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: M/M situations, DARK

Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Fragments" and "Ghost Machine"


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. Ch 19


Master Fic List: here


Chapter 20 – "Ghost Machine"
Act I
One month later…

He didn't know when it happened; when his vocabulary list that had consisted of Captain, Jack, Harkness, and sir was condensed down to Jack and sir.

Ianto should have recognized the signs for what they were. He should have realized when his morning and afternoon checks down to the vaults were done without a thought, and his evening visits ended with him sitting on the couch with his employer, sharing a dinner of leftovers. He had told himself it was to occupy Jack's mind; he had caught him standing and staring sadly at the number six drawer in the morgue. The forlorn posture was impossible to ignore.

Sometimes, he caught Jack staring at that blasted jar on his desk. And it gave Ianto a funny feeling in his throat when he would pass Jack's office and find his blue eyes cloudy, his arms on the table, and his chin resting on his fists. There were times when Ianto wanted to smash it, and other times he just made a deliberate stop by his office after his evening checks and they would be sitting out by the couch minutes later, talking about nothing in particular.

It wasn't every day, but it was enough times now that it wasn't a surprise to find Jack by the couch, food ready.

When did it become routine? When did it become predictable? When did sitting there, shoulder to shoulder with a man become so…domestic?

Jack now knew Ianto hated licorice. And he now knew Jack was fascinated with the chocolate M&Ms because he came across them during the second Great War. Jack knew Ianto appreciated a good lager, whereas Ianto knew the other man mostly drank water, but would take a decent glass of brandy or scotch when appropriate. Jack knew Ianto liked old movies because his father used to take him to see them. Ianto now knew Jack favored the forties because that was the first time he met him.

How did he let it get this far? This familiarity? It struck him as he was browsing the market after work and Ianto found himself contemplating a large bag of holiday candies. He had one hand buried into his pocket, smiling as he fished his mobile out, about to call Jack to see if he wanted to try the new peanut butter version. He froze before he could dial the second digit and he snapped his mobile shut and walked away from the section before he did anything foolish.

It didn't stop him from picking up a smaller pouch by the register as he waited to pay.

Ianto knew this needed to stop. Stop now before it went too far. There were times he caught himself staring. Other times, Ianto caught Jack doing the same. Ianto would catch his wistful look off the glass, when his skin tingled and Ianto just knew if he were to turn around and look up, Jack would be there, smiling down at all of them, but his eyes were on Ianto.

This could only end badly.

Ianto found himself fascinated with Jack's mouth, how it curved when he was thinking, how his fingers tapped his full lower lip in a rhythmic quad-beat. But staring at his mouth then led to his throat. He remembered it feeling warm in the cell, taut when Jack tilted his head back as Ianto nipped and licked along his pulse. Jack's moan—God, his moan—rumbled pleasantly against his lips.

No, no, he needed to stop. He could see the downward spiral and no ladder to climb out. The prospect of leaving after another emotionally draining visit to the vaults made his heart hurt. And finding Jack standing by the kitchen area, asking if Ianto wanted to finish the leftover Chinese or try the new Italian place, while he made tea, always proved to be his undoing.

Start slow, Ianto told himself as he got into the Tourist office, balancing the pastries he had bought with the small bouquet of jasmine and baby's breath he had picked up while waiting to pay for the cakes he had purchased. Apricot danishes. Toshiko had remarked that Jack liked the one in the meeting last week.

No dinner today, Ianto told himself. Don't stop entirely. It would be too suspicious if it was too sudden. Ianto stared at the counter. Apricot pastries, another bag of candy—dark chocolate this time—and jasmine flowers.

Ianto sank down to his seat. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Taking a deep breath, Ianto grabbed the candy, tossed it in the side drawer with his "Learn Japanese Everyday" book, and checked his email. He deliberately left the bouquet in front of him and let the scent surround him, remind him.

Then he saw the first email.



It was just four sentences. Simple and concise as Abigail was known to be, but the contents were devastating.

How had he forgotten? It went from hours, to days, to weeks, and now months. The realization had him wandering blankly down in the vaults, without a flashlight. He knew his way by heart now. And the bouquet he had clutched in his hand trailed the heady, spicy floral scent behind him like a ghost.

He couldn't step past the turn where the discolored green walls would morph to copper. He couldn't. His body knew the moment he reached it and his foot froze. He couldn't stand anymore. He couldn't. He found himself sliding down the wall, his face pressed to the tops of his drawn up knees.

The guttural sounds that clawed out of his throat were as dry as his eyes. There simply weren't any more tears to be spilled. He felt hollow, emptied, and just so tired, so tired of the routine, the endless automation of it all. In and out was all he could do and the monotonous actions suddenly felt so pointless, so futile, so much a failure. Everything he could do simply equated to nothing.

The flowers, trapped between his torso and knees, crushed and crinkled as he rocked. Jasmine swirled around him and his chest thudded with the scent. It hurt to breathe in its perfume, but it hurt worst realizing that it did. It shouldn't. It was a scent he knew waking and sleeping. It comforted him in all levels, it stood with him so often, he thought he could just turn around and she would be there. Too much. He didn't know what to do anymore. Everything he did that he was so sure would fix everything just seemed so useless. Utterly, completely, fucking pointless.

Ianto suddenly felt very lost.

He didn't know how long he was down there. Gradually, he became aware of the damp seeping into his suit, his trousers cold where he sat on the ground. The heavy, summery perfume had dissipated all around him and its fading reminder made his eyes burn.

Ianto looked down at the partially destroyed blossoms trapped in his lap. Purple petals clung to the tissue paper the bouquet was wrapped in.

Months. He looked up and suddenly, it had been months since Canary Wharf. Fire and blood no longer followed him everywhere, but the ache was still there. And to think time had passed so quickly and he wasn't aware of it. It felt like such a betrayal. Ianto hadn't meant for it to come to this. He shouldn't have let time go so casually.

Ianto took a deep breath and struggled to his feet, cradling the damaged bouquet in his trembling hands. He made the turn, entered the corridor and finished what he needed to do and left empty-handed.

It took a couple of deep breaths before Ianto felt composed enough to climb the metal steps up to the central area. He flicked a glance to his left. The lights in Jack's office were on of course. A quick check at the clock told him the others still won't arrive for another forty minutes. Ianto straightened his tie and trudged to the kitchen area. He stopped short.

There was a tray already set out. His mug capped with a tiny sauce plate to keep the heat and a plate of…?

Ianto's right eyebrow rose. He glanced over to Jack's office again, but no one emerged. Ianto looked at the tray again, shook his head, then made a cup of coffee.

Minutes later, Ianto carefully balanced the tray to Jack's office. To his surprise, the door wasn't locked and easily nudged open with a shoulder.

"Morning," Ianto called out.

"Morning," Jack murmured, his eyes fixed to his monitor. He looked over to Ianto as soon as the tray was set down. He studied Ianto carefully. But Jack said nothing, smiling briefly as he accepted his coffee.

"So uh…" Ianto took the dish off and found, to his pleasant surprise, a nice English Breakfast, caramel from the swirl of milk, steaming hot, and once more empty of any loose leaf. He sat on the edge of the table and took an experimental sip. Once again, not too sweet.

Jack was watching him over his mug.

Ianto sighed. It was exactly what he needed. "Thank you," he murmured, meeting Jack's warm eyes.

"Not too sweet?"

Ianto shook his head. "Perfect, but uh…" Ianto tilted up the plate set out with the tea. A dozen red circles of spotted meat fanned out like playing cards. "What's with the salami?"

To his surprise, Jack blushed. He hid his face in his mug as he drank, but he couldn't hide the pink ears.

"We were out of biscuits," Jack mumbled. He plucked a slice from the plate, rolled it up like a cigarette and ate it. He made a face. "This was all there was."

Ianto mirrored Jack but instead of eating his, he held it up like a match.

"Tea and salami?" Ianto archly asked.

It was amazing to see Jack blush; even more amazing was the fact Ianto was the one making him blush. There was something disarming about the captain when he flushed and his bravado shed, revealing something that Ianto felt like he was privileged to see. It gave Ianto a ridiculous urge to smile broadly despite the dark gloom he was suffocating under before.

"Told you," Jack grumbled. "We were out of biscuits."

"Not that I'm not grateful, but to what do I owe the privilege of tea and meats from Captain Harkness today?" Ianto popped the salami in his mouth. He screwed up his face. God, that was ghastly!

Jack set down his mug and leaned back in his seat so he could see Ianto better.

"I got an email from the acting director of Torchwood One about the service in a few months."

The warm glow that had swirled in his belly since his first sip curdled. "Oh."

Jack looked unusually awkward. He sat up, his gaze on his desk. He looked over to Ianto's leg on his desk.

"I uh…got the email, knew you probably got one as well, and thought I’d check if…well, check to see if you were okay. You weren't upstairs, so I went down to the vaults."

The curdling in his belly grew frigid. "You went down to the vaults," Ianto repeated numbly. "I…I didn't see you."

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "I heard you…thought you might want some privacy."

Ianto relaxed. "I did actually." He couldn't help himself. He brushed his fingers across the knuckles on Jack's hand resting on the desk. Interestingly, Jack shivered. "Thank you," Ianto added. "For that and the tea."

With a nonchalant shrug, Jack looked up and smiled faintly.

"You okay now?"

Ianto's shoulders slumped. "I don't know," Ianto said honestly. "I…I tried not to think about it, but Christ, it'll be a year in a few months. I don't know how that happened."

Jack nodded. He absently rubbed a knuckle along the thigh closest to him, realized what he was doing, and pulled back his hand.

Ianto could still feel the heat of his hand lingering, soaking through his trousers. He swallowed. "They were thinking of presenting some sort of plaque at the anniversary."

"It's a nice idea." Jack took another sip, not looking up.

The tea soured in his mouth. "I can't believe they had the audacity to send you an invitation after what we did to you."

Jack shrugged. "It was an automated email to all Torchwood employees, former and current."

"Someone should have noticed. Someone should have realized…"

Jack shrugged again and suddenly, the offhand gesture proved to be too much.

"We drained you, Jack! We took you, treated you like…like…some sort of thing as if you were—"

"A companion?" Jack smiled ruefully.

"Stop calling yourself that!"

Startled, Jack raised his eyes at Ianto. He frowned.

"It's over. Done. Nobody did anything they didn't want to. I wasn't forced into anything."

Ianto leaned in close, centimeters from his nose. "Can you honestly tell me that that was exactly what you wanted to do?"

Jack's stare was unreadable. "What's done is done," he said evenly. "And we'll never know if it would have worked."

God, he wanted to smack some sense into him sometimes. It was the only reason why the next words spilled out so cruelly.

"And you really think the Doctor had no idea what they were doing to you? What they were using the energies they took out of you for? That this…this horrible thing could have ever fixed you?"

The raw anguish that bled out of Jack's gaze stopped him. Ianto closed his eyes briefly and looked away.

"Sorry," Ianto murmured. He settled a hand over Jack's, now curled into a fist. "God, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. This whole thing about London has me in knots." He squeezed the cold fist in his hands.

"It's okay," Jack said dully before he pulled his hand out from under Ianto's.

The two fell into an awkward silence. Ianto emptied his tea, hiding his scrutiny of Jack behind his mug. The other man was avoiding his gaze, his eyes briefly glancing to his left to where the jar was.

"Are you going?" Jack asked, his eyes on his monitor again.

Ianto sighed heavily. "I don't know. I…everyone I knew were…I don't know." Ianto studied Jack's profile. "You?"

Jack lifted one shoulder, letting it drop quickly.

"They're including Rose Tyler's name on the plaque," Ianto told him quietly. Jack twisted around, surprised. "We had to provide names, after you left for Cardiff. Thought it only fair she be included."

Jack's eyes were bright. He nodded and smiled tightly. "Thanks," he managed out. Jack turned back to face his computer.

"Would you…" Ianto hedged, not sure why he was asking. "Would you care to go with me? I mean…together?"

"Can I think about it?" Jack asked.

It felt odd to be disappointed that Jack didn't say yes. Ianto nodded. "Of course."

Jack smiled to him over his shoulder.

"Thanks again for the tea," Ianto murmured, staring at the back of Jack's head. He remembered how Jack felt in his arms, how his abdomen flexed as he pressed against him; a warm, solid pillar of flesh that felt like both steel and silk. Ianto caught himself reaching out to touch Jack's hair. "It uh," he said hastily to cover himself. "It helped."

"Good." Jack sounded pleased.

"And we're not out of biscuits," Ianto added. "I hid them behind the napkins."

"Owen?" Jack guessed, amusement deepening his voice.

"Like a vacuum."



Act II : "Doesn’t it get lonely at night?"
Two weeks later…

God, he was bored. Bored, bored, bored.

"Stop that," Ianto's teeny voice in his ear made him smile. "That's it. No more sugar for you."

Jack smirked before popping one more blue M & M into his mouth before passing the bag to Gwen. He had found a very large bag of the candies on his desk over a week ago. Even though there was no note, Jack knew who it was, despite the complaining days after about finding chocolate pieces everywhere.

Jack, Gwen, and Owen paced the square, waiting for whatever was giving off the alien signature to pass them. Jack walked to the fountain, back to their SUV, then to the newspaper stand, then back.

"You're worse than a ping pong," Ianto complained in his ear. They had been passing the time chatting on a private channel. And Ianto's deep voice and his rolling syllables was a pleasant backdrop in his ears. "Stand still."

Jack grinned and tapped his earpiece. "You and Tosh are just—wait a second, how do you know I'm moving around?"

"Satellite uplink tracking you," Ianto told him. "So we know where you three are."

"Aw, tell the truth. You just like watching."

"Yes," Ianto deadpanned. "Because there is nothing more arousing than watching that white dot on the computer generated map of Cardiff going blip blip blip. My God, what a fetching looking dot. I think I need a cold drink."

Jack abruptly laughed, startling Owen and M & Ms spilled onto the street.

"I'm bored."

"Of course, you are. It's been seven minutes."

Jack scoffed. "Seven long minutes. I don't see anything."

"You would if you stopped ogling at the magazines on that newspaper stand."

"How do you…?"

"Your dot is standing by Griffin's Papers. It's practically glowing lecherously."

Jack snorted behind his hand, but obligingly walked away. "Your century is so obsessed with the display of the human body yet you then cover the books up with plastic wrap."

"Children," Ianto explained.

"Ah." Makes sense.

"And to avoid the hordes of panting lecherous dots like you milling about the stands gawping at the covers."

Jack chuckled. He looked around the square. He shrugged when Owen looked his way.

"Owen's annoyed."

"Owen's always annoyed," Ianto corrected. "We're cutting into his prowling time."

Jack perked up. "His what?"

"Prowling. He goes bar hopping to the wee hours. Tosh was talking to Gwen about it once."

"Explains why he's always late for work." Jack studied Owen thoughtfully from afar. "It's a good idea though. Might pick up more of the culture that way." Jack shrugged to himself. "He came back for me in the forties. I'd only been in the 21st century once before. I have decades of pop culture to catch up on."

"I don't think going to bars will help." Ianto sounded terse even over the phone. "I don't know how your time—whenever that was or is—for social interaction is. But today is certainly different from your time or the forties."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm intrigued."

"Don't be. We as a human race had become very predatory this century."

Jack dismissed his concerns with a scoff. "Please, the stories I can tell you…"

"Hm, that does remind me. I need to ask you about the one with the alien mimes."

Yikes. Jack laughed nervously. "I don't think there's much to say."

"True…they were mimes."

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey," he said hurriedly to change the subject. "You know, I was thinking about London." Jack paused. Actually, he had been.

There was a minute pause. "About?"

Kicking an M & M that managed to find its way to him, Jack shrugged. "Think you still want company?"

There was another pause and Jack wished this century had the technology for video communiqué. He could then see their faces, although, to be honest, he didn't know if seeing Ianto's reaction would have helped much. Ianto never reacted as Jack would expect; he didn't shirk away when he found out Jack was immortal, didn't see him as a companion but simply as Jack and looked at him as if he was pleased when Jack was here. Ianto made him feel…wanted.

Then there were times it was as if Ianto had woken from a dream and his face shuttered. And then there were moments like these when it seemed perfectly natural to have Ianto's voice whispering into his ear like the thrum-thrum beat that haunted him sometimes when the dark became too dark. But whereas the latter gave him chills down his body, Ianto's voice did the same, but it would pool in his groin and his skin would tingle.

Sometimes his head hurt trying to figure out what to expect from Ianto Jones.

"You know what?" Jack chuckled awkwardly when the pause became suffocating. "Never mind, it was just a thought." Stupid, Jack.

"I uh…I bought you a train ticket already," Ianto confessed. "Just…just in case. I mean, we were only talking about it, but I thought, well, I was getting tickets, so I might as well buy another one as well."

Jack felt that odd warmth in his gut again, that hard lump loosening just a little. "Oh. Okay."

"Have you ever been to London during this century?"

Jack shook his head and then made a face when he realized Ianto couldn't see it. "Uh, no. I saw it in the 20th century."

"A lot has changed, Captain Harkness."

Jack felt strangely giddy. "I'll bet. I—"

Gwen's shout spun him around.

"Jack?"

"I think we found the alien signal. There's going to be running now," Jack hastily said before he took off after Gwen, Owen slipping in place as he followed.


Act III

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