If there ever was a good moment to kick John out of the planet – and of the Solar System if possible – it would be right now. Because John knows full well just how dangerous those things can be, and still has chosen to bring one into Torchwood. But, of course, before he knows it, Jack looks at him and shakes his head, a silent plea in those sad eyes, and he can't help thinking that whatever is coming has to be really, really bad. And tough problems sometimes require tough solutions.
He really had completely forgotten just how much of a pain in the backside meeting himself can be.
"What is it?" Ianto sounds cautious; trust the keeper of the largest collection of alien technology on Earth to recognise an alien artefact, and to keep his distance until said artefact is identified, catalogued, and deemed safe. And probably even after that.
"This, Eye Candy," John leans forward a bit more, hands playing aimlessly with the device, "is a memory cube." John balances it on one of the vertices, spinning it carefully. "Telling you all the story would take a bit too long. And Jack here would take even longer to believe everything we have to tell, even if it is his own self telling the tales."
"How does this help?" Gwen stretches a hand towards the cube – John smacks it, and she retreats. For once, she seems to be so genuinely surprised about everything that is happening that no witty reply comes. Not that he can blame her. Time travelling is not for the faint hearted, and some aspects of it do take a while getting used to. Even when one has seen them before.
"This will, simply put, bring all of you into events we have experienced." He pulls a face, wondering if John is planning on even hinting at all the things that can go wrong, all the dangers that come with memory cubes. There are reasons why the Agency stopped using them. There are reasons why almost everybody stopped using them. There are reasons why they became a drug, sold in the underworlds of just about every respectable planet.
The whole conversation John and Ianto have in a single glance doesn't help convince him John knows what he's doing, either.
"A ghost machine." John gives Gwen a blank look. "We found this device, a few years back." Ianto grimaces. "Replayed events that had imprinted themselves on a place." John raises an eyebrow, considers, and shakes his head. "Quantum... some thing or other."
"Transducer," his other self contributes. Gwen clicks her fingers and nods, muttering something under her breath about all the technobabble she's had to learn since she joined Torchwood.
"Same principle, but not quite." John pushes the cube a bit further in the table. "Now, if you could all make sure to keep an eye on the cube, Jack will proceed to tell..."
"Not so fast." John gives him an annoyed look. Jack lets out a sigh. Gwen and Ianto stare at him, full of curiosity. "You know what happens with these things. Going in is easy. Coming out, not so much."
"Well, what do you suggest? The three of you need this information. Either Jack or I have to be there to trigger the events. And something tells me you wont' trust either of us to stay out here to make sure the rest of you come out safe and sound, brain more or less intact."
He shakes his head. Ianto's lips curl in the beginning of a smile, as if things had suddenly clicked in that head of his, and he can't help thinking he's entirely missing something. Something big and obvious. Something he should have noticed.
"Maybe we could dispense with the technology and just go old school on this one." Ianto's quiet words break the silence and the tension. John smiles that predatory smile of his, and something inside him grumbles once again about having to be Captain Harkness and save the world – yet again – when all he wants is a moment of peace. "You know, give us the abridged version of relevant events."
"Hard to believe as it may be, Eye Candy, that's exactly what we tried to do, back in the hotel room." John glares at him, and he can feel the edge of the table digging into the palm of his hands as he struggles to keep calm. "But His Immortalness over there didn't seem too inclined to believe a word we were saying, but rather too convinced that we where hiding some vital piece of information."
"I wonder why that may be." He shakes his head towards Gwen, and she leans back on her chair, arms crossed in front of her and a frown forming. John gives her a mock-bow, and Ianto rolls his eyes. Yes, John may be a pathological liar, but there's always the chance he might be telling the truth. Or at least, part of it. Unfortunately, it's quite hard to tell, when it comes to John.
Something tells him getting to the bottom of this is going to take a lot more than patience. For starters, he would need way much more patience than almost two thousand years buried under Cardiff could ever teach him. Which is saying something.
He's about to snap, to demand a proper explanation of what Jack and John are doing here, of what is coming, of everything, even though he knows how unlikely it is that it'll get him anything, when Ianto's hand settles lightly on his arm. Ianto gives him a sideways look, the hint of a smile still on his lips, and shakes his head.
It takes a moment before he can nod back, thoughts still spinning wildly in his head. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. He's been on edge ever since Ianto spotted the Vortex Manipulator signatures, and a memory cube in the room is definitely not helping. He knows he's playing right into John's plan, whatever that may be, but the idea that Time may really be unravelling is terrifying enough for him to need to know everything.
"We're wasting time." Jack breaks the silence, and he recognises the emotions behind the words. The loss, the defeat, the uncertainty. He's been there before, more times than he can remember, but it sounds worse than ever before. He swallows, wondering just what may be the price of restoring Time, of preventing the unseen disasters that threaten the world. Wondering what will be the price of ignoring the warnings and letting it happen.
Deep inside, he knows he doesn't want to know. But he also knows he can't afford not to.
"Start talking." John opens his mouth, but he raises a hand before a word comes out. "Not you." He turns to face Jack. "You." John snorts.
"Oh, come on, Jack, anybody would think you don't trust me." He raises an eyebrow and stares at his other self, and there's something strange in the half-smile they share.
"I do." He puts a hand over Ianto's, still on his arm, and tries to ignore the pain that Jack fails to hide. "But you're too good a liar." This time it is snorts all around the table, Gwen almost choking on her coffee, Ianto trying his best not to let it show. It takes one to know one. "Lying to oneself is more complicated." John rolls his eyes in a way that, once again, reminds him too much of Ianto. "Although I'm sure you have perfected the art by now."
"Of course, Jack." John stretches his hands above his head, the cube vanishing somewhere in the process, and leans back on his chair. "Maybe all those people out there keep pretending because lying to oneself is..." The look Ianto shoots John to shut him up doesn't go unnoticed. He lets out a sigh and turns his attention to Jack again.
"Time is unravelling." Jack nods and looks away in a gesture so familiar it is disconcerting. "That's all you've given us so far." Gwen's phone goes off, and she rushes out of the room, an apologetic look on her face, boots clattering on the concrete floor. He glances at his watch. It's probably Rhys, wondering what dragged his wife out of bed so early in the morning. "When will it start? What triggers it?"
Jack leans forward, elbows on the table. He can't help but wonder if he gives the rest of the world the same paternalistic, condescending look his other self is giving him right now. It would explain a lot. Like why Owen always used to huff and puff and put on the best 'Doctor Harper doesn't care' attitude every time he tried to bring the team up to speed on some gizmo or another.
"It has already started." He nods, slowly, mind racing through the possibilities. Already? It can't have. The sensors would have picked up something. The Rift, as a huge distortion in time and space, would echo the effects of anything happening to time ten times louder than any other point in the continuum. "The Garg'kats arriving a few weeks ago was an echo." Of course. Time being weakened, cracks and fissures allowing easy passage.
He pushes away the scary thought that maybe the sensors didn't pick anything because the Rift being where and when it is is part of it all, a ripple wave of whatever is causing Time to unravel that they've lived with for so long it has become normal. That is something he'd rather not consider right now.
"And the time bubbles?" Trust Ianto to always have a good question up his sleeve. "Were they related as well?" John was right when he said that Ianto had a mind for time travel – even if the Time Agency would never had taken him in. Morals and ethics do sometimes get in the way of doing what needs to be done. As he well knows. And even Ianto's betrayal when trying to save Lisa was born out of duty and a certain code of honour. No, the Time Agency would never had come anywhere near Ianto Jones.
"In a manner of speaking." He shakes the thoughts away when John jumps in. "Those were actually a... let's call it unexpected side effect of all the hoops we had to jump through to get here." Ianto gives John an inquisitive, calculating look.
"I thought you said they were..." Ianto pauses for a second, tongue peeking out in between his lips, eyes closed, concentrating. "Of course. The only way to travel to times when one shouldn't be." John nods. Gwen walks back into the room and leans on the wall by the door, arms folded in front of her. He can tell something is bothering her, but, whatever it is, it'll have to wait. "I'm guessing Time unravelling can interfere with normal time travel."
"We had to be... quite imaginative and improvise more than is sensible." Jack nods at John's explanation, but still manages to shoot a warning look. "The Garg'kats found an easy way into this time, but we couldn't get anywhere near now." A pause. A silent conversation between Jack and John that somehow hurts, as if those two had been together for way longer than he expected. "For a long time, I actually thought the twenty-first century was time locked. Apparently, it was just mayhem starting to show."
"Any idea what caused it?" Everybody turns towards Gwen, and she almost blushes as she pushes herself off the wall. "The whole time unravelling thing. I keep thinking of it as a big woollen jumper or laddered tights – they won't unravel unless a thread breaks somewhere." Good analogy – according to theory, anyway. "Though I guess it's not going to be as simple as catching it early and putting some clear nail polish on it."
"Well..." John hesitates, eyes on Jack. It's never good when John, who never manages to keep quiet, is not sure whether to speak or not. There's a moment of tense silence, and he has to admire the way Gwen sometimes seems to get to the core of the problem so easily.
"We've managed to narrow it down to a single event." There's a huge dose of reticence when Jack finally speaks again. As if he couldn't believe he's actually telling them about this. As if he were expecting everything to worsen with every word he says. Which, in all fairness, could happen, despite the mess they are already in. At least in theory. "The Rift will be blown up."
"What?" Ianto's fingers dig into his arm, and the jolt of almost-pain grounds him. He takes a deep breath. "How?" There's no way anybody would be mad enough to... But of course, not everybody knows the potentially lethal consequences of making something explode on a fracture in time and space. Or that there is one of them in Cardiff, for that matter. Coincidentally, most of those who know about it would be the kind of people to actually want to blow it up for their own reasons. "When?"
"Might want to give them the who and why as well, while you're at it, Jack." Jack shoots John a death threat condensed in a glare that would make even Ianto proud.
"In less than a week." Jack looks away, as if he really didn't want to explain this. "Here." Jack swallows. He tenses. Something tells him he really doesn't want to hear this. "And I'm afraid it will be I who causes it. Or rather you, Jack."