All The Little Things

by NarikoD

When Ianto wakes up in a mental institution, he refuses to believe what everyone is telling him: that Torchwood is a delusion and he's schizophrenic. But the longer he stays there, the more he starts to wonder if Torchwood was ever real to begin with.

2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

They went down a different hallway than the one that housed his room, although this new hallway was just as white and sterile as the other one.

Yates opened the first door to the right and Ianto reluctantly entered, looking around as Yates closed the door behind him. The room wasn't as sparse as his room. It was decorated with pictures hanging on the walls and plotted plants displayed in corners. There was a big comfortable-looking couch, a couple of chairs, a desk, a table, and even a nice fluffy rug. There were cabinets and bookcases stuffed with books.

"Why is this room better than my own?" he asked, remembering the bare walls of his room.

"Because you choose not to decorate your room." Yates closed the door, and Ianto grimaced at how final the quiet click of the closing door sounded. "You can decorate your room with as much stuff as you want, as long as there isn't anything that could cause you or the others harm." Yates opened one of the cabinet drawers and pulled out a notebook. He closed the drawer and sat on his lounge chair. "Your room is yours to do as you wish with it, but there are restrictions, as you well know."

"No, I don't know." Ianto perched on the couch, too uncomfortable to sit back and relax. He was practically sitting at the edge.

"Well, now you do." Yates opened the notebook he had grabbed. He took out some glasses from the left-breast pocket on his medical coat and slipped them on. "So tell me, what adventure did you have last night?" He pulled out a pen from the same pocket he had taken his glasses from.

"I already told Owen—"

"And I want you to tell me. You can't get better if you believe your episode is real."

Ianto rolled his eyes and looked away. There was a window, giving him a view of the gardens outside, although it was a different view than the one he had from his own room. "They're not episodes."

"All right, let's have it your way. What happened last night? Where did you go?"

Ianto frowned at him. "You're not going to believe me anyway."

"This isn't about what I believe; it's about what you believe. Now answer the question."

Ianto clutched at his thighs, resisting the urge to lunge forward and punch the doctor's jaw. The only thing that kept him from hurting the doctor was that Yates was an innocent old man who was probably being used by the alien in some way.

But what he said was true. Yates wouldn't believe a word he said—so why not just tell him? Ianto smiled. "Fine." He repeated what he told Owen and Tosh, mentioning the Chyla, the park, the running. "And I woke up here. I don't know how, I don't know why. Satisfied?"

Yates was taking some notes, pen scribbling. "Do you remember your first day here?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it? I've never been here before."

The doctor considered him for one long moment. "Okay, then let me tell you why you were brought here." Yates crossed his legs and clasped his hands over a bent knee. The pen was tucked between two fingers. "You were brought to us after experiencing a few delusions, all of which involved you being a junior researcher at a place called Torchwood One."

Just how much did Yates know? Ianto struggled to keep the incredulity off his face, the utter shock that this stranger knew about Torchwood One and about Ianto's past employment there.

"Who told you?" he demanded. No one had known about where he worked, not even his own family. Was it the alien responsible for this whole mess that provided Yates with the information? Jesus, if that was the case, it only made him more nervous about an unknown enemy having had the patience and the drive to spy on the team.

"You told me, Ianto. Once we were able to control your delusions, you were able to tell me what they were about."

"At the risk of repeating myself, I don't have delusions, and just to let you know, I would never tell you anything." He eyed Yates suspiciously. Ianto didn't confide his secrets to anyone, a trait he shared with Jack, and one of the reasons why he respected Jack's desire to keep some of his secrets private.

"But you did tell me." The doctor was either oblivious of Ianto's suspicious eye or didn't care. "Your move to this hospital worsened your delusions. You thought you were in the middle of an alien war and referred to it as the Battle of Canary Wharf."

"That's bullshit, because the Battle of Canary Wharf—" Ianto cut himself off, cursing himself for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. His wounds still hadn't quite healed from what he went through. He was pretty sure he would never actually heal from such a traumatic experience, not completely, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about the battle with Yates.

"What about the battle?" Yates asked, leaning forward a bit.

"None of your business," Ianto snapped. He hunched, and he could hear Jack's light scolding of his tendency to hunch his shoulders whenever he was feeling vulnerable. He didn't like the direction the conversation was going at all. "What happened at Canary Wharf—it's none of your business."

"I disagree." Yates glanced down at his notebook. He began to flip through pages. "Would it make you feel better if I state the things you've already told me?" When Ianto said nothing, Yates said, "It was a battle between Cybermen and Daleks. You were caught in the third floor—"

"Stop it." The words were sharper than Ianto had intended them to be, but the words were bringing up horrible memories that he had tried so hard to bury. "Just stop it."

There was silence for several minutes. Ianto looked out the window again, but he wasn't really seeing anything out there. His thoughts kept bouncing from his current situation to the crisis he had faced in the research department, trapped while his co-workers died all around him. He remembered his frantic search for Lisa, his fear that she had been killed, and his horror when he had finally found her on a conversion unit. He had issues, Ianto would never deny that, but never had he had someone know about the trauma that created those issues. Even Jack didn't know much about Ianto's experiences during the battle.

It made him wonder what else the good doctor knew.

"Your delusions aren't real, Ianto." Yates voice was soft. "You think they are, but I can assure you that you never went through something like that."

"So you're telling me that Canary Wharf hadn't been damaged? That the building there hadn't been destroyed?" Ianto stare was direct, challenging Yates's words.

Yates didn't back down. "Nothing has happened in Canary Wharf. It remains untouched by any kind of destruction."

"Can you prove it?"

Yates pursed his lips and stood up. "Fine." He opened the laptop sitting on his desk and typed something. He brought the laptop over and he showed the screen to Ianto, and he realized that the screen was filled with multiple pictures of Canary Wharf. Ianto peered at them, but nothing seemed out of place, which struck him as odd.

The building that had been Torchwood One had been destroyed, nothing left but a skeleton of steel beams, yet there stood a perfectly undamaged building in the same spot Torchwood One had once stood. He looked for dates, but some were fairly recent—too recent to prove his claim that a battle had occurred in Canary Wharf.

He looked up at Yates. "Mind if I borrow your laptop?"

"Yes." Yates promptly closed the laptop. Ianto scowled. Yates carried the laptop back to his desk and resumed sitting in his chair across from Ianto. "Delusions work in all sorts of ways, Ianto. You think a battle occurred, but it's been concluded that the battle was a sort of euphemism for your move to this hospital. You weren't exactly pleased to be here in the beginning." Yates smiled a little. "On your first day here, when you were caught up in a delusion, you accidentally gave Dr. Harper a black eye as he tried to talk to you. Do you remember that?"

"I may want to kick his arse several times in a twenty-four hour period, but I've never—"

Owen was giving him a smile, his black eye vibrant under the sunlight peeking into the room, and Ianto knew that he was responsible because of the ache in the knuckles of his own right hand.

"—given Owen a black eye." Ianto kept his face as bland as possible, unwilling to show even a hint of emotion over the image he just had. It wasn't a memory. He had been tempted to several times, but he had never acted on any of his impulses to hit Owen (shooting Owen didn't count, since technically he had been trying to prevent the doctor from opening the rift, which was a professional thing to do under the circumstances). Whatever these flashes were, they weren't memories. It must be the alien's doing.

Yates flipped a page in his notebook. "I admit that it wasn't intentional. When you were lucid, you were apologetic. You met him before you met me—we didn't meet until a week later—so he was able to gain your trust, and I think that's why you decided to add Dr. Harper to your delusions of Torchwood Three."

Ianto didn't bother to repeat that they were his real memories and not delusions. It seemed everyone was going to ignore his protests concerning the words. Instead, he decided to ask his own questions. "And why would I trust him more than I trust you?"

"Dr. Harper is a bit indulgent with his patients. You've seen him with Tosh. His approach is different from mine when we treat the patients. I'm a bit more strict, less likely to be your friend." Yates's green eyes peered at him. "Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"No," he said quickly, unwilling to admit the strange vision he had. "If you're so sure that my memories are delusions, why would I create such elaborate delusions of working for an organization that deals with aliens? Why would I have these delusions at all?"

"I feel that you created this organization to help you cope. It's a safe place for you, a place that is so far removed from your reality that any of the problems or dilemmas you face in this reality is easier to deal with or eliminate completely in your delusions."

Ianto scoffed. "If what you say is true, I wouldn't have made Owen such an arsehole in my so-called delusions, and I wouldn't have made Tosh so hopeless in love. If anything, I would have made them into a couple." Only after he said the words did Ianto realize how much information he was giving away about his memories. It was easy to talk about it when one considered that Yates seemed to know more than he should about Ianto's life. His Torchwood life, at least.

"That's the interesting thing about your delusions," Yates mused, sounding just a bit fascinated. "You see, we believe your delusions are somewhat influenced by your background and current situation of being in this place. Relationships between doctors and patients are strictly prohibited, so that forbiddance was transferred into your delusions and you changed both of their personalities to explain why they're not together. When you're lucid, you know that Tosh and Dr. Harper can't be together. You've told Tosh more than once to find someone else."

Ianto had certainly told Tosh to find someone else, although he had never been that blunt. He usually nudged her, pointing out the flaws in Owen. Tosh, of course, always came to his defense. Even when Owen had become a zombie—

Ianto's eyes widened. Bloody hell, how could he forget something as important as that? If there was one sure way of proving that he was right about his memories, it was Owen's deceased status.

His brief moment of brilliance was chased with a question, though. If the Owen who thought himself a Whittier doctor was dead, why hadn't he noticed his lack of a heartbeat or lack of a pulse?

Another question that needed an answer, but first things first; Ianto needed to talk to Owen alone.

"Are we done?"

Yates gave Ianto a disbelieving look. "We've just began. We have a whole hour."

"Wonderful," Ianto grumbled. Now that he had a way to prove that he wasn't crazy, he was stuck in Yates's office rather than be given the opportunity to hunt down Owen. It would be the first time that Ianto wanted to be alone with Owen for any reason, but Ianto didn't care. He just really wanted to get out of this damn place.

"Who put me in here anyway?" he asked abruptly.

"You were committed by a concerned loved one." Yates paused for a second, considering his notes. "Your schizophrenic, Ianto," Yates said gently, as if he needed reminding for why he was in the hospital. "You're at the age where adults exhibit symptoms of the disease. You're mostly lucid and aware when you're on your meds, but when you're off them you have episodes where you forget about your reality, and that's what's happening right now. That's why you don't remember what's really going on, and this isn't the first time that you've decided to stop taking your meds." Yates's paused again, as though he was letting the words sink in in the hopes that Ianto understood. "You think you're a Torchwood agent, but you're nothing more than a patient here."

"I'm not schizophrenic." He refused to be schizophrenic.

To be diagnosed with such a mental illness, even in an alien-created world, had always been one of his greatest fears. After his mother had been committed and after his father had finally admitted what had been wrong with her, Ianto had done his research. Schizophrenia wasn't necessarily hereditary, but genetic factors did play a role in children who were diagnosed with it, as did environmental factors. Having a mother with the illness and growing up the way he did, along with what he went through in London and nearly dying at the hands of cannibals—like Yates had said, he was at the age where most schizophrenics begin to show symptoms. He had always been afraid of waking up one morning and exhibiting symptoms that he wouldn't be aware of until someone else pointed them out to him—or until someone got hurt.

Ianto dug deep to present the doctor with an effective glare. "I don't have schizophrenia, okay? Aliens do exist. I've seen them with my own eyes. Some of them even attempted to kill me."

"It is things like that that has led you to this hospital," Yates said. "Your loved one—"

"I don't know who this concerned loved one is nor do I care, but what I do know is that this is nothing more than some huge mistake." He smiled grimly. "And I know how to prove it."

"You do?"

"Yes." Yates stayed silent, as though waiting for him to explain his plan. "I'm not going to tell you. I'll show you, once I'm allowed to leave this room, that is." He added an edge to his words, letting the good doctor know that he wanted the session to be over and done with.

Yates wasn't swayed, of course. "Look, I know you don't believe me, and I don't blame you, but it's crucial for you to understand your situation. When you were first brought here your delusions were constant, mostly due to the fact that you refused the medication we gave you. But once you started taking your medication, your delusions dramatically decreased. The only problem is that you still have the occasional episode when you're on your meds, and when you're off you're meds your episodes increase and get more intense, and about ninety-nine percent of your delusions are of Torchwood." Yates sighed. "I believe that the reason why you have trouble letting go of your delusions is because you can't let go that Torchwood doesn't exist."

"It does exist." Ianto leaned forward. "We protect the earth from hostile aliens, we protect peaceful aliens from hostile humans, and at times we even help displaced people who traveled through time. That's what Torchwood does."

"And that's the problem. You believe in its existence so strongly that I've come to the conclusion that while pills and the therapy do help, we need another way for you to let go of Torchwood, to accept its nonexistence while you are lucid."

"And how do you propose we do that?" He couldn't quite hold back some sarcasm.

"You need to give something up, something that protects your Torchwood."

Ianto was instantly wary. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you need to say out loud, in front of me or others, the access codes."

Ianto stiffened. "What access codes?"

"You described, in detail, a lot of things about your Torchwood. Myfanwy, how the hub sits underground in Cardiff, a rift running through it—you mention all of that when you're lucid. You've even written them in your journal. You've also mentioned how there are access codes that must be protected at all costs because in the wrong hands, it'll allow access to Torchwood's mainframe." Yates seemed mildly confused by the last few words, as if he was unsure what a mainframe was. "I asked you for the codes once. You were hesitant to give them to me and I didn't push, but now I think that if you give up those access codes, you'll finally be giving up the thing that keeps you from fully letting go of your delusions."

The idea Yates was proposing was absolutely ridiculous. The access codes were a series of numbers that would give anyone who knew the codes complete access to Torchwood's mainframe. They would have access to files, weapons, programs, the CCTV, and have the ability to put the hub on total lockdown. If the access codes landed in the wrong hands, vital information could be used against Torchwood, or even against earth.

Only he and Jack knew the access codes, and Ianto hadn't been given the codes right away. It was only after Jack had returned from his trip with the Doctor that Jack had given them to him, stating that while he had no plans to abandon them again, if Jack had to go off-planet for whatever reason, he wanted someone who wouldn't abuse the access codes to have them.

Ianto had been honored. The others weren't any less trustworthy, but Owen was irresponsible, Tosh was more concerned with her technology and computers, and Gwen was focused on keeping her normal life and her Torchwood job separate. Ianto wasn't in second-in-command, but he was definitely more dependable, more reliable to keep Torchwood and all its secrets, even the bad ones, safe from enemies.

Ianto would never admit it to anyone, let alone an outsider, that Torchwood had access codes. As he took in the eagerness in Yates's expression, Ianto began to think that the alien responsible for this was the man sitting across from him. Why else would the doctor suggest he give up the codes?

For that reason, his words were cold and just a bit hard when he said, "Dr. Yates, whoever told you that was giving you faulty information. I don't have any access codes to Torchwood's mainframe." If Yates was the alien, Ianto wasn't going to let Yates know of his suspicions. Until he had confirmation, it was better to pretend that he considered the older man an ignorant, human doctor. "Now I suggest you forget ever hearing about those codes."

"I can't."

"I am telling you—"

"Do you think I want you here?"

Ianto was taken aback by the abrupt question that seemingly had no relation to what they were just discussing. "Excuse me?"

Impatiently, Yates pointed at him with his pen. "Do you think I enjoy having all of you here, watching your mental illnesses take over your lives? You had a good life, Ianto, and I want you to have that life back." He lowered his hand, but his stare was serious and intense. "You are here so long as you keep having your delusions, so I'm going to do whatever it takes for you to accept that Torchwood doesn't exist so you can go back home."

"Don't worry about me. I'll get myself home, and I'm taking Tosh and Owen with me."

Yates leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. "I can't help but worry about you. You're my patient—"

"I thought I was Owen's patient." He knew he was being purposely obtuse and difficult, but if it annoyed Yates enough to end the session sooner rather later, so be it.

"You're my patient as well as his. But as I was saying, you're my patient and I will do what I can to help you let go of your delusions, and that includes convincing you to give up your access codes." When Ianto said nothing, Yates urged, "Look through your journal. I'm sure you have an entry or two about them, and you'll see I'm right."

"You're wrong. There's nothing more to it."

Despite Ianto's attempts, the session did indeed last an hour, most of which was dominated by repetitive claims by Yates that Torchwood didn't exist and angry retorts by Ianto that it did. By the time Yates let him go, telling him he was free to roam the hospital, Ianto was already out the door.

It wasn't until he left that he realized the irony. The one goal of Torchwood was to keep its existence a secret, and he had just spent the last hour trying to convince the doctor that it did exist.

Anxious to find Owen and prove once and for all that Torchwood wasn't a delusion, Ianto looked around the hospital, taking the opportunity to study the hospital's layout for escape routes while he was at it. His room was on the first floor, but there were two others floors as well. He was given free rein to explore the second floor, but he was quick to discover that he was barred from the third. A nurse stationed there kindly told him that the third floor harbored isolation cells, set aside for only the most violent of patients. There was constant surveillance and more often than not, the patients were locked in their rooms. Prevented from investigating, Ianto left the third floor quickly.

He returned to the gardens, and while he did look around for Owen, he took the chance to seek out weak spots in the brick walls. There was a lot of ground to cover—the gardens must be an acre alone—but whenever he could, he ran his hand across different sections of the brick wall that surround the gardens.

Walking through yet another garden bed and silently apologizing to the flowers and plants he trampled, he brushed his palm across the rough bricks, trying not to look too conspicuous. He often had to abandon the wall whenever someone looked his way, but as soon as he was being unwatched he returned to his search for any weak spots that could be used to his advantage.

His fingers finally snagged on a brick that seemed loose. He squatted and singled out the brick. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching him, and he began to pull at the brick as fast as he could. He wiggled it frantically until it gave way, and he yanked until the brick finally slid out completely.

He placed the brick aside and peered through the opening. Wherever the hospital was, it was built on top of several acres because he saw a lot of greenery and trees, and in the distance he saw what looked like buildings. He strained his ears, but couldn't hear the expected noise of the city, just birds and the rustle of leaves. Despite the view, he was still unsure of where he was in Cardiff. It didn't look like he was anywhere near the center of it.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, Ianto jerked away from the wall and accidentally fell on his bottom. He grunted as he felt a rock dig into his flesh. Great, he would probably get a bruise on his ass.

He blinked up and discovered Glyn standing over him with a suspicious glint in his eye. "Nothing," he said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The orderly studied him with his dark gaze before turning his attention to the wall. He stepped into the garden bed and toed the loose brick sitting in the dirt.

"I didn't do that," Ianto blurted. Realizing that it was probably a much better idea to stand, he climbed to his feet and brushed off the dirt from his robe. "It was like that and I was, ah, I was . . ."

"Taking in the view?" Glyn raised a questioning brow.

"Yes." Ianto nodded firmly. "There's only so much one can take looking at red bricks stacked on top of each other."

Glyn bent down and picked up the brick. "Looks like I'll need to find someone to fix that space."

Ianto slid his hands into the pockets of his robe. "I guess so." Damn it, he might have been able to use that space for his escape. Okay, maybe not, but it was possible that the tiny opening could have been used somehow. He watched as the orderly put the brick back in place. No doubt someone would be brought in to put a bit more cement there so the brick couldn't be removed again. He cleared his throat. "Where exactly is Whittier in Cardiff?"

The orderly stepped away from the wall. "Still can't remember?" He moved out of the garden bed and wiped the soles of his shoes on the concrete pathway.

"No." It was technically true, since Ianto couldn't remember how the alien brought him to the hospital and, therefore, couldn't remember where the hospital was situated at. But he was pretty sure Glyn's words were in reference to the supposed episode that was currently scrambling his memory.

Glyn indicted for Ianto to get off the garden bed with a wave of his hand. Ianto stepped out as Glyn answered. "We're not too far from Slanney Woods."

Hell, no wonder the signs of an urban city were far away. Slanney Woods wasn't too far away from the Vale of Glamorgan, which was an agricultural area. Acres of land all around. The further anyone drove away from the center of Cardiff, the less visible urban life was, and for anyone heading towards Slanney Woods, urban life melted away to a lot of acres of land that lacked any sign of city life. Perfect place to build a mental institution; still in the city, but practically isolated. The alien had certainly done its homework.

Ianto took comfort from the fact that if he was able to see a few structures in the distance, he wasn't too far away from civilization. If he managed to find a ride, he was less than half an hour away from the hub.

"Thanks," Ianto said, smiling a bright and very false smile before turning around and returning to his mission of locating Owen.

As he returned to the hospital building, it occurred to him that he hadn't found Gwen or Jack while he had been walking around. That could be viewed as a positive sign. It could mean that Jack truly wasn't in the mental hospital and was currently finding a way to save them, and that Gwen was still out there on her honeymoon, making her available if Ianto needed her help.

On the other hand, it could mean that both Jack and Gwen had been captured and were on the third floor, isolated and monitored hourly. Was that why the alien had planted them there in the hospital? The team was strong as a unit so the alien's decision to relocate them might be its attempt to weaken them and make sure that they couldn't have contact with each other.

Well, wasn't that going to be fun? One man saving three, possibly four, people and getting them out of a mental institution. He groaned at the thought. Unlike Jack, Ianto didn't get a kick out of being a hero. He did his job and took a certain amount of pride at saving a life or two, but he didn't really consider himself a hero of any kind. He was just a man who happened to help protect the earth and its people. The very idea of attempting a rescue from this place made his stomach clench slightly. It wasn't going to be an easy job. It was going to be damn near impossible, actually.

If last night was of any indication, his door was locked at night and during the day the patients were watched, and all his teammates were either isolated or were stripped of their memories. His only hope was that Gwen and Jack were somewhere out there, safe and with their memories intact. In fact, Ianto decided to be optimistic and believe that Jack and Gwen weren't in the hospital and were currently working together to find them. With three teammates missing, Jack wouldn't let a honeymoon stop him from contacting Gwen for help.

He spotted Owen leaving the building, talking to the patient walking at his side. Ianto quickly made his way to the doctor.

"Owen."

Owen glanced his way. "Hold on, Ianto."

"No." Ianto gave the male patient an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but this is important."

The patient looked unhappy and mildly insulted with the intrusion. "How is it any more important than my conversation?"

Ianto opened his mouth to respond but Owen said, "Lyle's right, Ianto. Wait a minute."

Ianto looked from one to the other, but eventually receded. He took several steps back to give them the illusion of privacy. He reminded himself that just because he didn't belong in the hospital, it didn't mean he had to step on the toes of the other patients. Once Ianto found a way out, he wouldn't have to think about this place again. These patients didn't have that kind of luxury.

He watched Lyle's and Owen's body language. Lyle seemed a bit agitated, but Owen was making calming gestures. Ianto was fascinated. Owen was always so brash, so rude, and so damn blunt that it was amazing to watch the tenderness on his expression, the gentleness in his hand as he grabbed Lyle's shoulder. Ianto shifted his gaze to Lyle and a touch of sympathy emerged. Whittier was a beautiful place, but at its core it was still a mental institution that housed mentally ill patients. They weren't just trapped behind brick walls; a lot of them were trapped within their own minds.

Ianto knew better than anyone how being trapped within one's own mind could cause others harm. The first time Ianto had realized that something was a bit off about his mother, he had been seven years old, horrified as she picked up a knife and stabbed the neighbor's cat, uncaring that her child had been watching her. That was when Ianto had started to fear his own mother, a fear that had grown to full-blown terror just a year later.

So lost in his own memories, he was startled by Owen's sudden appearance in front of him. "So," he said, "what did you want to talk about?"

Ianto shook the memories away and concentrated on Owen. "I know how to prove I'm right."

"Really? Did you tell Dr. Yates?"

"Yates is a quack. He knows things he shouldn't." Ianto lifted a hand. "Can I have your wrist?"

Owen eyed his hand warily. "Why?"

"I just want to check something."

"What?"

Ianto clenched his jaw. "Just something."

"Ianto, what do you want to do?"

Ianto released an exasperated breath. Owen may be acting gentle and sweet, but he was still stubborn. Absurdly, that gave Ianto a bit of comfort. "Your pulse. Can I check your pulse?"

Owen looked surprised and carefully slid out one hand from his pocket to hand it to him. Ianto grabbed his hand and placed two fingers on Owen's wrist, throwing him a triumphant smile—a smile that abruptly drained when he felt a pulse. An actual beating pulse. Shocked, Ianto pulled his fingers back before pressing them down again. It was still there, the steady thumping. Ianto dropped Owen's hand and stared at him bewilderedly. "That's impossible," Ianto whispered.

"What's not possible?"

Ianto blinked and pressed his hand against Owen's chest. He could feel something beating there, something that had the fixed rhythm of a live heartbeat. "This can't be."

"Ianto, what's going on?"

"You're dead." Ianto stepped back, eyeing him widely. "You're a walking zombie. You shouldn't have any kind of a heartbeat!"

Owen frowned, but then his confusion cleared. "You had me killed in an earlier episode, right?"

Ianto had been so sure that Owen's undead status would prove he wasn't crazy, and now his plan was bursting into flames. "You're dead," he repeated faintly, even though repeating it was a moot point. He just wasn't sure what else to say.

Owen spread his arms wide, allowing Ianto to examine him. "I'm alive and well, Ianto." He lowered his arms. "You decided to kill me in one of your episodes after I said that you couldn't be taken off your medication just yet."

Nothing made sense. Ianto crossed his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his body in order to hug himself and find comfort in his own arms. He was shaken by Owen's proof of life. He thought frantically for another explanation, something other than him being crazy, and when an explanation did finally present itself, Ianto was relieved to have figured it out. "You're not Owen." He dropped his arms to his sides and stood tall. "You're something else."

Owen cocked his head. "Do you honestly think that?" He sounded amused.

"A shape shifter, an alien wearing Owen's skin, or something." With Owen labeled as the enemy, Ianto transferred most of his suspicions from Yates to the being standing in front of him. "What did you do to Owen?" Even though the medic couldn't be killed, his fragility left him vulnerable. One slice across the neck, and Owen would become the headless zombie, forever forced to walk around with his head in his hands.

"I'm Owen, Ianto."

"No, you're not." Then he remembered how he had left Tosh with Owen earlier. "What did you do to Tosh?" he demanded, fearing for her safety now that he knew what Owen was.

"I didn't do anything. She's safe in her room—Ianto!"

Ianto ignored him, quickly running back into the building. He came to a stop in the lounge area, realizing that he had no idea where Tosh's room was. Owen was dangerous, an impersonator of the alien kind, and he was worried that he had harmed her.

He saw Glyn pass by and Ianto grabbed his arm. "Where's Tosh's room?"

Glyn looked at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Ianto was far from fine, but the last thing he wanted was Glyn holding him back and asking pesky questions. He had enough of that with Yates, and Ianto needed to make sure Tosh was okay. "Where is she?"

"Second floor, first corridor to your left, third door to your right."

Ianto took off, taking the stairs two at a time. He followed Glyn's directions, going so fast that he skidded past Tosh's room before realizing he passed it. The door was open, and when he burst inside he found Tosh on her bed, lying on her stomach and reading a book.

Tosh blinked at him is surprise. "Did you go on a run or something?" She sat up, giving him a puzzled look.

Ianto waved a hand, wordlessly telling her to give him a minute as he breathed heavily from exertion. He felt more than a little relieved seeing Tosh safe and seemingly unharmed.

He walked further into her room, looking around as he continued to catch his breath. Tosh's room was beautifully decorated. There were posters on the walls, a rug on the ground, piles of books stacked in one corner, and a couple of Japanese fans. It was livelier than his room, making it look homier. The room said that its occupant had accepted her place in the hospital, that she considered it temporarily home.

When he finally got his breath back, he asked, "Are you okay?"

Tosh looked even more puzzled. "The last time I checked, yes."

"Owen didn't hurt you?"

She looked genuinely shocked by his question. "He would never hurt me. What makes you think he would?"

"Because he isn't Owen." Ianto sat on her bed next to her. "Listen, Owen—our Owen—is dead. I mean, he isn't buried underground, he's still walking and talking and thinking, but he has no pulse, he doesn't have the ability to breathe—he's a zombie. Our Owen is a zombie and this Owen who works here and portrays himself as a doctor isn't him." Tosh stared at him for one long moment before she burst out laughing. She slapped a hand over her mouth and nearly fell off the bed. Ianto scowled, feeling just a bit hurt at how freely she laughed at him. "It's true," he insisted.

Tosh managed to get herself together and looked at him with twinkling eyes that continued to shine with mirth. "Owen isn't a zombie. There's no such thing as zombies." Her eyes flicked over his shoulder before they returned to him. "Let me guess. You think Owen is an alien in disguise?"

"I don't think, I know." He grabbed Tosh's knee, squeezing it. "I know what I'm talking about. We were all there to see it when he died, and then he was brought back to life but it went wrong somehow and now he's a zombie and the Owen who is working here has a pulse. Our Owen doesn't."

Tosh didn't believe him, still grinning at him and looking like she wanted to laugh again. Bugger, what would it take for him to convince her of the truth?

Her eyes flickered over his shoulder once more, and this time Ianto followed her line of sight. He saw nothing except a colorful poster of what looked like Tokyo Tower. He frowned and looked at Tosh. "What do you keep looking at?"

"Hallucination." Tosh answered his question so calmly, it was like he had asked for the weather and she responded with grey clouds and a chance of showers.

Ianto looked over his shoulder again. "You're not really seeing anything, are you?"

"Yep. Woman with curly, light brown skin, but she has this metal gauntlet on her hand. Calls herself Suzie."

Ianto stilled. "Suzie?"

"Yeah. Suzie Costello."

Ianto stared back at Tosh. "And you really see her?"

"She just started hanging around, kept claiming that she could bring back the dead. The first time I saw her I thought she was real, until one of the nurses walked right pass her without noticing her." Tosh shrugged and leaned back against the wall at the head of her bed. "Kind of annoying, actually."

Ianto closed his eyes. "Suzie Costello is dead."

"No, Ianto, she's a hallucina—"

"No, I mean, she really was alive, but she died over a year ago. She died twice, actually."

"Ianto, Suzie is my hallucination. That's it."

First Owen turned out to be an impersonator, and now Tosh thought she was seeing a dead colleague. Ianto was starting to feel more than a little aggravated that things weren't going his way. "What were those pills you took earlier? Do you know?"

She looked a bit confused by the switch in topic, but she shrugged. "Just some antipsychotic medications. Don't know what they're called, though."

"They might be causing you to hallucinate," he murmured mostly to himself, but Tosh heard him.

"They're reducing my hallucinations, not causing them."

"How do you know?"

"Because before I started taking them I didn't know the difference between what was real and what wasn't."

"Or maybe those pills are the reason why you can't remember who you really are." Ianto grabbed her shoulders. "How long have you been taking them?" Ianto had only woken up last night, but he wondered if the time between him chasing the Chyla and waking up in the hospital was longer than he had first thought. What if it had been days? What if while he had remained unconscious, Tosh had been given pills on a daily basis to help her forget who she really was?

"Since I first arrived."

"Which was when?"

Tosh scrunched up her face in thought. "Over three years ago. I was committed here in June of two-thousand-and-five by my family."

Ianto should have expected that kind of an answer. He had really been asking for a clearer answer of when she had been brought to the hospital by the alien, but obviously he wasn't going to get that kind of an answer from her.

"Tosh, I want you to stop taking the medication, okay? I think it's messing with your mind."

"Ianto, you're starting to sound paranoid."

"I'm not being paranoid—"

"Listen to yourself," Tosh interrupted. All signs of amusement were gone. She watched him with serious brown eyes, looking very sure of herself, and Ianto was reminded of the Tosh he knew, the Torchwood operative who was so sure of her technology. Tosh was insecure about a lot of things, namely Owen, but she was aware of her computer talents and spoke with certainty and confidence whenever she had to explain a piece of tech that no one else understood. "You think Owen's a zombie, you swear my medication is messing with me—that sounds like paranoia to me." She placed her hands on his shoulder, keeping eye contact with him. "Think very carefully, Ianto. Couldn't your suspicions be nothing more than the paranoia stemming from your schizophrenia?"

"I don't have schizophrenia." Ianto jerked away from her and glared. "I know what I'm talking about."

"Sure you do, which is why you're in a mental institution accusing our doctor of being a zombie and using mind alternating drugs on me." Tosh sighed and waved a hand in the air, gesturing towards him. "I've seen you like this before, when you get all paranoid. This is what happens when you stop taking your medications. You think everyone is out to get you." She grabbed his hand and took it in between her own. "You're safe here. No one is trying to hurt either one of us. They're just trying to help us get better."

With the way she was speaking to him, it sounded like she was trying to soothe a frightened child, which annoyed him. "We don't need to get better," Ianto gritted out. "We're fine."

"Then explain to me why you think Owen is a zombie or why I'm taking pills that are trying to hurt me."

"Because I know what's real and what's not, and this isn't real." If Ianto lacked maturity, he would have included the word 'obviously' into the sentence. Jack probably would have.

"Are you sure?" Tosh persisted. "Do you notice how everyone is telling you this is real, and you're the only one who says that it isn't?" Tosh hesitated before quietly saying, "Don't you remember your mother?"

Ianto's heart stopped. "You know nothing about my mother."

"You told me how her schizophrenia gave her paranoid delusions. You told me how she thought the world was out to get her, how she killed your neighbor's cat, how she almost—"

"That's enough!" Ianto pulled away from her, climbing off the bed and walking a few steps away to stare at the wall so he could calm himself down. There was a child's drawing taped to the wall, one that displayed a blue-colored house and a shining sun. There were three stick figures, and in the bottom were Japanese characters. Ianto understood enough Japanese to know that the Japanese writing translated to 'Mother, Big Sister, and me.' It must have been drawn by Tosh's younger brother. She rarely spoke of her family, but whenever she did mention them her voice was always infused with warmth.

"Ianto—"

"I said that's enough." His voice was sharp and the words were final. The only person who knew about his mother was Jack. Even his Torchwood files were altered, stating that his mother had died due to natural causes in a normal hospital. None of his files indicated that his mother had a mental disorder. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or ashamed by his mother's illness, he just didn't want anyone to ask him questions. Thinking of her always brought up bad memories.

"She tried to kill me," Ianto said, sitting across from Tosh. "She thought I was the devil."

"Did she hurt you?" Tosh asked quietly, bundled up in her blanket. Ianto wanted to be bundled up with her. He felt so alone in this place, and Tosh was the only one who seemed to understand him. He wanted to be held, to be comforted, and he didn't care by who.

"Almost. She grabbed a knife and chased me around the kitchen. I was screaming and crying, and my dad finally saved me. Wrestled the knife away from her. He sent me to my room. When I woke up the next day, she wasn't there anymore."

Ianto grabbed the sides of his head, shaking it. Another vision, another glimpse of an event that he knew hadn't occurred. But how did Tosh know about his mother? Who else had told her except him? The alien couldn't possibly have told her (it wouldn't have known about his mother's situation or his past trauma even with extensive spying), and Jack certainly wouldn't have betrayed him by telling others his secrets.

He felt a sliver of a doubt that was so strong he struggled to get rid of it. Did he really understand the situation? How did Tosh know something so personal? Even as these questions emerged, another question, one that was startling and unnerving, presented itself: what if his purpose for staying at the hospital really was because of a mental illness?

"Enough of this," he muttered, forcing the doubt away. He knew who he was, knew what was real, and all of this wasn't real. He was a Torchwood operative, and that was that. He turned back to Tosh. "Do you know where Jack is?"

The concern on her face quickly transformed into distaste. "You asked me that earlier."

"I know." He remembered her volatile reaction, but if Tosh's words were affecting him this way, creating doubts when he shouldn't have any, then he knew he needed to find Jack. Ianto couldn't afford to have doubts if he had any chance of figuring all this out, and having Jack at his side, or even having the knowledge that Jack was outside the hospital and was working on a game plan, would ground him and keep the doubts away. He would risk Tosh's anger if it meant getting some kind of an idea of Jack's location. "But you didn't give me a concrete answer." Ianto decided to reword his question. "Is he here in this hospital? Is he a patient?"

"Of course he isn't." Tosh looked angry for a moment before understanding dawned. "Well of course you don't remember, do you?" She shook her head and lightly tapped her forehead. "Sorry, every time his name is mentioned I get so angry and I forget."

Ianto's lips tugged downward. "What did he do to you that make you so angry at him?"

"He didn't do anything to me. What infuriates me is what he did to you."

What could Jack have possibly done to earn Tosh's loathing? He wanted to ask, but it would probably sidetrack the conversation, and a tiny part of him really didn't want to know what Jack's crime was, not when it was bad enough to make Tosh furious at the mere mention of his name. "If he's not here, where is he?"

"He's out there, Ianto. In London. He's not institutionalized." She hesitated again before adding, "He's the one who put you here."

Ianto felt the blood drain from his face. "He wouldn't."

"He did."

That made no sense. He inhaled sharply. It was possible that Tosh's words were a lie fed by the alien, a lie that she believed was true. Either way, Jack's absence from the hospital meant he was out in the world. That was good, and Ianto fiercely concentrated on that rather than on the idea that Jack had willingly put him in a mental institution.

Maybe the alien hadn't been able to kidnap Jack. But why say he was in London? Ianto dismissed the question for another time. Everything was screwed up anyway; it wouldn't make any difference where they thought Jack was, so long as Jack was working on a way to take them home. The only problem Ianto saw was that Jack might take a few days to find them. Even if they were in the same city, there was no way to let Jack know where he was, and without giving him a clue of his whereabouts, Jack would have to spend more time looking.

Ianto squirmed at the idea of spending more time in the hospital, but he would do what needed to be done. As of that moment, having Jack find them was a better solution than Ianto escaping and leaving his friends behind.

"Is that why you hate him?" Ianto suddenly asked. "Because you think he put me here?"

"No." Tosh tightened her lips, her eyes thoughtful. "I think it best that I don't tell you. The last couple of times I told you, you became a tad emotional. You'll figure it out in your own time."

---

Ianto continued his efforts to convince Tosh that Owen was an alien, but that only seemed to convince her even more that he was suffering from paranoia. She had almost gone to Owen to let the doctor know, but Ianto managed to persuade her to keep quiet about it after falsely admitting that she was right about his paranoia and he would never bring it up again.

He went to his room that night feeling more than a little disappointed. The disappointment quickly morphed into uneasiness when the door was locked behind him. He had learned earlier in the day that all patients were to return to their rooms by ten, and that all the doors locked automatically. It seemed a little too close to a prison system, and Ianto had to breathe carefully as he settled into bed. The last thing he wanted was to have a panic attack and get sedated again.

His uneasiness began to seep away as he lightly dozed, the lack of sleep from the previous night making it easier for him to succumb to his exhaustion, but he jumped when he heard a loud scream. He scrambled out of bed and pressed his ear against the door. The door was thick, but even through the thick metallic material he could hear the screaming, which was quickly joined by shouts.

He itched to know what was going on, but there was no way of finding out. Ianto returned to bed, and after several seconds of hearing the screams and shouts, he placed his pillow over his head to block them out. Ianto could only assume that a patient was acting out of control and the staff was trying to control him or her, but despite the logic it didn't assure him and the uneasiness from earlier returned, stronger than before. He curled into his body, squeezing his eyes shut as he was reminded of his mother's screams, the wild look in her eyes as she glared at him, desperately trying to make the shape of the cross with her fingers while orderlies struggled to control her.

It took a long time before the screams were no longer ringing in his head.