1- No Pyjamas in the Land of the Dead
W/C: 2769
Warnings/content: don't run with scissors, sometimes good people die
Summary: Ianto wakes after a nightmare
Ianto's New Timeline: 08/27/01 – 09/14/01
Characters: Ianto Jones, immortal-Jack Harkness, Inspector Donaldson (OMC), Mary (OFC)
WEEEOOOO WEEEOOOO WEEEOOOO WEEEOOOO WEEEOOOO WEEEOOOO
The noise was deafening and the flashing red lights were… blinding, distracting… irritating.
My mind was reeling — so many thoughts and none of them helpful — and my stuttering brain was swamped with terror. Useless!
My body froze, waiting while competing drives battled – fight, damn you – shoot them, you have a gun – Jack, Jack, do something – run… run away, now – drag him away, do it – break the glass, kill them – go to the roof – shoot out the door, get out, get out, get out, get out…
But we didn't.
We never do.
We just stood there.
Powerless.
Useless.
Motionless.
Stupid, stupid, stupid…
How is this surprising?
There was nowhere to go.
There was nothing I could do.
I just… stood there, with that stupid, surprised look on my face and a greasy trail of nausea slithering through my guts.
Then everything sped up, my world unpaused and someone turned the volume up unbearably loud. Beside me Jack screamed at our tormentors frantically, "What have you done!?"
From the thin pulsing speaker came a calm steady voice. "You wanted a demonstration of war. A virus has been released. It will kill everyone in the building." The voice was so deep, it reverberated in my chest. Bile rose up and coated the back of my throat. I could taste evil in the air. I was choking, choking, choking…
Oh God, I am going to die.
One moment, the jaws of death appeared above and below, the next their jagged teeth were gnashing together in front of my eyes.
And then suddenly, I realized I was standing by myself. Jack was gone, gone, gone…
He must have run out of the room but I knew he'd be back.
I'm running out of options, running out of options, running out of options…
I cocked my gun and took aim at the glass case. "If there's a virus, then there must be an antivirus," I shouted hoarsely. "Release it now or I'll blow a hole in that tank. And we'll all die together."
The voice was not concerned. It did not reply.
And then Jack was back. He shouted at the tank, "You've made your point!" he shouted and pleaded, "now stop this and we can talk."
"You are dying… even now," purred the evil, twisted voice.
We started shooting.
We had nothing to lose, nothing to lose, nothing to lose…
We kept shooting until we ran out of bullets. When I looked, there wasn't a single scratch on the glass. We did nothing! The glass was designed according to the alien's specs and was nearly indestructible.
REEEEOOOOO REEOOOOREEEE REEEOOOOWWWOOOOEEEE REEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO
"What's that noise? What's it doing?" Jack swung around, confused, terrified. He looked around frantically trying to figure out what new hell this noise signalled.
I could see the frequency dial mounted on the equipment, it flipped back and forth. The high-pitched squeal seemed to be scanning frequencies searching for the right one, the deadliest one.
Jack grabbed my arms and looked at me with such desperation. "We've got to get you out of here. I can survive anything but you can't!"
Thoughts flittered by in black and white.
Has he just realized?
"Too late," I told him. "I've breathed the air." My voice was calm - almost surreal. He gripped me tighter. Denial and desperation warped his face.
I knew I was going to die, was dying, even as we spoke.
"There's gotta be something!" he insisted. "There's got to be an antidote!" His eyes were red, swollen with unshed tears. He knew I was dying, he just couldn't admit it yet.
"You said you would fight," the evil voice taunted.
A snaking cold slithered up my limbs, the sensation akin to anesthesia.
I thought back to my last surgery.
Why do they always ask you to count backwards?
I realized I'd be unconscious soon. Numbness overcame me. I wavered. My body sagged.
He pitched his voice towards to tank, "Then I take it all back," he attempted to retreat. "Alright? I take it back!" He pleaded, begged. "But not him. No!" He caught me in his arms.
He's always there to catch me when it counts…
I heard his words and the ones underneath and in between; I hearf him say how much he really cared for me. But they weren't those words, no, never those.
Then I fell.
I couldn't stand.
I couldn't see.
I couldn't breathe.
All I could do was FEEL – the pain pain pain pain pain pain – the burning in my lungs – and fear fear fear fear fear fear…
"NO! No – no – no – no!" he begged me. "NOO! Ianto!" He begged me to stop dying.
Then I felt his arms wrap around me – as I lay dying. Our roles were unexpectedly reversed. It was usually him on the ground, dead, dying or resurrecting with my arms, my body wrapped around him, protecting, waiting. How inconvenient. I would have snickered if I hadn't been in so much pain, if I had been able to breathe properly.
"The remnant will be disconnected," the voice declared apropos to what, I don't know. I had no idea what it was talking about. I hoped Jack would think of it later. After he woke up – alone.
I won't be there to hold him when he gasps back to live…
I won't be there to kiss him…
I won't be there to laugh with him…
I won't be there to keep him from being alone…
I won't be there to love him…
I won't be there…
I lay on my back, looking up into his red-rimmed eyes. They were filled and dripping tears, but beautiful, so blue, bluer than the sea, and purer than the finest gemstone. I could live forever in those eyes.
Let them be the last thing I see.
He looked at me desperate and searching. "It's all my fault," he sobbed.
"No, it's not," I rasped. I tried to protest but my throat was on fire, spasming and burning as the poison coated my esophagus. It was agony.
"Don't speak. Save your breath," he whispered as he stroked my cheek and gently cupped my face. He could see how much pain I was in.
Why couldn't I see it before? Why couldn't I see the love in his eyes? I could now. I could feel it in his touch, hear it in his every word, feel it seeping out of his pores, feel it pouring down my face. Perhaps those were my tears, or his. Hard to tell.
I had to tell him. "I love you," I said, each word painfully torn from my throat. I had to tell him before I died.
Across his face, in his eyes, my words danced and for a brief beautiful moment there was a spark and then there was only pain and sadness. He knew. He knew I loved him just as he loved me. I've always suspected that he tried desperately NOT to love me. He tried so hard to be alone, to be strong and safe. And this was why. I was going to die. Now. And he had to lose me. Now. Watch me die. Now. He would always be alone. Now and forever.
"Don't," he begged. "Please…don't"
I know… I understand…
I know that he heard the words but they didn't sound like a declaration of love; to him they sounded like goodbye. Now. Because they were. Now.
Here it comes… darkness ... cold ... so cold… I'm afraid…
He trembled. "Ianto? Ianto? Ianto, stay with me." His voice caught on every word. "Ianto, stay with me please." And every word was drenched in love and loss. "Stay with me… stay with me please. Please…"
I struggled to open my eyes. I couldn't bear the pain in his voice. I needed to see those beautiful eyes one last time. "Hey," I managed, "It was good ya?" I needed to see him smile one last time.
"Ya." He almost smiled. Almost.
"Don't forget me." I begged. I couldn't bear the thought of being forgotten.
"Never could." His words were strained, from holding back so much emotion and of course he was dying too.
"In a thousand years time, you won't remember me." My greatest fear, my greatest weakness and I just couldn't hold it in. I'm allowed. Now. I am dying. Now.
"Yes I will. I promise. I will. Ianto? Ianto don't go. Don't leave me please. Please don't… "
DWXTW
I woke up, heart pounding, covered in a cold sweat, in my own bed. In the agonizing aftermath, I lay there suffocating in a dream induced paralysis, gasping for breath, drowning in utter sorrow. Oh god, all those children. Oh… Jack. I moaned inwardly. Thankfully, the sound of my alarm shocked me out of my pitiful reverie. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I ran my hands briskly over my face and silently gave thanks to the-powers-that-be that it was just a terrible dream.
I made it as far as the bathroom before reality came smashing down around me. I stood there looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. My pyjama bottoms were threadbare, ancient, tattered. My eyes shone a little too brightly, long dark hair provided an unpleasant reminder of my bad hair choices of the past but it was my body that shocked me the most. My skin was smooth, smoother than I remembered and there were no lines around my eyes and mouth. I looked so young, I didn't remember ever being so young.
How is this possible? I demanded of the mirror. What the hell is happening to me?
And then I remembered.
"Oh God… Ja..ck." My voice broke mid-word and it took me several moments to recover enough to think clearly. Before I knew it I was rummaging through the house looking for the newspaper. I knew it had to be impossible but I'd seen and done things that made it all too easy to accept the impossible. It was the day after my birthday and I'd just turned eighteen, again.
I felt ever so close to snapping. My grip on sanity was terribly femmer. I struggled to make sense of my… situation. My horrible dream was not a dream.
I was still staring at myself in the mirror, knuckles white and clenched, gripping the sink for more than just stability.
In my mind, I began to replay an Eddie Izzard skit. It was totally random, it had been hilarious the first time but it suddenly took on a whole new meaning. I held the conversation between myself and the grim reaper. I actually did the voices – in my head.
Can I get some new pyjamas please? I asked politely.
No pyjamas in the land of the dead… he taunted.
They said there would be pyjamas! I whined and complained.
No…no pyjamas for you! he insisted. You're dead.
By this time I was hysterical. I couldn't help the maniacal laughter that burst from my body. I was hiccupping, red-faced and teary-eyed, my heart was pounding double-time and I was slightly queasy.
I died. I remember. How could I forget? Nothing had ever h-u-r-t so much.
Then… the next thing I knew I was laying in my bed, in my own body, my younger body. I was eighteen again. I had time on my hands now, didn't I?
Time to make a few changes.
I was a journaler. It's how I dealt with life, how I processed stressful events. So that's what I did. I started writing frantically, lest I forget. I made two lists, To Do and Not to Do.
.
TW Ianto's Journal TW Ianto's Journal TW
August 19, 2001
TO DO:
uni – study Archival sciences, develop self defense skills, computer skills and study criminology.
Find UNIT?
*Be an Archival Expert, your sanity depends on order.
March 2004 – Do find the Doctor.
Do find a way to keep tabs on alien activity.
Always keep a journal: your life depends on it.
Learn to make amazing coffee, your happiness depends on it.
NOT TO DO:
Wait. Do not leave Cardiff, yet. Dad needs you.
Don't join Torchwood 1. Don't go to London. Bad things happen in London on Christmas.
I'm a little bit frantic now and entirely desperate to NOT forget all the little things. The little things that make me happy in the future and more importantly I think - what not to do. There are so many things to remember. So many terrible, unnecessary things happened and maybe now I have a chance to make it all right. If I hadn't joined Torchwood One then Lisa wouldn't have died… no, actually, she would. I just wouldn't have been there. And if I don't work for Torchwood then I won't learn about aliens and I won't have any experience and Jack will never hire me. So I guess I had better be careful about what I change. I do want certain things to happen. I just don't want to let… certain other things happen.
Such as dying. Such as Tosh dying, especially like that. And Owen too, if I can help it.
I can't change everything. I can't make Canary Warf not happen. I can't stop Gray from hunting Jack down. I can't stop Jack from running off with the Doctor. I can however change me, change my experiences, change my thinking, change my skills and abilities and make myself better equipped to deal with all that crap. I just need to be stronger and I need to live. I need to live and be with Jack. I need to meet Jack and fall in love with him because nothing else will ever matter that much. My whole life was just one big practice set, all getting me ready to meet Jack. Phew. I need a drink. Good thing I'm 18.
First things first. I'll need to make a list of every event I can remember, critical ones of course. I'll need to do it fast, just in case I start to forget. God, I hope I don't forget. Then I need to make a plan. I need to recreate myself so when I do meet Jack, I'll be more than just eye candy to him. I want to be agent material and I know exactly what I need to change.
TW Ianto's Journal TW Ianto's Journal TW
I filled nearly an entire book that first night. I didn't sleep. I was terrified to forget, afraid that when I woke I wouldn't remember. If I forgot then I'd just do everything the same or worse. So I wrote. I wrote until my fingers bled and I couldn't see. I wrote every single fact I could recall. I could recall a lot. I was an encyclopedia or a database or an archive. Any – all in fact would apply.
I could hear them moving around, getting ready for work in the kitchen and in the bathroom. They'd leave me alone. They were used to my strange moods, my strange habits. They'd just assume I'd developed a new one. Which was fine with me. I'd be starting school soon. I would be moving to res. They'd leave me alone. I could sleep in (or not at all), I could eat anything I fancied (or completely forget to eat or fail to notice my body's hunger all together) and I could bathe as infrequently as any teenage boy did – they just wouldn't notice.
Three journals later I needed to find a secure hiding place. I needed to pee, I needed to eat and I did actually need a shower. Yick!
.
TW Ianto's Journal TW Ianto's Journal TW
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August 28, 2001
Uni starts next week and I think I'm going to change a few of my courses around. I was a bit timid the first time round. I'm going to kick arse this time. I'm taking a Criminology course along with my Library Studies and Psychology courses. I need to get a part-time job as soon as possible, something useful. I'll not waste any time on a silly retail job, not when I have to cram so many experiences into the next few years.
TO DO: get a job, learn how to shoot a gun, take some Crim courses
NOT TO DO: no slacking off, don't be weak/timid/afraid/nervous, be brave dammit!
TW Ianto's Journal TW Ianto's Journal TW
TWXDW
The first week of school was exciting. There were so many opportunities. I'd hardly noticed half of them the first time 'round. I came upon a positing for "weapon's training" in the hallway. I tore off the contact number and vowed to call that evening. I took the first available start date.
I stepped up to the reception desk nervously and the kindly woman welcomed me with a chipper smile. "Good morning." She spoke in a sing-song voice and her smile came through her words.
Instinctively, I smiled back. "Good morning," I said. "I'm here for my first lesson."
"Your name?" She pulled out her clipboard and her ballpoint pen.
"I'm Ianto Jones." I was so nervous. It felt like I'd been lying non-stop since I woke up the day after my birthday. Lying made me feel extremely guilty. I told myself I'd gone undercover. But I still felt guilty whenever I spoke to adults.
"Of course, Mr. Jones." She flashed me her pleasant smile and came out from behind her desk. "Your lane is ready. Come with me and I'll introduce you to the instructor." She motioned for me to follow her.
An uncomfortable silence settled upon us as we walked down the hall. Politeness and courtesy, I reminded myself, they are your weapons. "Thank you… ah ?"
"Mary," she told me.
"Thank you, Mary." I gave her my grandest smile for her troubles and I followed Mary through the corridors until we arrived at a series of sound proofed rooms.
She poked her head inside the room and called out. "Excuse me, Inspector?"
"Yes, Mary," came the reply. "Come right in." His voice was gruff sounding but he sounded genuinely pleased to see Mary.
"Mr. Jones is here for his first lesson." She held the door open for me and gave me a little push towards the instructor.
"Mr. Jones, welcome!" I was greeted by a grizzly old man with gigantic work roughened hands the size of baseball mitts. He reached out to shake my smooth skinned palm.
"Thank you, love." He winked at Mary as she left but didn't let go of my hand. He continued to shake it vigorously while he spoke to her.
"You two have fun now!" She said over her shoulder.
When he finally did release my hand he asked, "Shall we begin?" and then the Inspector clapped his hands together loudly. He had an expectant look in his eye as he waited patiently for me to find my voice.
"Yes –"I'd jumped at the loud clap and cursed myself inwardly for it. "Yes, please I'm anxious to get started."
"Okay. First thing you'll need is some safety instruction…" He spoke quickly, confidently and I listened to every word he said and tried to absorb every drop of wisdom and knowledge.
After an hour of intensive instruction I was ready to practice on my own. I revelled in the familiar feeling of power that shooting a gun always gave me. The exhilaration was slightly alien to this younger version of my body though. My youth gave me a few distinct advantages: I had way more energy and I learned a lot faster. It seemed like only a fraction of the time was required now before my neuro-motor pathways repeatedly fired and muscle memory was solidified. I could feel it, I was going to be brilliant at this.
My instructor, Inspector Donaldson, was incredibly impressed with my ability to learn quickly and with my accuracy. He was drawn to my younger self and he decided to take me under his wing.
I was a regular at the range. I went several times a week for free practice and once every two weeks for an intensive lesson with the Inspector. The Inspector introduced me to his fellow coppers and I became one of theirs in no time. I flourished among these diverse and positive adult role models; my self-confidence and self-esteem were both nurtured into a more healthy state.
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TW Ianto's Journal TW Ianto's Journal TW
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September 14, 2001
My path has begun to diverge. I can feel the difference in how I see myself already. I haven't really changed much mind you. I've learned a new skill, met some positive role models and I feel good about myself.
I've only altered one Uni course from what I remember from before. It was a silly option and it never did anything for me anyway. Now I'm taking a Crim course instead and it's so exciting! I'm really good at it too.
The self-defence course was… interesting. I'm obviously way too weak and skinny. It was a bit terrible actually. I'll need to bulk up. I also need to see to a better diet and I should really start working out regularly. This needs to become my way of life from now on. I need to be strong, healthy, fast and clever.
I can do this. I might not be able to change anything other people do but I can change me.
TO DO: you still need a job, get fit, eat healthy food, get a date for goodness sakes, work out, get stronger before you take that fucking awful self-defence course again, that was pitiful.
NOT TO DO: don't give up
TW Ianto's Journal TW Ianto's Journal TW
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To be continued in… Chapter 2 - Reruns and other Unimaginative Chapters of My Life
