Fic: Pale Blue Rings (SoI 5), Jack/Ianto
Chapter Title: Pale Blue Rings (SoI 5)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: A meeting of minds...
A/N: Wow. Long. My apologies to all those who like short chapters. ;)
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 (Please see A/N)
Preliminary lab results indicate Specimen #056-J24, alien pheromone of unknown origins, chemically metamorphs to mimic pheromones produced by subject. #056-J24 exhibits a potency exceeding 200% occurring naturally. No known side effects. Specimen appears a nuisance, but not a particularly viable threat.
Funds request form for Turkish Delights filed under 'Miscellaneous: Toiletries.'
Ianto tapped the stylus against the PDA screen, saving and encrypting the latest section of his weekly report to Ms. White. It was a risk, he knew, working on his report during Torchwood hours, but the Information Center was dreadfully slow this week, he was avoiding the Hub, and he had delayed writing this report until the last possible moment. He wasn't one to procrastinate, but he would be the first to admit he was not in top form.
He hadn't told Lisa what had happened. Contrary to the reports he filed with Ms. White, he usually told Lisa everything about Torchwood, from Suzie's change in shampoo (lilac now) to Wilson's preferred shirt color (pale green, like diluted grass, every shirt a variation of the color - a possible sign of compulsive obsession but Ianto wasn't mentioning that in his report either). He told her when Owen and Suzie started their affair. And when it ended (23 days, four encounters, could have been more but Ianto didn't believe Owen could manage beyond six). Jack went to the surface at 8:00am and 8:00pm every day (sometimes more often, sometimes only the twice) and stood atop a high point staring at the morning sky. (Looking for or awaiting an encounter? Or perhaps contemplating the efficiency of a death from a vaulted vantage and how long it would take Ianto to clean that mess up?) He even told her each time Jack had died. He told Lisa everything Torchwood.
He couldn't tell her what happened.
Ianto supposed he was being ridiculous. After all, the field agents in London had regaled him with tales that had seemed quite fanciful and made up at the time: situations when members of the team had been hit by a rogue alien beam which ended in an orgy, or when two men had stepped into a field emitted by a handheld computer (initially described by the one they were pursuing as an alien ovulation calendar) and one of them had ended up pregnant (birthed a healthy little baby with pink skin and translucent airy hair - apparently more than two sets of genes were combined; the happy couple and kid lived outside London last Ianto knew) and countless other times the agents had encountered alien devices, gizmos, and doo-hickeys which had resulted in sex - sometimes with new appendages and abilities, sometimes with less (forced blindness through temporary disconnect of the optical nerve, however, was not something he'd prefer to attempt). He had gotten away lucky, all things considered. For a moment that first night, though, Ianto had panicked and truly hoped that there were indeed no side effects from the pheromone, no weird transference and combining of DNA, as a baby would put a severe kink in his plans. His rational side eventually allayed his fears - it was highly improbable as he'd been on the receiving end of a blowjob - though he didn't sleep at all that night (and he would never admit to slouching on the sofa watching EastEnders reruns and occasionally poking his belly, trying to determine if an unusual bump had formed).
Logically, it was just another day, another experience at Torchwood. He knew what existed; he knew more than most. There was no reason why what happened should come as any shock or stress. Pragmatic and detached, he had hacked into Miles' computer, too easily done, Ianto believed, for being the supposed computer technician Miles was, and erased the video Miles had recorded. Erased it from Owen's computer as well, and Owen's home computer. And the flashdrive. But not before watching, driven by a masochist's curiosity to see what he only vaguely remembered in Technicolor clips of dream. The video was interrupted by Jack's arrival, camera hastily tucked away but still filming, capturing the audio of Jack's demands for answers and orders for Owen to leave. Ianto should have felt relieved; he did, in part. Imagining what he might have done to Owen was enough to leave him sick, both from a moral vantage and the fact that it was Owen and who knew what blackmailing and bullying would have ensued. The small portion of his subconscious which he denied existence felt a wash of warmth - Ianto knew Jack went to lengths to protect his team and this gave that tiny voice a sense of belonging. Which he quickly stomped out.
Shame, and a fear that Owen may have considered the notion as well, caused Ianto to bring up the CCTV of the lab, finding the proper date and time. Jack's arrival was captured there, as were Ianto's struggles to not advance on Owen. Images matched the audio Miles had recorded - Jack looked almost angry - and then Owen fled out the door. The audio had stopped there, but the images on the CCTV kept going as Ianto saw himself try to follow but had been blocked by Jack. The navy blue wall made sense, then, Jack's shirt dark on the footage. Ianto had his finger on the key to stop playback, but a twisted fascination pushed him to know. He had to see. He didn't want to consider what kind of perversion drove him but he couldn't stop watching, especially if Owen had gotten to the video first. He had to know. Ianto drew up when Jack's eyes locked on his, the man's intensity startling him. For a moment, Ianto forgot that he wasn't watching live feed. Jack's arms encircled himself in the footage, hands coming together behind Ianto's head. Ianto was confused as to what he was seeing. It wasn't an embrace - Jack was hardly touching him - but then the screen went to fuzz, the images stopped.
Jack had blocked the CCTV camera.
Ianto sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face before deleting the CCTV footage and running a search for it on Miles and Owen's computers. Jack had stopped the camera. Even now, staring absently at his PDA, one ear to the door for visitors to the Information Center, Ianto was relieved and frustrated. As much as he wanted to know exactly what happened, he didn't want to know and he definitely didn't need it recorded. Common sense dictated it was to protect Jack from potential fallout as much as to spare Ianto humiliation. But it unnerved Ianto all the same, throwing off his careful control and awareness. Things didn't quite match what he believed truth, what he had observed, read, heard. The combination of drug, sex, and Jack were wrecking havoc on his mind and threatening his plans. What he didn't understand was a potential threat; he didn't understand Jack's motivations, he didn't understand his actions. Most importantly, Ianto didn't understand why he himself should care. It was just a blowjob when he could have done something either horrible or embarrassing or both to Owen. It hadn't revealed his plans, he hadn't been fired, he wasn't banished from Torchwood for failing to maintain control and accosting his boss. Everything was as it should be.
But it wasn't. And he couldn't tell Lisa.
"Ianto! You're with me."
Ianto's head jerked up; he'd been so focused on his PDA's home screen that he hadn't noticed anyone enter the Information Center from the Hub. Miles and Owen were bickering over football statistics (both were invariably wrong, and he was sure neither could pass basic maths, much less statistics from the numbers they were throwing about). Owen shot him a look as he passed; Ianto wasn't sure how to decipher it, but at the present moment he wasn't inclined to give Owen the time nor the effort. Suzie and Wilson followed, Wilson wearing a tropical shirt with splashes of diluted grass green flowers. "Sir?"
Jack stood near the desk, leaning hip and elbow against it much as the first time they'd met, though on a far cleaner surface. He wasn't smiling, in fact, his face was alarmingly serious. "You're coming with me," he repeated, slowly, as though Ianto failed to understand English the first time he spoke the words.
His heart stopped, Ianto was fairly certain, in that moment. He glanced at his PDA; it was on his home screen, but Jack must have hacked in. Or maybe zoomed in on his screen while he was sketching his report. Or had somehow gained access to his home computer. Jack knew. It would explain why the others were leaving on their own. Jack didn't want any witnesses. The method of Jack's dispatch wasn't apparent, not from what Ianto had witnessed, so whether he was to be shot or drowned in the bay...or maybe drawn and quartered and sent to Ms. White in pieces would be more Jack's style and retribution. Owen knew. He knew when he returned that Ianto wouldn't be there. The others, they'd never really cared if he'd existed so they wouldn't care if he was there or not, but Owen knew. He'd be pleased, then, though he would have to find a new source of amusement for himself and Miles. "Of course, sir."
There was little point in gathering his belongings, so he left his PDA with his briefcase; his panicked mind was already planning for Lisa. Maybe before Jack got rid of him, he could plead Lisa's case. Another option depended on method, but it was possible Ianto could overtake Jack. He knew how to fight; he'd received all the training at London, plus more from sheer boredom in the summer months when he was young. Maybe it wasn't a lost cause. He'd have to strike before Jack, but if Jack were to go for his gun, there was the chance Ianto could escape and save Lisa.
He walked with Jack; neither of them spoke, Jack simply walked with his hands in his pockets, long coat billowing behind him in the wind. It would have been a serene moment, had Ianto not been approaching every step as another avenue for escape, another lost. How he could have been so careless as to be discovered Ianto wasn't certain, but would Jack really kill someone working for Ms. White? That would bring the wrath of Torchwood and the Avalon project down on one's self and one's team. There was no escaping those combined efforts. He knew he was, at most, guilty of spying on his boss, but he had been doing Jack a small favor by not reporting everything he learned. He had even warned him of Ms. White's arrival at Torchwood Three. He owed Ianto at least to take care of Lisa, even if Jack killed him for the betrayal. A small source of peace, but Ianto felt less panicked as they entered Starbucks; one last coffee, it would seem. At least Jack didn't try to make it - his coffee was even worse than Wilson's.
Coffee in hand, Ianto followed Jack to a quiet patio table away from the other customers. A pill bottle was set in front of him once they had both seated. Ianto could do nothing more than stare at it, trying as he could to argue against what he was seeing, but it was there in front of him and it made absolutely no sense. It was a bottle of Retcon. Not poison, not a gun to his head, not a strong sedative to knock him out so he could be thrown off a pier. It was Retcon.
"Two should do it." Jack nudged the bottle closer to him, but Ianto couldn't move, couldn't even summon the courage to flee to save Lisa if he had to.
Two? For starters, that wouldn't kill him. And it wasn't nearly enough to wipe out his knowledge of Torchwood. He hadn't been kidding himself when he believed it impossible for that to ever work. He continued to stare at the bottle; he couldn't even breathe properly for all his heart had swam to his throat and lodged itself there, thumping in tempo to the rush in his ears. Wouldn't quite do to pass out in front of his boss when facing a bottle of Retcon but he couldn't apply reason to what he was seeing.
"I don't typically encourage my employees or my partners to self-medicate but I'm feeling particularly generous today."
He quickly did the math, calculating dosage and time. Oh, god. He was giving Ianto an out.
Ianto set his coffee on the table, afraid his hands shaking with adrenaline and relief would spill it on his suit; coffee was a trial to remove. Jack was giving him an out. He could forget that scene in the lab had ever happened, barring a trigger, forget Owen, forget everything about that day. And the stress since then. He didn't know about Lisa, didn't know about Ms. White, didn't know anything except that day. Ianto's breath hitched before he finally caught it, exhaling slowly and forestalling hyperventilation or laughter, both of which tickled at the edges of his vision, beckoning with tempting dances of oblivion. It'd be so easy just to forget and return to his life the way it was, pieces stacked carefully in a balanced Jenga tower instead of the wobbly, insecure structure it currently was. A stable view, every portion of his plans in place and unquestioned, his outlook favorable and uncomplicated. It was deliciously tempting.
And at the same time, he didn't want it. For the same reason he couldn't tell Lisa.
He took his time, minutes spent deliberating while Jack watched, the serious, passive expression never leaving his face. The choice was Ianto's. Jack wouldn't make it for him; for that, Ianto appreciated and was forced to slightly alter his perception of his employer. Jack, Casanova and heartbreaker, would allow him to forget. And having that choice in a world where Ianto rarely possessed one, was as unnerving as failure to understand yet refreshing as clean sheets, tucked with tight corners and surface firm, lying atop them and smelling the subtle scent of detergent as one was lulled to sleep by their warmth.
He raised his coffee with two hands so as not to spill, taking a deliberate sip of cooled unadulterated coffee before responding. "That won't be necessary, sir."
"Good." Jack's expression transformed instantly into one of the more familiar full-toothed smiles, swiping the pills from the table and shoving them into a coat pocket before Ianto had a chance to argue or change his mind. Not that he would change his mind, but Jack apparently believed it still possible. Ianto felt reinforced, supported by that smile; he felt like he'd passed some form of test, though what the subject was he wasn't sure and quite frankly didn't care. It was stupid and reckless but he indulged, sucked into the black hole of emotion that was Captain Jack Harkness.
He wasn't going to die today; Lisa was safe.
The relief made him giddy, made him feel like dancing if only there were four walls, dim lighting, intoxicated people who didn't give a damn who you were, and music. He certainly wouldn't dance in front of his boss, but he did smile, feeling his face crack as though it had been permanently set into polite indifference; as Ianto reflected, it probably had. Smiling felt as odd as getting blown by his boss. He supposed it could be worse; he might have laughed.
"Ianto Jones smiles. What's next? Jeans? T-shirt? I have to admit, I'd miss the suits but keep smiling and I'd allow it." Jack relaxed into his chair, looking like he was enjoying the coffee instead of using it as a tool of distraction.
"Careful, sir. That qualifies as sexual harassment." Ianto hid the smile encouraged by Jack's hearty laughter behind his coffee cup; twice in one day was far too often. He had responsibilities. Comfort and ease got in the way of responsibilities, though it may allow him access to those codes quicker. Not being at odds with Jack definitely felt better, at any rate, with far less fear of reprise or dismissal.
Their coffees gone, Ianto gathered their cups and threw them in the bins. They didn't talk much between them, but then there really wasn't much to talk about. Jack threw out a few work questions, thanked him for warning of Ms. White. Ianto didn't preen so much as nod in acknowledgment during their leisurely stroll back to the Hub. No longer searching for escape paths, he actually enjoyed the activity. Too often he was speeding to a certain location in search of some commodity. This time, he took his time and looked about, responding as necessary to Jack's conversation. Eventually, however, the air grew tense again, thick with an anticipatory dread and polite curiosity, and Ianto feared what would be said next.
"Who's Li-"
Jack's first serious question of the day was never voiced, at least not fully, for which Ianto was eternally grateful to whatever deity had intervened. So he had said something he shouldn't have the other day. He'd owe someone in karma later, but at the moment he had an armful of child to concern himself with, surprised as Jack was by the collision. The force of the impact had nearly upended him, but Ianto quickly regained his balance by backpedaling a few steps (playtime with his nephews had given him ample practice), arms instinctively dropping to protect the child. She wasn't much older than seven, maybe eight, just a wisp of a thing, tiny shoulders trembling as she gasped for air. Of course with kids, Ianto knew that could be deceiving - they gulped air like they'd run a marathon after drinking a glass of milk.
"Ianto? Keeping secrets from me?" Jack was bemused, arms crossed in a confident pose like he'd said the funniest thing since the invention of the hula hoop. Ianto nearly choked on his next breath. The notion of secrets far too true, but none of them involved children of his own creation (so long as the pheromones were strictly pheromones).
Ianto chose to ignore Jack; the question didn't even merit a response. Instead he focused on the girl still glued to his waist, arms tightly wrapped around and face planted in his hip. He carefully pried himself away, folding himself in thirds as he squatted down to be more on her height and, he hoped, far less scary. "Where's you mum, darling?" He could hear Jack's snicker; Ianto was aware that demonstrating the 'softer side of Ianto' with the kid was probably even more amusing to Jack, but he didn't care. The girl was frightened; he didn't need to be cruel. Besides, his nephews liked him - soft side and all - and that was far more important to Ianto than any snickering Captain.
He brushed aside the hair sticking to her face, a thin veil of long tresses a shade lighter than the perfect cup of espresso color of her wide eyes. Scared to the point of tears, which he carefully brushed aside as well. Was most likely separated from her parents at one of the shops; it was a busy day on the streets of Cardiff and Ianto had seen it happen before when something shiny popped up to distract the kid. Worried the parents nearly as much, if not more, than it worried the child, typically. He'd been frantic when he had lost sight of Bryce while watching the twins. Bryce of course was laughing happily while a kind storekeep entertained him with a toy and waited for the 'parent' to arrive. And arrive Ianto did, Gareth crying as he clung to Ianto's shoulder as he felt the panic radiating from his uncle. That had been a miserable day - Ianto swore to Elaine he was never taking the boys out again, and she just laughed and called him the best uncle the boys could have and to stuff it and go take them their snack.
Calmly, Ianto glanced up at Jack and rolled his eyes as the man smirked, enjoying that it was Ianto dealing with the child, not himself, Ianto assumed. Somehow, he found it all together unsurprising. For all the purported care for the 21st century, Jack seemed remarkably detached. "Sir, if you wouldn't mind contacting the -"
Ianto stopped himself, calm devolving quickly into a deep-rooted fear which swam in his gut like a boulder. He tucked the hair behind the girl's ears, getting a good look at her face, ignoring Jack's repeated calls of "Ianto?" as he paged through his mental picture book. "Rani?" He sincerely hoped that he was wrong, that her name wasn't Rani, because an alone-and-in-tears Rani would be a very, very bad thing. But he knew; he never forgot a face, even if that face had been a year or two younger at the time. He knew with a despairing certainty who the little girl was and knew with an equal fear that she should not be alone.
This was why Avalon existed.
He touched her chin, drawing her eyes so they were on level with his. She was so scared. "Rani Tapadia?" She didn't move, she knew better than to respond to the question and it sickened Ianto when he realized she probably thought he was testing her. Slowly, beckoning her forward as he leaned closer, whispering in her ear low enough so only she could hear (not even Jack with the seemingly long-ears should hear this): "the Isle of Apples." The wide eyes grew a fraction larger in surprise before the dam burst, a mixture of Hindi and English spilling over him so quickly he only picked up a word or two in either language. Jack was staring at him with an equal surprise, touched by a shade of confusion and while he was deciphering blurred seven-year old Hindi English, Ianto felt a small victory. He had confused Jack. About time the man was put off-balance as much as he put others.
"Rani, Rani slow down." Dead. Ran. Lost. The jumbled words kept coming, repeated in two languages at mixed intervals and Ianto knew they didn't have much time. He tried to look about, look for anything to run from, anywhere to hide until he could contact Avalon, and tried as much as he could not let any of his fear bleed over into the terrified child. "Rani, where is your -"
"Oh, my dear, there you are!"
Ianto pivoted on his toes, warily eyeing the blonde woman who sprinted down the sidewalk (in high heels - how is that accomplished?). She appeared unarmed, though Ianto knew that looks could be deceiving. And with Avalon, no one was to be trusted. Jack was already charming the woman, who claimed to be Rani's adoptive mother who'd lost sight of her daughter on the busy streets and was so relieved they had found her, flirting and laughing all the while.
Ianto didn't buy the story; never even considered believing it. Rani clung to him as he straightened, standing as tall as he could while keeping a hand on the girl's shoulder to comfort her as well as bolster himself.
"Ianto, hand the child over to the nice woman." Jack spoke slowly, a bit patronizing, but he'd made the request a few times. Now it sounded more an order and Ianto was going to ignore that, too. His grip tightened just a bit on Rani's shoulder, hopefully reflecting his intent not to hand her over to the woman who definitely was not her mother. Avalon didn't work like that. The mother and father were always the parents, that never changed. No one was adopted. If their parents were deceased, the children became wards of Avalon until adulthood. Avalon didn't work like that.
He kept reaffirming his beliefs in the system his mother governed. She had abandoned he and his sister as children in favor of the children of the Avalon project, she wouldn't have changed it so drastically. His panic growing, Ianto watched the strange woman - he didn't recognize her, he didn't know her from the other Guardians. He knew Rani, though. He recognized her and if her Guardian was dead, he had no alternative.
"No."
"No? This is her mother." Jack stressed the word 'mother' as he advanced on Ianto, even as Ianto felt relieved that his boss was unknowingly separating himself from the dangerous situation. He couldn't tell Jack what was going on, but he could certainly refuse an order. Jack eyed the two of them, the strange woman and Ianto, the proverbial light finally dawning by the change in his stature that more existed than what he had initially believed. "Ianto? Mind telling me what's going on?"
Ianto ignored him; he couldn't answer. Not that he didn't want to answer, but it was Avalon. He couldn't speak no matter if Jack were truly alien and not even from this time. Instead he observed the surroundings: two men approaching Jack from behind, suit jackets hiding what Ianto believed to be a small armory. The woman still hadn't moved, all blonde and beautiful and dressed in Armani, if his eyes didn't mistake him. And hiding at least two weapons, one in an ankle holster above the exceedingly ridiculous high heels and one at her side, covered by her jacket. Two more ways the situation could end poorly for him, Jack would at least heal and Rani would not be harmed. And for a while Ianto had considered the notion his death would come by Jack's hand. He might've laughed, if not for the severity of the woman's falling smile.
"Ianto?" Jack's voice was sharp, his tone losing its casual confident cool as he seemed to descend into the same state Ianto found himself. Which was good, there needed to be more than one person concerned about the situation.
"Where is her Guardian?" Ianto directed his question at the woman. Rani's tensing body, her hand twisting into the fabric of his pants, was all Ianto needed. He pushed the girl behind him, praying to whatever deity had intervened earlier that day for another moment of protection; he didn't have eyes at the back of his head. If there was someone coming up from behind, they were all lost. "What is the code?"
Ianto's demand was met with the barrel of a gun pulled from beneath the woman's jacket. His trainer from London, Sue Pinkerton, would have been proud of the initial observation if she had survived the battle. But she was lost and so were they, from the sounds of guns cocking at his left where Jack stood. The men in dark suits had pulled portions of the armory they carried, it would seem.
There was no way to get Rani out of this; Ianto had calculated the odds and found them devastatingly bleak. He wondered if the Guardian had even been given time to come to those same conclusions, or if they had been blissfully unaware.
"Hand her over and I won't kill your friend."
Friend might be a misnomer and Jack for all observations and reason couldn't be killed, but Ianto still felt a pang of regret. It felt like betrayal - betrayal of a sort different to the information gathering Ianto was conducting for Ms. White, even if Ianto believed Jack wouldn't allow the child to be turned over at this point either. This actually hurt. Jack was innocent, he shouldn't have been involved. He knew nothing of Avalon, despite his boasting of being above and beyond all things government and military-related. There were some levels of security that even he didn't possess, and for that, Ianto truly did feel his next words. "I'm sorry, Jack."
Ianto had never had the vantage point of viewing the barrel of a gun as it was fired, and he really could have done without the knowledge. In fact, he would have been content to live out his entire life always wondering, the curiosity never quenched. Content as he was, he was now force-fed the knowledge. He knew that he saw movement, saw the bullet a fraction of a microsecond before he heard it at this distance, and felt pain in tune with the jarring impact and pull like the jerk of a marionette string connected to the earth. He knew, despite never wishing the wisdom. He knew just as certainly that Jack was supposed to have been killed, not him, and that Lisa was lost, for he really was meant to die that day.
***
Blurred shades of brown tickled his nose and there was an uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, warmth in his chest. Breathing hurt and panic spun out of control when things wouldn't work like they should. He couldn't breathe, there was nothing there to breathe with. A familiar touch danced across his mind. He couldn't place it, but it told him to be at peace, to sleep.
He listened.
***
Ianto awoke, this time to no warmth, but no fear. He could breathe and he took desperate lung-fulls just to make sure he was prepared in case he couldn't breathe again. He remembered that, if nothing else. Pain and then nothing and the moment of awareness that he couldn't breathe. His eyes worked, if not a bit hazy and slow to focus, shapes coming to focus, the first of which being a startling shade of pale blue rings. Blue the color of a spring early morning in a cloud-less sky, that sharp crystal pale blue both breathtaking and awe-inspiring for all that one stares and loses their identity in the infinite vastness that blankets and protects.
He knew that shade; he knew those rings. It just seemed to take a moment for him to place them.
"Jean-Luc."
Spots moved - freckles - and slowly the picture dropped from kaleidoscope to focused, a sheath of dark hair moving backwards connected to a wide smile. "Ianto. Sight better than last time you woke. How does it feel to regain your foothold in the land of the living?"
The question triggered a memory, Ianto's frustration with a stubborn consciousness irritating him far more than it ought. Rani. He sat up and looked about, he knew how he lived, but he didn't see her. He knew she was part of Avalon, he knew her face. A long, slender finger pointed to Ianto's legs where a mass of long brown hair covered the figure clinging to his shins, fast asleep but cutting off the circulation in his feet. He didn't have the heart to move her.
"She's fine, just catching a rest before we move on. Tired herself out saving your sorry arse."
That reminder had Ianto throwing a hand to his chest, feeling the ruin of his suit but no gauze, no tape, just whole skin and, more importantly, no bullet hole. A look about found Jack standing with Stephen, looking healthy and whole while next to them three bodies were being hefted into a white van.
"Friend or foe?"
Ianto was confused by the question never voiced, swirling about his mind like liquid raspberry swirling into vanilla milkshake. The body bags? They'd shot him, for fuck's sake. They weren't exactly what he'd call friends. Quiet laughter like cool water calmed him, smoothing the rough edges and harsh swirling until there was almost peace within his own mind.
"The man, Jack Harkness. Is he a threat?"
Finally understanding what Jean-Luc was asking, but not understanding intent, Ianto allowed his general impressions of Jack rest in his public mind. Not all his barriers were currently holding, but some were. The important ones were.
In return for the impressions, Ianto's generic 'I don't know what you're asking for but here' response, he was hit by a torrent of memories, images, and feelings flashing past him quicker than he could catalog even as he experienced everything. He saw himself shot, a kill shot (the lady had good aim, it seemed), and he had gone down. The woman was tackled by a blur at the same time as the two men guarding Jack dropped like stones, never making a sound or even moving on the triggers of their guns. Ianto recognized that handiwork and dangled a compliment for Jean-Luc, impressed as ever by the man's talent. There was a reason the man provided all security for Ms. White. And as a Grade 1, there were few who could match him. There wasn't a better friend to have.
Rani had fallen on top of him - not injured but already working her magic, healing him, bringing him back. The brown hair tickled his nose. She was going to be powerful one day; Jean-Luc echoed his assent. The images fractured, a struggle - Jack - who was trying to get to Rani. Or Ianto. Or both of them. Stephen had stepped in, allowing Jean-Luc to assist Rani if she needed it, but even with an eye on the girl Jean-Luc had kept his mind on Jack.
Stephen looked good, Ianto thought; the last time Ianto had seen him he had been sporting a cast and a black eye after an accident with a volatile telekinetic who'd been startled while having a wank in his dormitory.
"He never learns, our Stephen. He had his belt buckle welded to his stomach last March. Caught a couple snogging after curfew."
Not that Jean-Luc had any right to comment, caught snogging after curfew a time or two himself. Ianto would know. He'd gotten in trouble as well and he wasn't even supposed to be in those halls.
"Oh, but it was fun, sneaking you in. What were they going to do, kick me out?"
A free Jean-Luc in his teens was a frightening image indeed - there wouldn't be a dormitory safe from his snooping. Jean-Luc's laughter tickled the edges of Ianto's mind, and the images continued, Jean-Luc's concern for Ianto palpable and at times overwhelming. Jack and Stephen were talking, but Ianto could feel the confusion surrounding Jack. Two bodies with no visible signs of attack, a girl sitting atop Ianto surrounded in a soft glow, and a man beside her, watching. Flashes of time sped before Ianto, slowing to focus on Jack as he checked his wrist, fiddling with the device and arriving at a conclusion that he understood but couldn't all the same.
"She's human." Jack had said to Stephen, who smiled and shrugged.
"You and your narrow little categories." Jack had balked at Stephen's response. His stunned look as he tried to add something which wasn't mathematically sound was an expression Ianto would cherish through the trying times he knew would present themselves often in the future.
Ianto had a disorienting feeling of watching himself stir, remembering the confusion, and was mollified that it was displayed in his initial distress. Jack and Stephen watched, Stephen actually holding Jack's long coat to prevent him from interfering. Jack had eventually calmed, face shifting into contemplation.
"Do you trust him?" Jack had asked, eyes never leaving the three.
"Ianto? You are Torchwood." Stephen answered in his rich deep voice, who Ianto noted was getting a large Christmas gift this year, and had summed everything up in one statement, but Jack was not to be distracted.
"That's not much of an answer."
"I've known Ianto all his life. It wasn't much of a question."
The images stopped, Ianto flowing into the present with a calming hand on his shoulder. Jean-Luc had at some point moved, supporting Ianto while they traveled along his friend's memories for clarification, a process eerily familiar to Ianto but much more satisfying than CCTV video. After all, these came with audio.
He understood what Jean-Luc was asking, though. It wasn't so much Avalon that Jean-Luc considered Jack a threat to. It was Ianto.
Ianto impatiently pushed Jean-Luc away, wanting to stand as his feet were really going pins-and-needles with Rani asleep atop of his legs. Jean-Luc shifted Rani, resting her on the ground for a moment while he helped the unsteady Ianto to his feet. Death could do that to a person, so it seemed, or near death, whatever the case might be. Ianto was dragged into a hug so tight it threw all air from his lungs, but he returned it just as forcefully, clutching the tall, gangly brilliantly blue-eyed lech to him. There was nothing to be spared on that figure, to which Jean-Luc responded with a mental image of Ms. White, the chicken, clucking about and mother-henning him to death. With a shared laugh, and very little actually spoken their entire conversation, Ianto took the proffered t-shirt from one of the individuals in the white van as the others managed the rather public scene that had just occurred. He quickly stripping off the ruined shirt and jacket, ignoring the quantity of blood staining the garments. Jean-Luc gathered Rani in his arms, lifting her with a display of talent that had Ianto rolling his eyes. Once a child of Avalon, always a child. The girl curled and settled into his arms, earning him a look from Ianto and an arched eyebrow of the 'when did you become so domestic' kind.
They joined Stephen and Jack, the latter waiting impatiently. He was tapping his toe in time with the finger on his sidearm, being forced as he was to wait for responses to questions that Stephen refused to answer. Not that Ianto had any additional answers. Avalon was still as secret as it had been at the beginning of the day. Nothing that had transpired would change that. It was Stephen who moved first, spry for going on 55 as demonstrated by his full-body tackle of the blonde woman. He was a former Guardian from Edinburgh, now teacher and mentor for Avalon. He'd taken Ianto under his wing when Ianto had first shown up as a 'promising individual' with Ms. White's office. Taught him all sorts of things Ianto was certain he wasn't supposed to know about, but found enlightening all the same. And fencing. Ianto had loved fencing as a child.
"Had us worried, lad. We got here as fast as we could once we realized Patrick had been killed." Ianto, who had not been on the receiving end of physical demonstrations since before the battle of Canary Wharf, found himself wrapped in hugs twice in one day. It shook him, reminding him of everything he was fighting to regain, that life that he had forced himself to forget. The distance and the barriers, everything erected to maintain a level of control and sanity, shattered by two people who knew him for only two months of the year but still knew him better than most. Ianto returned the embrace, Stephen's salt-and-pepper goatee scratching his cheek, the sensation reminding him of what he had nearly lost. And who had nearly been lost as a result.
"Give my thanks to Rani, please?" Ianto looked at the girl; she hadn't even woken when she'd been moved. He felt guilty for feeling so alive when she was completely wiped from the experience, but if it hadn't been for her...
Stephen nodded with a smile, then shared a look with Jean-Luc.
Jack.
Ianto stepped forward, eyeing Jack who had remained remarkably quiet throughout. He rather thought Jack was aware of the precarious situation he was in, having pieced together what he had seen, Ianto's apology, and just what he didn't know about the government he supported through work and life. Jean-Luc believed him a threat to Ianto, and Ianto wasn't quite sure that wasn't an unjust assumption, but not for quite the same reasons. Jean-Luc didn't know of Lisa. Jack could destroy Ianto's plans before he had time to put them fully in motion. He still needed time, information, research...and the bloody codes to the Archives. But he had known his decision before approaching Stephen and Jack. It was the only option that to Ianto seemed just; to him, he had no other alternative.
With a nod to Jean-Luc who stepped forward, Ianto looked Jack square in the eye. "Sir, I don't typically encourage my employers or my partners to self-medicate." Ignoring Stephen's muffled cough at Ianto's choice of wording (he wasn't exactly sure what to refer to Jack as after the incident in the lab, but quoting Jack seemed the best approach), he gestured to Jean-Luc, who Ianto knew could erase the day's events; after all, he had on occasion gotten them out of a scrape or two in the past. "But I'm feeling particularly generous today."
Jack's smile was brilliant - not one of the fake grins he applied when charming scary blonde women with guns and intent to kidnap a powerful young girl, but a true smile. Ianto nearly smiled in return, but three times in one day (twice witnessed) was stretching it.
"That won't be necessary, Ianto." Jack quoted back, half-bowing with sincerity to Jean-Luc who still looked ill-tempered despite cradling the sleeping Rani in his arms. Jack knew, or was at least aware, of the thin ice he was treading and also appeared to know the choice he had been given.
"Good." With a wave to old friends, Ianto turned towards Torchwood, their original destination before this disaster had occurred. Jack waved as well and followed, walking side-by-side as they headed back to base, darkness slowly creeping over Cardiff as night awoke from her slumber.
"You look good in a t-shirt, but I think I like the suits better."
Ianto couldn't help but smile.
Report Addendum:
Captain Harkness is aware of Rani Tapadia but unaware of Avalon. Be advised I have changed Stephen Beckett's decoy personnel files with MI5 to indicate a civilian encounter with Torchwood One.
Next Chapter
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: A meeting of minds...
A/N: Wow. Long. My apologies to all those who like short chapters. ;)
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 (Please see A/N)
Preliminary lab results indicate Specimen #056-J24, alien pheromone of unknown origins, chemically metamorphs to mimic pheromones produced by subject. #056-J24 exhibits a potency exceeding 200% occurring naturally. No known side effects. Specimen appears a nuisance, but not a particularly viable threat.
Funds request form for Turkish Delights filed under 'Miscellaneous: Toiletries.'
Ianto tapped the stylus against the PDA screen, saving and encrypting the latest section of his weekly report to Ms. White. It was a risk, he knew, working on his report during Torchwood hours, but the Information Center was dreadfully slow this week, he was avoiding the Hub, and he had delayed writing this report until the last possible moment. He wasn't one to procrastinate, but he would be the first to admit he was not in top form.
He hadn't told Lisa what had happened. Contrary to the reports he filed with Ms. White, he usually told Lisa everything about Torchwood, from Suzie's change in shampoo (lilac now) to Wilson's preferred shirt color (pale green, like diluted grass, every shirt a variation of the color - a possible sign of compulsive obsession but Ianto wasn't mentioning that in his report either). He told her when Owen and Suzie started their affair. And when it ended (23 days, four encounters, could have been more but Ianto didn't believe Owen could manage beyond six). Jack went to the surface at 8:00am and 8:00pm every day (sometimes more often, sometimes only the twice) and stood atop a high point staring at the morning sky. (Looking for or awaiting an encounter? Or perhaps contemplating the efficiency of a death from a vaulted vantage and how long it would take Ianto to clean that mess up?) He even told her each time Jack had died. He told Lisa everything Torchwood.
He couldn't tell her what happened.
Ianto supposed he was being ridiculous. After all, the field agents in London had regaled him with tales that had seemed quite fanciful and made up at the time: situations when members of the team had been hit by a rogue alien beam which ended in an orgy, or when two men had stepped into a field emitted by a handheld computer (initially described by the one they were pursuing as an alien ovulation calendar) and one of them had ended up pregnant (birthed a healthy little baby with pink skin and translucent airy hair - apparently more than two sets of genes were combined; the happy couple and kid lived outside London last Ianto knew) and countless other times the agents had encountered alien devices, gizmos, and doo-hickeys which had resulted in sex - sometimes with new appendages and abilities, sometimes with less (forced blindness through temporary disconnect of the optical nerve, however, was not something he'd prefer to attempt). He had gotten away lucky, all things considered. For a moment that first night, though, Ianto had panicked and truly hoped that there were indeed no side effects from the pheromone, no weird transference and combining of DNA, as a baby would put a severe kink in his plans. His rational side eventually allayed his fears - it was highly improbable as he'd been on the receiving end of a blowjob - though he didn't sleep at all that night (and he would never admit to slouching on the sofa watching EastEnders reruns and occasionally poking his belly, trying to determine if an unusual bump had formed).
Logically, it was just another day, another experience at Torchwood. He knew what existed; he knew more than most. There was no reason why what happened should come as any shock or stress. Pragmatic and detached, he had hacked into Miles' computer, too easily done, Ianto believed, for being the supposed computer technician Miles was, and erased the video Miles had recorded. Erased it from Owen's computer as well, and Owen's home computer. And the flashdrive. But not before watching, driven by a masochist's curiosity to see what he only vaguely remembered in Technicolor clips of dream. The video was interrupted by Jack's arrival, camera hastily tucked away but still filming, capturing the audio of Jack's demands for answers and orders for Owen to leave. Ianto should have felt relieved; he did, in part. Imagining what he might have done to Owen was enough to leave him sick, both from a moral vantage and the fact that it was Owen and who knew what blackmailing and bullying would have ensued. The small portion of his subconscious which he denied existence felt a wash of warmth - Ianto knew Jack went to lengths to protect his team and this gave that tiny voice a sense of belonging. Which he quickly stomped out.
Shame, and a fear that Owen may have considered the notion as well, caused Ianto to bring up the CCTV of the lab, finding the proper date and time. Jack's arrival was captured there, as were Ianto's struggles to not advance on Owen. Images matched the audio Miles had recorded - Jack looked almost angry - and then Owen fled out the door. The audio had stopped there, but the images on the CCTV kept going as Ianto saw himself try to follow but had been blocked by Jack. The navy blue wall made sense, then, Jack's shirt dark on the footage. Ianto had his finger on the key to stop playback, but a twisted fascination pushed him to know. He had to see. He didn't want to consider what kind of perversion drove him but he couldn't stop watching, especially if Owen had gotten to the video first. He had to know. Ianto drew up when Jack's eyes locked on his, the man's intensity startling him. For a moment, Ianto forgot that he wasn't watching live feed. Jack's arms encircled himself in the footage, hands coming together behind Ianto's head. Ianto was confused as to what he was seeing. It wasn't an embrace - Jack was hardly touching him - but then the screen went to fuzz, the images stopped.
Jack had blocked the CCTV camera.
Ianto sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face before deleting the CCTV footage and running a search for it on Miles and Owen's computers. Jack had stopped the camera. Even now, staring absently at his PDA, one ear to the door for visitors to the Information Center, Ianto was relieved and frustrated. As much as he wanted to know exactly what happened, he didn't want to know and he definitely didn't need it recorded. Common sense dictated it was to protect Jack from potential fallout as much as to spare Ianto humiliation. But it unnerved Ianto all the same, throwing off his careful control and awareness. Things didn't quite match what he believed truth, what he had observed, read, heard. The combination of drug, sex, and Jack were wrecking havoc on his mind and threatening his plans. What he didn't understand was a potential threat; he didn't understand Jack's motivations, he didn't understand his actions. Most importantly, Ianto didn't understand why he himself should care. It was just a blowjob when he could have done something either horrible or embarrassing or both to Owen. It hadn't revealed his plans, he hadn't been fired, he wasn't banished from Torchwood for failing to maintain control and accosting his boss. Everything was as it should be.
But it wasn't. And he couldn't tell Lisa.
"Ianto! You're with me."
Ianto's head jerked up; he'd been so focused on his PDA's home screen that he hadn't noticed anyone enter the Information Center from the Hub. Miles and Owen were bickering over football statistics (both were invariably wrong, and he was sure neither could pass basic maths, much less statistics from the numbers they were throwing about). Owen shot him a look as he passed; Ianto wasn't sure how to decipher it, but at the present moment he wasn't inclined to give Owen the time nor the effort. Suzie and Wilson followed, Wilson wearing a tropical shirt with splashes of diluted grass green flowers. "Sir?"
Jack stood near the desk, leaning hip and elbow against it much as the first time they'd met, though on a far cleaner surface. He wasn't smiling, in fact, his face was alarmingly serious. "You're coming with me," he repeated, slowly, as though Ianto failed to understand English the first time he spoke the words.
His heart stopped, Ianto was fairly certain, in that moment. He glanced at his PDA; it was on his home screen, but Jack must have hacked in. Or maybe zoomed in on his screen while he was sketching his report. Or had somehow gained access to his home computer. Jack knew. It would explain why the others were leaving on their own. Jack didn't want any witnesses. The method of Jack's dispatch wasn't apparent, not from what Ianto had witnessed, so whether he was to be shot or drowned in the bay...or maybe drawn and quartered and sent to Ms. White in pieces would be more Jack's style and retribution. Owen knew. He knew when he returned that Ianto wouldn't be there. The others, they'd never really cared if he'd existed so they wouldn't care if he was there or not, but Owen knew. He'd be pleased, then, though he would have to find a new source of amusement for himself and Miles. "Of course, sir."
There was little point in gathering his belongings, so he left his PDA with his briefcase; his panicked mind was already planning for Lisa. Maybe before Jack got rid of him, he could plead Lisa's case. Another option depended on method, but it was possible Ianto could overtake Jack. He knew how to fight; he'd received all the training at London, plus more from sheer boredom in the summer months when he was young. Maybe it wasn't a lost cause. He'd have to strike before Jack, but if Jack were to go for his gun, there was the chance Ianto could escape and save Lisa.
He walked with Jack; neither of them spoke, Jack simply walked with his hands in his pockets, long coat billowing behind him in the wind. It would have been a serene moment, had Ianto not been approaching every step as another avenue for escape, another lost. How he could have been so careless as to be discovered Ianto wasn't certain, but would Jack really kill someone working for Ms. White? That would bring the wrath of Torchwood and the Avalon project down on one's self and one's team. There was no escaping those combined efforts. He knew he was, at most, guilty of spying on his boss, but he had been doing Jack a small favor by not reporting everything he learned. He had even warned him of Ms. White's arrival at Torchwood Three. He owed Ianto at least to take care of Lisa, even if Jack killed him for the betrayal. A small source of peace, but Ianto felt less panicked as they entered Starbucks; one last coffee, it would seem. At least Jack didn't try to make it - his coffee was even worse than Wilson's.
Coffee in hand, Ianto followed Jack to a quiet patio table away from the other customers. A pill bottle was set in front of him once they had both seated. Ianto could do nothing more than stare at it, trying as he could to argue against what he was seeing, but it was there in front of him and it made absolutely no sense. It was a bottle of Retcon. Not poison, not a gun to his head, not a strong sedative to knock him out so he could be thrown off a pier. It was Retcon.
"Two should do it." Jack nudged the bottle closer to him, but Ianto couldn't move, couldn't even summon the courage to flee to save Lisa if he had to.
Two? For starters, that wouldn't kill him. And it wasn't nearly enough to wipe out his knowledge of Torchwood. He hadn't been kidding himself when he believed it impossible for that to ever work. He continued to stare at the bottle; he couldn't even breathe properly for all his heart had swam to his throat and lodged itself there, thumping in tempo to the rush in his ears. Wouldn't quite do to pass out in front of his boss when facing a bottle of Retcon but he couldn't apply reason to what he was seeing.
"I don't typically encourage my employees or my partners to self-medicate but I'm feeling particularly generous today."
He quickly did the math, calculating dosage and time. Oh, god. He was giving Ianto an out.
Ianto set his coffee on the table, afraid his hands shaking with adrenaline and relief would spill it on his suit; coffee was a trial to remove. Jack was giving him an out. He could forget that scene in the lab had ever happened, barring a trigger, forget Owen, forget everything about that day. And the stress since then. He didn't know about Lisa, didn't know about Ms. White, didn't know anything except that day. Ianto's breath hitched before he finally caught it, exhaling slowly and forestalling hyperventilation or laughter, both of which tickled at the edges of his vision, beckoning with tempting dances of oblivion. It'd be so easy just to forget and return to his life the way it was, pieces stacked carefully in a balanced Jenga tower instead of the wobbly, insecure structure it currently was. A stable view, every portion of his plans in place and unquestioned, his outlook favorable and uncomplicated. It was deliciously tempting.
And at the same time, he didn't want it. For the same reason he couldn't tell Lisa.
He took his time, minutes spent deliberating while Jack watched, the serious, passive expression never leaving his face. The choice was Ianto's. Jack wouldn't make it for him; for that, Ianto appreciated and was forced to slightly alter his perception of his employer. Jack, Casanova and heartbreaker, would allow him to forget. And having that choice in a world where Ianto rarely possessed one, was as unnerving as failure to understand yet refreshing as clean sheets, tucked with tight corners and surface firm, lying atop them and smelling the subtle scent of detergent as one was lulled to sleep by their warmth.
He raised his coffee with two hands so as not to spill, taking a deliberate sip of cooled unadulterated coffee before responding. "That won't be necessary, sir."
"Good." Jack's expression transformed instantly into one of the more familiar full-toothed smiles, swiping the pills from the table and shoving them into a coat pocket before Ianto had a chance to argue or change his mind. Not that he would change his mind, but Jack apparently believed it still possible. Ianto felt reinforced, supported by that smile; he felt like he'd passed some form of test, though what the subject was he wasn't sure and quite frankly didn't care. It was stupid and reckless but he indulged, sucked into the black hole of emotion that was Captain Jack Harkness.
He wasn't going to die today; Lisa was safe.
The relief made him giddy, made him feel like dancing if only there were four walls, dim lighting, intoxicated people who didn't give a damn who you were, and music. He certainly wouldn't dance in front of his boss, but he did smile, feeling his face crack as though it had been permanently set into polite indifference; as Ianto reflected, it probably had. Smiling felt as odd as getting blown by his boss. He supposed it could be worse; he might have laughed.
"Ianto Jones smiles. What's next? Jeans? T-shirt? I have to admit, I'd miss the suits but keep smiling and I'd allow it." Jack relaxed into his chair, looking like he was enjoying the coffee instead of using it as a tool of distraction.
"Careful, sir. That qualifies as sexual harassment." Ianto hid the smile encouraged by Jack's hearty laughter behind his coffee cup; twice in one day was far too often. He had responsibilities. Comfort and ease got in the way of responsibilities, though it may allow him access to those codes quicker. Not being at odds with Jack definitely felt better, at any rate, with far less fear of reprise or dismissal.
Their coffees gone, Ianto gathered their cups and threw them in the bins. They didn't talk much between them, but then there really wasn't much to talk about. Jack threw out a few work questions, thanked him for warning of Ms. White. Ianto didn't preen so much as nod in acknowledgment during their leisurely stroll back to the Hub. No longer searching for escape paths, he actually enjoyed the activity. Too often he was speeding to a certain location in search of some commodity. This time, he took his time and looked about, responding as necessary to Jack's conversation. Eventually, however, the air grew tense again, thick with an anticipatory dread and polite curiosity, and Ianto feared what would be said next.
"Who's Li-"
Jack's first serious question of the day was never voiced, at least not fully, for which Ianto was eternally grateful to whatever deity had intervened. So he had said something he shouldn't have the other day. He'd owe someone in karma later, but at the moment he had an armful of child to concern himself with, surprised as Jack was by the collision. The force of the impact had nearly upended him, but Ianto quickly regained his balance by backpedaling a few steps (playtime with his nephews had given him ample practice), arms instinctively dropping to protect the child. She wasn't much older than seven, maybe eight, just a wisp of a thing, tiny shoulders trembling as she gasped for air. Of course with kids, Ianto knew that could be deceiving - they gulped air like they'd run a marathon after drinking a glass of milk.
"Ianto? Keeping secrets from me?" Jack was bemused, arms crossed in a confident pose like he'd said the funniest thing since the invention of the hula hoop. Ianto nearly choked on his next breath. The notion of secrets far too true, but none of them involved children of his own creation (so long as the pheromones were strictly pheromones).
Ianto chose to ignore Jack; the question didn't even merit a response. Instead he focused on the girl still glued to his waist, arms tightly wrapped around and face planted in his hip. He carefully pried himself away, folding himself in thirds as he squatted down to be more on her height and, he hoped, far less scary. "Where's you mum, darling?" He could hear Jack's snicker; Ianto was aware that demonstrating the 'softer side of Ianto' with the kid was probably even more amusing to Jack, but he didn't care. The girl was frightened; he didn't need to be cruel. Besides, his nephews liked him - soft side and all - and that was far more important to Ianto than any snickering Captain.
He brushed aside the hair sticking to her face, a thin veil of long tresses a shade lighter than the perfect cup of espresso color of her wide eyes. Scared to the point of tears, which he carefully brushed aside as well. Was most likely separated from her parents at one of the shops; it was a busy day on the streets of Cardiff and Ianto had seen it happen before when something shiny popped up to distract the kid. Worried the parents nearly as much, if not more, than it worried the child, typically. He'd been frantic when he had lost sight of Bryce while watching the twins. Bryce of course was laughing happily while a kind storekeep entertained him with a toy and waited for the 'parent' to arrive. And arrive Ianto did, Gareth crying as he clung to Ianto's shoulder as he felt the panic radiating from his uncle. That had been a miserable day - Ianto swore to Elaine he was never taking the boys out again, and she just laughed and called him the best uncle the boys could have and to stuff it and go take them their snack.
Calmly, Ianto glanced up at Jack and rolled his eyes as the man smirked, enjoying that it was Ianto dealing with the child, not himself, Ianto assumed. Somehow, he found it all together unsurprising. For all the purported care for the 21st century, Jack seemed remarkably detached. "Sir, if you wouldn't mind contacting the -"
Ianto stopped himself, calm devolving quickly into a deep-rooted fear which swam in his gut like a boulder. He tucked the hair behind the girl's ears, getting a good look at her face, ignoring Jack's repeated calls of "Ianto?" as he paged through his mental picture book. "Rani?" He sincerely hoped that he was wrong, that her name wasn't Rani, because an alone-and-in-tears Rani would be a very, very bad thing. But he knew; he never forgot a face, even if that face had been a year or two younger at the time. He knew with a despairing certainty who the little girl was and knew with an equal fear that she should not be alone.
This was why Avalon existed.
He touched her chin, drawing her eyes so they were on level with his. She was so scared. "Rani Tapadia?" She didn't move, she knew better than to respond to the question and it sickened Ianto when he realized she probably thought he was testing her. Slowly, beckoning her forward as he leaned closer, whispering in her ear low enough so only she could hear (not even Jack with the seemingly long-ears should hear this): "the Isle of Apples." The wide eyes grew a fraction larger in surprise before the dam burst, a mixture of Hindi and English spilling over him so quickly he only picked up a word or two in either language. Jack was staring at him with an equal surprise, touched by a shade of confusion and while he was deciphering blurred seven-year old Hindi English, Ianto felt a small victory. He had confused Jack. About time the man was put off-balance as much as he put others.
"Rani, Rani slow down." Dead. Ran. Lost. The jumbled words kept coming, repeated in two languages at mixed intervals and Ianto knew they didn't have much time. He tried to look about, look for anything to run from, anywhere to hide until he could contact Avalon, and tried as much as he could not let any of his fear bleed over into the terrified child. "Rani, where is your -"
"Oh, my dear, there you are!"
Ianto pivoted on his toes, warily eyeing the blonde woman who sprinted down the sidewalk (in high heels - how is that accomplished?). She appeared unarmed, though Ianto knew that looks could be deceiving. And with Avalon, no one was to be trusted. Jack was already charming the woman, who claimed to be Rani's adoptive mother who'd lost sight of her daughter on the busy streets and was so relieved they had found her, flirting and laughing all the while.
Ianto didn't buy the story; never even considered believing it. Rani clung to him as he straightened, standing as tall as he could while keeping a hand on the girl's shoulder to comfort her as well as bolster himself.
"Ianto, hand the child over to the nice woman." Jack spoke slowly, a bit patronizing, but he'd made the request a few times. Now it sounded more an order and Ianto was going to ignore that, too. His grip tightened just a bit on Rani's shoulder, hopefully reflecting his intent not to hand her over to the woman who definitely was not her mother. Avalon didn't work like that. The mother and father were always the parents, that never changed. No one was adopted. If their parents were deceased, the children became wards of Avalon until adulthood. Avalon didn't work like that.
He kept reaffirming his beliefs in the system his mother governed. She had abandoned he and his sister as children in favor of the children of the Avalon project, she wouldn't have changed it so drastically. His panic growing, Ianto watched the strange woman - he didn't recognize her, he didn't know her from the other Guardians. He knew Rani, though. He recognized her and if her Guardian was dead, he had no alternative.
"No."
"No? This is her mother." Jack stressed the word 'mother' as he advanced on Ianto, even as Ianto felt relieved that his boss was unknowingly separating himself from the dangerous situation. He couldn't tell Jack what was going on, but he could certainly refuse an order. Jack eyed the two of them, the strange woman and Ianto, the proverbial light finally dawning by the change in his stature that more existed than what he had initially believed. "Ianto? Mind telling me what's going on?"
Ianto ignored him; he couldn't answer. Not that he didn't want to answer, but it was Avalon. He couldn't speak no matter if Jack were truly alien and not even from this time. Instead he observed the surroundings: two men approaching Jack from behind, suit jackets hiding what Ianto believed to be a small armory. The woman still hadn't moved, all blonde and beautiful and dressed in Armani, if his eyes didn't mistake him. And hiding at least two weapons, one in an ankle holster above the exceedingly ridiculous high heels and one at her side, covered by her jacket. Two more ways the situation could end poorly for him, Jack would at least heal and Rani would not be harmed. And for a while Ianto had considered the notion his death would come by Jack's hand. He might've laughed, if not for the severity of the woman's falling smile.
"Ianto?" Jack's voice was sharp, his tone losing its casual confident cool as he seemed to descend into the same state Ianto found himself. Which was good, there needed to be more than one person concerned about the situation.
"Where is her Guardian?" Ianto directed his question at the woman. Rani's tensing body, her hand twisting into the fabric of his pants, was all Ianto needed. He pushed the girl behind him, praying to whatever deity had intervened earlier that day for another moment of protection; he didn't have eyes at the back of his head. If there was someone coming up from behind, they were all lost. "What is the code?"
Ianto's demand was met with the barrel of a gun pulled from beneath the woman's jacket. His trainer from London, Sue Pinkerton, would have been proud of the initial observation if she had survived the battle. But she was lost and so were they, from the sounds of guns cocking at his left where Jack stood. The men in dark suits had pulled portions of the armory they carried, it would seem.
There was no way to get Rani out of this; Ianto had calculated the odds and found them devastatingly bleak. He wondered if the Guardian had even been given time to come to those same conclusions, or if they had been blissfully unaware.
"Hand her over and I won't kill your friend."
Friend might be a misnomer and Jack for all observations and reason couldn't be killed, but Ianto still felt a pang of regret. It felt like betrayal - betrayal of a sort different to the information gathering Ianto was conducting for Ms. White, even if Ianto believed Jack wouldn't allow the child to be turned over at this point either. This actually hurt. Jack was innocent, he shouldn't have been involved. He knew nothing of Avalon, despite his boasting of being above and beyond all things government and military-related. There were some levels of security that even he didn't possess, and for that, Ianto truly did feel his next words. "I'm sorry, Jack."
Ianto had never had the vantage point of viewing the barrel of a gun as it was fired, and he really could have done without the knowledge. In fact, he would have been content to live out his entire life always wondering, the curiosity never quenched. Content as he was, he was now force-fed the knowledge. He knew that he saw movement, saw the bullet a fraction of a microsecond before he heard it at this distance, and felt pain in tune with the jarring impact and pull like the jerk of a marionette string connected to the earth. He knew, despite never wishing the wisdom. He knew just as certainly that Jack was supposed to have been killed, not him, and that Lisa was lost, for he really was meant to die that day.
***
Blurred shades of brown tickled his nose and there was an uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, warmth in his chest. Breathing hurt and panic spun out of control when things wouldn't work like they should. He couldn't breathe, there was nothing there to breathe with. A familiar touch danced across his mind. He couldn't place it, but it told him to be at peace, to sleep.
He listened.
***
Ianto awoke, this time to no warmth, but no fear. He could breathe and he took desperate lung-fulls just to make sure he was prepared in case he couldn't breathe again. He remembered that, if nothing else. Pain and then nothing and the moment of awareness that he couldn't breathe. His eyes worked, if not a bit hazy and slow to focus, shapes coming to focus, the first of which being a startling shade of pale blue rings. Blue the color of a spring early morning in a cloud-less sky, that sharp crystal pale blue both breathtaking and awe-inspiring for all that one stares and loses their identity in the infinite vastness that blankets and protects.
He knew that shade; he knew those rings. It just seemed to take a moment for him to place them.
"Jean-Luc."
Spots moved - freckles - and slowly the picture dropped from kaleidoscope to focused, a sheath of dark hair moving backwards connected to a wide smile. "Ianto. Sight better than last time you woke. How does it feel to regain your foothold in the land of the living?"
The question triggered a memory, Ianto's frustration with a stubborn consciousness irritating him far more than it ought. Rani. He sat up and looked about, he knew how he lived, but he didn't see her. He knew she was part of Avalon, he knew her face. A long, slender finger pointed to Ianto's legs where a mass of long brown hair covered the figure clinging to his shins, fast asleep but cutting off the circulation in his feet. He didn't have the heart to move her.
"She's fine, just catching a rest before we move on. Tired herself out saving your sorry arse."
That reminder had Ianto throwing a hand to his chest, feeling the ruin of his suit but no gauze, no tape, just whole skin and, more importantly, no bullet hole. A look about found Jack standing with Stephen, looking healthy and whole while next to them three bodies were being hefted into a white van.
"Friend or foe?"
Ianto was confused by the question never voiced, swirling about his mind like liquid raspberry swirling into vanilla milkshake. The body bags? They'd shot him, for fuck's sake. They weren't exactly what he'd call friends. Quiet laughter like cool water calmed him, smoothing the rough edges and harsh swirling until there was almost peace within his own mind.
"The man, Jack Harkness. Is he a threat?"
Finally understanding what Jean-Luc was asking, but not understanding intent, Ianto allowed his general impressions of Jack rest in his public mind. Not all his barriers were currently holding, but some were. The important ones were.
In return for the impressions, Ianto's generic 'I don't know what you're asking for but here' response, he was hit by a torrent of memories, images, and feelings flashing past him quicker than he could catalog even as he experienced everything. He saw himself shot, a kill shot (the lady had good aim, it seemed), and he had gone down. The woman was tackled by a blur at the same time as the two men guarding Jack dropped like stones, never making a sound or even moving on the triggers of their guns. Ianto recognized that handiwork and dangled a compliment for Jean-Luc, impressed as ever by the man's talent. There was a reason the man provided all security for Ms. White. And as a Grade 1, there were few who could match him. There wasn't a better friend to have.
Rani had fallen on top of him - not injured but already working her magic, healing him, bringing him back. The brown hair tickled his nose. She was going to be powerful one day; Jean-Luc echoed his assent. The images fractured, a struggle - Jack - who was trying to get to Rani. Or Ianto. Or both of them. Stephen had stepped in, allowing Jean-Luc to assist Rani if she needed it, but even with an eye on the girl Jean-Luc had kept his mind on Jack.
Stephen looked good, Ianto thought; the last time Ianto had seen him he had been sporting a cast and a black eye after an accident with a volatile telekinetic who'd been startled while having a wank in his dormitory.
"He never learns, our Stephen. He had his belt buckle welded to his stomach last March. Caught a couple snogging after curfew."
Not that Jean-Luc had any right to comment, caught snogging after curfew a time or two himself. Ianto would know. He'd gotten in trouble as well and he wasn't even supposed to be in those halls.
"Oh, but it was fun, sneaking you in. What were they going to do, kick me out?"
A free Jean-Luc in his teens was a frightening image indeed - there wouldn't be a dormitory safe from his snooping. Jean-Luc's laughter tickled the edges of Ianto's mind, and the images continued, Jean-Luc's concern for Ianto palpable and at times overwhelming. Jack and Stephen were talking, but Ianto could feel the confusion surrounding Jack. Two bodies with no visible signs of attack, a girl sitting atop Ianto surrounded in a soft glow, and a man beside her, watching. Flashes of time sped before Ianto, slowing to focus on Jack as he checked his wrist, fiddling with the device and arriving at a conclusion that he understood but couldn't all the same.
"She's human." Jack had said to Stephen, who smiled and shrugged.
"You and your narrow little categories." Jack had balked at Stephen's response. His stunned look as he tried to add something which wasn't mathematically sound was an expression Ianto would cherish through the trying times he knew would present themselves often in the future.
Ianto had a disorienting feeling of watching himself stir, remembering the confusion, and was mollified that it was displayed in his initial distress. Jack and Stephen watched, Stephen actually holding Jack's long coat to prevent him from interfering. Jack had eventually calmed, face shifting into contemplation.
"Do you trust him?" Jack had asked, eyes never leaving the three.
"Ianto? You are Torchwood." Stephen answered in his rich deep voice, who Ianto noted was getting a large Christmas gift this year, and had summed everything up in one statement, but Jack was not to be distracted.
"That's not much of an answer."
"I've known Ianto all his life. It wasn't much of a question."
The images stopped, Ianto flowing into the present with a calming hand on his shoulder. Jean-Luc had at some point moved, supporting Ianto while they traveled along his friend's memories for clarification, a process eerily familiar to Ianto but much more satisfying than CCTV video. After all, these came with audio.
He understood what Jean-Luc was asking, though. It wasn't so much Avalon that Jean-Luc considered Jack a threat to. It was Ianto.
Ianto impatiently pushed Jean-Luc away, wanting to stand as his feet were really going pins-and-needles with Rani asleep atop of his legs. Jean-Luc shifted Rani, resting her on the ground for a moment while he helped the unsteady Ianto to his feet. Death could do that to a person, so it seemed, or near death, whatever the case might be. Ianto was dragged into a hug so tight it threw all air from his lungs, but he returned it just as forcefully, clutching the tall, gangly brilliantly blue-eyed lech to him. There was nothing to be spared on that figure, to which Jean-Luc responded with a mental image of Ms. White, the chicken, clucking about and mother-henning him to death. With a shared laugh, and very little actually spoken their entire conversation, Ianto took the proffered t-shirt from one of the individuals in the white van as the others managed the rather public scene that had just occurred. He quickly stripping off the ruined shirt and jacket, ignoring the quantity of blood staining the garments. Jean-Luc gathered Rani in his arms, lifting her with a display of talent that had Ianto rolling his eyes. Once a child of Avalon, always a child. The girl curled and settled into his arms, earning him a look from Ianto and an arched eyebrow of the 'when did you become so domestic' kind.
They joined Stephen and Jack, the latter waiting impatiently. He was tapping his toe in time with the finger on his sidearm, being forced as he was to wait for responses to questions that Stephen refused to answer. Not that Ianto had any additional answers. Avalon was still as secret as it had been at the beginning of the day. Nothing that had transpired would change that. It was Stephen who moved first, spry for going on 55 as demonstrated by his full-body tackle of the blonde woman. He was a former Guardian from Edinburgh, now teacher and mentor for Avalon. He'd taken Ianto under his wing when Ianto had first shown up as a 'promising individual' with Ms. White's office. Taught him all sorts of things Ianto was certain he wasn't supposed to know about, but found enlightening all the same. And fencing. Ianto had loved fencing as a child.
"Had us worried, lad. We got here as fast as we could once we realized Patrick had been killed." Ianto, who had not been on the receiving end of physical demonstrations since before the battle of Canary Wharf, found himself wrapped in hugs twice in one day. It shook him, reminding him of everything he was fighting to regain, that life that he had forced himself to forget. The distance and the barriers, everything erected to maintain a level of control and sanity, shattered by two people who knew him for only two months of the year but still knew him better than most. Ianto returned the embrace, Stephen's salt-and-pepper goatee scratching his cheek, the sensation reminding him of what he had nearly lost. And who had nearly been lost as a result.
"Give my thanks to Rani, please?" Ianto looked at the girl; she hadn't even woken when she'd been moved. He felt guilty for feeling so alive when she was completely wiped from the experience, but if it hadn't been for her...
Stephen nodded with a smile, then shared a look with Jean-Luc.
Jack.
Ianto stepped forward, eyeing Jack who had remained remarkably quiet throughout. He rather thought Jack was aware of the precarious situation he was in, having pieced together what he had seen, Ianto's apology, and just what he didn't know about the government he supported through work and life. Jean-Luc believed him a threat to Ianto, and Ianto wasn't quite sure that wasn't an unjust assumption, but not for quite the same reasons. Jean-Luc didn't know of Lisa. Jack could destroy Ianto's plans before he had time to put them fully in motion. He still needed time, information, research...and the bloody codes to the Archives. But he had known his decision before approaching Stephen and Jack. It was the only option that to Ianto seemed just; to him, he had no other alternative.
With a nod to Jean-Luc who stepped forward, Ianto looked Jack square in the eye. "Sir, I don't typically encourage my employers or my partners to self-medicate." Ignoring Stephen's muffled cough at Ianto's choice of wording (he wasn't exactly sure what to refer to Jack as after the incident in the lab, but quoting Jack seemed the best approach), he gestured to Jean-Luc, who Ianto knew could erase the day's events; after all, he had on occasion gotten them out of a scrape or two in the past. "But I'm feeling particularly generous today."
Jack's smile was brilliant - not one of the fake grins he applied when charming scary blonde women with guns and intent to kidnap a powerful young girl, but a true smile. Ianto nearly smiled in return, but three times in one day (twice witnessed) was stretching it.
"That won't be necessary, Ianto." Jack quoted back, half-bowing with sincerity to Jean-Luc who still looked ill-tempered despite cradling the sleeping Rani in his arms. Jack knew, or was at least aware, of the thin ice he was treading and also appeared to know the choice he had been given.
"Good." With a wave to old friends, Ianto turned towards Torchwood, their original destination before this disaster had occurred. Jack waved as well and followed, walking side-by-side as they headed back to base, darkness slowly creeping over Cardiff as night awoke from her slumber.
"You look good in a t-shirt, but I think I like the suits better."
Ianto couldn't help but smile.
Report Addendum:
Captain Harkness is aware of Rani Tapadia but unaware of Avalon. Be advised I have changed Stephen Beckett's decoy personnel files with MI5 to indicate a civilian encounter with Torchwood One.
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