Ferals (5/6)
Title: Ferals (5/6)
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Steven, Alice, Gwen, Martha, Mickey, OCs
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Martha/Mickey, past Jack/others, past Ianto/OMC
Rating: for adults only
Words: 31,800 (5800 this part)
Warnings: suicide, character death including child death, gore and violence
Spoilers: plot spoilers through CoE, (very) brief mention of characters and events from MD, some parts based on early spoilers from the current season of DW, but finished before the season premiere aired
Beta: Eldar and fide_et_spe both kicked this into shape, and have my deepest thanks.
Summary: Ianto and Steven have returned home, but as Ianto tries to solve an alien's murder, he learns home isn't ready to take them back.
A/N: Sequel to Strays and Rescues. eldarwannabe did a lot of heavy lifting in breaking this fic, and without her, it would not exist. If you like it, tell her thank you.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
***
Chapter Five
***
"Fuck!" Albert's swear almost cuts over the loudspeaker. The gun is huge in his hand, and Ianto is nearly too panicked but he doesn't misidentify it. This isn't the heat gun, this is standard-issue.
"Where'd you hide the weapon?" Ianto demands, aware that he's about to die. Again.
Albert ignores him, jabbing a finger in his ear and keeping his gun trained on Ianto. "I'm up top. Get here now. Things just got complicated."
He's working with a partner. The Yovers thought as much. No wonder everyone's blaming Torchwood if Albert's involved. And he's got an accomplice. Fuck.
Ianto tenses. He can't rush Albert now, and he has to stay alive long enough to tell Jack. Send him a message somehow. His skin crawls as he hears footsteps clattering closer. They'll tie him up somewhere, dispose of the body later.
He turns to see the other killer.
"Oh, shit," Gwen says. Her face puts on a very familiar expression of disgust. She looks at Albert. "Did you see anyone else?"
"I thought I did. Maybe I didn't." He's still aiming at Ianto.
"Put the gun down," Gwen says, and she gives Ianto a hand up. She's wearing a dark hoodie, blending in with Albert and the other aliens in the building.
"It fits," says Albert. "You have to admit, he fits the profile."
"What profile?" Ianto asks angrily, still adrenalin-rushed. Albert's the killer. But Gwen's working with him. But Gwen wouldn't. Should the world come to an end in fire and brimstone, Gwen Cooper's bleeding heart will be rescuing stranded kittens from smouldering trees. "What's going on?"
Albert glowers. "Someone's using technology last seen at Torchwood London to kill and terrorise the locals, and it comes to my mind that you've been spending an awful lot of time here lately." He still has his gun trained. "And you were the only witness to the Parmerian's murder."
Gwen says, "Don't be stupid. Put the gun down."
Ianto says, "I know, I've been trying to track the killer."
"Sure."
"Albert," Gwen says, "it's not him." There's a burning, buzzing shot from down below, followed by screams. "Shit!"
The three of them run for the stairs. Gwen shouts, "Get the doors!" She runs, gun drawn, for the front door to cut off the killer's escape.
Albert grabs Ianto's arm, nearly breaking bone in his clenched grip. "You're not going out of my sight." He half-drags Ianto to another door, in time to be almost crushed by the stampede of terrified aliens fleeing the building come hell, high water, or Torchwood. As it is, they're able to stay alive by standing to the side and craning their necks in a vain hope of seeing the fleeing murderer.
"We had this," Albert says to him in a low, vicious voice. "We had a plan, and we had it covered, and thanks to you, someone else is dead."
"If I'd known you were here, I wouldn't have tried to come in alone."
"You're not supposed to come in at all. You don't work for us. The last thing we need is some enthusiastic amateur!"
"I've been working for Torchwood since 2005, so you can fuck right the hell off!"
They've stopped paying attention to the trickle of aliens still escaping. With nothing to see here, Albert drags him back towards the auditorium, finger in his ear again. "We're coming in. How bad is it?"
"It could be worse," says Mickey, coming in from another part of the building. "No joy?"
"None."
"Thought I told you to stay home," Mickey says to Ianto, who doesn't answer. "Well, the bad news is, the guy shot and killed someone."
Ianto flinches. Had he not come, it's possible the killer would be in custody now, and the victim still alive.
They walk together into the auditorium, where Martha and Gwen are trying, with little success, to explain to Mopolite (the angry alien gangster in the nice suit, Ianto learns) how they managed to miss the killer during their otherwise perfectly-planned event. Jack doesn't help them, on account of being in bloody, cooked chunks all over the auditorium's ruined floor. Dr. Pol is clucking her tongue in annoyance as she collects the bits, putting a stump of a leg back more or less where it will attach to the rest of his body. Her sense of smell isn't as good as a human's, ergo she probably doesn't mind the broiled pork odour hanging heavy around them.
Ianto's gorge rises. Mickey says, "The good news is, he'll be up and about in a while."
Albert adds, "And when he is, he's going to fucking kill you."
***
Jack revives with remarkable speed, given the manner of death. He's wincing, joints tender after knitting, and he has to sit down, but he's lucid enough to take over the discussion with Mopolite. The facility is secured, Martha and Mickey have gone home. This leaves Torchwood, their quickly-estranging ally and his henchmen, and Ianto, who's been exiled to one corner of the auditorium and told to stay put or else. He takes the opportunity to check his messages. Steven called, despite his mother's wishes, and doesn't hide the hurt that Ianto didn't answer. Sally called to inform him in a halting voice that Laura made a third, and final, attempt.
Tonight just gets worse.
"You promised us a capture, Captain. I put my people into great jeopardy because I trusted your ability to bring this monster in." Mopolite isn't like the rumours Ianto knew of Koris. Koris was an elegant thug, risen to prominence with a combination of protectionism and the firepower to back up his promises. Mopolite slithered up through that organisation, but with his brains instead of his fists.
Jack is conciliatory. "We'll get him. We managed to bring him here."
"Yet he escaped unscathed, and he killed again along the way. Your recovery is a coincidence. He was aiming for me."
"And I got in his way. You're welcome."
Mopolite's gaze turns to the corner, meeting Ianto's eyes before Ianto drops his head. "Your group did catch someone who was acting suspiciously and who distracted them when the murderer struck. My contacts tell me someone matching his description has been seen at many of the sites of previous attacks. Are you sure he isn't involved?"
"Positive." Jack doesn't look at Ianto. The utter conviction in his voice is as solid as a spear.
"Captain, we need answers. You did not present me with the killer as you said you would. My community is terrified for their lives. It would ease their fears to know we have the killer's accomplice in custody." 'Custody' is a pleasant word, and means, 'We will hold him still as the mob exacts what they perceive as justice.'
"Ianto's not the killer's accomplice. He's been working for me on the case, examining other angles. I sent him to the sites of the previous murders to talk to witnesses who wouldn't otherwise open up to an official Torchwood inquiry."
Back in the day, Torchwood London spent tens of thousands of pounds on a project based around alien lie-detector technology. Two scientists theorised that the machines operated by measuring previously unknown subquarkian particles carrying falsehoods between speaker and listener, known around the office as 'lie-ons.' The research team was disbanded and separated to other projects after one too many 'tests' with their expense reports.
The temerity of such a bald-faced lie as Jack is laying on now should be enough to suck out the falsehood-telling power for the surrounding ten blocks. Ianto can practically hear a dozen insurance salesmen frozen in mid-sentence, unable to squeeze out a single additional fib. For weeks to come, Londoners about to speak untruths on the 'little white lie' level will find themselves suddenly telling their friends exactly what they think about that new haircut.
Mopolite blinks at Jack, then at Ianto, and he takes a long look at Gwen and Dr. Pol, neither of whom say a word. "Your team indicated otherwise."
"Unofficial. I told you." Jack's not budging from his story.
Before Mopolite can push further, Albert clears his throat. He disappeared a while back, and has returned with a camera in hand. "Boss, we've got his picture."
Jack bounces up from his seat with only a small flinch. "Fantastic. Show me."
Albert replays the video capture for the group to see, crowding around. Ianto can't see from his spot, but he reads the faces, sees recognition and acknowledgement. Gwen says, "It's definitely the same man." She tells Mopolite, "We have CCTV footage from two of the murders."
Jack says, "But this is the best clarity we've seen. Nice job, Albert." He swivels the camera screen to show Mopolite again. "Are we agreed this is the guy who tried to kill you?"
"That's him," says one of the heavies, from behind Mopolite. His boss turns and glares at the interruption, but his stance cools, and he shrugs.
"Agreed."
"I've got connections in the government," Jack says, "and they owe me. I'll put out the word. The human authorities can begin a search. We'll make up charges against him that will bring him in, and we'll deal with him then."
"Human authorities don't have the right."
"Maybe not, but they've got the resources. I told you we'll handle this, and we will."
"How many more will he kill before you do?"
Jack says, "Tell your people to stay inside and keep their heads down."
"They always do that, Captain. We are tired of hiding and being afraid." But he agrees to Jack's terms, and lets Jack take all his people home, including Ianto.
***
They've brought multiple vehicles, which means Ianto has the delightfully awful opportunity to drive back with Jack alone. Jack drops by the hotel for Ianto to grab his belongings. He says nothing until they are on the M4. It's like waiting for an execution, only without a last meal or a chance at reprieve.
Finally, he can't stand the tension. Defeated even before they begin the shouting match, Ianto says, "Just say it."
"Get the camera."
"What?"
"The camera. I put it in the back seat. Pick it up."
Mystified, Ianto reaches around until his fingers find their one piece of evidence. He can't imagine what Jack wants him to do with it. He wouldn't take dirty pictures on something they'll need to submit to scrutiny later. Right?
"You didn't watch the video capture back there. Watch it now."
Ianto works out the buttons and replays the video. Sure enough, there's a cloaked figure, head exposed this time, aiming and firing at the speaker. Jack dodges into the way at the last second, taking the brunt of the blast and exploding into horrific pieces. The scene is remarkably similar to the death of the Parmerian.
"All right."
"Watch again. Look at the killer."
Ianto does as instructed. The bloke is plain, completely unremarkable. Ianto vaguely tries to superimpose his face over that of the killer who struck the Parmerian down. The countenance is so bland Ianto has trouble even forming a description. "It might be him."
"Does he look familiar to you?"
Ianto freezes the frame, with a particularly good view. "Not really. No." His eyes start to water staring at the small screen.
"All right."
"I'm sure we can put him through a database and find out who it is."
"We already have a positive identification."
That's surprising. "Then why haven't you brought him in or had the authorities make an arrest?" Ianto thinks hard. "Is he human?"
"He's human. His name is Nathan Reynolds. Take another look."
The name strikes a chord somewhere inside his head, and he tries to fix the face, but he can't keep looking. "I knew a Nathan Reynolds. Back at Torchwood London. This isn't him." He can feel the hysteria edging his own voice, and he doesn't know why. "Someone else with the same name?" The question ends on a high-pitched squeak that hurts his throat.
"Ianto, listen to the words you're saying." Jack's voice is mild, not chiding. "It's the same guy." Ianto expected an argument when he got into the car. This is like swimming out past his level into the deep, choking sea.
"But I knew him." Nathan was his friend, one of the early friends, a little caustic, but happy to make chums with the new recruits. After Ianto was swept up by Lisa's effervescence, the camaraderie had faded, yet Ianto still mourned when he read Nathan's name amongst the list of the dead. He took on the man's identity when he restarted his new life with Steven.
Nathan is dead.
"Jack?"
"As soon as we saw the first couple of deaths, we looked into every possible source. I didn't know if we were seeing the beginning of another turf war, or if someone big was moving in, or if some idiot got their hands on alien tech."
"The weapon is from Torchwood One. It's listed as missing. I searched the archive remnants." Ianto lets go of more of his guilt for having gone behind Jack's back.
Jack glances at him. "It took us a week to track that down. You?"
"About twenty minutes."
The glance turns from concerned to impressed. "Remind me to have you train Lois on how you organised everything."
A warmth blooms somewhere below his navel, heady and joyful. Jack has just as much as promised Ianto will be allowed to return. "I will."
"So. Torchwood London. And for some reason, I can't imagine why, I guessed if you got wind of that, you'd go off half-cocked on your own."
The warmth is gone in a cold splash, replaced by shame. He had. He'd taken the insult personally, doubly so when he figured out where the weapon was from, and he'd stomped all over their investigation, ruining Jack's best lead. "I wanted to help." It's mewling, pathetic, and he knows it.
"You didn't know what you were doing, and you nearly got someone killed."
Not 'nearly': Jack died, even if Jack rarely counts his own deaths as important. It's too low and cheap a shot to ask if they're even now, and anyway Jack is still busy calling him on the carpet. "You could have got yourself killed." The mild tone is still there, but Ianto isn't fooled any longer. Jack is furious.
"I'm sorry."
"Not good enough. You broke into our systems, and believe me, when Albert puts together that you used my credentials to log in, he will shoot both of us. You jeopardised our investigation. And you lied to me."
Anger and annoyance flood him. "You shut me out. You've admitted I could have helped with the investigation. I did my own field work without any help."
"You cannot work on this investigation, Ianto. You can't even see the suspect."
"Of course I can see him! I saw him kill an alien in front of me!"
"Then what does he look like?!" Jack's shouting. Ianto's shouting. The car is far too small for this.
"Like … " He glances down at the camera again. "It was dark."
"Your friend Sally gave me a description that matched Nathan Reynolds perfectly."
"He's dead. He died at Canary Wharf." Jack is silent, and it's the silence that finally gets through. "He came back."
"Yeah. And you knew him."
The world is not as it was. The world has been recreated by the memories and dreams of a beautiful young woman. The death and rebirth of the TARDIS cracked holes in the fabric of time, left gaps in the memories of friends. Without a counter filter, Ianto can stand in front of his old friend for hours and he'll never see his face. "Oh."
"I do know what I'm doing most of the time. When I say you can't be involved with something, I usually have a good reason." Not affection, then, or not only affection. Jack's been protecting him, just not in the way Ianto thought.
"So you are going to reinstate me after this case is resolved?"
He's caught Jack out in the trap now, and he can see the uncertainty playing over Jack's features, reflected in the lights from the traffic passing them by. "I don't want to," Jack says after a long, uncomfortable pause.
"Because you don't trust me."
"Because I don't want to watch you die again." All the ire is gone now, leaving only bleak despair. "Because I offered to sacrifice the world in exchange for your life twice."
Neither offer worked. Ianto remembers too well the moments before his death. Jack gave him only the bare details of his own attempted suicide-by-collapsing-Rift. Both times, Jack walked away alone.
"Even if the world can survive a third time, I can't. Everything ended with you. Everything turned to ashes. I couldn't breathe on this planet. I couldn't outrun your ghost on any other planet, and I tried. I shattered after what happened, and I'm not better. I can pretend for a while. I pretended for Gwen's sake for a long time, but I'm not … I'm not okay. You're home, and Steven's home, and everyone else seems to think that's enough, that I ought to be fine now, even though I killed you both." Jack sounds like he's dying here in the car, speaking through wounds too deep to crust and scab.
"I can pretend to be fine. But not when you're eager to throw your life away again. Not when all I can wonder is when the next time's gonna be, when I'll have to stand there weighing you against the rest of the planet. I can't do this again."
Jack's hands are white on the steering wheel. Ianto points to a place coming up. "Pull over there." He's as gentle as he can be, indicating the spot, and Jack pulls the car over, finally turning his head to look.
Ianto has been through hell, but Jack's lived there for years. Centuries. Stress and heartache are naked on his face. Ianto is still hurt and still angry, but these are secondary considerations now. He pulls Jack into an embrace, holding him as Jack's shoulders shake. All pretences gone, Ianto holds him.
***
It's morning, after, and Ianto wakes in sleepy confusion to the first beeps of Jack's alarm. They're wrapped around each other like cats, which would be a cosier mental image except he's hot, and there's a pinched nerve down his side from sleeping this way.
This isn't the morning he anticipated. As soon as things went to hell last night, Ianto expected a dressing down, the possibility of losing his memories of the past week, and a small yet terrifying possibility of losing the last several years. As they dress, paranoia drives him to check, ever so casually, the date on Jack's mobile. He hasn't lost any time except the four hours they slept after arriving home so late. That's reassuring.
Jack makes breakfast, and Ianto washes out the mugs from last night, rinsing the rime of dried milk. He didn't expect to fix warm milk with a shot of brandy for his lover, but he also didn't expect the terrible, guilty revelation that said lover has been experiencing a nervous breakdown on constant loop since 2009, nor that with time slips factored in, 2009 was over twenty years ago for Jack. Even now, as Jack rummages in the cupboard for honey, Ianto observes the well-disguised expression, and the jerky puppet motions of Jack's muscles when he's not trying to hide. Ianto has been back in his life for over a month, and he never noticed; ergo as much as he's tempted to do so, he can't blame Gwen for not noticing when it was her turn to watch out for Jack.
Disguise is part of who they are, and the tremors are tucked away like a shirt tail when Jack glances over to him. "Are you wearing that today?"
Ianto blinks, taking a surreptitious look at his own jeans and jumper to check for stains or rips. "I was." Lazing about the flat clothes, cleaning the flat clothes, he's got a dresser full, purchased for him before he left hospital with Jack's money and Gwen's taste.
"All right." Jack serves them both porridge, dumping enough honey into his own that Ianto's molars cringe in sympathy. They sit down to eat, and this is all surreal. Ianto is still angry from yesterday. He knows Jack is still angry with him. But this is the pair of them, eating breakfast at their little table and not mentioning the wrenching sobs Jack fell asleep with last night. After Jack leaves, Ianto will do the washing up, and he will make supper tonight, and ask Jack about his day, and it's possible they will still be angry with each other, and it's equally possible Ianto will call Rhys and ask him how the fuck he does this.
Caught up in the unwinding banality of the day to come, he almost misses when Jack says, "We should stop by the new bakery on Bute Street. I like their muffins, and Albert's pissy when his blood sugar is low."
Ianto tries and fails to imagine Albert in a good mood. He owes the man, certainly, because Albert saw Steven's picture and recognised him when no-one else could have, but he doesn't have to like him, especially after last night. "Is that a subtle hint you want me to bake something for tomorrow?"
"No, it's a reminder. Don't let me drive past." Jack slurps down his last bite, waits ten seconds for Ianto to finish, and drops the bowls into the sink with running water. "Are you ready?"
"For?"
"Work. You said you're our only witness, which isn't true, but I can't leave you home unattended so you may as well come with me and do something useful." The anger is still there. So's the uncoiled damage. Jack sweeps everything under the rug with a raised eyebrow. "Interested?"
Hope slams into him. "Give me five minutes to change."
They don't have the stopwatch any more, but Jack touches his own watch meaningfully, and Ianto is back in the bedroom like a shot, tearing through his wardrobe for a shirt.
***
They're halfway to the bakery when reality sets in with a shocking cold. "I can't go in."
"Why?"
"I'm not an employee. You've said."
"You were. And to be honest, if working for Torchwood ended with death, I'd've had to reapply about a thousand times by now." His driving has improved, Ianto has noticed. Jack is more cautious these days, and Ianto uses this as a distraction for a moment, watching the movement of his muscles, watching him check his mirrors before lane changes.
"We made Owen stand down."
"How many hours did that last again?"
Ianto sighs. He's not really worried about the employment paperwork. If worse comes to worse, he'll sign everything for Queen and Country a third time. "After yesterday, they're going to hate me."
Had Jack brought him in two days ago, this wouldn't be a problem. He would be the returning soldier, the senior agent over the three new people, wounded in battle but come back from death to fight again, and a lot of other rot he's let himself imagine every morning Jack has said no. Today, he's the idiot who let a serial killer get away.
"Probably."
"And they're going to think you're only letting me back because you're making special allowances for me." He doesn't want to say 'because we're together' but it makes no difference if the reason was 'because you said so.' Back in the old days, Jack's bouts of favouritism had come close to wrecking half the interpersonal relationships on their team. Some things don't change.
"Yeah."
Right. Ruined the plan and Teacher's Pet. Ianto wants to sink through his seat into the running boards. Jack catches his sick expression, and nods once. He's always been creative in doling out punishments.
"How bad is it going to be?"
"I figure Gwen will play nice, because she's been nagging me to bring you back in, but she'll chew my ear off in private for doing it today. Dr. Pol won't speak to you unless she has to. Albert will try to get you killed at least twice, until I tell him to knock it off."
"No chance of you having that conversation with him early?"
"None. If I tell him in advance, he really will assume you're only around for me to play with on breaks."
That's not difficult to picture. "What about Lois?" She seems sweet, but he knows from personal experience that the PA is the one who smiles brightest when they're stabbing you in the neck.
"Hard to say. Did I tell you she poisoned me once?"
"No. What did you do to her?"
"I insulted her by accident, she thought I did it on purpose. Looking back, I should have kept my mouth shut. We don't talk about it much."
"I meant after."
"Oh. Docked her two days' pay and made her clean up the mess. She's promised not to do it again." He shrugs off the death like he would a glass of water splashed in his face. But that's Jack all over. He finds the most damaged, unconventional workers possible, deals with them when they inevitably fuck up, and forgives them so they can move on. If Suzie hadn't topped herself after all the murders, he would have forgiven her too. As today's recipient of the Captain Jack Harkness Reconciliation Award, Ianto can't complain, but he does find room to be astounded.
His reintroduction goes just as predicted: Gwen embraces him when he enters the new office for the first time, and the rest of the team stands back, shooting Jack suspicious looks. Jack affects to ignore the tension, and he treats Ianto exactly like any other employee with the offhand orders he barks. It's peculiarly reminiscent of Ianto's return after his suspension, although neither Albert nor Dr. Pol leave anything dead or drippy for him to clean up like Owen did every day until Jack shouted at him to stop being such a slob. Still, Ianto keeps to himself at the work station Jack assigns him. He follows Jack's instructions to locate any mentions of unusual deaths in the human population that might be linked. He only eats from the bag of treats Jack purchased on their way in, waving off Lois's offers of coffee as politely as he can.
Police reports drone into one another, leaving him room for his mind to wander and his ears to catch the muffled noises from Jack's new office as Gwen gives him an earful behind closed doors.
While they're occupied, Albert gives himself reasons to be in Ianto's space, fidgeting with the safety on his gun and grumbling. "Could have got him," is the only phrase that comes through clearly. The threats are muted enough to ignore. Ianto gets his own in the early afternoon, as Albert fails on a task that Toshiko would have waltzed through easily, and Ianto says so.
Gwen waits to corner Ianto. It's not until he's gone to the sad little room that does for their archive that she follows him in with that expression writ large on her face, the one he knows from long experience means she is going to have her say. To be honest, he finds the familiarity encouraging, even welcome. Being on the receiving end of a Gwen Cooper remonstration is the closest to home this new Torchwood has felt since he walked through the reinforced steel door this morning. Her arms are folded and her face is cross. He oughn't feel so light-hearted, and if he smiles, she'll probably smack him.
"Do you remember how things were after we lost Owen and Toshiko?"
That isn't the question he's been expecting, and Ianto pauses, one hand resting on a pristine new folder. "Yeah."
"So you recall what Jack was like."
Self-destructive. Right after, there wasn't a deadly peril he didn't throw himself in front of, either to save someone or not. Given all the times he must have died underground during his long not-quite-sleep, he added almost fifty more deaths in the following two months out of grief.
They all have their ways of coping. Gwen's is to tell herself stories until she makes herself believe what happened wasn't her fault, and to sob the rest out. Ianto copes by binging on whatever's at hand, be that beer, food, drugs (just the once), or most commonly in recent years, sex. He would have drowned his sorrows for his lost friends in the bottom of a glass, but Jack was closer, and warmer, especially when he came back from yet another death brought on by his own attempts at atonement.
"I remember."
"He loved them like his own children. I never once saw him treat Toshiko as anything less than his own daughter. Tell me you know that."
He does. And he also observed Jack with Owen and gradually came to wonder if Owen's missing and never-named father might be closer than anyone thought.
"He lost them and that Gray all at once, and he mourned them, and he went on. No matter how much he cared."
"I know." He's not sure where this is headed, and his stomach tenses. The small, dark room closes in with just the two of them, reminding him of a confessional. Gwen's meandering around her point.
"Good. Because you need to know who you are."
"I do." He's gone through multiple names and false identities over the last year, but Ianto knows exactly who he is. The rest of this conversation is a bed of confusion.
Her mouth draws into a displeased moue. "After you went away," and she uses the same hesitating emphasis she does when mentioning Jack's deaths, like a genteel prodding at a spongy uncomfortable spot, "he broke. He didn't go on, he didn't pick up the pieces and move on. He ran, and when he couldn't run any more, he came back. I watched him. He tried, and he managed to pretend everything was all right for whole hours at a time, but he wasn't the same man. And he's still not."
The echo from last night doesn't pass unnoticed. "He's getting better," Ianto replies, instinctive in his defensiveness of Jack.
"He was, until you were a damn fool who almost got yourself killed. Have you even bothered to notice what a wreck he is today? He's terrified whenever you're out of sight."
Ianto bites back his initial response, because Gwen doesn't get to hear about their home life, and he's not giving up another small shard of Jack that's his alone. He also quells the embarrassment, because honestly, he believed Gwen hadn't noticed, either.
She says, "It's been my job to hold him together, and I can't, Ianto. There's too much, and I have my own family. I won't survive him breaking apart again." Emotion thickens her speech. Gwen's done her own breaking all this time, but Gwen's made of different stuff than Jack. She bends.
"He won't."
"Don't be stupid, and do not waste my time pretending to be humble." Each word is a slap, pushing him back. "Don't say he's lost lovers before, because we watched over him after Estelle. Don't say he's lost friends before, because he and I have lost friends you never met. You know he bled when Owen and Tosh died, and he went on without them. He lost Gray the same day they died, so don't bloody well pass it off as he was only mourning Steven. It was you. It was always you." There's regret and anger in every word, and a forest of paths untravelled. He and Gwen circle Jack like a double helix. Switch places here, exchange a choice there, and the whole body moves.
"So I had to tell you," she finishes limply, wiping at tears neither one will ever admit she shed. "You may like to pretend you're not important, but I actually think you do want to believe it's true. There's your proof. The next time you run off to do something abysmally stupid, don't imagine for a second I won't wallop you."
He wants to protest, wants to set out before her all the reasons he's neatly arranged as to why he's not as significant to Jack as she says. Yesterday, he would have. Today, he nods his head once, curtly, and says, "Yes, ma'am."
"Good." She stalks out, leaving him alone and flustered, and completely forgetting why he came in the little archive room at all.
***
They take a late lunch in the new conference room, but it's set up for five, not six. Jack doesn't affect to notice, and then he makes a poor joke about Ianto sitting on his lap when he does. Another chair is brought in from outside for the interloper. As at the dinner party, conversations move past him, and Ianto focuses on eating, on fitting in, and he gets used to being ignored.
The rest of the day goes better, for certain definitions. No new murders are reported from London, but Ianto does find months-old records of two murdered humans in Swindon who match the MO. He turns what he can over to Andy, who seems far more intimately acquainted with Torchwood's dealings than he used to be.
On their way home, Ianto relaxes in his seat, grateful for once that Jack insisted on driving again. Over the noise from the radio, Jack asks, "Anyone try to kill you today?"
"Only Gwen." The minor issues were best left unspoken. Albert tripped him once, ostensibly by accident, and when he was taking his obligatory physical, Dr. Pol took her time in finding a vein for the blood test. Lois is biding her time, he's sure, and he made his own coffee in the afternoon, hovering over his cup in case of tampering. Having spent more time with Lois today, he doesn't expect cyanide, but he wouldn't put laxatives past her. (Of the three newcomers, she's the least pissed-off at him, but she also got to stay back and coordinate from here yesterday. He's still not risking it.)
"They're going to hate you for a while, and then they'll get used to having you around." It's practically the same pep talk he gave after Ianto's first day back after Lisa. Which is why Ianto isn't surprised when Jack follows on with the same threat he made back then, too. "If you ever lie to me again on something like this, you're going to lose every memory you've had since 2005."
Ianto replies the same way he did then. "Yes, sir."
***
Chapter Six
Author: nancybrown
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Steven, Alice, Gwen, Martha, Mickey, OCs
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Martha/Mickey, past Jack/others, past Ianto/OMC
Rating: for adults only
Words: 31,800 (5800 this part)
Warnings: suicide, character death including child death, gore and violence
Spoilers: plot spoilers through CoE, (very) brief mention of characters and events from MD, some parts based on early spoilers from the current season of DW, but finished before the season premiere aired
Beta: Eldar and fide_et_spe both kicked this into shape, and have my deepest thanks.
Summary: Ianto and Steven have returned home, but as Ianto tries to solve an alien's murder, he learns home isn't ready to take them back.
A/N: Sequel to Strays and Rescues. eldarwannabe did a lot of heavy lifting in breaking this fic, and without her, it would not exist. If you like it, tell her thank you.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
***
Chapter Five
***
"Fuck!" Albert's swear almost cuts over the loudspeaker. The gun is huge in his hand, and Ianto is nearly too panicked but he doesn't misidentify it. This isn't the heat gun, this is standard-issue.
"Where'd you hide the weapon?" Ianto demands, aware that he's about to die. Again.
Albert ignores him, jabbing a finger in his ear and keeping his gun trained on Ianto. "I'm up top. Get here now. Things just got complicated."
He's working with a partner. The Yovers thought as much. No wonder everyone's blaming Torchwood if Albert's involved. And he's got an accomplice. Fuck.
Ianto tenses. He can't rush Albert now, and he has to stay alive long enough to tell Jack. Send him a message somehow. His skin crawls as he hears footsteps clattering closer. They'll tie him up somewhere, dispose of the body later.
He turns to see the other killer.
"Oh, shit," Gwen says. Her face puts on a very familiar expression of disgust. She looks at Albert. "Did you see anyone else?"
"I thought I did. Maybe I didn't." He's still aiming at Ianto.
"Put the gun down," Gwen says, and she gives Ianto a hand up. She's wearing a dark hoodie, blending in with Albert and the other aliens in the building.
"It fits," says Albert. "You have to admit, he fits the profile."
"What profile?" Ianto asks angrily, still adrenalin-rushed. Albert's the killer. But Gwen's working with him. But Gwen wouldn't. Should the world come to an end in fire and brimstone, Gwen Cooper's bleeding heart will be rescuing stranded kittens from smouldering trees. "What's going on?"
Albert glowers. "Someone's using technology last seen at Torchwood London to kill and terrorise the locals, and it comes to my mind that you've been spending an awful lot of time here lately." He still has his gun trained. "And you were the only witness to the Parmerian's murder."
Gwen says, "Don't be stupid. Put the gun down."
Ianto says, "I know, I've been trying to track the killer."
"Sure."
"Albert," Gwen says, "it's not him." There's a burning, buzzing shot from down below, followed by screams. "Shit!"
The three of them run for the stairs. Gwen shouts, "Get the doors!" She runs, gun drawn, for the front door to cut off the killer's escape.
Albert grabs Ianto's arm, nearly breaking bone in his clenched grip. "You're not going out of my sight." He half-drags Ianto to another door, in time to be almost crushed by the stampede of terrified aliens fleeing the building come hell, high water, or Torchwood. As it is, they're able to stay alive by standing to the side and craning their necks in a vain hope of seeing the fleeing murderer.
"We had this," Albert says to him in a low, vicious voice. "We had a plan, and we had it covered, and thanks to you, someone else is dead."
"If I'd known you were here, I wouldn't have tried to come in alone."
"You're not supposed to come in at all. You don't work for us. The last thing we need is some enthusiastic amateur!"
"I've been working for Torchwood since 2005, so you can fuck right the hell off!"
They've stopped paying attention to the trickle of aliens still escaping. With nothing to see here, Albert drags him back towards the auditorium, finger in his ear again. "We're coming in. How bad is it?"
"It could be worse," says Mickey, coming in from another part of the building. "No joy?"
"None."
"Thought I told you to stay home," Mickey says to Ianto, who doesn't answer. "Well, the bad news is, the guy shot and killed someone."
Ianto flinches. Had he not come, it's possible the killer would be in custody now, and the victim still alive.
They walk together into the auditorium, where Martha and Gwen are trying, with little success, to explain to Mopolite (the angry alien gangster in the nice suit, Ianto learns) how they managed to miss the killer during their otherwise perfectly-planned event. Jack doesn't help them, on account of being in bloody, cooked chunks all over the auditorium's ruined floor. Dr. Pol is clucking her tongue in annoyance as she collects the bits, putting a stump of a leg back more or less where it will attach to the rest of his body. Her sense of smell isn't as good as a human's, ergo she probably doesn't mind the broiled pork odour hanging heavy around them.
Ianto's gorge rises. Mickey says, "The good news is, he'll be up and about in a while."
Albert adds, "And when he is, he's going to fucking kill you."
***
Jack revives with remarkable speed, given the manner of death. He's wincing, joints tender after knitting, and he has to sit down, but he's lucid enough to take over the discussion with Mopolite. The facility is secured, Martha and Mickey have gone home. This leaves Torchwood, their quickly-estranging ally and his henchmen, and Ianto, who's been exiled to one corner of the auditorium and told to stay put or else. He takes the opportunity to check his messages. Steven called, despite his mother's wishes, and doesn't hide the hurt that Ianto didn't answer. Sally called to inform him in a halting voice that Laura made a third, and final, attempt.
Tonight just gets worse.
"You promised us a capture, Captain. I put my people into great jeopardy because I trusted your ability to bring this monster in." Mopolite isn't like the rumours Ianto knew of Koris. Koris was an elegant thug, risen to prominence with a combination of protectionism and the firepower to back up his promises. Mopolite slithered up through that organisation, but with his brains instead of his fists.
Jack is conciliatory. "We'll get him. We managed to bring him here."
"Yet he escaped unscathed, and he killed again along the way. Your recovery is a coincidence. He was aiming for me."
"And I got in his way. You're welcome."
Mopolite's gaze turns to the corner, meeting Ianto's eyes before Ianto drops his head. "Your group did catch someone who was acting suspiciously and who distracted them when the murderer struck. My contacts tell me someone matching his description has been seen at many of the sites of previous attacks. Are you sure he isn't involved?"
"Positive." Jack doesn't look at Ianto. The utter conviction in his voice is as solid as a spear.
"Captain, we need answers. You did not present me with the killer as you said you would. My community is terrified for their lives. It would ease their fears to know we have the killer's accomplice in custody." 'Custody' is a pleasant word, and means, 'We will hold him still as the mob exacts what they perceive as justice.'
"Ianto's not the killer's accomplice. He's been working for me on the case, examining other angles. I sent him to the sites of the previous murders to talk to witnesses who wouldn't otherwise open up to an official Torchwood inquiry."
Back in the day, Torchwood London spent tens of thousands of pounds on a project based around alien lie-detector technology. Two scientists theorised that the machines operated by measuring previously unknown subquarkian particles carrying falsehoods between speaker and listener, known around the office as 'lie-ons.' The research team was disbanded and separated to other projects after one too many 'tests' with their expense reports.
The temerity of such a bald-faced lie as Jack is laying on now should be enough to suck out the falsehood-telling power for the surrounding ten blocks. Ianto can practically hear a dozen insurance salesmen frozen in mid-sentence, unable to squeeze out a single additional fib. For weeks to come, Londoners about to speak untruths on the 'little white lie' level will find themselves suddenly telling their friends exactly what they think about that new haircut.
Mopolite blinks at Jack, then at Ianto, and he takes a long look at Gwen and Dr. Pol, neither of whom say a word. "Your team indicated otherwise."
"Unofficial. I told you." Jack's not budging from his story.
Before Mopolite can push further, Albert clears his throat. He disappeared a while back, and has returned with a camera in hand. "Boss, we've got his picture."
Jack bounces up from his seat with only a small flinch. "Fantastic. Show me."
Albert replays the video capture for the group to see, crowding around. Ianto can't see from his spot, but he reads the faces, sees recognition and acknowledgement. Gwen says, "It's definitely the same man." She tells Mopolite, "We have CCTV footage from two of the murders."
Jack says, "But this is the best clarity we've seen. Nice job, Albert." He swivels the camera screen to show Mopolite again. "Are we agreed this is the guy who tried to kill you?"
"That's him," says one of the heavies, from behind Mopolite. His boss turns and glares at the interruption, but his stance cools, and he shrugs.
"Agreed."
"I've got connections in the government," Jack says, "and they owe me. I'll put out the word. The human authorities can begin a search. We'll make up charges against him that will bring him in, and we'll deal with him then."
"Human authorities don't have the right."
"Maybe not, but they've got the resources. I told you we'll handle this, and we will."
"How many more will he kill before you do?"
Jack says, "Tell your people to stay inside and keep their heads down."
"They always do that, Captain. We are tired of hiding and being afraid." But he agrees to Jack's terms, and lets Jack take all his people home, including Ianto.
***
They've brought multiple vehicles, which means Ianto has the delightfully awful opportunity to drive back with Jack alone. Jack drops by the hotel for Ianto to grab his belongings. He says nothing until they are on the M4. It's like waiting for an execution, only without a last meal or a chance at reprieve.
Finally, he can't stand the tension. Defeated even before they begin the shouting match, Ianto says, "Just say it."
"Get the camera."
"What?"
"The camera. I put it in the back seat. Pick it up."
Mystified, Ianto reaches around until his fingers find their one piece of evidence. He can't imagine what Jack wants him to do with it. He wouldn't take dirty pictures on something they'll need to submit to scrutiny later. Right?
"You didn't watch the video capture back there. Watch it now."
Ianto works out the buttons and replays the video. Sure enough, there's a cloaked figure, head exposed this time, aiming and firing at the speaker. Jack dodges into the way at the last second, taking the brunt of the blast and exploding into horrific pieces. The scene is remarkably similar to the death of the Parmerian.
"All right."
"Watch again. Look at the killer."
Ianto does as instructed. The bloke is plain, completely unremarkable. Ianto vaguely tries to superimpose his face over that of the killer who struck the Parmerian down. The countenance is so bland Ianto has trouble even forming a description. "It might be him."
"Does he look familiar to you?"
Ianto freezes the frame, with a particularly good view. "Not really. No." His eyes start to water staring at the small screen.
"All right."
"I'm sure we can put him through a database and find out who it is."
"We already have a positive identification."
That's surprising. "Then why haven't you brought him in or had the authorities make an arrest?" Ianto thinks hard. "Is he human?"
"He's human. His name is Nathan Reynolds. Take another look."
The name strikes a chord somewhere inside his head, and he tries to fix the face, but he can't keep looking. "I knew a Nathan Reynolds. Back at Torchwood London. This isn't him." He can feel the hysteria edging his own voice, and he doesn't know why. "Someone else with the same name?" The question ends on a high-pitched squeak that hurts his throat.
"Ianto, listen to the words you're saying." Jack's voice is mild, not chiding. "It's the same guy." Ianto expected an argument when he got into the car. This is like swimming out past his level into the deep, choking sea.
"But I knew him." Nathan was his friend, one of the early friends, a little caustic, but happy to make chums with the new recruits. After Ianto was swept up by Lisa's effervescence, the camaraderie had faded, yet Ianto still mourned when he read Nathan's name amongst the list of the dead. He took on the man's identity when he restarted his new life with Steven.
Nathan is dead.
"Jack?"
"As soon as we saw the first couple of deaths, we looked into every possible source. I didn't know if we were seeing the beginning of another turf war, or if someone big was moving in, or if some idiot got their hands on alien tech."
"The weapon is from Torchwood One. It's listed as missing. I searched the archive remnants." Ianto lets go of more of his guilt for having gone behind Jack's back.
Jack glances at him. "It took us a week to track that down. You?"
"About twenty minutes."
The glance turns from concerned to impressed. "Remind me to have you train Lois on how you organised everything."
A warmth blooms somewhere below his navel, heady and joyful. Jack has just as much as promised Ianto will be allowed to return. "I will."
"So. Torchwood London. And for some reason, I can't imagine why, I guessed if you got wind of that, you'd go off half-cocked on your own."
The warmth is gone in a cold splash, replaced by shame. He had. He'd taken the insult personally, doubly so when he figured out where the weapon was from, and he'd stomped all over their investigation, ruining Jack's best lead. "I wanted to help." It's mewling, pathetic, and he knows it.
"You didn't know what you were doing, and you nearly got someone killed."
Not 'nearly': Jack died, even if Jack rarely counts his own deaths as important. It's too low and cheap a shot to ask if they're even now, and anyway Jack is still busy calling him on the carpet. "You could have got yourself killed." The mild tone is still there, but Ianto isn't fooled any longer. Jack is furious.
"I'm sorry."
"Not good enough. You broke into our systems, and believe me, when Albert puts together that you used my credentials to log in, he will shoot both of us. You jeopardised our investigation. And you lied to me."
Anger and annoyance flood him. "You shut me out. You've admitted I could have helped with the investigation. I did my own field work without any help."
"You cannot work on this investigation, Ianto. You can't even see the suspect."
"Of course I can see him! I saw him kill an alien in front of me!"
"Then what does he look like?!" Jack's shouting. Ianto's shouting. The car is far too small for this.
"Like … " He glances down at the camera again. "It was dark."
"Your friend Sally gave me a description that matched Nathan Reynolds perfectly."
"He's dead. He died at Canary Wharf." Jack is silent, and it's the silence that finally gets through. "He came back."
"Yeah. And you knew him."
The world is not as it was. The world has been recreated by the memories and dreams of a beautiful young woman. The death and rebirth of the TARDIS cracked holes in the fabric of time, left gaps in the memories of friends. Without a counter filter, Ianto can stand in front of his old friend for hours and he'll never see his face. "Oh."
"I do know what I'm doing most of the time. When I say you can't be involved with something, I usually have a good reason." Not affection, then, or not only affection. Jack's been protecting him, just not in the way Ianto thought.
"So you are going to reinstate me after this case is resolved?"
He's caught Jack out in the trap now, and he can see the uncertainty playing over Jack's features, reflected in the lights from the traffic passing them by. "I don't want to," Jack says after a long, uncomfortable pause.
"Because you don't trust me."
"Because I don't want to watch you die again." All the ire is gone now, leaving only bleak despair. "Because I offered to sacrifice the world in exchange for your life twice."
Neither offer worked. Ianto remembers too well the moments before his death. Jack gave him only the bare details of his own attempted suicide-by-collapsing-Rift. Both times, Jack walked away alone.
"Even if the world can survive a third time, I can't. Everything ended with you. Everything turned to ashes. I couldn't breathe on this planet. I couldn't outrun your ghost on any other planet, and I tried. I shattered after what happened, and I'm not better. I can pretend for a while. I pretended for Gwen's sake for a long time, but I'm not … I'm not okay. You're home, and Steven's home, and everyone else seems to think that's enough, that I ought to be fine now, even though I killed you both." Jack sounds like he's dying here in the car, speaking through wounds too deep to crust and scab.
"I can pretend to be fine. But not when you're eager to throw your life away again. Not when all I can wonder is when the next time's gonna be, when I'll have to stand there weighing you against the rest of the planet. I can't do this again."
Jack's hands are white on the steering wheel. Ianto points to a place coming up. "Pull over there." He's as gentle as he can be, indicating the spot, and Jack pulls the car over, finally turning his head to look.
Ianto has been through hell, but Jack's lived there for years. Centuries. Stress and heartache are naked on his face. Ianto is still hurt and still angry, but these are secondary considerations now. He pulls Jack into an embrace, holding him as Jack's shoulders shake. All pretences gone, Ianto holds him.
***
It's morning, after, and Ianto wakes in sleepy confusion to the first beeps of Jack's alarm. They're wrapped around each other like cats, which would be a cosier mental image except he's hot, and there's a pinched nerve down his side from sleeping this way.
This isn't the morning he anticipated. As soon as things went to hell last night, Ianto expected a dressing down, the possibility of losing his memories of the past week, and a small yet terrifying possibility of losing the last several years. As they dress, paranoia drives him to check, ever so casually, the date on Jack's mobile. He hasn't lost any time except the four hours they slept after arriving home so late. That's reassuring.
Jack makes breakfast, and Ianto washes out the mugs from last night, rinsing the rime of dried milk. He didn't expect to fix warm milk with a shot of brandy for his lover, but he also didn't expect the terrible, guilty revelation that said lover has been experiencing a nervous breakdown on constant loop since 2009, nor that with time slips factored in, 2009 was over twenty years ago for Jack. Even now, as Jack rummages in the cupboard for honey, Ianto observes the well-disguised expression, and the jerky puppet motions of Jack's muscles when he's not trying to hide. Ianto has been back in his life for over a month, and he never noticed; ergo as much as he's tempted to do so, he can't blame Gwen for not noticing when it was her turn to watch out for Jack.
Disguise is part of who they are, and the tremors are tucked away like a shirt tail when Jack glances over to him. "Are you wearing that today?"
Ianto blinks, taking a surreptitious look at his own jeans and jumper to check for stains or rips. "I was." Lazing about the flat clothes, cleaning the flat clothes, he's got a dresser full, purchased for him before he left hospital with Jack's money and Gwen's taste.
"All right." Jack serves them both porridge, dumping enough honey into his own that Ianto's molars cringe in sympathy. They sit down to eat, and this is all surreal. Ianto is still angry from yesterday. He knows Jack is still angry with him. But this is the pair of them, eating breakfast at their little table and not mentioning the wrenching sobs Jack fell asleep with last night. After Jack leaves, Ianto will do the washing up, and he will make supper tonight, and ask Jack about his day, and it's possible they will still be angry with each other, and it's equally possible Ianto will call Rhys and ask him how the fuck he does this.
Caught up in the unwinding banality of the day to come, he almost misses when Jack says, "We should stop by the new bakery on Bute Street. I like their muffins, and Albert's pissy when his blood sugar is low."
Ianto tries and fails to imagine Albert in a good mood. He owes the man, certainly, because Albert saw Steven's picture and recognised him when no-one else could have, but he doesn't have to like him, especially after last night. "Is that a subtle hint you want me to bake something for tomorrow?"
"No, it's a reminder. Don't let me drive past." Jack slurps down his last bite, waits ten seconds for Ianto to finish, and drops the bowls into the sink with running water. "Are you ready?"
"For?"
"Work. You said you're our only witness, which isn't true, but I can't leave you home unattended so you may as well come with me and do something useful." The anger is still there. So's the uncoiled damage. Jack sweeps everything under the rug with a raised eyebrow. "Interested?"
Hope slams into him. "Give me five minutes to change."
They don't have the stopwatch any more, but Jack touches his own watch meaningfully, and Ianto is back in the bedroom like a shot, tearing through his wardrobe for a shirt.
***
They're halfway to the bakery when reality sets in with a shocking cold. "I can't go in."
"Why?"
"I'm not an employee. You've said."
"You were. And to be honest, if working for Torchwood ended with death, I'd've had to reapply about a thousand times by now." His driving has improved, Ianto has noticed. Jack is more cautious these days, and Ianto uses this as a distraction for a moment, watching the movement of his muscles, watching him check his mirrors before lane changes.
"We made Owen stand down."
"How many hours did that last again?"
Ianto sighs. He's not really worried about the employment paperwork. If worse comes to worse, he'll sign everything for Queen and Country a third time. "After yesterday, they're going to hate me."
Had Jack brought him in two days ago, this wouldn't be a problem. He would be the returning soldier, the senior agent over the three new people, wounded in battle but come back from death to fight again, and a lot of other rot he's let himself imagine every morning Jack has said no. Today, he's the idiot who let a serial killer get away.
"Probably."
"And they're going to think you're only letting me back because you're making special allowances for me." He doesn't want to say 'because we're together' but it makes no difference if the reason was 'because you said so.' Back in the old days, Jack's bouts of favouritism had come close to wrecking half the interpersonal relationships on their team. Some things don't change.
"Yeah."
Right. Ruined the plan and Teacher's Pet. Ianto wants to sink through his seat into the running boards. Jack catches his sick expression, and nods once. He's always been creative in doling out punishments.
"How bad is it going to be?"
"I figure Gwen will play nice, because she's been nagging me to bring you back in, but she'll chew my ear off in private for doing it today. Dr. Pol won't speak to you unless she has to. Albert will try to get you killed at least twice, until I tell him to knock it off."
"No chance of you having that conversation with him early?"
"None. If I tell him in advance, he really will assume you're only around for me to play with on breaks."
That's not difficult to picture. "What about Lois?" She seems sweet, but he knows from personal experience that the PA is the one who smiles brightest when they're stabbing you in the neck.
"Hard to say. Did I tell you she poisoned me once?"
"No. What did you do to her?"
"I insulted her by accident, she thought I did it on purpose. Looking back, I should have kept my mouth shut. We don't talk about it much."
"I meant after."
"Oh. Docked her two days' pay and made her clean up the mess. She's promised not to do it again." He shrugs off the death like he would a glass of water splashed in his face. But that's Jack all over. He finds the most damaged, unconventional workers possible, deals with them when they inevitably fuck up, and forgives them so they can move on. If Suzie hadn't topped herself after all the murders, he would have forgiven her too. As today's recipient of the Captain Jack Harkness Reconciliation Award, Ianto can't complain, but he does find room to be astounded.
His reintroduction goes just as predicted: Gwen embraces him when he enters the new office for the first time, and the rest of the team stands back, shooting Jack suspicious looks. Jack affects to ignore the tension, and he treats Ianto exactly like any other employee with the offhand orders he barks. It's peculiarly reminiscent of Ianto's return after his suspension, although neither Albert nor Dr. Pol leave anything dead or drippy for him to clean up like Owen did every day until Jack shouted at him to stop being such a slob. Still, Ianto keeps to himself at the work station Jack assigns him. He follows Jack's instructions to locate any mentions of unusual deaths in the human population that might be linked. He only eats from the bag of treats Jack purchased on their way in, waving off Lois's offers of coffee as politely as he can.
Police reports drone into one another, leaving him room for his mind to wander and his ears to catch the muffled noises from Jack's new office as Gwen gives him an earful behind closed doors.
While they're occupied, Albert gives himself reasons to be in Ianto's space, fidgeting with the safety on his gun and grumbling. "Could have got him," is the only phrase that comes through clearly. The threats are muted enough to ignore. Ianto gets his own in the early afternoon, as Albert fails on a task that Toshiko would have waltzed through easily, and Ianto says so.
Gwen waits to corner Ianto. It's not until he's gone to the sad little room that does for their archive that she follows him in with that expression writ large on her face, the one he knows from long experience means she is going to have her say. To be honest, he finds the familiarity encouraging, even welcome. Being on the receiving end of a Gwen Cooper remonstration is the closest to home this new Torchwood has felt since he walked through the reinforced steel door this morning. Her arms are folded and her face is cross. He oughn't feel so light-hearted, and if he smiles, she'll probably smack him.
"Do you remember how things were after we lost Owen and Toshiko?"
That isn't the question he's been expecting, and Ianto pauses, one hand resting on a pristine new folder. "Yeah."
"So you recall what Jack was like."
Self-destructive. Right after, there wasn't a deadly peril he didn't throw himself in front of, either to save someone or not. Given all the times he must have died underground during his long not-quite-sleep, he added almost fifty more deaths in the following two months out of grief.
They all have their ways of coping. Gwen's is to tell herself stories until she makes herself believe what happened wasn't her fault, and to sob the rest out. Ianto copes by binging on whatever's at hand, be that beer, food, drugs (just the once), or most commonly in recent years, sex. He would have drowned his sorrows for his lost friends in the bottom of a glass, but Jack was closer, and warmer, especially when he came back from yet another death brought on by his own attempts at atonement.
"I remember."
"He loved them like his own children. I never once saw him treat Toshiko as anything less than his own daughter. Tell me you know that."
He does. And he also observed Jack with Owen and gradually came to wonder if Owen's missing and never-named father might be closer than anyone thought.
"He lost them and that Gray all at once, and he mourned them, and he went on. No matter how much he cared."
"I know." He's not sure where this is headed, and his stomach tenses. The small, dark room closes in with just the two of them, reminding him of a confessional. Gwen's meandering around her point.
"Good. Because you need to know who you are."
"I do." He's gone through multiple names and false identities over the last year, but Ianto knows exactly who he is. The rest of this conversation is a bed of confusion.
Her mouth draws into a displeased moue. "After you went away," and she uses the same hesitating emphasis she does when mentioning Jack's deaths, like a genteel prodding at a spongy uncomfortable spot, "he broke. He didn't go on, he didn't pick up the pieces and move on. He ran, and when he couldn't run any more, he came back. I watched him. He tried, and he managed to pretend everything was all right for whole hours at a time, but he wasn't the same man. And he's still not."
The echo from last night doesn't pass unnoticed. "He's getting better," Ianto replies, instinctive in his defensiveness of Jack.
"He was, until you were a damn fool who almost got yourself killed. Have you even bothered to notice what a wreck he is today? He's terrified whenever you're out of sight."
Ianto bites back his initial response, because Gwen doesn't get to hear about their home life, and he's not giving up another small shard of Jack that's his alone. He also quells the embarrassment, because honestly, he believed Gwen hadn't noticed, either.
She says, "It's been my job to hold him together, and I can't, Ianto. There's too much, and I have my own family. I won't survive him breaking apart again." Emotion thickens her speech. Gwen's done her own breaking all this time, but Gwen's made of different stuff than Jack. She bends.
"He won't."
"Don't be stupid, and do not waste my time pretending to be humble." Each word is a slap, pushing him back. "Don't say he's lost lovers before, because we watched over him after Estelle. Don't say he's lost friends before, because he and I have lost friends you never met. You know he bled when Owen and Tosh died, and he went on without them. He lost Gray the same day they died, so don't bloody well pass it off as he was only mourning Steven. It was you. It was always you." There's regret and anger in every word, and a forest of paths untravelled. He and Gwen circle Jack like a double helix. Switch places here, exchange a choice there, and the whole body moves.
"So I had to tell you," she finishes limply, wiping at tears neither one will ever admit she shed. "You may like to pretend you're not important, but I actually think you do want to believe it's true. There's your proof. The next time you run off to do something abysmally stupid, don't imagine for a second I won't wallop you."
He wants to protest, wants to set out before her all the reasons he's neatly arranged as to why he's not as significant to Jack as she says. Yesterday, he would have. Today, he nods his head once, curtly, and says, "Yes, ma'am."
"Good." She stalks out, leaving him alone and flustered, and completely forgetting why he came in the little archive room at all.
***
They take a late lunch in the new conference room, but it's set up for five, not six. Jack doesn't affect to notice, and then he makes a poor joke about Ianto sitting on his lap when he does. Another chair is brought in from outside for the interloper. As at the dinner party, conversations move past him, and Ianto focuses on eating, on fitting in, and he gets used to being ignored.
The rest of the day goes better, for certain definitions. No new murders are reported from London, but Ianto does find months-old records of two murdered humans in Swindon who match the MO. He turns what he can over to Andy, who seems far more intimately acquainted with Torchwood's dealings than he used to be.
On their way home, Ianto relaxes in his seat, grateful for once that Jack insisted on driving again. Over the noise from the radio, Jack asks, "Anyone try to kill you today?"
"Only Gwen." The minor issues were best left unspoken. Albert tripped him once, ostensibly by accident, and when he was taking his obligatory physical, Dr. Pol took her time in finding a vein for the blood test. Lois is biding her time, he's sure, and he made his own coffee in the afternoon, hovering over his cup in case of tampering. Having spent more time with Lois today, he doesn't expect cyanide, but he wouldn't put laxatives past her. (Of the three newcomers, she's the least pissed-off at him, but she also got to stay back and coordinate from here yesterday. He's still not risking it.)
"They're going to hate you for a while, and then they'll get used to having you around." It's practically the same pep talk he gave after Ianto's first day back after Lisa. Which is why Ianto isn't surprised when Jack follows on with the same threat he made back then, too. "If you ever lie to me again on something like this, you're going to lose every memory you've had since 2005."
Ianto replies the same way he did then. "Yes, sir."
***
Chapter Six