Well, it looks like I'm gonna have to make these updates mostly a fortnightly thing - my life has been took over by an absolutely demonic amount of coursework, so the fics have to kinda come second at the moment. :/ But hey, here's the new chapter to sweeten things up a bit. Whatever you think of it, please review. all comments are appreciated, if notloved. :) x

DISCLAIMER: I own everything except the rights to Torchwood, which kinda sucks. Oh and if anyone is wondering what the new audiobooks are like, they are absolutely killer. Buy them now! :) x

The Present.
Approximately 3 hours 2 minutes after Time of Death. Location: Unknown Tower Block. Deceased Operative – Ianto Jones, aged 26, Caucasian, Torchwood Archivist, Lover, Sanity.

Faster, faster, forever faster. Speed increasing, his heart racing, his legs burning; it was vital that he reached the top. He needed this to end. He needed to be put right.

Round and round he went; pitter-patter, stomp, stomp. Left foot striding before right, every step on this goddamned staircase marked his resolve. Jack didn't belong on this planet; it was for humans, or sentient beings who understood the concept of humanity. Jack was an anomaly; something so abnormal that he could no longer be hidden. What he had in mind would try to fix that, permanently.

Floor, after floor, after floor, a single thought was branded upon Jack's mind. Goodbye immortality; hello Ianto.

The Past
Exactly 3:55:43 PM. Exactly 9 Hours Prior to Time of Death. Location: Torchwood Hub, Office. Occupant: Captain Jack Harkness. Atmosphere: Tense.

It had taken Jack the past four hours to admit to himself that he was sulking. Things hadn't gone well after he had taken Ianto home; Ianto had been silent for the entire journey, in spite of Jack's enquiries as to whether he was okay, and was constantly shifting his position or toying with the seatbelt. It had been like Ianto was uncomfortable in his own body, clumsily exploring his hands and face with all the distaste of someone handling rotting flesh. Jack was going to let it slide supposedly unnoticed, but when they had got to Ianto's flat something was seriously wrong. Ianto became cold and indifferent and, when Jack lent in to kiss him, treated Jack like a sexual predator. Jack had unceremoniously been shoved out of the apartment and into the night. To say that he was decidedly miffed was an understatement, because Jack couldn't work out what he had done wrong. He had intended to listen to Owen's advice this time; with the fear of losing Ianto barely subsiding from today's Rift storm, Jack was just content to hold his lover close for once. Instead, he was left feeling rejected and brooding over why things had changed since this morning. He had spent the night on a roof.

Several hours and miles of Jack's office prowling later, Jack had not so much as had a text message as to Ianto's whereabouts, let alone an explanation for last night's episode. Ianto could have at least turned up by now; Jack had tried the flat earlier to no avail, and it didn't seem that Ianto had slept at all last night. And the only conclusion that Jack could reach was that Ianto had picked the wrong time to be angry. Three dead weevils and a potentially unknown entity had been spat out of the Rift, and Ianto was choosing now to express his feelings towards something that Jack might have or have not done. Jack had used his override controls to view the weevil autopsy files on Owen's laptop which were, contrary to the medic's opinion, conclusive enough to gauge the danger of the situation. There were about five hundred different known species across three galaxies which could inflict any combination of those wounds, but they still couldn't do anything until they knew which one. Especially as Jack knew that none of them responded well to cross-species sedatives and that some of them could incorporate bullets into their defence system. There was something lethal out there, and Ianto had run off. There was utter stupidity in Ianto's actions, but that was possibly the least of Jack's concerns. Jack's fears lay behind the fact that it was so unlike Ianto. He hadn't been like this since Lisa, and Jack knew that there was only so much Ianto could hold back before he cracked. That prospect terrified Jack more than anything else.

The door klaxon sounded and Jack snapped to attention. Only six people in the entire world knew all of the access codes to get down to this level of the Hub; four of them were already down here and one was working for UNIT in London. It had to be Ianto. An explanation would have to have come with him, even if Jack wasn't forgiven for whatever it was. Jack sprang to his feet; it was time to corner Ianto and fix this. The sight that he beheld when he reached the office door almost made his jaw drop in shock. All thoughts of the alien investigation fled from Jack's mind as he took every inch of his dishevelled lover. Jack was frozen by the severity of Ianto's personal situation. The last time Ianto had staggered in this messed up was the first day that Jack had seen him after Lisa; every cell in Jack screamed that something was more than wrong, injured by the fact that he had no idea why Ianto was in this state.

It took Jack a moment to realise that Ianto had moved rather stiffly in the direction of the lower levels, Owen in tow a moment later. When Owen returned, peeved and rejected, Jack sighed deeply. Putting his pride on the proverbial shelf, he slipped silently past the others and followed Ianto through a small, damp side corridor that only they knew about. With no heavy coat to lumber him, Jack thought he was being stealthy as he slid along the wall; the idea dispersed when Ianto jerked round, pinning Jack against the wall. And not in the good way.

'What do you want Jack?' Ianto snapped at him, barely room between them as Jack struggled to keep his attention on the answers he had come to find.

'I want to know what the hell is wrong with you, that's what I want.' Jack kept his voice even and level, trying to exert his natural authority whilst also being wary of having to tread carefully. This was Ianto, after all, who could shut things up like a clam just as much as Jack himself if Jack put a foot out of line.

Surprisingly, Ianto's hard gaze softened after what appeared to be a moment of inner conflict. Previously, he had looked like he could have torn Jack's head off just to see if it would grow back, but now the tension in Ianto's shoulders was abating and he became limp. His eyes looked like a cry for help.

'Nothing, Jack.' Ianto's voice was soft, but Jack could detect hints of pain behind those brilliant blue eyes. 'I'm sorry that I was late, but I will collect some of the minor files and go home like you have previously suggested.' The words sounded almost robotic. Wrong, even. Jack was taken aback. Ianto made to leave; he was more than three metres away before Jack called out to him.

'Look Ianto, just talk to me. What went wrong last night?'

'I do not know what you mean, sir.' Ianto's tone was flat; not indifferent, but entirely devoid of emotion. There was no hint of strain or venom like there usually was when Ianto was upset with Jack. This had to be deep, or else Ianto was hiding something from the team again. Jack closed the gap between them and cupped Ianto's face in his hand. He felt Ianto's entire body stiffen with the contact.

'Oh, I think you do. You are only allowed to be this dishevelled when you've been with me. Tell me what's wrong.' Though his voice was deliberately soft and caring, Jack shaped the words into an order. 'Was it me? What did you see last night to make you change?'

'I saw nothing, sir. Excuse my decorum. I am simply overworked and must leave. Apologies.' That same monotonous manner in which Ianto addressed Jack was actually becoming rather chilling. 'I must leave.' Ianto repeated when Jack tilted his head questioningly and didn't remove the contact between them. 'I will take my work with me.'

Jack knew now that something was more than off with Ianto. Ianto knew and respected protocol regarding everything about Torchwood, but not removing any artefacts from the Hub was one that he pretty much berated Owen for on a near weekly basis. Aside from that, Jack knew when he was being lied to; you didn't survive the Agency's backstabbing treachery without some kind of instinct, not to mention low-level psychic training. Jack still didn't know what was going on, but he was going to be damned if he didn't find out, even if he hated treating Ianto with suspicion. Jack had the power to utilise every form of spy wear and non invasive scans in Torchwood, and he was going to use them all if it mean that it would bring Ianto back from being just a shell. This had to go beyond just the two of them. When he spoke, Jack chose his words carefully.

'Listen, Ianto,' Jack whispered, caressing his lover's cheek. 'I don't want you to leave the Hub. Owen needs to finish up on those tests and I need you here. Just know that, whatever it is, you can tell me.'

Something hot and wet slid down Jack's thumb; Ianto was crying. His eyes glistened as they burned into Jack. It was the first true display of emotion Jack had seen in his lover for the whole time they had been down here, and it hurt.

'Jack, I –' Ianto's voice cracked as he spoke, but what he was trying to say next Jack would never hear. Instead Jack watched as Ianto jolted away, doubled up in pain as he clutched his abdomen. The hiss of anguish that Ianto emitted was almost primal. Jack crouched down beside him, concerned.

'Ianto?'

Ianto's eyes glazed over and he rigidly returned to his feet. The tears had alarmingly vanished, apparently as had the pain. He moved his head with precision as he turned to face Jack, a sickeningly false smile upon his lips.

'Of course. Please excuse the interruption, sir. I will return to my duties presently.'

The shell abruptly turned and walked away silently, leaving Jack alone and disturbed in the dank underground tunnel. Contrary to what he had been trying to achieve, coming down here had just made things over a thousand times worse. Weevil murders were the least of their problems now, because it occurred to Jack that he might have found the Storm creature. That thought was too terrifying to contemplate.

The Past
Exactly 9:55:00 PM. Barely 2 Hours Prior to Time of Death. Location: Torchwood Hub. Resolution of Captain Jack Harkness: Uncertain, Full Knowledge to be Acquired before Decision.

Tosh's screams were deafening and raw. They proved everything that Jack didn't want to be true. After analysing and reprocessing the security data and CCTV to achieve the same results the tenth time as had been for the first nine, Jack's conclusion was grim. It had to end here to protect the outside world, but he didn't want to believe it. Things would be so unbearably hard whatever he did. That blood-curdling sound spelled out the danger, but it didn't stop Jack from wishing to God that he was wrong.

As he wrenched Ianto apart from the gasping Toshiko, Jack despaired as he turned his gun on his lover. Ianto smiled at him with pure malice; a gesture for all to see, but Jack was the only one to see the blue irises flash red. It broke Jack's heart to do so, but a decision had to be made. But not yet, because he had to know why. Refusing to look anyone in the eye, least of all the figure in front of him, Jack spoke slowly, training all his effort on keeping his gun arm locked firmly in place.

'My office. Now.'

This was well beyond the time for reasoning, but it didn't mean that Jack wasn't going to try.

The Present.
Approximately 3 hours 7 minutes after Time of Death. Location: Unknown Tower Block. Deceased Operative – Ianto Jones, aged 26, Caucasian, Torchwood Archivist, Lover, Raison d'Etre.

Jack hit the freshly stale city air as the rooftop fire door swung open with a resounding clang that echoed in the night. He barely noticed the glitter and sparkle and bustle of night time Cardiff. His desperation for a means to an end clouded everything over until everything was insignificant and hazy, the finer details non-existent. Nothing else mattered as he scanned for the witnesses that would never be there. There was no one among the living to hold him back or tell him to stop. He had often found answers atop this twenty story building; surely he would find peace and happiness falling from it.

Because Jack could be dead; they had proven that before. Except this time nobody would kiss him awake, because he would refuse to revive. Death was needed in the right proportions for it to work and, if he failed this time, he would haul himself back up and try again. Jack snorted to himself. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Nothing had ever summed Jack up quite so well and yet it was a children's mantra that best described one hundred and fifty years of failure and reluctant immortality. Jack was determined to succeed this time, because every nanosecond on this planet hurt.

He withdrew a hand from his pocket and toyed with a capsulated pill between his fingers. Siliurexian Cyanide; slow acting, yet remaining active in the blood when it had done its job. He placed it on his tongue and closed his eyes as it disintegrated, bitterly cold liquid trickling down his throat before he swallowed in earnest. He moved closer to the ledge.

Next Jack brought out his Webley; antique but efficient. A mirror image of himself. Stripping away the already blood spattered fabric; he pressed it to his chest, fingers curling protectively around the trigger. Jack didn't spare a glance for his surroundings, the city of his immortal years, as he stepped backward onto the edge of the tower in a single fluid motion. Concrete; the impact, the slowest resurrection that Jack longed to never come. Every bone would shatter, his spinal cord would snap at the last moment, and the pain would be incredible. Jack deserved every ounce of it for what he had done. He just hoped that Ianto could forgive him. For everything.

As Jack launched into freefall, his heart burst as a bullet penetrated it at extremely close range. Jack didn't scream; he owed Ianto that much. Good riddance to life. Love in death was far more preferable.

Review please. I don't mind if it is one word or an essay, feedback is fabulous. :) MC. x