Hello Knife

Title: Hello Knife

Author: SiwgrGalon

Wordcount: 4.679

Pairing: Jack Harkness / Ianto Jones

Rating: M

Spoilers: Season One, Season 2 until after "Meat", Doctor Who Season 2 ("Army of Ghosts" 2x12 / "Doomsday" 2x13)

Disclaimer: Torchwood and the Characters belong entirely to the BBC and Russell T. Davies and in no point to me. I do not intend to make money with this. No copyright infringement intended.
The lyrics used in this story belong to the Donots – no copyright infringement intended, too. Same goes for making money with this.

Warnings: Self-harm, Language, Child Abuse (so therefore violence) –might work as a trigger, so if you're affected by this, please don't read.

A/N: Woohoo, I'm back! First, I want to thank you all for adding the Story to your favourites list or setting an Alert! You really made me happy! :)
Sorry for the delay, but uni and work kept me up... and then came Christmas. Now, with the New Year right on the doorstep, I've found enough time to check everything once again, so here's a new chapter - more past! Woohoo! ;)
And yes, for the first time, there's Welsh in this chapter. Just a short sentence, three words actually, because my Welsh is not that good and I KNOW that this proverb is right. ;) (Hey! I'm learning! I can already order a pint - and say that I don't speak Welsh. :D )

So, here it is!


Fire. Heat. He could sense them, somehow, although the temperature in the basement was the same as always. Everything burned, Ianto knew. Everything, his whole life, was in flames. He himself felt as if he burned, although he was so far away. Torchwood One, in all its glory, was being overrun by two of the deadliest creatures in the whole of the universe. Daleks. Cybermen. Ianto had never heard of them, but the instant he had seen them, he knew. There were two options. Dying or being converted. Which was like dying, basically, but much more painful in the process. Having your brain cut out and transplanted into a metal casing did not seem like the most desirable thing in the world.

Now he sat here. Hidden away, deep down in the archive section, between the shelves. Ianto shivered. Overhead, on the higher levels, people were dying or fighting a battle they could not win. Screams echoed through to him, muffled by the thick walls and the steel door locked in front of him. Maybe he was hallucinating, imagining the screams because Ianto was sure there was screaming to be heard. People suffered. People died, just three or four floors above his head the killing started, so there had to be screaming. Where there was pain and death and despair, there was noise. He knew that for sure. And with over 800 people working at Torchwood, there had to be a lot of suffering and therefore a lot of noise.

What he, indeed, could hear clearly were solid metal footfalls and the repeating echoes of "EXTERMINATE" and "DELETE". By now the young man knew about the Daleks, but there was nearly nothing on the Cybermen. The only thing he knew for sure was that they took brains and transplanted them into their bodies. And they were empty. Hollow shells, made of steel; just like the Daleks, they were devoid of all emotions. There was just their duty, and they would follow their orders without so much as a second thought.

Heavy steps came closer and finally stopped. Ianto held his breath. He knew the door was bolted and could not be opened easily without any heavy weapons, or the thirteen-digit code he knew by heart, but who knew what these monsters could do? They had tricked them into believing they were friendly ghosts, and Torchwood had built them a bridge to come over to this world. It was their own fault that everything was going to hell. Ianto had always thought that they should be more critical when it came to the Ghost Shifts. Ghosts never meant good , everyone knew that. Well, everyone, except Yvonne Hartman.
He had talked to his mentor about his skepticism, but he shrugged it off. Well, maybe he just pretended to shrug it off. It was at least his doing that Ianto sat here, alone, holding his breath and wishing for the creature to go away. Just go. There is nothing for you here. I am not here. You do not see me or hear me breathe or anything. Just go, go away, PLEASE.He nearly screamed out loud, frustrated.

On one hand, the young Welshman wanted to be out there. To die as he should die, to get what he deserved for doing as he was told. On the other hand, he was just a Junior Researcher, no-one involved too deeply into anything. His mentor kept him mainly for his brains, his knowledge of nearly everything and his memory. Ianto had always been good at memorizing things, always believing it would come in handy one day. It had done so, but moreover, it had secured him this job. He knew more than anyone of them. He did not take long to locate things deep down in the archives, as long as he knew the number.
Now, as he sat there, Ianto let his eyes wander to keep his thoughts from his death on the other side of the door. He felt like a damn coward, but he did not want to die. And it was not. His. Own. Decision. To be here.

K-17.32.3. Books. Alien Books. There was the end of the world, and Ianto was surrounded by books which he could not even read because he did not know any alien languages. Torchwood never bothered to learn anything about the species they encountered. Not their traditions, not their language, nothing. They just saw them, took the valuable or usable things and destroyed the alien threat. To Ianto, it looked a lot like payback was on its way.
Heavy steps made his mind focus again. Heavy steps, retreating from his door, back down the corridor. Ianto sighed and slowly got up, ignoring the world spinning and swimming around him. He felt a bit nauseous; slowly the adrenaline wore off. Adrenaline leaving his bloodstream also meant that the haze he had been in lifted and the current events returned to his mind.

The ice-cold touch of a metal hand on his left arm.
"Run, Ianto!"
Lisa. Lisa advising him to run. Kissing him and begging him to run. Ianto did not know how he freed himself from the Cyberman grabbing him, but somehow he had succeeded. Angry (could they be angry?) shouts of "DELETE" echoed through the halls, but somehow Ianto survived. They did not get him.
He had run, and run and run, until his mentor had caught him. He looked afraid, very much so. Afraid did not even grasp it… more like… panic. He was panicking, but why?
"It's them. The Daleks. Deadliest creature in the universe. Run, Ianto. Hide in the archives. Section K-17.32.3. Don't let them get you, you know too much. Getting you into their hands…" a hysteric laugh bubbled up his throat as he spoke to Ianto, "would give them the ultimate weapon."
"I can't. I have to help you fight. It's my job. It's my duty… and Lisa…"
He was not able to grasp a clear thought. There was so much going on, so much chaos, that Ianto was completely overwhelmed. He wanted to be as small as possible, to be invisible… just to be on his own. He wanted this all to end. Now.
"You can't help. It's too dangerous."

Ianto had not realized that his mentor had grabbed him by the shoulder and was guiding him down a corridor until it was nearly too late. Albeit looking rather frail in his large white labcoat, the older man was rather strong.
"Look. There is nothing you can do. Hide. Don't make any noise. Maybe you'll survive this. Maybe not. But never, and please promise me this, never let them get you. If it's necessary, kill yourself. Be a rebel and let them kill you. It might sound harsh but under no circumstance let them capture you alive."
By now, fear sent slow shivers down Ianto's spine. He did not know what to do or say, so he just nodded and swallowed the lump rising in his throat.
"If you need to get out… 14159 26535 897. Keep your head up, and never forget: Hyder trwy addysg."
With that, he shoved Ianto into the section he was told to hide in earlier and locked the door. It broke his heart, but he knew, it was for the best. If either the Daleks or the Cybermen got hold of his protégé, the world was doomed. With everything the Welshman knew he was a threat to humanity. He just hoped Ianto stayed put until everything was in order again.

Hyder trwy addysg…
Ianto mused about this. He had not heard Welsh in some time, and his mentor had not even been Welsh. He had never mentioned speaking Welsh, so it was even a greater mystery to the young man.
Just as he was about to remember his first minutes in this cabinet, a strange noise filled the air. Ianto bolted for the door and frantically punched in the numbers to release the locks. If he was wrong, if everything was still the same, he would be dead in a few seconds.
Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. But there's no time for a big confession. I'm a sinner, I am bad, I helped them do this. But I regret it. So please, once in my life, grant me mercy.
And Ianto's wish came true. At least until he discovered Lisa. While he ran through the corridors, searching for the strange noise, he heard the screams. For the first time, realization hit home. This was real. This had really happened. So many people were dead, or worse, converted. So many people died because of them. Because of him. Ianto felt guilty. But under all these screams, he could make out one in particular.
"Ianto!"
Lisa's pained voiced burned itself into the deepest core of Ianto's heart.

After that, everything went fuzzy. He did not know how he got her out of the ruins of the Torchwood Tower, how he got her into the Torchwood van. Ianto still knew Lisa had instructed him on what to do and what to take, but he had no idea how he managed to transport her. When he had set her up in the unmarked black van and painkillers were running through Lisa's system, Ianto went back to Torchwood. Or what was left of it.
It looked a bit like a bombsite. There were rescue squads, people with dogs searching for survivors and UNIT had set up camp. There was also a sleek black SUV, "Torchwood" imprinted on its sides. Torchwood Cardiff. Ianto's only chance, as Lisa had told him. Surely they were looking for weapons and important artifacts. Ianto wanted to follow them, make a good first impression, but a young woman in an UNIT outfit held him back.

"Sorry. You are?"
Ianto fished for his Torchwood ID and handed it over. She seemed surprised, because she sucked in a breath, then she yelled for a medic. Ianto still wanted to follow the Cardiff Team, but as he took another look, they were gone. Instead of the famous Torchwood 3, there was a medical officer, also wearing a red beret, in front of him, shining a torchlight into his eyes.
"Eyes are responsive, seems not to be hurt… are you in pain?"
Ianto just shook his head. The soldier cocked an eyebrow.
"Apparently he's physically fine. Mentally is a different thing, but just note him down."
He turned to look at Ianto again.
"Are you okay?"
Another nod.
"Really? Sure?"
Another nod.
"Okay. If you could get over to the tent, a colleague will give you a thorough checkup."
This was his chance. Ianto nodded again, then headed for the tent. In the last moment, before entering, he made a beeline and headed for the van. Mere minutes later, he was on his way to Cardiff.

The next thing Ianto remembers clearly is the night after Canary Wharf. They spent it in an old warehouse (the one where he and Jack will catch Myfanwy later, he remembers), the van parked inside and everything obscured from curious onlookers. It's a bit out of town, so private enough for Lisa to go unnoticed while Ianto figures out her medication. It will do for now, it has to, until Ianto can go flat huntin in the morning.
It's quiet. Too quiet for the young man's liking. There's not a sound to be heard, except for his and Lisa's combines breathing. She's high on painkillers now, sleeping and not realizing anything happening around her. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, is wide awake.

Ianto took a deep breath, supposed to be calming, when it suddenly hit him. An overwhelming smell, the smell of blood and metal and burning flesh. Ianto felt immediately sick. He heard them screaming again, heard the people being converted, the saws of the conversion units running, slicing flesh and breaking bone, humiliating humans only to dump them in an unceremonious heap after they cut the brains out. He heard the sounds, heard the Daleks and Cybermen scream and fight, and then there was this sound, like nothing he ever heard, and everything went quiet.
He curled up on the damp floor, hugging his knees to his chest. Closing his eyes, he decided it was a bad idea and opened them again. Still, Ianto would always remember the things he saw in the small time period he spent out of the archive section. The piles of bodies, the blood, people still strapped into conversion units.. the man in the brown suit, besides the blue box, who had looked so lost and hurt, but Ianto had just thought of Lisa.

A shiver ran down Ianto's spine; then a different coldness spread from his left upper arm, all the way down to the fingers of his left hand and all the way into his heart, from where it spread through his body. A spark jolted through Ianto's body as he sat up, shocked by the memory of an ice-cold hand as the source of the coldness. They had touched him. Touched him with their cold, metal hands. But had the just touched him? How could he be sure that there was nothing done to him? Did you know when they transplanted something into you?
His breath came in short, ragged gasps as he scrambled to his feet, pacing around like a lion in a cage. What to do now? What should, what could he do to be sure? Despair took over, and his mind first went into overdrive before going completely blank.

Ianto was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. What had they done to him? He was sure he could feel metal moving along his bones. In his distress, the young man dug through the equipment in the van. Mostly useless things, except for one or two things helpful for finding Torchwood Cardiff. He let his gaze linger again; Lisa took in most part of the van, sleeping soundly; stacked along the walls were boxes full of clutter, nothing of use. Nothing at all. Except… the weight in his pocket made Ianto frown. What did he carry around? Usually, his pockets were empty.

Rusty Knife
sleeping in my pocket
come along and wield your blade
Scare away the hungry vultures
Before it is too late,
too late

Hello Knife
Safe inside my pocket
A clean slate and a dirty mind
Take my hand everytime I falter
Never cut the tie that binds

Ianto suppressed the cry of joy threatening to spill from his throat as he discovered the blade. He donned his shirt and huddled besides the van, only a thin undershirt between his bare back and the cold vehicle. His arm looked somewhat normal, but with Torchwood, nothing was normal. He prodded the skin a bit, testing the waters a bit, before he made the first cut. It was not deep, just superficial, and Ianto's body did not even fully realize it. Some drops of blood found their way out, but nothing more. The next cut, strategically placed a bit higher than the first one, went deeper. And the next went deeper. And deeper. And deeper. Always on the search for a trace of metal, the hint of a near-conversion, anything not human in his body. Nothing.
Ianto could barely stop himself to go below his elbow. There were no cuts. Well, one or two, but it was too dangerous, too easy to detect them there. But now, in this situation… he could not shake off the feeling that there was something hidden there. Under all the skin and flesh and muscle.

His thoughts were interrupted by the bloody flowing freely down his arm, gathering in his open hand and slowly dripping onto the cold stone floor. There was the pain, the unmistakable feeling of warm blood on his cold body and the adrenaline. He was alive. Alive and definitely NOT converted, since the blade had not met any metal on its way. Nothing. Just soft, formerly unblemished skin which parted easily.

In this moment, the young man felt so alive. He had never felt this alive before, not even the first time he had done this. This was the highest high ever, an amazingly big rush of adrenaline, alive-ness and the bittersweet pain flowing through his bloodstream and partially gathering in his hand. He held his life in his hand. His life was visible. He was alive, well, and he and Lisa, they would make it. Surely. There was no other option. He would get inside Torchwood Three, cure her, and then off they would be.
Months later, everything crashed down. And Ianto had the nagging feeling in the back of his head that he should have known better.

It was awkward, to say the least. He sat on his sofa, across from Owen, who looked not entirely happy to be here. It had been what? Four days? Five? Since Ianto's world came crashing down a second time. This time, he had been responsible for the death of two people. He was not so sure if he should pity Dr. Tanizaki, for Ianto had had the impression that he had not really been interested in fixing Lisa, but Annie, Annie haunted him. He dreamt of her, of Lisa using her, and he had thrown up more than once after these dreams.
Now, he sat here, supposed to have a heart-to-heart with Owen, who would happily see him dead or retconned. Everything without the protective shell of his suit; Ianto felt incredibly weak and vulnerable wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, but now it was too late.

"So, spill it, tea-boy."
He sounded as disgusted as Ianto felt. Ianto just looked at him, not sure what to say or do; he did not want to talk. He wanted to curl up in bed and never leave, until someone would put his misery to an end. However he or she would do it.
"Seriously, Ianto, you might try to play the "I'm traumatized and cannot speak" card on me, but don't think I'm stupid. It was you who brought this thing into Torchwood, and it was you who would have been responsible if everything went to hell, so just tell me why. "
"Lisa."
"What?"
"Lisa. She had a name."
"Well, I don't care, because this thing nearly killed us all. And you, being a survivor of the whole load of shit that was Canaray Wharf should have known better than to bring a partially converted Cyberwoman into the Hub. Even you cannot be that stupid, can you?"

It hurt. Owen knew it must hurt Ianto, but he wanted to hurt him. Stupid git saw everything happening in London and still decides that maybe his half-converted girlfriend would not decide to kill or convert the whole world as soon as the cybertechnology woke up. He wanted to grab Ianto's shoulders and shake him, forcefully, although he knew it would certainly make everything worse.

"I loved her. I'm not sure love is something you're capable of."
That hurt, too. Ianto looked up and directly into Owen's eyes. The doctor looked as if he was ready to kill the young man sitting in front of him, and somehow he wanted him to. At the same time, Ianto felt the urge to go for the door. To start running and never stop. The pressure inside him grew, like it had done over the past few days, but Ianto did not know what to do.
"Now, kiddo, is the time to shut up. You don't know a fuck, and believe me, I'd really love to strangle you right now, but if I do, Jack will be very, very angry and I, other than you, will not betray my Captain. Understood? You're standing on really thin ice there, Ianto, so don't think you can outsmart me. I'm your doctor, therefore I will be completely professional at work, but don't think I'll forgive you that easily."
Owen was angry. How did Ianto dare to tell him something about love? He did not know about Katie, no-one did, except Jack and Owen. For a brief second he considered telling him, but he did not want to be vulnerable. And telling the kid about Katie would give him something against Owen, something incredibly painful.

"Anyways, as your doctor, I have to give you a check-up. Jack's orders. So if you could please take your shirt off, I don't want to make you do it."
With that, Ianto bolted for his bathroom, leaving a very irritated Owen behind. Very irritated indeed. He had not seen that one coming. Something was up with the young Welshman, he was certain, but since he had locked the door behind him, Owen decided to give him time. Maybe he was throwing up again; nothing too surprising after this kind of shock. Plus he was sure that Ianto was not eating properly. He would have to talk to Jack about this, so he would pay some attention during his daily visits.
Five minutes passed. Owen let another ten minutes pass before he grew suspicious. There was nothing to be heard from the bathroom, nothing at all. This was not good. Not in Ianto's condition. He could do anything.

Inside the mentioned room, Ianto sat on the floor, leaning against the door and staring at the rather long cut marking his forearm. Never below the elbow… seems like this is history now. He sighed. Owen would see. Owen would know.
And as on cue, Owen knocked on the door.
"Ianto?"
"Leave me alone."
"Ianto, come on. Let me in."
"Why should I?"
"Because if you don't let me in, I'll do it myself."
"Try me."

Ianto did not want to see him. As it seemed, he had no choice, because he heard Owen fumble around with something – and the lock clicked open. Sometimes working for an organization dealing with alien artifacts sucked.
As the Londoner tried to open the door, Ianto contemplated giving him a hard time. In his eyes, he deserved it for being the prick he was, but he gave up. Owen would force his way in, and he would not be too delicate about it, so he slid forward a bit.
As Owen squeezed through the small space between door and frame, he was relieved that Ianto was still alive. However, as he saw him, his breath hitched. For once the stoic mask was gone. The young man sat there, motionless, eyes firmly hefted on a small puddle of blood on the floor. Blood. Why was there blood?
Quickly scanning the situation, Owen saw the cut.

"Jesus, Ianto, did you try to top yourself? You'll have to do better than that."
"No."
"What?"
Why did the kid have to be such a monosyllable pain in the ass? Pain in the ass, okay, but couldn't he at least speak in complete sentences?
"No."
"Ianto, if you could speak in complete sentences, it would make this a hell of a lot easier. I know you can do this, you did it five days ago when defending your girlfriend."
When mentioning Lisa, Ianto flinched visibly and curled up a bit. Owen kneeled at his side and, as gently as possible, took his arm. He was being irate, he knew, and he was sure it was reasonable, but it was still no reason to inflict further hurt to the young man.
"Let me see to this."

He carefully inspected the wound, not without noticing the razor Ianto still held in his right hand.
"Okay. I think I know what's going on here… give me the razor, Ianto."
It was a bit like talking to a little child. By now, Ianto had started shivering, and Owen feared he might pass out.
"Come on. It's nothing big, just a small cut. I will clean it, dress it and in a few days, there will be nothing left, not even a scar."
Ianto looked him directly in the eyes. Owen's breath hitched again. Without the usual mask in place it was like he could see into the deepest core of Ianto's soul. The kid was obviously scared, in pain and lonely. Owen resented caring for him, but he would definitely have to tell Jack.
With a small tinkle the razor fell onto the cold tiles. Ianto's right arm hung limp by his side while Owen carefully cleaned the cut on his left arm, before wrapping it up.

"Don't tell anyone."
"What?"
This time it was Owen's turn to use seek out eye contact.
"Please, don't tell anyone."
"Ianto, this was no accident, which means this is serious business. I have to tell Jack."
"No! Please. Please, don't tell him, don't tell anyone. They don't have to know… you're my doctor, isn't it enough if you know?"
On the edge of panicking, Owen grabbed the young man's shoulders.
"Ianto.. hey, it's okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's okay. Why don't you want me to tell anyone?"
"Because… it's …."
Between gasping for air, Ianto fought for the right words.

"… I'm ashamed."
It was just a whisper, but Owen had to fight against the urge to hug Ianto. He had not forgiven him by now, and he would not create the impression that he had. It was hard, nonetheless. He knew what it meant to lose a loved one.
"Okay. I won't tell Jack. Or anyone. But this is really serious. You're seriously fucked up. And I thought it could not be worse after you hiding her in the basement."
"It's nothing… I did not do it for months."
Owen sighed.
"As you may think. We'll have to talk about this, but not now. You've been through enough. I bet you have not slept properly in the last days, all this giving you nightmares, so that's next on the agenda."
With that Owen got up and held out his hand, helping Ianto onto his feet. The young man's knees were a bit weak and he looked even paler than before, dark shadows under his eyes. He looked tired and, being dressed in a casual attire, for the first time Owen thought that he actually looked his age.

Ianto slowly padded into the bedroom, always followed by Owen, watching him closely. As he sat down on the bed, Owen put a small pill in his hand.
"Take this."
Ianto looked up, then onto the pill again, suspicious.
"It's not Retcon, I promise. If it were, I would have not made such a fuss of trying to talk to you."
Apparently this eased Ianto's fear of losing his memory, or he simply stopped caring about his fate, because he swallowed it without any complaint before lying down.
Untypically and completely unaware of his own actions, Owen sat on the edge of the bed.
"Listen. I'm just going to say this once, probably in the hope that you might forget it because you'll soon fall asleep. But I lost someone, too, and I know it hurts, but it gets better."
"Promise?"
In this moment, Ianto's eyes were wide and nearly innocent – again, like a little child. He looked really small, although he was a bit taller than Owen.
"I promise."
"Will it stop hurting?"
"No. It never stops hurting. It will always hurt, but not as intense as it does now. You'll learn to cope, and one day, you'll be able to smile again when you think of her, instead of crying. But it will always sting when you see her face, it will always hurt. Just promise me that you'll remember her he way she was before the battle. Because Lisa died in London."

As Owen looked up from the duvet he had been staring at, he saw that Ianto had fallen asleep. It struck him how young he really was. Not even 24, and he has seen more shit than anyone deserves in a whole lifetime…
He did not know that in a few months' time, everything would change again..


Wanna know something? There's gonna be a third chapter. Now I'm doing something I actually really hate, but... I can't help myself, I always think of how uncomfortable it is to read long texts online. ;)
And, apparently, I'm not able to guess a wordcount. Last chapter I told you it would be around 7000 words... I'm heading for 13000 now. But I'm rather sure I'm wrong again.

Som thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting and basically all the great stuff you do :)