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: SAPPY...least I think so. :)

Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Fragments" and "Everything Changes" and "Day One".


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, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18


Master Fic List: here


Chapter 19 – "Day One"
Act I

The captain had sent everyone home for the weekend after Suzie. Everyone, that is, except for Harkness himself. Ianto was certain the captain remained in the Hub, holding fort. Cheaper rent, indeed.

While he appreciated the day off—he still remembered the gun pointed at his head by someone who should have been on their side—he did nothing more than spend Saturday staring blankly at the crates shipped from London. He'd only opened two. One for his suits, the second…

The whiff of jasmine was faint, but still devastating. He slammed the lid down on the contents and found himself shaking, crouched by the wooden box, with his fists jammed over his eyes. He spent all of Saturday huddled by the crate, still in his suit that smelled like bleach and blood, the taste of the scotch Harkness had pressed on him still sour in his mouth. Everything spun in his head in smells, sounds, and the awful blank look Harkness wore after Suzie shot him.

Ianto didn't look forward to another day like that. After a steaming shower stinging on his back, Ianto changed into a worn cotton t-shirt, his dark denim jeans and grabbed his keys. He avoided looking at the crates as he went out the door.



After checking on things down in the vaults, he had intended just to go home. Each day, it was harder and harder to roam the halls, turning from one corridor to the next and inspecting the vaults. It felt too dark, too oppressive these days and rather than the secure feeling of knowing his place and duty that he used to get once he was done, lately he'd felt only more empty and confused.

As he walked past the shops on the Plass to get to his car, one thing after the other caught his eye and suddenly, he was fumbling to get back into the Tourist office.

Ianto yelped as the bags toppled as soon as he set them on the counter. They tilted like dominoes and knocked the outer bag over. He lunged, trying to catch the liter of milk before—

"Got it!" Harkness made a quick lunge worthy of a rugby player and caught the glass bottle before it could shatter. "Didn't think I could actually catch that…" The captain's voice trailed off as he straightened, his hand gripping the head of the bottle. He blinked.

"Afternoon," Ianto stammered. He wondered what Harkness was looking at.

Another blink. "You're out of uniform, Jones." Blue eyes lingered on him, before he coughed awkwardly into his fist and handed over the milk.

"Ah yes," Ianto took the milk and opened the fridge. He scowled at the contents. Damn Harper and his Chinese food.

"Anything good in there?" Harkness' deep voice rumbled off his ear.

"What?" Ianto turned, found Harkness too close—he could see the ridiculously long lashes that looked like they could caress his cheek—and panicked. He reared back, knocking Harkness on the nose with the back of his head and found himself tripping, stumbling over someone's feet.

A hand slipped around his right arm before he could fall on his behind. Ianto panted, his hands clutching Harkness' steady arm like a bar. He looked up at the captain, who was holding his nose with his other hand.

"Ouch." It was nasal, but the confusion was clear. Blood was streaming between his fingers. "There wouldn't happen to be any ice in there, too?"

Oh Christ. Ianto hurried the captain up the steps to the couch, ran back to save the rest of his wares, got an ice pack from the kit above the fridge, and a rag. By the time he was done, Ianto was winded. He breathlessly extended the cold compress to the captain.

"Thanks." Harkness gingerly dabbed the bridge of his nose with the compress.

"You need to press down hard," Ianto pointed out.

"But then it'll hurt." Harkness winced, still dabbing, still muttering "Ouch, ouch, ouch" as the compress made contact.

Ianto rolled his eyes as he reached over. "Here, let me."

The captain balked. "What? No, no, no, I got it!" He leaned away, one hand waving at him. "I'm fine."

"Don't be a child. Just apply pressure on it and…" Ianto's words petered off when he pulled off the compress. Tentatively, he touched the unblemished bridge of Harkness' nose. He couldn't find the dent and it looked like it had stopped bleeding as well.

Harkness watched him warily. Gently, he pushed Ianto away.

"Like I said," the older man rasped. "It's fine."

Stunned, Ianto sat down next to him with a thump, the cold compress warming in his hands.

"Huh," he just said.

Harkness snorted. "Okay, that was one reaction I didn't expect."

Ianto gave him a sideways glance. There was a wary tint of fear in the captain's eyes, tracking him as if waiting for a blow.

The realization made him ill. Ianto swallowed and thought carefully of what he was going to say.

"Well," Ianto said slowly, "you will definitely not be needing our company medical insurance then."

Harkness gaped at him and Ianto feared he had chosen wrong. But then, Harkness turned his head away and laughed.

Exhaling, relieved, Ianto sat back on the couch. His relief was short-lived, however, when he realized Harkness' laugh sounded off.

"I'd never been complimented on my wit," Ianto said awkwardly when Harkness finally stopped.

Ianto noticed Harkness' eyes were red-rimmed. His smile was brittle.

"Well, you should never do stand up."

Ianto covered his dismay with a loud scoff. "I've been told I can be very entertaining if I wanted to be."

"I believe it," the captain said warmly. He sighed, leaned forward and pinched a spot between his eyes that should have still hurt from being broken.

Ianto sat back and studied Harkness. He noted the ragged air that hung on the captain. He frowned when he realized there was more blood on his shirt and scalp than warranted for a broken nose.

Harkness noticed where his gaze was. His eyes shifted. "There were a couple of alerts yesterday."

A chill traveled down his spine. "Alerts? What sort of alerts? Who did you call in?" Why hadn't he called him?

Harkness rose to his feet, tossing the compress up and down in his fist like a softball. "Was there anything edible in there? I missed dinner."

Ianto stared at him as the captain poked his head into the fridge. "You didn't call anyone in, did you?"

The shrug made his stomach clench.

"I gave you all the weekend off." Harkness glanced over his shoulder. "Just Weevils." He quickly turned back around towards the appliance. "Hey, how long ago was this curry?"

"Long enough to give you food poisoning if you try to smell it," Ianto muttered.

"Pfft. Food poisoning? Please. I'd have far wor—"

"So we're really not going to talk about this then?" Ianto blurted out. Harkness stilled.

"What's there to talk about?" Harkness sounded bitter. "I can't die."

"And apparently you heal very fast," Ianto added.

"Yes, I'm a frea—" Harkness stopped.

Ianto frowned. "Sir?" When Harkness didn't answer, Ianto lowered his voice. "Jack?"

"Is…is this going to be a problem now?"

Ianto wondered why the other man sounded resigned.

"No," Ianto said slowly. "I don't think so." He thought it better not to lie. "Sit down."

"Why?"

It bothered Ianto to hear his captain so wary. It bothered him even more when Harkness approached him like a wounded animal.

I won't hurt you. Ianto blinked at what his gut wanted to say to Harkness. Of course he wouldn't hurt him. Why on Earth did he feel compelled to say so?

He didn't though, staying where he was until Harkness sat down a space away. He jerked away when Ianto leaned towards him, his hands reaching.

"What are you doing?"

"It's alright," Ianto murmured. "I just want to check."

"I'm fine."

"Then it wouldn't hurt for me to see, hm?" Ianto knelt on his knees on the couch as he bowed over Harkness, his fingers parting his hair where the drying blood was. He didn't find anything and Harkness fidgeted like a restless toddler. He poked the captain on the shoulder, silently encouraging him to shed his coat. Ianto almost wished he hadn't. It was a lot of blood.

"You said Weevils?" Ianto nudged the captain to lower his head and checked his back. Even the braces were soaked into a darker red.

"Yes." Harkness sounded muffled against him.

"You could have called any of us."

"I've hunted them down alone before."

His eyes stung at the flat response. "You have Owen and Toshiko. You have me. Gwen Cooper's coming in to work tomorrow. You're not alone, sir."

"Uh huh," Harkness muffled skeptically.

Ianto sat down on the couch and looked at him exasperated. "There's a lot of blood." He gestured towards the general area.

The captain didn't even look. He shrugged. "Hell on my wardrobe but usually it passes."

Ianto tracked the blood on his collar and the red smear over his heart. He swallowed. When he looked up, Harkness was considering him sadly.

"I won't say this doesn't bother me…" Ianto waved a hand towards him. "But no, I don't think this is going to be a problem."

Harkness didn't look reassured. "Okay."

"I do have questions though," Ianto warned, but he smiled.

The other relaxed minutely. "I can't answer everything."

Ianto smirked. "Fair enough. I'll need a bigger allowance for your dry cleaning as well. Whatever are they going to say?"

Harkness stared at him, speechless. Ianto smiled, got to his feet and went back to the kitchen area. "I think the moo shu pork is still good, if you want, sir. And I replenished our supplies of biscuits if you’d like some. Maybe some sweet tea?" The sugar should be good for blood loss. There was an alarming amount on his shirt.

"So…" Harkness said slowly. "So, that's it?"

Ianto paused, a take away container in his hands. He gave it some thought. "Yup. I believe so for now, sir." He ducked his head under the counter to find some dishes. He popped his head up again.

"I'll warn you if I feel the urge to have hysterics though."

The answering chuckle made him smile as he ducked his head back into the fridge. He did say he had missed dinner. Hm, he remembered seeing some cake in here.



Ianto had guessed right and he now sat comfortably cross-legged on the couch facing Harkness, who was having the leftover mocha cake instead of the reheated moo shu pork.

"That," Ianto announced, waving a fork smudged with fudge at him. "Is not dinner. Eat the moo shu first."

"It smelled like feet," Harkness returned as he licked the frosting off his thumb.

"Maybe that's because you took your boots off," Ianto muttered, transfixed on the thumb as it slid into Harkness' lush mouth. Oh good God. Ianto ducked his head, his face flaming.

"Hey," Harkness complained as he stretched out his legs in front of him. Ianto was glad that at least the time traveler could smell normally like every other disgusting, sweaty male on the planet. He wasn't glad by that much though.

"Really," Ianto screwed up his face and made a show of waving his hand in front of him.

"You trying running down smelly sewers all night and let's see if you smell like a rose," Harkness complained.

"Oh, is that what that was?" Ianto said innocently. "I thought Owen left out one of his alien corpses."

Harkness growled. Ianto gestured his fork at the food, lips pressed together disapproving. Grumbling, the captain picked up the plate.

As he watched Harkness eat, Ianto reviewed what the captain had just said. He sobered.

"Was that what you were doing last night?" Ianto said quietly. He dropped his fork onto his plate. "Chasing Weevils through Cardiff's underground by yourself?"

Harkness shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Ianto could still taste the bile in his mouth from when he had found Harkness huddled against the toilet. "Nightmares?

There was a pause, only noticeable if anyone was looking for it. And Ianto was.

"No." The captain went back eating. "Just couldn't sleep."

"Ah." Ianto concentrated on his cake, licking the thick gooey frosting off his fork, and looking up only to find Harkness staring. Ianto ducked his head and focused on the last bit of cake.

"I said I had questions," Ianto murmured, only because he could sense Harkness still staring. "Can I ask one now?"

"Already? But I haven't even had dessert yet."

Ianto pursed his lips and gestured towards the cake. "That's because you ate it first."

The captain laughed. His hands went up in a "you win" gesture. He wiggled around and mimicked Ianto; sitting cross-legged and facing him on the couch. His greatcoat was draped behind him in a spill of wool. Turned, Ianto now had a clear view of his shirt, revealing the angry, blood-covered, macabre tie-dye that wrapped around his torso.

Ianto swallowed. "What happened to you?"

Harkness shrugged. "The rift alarm only showed one Weevil, but turned out there were already two lurking—"

"I wasn't talking about last night."

The captain sighed. "I know." He stared at his lap. After a moment, he took a deep breath.

Ianto was beginning to wish he hadn't asked, but it was a foot already into the devil's door. "Were you born this way?"

"No." Harkness rounded back his shoulders and met Ianto's gaze. "Something happened to me. I died. For real. Then…I came back to life and ever since…" The captain wouldn't look at him anymore. "I can't be killed."

The thought that Harkness had died at one point bothered Ianto more than he expected. Throat suddenly dry, Ianto managed out, "Not ever?"

"Funny, Gwen asked me that same question."

Oh, it's Gwen now. Ianto blinked at himself. Where did that come from? Ianto frowned inwardly and cleared his throat.

"But how?"

"I don't know." Harkness looked haunted. There was a brief glimpse of anguish and so many indescribable emotions in his gaze.

It felt like Ianto was looking into a mirror.

Ianto felt something in his chest loosening, his body recognizing what his mind could not. He lowered his eyes, caught off guard and confused as to how to respond to the dark myriad of grief Harkness mirrored on his face.

"When you said treatment," Ianto murmured and saw Harkness stiffen in memory. "Was it for this? For…uh…your…"

"My condition?" Harkness spat out. He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. He thought Torchwood Institute might help." The captain set aside his plate, half-eaten, it was clear on his face that his appetite was lost. "Hartman sounded so sure."

Ianto didn't miss the shudder the other tried to hide. "Well, she always thought London was the world's savior. Not surprising she thought we could handle it." Distaste curled up his lip. "Took the near destruction of the world to cow us. God, we were all fools."

"Don't," Harkness said quietly.

Ianto blinked.

"Don't lump yourself in with them. You weren't like Hartman or some of the others." Gratitude brightened Harkness' eyes. "I nearly brought on the end of the world because we thought…" He looked away. "Anyway, it didn't fix me."

"I don't see anything that needs to be fixed," Ianto told him seriously. His chest ached when Harkness looked completely startled.

"Yes, well," Harkness said gruffly. "Luckily, you're not my doctor or we would all be in trouble." He untangled his legs and stretched.

"No," Ianto murmured with a regret that surprised him. "I'm not your doctor."

The two looked at each other just then, each about to say something. But Ianto forgot what he was going to say. He observed Harkness' gaze darkening upon him, intense and mesmerizing. His breath stuttered out, his words died out, and all he could do was look and ache.

Then, something shuttered across Harkness' face; longing and puzzlement switched off abruptly to the pleasant, jovial smile one would expect from a friend you come across on the street. It was sudden; Ianto found he was able to breathe again, inhaling sharply with a whoosh. Ianto blinked rapidly—it felt like he had held his breath for too long—and eyed Harkness as he gathered up the plates for the trash. As Harkness balanced everything that would be the envy of jugglers, Ianto spied the red splattered shirt once more.

"Take off your shirt," Ianto blurted out.

Dishes crashed to the floor.

Ianto grimaced. Okay, probably not the most tactful way to approach it. Harkness peered over the counter, warily.

"Those stains," Ianto said hurriedly because Harkness looked too ready to comply and damned if Ianto, for some reason, didn't find the idea intriguing as well. "We need to soak them or they'll never come out."

Harkness' expression was a cross of comical relief and disappointment. Ianto wasn't sure which one he was glad for. "Dry cleaning will get it out."

Ianto snorted. "Yes, it will, but unfortunately it will also mean me being surrounded by a brigade of police because I drop them off everyday." He made a telephone gesture by his ear and narrowed his voice to a funny squeak. "Hello? CID? There's an unassuming man dropping off bloody shirts in our shop. I think he's an axe murderer. Oh, yes and I believe his name is Stanley."

Harkness' head dropped below the counter as he began laughing, a good deep down belly laugh that warmed Ianto's insides. Moments later, a tattered blue shirt popped up and waved like a white flag.

"Fine." Harkness giggled in a way Ianto couldn't ever find fault with. He rose to his feet and tossed the shirt over. Ianto caught it with a grimace.

"It smells like the bloody loo—oh sorry." Ianto grinned cheekily at Harkness' glower as he pulled his braces back over an equally blood splattered undershirt.

"Anything else?" Harkness asked archly. "This shirt?" He bared his teeth and waggled his eyebrows. "My trousers?"

That glimpse of a pale curve in a dark ship still taunted him. Ianto sputtered. "No, keep your pants on, Harkness!"

The captain clasped both hands on his chest. "Words to break my heart by, Ianto Jones."

Ianto wished he didn't sound so serious when he said that. Ianto huffed as he rose. "Yes, well, I'll go home and soak this. Try not to have any more solo hunts, please, sir? This could really hamper your wardrobe."

"Yes, sir," Harkness saluted sloppily with a grin. His hand lowered. "Ianto?"

Ianto froze midway down the steps.

"Today's Sunday. What were you doing here?"

Closing his eyes, Ianto stood at the cog door. "Nothing really. Thought I would catch up on the archives and the vaults." It was the truth at least.

"Ianto," the captain sighed. Ianto flinched. "How about we make a deal? I do less Weevil hunts by myself and you spend less time alone in the vaults. Deal?"

He was afraid to look at him. Ianto nodded stiffly. "I'll see you tomorrow." He left without waiting for the captain to say goodbye.

The drive home was a blur, Harkness' bloody shirt a wad of fabric on his lap. He again avoided looking at the crates, heading straight for the bathroom where he dozed lightly by the tub as he let the shirt soak.

A buzz on his mobile woke Ianto up to a tub full of pinkish tepid water, the captain's shirt sunken to the bottom, and a brisk voicemail about a meteor heading towards Cardiff.


Act II

Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.