Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Who-verse. That honour belongs to RTD (the TW arm at least – Miracle Day, what were you thinking?), Steven Moffat (I am not worthy) and the mighty and glorious BBC. I merely play here occasionally and try to set right the terrible wrongs inflicted on Jack and Ianto...
A/N: I've been threatening to write this follow-up to Recollections for a while, partly because I felt guilty about causing a sudden increase in tissue sales. Though, as usual I can't write fluff without a fair bit of angst in the mix...
Without giving too much away, it may help if you've read Purpose In All Things...
This is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes which are mine alone.
I hope you enjoy it, as always feedback is most welcome, indeed loved.
There was something watching in the darkness. She could feel it rather than see it. In truth the darkness was absolute, not even a glimmer of light to illuminate the watcher. But she knew someone was there, watching, waiting, growing ever more impatient. It should have scared her and a part of her felt the expected fear, a terror of the unknown watcher in the dark; the rest of her felt nothing except the numbness of an unknown loss too great to be given a name.
For what could have been an eternity or the merest second of time she embraced the darkness, waiting for whoever was hiding to reveal themselves, for the numbness to envelop the last trace of feeling, welcoming the oblivion it would bring.
Until a voice splintered the silence, the shocked call of her name fracturing the darkness into shards of obsidian edged with blinding light. With a start of surprise Toshiko Sato opened her eyes.
Her world was a blur of white and grey shot through with streaks of deep purple. Vague shapes, edges smudged into indistinct lines swam in a nauseating swirl before her eyes. Tosh closed her eyes, squeezing them tight shut before opening them again, willing the sickening roller-coaster of motion to stop. She blinked as the world slowly settled into focus revealing slate blue eyes and familiar concerned features.
"Hello," said Ianto Jones, his face softening into a gentle smile. "Nice to have you back, Tosh."
She coughed hoarsely, her mouth dry, leaving words impossible. For some reason she felt vaguely amazed that she was able to make any kind of sound at all. Ianto leaned down to lift a glass to her lips and she sipped tentatively at first then eagerly, savouring the feel of the cool liquid running down her parched throat.
She swallowed and tried again. "T..thank you. What happened?" she asked croakily, Her tongue still felt thick and alien in her mouth and she took another sip of water, letting it wash around her mouth for a moment before she swallowed.
The Welshman didn't reply, instead studying her face intently for several seconds. "What do you remember?" he asked eventually, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
Tosh's brow puckered as she fought to pull her memories from the fog of confusion clouding her thoughts.
"I...I don't know. There was darkness and someone watching. Whoever or whatever it was seemed to be waiting for something." She shook her head in frustration as the recollection began to fade like a dream on waking. "All the rest is a jumble, just a blur of shapes and sounds." She examined Ianto's face for some kind of reaction but there was nothing except a carefully maintained smile of reassurance. Her gaze slid beyond him onto featureless walls painted a soft white. The smoothness of the walls and the presence of a window currently obscured by grey suede effect curtains edged with rich purple brocade eliminated the Hub. The understated elegance of it was somehow familiar.
"Where am I?"
"My flat," Ianto explained. "The Hub wasn't an option." The reassuring smile slipped for a second becoming a twisted grimace, but before Tosh could even question it the urbane smile was back in place.
"How long have I been out of it?" Something told her that the fact she was here under Ianto's care and not in her own flat or the medical bay of the Hub meant whatever had happened to her had been far more unusual than the standard Torchwood injuries. She glanced across to the bedside table looking for a clock but the smooth wood surface was devoid of anything except a slate coaster on which rested the remains of the glass of water. Another glance back at the curtained window revealed no clue as to whether it was day or night.
"Quite a while," Ianto admitted sadly. "Long enough that I stopped counting the days since it happened."
Tosh's shocked gasp confirmed that his answer was unexpected.
"What happened to me?" Tosh pressed, fighting down a rising sense of panic. How much time had she lost? More than a few days clearly, but was it weeks? Months? Or even years? She needed to know. Even with her muddled mind she couldn't shake the feeling she was missing something, a truth that was just beyond her reach. "Tell me, Ianto."
But the young man shook his head apologetically. "I can't tell you, Tosh. You need to discover that by yourself."
"Is that what Jack says?" she asked sharply, anger surging through her, driving the last remnants of numbness from her chest.
Ianto's reassuring expression faltered, his eyes darkening with pain. "He's not here," he confessed slowly.
"Out catching weevils?" Tosh spat, her voice bitter. She could hear the venom in her voice driven by barely contained panic and hated that she was striking out at the one person who didn't deserve it, but something drove her on. "Or have you had another lover's tiff?"
"Something like that," Ianto said flatly. "I'm not sure where he is right now. Or Gwen for that matter." He seemed about to continue but no words followed.
"What about Owen?" she questioned, forcing the name past her lips in something approaching a normal tone. "I thought at least he would be here taking care of me."
Ianto eyes found hers and held them unblinking. She swallowed and hurried on to fill the silence "I mean I was shot and..." Her voice died away as her hands raised from her sides and gravitated to her abdomen. At that moment she became aware that beneath the snowy white duvet of Egyptian cotton she was dressed in jeans and a shirt and beneath the bullet torn material her fingertips could detect a puckered scar marring the smooth skin of her stomach.
"It was Gray... he shot me. And Owen... the reactor..." Her face crumpled as the kaleidoscope of shapes and sounds coalesced, forgotten memories flooding her mind accompanied by an unstoppable surge of grief and pain. "He's gone, oh God, he's gone, isn't he?" The words a whisper, barely audible.
Ianto's answering nod elicited a wail of pain and loss. "Why didn't I die? Why did you save me, Ianto? Why couldn't you just let me die and go to him? That is all I've ever wanted. Even if he didn't love me..." Her voice faltered.
"It wasn't up to me, or Gwen, or even Jack! You are the one who chose to be here, Tosh." Ianto gave a shrug, but his expression was sympathetic. "Fate's a bitch, I know."
"Fate's a bitch?" Tosh repeated brokenly. "That's all you can say?" Her tear stained face was incredulous. "The Ianto Jones I know would never have said that. Not to me. Not now." She shrank away from him suddenly fearful. "Who are you?"
Ianto stretched out a hand towards her but she flinched away, and for the first time his face filled with real distress.
"Tosh, I'm sorry. It is me. I just... A lot's happened since you..." His voice trailed away to an awkward silence. Finally he muttered, almost under his breath, "It's been bad, Tosh. For all of us."
Tosh made no reply but relaxed back into the pillow, silent tears of grief returning to roll slowly down her cheeks. This time she accepted the comforting touch of Ianto's hand on her shoulder.
"It's stupid," she said after a minute. "I mean it wasn't as if anything had, or ever could have happened between us. Not after The Pharm. Christ, the closest we got to a date was going to that damned wedding. And I can't even remember that properly. I got so drunk." Her laugh was tinged with bitterness. "The one time I got to dance with Owen Harper and I was too drunk to remember..."
She stopped dead. "No that's not right. He said, in the containment room, we never got a date. But at the wedding we danced..." She screwed her face up as she battled to recall the day. "And he kissed me. I remember that now. He kissed me and told me he loved me." Each word seemed torn from her, as though the memories were being ripped from the deepest recesses of her mind. "And then he told me it could never work and held me as I fell asleep." She looked up at Ianto in bewilderment. "How could I forget that?"
Abruptly she sat bolt upright. "Bastard!" The curse was loud and vehement. Tosh swept back the duvet and leapt to her feet, not even noticing that the jeans and shirt she wore were torn, dirty and bloodstained. Ianto stumbled back from the side of the bed narrowly avoiding being knocked from his feet by Tosh's sudden rising.
"I remember now. The wedding. He retconned me! The bastard actually retconned me! He told me he loved me and then he took that away from me. How could he do that, Ianto? How could he do that to me?" Her voice was fierce but the slump in her shoulders told a different story.
"He didn't want to hurt you any more than he had," Ianto explained in a conciliatory tone. "He knew nothing could ever come of it. Not as he was. You said so yourself."
Tosh span round, one finger pointing accusingly. "Did you know? Was I the only person in the Hub that didn't know what he'd done to me? Were you, Gwen and Jack laughing your heads off at the knowledge that poor little Tosh had been fooled again?"
"Don't be a bloody idiot!" Ianto shot back hotly, clearly offended and not a little taken aback. "Do you honestly think we would do that? Why would you think, even for a second, that we would want to see you or Owen suffer like that?"
"Owen?" Tosh repeated in confusion.
"Of course Owen. Can you imagine what he must have been going through, loving you and not being able to say or show anything. God, Tosh, if he hadn't already been dead I think it would have killed him. I know it did me..."
"What?" Tosh spluttered.
"Nothing." Ianto shook his head. "Look Tosh, he took those memories away precisely because he did love you. He couldn't bear to see you live with that pain."
"But now I have to," Tosh said simply, her anger vanishing as quickly as it had arisen leaving nothing but the return of slow tears wetting her cheeks. She raised desolate eyes to Ianto's face. "I don't think I can."
But Ianto was smiling. "I think it's time you went home," he said softly.
"I don't want to go home," she protested. "I can't face going back to that empty flat with just my memories. Besides I've only just woken up from a coma. I would have thought you would be the first person to tell me I can't possibly be well enough to leave?" She looked curiously at Ianto who, rather than reassuring her that she didn't need to leave, instead seemed to be fixated on her chest.
Tosh automatically looked down at her front. Correction, he wasn't staring at her chest, it was her clothes she realised, taking in the torn remnants of her bloodied shirt and the puckered scar visible beneath. If she'd been in a coma for weeks or months why was she apparently still in the clothes she'd been shot in?
Her brown eyes darkened with suspicion. "What's going on, Ianto?"
"I think you know," Ianto replied gently. "In your heart..."
There was a silence that seemed to last an hour. "I'm dead." Her answer didn't hold even a hint of a question. "I died on the floor of the Hub in a pool of blood." It was all so clear now, so obvious, and she admitted wryly, so Torchwood. Curiously she realised she felt no fear or sorrow, not even remotely upset, just a strange sense of peace. "So, why am I here? Is this heaven?"
Ianto's laugh was bitter. "Not heaven that's for sure. I don't know why you're here. I turned round and there you were, lying in my bed. Gave me quite a start I can tell you."
"But if I'm dead then... oh Ianto!" The sorrow in Tosh's voice as she made the connection was palpable and this time it was her turn to lay a comforting hand on his arm. Jack and Gwen's absence now made perfect sense. Ianto would never have left Jack of his own volition and although both Gwen and Owen would have disagreed with her she was convinced Jack would never have let Ianto go whilst the young Welshman drew breath. Her eyes swam once again with tears, this time of pity. "Why are you here?"
Ianto made no answer, instead he took her hand and lead her from the bedroom to into the hallway pausing at the front door.
"Goodbye, Tosh," he said simply, stooping to plant a brief kiss on her cheeks. "I really missed you, we all did. I'm glad I got to see you again. Know that you'll be happy."
"What do you mean?"
"It's your time to go home. He's waiting for you. He's probably pretty impatient by now if I know him." He looked her up and down once more. "You look stunning by the way."
Tosh blinked in confusion as she stared down at herself. The tattered blood soaked garments were nowhere to be seen, instead she was attired in outfit she had worn on the fateful day of the wedding, the embroidered ruby red Shantung silk top and skirt almost echoing the blood which had stained her shirt.
"I don't understand," she said helplessly.
By way of an answer Ianto turned the latch of the door and swung it open revealing, not the expected expanse of concrete hallway but a sun-dappled country lane ending in the mellow grey stone of a church, its square tower reaching high into a cloudless azure sky. Halfway down the lane a familiar figure in a jet black formal suit waited, one booted foot tapping the cobbles impatiently. Tosh turned to Ianto her face alight with joy.
"Really?" Her question was disbelieving, almost childlike.
"Go on, you don't want to be late for your own wedding," Ianto chided, his smile wide and genuine.
Tosh took a step into the doorway then turned. "Come with me," she pleaded. "You can be the best man."
Ianto shook his head firmly. "I can't. I have to stay here."
"But why?" she asked the question even though she knew the answer.
"I have to wait for him," Ianto said simply.
"But he's immortal. He can't die. You'll be stuck here for ever," Tosh protested desperately.
"One day they'll set him free, Tosh. I believe that..." She stepped back to hug him briefly and releasing him stepped back to the open doorway.
He raised a hand in farewell. "I have to."
She held his eyes for a moment more and then, with a nod of understanding, stepped through into the sunlight.
"You took your time," Owen complained as she walked carefully down the path to greet him. She would have run but there was no way her killer heels were going to let her. She flashed him an enigmatic smile.
"Apparently I had to come to terms with the whole concept of you retconning me at that wedding," Tosh replied tartly, her brow creasing. "You bastard!"
Owen flinched. "I'm sorr..."
Whatever further apology he was about to make was lost as Tosh threw herself into his arms her lips seeking his, a cry of relief bursting from her as she felt his lips part, inviting her tongue to enter and taste. His own tongue sought hers tentatively, the first velvety touch eliciting a growl of desire low in his throat. Wrapping his arms around her to draw her close his hands buried beneath the soft silk of her blouse urgently seeking the smooth perfect skin of her back as they had once before only now he revelled in the feel of every heated centimetre of flesh beneath his fingertips. He smiled against her mouth, and she lifted her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears of joy.
"Your hands are warm," she commented with a giggle. "That makes a change from last time."
He grinned. "Right now my hands are just about the coolest part of my body. And I'm not talking about as a result standing about in a bloody wool suit for a sunny eternity either." Tosh coloured so that her face almost matched the shade of her dress.
"Welcome home," he added, raising one hand to brush her hair back from her face in a gesture that sent shivers of anticipation running down her spine. "I knew you were coming. I heard it in your voice, those last few moments before the room flooded. I'm sorry. I didn't want for it happen like this."
She pressed a finger to his lips, only to replace it a second later with a light yet firm kiss. "Don't you dare apologise Owen Harper. This is where I want to be. With you, for as long as we get."
"I love you. Did I mention that?"
"Just the once as I remember. It was about time you came to your senses, Mr Harper," Tosh teased playfully, kissing the palm of the hand that rested on her cheek. "Are you finally going to make an honest woman of me?"
"Just you try and stop me," he said softly, his voice low and rich with promise. He stooped to her upturned face dropping a light kiss on her lips. "Just marking my place. Shall we?"
Stepping out of the circle of Tosh's arms he crooked one elbow so that she could tuck her arm through his and, faces turned upwards to bask in the sun, they followed the lane to the door of the church and stepped inside.