically under arrest. Jack wasn’t impressed when Ianto offered to drive and produced a set of working keys to the SUV.
It got worse when they arrived at the Hub, and Owen, Tosh and Gwen also failed to recognise him. Tosh just looked at him and shook her head, engrossed in some computer schematics. Owen just shrugged.
“Sorry mate, never seen you before in my life.”
Gwen looked quite apologetic, as if she wished she knew who he was.
“But..” Ianto looked around at the team. “It’s me. I run the archives, man the tourist office?” Some sense of self-preservation stopped him from adding “I kept a Cyberwoman in the basement and nearly killed you all last week?” If they’d forgotten THAT, he wasn’t going to remind them.
“No you don’t.” Jack had been glaring at him with his arms folded. Now he tapped his ear piece. “Paul? Can you come up here?”
Up until this point, Ianto had been thinking that this was either some kind of over-elaborate practical joke as revenge, or a retcon accident. But if there was somebody else here doing his job, then something was really wrong.
Things got even stranger when the archivist walked in, saw Ianto and froze.
“Ianto?”
“Paul?”
“But…”
“You’re…”
“You’re alive?”
Ianto wasn't sure how to answer that question, asked as it was by a man who had been dead for almost a year. “I... You...”
Jack broke in at this point, and Ianto felt grateful for that at least. “You two know each other?” he demanded, crossing his arms across his chest.
Paul stared at Ianto for a few more seconds, and then glanced over at Jack. “That's Ianto Jones.” he mumbled. “He worked with me in Torchwood One.”
“He said he had some tech from Canary Wharf.” said Jack, not taking his eyes off of Ianto.
Paul gaped at him. “I... I reckon he probably does, yes.” he replied finally. “Seeing as he died in the battle.”
That was all it took for Jack to pull his gun again. “Right then, whoever you are...” he said, advancing on Ianto, “We're going to take a trip down to the vaults. I don't know what this is all about, but you obviously haven't done your research properly if you think we'll just accept a dead man from Torchwood One with open arms.”
Ianto didn't seem to have anything to reply to that.
He stared mutely at Paul. The other man had died in a routine alien-retrieval mission which had gone badly wrong, about three months before Canary Wharf.
“Wait.” Paul said. “If this is Ianto, then he’s not a threat. He’s one of us.”
“How can we prove it’s him?” Gwen asked, stepping forwards.
Jack frowned. “Lock him up.”
“Ianto, what was my job at Torchwood London?”
“Field Agent, level three.” Ianto responded immediately.
Paul nodded.
“What was the access code to the secure archives?”
“7286C, but you didn’t have clearance for the archives so you wouldn’t know that.”
Paul nodded again.
“Right so far.”
“Anything else you want to know?” Ianto couldn’t keep his old snark down. “The cafeteria did a special on Wednesdays but nobody ever ate it? The gents on the third floor was always out of order?”
Paul bit his lip, and looked up at Jack, nodding.
Jack didn't let his aim waver, the pistol remained pointed straight at Ianto. “And the rest of us?” he asked.
Ianto blinked, he'd never considered having to prove his identity to the rest of the team. Well, he'd better start with the easy ones...
Raising an arm, Ianto pointed at Gwen, who flinched as if she thought Ianto's finger was some kind of weapon. He kept his gaze on Jack. “That's Gwen Cooper.” he said. “You hired her after Suzie shot herself. She used to be a policewoman. She has a boyfriend called Rhys Williams.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gwen biting her lip. Ianto ignored her and swung his arm towards Tosh. “Toshiko Sato. She hums to herself when she thinks no-one can hear her and likes hacking the CIA mainframe when she's bored.”
He moved his hand again. “Owen Harper. Likes meat feast and baked bean pizza and thinks I don't know why I have to order so much ultrasound gel.”
Owen spluttered in indignation over that, but Ianto plowed on. “And as for you, Captain Jack Harkness...” Ianto took a step forward and lowered his voice to whisper in Jack's ear. “You once told me that you've eaten dinosaur and that you have 51st century pheromones."
Jack's eyes went wide with surprise. Ianto was almost shocked, he'd never thought he could draw that kind of reaction from him.
Then Jack shook his head and the moment passed. He turned to Paul. “Fair enough, he used to work at Torchwood London, I believe you.” Jack said, apparently ignoring Ianto, “What I still want to know is what the Hell he’s doing here if he’s meant to be dead?”
Paul shrugged. “All I know is that he's dead.” he said quietly. “I found his body while I was trying to escape...”
Ianto swallowed. “How?” he muttered.
Paul bit his lip. “You were... You'd been... Jesus...”
“I'd been converted?” Ianto finished for him, feeling wobbly.
There was a nod from Paul, “Partially.” he said, finally, avoiding Ianto's gaze.
Ianto's legs gave way from under him and he thumped down onto the ratty sofa. “I was dreaming about that last night...” he whispered, looking between Jack, who was regarding him with a look of deep distrust and Paul, still refusing to look at him in return. “How is this even possible?”
Gwen looked at Jack, and then carefully sat next to Ianto.
“What’s not possible?”
“Yesterday, I was the archivist here. I know the Hub, I know how everything works. I know all of you.”
“What about Paul?”
Ianto looked up but couldn’t meet Paul’s eyes.”
“Paul died.”
“At Canary Wharf?” Gwen asked.
Ianto shook his head. “Before then. About three months earlier, a team went out on a routine alien retrieval. Some of them didn’t come back.”
Everybody automatically looked at Paul, who’d gone very pale. “I… uh…” He turned and hurried away. Gwen started to move to go after him, and then changed her mind.
Owen turned to look at Jack. “So, what now?”
Jack scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well,” he said eventually, “If he's really who he says he is, then I'm not really sure.”
Gwen crossed her arms. “What's happening here then Jack?” she asked, “Has he come through the rift?”
“I'm right here, Gwen.” muttered Ianto from his seat on the couch. “And I didn't come through the rift.”
“Where DID you come from then, mate?” broke in Owen. “Are you telling me you just woke up here?”
Ianto glared at him. “That's exactly what I'm telling you. I fell asleep on my couch and when I woke up I found all my stuff was missing so I called Jack.”
“Why Jack?” asked Owen, suspiciously.
Ianto blinked at him. “Because... Well... Because I had some tech in my flat. Stuff that people outside of Torchwood shouldn't get their hands on. I was worried that I'd been burgled.”
“What sort of stuff?” Jack asked.
“All sorts. I just grabbed whatever I could find when I left London. In case it was useful…”
“Right.” Owen walked back to his desk and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Gwen asked.
“Back to this guy’s flat to see what’s going on.” Owen sighed at their blank expressions. “Whoever he is, if there’s a load of alien stuff floating around out there, we need to find it.”
It took a second for this to sink in, then Jack sprang into action.
“Come on, then. Let’s go!”
Ianto stood in the middle of his flat and stared around in disbelief.
“Everything’s gone. All of my stuff. Everything that didn’t come with the flat. It’s all gone!”
Jack leant up against his doorframe. Owen pushed open the door to Ianto's bedroom.
“Nobody lives here, mate. It's empty.”
Ianto whirled round to face the doctor, a protest about the invasion of his privacy dying on his lips as he saw the bed through the doorway. It had been stripped back completely, and the mattress rested against the wall at an angle. He turned back to Jack, who looked at him oddly.
“This is my flat.” Ianto said weakly.
“I think you should probably consider the idea that if you've come here from a parallel universe then it's not your flat any more.” Jack replied.
“Oh.” was all Ianto could manage.
Owen came back into the living room. “There's nothing here at all, Jack.” he said. “It looks like it’s been professionally cleaned. There was a 'For Let' sign outside, and I'm guessing this is the flat they were talking about.”
For the second time in two hours Ianto found himself sitting suddenly on a couch. “I'm in a parallel universe,” he mumbled, “and I'm dead.” He buried his head in his hands.
“What happened?” Jack asked, leaning in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded. “You said you woke up on the couch - what’s the last thing you remember?”
Ianto thought about it.
“I was sorting through the alien tech, by whether or not I recognised it and whether it was dangerous. There was a black box… I dropped it!” He looked up at the team. “I dropped it, there was a flash of light, and then I woke up on the couch.”
“What was the box like?”
“Black, about so big.” Ianto demonstrated with his hands. “No obvious way of opening it. No little flashing lights or anything.”
Jack inhaled sharply. “You didn't know what it was?” he asked.
Ianto shook his head. “No idea,” he replied. “After the battle I just grabbed whatever looked useful and unbroken.”
Jack took a few steps closer to him and Ianto shuddered. Only a few days ago he had been convinced that he hated Jack for everything that had happened, but now he would give anything just to have Jack look at him as though he recognised him.
“Well, it was obviously some kind of interdimensional transference device.” Jack said, “And it's not here now.”
Ianto looked up quickly, his hands dropping to his lap. “But... If it's not here...” he whispered, dread washing over him, “Then how am I meant to get back?”
~*~*~*~*~*~
There we go!
Hope you all like it... This is our fastest fic to date - it took just over a week to complete!
As usual, comments are adored utterly!
And then on to Chapter 2
Authors:
leofuller and
the9thdoctor
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: 15ish
Spoilers: Season 1 only - This is our Post-Cyberwoman fic!
Summary: Every decision made changes the future. For better or worse, Ianto wakes up in a universe where he never had a chance to hide Lisa in the basement - A universe where he died in the wreckage of Canary Wharf and somebody else went to Cardiff with a deadly secret...
Chapter 1
The sound of crashing footsteps echoed down the corridor. Ianto froze. They were coming for him. He knew he shouldn't have left the archives, but the idea that the metal things were doing something to Lisa was too terrible to keep him there.
He'd heard a scientist a few minutes ago calling the monsters 'Cybermen' but it just proved how scared Ianto was when his first reaction wasn't to search out all the available information.
The footsteps sounded again - thankfully heading away. Ianto fought against the almost overwhelming desire to hide in a cupboard with his hands over his ears and set off again.
Find Lisa - that was his first priority. She had to be around somewhere. He had been sneaking through the tower for almost twenty minutes and he hadn't yet seen her. He refused to think that she could be dead. It just wasn't possible. There was no room in Ianto's mind for the thought.
He stopped again when he found the next body, the logical part of his mind - the bit that liked alphabetical lists to an extent that seemed to outweigh mortal terror - had been keeping a list of his co-workers that would now never have a chance to draw their pension.
Ianto rolled the body over. He didn't recognise the face, but a ID card clipped to his jacket proclaimed him to be 'Morris, Brian' from security. Ianto blinked down at his corpse for a moment, wondering if he had ever sat at the same table in the canteen with him, or passed him in the corridor, or had any contact with him at all. He didn't know, but he knew for a fact that a member of Torchwood security force would carry a gun. A gun that might not do any good against an invading alien force, but would probably make Ianto feel better about crawling round his place of work. He patted down 'Morris, Brian' and found the pistol in a holster at his back. There were only four shots left. It would do.
It didn’t do. The bullets were useless against the silver monsters, and there was nothing Ianto could do to stop them. He found Lisa when the Cybermen took him to join the line of terrified people, corralled in the corridor, shuffling ever closer to the screaming. Lisa clung to him, shaking, as they crept inexorably forwards.
They took her away from him when he reached the front of the line, and he could hear her screaming for him as they strapped him in, as the whirling blades came towards him...
Ianto sat bolt upright, sweating, struggling to catch his breath. It took a moment for it to sink in that he’d fallen asleep on the couch again. He crossed the room and dragged open the curtains, letting the sodium glow of the street lamps illuminate his living room.
Ianto stared at the room with blank incomprehension. Where was all his stuff? Where were the boxes he’d been sorting through? Where were his books? Where was the bloody TV?
He felt in his pocket for his mobile, pressed speed dial one and held it to his ear.
Jack answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you sir, but I’ve been burgled.”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Ianto, sir.”
“Who?”
When Jack had killed Lisa, Ianto was fully expecting to be executed. When Jack had sent him home, Ianto was fully expecting to be retconned.
When Jack announced four weeks suspension Ianto didn’t know what to expect, but he wasn’t ruling out recton just yet. He turned his attention to sorting out the flat he’d been neglecting. The furniture which came with the rented flat sat forlornly amongst the boxes he’d brought from London.
He'd lasted for three days before he realised that he had only actually unpacked two boxes. He would open one of the cases and sift through the contents - usually an odd mixture of books, photos, ornaments and tech he'd taken from the ruins of Canary Wharf - before running across something that would trigger a memory and leave him staring blankly at the wall, or force him back to bed in a sobbing mess.
The boxes remained mostly untouched after that, and the things he had retrieved sat in piles that he would trip over or accidentally kick on his way between the bathroom and the couch.
He needed to go shopping, but he couldn't face leaving the flat. He needed to clear away his things, but he couldn't bring himself to look at them. He needed to sleep, but couldn't close his eyes.
Ianto was a wreck and he knew it.
Jack phoned him occasionally. Ianto wasn't sure why - to make sure he didn't have to organise the retrieval of Ianto's dead body, probably. Every time the phone rang, Ianto would watch it, wondering what would happen if he didn't answer. Would Jack rush round to check up on him? And if he did, would he be pleased or disappointed to find him alive?
Ianto dropped his head into his hands and sighed. Maybe he should make himself some coffee and try to stave off the nightmares for a few more hours.
Three jugs of coffee later, it was approaching four am and Ianto was totally absorbed in his unpacking. He’d designated the empty boxes for “personal items” (his and Lisa’s) and “alien tech” (scavenged from Canary Wharf in case he could use it for Lisa). If Jack decided to let him stay at Torchwood, Ianto knew that he’d be the one left to archive all of this stuff, so as the hours had passed and more boxes became available, the alien tech had been split into “possibly dangerous” “not at all dangerous” and “unidentified”.
Ianto took another swig of rapidly cooling coffee and studied the next item.
It was black, roughly square and apparently completely benign. Ianto was hovering between “not dangerous” and “unidentified” when a sudden crash from the hallway made him jump and he dropped it.
There was a flash of light. Ianto cried out, shielding his eyes from the glare, staggered backwards and collapsed on the couch.
Ianto sighed. He was sick of Jack playing his little games.
“It's Ianto.” he repeated, trying to remain calm. “I've been burgled.”
There was a pause. “Well... Ummm... Ianto, shouldn't you call the police?”
Ianto resisted the urge to hang up or shout at Jack for being so dense. The man knew exactly what Ianto had in his apartment, and that thieves would probably have taken more than his stereo.
“I'm not going to call the police, sir,” he ground out finally. “Unless you want them to know about all the tech from Torchwood One.”
There was a longer pause. “The tech from Torchwood One?” Jack repeated finally. “Look, who the hell are you and how have you got your hands on stuff from Torchwood?”
“IT'S IANTO!” Ianto yelled, his resolve cracking slightly. “For God's sake Jack! Stop playing games!”
“Where are you?”
“At my flat, where the hell do you think I am?”
“Listen, mate, I have no idea who you are. You call me up out of the blue and tell me you have tech from Torchwood One. You tell me where you are right this second.”
Ianto took the handset away from his ear, staring down at the screen to make sure that he had the right number.
Jack's phone number stared back at him. It was correct. Perfectly correct - not a single transposed digit. He could hear Jack's muffled shouting from the device. He put it back up to his ear and in a horrifyingly calm voice that felt as though it was coming from somewhere else, recited his address to a man who should already have it memorised.
Jack complicated things further by turning up fifteen minutes later and demanding an explanation at gunpoint. It was only too clear that Jack had no idea who Ianto was, and Ianto found himself ordered down to the SUV and taken to the Hub practically under arrest. Jack wasn’t impressed when Ianto offered to drive and produced a set of working keys to the SUV.
It got worse when they arrived at the Hub, and Owen, Tosh and Gwen also failed to recognise him. Tosh just looked at him and shook her head, engrossed in some computer schematics. Owen just shrugged.
“Sorry mate, never seen you before in my life.”
Gwen looked quite apologetic, as if she wished she knew who he was.
“But..” Ianto looked around at the team. “It’s me. I run the archives, man the tourist office?” Some sense of self-preservation stopped him from adding “I kept a Cyberwoman in the basement and nearly killed you all last week?” If they’d forgotten THAT, he wasn’t going to remind them.
“No you don’t.” Jack had been glaring at him with his arms folded. Now he tapped his ear piece. “Paul? Can you come up here?”
Up until this point, Ianto had been thinking that this was either some kind of over-elaborate practical joke as revenge, or a retcon accident. But if there was somebody else here doing his job, then something was really wrong.
Things got even stranger when the archivist walked in, saw Ianto and froze.
“Ianto?”
“Paul?”
“But…”
“You’re…”
“You’re alive?”
Ianto wasn't sure how to answer that question, asked as it was by a man who had been dead for almost a year. “I... You...”
Jack broke in at this point, and Ianto felt grateful for that at least. “You two know each other?” he demanded, crossing his arms across his chest.
Paul stared at Ianto for a few more seconds, and then glanced over at Jack. “That's Ianto Jones.” he mumbled. “He worked with me in Torchwood One.”
“He said he had some tech from Canary Wharf.” said Jack, not taking his eyes off of Ianto.
Paul gaped at him. “I... I reckon he probably does, yes.” he replied finally. “Seeing as he died in the battle.”
That was all it took for Jack to pull his gun again. “Right then, whoever you are...” he said, advancing on Ianto, “We're going to take a trip down to the vaults. I don't know what this is all about, but you obviously haven't done your research properly if you think we'll just accept a dead man from Torchwood One with open arms.”
Ianto didn't seem to have anything to reply to that.
He stared mutely at Paul. The other man had died in a routine alien-retrieval mission which had gone badly wrong, about three months before Canary Wharf.
“Wait.” Paul said. “If this is Ianto, then he’s not a threat. He’s one of us.”
“How can we prove it’s him?” Gwen asked, stepping forwards.
Jack frowned. “Lock him up.”
“Ianto, what was my job at Torchwood London?”
“Field Agent, level three.” Ianto responded immediately.
Paul nodded.
“What was the access code to the secure archives?”
“7286C, but you didn’t have clearance for the archives so you wouldn’t know that.”
Paul nodded again.
“Right so far.”
“Anything else you want to know?” Ianto couldn’t keep his old snark down. “The cafeteria did a special on Wednesdays but nobody ever ate it? The gents on the third floor was always out of order?”
Paul bit his lip, and looked up at Jack, nodding.
Jack didn't let his aim waver, the pistol remained pointed straight at Ianto. “And the rest of us?” he asked.
Ianto blinked, he'd never considered having to prove his identity to the rest of the team. Well, he'd better start with the easy ones...
Raising an arm, Ianto pointed at Gwen, who flinched as if she thought Ianto's finger was some kind of weapon. He kept his gaze on Jack. “That's Gwen Cooper.” he said. “You hired her after Suzie shot herself. She used to be a policewoman. She has a boyfriend called Rhys Williams.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gwen biting her lip. Ianto ignored her and swung his arm towards Tosh. “Toshiko Sato. She hums to herself when she thinks no-one can hear her and likes hacking the CIA mainframe when she's bored.”
He moved his hand again. “Owen Harper. Likes meat feast and baked bean pizza and thinks I don't know why I have to order so much ultrasound gel.”
Owen spluttered in indignation over that, but Ianto plowed on. “And as for you, Captain Jack Harkness...” Ianto took a step forward and lowered his voice to whisper in Jack's ear. “You once told me that you've eaten dinosaur and that you have 51st century pheromones."
Jack's eyes went wide with surprise. Ianto was almost shocked, he'd never thought he could draw that kind of reaction from him.
Then Jack shook his head and the moment passed. He turned to Paul. “Fair enough, he used to work at Torchwood London, I believe you.” Jack said, apparently ignoring Ianto, “What I still want to know is what the Hell he’s doing here if he’s meant to be dead?”
Paul shrugged. “All I know is that he's dead.” he said quietly. “I found his body while I was trying to escape...”
Ianto swallowed. “How?” he muttered.
Paul bit his lip. “You were... You'd been... Jesus...”
“I'd been converted?” Ianto finished for him, feeling wobbly.
There was a nod from Paul, “Partially.” he said, finally, avoiding Ianto's gaze.
Ianto's legs gave way from under him and he thumped down onto the ratty sofa. “I was dreaming about that last night...” he whispered, looking between Jack, who was regarding him with a look of deep distrust and Paul, still refusing to look at him in return. “How is this even possible?”
Gwen looked at Jack, and then carefully sat next to Ianto.
“What’s not possible?”
“Yesterday, I was the archivist here. I know the Hub, I know how everything works. I know all of you.”
“What about Paul?”
Ianto looked up but couldn’t meet Paul’s eyes.”
“Paul died.”
“At Canary Wharf?” Gwen asked.
Ianto shook his head. “Before then. About three months earlier, a team went out on a routine alien retrieval. Some of them didn’t come back.”
Everybody automatically looked at Paul, who’d gone very pale. “I… uh…” He turned and hurried away. Gwen started to move to go after him, and then changed her mind.
Owen turned to look at Jack. “So, what now?”
Jack scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well,” he said eventually, “If he's really who he says he is, then I'm not really sure.”
Gwen crossed her arms. “What's happening here then Jack?” she asked, “Has he come through the rift?”
“I'm right here, Gwen.” muttered Ianto from his seat on the couch. “And I didn't come through the rift.”
“Where DID you come from then, mate?” broke in Owen. “Are you telling me you just woke up here?”
Ianto glared at him. “That's exactly what I'm telling you. I fell asleep on my couch and when I woke up I found all my stuff was missing so I called Jack.”
“Why Jack?” asked Owen, suspiciously.
Ianto blinked at him. “Because... Well... Because I had some tech in my flat. Stuff that people outside of Torchwood shouldn't get their hands on. I was worried that I'd been burgled.”
“What sort of stuff?” Jack asked.
“All sorts. I just grabbed whatever I could find when I left London. In case it was useful…”
“Right.” Owen walked back to his desk and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Gwen asked.
“Back to this guy’s flat to see what’s going on.” Owen sighed at their blank expressions. “Whoever he is, if there’s a load of alien stuff floating around out there, we need to find it.”
It took a second for this to sink in, then Jack sprang into action.
“Come on, then. Let’s go!”
Ianto stood in the middle of his flat and stared around in disbelief.
“Everything’s gone. All of my stuff. Everything that didn’t come with the flat. It’s all gone!”
Jack leant up against his doorframe. Owen pushed open the door to Ianto's bedroom.
“Nobody lives here, mate. It's empty.”
Ianto whirled round to face the doctor, a protest about the invasion of his privacy dying on his lips as he saw the bed through the doorway. It had been stripped back completely, and the mattress rested against the wall at an angle. He turned back to Jack, who looked at him oddly.
“This is my flat.” Ianto said weakly.
“I think you should probably consider the idea that if you've come here from a parallel universe then it's not your flat any more.” Jack replied.
“Oh.” was all Ianto could manage.
Owen came back into the living room. “There's nothing here at all, Jack.” he said. “It looks like it’s been professionally cleaned. There was a 'For Let' sign outside, and I'm guessing this is the flat they were talking about.”
For the second time in two hours Ianto found himself sitting suddenly on a couch. “I'm in a parallel universe,” he mumbled, “and I'm dead.” He buried his head in his hands.
“What happened?” Jack asked, leaning in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded. “You said you woke up on the couch - what’s the last thing you remember?”
Ianto thought about it.
“I was sorting through the alien tech, by whether or not I recognised it and whether it was dangerous. There was a black box… I dropped it!” He looked up at the team. “I dropped it, there was a flash of light, and then I woke up on the couch.”
“What was the box like?”
“Black, about so big.” Ianto demonstrated with his hands. “No obvious way of opening it. No little flashing lights or anything.”
Jack inhaled sharply. “You didn't know what it was?” he asked.
Ianto shook his head. “No idea,” he replied. “After the battle I just grabbed whatever looked useful and unbroken.”
Jack took a few steps closer to him and Ianto shuddered. Only a few days ago he had been convinced that he hated Jack for everything that had happened, but now he would give anything just to have Jack look at him as though he recognised him.
“Well, it was obviously some kind of interdimensional transference device.” Jack said, “And it's not here now.”
Ianto looked up quickly, his hands dropping to his lap. “But... If it's not here...” he whispered, dread washing over him, “Then how am I meant to get back?”
~*~*~*~*~*~
There we go!
Hope you all like it... This is our fastest fic to date - it took just over a week to complete!
As usual, comments are adored utterly!
And then on to Chapter 2