A/N: I am sorry this has taken so long – and I am so totally thrilled that you guys have continued to read these chapters over and over again – thanks…really. So – I've moved back with the Parental and Familial Units…and Meow-Mim and I have made ourselves cosy. So I thought it was time to put up something useful. At first, I was going to leave our favorite Operative out of The Year That Never Was… and I just hated the way the chapter was going! So…now we have the chapter before you. And…wait for it!...this means I have another chapter ready to go after this one! Yes, yes, you may throw roses at my altar. But please, don't put my shrine next to Justin Bieber…I prefer being next to John and Gareth's, thanks.(LOL!) Enjoy!

And, as before, RTD and BBC Cymru own everything TW and DW related – I just borrow the characters (pooh!)!

Torchwood: Freelance Operative Jones

Chapter Three: Operative Jones and The Year That Never Was

It was the coded phone call two days before Harold Saxon became Prime Minister of the UK that saved him. It was from his Crown Appointed Minder…he was rather sad at the fact that he never knew the man's name. Sometimes he fantasized that he and his Minder might have become friends…drinks at a friendly local…acrobatic explorations of each other's anatomies during nights of hedonistic and carnal delights.

But…well. They were all dead now…gone. And after almost a year of Hell, he was travelling with Earth's savior, Martha Jones. Had it been another place…another time. Ah…she was so much his Lisa…he shook his head at that. She said in passing that Jack had mentioned him; told her he was the one she had to find to finish whatever mission The Doctor sent her on. Called him "The One That Got Away". Ianto refused to comment.

His mind snapped back onto the task at hand as they got a signal light from shore. He turned to the beautiful dark skinned woman. 'Your ride's here – and I've got to get going if I hope to get my boat back,' he said as he steered the rowboat into the ingoing surf surge.

'Come with me,' Martha said suddenly. 'If you go back, you'll die. Please. Don't ask how I know…I just do.'

Ianto looked behind them – and he saw the now familiar tale-tell plumes of laser fire courtesy of the Toclafane. The ship that got them across The Channel was now sinking into it. He sighed deeply then – and put his back into getting them to shore. 'As you wish,' he said in resignation.

~~TW o0o DW~~

Twelve months and a different world before:

He, Freelance Operative Ianto Jones, had to be one of the luckiest fuckers on Planet Earth. He was living every young man's fantasy! Not only was his job the best in the world – he was a Welsh James Bond! He had completed a successful mission near Dubai and decided a few days relaxing in the oasis that money built would be a proper reward to himself.

After the Beacons, Ianto had requested – and was granted – and immediate transfer to the Middle East. The night that he'd spent with Jack after the girls he'd brought left…well. Waking up naked with a hangover from Hell next to the man that effectively destroyed all of your hopes and dreams has a way of prioritizing your outlook on life. It instills a Flight or Fight Response…and as far as Ianto was concerned, it was Flight all the way.

So, something woke him early eight months after the disaster that was The Beacons and that evening that he would have rather forgotten. He decided breakfast on his hotel room's balcony wouldn't be a bad thing. And as he was finishing off the last of his freshly hand-squeezed orange juice, his mobile buzzed. Before the caller had finished speaking, he was dressed and settling his bill at the front desk. He was at Dubai International Airport within the hour and on the next flight to Australia, as it was his next assignment. Twenty hours later his plane was touching down at Sydney International and he was going through customs when word of Harold Saxon becoming Prime Minister of the UK was broadcast. His Minder sent him a text message: Get off the grid.

Ianto found himself in Queensland near the world famous Australia Zoo when Harold Saxon announced to the world that he had reached out to the stars – and made contact with beings from another world. The segway about common people, medical students in particular, left him uneasy. Following his hunch, he called Tosh using a scrambled line on a payphone that piggybacked the signal back to a tower across the world in Dubai. She answered saying Jack was gone; had left them all after some problem with a creature escaping The Rift. The Prime Minister was sending them on a mission to the Himalayas – when he heard gunfire and their surprised screams…then silence. He hung up the phone knowing all of his former colleagues were dead – or worse…prisoners.

He received a final message from his Crown Minder before he destroyed his mobile and its SIM card: Saxon is Alien. Has everyone under hypnosis – Archangel. Look for Martha Jones. All is lost…DO NOT return to UK. Good luck.

~~o0o~~

Two hours Later Ianto was speeding away from any major town on a stolen motorbike as the American President was assassinated on International Television and the skies opened – and ten percent of the world's population was executed by metallic little football-like beings calling themselves the Toclafane.

~~o0o~~

A day later in a pup tent in the Outback of God's Country, Ianto Jones cried. His friends were dead; his family dead as well, no doubt. And Jack Harkness had done a bloody runner. Honestly, no surprise there. But now…now he had to find Martha Jones…help her and whatever was left of the human race. He chuckled then, thinking that perhaps it was a tender mercy that the Monarchy of England was already dead. Because the Queen would have most certainly keeled over in her seat when she received the bill for this current endeavor.

~~o0o~~

Seven months later he was helping Martha Jones onto a boat outside of Kyoto Bay, trying desperately to outrun the conflagration that ultimately consumed the entire island nation of Japan. Ianto thought sadly of Tosh…and was glad she was not alive to see the devastation.

On the eighth month they were trekking across North America when they came across a band of raiders that reminded Ianto too much of the cannibals of the Beacons. They made the Toclafane appear tame. Ianto was not sorry at killing four of their guards and leaving behind a radio transponder with a traceable signal at the camp that he, Martha, and few more intrepid souls were able to escape from. As they watched the Toclafane tear the raider's camp apart, Ianto outwardly appeared the picture of utter calm. Inside, however, he was dancing a rather raucous Welsh jig.

By the tenth month they had made it across Canada to Newfoundland and Iceland. Both countries were burned black, their snow covered and tree lined valleys and hills long since destroyed. They then braved a ship across the Atlantic…to Ireland…and then…home.

~~o0o~~

Everyday there was a broadcast on television…for the few that still had televisions…or electricity to power them. It basically gave information on the latest insurgents and how information acquired could benefit those giving it. What was never told was the simple fact that those that talked were killed right along with those trying to save their lives…the Toclafane never saw a difference. Ianto really despised the human race at times.

Then the broadcasts would show the punishments of those caught. And the torture and murder was all carried out and conducted by UNIT personnel. Ianto made a promise to himself: if he survived this Hell, he would hunt each and every one of those rat bastards down, let them know why and kill them…very slowly. He would never trust UNIT again.

He would watch impassively as Jack would be tortured again and again…but inside his heart bled – and his mind railed. He wondered if Jack felt the cruelty he suffered was worth running out on the team – and getting them all killed. He couldn't believe how cowed the humans were – he would have thought that somehow somewhere there would have been an uprising by now. He had asked Martha about that – and she explained to him about the Archangel Network and how it sent a low level hypnotic suggestion that made everyone do as the Master said. And finally that last bit of his last text message from his Crown Minder made sense. Hypnosis…getting into everyone's heads before they even had time to think. Ingenious alien bastard.

He wished for the mother of all hypnotic suggestions when Jack's torture sessions ended in his death. He may have hated the bastard…he may have even wanted to have killed him from time to time. But never like the way it was displayed on the telly…not for someone's enjoyment. Martha had told him everything of her short time with Captain Jack – including their return from the year One Thousand Trillion to the present and their being labeled "terrorists". Ianto scoffed at that, smiling.

'Been called that myself from time to time…even before this Hell began,' he said almost affectionately.

And two months later they were in a small rowboat making landfall off the coast of England…where this wretched Hell on Earth began.

~~TW o0o DW~~

Now:

Martha had let Ianto in on her plan to get onboard the Valiant – and the Master was more than happy to comply. He wanted to get his hands on both her and Captain Jack's missing Freelancer. He was positively shaking with delight as he watched the UNIT soldiers working Jones over.

Jack, on the other hand, kept screaming at them to stop hurting him. Ianto passed out after some time had passed and then he and Jack were dragged through the underbelly of the Valiant to the command center, where Martha uttered the one word that brought the Master's twisted dreams of a resurrected Gallifrey to an end. DOCTOR.

Ianto was quick to take down the two soldiers holding him by ripping their weapons away and shooting them both in the head before their bodies hit the decking. He watched as Jack ran towards the bowels of the ship with a few UNIT soldiers that were against everything going on while he stayed on the bridge with Martha and her family, shooting any of the personnel that even looked at a weapon.

When The Doctor and the Master returned onto the bridge on a flash of light, the world started spinning wildly on its axis – he knew it was truly over. He put the Glock he had taken from the UNIT soldier into his own empty holster and watched as The Doctor talked Francine Jones down from shooting the Master. He watched impassively as Lucy Saxon picked up the weapon, smiling at him.

He shot her before she could kill the Master – and took the evil TimeLord out himself. Both were clean headshots. The Doctor simply stared at the young Welshman in shock as the spattered blood of the other TimeLord dotted his face.

'Francine Jones is a much better person then I, Doctor,' Ianto said softly, impassively. 'I lost many good people during this year – now thanks to Martha, the others down there won't remember a thing of it. But those of us up here…we will never forget.' He motioned to Lucy. 'She would have found a way to bring him back, either on purpose or by accident. But this way…this way that possible door will never exist. And your mad kinsmen will remain dead. I am sorry, but you never would have been able to keep him a prisoner forever. He would have found a way out…a way back. I needed to make sure that not only Earth was safe from him – but our entire universe. I've been hearing bizarre rumors, see? And even in the craziest of stories…there always is that kernel of solid truth.' He walked over to the corpse of the Master that The Doctor still held and removed the signet ring from the dead man's hand, then handed it to The Doctor. 'Look at it – carefully. What is it?'

The Doctor studied the ring as Jack walked over to Ianto and took the hand not holding the Glock into his own.

'By Rassilon,' The Doctor breathed. 'With this…it is his DNA structure. With this ring he could have been cloned.' He looked up to Ianto with new appreciation. 'Who are you, sir?'

'Freelance Operative Ifan Ianto Jones, sir. I work for The Crown…and Torchwood Cardiff, amongst others,' Ianto answered smoothly.

The Doctor looked disapprovingly at the bodies being collected along with the Master's, by UNIT soldiers. 'They should have trials,' he said as he looked back at Jones, motioning to the UNIT soldiers.

'As the standing representative of The Crown present, those responsible for the genocide that took place before will have trials – just before they are executed for high treason against The Crown and its citizenry. They've killed at least twenty members of UNIT that were sympathetic to you before Saxon took power. My orders were to not return to the UK. Had I not listened, I may have very well been one of the dead.'

Ianto holstered the Glock once again, and, nodding to Jack, walked slowly towards the communications array. He had been beaten rather badly, and now that the crisis had passed and the adrenaline was running low, he was starting to feel the numerous injuries that were inflicted. And the numerous injuries his body had suffered throughout the year. He sent a coded message to his Crown Minder, praying the man made it out alive – and almost cried when he heard the man's surprised, familiar voice.

'Bloody Hell, Jones!' the man exclaimed. 'I thought you were in Australia!'

'I…I thought you were dead,' Ianto choked out.

'Thought I was for moment there myself,' the man said jokingly. 'But I was able to help myself when the moment counted.'

'Well, thanks for that last text message. It gave me the information I needed to complete this mission,' Ianto said in passing.

'What message? The one I sent to you was to get off the grid.' Ianto then looked to Jack, who nodded in recognition.

'Never mind – I just found the source of my final message. I was wondering – are you doing anything later this week? Other then making sure the government works for a change?' Ianto asked.

The other man chuckled. 'How about the West End? We could have a bite to eat at Brown's and see what's playing at the Noel Coward.'

'And if I were to accept, at what time should I be at Brown's and under what name will the reservations be?' Ianto asked primly.

The other man laughed out loud at that. 'Friday – 7pm. And the name is Spencer. Michael Spencer.'

'It's a date,' Ianto said without thinking.

'That it is, Mr. Jones,' Spencer concurred. 'But before then, we need a full report from you, Captain Harkness, The Doctor, his companion Martha Jones and her entire family. Also, none of the UNIT personnel onboard are allowed to leave – in fact, everyone is to remain onboard the Valiant until ground forces arrive.'

'Message has been received; orders have been received and understood. When can I expect reinforcements from below?' Ianto asked.

'About twenty minutes. Good to have you back, Operative.'

Ianto smiled as he disconnected the line. He then turned to the others and relayed the new standing orders. 'Doctor? The Queen wishes you to speak to her immediately. The TARDIS will be transported to Buckingham Palace where she can repair herself in peace,' he explained smoothly.

'And what about you?' Jack asked, taking hold of his hand again. Ianto sighed then, looking up into the Captain's too weary blue eyes. He smiled ruefully.

'I don't know. I had a room in one of the best hotels in Dubai two days ago. Then I was on a plane to Australia…guess I'll be on my way there. Mission there still needs to be completed.' He looked down at his hand; Jack still had not relinquished it. 'What about you?'

'I…I can't go back to them yet. I'm still too messed up,' Jack whispered ashamedly. He then looked to the young man before him. 'Come with us – we all need to rest and recharge.'

Ianto shook his head. 'I'll be with you at Buckingham Palace, but there we will part company. No rest for the wicked, Captain. Like I said, got a job that needs doing in Australia – and I've a date with a hot sounding Crown Minder on Friday. After that…well. Who knows?'

Jack slowly let go of Ianto's hand. 'Thank you Operative Jones,' he said softly. 'For everything.'

Ianto stood up from the communications station he was at – and watched as Jack, The Doctor and Martha Jones all hugged. He turned around and watched as a helicopter touched down onto the deck of the Valiant. Reinforcements had finally arrived. He needed to arrange transport for everyone to get down – and for the TARDIS. And afterwards…he had time to contemplate a night of possibilities…with Michael Spencer. He smiled…he really liked the way that man's name just rolled off his mind's tongue.

TBC…

A/N: And…DONE! Ah! Like SO beyond AWESOME! I really hope you guys like this installment…and I know I owe everyone a chapter of Archives. Well, stayed tuned kids…that one's right around the corner! So – please review. It makes Plot Bunnies more willing to stay within their Plot Bunny Pen…and keeps them from reenacting Countrycide with my Clawdie…D.