After I posted All Around the Mulberry Bush, I was asked to write more. I'm fairly certain I wrote this shortly thereafter, but I never posted it. I recently found it while looking for something else and decided to post it now. You will need to have read the previous parts to understand this.
Usual drill - I don't own Harry Potter or Torchwood.
Owen stumbled into the first bar he found, ordered a pint and a shot of vodka, and claimed a corner for himself. The vodka went down his gullet right quick, the burn a welcome feeling after everything that had happened in the last day, the last week, the last month. He sat, hunched over his lager, and tried to figure out just what the hell had happened.
He knew that Torchwood brought out the weird and otherworldly; the day's events had definitely proven that. And yes, his days (and nights) had grown significantly more dangerous to his personal safety (though never to the extent it had today), but then… he hadn't exactly cared if he lived or died after Katie.
Katie…
Why had he seen Diane? Why not Katie? He loved Katie and yes, he said he loved Diane but comparing the two felt almost like blasphemy. His Katie, his light in the world. Dead because of aliens and…
He took another sip of his beer and wondered just what the hell he was doing.
Torchwood forced him to open his eyes to the very fringes of the reality; even when he risked his life, when he thought the latest alien threat would kill him, he still had the confidence that they would prevail. That Jack or Tosh or he himself would figure out the secret to defeating whatever threatened humanity. This time shouldn't have been any different. And yet, it had been.
A part of him still couldn't believe he had fallen for Diane's pleas. That he had actually shot - and shot to kill - his boss. The man who had given him a new purpose after Katie's death. Who had made sure he had the means of appeasing his quest of vengeance for what had happened to her. Killed Jack Harkness because Diane — Diane and not Katie — had told him that opening the Rift would save her.
Two things continued to confuse him, kept him from heading home and pretending the day had never happened. He didn't know why he had seen Diane when he knew he really didn't love her. Loved the idea of her, yes. She'd been exciting and made him feel just an echo of what he had felt for Katie. He had wanted to cling to that, wanted to continue to feel that for as long as he could. And when she had left him, had decided to risk traveling through the Rift rather than try to start a new life, he had been more upset at losing that feeling than in losing her. Perhaps she had sensed the truth of his feelings for her and that had given her the courage to fly away.
Too late to ask her now.
And then there was Jack. The man who had given him a new purpose after he lost Katie. Torchwood had saved him, had given him something else on which to focus his rage and pain and mourning. All thanks to Jack and he had shot him, killed him, all because he wouldn't open the Rift. What the hell had happened to him that he thought nothing of shooting to kill his boss? A man he respected, who had saved him from spiraling into an early death.
He closed his eyes and snorted with derision. Was Jack even a man? He didn't know of any being that could come back from the dead. Did that make a difference? Of course, he hadn't realized Jack would come back when he shot him, so he couldn't (shouldn't) take Jack's abilities into account in his self-flagellation.
Owen Harper didn't know what to do and so he drank instead, trying to numb his mind in the hope that everything would look different in the morn.
If only he'd be that lucky.
Cardiff was cold. He shivered as the night's breeze swirled around him, piercing his jacket's warmth. He sighed, bent his head and tried to gather the courage he apparently needed to knock on the door before him.
"Are you going to come in or just stand out there all night?" she asked him. Startled eyes met hers and he nearly flinched at the lack of emotion he saw. He hesitated for one more brief moment before gathering what little remaining courage he had and meekly followed her inside.
She led him to her living room and retook the seat she had clearly abandoned earlier. She curled up inside it, chin resting on her knees as she stared at him, waiting for him to speak. He opened his mouth only to close it as he really didn't know how to start the conversation. What could he say that wouldn't hurt her?
"How'd you know I was outside?" he finally asked.
"One of my neighbors rung me up to tell me my friend was just standing outside and staring," she answered.
"Oh," he said and another uncomfortable silence fell between them.
He sighed, scrubbed a hand through his hair and wondered what to do. "Should I apologize?" he asked.
"Do you need to?" she countered.
He shrugged. "I don't know. I never lied to you, you know."
"But you didn't tell me everything."
He inclined his head in acknowledgment of her judgment. "No, no, I didn't. I learned long ago not to reveal everything I knew, especially when the world was in danger of ending."
She didn't have anything to say to that; Dennis fidgeted in his seat and sighed and wished he hadn't come here. Hadn't come to try and explain to Tosh what had happened or why witches and wizards had gotten involved in what ended up being a Torchwood cockup. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he finally said.
Tosh started and he didn't know if he should feel better about that or not. "You didn't," she insisted but he had a hard time believing that. She looked at her fingers and peered up at him through her fringe. "I'm surprised. A bit shocked, because it's not like I ever thought magic existed. And…" she turned her face away, her face flushing with shame. "What we did to Jack…"
Dennis didn't have a reply for that. Owen might have killed the Captain, but Gwen and Tosh had both helped to pull the trigger by siding with the acerbic doctor rather than listening to Harkness' experience and pleas to not open the Rift.
"I'm not sure how to go on anymore," she finally whispered and her broken tone finally gave him the courage to walk over to her and fold her into his embrace.
"I can't tell you it's alright," he said, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion, "but we move on."
She nodded against his chest and he took a moment to savor that feeling… to hope that maybe they could salvage something out of all this.
"Everything alright, then?" Rhys asked as he watched Gwen use her fork to merely push around the food on her plate.
"What?" she responded, her normally expressive eyes dull with some emotion he couldn't identify. She glanced at him and then the food before setting her fork down and sitting back in her chair. "Oh… yeah, everything's fine," she said. He gave her a skeptical look but didn't call her on the obvious lie.
"Lots of strange stuff this afternoon," he commented. She stiffened but didn't say anything. "Strange lights and Banana swore he saw some sort of monster near the water before it just up and disappeared." He laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. "Daft, he is. Probably had a bit too much at lunch."
Gwen didn't laugh like she would normally have done after he recounted something his friend had done. It worried him but then, a lot about his girlfriend had worried him these last few months. Since she'd become some sort of special ops and went to work with Torchwood.
"So…" he began, "how's the job, then? You were home pretty early tonight." She stiffened again and then relaxed.
"Oh, you know… nothing exciting going on, so Ja… we were let go early," she replied.
"I, for one, am happy we get to eat dinner together. Seems like we barely see each other lately," he said and beamed at her.
She returned his smile and if it didn't match the usual wattage she gave him, he didn't say anything.
Sometimes, he felt like he didn't even know her anymore.
Sending the team home hadn't been difficult at all for him. How could it? They'd tried to kill him. Had killed him, if he wanted to be technical about it. Except for Dennis, but then Dennis wasn't all that innocent after all, was he? He didn't know what MI-7 did exactly, but they had clearly had more information on Abaddon than he had had and…
He was tired. So very, very tired of this. Of letting people in, of caring for them and then having them turn around and betray him. He had thought… he had thought his team trusted him. Had thought that they had cared for him. But then they did something like they had today. And suddenly, he wondered why the hell he remained here on Earth. Was this to be his punishment for his sins committed as a Time Agent? Was it even worth it to remain in Cardiff to try and find the Doctor?
Could the Doctor even give him the answers he craved?
He didn't know what the hell he even wanted anymore.
Ianto sat brooding in the library, something he hadn't done in years. At least not in this particular library. He didn't even like brooding but it seemed oddly appropriate after all that had happened. He hadn't been prepared to see his old team; he'd known there was a better than average chance he would, and despite not interacting with them, the dysfunctional picture they had made in the aftermath of Abaddon refused to leave his mind.
What the hell had happened to them? Dennis had certainly never mentioned how bad it had gotten.
"Your face will freeze like that," Sirius said, interrupting his contemplation.
Snorting, Ianto relaxed further into the chair cradling his body and gave him a wry smile. "Surprised you're here and not with everyone else," he said.
The older man shrugged and moved into the library. "You looked like you needed me more."
He didn't know what to say to that. Maybe it was habit by now for Sirius to look after him. He would protest he didn't need a keeper but well… he missed having someone care about him after Lisa's death.
"It's a bit of a let down, isn't it?" Sirius asked, moving to the sideboard and pouring himself a snifter of brandy. He didn't bother asking as he poured a second for Ianto. Picking up both glasses in his hands, he strolled over to where Ianto sat and handed him one.
"What?" he asked, finally responding to the question. Sirius quirked his lips, in a familiar manner.
Ianto tried to smile, to show his appreciation. Sirius was like an older brother to him. A crazy, brilliant older brother but he never doubted that he cared for him.
"It feels like there should have been something more than just one arch-demon and his helper," he said. He tilted his snifter towards Ianto in a toast, one Ianto automatically returned, and took a sip.
"I guess," Ianto said. "I… I wasn't really thinking about much of anything, other than getting my part of the ward up."
"You did good," Sirius told him. He moved to the sofa and took a seat, his long legs stretched out before him.
"I don't want to go back," Ianto blurted out, wondering if Sirius worried he would want to return to Torchwood after seeing his former team for the first time since he'd left.
"Didn't think you'd want to, Kit," Sirius replied.
"Oh," Ianto said and struggled to think of something else to say.
"Luna give you guys time off?" Sirius asked and Ianto was so grateful for the new subject that he latched onto it eagerly.
"Yeah. Said she didn't have anything new for us and to take a bit of a break before coming back."
"Wish I had that understanding of a boss," Sirius complained.
Ianto quirked his eyebrow, "But Sirius," he began, "you are the boss."
They both laughed and the tension that had filled the room dissipated a little.
"So I am," Sirius agreed with a rakish smile. "Guess I'll have to schedule myself some time off."
"You work too hard," Ianto said. "You look tired."
His face softened as Sirius looked at him. "I was worried. Felt like I was back in the damned war."
"I guess one of the few good things Torchwood prepared me for was dealing with sudden world-ending emergencies," Ianto said. "At least for this one, we had time to prepare instead of trying to figure something out at the last possible moment."
"We were lucky."
"Yep," Ianto agreed.
They both fell silent after that and Ianto once again lost himself in his thoughts. Sometime later, Sirius left but not before coming over and grasping his shoulder. Ianto looked up into his eyes and smiled.
"I'm glad you're not planning on leaving," Sirius said, his expression curiously somber. Ianto wet his lips and nodded. His grip tightened for a moment before he released his hold with a sigh. "Good night, Kit. Try not to stay up too late thinking."
"Thanks, Sirius," he said. There really wasn't anything more he could say.
It didn't take a lot of thought for Jack to text his people and tell them to remain home until further notice. He didn't want to deal with them — didn't want to deal with anyone really — and left the Hub as soon as he'd finished sending his message. Besides, the Hub was a mess, with debris and glass littering the floor; he knew he'd have to organize a cleanup at some point and only hoped Dennis was as organized as Ianto was.
His mind shied away from thinking about Creevey's predecessor. A part of him wondered if one of the cloaked figures had been his former teammate. Another part didn't want to think about that.
Jack moved swiftly through the early morning night, keeping his head down, and just walked. Walked to rid his head of the thoughts that won't quit swirling around. He wanted something. Something to remind himself why he stayed on Earth. Why he stayed in Cardiff.
He didn't find it.
Luna sent him an owl: Everything that exists is in a manner the seed of that which will be.
He recognized the quote from Marcus Aurelius but wondered why she sent it to him. He'd ask her but he knew he wouldn't get a clear answer.
"You look puzzled," Blaise observed.
He shrugged. "Just something from Luna."
"Ah…" Blaise drawled with understanding. "Our resident Seer."
"So you say," Ianto agreed.
"And what, Mister Jones, does she see for you?" Blaise asked, humor lacing his cultured voice. He placed his fork and knife down and dabbed his mouth with his napkin, manners exquisite even at such a plebeian location as a pub.
"As if I would tell you," Ianto teased. "It's nothing important, just a reminder."
Blaise looked at him as if he didn't quite believe Ianto's protests but let it slide. Ianto appreciated it. "I trust you are recovering from the warding well enough?" he asked instead.
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother," he gently mocked. "Susan gave Sirius the potions she wanted me to take before she'd let him take me home."
"And you've taken them?" Blaise persisted.
"Of course," Ianto said. "Not like Sirius would let me get away with skipping any of them."
"Naturally," Blaise agreed, his voice tight with an unnamed emotion. Ianto tilted his head in question but Blaise gave a tiny shake of his own, refusing to elaborate.
Sometimes Ianto wished his friend wasn't such a Slytherin, that he'd tell Ianto what he really wanted to ask or say rather than engage in convoluted conversations that confused him.
"The Captain kept us home again," Dennis told Ianto. He looked upset, but then it could be because of the floo.
"How are you holding up?" Ianto asked.
Dennis sighed. "Alright, except for the whole exposure thing."
"Tosh still not taking it well?"
"Eh…" Dennis grimaced. "She's not taking anything well. I don't think she's had time for the whole 'magic is real' and 'I'm a wizard' to really sink in."
"At least she's talking to you," Ianto felt compelled to point out.
"Sort of," ennis replied and didn't look all that happy.
"You could… you could always ask to be reassigned," Ianto ventured, not sure if that was really what Dennis wanted.
"No, no," Dennis assured him. "I don't want to leave. It's just…" He trailed off after a moment and sighed. "I feel like there should be something I could do to make everything better, but I can't because half the problem with Tosh and Owen and Gwen right now is that they really can't deal with their own actions."
"You mean killing Jack," Ianto guessed, remembering the stark sentence in the report Dennis had given before Luna had sent all of them home. How Dennis had arrived at the Hub to find Jack dead from a gunshot to the head because he wouldn't agree to opening the Rift. How the others had opened the Rift and how Jack had come back to life in time to join them in heading up top and how the team had desperately tried to figure out what to do only to find that they weren't the heroes of the day swooping to save the world — or just Cardiff.
"Yeah," Dennis agreed. "Considering Gwen's the only one who knew he would come back…" Ianto grimaced at the implications of that.
"So everyone's feeling fucked up," Ianto pronounced.
Dennis didn't even bother answering the obvious and he ended the floo call not long afterward.
Ianto had no idea why it felt like everything was falling apart, but it did. And he didn't like that. He still felt a degree of responsibility towards the Torchwood team, for reasons he couldn't articulate. That bothered him as much as the news from Dennis.
The pop of dislocated air startled Jack enough for him to actually grope for his Webley and peer through bleary eyes for an intruder. The last thing he expected to see was his erstwhile archivist and tea boy, Ianto Jones. As that was impossible — Ianto had left Torchwood, left Cardiff, left him — he had no other recourse but to presume he had arrived at the hallucination portion of the evening and informed said mirage of that fact.
"Hardly, sir," he heard and he could almost see the accompanied roll of eyes that had accompanied so many of his interactions with the younger man.
Jack placed his Webley in front of him on his desk and picked up the tumbler of scotch he had been abusing all day. "You know, Ianto," he began, "I have no idea what I'm still doing here. It's not like I can't find a ride off this planet. Go somewhere else. Maybe even somewhen."
"Why don't you?" And really, his subconscious asked the ridiculously difficult questions. The bitter laughter that erupted from his throat seemed to surprise the imaginary Ianto so maybe, just maybe, Jack had managed to hide, even from himself, the feelings of betrayal from his team's actions.
"I've waited this long…" he said.
"For what?"
"For the Doctor." And he had. Over a century, hanging around and hoping he'd find the Doctor he needed so he'd get the one answer he wanted. Maybe that wasn't the right word for it; he needed the Doctor to diagnose him, to tell him what was wrong and how to fix it for him.
"Somehow it doesn't surprise me that you know the Doctor." He heard a sigh and the sounds of someone coming closer. It seemed his hallucination was particularly vibrant tonight; he wondered just what combination of alcohol had brought that about but figured he could experiment later. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do. Let the Rift do what it would to Cardiff; he was tired of saving the city.
"So, are you going to just sit here and wallow, then?"
Jack frowned because honestly? Having a conversation with oneself was one thing, but for that hallucination to start lecturing him was another. "Why not?" he pouted.
"For one thing? This place is a mess." The not!Ianto curled his lip in distaste and Jack had to laugh because even in his drunk hallucinations, Ianto couldn't stand having anything out of place. Except… it was a bit more than that, wasn't it? Opening the Rift had caused a small earthquake, leaving parts of the Hub destroyed. It was all cosmetic, but he hadn't bothered to sweep up the broken glass or right the fallen tables and chairs or crashed monitors. Why bother when he had no intention of allowing his team to return?
"I guess I could clean it up," he muttered. It wasn't as if he liked living in filth and squalor and he said as much.
"You just don't have the patience to clean up after yourself," Ianto agreed and sighed. "You know, sir, the others would probably tidy up all this in a heartbeat if you'd let them return to the Hub."
Snorting, Jack poured himself another scotch and gulped down the fiery liquid. "Traitors," he said. "Killed me, didn't they? And opened the Rift when I told them - I told them it was a mistake! And it was, wasn't it! Fucking Torchwood, playing with things they don't understand."
"With all due respect, sir, you've been a part of Torchwood for a very long time."
And didn't he know it. And hadn't he hated it at times. But not recently and that perhaps, was the greatest betrayal of all. He had finally thought that he had found a group of people he could trust with some of his secrets, that he could help them realize that not everything alien was bad, that he could trust them with a Torchwood he had tried to build in honor of the Doctor. "They're no different, though. No different than any of the others," he muttered. "Killing me like that. Not listening."
The Ianto his mind had produced only sighed and muttered something too low for him to hear. And as Jack faded into a sudden exhausted sleep, he wondered what the hell he was going to do once he woke up sober.
The last thing Ianto had expected when he had arrived at the Hub, was to find Jack completely blotto. While he knew Jack had a decanter of scotch in his desk, he also knew the man rarely drank. Apparently the world almost ending had changed that since Jack looked as if he had started with the decanter and moved onto an untold number of additional bottles since Abaddon had been re-imprisoned.
He couldn't blame the other man. Merlin knew Torchwood had driven him to drink in the past; why would it be any different for the man who ran the organization?
It still surprised him and it annoyed him that it did. He hadn't thought he'd placed Jack into a category of being superhuman. Had, in fact, thought he knew how very human the other man was. Why else had he returned to the Hub just because Dennis had mentioned the Captain had kept everyone from work until further notice? And here he was and here Jack was, so drunk that he thought he was hallucinating.
"What have you done to yourself?" he asked, his hands automatically tidying the files laying on the desk in front of him. He leaned over to move the tumbler from the edge of the desk and made a mental note to wash it before he left. With a flick and a swish of his wand, he levitated Jack from where he sat and laid him out on the office's coach, lengthening and widening it to keep the other man comfortable in his drunken and spell-enforced sleep. He figured it was the least he could do, considering everything he had been through.
"The Hub's a mess," he commented, more to ease the quiet than for any other reason. Jack hadn't allowed anyone back to work and he certainly didn't clean up after anyone, not even himself. "Right then," he said and metaphorically rolled up his sleeves, his wand at the ready as he got to work. He didn't really know why he had come to Cardiff but he had and now that he was there, he couldn't leave the Hub looking like a hurricane had gone through and tossed everything willy- nilly.
What would have required cleaning and construction crews was taken care of with his magic. Tables righted themselves, chairs slotted neatly into place, shattered glass retook their shape, the floor scrubbed clean from everything spilled upon it. He found himself finished far too quickly and sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have spelled Jack asleep — at least then he'd have someone with whom to chat.
But then he'd have to actually know what he wanted to say to his former boss.
Ianto trudged to the small kitchen area and found the coffee beans to brew himself a pot. The ritual soothed him in a way he had never put into words.
Not that anyone bothered to ask him.
He was wasting time and he knew it. He had come to the Hub to see Jack, to talk to him and… It was that last part he wasn't entirely certain about.
And now, he had to wait for the other man to awaken from his drunken stupor so he could figure everything out and put to rest his tenure at Torchwood.
Jack hadn't expected to get more than a smidgen of unpleasant sleep; had, in fact, believed he'd have nightmares, which would wake him up and thus give him an excuse to drink again. As it had last night and the night before.
Not today and he had no idea what had caused the difference. Thanks to his unexplained physiology, he woke as refreshed as if he hadn't spent the greater part of the last three days drinking with the express purpose of forgetting his troubles. Well, almost. He felt dirty and knew a shower wouldn't be amiss, most especially if he wanted to leave the Hub.
He sat up and stretched, wondering just how coherent he'd been to actually make it to his couch before falling unconscious. Frowned as he realized that while the piece of furniture upon which he sat looked similar to his couch, it certainly hadn't been that wide or long when last he had seen it.
"What?" he asked and stumbled to his feet and to his office door. An astonishing sight met his eyes and he suddenly wondered if he still dreamed. The Hub looked brand new; no signs of the detritus that had covered its floors just hours ago. And speaking of floors, it now looked as if someone had taken a power scrubber to it and then waxed it until it shone - he wagered he could see his face in it. Tables and chairs appeared factory-fresh and it was now apparent he'd have no need to wrangle money out of the budget for new monitors and computer hardware.
"I took the liberty of freshening up the place," a droll, Welsh-accented voice announced, surprising Jack with his presence.
"Ianto?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I suppose you won't accept that I was just in the neighborhood?" he inquired and shook his head before Jack could even respond. "No, I guess that would be a bit much."
He watched, a faint ironic smile on his lips as Jack made his way over to where Ianto stood. A familiar scent reached his nose and he could swear his nostrils actually twitched at the beloved odor.
"You made coffee," he accused.
"Yes, and cleaned your Hub," Ianto agreed. As if with magic (and for all Jack knew, it was) he produced a mug of the beverage for him. "Just as you like it."
A part of Jack wanted to refuse it but he found himself reaching for it and bringing it to his nose, the aroma tickling his olfactory senses and reminding him of when such coffee had been a daily occurrence. He had missed it. More than he had expected.
"Thanks," he said and raised an eyebrow at Ianto's continued presence. "Why are you here?"
Jack had rarely seen Ianto flustered; the younger man had kept his poise when others, including himself, had not.
"I don't know," the younger man finally said. He avoided Jack's eyes for a moment before giving him a rueful smile. "I just... I felt like I should come here. Maybe explain... what happened."
"Owen shot me, opened the Rift with the help of Gwen and Tosh, Abaddon was released and you and your friends came to save the day," Jack retorted. "What more do I need to know?"
"Captain..." Ianto sighed, closing his eyes briefly as if steeling himself before continuing. "About a year ago, Seers all over the world started to have visions about the end of the world. It took a few weeks to figure out it would occur in Britain and another couple of months to learn it would start in Cardiff. Lu- my boss - she scoured I don't know how many prophecies to find even a hint of what was to come. A witch in South America was the first to realize it could only be Abaddon breaking free from his prison."
"So your people knew for months?" Jack accused, arms crossed against his chest, trying to look imposing. He ignored the pang of hurt that Ianto hadn't trusted him enough to warn him of the coming disaster.
"And we spent months deciphering and creating and figuring out how to ward him back into his prison, did he break free," Ianto countered. "It wasn't easy. It's not like something like this existed."
Jack cocked his head. "Why didn't Creevey or you tell me?"
"Would you have listened?" Ianto asked. "You don't particularly trust anyone."
He had to concede to that. Even if it hurt that they hadn't told him, he knew himself well enough to guess he might not have reacted well to the suggestion of Abaddon breaking free, especially if the only proof offered was a prophecy. "What now?"
"Abaddon was sent back to his prison, and the ward scheme is designed to keep him inside for a really long time."
"And what keeps him inside that prison? How do you know someone won't just break him out again?" Jack asked.
"For one, the aurors captured the wizard who was weakening the prison. For another, the ward scheme we used was a hell of alot stronger than what the witches and wizards who captured and imprisoned him four thousand years ago used," Ianto explained.
"Wizard? What wizard?" Jack asked, confusion crossing his face. "The only guy helping Abaddon was that Bilis fellow."
Nodding, Ianto lent against the kitchen jamb and folded his arms. "During the Second World War, a wizard named Grindelwald was allied with Hitler. Bilis was one of his lieutenants. Obviously, he eluded capture after the war and we surmise he had gone underground, hiding until he could make his move."
"So this Grindlywald person wanted to release Abaddon too?" It was fascinating to hear Ianto explain this; in his time, witches and wizards were whispered about but no one knew if any still existed. They were as secretive in the 51st century as they apparently were in the 21st. He had never even heard of this Grindly character and he thought he had known everything there was to know about the Second World War, it having been a long time passion of his.
"Like many of the Nazis, Grindelwald was fascinated by the occult. Of course, he also knew magic was real, but he used the resources Hitler made available to him to try and find as many of the lost magicks as he could," Ianto said.
Jack sipped his coffee and considered what Ianto had revealed. "And Bilis was one of his lieutenants. And now he's a prisoner?"
"Yep. The Aurors slapped magic repression cuffs on him and took him to the wizarding prison. He'll stand trial for his crimes and face the consequences. He's not getting free anytime soon," Ianto said.
"Now what?" Jack asked after Ianto didn't say anything for several moments. "Are you planning on coming back?"
"Are you planning on reopening the Hub? Or are you going to fire everyone and start over?" Ianto countered.
"I don't know," Jack admitted. He drained his mug of coffee and handed it back to Ianto. "They betrayed me. Maybe... maybe Torchwood should just stop."
"Captain..." Ianto sighed. "Dennis told me... he said Owen's drinking himself into a stupor, trying to figure out why he listened to the image sent to him. And Tosh has all but shut down, closing herself off from everything because of what she did. He hasn't been able to find Gwen, but well..."
"Am I supposed to forgive them, let them back into the Hub and back to work because they feel bad?" Jack asked. He shook his head at the audacity of the suggestion.
"No. You let them back so they can learn from their mistakes. You let them back because you gave me a second chance when by rights, you should have either taken my memories or shot me dead after Lisa," Ianto said.
Jack didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed silent. Ianto seemed in the mood to confess and he desperately want to know more about the other man.
"After the war... after we won, I ran. I left the wizarding world and ran to the Muggle one because it had to be better than what I had just survived. I was posted to Torchwood and I met Lisa there and I thought I would finally have my reward. Except then the Cybermen and Daleks came and my entire life collapsed again," Ianto admitted. He held his arms around himself as if to ward off the emotional pain it clearly caused him to relate this to Jack. "When I came here,all I cared about was saving Lisa and getting back my life. Except..."
"It didn't happen," Jack finished for him. "Lisa tried to kill us all and you killed her."
Ianto nodded and Jack could see that silent tears had begun to fall down his cheeks. "For the third time in my life, my world ended and I didn't know if I could recover."
"You obviously did," Jack said.
"I did," Ianto agreed.
"You're not coming back, are you," Jack stated. A part of him mourned that decision, imagining what might have been. Another part of him relished the knowledge that Ianto wouldn't be killed by Torchwood. He was tired of losing people to Torchwood.
"Nope. My place isn't here anymore," Ianto said.
"Are you happy?" Jack asked.
"I... I don't know," Ianto shrugged. "I'm not unhappy."
"Good," Jack said, nodding his head. "Good. So what now?"
"Now..." Ianto paused and took out his wand. He moved it in a well-practiced motion and Jack watched with fascination as the dirty dishes cleaned themselves. "Now, you ring up your team and you let them come back to the Hub. You talk to them and listen to them and make them listen to you. And when your Doctor comes, you get your answer from him."
"That's it, huh? Let them come back, all forgiven," Jack chuckled without mirth.
"Everyone makes mistakes, Jack. Even you," Ianto said. "Cardiff needs Torchwood. And so do you."
Four days after Harkness kicked everyone out of the Hub, they received a text telling them to come into work. Dennis wondered what Ianto had said that had made the difference in his mind. The other wizard had kept quiet on what they had discussed, just mentioning that he had gone to speak to the Captain, to gain closure or something like it.
He preceded Tosh into the Hub and stumbled to a halt. She crashed into him and then gasped, presumably for the same reason he did. "Someone cleaned up," he noted and moved forward.
"How? Who?" she wondered.
"A friend stopped by and took care of it," Harkness announced. He stood in what Dennis termed his classic Captain pose. He looked imposing and he could see Tosh shrinking beneath his gaze. She scurried to her desk, put her stuff down and made a movement as if to turn on her workstation. She paused and looked at Jack.
A part of Dennis wanted to protest the Captain's treatment of Tosh, but he couldn't. Just because Harkness apparently couldn't die didn't mean that it hadn't hurt. Knowing that his team, the people he had hand picked and brought to Torchwood, saving them from their lives, only to be treated as he was...
It was difficult to fully support Toshiko when he knew that without whatever it was that brought Harkness back from the dead they would have had a corpse. She hadn't known of his ability, only Gwen had, and that almost made the entire situation all the worse.
"We're having a team meeting when everyone's here," Harkness said and went back into his office.
"I don't know if I can do this," Tosh whispered, watching as he disappeared from sight. Dennis reached out to her, taking her in his arms.
"We'll get through this," he promised her.
"How was Cardiff?" Blaise asked. Ianto shrugged.
"Well enough, I suppose," he finally said. "Dennis said Jack let them back to work."
Blaise raised an eyebrow and huffed. "You know that's not what I wanted to know."
Ianto resisted the urge to squirm beneath his knowing gaze. He did not answer to Blaise so to feel uncomfortable beneath his gaze should not occur. Sadly, he clearly hadn't gotten that message as he felt a strong urge to confess to his continued mixed feelings about Torchwood.
Somehow, he thought Blaise would understand.
Life moved on at Torchwood, but the events continued to haunt all of them. Owen looked and acted a mere shadow of himself. It reminded Jack of his behavior after the death of Katie. Similarly, Tosh had turned even further inside of herself, almost worse than how she had acted when he had taken her from the UNIT cell. Only Dennis seemed able to reach her and he kept her from spending too much time at the Hub. Gwen threw herself into maintaining her relationship with Rhys; Jack couldn't blame her. Abaddon opened her eyes to the harshness against which Torchwood fought and finally showed her how it fucked with everyone's lives. It was a harsh lesson but she had needed to learn it. And, to the benefit of the team as a whole, she had begun to listen when he or Owen or Tosh or even Dennis made a suggestion instead of assuming only she knew what was right.
Jack didn't know if he liked the changes. In a lot of ways, the incident with Abaddon had forged his team into a more coherent unit. They worked together, as if they were afraid if they didn't, everything would fall apart again. Torchwood was his but he no longer considered them his and they all of them knew it.
Something had to give and he had no idea what it would be. He (barely) resisted asking Dennis to ring up Ianto or whatever it was they did and ask for his advice.
After all that had happened, it seemed fitting that the Doctor had returned into his life just as he had finally gotten on an even keel with his team. Jack didn't hesitate as he might have once done before they had killed him; he grabbed up his rucksack, the container with the Doctor's hand and ran. Ran towards the familiar blue box and the answers he hoped the Doctor would have.
As he sprinted towards the TARDIS, he thought briefly of the team (not his team, not now) and how they might react to his disappearance. He told himself he didn't care.
He almost believed it.
/fin
And that's that. If I return to this universe, it will be to write the prequel. While it's open-ended, I rather like that.