Stitch in Time

Chapter Two

"Where are we?" Ianto asked, exiting the door leading to the underground Hub and looking round in horror and amazement at the grimy industrial landscape.

"The Docks, best place to be unnoticed if you're a secret organisation. Or a man who shouldn't be here. This way."

He strode off and Ianto had to jog to catch up, his smooth-soled shoes finding little purchase on the cobbles which were slippery with horse dung as well as the rain. The thin soles didn't protect his feet either and he felt every lump and bump of the roadway as he walked along. They were passing warehouses and offices, all of them dark and deserted. The smell and taste of coal was in Ianto's nose and mouth and there was a pall of smoke in the air. More coal fires, he reasoned, remembering stories of Cardiff's smog which was exacerbated by the dust from the tons of coal shipped out from the docks every day. Visibility wasn't helped much by the flickering gas streetlights spaced out at intervals leaving dark shadows between. All in all, Ianto considered it a convincing vision of hell.

In the distance a church clock struck the quarter hour. "What time is it?"

"Six fifteen. No one works on Sunday, lucky for us, but we'll meet the Chapel-goers soon and the ladies of the night plying their trade." He stopped abruptly and Ianto bumped into him. "There'll be lads looking to lift your valuables too so stick close."

"Always." Ianto slipped his arm through Jack's and smiled. "Or are there gay-bashers as well"

"Not so many, besides it's dark. Come on, it's a ten minute walk."

Jack started walking again, keeping Ianto's arm through his, leading him out of the docks and into rows and rows of houses. This was the wider Tiger Bay, a sprawling mass of housing for dockworkers mainly and renowned for its lawlessness and close-knit, multi-cultural community. Ianto looked about with interest and anxiety having heard much about the place; he could just remember the decayed ruins before the area was redeveloped into Cardiff Bay. The streets were lined with small terraced houses opening directly onto the pavement interspersed with corner shops and other businesses. Each street looked the same to Ianto as he was hurried past, lost in the maze of alleys and shortcuts that Jack seemed to know so well. They turned another corner and stopped halfway along a terrace at a battered red door with a well-washed step. Pulling out a key, Jack opened it and they went in. Inside was a narrow hallway with steep stairs leading up. Ianto was halfway up the stairs, in front of Jack, when a door opened and light flooded out.

"That you, Jackie boy?" asked a small dumpy, grey-haired woman in a wrap-around pinafore. "Want some supper?"

"Ah, not just yet, Ma. Got company." He grinned and nodded towards Ianto who had gone up another couple of stairs into the darkness of the first floor.

The woman didn't seem put out. "You and your boys, Jackie," she chuckled. "I've enough for the two of you, if he's staying long."

Jack looked up at Ianto and grinned. "Oh, I think this one'll be an all-nighter, Ma."

"I'll make a pot of tea and some rarebit, how about that? Would you be wanting some rarebit, son?" she called up to Ianto.

"Yes, please."

"Least you've got yourself a polite Welsh boy this time, Jackie. I'll bring it up." The woman bustled down the hall to the back kitchen. "And don't worry, I'll knock."

Jack laughed and followed Ianto up the stairs to the small landing which was unlit and very dark. Just visible was the outline of two doors. "In here." He unlocked the left hand door and ushered Ianto in before shutting it behind them.

The room was a good size with a bay window on the far wall looking out over the street. The light coming in from outside was bright enough to illuminate the double bed, a cast iron affair with ornate head and footboards, to Ianto's right on the same back wall as the door and opposite the window. A fireplace was on the right hand wall while on the left was a massive wardrobe and chest of drawers both of dark wood. Jack moved round the room and lit the two gas wall lights and the oil lamp on a table in the window before drawing the heavy plush curtains. The additional light cast a yellowish glow on the room making it seem warmer but it was still stone cold. Ianto's teeth started to chatter; his clothes had got even more damp in the drizzly rain.

"It'll warm up in a bit," said Jack, bending to put a match to the small gas fire in the fireplace. "Get your clothes off. I'm sure some of my stuff will fit." With a smell of gas and a popping noise the fire began to give off heat and he moved to the wardrobe, opening the double doors and looking inside critically.

"They'll be too big. You're fatter than me." Ianto thankfully removed the smelly cap and struggled out of the too-tight overcoat, placing them neatly on the bed.

"Who you calling fat?" Jack took out a collarless, striped shirt with long tails and matched it with a pair of dark trousers. "These should do." Ianto had removed his tie, wet shoes and socks, suit jacket and trousers and was shivering as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. "No wonder you're cold," said Jack admiring the view, "no decent underwear." He put the clothes onto a nearby easy chair and went to the chest of drawers where he rummaged around before taking out a pair of snowy white long johns.

"I'm not wearing that!" protested Ianto, gazing in horror at the all-in-one garment.

"Yes you are. Now get them on before Ma Humphreys comes up with supper and catches you bare-arsed."

Jack handed them over and stood watching as Ianto, quite unselfconsciously, removed his boxers and gingerly donned the long johns. He immediately felt warmer and put on the socks Jack handed him and then the shirt and trousers, fumbling with the button fly. In the meantime, Jack had folded Ianto's own clothes into a bundle and hidden them at the bottom of the wardrobe.

He took Ianto's gun, iPhone and other personal possessions and deposited them in a lidded cardboard box which he put on the bed. "We'll sort this lot out later. Let's have a look at you." He eyed the Welshman critically. "Your hair's a dead giveaway but we can hide that under a cap. Yeah, you'll do."

"Thanks," responded Ianto sarcastically. "These trousers are loose." He was holding onto them and wriggling at the strange feel of the clothes, especially the long johns. "And I need shoes."

"Braces." Jack handed over a pair and fastened them at the back while Ianto did the same at the front. "There, they won't fall down now." He turned at the sound of footsteps on the landing. "That'll be Ma. Go sit at the table and keep your face down, fewer people see you the better." There was a knock at the door and Jack opened it, after checking Ianto was in position.

"Here you are then, Jackie. Enough for you and your young man." Ma Humphreys walked in a couple of paces before handing over the tray, making a quick survey of the room. She smiled up at her lodger, a man she liked but who kept irregular hours and had any number of strange guests. The current boy seemed quiet enough, sitting at the table studying the tablecloth. "Don't be making too much noise now, don't want the neighbours complaining again." She patted Jack's cheek before leaving the room.

"Try not to. Thanks, Ma." Jack waited until she was at the top of the stairs then took the tray to the table by the window before going back and closing and locking the door.

"She's nice," said Ianto, setting places for them on the table. The smell of the Welsh rarebit was making him feel very hungry.

"Umm, discreet too. Here, put these on for now." He kicked over a pair of well-worn slippers from their place at the side of the bed and sat on the chair opposite Ianto. "This smells good." He bit into one of his two generous slices of rarebit and chewed with evident pleasure.

Having put on the slippers, which were large but warm, Ianto tasted his rarebit and drooled. "God, this is good! Haven't tasted cheese like this in ages." He reached to the teapot, swathed in a knitted cosy, and poured some into the cups.

The two men ate and drank in silence, savouring the meal which included large slices of homemade fruit cake. After he'd finished eating Ianto sat resting his elbows on the table, his cup held in both hands, and surveyed the room. There were few personal effects: a row of half a dozen books on a shelf; a battered carriage clock on the mantelpiece; collar studs and cuff links on top of the chest of drawers with hair oil and brushes; a pile of newspapers in the corner behind the door. The mirror over the fireplace and the faded sepia print of Cardiff Castle over the bed were obviously part of the furnishings and not Jack's choice. The only colour came from a faded and worn blue carpet that didn't meet the walls and a deep blue patterned eiderdown on the bed. Sipping his tea, and himself now a refugee in time, he fully understood how little Jack had to remind him of his past and why the small things he had managed to keep around him by 2008 meant so much.

"Nothing worth stealing," said Jack having followed Ianto's gaze around the room. He poured himself more tea and topped up Ianto's cup.

The Welshman smiled gently and put a hand on Jack's where it lay on the table. "I hadn't realised before quite how much you've had to leave behind." His fingers explored the well-known hand finding unexpected calluses.

"I don't remember everyone in the 21st century being this forward," remarked Jack looking from Ianto's hand to his face. "Repressed lot, in my opinion."

"Compared to you everyone is! In my time, you and I, we're … well, we're …" Ianto was not sure how to describe their relationship.

"Fuck-buddies?" grinned Jack, finding it strangely liberating to use the term with someone who would understand it. He found watching what he said the worst part of having to live through all these years.

"No! I mean … we are … fucking but it's more than just .. that. At least, I think it is." Ianto removed his hand and stared at the picture of the Castle as if it suddenly had immense interest for him.

"So he sent you, my future self," said Jack, putting down his cup and leaning forward, tone serious. "He knew this had to happen," he ventured. He was watching Ianto closely and saw him start with confusion. "Nooo, he didn't." He paused, considering. "So how are you going to make me forget meeting you?"

Ianto licked his lips, reminded once again that Jack was astute and, obviously, far more clued up about the consequences of time travel than he – Ianto – was. "Retcon, I was going to give you Retcon."

"And what might that be?"

"The amnesia drug." Ianto stared at Jack. "You developed it. It'll wipe out your memory for … however long it takes us to get the Orb. There are no lasting effects." Why didn't he know about it? Ianto had assumed Jack had been using it for as long as he'd been with Torchwood.

"And suppose I don't want to take it? I'm not too keen on having more of my past wiped out, thank you very much!"

After a pause during which Ianto managed to keep eye contact, he said, "You'll take it. You always put maintaining the timeline top of your priorities."

"Not so sure about that." Jack slumped back in his chair and drank some more tea, looking at nothing.

This boy was intriguing, a mix of deference to Jack's wider knowledge and experience but willing to stand up to him at other times. Jack hadn't met anyone like that in a very long time. And Ianto didn't seem bothered by his strange undying state. Had mentioned it as if it was just another part of him, like the colour of his hair. And that was worrying. The Soothsayer had told Jack he'd meet The Doctor in the 21st century and yet here was Ianto Jones from 2008 and he – Jack – was still in Cardiff and still not cured. He didn't like the sound of that. Didn't like it at all. When he looked up he found Ianto had piled the tea things on the tray and put it on the floor and was looking through his possessions in the cardboard box. He saw the boy place them all out neatly on the table: mobile phone, gun, pen, keys, watch, teleport, wallet, ID card, small change, handkerchief.

"You can take the handkerchief, the rest stays here."

"What?" Ianto looked up, started. "But I'll need money. And I can't leave the teleport. The phone could be useful too. Not for calls but it has other functions."

"Until the battery runs out. And your money's no good." Jack picked up a one-pound coin and smiled. "This is no more use that this stuff." He indicated a small bowl which contained squares of different coloured plastic. "They're credits, 44th century, in case you didn't know." He dropped the coin in amongst them.

Ianto's shoulders slumped. "I hadn't thought of that. Don't suppose the credit cards would be any good either," he smiled, trying to cover his embarrassment at such an elementary mistake. "I did tell you this was my first attempt at time travel."

"It shows." Jack stood up suddenly. "I'll take the tray down." In a moment he was gone, pulling the door to behind him.

In his absence, Ianto sat and contemplated his situation. It had been a stupid idea to make this trip; he was woefully unprepared and if he'd not been found by Jack he'd either be wandering lost in the bowels of the Hub or locked up in one of the cells. Any of the Torchwood operatives would have spotted him as out of place in an instant. Even if by a miracle he'd avoided capture and got out of the base, he had no idea of the geography of the city and his money was no good. He'd have been easy prey for any ruffian who came across him. Only with Jack's help had he got this far. His only chance of succeeding and getting the Orb back to Cardiff in 2008 in time to save the lives of the hostages and his colleagues - and prevent the probable destruction of the city if not the UK, maybe the whole planet! - was to persuade Jack to continue to help. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the Retcon but he'd assumed Jack would know all about it. Could he force Jack to take it when the time came? Probably not which meant he, Ianto Jones, would have loused up the timeline all by himself. It was a depressing thought and he gave into self-pity for fully five minutes.

At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, Ianto sat up and took a deep breath. If there was one thing in this era that he knew about it was Jack Harkness. He had to use his intimate knowledge of the man to his advantage and make him help. But could he force this man who was so alone, so troubled? Ianto had seen Jack angry and ruthless – he shuddered when he thought of how the man had dealt with the Cyberwoman Lisa had become – but never as lost, distrustful and … depressed as now. Ianto felt ashamed of himself at even thinking of using his superior knowledge of the man to manipulate him into helping and then to forget all about it. But he had to, had to get to London and get that Orb from the London archives before it was too late for Gwen and all those other people. Their fate rested in his hands and he was going to do everything he could to save them and Jack was going to help whether he liked it or not.


Many thanks for all the reviews and alerts. It's great to have such an encouraging response to this story - Jay.