Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood.
Author's note: This was certainly not planned. I was going to do some one-shots, perhaps write a bit more Doctor Who fanfiction and well as focus on a piece of original fiction I've been working on, but then this idea parked itself in my head and demanded to be told straight away. I have the next two chapters outlined and some plans beyond them, but at this point I have no idea how long this story will become.
Incidentally, for the purposes of this story, I have assumed that the trip Torchwood Three did to the Himalayas took place entirely during the Year That Never Was. So when time was reset, the team spent the time Jack was absent just in Cardiff.
Stepping off the Cliff
Jack was gone. He had been dead for three days, brought back by Gwen's vigil, and then he vanished almost instantly. They had heard the grinding of the powerful engine, seen the CCTV footage of the blue police box and cleared up the mess at the wake of Jack's departure. What the Captain had left behind was an eerily quiet Hub and four broken people.
They all dealt with Jack's disappearance differently. Gwen assumed the leadership in Jack's absence and she spent a great deal of time micro-managing everything. Owen drank even more than usually and his dark moods became even fouler. Everyone knew to keep their distance from the angry doctor. Toshiko drowned herself in the work, spending far too much time poring over alien artefacts and interpreting Rift fluctuations. Ianto found that old habits died hard. He slipped right back into them and once again assumed the role of the invisible butler. Only Toshiko was vaguely aware of him moving about in the Hub, but she was so overwhelmed by her own feelings following Jack's departure that she was unable to reach out and comfort Ianto.
After Lisa had died, after that awful night, Ianto had thought long and hard about whether he wanted to stay at Torchwood. He knew the rules, knew that the only two ways to leave the institute were via death or retcon, but during those dark days, he had longed for oblivion and would have welcomed it with open arms. The only thing that had stopped him from reaching for that bottle of amnesia pills and erasing his entire adult life had been one Captain Jack Harkness.
He had been suspended from Torchwood for a month. During that time, Jack had stopped by every day. First it had been just to clear away the empty scotch bottles and to force Ianto to eat something at least once a day. After the initial shock had worn off, the Captain had stayed longer, trying to draw him out of his shell. The enigmatic American had spoken to him, sometimes at him, about all the regrets he had. Jack acknowledged that he was still angry with Ianto for his betrayal, but that he was even angrier with himself for not having seen how much the battle of Canary Wharf had damaged the young man. He as their leader should have done more to make sure that Ianto did not fade into the background.
Jack also spoke of a young woman called Rose. He had loved her passionately, even though she had never been his. She had been among those who were missing and presumed dead in the aftermath of the fall of Torchwood One. The Captain explained that he was clinging on to the hope that the man Rose loved would have saved her somehow and that they were merely travelling elsewhere. Jack's voice trembled when he spoke of the inconceivable thought that Rose had been converted or partly converted. The first time Ianto raised his eyes to meet the Captain's was when the older man admitted that if that had been the case, he would have done everything in his power to try to reverse the process and save the woman he had loved.
When Ianto returned to work, it was because of Jack. When he gave up on the idea of downing a bottle of retcon, it was because of Jack. When he silently accepted Owen's snide remarks and Gwen's moody disapproval, it was because of the concern he saw in Jack's eyes. When he found his loyalty returning, it was for Jack rather than for Torchwood. When he felt a flicker of life within him, it was because of Jack's hand on his shoulder or because of the memory of Jack's lips on his. When his broken heart was sufficiently patched up, it was only natural that he should offer it to Jack.
What had followed had been a few short months of bliss. Ianto had no experience in being with another man, but he was eager to learn and Jack was all too happy to teach him. The Captain was attentive, thorough and made the Welshman feel things he never even thought he was capable of feeling. He was soft clay in Jack's hands and the older man moulded him with licks and caresses until he was pleasure personified. Jack awoke something within him, he showed Ianto that he did not need to hide parts of himself for fear of rejection and that he was truly beautiful just the way he was. Slowly Ianto started to see himself as something more than a mere sum of his short comings and failures.
He made one critical error of judgement; he fell in love with Jack. He never told his lover this, but he suspected that the older man knew just the same. Ianto respected Jack's dislike of labels and attachments, but nevertheless he could not help wishing that his employer might be willing to make an exception in his case.
While he was still grappling with his feelings, his whole life fell apart around him. Bilis Manger manipulated them to betray Jack, for the second time in Ianto's case, and then the Captain sacrificed himself to save the world. He had stayed in the morgue with Gwen as long as he could bear it. Eventually, however, the sight of Jack's body lying there cold and unmoving became too much. In his mind, the memory of that very same body hot and flushed against his own burned too brightly and he had to flee the cavernous tomb. He only allowed the first sob to escape when he was safely in Jack's office, with his face buried in the Captain's long coat.
Almost as soon as Jack has come back from the dead, he was gone again. Somehow this second departure wounded Ianto far more. This time the Captain had left voluntarily, not because he had to in order to save the world. He had chosen the blue police box and whatever it might contain over his team, over Ianto. He had wanted to go and so he had left.
As Ianto surveyed the emotional wreckage that was Torchwood Three, safe from his habitual place in the shadows, he saw no reason to stay. Jack had taken with him the young man's loyalty to the institute, as well as his heart. Bereft of both, Ianto thought that any kind of life elsewhere, even if it was without his memories of Jack, would surely be better than staying.
Thus his mind was made up and he began making plans in secret. This took remarkably little effort, since no one really paid much attention to him in the first place, so long as the Hub was kept tidy and well stocked with supplies. He put his flat up for sale, being careful to do so under false name in case anyone was keeping an eye on his finances. He was lucky and a buyer was found almost immediately. Between the sale proceeds and his savings, he was able to purchase a small one bedroom flat in South London. The location was carefully chosen as being on the opposite side of the city from Canary Wharf, just in case the memories relating to the financial district were strong enough to bleed through the retcon.
Ianto rarely slept. Lisa and Jack reigned over equal shares of his nightmares, making the hours of darkness very unsettling for the Welshman. He had lost count of how many times he had jerked awake from the horrors his subconscious summoned, shaking with the strong emotions washing over him and with tears streaming down his face. Now his self-imposed insomnia came in handy, since he had plenty of pain-staking preparation to get through. The most time consuming of these was re-writing his diary. He kept his old ones, together with a few photos of Lisa and his family, and deposited them in a secure storage facility for safe keeping, just in case he ever needed them again.
Unbeknownst to the others, Tosh was not the only one who was good with computers. Ianto spent a great deal of time working on the terminal in the archives, constructing a false identity for himself, together with a paper trail for the past year. On his day off, he travelled to London to attend a job interview. He was certain he was right for the job anyway, but a little visit to the company's internal network ensured that he was offered the position. With his acceptance, the final piece of the puzzle was in place.
Ianto's last day as a Torchwood employee was much the same as any other day at the institute. He made sure that everything was even tidier than usual, ordered extra supplies and wrote extensive notes on the organisation of the archives as well as on the care of the creatures residing in the Hub. He watched as first Gwen and then Owen left for the night, neither acknowledging his goodnight wishes in any way. Once they were gone, he slowly made his way up to Myfanwy's aerie. The pteranodon hopped closer and eagerly accepted the bars of dark chocolate Ianto offered her. He reached out to scratch her neck and she rubbed her head against his chest, clearly enjoying the attention.
"I bet you will be the only one who even notices that I'm gone," Ianto whispered and held the prehistoric creature close.
When he eventually descended back to the main level of Hub, he paused next to Toshiko's work station. The petite woman was still engrossed in a piece of alien tech and for a while long seemed completely oblivious to the man standing nearby. It was only when Ianto spoke that her concentration was broken.
"Tosh, you work too hard. You should go home and get some rest."
She frowned in confusion for a moment and then smiled.
"I'm fine, Ianto, I'll just finish this little bit and then I'll go."
The Welshman smiled, his eyes showing uncharacteristic amount of affection. He looked like he was about to say something else, but in the end only nodded and turned to leave. As he headed towards the door, Tosh thought she heard him mutter something about being safe, but she decided that she had probably imagined it.
Ianto glanced around the Hub one last time and then walked through the cog door. Behind him, Myfanwy let out a mournful screech, as if somehow sensing that Ianto was not coming back.
Once outside, Ianto breathed in the cool sea air and looked around the bay. He would have enjoyed living in Cardiff, he thought, had it not been for all the bad memories attached to the city. He wondered briefly whether he would ever return to Wales, before dismissing the thought as irrelevant. Squaring his shoulders, he walked to a car, which he had bought under his new name and which contained the few belongings he wanted to take with him to London. He started the car and without looking back drove away from the Plass.
It was late when he reached London and later still once he had emptied the car. He meticulously unpacked the few bags and boxes he had brought with him and then looked around. The flat looked clinical, soulless even, since it lacked any kind of personal items. Ianto found he rather liked it, as it gave him the opportunity to create a new personality. The flat, much like he himself, would be a blank canvas for him to work on.
What followed was the painful part. Ianto slammed his head back against a carefully positioned lump of jagged metal and pain blossomed at the base of his skull. He ran his fingers gently over the throbbing spot and they came back stained with blood. He painstakingly transferred a fair amount of the blood to the corner of his coffee table, together with a couple of stray hairs, and then disposed of the lump of metal. His head was already aching and Ianto knew that the pain would only get worse. The kitchen seemed impossible distance away, but Ianto forced his tired muscles to move. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and poured it into a pint glass. On the counter sat a small plastic bag containing retcon, the dose carefully measured to erase just the right amount of his memories. The pills dissolved into the beer quickly and Ianto carried the glass back to the lounge.
"To Torchwood Three, may you all rot in hell," Ianto muttered a toast and then downed the alcohol in one go. He placed the glass on the coffee table and then lay down on the floor next to it.
His final thought, before the blessed darkness washed over him, was about piercing blue eyes that had once seen all the way into his soul.
