Warnings: Occasional strong language and m/m sexual references/situations. Adult themes and ideas. Jack acting in a strange manner to begin with (don't worry, it's intentional)

Author's note: This is my attempt at a CoE fix-it, but without changing anything that actually happened in that awful series (much as I might want to). Feedback welcomed, whatever its flavour. This story is completed and beta-d, and will be posted a chapter a day for the next month.

*****

The man in the charcoal grey suit removes his jacket with a sigh, tossing it over the back of a nearby chair. Rolling up the sleeves of his red shirt, he glances around the empty marketing office and out over the Thames, pausing to admire the lights twinkling in the dark water.

"Why is it always me who has to do this? Office dogsbody, that's me," he mutters, a frown of concentration furrowing his brow as he opens the side of the photocopier and peers inside.

After several minutes of fruitless fumbling he rises, looks at his toner stained fingers with an expression of distaste, and strides off towards the bathroom.

As the grey water drains away the man studies his face in the mirror. The harsh, buzzing fluorescent light gives his skin an unhealthy green tinge, accentuating the pockets of fatigue under his sorrowful blue eyes. Lines of grief mark his pale forehead, beneath the carefully groomed dark hair. He smiles ruefully: if Lisa could see him now she'd send him off to bed with a sharply worded warning about the dangers of taking his work too seriously. Then join him later, slipping between the sheets and caressing his weary shoulders, neck, chest....

He closes his eyes and loses himself in the memory, experiencing a brief moment of happiness. When he opens them his face seems softer; more like the Ianto Jones who lived, loved and knew how to have fun. The memories are getting less painful as the years pass, rolling back through time away from that terrible moment when the girder fell, trapping her mangled body beneath it and stealing her away from him. Ianto winces, banishes the memory and dries his hands fastidiously before returning to the broken copier.

Staring at the machine, Ianto resigns himself to the inevitable; there is nothing for it but to crawl under the desk and check the connections at the back. Battling with the snakes nest of cables, he is too distracted to hear the swish of the office door.

"Well, hello there, and isn't that a sight for sore eyes?" drawls a man's voice behind him, making Ianto start and bump his head on the desktop. He crawls out backwards, rubbing his sore head and feeling irritated at the intrusion.

"And who the hell are you? We're closed now," Ianto challenges. The dark-haired, impossibly handsome man leans back against the closed door with a knowing smile and raised eyebrow. Ianto takes in the archaic clothing and a smile twitches briefly across his lips. It's good to see another man who takes some pride in his appearance.

"Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood. My reputation may have preceded me," he announces, striding towards Ianto, gripping his hand and pumping it up and down.

"But... weren't you Torchwood Cardiff. You all died in the explosion. All of Cardiff died," Ianto squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to think of the family he lost that day. When he opens them, Jack is standing even closer, staring at him in a way that makes him feel uncomfortable for reasons he can't fathom. A heady scent rolls off him, sending a dizzying wave through Ianto's body.

"Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, Ianto Jones." He says Ianto's name softly, blue eyes glinting.

"Okaaay, you can let go of my hand now," Ianto insists, backing away and finding himself trapped against the desk.

"Oh, sorry, got a bit carried away there," Jack laughs mischievously. "It's not every day you get to meet the great Ianto Jones."

"Look, I don't know how you got in here or how you know my name, but I want you to leave now!" Ianto tries to sound tougher than he feels. Jack had taken another step closer as he spoke and he can feel the heat of his body just inches from his own.

"Okay, I'll leave, but hear me out first. I only have two more minutes until the window closes," he says quickly, glancing at the antique stopwatch in his left hand. "I'm from a parallel dimension where Cardiff didn't burn, and I'm head-hunting. I need a new coffee boy and I understand you're the best,"

Ianto groans. "Has one of lads in finances put you up to this, mate? Look, it's not funny, I'm tired, I have a massive backlog of photocopying I need to sort out and I'm starting to get a caffeine withdrawal headache, so if you don't mind," he pushes Jack but the man is unmoveable.

"We may have got off on the wrong foot." Jack flashes another predatory grin. "Just listen to what I'm offering: a Cardiff where you get a great job chasing aliens with me, your family still alive and did I mention I have a new Gaggia machine waiting for someone with the ability to work coffee magic?"

"Even if that were true, why me?"

"Yes indeed, why you, Ianto Jones? I think you have hidden talents that this world hasn't yet stimulated," Jack moves so close Ianto can feel his breath on his cheek. Whispers in his ear, "I can help you find them."

"Not interested, mate," Ianto mutters, trying to wriggle away but finding Jack has his hands clamped to the desk either side of him.

"Oh, but you will be. And anyway, it's not like I'm giving you a choice."

And with that he pockets the stopwatch, grabbing Ianto's wrist with his left hand and using his right to press a button on his leather wrist strap.

The world disappears in a flash of blue light.