Fanfic - Counting Stars 3/17 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]
Part One
Part Two
A little blue phone box, and Jack clinging to the outside as it vanished.
“That’s not being taken away,” Owen pointed out as Tosh rewound the CCTV footage and played it again. “He seemed pretty damn desperate to get on that.” On the screen, Jack grabbed a bag, the hand in a jar on his desk, and scrambled out of the Hub. A cut to the external CCTV showed Jack in a mad dash across the Plass, heading straight for the blue phone box which appeared on the footage only when they concentrated.
“He took the hand,” Tosh said softly.
“Why would he leave like that?” Gwen demanded of absolutely no one.
“He found his Doctor,” Ianto whispered. The other three turned to look at him. Ianto had to swallow hard before he could continue. “That’s the Doctor’s TARDIS. Jack’s… been waiting for him a long time. Can’t say I can blame him for leaving now that he’s found him.”
“Without so much as telling us?” Gwen demanded. “However long he’s been waiting, he could have at least told us before leaving!”
“Well, his Doctor didn’t seem to want to stick around, did he? It’s a good thing Jack didn’t take any longer than he did, or he’d have missed him altogether. Besides,” Ianto laughed. It was a short, sharp, unpleasant sound. “We betrayed him, Gwen. We all did. I wouldn’t want to stick around for us if I were him.”
He left the awkward silence behind him, heading back topside. Just in time too, as a group of tourists came in wanting directions to Cardiff Castle. He obligingly described the route to them, gave them a few pamphlets, and swung the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ as soon as they’d gone. Then he grabbed his bag and set off, locking the tourist centre up behind him. For once, the others could deal with powering down the Hub and checking all the security protocol before leaving.
Car, boat, island. A quick phone call along the way ensured that Angela Corner was waiting for him when he arrived.
“The Captain not with you then?” she asked. “This isn’t your usual time, so I thought…”
Ianto shook his head, face neutral. “I’m afraid Captain Harkness was called away unexpectedly on an important trip,” he told her. “We’re not sure how long it will take - it could be anywhere from a day to a year. He asked me to come here in his stead.”
“I did wonder why he brought you here that first time,” Angela confessed. “I suppose this trip must have been in the offing?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Ianto smiled at her pleasantly. “We were simply unaware of the exact time he would have to leave.”
“Pity, that,” she said. He offered her his arm as they turned to enter the facility. Tucking her arm firmly in his, she steered them into an office on the ground floor. “But I know you’ll do just fine here, Mr Jones. The Captain must have trusted you to begin with, and you certainly have a way with our patients. Naomi, especially.”
Ianto’s eyes warmed briefly at the mention of the young girl. “She’s wonderful,” he said honestly. “It’s no hardship spending time here, believe me.”
“Most people would think otherwise,” Angela said, her eyes shining brightly at him. “At any rate, let’s start with these expense reports, shall we?”
Their discussion covered a wide range of issues with the facility. Angela brought up a few ideas she had for further improving the lives of the patients there, which Ianto took careful note of. A couple of them would be easy enough to implement, but others required financial aid of a magnitude that he simply wasn’t comfortable signing off on. Angela finally came round to his point of view, and agreed to wait until Jack returned to approve the projects.
If he returned at all. Ianto didn’t mention that part to Angela.
He concluded his visit with his usual rounds of the patients. Most of them were used to him now, and they got along well with him. Ianto suspected it was because he had a natural tendency towards being quiet, and didn’t let anything they said or did faze him. Their oldest patient, ninety-eight-year-old Anthony, clung to Ianto’s hands and refused to let go, as he always did. All the patients there had stories they told, but Anthony’s were peculiar in their blend of beauty and darkness. His tales were always strikingly lovely, and yet something in them terrified the listeners. Ianto could feel the weight of the words as an almost tangible presence looming over him, but he sat and listened nonetheless. (As he always did.) The trip ended with a half hour spent with Naomi, who now recognised Ianto by sight and name, and always had a smile for him.
“Be back next week, Mr Jones?” Angela asked him as she walked him out of the facility.
“Well,” Ianto said as he thought. “Now that Captain Harkness is unavailable, my duties will undoubtedly increase. I suspect my schedule will become somewhat erratic as a result.”
“So we’ll not be seeing you as much?” Angela asked, obviously disappointed. He gave her a small smile.
“I didn’t say that,” he protested mildly. “I’ll try and come down as usual next week, but I’ll call and let you know if I have to change the time around. Is that all right?”
“Perfectly fine,” she assured him. He tried to believe her.
“The Himalayas,” Ianto repeated blankly.
“Well, yes,” Gwen said sheepishly. Owen stared at her in disbelief.
“You agreed to go to the bloody Himalayas?” he asked, voice growing steadily louder with each word.
“Well, it’s Harold Saxon, right?” she snapped. “How was I supposed to say no?”
“Does the phrase ‘separate from the government’ mean anything to you?” Ianto asked pointedly. Gwen had the decency to blush.
“Point taken,” she said. “But come on guys, it’s Harold Saxon. He’s a good guy who’s just assumed office. The least we could do is check out something for him!”
“I didn’t like him,” Ianto murmured, but the words were lost in the sound of the Rift alarm going off. Weevils spotted topside, and the rest of the team dashed off to tackle that while Ianto coordinated from the Hub. Once they’d captured the rogue Weevils and brought them back, the argument picked up exactly where they’d stopped.
“I voted for Saxon,” Owen admitted. “And yeah, he’s good, but that doesn’t mean we need to go off to the Himalayas on his say-so.”
“Probably nothing there anyway,” Ianto said.
“Well, if there’s nothing there, we end up having a bit of a vacation,” Gwen said, tapping on the desk irritably. Da da da dum, da da da dum. The rhythm was almost hypnotic. Ianto shook his head, trying to think clearly.
“Who’ll feed Myfanwy and those in the cells?” he asked. “Even if we do go, it can’t be the whole team.”
“He specifically requested all of us,” Gwen said. “We shouldn’t be longer than a week - all the aliens we’ve got now can go that long without food, right? If we feed them up really well just before leaving?”
“It isn’t responsible to leave them like that,” Ianto murmured, finding it increasingly hard to think. Da da da dum, da da da dum.
“Oh, why not,” Tosh finally said in exasperation. “We’ll fly there, look up whatever it is Saxon wants, and then fly straight back. Five days tops.”
Owen threw his hands in the air. “Fine, fine,” he groused. “But I’m telling you now, I don’t like the cold!”
“So pack warm,” Gwen retorted to Owen’s retreating back.
“Doesn’t like the heat, doesn’t like the cold,” Tosh sighed, and shared a commiserating grin with Gwen.
“Let’s all go get ready then,” Gwen said, clapping her hands together briskly.
Ianto watched as Gwen and Tosh left, then sat down and took a long draught of coffee. For some reason, his mind was somewhat… foggy. He took a few deep breaths and let the smell of the coffee sink into him, helping him think. It was a few minutes before he realised that he’d tacitly agreed to the ridiculous trip to the Himalayas. And by now it was probably too late to back out of it, he thought gloomily, especially when Gwen was so set on the idea. He got up reluctantly - he’d have to ensure everyone had enough cold-weather gear before they set off to - to -
Where exactly were they going? And why?
As it turned out, Gwen had no clue. A few phone calls later, Saxon’s aides promised an information packet would be sent over by the time they got to the Himalayas. Something about the whole thing didn’t sit well with Ianto, but he shoved the feeling back and busied himself with feeding the denizens of the Hub. They’d need good meals before the team left. And, whatever Gwen said, he was going to come back in five days, even if they weren’t done.
It wasn’t, however, until they’d actually arrived at their destination that the feeling of not-right metamorphosed into a desire to get back to Cardiff as soon as was humanly (or alienly, for that matter) possible. He’d have broken out the alien tech if they’d had anything on them that could transport him back instantly.
“Something’s wrong,” he pronounced grimly as they waited for the guide who was supposed to have gotten there two hours ago.
“Suppose he fell off a cliff,” Owen suggested.
“Oh, don’t even,” Tosh grumbled. Apparently the long flight had been enough to kill any semblance of politeness. “What d’you think, Ianto?”
“I think we need to get back to Cardiff,” Ianto said flatly. All that gave away his growing disquiet was the way his eyes darted around the airport wildly.
“But Saxon said -” Gwen began. Ianto cut her off with a violent shake of his head.
“Saxon said a grand total of nothing,” Ianto said, and suddenly things were falling back into place, and he could think, actually think now, the odd pieces of the puzzle all fitting together, click-click-click. “He said there was something in the Himalayas he wanted us to check out. He didn’t tell us what we were supposed to be looking for, he didn’t even tell us where exactly we were supposed to go. He arranged for a flight here for us… but nothing back. The guide he supposedly arranged for us is nowhere to be found, as is the information that was supposed to have been emailed to us by now.”
“What’re you saying, tea-boy?” Owen demanded testily. “That Saxon sent us out here on a wild-goose chase? On purpose?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Ianto replied, mind racing, click-click. “Think. You all voted for Saxon. Why? What was so brilliant about him? What are his policies? His political stance? Why did he want us here? Do you actually have a clear answer for any of those questions?”
He could practically see the moment it dawned on them. Tosh was the first to speak, turning big eyes on him.
“He’s not human, is he?” she squeaked.
“I don’t know,” Ianto said grimly. “But he obviously wanted us out here for a reason.”
“What possible reason could he have for carting us all the way here?” Gwen asked. “It’s the middle of bloody nowhere!”
Click.
“It’s as far from Cardiff as he could get us,” Ianto breathed, then whirled and headed straight for the ticket counter.
Myfanwy greeted them with a raucous shriek of pleasure, but Ianto barely spared him a glance as he flat-out ran into the Hub, closely followed by the others. The peculiar feeling of urgency that had been driving him since he’d put the puzzle together had only intensified the closer they got to home. He’d tried explaining it to the others on the flight back, but it was clear that none of them felt the same kind of - fear, that was what it was - that he did. They were, for the time being, prepared to take him at his word (albeit with plenty of grumbling from Owen). That would be enough.
“Find out everything you can about what’s happened while we were away,” Ianto told Tosh, who nodded and went straight for her workstation. Ianto slipped into Jack’s office, pausing only briefly as the familiarity of the place washed over him. Later, he told himself sternly, and then had to catch himself as something quivered in the air and made him stumble.
He sucked in a startled breath and looked around at the quiet office uneasily. Nothing was out of place, so he put the moment out of his mind for the time being, and went through the logs for any attempted contact with Torchwood over the past few days. What he found made his stomach flip over in fear.
“Tosh?” he asked, skidding out of Jack’s office, clutching a print-out in his hand. She didn’t move, staring at her multiple screens in shock.
“Well, fuck. Saxon’s gone and told the entire world about aliens. Says we’re due for first contact, some species called the Toclafane,” Owen said, then noticed Tosh’s face. “What?” he asked warily, rolling his chair next to Tosh. Gwen came over as well, and they all stared in dismay at the Wanted bulletins on Tosh’s screens.
“Saxon’s office and UNIT both called,” Ianto said, breaking the spell. He held up the print-out. “Automatic transcript - Mr Saxon’s secretary wants us to know that he apologises very sincerely for the mix-up, and hopes we won’t hold it against him. UNIT wants us to know that they have a warrant for Jack’s arrest, and if we see him, we are to turn him over immediately.”
“On what grounds?” Gwen spluttered. “They have to have probable cause for a warrant to be issued!”
“Or they need a direct order from the Prime Minister,” Ianto said. He licked his lips nervously. “Saxon’s behind this thing with Jack being a wanted man -”
“Ignoring the obvious joke there,” Owen muttered.
“I can’t believe we missed him!” Tosh burst out. “Saxon must have known that Jack would come here -”
“So he got us out of the way,” Ianto finished. “Eliminate any source of aid. Jack called too, just ahead of UNIT.” He looked back down at the paper he held and read out loud to them. “Oh, not the machine, for - guys, this is a really bad time to not pick up. Look, don’t believe the news, don’t believe Saxon. He’s an alien, hostile, and he wants me, the Doctor and Martha dead. You’re probably not happy with me about taking off, but I needed answers and - look - keep yourselves safe. Stock up, seal the Hub, go with eight, Ianto, you have the codes. Don’t trust anyone but each other. And don’t die.”
Ianto looked back up and took a deep breath. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m not going to betray Jack again. What happened with the Rift - I can’t hurt him again. I’m going to find him, and I’m going to keep him out of their hands, whatever it takes.”
Gwen stared at him with huge, scared eyes. “You’re talking about going against the entire government, Ianto,” she breathed. “The whole government, the police, UNIT, every single major force in the country.”
“Separate from the government, outside the police,” Owen quoted.
“Beyond the United Nations,” Tosh added defiantly. “I’m with you, Ianto. We owe Jack.”
“Yeah,” Owen said. Ianto noticed the brief flash of pain in his eyes before it was masked. “I’m in.”
They all turned to look at Gwen, who took a few deep breaths before smiling at them.
“Okay,” Ianto said, trying not to show exactly how relieved he was. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
They sent Gwen and Owen out on a supply run (Ianto gave them neat lists of everything they could possibly need). While they were out shopping, Tosh hacked into the secure databases of every organisation she could think of, and set up a program to flag anything to do with Saxon, the Toclafane, Torchwood, Jack, the Doctor, or Martha Jones. Ianto opened up Weapons Storage and checked all the weaponry to make sure everything was in working order. Misty bobbed beside him nervously, as if afraid to let him get too far from her. When Gwen and Owen got back with their supplies, the whole team pitched in to get everything squared away. It felt like they were preparing for a siege - which, Ianto was absolutely certain - they were. They worked together with more efficiency than they’d ever displayed before.
The problem arose from Jack’s directive to seal the Hub.
“I can’t just leave Rhys out there, Ianto,” she pleaded. “Let me bring him in. He can keep a secret, I swear.”
Ianto sighed and rubbed at his eyes, unwilling to spend any longer arguing with Gwen about bringing her boyfriend in. He was worried about Jack, about Rhiannon and their family, about what was going to happen, about keeping the rest of the team safe, and he frankly didn’t have the energy to deal with her any more.
“Fine,” he growled. “Go, bring him back. We’re sealing the Hub in an hour whether you’re back or not. Leave the comms on.”
She threw her arms around him in a brief hug before racing out of the Hub. Ianto threw a wry look at Tosh and Owen.
“When did I end up in charge?” he asked.
“When you realised before any of us that something was wrong with Saxon,” Owen said, his voice surprisingly free of any kind of sarcasm.
“Besides, you know the Hub better than any of us,” Tosh put in. “So - complete lock-down?”
“Security protocol 8,” Ianto told her. “Get started now, it’ll take a bit to get past all the safety procedures. Tell me when you hit the request for the master code.”
“Consider it done,” she said.
“Owen, give me a hand,” Ianto instructed. “I want to hook up a few more monitors and see if we can’t get complete CCTV coverage of Cardiff. And London.”
“London?” Owen asked, already at his workstation and typing away.
“I traced Jack’s call back there,” Ianto explained absently as he hacked into the security footage of various prime locations around London. “Couldn’t get an exact fix.”
“We’ll find him,” Tosh asserted, eyes never straying from the screen in front of her.
“Either of you heard of Toclafane before?” Ianto asked. Both of them made sounds of denial, focused on their work. Ianto thought about that for a moment, then switched on the television to the news channel. It’d be worth keeping track of what Saxon was doing… and with what he’d declared, every journalist worth their salt was watching him.
They managed to connect up fifteen screens, each divided into four parts. Between them, they had most of Cardiff covered, as well as the major landmarks in London. Ianto had also gotten into the security monitors of old Torchwood bases, just in case. It was quick, easy work; they’d hacked into every major security network out there long ago, and left their own backdoors in them.
“Where’s Gwen?” Ianto asked when they’d finished. It had been nearly half an hour since she’d left.
“She just checked in a minute ago,” Tosh said. “Almost at her house. Got that on CCTV?”
“All our houses and those of our immediate family,” Ianto told her. “Not brilliant quality though. That camera outside my flat block really needs to be replaced.”
“We take what we get,” Tosh laughed, and that was when the bombs exploded.
They all stared in disbelief at the mushrooming clouds of smoke on their screen. Four locations, four simultaneous explosions. Ianto felt the blood drain out of his face, even as he reached up to flick his Bluetooth on.
“Gwen, talk to me,” he said evenly.
There was no response.
They sealed the Hub. What else was there to do? Tosh cried for a few minutes and then pulled herself together to help arm the Hub, because when the world was going to hell, it didn’t stop to let people grieve for their fallen friends. Owen worked grimly, implacably, accepting Ianto’s orders without any snide commentary. They watched in horrified silence as Saxon broadcast his intentions to the world, and unleashed his Toclafane.
By the end of the first day, cities around the world were burning. People had fled into underground bunkers, hurricane and bomb shelters, anywhere they could hide from the Toclafane. The surface above the Hub had been completely destroyed, though the total lockdown prevented any penetration into its interior. Ianto watched in silence as his sister’s and mother’s houses were burned to the ground, and wondered if anyone had been in them at the time. It was deliberate; it had to be.
Misty stuck close to Ianto, constantly swirling nervously between black and aqua. She was something comfortingly familiar in the midst of all the chaos, and Ianto was helplessly grateful for her.
“What use is it,” Tosh said quietly that first night. “If we hide out here while everyone out there dies?”
Ianto stared intently at his coffee.
“Jack wanted us to stay safe,” Owen muttered, sounding as if he didn’t believe a thing he was saying.
“We’re Torchwood,” Tosh sighed. “We’re supposed to be out there helping. Not - not hiding in here.”
An awkward silence fell over them for a few minutes. Then Ianto sighed and leaned back in his seat.
“I don’t think Jack counted on things getting this bad,” he said honestly. “Maybe localised attacks at best, and probably not things we could have stopped. In which case his wanting us safe makes sense. But now… you’re right.”
“Can’t just sit here,” Tosh said.
“Cooling our heels,” Owen added, and exhaled noisily. “So, how do we do this?”
“One of us should stay back here to help coordinate,” Ianto said. “It’ll help, having someone in contact to tell us what’s going on elsewhere.” Almost in unison, he and Owen turned to look at Tosh, who immediately scowled at them.
“No,” she said. “Don’t you dare try and protect me from this. I’ll go insane if I have to stay here and watch people dying. I need to be out there, I need to help.”
“Tosh,” Ianto began, then bit off the rest of his words, staring helplessly at Owen instead.
“You’re sure,” Owen said to Tosh, who nodded fiercely.
“You or me?” Owen asked Ianto, who closed his eyes and tried not to groan.
“I’ll stay,” he said dully. “I’m better with the surveillance tech than you are.”
“Sorry, mate,” Owen said quietly, sounding for once as if he meant it.
“Tomorrow,” Ianto said without opening his eyes. “Rest up for now and we’ll kit you both out tomorrow.”
He fitted them with every manner of surveillance that he could think of. Owen even implanted trackers in both his and Tosh’s necks, to enable Ianto to find them if all other methods failed. Once that was taken care of, they tackled the issue of weaponry. What they’d seen of the Toclafane’s rampage suggested that the creatures were near-invulnerable. Guns were of no use, as was amply demonstrated by the deaths of a number of people who’d tried to shoot the Toclafane.
“Are they robots?” Tosh asked.
“Look it, don’t they?” Owen said. “Reckon water would work against them?”
“Worth a shot,” Tosh said. “Or electricity, see if we can overload them.”
“Modified stun guns,” Ianto said. “Set them to maximum - take out a chimera.”
“But will it take out a Toclafane?” Owen mused.
“Plus, you’d have to get close to use them,” Ianto pointed out. “Call them a last-ditch attempt.”
“Anything else we have that could pierce those bodies?” Tosh asked.
“Maybe,” Ianto said thoughtfully. “Best bet’s probably those enhanced submachine guns.” He gestured at them, and Owen and Tosh obediently turned to look. “Know how to use them?”
“A normal one, yeah,” Tosh said doubtfully. “Those… are not normal. Enhanced how?”
Ianto bit his lip. “Dalek tech, Jack said. He showed me once - fires energy beams, massively destructive. You’ll need to take a couple of the chargers with you; ten hours between each use of the charger. Problem is, I don’t know how much each gun can fire before it needs to be recharged. I’ll test it out at the range while you’re gone, and let you know as soon as I’ve found out.”
“Good enough for me,” Owen proclaimed. “We got nothing with bigger punch?”
“Not that I know of,” Ianto said. “Go pick one you’re comfortable with, then. I’ll get those chargers.”
All too soon, Tosh and Owen were fully equipped to head out, and they’d hashed out a rough plan of action. They’d stick together as far as possible while they got a feel for what was happening. Ianto would remain in the Hub, keeping an eye on them, their surroundings and the rest of the world. The first course of action would be to establish safe-houses and strengthen existing ones; the second would be to find and rescue anyone left alive on the streets, and send them to those safe-houses. Beyond that - they’d pray.
For what felt like the hundredth time, Ianto dialled Jack’s number and listened to the familiar voicemail message. This time though, he also recorded the message, unable to shake the feeling that soon enough, even the small comfort of hearing Jack’s voice would be lost to him.
Hi! This is Jack Harkness. I’m probably off saving the world at the moment, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Unless you’re UNIT, in which case, call again sometime after the universe implodes. Remember, talk after the beep!
“What’s it like out there?” Ianto asked quietly, watching Tosh and Owen cautiously edge down a ravaged street, monochromatically grainy on his screens.
“Dead quiet,” Tosh whispered, her voice coming through clearly. “It’s eerie. I don’t see anyone at all.”
“All hiding,” Owen murmured. “Which way?”
Ianto zoomed out on the security cameras, taking in as much of the surrounding region as he could. “Heads up - looks like a human at four o’clock. Right, then left at the next fork. Be careful, could always be one of Saxon’s.”
“And on that cheery note,” Owen muttered. Ianto smiled grimly and kept watching. And watching and watching and watching, as he would over the next few months, as Tosh and Owen split up and as both independently told him a story they’d heard about Martha Jones and the Doctor, as Tosh was injured, her arm ripped off by a Toclafane before she managed to escape it, as Owen found her again and patched her up and she told him she loved him while through the comms, Ianto listened with endless patience and sorrow. Tosh survived the wound but died a month later, protecting a family as they dashed for the safety of a bomb shelter. Ianto lost radio contact with Owen the week after, though Owen’s tracker kept moving. After a few days though, the tracker stopped moving and stubbornly kept blinking from a single location. Ianto spent hours willing the glowing light to move, but the first day passed and then the second and then the third and it remained stationary.
Ianto kept diligent records of everything that had happened, everything he knew and what he’d conjectured from what he knew. Someday, Ianto thought morbidly as he packed all the food and medical supplies he could carry, someone would find this desolate planet and explore it and discover the Hub, read his records and know what had happened.
As gently as he could, he sedated every live creature in the Hub, then stuck them in cryogenic storage. Myfanwy got a fond pat to his beak before he too was slid into his icy prison. Misty was reluctant to leave him, but Ianto insisted and finally convinced her to enter a cryogenic chamber as well. That dealt with, he finished packing and secured the bags carefully, ensuring that he still had a good range of movement. With Tosh and Owen both dead and minimal infrastructure left outside the Hub, he knew that the time had come when he could do more good outside than in.
He temporarily deactivated the secure lock-down (it would go back into effect in two minutes, preserving everything that was Torchwood for posterity), took a deep breath, and stepped out into the world.
The time that followed was a long, confusing mess of horror, fear, pain, weariness, anguish and through it all, dogged resolve. Ianto clung to two things as he travelled across what had once been the UK, helping those he could along the way, scavenging for anything that might help, dodging the Toclafane with a skill born of months of studying their movement and behavioural patterns. One was the constant refrain of Find Jack, find Jack in his head, the utterly ridiculous notion that once he did, everything would be okay. The other was Martha Jones, and the story she was telling.
He’d heard enough from other refugees to piece things together. Humankind had rallied together magnificently, everyone passing along the story while keeping any information about it from the Toclafane and Saxon. It was probably, Ianto thought, the only time in human history when everyone in the world had actually worked together. The threat of being completely and quite impartially eradicated was apparently what it took.
And so Find Martha Jones, find Martha Jones, was the other refrain that ran counterpoint to the first. She’d been with Jack and the Doctor; she might know more about them, if only he could get to her. He followed the trail of the story ceaselessly, stowing away on any transport he could find, walking when he couldn’t. It was in the remnants of Shanghai that he finally found her, slowly bleeding to death.
“Martha Jones, I presume,” he said, and watched as she went completely pale. She clutched her bloody shirt and tried to back away, but was obviously in too much pain to do so.
“Listen,” he said hurriedly, before she did herself any more damage. “I’m Torchwood - well, used to be, anyway - part of Jack’s team. You do know him, don’t you? Captain Jack Harkness?”
She nodded cautiously, the wariness never leaving her eyes. Ianto breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Good,” he said. “Let me have a look at that wound, and you can tell me if he’s alive or not right now.”
“He’s - alive, I think,” Martha said hesitantly, but pushed up her shirt a little to let Ianto see the bloody gash across her stomach. He cursed under his breath in Welsh.
“That’s going to need stitches,” he muttered, and snapped open the side-pocket of his backpack to get out a bottle of water. He washed the wound efficiently, sloshed on some alcohol to the tune of yelps and cries, then began neatly stitching the gash closed. To her credit, Martha stayed conscious and lucid throughout the entire operation, and only cursed him out once. To distract herself from the pain, she explained that Jack was being held prisoner the last she’d seen him, and then told Ianto her story again.
“So - believe in the Doctor, and he’ll be able to tap that belief and save us,” Ianto summarised when she was done.
“More or less,” she said, smiling. “It sounds unbelievable, I know, but it will work. It’s the Doctor - he’s saved us all so many times, and we never knew. Now I’ve seen what it is he does, and I trust him.”
Ianto returned the smile as he finished dressing her wound. “Jack believes in him, doesn’t he,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice, and Martha nodded. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
They travelled together for a couple of weeks after that, each luxuriating in the feeling of being with someone who actually understood. Ianto taught her the rudiments of how to predict Toclafane movement, and gave her a modified stun gun to protect herself with. The guns didn’t, as he’d learned through Tosh, kill the Toclafane, but they certainly shocked them into immobility for long enough to get away (if you weren’t already dead by the time they were close enough for you to use the stun guns). Martha had little to offer him in turn but words, and the promise that things would get better.
He believed her.
When her injury had completely healed, they split up again, knowing that they would attract less attention that way. Martha kissed him on both cheeks before she left, planning on returning to England. Their deadline was drawing near, and she wanted to try and get more information on their Toclafane foes.
“Stay safe,” he told her, and watched until she’d vanished completely. Then he turned his attention to finding a safe place to bunk down.
An abandoned storm cellar gave him the protection he was looking for. After disguising all signs of his being there, he slid into the cellar and carefully, quietly, reinforced the door. He normally wouldn’t have bothered, but he’d been listening to everything Martha had told him, and an idea had begun to form in his head. It probably wasn’t a very smart idea, but Ianto needed to know Jack was there.
He permitted himself a good meal before making himself comfortable on the floor. His thin bedroll, coupled with the bedding he found in the cellar, were more than sufficient to create a warm nest for him to curl up in. Then he closed his eyes and relaxed, breathing deeply and steadily, falling into the meditative state he hadn’t reached for in over a year. He hadn’t lost the knack though. For a few moments, he drifted in a half-somnolent daze before awareness kicked in.
His mind spun upwards quickly, spiralling into the vast unknown, joining a chorus of mind-voices humming, thrumming along. Some were already whispering Doctor Doctor DoctorDoctorDoctor, others were anticipatory, frightened, disbelieving, hopeful, and Ianto skimmed past them, sliding from one flow into the next, searching for the place they all converged. As he neared that point, he slowed down, careful not to touch any minds, can’t let them know, never let them know, careful, careful, until he finally found an echo of the one he was looking for.
Barely daring to hope, he touched Jack’s mind with his, and was immediately pulled into darkness.
The transition was so sudden that for a heart-stopping second, Ianto thought he’d been discovered after all, that Saxon had found his consciousness floating around and trapped him. Then he felt the thrum of Jack’s presence surrounding him, familiar but - cold, somehow. And then, all at once, a searing pain through his entire body (in an abandoned storm cellar, Ianto jerked in pain, barely avoiding a scream) and the coldness turned into warmth, but a warmth that spoke of agony, not health.
Jack, he tried, feeling terror clutch at him. Jack, please. Can you hear me?
Silence.
Jack, talk to me, Ianto begged. God, there’re so many things I wanted to say to you. So many things I have to apologise for. Jack - anything you want, I’ll do it, I swear. Just please - please, talk to me. It’s me, Jack, it’s Ianto.
And at last, a weak reply. Ian…to…?
Here, Ianto replied instantly, stretching his mind-touch to cradle Jack’s broken mind gently in his. Oh Jack, what have they done to you?
The sensation of a dry, semi-hysterical laugh. What hasn’t he? Shorter list.
Hold on, cariad, Ianto said urgently, projecting as much warmth, love and support as he could. He could feel the mental agony roll back slightly.
I’m not imagining this again, Jack said, sounding dazed. I can feel you…
I might have failed to mention that I’m somewhat skilled at telepathy, Ianto admitted sheepishly. Jack had said ‘again’… did that mean he’d been hallucinating before? And about Ianto, of all people?
Oh, Yan, you beautiful, wonderful creature, Jack laughed weakly. So full of surprises.
I love you, Ianto told him, and felt the amazement zing through Jack’s mind. Just had to tell you. In case. I know you don’t - I - I’m so sorry, Jack, for everything I’ve done.
Long forgiven, sweetheart, Jack replied, tendrils of warm affection curling around Ianto’s mind. The first time, you were in love. The second, you were being manipulated. I don’t hold either against you. Will you forgive yourself now?
Ianto had no idea how to answer that, and so he hesitantly, carefully, ran a mental touch around Jack’s mind instead. There were small fractures in his shields, which had been weakened by constant physical abuse. He didn’t know exactly what had been done to Jack, but it couldn’t have been good. He sent out a questioning feeling as he touched the cracked, damaged shields.
Hard to focus, Jack said. He’s tried a lot. To break me. He didn’t say that Saxon had very nearly succeeded (had, in fact, won up until the point when Ianto’s familiar mind brought Jack to his senses), didn’t detail the tortures he’d been through. Ianto felt the unspoken words anyway, and found himself simultaneously wanting to hold Jack close, and break Saxon’s neck. It was a peculiar sensation.
Grimly determined, Ianto set to flooding the shattered parts of Jack’s shields with his own mental strength. Artificially imposed shields never lasted long, but they’d buy Jack enough time to get his own shields back up to scratch. Ianto deliberately imbued them with as much love and protectiveness as he could, knowing that Jack would be able to feel the emotions every time he touched the shields.
I can’t believe you’re here, Jack said in a tone of absolute wonder, his mind snuggling into Ianto’s like a small kitten. I thought I’d never see you again. Well - not that we’re seeing each other, exactly, he added with a little mental laugh.
Ianto sent back a feeling of amusement as he finished up with the mental shields.
Better now? he asked, carefully wrapping his mind around Jack’s in a protective embrace.
Much. Yan, what’s happening?
Absolute chaos and destruction, Ianto said honestly. But you know the plan, don’t you?
Mm-hmm. A beat. The team…?
Ianto wasn’t quite able to clamp down on the regret and pain.
Oh.
We couldn’t just stand by and watch, Ianto explained softly. We lost contact with Gwen early on - never did find out if she survived the explosion. Owen died seven months ago; Tosh about a month before that.
My brave team, Jack said in a melancholic voice. The Master said they were dead - that you were all dead - but I’d hoped…
They died doing what they believed in, Jack, Ianto insisted. Don’t demean their sacrifice.
Jack wasn’t quite able to cut off the sensation of guilt, pain and relief before Ianto felt it. Relief? Why would he be feeling - but see, Ianto wasn’t dead, Ianto at least was alive, his beautiful Welshman was still alive and with him now and the darkness would never have a hold on him again because he remembered what it was like to love and be loved and that was a memory he could hold on to, one that the Master could never take from him, that would stop him breaking again and - Ianto surfaced with a gasp, immediately sending a feeling of apology to Jack for the unintended intrusion.
Bad shields, bad, Jack whispered in a vain attempt at a joke, his entire mind radiating insecurity. In response, Ianto pressed his own mind up against Jack’s and let down his shields, allowing Jack to feel everything Ianto did.
Thankfulness, overwhelming relief at having found Jack, pain at remembering the loss of the team and his family, anguish at the state of the world, a deep-seated belief in Jack and by extension the Doctor, and a strong, intense dose of love permeating everything. It was that last that Jack clung to with a pained, incredulous mental cry.
Why? he asked, his mind-voice hitching with uncertainty.
It’s not something I expected either, Ianto said. But - you understand me. You get me. You trust me, Jack, it’s been so long since I’ve had that. And I’ve sworn I’ll never betray that again. Never.
The incredulity didn’t diminish, though the uncertainty did. Jack remained silent for a time, basking in the raw emotions Ianto felt. The latter remained quiet, allowing Jack time to relax and heal. Jack’s own mental shields were repairing themselves at an incredible rate, supported as they were by Ianto’s strength.
Didn’t think I’d ever find this, Jack said presently. A reason to live, some kind of meaning. There was a sentiment Ianto could definitely understand. But you -
There was a long pause, before Jack sighed. Oh, Yan, it’s been dark so long. It - it hurts, it really does. I don’t remember what it’s like not to be dead.
You’ll learn it again, Ianto promised. This will end soon, cariad. Just a little longer. I’ll be waiting for you.
Thank you, Jack said with that same hitch to his mind-voice. Then he paused, as if distracted. Yan, you have to go now.
Ianto projected incredulity at Jack. That would be a no, he retorted. I’m hardly about to leave you alone; I’m staying as long as I can.
Yan, he’s coming back up here. If you stay in my mind you’ll feel everything he does to me, and I’m not putting you through that!
But I want to stay, cariad, Ianto said gently. I need to know your mind will be protected. I’d give anything to be able to get you out of there now, but since I can’t… I’m not leaving you to suffer this alone.
I don’t want him to hurt you too, Yan, please! Jack begged. I can’t let you hurt too, it would kill me.
Ianto took a deep breath, then severed the links he’d established to monitor Jack’s physical condition (cold, filthy, shattered, hurting all over, cramped, wasted, aching). I won’t feel the pain now, he said. Let me stay, cariad.
“Back for more already?” It was an echo of an echo, Ianto hearing Jack’s mind process the words, rather than hearing the words themselves. He very nearly re-established the physical links, but the blinding panic from Jack stopped him.
Okay, he whispered soothingly, embracing Jack’s mind protectively. I’m here, Jack. I’m here. And through Jack’s mental screams and turbulent emotions, he held his mind close and kept up the litany.
I’m here.
Ianto woke up feeling grimy, exhausted, and absolutely starved. His watch informed him that he’d been in a meditative trance for two days, which explained the gnawing feeling in his stomach. He quickly ensured that his hide-out hadn’t been discovered, then settled down with some rations. He was running low on water - hopefully it would rain soon so that he could collect more without risking going near a refugee camp. At this stage, he didn’t trust anyone else near him, not with what he was planning to do.
He gave himself the rest of the day to recover from the forced lassitude, doing what few exercises and stretches he could manage in the small space. By evening, his energy had returned. His luck held out, because evening also brought with it fresh rainfall. He snuck out with some bottles and filled them up, then went back to the cellar, carefully hiding his trail as he moved. Refreshed by the water, and fortified by another hearty meal, he settled back in his bedding and reached out again with his mind.
It wouldn’t be long now before they reached the end of the countdown, and up until the last possible moment, he wanted to be with Jack.
A week later found Ianto scrambling over rubble, skidding recklessly over rock and concrete in a vain attempt to find either shelter or a weapon. He’d lost sight of the Toclafane ten minutes ago, but they were, in all likelihood, still after him. His storm cellar hideout had been found by them the day before, and he’d been running ever since. Now they’d found him again, but he refused to die so close to the end of the Saxon’s reign. Because today was the day, and he was determined to be there at the end.
(Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.)
Jack had revived over the past week of mental contact with Ianto. Through his eyes, Ianto saw the incredulous, yet quietly happy look on the face of the young girl (Tish, Martha’s sister, Jack explained) who came to feed him every day. And even on the faces of the guards who kept him imprisoned, for that matter. Working for Saxon wasn’t a matter of choice - most of the guards had loved ones being held hostage to ensure their cooperation. Jack’s return to his senses, so close to the final date, was heartening for everyone who opposed Saxon.
(Five. Four. Three. Two.)
Especially when he took to flirting not only with Tish, but the guards as well. Ianto kept up a steady stream of indignant comments every time Jack flirted with someone, but was constantly betrayed by his own mind, which broadcast his amusement to Jack.
(One.)
Jack. Who was counting on him to still be alive at the end of all this. Ianto turned a corner and swore in sheer frustration.
(The world took a breath.)
“Hey!” he yelled. The Toclafane spun to face him, and the young girl immediately took off in the opposite direction. That was all the help he could afford to give her, and he dove out of the way just in time as the Toclafane began firing at him.
(Doctor.)
Sorry. See you at the end, Ianto projected as hard as he could, hoping that Jack would hear him, even if he wasn’t in a trance. Doctor, he thought. Fix this, let me be with him, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor -. He wound his way through the ruined streets, using the fallen buildings to hide himself as best he could. His attempts were put to rest when the Toclafane simply blasted the rubble out of the way, and he abruptly found himself without any kind of cover.
(Doctor!)
Ianto spun to face the Toclafane; he could hear the chants in the distance, growing in strength and volume. Doctor, he thought, added a Jack, for himself, then outright grinned at the Toclafane. “Hear that?” he said. “That’s the sound of your end. Doctor!”
(DOCTOR!)
Spikes extended from the base of the Toclafane. Ianto was still grinning triumphantly when he died.
In the skies above Earth, a temporal storm began to brew.
Something quivered
in the air
and the world
slid back
into place.
(Rewind, reset.)
He sucked in a startled breath and looked around at the quiet office uneasily. Nothing was out of place, but - but -
Ianto froze, feeling somewhat lost. “It’s gone,” he breathed. He turned and looked back out where the others were working. “It’s gone!” he called out, louder this time.
“What’s gone?” Owen asked, staring at something on his computer. “And - well, fuck. Saxon’s gone and told the entire world about aliens. Says we’re due for first contact, some species called the Toclafane.”
“Oh my god, Jack’s on the Most Wanted list,” Tosh squeaked, eliciting cries of dismay and disbelief from Gwen and Owen. Ianto stood there in the doorway of Jack’s office, wondering why he felt as if things weren’t about to go pear-shaped anymore.
“But it’s gone,” Ianto repeated, and this time all three of them focused on him.
“What is?” Tosh asked, frowning.
“That - feeling,” Ianto said, shrugging. “Whatever was going wrong, it’s been fixed.”
“So well fixed that Jack’s a wanted criminal,” Owen snorted. Ianto nodded absently.
“Not perfectly done yet,” he said vaguely. “But the rest of it will get fixed soon.” He retreated back into Jack’s office and checked the logs to see if anyone had contacted them. There were calls from Saxon’s secretary, Jack and UNIT. Ianto hit play on the first and listened to the saccharine-sweet voice apologise for the mix-up.
“As if,” Tosh said, and Ianto looked up in surprise; he hadn’t even heard the others enter the office after him. Tosh was looking at something on print-out. “Look at the timestamp. That call was made just after our flight left. They knew all along there was nothing there.”
“Second message: Jack Harkness,” the recording informed them. “Oh, not the machine, for - guys, this is a really bad time to not pick up. Look, don’t believe the news, don’t believe Saxon. He’s an alien, hostile, and he wants me, the Doctor and Martha dead. You’re probably not happy with me about taking off, but I needed answers and - look - keep yourselves safe. Stock up, seal the Hub, go with eight, Ianto, you have the codes. Don’t trust anyone but each other. And don’t die.”
Owen ground out a very heartfelt, “Fuck.”
“Not applicable any more,” Ianto assured him. Owen stared at him incredulously. It didn’t help when the next message from UNIT told them that Jack was to be taken into custody if they saw him.
“Still think we don’t need to worry?” Owen asked caustically.
“Yes,” Ianto said, feeling entirely too calm for the situation at hand. “Whatever was going to happen - won’t. Things have been fixed.”
“How do you know that?” Gwen asked. “Look, just a day ago, you were telling us something was really wrong when nothing seemed wrong, and now that everything seems wrong, you’re telling us it’s fine?”
“Well, I was right the first time, wasn’t I?” Ianto said pointedly. “But the problem’s been fixed. We can still seal the Hub for now, if it’ll make you feel better. I suspect that by tomorrow, we’ll find out Saxon isn’t a threat any more.”
They made a fast supply run and then sealed the Hub anyway. While the others worried, Ianto pottered about the kitchen aimlessly, trying to figure out why he felt so off-kilter. The last time he’d felt like this had been during his psychic testing at Torchwood One. Eidetic memory didn’t mix well with the particular brand of tests they used, or the techniques they imposed on him; until they’d agreed to let him use his telepathy the way he felt most comfortable, he’d always had this same unbalanced feeling. As if the lightest push would topple him.
The next morning brought the news that Saxon had disappeared. Evidently a charlatan, the reporters said, and really, who would believe his whole ‘alien-contact’ story? Charismatic enough to dupe voters into believing him, but such a pity he turned out untrustworthy. Close on the heels of that report came calls from UNIT, assuring them that Jack Harkness (and the Doctor, and Martha Jones) had been taken off the Most Wanted list. Dreadful mistake, personal vendetta of a madman and fraud, please convey their apologies, etcetera.
Owen, Gwen and Tosh stared at Ianto in utter bewilderment.
“I don’t know either,” Ianto said, holding up his hands before they could start. “Let’s unseal the Hub, shall we? I want to get back home - feels like I haven’t had a proper shower in a year.”
Part Four