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, Ch 13,Ch 14



Master Fic List: here


Chapter 15

The last thing he remembered was the Doctor telling him that this was all for him.

Everything.

To fix what was wrong and to repair something that never should have happened. All this, for him.

The second time he had told the Doctor he loved him was after the Doctor had enlightened him about what he was doing to fix Jack. It was in the dark, after the agonizing demonstration to Director Hartman, after the Doctor had taken him in front of her, then again in the haven of his room, when Jack Harkness told the Time Lord he loved him.

The Doctor had…smiled. He brushed his hand over Jack's hair then told him quietly to get cleaned up. Work to do, he had said. Much work to do to take forever away and then everything would be fixed. Jack would be righted and the Doctor would be the Doctor again. Just like before.

Before.

He couldn't remember before. But he knew he wanted it.

Thrum, thrum, tap, tap…

It stayed with him through everything. The Doctor tapped it to his temple as he bent him over a console. Jack had protested there might be cameras. The Doctor laughed and asked when Jack had become shy.

Thrum, thrum, tap, tap…

It remained with him, like a heartbeat when he…little consequence, he had told himself. With everything that needed to be done, it was of little consequence. Because it was to get what he wanted…what did he want? Jack wasn't sure anymore.

Thrum, thrum, tap, tap…

But it was within his grasp. He just had to…little consequence, Harkness. No worse than what he did before to try and substitute feelings with pain and nameless sex.

He said he would die for his Doctor.

He thought he had. Many times. No matter. Obviously, he was still alive so his death was also of little consequence. It meant it didn't work.

But soon. He was certain of it.

Thrum, thrum, tap, tap…

But the Doctor wasn't here. He left. Again. Left him bound and drained in a time yet again not his own, not of his choosing.

"…'one?" Jack rasped, his eyes were on Hartman even if he wanted to look away. He had at first thought she was pretty. At first.

It was the smile of a cobra that answered. "The Doctor had other pressing engagements."

Work to do, the Doctor had said.

"And he left you in our care."

On the first day, Jack had climbed up onto the platform with the Doctor's coaxing. He laid there, mouth dry, limbs cold and listened as the Doctor spoke with the MX-CR team in an almost sultry voice. Jack stared at the ceiling, glad that at the very least it looked like the TARDIS. He was aware of the Doctor's hand on his ankle and hoped it was a comforting squeeze he felt on his calf before the Doctor pulled away.

Jack didn't know whose hand was on his head when the treatment began. Someone was talking to him in a gruff voice, telling him to calm down, to quiet, and that it would be over soon.

It didn't come soon enough.

He blearily watched, through pain ripped tears, as the Doctor had wiped his face with a handkerchief. He had chided Jack for struggling and fighting the treatment. He wasn't, Jack swore to God. He'd tried so hard not to fight it, but he could hear the Doctor and Hartman by his head, arguing it wasn't good enough and knew despite his efforts that he had once again failed the Doctor.

The Doctor found a way to make it bearable. PV-35. It made everything hazy, like a dream, and the Doctor assured him that once he woke up, it would be over.

Please, please, let it work, Jack had pleaded as he felt PV-35 course through his veins with a crackling burn that made his limbs go tight, then numb. Fix this. Let this fix him. Jack remembered the plea caught in his throat as everything had dimmed and dulled as the Doctor instructed them on how to insert the horrible tubes. As he heard the whining start of the machines, he felt himself sinking. The Doctor pressed his lips to Jack's mouth. He told Jack this was the only way. He thanked Jack for trying.

But he never told Jack goodbye.

"…ministry of Defense congratulates Torchwood for our upcoming success…"

He could hear them talk around him, like sirens in the fog.

"…void ship…Singh thinks…something inside…"

"Bloody Alex and Cardiff…had a row with Hartman about stopping the project…"

"…ghosts…spatial breach almost fully opened…"

"…case of champagne for everyone…compliments of Saxon…for the big day…"

"…in a week. With the completion of the tower…"

There were snatches of conversation that were always about him, but never to him. He felt heavy limbed; bound not by rope but by drugs.

It was dark, yet not. Cold, yet not. Numb, yet…there should be pain. He didn't know why there should be but he remembered he should be grateful there isn't.

Desolate and dark and the vague sensation of diminishing was in the back of his mind. There were points when he felt an abrupt sharp spark of pain then absolutely nothing, and then it was back to the cloudy darkness that wasn't completely dark.

"…companion would require constant monitoring…too unstable…"

Jack. His name was…well, it wasn't really Jack, but…

"…its pulse dropped again, sir. Another…shot?"

"No…companion…will come back…eventually…"

Not companion. Not it. Just Jack. Please.

"…hear me?"

…?

"…think you can hear me…"

There was a hand on his hair again. A voice directed towards him.

"…mimes…"

Oh no, not that story again. In what felt like a long time, Jack wanted to laugh.

"…guess…are shy…"

Not shy. Just beautifully frail in body and unbelievably strong in heart. Humanity was simply fantastic.

"…alright. Safe…"

He believed him.

Voices became singular and Jack was content just to listen, barely noticing the blurry darkness he'd known for so long was ebbing away into raw clarity.

"…should insist the captain gain a bit more rest first before we start again."

There it was again. His voice from heaven.

"…not a doctor. I think we can see for ourselves when the Doctor's companion is ready again."

"His name is Harkness. Jack Harkness!"

Jack tried to focus and saw Ianto Jones standing by his head, his right hand dangling over him. His fingers twitched as if they wanted to curl into a fist although Jack couldn't fathom why.

The talking was still going, buzzing and fading and soon Jack lost interest in it and kept his focus on Jones instead. There was a myriad of emotions that went across the young face that Ianto schooled quickly to an impassive mask. Jack had wondered if anyone else noticed. Today, Ianto seemed to be having trouble affixing the mask back.

Jones' fingers still twitched above him. Jack lifted a heavy hand up and briefly touched Ianto's fingers. It drained him and his hand flopped back down, off the bed.

Ianto Jones jerked. He looked down at Jack, his eyes wide. Jones stood over him and took his hand and placed it carefully folded over his chest. He went back to talking to Hartman. Jack closed his eyes, because he could feel Hartman watching him with that hungry smirk again. He smiled faintly to himself when he felt Ianto pull the covers up higher, up to his shoulders; Ianto never paused in his conversation—or was it arguing?—with Granger and the director.

Soon, it was quiet, but Jack kept his eyes closed. It took too much effort to keep them open.

"Jack?"

He opened his eyes.

His view of the room disintegrated then solidified to a closer look of Jones' face. Ianto looked at him with open concern.

"Why?"

Looking into eyes that reflected a warmer emotion than he'd ever faced, Jack realized he no longer knew the answer.



Two days.

They were coming for him in two days.

Harkness never fought. He laid there, quiet, watching Ianto, and never protested about being sent back in.

Ianto wanted to shake Harkness. He wanted to push Hartman and Granger out of the room. He wanted never to have met Harkness and that he was back oblivious in his archives.

As soon as he thought of the last part, Ianto regretted it.

Harkness kept his eyes closed, but Ianto knew he was still awake. He'd stayed with the captain too long not to be able to distinguish sleep from simple shutting out of the world. The muscles that graced his neck, down to his shoulder were stiff.

"Captain?" Ianto called quietly. "They've left."

No reaction.

Ianto stooped over, frowning when he realized Harkness' breathing was ragged. "Jack," he said softly, surprised how easy the name slipped out of his lips.

Jack blinked, looking startled. Slowly, he turned towards Ianto.

There was so much Ianto wanted to ask, so much he wanted to say, but all that would come out was, "Why?"

The bewildered, weary expression hurt to see. Harkness stared at him and Ianto wondered briefly if perhaps the captain didn't comprehend the question.

"Do you understand what they want from you?"

Harkness, if anything, looked puzzled at the question. He opened his mouth, a dry rasp escaping before the syllables could clumsily form.

"'es." Harkness coughed before he could continue.

Ianto smiled tightly. "Don't strain your voice." He turned around and refilled the glass, well aware Harkness was staring at the pitcher of cool water.

The captain shook as Ianto helped him sit up. He quirked an eyebrow at the bent straw in the glass but said nothing as Ianto brought the glass to his lips.

"Slowly," Ianto advised, as he watched Harkness sip through the straw. Unbidden, his hand curled around the back of the captain's neck. Ianto felt Harkness press back onto his hand—it didn't look like he realized it—and Ianto shuffled closer.

The edges of Harkness' hair tickled along the ridge on the side of his thumb as the captain drank. Ianto murmured something—even he wasn't sure what—as Harkness paused as if savoring the drink before starting again, his cheek now close enough to rest against Ianto's upper chest.

There was something strangely gratifying in listening to Harkness drink, feeling him comfortably resting against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ianto found himself wanting to caress and dig his fingers in gentle circles into the captain's scalp. The overwhelming feeling of needing to be close, of not being close enough, was frightening.

When Harkness could drink no more, he sat back with a satisfied sigh and met Ianto's gaze, stilling at whatever he saw.

It felt like time stood still; a cliché right out of Lisa's romance paperbacks he never understood until now. The clutter of beeps and chirps of medical equipment had bled away into a vacuum of silence neither one wanted to dispel by speaking. Harkness looked at Ianto with an unexplainable longing. And Ianto had this equally inexplicable desire to fulfill it. It was unsettling; need, want and a hunger Ianto had never felt before coiled deep in his gut. It was too alien to wrap his mind around so Ianto broke the pattern by looking away and clearing his throat.

"Do you," he offered hoarsely. "Do you want some more water?" It was unbelievable. Harkness could barely swallow before.

Sighing with a little disappointed exhale, Harkness shook his head.

"Thank you," Harkness whispered. His eyes followed Ianto all the way back to his chair. He frowned mildly.

"You've been here?" The words were scratchy but clearer.

Ianto offered a pinched upturn of the mouth. "Promotion," he joked weakly.

"Sorry," Harkness rasped.

Ianto frowned and sat up.

One shoulder lifted then dropped. "Could have saved them the trouble," Harkness wheezed. He sat back heavily. "I wasn't going to walk out of here."

Puzzled, Ianto stared at Harkness. His eyes widened.

"No…no! I'm not a guard."

If anything, the captain looked even more confused. "Then why—"

Ianto cleared his throat and tucked his tie in. He fiddled with his badge clipped on the lab coat. "Just thought you might…er…appreciate the company."

The little furrow wrinkling between Harkness' brows made Ianto look away again. "Not that I don't, but with what I understand, I was put under the whole time."

Ianto's lips pulled back into a snarl. "Yes," he spat out. "PV-35."

Nodding absently, Harkness missed the feral expression. He shuddered. "It helps."

"If it's that unbearable," Ianto asked, looking at him, "why do this?"

"I didn't say it was unbearable."

Practically did, Ianto thought. Out loud, Ianto waved at him. "You never answered my question."

Harkness suddenly looked shifty. "Which one?"

Ianto just looked at him.

The captain deflated. "Look, you don't understand—"

Rising up to his feet, Ianto approached the bed. "Then make me understand."

Harkness gave him an anguished look. "Why?"

"That's my question," Ianto countered with a strained smile.

"Why? Why do you want to know? Why should you even care?"

Ianto reached the bed and sat on the edge so he could level his gaze with the captain's. "I don't know why," Ianto admitted. "But it just didn't make sense to me that you would subject yourself to this."

"It's treatment."

"No, it's torture," Ianto hissed. When he saw the older man didn't react, he grabbed Harkness by the shoulders. The captain started.

"Treatment for what?" When Harkness averted his gaze, Ianto thought he caught shame clouding his eyes. Desperate, Ianto gave the captain a shake of his shoulders. "Do you know what happened to you during this…treatment?" At the wary, sideways glance, Ianto plowed on. "You died on the table. Your heart stopped I don't know how many times!"

Harkness' mouth twisted. "That's all? That's not real—" His head snapped to the side with the abrupt blow.

Ianto's hand stung vaguely. His chest heaved. His hand was still up. But the moment he caught Harkness' wide eyes and the reddened cheek, his hand lowered.

"Oh God," Ianto stammered. "I'm sorry. I—that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have…" The air seemed to be escaping his lungs. All he could see was that red mark.

"It's okay," the captain just looked at him, his eyes dull, his voice flat.

"I just…this is your life you're treating so callously," Ianto couldn't stop. It felt like the mild burn in his hand grew. "I can't just stand by and watch you waste it on some treatment that might be just a farce—"

"It'll work!" Harkness snarled. His eyes flashed. "It…it has to."

"Has to what?" Ianto's hands curled tighter around Harkness' shoulders. "Treat what? What is possibly worth carving bits and pieces of your life away when someone wants you to fight and not just escape death. When we're doing everything possible to make it better, to keep you here, and you would just slip away without…"

He raged about gnarled hands that grew slack in his, how every given comfort was pointless if they didn't stay, how pain made life unbearable but retreating to death was still too agonizing of a betrayal. Ianto ranted to Harkness, trying to shake what he was saying into the captain, trying to get him to understand that his life shouldn't be wasted like this. Not like this! Not shrinking smaller and smaller in bed, read to like a child, cared for like a babe, watched over as hope languished and…

Somewhere, sometime, Ianto had stopped shaking Harkness and instead clung to the captain. The older man froze but then his hands slowly went up.

It wasn't until Ianto could feel the other's heart beating steadily against him, that Ianto become aware of warm large hands on his back, a low voice murmuring in his ear. His words petered away and Ianto, whose arms had hung limp against his sides, wrapped them around the solid form breathing, heart beating, living against him.

Alive, alive, alive, Harkness' heart chanted, flushed against him. Ianto squeezed his eyes shut and felt Harkness pull him in tighter. Ianto did the same, certain he must be leaving bruises across Harkness' exposed back.

"It's okay," Harkness kept murmuring. Ianto would have laughed at the sudden role reversal but he was too busy feeling Harkness around him. It felt so right.

"Don't do this," Ianto whispered and felt Harkness stiffen. "For God's sake, don't do this. Refuse, leave, just…don't let us do this to you."

The silence, Harkness burying his face into the crook of Ianto's neck, made Ianto tighten his arms around the captain. Utter failure slammed into Ianto like a familiar pain and he squeezed his eyes shut and pretended this wasn't goodbye.



Two days later…
0440 am

He woke to the metallic tang of sterile oxygen in his mouth.

Ianto laid in bed, with Lisa sleeping next to him and the sounds of London starting a new day outside their window.

Today, today, they were moving Harkness back into MX-CR. It was going to be restarted, to sustain the breach expected to be opened completely today.

It just hurt to think about it. Ianto levered off the bed slowly and padded out to the living area in his pajama bottoms. He sat there, blankly watching the telly on mute, his bare feet growing colder by the second as morning crept through the windows and across his face.

"Ianto."

His name came as a breathless sigh. Lisa sat on the arm of his chair. Ianto didn't look up.

"It kills me to see you like this."

Ianto rested his right hand on her bare thigh. "Sorry," he muttered.

"For what?"

For many things, Ianto thought. He rubbed the satiny skin with his palm and it just felt so…wrong. This should feel right. Lisa's fingers idly running through the short strands of his hair should have loosened the vise around his chest. He should be tangled in her softly curved body and silken limbs in bed. He should be forgetting past pains, not dwelling in their echoes.

"Ianto." Lisa kneaded his shoulders. "You should leave the MX-CR project. It's killing you."

No, Ianto thought bitterly. It was killing someone else.

Lisa was hesitant to approach the sore subject. "I…I could talk to Dr. Singh. There's an opening. With the breach fully operational this afternoon, he'll need the help. We'll all be there: Frederick, Lorrie, me. Or maybe Elisa's department. It…it's too much, love. I can see it. Everyday. This…this has to stop."

He was throwing his life away. He heard about his deaths with little fear. How little Harkness thought of life. What a fucking waste. A beautiful man with ocean deep eyes, willing to throw away his life.

"Maybe you're right," Ianto said wearily, his eyes glued to CNW's clip on ghosts still showing up; this time inside the White House.

"Really?" Ianto winced at the hope in Lisa's voice.

Ianto looked up, his fingers lacing with Lisa's. He pulled the hand to him and kissed the caught fingers.

"Sorry," he murmured again. "I know I've been worrying you. You're right…Perhaps it's time to l-leave…"

"You could talk to Dr. Singh at the ceremony today," Lisa suggested in a hushed voice. Morning light bathed her in an ethereal glow. "Everyone's going to be there to fully open the breach and celebrate the completion of the Torchwood Tower."

Ianto smiled, or tried to. "Sounds like a good idea. A celebration to mark new beginnings."

Lisa tightened her hold on Ianto's fingers. "There's even champagne from the Ministry of Defense. As congratulations."

"Frederick may get drunk and fall into that breach after all," Ianto joked weakly. He hugged the arm around his neck.

"Oh, Ianto. This will be good," Lisa promised. "This will all be for the best."

"Yes," Ianto sighed, his eyes burning. "All for the best."



1530 pm

The cargo bay was cleared of all its crates, and only the tarps that sealed off the construction area for the tower remained.

"Aye, there you are, you bloody lot!" Frederick had an arm around Lorrie, grinning stupidly.

"Oh lord," Elisa rolled her eyes at Lisa, who snickered. "How did he get to the bubbly already?"

Ianto looked around the bay, not truly interested. He nodded absently at familiar faces as he observed Matt Granger, standing with a blank expression on the tiny stage while Hartman talked to her assistants. It seemed like most of Torchwood was here, laughing, passing drinks, jubilant, overjoyed, and waiting for the power to return and complete the breach opening.

It wasn't right, Ianto thought, turning away. He couldn't look at Hartman and her people talking, gesturing as they ate their catered hors d’oeuvres.

Ianto faced the tarp covered construction area, still noisy with the ear piercing drill but drowned out by everyone talking. Ianto narrowed his eyes, noting one of Hartman's assistants Adeola, was lifting one flap of the tarp, letting in someone.

When Ianto realized it was Clive Cohn, he abruptly turned on his heel.

"Ianto, where are you going?"

Turning back, Ianto offered Lisa a tight smile. "I need to…there's something I need to do."

"Now?" Lorrie asked incredulously.

"Ianto?" Lisa stood there, looking at him with open concern.

Ianto crossed back over to her. He kissed her cheek. "I'll be right back," he promised, not sure if it was a lie.

Lisa relented and kissed him back lightly on the lips. "Hurry. Everything's about to start."

Ianto couldn't respond. He couldn't look at her. He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze and headed for the elevators. Behind him, Hartman's voice boomed and the strains of applause slipped past the closing elevator doors.



The bored guard just nodded as Ianto flashed him his MX-CR badge. The hallways were deserted and save Singh's laboratories, the science floor was empty.

The chamber was dim, but Ianto by now knew his way down the long hallway by heart. He hurried; his heart was hammering as he stumbled into the room.

It was exactly as before, down to even Harkness on the platform, PV-35 beginning its slow drip into the captain's body. The mainframes along the walls were thankfully silent. It looked like Granger was planning to restart the converter after the ceremonies.

Ianto paused once, staring at Harkness before he set his jaw. His fingers shook as he carefully pulled all the I.V.s out, loosened the binds and dressed Jack in the trousers and boots he found locked in the cabinet in the main room. He didn't find a shirt, but the captain's greatcoat would have to do.

Ianto also grabbed a wheelchair which creaked when he set the brakes but there was no time to find another. Ianto pulled Harkness against him, struggling to thread his arms into the coat when Harkness' left arm shot out and grabbed his wrist.

Ianto shouted, nearly jumping back. The captain stared at him with half mast eyes.

"What have you done?" Harkness said, his pale face was ghoulish white with shock.

"No time," Ianto said hurriedly. "Up, up. We have to go. My uncle has a cottage in Dorset. We could hide out there first. Maybe Cotswald or America—"

Harkness jerked away, feebly trying to pull his arms away but he half collapsed against Ianto, who used the opportunity to deposit him in the wheelchair.

The room trembled. Actually, it felt like the building trembled.

"What the devil?" Ianto muttered as he wheeled Harkness down the hallway to the main rotunda. He didn't have time to think. He didn't want to stop and think.

As they neared the main door, Harkness grabbed the wheels. "No! Wait!" Harkness' strength was unbelievable.

Ianto spun the chair to face the captain.

Harkness matched the intensity of his stare. "Why are you doing this?" Harkness tried to rise but he was still too weak. "You don't understand. You can't do this! I have to…I have to…This…this will fix—"

Ianto grabbed his face with both hands. "Jack, there is nothing wrong with you! Nothing that could ever justify this!"

The captain stared at him open mouthed, but before he could reply, someone screamed.

Both the men's heads shot up.

Another scream.

"What…what's going on?" Ianto swung the door wide open to smoke and chaos. He jerked, hearing what sounded like explosions.

Smoke began filling the room.

Ianto's mobile began to ring.

And a shadow out of the smoke approached.

Harkness swore, reached out and grabbed the back of Ianto's lab coat with a fist, then slammed the door.

Ianto yelped, suddenly finding himself falling backwards onto Harkness' lap just as he saw the shadow solidify into a squat, odd shape before the door shut.

"Don't go out there!" Harkness snarled with a ferocity Ianto could see was born out of panic. His heart hammered wildly at the sight. Harkness stumbled out of the wheelchair, Ianto awkwardly in his grasp, and his knees buckled. The two men fell to the floor in an awkward heap. "Damn it! Is there another exit?" he demanded, his fist still grasping Ianto's coat.

It was like a different person. Ianto stared, stammering. "From here? I-I don't know!"

There was another scream, high, shrill, terror warping it to something inhuman. The hair rose on the back of Ianto's neck.

"God," Ianto gasped. "What was that before?"

Fear flashed across Harkness' face before he could hide it.

"Dalek," Harkness hissed.

And the alarms began to wail.


Chapter 16 Part 1

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