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thescarletwomanTITLE: Kiss Today Goodbye [Part 2]
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thescarletwoman
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING Jack/Ianto
SUMMARY: Some things aren't always what they seem and a little faith goes a long way. But not every cloud has its silver lining. He may be alive, but at what cost?
WORD COUNT: ~4600
SPOILERS: Children of Earth; Pack Animals & Almost Perfect (mentioned in passing)
NOTES: Continuation of part one of my Fix-It fic. This is turning out to be a lot longer than I expected! Thanks toflameish for the insanely quick beta [all remaining mistakes are my own] and to my girls for the encouragement. Also written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100, prompt "038. Touch".
Kiss Today Goodbye [Part 1]
"I know."
No. No. No-no-no. No.
Jack scuttled backwards in a manner that was less than graceful, tripping on the hem of his greatcoat and getting tangled in the discarded sheet that had formed his make-shift body bag. The plastic slid on the polished wooden floor of the gym, sending Jack skittering into body number twelve. No name, just a number -- like they all were in their neat little rows. He could still hear Ianto's voice in his head, echoing like steps in an empty cathedral.
It was official: after over two thousand years of life and approximately 3,713 deaths (give or take a few hundred), Jack had finally lost his mind. It was the only logical explanation he could reach for why he was hearing the disembodied voice of his departed lover. He was, apparently, so distraught with grief that he was imagining Ianto speaking.
And opening his eyes.
And sitting upright.
What the hell?
This took his delusions to a whole new level. In the back of his mind, Jack was coming to the slow realisation that Ianto had meant more to him than he ever wanted to admit. Jack had lost countless lovers and friends over the years, but never before had he heard their voices speak to him from beyond the grave. The more Jack thought about it, the clearer the conclusion became: he had fallen, and fallen hard, for one Ianto Jones. Sitting on his arse and staring at the now sitting body, Jack wasn't sure if this was a physical falling or a metaphorical one.
"Jack? Why are you looking at me like you've seen a ghost?" Ianto asked, lifting his hands to his throat and loosening the half-Windsor knot at his neck. The look on his face was a mixture of concern and puzzlement as colour slowly began to slip back into his cheeks. The cut on Ianto's face began to seep blood once more, a small drop running down his cheek, Ianto rubbing it away with his thumb.
Instead of replying (Jack didn't trust his voice not to crack if he spoke), Jack gestured around, letting the picture of row after row of bodies covered in red sheets speak for itself. That hybrid expression soon melted from Ianto's face, leaving a look of pure horror in its wake.
Ianto didn't speak again. Instead, his head swivelled from side to side, taking in the scene before him. Jack knew he should edge closer but he was frozen in place, unable to take his eyes from Ianto's form and half afraid that moving would break whatever spell he was under.
Slowly, Ianto's head dropped as the weight of what had happened began to sink in. His eyes were now closed, and Jack wondered if Ianto was trying to shut out the world and ignore the fact that he was sitting in his own body bag, another number in the large list of casualties from the Thames House. Hands shaking, Ianto finally opened his eyes and Jack watched as he cautiously ran his fingertips over the red plastic sheet. With a soft cry, Ianto lifted his lower body, kicking his legs out in an attempt to untangle himself from the morbid sleeping bag.
"Jack."
The way Ianto's voice broke damn near killed Jack. Still he said nothing, his eyes repeatedly roaming from head to toe, looking for something inherently wrong with Ianto -- something that would tell him that all this was nothing more than a figment of his grief-stricken imagination. But, for all his inspecting, Jack could find nothing out of the ordinary.
For the first time in his life, Jack understood how others felt during his deaths and subsequent resurrections. Particularly that first time when Jack's ability wasn't known and it appeared to all the world that Jack had cashed in his proverbial chips -- only to reawaken a few moments later with a large gasp of air. Now, Jack truly began to realise how it affected those he left behind when he acted so recklessly, purposefully throwing himself into every dangerous situation imaginable.
"Jack..." Ianto spoke again, softer this time. "Please."
The soft plea drew Jack from whatever trance-like state he had been in while staring at Ianto. Untangling himself from both the red body bag and the hem of his greatcoat, Jack slowly crawled forward, settling himself on his haunches beside Ianto. Without saying a word, Jack pressed his hand to Ianto's chest, afraid his lover's resurrection was going to be similar to Owen's: alive but not really alive.
Relief coursed through him as he felt a steady heartbeat beneath his palm. Sucking in a quick breath, Jack moved his head and hand upwards, running his thumb along Ianto's lower lip.
Warm.
Warm lips and warm breath met the pads of Jack's fingertips, giving him the final confirmation that Ianto wasn't one of the living dead but was well and truly alive. Not a zombie, not a trick of the light or his mind, but truly here and with him once more.
"Oh God," Jack breathed, swallowing the lump that lodged in his throat.
Slowly, Jack shifted his hand position to cup Ianto's jaw, breathing a small sigh of relief as Ianto leaned into the gentle touch. It was Ianto who finally closed the distance between them, slipping his hand around the back of Jack's neck and pulled him in close.
If there was any doubt in Jack's mind that this was Ianto, those misgivings melted away as soon as Ianto's lips met his own. Three times now Jack and recognised Ianto through his kiss -- no matter how sickeningly romantic that notion was. An invisible Ianto, a feminine Ianto, and now a Ianto brought back from the dead -- and all three times it was the way the man kissed him that told Jack more than words ever could. Jack would know Ianto's kiss anywhere: somehow Ianto had mastered the fine art of a demanding kiss without actually demanding anything from Jack. Soon, Jack raised his other hand, cupping Ianto's face and kissing him with an intensity that left them both breathless.
At some point during the kiss, Ianto had crawled into Jack's lap in an attempt to keep as little space between them as humanly possible. The way Ianto moved against him, the way his hands curled simultaneously in Jack's hair and the lapel of his greatcoat, and the way Ianto's tongue met his own all served one purpose: to tell Jack that Ianto had survived whatever horror virus the 456 had used in an attempt to make an example of those in the Thames House. Ianto may have been brought back, but the others weren't so lucky.
"Ianto," Jack's voice was soft, their bodies still intertwined even after the kiss ended. "I thought... fuck..." Jack's words were broken while he attempted to form a coherent statement that didn't include him babbling like an idiot. He did have a reputation to protect after all.
Smiling, Ianto laid a finger across Jack's lips, shaking his head once. "Don't," he intoned, turning Jack's words back on him. Lightly, Ianto tapped that finger against his lips, his smile growing as a slip of Jack's tongue peeked out to tease that finger. "You don't have to say it, sir. I know."
Jack began to chuckle in spite of himself. "After all this, I'd think you'd have learned to drop the 'sir' business."
"What can I say? I'm a complicated and stubborn man." Ianto shrugged. "Not to mention, I know the title gets you, how do they say, hot and bothered oh Captain my Captain."
God, did Ianto know the fastest way into Jack's heart -- or was that into his trousers? Even if Ianto only ever quoted that line of poetry in his patented 'you idiot' deadpan, Jack couldn't help but grin in response. Opening his mouth to give a snappy comeback in return, Jack's jaw tightened when he caught a flash of black in the outer reaches of his peripheral vision. Jack's head darted from side to side, pushing Ianto's finger away from his lips, turning as best as he could given his position on the floor and the way Ianto was folded in his lap. He could almost catch a glimpse of the shadowy creature, but then it was gone once more, flying just out of Jack's field of vision.
It was as if the thing wanted to be seen but not seen; definitely not a good sign.
He didn't know what it was, only that it caused a sense of foreboding to settle deep within his chest. Perhaps Jack was being paranoid, but seeing shadowy angels following death and resurrection were never good signs in his experience.
"Did you see that?"
All right, so Ianto saw it too. Cue 'sense of foreboding' and upgrade it to 'all out panic' at the count of three. One thing was clear: they needed out of this place and back to Hub 2 (and more importantly to the Torchwood computers) in order to try and figure out what the hell was going on here. They already had the 456 to deal with -- Jack had no designs on adding some vengeful god to the mix. With their small team, Jack wasn't in the mood to fight a war on two fronts with the whopping grand total of three operatives.
"We need to get you out of here," Jack said, ignoring the question from Ianto. "They expect me to come back to life but everyone else is going on the casualty list. It's not Jack Harkness plus one."
"But Jack," Ianto protested, "what about --"
"Sweet mother of God."
Gwen's soft, lilting tones interrupted Ianto's attempt to question Jack a second time. Craning his head around, Jack saw Gwen standing behind him, hand covering her mouth and staring at Ianto like he just rose from the dead.
For once, the simile was accurate assessment.
Flushing (the ability to do so was yet another hash mark in the 'Ianto is alive' column), Ianto quickly unwound himself from Jack's arms and slid away so they weren't intertwined in such an intimate embrace. Even though Gwen was quite aware of their relationship, Ianto apparently still felt the need for some bit of propriety.
"Christ, Ianto..." Gwen trailed off, still staring wide-eyed at him. "I mean... Christ." Another pause. "My God."
Jack understood Gwen's inability to form a coherent thought. Hell, he was still grappling for words to describe the situation himself -- he merely hid it better.
With Ianto no longer firmly ensconced in his arms, Jack rose to his feet and extended a hand to pull the younger man up from the ground as well. Ianto came willingly, moving to stand beside his Captain -- but left his fingers laced with Jack's. Jack would never admit it, but he was glad to have that extra bit of contact between them. So apparently cuddling in Jack's lap was too much for Ianto in front of Gwen, but hand holding was okay.
Ianto Jones: walking dichotomy.
"We don't know how or why," Jack said in response to Gwen's unasked question. "No one else has revived, so the virus had to be fatal but it begs the question of why he's alive. We're both, at the present, alive and well." Aside from the Angel of Death hanging around us both, we're just fine.
"So you're--"
"Very much alive," Ianto said, finishing Gwen's statement.
"Everything about him is alive," Jack said with a leer. "If you catch my dri--"
"I'm fine," Ianto interrupted quickly, before Jack could finish that statement. "Alive and that's all that matters."
A wide grin split Gwen's face in two as she finally rushed towards Ianto, throwing her arms around him and enveloped him in a bear hug. Jack took a respectful step back, releasing Ianto's hand in the process, a small smile on his face as he watched the two have their moment together. After so much death (one only had to look around to see it) and so much personal loss, it was a relief to have something turn out in their favour just this once. Others lost friends and lovers today -- but at least his team had remained whole. Selfish? Perhaps. But this time, Jack figured he could afford to be selfish.
"We need to get him out of here," Jack finally said, pulling himself from his thoughts. His voice jarred Ianto and Gwen apart and they looked at him expectantly, waiting for the rest of Jack's plan. The concerned lover was gone and in his place was the Torchwood Leader -- however, there was no plan in place outside of getting away from the gym and as quickly as possible.
Gwen shifted from one foot to the other, tapping her fingers on her hip while she waited for Jack to speak. There was, however, nothing else for Jack to say.
"UNIT is on their way," Gwen said in an attempt to fill the silence, her movements stilling as she spoke. Her mannerisms had changed as Jack's had; the caring heart melting away to reveal the cool Torchwood operative that lay beneath the surface. Ah, how she'd grown over the years. Jack felt like a proud father watching her taking charge of a situation over which he no longer had control. "They've been checking every twenty minutes to see if you've come to."
"They can't know I'm back yet," Jack replied, tone brisk. "I'm supposed to be the only one who revives, the only one that they're expecting. But to have a second...? All UNIT will want to do is study him. Right now, I doubt I could pull either rank or use the Torchwood card to get us all out of here in one piece. Not after all this." Jack gestured around to the rest of the bodies in the makeshift morgue.
"What part of 'They're coming for you now' don't you understand, Jack?" Gwen repeated, drawing her lips into a thin line. "After that stunt you two just pulled, they want to lock you up."
Jack shook his head, frowning. "Not going, Gwen. Kinky though that might sound, I have no intention of being locked up. Not yet, anyway."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, starting to pace between the rows of bodies. They needed a plan and they needed one fast. Jack wasn't always a fan of plans, simply because they didn't allow for the unknown. Jack liked being prepared through lack of preparation. However, they saw how well Jack's lack of preparation had served them thus far so, perhaps, this time they'd work something out in advance.
What they needed was the Hub -- the original would have been preferable, mind, but the other would have to do for now. At least he had access to the servers, even if the information in the Archives was lost for now. First order of business when they got out of all of this: transcribing those old files to the servers. If the Hub was ever destroyed again, Jack wasn't about to get caught with his trousers down again.
At least -- not in that way. The fun way? Sure. But not that way.
"I need you to buy me some time, Gwen," Jack said, pausing in his pacing in front of the two. "I really need the equipment currently buried under tons of rubble back in Cardiff, but what we have at the other Hub will have to be sufficient for now. I want to figure out what brought him back and why no one else. Not to mention figure out a logical explanation as to why Ianto's still alive and kicking and not like Owen and I'm aware the glove--"
"Risen mitten," Ianto muttered out of the side of his mouth, interrupting Jack.
"Aware the risen mitten," Jack corrected, "is what brought Owen back. But there's nothing like that in the room. So what did it?"
Not to mention the need to figure out what that dark figure he could see out of the corner of his eye was. That, however, wasn't something Jack was about to share with the others. Not yet.
"Why does there always have to be a reason with you, Jack?" Gwen asked, shaking her head. "He's back and it's a miracle, so let's accept it and move on."
Ianto rolled his eyes at that, snorting. "Are you new here?" he queried dryly, raising one eyebrow at Gwen. "Since when has our esteemed Captain ever accepted things at face value and moved on without poking and prodding until it fell apart?"
"And since when do we talk about our Captain as if he wasn't here?" Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest, fixing them both with a level glare.
"And since when does he refer to himself in the third person?" Ianto asked, giving Jack one of his patented 'why do I even bother with you?' looks.
"He'll refer to himself in whatever way he chooses," Jack shot back.
"Even if it makes him sound like a prick?" Gwen supplied, adding her opinion.
"Even then," Jack replied with a haughty lift of his chin. "And for the record, even though he has one, he does not act like one."
"His team would beg to differ," Ianto muttered.
"Yes, they would," Gwen agreed.
Jack's head flicked towards Ianto and he gave him a look of his own: one that clearly said 'you put up with me because I'm that good in bed'.
The way Ianto hung his head (coupled with a bit of colour edging to the tops of his ears) in response told Jack he had won that little skirmish, unfairly of course. Gwen shifted from one foot to the other, almost looking uncomfortable that she was caught, yet again, between one of those silent conversations.
"If you two are quite finished--" Gwen huffed, trying in vain to get them back to the original topic at hand.
"Not even remotely," Jack interjected.
Gwen continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "And if you don't want UNIT finding out about him, then you two need to get out of here and now. They were coming down and, frankly, I'm shocked they haven't come storming in here yet. Far as I can see, you have about nil point three seconds to get--" Abruptly, Gwen cut herself off, eyes growing wide and looking around herself quickly. "What the bleedin' hell was that?"
Jack didn't ask what she saw, he didn't have to. He had seen the flick of black above his head, circling lower this time, close enough that he could nearly make it out. If he were being honest with himself, Jack could have sworn a bit of the tattered black robe brushed his cheek. They were getting nearer and that couldn't be a good sign -- Jack never had the experience that a black robed, shadowed figure was here to shower him with luck and prosperity. "Good question," he said, not really paying attention to her. "I'll let you know when I have the answer to that."
"That..." Gwen said softly, lifting her eyes to the gym ceiling, turning towards darkened corners as if trying to catch sight of the mysterious interloper. Jack could see the wheels turning inside her head, putting one and one together and coming up with three. "That's why you don't want UNIT to find him. Because of that... that thing."
"Astute observation," Jack replied, drawing his lips into a thin line. "I do believe that UNIT would try to dissect and inspect him, for the record, but I whatever is circling us isn't here to throw us a welcome home party. And while I may be pissed at UNIT, I don't wish the Angel of Death on them."
"I thought you said you didn't know what that thing was." Gwen's arms were crossed in front of her body, expression speaking volumes towards her current frustration with Jack. Leave it to Gwen to remember everything Jack said and parrot it back to him at the least opportune moment. Damn her and her police training.
"I don't. But Angel of Death sounds a lot catchier than 'Big Black Thing Swooping Around Above Us That We Don't Know What it Is But Should Be Scared to Death of in Any Case'," Jack pointed out. At some point during his mini-tirade, Jack had begun pacing once more, walking further away from the two, reaching body number seven before he turned back. He wasn't happy and things weren't going to plan -- and if Gwen questioned him one more time in one of his decisions, he was going to lose it.
Yes, Jack knew his track record where decision making was concerned wasn't exactly stellar. Hell, the last choice he made had resulted in the deaths of everyone here in this make-shift morgue. The logical part of his brain said that the 456 would have released the virus regardless in order to incite enough fear in the government to bring about the delivery of children. The emotional part, the part he so desperately tried to keep hidden, said it was all his fault and whatever came about now was on his shoulders.
Including whatever fall-out was to come from Ianto's resurrection.
Amazing how the emotions were winning out over logic. Fantastic.
"Point," Gwen allowed softly, looking suitably abashed. This was the point when Jack should have smoothed her ruffled feathers but he remained silent. Gwen pushed on, managing to be both flustered and annoyed at the same time. The woman had talent. "So what now, Captain?"
Oh fucking hell. Where was the wall to bash his head against when he needed it? The last thing Jack needed was Gwen's sarcasm.
"What now is we get out of here," Jack replied, ignoring Gwen's attitude. "And we figure out what that thing is and if we can get rid of it. Then we deal with the 456. The government will have their hands full with this mess and that should hopefully buy us some time. I just need you to get us out... of here..." Jack's voice trailed off as his eyes flicked towards the discarded body bags on the floor.
Now there was an idea.
"Oh no. Oh no you don't."
And judging by the tone in Ianto's voice, he'd picked up on Jack's brilliant plan.
"It'll work," Jack said, nodding. "Gwen, you're taking our bodies back to Torchwood. Demand a van or whatever they'll let you take. You have to get us to a secure location as per internal regulations. Start making things up if you have to."
"Sir, there are such rules in place," Ianto said with a shake of his head. "Regulations you'd know if you didn't completely disregard the rule book more often than naught. That's the actual rule book, by the way, not the one where you marked out ninety percent of the regulations and doodled dirty pictures in the margins."
"I also did no such thing with the rule book. My one from the Agency? Perhaps. But there was no such markings done in the Torchwood one."
"Which is why I had to retrieve it from within Myfanwy's nest? Perhaps she did them?"
"Precisely. And I follow them," Jack retorted, ignoring the rest of Ianto's argument.
"Yes, when it suits you," Ianto replied dryly.
"Anyway," Jack turned back toward Gwen. "If they ask why I haven't revived, turn on the feminine wiles--"
"Feminine wiles!?" Gwen was outraged. "Ianto, why do you put up with this insufferable man?"
Ianto shrugged his shoulders. "Right now, I'm wondering the same thing myself."
Jack was rapidly losing control of the situation -- if he even had control of it to begin with. Jack threw his hands up in frustration, barely managing to keep his temper under control. Seeing Jack starting to lose his cool, Ianto stepped towards him fisting a hand in the strap of one of Jack's braces.
"Jack, enough," Ianto said, tugging on the elastic. "We've all had a long day. Trust me, I know -- I spent several hours of it dead." Ianto looked down at the sheet and shuddered. "As morbid as the suggestion is, Jack's right. We all see that thing and I think that's what takes top priority right now. We can't do anything about the 456 just yet, but we can look into that thing. Whatever it is."
For once in his life, Jack was putting himself into a body bag rather than being loaded into it by someone. Taking one final deep breath, Jack exhaled and emptied his chest cavity of all air, working on breathing as shallowly as possible. They had one chance to get out of here and hopefully whoever Gwen spoke to would accept a body was nothing more than a body -- and would ignore whatever slight rise and fall occurred beneath the two sheets. The sound of Gwen's boots began to fade as she walked away from them. Jack closed his eyes, straining to listen to the conversation between the soldier and Gwen. He could only make out every eighth word, but Jack was able to fill in the blanks.
Whatever she had told the man apparently worked. Jack held himself as still and as stiff as possible while he was lifted up onto a gurney, praying that Ianto would have enough instinct to properly play dead. There hadn't been time to explain the finer mechanics, Jack had to hope one too many Bondathons would prepare Ianto to do what needed to be done. They were, however, being wheeled from the gym without any cries of tomfoolery.
Moment after moment passed and Jack began to relax. God, they might have pulled this off. He bit back the grunt as he was unceremoniously dropped into the back of a van, the sheet slipping down to reveal Jack's face.
"Oi! Have a bit of respect!" Gwen barked. "Don't care what you might have thought of him, but he still deserves a bit of care even in death."
"Yeah, yeah," came the response and Jack had to fight the urge to open his eye and give him a thorough tongue lashing.
Tempting though it may be, dead bodies didn't talk -- Ianto notwithstanding.
Ianto was loaded into the van beside him and the door was closed. The idiot banged on the door, the universal sign for 'all loaded, move out'. The van's engine roared to life, lurching forward as Gwen pulled away.
They were home free.
A horrible screech filled the sky, and once more that horrible feeling settled in the pit of Jack's stomach. He didn't have to look out the back of the van to know that Angel of Darkness was circling overhead, stalking Ianto.
Home free? Jack had spoken far too soon.
AUTHOR:
thescarletwomanRATING: PG-13
PAIRING Jack/Ianto
SUMMARY: Some things aren't always what they seem and a little faith goes a long way. But not every cloud has its silver lining. He may be alive, but at what cost?
WORD COUNT: ~4600
SPOILERS: Children of Earth; Pack Animals & Almost Perfect (mentioned in passing)
NOTES: Continuation of part one of my Fix-It fic. This is turning out to be a lot longer than I expected! Thanks to
flameish for the insanely quick beta [all remaining mistakes are my own] and to my girls for the encouragement. Also written for fanfic100, prompt "038. Touch".Kiss Today Goodbye [Part 1]
"I know."
No. No. No-no-no. No.
Jack scuttled backwards in a manner that was less than graceful, tripping on the hem of his greatcoat and getting tangled in the discarded sheet that had formed his make-shift body bag. The plastic slid on the polished wooden floor of the gym, sending Jack skittering into body number twelve. No name, just a number -- like they all were in their neat little rows. He could still hear Ianto's voice in his head, echoing like steps in an empty cathedral.
It was official: after over two thousand years of life and approximately 3,713 deaths (give or take a few hundred), Jack had finally lost his mind. It was the only logical explanation he could reach for why he was hearing the disembodied voice of his departed lover. He was, apparently, so distraught with grief that he was imagining Ianto speaking.
And opening his eyes.
And sitting upright.
What the hell?
This took his delusions to a whole new level. In the back of his mind, Jack was coming to the slow realisation that Ianto had meant more to him than he ever wanted to admit. Jack had lost countless lovers and friends over the years, but never before had he heard their voices speak to him from beyond the grave. The more Jack thought about it, the clearer the conclusion became: he had fallen, and fallen hard, for one Ianto Jones. Sitting on his arse and staring at the now sitting body, Jack wasn't sure if this was a physical falling or a metaphorical one.
"Jack? Why are you looking at me like you've seen a ghost?" Ianto asked, lifting his hands to his throat and loosening the half-Windsor knot at his neck. The look on his face was a mixture of concern and puzzlement as colour slowly began to slip back into his cheeks. The cut on Ianto's face began to seep blood once more, a small drop running down his cheek, Ianto rubbing it away with his thumb.
Instead of replying (Jack didn't trust his voice not to crack if he spoke), Jack gestured around, letting the picture of row after row of bodies covered in red sheets speak for itself. That hybrid expression soon melted from Ianto's face, leaving a look of pure horror in its wake.
Ianto didn't speak again. Instead, his head swivelled from side to side, taking in the scene before him. Jack knew he should edge closer but he was frozen in place, unable to take his eyes from Ianto's form and half afraid that moving would break whatever spell he was under.
Slowly, Ianto's head dropped as the weight of what had happened began to sink in. His eyes were now closed, and Jack wondered if Ianto was trying to shut out the world and ignore the fact that he was sitting in his own body bag, another number in the large list of casualties from the Thames House. Hands shaking, Ianto finally opened his eyes and Jack watched as he cautiously ran his fingertips over the red plastic sheet. With a soft cry, Ianto lifted his lower body, kicking his legs out in an attempt to untangle himself from the morbid sleeping bag.
"Jack."
The way Ianto's voice broke damn near killed Jack. Still he said nothing, his eyes repeatedly roaming from head to toe, looking for something inherently wrong with Ianto -- something that would tell him that all this was nothing more than a figment of his grief-stricken imagination. But, for all his inspecting, Jack could find nothing out of the ordinary.
For the first time in his life, Jack understood how others felt during his deaths and subsequent resurrections. Particularly that first time when Jack's ability wasn't known and it appeared to all the world that Jack had cashed in his proverbial chips -- only to reawaken a few moments later with a large gasp of air. Now, Jack truly began to realise how it affected those he left behind when he acted so recklessly, purposefully throwing himself into every dangerous situation imaginable.
"Jack..." Ianto spoke again, softer this time. "Please."
The soft plea drew Jack from whatever trance-like state he had been in while staring at Ianto. Untangling himself from both the red body bag and the hem of his greatcoat, Jack slowly crawled forward, settling himself on his haunches beside Ianto. Without saying a word, Jack pressed his hand to Ianto's chest, afraid his lover's resurrection was going to be similar to Owen's: alive but not really alive.
Relief coursed through him as he felt a steady heartbeat beneath his palm. Sucking in a quick breath, Jack moved his head and hand upwards, running his thumb along Ianto's lower lip.
Warm.
Warm lips and warm breath met the pads of Jack's fingertips, giving him the final confirmation that Ianto wasn't one of the living dead but was well and truly alive. Not a zombie, not a trick of the light or his mind, but truly here and with him once more.
"Oh God," Jack breathed, swallowing the lump that lodged in his throat.
Slowly, Jack shifted his hand position to cup Ianto's jaw, breathing a small sigh of relief as Ianto leaned into the gentle touch. It was Ianto who finally closed the distance between them, slipping his hand around the back of Jack's neck and pulled him in close.
If there was any doubt in Jack's mind that this was Ianto, those misgivings melted away as soon as Ianto's lips met his own. Three times now Jack and recognised Ianto through his kiss -- no matter how sickeningly romantic that notion was. An invisible Ianto, a feminine Ianto, and now a Ianto brought back from the dead -- and all three times it was the way the man kissed him that told Jack more than words ever could. Jack would know Ianto's kiss anywhere: somehow Ianto had mastered the fine art of a demanding kiss without actually demanding anything from Jack. Soon, Jack raised his other hand, cupping Ianto's face and kissing him with an intensity that left them both breathless.
At some point during the kiss, Ianto had crawled into Jack's lap in an attempt to keep as little space between them as humanly possible. The way Ianto moved against him, the way his hands curled simultaneously in Jack's hair and the lapel of his greatcoat, and the way Ianto's tongue met his own all served one purpose: to tell Jack that Ianto had survived whatever horror virus the 456 had used in an attempt to make an example of those in the Thames House. Ianto may have been brought back, but the others weren't so lucky.
"Ianto," Jack's voice was soft, their bodies still intertwined even after the kiss ended. "I thought... fuck..." Jack's words were broken while he attempted to form a coherent statement that didn't include him babbling like an idiot. He did have a reputation to protect after all.
Smiling, Ianto laid a finger across Jack's lips, shaking his head once. "Don't," he intoned, turning Jack's words back on him. Lightly, Ianto tapped that finger against his lips, his smile growing as a slip of Jack's tongue peeked out to tease that finger. "You don't have to say it, sir. I know."
Jack began to chuckle in spite of himself. "After all this, I'd think you'd have learned to drop the 'sir' business."
"What can I say? I'm a complicated and stubborn man." Ianto shrugged. "Not to mention, I know the title gets you, how do they say, hot and bothered oh Captain my Captain."
God, did Ianto know the fastest way into Jack's heart -- or was that into his trousers? Even if Ianto only ever quoted that line of poetry in his patented 'you idiot' deadpan, Jack couldn't help but grin in response. Opening his mouth to give a snappy comeback in return, Jack's jaw tightened when he caught a flash of black in the outer reaches of his peripheral vision. Jack's head darted from side to side, pushing Ianto's finger away from his lips, turning as best as he could given his position on the floor and the way Ianto was folded in his lap. He could almost catch a glimpse of the shadowy creature, but then it was gone once more, flying just out of Jack's field of vision.
It was as if the thing wanted to be seen but not seen; definitely not a good sign.
He didn't know what it was, only that it caused a sense of foreboding to settle deep within his chest. Perhaps Jack was being paranoid, but seeing shadowy angels following death and resurrection were never good signs in his experience.
"Did you see that?"
All right, so Ianto saw it too. Cue 'sense of foreboding' and upgrade it to 'all out panic' at the count of three. One thing was clear: they needed out of this place and back to Hub 2 (and more importantly to the Torchwood computers) in order to try and figure out what the hell was going on here. They already had the 456 to deal with -- Jack had no designs on adding some vengeful god to the mix. With their small team, Jack wasn't in the mood to fight a war on two fronts with the whopping grand total of three operatives.
"We need to get you out of here," Jack said, ignoring the question from Ianto. "They expect me to come back to life but everyone else is going on the casualty list. It's not Jack Harkness plus one."
"But Jack," Ianto protested, "what about --"
"Sweet mother of God."
Gwen's soft, lilting tones interrupted Ianto's attempt to question Jack a second time. Craning his head around, Jack saw Gwen standing behind him, hand covering her mouth and staring at Ianto like he just rose from the dead.
For once, the simile was accurate assessment.
Flushing (the ability to do so was yet another hash mark in the 'Ianto is alive' column), Ianto quickly unwound himself from Jack's arms and slid away so they weren't intertwined in such an intimate embrace. Even though Gwen was quite aware of their relationship, Ianto apparently still felt the need for some bit of propriety.
"Christ, Ianto..." Gwen trailed off, still staring wide-eyed at him. "I mean... Christ." Another pause. "My God."
Jack understood Gwen's inability to form a coherent thought. Hell, he was still grappling for words to describe the situation himself -- he merely hid it better.
With Ianto no longer firmly ensconced in his arms, Jack rose to his feet and extended a hand to pull the younger man up from the ground as well. Ianto came willingly, moving to stand beside his Captain -- but left his fingers laced with Jack's. Jack would never admit it, but he was glad to have that extra bit of contact between them. So apparently cuddling in Jack's lap was too much for Ianto in front of Gwen, but hand holding was okay.
Ianto Jones: walking dichotomy.
"We don't know how or why," Jack said in response to Gwen's unasked question. "No one else has revived, so the virus had to be fatal but it begs the question of why he's alive. We're both, at the present, alive and well." Aside from the Angel of Death hanging around us both, we're just fine.
"So you're--"
"Very much alive," Ianto said, finishing Gwen's statement.
"Everything about him is alive," Jack said with a leer. "If you catch my dri--"
"I'm fine," Ianto interrupted quickly, before Jack could finish that statement. "Alive and that's all that matters."
A wide grin split Gwen's face in two as she finally rushed towards Ianto, throwing her arms around him and enveloped him in a bear hug. Jack took a respectful step back, releasing Ianto's hand in the process, a small smile on his face as he watched the two have their moment together. After so much death (one only had to look around to see it) and so much personal loss, it was a relief to have something turn out in their favour just this once. Others lost friends and lovers today -- but at least his team had remained whole. Selfish? Perhaps. But this time, Jack figured he could afford to be selfish.
"We need to get him out of here," Jack finally said, pulling himself from his thoughts. His voice jarred Ianto and Gwen apart and they looked at him expectantly, waiting for the rest of Jack's plan. The concerned lover was gone and in his place was the Torchwood Leader -- however, there was no plan in place outside of getting away from the gym and as quickly as possible.
Gwen shifted from one foot to the other, tapping her fingers on her hip while she waited for Jack to speak. There was, however, nothing else for Jack to say.
"UNIT is on their way," Gwen said in an attempt to fill the silence, her movements stilling as she spoke. Her mannerisms had changed as Jack's had; the caring heart melting away to reveal the cool Torchwood operative that lay beneath the surface. Ah, how she'd grown over the years. Jack felt like a proud father watching her taking charge of a situation over which he no longer had control. "They've been checking every twenty minutes to see if you've come to."
"They can't know I'm back yet," Jack replied, tone brisk. "I'm supposed to be the only one who revives, the only one that they're expecting. But to have a second...? All UNIT will want to do is study him. Right now, I doubt I could pull either rank or use the Torchwood card to get us all out of here in one piece. Not after all this." Jack gestured around to the rest of the bodies in the makeshift morgue.
"What part of 'They're coming for you now' don't you understand, Jack?" Gwen repeated, drawing her lips into a thin line. "After that stunt you two just pulled, they want to lock you up."
Jack shook his head, frowning. "Not going, Gwen. Kinky though that might sound, I have no intention of being locked up. Not yet, anyway."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, starting to pace between the rows of bodies. They needed a plan and they needed one fast. Jack wasn't always a fan of plans, simply because they didn't allow for the unknown. Jack liked being prepared through lack of preparation. However, they saw how well Jack's lack of preparation had served them thus far so, perhaps, this time they'd work something out in advance.
What they needed was the Hub -- the original would have been preferable, mind, but the other would have to do for now. At least he had access to the servers, even if the information in the Archives was lost for now. First order of business when they got out of all of this: transcribing those old files to the servers. If the Hub was ever destroyed again, Jack wasn't about to get caught with his trousers down again.
At least -- not in that way. The fun way? Sure. But not that way.
"I need you to buy me some time, Gwen," Jack said, pausing in his pacing in front of the two. "I really need the equipment currently buried under tons of rubble back in Cardiff, but what we have at the other Hub will have to be sufficient for now. I want to figure out what brought him back and why no one else. Not to mention figure out a logical explanation as to why Ianto's still alive and kicking and not like Owen and I'm aware the glove--"
"Risen mitten," Ianto muttered out of the side of his mouth, interrupting Jack.
"Aware the risen mitten," Jack corrected, "is what brought Owen back. But there's nothing like that in the room. So what did it?"
Not to mention the need to figure out what that dark figure he could see out of the corner of his eye was. That, however, wasn't something Jack was about to share with the others. Not yet.
"Why does there always have to be a reason with you, Jack?" Gwen asked, shaking her head. "He's back and it's a miracle, so let's accept it and move on."
Ianto rolled his eyes at that, snorting. "Are you new here?" he queried dryly, raising one eyebrow at Gwen. "Since when has our esteemed Captain ever accepted things at face value and moved on without poking and prodding until it fell apart?"
"And since when do we talk about our Captain as if he wasn't here?" Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest, fixing them both with a level glare.
"And since when does he refer to himself in the third person?" Ianto asked, giving Jack one of his patented 'why do I even bother with you?' looks.
"He'll refer to himself in whatever way he chooses," Jack shot back.
"Even if it makes him sound like a prick?" Gwen supplied, adding her opinion.
"Even then," Jack replied with a haughty lift of his chin. "And for the record, even though he has one, he does not act like one."
"His team would beg to differ," Ianto muttered.
"Yes, they would," Gwen agreed.
Jack's head flicked towards Ianto and he gave him a look of his own: one that clearly said 'you put up with me because I'm that good in bed'.
The way Ianto hung his head (coupled with a bit of colour edging to the tops of his ears) in response told Jack he had won that little skirmish, unfairly of course. Gwen shifted from one foot to the other, almost looking uncomfortable that she was caught, yet again, between one of those silent conversations.
"If you two are quite finished--" Gwen huffed, trying in vain to get them back to the original topic at hand.
"Not even remotely," Jack interjected.
Gwen continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "And if you don't want UNIT finding out about him, then you two need to get out of here and now. They were coming down and, frankly, I'm shocked they haven't come storming in here yet. Far as I can see, you have about nil point three seconds to get--" Abruptly, Gwen cut herself off, eyes growing wide and looking around herself quickly. "What the bleedin' hell was that?"
Jack didn't ask what she saw, he didn't have to. He had seen the flick of black above his head, circling lower this time, close enough that he could nearly make it out. If he were being honest with himself, Jack could have sworn a bit of the tattered black robe brushed his cheek. They were getting nearer and that couldn't be a good sign -- Jack never had the experience that a black robed, shadowed figure was here to shower him with luck and prosperity. "Good question," he said, not really paying attention to her. "I'll let you know when I have the answer to that."
"That..." Gwen said softly, lifting her eyes to the gym ceiling, turning towards darkened corners as if trying to catch sight of the mysterious interloper. Jack could see the wheels turning inside her head, putting one and one together and coming up with three. "That's why you don't want UNIT to find him. Because of that... that thing."
"Astute observation," Jack replied, drawing his lips into a thin line. "I do believe that UNIT would try to dissect and inspect him, for the record, but I whatever is circling us isn't here to throw us a welcome home party. And while I may be pissed at UNIT, I don't wish the Angel of Death on them."
"I thought you said you didn't know what that thing was." Gwen's arms were crossed in front of her body, expression speaking volumes towards her current frustration with Jack. Leave it to Gwen to remember everything Jack said and parrot it back to him at the least opportune moment. Damn her and her police training.
"I don't. But Angel of Death sounds a lot catchier than 'Big Black Thing Swooping Around Above Us That We Don't Know What it Is But Should Be Scared to Death of in Any Case'," Jack pointed out. At some point during his mini-tirade, Jack had begun pacing once more, walking further away from the two, reaching body number seven before he turned back. He wasn't happy and things weren't going to plan -- and if Gwen questioned him one more time in one of his decisions, he was going to lose it.
Yes, Jack knew his track record where decision making was concerned wasn't exactly stellar. Hell, the last choice he made had resulted in the deaths of everyone here in this make-shift morgue. The logical part of his brain said that the 456 would have released the virus regardless in order to incite enough fear in the government to bring about the delivery of children. The emotional part, the part he so desperately tried to keep hidden, said it was all his fault and whatever came about now was on his shoulders.
Including whatever fall-out was to come from Ianto's resurrection.
Amazing how the emotions were winning out over logic. Fantastic.
"Point," Gwen allowed softly, looking suitably abashed. This was the point when Jack should have smoothed her ruffled feathers but he remained silent. Gwen pushed on, managing to be both flustered and annoyed at the same time. The woman had talent. "So what now, Captain?"
Oh fucking hell. Where was the wall to bash his head against when he needed it? The last thing Jack needed was Gwen's sarcasm.
"What now is we get out of here," Jack replied, ignoring Gwen's attitude. "And we figure out what that thing is and if we can get rid of it. Then we deal with the 456. The government will have their hands full with this mess and that should hopefully buy us some time. I just need you to get us out... of here..." Jack's voice trailed off as his eyes flicked towards the discarded body bags on the floor.
Now there was an idea.
"Oh no. Oh no you don't."
And judging by the tone in Ianto's voice, he'd picked up on Jack's brilliant plan.
"It'll work," Jack said, nodding. "Gwen, you're taking our bodies back to Torchwood. Demand a van or whatever they'll let you take. You have to get us to a secure location as per internal regulations. Start making things up if you have to."
"Sir, there are such rules in place," Ianto said with a shake of his head. "Regulations you'd know if you didn't completely disregard the rule book more often than naught. That's the actual rule book, by the way, not the one where you marked out ninety percent of the regulations and doodled dirty pictures in the margins."
"I also did no such thing with the rule book. My one from the Agency? Perhaps. But there was no such markings done in the Torchwood one."
"Which is why I had to retrieve it from within Myfanwy's nest? Perhaps she did them?"
"Precisely. And I follow them," Jack retorted, ignoring the rest of Ianto's argument.
"Yes, when it suits you," Ianto replied dryly.
"Anyway," Jack turned back toward Gwen. "If they ask why I haven't revived, turn on the feminine wiles--"
"Feminine wiles!?" Gwen was outraged. "Ianto, why do you put up with this insufferable man?"
Ianto shrugged his shoulders. "Right now, I'm wondering the same thing myself."
Jack was rapidly losing control of the situation -- if he even had control of it to begin with. Jack threw his hands up in frustration, barely managing to keep his temper under control. Seeing Jack starting to lose his cool, Ianto stepped towards him fisting a hand in the strap of one of Jack's braces.
"Jack, enough," Ianto said, tugging on the elastic. "We've all had a long day. Trust me, I know -- I spent several hours of it dead." Ianto looked down at the sheet and shuddered. "As morbid as the suggestion is, Jack's right. We all see that thing and I think that's what takes top priority right now. We can't do anything about the 456 just yet, but we can look into that thing. Whatever it is."
For once in his life, Jack was putting himself into a body bag rather than being loaded into it by someone. Taking one final deep breath, Jack exhaled and emptied his chest cavity of all air, working on breathing as shallowly as possible. They had one chance to get out of here and hopefully whoever Gwen spoke to would accept a body was nothing more than a body -- and would ignore whatever slight rise and fall occurred beneath the two sheets. The sound of Gwen's boots began to fade as she walked away from them. Jack closed his eyes, straining to listen to the conversation between the soldier and Gwen. He could only make out every eighth word, but Jack was able to fill in the blanks.
Whatever she had told the man apparently worked. Jack held himself as still and as stiff as possible while he was lifted up onto a gurney, praying that Ianto would have enough instinct to properly play dead. There hadn't been time to explain the finer mechanics, Jack had to hope one too many Bondathons would prepare Ianto to do what needed to be done. They were, however, being wheeled from the gym without any cries of tomfoolery.
Moment after moment passed and Jack began to relax. God, they might have pulled this off. He bit back the grunt as he was unceremoniously dropped into the back of a van, the sheet slipping down to reveal Jack's face.
"Oi! Have a bit of respect!" Gwen barked. "Don't care what you might have thought of him, but he still deserves a bit of care even in death."
"Yeah, yeah," came the response and Jack had to fight the urge to open his eye and give him a thorough tongue lashing.
Tempting though it may be, dead bodies didn't talk -- Ianto notwithstanding.
Ianto was loaded into the van beside him and the door was closed. The idiot banged on the door, the universal sign for 'all loaded, move out'. The van's engine roared to life, lurching forward as Gwen pulled away.
They were home free.
A horrible screech filled the sky, and once more that horrible feeling settled in the pit of Jack's stomach. He didn't have to look out the back of the van to know that Angel of Darkness was circling overhead, stalking Ianto.
Home free? Jack had spoken far too soon.
