Written for Torchwood Fest Day 6: No Where to Go (and I may have accidentally touched on the alternate "All Dressed Up" prompt at one part). All familiar characters property of the BBC. Slight spoilers for the audios, particularly House of the Dead. Be warned. There be angst ahead.
No Where to Go
He needs to get away. Cardiff hasn't felt this stiflingly small since Torchwood first forcibly recruited him-and even then he knew he'd see the Doctor eventually. There was hope and a future to strive for. There is no hope left. His life's work is gone-his entire spiel about getting the 21st century ready has been literally blown to bits. That's not even touching the real reason he's reeling: they're gone. It hurts to think their names. It's all his fault. He all but directly killed the man he loved most. He did directly kill his own grandson. He needs to leave. He needs to leave sooner rather than later.
He tells a teary eyed Gwen he's leaving-he's not sure how he managed or what he said exactly. Just that he said it. Goodbye. For now. He has some unfinished business in town before he officially leaves, but mentally he's checked out. Unfeeling. Bottomed out.
Tying up loose ends seems to be some kind of purpose to strive for, so he starts there. He finds the SUV in an abandoned garage, he anonymously leaves it for UNIT to find and gets on his way before they can spot him returning it.
He goes to Martha more out of obligation than anything. Martha Jones. Voice of a Nightingale. She's full of hugs and tears. So is Mickey. Mickey's uncharacteristic reframe from teasing insults is meant to make him feel better. It makes him feel hell of a lot worse.
He saw then get married only two weeks ago. Mickey didn't have many people left after his stint in the other dimension so it was all familiar faces on his side of the church. Sarah Jane gave him away, dressed in a brilliant purple dress. Francine was a stunning mother of the bride smiling brightly the whole god damn time-you'd never guess at what a hardass the woman could be to her daughter's suitors-she just looked so damn proud to be giving her away. Tish was on the bride's maid side poised and elegant-but it was Martha who stole the show. Hair up, classic pure white dress, eyes sparkling, she was positively stunning. Mickey looked like he just might melt as she walked down the aisle. Jack was there at the alter with him as his best man. He lightly punched poor slack jawed Mickey in the arm to get him coherent enough to start the vows. That was only two weeks ago. He slow danced with Ianto who joked about having to retcon this whole wedding too. Just two damn weeks ago.
"I'm so sorry, Jack." she says. "Ianto was…I'm sorry."
Another hug. More tears. She doesn't know the whole story. She doesn't know about Steven. She's smart. She must have figured out there was a child and Jack was responsible somehow-she's UNIT and things get through the grapevine-but he also knows the whole thing isn't out enough that the higher ups are whispering about it. It'd make them look worse. And it's all about saving face. Inwardly he almost chuckles darkly at that. Almost.
And then, almost abruptly she says, "I'm quitting. UNIT. Officially. I thought you should know that."
He doesn't know what they had ordered her to do while she was stuck on her honeymoon in the islands. But he can guess. He knows he may not be the only ones with demons in the room. Acknowledging it doesn't mean it make anything better. So he just nods dumbly.
"I know you're not going to take me up on this but…my mum wanted me to remind you that you're free to, if you ever need anything, to pop in and stay a while…"
He nods dumbly again. "Thanks." She's right. He won't take her up on that. He doesn't deserve Francine's kindness. The poor woman has suffered enough and it's only a matter of time before he hurts her too.
He tries to get out of London quickly after that. Sarah Jane manages to corner him at the airport. Because of course she does.
"I don't know what exactly happened," she tells him. "But I want to you know-when I said we were all family that didn't apply just to the Doctor. Whatever happened, whatever choices were forced upon you, you don't have to shoulder this alone."
She has Luke with her. Innocent, wide eyed Luke.
"Thanks," he tells her. "But I really, really do."
They watch him leave his gate.
He starts chasing strange sightings across the world. Maine is exactly as weird as Steven King makes it out to be, and leaves at least a little satisfied he managed to do something productive. But he can't stay there. He can't bring himself to stay anywhere.
While in America he meets a doctor who responds to his coming back with "oh god, not this again." He takes a guess at who she might have met before with similar talents. The thought about facing an unknown Companion prompts him to leave the country.
He drinks a lot. Sake in Japan. Vodka in Russia. He starts to lose track of how many deaths he racks up from alcohol poisoning. He's seen a lot of famous landmarks in time-but he goes back to them anyways.
At a certain point his mission stops being to tie up Torchwood's loose ends, partially because there are simply too many and UNIT can just deal with it, and becomes reminding himself that humans really can be good people. He visits mission sites. Hospitals. NGOs. When he can anonymously help out, he does. Nothing he does there will make up for what he did, but he does it anyways.
He once told his team that sacrificing one child was for the greater good, early on before they all knew about his immorality. And…it's exactly what he was forced to do to Steven. That doesn't make it okay. If anything that makes it worse. Because he is so goddamn unhinged he's made almost this exact call before, and it forces him to confront the fact he'd probably do it again if he was put on the spot like that. And it adds the pain of Estelle's death to the mix.
As he climbs Everest-the hard, unguided way that keeps killing him, the Doctor is the elephant in the room his mind keeps wanting to remind him about. He's mad at him for not being there. He's ashamed at himself for straying so far from what goodness the Doctor saw in him and doesn't want to see the likely disgust in eyes when they cross paths again. There's also the small part of him just wants to cry against his shoulders because maybe, possibly, he's the one other person in the universe who might understand how this feels. He drowns these thoughts in whiskey once he makes his way back down to civilization in Nepal.
He doesn't know what it says that it took him less than six months to circle back to the UK on his world tour. At this point he's working on at least putting on the mask again. The happy, bubbly flirty mask that's been in armor the last 2000 years of existence. It works sometimes, other times he ends up dying of alcohol poisoning again. Once he goes back his mind turns to the ultimate loose end: the rift. There are rumors. Whispers. A way to stop it once and for all. And if these rumors and whispers mean what he thinks they mean…well then it's time to come to peace with what it is he's about to do. He doesn't really deserve to continue existing on this plane anyways.
The House of the Dead was everything he wanted and didn't want to happen. Ianto knows he loved him now. The rift was sealed. He lost Ianto again. Probably for good this time. He still has to deal with life among the living. He's not going to lie to himself and say see Ianto again hasn't opened as many wounds as it healed. He dies of alcohol poisoning again the next night.
The night after he starts to work on tracking down Gwen again to let her know he might be gone for good. Earth just isn't biggest enough to help him grieve.