Jack and Ianto

Friday, May 21, 2021

After waking early, Ianto Jones reprogrammed the coffee pot. Thunder rumbled reminding him of dreams he'd had for days. He moved a potted primrose to the counter and closed the kitchen window. It smelled like rain. The new flowers and rose bushes needed it.

Russell appeared on the counter. "Your food is on the floor."

Ianto absented petted the cat as he looked at the incoming storm over the backyard. The memory, dreams, and storm meant something. Before finding the willow tree and experiencing the premonition, he would have attributed the uneasiness to anxiety. He'd dismissed it previously, but knew from the tingling in his hand that is was something more.

"Morning." Jack entered the kitchen.

"You could have stayed in bed."

"So could you." Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist.

"I was restless."

Jack kissed his neck lightly. "More reason to stay in bed."

Ianto ran his hands over Jack's arms. "We're getting a call."

"The same feeling as the car bomb?"

"Yeah." Ianto hesitated. "I've had the same dream for days." He didn't know how to explain it.

Jack kissed the back of Ianto's head. "Tell me."

"When I was researching Torchwood's connection to the alien antibodies, I found the connection between a London medical clinic and Torchwood employees that had fake death certificates. I remembered meeting Lisa near the clinic in the rain." Ianto wanted to believe it was stress and lingering PTSD symptoms. "I think there is something she didn't tell me." He shook his head slightly. "I don't know why it matters now."

"Are you having second thoughts?" Jack hugged him. "Our anniversary is next month."

"No." Ianto knew it wasn't that. "I always wanted two psychotic pets and two kids." The smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

"What are the dreams?"

"A memory of that night with differences. Lisa apologizes for keeping secrets and says I'm going to pay for something she did." Ianto took a moment. "It's as if something is using her and my left over guilt."

"She wasn't pregnant."

Ianto nodded. "I know." The idea bothered him so much he'd check the files, and scan readings, of Lisa's remains. There was no indication she'd ever been pregnant. He felt guilty afterward for violating her privacy.

The uneasiness increased as the morning progressed. The call came as Ianto dressed Michael for the day. Yesterday, he discussed daycare with his sister. Rather than the dreams, the pain in his arm worried him. He'd noticed it lessoned any time he discussed childcare. That seemed counterintuitive. He'd learned over the last two years, anxiety manifested in strange ways. But he couldn't help but wonder if he was missing something.

Uneasiness shifted to guilt as Ianto handed his son to Rhiannon. The pain disappeared entirely making him reconsider daycare. Telling himself he needed to help Jack didn't help. Walking back to the car increased the guilt. Ianto climbed into the passenger seat resisting the impulse to go back inside.

"Everything all right?" Jack asked.

He sighed. "I didn't want to leave Michael."

Jack set a hand on Ianto's leg. "He's safe with your sister."

"I know." The guilt faded making Ianto wonder more.

"We're meeting with a lawyer about an odd inheritance. His client's aunt, Velvet Prichard, died around the same time as the miracle recovery associated with Beltane. I checked the details before we left." Jack drove out of the car park. "Her condition suddenly worsened and she died the day before she would have been released."

That didn't sound good.

"The client found a box in her aunt's attic. The lawyer wouldn't explain over the phone. I got the impression he called early because the box makes him uncomfortable."

"Anything on the deceased or her family?" Ianto wondered how it connected to the dreams.

"Nothing specific. Her name sounds familiar. She was in her nineties when she died."

"Did you run the name through the hub computer?"

Jack turned a corner. "Yeah. Nothing. But we have nothing on Demeter."

"There was a Torchwood agent killed during an investigation related to Rhymney River that led to a ban on men investigating those cases. Either that agent had a history of crimes against women or the explanation for the ban was inaccurate." Ianto doubted the crimes-against-women theory the more he thought about it. "A computer glitch that didn't flag files makes me wonder if someone edited the system or if the hub is from a universe with subtle differences. We don't know enough about the changes Other Keara made."


Jack Harkness knew Ianto wasn't telling him something. He'd been increasingly anxious about Michael since the explosion. It was connected to the phantom pain from the healed arm. Jack originally thought the pain increased when Ianto was away from Michael, but that didn't explain the guilt.

"Pembroke Parcel has been a lawyer for forty years." Jack parked near the building entrance. "He made an itemized list of the box contents. He expects me to sign for the box and a nondisclosure agreement."

"Parcel's generating the evidence he wants to conceal?" Ianto smiled.

"Yeah. He doesn't represent criminals."

"Did he ask for immunity?" Ianto asked as they stepped out of the car.

Jack smiled. "He made it clear that any possible offenses were committed by the deceased. While trying to convince me and himself that no crime had been committed."

"Any ideas?" Ianto followed Jack into the building.

"The last lawyer called about Voodoo dolls."

"No."

Jack held the door open. "She made them from stolen sex toys."

Ianto eyed him as he entered the building.

"Check the files for Voodoo dolls." It wasn't the last inheritance case, but it was the most ridiculous in the last ten years. "We concluded she just liked sticking it to people."

Ianto groaned. "That's bad."

But it improved your mood, Jack thought, pushing the elevator button. "It was a hard case."

Parcel's office was in the corner of the fourth floor and identified by a plaque on the door. Jack led into the main room. The walls, furniture and hard wood floor were in dark browns accented with hunter green. Paintings of hunting dogs added color. A large reception desk dominated the main room between the front door and two open doorways.

"Good morning." The twenty-something receptionist smiled. "My grandfather will be right with you."

A man in his mid to late sixties stepped into the main room carrying a folder. "Thank you for the impromptu appointment."

"It's not a problem," Ianto said.

"The paperwork is a formality, but I need it for my records."

Jack nodded. "Would your associate be able to show Ianto the box while we handle the papers?"

Parcel obviously hadn't considered the request. "Yes." He looked to his granddaughter. "It's the cardboard box on the conference table."


Ianto Jones followed the young woman into a small meeting room. Shelves of law books and thick binders lined the walls. Jack said something about his secretary and she smiled. "My grandfather is an incredible attorney, but can be oblivious."

Ianto met her eyes.

"He called at a ridiculous time in the morning to pick up a box. You're not Captain Harkness' secretary."

"Office manager." Ianto smiled. "Are you a lawyer?"

She laughed. "Psychology student."

Ianto removed a small hand-held device from his pocket. "I need to make sure it's not dangerous." She didn't say anything as he scanned the box. It didn't indicate a problem. "Why did your grandfather call Jack?"

The amusement faded. "It could be a souvenir box."

Ianto carefully opened it. An ornate frame faced the side of the box. Several drawstring bags in various colors made of silky or velvet-like material rested on an assortment of items. He lifted a dark purple pouch. It contained an old lighter and a small piece of paper with feminine handwriting. A light green bag held an antique brooch. A pale blue velveteen one held an older locket. He hesitated over a bright red bag; it took him a moment to open it. He recognized the bracelet without reading the label, and checked the beads by the clasp looking for the flaw.

"Find something?" Jack asked approaching quietly.

Parcel called to his granddaughter and she stepped out of the room.

Ianto held out the bracelet. "Yeah. It's handmade and came from an art festival in London." He vaguely recalled the sunny weekend years ago. "The last bead is a replacement." The artist offered a discount because of it.

"Who'd it belong to?"

"Lisa. I bought it for her." Ianto handed the green bag to Jack. "Check the piece before looking at the label."

Jack removed the brooch and stared at it. "Estelle."

Ianto pointed to others. "Diane and Mary."

"We need to get this back to the hub."

Ianto reached for the frame. Blue light rippled over the black surface from his finger tips. "I don't sense danger."


Jack Harkness carried the box back to the car. Ianto's reaction to the mirror concerned almost as much as the jewelry. There were no good reasons for the contents. How Velvet Prichard got the items was equally worrisome. Lisa had family that could have kept the bracelet. Estelle's items had gone to charities. It would have taken effort, but it was possible. Mary's things were packed up after her death and were storage. It wasn't impossible. The question was how the item belonging to Diane was collected or even how the woman knew Diane existed. He had to consider the possibility of a hoax or extreme coincidence. But the worse case scenario made the most sense. The items were real.

Ianto waited until they returned to the car. "Why would anyone want those items?" Ianto took a moment. "Say the items are suppose to effect us. Three of the four of us aren't from this universe. Tosh and Owen for sure."

Jack set a hand on Ianto's knee. "We'll figure it out."

Ianto set a hand on Jack's.

The car ride past in silence. Jack knew there was something Ianto wasn't telling him. The problem was getting him to talk about it. It either involved Michael or Lisa.

Jack parked in the garage next to Torchwood. "What do you remember about the bracelet?"

"I barely remember it." Ianto shook his head.

"You identified it."

"I don't know."


Ianto Jones entered the hub thinking about the mirror. Black mirrors were associated with visions or prophecy. The willow tree that seemed to cause him premonitions was said to enhance psychic abilities. It could explain why he reacted to the mirror.

"It could be about seeing the past," Ianto said as the large door closed behind them.

Jack stopped walking. "What?"

Ianto moved up and opened the box. "It could require a personal connection." He carefully removed the mirror.

"Be careful."

"Yeah." The blue light flared a moment later.

He heard Jack calling his name as he lost consciousness.

Ianto finds himself standing beyond a ritual circle. Drunk men and women wore ancient Roman-inspired clothing and wreaths of made of ivy on their heads. They danced between tall poles wrapped in vines and tipped with pine cones and the fire. Music rose from somewhere and the dancing increased. Cymbals clashed. The volume rosed. The frenzied dance increased in madness until one by one the dancers collapsed.

A voices echoes around him. "The Maenad seek. Our patron is hurt. Hiding."

A woman stepped from thin air as if she walked through parting curtains. Like the revelers, she wore the same clothes. Both her her head wreath and her staff, which she used as a walking stick, had grape vines wound around them. She stopped in front of Ianto.

"The gatekeeper." She eyed him. "You will help us."

"What do you want?"

"For you to free Bacchus."

"How?"

She handed him the staff.

The word faded around him until Ianto was standing in open space, the universe moving around him.

"Open the gate." The voice echoed again.


Jack Harkness crouched next to Ianto where he fell and checked his pulse. It was thankfully strong. He showed no obvious injuries.

Ianto's eyes fluttered and opened them.

"Hey."

"I think we're caught in a conflict among ancients and people connected to them." Ianto groaned trying to sit up. "The ancients can only affect the universe through people."

They already knew that. "What happened?"

"Another gate request." Ianto touched Jack's face lightly. "Whatever happened to Bacchus is connected to you."