A/N:
So far it looks like a good bet that Torchwood is going to get a goth-y forensics expert (will they ever be the same?), although a very good case has recently been made for McGee as well in a personal email to me.
Even if John doesn't win that coveted team spot, he will play a part in an upcoming story (and Ianto won't shoot him or shag him as much as the former might amuse me and the latter steam up a few monitors….)
Thanks for your input. This has been fun; I appreciate you guys indulging me. '-) I'll keep it going through Friday.
Chapter Eleven: More Things In Heaven and Earth
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"I erm…" Bobby cleared his throat, but neither Jack nor Ianto came up for air. "I have a preliminary autopsy report. If you're interested." He felt like he was talking to a brick wall. Or maybe a pair of them. Jack and Ianto were making out like a couple of teenagers at prom. "Or I could just leave it here and you can get to it… whenever…"
With a reluctant heave of his shoulders, Jack straightened, pulling away from his partner. "I think I like it when we do that in my office better," he said to Ianto wearing an amused grin on his face.
"That's only because it's closer to your bed," the younger man retorted.
"Except my bed is still in storage, remember?"
"Right. Storage room next time?"
Jack flashed him a wicked smirk and took the report from Bobby. "And don't look that bashful, it's not like I haven't caught you and Wendy on the CCTV," he added in the blond's direction.
"What?" Ianto snapped his head up stare at the medic who was now a flushed as he was.
"Erm… anyway… " Bobby ran one hand through his unruly hair. "The blood on the pavement matches the victim. Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the skull." He flipped to the image so Jack could see for himself. "My best guess is a crowbar or some kind of narrow pipe. Not that I suppose it matters," he muttered in response Jack's expression; cause of death wasn't an issue in this case. It was what had happened afterwards that made it something for Torchwood to be investigating. "After that she was moved to the warehouse and… well… " Jack had seen the body. "The heart and liver are both missing," he said, confirming his earlier suspicions.
Ianto paled visibly.
Aware of the younger man's pallor and the reasons behind it (Ianto still sometimes had nightmares about cannibals) Jack shifted his foot over until it was touching his partner's. It wasn't much, but it seemed to be enough.
A tight smile flickered across Ianto's face and Jack returned it. "Anything else?" he asked Bobby.
"I'm not a forensics expert, but I'd say that whoever did this didn't have any kind of surgical training. They used something sharp, a kitchen knife or a hunting knife maybe. They didn't seem to know how to get past the ribcage without making a mess."
Ianto swallowed.
Jack nodded. "All right. Finish up and get some sleep."
After Bobby had taken his leave, the Captain eased himself forward and wrapped his partner up in his arms.
"I'm ok," he whispered, holding onto Jack as tightly as he could.
"I know you are," came the soft reply. He placed a gentle kiss on his Welshman's neck before pulling back, just enough so he could look into those beautiful grey-blue eyes.
"I meant everything I said earlier," Jack reminded him, his tone still soft. "You're one of the most important things in my life."
Ianto flushed as his heart fluttered; even as a teenager, he hadn't been prone to the kind of overwhelming emotion he felt around Jack. "I love you too. So much so that I guess I get a little jealous sometimes."
"A little?" Jack teased.
He chuckled, "All right. A lot jealous. I'll work on it, I promise. I do have a question, though."
"You still want to know how long I've known Henry."
The younger man nodded.
"Pull up the Internet and do a name search," Jack prompted.
Ianto felt warmth overtaking his cheeks. "I erm…" he cleared his throat. "I already did."
Jack raised his eyebrows, "Checking up on me, huh?" he smirked.
"It… that is… I did it right after the first time you got a package from him. I wanted to know who he was."
Jack chuckled; it was so typical of Ianto to feel like he honestly, truly had to know everything. "What did you find out?"
He shrugged, "He's a graphic artist who lives in Toronto. There were one or two gallery shows and a couple of ads from booksellers who were carrying his work."
"Anything else?"
"What else is there?"
"Search his name again."
Perplexed, Ianto did as Jack had asked. He pulled up the Internet and typed Fitzroy, Henry, artist into his favourite search engine. Before he could hit the search button, however, Jack reached in and backspaced the word 'artist' out of the box.
"Jack, if you do that you're going to get a bunch of historical references," Ianto said in an exasperated tone.
Jack shot him a wry smile and hit the search button anyway.
"All right, so he has the same name as Henry the Eight's illegitimate son. I'd figured that out without having to look it up."
"Not quite."
Ianto looked up at him, uncertainty playing across his features. "What do you mean 'not quite'?"
"Henry has his own name. Although I've never thought any of the paintings of him from the time did him much justice… " he clicked on a particularly bad image bringing it to full-screen view. "You saw him – the real him. This is horrible… he keeps telling me it was the 'style of the period.'"
"What exactly are you saying? That… your friend Henry is… " he couldn't quite finish the sentence. Jack's Henry Fitzroy was the Henry Fitzroy?
"His father was Henry the Eight. His mother was some courtier. He's four hundred and… "
"Four hundred and seventy four years old," said Ianto, doing the math faster than Jack ever could. "How?" he wanted to know, new insecurities running through his mind. If this Henry was like Jack…or… or an alien maybe… if he could live that long and not age…
"This is going to take some explaining," Jack admitted.
"I'm listening," Ianto told him, trying to hang onto all those wonderful things Jack had said just a few minutes ago. "You… you were lovers?" he asked even though he didn't want to hear Jack tell him that he'd loved this other man. It wasn't that Ianto expected to be the only person there ever was, but it was easier when they weren't still around. Still gorgeous. Four hundred and seventy four years old…
The Captain crossed his arms over his chest again and leant back against Ianto's desk. "We met in Paris, 1922. He noticed me watching him and bought me a drink."
"Love at first sight?"
Jack flashed a classic Jack-smile. "Lust maybe."
Ianto smiled back at him; he couldn't help it. He nodded, encouraging him to go on.
"We were together for six months, then I had to leave. I had no idea who he was. We met again during World War II. He was an Allied spy. I was picking up some information he had for us. We each had some explaining to do."
"What happened?"
"He asked me to stay with him," Jack answered honestly, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
Ianto merely nodded to acknowledge what had been said. "Why didn't you?" His tone was as neutral as the look on his face, but his partner didn't miss the way he shifted his gaze so that he was no longer looking him in the eye.
Jack reached out and tilted Ianto's face back up so he had no choice but to look him in the eye. "There were lots of reasons. But the biggest one was that I wasn't in love with him, not like this."
Ianto swallowed. He leant forward, resting his chin on one hand, looking up at Jack, leaning in close to him. "You were still waiting for your Doctor, though," he observed.
"There was more to it than that."
The younger man nodded, his expression still carefully neutral. "It must have been tempting… I mean… he can't die, right? He's some kind of… immortal… or an alien?"
"He can die. He is dead. At least that's the way he explained it to me."
Ianto blinked in surprise. "Like Owen?"
"No. If Henry gets hurt, he heals – at an incredible rate in fact."
"So what is he?"
Jack realized he'd been dancing around the word for too long. It was stupid really, and not his style. With all the things they encountered on a day to day basis, why should he shy away from one word? Probably because of all the negative stereotypes…
Then again, Ianto's best friend was a werewolf, so to say that he was open minded was probably a fair assessment. God, maybe I should recruit Liz… if she weren't stuck at a conference in Brazil, he would have asked her to come in and lend a hand, since the paranormal really was her field.
"Jack?"
"Henry Fitzroy is a vampire."
