This is after CoE, but it's not a fix it (kinda, but not really). Sorry about the overdone gratuitous use of mysterious deities.
I love Torchwood- don't get me wrong- and I adore Janto, but it's kinda hard to write for. Also, I am notorious for picking up ideas, half writing them, then never picking it up again. I wrote half of this at the Christmas last year in a note book, and only finished and typed it up now.
This is a one shot. As it stands, there will be no sequel, aside from perhaps a 300 word thing about what happens after (I doubt it, but feel free to live in hope).
The bar was dingy and drab, a hole in the wall watering hole, just this side of Alpha Delphraxas, on a moon half the size of Earth's. It was in a space port so grungy that it's inhabitants could run a finger through the air and it would come away grimy, with dive bars to match.
Jack had done the space travel equivalent of hitchhiking and was now on the bottom of his fourth tumbler of alcohol after hyper-vodka'ring his way from Earth.
It had been four months, three, since he had last seen the Doctor and shagged (such a human word) the rather pretty piece that the Doctor had set him up with. There had been a rather nice night of sex that ultimately couldn't distract him from Ianto and the team, and Torchwood, and the 456 and Ianto, Ianto, Ianto.
Jack slammed the glass down on the counter with more force than strictly necessary and twitched his fingers impatiently for another. He wouldn't be leaving until he felt the sweet embrace of an alcohol induced black out. Technically, he could speed up the process with a bullet to the brain, but he wanted (deserved) to feel the slow burn and resurrection was only another slap in the face about Ianto.
Fuck. Ianto.
Even his name hurt.
Why doe it hurt so much?
It was at that point that he decided to pass out.
He's stirring in an alley, leg hitting the incinerator's metal casing with a clatter. There is a clammy dampness to the air, hot and sticky. He sniffs, clutching his head and remembers that the humidity of subsection five of this particular moon is rival to that of a steamy shower. He rolled over, his unpleasantly damp coat tangling about his legs, and hoisted himself up on his elbows. It is at the point that he looks up and realises that not only is he not alone, but he's being watched by a person leaning against the walls of a shadowy part of the Alley. Instinctively, he his hand scrabbles to the holster of his webley.
"I wouldn't bother if I were you." The person says coolly, and now he sees that they are spinning his webley in their hand. They toss it high in the air and Jack tenses. (So what if he can't die, doesn't mean that he wants to give death another go.)
The figure snorts at him, and as when the gun lands neatly back in their palm, they shove the gun in the waistband of their belt.
"As much as I don't like you, Captain Jack Harkness, and I think that my sisters have interfered enough, they still haven't quite finished their meddling. Well, they say they have and that they're sorry for it, but," the figure shrugged again, "you know sisters. They smile sweetly and when you're not looking, they poison you."
Now Jack was frowning deeply, "Who the hell are you? Show yourself!"
There was another humourless snort of contempt and then the figure stepped into the dim muggy light. They looked human for the most part, although there was an air about them that was anything but.
"Are you human?"
"Anything but."
"Alien then?" Demanded Jack, "Shapeshifter? Telepath? Timetraveller? You certainly can't be a Time Lord, there's only one left."
The person snorted disparagingly, crossing thin arms laced with thick leather wrist protectors that looked like belts criss-crossed from wrist to elbow over a chest clad in a sleeveless white linen shirt with a loosely laced V-neck. Before, Jack could not see the small swells of breasts which were the only defining marks of gender, for nothing was given away by the hard, angular, gender neutral face, the cold eyes or the white spiky hair or even the lips that suggested that she (for they were almost certainly a she now) was a she.
"Please," she said, giving a short mirthless laugh, "my sisters and I are infinitely more powerful than those Gallifreyian 'Lords of Time'. My sisters have used them, and your precious 'Doctor', as their puppet toys more than once."
"Then what are you?" Jack asked.
She stared at him, brushed a lock of white hair out of colourless eyes, and said, "I am the stuff of the universe. Part of, and yet not part of its laws. Woven into its very atoms and created when that first spark of life and light was born, nursed it in its' infancy and was old when the very first germ of life was young. And I am here to offer you a choice." She turned her cold eyes on him. "You're a measly worm, 'Jack Harkness' and I've no love lost for you. But due to my sisters, and in part to that time lord 'the Doctor', they've insured that you're sticking around much longer than I have wanted. But that is neither here, nor there, for my sisters have begged, and like any sibling blind to their failings, I have acquiesced. However, with each choice I give you and with the decisions you make, you will be weighed, you will be measured and I will judge you."
Jack stared up at here as she stared down at him, steady on bare feet beneath her brown, calf length legging clad legs.
"So what will you pick? I offer you three choices; you may back out now and continue your existence as you are now, or you may hear all three, and then, then you must pick one. You will not be able to back out and you cannot run away. So Harkness," She pronounced his name in a scathing tone, an accent he couldn't place slipping into it, "What will it be?"
Jack stared at her for an agonising moment, in the space of a breath, his heartbeat seemed to take an eternity to sound, the moon spun in its lazy rotation beneath him. Then he breathed out and nodded firmly.
"I'll do it. What are my choices?"
She gave a smile, curving sharp on her lips; satisfaction glinted in her eyes. "Good."
And then the whole universe seemed to pause.
She crossed the alley in a swift and efficient movement to kneel before him. Jack struggled into a sitting position, legs crossed beneath him, listening intently as the being began to speak.
"In this universe- like all others in which it is kin to- there are always three things that are certain. Life. Death. Rebirth." As she spoke, she fanned a pack of cards out, pulling three out of the deck and placing them face down before him. They were tatty, faded, torn off at the edges and his breath caught in recognition as he leaned down to peer closely at them.
"These cards-"
"Yes. You have seen a similar deck previously, have you not? Those were my sisters, mine are different." She placed the rest of the deck beside her and pointed to the three cards. "Those represent your choices. Flip them." She jerked her chin at him in command and he glanced at her warily, but did as she commanded, flipping the first.
"Life: A two year gap of memory of life gone, once lost but now regained." She looked at him." She looked at him with a keen eye. "What you may or may not have done just kills you inside, doesn't it? Flip the next one."
"Death." She said, "Death returned to you and immortal life taken. The chance to age normally, die normal, live normally. Your curse lifted."
Jack's eyes flew to hers incredulously. "But even The Doctor couldn't do that!"
"I am part and yet not part of this universe; its stuff is my stuff. What the universe has done, I can undo." She reminded him chillily. "Flip the next card."
Jack reached out with a hand that trembled. He already knew what he would choose. A chance to live a life where he did not have to fear watching his loved ones age as he remained immortally young. To cease the curse of the bad wolf. He flipped the next card knowing that he would not need to know what it said.
"Rebirth." The entity said and then raised and eyebrow, leaning forward. 'Rebirth of someone lost, the resurrection of one who has gone, full life and not half life. A second chance for someone who has died, to bring them back to life again." She sat back on her heels. "That is most interesting."
"Rebirth? You mean you can bring someone back to life?" Said jack, thoughts immediately going to Owen, to Suzie, to the resurrection gauntlet.
"A curious thing." She said, "Rebirth has never been offered like this before," She pursed her lips in thought, "probably due to the meddling of my sisters. But never mind. Yes, Rebirth – to bring someone back completely and totally as they were for a second chance."
Jacks eyes flew to meet hers again, "Ianto." He breathed, and the name stung, but less so. He could see Ianto again, his thoughts scattered again, Tosh, Owen; he could see them all again.
"Only one, 'Harkness', you may bring back on one, and in return, for Rebirth is never without change, you must loose your memories of those you love the most. The one you call 'The Doctor', the earth man you call Ianto, of all that hold dear. You will be a blank slate, remembering the bad you have caused an the good you have done; you will remember pain and suffering and loss- yes, love and joy as well- but you will not remember faces, or people, or places. You will be a man lost in space, time and self." She met his eyes levelly. "Those are your choices. Pick carefully. Choose wisely. There will be no going back and you will be judged for what you choose. Now. Decide."
Jack swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. His heart, now thousands of years old, throbbed its slow beat in his chest.
"You can't ask me to do that."
"Yes I can," Her eyes glinted; face firm and brooking no argument, "and I have."
Jack nodded slowly, blood thundering like a broiling sea in his ears. The universe tussled for long seconds before he came to a decision, words falling off his tongue like hard mistakes.
"Then I choose rebirth."
The entity scrutinised him, eyeing his slumped shoulders and the cracks running down his face, a matched set to the shatter of his voice.
Her voice was softer than it'd had ever been previously when she declared, "A better choice than I had thought of you, Jack Harkness," Her mouth firmed, "but now the real test comes."
She swept the other two cards up then lay the rest of the cards out in a neat fan- there were innumerable numbers, one for everyone who Jack had ever lost.
Every fibre in Jack ached to say Ianto's name, ached to know that he was still alive and breathing, ached to see and feel Ianto in his arms again. Selfishness through, knew that it would be worse for Ianto to be alive and for him to not know it, for him to have forgotten everything about the man whom he loved. He also knew that it would cut Ianto to down to the marrow if he came back and Jack wasn't there. It would be the same for Tosh too, the same for anyone he loved. No. He had to give back.
Air struggled to make it to his lungs as his heart beat in his throat. Through he may not remember them once he made his decision, he knew someone who would be hurting just as badly as he was. Worse even, given that it was through his direct actions that he inflicted such pain on them. His daughter. Steven.
"I know now." Jack said; resolve firming his voice, "Steven. Bring back my daughter's son."
She nodded, a slow almost smile crept across her face, softening her cold eyes. "Your choice was a hard one, and you have taken a harder path- harder than I would have given you credit for."
Jack managed nod, before he broke down and cried.
She waited for him to stop his sobs, wipe the tears from his eyes with a fierce hand, before she spoke. "Sleep, Jack Harkness. When you wake, it shall be done. Sleep now."
She observed him with a distant impassiveness as Jack nodded once, an impossible weariness taking over his bones. He sighed deeply and allowed his damp soggy coat to comfort him.
She turned to her cards, pulling one out from near the end of the deck and flipping it over, the face of a young boy peered up at her, gap-toothed and smiling and she gave smile of soft sweetness that was incongruous on her face. She slipped the rest of the deck into a neat pile, turning Steven's card over so the faded pattern of the back was visible before she turned to Jack, his face wrinkled in his sleep.
"Forget, Jack Harkness." She said, smoothing his brow and hair. "Forget. Through I have judged you well I shall continue to keep an eye on you."
Then, cards held loosely in one hand, the entity disappeared into nothingness. There was no glow of light, no shudder of the time vortex; one moment she was there, and the next she was not. The universe breathed into movement again and on the other side of the galaxy Jack's daughter sat huddled in her tomb of grief.
Alice looked up from her cold tea, staring at where the phone rang shrilly, and did not twitch. It was too much of an effort to move, a thousand years of lead-like sorrow weighed her bones down. Four months of grieving had carved her face deeply, and a delta of canyons ran down her face.
Pictures were turned face down on the mantle, frames empty on the wall. The one crumpled and stained photograph she usually held to her chest was face up on the table and her son's face grinned cheekily up at her. Alice turned her face from the now silent phone to stare down at her son, and a listless pall of helplessness cloaked her shoulders. She thought about cleaning her son's room; considered tidying up the crumpled duvet, untouched since he had last slept in it or pack and sell the toys he'd left on the floor, take the pictures down off the walls, clean the dust that had settled. Try to clear away the remnants of the dead.
Instead she just closed her eyelids and let herself sink into a walled off sorrow.
That was when the doorbell rang.
Alice tightened her eyelids, Not here, not here, she thought.
The doorbell rang again, this time followed by a firm but restrained knock. She sighed deeply, heaved herself out of the chair and trudged to the door. She cracked it open, allowing the safety chain some slack.
"Yes?" She said with dull suspicion.
The figure behind the door turned- they seemed almost sexless, but the breasts showing through her pulled tight shirt said otherwise.
"Alice Carter, this is someone who belongs you, am I correct?"
Alice's face twisted in confusion, the suspicious anger. "If you're from Torchw-" She broke off as the woman turned, letting the small child who was hidden behind her come into view. "Mum!" Her son cried, small face lighting up with joy.
"Steven!" She cried out, she scrabbled for the lock, but then she froze in suspicion and fear. "But how? You shouldn't-" She glared viciously at the woman behind the door, "Alright, who the hell are you? What do you want from me, and who the hell do you think you are to dare even try to use my son against me!" She snarled at the woman, "Because I know that there is no possible way that's Steven. Now answer me, damn it!" Alice slammed her fist down on the doorframe and burst into tears.
Steven's small face twisted in concern, "Mum? Mum what's wrong?"
The woman's smooth coffee-cream face was a blend of compassion and understanding. "I am not Torchwood, Alice Carter. I have no motive aside from doing as I have been asked, that is, to bring your son back to you. It is your son that stands before you, I recalled him from the ether and he is himself in all his entirety- not an alien or a facsimile or a skin. He is your son, born of you and killed by Jack Harkness and brought back from where he once was." Her voice was sure, absolute and the truth rang through every reverberating note of her voice. Still, Alice hesitated.
"It's impossible. That's impossible."
"For any other being but my self and my sisters, yes." The woman nodded, "I, and they, are part and yet not part of the universe. The universe makes up part of me, and I the universe. My sisters and I were old when the first germ of life was young; the laws of the universe do not affect me, through I am a part of them, as such, what has been done, I can undo. But I am also governed, when I choose to do so, by the choices of beings such as your self. I was asked to return Steven to the life that he had left too quickly and the mother he had left behind. It is he, and you know it yourself."
Alice searched the woman's – entity if what she said was true- eyes that were warm even in their colourlessness. She bit her lip for a moment, and then snapped into a decision. With a single desperate nod to the entity, she then fell upon the lock. The door was flung open with a cry of "Steven!" as she pulled her son to her chest, peppering his blond head with kissed, tears pouring down her face as her son returned her fierce hug in kind, pressing his face deep into the crook of her neck.
"But how? Who?" She asked, in between sobs.
"You have your father to thank."
Alice froze, never letting Steven go. "Jack? Why should I thank him for anything when he caused all of this in the first place?"
The entity looked at her for a moment then replied. "We are all bound by choices because we have the freedom to make them. I offered your father three, all of which contained something he greatly desired; life, death, rebirth. He chose rebirth through it was the hardest choice of all. It meant the loss of all of his memory. As such, he no longer remembers the life that he lived, the people he loved the most; he no longer remembers you or the sacrifice he made to give you what you loved the most. Make no mistake, it was a sacrifice and he made it for you, so you could have your son back." She cocked her head and watched the barrage of emotions sweep over Alice's face.
"Oh, oh." Alice said, the last 'oh' more of a breath of loss and realisation.
"Yes." The entity said, in reply to the unspoken understanding. "Your father is neither a a great man, nor a terrible man. But he has always made the harder decisions because despite all his hardships, he cannot help but love." She nodded once, a sharp bob of farewell and acknowledgement. "Good life, Alice Carter."
Then, without a flicker of warning, she was gone.
Alice stared at the spot where the entity had been and clutched her son tighter to her as she whispered, "Thank you dad."
Somewhere in the stars, her father woke in a dirty alley and didn't know who, or what, or where he was.
Thank you for reading, if you liked it, or whatever, drop me a line. Comments basically make my day; I hop about like a man person whenever I get one.
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