A/N: Hey guys! So this story belongs in the series/universe I began with "Every Day" but is a HUGE jump into the future. If you haven't read the earlier stories, don't worry about it. All you need to know is CoE happened as on TV, but Ianto was actually taken away and saved by the Doctor after he and Jack died in Thames House, although he had to stay hidden, without even Jack knowing he was alive, for a while before he could return and reunite with Jack. And as a side effect, Ianto became immortal/ a fixed point too.

Ianto Jones stood atop the Torchwood Three building in Cardiff, looking out over the city. So much had changed over the centuries, he hardly recognized the city. He finally appreciated why Jack had alway liked rooftops- the sense of the world being so large and yet all within his sight was overwhelming. Mindlessly, he twisted the gold band he still wore on his left third finger as he tried- and failed- not to think of his partner. It had been 87 years, 5 months, and 3 days since Jack had vanished. He'd taken a team of four out to deal with a dispute between a couple of gangs from warring alien races and never returned. They hadn't been on the best of terms at that time, so Ianto had expected Jack to disappear for a day or two. What he hadn't expected was the other three agents to return, completely at a loss as to what had happened to their leader. One minute he was there, the next, there had been an explosion, and when the dust cleared, he was gone. Whether he'd gone of his own choice and just chosen a flashy exit (he always did like the theatrics) or if something more sinister was afoot, no one knew. And God knows Ianto had tried to find out. But nothing. He had no idea if Jack was still on Earth, if he could return to Torchwood, or even if he still remembered Ianto.

Life went on. Ianto took over as the head of Torchwood Three. No one questioned him; after all, he'd been second-in-command for as long as anyone could remember, and the dozens of employees respected him as an authority already. As he gazed over the city, Ianto let his mind wander to the team members who'd come and gone over the years. Although Torchwood had expanded as Earth grew used to alien presences, Jack and Ianto had long ago decided to keep Torchwood Three a somewhat smaller team. It became an elite squad, with the best and brightest in every field carefully selected to work in the Cardiff base. The Hub still functioned, although only a handful of operatives actually used it.

The best description of any Torchwood Three operative, Ianto thought, was "special." He'd thought their original team had been dysfunctional, but he had never ceased to be amazed at how many ways these new people were damaged, though brilliant. But some of them were haunted in ways that were painfully familiar. There had been Molly, about 60 years ago, one of the best research scientists he'd ever known, but arrogant, lonely, and with an acidic, often cruel wit. Aiden, who had only left Torchwood about a decade ago, a computer tech who could do anything with a computer but was shy and self-conscious around other people. And then there was Charles, who was probably arriving at work at that very moment. After interviewing Charles a couple years back, Ianto had hardly been able to hold it together long enough to slip down to the bunker in the Hub for some privacy while he sat, shaking and sobbing. The young man was a historian, so bright a scholar that he already had his doctorate at an age when most people were still muddling around a year or two into university. He was soft-spoken, not ostentatious about his brilliance. He had recently lost his entire family to a rogue alien attack, but he was calm; any other interviewer but Ianto would have probably not noticed the grief and anger sparking in his clear, honest eyes. The final straw had come when Ianto stood up, told Charles he'd gotten the job, and offered his hand. Charles had taken it with a small smile, a nod, and a "Thank you, sir." Since then, Ianto had kept a close eye on Charles, using his own extensive archival knowledge as an excuse to act as his mentor, and, over time, almost an older brother to the young historian. If there was anything he could do to protect this man- barely more than a boy, really- from the pain he himself had been scarred with in his youth, then Ianto was prepared to do it.

A slight noise behind him startled Ianto out of his reverie. He turned to see Charles, standing across the roof from him.

"Charles? You're early. What're you doing up here?"

"Could ask you the same thing," the younger man replied, brushing a bit of hair out of his face as the wind whipped it around.

Ianto managed a smile. "Just needed somewhere to go think."

Charles' expression softened. He and Ianto had become good enough friends that he was one of the very few people who could read the proper, calm immortal. "About him?"

"Yeah. It's just- today-" Ianto broke off. "Today made me think of a promise. Jack, he never made promises, because he usually wasn't able to keep them, and he didn't want to break them. I just..."

"You miss him." Charles moved forward, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hey, believe me, I get it. I don't know what I'd do if..." He trailed off, suddenly blushing. Ianto didn't look at him, but then spoke again.

"If Will vanished, and you didn't know where he was, or if he even remembered you anymore?" Charles' head jerked up in surprise. "What, you didn't honestly think I hadn't noticed? Remember, I have my share of experience when it comes to hiding an office romance." This time, Ianto genuinely smiled, both in affection for Charles and in remembering certain nights in the Hub after Tosh, Owen, and Gwen had gone home, just him, Jack, and a stopwatch...

They stood in silence for a minute, before Charles clapped Ianto's shoulder, and quietly slipped back downstairs. Ianto took a deep, shuddering breath, then spoke out loud, just his lover's name.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear." A voice- warm, teasing, and with an American accent- came from behind Ianto- the last voice he thought he'd hear and the first one he always hoped to hear. Slowly, the Welshman turned around to face the owner of that voice. On the opposite side of the roof, where Charles had been only a few minutes earlier, stood Captain Jack Harkness. His face was dusty and tired, the Vortex manipulator on his wrist was battered, and his long coat had tears in the thick material. But his blue eyes still sparkled, and his smile when he looked at Ianto had never changed. "Ianto-"

"Jack." In a few quick strides, Ianto had crossed the roof and had Jack in his arms. As Jack's arms folded around him, pressing him close, he buried his head in that familiar old coat and breathed in the scent that was pure Jack. It was a few moments before they realized the dampness on both of them was actually tears. They broke apart so they could look at each other's faces. Jack reached out to trace the scar on his lover's cheek that had never entirely faded, before pulling him into a long, deep kiss that Ianto desperately returned. When they finally surfaced, minutes or hours or days later- neither of them could really tell- Ianto finally managed to speak.

"Jack, what's happened? I didn't know what happened, or if you meant to leave, or if you were able to remember any of this. Where- when- have you been?" Jack heaved a great sigh, his eyes suddenly older and shadowed by painful memories.

"Later. I didn't mean to leave. And, let's just say they certainly tried to make sure I couldn't remember anything. It's a long story, love. But, I had to make sure I got here today. It's what kept me going- I told you I'd keep my promise, didn't I?" He wrapped his arms around Ianto from behind, enfolding both men in the coat and resting his head on his partner's shoulder. There was a faint clinking sound as their hands clasped and their matching rings bumped together. Ianto smiled at the familiar comfort of his dashing captain's arms around him. Jack grinned too; he had so missed having his gorgeous Welshman in his arms.

"Yes. And you have." Ianto murmured, relaxing back into Jack.

Jack and Ianto stood wrapped together on the roof of Torchwood Three, watching the sun rise over Cardiff on the morning of July 9, 3009.

Don't forget me.

Never could.

A thousand year's time, you won't remember me.

Yes I will. I promise, I will.