Fanfic - Sixty Minutes An Hour 1/4 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]
Title: Sixty Minutes An Hour
Rating(s): NC-17 overall
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Jack/Ianto, Team
Summary: In which Ianto falls through the Rift and finds himself two centuries in his future - 1996. Now he has to adapt to modern life, including formal schooling, cars, new laws, and one Jack Harkness.
Warning(s): Alternate canon. Allusions to kink (non-explicit). Spoilers for S1-2 of Torchwood (and minor mentions of CoE-related character histories)
Author's Notes: If the summary wasn’t clear enough - this is an AC fic in which Ianto’s actually from the past, and fell through the Rift into the present time. Ianto grows up familiar with Jack and Torchwood, though he doesn’t work for them. And things go from there…
Sixty Minutes An Hour
The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is. - C.S. Lewis
It took a moment to realise that the alarm wasn’t coming from the doors.
Jack looked around hurriedly. No one else appeared to be in the Hub, so it was likely they didn’t know about this Rift activity alert. Technically, he didn’t have to do anything they didn’t want him to, but depending on what it was that had come through the Rift -
He sat down at a computer and shut off the alarm before tracking the signal. He sent the coordinates to his wrist-strap and grabbed his usual bag. Then he erased all signs of the Rift alert and his being there, and left.
The coordinates took him out to the woods. He ploughed through determinedly, trying not to think of what might be hiding inside. One foot in front of the other, that was the trick, and he was so focused on what he was doing that he practically tripped over the boy.
“Ow,” he commented, rubbing his shin. The boy stared back with impossibly wide, blue eyes. “You okay?” he added. His wrist-strap beeped quietly at him, informing him that this was, in fact, what had come through the Rift.
The boy opened his mouth and said something incomprehensible.
Jack considered the syllables for a moment, then sighed. “Knew I should have learned Welsh,” he muttered. “Do you know English?”
The boy was shaking, Jack noticed, minute tremors running all through his body. Fear? Cold? Both? “Yes,” he said, and even that one word revealed how thick his accent was. He clearly wasn’t used to speaking in English.
“Good,” Jack said, speaking slightly slower than usual so the boy could follow him. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” the boy said, then, “Yes.”
“Well, that clarified matters tremendously,” Jack said. The boy stared at him in incomprehension. “Look, I’m a doctor - understand that?” The boy nodded slowly, obviously not quite understanding. “Let me check you over, make sure you’re not hurt?”
That, the boy got. He nodded and watched skittishly as Jack got up and moved over to him. When Jack put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched violently, then stilled and stared at Jack’s hand.
“All right?” Jack asked quietly, filing away the reaction for later analysis.
The boy nodded mutely. Carefully, Jack checked him over - a few bruises, slight dehydration, possible shock. It looked like adrenaline had kept him going this far, but now that he’d been found, everything was catching up to him.
“What’s your name?” Jack asked casually, taking the boy’s hand and sticking his thumb in a press before he could pull away. The boy flinched as the needle pricked his thumb, but didn’t resist. Jack was impressed. He was pretty sure the boy had no clue what was going on, given the way he was dressed.
“Ianto ap Ieuan,” the boy said softly.
Jack smiled at him. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Captain Jack Harkness.” The medical reader informed him that Ianto ap Ieuan was, in fact, perfectly human. Just time-displaced, then. “How old are you?”
The boy - Ianto - mumbled something in Welsh, then hesitantly said, “Thirteen.”
“Practically grown-up,” Jack mused, patting his shoulder. Old enough to understand at least a little of what had happened to him. Young enough - hopefully - to adapt. “Come on, then.”
“Tad?” Ianto asked, turning beseeching eyes on Jack. That was one word he’d heard enough from kids running around to understand.
“I don’t know where he is,” Jack said. “I’m sorry.”
“He took him,” Ianto said. “You saw?”
“No,” Jack replied. “I didn’t. Who took him?”
Ianto licked his lips nervously. “The Ghostmaker.”
Thirteen was probably too old to want to be carried around, but Ianto didn’t protest when Jack scooped him up. Skinny arms clung to Jack as he carefully made his way out of the forest, coaxing the story out of Ianto as he did. It wasn’t complicated, except for Ianto who would now have to rearrange his entire life. His father had brought him to the travelling fair. The Ghostmaker (the ringleader, Jack realised) had talked to his father (who’d then disappeared). Had talked to Ianto, but something about him had scared Ianto, and the Ghostmaker hadn’t liked his hesitation, had put his hand on Ianto’s shoulder and it had hurt so very badly, but someone had said something and he’d been distracted long enough for Ianto to run, and run, and run, and then he’d seen something like a sliver of a sky and a forest that didn’t belong, a forest in a forest and he thought that maybe he was running into the faerie world but that didn’t stop him because nothing could be worse than what he was trying to get away from -
Nearly captured by the Night Travellers, then running away from them, straight into a tear in space-time, to be deposited over two centuries in the future, Jack summed up internally. Poor thing.
All things considered, it wasn’t a huge surprise that Ianto was so desperately clinging to Jack. Jack shifted the boy on his hip, and drew his coat around them both the best he could. It didn’t completely cover Ianto, but the gesture seemed to calm him.
“Where?” Ianto finally asked, when they were near the forest edge. Jack could hear vehicles in the distance. Hopefully, they were still out of earshot for Ianto. He set Ianto down, keeping one small hand in his.
“Okay, this is a long story, and it’s going to be a little hard to believe,” he said, crouching down so that he was looking up at Ianto. “But I promise you I’m telling the truth.”
Ianto nodded silently.
“Think of the spot we’re standing in right now,” Jack said. “We’ve been standing here for a minute now, haven’t we?”
“Yes,” Ianto said.
“Now, if I asked you how tall you were, could you tell me?” Jack asked.
“Not English,” Ianto said, and Jack grinned.
“But you know the number,” he said. Ianto nodded, a very tiny smile on his face.
“Okay, so that’s height,” Jack said, reaching up to hold a hand over Ianto’s head. “Length, and breadth,” he added, sketching lines in the dirt with his fingers. “Three dimensions. Understand?”
“Yes?” Ianto said uncertainly. Jack suspected he’d lost him at the word ‘dimensions,’ but ploughed on regardless.
“This is where it gets a bit difficult,” Jack said. “Try and imagine a fourth dimension.”
Ianto stared at him blankly.
“Time,” Jack said. “Remember, we’ve been standing here for a bit. Now, if you could see that in time - we’d still have been here a minute ago. Before that, we were walking that way. After this, we’ll be walking that way. If you could see time, you’d see all the places we were and will be.”
Something like comprehension was dawning in Ianto’s eyes. Jack was reluctantly impressed.
“We’re always in this present moment, of course,” Jack said. “We can’t see through time, but that doesn’t mean it’s not always there.”
Ianto nodded slowly.
“This is the important part,” Jack said. “You see how I can make a cut here, in the length?” He slashed a line across one of the lines he’d drawn on the ground and waited for Ianto’s nod before continuing. “Sometimes, time can get torn too. Sometimes, it pulls a little too hard and rips a hole in itself. Now, it can fix itself - just like when you get a cut on your hand - but sometimes, things can fall through the hole before that happens.”
“I fell,” Ianto said. Jack tried not to be impressed again, and failed.
“Yeah,” he said. “From one time into another. This is 1996.”
Ianto took a deep breath. “I want to go home,” he whispered. “Mam and Nain and Huw…”
Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand. “We can’t control it,” he said. “It does what it wants to. We don’t yet know how to open a hole into the proper time. It’s not as simple as that,” he added, nodding ruefully at his little diagram on the ground.
Ianto blinked back tears, looking at Jack. “What to do?”
Jack pulled Ianto in for a brief hug, then straightened, leading Ianto out of the forest. He didn’t miss the little squeak that came from Ianto when he saw the roads and cars. “Now we teach you about this world,” he said. “And we try and make sure you’re happy here.”
Jack had a flat that Torchwood provided for him. Jack also had another flat that Torchwood knew nothing about.
It was to the second one that Jack brought Ianto, after a quick pit-stop at a department store to pick up some appropriate clothes for him. Jack also bought a big, squashy, red dragon plushie. Ianto would probably claim to be too old for stuffed toys, but he’d appreciate having something to hold at night. Nights were always the worst.
Ianto stayed in the car and fretted while Jack made the quickest shopping run of his life. It had been a bit of a job convincing Ianto that the car was perfectly safe, but he’d eventually managed. Considering the way Ianto was dressed though, Jack didn’t want to let him out in public just yet. Too many questions.
They finally got home a couple of hours later. Jack ran a bath for Ianto, whose eyes fairly bugged out at the extravagance.
“Soak for as long as you like,” Jack told him. “Pull the plug here to drain the water when you’re done. Shower works like this -” He demonstrated. “- Use it when you’re done soaking, and mind you scrub up properly. Here’s a towel for you, and I’ll leave your clothes on the bed. Call me if you need anything.” It was always best to be brisk and business-like with the Rift-stranded. It gave them less room to panic, though it seemed like Ianto was over the worst of it.
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto said, eyes firmly on the floor.
“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” Jack said. “Just Jack is fine.”
“That is not right, sir,” Ianto objected, darting a glance up at Jack.
“It’s 1996,” Jack reminded him. “If I were your teacher or something, you might call me ‘sir,’ or ‘Mr Harkness.’ But we’re friends, aren’t we? So you can call me Jack. It’s all right.”
“Are not the names -” Ianto stopped, appearing somewhat frustrated at his inability to phrase his question. Jack suspected he knew what it was, though.
“There are a lot of new rules now,” he said. “In some situations, you’ll address a person by their surname. But in a lot of others, it’s okay to use their first name. The name a person uses for someone else doesn’t necessarily show how close they are anymore. If I’m meeting someone for the first time, I can use their first name without any trouble.”
“That…” Ianto’s voice trailed off and he shook his head slightly.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jack said. “For now, you can call me whatever you want, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto repeated shyly, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. He was going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, Jack decided, ruffling his hair affectionately as he left the bathroom.
Now, what did people in Ianto’s time tend to eat? The filling, hearty stuff, right? Meat and potatoes sorts. Unless that was a stereotype. Jack eyed the contents of his fridge speculatively. Maybe he shouldn’t introduce Ianto to TV dinners right off the bat.
Ianto stayed in the bath for twenty minutes, by which time Jack had a good fry-up going on the stove. He listened as the bathroom door clicked shut, Ianto presumably heading into the bedroom to get dressed.
Ten minutes of silence. Then a tentative, “Sir?”
Jack prodded the meat. Seemed about done, anyway. He turned off the stove, wiped his hands on a towel and headed into the bedroom.
Modern clothes were apparently quite confusing. Jack described each item to him as he helped him put it on. Ianto was fascinated by the elastic band on his underwear.
“You dress…” Ianto said hesitantly, then mumbled something in Welsh as if trying to figure out what the English equivalent was. “Not like others,” he finally said, gesturing at the door.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I do dress a bit different. People used to dress like this, oh, fifty years ago? I just like it, that’s all. Get some funny looks sometimes though. But I look good in the coat, don’t I?”
“Yes,” Ianto said, blushing lightly. Jack grinned and ushered him into the kitchen, then set out dinner. Beef and vegetables, with bread and cheese on the side.
Ianto was somewhat reluctant to eat the vegetables, but Jack cajoled him into it. Thankfully, the food in general seemed to appeal and Ianto polished it all off. After dinner, Jack decided that maybe it was time to tell Ianto what was going to happen now.
“I work for some people who send me all over the place,” he explained. He was sitting on the sofa, Ianto curled up on his lap. “That means I won’t be able to stay here and look after you.”
“I am thirteen,” Ianto said indignantly. “I look after me.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Jack said. “But we have different laws now. And one of them says that it’s wrong to leave a thirteen-year-old alone at home all day.”
Ianto clutched at Jack’s shirt convulsively. “I will stay with you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I just can’t leave this job.”
“Why?” Ianto asked, not demandingly, not pleadingly, just… asking. The look on his face was -
“I’ve been working for them a long time,” Jack said. “If I don’t, they’ll do something bad to me.”
“That…” Ianto said, frowning. Then he seemed to understand, and said something in Welsh. It didn’t sound flattering.
Jack smiled wryly. “Usually, they’re the ones who would have come to get you,” he said. “But I’ve seen what they do to others like you. I can’t do anything for them, but you I can look after. And keeping you safe means you can’t stay with me.”
Ianto’s blue eyes were filling with tears. Damn.
“All right,” he said.
Jack paused. He hadn’t expected that. “All right?” he asked, rubbing a thumb over Ianto’s cheek. Ianto nodded and hid his face against Jack’s chest.
“Okay,” Jack said. “We probably have a couple of days before they call me up for another job. I’ll give you a crash course on this time and we’ll see about getting you set up with Gladys.”
Ianto poked Jack’s chest without looking up. “Crash…?” he asked.
Jack smiled and pressed a kiss against ruffled hair. “Time for lessons,” he said.
Ianto absorbed knowledge like a sponge. Two days, just two days and his command of English had already improved. It wasn’t like he had a choice, of course, seeing as Jack didn’t know Welsh. But still. Ianto was doing remarkably well for someone who’d been thrown in the deep end of things. Language, customs, dress-sense, belief systems, entertainment, technology, they were all so different from everything Ianto had grown up with, and yet he was adapting.
Ah, the flexibility of youth.
Three days after he found Ianto, Jack brought him to St Dwynwen’s Home, run by a lady with whom he had a discreet arrangement. He donated generously to the orphanage and in return Gladys Spelt never questioned him about the occasional stray child he brought by, even if they were somewhat blue in colour, or had an extra limb or two (birth defects, of course). None of those children had ever been adopted, but at least the Home gave them a safe place to stay while they learned more about the strange planet on which they’d landed.
Ianto, on the other hand, was quite human. He was also an attractive young boy, good-natured and pleasant to be around. The only thing standing in the way of a possible adoption was his age, but Jack knew that Gladys would do her utmost best to place him with a suitable family.
“Your new home,” Jack murmured, a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “Think you can manage?”
Ianto managed to simultaneously shrug nonchalantly and sidle closer to Jack, pressing up behind his leg.
Jack gave Gladys a look. She rolled her eyes and withdrew from the room, leaving Jack and Ianto alone.
“You going to be okay?” he asked, turning and crouching, holding Ianto by the shoulders.
“I want you,” Ianto whispered tremulously.
“I can’t stay,” Jack said, rubbing the back of Ianto’s neck. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Ianto nodded though his eyes were brimming with tears. Jack slid one hand over Ianto’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. Ianto’s breath hitched on a sob, but he didn’t look away.
“I have something for you,” Jack said, reaching for his bag and opening it. He pressed the mobile phone into Ianto’s hand. “Not too many kids your age have one of these, so mind you keep a good hold of it. You remember how to use this?”
“Yes,” Ianto said, glancing at the phone and blinking the tears away.
“My number’s speed-dial one,” Jack said, getting out the charger and handing it to Ianto. “If you ever need anything, call me. I can’t promise I’ll pick up right that moment, if I’m busy - and I probably will be - but if I miss a call from you, I’ll call back just as soon as I can. Deal?”
“All right,” Ianto said.
“Give us humans a few more years and I suspect technology will improve a bit more,” Jack said with a broad grin. “Make keeping in contact easier. In the meantime, this will have to do.”
“Thank you,” Ianto said, clutching the phone and charger. Jack drew him into a gentle hug, then kissed the nearest available patch of flesh - on Ianto’s jaw, somewhere between his ear and neck - and straightened.
“Don’t forget your name is Ianto Jones now,” Jack said. “Joneses are a dime a dozen in Wales. You won’t stand out.”
“All right,” Ianto said, just as he had when Jack had first suggested the name change. Ieuan, Jack had discovered after a little research, was the Welsh form of John, and Jones meant ‘son of John.’ It seemed appropriate.
“Okay,” Jack said. “You take care of yourself, now. Tell me when you get adopted.”
Ianto swallowed hard, then nodded.
Jack didn’t look back as he left.
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Um… hello. This is Ianto Jones. I... I didn’t really have a reason to call. Sorry. And, um, thank you.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“This is Ianto Jones. …Five months of English classes. I think I’m better now? Ms Spelt has hired a new lady who speaks Welsh, so now I can speak both. I’m glad. I was beginning to forget bits of Welsh. I’d tell myself stories at night until the other boys told me to go to sleep. … Thank you for the dragon. I know I said I didn’t need it, but it’s nice to have now. I - I didn’t actually call to say all this. I suppose I… I’m beginning to feel a little less… frightened now. And I wanted to say thank you. For everything.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Hey, Ianto. My turn to get the machine, huh? Just got back from a mission. Went for the debrief, went home, passed a souvenir place, saw a dragon plushie, thought of you. Can I call you my Welsh plushie from now on? And did you ever name the dragon? … Okay, I’m maybe a bit more tired than I thought. Should get some rest. Hope you’re doing okay. Your English is definitely a lot better, and I’m loving those Welsh vowels. You have such a pretty accent to listen to. Listen, I’ll see if I can swing by some time soon, okay? Keep your fingers crossed - I think they’re going to be sending me out again, but hopefully I’ll have time before they do. Later!”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“You most certainly may not call me a plushie. The dragon’s name is Jac. Don’t comment. Ms Spelt has enrolled me in regular school with the others in the Home. I’m keeping up better than I thought I would. It’s all so different from what I remember. And now I’m remembering some of the things that Mam used to tell me and wondering how much of it was simple superstition, and how much of it was true. None at all? Were we as backwards as people now seem to think?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“I can call you my Welshman then? Good to know you’re handling school all right. Do your best, okay? Good grades mean a good job, and I want you to be able to take care of yourself when you’re older. Gladys can only keep you on till you’re eighteen at the oldest. … As for superstition? Don’t knock it. People always think that those from their past were backwards. It’s a kind of arrogance we have. But there are a lot of things in this world that can’t be explained, even by science. Faeries, for instance, though I personally think they’re a lot scarier and dangerous than most stories will tell you. Don’t feel bad about the time you came from, Ianto. It was different. That doesn’t make it worse.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Thank you, sir. Got your present today. Fourteen years old and, I am pleased to say, fairly well assimilated. My teachers at school suggested I skip a year, but I preferred to stay within my own age group. The work is not quite challenging, but that leaves me with more time to do extra reading. I’ve been trying to get my head around theoretical physics - and the ideas behind time travel, of course - but I’m finding it quite difficult. University’s a long way off, I know, but I think might do something in this field. Which means I’ll have to do astonishingly well in school. I’ll try not to let you down. Or myself.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“I don’t think you’re ever capable of letting me down, my Ianto. Gladys gave me a copy of your report card. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that much praise for a single person in one place before. I’m pretty certain you’ll get into whatever university and whichever course you set your mind to. Just don’t get too distracted by pretty girls - or boys, for that matter. Gladys said you’re thinking of trying out for the school rugby team? Good luck with that, and try not to get hurt too much. I’ll go polish up my knowledge of rugby. Probably disgraceful, how long I’ve lived here without learning anything about the game. Should be fun, all those men in short shorts groping each other…”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“You do take pride in being inappropriate, don’t you, sir? I overheard Ms Spelt say something to that effect, but I didn’t realise what she meant. I’m not sure my face will ever regain its natural colour again. … Um, sir? Is… is it not wrong?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“I don’t think it is, as long as all involved parties are fully cognisant, consenting and of legal age. This time period’s beginning to loosen up a bit, but there are still those who’ll tell you it’s evil and wrong. Me, I don’t see how love can be wrong. But don’t take my word for it. Figure it out yourself. You’ll have to form your own opinion on it. Just don’t let anyone else - including me - tell you what to think. Keep questioning.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve called, I know. I took your advice and I’ve been attempting to think it through. Um, I’m not sure I’ve come to a real conclusion yet, but I don’t - well, something you said made me think. About love not being wrong. And it isn’t. It’s just - it does tend to get a bad reputation, doesn’t it? I don’t know for sure yet, but I think I’m leaning towards it being at least as right as a man and a woman getting married.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“You have no idea how proud I am to hear you say that. You, from the 18th Century, and you’re telling me that maybe homosexuality isn’t a sin. You might just be more open-minded than a lot of people in this time. I’m of the opinion that it’ll get better, that people will stop seeing it as something wrong. It’ll take time, though, but we’ll get there. Lot of stupid people in the world, but in general? Humanity’s pretty amazing.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“I love that you can be that optimistic. I’m afraid a conversation I’ve just had with one of my classmates is leaving me with rather the opposite impression regarding humanity. I suppose that now you’ll tell me he’s an example of individual stupidity and not the general condition of the species, but still. By the way, I don’t think I’ll be joining rugby after all. I can’t say it really appeals. I do miss running around in the village, but sports here don’t seem to make up for it. What I really miss is the tailor shop. Tad was a master tailor, you know. Used to make garments for the rich folk up in the garrison. We weren’t all that rich ourselves, especially after Huw was born, but we always had nice clothes and we got to learn some English and we knew how to act properly around the rich folk. It’s kind of strange, the way those distinctions have almost vanished now.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Happy birthday, Ianto! Can’t talk long, sorry - I’m not in Wales at the moment. Just wanted to wish you a brilliant day ahead. One more year and you can start drinking! Assuming you haven’t already started on the sly. I’ll call you when I get back.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Tad used to give me mead when I was five. It’s odd, these drinking laws and all. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve refrained from breaking them, though. Also, I’ve been informed by one of the girls in my class that I am now her boyfriend. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter. Thoughts?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Make the most of it? If you’re going to have sex, for god’s sake, use a condom. Did you get my present?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“I’m certainly not going to have sex with her, sir! For one, I’m not particularly interested in her. I suppose I’ll let her enjoy parading me around for a while and then see if I can’t get out of it. And I did get your present. It’s lovely, sir, thank you. I seem to have developed rather a fondness for old things. Antiques, old books, anything of the sort. Maybe I’m attempting to reconnect with my past?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Okay, okay, no sex. If you’re not interested in her, why are you with her? You’re not obliged to do what she wants. … Glad you liked the present. It’s not quite from your time period, but it’s fairly old. Thought you’d like something to remember the past by. I was trying to find a proper fob watch, but the ones I saw didn’t look as nice as this one did. And a stopwatch is kind of ironically appropriate, right?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Indeed it is. I’ve broken up with her. She wanted to have sex. I suppose I’m over some of my 18th Century hang-ups, but I still can’t sleep with someone I’m not in love with. Which is ironic, of course, like all of us from my time were prudes and virgins. I know some of the older boys used to go with the girls even if they weren’t married. Oh well. At least the kissing was nice. The stopwatch resides in my pocket every day now, you might like to know. It’s comforting, in a way. Like I can live in this time, but not have to forget where I came from. I miss Tad and Mam and Nain and Huw, but touching the stopwatch makes me feel like I’m remembering them, and that’s good enough.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Just dropping a quick line here - going to be out of the country for a while - don’t know how long exactly, could be a few weeks, could be a few months. You take care of yourself, my Ianto. Just keep going the way you are. You’re becoming an amazing young man.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“… I’m. Um. Never mind.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“So. Gladys calls me and tells me you’ve been arrested for shoplifting. Want to explain?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Who was it, and what happened?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Bethan Llwyd. I - I know this time doesn’t believe - in looking after girls - but, but she’s got a family looking to take her and they won’t if she’s got a record.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Oh, my Ianto. You beautiful, beautiful fool. That was a remarkably stupid thing to do, but it was very good of you. I’m going to see if I can talk to the police, get your record cleared. Not a word about Bethan, I promise. The guy currently in charge of the organisation I work for? His name’s Alex. He’s a good sort, better than the types we used to have. Him, I actually don’t mind working for. Anyway, he’s got some pull with the police. I’ll see if I can talk to him about getting your name cleared. And don’t ever do something like that again!”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Heard the news. I’ll be calling again at nine tonight. Keep your phone on you.”
“Good evening.”
“Hey, Ianto. It’s me.”
“Hello, sir.”
“Gladys told me a couple’s thinking of fostering you?”
“Yes.”
“Excited?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s wrong?”
“… A little scared, maybe.”
“It’s all right to be scared, you know. I was scared when I wound up in the wrong time.”
“... Did you fall through as well?”
“A bit differently from how you did, but yeah. I fell backwards in time.”
“When were you born?”
“51st Century.”
“… Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Bit of a change?”
“You could say that.”
“I guess I shouldn’t worry so much about my own little change.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to worry.”
“This much? Their name is Jones. Geraint and Eleri Jones.”
“Lucky.”
“I know. The man’s a tailor. At a department store.”
“Didn’t you say your dad was a master tailor?”
“Yep.”
“Coincidences.”
“Yep.”
“Are you all right, really?”
“I don’t know.”
“Want to meet up?”
“… Could we?”
“I just got back from a pretty difficult mission. Should have at least the next week free before they send me off again.”
“I’d like to.”
“I’ll get Gladys to cut you loose tonight. Dinner somewhere? Do you have nice clothes?”
“Define nice.”
“Proper trousers, clean, pressed shirt. Shoes that aren’t sneakers - sorry, trainers. Wouldn’t say no to a formal jacket.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go get yourself pretty. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“See you then, sir.”
“Looking good, Mr Jones,” Jack said.
Ianto looked up at Jack and smiled slightly. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “You’re looking quite dashing yourself.”
“Still with the sir?” Jack asked, opening the car door for Ianto. Ianto climbed in unhesitatingly and buckled up as Jack shut the door, then walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat.
“I think it suits you,” Ianto said.
Jack turned the engine over. “What, the sir?” he said. “I refuse to believe it. It makes me think of old men. And I’m not old!”
“Whatever you say, sir,” Ianto said solemnly. Jack threw him a mock-glare, then pulled out onto the road. “Besides,” Ianto added. “I don’t think of old men when I think of the word.”
“Oh?” Jack asked. “What d’you think of, then?”
Ianto shrugged. “It’s not really important,” he said. “Where are we going?”
“Little French place I know,” Jack said. “Nice restaurant, owned by a very nice man.” He smiled suddenly, a wicked look in his eyes.
“Is that right,” Ianto said, smiling slightly.
“Does that bother you?” Jack asked.
“Nope,” Ianto said.
“So, came to a decision about that, then,” Jack said cautiously.
“Yep,” Ianto said. “Doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh, good,” Jack said with over-exaggerated relief. Ianto grinned and leaned back in the seat. “How’ve you been doing, Ianto? Obviously the years have been good to you.”
“Some days are easier than others,” Ianto said. “All in all, quite well.”
At a red light, Jack stopped and looked at Ianto. “Alex looks a bit more promising than my previous employers. I’m going to talk to him about the terms under which I’m currently employed, see if I can’t get the organisation to back off a bit.”
“Am I allowed to ask what this mystery organisation is?” Ianto asked.
“It’s called Torchwood,” Jack said. “Sort of like Special Ops, except dealing with aliens instead.”
“Aliens,” Ianto repeated.
Jack’s lips twitched. “Yeah. You came here via the Rift, remember? It isn’t too discerning about whether it plucks people from different times or different planets. And sometimes, aliens just come by to visit - for good or bad reasons.”
“And… Torchwood deals with that,” Ianto said.
“More or less,” Jack said. “I don’t like Torchwood’s current policy. ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours.’ It’s just - arrogant. They treat all aliens and Rift victims like they’re not intelligent, like they’re less than us.”
“Then why…” Ianto began cautiously.
“They’ve got something over me,” Jack said grimly. “Look, 51st Century biology, plus an… accident… means that I’m a scientist’s dream, okay? In exchange for not being cut up for study, I do freelance work for them.”
“Hardly fair,” Ianto said.
“Never is,” Jack agreed.
“Does this… accident have anything to do with why you don’t look like you’ve aged a day since we last met?” Ianto asked.
Jack pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said at last.
“We’ll just drop the subject now, shall we?” Ianto said. “Seeing as you’re from the 51st Century, I don’t suppose you could tell me if M-theory is in fact the way to go, or if it’s barking up the wrong tree altogether?”
Jack laughed, reaching over to squeeze Ianto’s knee affectionately. “First time I’ve had a fifteen-year-old ask me that,” he said. “You’re old beyond your years, Ianto Jones.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Happy sixteenth, Ianto. You’re now legal to have sex - with a woman, anyway - and legalish to drink. Dinner on me tonight? I’ll buy you some wine. Call me back if you’re up for it.”
“New millennium approaching,” Jack murmured. “Any plans? Assuming the world doesn’t end?”
“World’s always ending, sir,” Ianto replied. “And the new millennium starts the year after, surely?”
“Pedantic,” Jack accused.
“Probably,” Ianto agreed. “I’m planning on hiding out at home and avoiding the crowds. No doubt Rhiannon will try to drag me somewhere though. She thinks I should get out more.”
“Getting along all right with them?” Jack asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Ianto said. “I still wonder why they decided to foster me. I’m their first, you know? I’d have thought most first-timers would take babies.”
“Maybe they preferred to skip the diaper stage,” Jack said. “And they took you instead of another teenager because they didn’t want to fight against the rebellion.”
“I take it you don’t consider me a rebel,” Ianto said, smiling.
“If you are, you’re very sneaky about it,” Jack told him. “But really. You’re sweet and nice to just about everyone, even those who don’t deserve it, cough Bethan cough. Also,” Jack added mischievously. “You’re really cute when you blush.”
Ianto tried unsuccessfully to hide his crimson face behind his water glass. Fortunately, Jack took pity on him and changed the subject, regaling him with a story about an alien he’d encountered the previous week.
“I think you might be trying to get me drunk,” Ianto announced later, looking suspiciously at the second glass of wine that Jack had ordered for him.
“You don’t have to finish it,” Jack assured him. “But look, this place lets you take a drink out back. Ever been to their gardens?”
“I’ve only ever been here with you,” Ianto pointed out.
“That’s a no, then,” Jack said, getting up. “Come on, you’ll love it.”
He did. He suspected it would probably look a little tacky in the daytime, what with the strings of lights and all. At night, through mildly alcohol-glazed eyes, they looked like thousands of fireflies twinkling amongst the bushes. Ianto sipped slowly at his wine as he leaned against Jack’s side, a familiar scent tickling his nose. It was something like aniseed and cloves.
“I like your aftershave,” Ianto said. “Or cologne. Whatever it is.”
“Never wear any,” Jack said.
Ianto paused, then twisted to look up at Jack. “You smell like that naturally?”
“51st Century pheromones,” Jack said, grinning broadly. “You people have no idea.”
Ianto thought about that for a moment, then shrugged and returned to his original position. Cai, whose birthday was two months and seventeen days before Ianto’s (as long as you weren’t going by the actual year of birth), had thrown a huge party at his place. His parents had very agreeably left for the night and Cai had invited what seemed like their entire year over. There had been music and dancing and food and alcohol, even for those who weren’t yet of age - not that that had stopped very many. There had been plenty of couples making out and probably some doing more, though Ianto was just thankful he hadn’t actually walked in on any of the latter.
He hadn’t enjoyed himself one whit.
Rhiannon had woken him today by ripping his blankets off and dumping him on the floor. Then she’d made up for it by bringing him downstairs and showing him the cake that she and her mum had worked on the whole day yesterday. He’d opened his presents, blown out his candles, cut the cake and shared it around. It had been quiet and low-key and just the way he liked it, and he couldn’t help but be thankful that his foster family realised he wouldn’t want anything big.
He’d saved a piece of cake for Jack, who had picked him up at the Home. Ianto had insisted on meeting there because he hadn’t yet told his new family about Jack. Also, because he hadn’t yet come up with an explanation for how he knew Jack, that didn’t mention the whole alien-hunter from the 51st Century thing, but simultaneously didn’t make Jack out to be a paedophile. It was kind of difficult.
So he’d met Jack outside the Home and Jack had dug into the cake straightaway with perhaps even more enthusiasm than Ianto had demonstrated. Once the cake had been demolished, they’d gone to what Ianto was beginning to think of as their restaurant, though they’d only been there thrice. Today would make four.
And Jack had treated him to another meal there and let him choose the wine he wanted, helping by describing how each one tasted and giving him recommendations, but not imposing any choice on him. While they were waiting for their food to arrive, Jack had given Ianto his present (a gorgeous pair of cufflinks, as well as a studded leather belt, one for each side of his personality, as Jack put it). Then the food, and the drinks, and the easy conversation, which brought them to the present moment.
“What about you?” Ianto asked. “New Year’s plans? I suppose it’s a bit early to be asking.”
“Nothing yet,” Jack said, his arm draped loosely around Ianto’s shoulders. “Might see if the team wants to do anything.”
“Enjoy yourself,” Ianto said.
“By the way,” Jack said. “Have you gotten your results back yet? How did you do?”
“All right,” Ianto said. “The work wasn’t really hard anyway. Nothing below an A.”
Jack smiled. “Good job. You were taking which subjects again? English, Welsh, Maths, Bio, Chem, Physics, Geography, English Literature…”
“Welsh Literature,” Ianto murmured. “Home Econs, Japanese.”
“Eleven subjects,” Jack said. “And all that without the grounding most of your peers were getting from when they were five. My brilliant overachiever.”
“I try my best,” Ianto said, smiling into his glass.
Ianto was struggling through a book on hyperspace when his phone rang. The distraction was welcome, and he happily marked his page and picked up the phone.
“Evening,” he said. “Or morning, I suppose.” He could hear people laughing and toasting each other downstairs. His family had decided to host a New Year’s party, which had precipitated his retreat to his room.
“Ianto,” Jack said, and Ianto suddenly found himself focusing properly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Can you - could you -” Jack said, and that was just wrong, Jack should never sound that lost, that broken.
“Anything you want,” Ianto said. “Should I meet you somewhere?”
“Cardiff Bay?” Jack said after a long pause. “Roald Dahl Plass?”
Ianto calculated the amount of time it would take to get there. Hopefully, traffic wouldn’t be too bad. He’d have to call a cab - but first, he’d have to come up with an excuse for going out there. “Give me half an hour,” he said. “I’ll call you if I get stuck in traffic.”
“Thanks,” Jack whispered, and hung up.
Convincing his foster parents was easier than he’d thought. He told them that a friend had just called him, sounding rather distraught and asking if he could come over. Apparently his parents were arguing and he was stressed. Was it all right if he took a cab over, maybe stayed the night?
It was Ianto’s generally mature attitude towards life that made them buy the story, and within minutes he was out the door. The cab he’d called for arrived shortly and he was off to the Bay.
As it turned out, the driver knew a couple of shortcuts and was able to avoid the gridlocked main streets. Ianto arrived at his destination in twenty minutes and tipped the driver generously before hurrying off towards the Plass.
It was overflowing with people, and Ianto cast one despairing look over the crowd before pulling out his phone.
“I’m at the Plass,” he said. “Where are you?”
“Tourist Information Centre,” Jack said, sounding very tired. “Can you find it?”
“Give me a few and I will,” Ianto said.
Another five minutes and directions from a strangely sober woman later, he managed to find the place. Jack was nowhere in sight, but he hurried towards the Information Centre anyway. Sure enough, the door opened as he approached, and Jack was standing there, framed in the doorway, hunched in on himself.
Ianto kept walking, straight into Jack’s arms, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder. Jack took a shuddery breath, then nudged Ianto into the little office, closing the door behind them. Ianto could smell aniseed and cloves and sweat and blood, and it terrified him.
“Jack,” he breathed, feeling Jack’s arms tighten to the point of discomfort around him. “Jack.”
Part Two
Rating(s): NC-17 overall
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Jack/Ianto, Team
Summary: In which Ianto falls through the Rift and finds himself two centuries in his future - 1996. Now he has to adapt to modern life, including formal schooling, cars, new laws, and one Jack Harkness.
Warning(s): Alternate canon. Allusions to kink (non-explicit). Spoilers for S1-2 of Torchwood (and minor mentions of CoE-related character histories)
Author's Notes: If the summary wasn’t clear enough - this is an AC fic in which Ianto’s actually from the past, and fell through the Rift into the present time. Ianto grows up familiar with Jack and Torchwood, though he doesn’t work for them. And things go from there…
Sixty Minutes An Hour
The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is. - C.S. Lewis
It took a moment to realise that the alarm wasn’t coming from the doors.
Jack looked around hurriedly. No one else appeared to be in the Hub, so it was likely they didn’t know about this Rift activity alert. Technically, he didn’t have to do anything they didn’t want him to, but depending on what it was that had come through the Rift -
He sat down at a computer and shut off the alarm before tracking the signal. He sent the coordinates to his wrist-strap and grabbed his usual bag. Then he erased all signs of the Rift alert and his being there, and left.
The coordinates took him out to the woods. He ploughed through determinedly, trying not to think of what might be hiding inside. One foot in front of the other, that was the trick, and he was so focused on what he was doing that he practically tripped over the boy.
“Ow,” he commented, rubbing his shin. The boy stared back with impossibly wide, blue eyes. “You okay?” he added. His wrist-strap beeped quietly at him, informing him that this was, in fact, what had come through the Rift.
The boy opened his mouth and said something incomprehensible.
Jack considered the syllables for a moment, then sighed. “Knew I should have learned Welsh,” he muttered. “Do you know English?”
The boy was shaking, Jack noticed, minute tremors running all through his body. Fear? Cold? Both? “Yes,” he said, and even that one word revealed how thick his accent was. He clearly wasn’t used to speaking in English.
“Good,” Jack said, speaking slightly slower than usual so the boy could follow him. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” the boy said, then, “Yes.”
“Well, that clarified matters tremendously,” Jack said. The boy stared at him in incomprehension. “Look, I’m a doctor - understand that?” The boy nodded slowly, obviously not quite understanding. “Let me check you over, make sure you’re not hurt?”
That, the boy got. He nodded and watched skittishly as Jack got up and moved over to him. When Jack put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched violently, then stilled and stared at Jack’s hand.
“All right?” Jack asked quietly, filing away the reaction for later analysis.
The boy nodded mutely. Carefully, Jack checked him over - a few bruises, slight dehydration, possible shock. It looked like adrenaline had kept him going this far, but now that he’d been found, everything was catching up to him.
“What’s your name?” Jack asked casually, taking the boy’s hand and sticking his thumb in a press before he could pull away. The boy flinched as the needle pricked his thumb, but didn’t resist. Jack was impressed. He was pretty sure the boy had no clue what was going on, given the way he was dressed.
“Ianto ap Ieuan,” the boy said softly.
Jack smiled at him. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m Captain Jack Harkness.” The medical reader informed him that Ianto ap Ieuan was, in fact, perfectly human. Just time-displaced, then. “How old are you?”
The boy - Ianto - mumbled something in Welsh, then hesitantly said, “Thirteen.”
“Practically grown-up,” Jack mused, patting his shoulder. Old enough to understand at least a little of what had happened to him. Young enough - hopefully - to adapt. “Come on, then.”
“Tad?” Ianto asked, turning beseeching eyes on Jack. That was one word he’d heard enough from kids running around to understand.
“I don’t know where he is,” Jack said. “I’m sorry.”
“He took him,” Ianto said. “You saw?”
“No,” Jack replied. “I didn’t. Who took him?”
Ianto licked his lips nervously. “The Ghostmaker.”
Thirteen was probably too old to want to be carried around, but Ianto didn’t protest when Jack scooped him up. Skinny arms clung to Jack as he carefully made his way out of the forest, coaxing the story out of Ianto as he did. It wasn’t complicated, except for Ianto who would now have to rearrange his entire life. His father had brought him to the travelling fair. The Ghostmaker (the ringleader, Jack realised) had talked to his father (who’d then disappeared). Had talked to Ianto, but something about him had scared Ianto, and the Ghostmaker hadn’t liked his hesitation, had put his hand on Ianto’s shoulder and it had hurt so very badly, but someone had said something and he’d been distracted long enough for Ianto to run, and run, and run, and then he’d seen something like a sliver of a sky and a forest that didn’t belong, a forest in a forest and he thought that maybe he was running into the faerie world but that didn’t stop him because nothing could be worse than what he was trying to get away from -
Nearly captured by the Night Travellers, then running away from them, straight into a tear in space-time, to be deposited over two centuries in the future, Jack summed up internally. Poor thing.
All things considered, it wasn’t a huge surprise that Ianto was so desperately clinging to Jack. Jack shifted the boy on his hip, and drew his coat around them both the best he could. It didn’t completely cover Ianto, but the gesture seemed to calm him.
“Where?” Ianto finally asked, when they were near the forest edge. Jack could hear vehicles in the distance. Hopefully, they were still out of earshot for Ianto. He set Ianto down, keeping one small hand in his.
“Okay, this is a long story, and it’s going to be a little hard to believe,” he said, crouching down so that he was looking up at Ianto. “But I promise you I’m telling the truth.”
Ianto nodded silently.
“Think of the spot we’re standing in right now,” Jack said. “We’ve been standing here for a minute now, haven’t we?”
“Yes,” Ianto said.
“Now, if I asked you how tall you were, could you tell me?” Jack asked.
“Not English,” Ianto said, and Jack grinned.
“But you know the number,” he said. Ianto nodded, a very tiny smile on his face.
“Okay, so that’s height,” Jack said, reaching up to hold a hand over Ianto’s head. “Length, and breadth,” he added, sketching lines in the dirt with his fingers. “Three dimensions. Understand?”
“Yes?” Ianto said uncertainly. Jack suspected he’d lost him at the word ‘dimensions,’ but ploughed on regardless.
“This is where it gets a bit difficult,” Jack said. “Try and imagine a fourth dimension.”
Ianto stared at him blankly.
“Time,” Jack said. “Remember, we’ve been standing here for a bit. Now, if you could see that in time - we’d still have been here a minute ago. Before that, we were walking that way. After this, we’ll be walking that way. If you could see time, you’d see all the places we were and will be.”
Something like comprehension was dawning in Ianto’s eyes. Jack was reluctantly impressed.
“We’re always in this present moment, of course,” Jack said. “We can’t see through time, but that doesn’t mean it’s not always there.”
Ianto nodded slowly.
“This is the important part,” Jack said. “You see how I can make a cut here, in the length?” He slashed a line across one of the lines he’d drawn on the ground and waited for Ianto’s nod before continuing. “Sometimes, time can get torn too. Sometimes, it pulls a little too hard and rips a hole in itself. Now, it can fix itself - just like when you get a cut on your hand - but sometimes, things can fall through the hole before that happens.”
“I fell,” Ianto said. Jack tried not to be impressed again, and failed.
“Yeah,” he said. “From one time into another. This is 1996.”
Ianto took a deep breath. “I want to go home,” he whispered. “Mam and Nain and Huw…”
Jack squeezed Ianto’s hand. “We can’t control it,” he said. “It does what it wants to. We don’t yet know how to open a hole into the proper time. It’s not as simple as that,” he added, nodding ruefully at his little diagram on the ground.
Ianto blinked back tears, looking at Jack. “What to do?”
Jack pulled Ianto in for a brief hug, then straightened, leading Ianto out of the forest. He didn’t miss the little squeak that came from Ianto when he saw the roads and cars. “Now we teach you about this world,” he said. “And we try and make sure you’re happy here.”
Jack had a flat that Torchwood provided for him. Jack also had another flat that Torchwood knew nothing about.
It was to the second one that Jack brought Ianto, after a quick pit-stop at a department store to pick up some appropriate clothes for him. Jack also bought a big, squashy, red dragon plushie. Ianto would probably claim to be too old for stuffed toys, but he’d appreciate having something to hold at night. Nights were always the worst.
Ianto stayed in the car and fretted while Jack made the quickest shopping run of his life. It had been a bit of a job convincing Ianto that the car was perfectly safe, but he’d eventually managed. Considering the way Ianto was dressed though, Jack didn’t want to let him out in public just yet. Too many questions.
They finally got home a couple of hours later. Jack ran a bath for Ianto, whose eyes fairly bugged out at the extravagance.
“Soak for as long as you like,” Jack told him. “Pull the plug here to drain the water when you’re done. Shower works like this -” He demonstrated. “- Use it when you’re done soaking, and mind you scrub up properly. Here’s a towel for you, and I’ll leave your clothes on the bed. Call me if you need anything.” It was always best to be brisk and business-like with the Rift-stranded. It gave them less room to panic, though it seemed like Ianto was over the worst of it.
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto said, eyes firmly on the floor.
“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” Jack said. “Just Jack is fine.”
“That is not right, sir,” Ianto objected, darting a glance up at Jack.
“It’s 1996,” Jack reminded him. “If I were your teacher or something, you might call me ‘sir,’ or ‘Mr Harkness.’ But we’re friends, aren’t we? So you can call me Jack. It’s all right.”
“Are not the names -” Ianto stopped, appearing somewhat frustrated at his inability to phrase his question. Jack suspected he knew what it was, though.
“There are a lot of new rules now,” he said. “In some situations, you’ll address a person by their surname. But in a lot of others, it’s okay to use their first name. The name a person uses for someone else doesn’t necessarily show how close they are anymore. If I’m meeting someone for the first time, I can use their first name without any trouble.”
“That…” Ianto’s voice trailed off and he shook his head slightly.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jack said. “For now, you can call me whatever you want, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto repeated shyly, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. He was going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, Jack decided, ruffling his hair affectionately as he left the bathroom.
Now, what did people in Ianto’s time tend to eat? The filling, hearty stuff, right? Meat and potatoes sorts. Unless that was a stereotype. Jack eyed the contents of his fridge speculatively. Maybe he shouldn’t introduce Ianto to TV dinners right off the bat.
Ianto stayed in the bath for twenty minutes, by which time Jack had a good fry-up going on the stove. He listened as the bathroom door clicked shut, Ianto presumably heading into the bedroom to get dressed.
Ten minutes of silence. Then a tentative, “Sir?”
Jack prodded the meat. Seemed about done, anyway. He turned off the stove, wiped his hands on a towel and headed into the bedroom.
Modern clothes were apparently quite confusing. Jack described each item to him as he helped him put it on. Ianto was fascinated by the elastic band on his underwear.
“You dress…” Ianto said hesitantly, then mumbled something in Welsh as if trying to figure out what the English equivalent was. “Not like others,” he finally said, gesturing at the door.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I do dress a bit different. People used to dress like this, oh, fifty years ago? I just like it, that’s all. Get some funny looks sometimes though. But I look good in the coat, don’t I?”
“Yes,” Ianto said, blushing lightly. Jack grinned and ushered him into the kitchen, then set out dinner. Beef and vegetables, with bread and cheese on the side.
Ianto was somewhat reluctant to eat the vegetables, but Jack cajoled him into it. Thankfully, the food in general seemed to appeal and Ianto polished it all off. After dinner, Jack decided that maybe it was time to tell Ianto what was going to happen now.
“I work for some people who send me all over the place,” he explained. He was sitting on the sofa, Ianto curled up on his lap. “That means I won’t be able to stay here and look after you.”
“I am thirteen,” Ianto said indignantly. “I look after me.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Jack said. “But we have different laws now. And one of them says that it’s wrong to leave a thirteen-year-old alone at home all day.”
Ianto clutched at Jack’s shirt convulsively. “I will stay with you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I just can’t leave this job.”
“Why?” Ianto asked, not demandingly, not pleadingly, just… asking. The look on his face was -
“I’ve been working for them a long time,” Jack said. “If I don’t, they’ll do something bad to me.”
“That…” Ianto said, frowning. Then he seemed to understand, and said something in Welsh. It didn’t sound flattering.
Jack smiled wryly. “Usually, they’re the ones who would have come to get you,” he said. “But I’ve seen what they do to others like you. I can’t do anything for them, but you I can look after. And keeping you safe means you can’t stay with me.”
Ianto’s blue eyes were filling with tears. Damn.
“All right,” he said.
Jack paused. He hadn’t expected that. “All right?” he asked, rubbing a thumb over Ianto’s cheek. Ianto nodded and hid his face against Jack’s chest.
“Okay,” Jack said. “We probably have a couple of days before they call me up for another job. I’ll give you a crash course on this time and we’ll see about getting you set up with Gladys.”
Ianto poked Jack’s chest without looking up. “Crash…?” he asked.
Jack smiled and pressed a kiss against ruffled hair. “Time for lessons,” he said.
Ianto absorbed knowledge like a sponge. Two days, just two days and his command of English had already improved. It wasn’t like he had a choice, of course, seeing as Jack didn’t know Welsh. But still. Ianto was doing remarkably well for someone who’d been thrown in the deep end of things. Language, customs, dress-sense, belief systems, entertainment, technology, they were all so different from everything Ianto had grown up with, and yet he was adapting.
Ah, the flexibility of youth.
Three days after he found Ianto, Jack brought him to St Dwynwen’s Home, run by a lady with whom he had a discreet arrangement. He donated generously to the orphanage and in return Gladys Spelt never questioned him about the occasional stray child he brought by, even if they were somewhat blue in colour, or had an extra limb or two (birth defects, of course). None of those children had ever been adopted, but at least the Home gave them a safe place to stay while they learned more about the strange planet on which they’d landed.
Ianto, on the other hand, was quite human. He was also an attractive young boy, good-natured and pleasant to be around. The only thing standing in the way of a possible adoption was his age, but Jack knew that Gladys would do her utmost best to place him with a suitable family.
“Your new home,” Jack murmured, a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “Think you can manage?”
Ianto managed to simultaneously shrug nonchalantly and sidle closer to Jack, pressing up behind his leg.
Jack gave Gladys a look. She rolled her eyes and withdrew from the room, leaving Jack and Ianto alone.
“You going to be okay?” he asked, turning and crouching, holding Ianto by the shoulders.
“I want you,” Ianto whispered tremulously.
“I can’t stay,” Jack said, rubbing the back of Ianto’s neck. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Ianto nodded though his eyes were brimming with tears. Jack slid one hand over Ianto’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. Ianto’s breath hitched on a sob, but he didn’t look away.
“I have something for you,” Jack said, reaching for his bag and opening it. He pressed the mobile phone into Ianto’s hand. “Not too many kids your age have one of these, so mind you keep a good hold of it. You remember how to use this?”
“Yes,” Ianto said, glancing at the phone and blinking the tears away.
“My number’s speed-dial one,” Jack said, getting out the charger and handing it to Ianto. “If you ever need anything, call me. I can’t promise I’ll pick up right that moment, if I’m busy - and I probably will be - but if I miss a call from you, I’ll call back just as soon as I can. Deal?”
“All right,” Ianto said.
“Give us humans a few more years and I suspect technology will improve a bit more,” Jack said with a broad grin. “Make keeping in contact easier. In the meantime, this will have to do.”
“Thank you,” Ianto said, clutching the phone and charger. Jack drew him into a gentle hug, then kissed the nearest available patch of flesh - on Ianto’s jaw, somewhere between his ear and neck - and straightened.
“Don’t forget your name is Ianto Jones now,” Jack said. “Joneses are a dime a dozen in Wales. You won’t stand out.”
“All right,” Ianto said, just as he had when Jack had first suggested the name change. Ieuan, Jack had discovered after a little research, was the Welsh form of John, and Jones meant ‘son of John.’ It seemed appropriate.
“Okay,” Jack said. “You take care of yourself, now. Tell me when you get adopted.”
Ianto swallowed hard, then nodded.
Jack didn’t look back as he left.
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Um… hello. This is Ianto Jones. I... I didn’t really have a reason to call. Sorry. And, um, thank you.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“This is Ianto Jones. …Five months of English classes. I think I’m better now? Ms Spelt has hired a new lady who speaks Welsh, so now I can speak both. I’m glad. I was beginning to forget bits of Welsh. I’d tell myself stories at night until the other boys told me to go to sleep. … Thank you for the dragon. I know I said I didn’t need it, but it’s nice to have now. I - I didn’t actually call to say all this. I suppose I… I’m beginning to feel a little less… frightened now. And I wanted to say thank you. For everything.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Hey, Ianto. My turn to get the machine, huh? Just got back from a mission. Went for the debrief, went home, passed a souvenir place, saw a dragon plushie, thought of you. Can I call you my Welsh plushie from now on? And did you ever name the dragon? … Okay, I’m maybe a bit more tired than I thought. Should get some rest. Hope you’re doing okay. Your English is definitely a lot better, and I’m loving those Welsh vowels. You have such a pretty accent to listen to. Listen, I’ll see if I can swing by some time soon, okay? Keep your fingers crossed - I think they’re going to be sending me out again, but hopefully I’ll have time before they do. Later!”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“You most certainly may not call me a plushie. The dragon’s name is Jac. Don’t comment. Ms Spelt has enrolled me in regular school with the others in the Home. I’m keeping up better than I thought I would. It’s all so different from what I remember. And now I’m remembering some of the things that Mam used to tell me and wondering how much of it was simple superstition, and how much of it was true. None at all? Were we as backwards as people now seem to think?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“I can call you my Welshman then? Good to know you’re handling school all right. Do your best, okay? Good grades mean a good job, and I want you to be able to take care of yourself when you’re older. Gladys can only keep you on till you’re eighteen at the oldest. … As for superstition? Don’t knock it. People always think that those from their past were backwards. It’s a kind of arrogance we have. But there are a lot of things in this world that can’t be explained, even by science. Faeries, for instance, though I personally think they’re a lot scarier and dangerous than most stories will tell you. Don’t feel bad about the time you came from, Ianto. It was different. That doesn’t make it worse.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Thank you, sir. Got your present today. Fourteen years old and, I am pleased to say, fairly well assimilated. My teachers at school suggested I skip a year, but I preferred to stay within my own age group. The work is not quite challenging, but that leaves me with more time to do extra reading. I’ve been trying to get my head around theoretical physics - and the ideas behind time travel, of course - but I’m finding it quite difficult. University’s a long way off, I know, but I think might do something in this field. Which means I’ll have to do astonishingly well in school. I’ll try not to let you down. Or myself.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“I don’t think you’re ever capable of letting me down, my Ianto. Gladys gave me a copy of your report card. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that much praise for a single person in one place before. I’m pretty certain you’ll get into whatever university and whichever course you set your mind to. Just don’t get too distracted by pretty girls - or boys, for that matter. Gladys said you’re thinking of trying out for the school rugby team? Good luck with that, and try not to get hurt too much. I’ll go polish up my knowledge of rugby. Probably disgraceful, how long I’ve lived here without learning anything about the game. Should be fun, all those men in short shorts groping each other…”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“You do take pride in being inappropriate, don’t you, sir? I overheard Ms Spelt say something to that effect, but I didn’t realise what she meant. I’m not sure my face will ever regain its natural colour again. … Um, sir? Is… is it not wrong?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“I don’t think it is, as long as all involved parties are fully cognisant, consenting and of legal age. This time period’s beginning to loosen up a bit, but there are still those who’ll tell you it’s evil and wrong. Me, I don’t see how love can be wrong. But don’t take my word for it. Figure it out yourself. You’ll have to form your own opinion on it. Just don’t let anyone else - including me - tell you what to think. Keep questioning.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve called, I know. I took your advice and I’ve been attempting to think it through. Um, I’m not sure I’ve come to a real conclusion yet, but I don’t - well, something you said made me think. About love not being wrong. And it isn’t. It’s just - it does tend to get a bad reputation, doesn’t it? I don’t know for sure yet, but I think I’m leaning towards it being at least as right as a man and a woman getting married.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“You have no idea how proud I am to hear you say that. You, from the 18th Century, and you’re telling me that maybe homosexuality isn’t a sin. You might just be more open-minded than a lot of people in this time. I’m of the opinion that it’ll get better, that people will stop seeing it as something wrong. It’ll take time, though, but we’ll get there. Lot of stupid people in the world, but in general? Humanity’s pretty amazing.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“I love that you can be that optimistic. I’m afraid a conversation I’ve just had with one of my classmates is leaving me with rather the opposite impression regarding humanity. I suppose that now you’ll tell me he’s an example of individual stupidity and not the general condition of the species, but still. By the way, I don’t think I’ll be joining rugby after all. I can’t say it really appeals. I do miss running around in the village, but sports here don’t seem to make up for it. What I really miss is the tailor shop. Tad was a master tailor, you know. Used to make garments for the rich folk up in the garrison. We weren’t all that rich ourselves, especially after Huw was born, but we always had nice clothes and we got to learn some English and we knew how to act properly around the rich folk. It’s kind of strange, the way those distinctions have almost vanished now.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Happy birthday, Ianto! Can’t talk long, sorry - I’m not in Wales at the moment. Just wanted to wish you a brilliant day ahead. One more year and you can start drinking! Assuming you haven’t already started on the sly. I’ll call you when I get back.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Tad used to give me mead when I was five. It’s odd, these drinking laws and all. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve refrained from breaking them, though. Also, I’ve been informed by one of the girls in my class that I am now her boyfriend. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter. Thoughts?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Make the most of it? If you’re going to have sex, for god’s sake, use a condom. Did you get my present?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“I’m certainly not going to have sex with her, sir! For one, I’m not particularly interested in her. I suppose I’ll let her enjoy parading me around for a while and then see if I can’t get out of it. And I did get your present. It’s lovely, sir, thank you. I seem to have developed rather a fondness for old things. Antiques, old books, anything of the sort. Maybe I’m attempting to reconnect with my past?”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Okay, okay, no sex. If you’re not interested in her, why are you with her? You’re not obliged to do what she wants. … Glad you liked the present. It’s not quite from your time period, but it’s fairly old. Thought you’d like something to remember the past by. I was trying to find a proper fob watch, but the ones I saw didn’t look as nice as this one did. And a stopwatch is kind of ironically appropriate, right?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Indeed it is. I’ve broken up with her. She wanted to have sex. I suppose I’m over some of my 18th Century hang-ups, but I still can’t sleep with someone I’m not in love with. Which is ironic, of course, like all of us from my time were prudes and virgins. I know some of the older boys used to go with the girls even if they weren’t married. Oh well. At least the kissing was nice. The stopwatch resides in my pocket every day now, you might like to know. It’s comforting, in a way. Like I can live in this time, but not have to forget where I came from. I miss Tad and Mam and Nain and Huw, but touching the stopwatch makes me feel like I’m remembering them, and that’s good enough.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Just dropping a quick line here - going to be out of the country for a while - don’t know how long exactly, could be a few weeks, could be a few months. You take care of yourself, my Ianto. Just keep going the way you are. You’re becoming an amazing young man.”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“… I’m. Um. Never mind.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“So. Gladys calls me and tells me you’ve been arrested for shoplifting. Want to explain?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Who was it, and what happened?”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Bethan Llwyd. I - I know this time doesn’t believe - in looking after girls - but, but she’s got a family looking to take her and they won’t if she’s got a record.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Oh, my Ianto. You beautiful, beautiful fool. That was a remarkably stupid thing to do, but it was very good of you. I’m going to see if I can talk to the police, get your record cleared. Not a word about Bethan, I promise. The guy currently in charge of the organisation I work for? His name’s Alex. He’s a good sort, better than the types we used to have. Him, I actually don’t mind working for. Anyway, he’s got some pull with the police. I’ll see if I can talk to him about getting your name cleared. And don’t ever do something like that again!”
“Captain Jack Harkness here. Can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Talk after the beep.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Heard the news. I’ll be calling again at nine tonight. Keep your phone on you.”
“Good evening.”
“Hey, Ianto. It’s me.”
“Hello, sir.”
“Gladys told me a couple’s thinking of fostering you?”
“Yes.”
“Excited?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s wrong?”
“… A little scared, maybe.”
“It’s all right to be scared, you know. I was scared when I wound up in the wrong time.”
“... Did you fall through as well?”
“A bit differently from how you did, but yeah. I fell backwards in time.”
“When were you born?”
“51st Century.”
“… Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Bit of a change?”
“You could say that.”
“I guess I shouldn’t worry so much about my own little change.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to worry.”
“This much? Their name is Jones. Geraint and Eleri Jones.”
“Lucky.”
“I know. The man’s a tailor. At a department store.”
“Didn’t you say your dad was a master tailor?”
“Yep.”
“Coincidences.”
“Yep.”
“Are you all right, really?”
“I don’t know.”
“Want to meet up?”
“… Could we?”
“I just got back from a pretty difficult mission. Should have at least the next week free before they send me off again.”
“I’d like to.”
“I’ll get Gladys to cut you loose tonight. Dinner somewhere? Do you have nice clothes?”
“Define nice.”
“Proper trousers, clean, pressed shirt. Shoes that aren’t sneakers - sorry, trainers. Wouldn’t say no to a formal jacket.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go get yourself pretty. I’ll pick you up at six.”
“See you then, sir.”
“Looking good, Mr Jones,” Jack said.
Ianto looked up at Jack and smiled slightly. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “You’re looking quite dashing yourself.”
“Still with the sir?” Jack asked, opening the car door for Ianto. Ianto climbed in unhesitatingly and buckled up as Jack shut the door, then walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat.
“I think it suits you,” Ianto said.
Jack turned the engine over. “What, the sir?” he said. “I refuse to believe it. It makes me think of old men. And I’m not old!”
“Whatever you say, sir,” Ianto said solemnly. Jack threw him a mock-glare, then pulled out onto the road. “Besides,” Ianto added. “I don’t think of old men when I think of the word.”
“Oh?” Jack asked. “What d’you think of, then?”
Ianto shrugged. “It’s not really important,” he said. “Where are we going?”
“Little French place I know,” Jack said. “Nice restaurant, owned by a very nice man.” He smiled suddenly, a wicked look in his eyes.
“Is that right,” Ianto said, smiling slightly.
“Does that bother you?” Jack asked.
“Nope,” Ianto said.
“So, came to a decision about that, then,” Jack said cautiously.
“Yep,” Ianto said. “Doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh, good,” Jack said with over-exaggerated relief. Ianto grinned and leaned back in the seat. “How’ve you been doing, Ianto? Obviously the years have been good to you.”
“Some days are easier than others,” Ianto said. “All in all, quite well.”
At a red light, Jack stopped and looked at Ianto. “Alex looks a bit more promising than my previous employers. I’m going to talk to him about the terms under which I’m currently employed, see if I can’t get the organisation to back off a bit.”
“Am I allowed to ask what this mystery organisation is?” Ianto asked.
“It’s called Torchwood,” Jack said. “Sort of like Special Ops, except dealing with aliens instead.”
“Aliens,” Ianto repeated.
Jack’s lips twitched. “Yeah. You came here via the Rift, remember? It isn’t too discerning about whether it plucks people from different times or different planets. And sometimes, aliens just come by to visit - for good or bad reasons.”
“And… Torchwood deals with that,” Ianto said.
“More or less,” Jack said. “I don’t like Torchwood’s current policy. ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours.’ It’s just - arrogant. They treat all aliens and Rift victims like they’re not intelligent, like they’re less than us.”
“Then why…” Ianto began cautiously.
“They’ve got something over me,” Jack said grimly. “Look, 51st Century biology, plus an… accident… means that I’m a scientist’s dream, okay? In exchange for not being cut up for study, I do freelance work for them.”
“Hardly fair,” Ianto said.
“Never is,” Jack agreed.
“Does this… accident have anything to do with why you don’t look like you’ve aged a day since we last met?” Ianto asked.
Jack pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said at last.
“We’ll just drop the subject now, shall we?” Ianto said. “Seeing as you’re from the 51st Century, I don’t suppose you could tell me if M-theory is in fact the way to go, or if it’s barking up the wrong tree altogether?”
Jack laughed, reaching over to squeeze Ianto’s knee affectionately. “First time I’ve had a fifteen-year-old ask me that,” he said. “You’re old beyond your years, Ianto Jones.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“This is Ianto Jones. I’m afraid I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave a message and your number, I’ll return your call. Thank you.”
“Happy sixteenth, Ianto. You’re now legal to have sex - with a woman, anyway - and legalish to drink. Dinner on me tonight? I’ll buy you some wine. Call me back if you’re up for it.”
“New millennium approaching,” Jack murmured. “Any plans? Assuming the world doesn’t end?”
“World’s always ending, sir,” Ianto replied. “And the new millennium starts the year after, surely?”
“Pedantic,” Jack accused.
“Probably,” Ianto agreed. “I’m planning on hiding out at home and avoiding the crowds. No doubt Rhiannon will try to drag me somewhere though. She thinks I should get out more.”
“Getting along all right with them?” Jack asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Ianto said. “I still wonder why they decided to foster me. I’m their first, you know? I’d have thought most first-timers would take babies.”
“Maybe they preferred to skip the diaper stage,” Jack said. “And they took you instead of another teenager because they didn’t want to fight against the rebellion.”
“I take it you don’t consider me a rebel,” Ianto said, smiling.
“If you are, you’re very sneaky about it,” Jack told him. “But really. You’re sweet and nice to just about everyone, even those who don’t deserve it, cough Bethan cough. Also,” Jack added mischievously. “You’re really cute when you blush.”
Ianto tried unsuccessfully to hide his crimson face behind his water glass. Fortunately, Jack took pity on him and changed the subject, regaling him with a story about an alien he’d encountered the previous week.
“I think you might be trying to get me drunk,” Ianto announced later, looking suspiciously at the second glass of wine that Jack had ordered for him.
“You don’t have to finish it,” Jack assured him. “But look, this place lets you take a drink out back. Ever been to their gardens?”
“I’ve only ever been here with you,” Ianto pointed out.
“That’s a no, then,” Jack said, getting up. “Come on, you’ll love it.”
He did. He suspected it would probably look a little tacky in the daytime, what with the strings of lights and all. At night, through mildly alcohol-glazed eyes, they looked like thousands of fireflies twinkling amongst the bushes. Ianto sipped slowly at his wine as he leaned against Jack’s side, a familiar scent tickling his nose. It was something like aniseed and cloves.
“I like your aftershave,” Ianto said. “Or cologne. Whatever it is.”
“Never wear any,” Jack said.
Ianto paused, then twisted to look up at Jack. “You smell like that naturally?”
“51st Century pheromones,” Jack said, grinning broadly. “You people have no idea.”
Ianto thought about that for a moment, then shrugged and returned to his original position. Cai, whose birthday was two months and seventeen days before Ianto’s (as long as you weren’t going by the actual year of birth), had thrown a huge party at his place. His parents had very agreeably left for the night and Cai had invited what seemed like their entire year over. There had been music and dancing and food and alcohol, even for those who weren’t yet of age - not that that had stopped very many. There had been plenty of couples making out and probably some doing more, though Ianto was just thankful he hadn’t actually walked in on any of the latter.
He hadn’t enjoyed himself one whit.
Rhiannon had woken him today by ripping his blankets off and dumping him on the floor. Then she’d made up for it by bringing him downstairs and showing him the cake that she and her mum had worked on the whole day yesterday. He’d opened his presents, blown out his candles, cut the cake and shared it around. It had been quiet and low-key and just the way he liked it, and he couldn’t help but be thankful that his foster family realised he wouldn’t want anything big.
He’d saved a piece of cake for Jack, who had picked him up at the Home. Ianto had insisted on meeting there because he hadn’t yet told his new family about Jack. Also, because he hadn’t yet come up with an explanation for how he knew Jack, that didn’t mention the whole alien-hunter from the 51st Century thing, but simultaneously didn’t make Jack out to be a paedophile. It was kind of difficult.
So he’d met Jack outside the Home and Jack had dug into the cake straightaway with perhaps even more enthusiasm than Ianto had demonstrated. Once the cake had been demolished, they’d gone to what Ianto was beginning to think of as their restaurant, though they’d only been there thrice. Today would make four.
And Jack had treated him to another meal there and let him choose the wine he wanted, helping by describing how each one tasted and giving him recommendations, but not imposing any choice on him. While they were waiting for their food to arrive, Jack had given Ianto his present (a gorgeous pair of cufflinks, as well as a studded leather belt, one for each side of his personality, as Jack put it). Then the food, and the drinks, and the easy conversation, which brought them to the present moment.
“What about you?” Ianto asked. “New Year’s plans? I suppose it’s a bit early to be asking.”
“Nothing yet,” Jack said, his arm draped loosely around Ianto’s shoulders. “Might see if the team wants to do anything.”
“Enjoy yourself,” Ianto said.
“By the way,” Jack said. “Have you gotten your results back yet? How did you do?”
“All right,” Ianto said. “The work wasn’t really hard anyway. Nothing below an A.”
Jack smiled. “Good job. You were taking which subjects again? English, Welsh, Maths, Bio, Chem, Physics, Geography, English Literature…”
“Welsh Literature,” Ianto murmured. “Home Econs, Japanese.”
“Eleven subjects,” Jack said. “And all that without the grounding most of your peers were getting from when they were five. My brilliant overachiever.”
“I try my best,” Ianto said, smiling into his glass.
Ianto was struggling through a book on hyperspace when his phone rang. The distraction was welcome, and he happily marked his page and picked up the phone.
“Evening,” he said. “Or morning, I suppose.” He could hear people laughing and toasting each other downstairs. His family had decided to host a New Year’s party, which had precipitated his retreat to his room.
“Ianto,” Jack said, and Ianto suddenly found himself focusing properly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Can you - could you -” Jack said, and that was just wrong, Jack should never sound that lost, that broken.
“Anything you want,” Ianto said. “Should I meet you somewhere?”
“Cardiff Bay?” Jack said after a long pause. “Roald Dahl Plass?”
Ianto calculated the amount of time it would take to get there. Hopefully, traffic wouldn’t be too bad. He’d have to call a cab - but first, he’d have to come up with an excuse for going out there. “Give me half an hour,” he said. “I’ll call you if I get stuck in traffic.”
“Thanks,” Jack whispered, and hung up.
Convincing his foster parents was easier than he’d thought. He told them that a friend had just called him, sounding rather distraught and asking if he could come over. Apparently his parents were arguing and he was stressed. Was it all right if he took a cab over, maybe stayed the night?
It was Ianto’s generally mature attitude towards life that made them buy the story, and within minutes he was out the door. The cab he’d called for arrived shortly and he was off to the Bay.
As it turned out, the driver knew a couple of shortcuts and was able to avoid the gridlocked main streets. Ianto arrived at his destination in twenty minutes and tipped the driver generously before hurrying off towards the Plass.
It was overflowing with people, and Ianto cast one despairing look over the crowd before pulling out his phone.
“I’m at the Plass,” he said. “Where are you?”
“Tourist Information Centre,” Jack said, sounding very tired. “Can you find it?”
“Give me a few and I will,” Ianto said.
Another five minutes and directions from a strangely sober woman later, he managed to find the place. Jack was nowhere in sight, but he hurried towards the Information Centre anyway. Sure enough, the door opened as he approached, and Jack was standing there, framed in the doorway, hunched in on himself.
Ianto kept walking, straight into Jack’s arms, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder. Jack took a shuddery breath, then nudged Ianto into the little office, closing the door behind them. Ianto could smell aniseed and cloves and sweat and blood, and it terrified him.
“Jack,” he breathed, feeling Jack’s arms tighten to the point of discomfort around him. “Jack.”
Part Two