Entry tags:
TW Fic: Get Your Bearings (Jack/Ianto, adult)
Title: Get Your Bearings
Word count: ~ 6,000
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: TW CoE
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Thanks: to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sulla_ for encouragement, very helpful tips and corrections, and to ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blackbird_song for her brilliant, incredible beta-fu.
Summary: The most plausible fix I could come up with. It's hardly angst free, but there's Coat!Porn and quite possibly the happiest ending I've ever written.
Word count: ~ 6,000
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: TW CoE
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Thanks: to
sulla_ for encouragement, very helpful tips and corrections, and to blackbird_song for her brilliant, incredible beta-fu. Summary: The most plausible fix I could come up with. It's hardly angst free, but there's Coat!Porn and quite possibly the happiest ending I've ever written.
“Come on, now. It’s time to take Jack home, don’t do this.” The lights flicker. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong then how am I supposed to know how to fix it?!” the Doctor asks in exasperation. The TARDIS just hums quietly. “Maybe she doesn’t want me to go,” Jack jokes. The Doctor glances at him distractedly, then back at the ship’s monitor. “Not everything is about you, Captain. I don’t think she’s reacting to you — not directly, anyway.” Jack slides a hand up a smooth, glowing column, frowning. “Has she ever behaved this way before?” he asks. The Doctor presses a few buttons, turns a handle, and looks at the small screen again. “There’s an anomaly. Something is… wrong in the space-time continuum. I think she’s trying to correct it, but something is not quite working. Perhaps--” He turns another handle, and the ship lurches. “--Whoa, there…” They both hold on tight as the shaking goes on. “What is she doing?” Jack yells. The Doctor’s eyes widen. “She’s…” There’s a loud, jarring bang as the TARDIS lands, and the shaking stops. “Oh…” the Doctor says, sounding a little perplexed. “She’s refuelling, apparently.” Jack lets go of the column and comes closer. He glances at the screen, displaying their new landing spot, and is a little thrown, at first, by the familiar and unmarred view of Cardiff bay. When he sees the date on the monitor, the reason becomes clear. He swallows. “How long will this take?” he asks hoarsely. The Doctor glances at him from the corner of his eye. “About two hours.” Jack sighs, rubs his face. “You shouldn’t worry, she chose a safe time point. According to these readings, the other you is in London at the moment.” “Yeah, I remember,” Jack says. “I had a meeting with UNIT that day.” “Are you worried that your team might--” Jack shakes his head. “No, they won’t bother us. They have their instructions — even if they do pick up that we’re here, they won’t approach.” The Doctor purses his lips, quiet for a long moment. “October the fifteenth. That’s…” “About a week before the 456 showed up,” Jack finishes for him quietly. The Doctor nods, then looks at Jack levelly. “If you want to go down there for a bit, just to say hello…” One corner of Jack’s mouth twitches upwards. “Oh, so you trust me now, not to mess up the timeline?” The Doctor smiles a little, and continues to hold Jack’s gaze. Jack can tell he’s thinking over everything they’ve been through in the last two months. Finally, the Doctor says simply, “I do, Jack” Jack huffs with amusement, partly to cover up how much the Doctor’s admission has moved him. “Well, I appreciate it, but going in there is the last thing I need. I think I’m just going to go rest my eyes for a bit,” he says, and turns towards the back hallway of the ship. The Doctor calling his name stops him in his tracks, but he doesn’t turn around. “It may help, seeing him again. Getting some kind of closure,” the Doctor offers gently. Jack takes a shuddering breath. “It won’t. I… did my grieving, Doctor. There’s really no need to re-open old wounds.” “Maybe not, but…” the Doctor trails off, waiting. After a moment, Jack turns around and looks at him curiously. “The counter shows two hours until we’re done refuelling. Normally it doesn’t take her more than five minutes.” Jack frowns. “What are you saying? You think… she’s doing this on purpose?” Jack asks, incredulous. As if on cue, the ship’s doors swing open of their own accord. The Doctor raises an eyebrow pointedly. *** Ianto puts down the book he’s been reading as his mobile goes off. He picks it up from the desk, glances at the caller ID and then flips it open. “How’s the house-hunting?” he asks. “Not too exciting. Seen two so far but I doubt they’ll work out. We have another meeting with an estate agent in half an hour,” Gwen sounds more cheerful than usual. “Anything interesting going on?” Ianto sighs. “TARDIS making a pit stop.” “You’re kidding!” Gwen exclaims. “Jack will be livid, the Doctor showing up just when he’s away for the day.” Ianto shrugs. “It’ll probably be gone in a few minutes. We can save ourselves a grumpy Jack by just ‘forgetting’ to mention it.” “I suppose. Although if he somehow finds out and throws a fit I’m telling him it was your idea.” Ianto rolls his eyes. “Right, then. Grumpy Jack. We’ll live with it.” He can hear the smile in her voice when she answers, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to take his mind off it. Anyway, I just wanted to check in. If everything stays quiet I don’t think I’ll be coming in today, but call if anything comes up, yeah?” “Sure. Bye, Gwen.” Ianto hangs up, smiling. The entry alarm goes off, and his eyebrows rise in surprise as the cog door rolls open and Jack walks in. “Jack? Aren’t you supposed to be in London?” Ianto asks, standing up. Jack stops just past the entrance and stares at him somewhat strangely. “I am in London,” he says. There is something about him that’s not quite right, but Ianto can’t put his finger on it. He frowns and then glances at the monitor, still registering the TARDIS up on the Plas. He looks back to Jack sharply. “You came with the Doctor,” he says, a little startled. Jack nods slowly. “We’re… here for a couple of hours, so I thought I’d stop and say hi.” The smile on Jack’s face doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and his voice is a little… off. Ianto frowns. “Is that… uh… allowed? We won’t cause a paradox or something?” “It’s fine. Today is a slow day, if memory serves. I’m pretty sure the timeline will survive us having lunch together, as long as you don’t mention it to anyone,” Jack says, finally taking the stairs down and coming closer. Ianto nods slowly. “’If memory serves’… I take it you’re a future version, then?” Jack smiles tightly. “I… can’t answer that,” he says somewhat apologetically. His expression turns a bit frustrated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite think this through… there are a lot of subjects that are… off limits.” “It’s fine,” Ianto says dismissively, then adds, barely avoiding rolling his eyes, “not that different from usual, actually.” Something resembling a wince crosses Jack’s face, and Ianto pauses, frowning. More carefully, he asks, “What would you like for lunch, then?” Jack hesitates, looking a little taken aback. “I… “ He pauses, swallows. “Lunch, right. To tell you the truth, I’m not actually hungry.” Ianto stares at him for a few moments, trying to read his expression, to make sense of the way Jack is looking at him. He has a niggling feeling that he’s missing something important. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “I can think of some other ways to fill a couple of hours, which won’t involve too much talking.” *** Jack has been dreaming about this often in the past months. It was hard, at first, waking up afterwards — remembering reality, and feeling the loss all over again. But with time, the dreams have turned into a sort of comfort. He’d cling to their last remnants for as long as he could after waking up, basking in the blurry images. Only now he realizes how much he’d forgotten; all the details that even the most vivid dreams could not quite recapture. Ianto’s warmth, his taste, his solidness against Jack’s body. The gentle vibrations deep in his chest as he moans softly into Jack’s mouth. Oh, how he wishes now for perfect recall. An eidetic memory, anything, really, that will allow him to keep a snapshot of this very moment, the details intact — never fading. He pulls back from the kiss, breathing hard, and lets his eyes roam over Ianto’s face, drinking him in, memorizing. They’re still standing, fully dressed in his tiny quarters, and Jack’s back is pressed uncomfortably against the ladder. He doesn’t care. “It’s not the same coat... I can tell,” Ianto murmurs, hands running over the fabric lightly. “Where did you find a new one?” Jack tries to smile, thinking of one missed opportunity he can make up for, at least. “You found it for me, of course. Want me to keep it on?” he offers. Ianto grins at him, eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the room, and replies with a breathy “Yes, please.” Jack kisses him again, deeper this time, more desperate. He pulls at Ianto’s clothes, undoing buttons with shaky fingers. Ianto seems to feel some of his urgency, and for once lets the clothes fall to a heap on the floor, unconcerned. Jack pushes him back until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sits heavily down. Ianto spreads his legs so that Jack can stand between them and starts working on Jack’s belt. Jack helps him, unbuttoning his shirt and then unclasping his braces from the waistband as Ianto proceeds to undo the fastening of his trousers. Within seconds Ianto has Jack’s cock out, and without preliminaries takes him into his mouth. Moist, enveloping heat, and Jack cries out hoarsely, barely keeping himself from shoving his hips forward. Ianto pulls back a little, glancing up, then slowly, deliberately, takes him down to the root. “God, Ianto…” Jack whispers, breath hitching when Ianto swallows around the head of his cock. He looks down at him in appreciation, fighting to keep his eyes opened, then reaches down to run a hand gently through Ianto’s hair. He slides it further down, brushing his knuckles and thumb across Ianto’s cheek and moist lips stretched tight around his cock. Ianto pulls back again, swiping his tongue around the head and across the slit, and Jack has to clench his teeth in an effort to keep from coming right there. He cups Ianto’s cheek in his hand and pushes him back gently. “Lie back,” he urges. Ianto wipes his mouth and nods, then turns to settle back against the pillows. Jack kicks off his shoes then steps out of his trousers and briefs. He climbs onto the bed and straddles Ianto’s hips, his coat falling around them and across Ianto’s thighs. Ianto runs his hands up Jack’s thighs, then keeps one hand on Jack’s hip and reaches for the coat with the other. Jack looks down, momentarily confused before he realizes what Ianto is searching for in his inner pocket. Which, with the exception of lint, has been empty for a long, long time. “Sorry…” He tries to smile. “All out. Better try in there,” he says, gesturing to the bedside table. Ianto’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything as he reaches to open the drawer to his right. Jack takes the bottle from him and pours some slick into his palm, then takes hold of Ianto’s cock, coating him with long, sure strokes. Ianto pushes into his fist, moaning in pleasure, and tightens his hold on Jack’s hips. There’s so much Jack wants to do... He wants to take Ianto’s cock into himself, and ride him for hours. He wants to fuck him open, with his tongue, his fingers, his cock, and hear those gorgeous, desperate sounds Ianto makes whenever Jack’s been keeping him on the edge for too long. He wants to sleep with him. Just sleep—feel Ianto’s warm skin pressed against his side, hear those deep, even breaths, and lay his head on Ianto’s chest, just to listen to the steady heartbeats for a while. He knows he can’t. Knows there’s no time, and that each heartbeat would just sound like a ticking clock to him, now. That’s when the possibilities hit him — like a blow to the stomach, their futility momentarily pushed down. He can tell Ianto how to fix it all; make sure everyone ends up alive and well. Or he can just take Ianto back with him. Back to the TARDIS and away from all this. He allows himself the fantasy for all of two seconds before letting go of it completely. He doesn’t even need to envision the Doctor chiding him for his careless thinking. He knows the drill by now, has accepted it as wholly as he has his own existence. He won’t tell Ianto he loves him. Not now, because Ianto is not stupid, and such an admission would be as good as telling him the whole story. Jack takes a deep breath and moves up Ianto’s body, rising to his knees. The head of Ianto’s cock is hard and slick where Jack holds it against his entrance, and he closes his eyes as he sinks down slowly. It’s been a long time, and with no preparation it hurts. Jack revels in it, knowing he’ll be feeling it tomorrow—his own perverse little souvenir. “Easy...” Ianto murmurs softly, sliding his hands up Jack’s sides, under his shirt. When Jack opens his eyes and sees Ianto’s flushed face, strained with intense pleasure, and his eyes — impossibly dark, staring at Jack with a mixture of wonder and gratitude—something in his chest unclenches a little. He moves then, pulling up and then sinking down again, feeling Ianto jerking up to meet him on the downstroke. He repeats the motion, and the inside of his coat brushes against his bare backside at the same time that Ianto’s cock brushes against his prostate. The sensation is exquisite, making his skin tingle and sending pulses of heat and pleasure to his cock. Jack arches his back and groans, allowing Ianto to guide his movements with his hands and his hips until they fall into a slow, steady rhythm of deep, hard thrusts. His hand instinctively goes down to his cock, but Ianto intercepts, wrapping his fingers around Jack’s wrist and pulling it towards his face. “Hold on...” Ianto gasps, rubbing his cheek, then his lips against Jack’s palm. He takes Jack’s fore and middle fingers into his mouth, sucking on them eagerly. Somehow, the wet, hot slide of his tongue across the pads of Jack’s fingers feels as intimate to Jack as Ianto’s cock stroking inside him. He lets out a long, breathy moan and starts fucking Ianto’s mouth with his fingers, matching the movements of his hand to the rise and fall of his hips as he continues riding him. Ianto closes his eyes, his breaths coming more laboured now. A few more seconds and he pulls his mouth off Jack’s fingers, gasping, and guides Jack’s hand to his cock. “Now,” he says in a low growl. Ianto clenches both hands in the edges of Jack’s coat, and uses it to pull Jack down to meet his every upward thrust. Jack throws his head back, mouth open and gasping, as he gives himself up completely to the harsh rhythm. He jerks himself fast, Ianto’s saliva on his fingers mixing with his own precome and creating perfect friction around his aching cock. Ianto’s cock pulses inside him, and Jack’s orgasm hits with blinding intensity, wrenching a strangled cry from deep in his chest and making everything white out for a few blissful moments. When he’s coming down from the high everything feels too raw, too hot, the coat too heavy and constricting on his shoulders. He shrugs it off, shirt included, with a few quick movements, letting them fall off the bed and onto the floor. Ianto’s tugging him down and he goes readily, shifting slightly to the side so he’s half-draped over the Ianto but not crushing him. He rests his head on Ianto’s shoulder and closes his eyes, enjoying the relaxed, familiar embrace as they both catch their breaths. “Good?” Jack asks quietly. For a few moments there’s no response, just Ianto’s gradually slowing breathing. Ianto’s arm, draped across his waist, tightens fractionally before he speaks. “I have a feeling that if I say ‘I could die happy right now’ it would more or less kill the afterglow,” he says evenly. Jack cannot help tensing up at the words. Slowly, he pulls away and glances up at Ianto’s face. Ianto watches him with an unreadable expression. “Sorry, it was hard to miss... You had my cock in your hand and you looked like you were taking a trip down memory lane.” His tone is gentle, not accusatory, but it makes no difference. Jack feels like his heart is lodged somewhere in his throat. Slowly, he sits up, keeping his back to Ianto. “I’m sorry...” he chokes out. “I should never have come here.” “Jack...” Ianto’s hand is warm on his back. “Hey... come back here.” But Jack can’t. Can’t turn around, can’t speak, can’t look at him. Ianto sits up instead, keeping his hand in the middle of Jack’s back. “It’s alright,” he murmurs. “Not something I like to think about, but... It’s not like I don’t know what’s waiting, at the end of the line...” Jack lets out a bark of mirthless laugh. “There’s knowing, and then there’s knowing.” Slowly, Ianto withdraws his hand, leaving that spot in the middle of Jack’s back feeling cold and bereft. “How long... how long do I have?” Ianto asks quietly. Jack can feel the blood draining from his face. He wants to throw up. He doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t think he could utter the words even if he wanted to. How can he possibly tell Ianto that he has a week left to live? Something must show on his face, though, because Ianto looks as if he got his answer anyway. “Bloody hell...” he murmurs, a note of apprehension in his voice for the first time. He turns away from Jack, obviously trying to cover it up, regain some composure. “Ianto...” Jack says, cursing inwardly at how defeated his voice sounds. But Ianto is already on his feet, starting to collect his clothes from the floor. “I’m glad we made the most of it, then,” he says, trying to sound flippant. “Although I was really looking forward to seeing the new James Bond movie...” Jack just looks at him sadly. He doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing he can say. Nothing that would make this any better. “So what, then?” Ianto asks, resignation tinged with bitterness in his tone. “You decided to drop by for a bit of nostalgia?” Jack shakes his head and looks away. “The Doctor... he suggested that it might help me get... closure.” Ianto finishes refastening his trousers, and pauses with his shirt clutched in his right hand. “Did it?” he asks simply. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t want... this. And you can’t be allowed to—you’ll have to take retcon, now.” Ianto nods, his eyes softening somewhat. “Yeah... I know,” he says. He shrugs into the shirt but leaves it unbuttoned, then turns to the ladder and starts climbing up. Jack remains sitting for several more minutes before, with a sigh, he starts collecting his own clothes from the floor. *** By the time Jack emerges from the hatch Ianto is sitting on the sofa in his office, nursing a glass of scotch. The safe is open, and the box of short-term amnesia pills is in the centre of the desk, still closed. “I figured...” Ianto says slowly, not looking at Jack, “you’re due back from the meeting in a few hours. If you come in here and find me passed out you might get suspicious.” Jack frowns. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Trust Ianto to be the voice of reason even at times like this. He thinks back, trying to remember. “You weren’t here,” he says hesitantly. “I got back from London early evening, but you were gone. I called you... you said you were running an errand. Then later that night I came over to your place—it must have been after midnight by then. You were asleep and I woke you up. I remember you were groggy, but I didn’t think too much of it at the time...” Ianto nods. “I take the pill home with me. That would fit, I guess. What errand?” “I really don’t know,” Jack replies with a shrug. Ianto downs the rest of his scotch and leans his head against the back of the sofa. His eyes are half closed, and he’s staring at some spot on the wall to Jack’s right. “Were you there?” Ianto’s voice is a low, soft murmur. Jack swallows. The images of their last moments together, of Ianto—slowly fading away in his arms, feel as if they’re branded into his brain—crystal clear and still horrifying. “Until the end,” he rasps. Ianto’s mouth twitches. “Aliens, right?” “Aliens,” Jack echoes. Ianto looks like he wants to ask more, but can’t quite bring himself to form the questions. Jack saves him the trouble. “We were trying to do the right thing—stand up to them. Our hearts were in the right place, but we... weren’t ready.” “How...?” Ianto starts, but trails off. Jack shoves his hands into his coat pockets and looks at his feet. “We were using that old Torchwood holding facility in London as a temporary base, so we didn’t have the proper equipment or any effective weapons. You and me, we... stormed in there like a couple of cowboys...” He glances up to see Ianto smiling a little at that. “And the aliens... they... released a virus into the air. It all happened very fast.” Ianto doesn’t ask him to continue. Doesn’t ask how the world had been saved yet again, and Jack is grateful. When he comes closer, Ianto makes room for him on the sofa, and when Jack sits down, Ianto takes his hand and interlaces their fingers. They end up sitting together, shoulders touching lightly, fingers intertwined, staring at nothing. It’s Ianto who finally breaks the silence. “I chose it, you know. This life... I choose it still, even knowing what’s to come. It was worth it—every single moment.” Jack stares at him and finds himself once again speechless. Tears prickle behind his eyes, and he tries to fight them away, blinking rapidly. Deep in his chest, one last knot of grief loosens and melts, as he realizes that Ianto has just told him exactly what he needed to hear. He won’t tell Ianto he loves him. Not now, because in a few hours Ianto will forget, and it would be meaningless. *** “You’ll never guess who just got a Nobel Prize in physics,” The Doctor says when Jack enters the TARDIS. He’s nose-deep inside today’s issue of the Guardian. “What took you so long?” He discards newspaper and stands up. Jack frowns, closing the doors firmly behind him. “It’s been barely an hour and a half. How’s the refuelling going?” “Oh, done ages ago,” the Doctor replies, then looks at the controls and shrugs. “Never were reliable, these things.” He turns a few handles and the TARDIS powers up and starts dematerializing. Jack comes closer to the controls, and after a moment the Doctor asks casually “Everything go alright?” Jack shrugs, eyes on the control panel. “More or less. It wasn’t easy.” He clears his throat. “What’s the status on that anomaly?” The Doctor smiles brilliantly. “It’s all gone. You know how it is with anomalies... they have a tendency to... correct themselves.” Jack raises an eyebrow and stares at the Doctor somewhat suspiciously. “I’ll... take your word for it...” The ship lands then, with a jarring thud, and Jack uncovers his vortex manipulator and glances at the display. “Not bad... Cardiff, one day after I left. You didn’t even give Gwen a chance to miss me.” “Where will you go?” “Torchwood has a storage facility a couple of blocks from here. Gwen had turned it into a temporary base. I’ll go see what she’s up to, see if I can help out.” The Doctor smirks. “Is she the boss, now?” Jack laughs. “Gwen? She’s always been the boss. I tried ordering her around but to tell you the truth she was humouring me on the good days and completely ignoring me on the bad ones” “I can see why you like her so much.” Jack smiles, and they share a companionable silence for a few seconds. “So, uh... until next time, right?” The Doctor nods, and sighs when Jack comes closer and wraps him in a tight hug. “The Earth’s safety is in your hands again, Captain.” *** Jack hasn’t been to the Torchwood warehouse in a long time, but he’s certain he’d never seen it looking this clean. The last rays of sunshine, penetrating the warehouse through windows that used to be covered with grime, cast a warm, orange glow on the walls. It almost feels homey. He can smell food and coffee, and hear talking as he walks further in. Rhys and Lois must be here, too. Jack rounds the corner and enters the main room, now set up as an operations centre with an interconnected network of servers and monitors. They’re sitting in the far right corner, Gwen and Lois on an old-looking sofa set against the wall, and across from them, on a wooden chair... Jack freezes on the spot, staring. He must have made some kind of sound, because they all stop talking and turn to look in his direction. “Jack!” Gwen calls out. She returns the chopsticks she’s been holding into the red take-out box that’s perched on her large, round belly, then leans forward and sets the box on the coffee table. “That was fast. Everything went well? You weren’t even gone twenty four hours.” She seems happy to see him, rising to her feet slowly. But he’s no longer looking her, nor at Lois who’s standing up as well. His eyes are fixed on the third man in the room, who, by all accounts, should not be sitting in that chair. He’d been smiling at Jack at first, but now the smile is gradually being replaced by a confused frown, no doubt mirroring Jack’s own. “Jack?” he asks, standing up and coming closer. “What have you done...?” Jack says when he finally finds his voice. That stops Ianto in his tracks. “Jack...? What’s going on?” Gwen. She’s frowning at him as well. Lois is looking from him, to Ianto, to Gwen, and looks equally confused. “When... when were you expecting me back?” Jack asks, voice unsteady. “You said you’d be away for a few days. We weren’t sure,” Lois answers. “I did?” “You don’t remember?” Ianto asks quietly. Jack opens his mouth to answer, but ends up just shaking his head minutely. The only explanation he can think of is that somehow, he’d changed the timeline. Which would mean Ianto did not take the retcon, like he’d promised. Did not erase the CCTV evidence of Jack’s visit. Jack feels foolish now, for trusting that he would. “What happened, October fifteenth?” Jack asks shakily. “It’s April, Jack. What are you talking about?” Ianto asks, and Jack has to re-evaluate his initial assessment, because the confusion on Ianto’s face is entirely genuine. “I know. I know it’s April, but you have to think. October fifteenth. I was…” he pauses, trying to put his thoughts together. “I was in London, in a meeting with UNIT, and you were in the Hub by yourself.” Ianto’s frown deepens, and he blinks a few times. “Yeah, okay, I remember that,” he says finally. “Did anything unusual happen that day?” “No.” “Yes.” Ianto and Gwen speak in unison. Jack looks from one to the other, and Ianto and Gwen look at one another in confusion. “What…?” “I called you, remember? You said the Doctor was there, refuelling.” Ianto’s eyes widen, and he stares at Gwen like she’s lost her mind. Then he turns back to Jack. “I… don’t remember that…” Jack considers him for several moments, and finally nods. “No, you wouldn’t…” he says quietly. Of course Ianto wouldn’t betray his trust like that. And yet, something must have gone wrong, because there he was—breathing, talking, alive. “And the following week… did anything happen that seemed… out of place?” It’s Gwen who answers him this time, sounding like she’s starting to lose her patience. “You mean, other than the 456 and the world nearly ending?” But Ianto’s expression changes fractionally, a hint of recognition appearing in his eyes. “He’s talking about the note.” “What note?” Lois asks, confused. Gwen looks at Ianto with wide eyes. “The note,” she says, and looks back to Jack as if expecting him to understand exactly what they’re talking about. “The note?” Jack echoes. Ianto is already off, heading to the other side of the room, where a large number of boxes are stacked neatly next to two large filing cabinets. Jack, Gwen and Lois follow, and by the time they reach him Ianto’s come up with a medium sized box, and is opening it up. He holds it out and Jack can see that it’s empty, save for a small yellow post-it on the bottom. One scribbled line of text says, ‘Never leave home without it’. “That’s your handwriting,” Jack notes. “It is,” Ianto confirms. “Only I don’t ever remember writing it. The box was just sitting there, on the floor, when we broke into that decommissioned Torchwood facility in London. The note was on top. You said… that… whenever one finds self-addressed advice notes one does not remember writing…” “… they usually turn out to be very good advice,” Jack finishes for him. Not because he remembers saying it, but because that’s something he would say. “What was in the box…?” Ianto places the lid back on and turns the box around. When Jack sees the picture of a UNIT standard-issue gas mask on the side, he feels a hysterical giggle threatening to escape. “Oh, I bet that turned out to be a really good advice,” he chokes out, voice sounding funny to his own ears. “No need to ask what that errand turned out to be, then.” He realizes that they’re all staring at him as if he was insane, and feels hysteria bubbling up again. He takes an unsteady step back, then turns around putting some distance between him and the team. “What else is changed, then? Steven?” he turns to glance at them again, and feels the last remains of his composure slipping away at their stricken expression. “No such luck, huh?” he asks, voice breaking. “I always thought that you’d have stopped me, if…” His eyes are fixed on Ianto as he says it. He’s dizzy, breathing too fast, and tries to blink it away. “What the hell is wrong with you, Jack?” Gwen yells, angry now. “Ianto was in a coma for three weeks because of that virus.” She walks towards him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazing. “I was with his family, because you sent me there! And why the hell am I telling you that? You were right there!” Jack looks away. It wasn’t real, he wants to tell her. Things never happened quite this way. It has to be put back the way it was, and then Ianto will be gone again. Ianto comes closer, hurt and worry evident on his face. “Have I done something wrong…?” “I…” Jack hesitates, looking at Ianto intently. He doesn’t know what to tell him. Ianto had made a half-cocked attempt at saving his own life, which, against all odds and reason, had actually worked, but where there should have been winged creatures and apocalyptic repercussions, all Jack sees around him is life, carrying on. Ianto reaches out to him, intending to lay a hand on his arm, but Jack draws away before he makes contact, shaking his head. “No… I have to know first…” At Ianto’s confused look, he tries to explain. “I have to know if this is for keeps.” *** Outside, the sun has nearly disappeared beyond the horizon, and the evening chill is already starting to set in. Jack finds a wooden crate near the back door of the warehouse and sits down before fishing out his mobile phone from his pocket. He punches in the number, but doesn’t hit send right away. He’d not allowed himself to hope, yet. Had not allowed himself to grab for this new and improved reality that was being tantalizingly dangled in front of his face. Still, he finds that he’s terrified at the thought of having it taken away. As the call connects, a small part of him wishes that no-one picks it up on the other end. “Ahhhhh!!! Hel—Hello…? Ouch, stop that!” Jack pulls the mobile away from his ear and looks at it in confusion before putting it back to his ear. “Uh, Doctor? Is everything okay?” There’s a loud bang followed by what sounds like an even louder crash. “Jack!” the Doctor exclaims cheerfully. “Everything’s peachy. What can I do for you?” Jack can’t help rolling his eyes in amusement. “That anomaly in the space time continuum.” “The one that fixed itself?” Jack pauses, closes his eyes. “Yeah, that one.” “What about it?” “Is there any chance that during our refuelling stop I… somehow… helped it get fixed?” There’s another loud crash, and some beeping in the background. “Well… hard to say, really, but seeing as it is fixed I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.” Jack lets out a long, even breath. While the Doctor keeps his tone casual and light-hearted, the weight and meaning behind his words are unmistakable. “What does it mean?” Jack asks after a few seconds. “I’m not sure I understand the question.” He swallows and leans his head back against the wall. “A lot of people died that day.” “Ah... but only one death was significant enough to generate an anomaly. Imagine that…” Jack tries to organize his scattered thoughts. He knows what the Doctor is implying. It can only mean that Ianto is... important. Not only to Jack, not just to Torchwood, but on a much broader, larger scale. He’s not sure how he feels about that. “You’re not going to enlighten me, are you?” Jack asks, resigned. “Once again, Captain, this isn’t about you.” Jack rubs his eyes. He can feel a growing sensation of giddiness, threatening to overwhelm every rational thought, but a small part in him still seeks answers, as if by explaining it he can somehow make it more real. “They... don’t remember... how it happened the first time around, but I do. Like their memory is revised, somehow, but mine isn’t.” The Doctor takes his time answering. “I believe that has a lot to do with your nature, Jack. The fabric of reality can be made and remade, and that applies to the people inside it, but around you time behaves… differently.” Jack smiles a little at that, thinking that they’ve come a long way since that first time the Doctor referred to him as being ‘wrong’. In the background, Jack hears a strange yelp, and the sound of something breaking. “Do I need to come rescue you again, Doctor?” he asks in amusement. “Oh, I think I can manage. Hope so. Ow! Alright, got to go. Bye now!” The line disconnects and Jack flips the phone closed with a snap. To his right, the warehouse door opens with a loud screech, making him jump. “Sorry,” Ianto mutters when he sees him. “Uh... Lois and Gwen are starting to freak out. And they’re freaking me out in the process. They now think you are, in fact, an alien who stole Jack’s body.” Jack smiles. Then outright laughs. “No, Ianto. I’m... really me,” he says, thinking he’s never been happier to see Ianto in his entire life. Ianto nods, turning serious. “Is... everything okay, Jack?” he asks in his no-nonsense tone. “Everything is... better than okay,” Jack answers, still smiling. After a moment, he rolls his eyes. “Except for the part where I don’t remember anything that happened here in the last six months.” Ianto’s eyes widen. “You have amnesia?” “Something like that.” “Oh.” Ianto seems to process that for a moment, before he shrugs. “I could fill you in, I guess.” Jack laughs in amazement, then comes forward and wraps Ianto in a hug. He feels Ianto’s arms slowly coming up around his back. “What’s that for?” Ianto asks softly. Jack lets his chin rest over Ianto’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “I’m just very glad to be here. With you,” Jack tells him, thinking of how big an understatement that is. He won’t tell Ianto he loves him. Not now, because the moment is not quite right, and Jack thinks that, now that they have time, he can afford to wait for one that is. |
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