Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.


Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Warning For This Chapter: Ianto/Lisa moments, non-sexual, some imagery may be disturbing (illness-related)

Notes For This Chapter: it's not necessary, but please note there are parallels to DW's "Doomsday", "Army of Ghosts", and TW's "Fragments". No spoilers, but history and ages are based and parallel the episodes. Again, not required viewing but you may want to go to a Wiki and consider reading. :)


Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12



Master Fic List: here


Chapter 13
Next day…

He wanted to knock it off the table.

It was a plastic model of Torchwood One, after their modifications and construction. Someone, in a fit of arrogance or patriotism, had placed a tiny Union Jack on its apex. It flew over where the spatial breach Lisa had described was located. Domed under a Plexiglas display case, it stood for everything it had, has, and will do for the Empire.

And he wanted to take a chair to it; preferably the one he was sitting on by the one end of the meeting table, waiting for Director Hartman to finish her call with the Cardiff branch.

"What's done is done, Alex! Nothing you predicted has ever happened. And I'll be damned if I keep standing back while you conspire with Whitehall to interfere with me!" Hartman snapped, forgetting she had a visitor waiting in front of her. "What we have set forth was for the Empire and it would be good of you to remember that when you accuse your fellow man!"

The phone was slammed down hard enough to have doubts for its housing's safety. Ianto hastily averted his gaze when Hartman cleared her throat.

"Ah." It finally occurred to her she wasn't alone. Hartman took a steadying breath and patted down her hair. "Jones, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Director Hartman's fingers alternated going up and down on the table as she considered him.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you again, Mr. Jones." A thin, blonde eyebrow rose as she picked up a form in front of her. She pulled out reading glasses and rested them on the tip of her nose. "You seemed quite adamant last time that you weren't interested."

Ianto forced himself to smile. "I gave it some thought."

"Quite some thought," Hartman remarked wryly. "It's been weeks now and…" She checked the application. The eyebrow rose higher. "Very specific too. MX-CR?" Her brow knitted together and looked at him over the rim of her spectacles. "The Doctor recommended you for the Rift program."

"I thought it would be awkward," Ianto replied. "I am currently…seeing someone. In Dr. Singh's team in the Rift Program." Under the desk, Ianto wiped his palms on his trousers. It was early morning. Ianto hadn't sleep all night. He had left Lisa in their bed and come straight up to the top offices as soon as Abigail opened them. He waited for the director to come in, his form filled out with a shaky hand and stared straight at Hartman's doors, ignoring Abigail's curious study.

The deep taps on the wood grated his nerves. "Hm," Hartman said. "I see." She peered at him over her reading glasses.

Ianto fought the urge to look away. His body thrummed with the effort to sit still; his stomach churned the longer he sat here and he thought of Harkness down there with Granger and his team.

"I take it you'd seen the Doctor's companion then?" There was a slight smirk on her face. "You seem quite attached to it. The Doctor's right. Very friendly sort, I suppose."

The smile was beginning to hurt to keep on his face. His hands curled under the table. "I was surprised we were able to obtain Captain Harkness'… assistance for the MX-CR." He wanted to throw up.

Hartman scanned Ianto's file as she murmured, distracted. "It was voluntary actually."

Ianto started. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you, did you say…?"

The director shrugged and took off her glasses. "The Doctor's companion has an illness and was undergoing a treatment to leech vortex energy from the cellular level. Except it needed to be done constantly and the Doctor said he didn't have the resources. He was needed elsewhere." The smile she offered was sickening.

"We needed a viable energy source to continue MX-CR and the Doctor volunteered. It was an ideal arrangement."

"You mean the captain volunteered." Ianto's blood ran cold when the director just stared blankly at him. His fingers itched, remembering how cool and ashy dry the captain's skin was when he touched the only unmarred skin he could find. The tubing had left dark clots under Harkness' skin. When Ianto realized he had only brought more of the same tubing to Granger, Ianto felt lightheaded. He had mumbled an excuse and fled after Granger detached the old ones. The thin tubing was tipped with blood and droplets had fallen onto the white hospital gown Harkness wore when pulled.

Ianto had huddled over a toilet deep in the archives and he didn't leave until his face dried and his stomach calmed.

"The Doctor may very well have propelled England into the glory days of the Empire again. An unfounded benefactor for Torchwood." Hartman looked far away; her fingers tapped continuously. Ianto almost begged her to stop. "His contributions will help us open the breach and we'll be able to harness its power. It could power this nation, Jones. It is good you wish to be on the cusp of history here."

He wasn't sure how to respond and chose to say nothing.

"You're sure you would not rather be in Reger's team, though? The Doctor had expressed hope you would be involved with the breach. There's not much to do in Granger's; more likely just upkeep of the converter chamber."

Ianto fought the urge to curl back his lip. "No, thank you, Director. I think I would better serve the MX-CR group." With the captain. He wanted to scream at her to stop delaying. It felt like the minutes stretched to the point of pain. Deep down, Ianto knew he must be behaving irrationally. What could he possibly do in there?

"Very well." Hartman sighed as if she had granted Ianto an exorbitant favor. "I'll send the paperwork down to Granger. Ask Abigail to get you the materials you would need."

Ianto would have sagged in his seat. But he wanted to leave when the director started to rap her fingers again on the table; the beat was excessive and followed him out of the boardroom. It was enough to give Ianto a headache.



Harkness looked cold. He felt cold.

Ianto shivered in his new lab coat. It still smelled musty from being fresh out of its wrapper, the creases from its folds stuck out, giving Ianto a boxy shape that only made him feel more awkward in it.

The person he was keeping company, however, didn’t comment on his appearance. Harkness, garbed in only a white surgical gown, had lain on the platform the whole time. Ianto sat on a stool, elbows on his knees, the PDA meter that he was supposed to use to record Harkness' vitals was still in the deep wells of his pocket. It was useless for now.

The phones had been ringing constantly with demands for power. Cells the size of propane tanks were being delivered down to the wing currently under construction for the expansion. Granger was too busy shouting at his other two assistants to give Ianto any instruction except to sit here and "not break anything".

He wanted to break it all.

The chamber reminded him of the inside of the police box. The only differences were the mainframes, what drywall the coral didn't cover, and the awaiting oxygen tanks that lined up along one wall. Computers to monitor everything were moved to the back behind a thick glass wall to make room for the platform and its occupant.

It took Ianto a few minutes before he dared approach the silent figure on the oval surface the first time he entered the room in an official capacity. He stood by the raised dais by the captain's right arm, suddenly at a loss on what to do. A feeling of helplessness and anger warred inside him; a feeling he knew all too well as a young man. Ianto didn't know if it was memory making him react this way or Harkness. Perhaps it didn't matter.

Tentatively, he fingered Harkness' short hair, spiked and chilled from the cold that had settled on the captain's body. Ianto pulled away, perturbed at how the captain's hair felt limp, no longer warm and charged like before down in a dim hallway.

Harkness was pale, his lashes dark against his almost gray skin, and his eyes sunken to small shadows on his face. The hospital gown he wore only accentuated the paleness of his exposed limbs. The feeding tube slithering out from under his gown made Ianto ill. The numerous lines of white tubing lit like blue neon lights came out of bloody IV ports in his wrists and ankles. And every so often a blue vapor wafted out of the captain's body, but no one batted an eye as it evaporated into the jagged glass pieces above.

It hurt to see him like this.

The machines that lined the wall, Granger had explained in a rare moment of generosity, collected the vortex ions, converted them to kilowatts and distributed them to the other labs.

They were using him like a bloody battery.

Ianto breathed softly on his fingers to warm them before he settled them lightly on Harkness' left wrist, avoiding the swelling, bloody IV port.

"Captain?" Ianto leaned towards Harkness' left ear. Even the captain's scent seemed to be fading.

"Captain?" Ianto tried again. He pressed his fingers to the weak fluttering beat he could feel. Ianto closed his eyes briefly. He mentally counted the beats, willed it to throb stronger. It didn't.

"Can you hear me?" Ianto whispered sadly, his fingers stroking the fragile skin.

"Can't hear you, mate." Clive Cohn, one of Granger's assistants, waltzed in with his eyes on his PDA. "Don't bother trying." He scratched his thinning hair with the stylus pen he carried.

Ianto frowned. "And why is that?"

Clive made a circuit around to Harkness' head. Eyes still on the PDA, he tapped a finger to Harkness' inner elbows where there were different types of tubing which went up to several IV bags that hung on the pole like yellow balloons. They swayed behind Harkness' head when he poked the bags with a finger.

"Sedative," the aide quipped as he noted the equipment. He tapped one gauge and muttered as he inputted the information in. "The Doctor's special. Calls it PV-35. Keeps his companion quiet. Thank God." Clive made a face. "Made the most god-awful noise the first three days."

Ianto's mouth was dry. "He was awake before?"

"If you could call it that." Clive shrugged. He wiggled past to the computer in the back. "Better this way. Doctor said it was kinder."

"Kinder," Ianto repeated thinly.

"Brilliant stuff. Heard the Doctor's talk on it. Granger's sending some to Cardiff for their Weevil infestation. See if it helps." Tap, tap, tap, his fingers flew across the keyboard. Clive's foot went up and down to a beat only he could hear. "Makes it more comfortable."

Ianto's eyes grew stormy. "Comfortable?" He slipped his hands under Harkness' shoulders—God, they were so cold and stiff against an even colder, hard surface—and pulled his hands right back out. His hands were lightly stained red.

"Ah." Clive shrugged. "Bed sores. The companion gets them lots. They go away on their own."

Ianto felt the corners of his eyes burn. "Bed sores," he said tightly, "Do not go away on their own." He could still taste the cocktail of bleach, metallic artificial oxygen, and rubbing alcohol in his mouth. It was a nauseating mix he would never forget. It was the taste of illness, of being trapped in a body that didn't match the spirit.

Clive never noticed Ianto giving him a withering look as he inputted his data into the computer. "These do." He shrugged again before adding, "Eventually."

A few more taps of the keyboard and Clive yawned, staggering back up on his feet.

"Anyway, Doctor told us to keep it under, so we did. So no sense trying to start a conversation." Clive clapped Ianto on the back, meant to be a friendly gesture, but Ianto flinched nevertheless. The aide never noticed, never even batted an eye. He just gathered his equipment, took a final scan of Harkness and left. Seconds later, he was heard shouting at Granger he was going out to lunch. Granger shouted back he didn't care.

Ianto sat down heavily on the stool by Harkness' head. He reached out a hand only to pull it back again.

"I think you can hear me," Ianto said quietly. He reached out again and dropped his hand on Harkness' left shoulder. He rubbed it absently simply because he didn't know what else he could do.

Only the hiss from the converters replied, but it was enough of an answer for him to shudder.



"You knew?" Ianto gaped at Lisa. "You knew all this time and never said anything?"

Lisa gave Lorrie a guilty look. "We…we weren't suppose to even tell you this much before."

"And you're not suppose to mention what's in MX-CR either," Frederick pointed out, not at all acting guilty. He reached over, flipped open the pizza box and grabbed a slice. "You did read the disclaimer on the background check paperwork, didn't you? Security clearances only, mate. You didn't have it then."

It made sense. It did. As did Lisa and her friends dragging him back down to his old "G" to "I" section for a celebratory slice. It all made sense yet it didn't.

"You knew," Ianto looked at Lisa, too numb to even inject an ounce of accusation in his tone.

Lisa, her eyes downcast, bit her lower lip and nodded.

"Chin up," Elisa chorused to Lisa's right. "You have clearance now. Besides, before, I didn't know either."

"That's because we didn't want you to go over there and drool your perverted little heart out." Frederick ducked a straw, then the pepperoni, but failed to dodge the pointy size three shoe to his shin.

"Guys," Lisa shushed them as she turned anxiously back to Ianto. "I didn't think you would be that upset over this, otherwise I would have found some way to tell you."

The curious gazes upon him drew Ianto out of his brooding. He offered a tight smile to them all and gripped Lisa's hand on his knee.

"It was startling," Ianto conceded. "To know we did this to another living thing…"

"Oi, don't make us sound like that," Frederick protested, wiping his mouth clean of sauce. "The bloke volunteered."

"How could anyone volunteer for something like that?" Ianto forced the words out between his teeth. "He…they tied him up like…like an animal for slaughter! It's inhumane—don't say it's okay because he could be an alien!" Ianto cut off whatever Frederick was going to say. "Doesn't make it right."

Frederick's mouth snapped shut. He exchanged a frown with Lorrie.

"But the equipment was from their ship." Elisa looked around for confirmation. "It's not like we made the machines. It was already done, so they must have been doing this before, am I right?"

A chill went down Ianto's back and settled in his gut. He didn't respond. He was worried he would end up vomiting instead.

"Maybe it's some sort of alien time traveling bondage thing," Frederick added weakly. He cringed, hearing himself and shot Ianto an apologetic look. "Sorry, mate."

Conversation was awkward for the next few minutes. Ianto could feel the looks of concern they shot Lisa before leaving. All he could do was muster a wan smile farewell. He concentrated on picking up the marinara stained napkins and empty pizza boxes.

Arms slipped around from behind. He stopped.

"It's not your desk anymore." Lisa was warm against his back, her voice muffled against his suit jacket.

"You better not get lipstick on my jacket again," Ianto protested half-heartedly.

"Ianto Jones, my romantic." Lisa released him though and slipped around to sit on the desk. She looked at him, her eyes cloudy with remorse.

"Sorry, love." She toyed with his tie ends, absently smoothing her fingers on the quality fabric.

"Maybe if I had told you, it wouldn't have come as quite a shock," she fretted. "I didn't think they would assign you to the MX-CR project just like that. Even I don't have that kind of clearance."

Ianto pulled away, his tie slipping out of Lisa's loose grasp. He couldn't look at her, couldn't lie to her, but found he couldn't tell the truth either.

"It's not the same, you know."

Ianto crammed down a pizza box into the bag harder than he intended. "I know," he rasped.

"I mean, back then, it was illness that took your...There was no choice then."

It didn't look like Harkness had a choice either; at least, the captain didn't think so. Ianto could still feel the weight of his head on his lap, how his body fought the tremors that shook with each strangled sound yet no tears. It was as if they ran out long ago. Ianto knew the feeling and how hollow it made you feel afterwards trying to cry dry-eyed.

"Maybe if you tell them about…" Lisa stopped because she caught Ianto's face; because even now, she knew it still hurt. Lisa frowned at him, her face open with worry. "Are you going to be alright doing this?"

Ianto shrugged and discarded the soda cups.

"Love, stop cleaning for a bit." Lisa framed his face with her hands. "Maybe…maybe this will help." She rested her forehead against his throat. "Maybe you can finally let go."

Ianto lowered the bag and hesitantly placed his hands on her shoulders. He knew Lisa just wanted to help and perhaps in a way, this would. He lowered his head until his chin rested on top of her head and he thought of how strange it was to let someone else worry and fret on his behalf.

"You'll be okay, right?" Lisa murmured as her arms went around him.

I don't know, Ianto thought as he pulled away. He swept the desk free of crumbs and pizza crusts. He paused at the cabinets. He turned back to Lisa.

"Of course," Ianto lied. "I'll be fine."



One week later…

"…mimes, Captain? Really."

Ianto was again alone in the chamber. He didn't mind though. He sat on the stool just by his head, browsing through a file he'd taken from archives on impulse. Granger, used to being constantly understaffed, was at a loss on what to do with Ianto but knew he would be a fool to complain. He agreed all too quickly to Ianto's suggestion to assign him to monitor the chamber and its sole resident.

"How can you 'demonstrate an amicable agreement' with alien mimes?" Ianto chuckled, reviewing the report. "Your words, Harkness, not mine."

As usual, no comment.

Ianto's amusement faded. "Yes, well…let's check on your sores, shall we?"

Granger had reacted only with a grumbled warning not to dislodge the V.I.I—short for vortex ionic intravenous but it didn't succeed in softening the harsh, cold description—when Ianto had offered to take care of the bed sores. Despite Cohn's casual estimation, the bed sores did not go away on their own and while some had faded back into flawless skin, there were some that still lingered.

Ianto set the kit he made out of supplies from the infirmary—he wanted to box the nurse when he offered to make it IV kit seven for the future—just right of the pillow he had slipped under the captain's head his third day here.

Carefully, with the skill of having done this too many times, Ianto eased an arm under the captain's neck and gingerly pulled Harkness against him.

Like kissing, it felt odd to hold a man—a distinctly masculine physique that he couldn't ignore—so close against him. The hospital gown on Harkness was a pitiful barrier. And while it was clear the weeks had melted the weight from his body, Harkness still felt solid, warm, and larger than life. It felt like trying to embrace the sun.

With one hand cradling the back of Harkness' neck, his head lolling gently in the slope where his left shoulder met his neck, Ianto held him with all the care he learnt caring for another long ago.

"Alright," Ianto murmured to the ear closest to him as he tugged the ties on the gown's back loose. He parted the flaps with a finger and resisted lingering on the smooth healing skin. It was remarkable—not a single scar. He pulled his hand away and let it settle around the captain's left shoulder for a moment. "I'll be quick," he promised.

He remembered he had watched, years ago, as a callous nurse had simply rolled a patient to the side and cleaned the sores and changed the dressings. She had instructed Ianto in a flat voice while the suffering soul tried to sleep with one arm pinned under their own body, painfully aware they lay fully exposed to the nurse and a virtual stranger.

Ianto found holding on, albeit carefully, gave some relief even if at the end, it was pointless. So pointless…all the comfort he could give, only to still die in so much agony. To watch all his efforts, do every possible thing he could imagine only to…to…

Don't think about it, Ianto thought as he carefully cleaned the weeping sores and changed the dressings. The entire time, he held the captain against him, one hand still cupped to the back of his head. Ianto could feel Harkness' shallow breath against his throat.

"Remind me to ask you about the mimes next time," Ianto murmured as he carefully stroked the warm towel against the unmarred spots of the skin. He could see the dimples that usually marked the cleft, the top curve of the buttocks. Man or woman, it was the same and Ianto suddenly felt horrible for putting the captain in the exposed position he was in.

"I guess we are shy," Ianto said in a low voice as he finished changing the dressings. Carefully, he reached around with both hands to tie the gown shut. He swallowed when Harkness slumped against him, his hair tickling Ianto's collarbone.

"You are fortunate I am a virtuous…man…" Ianto gulped when that soft puff of air from Harkness blew moistly on his shirt, through the gaps between his buttoned shirt and tie; like Harkness was ghosting kisses on his chest.

Ianto's fingers shook as he struggled to tie the one around Harkness' lower back. His fingers kept brushing against the knobby ridges of Harkness' tailbone and the satin, hot softness of the curve of one cheek.

Just like he said: a virtuous man. A man, damn it. Like Harkness. And a man wouldn't…molest another in Harkness' state.

"All done," Ianto told him shakily, his hands returning to cup the captain around the neck and shoulder. Harkness' hands dangled on his sides. It felt like a loose embrace.

Ianto sat on the edge of the platform, Harkness boneless and warm against him. Impossible. His skin still felt dry and chilled, yet his body felt like Lisa's on a winter night. It felt reassuringly solid, real, and there, reminding him that the loneliness he felt in his throat might have a chance to ebb away.

"My apologies, captain," Ianto murmured, reluctantly pulling away. He eased Harkness slowly, over the new clean sheet he folded under him, his head carefully on the pillow. Then, even though he hated the sight of them, Ianto made sure none of the V.I.I were tangled and straightened out the slack limbs.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Ianto asked shakily.

One of the machines suddenly wailed, a beep that had faded into background noise now emitted a long, flat resentful sound.

Ianto's eyes rounded. He leaned over the captain anxiously. The ports were secured and the leads were still attached.

The lights above him flickered then vanished completely, sending them into total darkness. Someone in the other room cursed. The emergency lights came on and shone a morbid red hue over everything just as Ianto pressed his ear over Harkness' heart.

Nothing.

"Oh God," Ianto breathed. His hands hovered over the captain's torso in time to hear the captain's breath stuttering then stilling. He knew what to do. He didn't know then—he was a child then—but…blast, he knows this!

Hands over Harkness' chest, elbows straight, just below where the heart was—God, he hoped Harkness' heart was in the same place—Ianto began compressions.

"I…I need help in here!" Ianto gasped as he counted. "Three…four…five…six…someone! I need help!"

Ianto began to sweat. He could hear them in the other room, phones ringing like mad, Granger arguing, Clive clamoring loudly…how could they not hear him?

"Someone!" Ianto screamed as his arms trembled. He climbed up the dais. Come on, come on! Harkness' head lolled to the side as his body jolted under Ianto's efforts. "Help!"

He didn't know how long he screamed for help in the dark. The machines, idle from the outrage were silent and all that could be heard was the frantic panting from Ianto Jones as he fought to keep Harkness here.

"What? Why aren't the reserves started up? What's going on here?" Granger and Cohn came stumbling in at last.

"H-help," Ianto half gasped, half sobbed. "His h-heart. I-"

"What are you doing?" Clive exclaimed as he rushed over. To Ianto's shock, instead of helping, the aide grabbed Ianto by the arms and pulled him down off the captain.

"What? No! What are you doing? Let go!"

Clive grunted, his back slamming into the mainframes. "Forget it, Jones—"

"No, there's still time! It's been under five minutes! Do you have a defibrillator? I know how to use—"

Granger added his grip to hold Ianto back against Cohn. "Stop wasting your time."

Ianto gaped at him. "What are you saying?" He tried to surge forward. "I can save this one! Let go!"

"Jones!" Granger hollered. Clive drew Ianto's arms back painfully. The two men faced the stocky scientist, chests heaving. "Calm yourself! It's alright!" he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Now, just wait. Wait…"

"Wait?" Ianto stared at Granger. Had he truly gone mad?

"It's okay," Clive assured breathlessly. He loosened his grip cautiously.

"Okay? He has no heartbeat! And you're doing nothing! That man is—"

Behind Granger, Harkness gave a gasp, his body arching.

The lights came flooding back. The phones stopped ringing. And Clive let go of Ianto completely.

Ianto fell back against the mainframes. He could barely stay upright. He stared at the dais. "Oh my God…"

Clive chuckled, still winded. "Just like the bed sores, eh Jones? Eventually." Clive exhaled. "Longer than last time though, Dr. Granger."

Granger saw Ianto was calmer now, harrumphed as he turned towards the platform. "I told her we need to ease up. There's got be enough time to regenerate completely before we keep at it."

A soft moan interrupted whatever Clive was going to say. Ianto straightened, but Clive and Granger blocked his view.

"Aye, that's enough from you," Granger said in a surprisingly soft voice. There was a weak whimper that gave Ianto strength in his limbs again. Ianto saw the scientist fiddle with something on the I.V by his inner elbow. Granger tsked. "It got a little jammed during your short. This will make it better."

By the time Ianto stumbled over to the dais, he was just in time to see a slit of blue linger on his face before the eyes slowly closed again.

"See?" Granger patted Harkness' head with an affection usually reserved for a dog. "Better now." He frowned at Ianto. "I need you to be more levelheaded next time. When this happens again, you need to be sure we're switched to our backups, not playing A&E doctor."

Ianto was still speechless. He could only nod numbly.

Clive snickered and slapped him on the back. "Bet they told you MX-CR would be boring, eh?" Clive gave a sloppy salute to the supine body on the platform and followed after Granger.

"…just a little time…Bloody Hartman like a woman possessed…" Granger grumbled as he left the room.

Ianto, eyes fixed on Harkness, dropped onto the stool by his head. He nearly missed and Ianto had to grab the seat to steady himself.

Harkness' breath stuttered. The lights flickered then solidified.

Ianto choked. He reached out a hand, but he…he couldn't.

"It's…it's alright now." Ianto murmured, dropping his hand instead on the platform edge.

Harkness' heartbeat, a now steady pulse in the chamber, was the only reply.

The room felt too small, too airless, too hot now. It was the only explanation for the tightness in Ianto's chest.

"My God, what have we done to you?"


Chapter 14

Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter.