Fic: Day of Black (S2: Epilogue, SoI 25, Part 1), Jack/Ianto
Chapter Title: Day of Black (S2: Epilogue, SoI 25)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: The Day of Black
A/N: Two Parts. Full author's notes at the conclusion.
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22 (Three Parts)
S2: Chap 8, SoI 23 (Three Parts)
S2: Chap 9, SoI 24
One year later...
Jack leaned on the railing overlooking the Hub, legs crossed casually, feeling every bit his age (extended as it was) but yet content. And most certainly amused. Elaine and Broderick had arrived nearly an hour earlier, bringing along Bryce and Gareth who, after greeting him, instantly began pestering Owen. What odd sounds, children's laughter, to be heard in the Hub. And they were at the perfect age: smart enough to know how to get into trouble and young enough to get away with acting innocent. Jack remembered that time well, brief as it had been. He'd lost his innocence early, though he presumed Bryce and Gareth understood far better than other kids their age.
They'd lost as well.
The twins drove Owen mad, which was half the reason Elaine had brought them along, Jack imagined. Not that they bothered Owen. In fact, if Jack were to be asked, he rather thought Owen enjoyed playing with the twins who were probably of the same mentality. They got on well and shared Owen's fascination with alien bodies. Disturbed Elaine, but the twins both were determined to carry on in their father and uncle's footsteps.
Elaine and Owen; an odd pair. Jack didn't think there was anything going on between them, and Jack prided himself on knowing when people were shagging. They smelled different, pheromones pouring off in waves. But if Owen was taking it slow, courting Elaine? He wasn't sure if Ianto would have approved or not, so he was torn between laying into Owen to back off Ianto's sister or encouraging him because Elaine was probably the sweetest person who had actually taken an honest interest in him, Diane notwithstanding.
But, Jack could be reading more into it than existed. Ianto's death had shaken Owen far more than Jack would have assumed. Their constant sniping had always led Jack to believe the relationship was eggshells and razorblades. But maybe it had been more brothers than enemies, a skewed and twisted camaraderie but an underlying protective respect.
Jack should have realized that with the aftermath of Lisa.
Elaine and Owen had bonded after the memorial service, drowning life and memory in alcohol and stories. Jack had found them curled up on the Hub couch, asleep. He'd covered them with a few spare blankets, made sure there was water and a bottle of aspirin on the end table, and left them in peace. He had checked on them periodically between sitting in his office, busying himself with whatever he could find. He froze in surprise, though, when he caught Tosh tucking the blankets tighter around Elaine and Owen. She gave a small, tired smile and sat at her desk, starting up reports or whatever the hell she'd found to busy herself with.
Jack hadn't returned to his office, choosing instead to sit at Gwen's desk and beat all of Gwen's scores on Minesweeper, just because.
His office had been far too quiet and held far too many memories.
Elaine waved up to Jack, smiling at some story Owen was sharing with Broderick while the twins spun on the office chairs. Jack waved back but remained where he was, watching.
He'd probably heard the story anyway and he was still suspicious as hell of Ianto's father. Torchwood had taken to hitting the pub, as the team had apparently done between his absences. The first time. Before he'd been found at Torchwood Four. It was a good habit, the first few times a bit rough, but that was to be expected. Jack understood the stages of grief and could categorically list and estimate the proper time it would take to pass through each given the individual. In the future, they had specialists who were assigned to the friends and family, trained, better than the psychology of today. They helped and guided. Jack slipped himself into the role easily; it gave him more to do, more feeling of accomplishment that he was doing something. When left to his own devices he had felt so utterly lost and helpless.
So to Lana's every Wednesday night, stories coming easier and more personal as the weeks passed. Jack learned a bit more, every week, though he kept most of his memories close to the vest. And if people thought it was odd that Jack used the women's loo instead of the men's, no one commented. The staff and customers just let it go, regulars understood there was something important and let him be, and the others just blushed at the sinks as Jack joined the women in washing his hands. If there was any trouble, Jack assumed Lana had taken care of it because he'd never heard a whisper.
A delightful girl, good head on her shoulders that Lana. Good business as well. The servers knew the team and had their drinks ready before they'd even sat down at their table. Torchwood's table. No one sat there on Wednesday nights. In fact, Jack wondered if anyone sat there at all. There had only been one mistake with the drinks early on, though Jack thought Lana devious enough that she might have intentionally done it. It'd taken the mix-up before any of them realized Gwen was drinking straight cola, she'd fessed up to the pregnancy once Owen had blurted something about raging hormones and her short temper.
They'd toasted to Gwen and Rhys that night, the first time it'd been anything but Stephen or Ianto since that day.
Lana's had joined in the cheering at the announcement as well, cheering again when she'd announced it was a boy, hushed to silence when she said that she and Rhys were going to call him Ianto.
Jack's voice might have cracked as he led that toast, but he'd fled Lana's before anyone could comment or ask him the inane question 'was he okay?'
Of course he was fine.
Jack had to be, for his team and for all the rest of the world looking at him.
The baby had been born four months ago, a beautiful baby boy with all his fingers and toes. Owen had commented that he looked like a mini-Winston Churchill, but Jack didn't really see the resemblance aside from a few baby wrinkles and a squalling cry. The little tyke really looked more like an old friend Jack had back before the Agency, dark hair, big brown eyes.
Jack called baby Cooper-Williams "Gizmo."
No one commented. Tosh copied him first, then Owen. Wasn't long before all of Torchwood called the little kid "Gizmo." Good name. Gizmo had caused plenty of trouble with Jack back in their days; he was sure the kid would do the same, especially if Jack taught him a few tricks.
He smiled as Gwen and Rhys came round from the conference room, Gwen with one of those baby slings and, he assumed, Gizmo tucked away inside given the way the sling was squirming. That or they had yet another alien incursion; Jack wouldn't be surprised. Seemed like this would be the day when Rift activity sky-rocketed and aliens made another attempt on Earth.
The invisible lift activated, drawing Jack's attention from Gwen and Rhys. Laughter echoed around the Hub, partnered with a distinctly feminine squeal and a barking laugh that Jack had come to know from various phone calls and meetings. As the lift continued to sink, he smirked as he saw the cause of the laughter. Two bodies made for close quarters; three was a tight fit (and how they had ever managed to not fall off when the team had ran from Lisa Jack couldn't figure out). Jean-Luc had his arms wrapped tight around Tosh and Sheppard, holding them close as they descended -- probably not entirely necessary but the trio appeared to be enjoying themselves, so who was Jack to complain. Pretty picture as well, and Jack was going to complain even less about that. It'd be prettier if he were in the middle, but he'd settle for watching the three laugh, better even then the finest Narcian wine, harvested at the peak season amidst pink skies and colored rain.
It had taken Jean-Luc so long to laugh again.
He'd woken about a month after the memorial service, physically weak and disoriented. But Jean-Luc had known. He'd known without anyone speaking of Ianto and Stephen. Jack had seen many things in his day, more tragedy and horror than filled the shelves of a video rental store, but he hadn't been prepared for that, for the complete unraveling of a powerful empath and telekinetic, and neither had all of Avalon. Hell, the whole world knew when Jean-Luc had regained consciousness. It'd taken almost an hour to collect themselves enough to begin attempting to get through to Jean-Luc that every alien in this galaxy was probably weeping, much less the people of earth, and that really, the lightning storm outside had to end before it burned down yet another Avalon building. Tosh had finally succeeded in getting close enough to Jean-Luc to touch, signalling for Jack, Owen, and Healer Solaine to leave them be.
Tosh. Brave Toshiko Sato, stepping in while the room spun in disarray, rushing to Jean-Luc's bedside despite the danger because he most certainly wasn't in control. Or maybe he was, and it was more a gifted-fueled tantrum. Jack couldn't blame him either way; they'd all had their moments the past month. Jean-Luc was due his, though he could have done it without the freak lightning storm thatmade Jack's hair stand on end and the threat to one of his team.
Tosh surprised Jack time and again, though by now he should have known better than to underestimate the quiet ones. She was uncomfortably perceptive, bringing him tea in the evening after everyone else had left and just ...sat with him, sipping tea and occasionally joining him for dinner. She claimed her flat was too quiet, but she kept coming, even after Jean-Luc woke. When that piece of tech from the ninth quadrant of the Pfktrains system had been accidentally activated by a determinedly housekeeping (nesting) Gwen, and the injured Tosh had been stuck in bed for days, Jack had missed their tea time.
Until Jean-Luc had shown up unexpectedly and inexplicably, smirking as he'd held bags of Chinese take-away in one hand, saki in the other, waltzing up to Jack's office like he had access codes and free reign to the Hub. Which, he didn't. None did, except Torchwood Three. Uninvited, Jean-Luc sprawled in the chair across from Jack, setting the cartons on half-finished paperwork and poured the saki into glasses far too large for the beverage. "Tosh kicked me out of the flat for the evening," was all Jean-Luc said before grabbing a drink, chopsticks, and a carton of what smelled like beef lo mein.
Jack hadn't believed him for a minute, but selected a carton for himself. They hadn't spoken that entire night, just got drunk on saki and stained the paperwork with soy sauce.
He believed Jean-Luc even less when he'd shown up the next night and ever night thereafter, even when Tosh was back on duty. When he'd questioned Tosh, she'd just smiled a teary smile and patted his chest before returning to her computer screens. Jack hadn't missed the way her hands shook when she picked up her tea, but he hadn't asked again. Not even when the occasional dinner became nightly and Jean-Luc joined them every time.
The grin Jack wore as he watched Jean-Luc, Tosh, and Sheppard faded into a slight frown, mind adding all the other moments throughout the past year, from the mundane to the larger gestures. Fresh flowers at the memorial stone every day matching the flowers which appeared on his desk -- he'd checked the internal CCTV footage and could never find the culprit -- a book of photographs of Ianto taken at various points in time of what Jack assumed both doctored CCTV footage and personal camera, not left on his desk but on the bed in Ianto's flat where Jack had taken to staying at night when he'd needed to (a secret indulgence he'd thought he'd kept hidden from everyone else). The list was endless, but had a touch of Tosh in the elements.
He supposed that perhaps he hadn't been quite as good at hiding things as he'd hoped. That and Tosh was ... Tosh. Tech genius, medically trained, sharp with a gun, and periodic caretaker of an immortal. He should feel embarrassed by the thought, but really, it just left him pleasantly warm.
Jack nodded a greeting to the trio when Sheppard waved up at him. The relations with the United States alien fighting group had continued. Sheppard had pretty much ensured it would when he'd appeared (somewhat sheepishly, if Jack were to be asked) at Torchwood's doorstep with various alien tech, including a familiar Diadem sphere: the missing objects from the Archives that Wilson had snuck off premises. Jack had been stunned at first, then ordered Owen and Rhys to fetch a dolly to move the alien tech to the Archives.
Not only had Sheppard returned the tech, but he'd also brought a contract of sorts, a document that had Ianto's prints all over it, figuratively and literally. A unification treaty for all countries, something Ianto and Sheppard had been working on after the first dragon attack. Jack vaguely remembered it from then, but it had always been a distracting piece of politics that he'd done his best to save Ianto from, engaging him in after-hours activity which then required showers and naps. Jack hadn't realized it'd been finished, but he signed it without really reading it. It was Ianto's work. He didn't doubt the integrity of the treaty or question what responsibilities Torchwood and Britain would have. The newly appointed Secretary of Research and Resource Allocation should probably have signed it as well, but Jack didn't wait, penning his name at the top.
Sheppard looked good in his dragon hide pants, coat, and boots, Jack absently noticed as Tosh and Jean-Luc lead the way to the conference room. Even the eye patch looked like it was made of dragon hide. On anyone else, Jack would have called the tanned hide offensive and demanded the immediate removal. But on Sheppard, Sheppard could wear it. And wore it with honor.
Jack thought of creating a complete look in dragon hide for himself. It'd last him years, plus he'd wear it better. Sheppard had no ass and his legs were too skinny.
That was everyone, if he counted right. Lana had sent her regrets, she had her club to run on the holiday, but had supplied all the spirits (lemonade for the kids) and food for the celebration. Torchwood London (Torchwood Five, if anyone was still counting) was bogged down in some sticky mess of alien goo, what had appeared an innocent box had been booby-trapped with a tar-like substance and they were still cleaning up the mess in their new facilities. They promised to share a drink -- Jack was pretty sure that was code for drink until they passed out, but he wasn't going to question their actions. Wasn't his duty, at any rate. He had Torchwood Three to look after, and that was more than enough on the best of days.
Staring out over the Hub, Jack's fingers curled tight on the railing as he felt the calm settling over the home he'd known for years. Decades. Twice over in an odd turn of time lines. This was why they fought, Torchwood and the rest of the world, searching for that moment of quiet peace that even the Rift refused to interrupt. They'd survived for a year, all of them, and Jack supposed that was something.
"Are you coming, Jack? Hurry up, party's to start without you!" Gwen's voice carried through Torchwood Three, reminding Jack of the reason everyone had gathered.
They'd all survived. Except the one who mattered most. But, that was Jack's destiny if he were to have one. And better to have loved than never to have known it, to quote the old adage. Not that it made the pain less or him more willing to try again, but it helped soften time as it slowly passed, aging those around him while he remained.
The churning songs of the TARDIS startled Jack, surprising him mid-step as he was turning to join the others in the conference room. She slowly materialized in front of the Hub's rolling door, the familiar blue Police box dissolving then reemerging clearer than before until quiet again fell over the Hub, sounding loud to Jack's ears.
"Jack! Not late are we? Got caught up throwing tea in a harbor to make a mer-creature happy and we nearly forgot. Well, I didn't forget, but Martha mentioned picking up a bottle of wine from New France and I discovered the dreadful hospitality of monks who were really alien minks selling human-skin coats. So, right then. Where's the party?"
The last vestiges of Jack's surprise slid off, spurring him to action as he rounded the stairs to stand in front of the Doctor who rocked back on his heels, hands stuffed in his pockets with the familiar grin upon his face. Martha joined the Doctor, a bottle of wine in her hand (vintage 4369, good year for a New France wine, one of Jack's favorites), looking as beautiful as the Doctor was whimsically handsome.
"Doctor, I believe you've made him speechless."
Remembering his manners, Jack kissed Martha's cheek, welcoming her to Torchwood Three.
The Doctor continued to bounce in place, whistling as Myfanwy flew overhead, drawn by curiosity to the Doctor. Jack could only wish to command that kind of allure, though he thought he did rather well for a mere human if he did say so himself. He caught himself mimicking Ianto's arched eyebrow of query, smiling to himself. "Don't take this the wrong way, Doctor, but why are you here? You didn't know Ianto."
Jack watched as the smile disappeared from the Doctor's face, morphing not into a scowl but a serious look usually reserved for imminent universe collapse barring a half-strung solution. For a moment, Jack honestly believed there was a threat again to the Earth and that was the true reason the Doctor had come. Call it irony, call it karmic, call it the goddesses mocking his very existence.
"But you did," the Doctor finally said, extending a hand to touch Jack's cheek, a surprise in and of itself. He never touched. Never. Not if he could help it, not that Jack had seen or felt. To Jack, it seemed as though the contact was too much for the solitary figure, last of his kind in the known universe. Maybe it was, or maybe the Doctor had been alone for so long the sensation was overwhelming. Or maybe he believed himself unworthy of it.
Or maybe Jack should just quit attempting to figure out a Time Lord whose consciousness and experience put his to shame.
The touch was gone almost as quickly as it'd come, leaving Jack with the faint impression of the Doctor's fingers upon his skin, a warm reassurance surpassing normal, fleeting touch. Loss and understanding, sympathy and hope, and a touch of exhilaration at the spirit of the human race for amazing the Doctor time and again. Somewhere in there a sense of familiarity, not of kinship, but a connection spanning time. The Doctor couldn't explain Jack, had no answers beyond assumptions and theories, but Jack would be around for a very, very long time. And in the Doctor's existence, that was a very rare thing indeed.
Jack smiled, nodding in agreement with all the things the Doctor didn't say and everything Jack couldn't comprehend but figured he'd agree with anyway.
"Splendid." The Doctor's face broke into a broad grin, nearly dancing on the balls of his feet in excitement. "So let's go celebrate this Day of Black."
***
Jack nearly laughed at Elaine's expression when he, the Doctor, and Martha strolled through the door of the conference room, full with people, food, drinks, and a digital photo montage on the screen at the far end of the room. Jack wandered towards it, curious, seeing pictures from the photo album as well as others he couldn't place. One particular black and white caught his eye -- Ianto slouched long in a chair, dark suit coat tossed over the arm, tie loose, and white collar unbuttoned. His eyes were closed, hands clasped in his lap. Jack at first thought he was asleep, but his features were too taunt, too drawn for sleep, stress and tension radiating off his body clearly in the black and white image. Jack stared longer, spotting another object in the picture, the small alien iPod device peaking out from Ianto's clutched hands, thumb on the advance button, shadowed grays highlighting his cheekbones, curling over his fingers and playing hide and seek with the lighting.
The man was beautiful.
Which led Jack to the next question of who had spied upon him to take such an intimate photo.
Laughter distracted him, Tosh's echoing giggle pulling him away from the photos to focus his attention to the people in the room. The Doctor looked abashed and Elaine smirked in such an echo of her brother the effect was startling.
"I'm just saying, if I were to adhere to Torchwood protocol, you'd be taken into custody and held until I'd extracted as much information from you as possible, Enemy of Torchwood."
Jack stepped forward, belatedly remembering what was defined in those protocols. The others didn't appear alarmed, however; his team appeared more amused and Martha was certainly struggling to maintain her composure.
"Enemy? Now that's a harsh word. Well, I've never been one for protocol. And you, Ms. Blue?"
"Nope." Elaine smiled indulgently, waving a hand to brush aside the mere notion of the politics. "My brother rewrote some of the old protocol anyway. You're now honored, Doctor, for your involvement in the Battle of Canary Wharf."
"He was there?" The Doctor asked, and Jack couldn't help but beam with a bit of pride for Ianto, surviving that horrendous experience -- more than survived, he'd returned stronger after the defeat (though the defeat had truly taken time to fully pass, and Jack still couldn't believe he'd managed to sneak the Cyberwoman into the Hub). That simply was Ianto. Unexpected but desperately needed, stumbling but growing with each battle until he became one of legend, a king among men. Because that's what he was now, one year later, and there was an international day of celebration in honor of his sacrifice. Jack had even witnessed kids in the street, playing Torchwood and Dragons, fighting over who got to be Mr. Black. It'd hurt, if it didn't make him so damned proud.
"The air grows thin when viewing life from so high, doesn't it, Time Lord?"
Jack's gaze, as well as everyone else's snapped to Broderick, smiling happily as he poured himself a glass of cognac instead of the champagne poured for everyone else. Not for the first time, Jack felt like he'd been stunned by a blaster from Gragenok in conversation with Ianto's father, though he did have to admit some relief that the words weren't directed at him.
The Doctor seemed equally as taken aback, staring at Broderick like he'd completely overlooked him the first time he'd entered the room. Perhaps he had, Broderick was easy to overlook in the elderly paternal sense. "I meant no offense, only admiration. Sorry, have we met before?"
"You never do." Jack didn't fail to notice that Broderick hadn't answered the Doctor's question, but from what he knew of Ianto's experiences with his father, the man never did answer a question. Well, if anything, this dynamic would provide the entertainment for the evening, and Jack would be happy to sit back and watch, if only to glean a little more information about the enigmatic father of Ianto Jones. "I believe toasts are in order to begin our evening. Elaine?"
Elaine stood and everyone else followed, a room full of people set to honor Ianto on this Day of Black. Worldwide, others were doing the same, all having witnessed the same events, the same story as it had unfolded before his teams' eyes and his own. Jack didn't know of another international holiday, based on an individual, celebrated by all religions, all creeds, all politics, and walks of life.
Fuck, even in death, he had managed to unite them all.
"When Gwen told me she was organizing this little soiree, she asked me to lead the first toast in honor of my brother and the leader before me." Elaine paused for a moment, chewing her lip before continuing. Jack couldn't blame her; Gwen had asked him to speak as well and the mere thought ran ice cold down his spine. Across the table, Jean-Luc had his arm around Tosh's shoulder, Gwen and Rhys held hands, and the twins seemed to know something serious was being said because they held themselves more still than Jack had ever seen them stand. Martha sat to his left with the Doctor two spots down, still staring at Broderick like he could extrapolate an answer from Broderick's grin. Sheppard sat to his right, and Jack swore he could smell sulfur off the jacket Sheppard wore, though it was probably his imagination, and Owen sat just beyond John.
After a moment to collect herself, Elaine went on. "Honestly? I've learned I didn't know him half as well as I thought I did. Oh, I knew to the core what kind of person he was. But until this day, one year ago, I didn't know what he did. And as much as it terrified me to watch, I knew my brother and his oaths. He kept each and every one."
Jack glanced around the table, not missing the few subtle sniffs, accidentally catching Jean-Luc's eyes as they bore into his -- a frightening moment had Jack not been accustomed to the intensity of the man's gaze after so many evenings together.
"So, I ask that you raise your glasses in toast: to Ianto, a son, my brother, an uncle, friend and lover, who by his life protected us all."
A chorus of cheers echoed around the table. Jack raised his glass and sipped his champagne even as the hair on the back of his neck rose. Someone was watching. A quick glance at the Doctor indicated that he had noticed it too. Subtle looks around the room as they all drank their champagne revealed nothing, and suddenly it was Jack's turn to speak, elbowed in the stomach by Sheppard who apparently knew the preset order for the toast.
Jack stood, somewhat reluctantly, if not for the speech but the unease. The base's alarms hadn't sounded yet, there was no reason to believe anything was amiss, but the Doctor was looking about, as was Broderick. A wary hand on his belt and ready for his gun, Jack raised his glass to say the words he'd planned the night before, carefully crafted to give proper respect. He owed it to Ianto. But while the group watched, words escaped him, fled him so quickly that the air felt pulled from his lungs.
Everything he meant to say sounded so trivial, so diminished in comparison of what he intended to say.
"Jack, something's wrong."
Careful not to jerk in reaction, Jack calmly considered what to say while dealing with the touch of Jean-Luc in his semi-public mind. He'd never felt the direct touch of Jean-Luc's power before; the only contact had been the attempt by Tosh ever so long ago. Empathic sharing was one thing, but this? No wonder the man had almost struck Ianto dead with his panicked cry.
No wonder he'd led Avalon in their attack against the dragons.
"I had a whole list of things to say tonight, to toast Ianto. Truth is, he'd've hated it, which makes me want to say even more." Jack continued looking about the room, as unobtrusively as possible, passing off a sincere look at everyone at the table in name of understanding. He'd not actively used any psychic skills taught by the Time Agency in years, but he drudged up what he could remember to converse with Jean-Luc at the same time. "The Doctor and Broderick are aware as well. Can you sense what it is? What's the danger? We have children here as well as Ms. Blue."
Jack smiled at the table, not missing Martha's hand wrapping around his free hand, lending him the resolve to continue. "Ianto was ... despite everything ... I was furious when I returned with the Doctor." Jack heard the Doctor snort and Martha squeezed his hand; they both had felt his ire for that period between remembering and seeking revenge. "But I realized what he'd done ... I couldn't..." After repeated starts and stops, Jack just stopped himself, his loss of words embarrassing for his age and education.
"Can't tell. There's something ... here."
With a grin that betrayed none of his wariness and the slight tinge of fear, Jack summed up his babble. "I loved him. Just as everyone else who ever met him. So, to Ianto Jones, reminding us of love, reminding us all to live." Jack sipped his glass, catching something fly past the door, just in the corner of his eye.
Shit.
The glass dropped as a flash of lightning blinded the room, followed quickly by a clap of thunder that set the baby Gizmo screaming in fear (Gwen too, but Jack wasn't going to pressure himself to remember that). Jack had his gun pulled and he was out the door faster than any other could respond, though he could feel Sheppard a step behind, the Doctor beside Sheppard and everyone else following in suit. "Gwen!" Jack shouted above the wind whipping around the Hub, fuck he knew what was happening. "Take the kids and Ms. Blue! Keep them safe!"
He could hardly breathe for the wind. Another flash of lightning smelling of ozone electrified all his nerve endings until he jittered. The storm was in the Hub, no rain, but the savage blast scraped his skin like sandpaper, his gun would hardly stand a chance in the force of the gale. But almost as suddenly as it began, the tempest dissipated, falling off to an uneasy still as though they'd all entered the eye of a hurricane. It wasn't natural, nothing about this storm was natural. There should be no wind, much less lightning and thunder, and where the hell were they?
Jack spun in a quick circle as they entered the main section of the base, staring up and around as the others fell in position behind him. None were armed, save for Sheppard and the Doctor and his trusted sonic screwdriver -- a device Jack definitely needed as it never failed, it always seemed to work exactly as the Doctor wanted.
Could probably stun an alien or two, maybe.
Or perhaps a faery.
"Show yourself!" Jack shouted, his voice sounding so lonely in the quiet hum of the Hub. Paper littered the ground, spun up by the storm, and a few items appeared to have been knocked to the floor, light enough to have been carried by the wind, or struck down by a childish hand. "I know you're there, show yourself!"
High-pitched laughter bounced off every surface within the Hub, setting his every nerve on edge. His fury was so intense he almost missed Sheppard's query as to 'What the fuck was going on?' Jack had more than a few things he wished to say, more than a few things to ask. He remembered it all. All their watching and stalking of Ianto. They may be an old power, but that wouldn't stop Jack from asking why?
"Bloody faeries." Owen swore, and Jack really had to agree. Apparently Sheppard hadn't the pleasure of meeting the creatures; hopefully this wouldn't draw their focus to the United States if they'd not had an interest before. He was in for a treat; the faeries hadn't let Jack down yet.
And of course, it had to be that day.
Rapid flitters of paper-dry wings crackled over the sound of the water tower, drawing Jack's eyes up yet again. This time he wasn't disappointed as no longer were the faeries hiding away in the shadows, away from direct line of sight. They exposed themselves in all their bulbous green glory, taunting Myfanwy in spiralling concentric circles and playing in the water. No surface was too small or too vertical for purchase. Their hands and feet landed briefly on stone and metal only to spring off and swoop down over their heads, making all duck except for Broderick and the Doctor, who remained disgustingly unaffected while everyone else clung to their weapons (or, in Owen's case, his drink).
Smart man.
"Enough!" Jack pitched his voice loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the faeries and nervous hum of the Torchwood crew. A flash of black at his side drew his attention and Jack cursed every deity across countless millenia. The black dress was the last thing he wanted to see in the main Hub area with the situation rapidly cascading out of control. "Elaine, go back to the conference room with Gwen and the kids."
"Think you can order me about, do you Jack? I'll not cower and insult my family. Find me a weapon and show me why the hell I so heavily fund Torchwood."
Jack winced a bit at the tone, though he made every effort to hide a reaction. Of course she was a Jones; they were stubborn as Grecian mules (the system, not the country) and refused to listen to sense. No matter how concerned he was for them or their family. Jack might be from the 51st century but damn if some old protective instincts weren't difficult to eliminate via evolution. Especially having lived the past century and a half immersed in this culture.
A handgun was passed forward, along with a snicker from Sheppard because only he would have the audacity to laugh at Jack when he had so many tools by which to punish his team. Elaine looked uncomfortable but determined as she held the gun; Jack had no more time to wonder if it was such a wise idea to have her involved when a soft white light distracted him, separating from the water tower while the faeries weaved in flight around it. It seemed to dance on air currents, drifting and floating down like an autumn leaf, only Jack knew it for what it was: the innocent guise of the faeries, as pure as the children they took for as their Chosen. It was all fake; the faeries were neither pure nor innocent, but maybe they once had been, before time and after all had been destroyed and time ceased.
"I can't stop them; this is an ancient power."
Jack mentally thanked Jean-Luc for his failure, receiving what felt like a fucking raspberry in response. He maintained a steady, unwavering grip of his gun, not flinching as the tiny figure drew close, nor did he gasp when it blurred, elongating in a blurred stretch as the light faded but the body grew. What had been diminutive became full-figured and tall, a head of raven-black hair piled in an intricate weave with curls spilling over her shoulders and nearly touching the floor. Skin pale as Jack felt, though he knew hers to be a natural pallor. He knew her and her appearance was not welcome. She caused trouble and mayhem wherever she went and he'd had enough of trouble and mayhem, especially on this day.
This was supposed to be a day of celebration, of freedom and life.
"You haven't changed," the woman purred while laughing, approaching Jack while the rest of the faeries dropped to the ground behind her, forming a line of rose-green, threatening guard. Jack remained still, even when she raised her hand to touch his hair, the silvered jewels in hers gleaming in the light as she moved. Her robes were a rich, earthy green but held a sheen no human thread could match; they smelled vaguely of roses. Jack managed to fight every bone in his being not to move, though the urge was growing stronger with each passing moment. "Or maybe you have," she amended, tugging at the ends which never wanted to lay flat, though it had when it was longer, tied back from his face. That was the Jack she had known, so long ago.
"Fuck, Harkness. Is there anyone you haven't slept with?"
Jack hesitated to move at all despite the urge to smack Owen upside the head for his question. Jack hadn't slept with Owen, after all. "Ladies and gentlemen," Jack spoke smoothly, never looking away from the green eyes which matched the robes, an intense stare into eyes which held lifetimes (ignoring the Doctor and Broderick chirping in that they hadn't, in fact, slept with Jack, and then the others followed in, with Owen amending, "Fine, alien"). "May I introduce, the Queen of the Fae."
"But ... how?"
Gwen's voice startled Jack, and he turned, despite the danger in front of him, to find her standing with Bryce and Gareth, Gizmo tucked away in the fabric of the sling. "Gwen ..." Jack all but growled, as protective of Ianto's nephews as he would have been had he truly been their 'Uncle Jack.' He was honoree, if anything. Which gave some added strength to his voice. "Get the kids out of here!"
"And no less paranoid," the Queen giggled, a sound echoed eerily in childish tones by the faery standing behind her. "I have not come for the children, though we would gladly accept the offering. They are both beautiful and spirited."
"There'll be none of that, Fae. Two are my kin and you've no claim on them." Jack glanced at Ianto's father, standing beside Elaine and looking, quite frankly, scarily defiant with his arms crossed, the two providing a fearsome defensive wall in front of Gwen and the children. The look passed as quickly as it'd come. Broderick's face lit in a smile that left Jack blinking in wonder at the rapid change, the surprise making him hesitate just long enough for Broderick to slip past to embrace the Queen, being so forward as to lay a kiss on her cheek. "But you are looking beautiful, my dear. The years have only blessed you."
Martha's alarmed "what?" echoed precisely what Jack wished to say, only with a cuter accent.
"Jack, what do we do?" Tosh whispered, standing with a hand clasped in Jean-Luc's. Owen and Sheppard looked equally as befuddled while the Doctor just looked intrigued. So much for help from him, Jack noted, wondering what action was the best to take. He still had his gun; they could put up a fight but he was inordinately curious as to why the faery had come. At the very least, he wanted an explanation from Ianto's father.
Broderick had already moved, resuming his post beside Elaine after sweeping one of the twins into his arms, the other clutching his hand and staring wide-eyed at the faeries. (Jack wasn't sure which was which, he still wasn't able to tell the twins apart.) They didn't look scared, just surprised. Which was good -- children in the Hub were enough while a threat was present, screaming children would have just put Jack over the edge.
The Queen stepped forward, moving into Jack's personal space, and he didn't miss that the others stepped away in reaction. He held his ground, though; he'd dealt with her before. A lifetime ago, but familiar territory all the same. He still didn't trust her, and he was pretty sure she would only use or manipulate him for her own purpose.
"Are you not curious why I'm here?"
She seemed to float as she moved, a rustle of leaves seeming to follow in her path as she trailed a finger over his chest, over his shoulders and back as she circled. Jack squared his jaw, biting back what he wanted to say in favor of provoking, something far more rewarding in that it at least squared her attention on him and none of the others. Not to mention, a bit more fun. "Not really. This is a private party, by invitation only. So unless you've got a glossy card with the time and date, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Jack would have laughed at the tantrum that followed -- once a child, always a child, from the foot-stomp to the frustrated wail -- if he hadn't been swept up by a gale of wind as though he was simply a feather, air currents swirling around him so fast Jack found himself suspended in mid-air, thrown away from the others as the Queen raged below.
What was he saying? It was still rather amusing.
The world dropped away as he felt the wind die, the suddenness taking his breath away as he plummeted to the ground. Jack forced himself to relax. The height wouldn't kill him if he was careful; he was more concerned for the twins viewing the violence than for himself. He closed his eyes, but the collision with the floor never came, although he experienced as much of a shock as the actual impact would have been, almost bouncing in the air as he could practically feel the particles vibrating around him.
"I would suggest using a more sensitive approach next time, Jack."
Grinning despite himself as he carefully regained his balance to stand again, Jack opened his eyes to Jean-Luc's, so piercing pale blue despite being halfway across the Hub that they almost seemed lit with power. He nodded his thanks before turning to the Queen as she stalked towards him, the other eight faeries trailing behind her like little ducklings.
"You try my patience."
Jack raised his chin, offering her his patented Harkness smile. "I've been told that before, but usually it involves fewer clothes." The Queen's lips pressed into a thin frown, the bitter look one Jack had seen before. He knew he should have been wary of those earlier smiles and laughter; her core was far more cruel than the lighthearted front had presented. He knew; he'd experienced it and he'd every reason to hate. "You've destroyed people I've loved. Why should I listen?"
"So young. Arrogant." The Queen curled long, red-nailed fingers around his jaw, tilting his face in the light. Jack felt the muscles in his neck begin to tremble with the effort not to pull away and fire every bullet in his Webbly, but he kept still; he preferred his head where it was. "You believe this to be about you?"
Jack had no comment, just a quiet fear he hadn't felt in so long . He didn't necessarily fear death -- that was a fear long lost to spears and starvation and Abaddon. But control was gone, as was any understanding of the situation. When assumed motivations were no longer in play, Jack couldn't act. He couldn't figure a way out, he couldn't second guess or get ahead or out-talk, and he certainly wasn't going to flirt. He had no fucking clue what their motivation was. They had invaded his turf and more than just him was threatened. He felt helpless, and he hated that feeling.
Fear. "What is it about, then?"
A cool finger ran down his neck until it reached his chest, pushing Jack backwards with startling strength so that he had to backpedal to remain upright but he didn't miss what she whispered. "Promises."
The faeries behind her erupted into childish laughter as they sprung up on their gangly legs, so quickly Jack had barely righted himself when they were yards in the air. Swooping and flashing into brilliant light, the tiny pixies Estelle saw hovered like spheres of light around the Queen. She drank the attention and the light, faeries dancing on the palms of her hands, making the silver and jewels in her hair gleam. Quite the display, though Jack wasn't exactly sure for who.
"Jack, what do we do?"
He spared a glance at Gwen and the team, the Doctor and Ianto's family and friends. They were on the opposite side of the tower, the Queen of the Fae and her minions between them. "Stay there." Jack really had no other advice; what did one say to defend against a faery? Close one's eyes and quit believing in them? He addressed the Queen directly, inching closer to her until tiny glowing faeries zoomed in front of him, halting his approach. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't." She held one childlike faery in her hand, cupping her fingers around it as though to protect, her robes glimmering green as they swirled around her. He'd ask her to teach him that trick, she made the movement look effortless and he always had to work to get his coat to move, but he didn't think she'd be so keen to part with that information. Selfish as ever, unwilling to give up anything she wanted until she had claimed it completely, no matter the cost. Jack hadn't singlehandedly destroyed that kingdom, after all; he'd had a little help. "I had to protect my own."
"At the cost of Ianto!" The tiny faeries clung to his clothing, pulling Jack away from the Queen as he lunged forward, ready to strangle her even if it cost him a life. He tried to shake them off, but they wouldn't budge, clinging to his shirt, his pants, wings flapping so fast they were a powerful blur. "You gave him no choice!"
Her lips curved into a beautiful yet dangerous smile, daring Jack to contradict her, to play her game with all its unknown rules and consequences. "On the contrary, he had every choice. Of course, we lit his path on occasion. Couldn't have him lost now, could we?"
"You manipulated him!" Jack surged forward again, the faeries taunting and giggling as they held him fast, their hands feeling like red-hot needles against his skin. He was dimly aware of Owen, Sheppard, and Jean-Luc creeping towards him -- not so subtly Jack might add, and really, who had they learned their stealth from? Sheppard blended into the background but the other two were due for some training if they survived this.
"Your choice is ours, Ianto," the Queen's voice sing-songed in reply. Jack knew it must have been what was told to Ianto so long ago. Ianto had mentioned it, hinted briefly to Jack as he was now, and a bit more expanded in his past self. But never the words. "And our choice is yours."
"What. Does. That. Mean?" Jack growled, his patience shot with all her games and playing. "What was his choice?"
She stopped playing with the dancing faery upon her hand, throwing it up as one would throw a bird to flight. It fled up and away, pealing with glee as it flew away from the Queen. Jack waited for an answer; it seemed as though the Hub itself had paused, holding its breath as well. Even the individual drops of the waterfall slowed, silencing the melodic flow in frozen time. Her smile was radiant, part-child, part-woman, mother and daughter in the same ancient breath. He could understand why men fell captive to her spell. He saw why kingdoms crumbled as she danced in love and vengeance. And when she turned fully towards him, unnatural green eyes blazing with wisdom and innocence, power palpable as the air swirled around her, lifting the cascade of curls kissing her feet, Jack felt a bit of something like awe.
"Life."
Her hands rose above her head, meeting with a resounding crack as lightning flashed so brilliant that Jack's eyes teared while afterimages danced behind his closed eyes. The storm which had earlier died rose in a fury, deafening with its roar and thunderclaps that sounded too loud and too close. But for all its fury, Jack felt no fear. It wasn't ... threatening, and that was different for all his interactions with the faeries. It wasn't a storm to drown in, it wasn't even raining, and while the wind whipped around him, the current felt little more than a gentle puff.
Growing confident, Jack opened his eyes, slowly at first in case his senses and instincts were deceiving him. What he saw left him staring. Where the water tower had stood appeared a wooded land of tall, ancient trees, the ground blanketed by mist, a mist which swirled around Jack's ankles, creeping up his calves until the entire Hub floor was covered by it. Jack would call it a mirage, but it smelled so real, the crisp sent of dewed greens beneath his feet, the old earth smell of the gnarled trees. The image stretched until the edges blended into the technology of the Hub, a curled, whitened edge like burnt paper. He knew what he was seeing, the lost forests. Out of time, the land of the Faery.
And the edges were shrinking, crackling inwards as the opening rapidly shrank, the sounds of laughter fading away as Jack assumed they returned home, returned after accomplishing what? He quickly glanced across at the team. Gwen still stood next to Rhys with Gizmo around her neck, the twins were still with Broderick. The Faery hadn't been after the children. So they had been there to scare the team? Intimidate him? Truth be told, they didn't have to go to such dramatics to scare him; they already scared him for all their seemingly random acts and agenda.
The Queen had vanished as well, lost somewhere as the winds died down and the hole closed, returning the Hub to its former self, with the water tower cascading down into the pool right where the Queen had stood. But they were gone, they were all gone, just as quickly as they'd come. Jack spun about, counting all the guests and team. Elaine was with Broderick and the Doctor, everyone was accounted for. The mist still lingered, drifting away without the other land to support it. Sheppard, Owen, Jean-Luc, and Tosh were close, staring at their ankles and kicking at the clingy cloud that circled and dissipated.
"Oh my god, Jack!"
He looked up to Martha, who wasn't looking at him but pointing at the fountain where the Queen had once stood. Jack was confused at first, but as the mist cleared, deep red spread over the Hub floor, not everywhere, but in a limited pile, a mound right where she had taunted and teased with half-information and childish games.
That wasn't what stole his breath, though. Jack had seen evidence of the faeries' presence before.
The thin line of pale cream within the red rose petals, that left Jack gasping.
***
***
Next Part (Epilogue: Part 2)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: The Day of Black
A/N: Two Parts. Full author's notes at the conclusion.
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22 (Three Parts)
S2: Chap 8, SoI 23 (Three Parts)
S2: Chap 9, SoI 24
One year later...
Jack leaned on the railing overlooking the Hub, legs crossed casually, feeling every bit his age (extended as it was) but yet content. And most certainly amused. Elaine and Broderick had arrived nearly an hour earlier, bringing along Bryce and Gareth who, after greeting him, instantly began pestering Owen. What odd sounds, children's laughter, to be heard in the Hub. And they were at the perfect age: smart enough to know how to get into trouble and young enough to get away with acting innocent. Jack remembered that time well, brief as it had been. He'd lost his innocence early, though he presumed Bryce and Gareth understood far better than other kids their age.
They'd lost as well.
The twins drove Owen mad, which was half the reason Elaine had brought them along, Jack imagined. Not that they bothered Owen. In fact, if Jack were to be asked, he rather thought Owen enjoyed playing with the twins who were probably of the same mentality. They got on well and shared Owen's fascination with alien bodies. Disturbed Elaine, but the twins both were determined to carry on in their father and uncle's footsteps.
Elaine and Owen; an odd pair. Jack didn't think there was anything going on between them, and Jack prided himself on knowing when people were shagging. They smelled different, pheromones pouring off in waves. But if Owen was taking it slow, courting Elaine? He wasn't sure if Ianto would have approved or not, so he was torn between laying into Owen to back off Ianto's sister or encouraging him because Elaine was probably the sweetest person who had actually taken an honest interest in him, Diane notwithstanding.
But, Jack could be reading more into it than existed. Ianto's death had shaken Owen far more than Jack would have assumed. Their constant sniping had always led Jack to believe the relationship was eggshells and razorblades. But maybe it had been more brothers than enemies, a skewed and twisted camaraderie but an underlying protective respect.
Jack should have realized that with the aftermath of Lisa.
Elaine and Owen had bonded after the memorial service, drowning life and memory in alcohol and stories. Jack had found them curled up on the Hub couch, asleep. He'd covered them with a few spare blankets, made sure there was water and a bottle of aspirin on the end table, and left them in peace. He had checked on them periodically between sitting in his office, busying himself with whatever he could find. He froze in surprise, though, when he caught Tosh tucking the blankets tighter around Elaine and Owen. She gave a small, tired smile and sat at her desk, starting up reports or whatever the hell she'd found to busy herself with.
Jack hadn't returned to his office, choosing instead to sit at Gwen's desk and beat all of Gwen's scores on Minesweeper, just because.
His office had been far too quiet and held far too many memories.
Elaine waved up to Jack, smiling at some story Owen was sharing with Broderick while the twins spun on the office chairs. Jack waved back but remained where he was, watching.
He'd probably heard the story anyway and he was still suspicious as hell of Ianto's father. Torchwood had taken to hitting the pub, as the team had apparently done between his absences. The first time. Before he'd been found at Torchwood Four. It was a good habit, the first few times a bit rough, but that was to be expected. Jack understood the stages of grief and could categorically list and estimate the proper time it would take to pass through each given the individual. In the future, they had specialists who were assigned to the friends and family, trained, better than the psychology of today. They helped and guided. Jack slipped himself into the role easily; it gave him more to do, more feeling of accomplishment that he was doing something. When left to his own devices he had felt so utterly lost and helpless.
So to Lana's every Wednesday night, stories coming easier and more personal as the weeks passed. Jack learned a bit more, every week, though he kept most of his memories close to the vest. And if people thought it was odd that Jack used the women's loo instead of the men's, no one commented. The staff and customers just let it go, regulars understood there was something important and let him be, and the others just blushed at the sinks as Jack joined the women in washing his hands. If there was any trouble, Jack assumed Lana had taken care of it because he'd never heard a whisper.
A delightful girl, good head on her shoulders that Lana. Good business as well. The servers knew the team and had their drinks ready before they'd even sat down at their table. Torchwood's table. No one sat there on Wednesday nights. In fact, Jack wondered if anyone sat there at all. There had only been one mistake with the drinks early on, though Jack thought Lana devious enough that she might have intentionally done it. It'd taken the mix-up before any of them realized Gwen was drinking straight cola, she'd fessed up to the pregnancy once Owen had blurted something about raging hormones and her short temper.
They'd toasted to Gwen and Rhys that night, the first time it'd been anything but Stephen or Ianto since that day.
Lana's had joined in the cheering at the announcement as well, cheering again when she'd announced it was a boy, hushed to silence when she said that she and Rhys were going to call him Ianto.
Jack's voice might have cracked as he led that toast, but he'd fled Lana's before anyone could comment or ask him the inane question 'was he okay?'
Of course he was fine.
Jack had to be, for his team and for all the rest of the world looking at him.
The baby had been born four months ago, a beautiful baby boy with all his fingers and toes. Owen had commented that he looked like a mini-Winston Churchill, but Jack didn't really see the resemblance aside from a few baby wrinkles and a squalling cry. The little tyke really looked more like an old friend Jack had back before the Agency, dark hair, big brown eyes.
Jack called baby Cooper-Williams "Gizmo."
No one commented. Tosh copied him first, then Owen. Wasn't long before all of Torchwood called the little kid "Gizmo." Good name. Gizmo had caused plenty of trouble with Jack back in their days; he was sure the kid would do the same, especially if Jack taught him a few tricks.
He smiled as Gwen and Rhys came round from the conference room, Gwen with one of those baby slings and, he assumed, Gizmo tucked away inside given the way the sling was squirming. That or they had yet another alien incursion; Jack wouldn't be surprised. Seemed like this would be the day when Rift activity sky-rocketed and aliens made another attempt on Earth.
The invisible lift activated, drawing Jack's attention from Gwen and Rhys. Laughter echoed around the Hub, partnered with a distinctly feminine squeal and a barking laugh that Jack had come to know from various phone calls and meetings. As the lift continued to sink, he smirked as he saw the cause of the laughter. Two bodies made for close quarters; three was a tight fit (and how they had ever managed to not fall off when the team had ran from Lisa Jack couldn't figure out). Jean-Luc had his arms wrapped tight around Tosh and Sheppard, holding them close as they descended -- probably not entirely necessary but the trio appeared to be enjoying themselves, so who was Jack to complain. Pretty picture as well, and Jack was going to complain even less about that. It'd be prettier if he were in the middle, but he'd settle for watching the three laugh, better even then the finest Narcian wine, harvested at the peak season amidst pink skies and colored rain.
It had taken Jean-Luc so long to laugh again.
He'd woken about a month after the memorial service, physically weak and disoriented. But Jean-Luc had known. He'd known without anyone speaking of Ianto and Stephen. Jack had seen many things in his day, more tragedy and horror than filled the shelves of a video rental store, but he hadn't been prepared for that, for the complete unraveling of a powerful empath and telekinetic, and neither had all of Avalon. Hell, the whole world knew when Jean-Luc had regained consciousness. It'd taken almost an hour to collect themselves enough to begin attempting to get through to Jean-Luc that every alien in this galaxy was probably weeping, much less the people of earth, and that really, the lightning storm outside had to end before it burned down yet another Avalon building. Tosh had finally succeeded in getting close enough to Jean-Luc to touch, signalling for Jack, Owen, and Healer Solaine to leave them be.
Tosh. Brave Toshiko Sato, stepping in while the room spun in disarray, rushing to Jean-Luc's bedside despite the danger because he most certainly wasn't in control. Or maybe he was, and it was more a gifted-fueled tantrum. Jack couldn't blame him either way; they'd all had their moments the past month. Jean-Luc was due his, though he could have done it without the freak lightning storm thatmade Jack's hair stand on end and the threat to one of his team.
Tosh surprised Jack time and again, though by now he should have known better than to underestimate the quiet ones. She was uncomfortably perceptive, bringing him tea in the evening after everyone else had left and just ...sat with him, sipping tea and occasionally joining him for dinner. She claimed her flat was too quiet, but she kept coming, even after Jean-Luc woke. When that piece of tech from the ninth quadrant of the Pfktrains system had been accidentally activated by a determinedly housekeeping (nesting) Gwen, and the injured Tosh had been stuck in bed for days, Jack had missed their tea time.
Until Jean-Luc had shown up unexpectedly and inexplicably, smirking as he'd held bags of Chinese take-away in one hand, saki in the other, waltzing up to Jack's office like he had access codes and free reign to the Hub. Which, he didn't. None did, except Torchwood Three. Uninvited, Jean-Luc sprawled in the chair across from Jack, setting the cartons on half-finished paperwork and poured the saki into glasses far too large for the beverage. "Tosh kicked me out of the flat for the evening," was all Jean-Luc said before grabbing a drink, chopsticks, and a carton of what smelled like beef lo mein.
Jack hadn't believed him for a minute, but selected a carton for himself. They hadn't spoken that entire night, just got drunk on saki and stained the paperwork with soy sauce.
He believed Jean-Luc even less when he'd shown up the next night and ever night thereafter, even when Tosh was back on duty. When he'd questioned Tosh, she'd just smiled a teary smile and patted his chest before returning to her computer screens. Jack hadn't missed the way her hands shook when she picked up her tea, but he hadn't asked again. Not even when the occasional dinner became nightly and Jean-Luc joined them every time.
The grin Jack wore as he watched Jean-Luc, Tosh, and Sheppard faded into a slight frown, mind adding all the other moments throughout the past year, from the mundane to the larger gestures. Fresh flowers at the memorial stone every day matching the flowers which appeared on his desk -- he'd checked the internal CCTV footage and could never find the culprit -- a book of photographs of Ianto taken at various points in time of what Jack assumed both doctored CCTV footage and personal camera, not left on his desk but on the bed in Ianto's flat where Jack had taken to staying at night when he'd needed to (a secret indulgence he'd thought he'd kept hidden from everyone else). The list was endless, but had a touch of Tosh in the elements.
He supposed that perhaps he hadn't been quite as good at hiding things as he'd hoped. That and Tosh was ... Tosh. Tech genius, medically trained, sharp with a gun, and periodic caretaker of an immortal. He should feel embarrassed by the thought, but really, it just left him pleasantly warm.
Jack nodded a greeting to the trio when Sheppard waved up at him. The relations with the United States alien fighting group had continued. Sheppard had pretty much ensured it would when he'd appeared (somewhat sheepishly, if Jack were to be asked) at Torchwood's doorstep with various alien tech, including a familiar Diadem sphere: the missing objects from the Archives that Wilson had snuck off premises. Jack had been stunned at first, then ordered Owen and Rhys to fetch a dolly to move the alien tech to the Archives.
Not only had Sheppard returned the tech, but he'd also brought a contract of sorts, a document that had Ianto's prints all over it, figuratively and literally. A unification treaty for all countries, something Ianto and Sheppard had been working on after the first dragon attack. Jack vaguely remembered it from then, but it had always been a distracting piece of politics that he'd done his best to save Ianto from, engaging him in after-hours activity which then required showers and naps. Jack hadn't realized it'd been finished, but he signed it without really reading it. It was Ianto's work. He didn't doubt the integrity of the treaty or question what responsibilities Torchwood and Britain would have. The newly appointed Secretary of Research and Resource Allocation should probably have signed it as well, but Jack didn't wait, penning his name at the top.
Sheppard looked good in his dragon hide pants, coat, and boots, Jack absently noticed as Tosh and Jean-Luc lead the way to the conference room. Even the eye patch looked like it was made of dragon hide. On anyone else, Jack would have called the tanned hide offensive and demanded the immediate removal. But on Sheppard, Sheppard could wear it. And wore it with honor.
Jack thought of creating a complete look in dragon hide for himself. It'd last him years, plus he'd wear it better. Sheppard had no ass and his legs were too skinny.
That was everyone, if he counted right. Lana had sent her regrets, she had her club to run on the holiday, but had supplied all the spirits (lemonade for the kids) and food for the celebration. Torchwood London (Torchwood Five, if anyone was still counting) was bogged down in some sticky mess of alien goo, what had appeared an innocent box had been booby-trapped with a tar-like substance and they were still cleaning up the mess in their new facilities. They promised to share a drink -- Jack was pretty sure that was code for drink until they passed out, but he wasn't going to question their actions. Wasn't his duty, at any rate. He had Torchwood Three to look after, and that was more than enough on the best of days.
Staring out over the Hub, Jack's fingers curled tight on the railing as he felt the calm settling over the home he'd known for years. Decades. Twice over in an odd turn of time lines. This was why they fought, Torchwood and the rest of the world, searching for that moment of quiet peace that even the Rift refused to interrupt. They'd survived for a year, all of them, and Jack supposed that was something.
"Are you coming, Jack? Hurry up, party's to start without you!" Gwen's voice carried through Torchwood Three, reminding Jack of the reason everyone had gathered.
They'd all survived. Except the one who mattered most. But, that was Jack's destiny if he were to have one. And better to have loved than never to have known it, to quote the old adage. Not that it made the pain less or him more willing to try again, but it helped soften time as it slowly passed, aging those around him while he remained.
The churning songs of the TARDIS startled Jack, surprising him mid-step as he was turning to join the others in the conference room. She slowly materialized in front of the Hub's rolling door, the familiar blue Police box dissolving then reemerging clearer than before until quiet again fell over the Hub, sounding loud to Jack's ears.
"Jack! Not late are we? Got caught up throwing tea in a harbor to make a mer-creature happy and we nearly forgot. Well, I didn't forget, but Martha mentioned picking up a bottle of wine from New France and I discovered the dreadful hospitality of monks who were really alien minks selling human-skin coats. So, right then. Where's the party?"
The last vestiges of Jack's surprise slid off, spurring him to action as he rounded the stairs to stand in front of the Doctor who rocked back on his heels, hands stuffed in his pockets with the familiar grin upon his face. Martha joined the Doctor, a bottle of wine in her hand (vintage 4369, good year for a New France wine, one of Jack's favorites), looking as beautiful as the Doctor was whimsically handsome.
"Doctor, I believe you've made him speechless."
Remembering his manners, Jack kissed Martha's cheek, welcoming her to Torchwood Three.
The Doctor continued to bounce in place, whistling as Myfanwy flew overhead, drawn by curiosity to the Doctor. Jack could only wish to command that kind of allure, though he thought he did rather well for a mere human if he did say so himself. He caught himself mimicking Ianto's arched eyebrow of query, smiling to himself. "Don't take this the wrong way, Doctor, but why are you here? You didn't know Ianto."
Jack watched as the smile disappeared from the Doctor's face, morphing not into a scowl but a serious look usually reserved for imminent universe collapse barring a half-strung solution. For a moment, Jack honestly believed there was a threat again to the Earth and that was the true reason the Doctor had come. Call it irony, call it karmic, call it the goddesses mocking his very existence.
"But you did," the Doctor finally said, extending a hand to touch Jack's cheek, a surprise in and of itself. He never touched. Never. Not if he could help it, not that Jack had seen or felt. To Jack, it seemed as though the contact was too much for the solitary figure, last of his kind in the known universe. Maybe it was, or maybe the Doctor had been alone for so long the sensation was overwhelming. Or maybe he believed himself unworthy of it.
Or maybe Jack should just quit attempting to figure out a Time Lord whose consciousness and experience put his to shame.
The touch was gone almost as quickly as it'd come, leaving Jack with the faint impression of the Doctor's fingers upon his skin, a warm reassurance surpassing normal, fleeting touch. Loss and understanding, sympathy and hope, and a touch of exhilaration at the spirit of the human race for amazing the Doctor time and again. Somewhere in there a sense of familiarity, not of kinship, but a connection spanning time. The Doctor couldn't explain Jack, had no answers beyond assumptions and theories, but Jack would be around for a very, very long time. And in the Doctor's existence, that was a very rare thing indeed.
Jack smiled, nodding in agreement with all the things the Doctor didn't say and everything Jack couldn't comprehend but figured he'd agree with anyway.
"Splendid." The Doctor's face broke into a broad grin, nearly dancing on the balls of his feet in excitement. "So let's go celebrate this Day of Black."
***
Jack nearly laughed at Elaine's expression when he, the Doctor, and Martha strolled through the door of the conference room, full with people, food, drinks, and a digital photo montage on the screen at the far end of the room. Jack wandered towards it, curious, seeing pictures from the photo album as well as others he couldn't place. One particular black and white caught his eye -- Ianto slouched long in a chair, dark suit coat tossed over the arm, tie loose, and white collar unbuttoned. His eyes were closed, hands clasped in his lap. Jack at first thought he was asleep, but his features were too taunt, too drawn for sleep, stress and tension radiating off his body clearly in the black and white image. Jack stared longer, spotting another object in the picture, the small alien iPod device peaking out from Ianto's clutched hands, thumb on the advance button, shadowed grays highlighting his cheekbones, curling over his fingers and playing hide and seek with the lighting.
The man was beautiful.
Which led Jack to the next question of who had spied upon him to take such an intimate photo.
Laughter distracted him, Tosh's echoing giggle pulling him away from the photos to focus his attention to the people in the room. The Doctor looked abashed and Elaine smirked in such an echo of her brother the effect was startling.
"I'm just saying, if I were to adhere to Torchwood protocol, you'd be taken into custody and held until I'd extracted as much information from you as possible, Enemy of Torchwood."
Jack stepped forward, belatedly remembering what was defined in those protocols. The others didn't appear alarmed, however; his team appeared more amused and Martha was certainly struggling to maintain her composure.
"Enemy? Now that's a harsh word. Well, I've never been one for protocol. And you, Ms. Blue?"
"Nope." Elaine smiled indulgently, waving a hand to brush aside the mere notion of the politics. "My brother rewrote some of the old protocol anyway. You're now honored, Doctor, for your involvement in the Battle of Canary Wharf."
"He was there?" The Doctor asked, and Jack couldn't help but beam with a bit of pride for Ianto, surviving that horrendous experience -- more than survived, he'd returned stronger after the defeat (though the defeat had truly taken time to fully pass, and Jack still couldn't believe he'd managed to sneak the Cyberwoman into the Hub). That simply was Ianto. Unexpected but desperately needed, stumbling but growing with each battle until he became one of legend, a king among men. Because that's what he was now, one year later, and there was an international day of celebration in honor of his sacrifice. Jack had even witnessed kids in the street, playing Torchwood and Dragons, fighting over who got to be Mr. Black. It'd hurt, if it didn't make him so damned proud.
"The air grows thin when viewing life from so high, doesn't it, Time Lord?"
Jack's gaze, as well as everyone else's snapped to Broderick, smiling happily as he poured himself a glass of cognac instead of the champagne poured for everyone else. Not for the first time, Jack felt like he'd been stunned by a blaster from Gragenok in conversation with Ianto's father, though he did have to admit some relief that the words weren't directed at him.
The Doctor seemed equally as taken aback, staring at Broderick like he'd completely overlooked him the first time he'd entered the room. Perhaps he had, Broderick was easy to overlook in the elderly paternal sense. "I meant no offense, only admiration. Sorry, have we met before?"
"You never do." Jack didn't fail to notice that Broderick hadn't answered the Doctor's question, but from what he knew of Ianto's experiences with his father, the man never did answer a question. Well, if anything, this dynamic would provide the entertainment for the evening, and Jack would be happy to sit back and watch, if only to glean a little more information about the enigmatic father of Ianto Jones. "I believe toasts are in order to begin our evening. Elaine?"
Elaine stood and everyone else followed, a room full of people set to honor Ianto on this Day of Black. Worldwide, others were doing the same, all having witnessed the same events, the same story as it had unfolded before his teams' eyes and his own. Jack didn't know of another international holiday, based on an individual, celebrated by all religions, all creeds, all politics, and walks of life.
Fuck, even in death, he had managed to unite them all.
"When Gwen told me she was organizing this little soiree, she asked me to lead the first toast in honor of my brother and the leader before me." Elaine paused for a moment, chewing her lip before continuing. Jack couldn't blame her; Gwen had asked him to speak as well and the mere thought ran ice cold down his spine. Across the table, Jean-Luc had his arm around Tosh's shoulder, Gwen and Rhys held hands, and the twins seemed to know something serious was being said because they held themselves more still than Jack had ever seen them stand. Martha sat to his left with the Doctor two spots down, still staring at Broderick like he could extrapolate an answer from Broderick's grin. Sheppard sat to his right, and Jack swore he could smell sulfur off the jacket Sheppard wore, though it was probably his imagination, and Owen sat just beyond John.
After a moment to collect herself, Elaine went on. "Honestly? I've learned I didn't know him half as well as I thought I did. Oh, I knew to the core what kind of person he was. But until this day, one year ago, I didn't know what he did. And as much as it terrified me to watch, I knew my brother and his oaths. He kept each and every one."
Jack glanced around the table, not missing the few subtle sniffs, accidentally catching Jean-Luc's eyes as they bore into his -- a frightening moment had Jack not been accustomed to the intensity of the man's gaze after so many evenings together.
"So, I ask that you raise your glasses in toast: to Ianto, a son, my brother, an uncle, friend and lover, who by his life protected us all."
A chorus of cheers echoed around the table. Jack raised his glass and sipped his champagne even as the hair on the back of his neck rose. Someone was watching. A quick glance at the Doctor indicated that he had noticed it too. Subtle looks around the room as they all drank their champagne revealed nothing, and suddenly it was Jack's turn to speak, elbowed in the stomach by Sheppard who apparently knew the preset order for the toast.
Jack stood, somewhat reluctantly, if not for the speech but the unease. The base's alarms hadn't sounded yet, there was no reason to believe anything was amiss, but the Doctor was looking about, as was Broderick. A wary hand on his belt and ready for his gun, Jack raised his glass to say the words he'd planned the night before, carefully crafted to give proper respect. He owed it to Ianto. But while the group watched, words escaped him, fled him so quickly that the air felt pulled from his lungs.
Everything he meant to say sounded so trivial, so diminished in comparison of what he intended to say.
"Jack, something's wrong."
Careful not to jerk in reaction, Jack calmly considered what to say while dealing with the touch of Jean-Luc in his semi-public mind. He'd never felt the direct touch of Jean-Luc's power before; the only contact had been the attempt by Tosh ever so long ago. Empathic sharing was one thing, but this? No wonder the man had almost struck Ianto dead with his panicked cry.
No wonder he'd led Avalon in their attack against the dragons.
"I had a whole list of things to say tonight, to toast Ianto. Truth is, he'd've hated it, which makes me want to say even more." Jack continued looking about the room, as unobtrusively as possible, passing off a sincere look at everyone at the table in name of understanding. He'd not actively used any psychic skills taught by the Time Agency in years, but he drudged up what he could remember to converse with Jean-Luc at the same time. "The Doctor and Broderick are aware as well. Can you sense what it is? What's the danger? We have children here as well as Ms. Blue."
Jack smiled at the table, not missing Martha's hand wrapping around his free hand, lending him the resolve to continue. "Ianto was ... despite everything ... I was furious when I returned with the Doctor." Jack heard the Doctor snort and Martha squeezed his hand; they both had felt his ire for that period between remembering and seeking revenge. "But I realized what he'd done ... I couldn't..." After repeated starts and stops, Jack just stopped himself, his loss of words embarrassing for his age and education.
"Can't tell. There's something ... here."
With a grin that betrayed none of his wariness and the slight tinge of fear, Jack summed up his babble. "I loved him. Just as everyone else who ever met him. So, to Ianto Jones, reminding us of love, reminding us all to live." Jack sipped his glass, catching something fly past the door, just in the corner of his eye.
Shit.
The glass dropped as a flash of lightning blinded the room, followed quickly by a clap of thunder that set the baby Gizmo screaming in fear (Gwen too, but Jack wasn't going to pressure himself to remember that). Jack had his gun pulled and he was out the door faster than any other could respond, though he could feel Sheppard a step behind, the Doctor beside Sheppard and everyone else following in suit. "Gwen!" Jack shouted above the wind whipping around the Hub, fuck he knew what was happening. "Take the kids and Ms. Blue! Keep them safe!"
He could hardly breathe for the wind. Another flash of lightning smelling of ozone electrified all his nerve endings until he jittered. The storm was in the Hub, no rain, but the savage blast scraped his skin like sandpaper, his gun would hardly stand a chance in the force of the gale. But almost as suddenly as it began, the tempest dissipated, falling off to an uneasy still as though they'd all entered the eye of a hurricane. It wasn't natural, nothing about this storm was natural. There should be no wind, much less lightning and thunder, and where the hell were they?
Jack spun in a quick circle as they entered the main section of the base, staring up and around as the others fell in position behind him. None were armed, save for Sheppard and the Doctor and his trusted sonic screwdriver -- a device Jack definitely needed as it never failed, it always seemed to work exactly as the Doctor wanted.
Could probably stun an alien or two, maybe.
Or perhaps a faery.
"Show yourself!" Jack shouted, his voice sounding so lonely in the quiet hum of the Hub. Paper littered the ground, spun up by the storm, and a few items appeared to have been knocked to the floor, light enough to have been carried by the wind, or struck down by a childish hand. "I know you're there, show yourself!"
High-pitched laughter bounced off every surface within the Hub, setting his every nerve on edge. His fury was so intense he almost missed Sheppard's query as to 'What the fuck was going on?' Jack had more than a few things he wished to say, more than a few things to ask. He remembered it all. All their watching and stalking of Ianto. They may be an old power, but that wouldn't stop Jack from asking why?
"Bloody faeries." Owen swore, and Jack really had to agree. Apparently Sheppard hadn't the pleasure of meeting the creatures; hopefully this wouldn't draw their focus to the United States if they'd not had an interest before. He was in for a treat; the faeries hadn't let Jack down yet.
And of course, it had to be that day.
Rapid flitters of paper-dry wings crackled over the sound of the water tower, drawing Jack's eyes up yet again. This time he wasn't disappointed as no longer were the faeries hiding away in the shadows, away from direct line of sight. They exposed themselves in all their bulbous green glory, taunting Myfanwy in spiralling concentric circles and playing in the water. No surface was too small or too vertical for purchase. Their hands and feet landed briefly on stone and metal only to spring off and swoop down over their heads, making all duck except for Broderick and the Doctor, who remained disgustingly unaffected while everyone else clung to their weapons (or, in Owen's case, his drink).
Smart man.
"Enough!" Jack pitched his voice loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the faeries and nervous hum of the Torchwood crew. A flash of black at his side drew his attention and Jack cursed every deity across countless millenia. The black dress was the last thing he wanted to see in the main Hub area with the situation rapidly cascading out of control. "Elaine, go back to the conference room with Gwen and the kids."
"Think you can order me about, do you Jack? I'll not cower and insult my family. Find me a weapon and show me why the hell I so heavily fund Torchwood."
Jack winced a bit at the tone, though he made every effort to hide a reaction. Of course she was a Jones; they were stubborn as Grecian mules (the system, not the country) and refused to listen to sense. No matter how concerned he was for them or their family. Jack might be from the 51st century but damn if some old protective instincts weren't difficult to eliminate via evolution. Especially having lived the past century and a half immersed in this culture.
A handgun was passed forward, along with a snicker from Sheppard because only he would have the audacity to laugh at Jack when he had so many tools by which to punish his team. Elaine looked uncomfortable but determined as she held the gun; Jack had no more time to wonder if it was such a wise idea to have her involved when a soft white light distracted him, separating from the water tower while the faeries weaved in flight around it. It seemed to dance on air currents, drifting and floating down like an autumn leaf, only Jack knew it for what it was: the innocent guise of the faeries, as pure as the children they took for as their Chosen. It was all fake; the faeries were neither pure nor innocent, but maybe they once had been, before time and after all had been destroyed and time ceased.
"I can't stop them; this is an ancient power."
Jack mentally thanked Jean-Luc for his failure, receiving what felt like a fucking raspberry in response. He maintained a steady, unwavering grip of his gun, not flinching as the tiny figure drew close, nor did he gasp when it blurred, elongating in a blurred stretch as the light faded but the body grew. What had been diminutive became full-figured and tall, a head of raven-black hair piled in an intricate weave with curls spilling over her shoulders and nearly touching the floor. Skin pale as Jack felt, though he knew hers to be a natural pallor. He knew her and her appearance was not welcome. She caused trouble and mayhem wherever she went and he'd had enough of trouble and mayhem, especially on this day.
This was supposed to be a day of celebration, of freedom and life.
"You haven't changed," the woman purred while laughing, approaching Jack while the rest of the faeries dropped to the ground behind her, forming a line of rose-green, threatening guard. Jack remained still, even when she raised her hand to touch his hair, the silvered jewels in hers gleaming in the light as she moved. Her robes were a rich, earthy green but held a sheen no human thread could match; they smelled vaguely of roses. Jack managed to fight every bone in his being not to move, though the urge was growing stronger with each passing moment. "Or maybe you have," she amended, tugging at the ends which never wanted to lay flat, though it had when it was longer, tied back from his face. That was the Jack she had known, so long ago.
"Fuck, Harkness. Is there anyone you haven't slept with?"
Jack hesitated to move at all despite the urge to smack Owen upside the head for his question. Jack hadn't slept with Owen, after all. "Ladies and gentlemen," Jack spoke smoothly, never looking away from the green eyes which matched the robes, an intense stare into eyes which held lifetimes (ignoring the Doctor and Broderick chirping in that they hadn't, in fact, slept with Jack, and then the others followed in, with Owen amending, "Fine, alien"). "May I introduce, the Queen of the Fae."
"But ... how?"
Gwen's voice startled Jack, and he turned, despite the danger in front of him, to find her standing with Bryce and Gareth, Gizmo tucked away in the fabric of the sling. "Gwen ..." Jack all but growled, as protective of Ianto's nephews as he would have been had he truly been their 'Uncle Jack.' He was honoree, if anything. Which gave some added strength to his voice. "Get the kids out of here!"
"And no less paranoid," the Queen giggled, a sound echoed eerily in childish tones by the faery standing behind her. "I have not come for the children, though we would gladly accept the offering. They are both beautiful and spirited."
"There'll be none of that, Fae. Two are my kin and you've no claim on them." Jack glanced at Ianto's father, standing beside Elaine and looking, quite frankly, scarily defiant with his arms crossed, the two providing a fearsome defensive wall in front of Gwen and the children. The look passed as quickly as it'd come. Broderick's face lit in a smile that left Jack blinking in wonder at the rapid change, the surprise making him hesitate just long enough for Broderick to slip past to embrace the Queen, being so forward as to lay a kiss on her cheek. "But you are looking beautiful, my dear. The years have only blessed you."
Martha's alarmed "what?" echoed precisely what Jack wished to say, only with a cuter accent.
"Jack, what do we do?" Tosh whispered, standing with a hand clasped in Jean-Luc's. Owen and Sheppard looked equally as befuddled while the Doctor just looked intrigued. So much for help from him, Jack noted, wondering what action was the best to take. He still had his gun; they could put up a fight but he was inordinately curious as to why the faery had come. At the very least, he wanted an explanation from Ianto's father.
Broderick had already moved, resuming his post beside Elaine after sweeping one of the twins into his arms, the other clutching his hand and staring wide-eyed at the faeries. (Jack wasn't sure which was which, he still wasn't able to tell the twins apart.) They didn't look scared, just surprised. Which was good -- children in the Hub were enough while a threat was present, screaming children would have just put Jack over the edge.
The Queen stepped forward, moving into Jack's personal space, and he didn't miss that the others stepped away in reaction. He held his ground, though; he'd dealt with her before. A lifetime ago, but familiar territory all the same. He still didn't trust her, and he was pretty sure she would only use or manipulate him for her own purpose.
"Are you not curious why I'm here?"
She seemed to float as she moved, a rustle of leaves seeming to follow in her path as she trailed a finger over his chest, over his shoulders and back as she circled. Jack squared his jaw, biting back what he wanted to say in favor of provoking, something far more rewarding in that it at least squared her attention on him and none of the others. Not to mention, a bit more fun. "Not really. This is a private party, by invitation only. So unless you've got a glossy card with the time and date, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Jack would have laughed at the tantrum that followed -- once a child, always a child, from the foot-stomp to the frustrated wail -- if he hadn't been swept up by a gale of wind as though he was simply a feather, air currents swirling around him so fast Jack found himself suspended in mid-air, thrown away from the others as the Queen raged below.
What was he saying? It was still rather amusing.
The world dropped away as he felt the wind die, the suddenness taking his breath away as he plummeted to the ground. Jack forced himself to relax. The height wouldn't kill him if he was careful; he was more concerned for the twins viewing the violence than for himself. He closed his eyes, but the collision with the floor never came, although he experienced as much of a shock as the actual impact would have been, almost bouncing in the air as he could practically feel the particles vibrating around him.
"I would suggest using a more sensitive approach next time, Jack."
Grinning despite himself as he carefully regained his balance to stand again, Jack opened his eyes to Jean-Luc's, so piercing pale blue despite being halfway across the Hub that they almost seemed lit with power. He nodded his thanks before turning to the Queen as she stalked towards him, the other eight faeries trailing behind her like little ducklings.
"You try my patience."
Jack raised his chin, offering her his patented Harkness smile. "I've been told that before, but usually it involves fewer clothes." The Queen's lips pressed into a thin frown, the bitter look one Jack had seen before. He knew he should have been wary of those earlier smiles and laughter; her core was far more cruel than the lighthearted front had presented. He knew; he'd experienced it and he'd every reason to hate. "You've destroyed people I've loved. Why should I listen?"
"So young. Arrogant." The Queen curled long, red-nailed fingers around his jaw, tilting his face in the light. Jack felt the muscles in his neck begin to tremble with the effort not to pull away and fire every bullet in his Webbly, but he kept still; he preferred his head where it was. "You believe this to be about you?"
Jack had no comment, just a quiet fear he hadn't felt in so long . He didn't necessarily fear death -- that was a fear long lost to spears and starvation and Abaddon. But control was gone, as was any understanding of the situation. When assumed motivations were no longer in play, Jack couldn't act. He couldn't figure a way out, he couldn't second guess or get ahead or out-talk, and he certainly wasn't going to flirt. He had no fucking clue what their motivation was. They had invaded his turf and more than just him was threatened. He felt helpless, and he hated that feeling.
Fear. "What is it about, then?"
A cool finger ran down his neck until it reached his chest, pushing Jack backwards with startling strength so that he had to backpedal to remain upright but he didn't miss what she whispered. "Promises."
The faeries behind her erupted into childish laughter as they sprung up on their gangly legs, so quickly Jack had barely righted himself when they were yards in the air. Swooping and flashing into brilliant light, the tiny pixies Estelle saw hovered like spheres of light around the Queen. She drank the attention and the light, faeries dancing on the palms of her hands, making the silver and jewels in her hair gleam. Quite the display, though Jack wasn't exactly sure for who.
"Jack, what do we do?"
He spared a glance at Gwen and the team, the Doctor and Ianto's family and friends. They were on the opposite side of the tower, the Queen of the Fae and her minions between them. "Stay there." Jack really had no other advice; what did one say to defend against a faery? Close one's eyes and quit believing in them? He addressed the Queen directly, inching closer to her until tiny glowing faeries zoomed in front of him, halting his approach. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't." She held one childlike faery in her hand, cupping her fingers around it as though to protect, her robes glimmering green as they swirled around her. He'd ask her to teach him that trick, she made the movement look effortless and he always had to work to get his coat to move, but he didn't think she'd be so keen to part with that information. Selfish as ever, unwilling to give up anything she wanted until she had claimed it completely, no matter the cost. Jack hadn't singlehandedly destroyed that kingdom, after all; he'd had a little help. "I had to protect my own."
"At the cost of Ianto!" The tiny faeries clung to his clothing, pulling Jack away from the Queen as he lunged forward, ready to strangle her even if it cost him a life. He tried to shake them off, but they wouldn't budge, clinging to his shirt, his pants, wings flapping so fast they were a powerful blur. "You gave him no choice!"
Her lips curved into a beautiful yet dangerous smile, daring Jack to contradict her, to play her game with all its unknown rules and consequences. "On the contrary, he had every choice. Of course, we lit his path on occasion. Couldn't have him lost now, could we?"
"You manipulated him!" Jack surged forward again, the faeries taunting and giggling as they held him fast, their hands feeling like red-hot needles against his skin. He was dimly aware of Owen, Sheppard, and Jean-Luc creeping towards him -- not so subtly Jack might add, and really, who had they learned their stealth from? Sheppard blended into the background but the other two were due for some training if they survived this.
"Your choice is ours, Ianto," the Queen's voice sing-songed in reply. Jack knew it must have been what was told to Ianto so long ago. Ianto had mentioned it, hinted briefly to Jack as he was now, and a bit more expanded in his past self. But never the words. "And our choice is yours."
"What. Does. That. Mean?" Jack growled, his patience shot with all her games and playing. "What was his choice?"
She stopped playing with the dancing faery upon her hand, throwing it up as one would throw a bird to flight. It fled up and away, pealing with glee as it flew away from the Queen. Jack waited for an answer; it seemed as though the Hub itself had paused, holding its breath as well. Even the individual drops of the waterfall slowed, silencing the melodic flow in frozen time. Her smile was radiant, part-child, part-woman, mother and daughter in the same ancient breath. He could understand why men fell captive to her spell. He saw why kingdoms crumbled as she danced in love and vengeance. And when she turned fully towards him, unnatural green eyes blazing with wisdom and innocence, power palpable as the air swirled around her, lifting the cascade of curls kissing her feet, Jack felt a bit of something like awe.
"Life."
Her hands rose above her head, meeting with a resounding crack as lightning flashed so brilliant that Jack's eyes teared while afterimages danced behind his closed eyes. The storm which had earlier died rose in a fury, deafening with its roar and thunderclaps that sounded too loud and too close. But for all its fury, Jack felt no fear. It wasn't ... threatening, and that was different for all his interactions with the faeries. It wasn't a storm to drown in, it wasn't even raining, and while the wind whipped around him, the current felt little more than a gentle puff.
Growing confident, Jack opened his eyes, slowly at first in case his senses and instincts were deceiving him. What he saw left him staring. Where the water tower had stood appeared a wooded land of tall, ancient trees, the ground blanketed by mist, a mist which swirled around Jack's ankles, creeping up his calves until the entire Hub floor was covered by it. Jack would call it a mirage, but it smelled so real, the crisp sent of dewed greens beneath his feet, the old earth smell of the gnarled trees. The image stretched until the edges blended into the technology of the Hub, a curled, whitened edge like burnt paper. He knew what he was seeing, the lost forests. Out of time, the land of the Faery.
And the edges were shrinking, crackling inwards as the opening rapidly shrank, the sounds of laughter fading away as Jack assumed they returned home, returned after accomplishing what? He quickly glanced across at the team. Gwen still stood next to Rhys with Gizmo around her neck, the twins were still with Broderick. The Faery hadn't been after the children. So they had been there to scare the team? Intimidate him? Truth be told, they didn't have to go to such dramatics to scare him; they already scared him for all their seemingly random acts and agenda.
The Queen had vanished as well, lost somewhere as the winds died down and the hole closed, returning the Hub to its former self, with the water tower cascading down into the pool right where the Queen had stood. But they were gone, they were all gone, just as quickly as they'd come. Jack spun about, counting all the guests and team. Elaine was with Broderick and the Doctor, everyone was accounted for. The mist still lingered, drifting away without the other land to support it. Sheppard, Owen, Jean-Luc, and Tosh were close, staring at their ankles and kicking at the clingy cloud that circled and dissipated.
"Oh my god, Jack!"
He looked up to Martha, who wasn't looking at him but pointing at the fountain where the Queen had once stood. Jack was confused at first, but as the mist cleared, deep red spread over the Hub floor, not everywhere, but in a limited pile, a mound right where she had taunted and teased with half-information and childish games.
That wasn't what stole his breath, though. Jack had seen evidence of the faeries' presence before.
The thin line of pale cream within the red rose petals, that left Jack gasping.
***
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Next Part (Epilogue: Part 2)