Recovering the Past
From out of nowhere a figure materialised on the main floor of the Hub and after a quick shake to rid himself of the vestiges of travel through the vortex he straightened his shoulders and looked around. Wasting no time, Jack Harkness flipped open his vortex manipulator, pressed several buttons and disabled the CCTV cameras. Pleased with himself, Jack closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the distinctive smells of his beloved underground base fill his senses.
There was the rich distinctive smell of human occupation, the lingering aroma of Chinese takeaway, and the pungent odour of a Weevil that has passed through on its way down to the cells, but underlying it all was the delicate scent of freshly brewed coffee. That unique fragrance brought an unexpected rush of emotion washing over him, clutching at his chest, bringing a lump to his throat and filling his eyes with tears.
"My Ianto…" Jack whispered, "My precious Ianto, how I miss you."
Jack allowed himself a few more seconds of sorrow before reality claimed his attention. There was work to be done and not much time to do it in; he knew he, Ianto and Gwen would be returning to the Hub in less than an hour.
Jack sat down at what had once upon a time been Toshiko's desk and which still maintained contact with the living heart of the Hub, Mainframe. One night, while a bit tipsy, Tosh had confessed to him that while she loved her co-workers, Mainframe was her best friend, her confidante and her soul mate. Smiling at the memory, Jack inserted a specialised external drive he'd liberated – read stolen – from the desk of an underscribe on Aliadere, a moon containing nothing but libraries and archives and housing for the trusted employees who maintained the same.
A few quick keystrokes later and Mainframe's entire 'being' was being downloaded onto the drive and a program that Jack had written himself was being uploaded in her place. The drive was capable of copying more than just raw data; it could also record the soul and personality of Mainframe.
Sprinting up to his office Jack shrugged a large carry-all off his shoulder, set it on his desk and propped it open, removing numerous bags and soft packing cloths he'd picked up in an open-air market on Selstius 9, a little out-of-the-way moon in the Marquessa Cluster where the vendors were renowned for catering to every taste, desire and whim in the Universe, no questions asked. Jack had shopped there often while he freely roamed the universe, before his stint with the Doctor had curtailed such activities.
Opening his desk drawer he pulled out the faded yellow metal box holding the precious and irreplaceable photographs that chronicled his life since he arrived on Earth in the 19th century and set it in the bag first, followed by the two framed photos from his desktop, one of the full team and one of Ianto, both wrapped in a cloth.
Next he gently took the coral from under its grow light and spent a moment savouring the warmth of it in his hands and the almost imperceptible thrum of life coursing through it. With a soft sigh he reverently wrapped it in one of the cloths, slipped it into a special bag, sealed it and then tapped his finger on the seal. Instantly the bag hardened into an impenetrable shell that could withstand any blow from any weapon but which Jack could reopen with a delicate touch.
Once the coral was safely nestled in the carryall, Jack added the grow lamp and the coral's hand-carved wooden stand. He then gathered a myriad of items from the shelves around his office, mementos all, including several books and a small silver plane, a scale-model replica of the Spitfire he'd flown for Queen and country during WWII.
Finally, carrying several more specially-designed bags, he slipped down the ladder into his bunker and was immediately overwhelmed by memories of time spent down there with his beloved Ianto. He remembered laughing, talking, holding one another, making love and his favourite activity of all, occasionally even more so than making love, watching Ianto sleep. He remembered memorising his young lover's features, every contour of his face, his body, everything he possibly could, knowing that the day would come when his memories were all he had left to keep him company.
Sinking down on to the narrow cot on which he'd spent so many glorious nights with Ianto, Jack scooped up their pillow and held it to his face, breathing in the mingled smells of shampoo, aftershave, coffee, pheromones and even sex. Again his eyes filled with tears and his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest; he was finally home for the first time in nearly seven hundred years. Rocking back and forth, Jack let the tears flow unchecked, centuries of loss, loneliness and guilt washing over him in pain-filled waves.
Against his will, his mind betrayed him and Jack found himself once again kneeling on the floor of Thames House, cradling Ianto in his arms, begging him not to leave, promising he'd never forget. Jack howled with the agony of the memory, sharpened by the scent of Ianto after so many, many years. The pain in his chest grew until it became a physical thing, clawing its way from his soul, leaving him doubled over and gasping for breath.
It was only a nagging sense of urgency that finally, insistently, dragged him back to the present and the task at hand. Jack reluctantly collected himself, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He tossed the tissue towards the small bin and missed, as ususal; as he eyed the crumpled ball of damp paper he heard Ianto's voice saying, "I'm not picking that up, Jack," and he burst into damp and sniffley laughter at the memory. Back on a fairly even keel, Jack quickly exchanged the pillow and its case for a one he'd brought with him and then he stripped the sheets from the bed, folded them and slipped it all into one of the bags. This particular bag would preserve every nuance of smell from whatever it contained. With no other reason than force of habit, he quickly remade the bed with clean linens from the wardrobe; it crossed his mind that it was a waste of valuable time, given that no one would ever be coming down there again but he didn't care.
Next, from the wardrobe, Jack gathered all of Ianto's suits, combining them with the Welshman's favourite shirts and ties before sliding them all into the largest of the bags and sealing it shut. Finally, Jack took the last two bags into the little bathroom that he and Ianto shared and emptied the contents of the cabinet into the smaller, liquid-proof bag.
Last but not least, in a move even he would admit was on the farthest side of weird, Jack emptied the basket overflowing with dirty laundry – luckily laundry day wasn't until tomorrow and they'd had a very active week – and sealed it all into another smell-preserving bag as well.
Returning to the bedroom, Jack pulled open the top drawer of the small dresser that he and Ianto shared and took out a small velvet-lined tray. It held the few pieces of jewellery he and Ianto possessed: the beaded leather necklace that Ianto had worn on their first meeting, the silver Spitfire cufflinks that Ianto had given him for their first Christmas together, and finally the most precious thing of all, Ianto's stopwatch. He hadn't worn it that morning, saying that the crystal was loose and he wanted to get it repaired before anything happened to it out in the field. Jack reverently kissed the watch before slipping it and the other items into his breast pocket.
Tossing the bags with the bed linens and the laundry up through the manhole and into his office, Jack gathered the other two into his arms and climbed out of the bunker. Setting all the bags in a row on the desk, he pointed his wrist strap at each one, pressing buttons that caused each to shrink to the size of a paperback book and then he settled them in his carry-all. Drawing a deep breath, Jack took one last look around his office, committing it to memory before putting his bag over his shoulder and heading for the kitchen.
Reaching into the carry-all, he retrieved a box made of soft flexible metal mesh and set it on the counter. Opening the cupboard he gathered up every bag of coffee beans that Ianto had in stock – luckily, the Welshman had just replenished his vast supply the day before and there were twenty-four sealed pouches as well as four that had been already been opened. 'We drank way too much coffee back then!' he chuckled to himself. Knowing the team wouldn't need any of it, Jack packed it all into the box and then added all of the stacks of filters and packed the mesh box into the carry-all.
Leaving the most important part of his kitchen raid to last, he stroked the coffee machine affectionately, remembering all the incredible cups of coffee it had produced at Ianto's talented hands. There was a broad smile on his face as he pointed his wrist strap at it and shrank it down before laying it in a small padded box which joined the coffee bean stash in the big bag.
Thinking about Ianto bringing him coffee reminded him of one other thing he wanted, well two things actually, and he quickly retrieved the blue-and-white striped mug that Ianto had served his coffee in hundreds of times as well as the white mug with the red Welsh dragon on it that Ianto always used. Having run out of the cloths from Selstius 9, Jack made do with what he had, stuffing the mugs first with clean dishcloths and sheets of kitchen roll before wrapping them in several of Ianto's favourite tea towels and stuffing them into the carry-all.
Returning to the Hub's main floor, he went to Ianto's desk and set his bag on the floor next to him. Mindful of the time, he quickly rifled through the drawers, retrieving a few odds and ends, one of which he placed in his outer pocket and the others he stowing in the bag. When he found Ianto's diary, carefully concealed at the back of a drawer, he placed in his carry-all. A quick glance at his watch told him time was running out so he hurriedly began climbing the ladders and metal walkways that led to Myfanwy's aerie; before he was even halfway there she stuck her head out the door and was welcoming him with a delighted coo.
Kneeling down beside her, Jack pulled the chocolate bar he'd taken from Ianto's stash out of his pocket, unwrapped it and fed it to her in several chunks. While she was enjoying her treat he carefully attached a miniature transport device and homing beacon to the underside of her wing. The beacon would lead her to his cloaked ship, currently parked in the vast and deserted Brecon Beacons. Knowing that she was going to be safe and that he would catch up with her shortly, Jack gave her one more scratch along her crest before returning to the floor.
Thundering down the stairs to the cells, Jack held a miniature transport disc in one hand while he opened Janet's cell with the other. Before she could attack him, he slapped the temporary disc onto her closest body part and hit the proper button on his wrist strap. In a flash the Weevil was returned to the sewers of London to re-join her kind; the disc was designed to disintegrate within a few hours.
His work done, Jack rushed back upstairs to the main floor, retrieved the drive from Tosh's computer, tucked it in his pocket next to Ianto's stopwatch and slowly looked around his Hub one last time before turning the CCTV back on and activating the transport on his wrist strap. Then he blinked out of sight just as instantly as he had appeared, knowing that within the next hour the Hub would be completely destroyed.
It didn't matter though, because he'd saved Myfanwy's life, he'd collected his favourite keepsakes, and he'd installed a program that would activate at the first vibration from the bomb, which his younger self was now carrying in his belly. Much like the time lock bubble that Tosh had designed and which had kept his Ianto safe from the Dalek's invasion of Earth, his program would create a shield that would protect the contents of the Archives from the inherent damage of an explosion. This in turn would allow him to return at any time in the future to recover various items from the past.
End