Torchwood Paranormal, Part Twelve
If you're new to the story, here's Part One
Glad to be back on track :).
Part Twelve
Jack folded the flaps of the dusty box and pushed it away, then arched his back with a muffled groan. Though the day outside was grey with the promise of rain, the attic was uncomfortably warm, the air thick with the scent of rotting leather and decayed fabric.
Lucy had brought them to the base of the small, narrow staircase that led to the attic, making her intent clear when she'd laid down near the bottom step, her head resting on her paws. But she'd also been quite clear about her desire not to accompany them into the attic, trotting away once they'd joined her. This time, there'd been no glittering footsteps marking her path, and Jack hadn't missed the wistful set to Ianto's mouth before they'd started to ascend the stairs.
Once Ianto flipped a switch to turn on a string of bare light bulbs suspended from the rafters, the pale yellow light revealed that the attic of Caernarfon Hall was like dozens of similar rooms Jack had investigated in the past, a long, low-ceilinged area that held the neglected memories and cast-off objects collected over the course of many years. He detected Ianto's hand in the fact that some of the boxes were neatly stacked and labelled in one corner, whilst the majority of the floor space was used to warehouse furniture that was either unusable or out of step with the genteel atmosphere of the Hall's public rooms.
It was a daunting task-they had no idea what they were looking for or where to find it, yet it made sense to Jack that the current threat to the Hall and its inhabitants would be found in its past. In silent agreement, he and Ianto moved a few of the boxes into a clear space and began sorting through them, hoping that something they discovered would be the clue to the dark entity's existence-or the key to its destruction.
Setting back on his heels, Jack glanced toward Ianto, then turned away to hide a smile. Ianto was sitting on the floor like a twelve-year-old amidst a pile of books and papers, disregarding the dust and grime, his forehead creased in concentration as he examined a stack of old photos. They'd been in the attic for over an hour, trying to find whatever it was Lucy-or Philip-wanted them to discover, and whilst Jack was torn between boredom and amusement at the things people chose to keep in their attic, Ianto was clearly fascinated. It had all been well organised at one point, but it was obvious that no one had spent any time in the cavernous attic for years. Most of what they'd encountered was the detritus of a modern family-bikes and toys, bags of clothes long since discarded, boxes of newspaper-wrapped crockery-but absolutely nothing they'd found so far had any brought them any closer to solving the mystery of the music room entity.
But as Jack reached for another box, it wasn't that angry spectre who was bothering him, it was the missing Philip. The brief interactions he'd had with Ianto's companion had been enough to assure Jack that Philip was not only the most benign spirit he'd ever met, he was easily the most intelligent. The first time they'd communicated one on one, the night Jack visited the music room alone, he'd understood immediately that he was dealing with an entity far advanced from the unsettled spirits he found lurking in the pubs, homes, and churches normally visited by Torchwood Paranormal. He'd also learned, more by inference than evidence, that Philip and the music room entity were linked together by some unspeakable tragedy, and it was an explanation of that tragedy that Jack hoped to find somewhere in the midst of the Jones' family belongings.
Yet Jack found it hard to concentrate on his task, because he was in the less than reassuring position of being jealous of a ghost. Ianto's bond with Philip was strong, so strong that under different circumstances, Jack would have suspected a relationship of a sexual nature. Erotic bonds between ghosts and humans were not uncommon, and more than once, Jack himself had caught the attention of an amorous spirit. He'd never followed through with any of their invitations, but it wasn't a notion he'd outright rejected, either. Given the proper time and place-and the lack of a film crew following him about-the idea of exploring a more intimate kind of communication with a spirit was something he found intriguing.
Or he had, but that brought him right back around to his current problem. If there was one thing Jack trusted more than anything else, it was his intuition, and he was counting on that ability now, because every instinct he possessed was telling him that the relationship Ianto shared with Philip was deeply intimate-but not in the way of lovers. Not quite father and son, not exactly brothers, beyond the realm of friendship, it defied description and transcended the normal definition of love-and how could Jack possibly compete with that?
The answer was simply that he couldn't-but that didn't mean defeat, it only meant that he'd have assure both Ianto and Philip that Jack wasn't trying to come between them and that he had more to offer Ianto than a few day's romantic diversion. It would ultimately be up to Ianto to find his own path and make his own choices, and that meant that Jack needed to make sure that Ianto understood exactly what Jack was offering-his hopes for a future together, even though he had no idea what shape that future would take.
"I think this is hopeless." Ianto put aside the photos and rested his elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in his hand. "Almost everything here is contemporary, since we've had to either sell or incorporate anything of value. All the actual historical records have been catalogued, archived, and stored off-site. I don't know, Jack, maybe we've been wasting our time."
"I don't think so." Jack twisted around and grabbed a photo album he'd set aside, opening it up to reveal a picture of a solemn-faced young Ianto standing on the Hall's front step, his leg encased in a plaster cast. "I'd say this was worth finding, since it confirms my suspicions that you were just as adorable as a child."
Ianto raised one eyebrow. "Adorable, is it? Not exactly a compliment at my age, you know."
"Oh, don't worry," Jack said with a wink, "I have plenty of things to say about you now, I'm just saving them up for the appropriate setting. So tell me, what happened here? To your leg, I mean."
To Jack's dismay, Ianto's expression closed down. "A childhood accident, nothing more." He rose to his feet. "Look, it's getting late and I've got to help Rhiannon prepare for dinner service. If Lucy wants us to find something here, she's simply got to be more specific. Too bad she isn't a pointer, that would've certainly helped things along."
Jack set the album aside and stood up, taking a quick moment to swipe at the dust that had accumulated on the seat of his trousers. He was intrigued by Ianto's reaction to the photo-or lack of one-but knew that it wasn't the proper time to press for details. "I hate to disagree, but I think Lucy knew exactly what she was doing. There's something up here she wants us to find, I'm sure of it. What's in there?"
Ianto turned to see what had caught Jack's attention, a dilapidated wardrobe standing alone in a corner. "Nothing, I think. The wood's rotting, so it's been left empty. I've been meaning to have it hauled away for years."
Jack glanced at his watch. "Well, let's take a look, just in case, then I need to get back to the team and go over any last details for tonight. We can take another shot at this tomorrow, after we review the footage from the music room."
"All right, but if a faun or a beaver pops out, I'm calling an exterminator." Ianto opened both doors of the wardrobe, revealing an open space on the left side for longer garments and a series of drawers on the right. "As I thought, nothing here."
"Hang on, let's check the drawers."
Jack reached past Ianto and slid open the middle drawer. Both men leaned forward to look inside, finding it empty save for an old newspaper lining the bottom. Before Jack could push the drawer closed, Ianto slid his fingers beneath the crumbling paper and lifted it out, then walked a few feet away so that he was positioned beneath one of the dangling bulbs.
"See something?" Jack asked as he joined him.
"Not sure, but look at the headline."
Jack put his palm beneath one corner of the limp newspaper so he could read the headline more clearly. The newspaper wasn't as old as he'd first thought-the date on the masthead was 1957-and the headline was still easily readable in a faded black, two inch font:
Explosion At Waunfawr Mine Kills Six
Jack glanced at Ianto. "Why is that significant?"
"The Waunfawr copper mining operations were closed in the fifties, but in 1964, it was discovered that the mine was actually built on top of much older diggings, dating back to prehistoric times. The site has been under excavation on and off ever since, rivalled only by something similar found at Great Orme."
"And you know this how?"
Ianto shrugged. "It's fairly common knowledge-Great Orme is a popular tourist attraction, I think I even have some literature on it downstairs. The Waunfawr digs aren't as extensive, they're considered much more unstable. Apparently this explosion wasn't the first, but then mining has always been a dangerous endeavour."
"Do you think that's what Lucy intended us to find?"
Laying the fragile paper on a box, Ianto turned to Jack. "I've no idea, but so far, it's the only thing we've found that didn't pertain directly to my family history or the Hall. And the mine is actually quite close, Rhiannon and I used to play nearby when we were kids. The dangerous parts are fenced off, of course, but the land around it is mostly forest."
"Well, if it's all we have, then we'll have to go with it, I guess. At least until we can come back up here and do some more digging, if you'll pardon the pun."
"I'll do some online research to see if there's any way we can connect the mine to the Hall, but it will have to wait until morning."
"Why wait until tomorrow?" Jack placed his hand on Ianto's shoulder and steered him toward the door. "Why not tonight while we're filming?"
"I'm afraid this is one time your rule about home owners not attending the shoot will have to be ignored. If you want a proper showing of ghouls tonight, you'll need me along."
"Oh, really? You do remember I can see them just as easily as you can, right?"
"Of course." Ianto's smile was bland as he held the door open for Jack to precede him down the stairs. "However, I'll remind you that these are my ghosts, and they'll feel more, shall we say, approachable, if I'm on the scene. Otherwise, they may find excuses to be elsewhere."
They'd reached the bottom of the steps as Ianto finished his assessment of the situation, so Jack was able to get a good look at the teasing glint in Ianto's eyes.
"So that's how it is," he muttered, his mouth quirking up at the edges as he tried to hold off a grin. "It would seem you have a knack for blackmail, Mr. Jones."
"Really, Jack, blackmail is such an ugly term. I prefer to think of myself as an efficiency expert who's not averse to a bit of harmless coercion in order to get things accomplished."
Even before Ianto's prosaic declaration, Jack knew that he wasn't going to bar Ianto from the set, so he didn't bother to play hard to get now.
"Well," he said cheerfully, "however you want to sell it, I'm buying it. Be ready to meet up with the crew in the barn at ten o'clock sharp. Oh, and can we agree that the music room is off limits until we get this thing figured out? No more going it alone for either of us." He stuck out his hand. "Deal?"
As Ianto grasped his hand, Jack expected an argument from him-challenging Jack seemed to be one of his favourite past times-so Jack was surprised to be on the receiving end of an unexpectedly sweet smile that simultaneously melted his insides and strengthened his resolve to know everything about Ianto Jones as quickly and as intimately as possible.
"Deal," Ianto murmured. His gave Jack's hand a light squeeze, his expression relaxed and unguarded. It allowed Jack a glimpse of what the usually serious Ianto Jones would look like without the burdens that weighed him down. Before Jack could react, Ianto released his hand and ran down the stairs to the foyer, leaving Jack standing alone, trying to blink the stardust out of his eyes.
"This is getting ridiculous," Jack muttered, and he meant it. He'd been given a tremendous professional challenge in Caernarfon Hall, the kind of opportunity that could grant Torchwood Paranormal the serious recognition it currently lacked, yet he was more wrapped up in his growing attachment to the Hall's owner and, to a lesser extent, to solving the mystery of the music room ghost.
It all served to increase a growing sense of urgency that was further complicated by his own confusion. Once filming concluded-and the issue of the dark entity resolved-he still had to go back to London and that meant leaving Ianto behind, regardless of where their relationship stood at the end of the shoot. He'd ask Ianto to come with him in a heartbeat if he thought there was any chance that Ianto would say yes, yet he knew Ianto would choose to stay behind in order to help Rhiannon.
And Jack obviously couldn't remain in Wales, even if he wanted to. Country homes were fine for a short stay, but Jack loved London and couldn't wait to show Ianto its many pleasures. He had the feeling that Ianto would thrive there, but only if he knew he had a future that included Jack but didn't revolve around him. Very independent was his Ianto, and Jack had to make sure that Ianto never felt that his independence was at risk simply because he was involved with Jack.
As Jack descended the stairs to rejoin his crew, his mood began to darken, just like the leaden sky above him, because it was beginning to look as though he and Ianto might be over before they'd even begun.
~~~
Jack and Gwen finished their scene inside the stables just after midnight, prompting Martha to order a quick break. As he left the team to check on Tosh and Ianto in the comm van, Jack was happy to admit to himself that this night's shoot was turning out to be everything Ianto had promised and more. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun during an investigation, and a lot of that had to do with Ianto's contributions to what was by everyone's account a very successful filming. It hadn't taken long for Ianto to sort out the various kinds of equipment that Torchwood Paranormal used and he and Tosh had quickly mapped out a plan of which instrument would work best with which ghost.
And true to Ianto's promise, the ghosts came out. Even though only he and Ianto could see them, every piece of equipment picked up some kind of activity, and he knew that on camera, he and Gwen were doing some of their best work, the unscripted teasing and give-and-take banter that their viewers loved bouncing between them. Even the rain had kept itself to nothing more than a gentle drizzle, adding to the atmosphere and making Martha very happy.
The team used the opportunity of the tea break to set up for a scene change, moving from a fountain in the back gardens to a small orchard where Ianto promised they'd find a heretofore unseen ghost named Suzie, a presence Jack had sensed but had yet to get around to meeting. As Martha and the tech team discussed lighting and sound marks in the stables, he trotted over to the communications van, now parked on a small access road used by the grounds crew to access the back garden. Soft light poured from the back of the van as he peeked around the open door, unsurprised and amused to see Ianto and Tosh working side by side, dark heads bent over an iPad, two cups and an empty plate on the console beside them.
His amusement faded when he saw Ianto lift his head and smile into Tosh's eyes, saying something too soft for Jack to hear but whatever it was, it made Toshiko laugh. Jealousy was an emotion that had never been a part of Jack's personality, so he was unused to the slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he admitted how easily Ianto and Toshiko seemed to get along. He started to say something silly to break up their intimate little conversation but then, perhaps for the first time in his life, he found himself suddenly content not to be the centre of attention. The two of them were good together, easy and comfortable, and if Ianto was going to be a part of Jack's life, it was just as well he got on with Jack's co-workers, since they'd be seeing-
Of course. Jack could've kicked himself for not figuring it out earlier. Ianto possessed the same talent for seeing the dead that he did, and that alone made would make him a valuable asset to the Torchwood team. He'd also worked seamlessly with everyone on the crew, except perhaps Owen, but then no one really got on with Owen except Tosh. But at the same time, he wasn't intimidated by Owen or anything else, and had quickly grasped the basics of the equipment.
And Jack knew that whilst Ianto had a fondness for Caernarfon Hall, he'd never intended to give his life over to it and in fact would've moved to London after university if circumstances had allowed. It was only Ianto's loyalty and sense of duty that kept him tied to the Hall, and now Jack had something substantial to offer him, a new life that included adventure and excitement.
So really, it was quite simple-all Jack had to do was vanquish the music room ghost and secure the future success of the Hall for Rhiannon, then convince Ianto to leave his sister, move to London, become a member of Torchwood Paranormal and-maybe most important of all-fall in love with Jack.
How difficult could it be? Jack had no idea, but he knew that the last of those self-appointed tasks might prove to be the most challenging-and the most rewarding.
Squaring his shoulders, Jack took a deep breath. Patience, he reminded himself, choosing to ignore the fact that patience was hardly his strong suit. "Hey, you two," he said, "room for one more?"
"Of course." Tosh waved him in as Ianto stood up and vacated the second chair.
"Don't leave on my account," Jack told him.
"No, please have a seat," he said. "I need to run this lot of dishes up the house and then get the rest."
Jack grinned at him as they moved to change places, the tight confines of the van making it impossible to pass each other without their bodies pressing closely together, and if Jack leaned forward a bit to stop Ianto's progression and make the contact more intimate, Ianto didn't seem to mind, despite the light flush of colour that came into his cheeks.
"Jack, really." Tosh's tone was amused, even though she was looking at the screens above the console and facing away from the two of them. "Leave Ianto alone and help me review this videotape."
"Sorry, Tosh," Ianto muttered, shooting Jack an admonishing sideways glance as he made it to the van's door.
"Oh, don't apologise," she said. "I think the you two are lovely together, but work first, flirting later, okay?"
Jack snapped her a left-handed salute as he took the empty seat. "Yes, ma'am." He glanced over at Ianto, who'd just stepped onto the road. "Hear that, Ianto? Toshiko ordered me to flirt with you."
"As if you needed the encouragement," Tosh muttered. "Jack, please, pay attention, I'd like to be in bed before sunrise."
"Wouldn't we all," Jack replied, though his wide eyes and sultry expression were met with a tilt of a sceptical eyebrow before Ianto turned away, plate and cups carefully balanced in his hands.
After spending a productive half hour with Tosh, Jack jumped out of the van and into a thick mist that instantly coated his face with moisture. He knew that his team was waiting in the stables, but Martha was worried that they were going to be unable to get in any more shots if the weather continued to deteriorate. They were torn between filming in circumstances that offered a suitably spooky atmosphere but also the very real logistical problem of preventing delicate equipment from getting damaged. They decided to wait it out for another half hour before making a decision, even though both he and Martha were satisfied with the night's work.
Resting his hands on his hips, Jack blinked away the tiny beads of mist that gathered on his lashes, his gaze resting on the dark façade of Caernarfon Hall's back wing. He was glad the next day was Sunday, the one day during a shoot that the Torchwood team didn't film. Usually everyone scattered to the four winds, glad of the time apart since they worked so closely together on location, and he had no doubt that would happen tomorrow-after Rhiannon's Sunday roast, a feast that Ianto had assured them would live up to her reputation.
His thoughts having circled back to Ianto once more, Jack pulled his torch out of his back pocket and turned it on as he started walking toward the stables, anxious to confer with his team and make a decision on what to do next. The weather was definitely turning against them, leading Jack to the conclusion that unless Martha strenuously objected, he was ready to call it a night.
He'd only gotten halfway across the lawn when Lucy came loping up to him. She seemed excited as she circled his legs a few times, then backed away before dropping forward in a play bow and letting out a silent bark.
"What are you up to?" He spoke down to her as he kept walking, noting that there were no sparkles beneath her paws as she pranced beside him. Just as he stepped off the grass and onto the path that led to the stables, Lucy ran ahead and then sat directly in front of him, blocking his way. He'd seen this kind of behaviour from her before, when Ianto had attempted to communicate with the ghost in the music room, but this time, there wasn't that same sense of worried urgency. Lucy definitely wanted his attention, but she seemed more like a dog anticipating a treat than a pet worried about her master.
"All right, hold on." Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit Martha's speed dial. She readily agreed with his conclusion that it was too wet to continue and said she'd tell the rest of the crew to begin the equipment breakdown whilst Jack investigated Lucy's latest adventure. He promised to come back and help as soon as he could, then disconnected the call and crouched down in front of Lucy, wishing not for the first time that he could reach over and scratch her ears or stroke his fingers beneath her chin.
"So, what are you trying to tell me this time?"
Lucy immediately rose up and trotted back toward the Hall, then paused to make sure Jack was following. Heaving a sigh, Jack did just that, encouraged that Lucy didn't seem to be worried, simply intent on showing him something. He picked up his pace as the rain began to fall harder, accompanying Lucy up the shallow steps to the breakfast room's French doors. Once inside, he paused long enough to remove his wet leather jacket and place it on the back of a wooden chair, then followed Lucy toward the front of the house, letting his torch light the way.
By now he was expecting her to take him upstairs to the music room, and even though he trusted that Ianto would have kept the promise they'd made to each other not to approach the dark ghost alone, that didn't mean that the entity hadn't gotten up to some mischief on its own. Therefore he was surprised to be led past the staircase and to the Hall's front door, which Lucy ran through and then back inside again, jumping and barking and acting as if the best thing in the world was waiting for them on the other side.
Despite Lucy's enthusiasm, Jack hesitated. He knew Ianto was probably in the kitchen and it would take only a moment to find him so that they could share whatever it was that Lucy had discovered. On the other hand, it was late and Ianto was emphatic about cleaning up after the team and leaving the kitchen in good order for his sister, so Jack decided to investigate Lucy's mystery on his own. With any luck, it was merely the ghost of a long-dead rabbit carousing on the front lawn that had caught her attention.
Opening the front door, he stepped out into the night and immediately regretted leaving his jacket behind. The front of the Hall was taking the brunt of the wind, driving the rain sideways against his face. Shielding his eyes with his free hand, he scanned the immediate area, the Hall's copper lanterns and his torch giving off just enough light to illuminate the wide terrace and a few of the steps leading down to the circular driveway.
The first thing he saw made no sense. A flash of light from his torch landed on a pair of untied leather shoes near the top step, one of them tipped on its side, a sodden pair of socks beside them. He stared at them, knowing they could only belong to Ianto but having no comprehension as to how they could be outside in the rain.
A thick feeling of dread gathered at the back of Jack's throat as he ran to the low stone wall that encircled the terrace, frantically sweeping his torch across the grounds. The light from the lanterns was reflecting off the rain, surrounding him in waves of bright droplets but unable to penetrate the darkness beyond the edge of the steps. Only when he squinted and looked beyond Lucy, still dancing and yelping as if expecting a ball to be thrown her way, did he see something that made his mind go numb with shock.
Standing at the base of the steps, clad only in shirt and trousers, arms lifted toward the heavens, face tilted back and eyes closed, was Ianto Jones.
"Ianto!"
Jack ran down the steps, his feet moving before his mind could fully register what he was seeing. A thousand thoughts crashed through his brain as he skidded to a stop beside a barefoot Ianto, the foremost among them the wayward worry that Ianto was out in the rain without his coat.
"Ianto, what the hell?" Grabbing Ianto's upraised arm, Jack pulled it down, the momentum tilting Ianto toward him, though his feet remained in place. "Ianto, are you all right? What are you doing out here?"
"Oh, lovely, you're here." Eyes still closed, Ianto smiled as he lowered his other arm. "Hello, Jack."
"Hello? You're standing out here in the rain and all I get is a damn hello? Ianto-"
"Shh, Jack, it's all right. He's here."
"Who's here?" Jack twisted around to quickly scan the driveway but saw no one else in the area. "What the hell is going on?"
"Ianto. He's here with us."
"I don't-"
"Jack."
Finally, slowly, Ianto opened his eyes to look at Jack. Jack held his breath and waited, the rain and the cold forgotten as he watched Ianto blink once, twice, three times, every brush of his damp lashes releasing a cascade of bright, lavender-tinged sparkles that were washed away by the rain falling on his cheeks.
Horrified, Jack took a step back, and the smile instantly disappeared from Ianto's face. He held out his hand to Jack then pulled it back close to his chest it, a hesitant, child-like gesture.
"Oh, my God," Jack whispered, "Philip, what have you done?"
"Don't be afraid, Jack, please. It's just-"
"No, no, you can't do this, Philip!" Jack grabbed Ianto by the shoulders and shook him. "You can't-give him back!"
Ianto's hands came up to cup Jack's wet cheeks, his palms like ice against his skin yet beneath the chill, Jack could feel the same thrill of energy he'd experienced the night Philip had touched him in the hallway. And even beyond that, beyond the calming presence of someone-or something-that Jack had no reason to fear, he recognized the faint pulse of Ianto's consciousness, warm and reassuring.
"You see?" Ianto whispered, his eyes searching Jack's with a familiarity that made Jack's heart ache. His Ianto was in there, somewhere, but at the same time, Jack knew that Philip had taken control. "He's here, we're both here."
Confused by feelings of tenderness and fear, Jack dropped his torch and gathered Ianto's hands in his, bringing them down between them, determined to keep Ianto close. He'd never been afraid of Philip but this had crossed a line that terrified him. Yet it was Ianto's cold hands in his, Ianto's eyes looking back at him with wry humour as if understanding Jack's dilemma.
"Please, Philip, this isn't right." Jack tightened his grip on Ianto's hands. "This can't be good for Ianto. He's-you're-hell, you're both freezing, all right? At least let me take you-both of you-inside."
Ianto let his head tilt back, closing his eyes as rain pelted down on his face, his complexion far too pale for Jack's liking. "Not yet, please. It's been so long since I've felt rain on my face."
"But it's not your face, Philip, it's not your body. This is Ianto you're turning into an ice cube-surely you understand that!""
"Of course." Ianto nodded once. "I won't stay, I promise. I can't, I'm not strong enough yet. I just needed to-to warn-oh, dear-"
His eyes snapping open, Ianto sagged forward. Jack untangled their hands and caught him by the shoulders, propping him up and ducking his head so he could see Ianto's face. They were both drenched to the skin now, the cool breeze turning the rain that ran down Jack's neck into rivulets of ice water. Ianto's parted lips had turned a bluish purple, the skin beneath his eyes shadowed.
"What's wrong? What's happening? Philip, why-"
"Listen to me Jack, we don't have much time." Ianto struggled to meet Jack's eyes, his hands clutching Jack's shoulders, his features beginning to blur as a silvery incandescence began to gather around him. "Whatever happens, you must stay away from him. Don't let him in, no matter what he tells you, no matter what he offers you."
Jack didn't pretend to misunderstand. "What is it that he wants? Is it something we can give? Something that will make him go away?"
"He wants the one thing he can never have. His freedom. Set him free and he'll burn this house to the ground-and everyone in it."
"But how can he leave? Where would he go?"
Ianto laughed softly, the exhalation of his cool breath into the cold air tinged with the clean scent of cedar. "Where does anyone want to go? He wants to go home." Sadness replacing the humour, Ianto looked beyond Jack's shoulder, eyes unfocussed. "We all want to go home," he murmured.
"Does he have a name?"
"His name would be meaningless to you, as would mine. He was the first of us, the first to-no, not yet." Ianto swayed and Jack tightened his grip. He was beginning to panic, torn between wanting to know more about the dark entity and his concern that Philip's continued presence was harming Ianto. But before he could say anything, Ianto continued, his fingers digging into Jack's muscles. "Listen to me now, Jack, listen carefully. It's you he needs, and he'll try anything-hurt anyone-to get you to do what he wants."
It was obvious that Philip's time was coming to an end. Ianto's body, whether it was from the exposure to the elements or the presence of Philip, had begun to shake so hard that Jack knew he had only seconds left before something-perhaps something unbearable-was going to happen.
"I hear you," he said, "but hurry, I want Ianto back and I want him back now."
That made Ianto smile, even as his body began to slowly collapse in Jack's arms. "You care for him, that's good." His eyes fluttered shut. "Promise me you won't let that be used against you, Jack. Promise me!"
It was impossible to keep them both on their feet, so Jack guided them down to their knees, his hands around Ianto's arms the only thing preventing them from tipping over. In a voice so soft Jack had to strain to hear above the sound of the rain, Philip spoke once more in Ianto's voice.
"Promise me, Jack, no matter what happens."
"I promise," Jack whispered, though at that moment, he would have said anything to get Ianto back. "But wait, how do we make him go away? Philip? Philip!"
Jack's promise seemed to have been what Philip had been waiting for, because Ianto slumped forward into Jack's arms on a sigh as the bright shimmer that had surrounded him seemed to melt away. Jack cradled him close, shifting around so that he could reach his mobile and call for help. He'd just managed to free the phone from his pocket when his wrist was taken in a firm grip.
"That won't be necessary." Ianto lifted his head and looked into Jack's eyes, allowing him to see that Philip had indeed left. "Jesus, Jack, look at you, you're soaking. Let's go inside and I'll put the kettle on."
"You'll put the-my God, Ianto, do you know what just happened?"
Ianto threw Jack an indulgent look as he began to disentangle their limbs. "Of course I do, no need to shout about it." Rising to his feet, Ianto extended his hand to a stunned Jack. "Come inside and I'll fill you in after we both change into dry clothes. Oh, wait, is the shoot over?"
Jack took Ianto's hand and allowed himself to be towed up the steps, Lucy trotting beside them. "Uh, yeah, we're done for the night."
"Brilliant. D'you fancy a coffee? I can make-"
"Ianto." Jack tugged on Ianto's hand, making him stop. The rain had let up a bit, but they were both still shivering, though Ianto now seemed less affected than when Philip had occupied his body. "Are you all right?"
"I'm-" Ianto faltered as Jack's grip on his hand tightened in silent warning. "Actually, my knees are a bit wobbly, but I'll be fine once I change out of these clothes."
"A bit wobbly," Jack grumbled as they continued up the steps. "Someone takes over his body and all he can say is that he's a bit wobbly."
"Well, one thing we've confirmed for certain," Ianto said, opening the Hall's front door and ushering Jack inside, "we're not dealing with ghosts. Now, mind where you're dripping and try not to leave a puddle on the carpet."
Part Thirteen
Note: this story was plotted out before the events of September 15th near Swansea and is in no way meant to be disrespectful of that tragedy.
Glad to be back on track :).
Part Twelve
Jack folded the flaps of the dusty box and pushed it away, then arched his back with a muffled groan. Though the day outside was grey with the promise of rain, the attic was uncomfortably warm, the air thick with the scent of rotting leather and decayed fabric.
Lucy had brought them to the base of the small, narrow staircase that led to the attic, making her intent clear when she'd laid down near the bottom step, her head resting on her paws. But she'd also been quite clear about her desire not to accompany them into the attic, trotting away once they'd joined her. This time, there'd been no glittering footsteps marking her path, and Jack hadn't missed the wistful set to Ianto's mouth before they'd started to ascend the stairs.
Once Ianto flipped a switch to turn on a string of bare light bulbs suspended from the rafters, the pale yellow light revealed that the attic of Caernarfon Hall was like dozens of similar rooms Jack had investigated in the past, a long, low-ceilinged area that held the neglected memories and cast-off objects collected over the course of many years. He detected Ianto's hand in the fact that some of the boxes were neatly stacked and labelled in one corner, whilst the majority of the floor space was used to warehouse furniture that was either unusable or out of step with the genteel atmosphere of the Hall's public rooms.
It was a daunting task-they had no idea what they were looking for or where to find it, yet it made sense to Jack that the current threat to the Hall and its inhabitants would be found in its past. In silent agreement, he and Ianto moved a few of the boxes into a clear space and began sorting through them, hoping that something they discovered would be the clue to the dark entity's existence-or the key to its destruction.
Setting back on his heels, Jack glanced toward Ianto, then turned away to hide a smile. Ianto was sitting on the floor like a twelve-year-old amidst a pile of books and papers, disregarding the dust and grime, his forehead creased in concentration as he examined a stack of old photos. They'd been in the attic for over an hour, trying to find whatever it was Lucy-or Philip-wanted them to discover, and whilst Jack was torn between boredom and amusement at the things people chose to keep in their attic, Ianto was clearly fascinated. It had all been well organised at one point, but it was obvious that no one had spent any time in the cavernous attic for years. Most of what they'd encountered was the detritus of a modern family-bikes and toys, bags of clothes long since discarded, boxes of newspaper-wrapped crockery-but absolutely nothing they'd found so far had any brought them any closer to solving the mystery of the music room entity.
But as Jack reached for another box, it wasn't that angry spectre who was bothering him, it was the missing Philip. The brief interactions he'd had with Ianto's companion had been enough to assure Jack that Philip was not only the most benign spirit he'd ever met, he was easily the most intelligent. The first time they'd communicated one on one, the night Jack visited the music room alone, he'd understood immediately that he was dealing with an entity far advanced from the unsettled spirits he found lurking in the pubs, homes, and churches normally visited by Torchwood Paranormal. He'd also learned, more by inference than evidence, that Philip and the music room entity were linked together by some unspeakable tragedy, and it was an explanation of that tragedy that Jack hoped to find somewhere in the midst of the Jones' family belongings.
Yet Jack found it hard to concentrate on his task, because he was in the less than reassuring position of being jealous of a ghost. Ianto's bond with Philip was strong, so strong that under different circumstances, Jack would have suspected a relationship of a sexual nature. Erotic bonds between ghosts and humans were not uncommon, and more than once, Jack himself had caught the attention of an amorous spirit. He'd never followed through with any of their invitations, but it wasn't a notion he'd outright rejected, either. Given the proper time and place-and the lack of a film crew following him about-the idea of exploring a more intimate kind of communication with a spirit was something he found intriguing.
Or he had, but that brought him right back around to his current problem. If there was one thing Jack trusted more than anything else, it was his intuition, and he was counting on that ability now, because every instinct he possessed was telling him that the relationship Ianto shared with Philip was deeply intimate-but not in the way of lovers. Not quite father and son, not exactly brothers, beyond the realm of friendship, it defied description and transcended the normal definition of love-and how could Jack possibly compete with that?
The answer was simply that he couldn't-but that didn't mean defeat, it only meant that he'd have assure both Ianto and Philip that Jack wasn't trying to come between them and that he had more to offer Ianto than a few day's romantic diversion. It would ultimately be up to Ianto to find his own path and make his own choices, and that meant that Jack needed to make sure that Ianto understood exactly what Jack was offering-his hopes for a future together, even though he had no idea what shape that future would take.
"I think this is hopeless." Ianto put aside the photos and rested his elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in his hand. "Almost everything here is contemporary, since we've had to either sell or incorporate anything of value. All the actual historical records have been catalogued, archived, and stored off-site. I don't know, Jack, maybe we've been wasting our time."
"I don't think so." Jack twisted around and grabbed a photo album he'd set aside, opening it up to reveal a picture of a solemn-faced young Ianto standing on the Hall's front step, his leg encased in a plaster cast. "I'd say this was worth finding, since it confirms my suspicions that you were just as adorable as a child."
Ianto raised one eyebrow. "Adorable, is it? Not exactly a compliment at my age, you know."
"Oh, don't worry," Jack said with a wink, "I have plenty of things to say about you now, I'm just saving them up for the appropriate setting. So tell me, what happened here? To your leg, I mean."
To Jack's dismay, Ianto's expression closed down. "A childhood accident, nothing more." He rose to his feet. "Look, it's getting late and I've got to help Rhiannon prepare for dinner service. If Lucy wants us to find something here, she's simply got to be more specific. Too bad she isn't a pointer, that would've certainly helped things along."
Jack set the album aside and stood up, taking a quick moment to swipe at the dust that had accumulated on the seat of his trousers. He was intrigued by Ianto's reaction to the photo-or lack of one-but knew that it wasn't the proper time to press for details. "I hate to disagree, but I think Lucy knew exactly what she was doing. There's something up here she wants us to find, I'm sure of it. What's in there?"
Ianto turned to see what had caught Jack's attention, a dilapidated wardrobe standing alone in a corner. "Nothing, I think. The wood's rotting, so it's been left empty. I've been meaning to have it hauled away for years."
Jack glanced at his watch. "Well, let's take a look, just in case, then I need to get back to the team and go over any last details for tonight. We can take another shot at this tomorrow, after we review the footage from the music room."
"All right, but if a faun or a beaver pops out, I'm calling an exterminator." Ianto opened both doors of the wardrobe, revealing an open space on the left side for longer garments and a series of drawers on the right. "As I thought, nothing here."
"Hang on, let's check the drawers."
Jack reached past Ianto and slid open the middle drawer. Both men leaned forward to look inside, finding it empty save for an old newspaper lining the bottom. Before Jack could push the drawer closed, Ianto slid his fingers beneath the crumbling paper and lifted it out, then walked a few feet away so that he was positioned beneath one of the dangling bulbs.
"See something?" Jack asked as he joined him.
"Not sure, but look at the headline."
Jack put his palm beneath one corner of the limp newspaper so he could read the headline more clearly. The newspaper wasn't as old as he'd first thought-the date on the masthead was 1957-and the headline was still easily readable in a faded black, two inch font:
Explosion At Waunfawr Mine Kills Six
Jack glanced at Ianto. "Why is that significant?"
"The Waunfawr copper mining operations were closed in the fifties, but in 1964, it was discovered that the mine was actually built on top of much older diggings, dating back to prehistoric times. The site has been under excavation on and off ever since, rivalled only by something similar found at Great Orme."
"And you know this how?"
Ianto shrugged. "It's fairly common knowledge-Great Orme is a popular tourist attraction, I think I even have some literature on it downstairs. The Waunfawr digs aren't as extensive, they're considered much more unstable. Apparently this explosion wasn't the first, but then mining has always been a dangerous endeavour."
"Do you think that's what Lucy intended us to find?"
Laying the fragile paper on a box, Ianto turned to Jack. "I've no idea, but so far, it's the only thing we've found that didn't pertain directly to my family history or the Hall. And the mine is actually quite close, Rhiannon and I used to play nearby when we were kids. The dangerous parts are fenced off, of course, but the land around it is mostly forest."
"Well, if it's all we have, then we'll have to go with it, I guess. At least until we can come back up here and do some more digging, if you'll pardon the pun."
"I'll do some online research to see if there's any way we can connect the mine to the Hall, but it will have to wait until morning."
"Why wait until tomorrow?" Jack placed his hand on Ianto's shoulder and steered him toward the door. "Why not tonight while we're filming?"
"I'm afraid this is one time your rule about home owners not attending the shoot will have to be ignored. If you want a proper showing of ghouls tonight, you'll need me along."
"Oh, really? You do remember I can see them just as easily as you can, right?"
"Of course." Ianto's smile was bland as he held the door open for Jack to precede him down the stairs. "However, I'll remind you that these are my ghosts, and they'll feel more, shall we say, approachable, if I'm on the scene. Otherwise, they may find excuses to be elsewhere."
They'd reached the bottom of the steps as Ianto finished his assessment of the situation, so Jack was able to get a good look at the teasing glint in Ianto's eyes.
"So that's how it is," he muttered, his mouth quirking up at the edges as he tried to hold off a grin. "It would seem you have a knack for blackmail, Mr. Jones."
"Really, Jack, blackmail is such an ugly term. I prefer to think of myself as an efficiency expert who's not averse to a bit of harmless coercion in order to get things accomplished."
Even before Ianto's prosaic declaration, Jack knew that he wasn't going to bar Ianto from the set, so he didn't bother to play hard to get now.
"Well," he said cheerfully, "however you want to sell it, I'm buying it. Be ready to meet up with the crew in the barn at ten o'clock sharp. Oh, and can we agree that the music room is off limits until we get this thing figured out? No more going it alone for either of us." He stuck out his hand. "Deal?"
As Ianto grasped his hand, Jack expected an argument from him-challenging Jack seemed to be one of his favourite past times-so Jack was surprised to be on the receiving end of an unexpectedly sweet smile that simultaneously melted his insides and strengthened his resolve to know everything about Ianto Jones as quickly and as intimately as possible.
"Deal," Ianto murmured. His gave Jack's hand a light squeeze, his expression relaxed and unguarded. It allowed Jack a glimpse of what the usually serious Ianto Jones would look like without the burdens that weighed him down. Before Jack could react, Ianto released his hand and ran down the stairs to the foyer, leaving Jack standing alone, trying to blink the stardust out of his eyes.
"This is getting ridiculous," Jack muttered, and he meant it. He'd been given a tremendous professional challenge in Caernarfon Hall, the kind of opportunity that could grant Torchwood Paranormal the serious recognition it currently lacked, yet he was more wrapped up in his growing attachment to the Hall's owner and, to a lesser extent, to solving the mystery of the music room ghost.
It all served to increase a growing sense of urgency that was further complicated by his own confusion. Once filming concluded-and the issue of the dark entity resolved-he still had to go back to London and that meant leaving Ianto behind, regardless of where their relationship stood at the end of the shoot. He'd ask Ianto to come with him in a heartbeat if he thought there was any chance that Ianto would say yes, yet he knew Ianto would choose to stay behind in order to help Rhiannon.
And Jack obviously couldn't remain in Wales, even if he wanted to. Country homes were fine for a short stay, but Jack loved London and couldn't wait to show Ianto its many pleasures. He had the feeling that Ianto would thrive there, but only if he knew he had a future that included Jack but didn't revolve around him. Very independent was his Ianto, and Jack had to make sure that Ianto never felt that his independence was at risk simply because he was involved with Jack.
As Jack descended the stairs to rejoin his crew, his mood began to darken, just like the leaden sky above him, because it was beginning to look as though he and Ianto might be over before they'd even begun.
~~~
Jack and Gwen finished their scene inside the stables just after midnight, prompting Martha to order a quick break. As he left the team to check on Tosh and Ianto in the comm van, Jack was happy to admit to himself that this night's shoot was turning out to be everything Ianto had promised and more. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun during an investigation, and a lot of that had to do with Ianto's contributions to what was by everyone's account a very successful filming. It hadn't taken long for Ianto to sort out the various kinds of equipment that Torchwood Paranormal used and he and Tosh had quickly mapped out a plan of which instrument would work best with which ghost.
And true to Ianto's promise, the ghosts came out. Even though only he and Ianto could see them, every piece of equipment picked up some kind of activity, and he knew that on camera, he and Gwen were doing some of their best work, the unscripted teasing and give-and-take banter that their viewers loved bouncing between them. Even the rain had kept itself to nothing more than a gentle drizzle, adding to the atmosphere and making Martha very happy.
The team used the opportunity of the tea break to set up for a scene change, moving from a fountain in the back gardens to a small orchard where Ianto promised they'd find a heretofore unseen ghost named Suzie, a presence Jack had sensed but had yet to get around to meeting. As Martha and the tech team discussed lighting and sound marks in the stables, he trotted over to the communications van, now parked on a small access road used by the grounds crew to access the back garden. Soft light poured from the back of the van as he peeked around the open door, unsurprised and amused to see Ianto and Tosh working side by side, dark heads bent over an iPad, two cups and an empty plate on the console beside them.
His amusement faded when he saw Ianto lift his head and smile into Tosh's eyes, saying something too soft for Jack to hear but whatever it was, it made Toshiko laugh. Jealousy was an emotion that had never been a part of Jack's personality, so he was unused to the slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he admitted how easily Ianto and Toshiko seemed to get along. He started to say something silly to break up their intimate little conversation but then, perhaps for the first time in his life, he found himself suddenly content not to be the centre of attention. The two of them were good together, easy and comfortable, and if Ianto was going to be a part of Jack's life, it was just as well he got on with Jack's co-workers, since they'd be seeing-
Of course. Jack could've kicked himself for not figuring it out earlier. Ianto possessed the same talent for seeing the dead that he did, and that alone made would make him a valuable asset to the Torchwood team. He'd also worked seamlessly with everyone on the crew, except perhaps Owen, but then no one really got on with Owen except Tosh. But at the same time, he wasn't intimidated by Owen or anything else, and had quickly grasped the basics of the equipment.
And Jack knew that whilst Ianto had a fondness for Caernarfon Hall, he'd never intended to give his life over to it and in fact would've moved to London after university if circumstances had allowed. It was only Ianto's loyalty and sense of duty that kept him tied to the Hall, and now Jack had something substantial to offer him, a new life that included adventure and excitement.
So really, it was quite simple-all Jack had to do was vanquish the music room ghost and secure the future success of the Hall for Rhiannon, then convince Ianto to leave his sister, move to London, become a member of Torchwood Paranormal and-maybe most important of all-fall in love with Jack.
How difficult could it be? Jack had no idea, but he knew that the last of those self-appointed tasks might prove to be the most challenging-and the most rewarding.
Squaring his shoulders, Jack took a deep breath. Patience, he reminded himself, choosing to ignore the fact that patience was hardly his strong suit. "Hey, you two," he said, "room for one more?"
"Of course." Tosh waved him in as Ianto stood up and vacated the second chair.
"Don't leave on my account," Jack told him.
"No, please have a seat," he said. "I need to run this lot of dishes up the house and then get the rest."
Jack grinned at him as they moved to change places, the tight confines of the van making it impossible to pass each other without their bodies pressing closely together, and if Jack leaned forward a bit to stop Ianto's progression and make the contact more intimate, Ianto didn't seem to mind, despite the light flush of colour that came into his cheeks.
"Jack, really." Tosh's tone was amused, even though she was looking at the screens above the console and facing away from the two of them. "Leave Ianto alone and help me review this videotape."
"Sorry, Tosh," Ianto muttered, shooting Jack an admonishing sideways glance as he made it to the van's door.
"Oh, don't apologise," she said. "I think the you two are lovely together, but work first, flirting later, okay?"
Jack snapped her a left-handed salute as he took the empty seat. "Yes, ma'am." He glanced over at Ianto, who'd just stepped onto the road. "Hear that, Ianto? Toshiko ordered me to flirt with you."
"As if you needed the encouragement," Tosh muttered. "Jack, please, pay attention, I'd like to be in bed before sunrise."
"Wouldn't we all," Jack replied, though his wide eyes and sultry expression were met with a tilt of a sceptical eyebrow before Ianto turned away, plate and cups carefully balanced in his hands.
After spending a productive half hour with Tosh, Jack jumped out of the van and into a thick mist that instantly coated his face with moisture. He knew that his team was waiting in the stables, but Martha was worried that they were going to be unable to get in any more shots if the weather continued to deteriorate. They were torn between filming in circumstances that offered a suitably spooky atmosphere but also the very real logistical problem of preventing delicate equipment from getting damaged. They decided to wait it out for another half hour before making a decision, even though both he and Martha were satisfied with the night's work.
Resting his hands on his hips, Jack blinked away the tiny beads of mist that gathered on his lashes, his gaze resting on the dark façade of Caernarfon Hall's back wing. He was glad the next day was Sunday, the one day during a shoot that the Torchwood team didn't film. Usually everyone scattered to the four winds, glad of the time apart since they worked so closely together on location, and he had no doubt that would happen tomorrow-after Rhiannon's Sunday roast, a feast that Ianto had assured them would live up to her reputation.
His thoughts having circled back to Ianto once more, Jack pulled his torch out of his back pocket and turned it on as he started walking toward the stables, anxious to confer with his team and make a decision on what to do next. The weather was definitely turning against them, leading Jack to the conclusion that unless Martha strenuously objected, he was ready to call it a night.
He'd only gotten halfway across the lawn when Lucy came loping up to him. She seemed excited as she circled his legs a few times, then backed away before dropping forward in a play bow and letting out a silent bark.
"What are you up to?" He spoke down to her as he kept walking, noting that there were no sparkles beneath her paws as she pranced beside him. Just as he stepped off the grass and onto the path that led to the stables, Lucy ran ahead and then sat directly in front of him, blocking his way. He'd seen this kind of behaviour from her before, when Ianto had attempted to communicate with the ghost in the music room, but this time, there wasn't that same sense of worried urgency. Lucy definitely wanted his attention, but she seemed more like a dog anticipating a treat than a pet worried about her master.
"All right, hold on." Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit Martha's speed dial. She readily agreed with his conclusion that it was too wet to continue and said she'd tell the rest of the crew to begin the equipment breakdown whilst Jack investigated Lucy's latest adventure. He promised to come back and help as soon as he could, then disconnected the call and crouched down in front of Lucy, wishing not for the first time that he could reach over and scratch her ears or stroke his fingers beneath her chin.
"So, what are you trying to tell me this time?"
Lucy immediately rose up and trotted back toward the Hall, then paused to make sure Jack was following. Heaving a sigh, Jack did just that, encouraged that Lucy didn't seem to be worried, simply intent on showing him something. He picked up his pace as the rain began to fall harder, accompanying Lucy up the shallow steps to the breakfast room's French doors. Once inside, he paused long enough to remove his wet leather jacket and place it on the back of a wooden chair, then followed Lucy toward the front of the house, letting his torch light the way.
By now he was expecting her to take him upstairs to the music room, and even though he trusted that Ianto would have kept the promise they'd made to each other not to approach the dark ghost alone, that didn't mean that the entity hadn't gotten up to some mischief on its own. Therefore he was surprised to be led past the staircase and to the Hall's front door, which Lucy ran through and then back inside again, jumping and barking and acting as if the best thing in the world was waiting for them on the other side.
Despite Lucy's enthusiasm, Jack hesitated. He knew Ianto was probably in the kitchen and it would take only a moment to find him so that they could share whatever it was that Lucy had discovered. On the other hand, it was late and Ianto was emphatic about cleaning up after the team and leaving the kitchen in good order for his sister, so Jack decided to investigate Lucy's mystery on his own. With any luck, it was merely the ghost of a long-dead rabbit carousing on the front lawn that had caught her attention.
Opening the front door, he stepped out into the night and immediately regretted leaving his jacket behind. The front of the Hall was taking the brunt of the wind, driving the rain sideways against his face. Shielding his eyes with his free hand, he scanned the immediate area, the Hall's copper lanterns and his torch giving off just enough light to illuminate the wide terrace and a few of the steps leading down to the circular driveway.
The first thing he saw made no sense. A flash of light from his torch landed on a pair of untied leather shoes near the top step, one of them tipped on its side, a sodden pair of socks beside them. He stared at them, knowing they could only belong to Ianto but having no comprehension as to how they could be outside in the rain.
A thick feeling of dread gathered at the back of Jack's throat as he ran to the low stone wall that encircled the terrace, frantically sweeping his torch across the grounds. The light from the lanterns was reflecting off the rain, surrounding him in waves of bright droplets but unable to penetrate the darkness beyond the edge of the steps. Only when he squinted and looked beyond Lucy, still dancing and yelping as if expecting a ball to be thrown her way, did he see something that made his mind go numb with shock.
Standing at the base of the steps, clad only in shirt and trousers, arms lifted toward the heavens, face tilted back and eyes closed, was Ianto Jones.
"Ianto!"
Jack ran down the steps, his feet moving before his mind could fully register what he was seeing. A thousand thoughts crashed through his brain as he skidded to a stop beside a barefoot Ianto, the foremost among them the wayward worry that Ianto was out in the rain without his coat.
"Ianto, what the hell?" Grabbing Ianto's upraised arm, Jack pulled it down, the momentum tilting Ianto toward him, though his feet remained in place. "Ianto, are you all right? What are you doing out here?"
"Oh, lovely, you're here." Eyes still closed, Ianto smiled as he lowered his other arm. "Hello, Jack."
"Hello? You're standing out here in the rain and all I get is a damn hello? Ianto-"
"Shh, Jack, it's all right. He's here."
"Who's here?" Jack twisted around to quickly scan the driveway but saw no one else in the area. "What the hell is going on?"
"Ianto. He's here with us."
"I don't-"
"Jack."
Finally, slowly, Ianto opened his eyes to look at Jack. Jack held his breath and waited, the rain and the cold forgotten as he watched Ianto blink once, twice, three times, every brush of his damp lashes releasing a cascade of bright, lavender-tinged sparkles that were washed away by the rain falling on his cheeks.
Horrified, Jack took a step back, and the smile instantly disappeared from Ianto's face. He held out his hand to Jack then pulled it back close to his chest it, a hesitant, child-like gesture.
"Oh, my God," Jack whispered, "Philip, what have you done?"
"Don't be afraid, Jack, please. It's just-"
"No, no, you can't do this, Philip!" Jack grabbed Ianto by the shoulders and shook him. "You can't-give him back!"
Ianto's hands came up to cup Jack's wet cheeks, his palms like ice against his skin yet beneath the chill, Jack could feel the same thrill of energy he'd experienced the night Philip had touched him in the hallway. And even beyond that, beyond the calming presence of someone-or something-that Jack had no reason to fear, he recognized the faint pulse of Ianto's consciousness, warm and reassuring.
"You see?" Ianto whispered, his eyes searching Jack's with a familiarity that made Jack's heart ache. His Ianto was in there, somewhere, but at the same time, Jack knew that Philip had taken control. "He's here, we're both here."
Confused by feelings of tenderness and fear, Jack dropped his torch and gathered Ianto's hands in his, bringing them down between them, determined to keep Ianto close. He'd never been afraid of Philip but this had crossed a line that terrified him. Yet it was Ianto's cold hands in his, Ianto's eyes looking back at him with wry humour as if understanding Jack's dilemma.
"Please, Philip, this isn't right." Jack tightened his grip on Ianto's hands. "This can't be good for Ianto. He's-you're-hell, you're both freezing, all right? At least let me take you-both of you-inside."
Ianto let his head tilt back, closing his eyes as rain pelted down on his face, his complexion far too pale for Jack's liking. "Not yet, please. It's been so long since I've felt rain on my face."
"But it's not your face, Philip, it's not your body. This is Ianto you're turning into an ice cube-surely you understand that!""
"Of course." Ianto nodded once. "I won't stay, I promise. I can't, I'm not strong enough yet. I just needed to-to warn-oh, dear-"
His eyes snapping open, Ianto sagged forward. Jack untangled their hands and caught him by the shoulders, propping him up and ducking his head so he could see Ianto's face. They were both drenched to the skin now, the cool breeze turning the rain that ran down Jack's neck into rivulets of ice water. Ianto's parted lips had turned a bluish purple, the skin beneath his eyes shadowed.
"What's wrong? What's happening? Philip, why-"
"Listen to me Jack, we don't have much time." Ianto struggled to meet Jack's eyes, his hands clutching Jack's shoulders, his features beginning to blur as a silvery incandescence began to gather around him. "Whatever happens, you must stay away from him. Don't let him in, no matter what he tells you, no matter what he offers you."
Jack didn't pretend to misunderstand. "What is it that he wants? Is it something we can give? Something that will make him go away?"
"He wants the one thing he can never have. His freedom. Set him free and he'll burn this house to the ground-and everyone in it."
"But how can he leave? Where would he go?"
Ianto laughed softly, the exhalation of his cool breath into the cold air tinged with the clean scent of cedar. "Where does anyone want to go? He wants to go home." Sadness replacing the humour, Ianto looked beyond Jack's shoulder, eyes unfocussed. "We all want to go home," he murmured.
"Does he have a name?"
"His name would be meaningless to you, as would mine. He was the first of us, the first to-no, not yet." Ianto swayed and Jack tightened his grip. He was beginning to panic, torn between wanting to know more about the dark entity and his concern that Philip's continued presence was harming Ianto. But before he could say anything, Ianto continued, his fingers digging into Jack's muscles. "Listen to me now, Jack, listen carefully. It's you he needs, and he'll try anything-hurt anyone-to get you to do what he wants."
It was obvious that Philip's time was coming to an end. Ianto's body, whether it was from the exposure to the elements or the presence of Philip, had begun to shake so hard that Jack knew he had only seconds left before something-perhaps something unbearable-was going to happen.
"I hear you," he said, "but hurry, I want Ianto back and I want him back now."
That made Ianto smile, even as his body began to slowly collapse in Jack's arms. "You care for him, that's good." His eyes fluttered shut. "Promise me you won't let that be used against you, Jack. Promise me!"
It was impossible to keep them both on their feet, so Jack guided them down to their knees, his hands around Ianto's arms the only thing preventing them from tipping over. In a voice so soft Jack had to strain to hear above the sound of the rain, Philip spoke once more in Ianto's voice.
"Promise me, Jack, no matter what happens."
"I promise," Jack whispered, though at that moment, he would have said anything to get Ianto back. "But wait, how do we make him go away? Philip? Philip!"
Jack's promise seemed to have been what Philip had been waiting for, because Ianto slumped forward into Jack's arms on a sigh as the bright shimmer that had surrounded him seemed to melt away. Jack cradled him close, shifting around so that he could reach his mobile and call for help. He'd just managed to free the phone from his pocket when his wrist was taken in a firm grip.
"That won't be necessary." Ianto lifted his head and looked into Jack's eyes, allowing him to see that Philip had indeed left. "Jesus, Jack, look at you, you're soaking. Let's go inside and I'll put the kettle on."
"You'll put the-my God, Ianto, do you know what just happened?"
Ianto threw Jack an indulgent look as he began to disentangle their limbs. "Of course I do, no need to shout about it." Rising to his feet, Ianto extended his hand to a stunned Jack. "Come inside and I'll fill you in after we both change into dry clothes. Oh, wait, is the shoot over?"
Jack took Ianto's hand and allowed himself to be towed up the steps, Lucy trotting beside them. "Uh, yeah, we're done for the night."
"Brilliant. D'you fancy a coffee? I can make-"
"Ianto." Jack tugged on Ianto's hand, making him stop. The rain had let up a bit, but they were both still shivering, though Ianto now seemed less affected than when Philip had occupied his body. "Are you all right?"
"I'm-" Ianto faltered as Jack's grip on his hand tightened in silent warning. "Actually, my knees are a bit wobbly, but I'll be fine once I change out of these clothes."
"A bit wobbly," Jack grumbled as they continued up the steps. "Someone takes over his body and all he can say is that he's a bit wobbly."
"Well, one thing we've confirmed for certain," Ianto said, opening the Hall's front door and ushering Jack inside, "we're not dealing with ghosts. Now, mind where you're dripping and try not to leave a puddle on the carpet."
Part Thirteen
Note: this story was plotted out before the events of September 15th near Swansea and is in no way meant to be disrespectful of that tragedy.