Convergence

Warnings: An AU set after DW ‘Last of the Time Lords’ and TW ‘End of Days’ current season plots for both have NOT been included beyond a casting spoiler for Torchwood 2x06 ‘Reset’.

 

***

 

“Jack, wait!”

As he turned, the Doctor stood in the distance with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, rucking up the hem of his suit jacket slightly. Martha, running across the Plas, caught up with Jack in seconds. He took her by the upper arms, steadying her from the rush.

“Martha, what… I thought he was taking you back to see your family?”

“I can call them from your Hub, right?” Her face paled. “I just don’t think I can go back inside the TARDIS.”

Jack nodded vaguely, looking up and towards the Time Lord. But the Doctor had already vanished.

 

***
 

“Just stay behind me,” he warned, only half-joking. “I didn’t exactly leave the kids a note.”

“Jack,” she chastised, following him through the door of the tourist information center. Hesitating as she could feel Jack tensing, she watched as a man came out through the back door.

“Done gallivanting about then?” Owen commented mildly, shrugging into his coat. “The ladies will be glad to see you, but I wouldn’t drink anything the teaboy gives you. Not that you have to worry about the effects.”

He stepped forward, peering around the Captain’s shoulder. “Pity… I was hoping you’d bring back a blonde. But she’ll do.”

Stepping past them, Owen ducked through the exit, pulling his collar up slightly as he felt the breeze off the bay.

Jack, frowning slightly, caught the edge of Martha’s amusement. “That wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

They moved into the Hub proper, the hallway breaking off to drop them in the center of the open area.

“Jack!” Tosh hailed him from the side. Waving slightly, she turned back to her computer. At the workstation next to her, Gwen was speaking softly on the telephone. Raising her hand to cover the other end, she called out, “Welcome back.”

Brow creasing at his anticlimactic return, Jack turned at the throat-clearing behind him. Ianto stood there patiently, hands tucked into his trouser pockets rucking up the hem of his suit jacket.

“Sir,” he nodded slightly. “If you’d like to adjourn to your office, I’ll bring the necessary personnel documents and perhaps a hot drink. Advanced alien technology aside, the vortex is hardly heated.”

With another nod, this time in Martha’s direction, Ianto walked off.

Jack turned to Martha. She just shrugged, “He’s right.”

Grinning, Jack offered her his arm. Curling her hand around his elbow, Martha allowed herself to be escorted to Jack’s office.

 

***
 

The two occupants of the room looked up as the youngest member of the team entered. Jack took his offered coffee with a thankful look, the absence of innuendo almost startling.

“Oh, thank you.” Martha took a moment to study him. He had that same world-weariness that all the Torchwood members seemed to carry around.

“Martha Jones meet Ianto Jones,” Jack finally offered.

Martha offered her hand, greeting him with a friendly, “Ianto.”

Her hand was taken, but not with the expected handshake. He held it gently, offering the faintest of bows in return. “Ms. Jones.”

Turning, he tucked his tray beneath his arm and closed the door behind him. Jack watched the movements with curious attention before turning back to Martha with a lifted eyebrow.

“Well, it seems our Ianto likes you.”

Martha seemed to be pondering a thought for a moment before nodding. “A good thing, I suppose. I’ll have enough of your team wondering who I am and where I came from.”

“Let them wonder,” Jack dared, sipping noiselessly at his coffee.

She met his statement with an eyeroll, finally taking a drink of her own beverage. Almost instantly, she lowered the mug still rolling the liquid across her tongue.

“Not good?” Jack asked, confusion obvious. “Ianto makes the best coffee in Cardiff.”

Finally swallowing, Martha replied, “It’s not coffee.”

Jack waited, knowing there would be answers behind her considering look into the mug and then pleased smile.

“It’s… It tastes like… Well, a cross between chai tea and hot chocolate.”

The twist of his lips and crease to his brow clearly said ‘eww’ and declined any offer to try it.

Martha laughed, clutching the mug closer to her chest. “I haven’t had anything like it since the Nebulon clouds of Regulus Five.”

Jack saluted her with his coffee, smiling. “He does always seem to know what people like the best.”

 

***
 

The hub was dark, quiet, and empty. The environment set him on edge as Jack climbed the ladder and then exited his office. Not even his footsteps made a sound, his breathing the only harsh echo in the cavernous space.

Entering the hub proper, he looked up but not even Myfanwy occupied this haunted space.

“Jack?”

The voice had him spinning in place. The woman standing opposite was wearing the same clothing he’d last seen her in… and the same expression of worry.

“You were supposed to take care of him, Jack.”

“Rose?” he asked, voice sounding hesitant to even his own ears.

“Yes,” she admitted, “and no,” denying in the same breath.

Wary, Jack held his position. He didn’t sleep… often. When he did, it was as likely to be disturbed by nightmares as be pleasant. He should have expected the Year That Wasn’t and Martha’s presence to trigger a few distasteful occurrences.

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered. “I thought this form would comfort you… as I expected you to comfort him.”

“Who are you?” Jack asked, standing straighter as he refused to back down to his own scarred psyche.

The word she spoke made no sense to his ears. Seeing his confusion, she repeated herself, this time in Welsh. “Blaidd drygg.”

It teased at a memory… something he should have known and didn’t.

“Heal him, Jack,” the phantom from his past implored. “Heal him as I could not.”

The sharp edge of metal cut into the palm of his suddenly clenched fist.

“You’re the only one who can,” was the explanation as she suddenly began to fade.

“Wait!”

 

***
 

Jack jerked upright, the cry still echoing in his throat. A dull sweat coated his body, sticking the sheet to flesh in an unpleasant fashion. Blinking away the night terror, he shifted his arm to push back the fabric.

And found his fist still clenched around metal.

Dropping it in shock, the object landed harmlessly in his lap. Paranoia reigned when approaching any alien object. Jack treated the glint of gold half-hidden by fabric and propped up by his sheet covered body with the same caution.

It was small beneath his fingers. Circular, with a texture that poked at memory.

Lifting it to the faint light, he could see now that it was a watch. A gold-colored pocket-watch with no chain or fob.

Turning it, the pattern on the back brought him out of bed in a rush. He knew what this was… and it was even more dangerous than the Rift itself.

 

***
 

“Ow, fuck,” Gwen muttered mostly to herself as she was ushered through the cog door into the hub itself.

“Don’t try to move it,” Ianto cautioned, holding her wrapped hand as he escorted her. “Tosh!” he called out.

Tosh peered around her workstation, standing suddenly when she spotted the familiar sight of a bloody bandage. “What happened?”

“Weevil,” Ianto summarized, prodding Gwen until she took a seat at her own station. “Can you get the kit?”

“This is going to need stitches,” Gwen forced between clenched teeth.

Unwrapping her hand, Ianto raised his eyes to meet hers for a second. “Likely, yes.”

Tosh’s arrival with the medical kit was timely, a second hand clutching a towel. Ianto held their arms out of the way as she spread the folded towel beneath where they were working. It would, at least, keep the worst of the blood off the table.

“Owen’s following that report from the Velindre Cancer Centre,” Tosh reminded him quietly.

His nod indicated he heard and they both hissed in a breath as the wound itself was revealed. “Definitely going to need stitches,” he confirmed Gwen’s earlier thought.

“It’s a short trip to emergency,” Gwen offered, pale face belying her forced good cheer.

Ianto studied her with a peculiar look before shaking his head. “Tosh?” he asked. “Will you take care of this?”

The Asian woman looked at him in shock. “Me?”

“You are a doctor,” he replied with calm expectation.

She returned the gaze for a moment before nodding sharply. “You know where he keeps the supplies I’ll need?”

Ianto surrendered his place to her, standing. “Yes, he made quite the point of it after I shot him.”

Eyes following him as he moved away, Gwen used the situation as a distraction. “I didn’t know you were a medical doctor.”

“I didn’t think anyone here did,” Tosh mused, beginning to clean the Weevil-induced claw gash that cut through the base of Gwen’s palm. “It will scar,” she cautioned, “but there doesn’t appear to be any tendon or ligament damage. You were lucky.”

Gwen nodded, falling silent as an anesthetic was applied and the needle was prepared to move through her flesh.

 

***
 

“What do you think it means?”

Martha and Jack both stared at the object on his desk. Their concern was fully justified, considering the events both had shared with a world that didn’t remember.

“I don’t know,” Jack answered the question.

The quick knock at the door had him scooping the watch from his desk and dropping it in his pocket. Ianto entered moments later, straightening and wary at their obvious discomfort.

“The Weevil has been contained. Gwen received a minor injury that Tosh is currently treating.”

“Does she need any assistance?” Martha offered.

“One of Toshiko’s many degrees is in medicine,” Jack answered. “Though, I didn’t think anyone else knew that.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow in surprise. “It is in her file, Sir.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jack countered.

The denial made no change in Ianto’s expression. “Jack, I have the situation under control.”

Harkness watched Ianto duck out of the office, the soft click of the door causing him to raise his chin slightly and shift his gaze to out of the windows.

“Jack?” Martha called softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Ianto,” he paused before explaining. “That… wasn’t like him.”

Martha shrugged. “You left, Jack. It may take some time.”

Shaking his head, he shot her a glance. “Time’s the problem, now…. Isn’t it?”

 

***
 

“God damned ghost chase,” Owen cursed, flinging his jacket across his workstation.

“Best not to say things like that, working here,” Gwen cautioned, face still a touch pale.

He turned with a sharp rejoinder on the tip of his tongue. Spotting her heavily bandaged hand, and the awkward way she was still attempting to type with the other, the words vanished before they could fall. “What the hell happened?”

“About time I had a weevil scar.” Her joke fell flat, Owen’s frown not lifting. Theirs was an odd situation, more intimate than coworkers but not nearly as close as they had been during their affair.

“The bloody teaboy falling down on the job again? I knew Tosh should have gone with you as backup instead.”

Scowling, he dropped into his chair. Still antagonistic, he booted up a personal program on his computer. Moments later, a voice was pouring from the speakers and echoing in the hub.

“Owen,” Tosh complained about the volume. It was a legitimate concern, one amplified by the knowledge that he was simply doing it to goad a teammate.

Holding his hand cupped around his ear, he made vague ‘can’t hear you motions’. At the same time, an instant message popped onto his screen from Gwen.

/You know Ianto can’t stand that CD./

Owen just twirled in his chair, singing in an exaggerated fashion along with the lyrics. “Don’t want to be a bad guy. I’m just a loner baby and now you’ve got…”

His intentionally obnoxious performance ended in an unmanly squeak as his chair was abruptly over-turned. Rising to his feet to the rapid typing on his keypad, he lifted his chin and stood toe to toe with the aforementioned coworker.

Spotting the program running a permanent deletion of his personal files, he sneered. “Not tight-laced enough for the stick up your ass?”

The fury coloring Ianto’s features was far beyond the expected reaction. He’d complained about Owen’s choice of music before… but never, never had he exhibited this much pure rage in reaction to nothing more than a minute’s worth of song.

“You may have no good left in your soul, Harper… You may belittle my efforts… But I will not allow you to continue dishonoring their memory!”

His voice, rising in volume with each word, echoed in the dead silence that had fallen in the hub. Staring down Owen, the doctor didn’t so much as twitch, frozen by the fury staring him in the face. For the first time, he was afraid of Ianto Jones.

“What the hell’s going on out here?”

Jack stood at his office door, hands on hips. Through the glass, Martha could be seen watching the hub’s occupants. He glared balefully at the room in general before focusing his gaze on the two men.

“Ianto, explain yourself.”

The Welshman, not having been granted the opportunity to vent his ire on its subject, turned on his heel and stalked off. His sharp pace clicked along the metal walkways until he disappeared into the hallway that led into the archives.

The Captain stared for a moment longer. “All of you. Conference room. Now.”

The ladies rose from their workstations, crossing the hub quickly. Tosh glanced at the passage Ianto had disappeared through before ducking her head. Gwen shot a warning look at Owen as she passed him. Owen simply shrugged off the confrontation, following along sullenly in their wake.

 

***
 

Jack waited until the others had seated themselves in the glass-walled meeting room before stalking inside.

“Now. What’s going on?”

When Gwen and Toshiko turned to look at him, Owen shifted in his chair. “Teaboy can’t take a joke.”

“I’ve told you not to call him that,” Jack remonstrated. Either not noticing or ignoring the blatant eye roll, he turned to the women.

“Ianto’s… having a difficult time,” Tosh finally admitted carefully.

Owen’s snort was roundly ignored. Freed by the admission, Gwen joined in. “Jack, he didn’t take your just up and disappearing well at all… And strolling back in here after a week without an explanation...” She shrugged.

“That,” Jack pointed out at the hub, “was not about me.”

Owen straightened suddenly in his chair. “Stop ignoring the truth like little girls. He’s gone completely barkers.”

“Explain,” Harkness snapped.

Leaning forward, it was clear when Owen put aside his personal issues and let ‘Dr. Harper’ step to the front. “He is expressing what appears to be a rather distinct case of delusional disorder. Normally, I’d say he was rapidly heading towards schizophrenia. However, his hallucinations seem to be limited to a specific set of terms and there are no other demonstrated symptoms of psychopathy. It started with that mess of the Prime Minister and the Toclafane.”

“No, it didn’t,” Tosh corrected quietly.

Happily leaving the issue of Harold Saxon to the side, Jack waited for her explanation.

“We came back with the coffee after you… woke up.” Her hesitation was clearly aimed, the glance at Martha telling in its discretion. “We could hear something echoing in the hub,” she explained.

“He dropped the coffee,” Gwen added. At Jack’s glance, she winced but kept the point. “We’ve faced Weevils and he’s placed his cup carefully aside first.”

“He went for the CCTV feeds,” Tosh continued. “He turned them immediately to the Plas. There was no hesitation; no doubt that he knew what he was looking for. It’s,” she paused and didn’t continue.

“It’s the only bloody way we knew what happened to you, Harkness.”

Owen’s disclosure was harsh, but truthful. Gwen, ever the peacemaker, held her hand out in a gesture meant to shush the doctor. It worked, for the moment.

“Jack… He turned every camera in the area to the street outside the hub. We were able to obtain fairly decent footage of your disappearance.”

Martha was straightening in her seat, sharing a glance with Jack.

“We know you left with the Doctor and that it was probably quite a bigger longer than a week, at least for you,” Tosh admitted.

“Excuse me?” Jack’s voice was cold, questioning where exactly they planned to take that information.

Gwen squared her shoulders and faced that anger head-on. “Ianto said he was dangerous, Jack… The most dangerous man to ever walk this planet, but not to you, was how he said it. Things just got worse from there. At times he’s barely slept. He wakes up screaming, always the same nightmare.”

“He’s terrified, Jack.” Tosh added.

“Right,” Owen scowled at the ladies. “He’s gone round the bend because he’s suddenly phobic about percussion instruments.”

“Owen,” Tosh chastised. “War drums have been used for thousands of years. It’s perfectly valid symbolism for a greater issue.”

“Drums?”

Gwen shrugged at Jack’s sharply bitten utterance.

He swallowed heavily, for a moment looking nauseous. Then, head bowing, he planted his clenched fists on the end of the table.

“It’s not possible,” Martha finally spoke. “He’s dead. Right? We saw it happen.”

Turning his head to meet her gaze, Jack was visibly upset. “The Doctor thought he was dead before… and he wasn’t.”

“Jack,” Martha breathed out on a quaver of breath. “My family.”

“I know,” he cautioned, closing his eyes for a moment. Straightening, he calmed himself visibly. Hands unclenching, his features blanked of any recognizable emotion. It was clearly time for the Captain to be back in command.

“Owen, load up the tranquilizer darts. I want something that will put a man down within seconds.”

“Harkness,” Owen responded, looking mildly shocked at that response.

“Jack,” Gwen followed up in true concern. “You’re not planning to…”

“I am planning,” he interrupted in a fierce declaration, “to contain an alien threat beyond your current understanding. And you will cooperate.”

He glanced down the table to Tosh. The Asian woman currently sat with her hand cupped over her mouth, eyes clearly shining with moisture. “Tosh… I need you to find him in the Hub.”

She nodded, the liquid slipping free just at the corner of one eye. For a moment, his gaze followed that silvery track down her cheek. It looked for an instant like he envied her the indulgence.

“Go now.” His voice was a harsh whisper, falling off as he held tightly to his self control. “I want him in a cell within the half hour.”

Martha was the only one who stayed in the room, waiting with his silence for a long minute after the others had left. “Jack,” she finally broke the quiet with his name. It wasn’t enough to make him look up at first. That didn’t happen until she reached out and took the hand barely shaking with minute tremors.

The gaze he lifted to meet hers was anguished, tortured beyond any she’d ever seen. “You really don’t think it’s…”

But when the time came, she couldn’t speak the name. That was left to Jack, gently removing his hand from her grasp.

“The Master?” He asked the question with a pained grimace. “Before I left… Ianto and I were lovers. I had hoped…”

“Oh, Jack,” she breathed after his voice trailed off. She placed her freed hand on his shoulder this time. He didn’t shrug it off.

“He swore once that he’d watch me die… He got his wish, more times than I can ever count with each way more painful than the last.”

Martha didn’t know what to say. There really wasn’t anything she could say. Waiting, silently patient, she allowed Jack the time to gather himself back together. When he did, there was a straightening to his posture, a preparedness that said now he could do what he must.

 

***
 

“Jack!” Tosh called out with an edge of panic.

“Where is he?” Harkness questioned, taking the metal steps two at a time to descend to her workstation.

“Archive. The alien weapon vaults transferred from One Canada Square.” Tosh tripped a few keys, switching the interior cameras over to a new view. She choked, unable to voice her fear.

It was Jack that gave it name. “Dalek weaponry.”

He turned immediately, hollering. “Harper! Now would be good!”

Owen and Gwen hurried out of the medical bay, carrying a pair of short rifles. The doctor nodded to answer the unspoken question in Jack’s stare.

“Owen, you and I are going hunting. Tosh, get a cell ready. The strongest we have, as low tech as possible. Gwen,” Jack paused in his instructions, taking the weapon from her. He ducked his head for a second, swallowing hard. “I need you to use your connections. I want to know everything you can find about Ianto Jones.”

Gwen nodded, frowning, as the others moved off. So accustomed to a five member team, she startled slightly when Martha leaned against her desk.

“Can I help?”

Looking over at the other women, Gwen considered the question for a moment. “Do you understand Jack’s suspicions?”

Martha looked away, eyes not focusing on the wall of the hub but memories clearly painful. “Yes.”

“Then help me find something to either confirm it, or clear him.”

Meeting Gwen’s focused gaze, Martha nodded once. She moved over to Owen’s workstation, keying up the search interface. “You’re focusing on government documents?”

“So far,” Gwen answered.

“I’ll start with personal contacts.”

 

***
 

“How bad is it, Harkness?”

Owen’s question was softly spoken, almost whispered as they stalked cautiously down the corridors. All the same, it wasn’t immediately answered.

“I mean, the Cyberwoman in the basement was pretty bad… S’not a good sign that he’s going for Dalek ray guns.”

“Owen,” Jack voiced quietly. “Shut up.”

The doctor looked over, watching the clear emotions storming across his boss’ face for a minute. “Right,” he agreed.

There was light around the next corner. Light that moved with the shifts of the body that alternately blocked and revealed its source. Jack motioned Owen to the more covered side of the hall, taking the open section for himself.

“You sure those weapons can’t kill you?” the doctor asked.

“Not since the first time,” Jack answered with a pained grimace.

He leaned around the corner, raising the tranquilizer rifle in a smooth motion. Seconds later, the first shot was fired. Owen ducked around the corner immediately after the shot, tracking within his own sights.

“Fuck me,” Owen breathed. Ianto was still upright, turning in confusion despite a momentary stumble.

Owen’s was the second shot to hit its target. Staggering back, the Welshman still didn’t drop. Jack hesitated only seconds more before putting a third dart into his team member.

This time he went down.

Acting in concern, Owen was across the room just instants later. The rifle laid to the side, the far side of the man they currently didn’t trust, he reached out for a pulse. It was only mildly nerve-wracking that Harkness held his own barrel steady even on the prostrate form.

“Three of those could be fatal for a human, damn it.”

“He’s not human,” Jack refuted with calm logic.

“What are you…” Owen started to ask. Then, feeling something odd about the pulse beneath his fingers, he lifted his stethoscope from his coat pocket.

Pulling it away from the steadily moving chest, snapping the extension out of his ears, he glared up at his boss. “When the bloody hell did he get a second heart?”

There was no answer coming to that question. Jack’s eyes dropped closed for a moment, the grief clear in his features. When he reopened them, it was as if he became a different person. Cold, distant, the man who’d once made a decision to sacrifice a little girl for the sake of the world.

“Let’s get him to the cell.”

 

***
 

Jack had settled into his seat at the head of the table, immediately slumping his head to the glass. While the others couldn’t resist glancing at the monitor that displayed the CCTV footage of Ianto’s cell, not once did Jack look in its direction.

“Jack,” Martha finally prompted. “He’s contained.”

Harkness looked up, darkness haunting him, before he squared his shoulders and folded his hands. “Let’s get started,” he addressed the others. “What have you found?”

Owen glanced at the women, then began. “Subject Ianto Jones. Medical scans no longer match baseline records. In addition to the extra cardiac muscle tissue, I’ve identified secondary respiratory vessels and his body temperature is altered. Whether that last is a side effect of the tranq dose, I don’t yet know. Scans also indicate an allergy to aspirin, though there are no previous records of any known allergens.”

Jack’s hands uncurled for a moment. Rubbing one across his face, he gestured vaguely. “Tosh?”

“The cell is as secure as I can make it. There was no technology on his person.”

“Jack,” Gwen finally started to ask. “What are we dealing with?”

“What did you find?” he questioned, not answering her.

The pursed lips indicated that her patience was quickly wearing thin, but she did share her findings. “Ianto Cadfael Jones was adopted. He was found wandering alone in the Brecons. Medical exams estimated him to be approximately three years old. His records further indicate that he didn’t start speaking until age five, at which time he was fully fluent in both Welsh and English. No siblings. Parents check out completely, as do grandparents, aunts, uncles, and every instructor, romantic interest, and coworker I could identify. We,” she emphasized, “are the sketchiest people ever associated with him.”

“Could this have been fabricated?”

Jack’s question was focused at Martha. She shook her head slightly. “I made some calls. None of the indicators that Vivien Rook previously identified. Ianto Jones has existed on this planet since the day he was three years old.”

His hands striking the table made everyone jump. Leaning back, Jack covered his face, letting the silence hold the room. Martha stood, crossing to him and pausing for an instant to place her hand on his shoulder. Jack moved one of his own to hold hers for an extended moment.

“We’ll find out,” she promised quietly. “One way or another.”

Jack sighed, sitting up straight again as Martha exited the conference room.

“Jack,” Gwen finally questioned. “I think it’s time you told us what exactly is going on.”

He met her stare, then looked to the others. They all waited with the same question.

“It was a lot longer than a week,” he finally answered. “More than a year for me, from the time I left the hub to the time I returned.” After a pause, gaze unfocused, he related, “I went to the end of the world. There was a man hiding there… The Doctor’s greatest enemy. We,” a pause, “woke him up.”

Gwen almost spoke, biting her own words back as Jack refocused his stare on the room. He looked at each of them in turn.

“There was a year. One that never happened as far as you remember, but one I’ll never forget. The world almost died. I died more times than I can remember. Each of you was,” he swallowed hard, “tortured to death in front of me, except Ianto. Martha saved us all. The Doctor saved us all.”

“What’s this got to do with the teaboy?” Owen’s drawl questioned.

“He called himself The Master. A Time Lord, like the Doctor, but mad as a fucking hatter. He hid himself as human, twice that I know of. Time Lords have two hearts, respiratory bypass structures, lower body temperatures, and an allergy to aspirin.”

The team leaned back, trying to avoid the knowledge with a physical effort. It was Owen who broke the tension, oddly enough.

“And I never thought I’d regret making those teaboy comments.” Owen wiped a hand across his lower face, working his jaw to ease the stress of clenched teeth.

“Maybe he’s not this Master person,” Gwen proposed hopefully. “He could be another, one you’ve never met. Just…” she waved her hand slightly, “watching us, history-like.”

“They’re extinct.” Jack crushed her hope with three syllables. “The whole race. The Doctor and the Master are the only two surviving. I had thought the Doctor was the only one.”

Stubborn, Gwen clung to any alternate. “Well, maybe he’s…”

It was Tosh that interrupted, watching movement on the monitor. “What is she doing?”

They all turned, silence gripping them as Martha Jones clearly walked into view on the CCTV feed. She was approaching the cell, hands held out in front of her cupped around an unseen item. Inside the cell, Ianto was finally stirring.

“Fuck!” Jack exclaimed, standing up with such a rapid movement that his chair toppled over.

He finally understood Martha’s comment when he reached his desk. The drawer was empty. A note was laying innocently on the top, her handwriting neatly precise.

‘I can’t hurt Ianto Jones. I can kill the Master.’

 

***
 

Martha stared at the man on the floor of the cell. “Ianto,” she called out, voice not displaying the tremors that shook her hands.

“Whu?” he questioned muzzily. Groaning as he sat up, his hands rested against the side of his head for an instant. He turned, blinking at her.

Acting before she could rethink her decision, she slid the pocketwatch she’d taken from Jack’s desk into the cell through the feeding slot. Compared to the cell the watch was innocent in appearance, its metal innocuously glinting in the light.

Reflexively he picked it up. Ianto stared at it for a moment, blinking rapidly. “Is this mine?” he questioned in a soft tone.

“Only you can answer that,” Martha responded cryptically.

He stared at it a second longer. Then, fingers feeling for the latch, he mused, “Looks broken.”

Seconds later, the cell flooded with light. Martha flinched, raising her hands to protect her vision from the light. Upstairs, the monitor revealed the occurrence to an empty room.

As it faded, blinking spots from her field of view, Martha stared into the cell. After a deep breath, Ianto met her gaze. His face was relatively unchanged, a new depth of knowledge and loneliness burning at the back of his eyes.

“Martha Jones,” he spoke, rolling the syllables. “It’s been a long time.”

“How long?” she asked, arms curling around herself to hide the trembling.

He didn’t stand, simply drawing his legs up until he could curl his arms around his knees. “Let Jack kill me,” was how he finally answered her.

“If this is some trick,” she began angrily.

“We never did get that later flirt with William, did we?”

“Who?” she asked, off center.

“Shakespeare.”

His answer had her moving back a half step before she moved right up to the cell, spreading her hand against the material separating them. “Doctor?”

His lips twisted in a wry grin for half an instant before he calmly repeated, “Let Jack kill me.”

“But… No!”

Looking away at her objection, his voice dropped into the void between them. “Do you know what happened the day I met Rose Tyler?” He glanced up. “It wasn’t the me you first met. The me before that. The day I met her in London, Ianto Jones was working for Torchwood One already. I was already in London.”

She stared, confused. Finally, he continued, “That day was the first I crossed my own personal timeline. That was the day that Torchwood detected the spatial breach that allowed the Cybermen and Daleks into this world. I only made it worse from there. So many tragedies that could have been avoided.”

“Doctor, please,” Martha leaned into the hand she had placed on the barrier.

Ianto Jones turned his head to meet her stare calmly. “Martha, it’s for the best.”

“No,” she hissed in denial. Straightening suddenly, she moved to the cell controls. Keying them quickly, the cell unlocked.

He stood with a sigh, absent-mindedly smoothing the rumpled lines of his clothing. While she waited for him to step out, he smiled. “I did miss the suits.”

“Please,” she asked, holding her hand out. “We can talk to Jack. Figure something out.”

Stepping forward, he offered her his arm. Slipping her hand around it with a sigh of relief, they moved to face Torchwood together.

 

***
 

Tension was in every line of the four waiting. Tosh’s aim didn’t waver, even as she watched the CCTV feeds carefully. “Here they come.”

At her warning, weapons armed, Torchwood sighted on the corridor leading to the cells. Ianto stepped out, Martha’s hand curled around the inside of his elbow, and glanced at them.

“Jack, wait!” Martha called out in caution.

As she yelled, Ianto moved in a flash. Slipping his left arm free of her hold, he locked his right across her throat. Shifting to stand partially behind her, he scowled in the team’s direction.

“Now now, Jack, you’re not going to go through her just to kill me?”

Jack’s fury rose as he tracked for a shot that wouldn’t harm his friend. “Martha,” he growled, disappointment rising in him like a tide.

“Jack, please,” she begged, hands only lightly holding onto the arm around her. “He’s not hurting me. It’s not the Master!”

Behind her, Ianto’s face twisted into a sneer. “But you can’t take that chance, can you, freak?”

The epithet was cleanly spat, dripping with the vitriol that Jack felt every time he heard it. A lean, the slight revealing of a figure, and a shot rang out.

Dropping his grasp on her, Ianto stumbled backwards. Blood marked the white tiles behind them as Martha spun.

“No!”

Even as Martha screamed a denial, a second shot echoed in the hub. Jack held his aim. “You might as well die,” he spoke clearly. “If you regenerate, I’ll just kill you again until there are none left.”

Martha crouched over Ianto where he finally fell to the ground. The labored breathing told most of the story, the rest revealed as she probed carefully at the entry wounds.

“Jack!” she hollered in outrage. “It’s the Doctor.”

Jack jerked his head back as if slapped, the other members of Torchwood watching this drama play out uncertainly.

“Harper, dammit, come help me.”

Shrugging at the inaction from his boss, Owen crossed the room to where Martha leaned over with her hands bloodied.

Ianto shifted his gaze to the team doctor, smiling enigmatically. “I did like being just the teaboy,” he admitted. Then, coughing harshly, the first hints of blood stained his lips.

“Ianto?” Jack whispered faintly. The next words spurred him to action.

“Never did get to be ginger, though.”

Jack leapt the handrail in front of him landing with a rustle and flurry of his coat.

“Jack.”

Whispered in a faint voice just as he reached them, Jack crouched to join them. Martha and Owen working to contain the rapidly growing bleeding, he leaned in to cradle Ianto’s… the Doctor’s… head.

“Ironic really.”

“What is?” Jack asked softly, feeling the first tear slip free from his control.

“Left me for me… And then did it again.”

“Doctor, please,” Jack begged. “Regenerate.”

“Can’t,” Ianto’s voice refused. “None left.”

“Please.”

“If I could,” the Time Lord admitted. “I’d do it for you, Jack.”

Ianto’s eyes rolled, body shaking for an instant. Jack looked up.

Owen shook his head. “I don’t know enough about his physiology… and you’re a damn good shot.”

Jack cried out, even as Martha leaned in close. Placing a gentle kiss on the corner of his brow, she whispered, “Thank you for everything, Doctor.”

Ianto blinked rapidly. “Don’t cry for me, Jack. Humans, aliens, my own people; I’ve ruined so many lives.”

Lips twisting, Jack shook his head in denial. “You made mine worth living.”

Wry smile twisting lips that paled by the instant, he clarified, “As the Doctor.”

“Yes,” Jack confirmed. “And as Ianto Jones. You made a splendid human, one that I loved just as much as the Time Lord.”

Face creasing with guilt, Ianto reached up. His hand shook as he wrapped it around Jack’s wrist. “I didn’t mean it. You are not a freak.”

“Just an impossible thing,” Jack whispered the bittersweet words.

“But not bad.” Struggling for the air to voice this necessary phrase, he continued, “I was so young then…. I didn’t realize that a fixed point…”

“Don’t, please,” Jack pled, wiping blood away from the Doctor’s lips with his thumb.

“Jack, listen.”

Conditioned to obey, the Time Lord was able to finish his thought. “Navigation is not possible without a fixed point… and I traveled time itself.”

With a last smile, the light faded from the eyes under Jack’s gaze. As the figure slumped, Owen leaned back almost scrubbing his hands through his hair before he sighted the blood coating them. Martha didn’t hesitate over the hygienic concern, raising her wrist to press against tightly clenched lips that barely smothered the sob.

Jack’s scream echoed in the heights of the hub, even as the rift alarm began blaring its warning.

“Jack!” Gwen cried out, moving to Tosh’s workstation with the Asian woman. Neither of the ladies were completely dry-eyed, even without completely understanding the scene that had just unfolded.

But Jack was lost to his grief. The one person he had thought would always be there throughout the eternity in front of him was now dead at his own hands. Bent forward, his forehead rested gently against the Time Lord’s, his fallen tears diluting the aspirated blood that stained the young Welsh visage.

Owen had moved to the readouts, being unable to offer any further assistance and uncomfortable with the blatant emotion and loss. “Harkness! The bloody rift’s opening on top of us!”

“To hell with the rift!” Jack bellowed in return, lifting himself from his sheltering huddle for only as long as it took to make the statement.

As he did, the alarms fell silent… Only to have the stillness broken by an unfamiliar voice.

“Unnecessary, Captain Jack Harkness.”

Jack looked up to meet the patient, unblinking gaze. He started for a moment before frowning as he tried to place the species in his long memory.

At the computers, Tosh, Gwen and Owen were all gaping. They were far more accustomed to bipedal, humanoid aliens even if they were occasionally mist, liquid or jellied rather than solid flesh.

“A bloody head in a jar.”

Owen’s shocked description broke the tension. In answer, the alien laughed… a deep echoing chuckle that filled the hub.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Martha objected.

“Yet, I was here,” the Face of Boe responded.

Not taking his hands from the sides of the Doctor’s head, Jack finally placed the creature. “Everyone stand down. The Boekind are harmless.”

“You wound me, Captain. Certainly I could be credited with mostly harmless.”

Ignoring the byplay, Martha took a step closer to the pedestal based jar in which the being resided. “Have we already met?”

“Indeed, Martha Jones.”

“But,” she paused, glancing back at the body on the hub floor with a muffled sob. “The Doctor said… There was a legend that you’d speak a secret to him before dying. You died, the day I met you.”

“Hmmm,” the Face of Boe mused. “And yet, you know well that I cannot die.”

Martha gaped at the alien, if he could even be termed that, before meeting the confused stares of the Torchwood team.

“Can you restore him?”

When he didn’t receive an answer, Jack repeated his question again, demanding a response. “Can you save the Doctor?”

“The Doctor,” he was asked placidly, “or Ianto Jones?”

Jack leaned back, finally releasing his grip. His hands soothed through the mussed brown hair in front of him, reordering it. He folded his hands across his knees as they twitched to straighten the suit.

“Both,” he finally spoke.

“No,” was the flat, atonal response. Before Jack could voice the ire rising in his throat, the Face of Boe continued, “But she can.”

The whooping beat filled the hub, echoing in the bones of the current occupants. The rhythm grew, gaining an impression of light and substance. Then, as the pulse began to consume their entire focus, it grew into color and shape as the TARDIS materialized on an upper level.

For an instant, no one breathed. Then, rather than the door opening, it glowed before the golden light solidified into a human form standing outside the door.

“Rose?” Jack asked, voice choking on the day’s stresses.

“Yes,” the form confirmed, “and no,” denying in the same breath.

It moved towards him, gliding more than walking across the grating and floor before moving down the steps to his side.

“My Captain,” it uttered, reaching out. “I have caused you such pain while asking such impossible things.”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

The embodiment of the TARDIS, the glowing golden shape of Rose Tyler, smiled sadly. Reaching out, she laid her hand alongside the skin of Jack’s cheek. “I am sorry, My Captain, but it is not yet time for you to understand.”

In the next breath, he crumpled to the floor.

Turning, the manifestation focused on the Torchwood members watching in shocked silence. Within a blink, they had disappeared.

“What did you do?” Martha’s question was understandably nervous. “Where did you send them?”

“They are safely above. They cannot bear witness,” was the calm reply.

Martha swallowed heavily, looking from an alien disembodied head, to the deceased Doctor, to Jack’s unconscious form. “What are you going to do to me?”

Looking puzzled, the entity replied, “Nothing. You already carry knowledge of the Eternal.”

“I knew that I appeared here, after we met, and that my kind was never seen again,” the Face of Boe remarked. The large eyes calmly watched the approach of the glowing form. “It has been a good life.”

“Oh, My Captain,” the form uttered as it reached him. “I am not here to take it.”

Suddenly, the manifestation scattered into a swirl of light that engulfed the oldest living being in the galaxy. The bellow of pain startled Martha, screamed out as it was in the deep voice of Boe. As the light began to fade, the tone of the cry changed. Growing lighter, it morphed from deep to base, to tenor…

And as the light faded, it was a man gasping with pain on the hub’s floor.

Blinking the spots from her vision, Martha ran to his side. Hands still stained with the Doctor’s blood, she reached out even as he turned his head.

“Well,” Jack commented with a series of blinks. “Now I know why Boekind died out.”

Martha, hiccupping past tears, leaned over to help him up. As he shifted an arm to push off the floor, his face creased with pain.

“Owww,” he drew the syllable out into multiples, scowling at the appendage.

Martha, confused, frowned at him. She was running on adrenaline, beyond confusion and coherence.

“Mind giving me a hand here?” Jack asked. Trying to gain his feet, he continued to wince. “It’s… been awhile since I had limbs.” Blinking down at himself, he smiled. “Or had to think about clothing.”

Registering that, yes, he was completely starkers, Martha blushed and helped him to his feet. “Jack?” she asked in a small voice that somehow carried the weight of her miasma of emotion.

He smiled vaguely, lifting a hand to her cheek. “It’s going to be okay, Martha Jones.”

Giving him a watery smile, she watched as he stepped away. On his own, he hesitated like a newborn colt finding its legs. Undeterred, he made slow but intentional progress towards the Doctor’s body. Ignoring his own crumpled form, he kneeled unashamedly at the side of Ianto Jones.

With careful hands, Jack lifted the limp body into his arms. Cradling the Doctor partially on his lap, he cupped Ianto’s head against his shoulder. “It’s time to wake up,” the whisper carried in the mostly empty hub. “It’s been far too long since I heard those beautiful Welsh vowels.”

Ducking his face, he gently lowered his lips in a breath of caress across the Doctor’s. The explosion of light that resulted had Martha staggering.

 

***
 

When she regained her balance, Martha stared in confusion at the three members of Torchwood that the TARDIS had so unceremoniously banished only minutes before. They were huddled around controls in the tourist office, not yet having noticed her appearance.

“Come on, Tosh!”

“I’m working as fast as I can, Owen… The hub’s in lockdown.”

“We know, Tosh. We’re just worried,” Gwen reassured. She looked up, frowning at Martha for an instant, just as Toshiko let out a victorious cry.

They had regained access to the hub. Just in time to hear the fading echo of the TARDIS and find their leader still unconscious, but now alone, on the floor of the Hub.

 

***

Epilogue

***

 

As the weeks passed, business continued at its usual frenetic pace for Torchwood Cardiff. Jack brushed off the inquiries from his team members until they stopped asking but it didn’t prevent their poorly-concealed concerned glances.

It was to Martha, a timely addition with the team being short one, that he entrusted his confession.

“He survived somehow,” he whispered one night, staring intently at a brandy bottle despite not indulging. “I’d know if he hadn’t. The Doctor’s still out there.”

She was learning how the team operated, well-trained by her travels with the Doctor for the sort of barely planned death-defying salvation they provided on a daily basis. But it never truly repressed her medical instincts when it came to Jack’s recklessness. Knowing he couldn’t die didn’t stop her from trying to keep him alive. Particularly in the midst of a nerve-wracking alien hunt.

“Jack!” she screamed as he leaped to the side.

He tensed, prepared to be skewered by the foot long horn protruding from the skull of the purple unicorn. Owen grunted as he skidded along the asphalt from his boss’ hasty shove. But before it could attack, the creature was consumed in blue light and disappeared.

“Why exactly,” the crisp reprimand began from off to the side, “do you persist in sacrificing yourself at every opportunity?”

The trio turned, staring at Ianto’s patient stance of reprimand. Arms crossed, suit creased by the position, he leaned against the alley corner. A slim object of silver protruded slightly from his pocket.

Owen could be heard whispering into his headset as Jack stepped forward. He stared for a moment, before breaking as a single eyebrow was raised in his direction. Taking three fast strides, he had the Time Lord restrained against the wall.

Dusting himself off, Owen stepped over to join Martha. “Seems like business as usual,” he remarked as if observing the weather. “Threats over, so the Captain goes to snog the teaboy.”

She struck him on the arm with a chiding glance. It didn’t stop him from calling out, “Oi, you lot! This is still the 21st century and they frown on public sex!”

Jack drew back, hands straightening the lines of the suit as he removed them from beneath the fabric. Ianto was less careful, leaving at least one of Jack’s braces dangling slightly upon his retreat.

Martha smiled as she moved closer, giving them time to regain a bit of composure. “Doctor,” she greeted neutrally.

“Martha Jones,” he met her approach with a smile, engulfing her in an enthusiastic hug. She laughed, returning the embrace.

When he released her, he turned to Owen. The man watched him warily for a moment before scowling vaguely as he acknowledged, “Teaboy.”

With a half-laugh of delight, Ianto enfolded the Torchwood doctor in his own hug. Owen returned it for a bit before trying to shrug the other man off. For an instant, he hesitated, Ianto’s mouth moving soundlessly near his ear.

But when the Doctor released the other man, it was to stop and stare at him intently for a long moment. Owen finally blinked, regaining his composure, and nodded as he stepped back. “Thank you. It’s good to finally know.”

The squeal from the end of the alley drew all their attention, at first not certain if this was some new alien species come for their demise. But it resolved into nothing more than Gwen and Toshiko, rushing to them.

Ignoring the hands that Gwen uncertainly held out, as Jack had once to him, Ianto pulled her into a close hug. “I’m honored,” he murmured, pulling back as his hand lingered for a brief instant over her abdomen. She blushed slightly, biting her lower lip, even as he turned to Toshiko.

“Well?”

It was enough to break the pause. Blinking rapidly to keep from tearing up, Tosh moved swiftly into his embrace. “Ooo,” he uttered, jumping slightly.

Tosh pulled back, blushing.

“Yes, dear,” he confirmed. “The pockets go a little deeper than you expected.” Turning, he focused a glare in Jack’s direction. “And who exactly is responsible for Toshiko’s light fingers?”

Not even turning back to her, Ianto held out the silver object she’d been seeking with a sigh. “I was going to give it you anyway. Just make sure to release the Tenolpthain before you start experimenting. Setting 147R.”

The Doctor walked back slowly to Jack, holding the man’s gaze. “How long has it been?”

“Couple weeks,” Jack answered with a grin that didn’t hide the worry.

“My apologies, Captain. It seems the TARDIS is still vaguely unreliable about exact timing.”

“Don’t,” Jack denied. Replying to the confused frown, he reached out to cup his hand to Ianto’s cheek. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

“Hmmm,” he replied with a smirk. “I’ll remind you of that,” the Doctor promised. “Interminably.”

“So,” Jack finished brightly, stepping back and clapping his hands together. “Where’s your companion?”

Ianto looked away for an instant, not answering. It was Owen that broke the awkward silence.

“Well, since it seems we’re going to replay old home week, the ladies and I are going back to the Hub. Do try to have him back in a couple weeks, won’t you, teaboy?”

Ianto met Owen’s gaze for just a moment before nodding silently. After sharing abbreviated goodbyes with the other members of Torchwood, Jack and Ianto were alone in the alleyway.

“You are still traveling with a companion?” The silence answered Jack’s question. “You’ve found your Eternal then,” he concluded. “I had thought that was a Gallifreyan myth. Just a pretty little legend to soften the image of the Time Lords.”

“I locked him in the TARDIS,” Ianto finally responded. “He didn’t agree with my informing you as to his identity.”

“Bondage… That part was definitely left out of the story I heard,” Jack retorted with a grin.

Ianto laughed, leaning close. He offered his hand to the other man. “Come with me, Jack. One stop by the TARDIS to show you the future.”

“I can’t,” Jack denied. The surprise at that response prodded him to elaborate. “The twenty-first century is when everything changes. I have to be here… They’re not yet ready.”

Slipping his hand under Jack’s coat, Ianto slid his fingers into the gap between collar and comforting body heat. Eyelashes raised slowly to reveal his chameleon irises. “Then may we join you tonight in the Hub?”

Jack swallowed hard, once. “Kinky.”

Ianto chuckled, leaning in to press one kiss against the hollow beneath Jack’s ear. “You have no idea.”


Finis
 

Return to Lakhesis