His head is spinning, for way too many reasons at the same time. John's back, and that only makes him even more aware of just how much he missed him these past few weeks. There's two Jacks in the room – and both of them are staring at him now, as he crosses the main area of the Hub towards them. That alone is enough to make him uncomfortable in his own skin, not to mention the headache it still gives him to try – and fail – to deal with such an obvious manifestation of time travel.
Some things are just easier to handle when they remain a theory.
One's own death is one of such things. He swallows hard, his tie suddenly too tight for comfort. He has always known he'll die young – there is no escaping that when working for Torchwood. Well, known is not the word. Suspected. Expected. But a sliver of hope that somehow he might manage to survive this crazy life he's living must have remained somewhere, only to be confronted with John's revelations.
He swallows again, trying to push the thoughts away. When he looks up again, towards the two Jacks, the difference between them is so obvious it hurts. Jack has always been a broken man. Too many years, too many lost friends, colleagues, lovers, probably even family. Too many people he couldn't tell the truth to, about too many things. But there is still the twinkle of a smile in the eyes of his Jack. As if he not only accepted that life hurts, by its very nature, but actually embraced it, and expected it, and somehow that helped deal with it all.
But the other Jack... Guilt. Remorse. Too many regrets. He shakes his head. What could be about to happen that would break Jack so badly? Knowing that John is still around, thirty years into the future, barely feels like a small mercy. Although he has to admit he would love to be around when Jack finally realises what John is doing. Jumping in time. Trying to be there for as long as a brief human life will allow.
So much for the rogue who never cared about anybody but himself.
"Well, Jack, there has to be a reason why you came here." Gwen has been looking from one Jack to the other for the last twenty minutes, probably wondering whether she should believe her eyes, never mind the story they are telling her. "Now. Whatever term applies to this time travelling lark." He can't help the smile. Oblivious to everything as she may be at times, Gwen's instincts are sometimes bang on the money.
Both Jacks shuffle their feet, uncomfortable. Gwen's always been good at that, making Jack uncomfortable, in a good way. They look at each other, a silent 'it is your turn to explain' passing between them, and it is unnerving just how easy it is to read them – and probably how much the two Jacks are actually hiding from each other. He doesn't want to even start thinking about that.
"Boardroom, everybody." The three of them look at him. Gwen seems about to ask who on Earth put him of all people in charge now, but seems to think better of it, and instead just nods and walks past him. Jack smirks in a way that makes him wonder, makes him wish the world could do without them, without Torchwood, for a few days. Because there is definitely a lot that that smile promises. Jack mark II – no, that doesn't work either, he'll have to think of something else – bites his lips nervously, as if too many words were fighting to come out at the same time. He lets out a sigh. Whatever it may be, however much this future Jack may need to get it off his chest, as usual, they just don't have the time right now. Bloody Torchwood. "Now."
Without a word, he turns around and heads for the boardroom. For once, John seems to be on his best behaviour and follows him, boots clattering loudly on the concrete floor. It's hard to believe John can be silent as a cat when he wants to. It's probably just another trick to catch everybody off guard.
"Anyone would think you've done this before, Eye Candy." He stops in his tracks and turns to face John. "Dealing with multiple instances of the same person." John takes a couple of steps towards him, which puts them too close for comfort right now. "It's not an easy thing to handle."
"That's... an understatement." John's lips curl in the beginning of a smile. A hand creeps up and rests lightly on his cheek, and he shivers from head to toe. Damn John Hart and the effect he has on him. Too many things he wants to say but it's neither the time nor the place.
But it may be now or never.
The thought hangs heavy on his mind. Just as it has so many times in the past. When Tommy died, leaving behind a broken-hearted Tosh. When Owen was shot, and the brief nature of life hit him square in the chest with the same intensity as if the bullet had hit him. When that warehouse collapsed on top of him, and for a second he was sure he wouldn't make it. When they lost Owen – again – and Tosh, and it made him regret all the things he never told them. All the times he wanted to reach out and let Owen know that he understood the pain hidden behind that mask of I-couldn't-care-less-about-you-all, because he'd been there. All the times he wanted to make Tosh smile, but let her go home, alone, thinking there would be other – better – moments for it.
All the times Jack died, and he was left wondering if this time it would be the last one.
"I..." It feels wrong to see John hesitate. John never hesitates. Never has to find the words. "I never meant for you to find out." Barely a whisper. He nods, a silent acknowledgement of the apology John will never voice. "It may not have to happen." A finger runs down his neck, leaving a line of liquid heat behind it. "When Jack first called me after..." Tracing his ear. "I told him he was mad for wanting to change it." His jaw. He wants to move but can't. "Fixed point in time, just like Jack himself."
"What... has changed?" He's amazed he even manages the words. John smirks and leans in to leave the hint of a kiss on his lips.
"Time's fucked up anyway." He swallows. "If we do nothing, the whole multiverse will disappear, and there will be nothing left." John digs nails on the back of his neck and he hisses. If there ever was one day he wished Torchwood could wait, it has to be today. "It's not like we can cause anything worse than that by trying to... nudge things in the right direction." There it is, John's smile. The one that says 'this is way too dangerous but the rewards are too good to not try'. He nods, not sure he can really get a grip of what exactly 'the multiverse disappearing' means. "Trust me, Ianto, I'm not going to let it happen just like it will."
He blinks, the misconstructed grammar somehow making sense in his head. There's something in John's voice that makes it sounds like a promise. The kind that John will stick by, even if it costs him dearly.
"Just make sure Jack doesn't end up mourning you." He aims for carefree and misses by a mile or three. John snort-giggles – he really has to find a word for that – and he gets the feeling there is a lot that has gone unsaid but doesn't really need saying anyway.
"There's still someone else we need to invite to this party." John's so close to him now, barely a hairsbreadth away, that the heat is unbearable. "And neither Jack is going to be happy about it."
"Who?" Fingers tug at his shirt, undoing a couple of buttons. His hands find their way under John's jacket, which seems to have an odd weight about it, different from last time. Probably new weapons secreted all over it. He pulls at the t-shirt just enough to find some skin, and tells his brain to shut up about end-of-the-world situations and Jack about to come down this corridor and maybe even Gwen possibly doubling back if nobody shows up soon.
"Myself." A tug at his tie, and he bites his lips to bite back the moan building at the back of his throat. It takes a moment for the word to register and give him a headache. "Well, to be precise, my self – and that's two words – that was taken from about three corridors down from here about... a month ago for you?"
"Why?" A bite on his neck, just there, and he could swear that John is a mind reader sometimes.
"Call it a mission of mercy." John's voice almost breaks. Then there's a kiss, soft and so unlike John it makes him wonder just how much everything that will – or may – happen has affected not only Jack but also John. "Besides, we need all the help we can get." He nods. "Just back me up." He nods again.
"John, how many times do I have to tell you, stop harassing my employees?" Jack's voice booms at the other end of the corridor. Steps clatter. Mercifully, John takes a step back, but doesn't even bother to rearrange his clothes. He swallows and tries to compose himself again. "At least not when I'm not around!" Trust Jack to come up with something like that at a moment like this.
"Well, Jack, if you hadn't loitered behind when I told you two to get moving, maybe you would have been around." John laughs. Jack smirks. Even Jack point two – no, that one doesn't work either - gives a small smile. "Now, boardroom. Everybody."
There is a moment of tense silence while they all find a chair and sit down. The room still feels too big, even though there's five of them. Maybe he just misses Tosh and Owen more than he'd like to admit. John's leaning back on his chair, across the table from him, arms stretched over his head and giving the world his most innocent smile. The one nobody believes anymore. Both Jacks are sitting together, which only intensifies the headache he gets every time he remembers there are two of them.
"So." Gwen takes the lead. "You claim to come from the future." She's staring at one of the Jacks sitting across from her. The wrong one, for that matter.
"Not him, Gwen." John points towards the other Jack. "He does." Gwen lets out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment looks ready to give up. She's been doing that a lot lately. Almost as if she were looking for a good reason to tear herself away from Torchwood. Yet she keeps coming back, never really taking the chance to leave. He has to remind himself he's not the only one to feel the losses.
"And I can tell you, he doesn't claim." Jack jumps in, a smirk on his face. "I can tell myself from an impostor."
"I'm going to have to label you two so you stop confusing me." He rolls his eyes at Gwen. She completely ignores him. "How can you tell them apart?"
"Easy." He finds himself echoing John's reply. Jack lets out a chuckle, as if he found the synchronicity amusing. Even future Jack – he may stick to that for now – gives a bit of a smile.
"There are subtle differences, PC Cooper." John leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and tapping his fingertips together, and smiles in that predatory way that makes one feel like the rabbit in front of the lion, just before dinnertime. "Although, of course, they may only be obvious to those of us that have fucked the man." Gwen blushes, but refuses to look away. "Which we all know you haven't, despite how much you wish you had."
"I most certainly don't!" He rolls his eyes, not even wanting to consider the hint of jealousy in Gwen's voice.
"Enough!" It feels he has spent the last few hours shouting the word to everybody around him but someone has to keep them focused. "Now, one of you two time travellers will tell us exactly what is going on. Everything we need to know. Why you are here... now." John nods approvingly. "What is about to happen that will damage Time so badly." Both Jacks and John cringe. "And, more importantly, what we can do to prevent it."
"Now, that's a long story, Eye Candy." John gives him a wicked smile, takes something out of his pocket and places it on the table. "That's why I brought this."
