Note: This story begins immediately following the BBC radio play The House of the Dead, though most of the tale takes place during the latter half of Series 2.

I. Lost

"Good bye, Jack."

A blinding flash of brilliant white light—how cliché—an explosion of unbearable pain— again?—and the sensation of millions of atoms, his very being, breaking apart yet somehow, incredibly, coming together again as him…

And with a shocking gasp, life flooded into lungs starved for air, warmth returned to limbs frozen with cold. Sound and color swirled around him, a confused blur of someplace he recognized, someplace he knew.

Torchwood. The Hub.

Ianto Jones was in the Hub. How he had got there, he wasn't quite sure…and then he remembered that the Hub had been destroyed, completely reduced to rubble by the bomb set within Jack. Ianto stopped wondering how he got there and wondered instead when he was, because obviously he was in the past: this was his Hub, not some distant future where their ruined base had been miraculously rebuilt.

Shit, he thought. He wasn't even supposed to be alive, yet alone stuck in the past. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to have closed the Rift, saved the world, been blown to oblivion while the magic pebbles of Wales sang him to his death…his second death.

He had died before. He remembered it now, all of it.

Yet there he was, sprawled out on the floor of the autopsy bay, cold and weak and confused as hell. Damn Syriath, damn the Rift…and damn Jack for doing this to him in the first place.

Standing gingerly, Ianto was relieved to see that he was alone, and that no one appeared to have noticed anything. That was, until Tosh poked her head over the railing and frowned down at him, eyes wide behind her glasses.

"Ianto? Are you all right?" she asked. "I just picked up a major Rift spike right in the middle of the autopsy bay."

He stared at her. Tosh—alive and breathing, not bleeding out her life on the autopsy floor. He had scrubbed away her blood, washing the stones clean with his tears, and yet there she was, gazing down at him with confusion and concern. Tosh.

God, it was so good to see her he could have cried. He suddenly understood so much better Jack's desperate trip to the House of the Dead.

And then it occurred to him that he might be up there, his past self living in whatever time this was, and he knew enough about timelines to know he couldn't run into himself, not without all sorts of tense-tangling temporal disturbances. So he shook his head emphatically, to try and get her down there without anyone else seeing him first. "A little help would be nice."

Tosh hurried down the stairs, yet she slowed down as she approached him. "You look different," she said, speaking softly as if her instincts somehow knew something was not right. "You weren't wearing that suit when you left…and you look older, somehow." She stopped coming any closer, even took a step backward. "Who are you?"

Ianto took a deep breath. "I am Ianto Jones, Tosh. I swear to you, I am. I'm just…well…I'm from another time."

"Another time?" she asked skeptically.

"I fell into the Rift," he said, even though he had stepped willingly into it, trying to destroy it. Obviously she did not need to know that, not yet. "And now I'm here, only it's different. Where is everyone else?"

"Gwen is home with Rhys, Owen is out, and I thought you just went to get the pizza," she said, still sounding a bit wary. Of course she would, given some of the more unusual things they saw at Torchwood. He could be anything—someone from the past, from the future, an alien shapeshifter trying to kill them all. She was right to have her guard up, though it hurt to know that she didn't trust him, even if it was a future him she didn't really know.

"And Jack?" asked Ianto.

"In his office, of course." Ianto nodded in relief. So right now Tosh was the only one who had seen him. Maybe if he didn't reveal too much, he wouldn't damage the timeline too much. Not that he wouldn't mind changing it completely: here was Tosh, alive and well.…and Owen…Ianto could change all that, with a few simple words of warning. Yet he couldn't, because he knew the consequences of time travel. He had to stay unseen, the future unknown, and somehow get back to his own time.

The problem was, he had no time. He'd been called back from death and stepped into the Rift, and now he was alive in his past. Where did he go? What did he go back to?

"I think I need your help," he said slowly. "I need to get back to where I belong."

"But where's that? Or when?" asked Tosh. "What's going on, Ianto?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I told you—I was brought here by the Rift. I jusy need to get back before I do any more damage than I have already in crossing my own timeline."

"But you haven't done anything more than talk to me," she protested, then stopped as they heard footsteps above them. Tosh's eyes went wide, and she motioned him to hide, somewhere, anywhere. Ianto slipped under the autopsy table as she threw a sheet over it, and he heard someone at the railing.

"Tosh, is Jack still in his office?" It was him—his past self. Ianto felt his skin crawl, like an electric current was giving him goose pimples, and he suddenly remembered feeling the exact same way as his past self once long ago, when he had asked Tosh the same question one late night in the Hub.

Ianto almost wanted to poke his head out and see his past self, but he knew he couldn't. His heart racing, he waited while Tosh hurriedly sent his past self away. When she finally ducked her head under the table, her eyes were wide.

"This is very, very bad."

"You don't know the half of it," Ianto murmured. Because he wasn't even supposed to be alive, yet alone trapped in his own past. "What's the date?"

He was slightly stunned to find it was only a few months before her death. When she saw the look on his face, she knelt down on the floor in front of him. "Why do you look like that?" she demanded. "What happens?"

"Tosh, you know I can't tell you," he said, running a hand through his hair as he tried to understand what had happened, what to do about it, and how to not change the future even though he desperately wanted to. "I just have to figure out a way to get out of here, back to where I belong." Wherever that is. Whenever.

"Right, of course," she said, nodding. "Sorry. I know that. Well, when did you come from?"

He could tell her that, right? If he was going to go back, he had to tell someone. He had no idea how to get back, though, except through the Rift…and then it occurred to him, that if he went back to the moment he left, the same thing might just keep happening, like some nightmare version of a time loop, where he kept going back into the House of the Dead to close the Rift only to have it spit him out back at the Hub over and over again.

"It's complicated," he murmured. "I'm not really sure what I can tell you without making it worse."

"If we're going to get you back, I need to know something," she replied.

"Yes, I know, but it's really complicated." He gave her a very pointed look, and she slowly nodded.

"Then maybe we should talk to Jack," she said softly. "He's had the most experience with time travel, after all. Not that he's told us much, but still. He might know something."

Ianto sighed. As much as he wanted to see Jack, he didn't know how safe it would be to reveal himself to someone else. And it would be difficult: the last time he had talked to Jack, Jack had been a broken shell of the man he once was. He had come to the pub to destroy the Rift, but more importantly, he had come to end it all. Jack Harkness, the man who couldn't die, had come to the House of the Dead to throw himself into the Rift with the desperate hope of exploding into the void. And then Ianto had lied to him, had offered to leave with him…only to stay back with the bomb and do it himself. Because he knew his place, he knew his duty…and because he couldn't let that happen to Jack, wandering immortal in the darkness of time and space, formless, shapeless, lifeless but neither dead nor alive.

Yet Tosh was right: Jack had once been a Time Agent. Of all of them, he might know what to do with Ianto's unique situation…only it would likely mean revealing bits of the future in order to understand, to know how to fix it.

That was what Retcon was for, wasn't it?

Suddenly Jack's voice rang out above them. "Tosh? I just picked up some Weevil sightings downtown, so we're heading out for a while. Save some pizza for us." Ianto was pretty sure his past self was there, as he vaguely remembered Weevil hunting with Jack about this time…Weevil hunting and then a late dinner, and an even later night at his flat…

Yet if he stopped Jack from going Weevil hunting with his past self, what would happen to that memory? Would he keep it or lose it? How much would that one simple night change his past? It was one night among many that they had spent together, after all. It seemed minor, so he tugged on Tosh and motioned up toward the Hub to get Jack's attention. She stood and called out to him.

"Uh, Jack? Would you mind staying a moment? I've got something I need to talk to you about." She sounded a bit nervous; Ianto felt ridiculous hiding under the table.

"What is it?" he asked, and Ianto could picture Jack leaning over the railing. He guessed his past self was probably right next to him, because Tosh cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"For your eyes only, Jack." She paused. "Sorry, Ianto. It's important."

There was a moment of silence, then, "You go on ahead. I'll meet you at the SUV." Ianto could imagine his past self shrugging as he left and once again felt that strange tingly feeling down his spine, like he was being watched by unseen eyes. He heard Jack's footsteps on the stairs to the autopsy bay and steeled himself for what would likely be a very surreal and possibly dangerous meeting.

"What is it, Tosh? Are you hiding an alien under the table?" Ianto could imagine Jack's cheeky grin and tried not to huff indignantly. He waited until Tosh explained.

"Actually, I just picked up a major Rift spike, here in the Hub. In the autopsy bay," she said. He could almost picture Jack nodding, arms crossed across his chest.

"And did you find anything?" he asked, sounding more serious.

Ianto stood up from behind the table, dusting some dirt from his suit. He met Jack's eyes—younger, happier eyes. "Me."

"Ianto?" Jack asked, frowning in confusion.

"Hello, Jack," said Ianto, holding his gaze and waiting for Jack to begin to piece it together.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking just as guarded as Tosh had. His hand had even moved to rest lightly on his gun. "I just sent you out to the SUV to wait for me."

"I know," said Ianto. A fading memory crossed paths with a clearer one. "And you never came. This is why."

"Tosh?" asked Jack, his voice rising in that way he had when he didn't know something and wanted the answer immediately.

"He says he's from another time, Jack," Tosh said. "Which means we need to get him back, only he said it's complicated."

Jack was staring at Ianto as if he didn't trust what he saw, and somehow that tore a small hole in Ianto's heart. "It's really me, Jack. I'm sorry, but I need your help. You know I can't be here."

"How do I know it's really you?" Jack countered.

"Jack," Tosh said, a surprised reprimand in her voice. "Look at him."

"He looks different," Jack replied, still studying him closely. Ianto nodded wearily.

"Time changes people," he said softly. "You should know that, Jack."

"How much time?" Jack demanded. Ianto hesitated, and Jack stepped forward. "When are you from?"

"Just over a year from now, I think." Ianto was starting to feel weak standing there being grilled; he suspected it had to do with both being dead and falling through the Rift. It was a lot for anyone to handle in one day, after all. He put his hands in his pockets to reach for the comfortable familiarity of his stopwatch, but it was not there. Of course it wasn't: he'd come back from the dead, why would he have his watch on him? Who knew what had happened to it when he had died at Thames House. Almost ready to collapse, Ianto staggered to the steps and sat down heavily, letting his head fall into his hands.

"This shouldn't be happening," he murmured. Jack gave him a funny look, then tapped his earpiece.

"Ianto?" he called, and Ianto's past self must have answered, because Jack's eyes widened slightly as he stared at Ianto-on-the-stairs.

"We've had a Rift spike in the Hub. I need to stay and check it out with Tosh…no, you go on, we'll be fine. It could be what brought the Weevils out. Maybe give Owen a call and see if he can't back you up…yes, I know he doesn't…then be careful. I'll call later. Thanks. You too."

Clicking it off, he walked slowly toward Ianto with that look on his face Ianto had always associated with something bad happening to the person Jack was giving it to. Ianto rose to face him, feeling drained and slightly dizzy, but he stood his ground and gazed into Jack's clear blue eyes, hoping Jack would see, would know, would feel the truth of what Ianto was saying—the truth of who he was.

He thought about reaching out to Jack somehow, but before he could, Jack had taken his face and was kissing him, really kissing him, and though Ianto knew it was a test, he also knew he would pass. He returned Jack's kiss with all the passion and love he'd come to feel for this man over the years, pouring his heart and soul into that one single moment, that one chance he had to convince Jack that he was real, that he was Ianto Jones.

It did not last long: Jack stepped back with a gasp, as if he'd been shocked, his hands falling limply to his side as he gazed in wonder at Ianto. "It is you," he whispered. "But it's so different. What happened to you?"

"You know I can't tell you," Ianto replied wearily. "Jack, I hate even having this much contact, but I don't know what to do."

Jack still seemed astounded, his hand coming to his mouth as if wanting to remember what they had just shared. "I can imagine. Time travel is like that. Tosh, can you look at what happened here—analyze the spike, see if you can tell where and when it came from. If we can recreate it, we can send him back. And turn off the Hub monitoring system, we can't have everyone seeing this."

Tosh nodded and turned to head toward her computer. Ianto let his head fall to his chest: it was the best, most logical solution, sending him right back to when he'd come from, and also the worst. And yet, how could he tell Jack that without revealing too much of the future?

"You don't want to go back, do you?" Jack asked softly, tilting his chin up.

"It's not that," Ianto replied, shaking his head. "I have to, I know that. I can't stay, obviously. It's just…" He didn't know what to say, and Jack nodded in understanding.

"It's complicated?" he asked.

"You have no idea," Ianto murmured, closing his eyes. He opened them with a small smile. "I'm sorry, Jack," he said.

"What for?" asked Jack, taking his hand and leading him up out of the bay. "I've got two of you now. I could call the other you back and we could—"

"Don't even go there," Ianto replied, giving Jack a pained expression when inside he wanted to laugh with joy. The Jack he had left had been so broken by grief he had almost forgotten the old Jack, the carefree, flirtatious Jack he had been attracted to at first, and then slowly but surely come to love so fiercely.

"You're right," Jack said with that grin—oh, that grin. "I wouldn't want to share you with you."

"That's disgusting."

"Do you two mind?" Tosh called from her computer. "I can hear you, and I'd really rather not hear that."

Jack laughed, and Ianto couldn't help but join him, because it felt so good to be with this Jack, not the Jack from the pub, or the Jack who had fought the 456 with such guilt-ridden determination—the Jack who had begged him not to leave him and then desperately brought him back. It would be hard to leave this Jack…but Ianto knew he would. He had no choice.

Author's Notes:

What can I say? The opening image of Ianto tumbling into the Hub from the future grabbed me and wouldn't let go. This was not the story I had planned to write as my second Torchwood piece (although I've more than started that one as well), but writing is funny that way sometimes. I'm terrified to post it because time travel is so, so difficult (just figuring out the show's timeline is hard enough!) but I figure if I mess something up, I can always go back and change it without having to worry about universe-ending paradoxes.

I do hope this turns out to be at least somewhat original. I've read a few time travel stories for this crew, but not like this. Or maybe it's been done better a hundred times already, in which case I'll just humbly duck my head and carry on anyway, because again: I haven't read it, and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. It's complicated, but fun.

Please enjoy. Hopefully it will be a good ride!