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soeraA/N: Um, okay. Wow. Thanks, guys! Evidently, if I want reviews I'll have to ask for them. *laughs* Few things I wanted to say:
1) Feel free to friend this journal if you'd like to keep track of updates. I won't friend back [only my beta's friended here] but my posts are public anyway so that won't be a problem.
2) If you have any questions about the story, feel free to leave them in a comment. If they won't give away future plot points, I'm more than happy to babble about them.
3) FYI, there's some super!Ianto going on in this fic. I explain this in my own head as it being all tied in with his eidetic memory - that's where his facility with languages, his telepathy, ability to read others etc all come from. It's not explicitly stated in the fic, though, so just bear that in mind. One of Callista's comments at the beginning of this part [you'll see] are a little dig at myself and my super!Ianto-ing ways, actually. =D
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
It was Jack who noticed how stressed Ianto was after just two days back at work. Typing one-handed was difficult, and there were far too many things he needed to do that were simply awkward without the use of both arms. Jack sat him down after the second day and insisted on talking through the problems, with the result that they swapped out jobs temporarily – Ianto took over any phone calls and liaising while Jack took over the maintenance work and feedings. The third day back at work, Ianto decided it was about time he went to visit Callista.
She was staying at a safe-house which had been set up expressly for those aliens who could conceivably pass for human. It was part-dormitory, part-school for them, and everything they learned was geared towards allowing them autonomy in human society. There were three people who worked there, and between them they’d managed to get nearly twenty aliens settled in, over the past eight years. Torchwood still kept tabs on those aliens to make sure they weren’t up to any mischief, but the assimilation had gone off remarkably smoothly.
There were currently three aliens in residence at the safe-house, including Callista. Her check-up had revealed that she had no vocal chords, and therefore was incapable of vocalisations. A short discussion had led to the decision to pass her off as mute, and teach her sign language. She was stumblingly conversant when Ianto dropped in on her, and very eager to show off what she’d learned.
You’re getting pretty good at that, he commented as she demonstrated what they’d been working on recently.
She signed a thank you, then reverted to telepathy. What happened to your arm?
Got in a car accident and fractured it, he explained. It’s not too bad. I’m kind of surprised I came out of it relatively unharmed.
Were you expecting more severe injuries? she enquired.
To be honest, yes. The car was a bit of a wreck. My legs were pinned, but they’re not really hurt, just bruised. He sent her a brief image of what he’d seen when he’d woken up, realising that it would be far easier than trying to explain in words.
She pondered that for a moment. Perhaps you protected yourself.
… Pardon?
You have a strong mind. Perhaps you pushed away the metal? she asked, as if that were a perfectly normal thing to be doing.
… Is that even possible? Ianto asked incredulously. We’re talking what, telekinesis? I can’t do that.
She shrugged, and Ianto felt a moment of pride at how well she managed the off-hand gesture. Most telepaths have telekinesis. Perhaps yours is weak. I once knew one who had strong telepathy but weak telekinesis. It only manifested in times of stress.
Just enough to save my legs, you’re saying? Ianto asked, just to make sure he had things right.
Perhaps, she said. Or perhaps I am looking for things which are not there.
Ianto smiled at the matter-of-fact way she’d delivered that last line. Maybe. By the way, I wanted to ask you about that – link – between me and Jack.
Yes, the [entwined beams of light]. I was expecting you to ask me sooner, she admitted, a touch of eagerness in her mind-voice. Have you explored it?
Not much, Ianto said. We can reach each other over a distance – we haven’t explored how far – and we can share our senses. Other than that…
It is a beginning, she said, sounding pleased. A fledgling connection. You must nurture it.
But what is it? Ianto asked. We can’t seem to break the connection fully, so it’s obviously not a simple linking. He’s always there, even if we’re not talking or sharing at that moment. My shields are around him, and I can feel his presence in them too. I don’t understand what’s happening here, Callista!
Callista sent a wave of relaxation at him to calm him down. You are correct. This is no mere telepathic link. She hesitated. You must understand, my people are born with knowledge. Even if it is rare, everyone understands this, and so it is not often explicitly addressed.
A kind of… communal knowledge? Ianto asked curiously.
An apt description, she replied. An analogy may perhaps help. If linking is a connection, a [two amorphous blobs of light connected by a slender thread], then this bond is a merging [the thread shortened, drawing the two blobs together till they coalesced, burning brighter than their combined light should have allowed]. Understand?
Ianto turned the images over in his head thoughtfully. I think so. That’s why his mind seems to be always with mine?
Yes, Callista said, sounding pleased. It is one with yours, and yours with his.
And it’s not something that can be undone, Ianto said. He was fairly certain that wasn’t possible, but he had to be sure.
Of course not! Callista said in a scandalised manner. It is a great honour, besides. Why should you wish to?
I don’t, Ianto assured her hurriedly. I just wanted to be sure. But what does this mean for us? Physically, I mean?
You will feel his hurts as an echo, and he yours. You will share your strengths and talents. You augment each other’s abilities and help moderate each other’s weaknesses.
Ianto swallowed hard. Sounds too good to be true. What do you mean, we’ll feel each other’s hurts as an echo?
As I said, Callista replied. Does your arm hurt?
… A little, Ianto replied cautiously. It hurt a bit more than that, but he hated the way painkillers made his head so fuzzy. He’d taken the medicine diligently while he was stuck at home, but now that he was back at work, he was only taking it at night before sleeping. Why?
I warrant you’ll find your Captain Jack Harkness has an ache in his arm, Callista said. Not as much as you, but a small throb in the place your injury is located.
Ianto thought about that. Ah, he finally managed.
This can be controlled, with practice, she assured him. You must grow used to anchoring yourself physically within your own body, so that the ails of your mate do not unduly ail you in turn.
That’s a relief to know, Ianto admitted. But what happens when one of us… dies?
Callista grew solemn at that. You must understand. Even amongst my people a bond like this is uncommon. The depth of the connection is not to be taken lightly. They are as one, soul and life in themselves and the other. The ones who lost their mates were themselves lost soon after. The tale is that they did not wish to continue.
A flare of panic burst through Ianto, prompting Jack to tap a question on his mind: All right there? He forcibly tamped down the alarm and sent back a feeling of reassurance before returning his attention to what Callista had just told him. If that were true, what would his death do to Jack?
What if they’re used to losing people? Ianto asked impulsively. Would they be better able to bear the loss?
Callista seemed uncertain. There is no comparing the bond to any other connection, she said slowly. Of course, there is no record of the bond being achieved by humans. I do not know how your kind will react.
Ianto took a deep breath. Still some chance then. He’d be damned if he’d be the cause of any more pain for Jack. Thank you, Callista. If you don’t mind – you’ve given me plenty to think about for today.
She smiled at him. The look was somewhat awkward on her, but she was getting there. Ianto gave her a grin in response, and they turned the conversation to easier topics. They chatted a while about the things Callista had been learning. Ianto knew the rudiments of British Sign Language, though he wasn’t fluent by any means, and Callista rather enjoyed teaching him the few signs she had under her belt that he wasn’t already familiar with. A few pleasant hours later, Ianto took his leave of her and headed back home.
He opened the door and was greeted by an absolutely delicious smell. The sound of humming from the kitchen gave away who was responsible, and Ianto found himself smiling as he locked the door and awkwardly shrugged off his jacket. Loosening his tie, he wandered into the kitchen, then stopped to take in the vaguely mind-boggling sight of Jack in an apron, stirring the contents of a pot as he sang.
“Is that cawl?” Ianto asked, when his brain finally kicked back in gear. Jack glanced over with a grin.
“Yep. Don’t go singing my praises yet, though,” he said. “I have no clue how it’ll taste.”
“Smells good,” Ianto pointed out, leaning over Jack’s shoulder to take a deep breath.
“And now you’ve jinxed it,” Jack sighed.
“Doesn’t this take insanely long to make?” Ianto asked idly.
“Well, technically,” Jack admitted. “But all the work is in the beginning, and then it just needs to sit there on the stove and cook. It’s not exactly hard. Plus, well, I cheated a bit. I’ve got both beef and bacon in there, you should like that.”
“Makings of a gourmet chef,” Ianto teased, and nipped Jack’s shoulder teasingly. “No celery, right?” he asked, stepping back before Jack could retaliate.
“After you spent half an hour telling me everything you hate about it?” Jack replied. “Nope. Plenty of turnips and carrots though.”
“Perfect,” Ianto said in satisfaction. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Flip the question around,” Jack said, lifting a piece of potato out of the pot and poking it with a fork. “Bit more, I think. You’ve got time for a shower, if you like. Need help taping up the cast?”
“I can manage,” Ianto assured him, and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Thank you, cariad.”
Jack must have either slogged hard the whole afternoon and taken off from work early, or brought his work back with him. As lax as Jack sometimes seemed about his work, Ianto knew there was no way he’d have simply ignored it, especially if it was urgent. In either case, he’d gone out of his way to ensure that he had a warm meal waiting for Ianto when he returned.
And a free evening at home, at that.
Ianto was in a very good mood when he emerged from his bath. The cawl was just about done, and Jack soon had it dished up for them, along with some fresh bread and cheese he’d bought. Contrary to Jack’s predictions, the stew was quite delicious – Ianto polished off his entire bowl in minutes, then happily settled down to slowly work his way through seconds.
“Nothing wrong with your appetite, anyway,” Jack observed, chewing on some bread.
“Which one?” Ianto retorted. Jack grinned almost immediately, proving Ianto’s theory that Jack’s mind was constantly rolling in the gutters.
“Either,” Jack said.
“Well, no,” Ianto said. “However – the spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”
Jack sighed in a very put-upon manner. “I suppose if that’s the way it goes,” he said, voice trailing off.
“That is indeed the way it goes,” Ianto affirmed. “Should you have any problems with that, you could always ah, take things into hand yourself.”
Jack paused mid-bite. “I… might do that,” he said too-casually. “Of course, I’d appreciate if you’d be there to… correct any potential mistakes.”
Ianto smiled toothily. “I doubt you’d make any mistakes, Jack, but I’d be glad to take a look if you’d like.”
“Oh yes,” Jack said, grinning outright now. “I’d like.”
“Hey, kids!” Jack called out, leaning over the railing. “Just so you know, Ianto’s not going to be in Cardiff from the thirteenth through to the sixteenth, so don’t expect anything from him.”
“Back to Starbucks,” Gwen joked.
“I want a day off too,” Owen grumbled. “Without getting called back in because the Rift exploded or Weevils are eating pet dogs.”
“It’s not exactly a holiday,” Jack replied dryly. “I need him to do something. But tell me which day you want off and I’ll try and make it happen.”
Owen looked up in surprise. “Huh. Okay,” he said thoughtfully, then grinned and went back to his work.
“And that goes for you two as well,” Jack added, nodding to the girls. Tosh smiled as Ianto came up behind her.
“Which means Friday’s off, I’m afraid,” he told her conversationally.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Where are you going anyway?”
“London,” he said. “A few things about – Canary Wharf.”
The expression on her face turned sympathetic. “Are you sure you want to go?” she asked.
“Jack asked me the exact same thing,” Ianto told her with a small smile. “Yes, and I’ll be fine. I’m most familiar with what needs to be done. Besides, I’d like to visit a friend while I’m there.”
“Well, I hope it all goes off fine,” she said, patting his arm. “We’ll do next Friday then. Is it my place or yours this time?”
“Yours,” Ianto said. “We watched Psycho at my place, remember?”
“Oh god, yes,” Tosh said, shuddering. “I was jumping at nothing the entire journey home.”
Ianto smiled. “Well, you can pick the movie this time,” he said. “Want me to get you anything from London?”
Her face turned a tad wistful. “No, that’s all right,” she said. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, then went to put the coffee on. He’d taken to making a pot of it black and leaving it in the kitchen for anyone who wanted some. Gwen had told him no matter how she altered the amounts of cream and sugar she put in hers, she could never get it to taste quite like when he made it. He’d been quietly flattered at the indirect compliment.
He stayed in Jack’s office that day fielding calls and organising paperwork while Jack fed the denizens of the Hub. His lover returned from the Weevil cages sporting a nasty gash down his arm, which Owen taped up with much grumbling.
“How the hell d’you do it?” Jack asked him when Ianto came out to see what the fuss was about.
“Do what?” Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not get eaten,” Jack groused. “I thought Janet was kept sedated around mealtimes?”
“It’s a very low dose, so as not to hurt her,” Ianto said. “Feed Weevils often enough and you get used to it. Toss and run, that’s your best bet.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Jack said. “Haven’t fed a Weevil in years. Obviously, it’s not like – ow! – riding a bicycle.”
“Stop being a baby,” Owen said in response to Jack’s yelp. He wrapped off the bandage and stepped back. “There, done. Try not to get yourself eaten again.”
“Not in that manner, at any rate,” Ianto put in casually. Jack went an absolutely brilliant shade of red, one Ianto had never seen on him, his mouth working wordlessly for a moment before he snapped it shut. Evidently, he hadn’t quite expected Ianto to say that in front of the entire team.
“Oh god,” Gwen said, the moment it sank in. Owen and Tosh got it a split second later and the looks on their faces, Ianto decided, was something he’d treasure for a long time to come. Ianto adopted the most innocent look he could muster and disappeared back into Jack’s office.
So, Jack, he asked conversationally. A blush, and a failure to retort. Is that five points for me?
With Jack helping him, it didn’t take long to pack for his brief trip to London. It took just a little longer to assure Jack that he’d be fine, that he’d call if things got to be too much, that he’d call just for fun anyway, that he wouldn’t shy away from their mental contact, that he’d eat properly and not neglect his health, that he’d be back by Saturday evening. The flight was uneventful, though being stuck in a plane made Ianto chafe somewhat. He’d much rather have driven, but with his arm still in a sling, that wasn’t an option. Chartering a small plane had been Jack’s idea, and Ianto had to admit it made things a lot more convenient than taking public transport.
Dora had refused to have Ianto stay at a hotel, and had come to pick him up at the airport. She exclaimed over his arm, was somewhat distressed at how he’d come by it, but had calmed down by the time they got back to her house. Dora’s parents had come over to her house to see Ianto, and knowing that Dora had recently told them Ianto was now seeing another male, he was a bit of a wreck by the time they finally arrived.
He was very quickly disabused of the notion that they might have a problem with his new lover. The Halletts had an abundance of love to go around, and the only emotion they displayed was happiness that Ianto had found someone new to love. It was a rather mean thought to have, but Ianto found himself wishing his family would have reacted the same way.
The visit was short, and then the senior Halletts took their leave, realising how tired Ianto was from the trip. Dora’s spare room had been made up for him, and he collapsed into bed thankfully, sparing just enough time to tap a Got here safe and sound. Call you tomorrow, on Jack’s mind.
He was up at his usual time the next morning, and had showered, dressed and breakfasted by the time Dora made an appearance.
“Terrible time to be up,” she grumped. He pushed a cup of coffee towards her with a small smile.
“Difficult habit to break, I’m afraid,” he said. “I should be off now.”
“Already?” she asked, looking blearily at the clock.
“I’m hoping to get things done as soon as possible,” he said.
“If you’ve got any free time, we’re going out to dinner,” she warned him. “Be careful out there.”
“I will,” he promised as he left.
His first stop was a flower shop; his second, the cemetery. The majority of the graves he visited were empty – so many of the bodies had had to be completely destroyed because they’d been tainted by Cyberman technology. So many more – those officially labelled “missing” – had been converted and then destroyed by the Daleks, with nothing left of them. Still, he laid flowers at each one and spent a few quiet hours there remembering.
His next stop was an abandoned warehouse Torchwood One had sometimes used. By the time he got there, there were nineteen people waiting.
“Hello,” he said by way of announcing his presence.
“Hi, Jonesy,” a brunette near the door said. (Ashley Craft, Administration, Ianto’s mind supplied.) “Is this a Survivors of Torchwood club you’ve called together?”
“Not quite,” Ianto said, giving her a wan smile. “Have a seat, everyone.”
They made themselves comfortable, some of them eyeing Ianto with suspicion. Most of them he only knew from their records, though he did recall seeing a few of them around Torchwood Tower. Getting an email from someone they didn’t know about “Torchwood business” likely wouldn’t be sitting well with any of them, especially with what Torchwood had already put them through. The distrust was about to get worse, he knew, and braced himself mentally.
“Most of you probably don’t know this,” he said. “But I’m working for Torchwood Three now.”
He got the expected looks of disbelief. The hurled invectives from some of the other survivors – well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting them too, but they still hurt. Just as he was wondering how to calm them down, he got an unforeseen ally in the form of a slender, tiny girl, who stood up and shouted everyone else down.
“Will you listen to him, you great bloody pillocks!” she demanded. “He’s one of us, he’s been through the same things as us. You really think he’s gonna have sold out?”
There were a few more grumbles of discontent, but at least they shut up. Ianto took a deep breath and gave the girl – Mindy, that was her name – a grateful look.
“I can understand that reaction,” he said. “To be completely honest, I initially didn’t have – very good reasons – for trying to join the Cardiff team. But it only took one day’s work to realise it was about as different from Hartman’s regime as was possible.” He paused and smiled wryly. “We’ve got a pet pteranodon flying around the base. He gets fresh fish every day, and now that we’ve trained him to respond to ultrasonic signals, we let him out at night to stretch his wings. I kind of think that Yvonne Hartman would have had him killed and dissected instead.”
“That’s for sure,” an older man (Max Jonston, Public Relations) said with a snort. “You’ve really got a pteranodon?”
“Yep,” Ianto said. “He’s wonderful, if slightly addicted to chocolate. My fault for luring him in with chocolate, I suspect. But that’s besides the point.”
“No, no,” Mindy said, shaking her head. “Chocolate-addicted pteranodon flying around Cardiff at night. That’s exactly the kind of news I like to hear.”
“He likes to have his beak petted, if that helps,” Ianto offered. “And he’s disturbingly fond of pulling me back into his nest whenever I try to leave. I think he’s adopted me. At least he’s learned that not everything in the world is edible.”
That got a few laughs, and Ianto was relieved to note that the group was looking more relaxed. “Okay,” Mindy said. “But how did you convince Harkness to keep the pteranodon?”
Ianto shrugged. “Jack was the one who insisted, actually,” he said. “And more recently, we had this huge alien come through the Rift – it’d have just about filled this warehouse – and Jack wanted to rescue it and keep it until we could figure out a way to send it back home.”
“That’s… big,” commented another middle-aged man (Alex Lawless, Security).
“Yep. And guess who was expected to feed it?” Ianto asked dryly, getting another round of laughter.
“So… Harkness isn’t…” Mindy started curiously, waving her hands in an odd configuration that could have meant anything from an arse to pregnant. Ianto bit down on the urge to say “Not right now, anyway,” and shook his head instead.
“He’s been far kinder to me than he should have been,” he said softly. “I betrayed him and his team once – nearly got them all killed – and he still forgave me. I think I heard exactly the same rumours about him that all of you did, and I can tell you right now that they’re wrong. He’s an amazing person, and I’m better for having known him.”
“You feel that strongly about him?” Mindy asked, giving him a strange look.
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “Do you really think he’d have allowed you all to keep your memories if he’d been anything less than compassionate?”
“Kind of wish he hadn’t, sometimes,” someone said quietly.
Ianto nodded. “Which, in a way, brings me to why I’m here.” He paused to ensure he had everyone’s attention, then went on. “Our doctor’s been working on modifying the recipe for Retcon, and he’s managed to create a better version than what we had before. The old formula, as we all know, couldn’t erase more than a week before it started affecting personalities. It’s why Jack didn’t Retcon you; he told me that he refused to take even more from you than Torchwood had already managed to do. This new version, however, doesn’t have the same problems – it’ll wipe memories while leaving us intact.”
He held up the bag he was carrying. “Nineteen doses,” he said. “Jack’s offering them to anyone who wants them. If you don’t, that’s fine. If you’ve already begun creating a new life for yourself, you probably don’t want them, since it’ll wipe every memory from when you first joined Torchwood, to now. For some of you, that’s quite a lot. But if you’re still suffering and you’d like the option – it’s available. We’ll organise cover stories to explain the amnesia, and make sure you get back in the care of whoever you want us to contact.”
Whatever they’d been expecting, the looks on their faces told him that hadn’t been it.
“Doesn’t matter to me if I leave here with no Retcon left, or all the doses untouched,” he said. “Do what you think is best for you.” He jerked a thumb towards the door. “I’m going to be out there – talk things out if you’d like. If you need more time to think about it, get my number from me before you leave.”
He left the warehouse looking far more confident than he actually felt. Jack, he murmured, and almost immediately felt Jack’s comforting presence wrap solidly around him.
All right, sweetheart? Jack asked.
I think so, he replied. I don’t know. They were even more resentful than I thought.
You’ve had the chance to see a better – I hope – side of Torchwood, Jack reminded him. They haven’t.
It is, Ianto said. Hartman was running her own personal fiefdom. Cardiff’s nothing like that.
Glad you think so, Jack said with a touch of laughter in his voice. I don’t know – maybe we should’ve taken over Cardiff Castle?
Myfanwy the guard pteranodon, Ianto quipped, already feeling better. In lieu of dragons, you know.
Dye him red, Jack suggested wickedly.
Is that animal abuse? Ianto wondered.
I don’t think pterosaurs are covered by the RSPCA, Jack sniggered. Ianto hid a smile.
“Ianto?” a feminine voice called out from behind him. He turned to see Mindy walking up to him.
Be here if you need me, Jack said, retreating so as not to intrude on the conversation.
“Yes?” he asked, wondering if she’d already made her decision. She’d seemed quite confident earlier, as if she’d at least begun to get past the trauma of the Battle. There was something not quite right about her, though, something that made Ianto think she wasn’t nearly as well-off as she was pretending to be.
She hesitated, then ploughed on. “Look, I don’t think I can decide now,” she began, and then stopped as he gave her a card.
“Personal number and email address,” he said. “I’ll be leaving London on the sixteenth, but you don’t need to have made a decision by then. If at some later point you decide you want the Retcon, give me a call and we’ll organise it.”
She clutched the card with a kind of desperation that made Ianto feel positive he’d been right about the way he’d read her. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s just – I think I’m doing okay now?”
“You’re not exactly overflowing with confidence in that statement,” Ianto pointed out casually.
She huffed. “I have good days and bad days,” she said. “I just can’t decide if the bad days are worth the Retcon.”
“Or if the good days outweigh the bad,” Ianto put in. “This isn’t an offer that has a time limit on it. Just remember that everything gets wiped out from when you joined Torchwood onwards.”
“Yeah, okay,” she said, glancing at the card, then pulling her wallet out of her bag and tucking the card away. “How’re you doing now?”
“I have good days and bad,” he said, giving her a small smile. She grinned back. “But the bad days are far and few between now.”
“And… Harkness really is nice?” she asked hesitantly.
“He really is,” Ianto promised her. “You know, we’ve only got five people at present in our core outfit?”
Her eyes widened. “Five?”
“Yep. Including me and Jack,” Ianto told her, nodding at the few others who’d come out of the warehouse and were approaching. “We’re all cross-trained, but we’ve got one doctor, one technological expert and one fieldwork specialist.”
“And you?” Alex asked, having joined them.
“General support,” Ianto said, shrugging. “Which means research, archival work, keeping the team caffeinated. Fieldwork, sometimes. A lot of liaising, especially now.” He gestured at his injured arm. “Can’t do a lot of my duties right now, so Jack and I have traded off. I get to talk to the lovely people at UNIT, and he gets to feed the Weevils.”
“You’ve got Jack Harkness feeding Weevils?” Mindy asked, laughing.
“Absolutely,” Ianto said solemnly. “I don’t think Janet’s very fond of him. At any rate, she’s never tried to eat me before.”
That set their small group off into laughter. Ianto could understand where they were coming from – Captain Jack Harkness had taken on near-mythic qualities in Torchwood One, simply because he always refused to work with them, and was a constant thorn in Yvonne Hartman’s side. The rumours about him generally weren’t flattering, but most people had an amusing anecdote about how he was always shutting Hartman down. Short of Hartman’s inner circle, just about everyone else at Torchwood One had loved those stories, even if it had been the redoubtable Jack Harkness who’d been involved. To think of that same person being made to feed Weevils was rather strange, to say the least.
“I’m going to go tell the others what you told me,” Mindy declared once she’d gotten over her fit of giggles. She squeezed Ianto’s hand, then ran back into the warehouse, leaving him to talk with the others who were there. Thankfully, the conversation wasn’t awkward – this small group of three had already made up their minds to decline the offer, and so they didn’t have the possibility hanging over them as they talked.
Eventually, others trickled out of the warehouse, stopping by to either get a card from Ianto or tell him their decisions. Out of the nineteen, seven had decided they wanted the Retcon option, while four categorically refused it, and the rest wanted more time. Ianto set up appointments with the seven, calculating how much time he’d need to sort out everything with each person.
Ashley Craft and Joe Penforth weren’t free the next day, so Ianto agreed to meet them later that afternoon. Of the other five, only one was currently employed, and Ianto arranged to meet her after work. The others he’d be able to meet at any time, and he spread them out evenly throughout the day. With any luck, he’d be done before the sixteenth, and would have most of that day to spend with Dora and her family before flying back.
Once he’d sorted out his schedule, he headed back to Dora’s house for a very quick lunch. Dora was out at work, so he had the house to himself as he quickly checked all the information he’d need from each person. Once he was sure he had everything with him, he set off for Ashley’s house. They’d need privacy for what they were talking about, and she lived alone.
Joe was already there when Ianto arrived – since he lived with his family, they wouldn’t have been able to talk at his place, and Ashley had offered hers. They didn’t mind each other listening in on their discussions, and Ianto was therefore able to get both their cover stories sorted simultaneously.
They both settled on fake traffic accidents to explain their amnesia. Their identification would be left on them to make locating their next-of-kin easy. Ianto took down all the paperwork details he’d need to sort out to ensure that they both ended up in the care of those they’d chosen (Ashley’s mother, Joe’s brother). It was quite hassle-free, though Ianto did warn them that it might be a few weeks before they could get the details worked out and the ‘accidents’ set up.
The next day was much of the same. Ianto was kept busy coming up with inventive ways to simulate traumatic brain injuries (falling down the stairs, slipping in the shower, skateboarding accident) and sorting out the personal effects of the other five. By the end of the day, however, he’d managed to finish everything he’d come to London for. In fact, he was able to put one ‘accident’ into play that same evening. With Andrew’s permission, he carefully cut a small gash across the back of his head, ensuring it looked like a contact wound. Andrew took the Retcon and lay down, allowing Ianto to shift his limbs into an appropriate position to make it look like he’d fallen off a ladder. Once the sedatives kicked in, Ianto had gotten the hell out of there before Andrew’s family returned. Totally easy, and it went off without a hitch, but he still felt drained when he got home.
Fortunately for him, Dora and her parents insisted on taking him out to dinner as an early birthday present. The inane chatter went a long way in lifting his spirits, and Jack took care of the rest. Ianto went to sleep that night with his mind firmly ensconced in Jack’s protective embrace.
He discreetly checked on Andrew the next day and was relieved to find that the operation had gone off without a hitch. Andrew’s family were understandably upset at the years that had suddenly gone missing from his life, but Andrew himself seemed to be taking it well. Ianto left the hospital wondering if, on some level, Andrew recognised that he was better off now than he had been before.
He pulled off another ‘accident’ that day, but decided to refrain from staging any more. He’d play it safe and spread them out a little, both geographically and over time, in order to prevent any suspicion being raised. Maybe he’d come down when his arm was healed, do a couple more, space them out by a few months… yes, that’d work. He called up the others and sorted out a rough schedule. Their anticipation made him feel a little queasy.
His flight back was in the evening, and he was done with work by one. That should have meant a few hours of rest, but Dora insisted on baking brownies. Baking was something he’d never tried before, and one attempt at it was enough to tell him he probably shouldn’t ever try it again. Dora spent five minutes chasing him around her kitchen with a wooden spoon, shrieking about how the batter went in the pan, not on the walls – Ianto finally made his escape and hid in his room while she put a second batch in the oven, muttering darkly all the while.
The brownies were very good, though. Ianto brought back the entire batch (Dora’s, not his, which were more akin to lethal weapons than food) at Dora’s insistence. He suspected Jack would be more than willing to help him polish them off.
He had to catch a cab back, since the team had been called out unexpectedly. Still, stepping into the Hub felt like coming home. And when the others got back a couple of hours later –
“Yan?”
“Here, Jack,” he said distractedly, not looking up from the papers he was reading. “Have a brownie – Dora made them, not me, so they’re safe – ack!” The yelp was because Jack had practically scooped him out of his chair to give him a long, hard hug. Ianto melted into the embrace almost immediately, sighing and tucking his head against Jack’s shoulder. He would, he decided, ignore the fact that the others were still there.
“Bad few days?” Jack murmured, rubbing his back gently.
Ianto made a vague noise that could have been agreement or disagreement, but most likely was Keep doing that, thanks.
“How many people took the offer?” Jack asked quietly.
“Seven,” Ianto murmured. “I’ve done two already. I’ll need to stagger the schedule a bit – go back again a couple of times. Four said no, the others want more time to think. I think most of them will take it.”
Jack closed his eyes and buried a sigh in Ianto’s hair. “More than I thought,” he admitted quietly.
“Really?” Ianto asked, drawing back slightly. The others were still watching, obviously completely confused and curious about what was going on. “It was less than I thought.”
Ianto had barely made it through the door to the tourist office when he was attacked. He stood there patiently, letting Tosh get the hug out of her system, then arched an eyebrow inquisitively.
“You and Jack,” she commented. “Have both completely mastered the art of speaking an entire sentence with the movement of an eyebrow.”
“Verbose, eloquent and grammatically accurate, to boot,” he quipped. “What was that about?”
“Happy birthday,” she told him cheerfully, snatching a wrapped box off the counter and giving it to him with a flourish. “I came in early so I could ambush you – didn’t think you’d want the others making a huge fuss of things.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Ianto said solemnly, though he wasn’t quite able to repress the surprised pleasure he felt at Tosh’s thoughtfulness. His birthday the year before hadn’t been anything to speak of (outside of the Halletts’ gift), and though he’d gotten something for each of his colleagues on their birthdays, for some reason he hadn’t been expecting the favour to be returned.
“Open it,” Tosh said. “There’s time before the others get here.” She grinned. “I have to confess, I had an ulterior motive in getting this for you.”
“Really now,” Ianto said suspiciously. He hefted the parcel thoughtfully, then smiled. “Movies, I presume.”
She laughed. “Now that’s not fun. Go on, open it.”
He put the present on the table and by bracing it against his body, was able to tear open the wrapping without much difficulty. His guess had been accurate – she’d bought him an eclectic selection of films in a variety of languages and genres.
“Spirited Away?” he read out, grinning. “And Howl’s Moving Castle?”
“Everyone needs some magic in their lives,” Tosh said, shrugging. “Even us.”
“Especially us,” Ianto corrected, going on to the next movie. “Volver – never heard of this.” He scanned the blurb on the back, decided it sounded interesting, then went on. “Cache, Amélie – I love this one! – Run Lola Run, Like Water for Chocolate.” He looked up from the new additions to his collection and impulsively pulled Tosh into a one-armed hug.
“I take it you like them?” she asked eagerly.
“Definitely,” he said, releasing her with a grin, but keeping his arm around her. “Put them on the list for the next Friday.”
“Like I said, ulterior motives,” she said, laughing. “Who knows, maybe the Spanish ones will show me how to get my tongue around the words.”
“You’re doing decently,” Ianto pointed out.
“Are we having a group hug?” Jack asked, coming through the door, looking thoroughly wind-swept.
“If you like,” Ianto said blandly. Jack promptly flung his arms around their shoulders, carefully avoiding Ianto’s bad arm but otherwise squashing the life out of them.
“I see you had the same idea I did,” he said, hanging off a laughing Tosh. “Here you go, Yan.” He extended his free hand, a garment bag dangling from it.
“Is that –” Ianto pulled the bag open just far enough to see what it contained, and found himself at a complete loss for words.
“Three points to me?” Jack asked, grinning.
“Wrong reasons, so no,” Ianto said breathlessly. “Jack, you complete bastard! How long ago were you planning this?”
“From the moment I, ah, convinced you to just stop in and have your measurements taken, maybe you could get something in the lower ranges,” Jack said, grinning. Tosh stifled a laugh.
“This is not in the lower ranges,” Ianto said, running his hand over the soft material, transfixed by the elegant suit.
“Ianto?” Jack said. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you,” Ianto parroted obediently. “Would you come here for a minute?”
Jack obliged him, and Ianto gave him a kiss that left him gasping for breath.
“Wow,” Tosh murmured, pretending to fan herself when Ianto glanced over. His lips quirked in amusement.
“And this, to go with it,” Jack said, fishing a box out of his pocket and waving it in Ianto’s face. Ianto opened it to find a set of elegant gold cufflinks.
“You spoil me,” Ianto told Jack, kissing his cheek.
“Got something else for you, but that’s for later,” Jack purred, leaning into Ianto’s side. The bruises on the side throbbed, but no sooner did the pain occur than Jack moved his weight from them. Ianto sent him a pulse of gratitude.
“Please don’t tell me,” Tosh said. “Here, let me get all that –”
They managed to get the rubbish cleared before Gwen and Owen showed up. Much to Ianto’s shock, Gwen had gotten him a package of exotic coffee. Even Owen had given him a box of chocolates – dark, strangely enough. Ianto thanked them both and made his escape, wondering if he should be checking for pods.
Owen inadvertently gave Ianto another present that day when he deemed his arm nearly healed. He took the cast off, prodded it a bit with some alien tech, then declared that while Ianto shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting, he was fine to slowly put his arm to work again.
“No heavy lifting,” Jack said thoughtfully, then shrugged as he looked down into the medical bay. “Guess I’ll have to be careful.”
“You don’t have to be too gentle,” Ianto said, watching as Owen’s face turned an interesting puce colour.
“Since you insist,” Jack grinned. “Could always break out the restraints again.”
“Jack,” Ianto said calmly. “Remember what happened the last time?”
Jack paused, thinking about that. He hadn’t exactly taken well to being tied up. As a matter of fact, he’d had a flashback to being on the Valiant, which had led to a panic attack, which had put kind of a damper on the whole thing. Even seeing Ianto restrained just wasn’t doing it for him anymore.
“Okay, maybe not,” he conceded. “But I do have plans involving you, oil, candles, and the nearest flat surface.”
“This table?” Ianto asked innocently. Owen squawked wordlessly, apparently unable to keep silent anymore. There was a muffled explosion of laughter from the direction of Gwen’s table.
“I don’t think Owen likes that idea,” Jack sighed mournfully (“What part of ‘sterile conditions’ don’t you understand?” Owen howled, poking a needle into Ianto’s arm with perhaps a little more force than was strictly required.). “How about my office?”
“No photocopiers in there, right?” Ianto asked, and Jack started laughing.
“Nope, none,” he said. “I made a total idiot of myself then, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Ianto said immediately. “Yes, you did.”
“Well, this is something worth hearing at least,” Owen grumbled under his breath.
“Picture Jack,” Ianto began. Jack groaned theatrically and hid his face in his hands. “– our smooth, suave Captain Jack Harkness, attempting to ask me out on a date and tripping all over his words. ‘Um’s and ‘Ah’s everywhere, completely awkward.”
“Him,” Owen said incredulously, finishing his scan of Ianto’s arm and sitting back in his chair. “Awkward.”
“No way,” Tosh exclaimed, rolling over in her chair to listen.
“Yep,” Ianto said solemnly, feeling the amusement and slight embarrassment rolling from Jack’s mind. He gave Jack a comforting mind-pat. “Can we maybe drop the ‘sir’ now?” he parroted from memory, his accent suddenly sounding American, and the inflections entirely Jack’s. “I mean, while I was away, I was thinking, maybe we could… you know, when all this is done… dinner, a movie…”
“Right,” Gwen agreed in disbelief, coming to lean against the railing. “Awkward.” She gave Jack a sidelong glance.
“Well, it was the first time in forty-six years I was asking someone I cared about on a date,” Jack pouted, feeling the surprised pleasure wash through Ianto’s mind. “I was a bit out of practice.”
Owen looked at Ianto, then at Jack, then at Ianto. “And what was the date like?”
“Oh, quite brilliant,” Ianto said.
“I took him to a warehouse for dinner,” Jack put in impishly.
“And very romantic it was, too,” Ianto added solemnly.
“A warehouse?” Tosh asked incredulously.
“A warehouse,” Ianto repeated, nodding. “Long story.”
“It was a warehouse with sentimental value,” Jack laughed. “Owen, you done poking holes in Ianto?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Owen said, rolling back in his chair and waving a hand carelessly. “Just mind you don’t try to do too much at once. If you feel any pain, stop whatever you’re doing. Nothing strenuous.”
“I’ll do all the work,” Jack promised, smirking at the way Owen’s face turned a faint green.
“Just like last week?” Ianto asked. The expression on Jack’s face turned vaguely dreamy. “Right. Just like last week, then.” He nodded politely at Owen and hopped off the table, snagging his jacket as he went. “Is that three points, Jack?”
That snapped Jack out of his reverie. “Hey, no! Just ‘cause I was remembering something very pleasant,” he complained, trailing after Ianto.
Tosh, Gwen and Owen exchanged looks that were equal blends of amusement, disbelief, curiosity and aversion (the last being Owen more than the girls).
“I’m not sure I want to know what these points are that they keep going on about,” Tosh confessed quietly.
“Some sort of game, I’m thinking,” Gwen said.
“As long as they keep their sick games out of my medical bay,” Owen grumbled.
“I think they’re sweet,” Tosh said, frowning.
“Please,” Owen said dismissively. “I don’t buy them. Won’t be long before Jack’s tired of him.”
“I’m not –” Gwen began uncertainly, but was interrupted by Tosh.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said heatedly. “Just because you don’t understand love when it’s staring you in the face, doesn’t mean others don’t.” She spun on her heel, returning to her workstation.
“And just because you live in a fairy world doesn’t mean the rest of us do!” Owen yelled back. Tosh took a deep breath, bit down the immediate response that rose to mind, and logged into Owen’s accounts. It took barely half a minute to lock him out of the system, except for medical files and reports. See if he’d be surfing for porn at work again! She logged out again, adding another layer of protection to it so that he couldn’t hack through – not that he had much skill at that. He could have full access back when he apologised, and meant it.
“Owen’s got problems with jealousy, doesn’t he,” Jack observed casually. Ianto hadn’t realised it before, but Jack’s hearing was far more acute than any 21st Century human’s. Even from the kitchens, he’d been able to pick up the sounds of the argument, and had pulled Ianto in to share his hearing once he’d realised what was happening. Ianto sent a wave of reassurance to Jack, realising that the argument had truly upset him.
“I think he’s got problems with relationships,” Ianto said, shrugging. “And he sees some of himself in me. That’s why he’s so abrasive, especially towards me.”
“He didn’t have the best family,” Jack mused.
“Neither did I,” Ianto pointed out calmly. “It’s a reason, not an excuse. I don’t say his life’s perfect, but he’s certainly at least half-responsible for what it’s like now. If he keeps insisting on dragging himself through the muck –”
“When he now has the chance to pull himself out of it,” Jack added, nodding. “Lousy thing to happen on your birthday, Yan. Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Ianto said, handing Jack a mug of coffee with a smile. Jack inhaled the aroma appreciatively, then moaned as the first sip hit his taste-buds.
“Why not save those noises for later?” Ianto suggested. Jack glared at him wordlessly over the rim of the coffee mug, and Ianto smirked and held up three fingers.
“It’s not in public,” Jack protested.
“Hello, Tosh,” Ianto said, and Jack turned to see a somewhat calmer Tosh standing in the doorway, blushing slightly at what she’d interrupted.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “What’s the score now?” Want to invite her over? We can put our plans on hold, and she seems upset.
“Eight to me, two to you,” Ianto said promptly. If you don’t mind. I honestly don’t know what she sees in him, but there you have it. “Coffee, Tosh?”
“That’d be lovely,” she said, and blinked in surprise as he placed a prepared cup in her hands.
“Just give the microwave a minute more before you leave,” he added. “Want to come over to my place tonight?”
“Sure,” Tosh said automatically, then paused, glancing between Jack and Ianto. “Uh, I mean –”
“What, you don’t want me there?” Jack mock-pouted. Tosh blushed. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“We can put on some of those movies you got me,” Ianto suggested. “I’ve got popcorn at home, and we can pick up crisps and ice-cream on the way.”
“Say yes, say yes, say yes,” Jack chanted, until Tosh finally gave in and agreed through a fit of giggles.
“Assuming nothing comes up,” Ianto added. “Any requests for snacks or anything?”
“Ice-cream!” Tosh said immediately.
“Double chocolate, I presume,” Ianto said. “Strawberry, Jack?”
“Sure,” Jack said, smiling predatorily. “Good memories.”
Ianto snorted and muttered something under his breath that might have included the words “asparagus” and “chocolate.” Tosh decided not to ask.
“I’ll pick up dinner on the way,” Jack said as the microwave beeped. Ianto slipped on an oven mitt, opened the microwave and deftly plucked out the plate in it. “So don’t eat beforehand, okay?”
“Sure,” Tosh said, watching as Ianto transferred the biscuits onto another plate.
“Careful, they’re hot,” he warned, handing her the plate. “Especially the filling.”
“Did you make those?” Jack asked suspiciously.
“I like Tosh,” Ianto said flatly. “I don’t want to poison her. I popped by my sister’s yesterday, and every time I visit her, I leave with baked goods.” He snagged a biscuit off the plate and tossed it at Jack, who caught it deftly and cautiously bit down. The molten chocolate inside was a pleasant surprise, even if the sudden liquid heat did make Jack do a brief, strange little jig.
At least his impromptu interpretive dance got rid of the last of the tension lines on Tosh’s face. She seemed in a far better mood when she went back to work, coffee and biscuits in hand. Ianto poured out the remainder of the coffee into Gwen’s mug, and then brought out the jar of instant coffee.
“Oh, that’s cruel and unjust punishment,” Jack said, eyeing Owen’s cup as if it contained poison.
“Just a temporary passive-aggressive act,” Ianto told him. “Of course, he doesn’t have to drink it – there’s always Starbucks if he wants it.”
Jack stole a quick kiss as he moved past, cradling his own coffee and picking up Ianto’s mug. “Didn’t say you shouldn’t,” he chuckled. “Come work in my office today? I want you near.”
“Easily done,” Ianto said, picking up Gwen and Owen’s coffees. “I’ll just grab my laptop and join you in a bit.”
“Looking forward to it,” Jack said, and something about his smile made Ianto’s insides warm.
Part Eleven
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 05:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 05:24 am (UTC)And I can just picture Ianto meticulously setting up all those "accidents" that lead to brain trauma.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:32 am (UTC)[Also, your icon cracks me up so bad. XD]
no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 07:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 01:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:39 am (UTC)Absolutely, the bond is a way of letting them be together even when they're apart; a kind of support system. But the problem with that is that both of them are the type who don't like relying on others overmuch... and having someone in your head forces you to do so. Which'll lead to problems... soon. Very, very soon. *evil grin*
The Gwen/Rhys and Owen/Tosh will be peripheral at best, and more implied than anything else. Give Owen till the next part, though - I think he redeems himself for the way this one ended. Thanks for reading and commenting!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:40 am (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting!
no subject
Date: 2010-03-25 01:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-26 05:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-28 01:26 pm (UTC)But really? Really good job on the fic, the interactions between all the characters...spot on. Jack and Ianto togethe? Always a good thing in my books, and Tosh and Ianto's revenge on Owen in this chapter? Well he had it coming >:O)
But do I really have to wait a week for the next chapter? Really???
no subject
Date: 2010-03-28 10:22 pm (UTC)Ianto and Callista’s conversation did at first have me wondering that if his and Jack’s connection can make them feel each other’s injuries, would perhaps Jack’s healing abilities also be shared? But I guess not, seeing one of your answers in the comments :p
There is one thing, which is that Ianto’s teasing of Jack’s (admittedly rather awkward) date proposal seems somewhat ooc to me – at least, I don’t feel he would do so in front of the others.
Looking forward to the next update, I’m curious to see in which direction you’ll take the story.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-03 01:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-17 08:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-05 06:26 am (UTC)This part really struck me.
You will feel his hurts as an echo, and he yours.
Your psychic link between Jack and Ianto is so very much like the link between Jack and the Doctor that I have in my series that I write. I even call it "merging". The biggest difference being they can only feel each others emotions, but no verbal communication. They can feel each others pain, but also their pleasure.
I'll have to keep reading the rest tomarrow as it's late here.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-30 09:26 pm (UTC)Loved everyone treating Ianto on his birthday, even if some of Owen's later comments were less than delightful. Poor Tosh. Ice cream and good movies will hopefully cheer her up.