There is an attempt at Welsh in this; I mostly found a few sentences off the internet, and apologize for any incorrectness. And I'd offer you a translation, but I hope you find the meaning is pretty apparent.
Possible tissue warning. I kept breaking down every time I came back to edit.
Ianto grunted and peeled himself off the floor, smacking the side of his head with the heel of his hand, as though trying to rid his ears of water. His eyes registered a dusty room, dark, with splotches of sunlight streaming through, but he was too disoriented to see much else. "Is this what Apparating feels like?"
A few feet away, the Doctor mumbled, "Rough transport." He jumped to his feet and glared at the cat-nun. "And you can go straight back down and teleport people out, starting with Martha."
"I only have the power for one trip," Novice Hame said stiffly.
"Then get some more!" he snarled. "Where are we?"
"High above, in the over-city."
"Good! 'Cause you can tell the Senate of New New York I'd like a word. They've got thousands of people trapped on the motorway! Millions!" The Doctor was practically spitting with ire, which ironically kept Ianto calm. It was when he became distant and tranquil, with no emotion in his voice and the power of the stars behind his eyes, that was when it was time to rein him in. Raging and snapping was easy enough to handle.
"But you're inside the Senate. Right now." Novice Hame pressed the bracelet. It flickered green again and the room was illuminated to reveal a cavernous, ramped ceiling and rows and rows of benches in a set of stands. A thick shaft of sunlight cut through the center and lit the sides, that were filled with rickety skeletons.
"They died, Doctor. The city died." Ianto shuffled over to the Doctor's side, shuddering slightly as they approached the middle platform, where a skeleton was sprawled willy-nilly. The shaky green lighting, the wires, the plastic sheeting strewn about, was doing nothing to help his nerves. Ianto breathed deeply, trying to relax. The Doctor had stopped bristling and was now quietly disturbed.
"How long's it been like this?"
"Twenty-four years."
"All of them? Everyone? What happened?"
"A new chemical. A new mood. They called it Bliss." Her voice quavered as she bent forwards and pulled a plastic slip from the ragged, leathery sinews on the skeleton's neck. It was a token like they'd seen in the vendor's compound. "Everyone tried it. They couldn't stop. A virus mutated inside the compound and became airborne. Everything perished — even the virus, in the end. It killed the world in seven minutes flat. There was just enough time to close down the walkways and the flyovers, sealing off the under-city." He stood up to face her as she continued. "Those people on the motorway aren't lost, Doctor. They were saved."
"So the whole thing down there is running on automatic." He gazed around the room, taking in the surroundings. Ianto shut his eyes against them, just for a few moments, letting their voices wash over him.
"There's not enough power to get them out. We did all we could to stop the system from choking."
"Who's we? How did you survive?"
"He protected me." She held his austere gaze. "And he has been waiting for you, these long years." Somewhere in the room, or somehow in their heads, a grave voice rumbled.
"Doctor." The Time Lord dashed around the corner of the stands. Machines were flickering, wired to the outside of a great, dusty glass tank. Ianto couldn't help but stare. Inside the tank was a great... head, he supposed: a wide, heart-shaped face with curved bow-lips and contemplative brow, that gave off an aura of sheer serenity.
"The Face of Boe!" the Doctor exclaimed, darting forward to kneel in front of it, pressing his hands to the glass.
"Back in the old days, I was made his nurse, as penance for my sins."
"I knew you'd come."
The Doctor glanced back at Ianto, smiling reassuringly. "It's alright, Ianto, this is the Face of Boe. He's communicating telepathically, but we can talk to him. Come say hello." Ianto knelt diffidently in front of the glass, subconsciously allowing his mental barricades to relax. The great eyes opened wider, and a profound sense of warmth emanated throughout the room.
"Cariad," the voice whispered.
Ianto lifted his head. "What?"
"But that's..." The Doctor looked back and forth between them.
"Welsh. For someone you love." Ianto pressed his hand to the glass. "You know me?" You love me? Boe smiled, and Ianto felt his mind flooded with warmth, as tangible as stepping into a hot bath. "I'll, uh, take that as a yes," he said, smiling shyly, a little overwhelmed. He leaned his forehead to the glass, staring at the great eyes searchingly.
"But I've never brought Ianto here," the Doctor murmured wonderingly. "Does that mean it's something that hasn't happened for him yet?" A glimmer mischief coiled through the peace and affection. The Time Lord quirked an eyebrow and caught Ianto's curious gaze. "Okay, then. He's from your future."
"Again?" Ianto said ruefully. "This keeps happening. I... guess this means I'll see you again?" The Face rumbled, and Ianto realized he was laughing. "Well." He was unable to stop himself from smiling back. "I look forward to it."
"When I saw you before, you said..." the Doctor hesitated. "You said I'd see you for the third and final time."
The Face huffed. "Time. The way you are, as you know me now, yes, it is the third and final time."
"Oh, well, that clears that up," the Doctor chuckled, before growing solemn again. "Old friend, what happened to you?"
"Failing."
"He protected me from the virus by shrouding me in his smoke," Novice Hame explained. "But with no one to maintain it, the City's power died. The under-city would have fallen into the sea."
"So he saved them."
"The Face of Boe wired himself into the mainframe. He's giving his life force just to keep things running."
"But there are planets out there, you could have called for help," the Doctor said, perturbed.
"The last act of the Senate was to declare New Earth unsafe," she whispered. "The automatic quarantine lasts for one hundred years." Her head was bent in defeat.
"So you two stayed here," the Doctor said softly, getting to his feet. "All on your own, for all these years."
"We had no choice."
His eyes had softened, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, you did."
"Save them, Doctor. Save them," Boe hummed.
The Doctor sonicked a set of screens into action, staring at the traffic patterns as a red sequence flashed on the screen.
"Car Four Six Five Diamond Six — it still registers! That's Martha!"
"She's alright," Ianto sighed with relief. Martha was alive, and there were no cybermen, just the cat-nurse and his Doctor and the tranquil old face from his future. "Ooh, you've got the glasses. Somebody means business."
"Oh yes! Ianto, hold this in place." Ianto took hold of the thick black rubber tubing as the Doctor scurried along the length of it, muttering, "Think, think, think. Take the residual energy, invert it, feed it through the electricity beds."
"There isn't enough power," Novice Hame reminded him as he reached the end, standing at another set of screens.
"Ah, you've got power! You've got me! I'm brilliant with computers, just you watch. Hame, Ianto, every switch on that bank, up to maximum!" Ianto grinned in spite of himself. The Doctor's enthusiasm was infectious, and he started flipping switches. The Doctor sprawled on his side, vigorously sonicking the panel in the middle of the floor. "I can't power up the city, but all the city needs is people."
"So what are you going to do?" Novice Hame cried.
"This!" He shoved a lever to the floor. There was a great dying hum as every screen and console powered down and went black. "No! No no no no no no!" He began a new frenzy of sonicking. "The transformers are blocked, the signal can't get through."
"Doctor," the voice gravelled insistently.
"Yeah, hold on, not now."
"I give you my last..." Boe's lips parted in a raspy exhale. Ianto pressed a worried hand to the glass as the Doctor's head shot up, the red lights blinking back to life as the whole room powered up.
"Hame, look after him! Don't you go dying on me, you big old face. You've got to see this." Novice Hame began cranking a wheel on the left side of the glass.
"Can I help?" Ianto asked her shyly. She gave him a grateful smile, but shook her head.
"The open road! Hah!" The Doctor wired up a microphone, standing in front of one of the telescreens. "Sorry, no Sally Calypso, she was just a hologram. My name's the Doctor. And this is an order. Everyone drive up. Right now. I've opened the roof of the motorway. Come on. Throttle those engines. Drive up. All of you, the whole under-city. Drive up, drive up, drive up! Fast! We've got to clear that fast lane. Drive up and get out of the way.
"Oy! Car Four Six Five Diamond Six! Martha! Drive up! You've got access above, drive up!" Ianto darted up the steps to gaze out the little sunlit window, smiling as thousands of motorcars drifted out amongst the spires of the city. "You keep driving, Brannigan, all the way up! 'Cause it's here, just waiting for you." The Doctor danced up the steps to the window next to Ianto. "The city of New New York. And it's yours." He glanced at the Welshman. "And don't forget, I want that coat back!"
"I reckon that's a fair bargain, sir!" Brannigan's rich voice came through over the transmitter.
"And Car Four Six Five Diamond Six, I've sent you a flight path. Come to the Senate."
"On my way!" Martha's voice rang through, and Ianto laughed in relief.
"Been quite a while since we've seen you, Martha Jones," the Doctor said cheekily. A slight splintering sound came from behind them.
"Doctor," Novice Hame called out to him. They both spun around, faces falling, as the glass began to fracture into an intricate spiderweb.
"Doctor?" Martha's pattering footsteps sounded into the dark creaky room.
"Over here."
"What happened out there?" She trotted around the corner to see the Doctor, Ianto, and Novice Hame all kneeling beside the upturned face, fallen from his great glass jar. "What's that?"
"It's the Face of Boe. It's alright. Come say hello. And this is Hame. She's a cat. Don't worry." Martha stepped timidly towards them. "He's the one that saved you, not me."
"My lord gave his life to save the city. And now he's dying."
Martha knelt beside Novice Hame, and Ianto shot her a fleeting smile. Glad you're okay.
"Nah, don't say that," the Doctor argued. "Not old Boe. Still plenty of life left."
"It's good to breathe the air once more, and see my friends again. My cariad." Ianto reached out on an impulse and stroked his cheek with a featherlight touch.
"Who is he?" Martha asked.
"I don't even know, really," the Doctor said sadly. "Legend says the Face of Boe has lived for billions of years. Isn't that right? And you're not about to give up now."
"Everything has its time. You know that, old friend, better than most."
"The legend says more." Novice Hame leaned closer.
The Doctor's eyes widened. "Don't. There's no need for that."
"It says that the Face of Boe will speak his final secret to a traveller."
"Yeah, but not yet. Who needs secrets, eh?" he said hoarsely.
"I have seen so much. Perhaps too much. I am the last of my kind — as you are the last of yours, Doctor." Martha gazed up at him in confusion, but the Doctor continued to stare at him, near tears.
"That's why we have to survive. Both of us. Don't go."
"I must go. Farewell, Martha Jones, dear friend. Farewell, Ianto Jones, fy cariad. Dw i'n dy garu di." Ianto felt a tear slide down his own cheek unbidden, caught between reverence and regret when he realized that this weary old being was dying peacefully beside someone he loved, someone who didn't even know him yet. He let his hand linger gently on the leathery skin as the Face of Boe spoke his final words.
"Know this, Time Lord. You... are not... alone."
The great eyes slid closed for the last time. Ianto and Martha stared at the Doctor, watching a myriad of emotions flicker across his face; desperation became grief, became shock, disbelief, denial, astonishment, a flicker of something like hope that was rejected and promptly squashed. Somewhere along the way he settled on stunned. Novice Hame began to weep. Ianto closed his eyes and inclined his head. After a long few moments, Martha got to her feet, and the Doctor stood next to her. He put an arm around her shoulders, and Ianto followed, leaning his head onto his shoulder as they stood looking on in a final farewell.
"All closed down," the Doctor said cheerfully as they picked their way back through the Pharmacy alley.
"Happy?" Martha asked as he poked his head at one of the screens under a green cover.
"Happy happy!" She chuckled at this, but Ianto frowned. "New New York can start again. And they've got Novice Hame. Just what every city needs — cats in charge! Come on, time we were off." He strode ahead, but Martha stayed put.
"But what did he mean, though, the Face of Boe? How'd he know who we are, me and Ianto?" He turned around. Ianto looked up briefly at the mention of his name, but said nothing. "Why did he say that, you're not alone?" she prodded him.
"I dunno."
"You've got us. Is that what he meant?"
The corners of his mouth twitched. "I don't think so." Her face fell, and Ianto's frown deepened. "Sorry."
"Then what?" she asked quietly.
"Doesn't matter. Back to the TARDIS, off we go." He was trying so hard to be flippant. Martha pulled one of the knocked over chairs and set it up in the middle of the alley, taking a seat and looking prim.
"Oh, are you staying?"
"Until you talk to me properly, yes. He said last of your kind, what does that mean?"
"It really doesn't matter," he insisted.
"You don't talk, you never say!" she retorted frustratedly. "Why not?"
Ianto opened his mouth, and the Doctor shot him a vehement look. He raised an eyebrow and continued with "Fine pair we make. She can't get you to talk and half the time I can't get you to keep your mouth shut." He grabbed another chair and set it down next to Martha. "You know what, though? You should tell her. Or me, or both of us, or get a therapist. Talk to somebody, otherwise you'll go along pretending that everything's fine, and the next thing we know, you've drained the Thames again." Martha's eyebrows shot up at that. The Doctor looked sullen.
Finally, his shoulders slumped, and he looked at Martha. "It was supposed to be one trip. One trip, and you shouldn't have had to get kidnapped and stuck on a motorway, and nearly die from giant smog-eating crabs. You'd go home and pay your rent and take your exams and become a proper doctor and never have to understand who I am and the things I've seen and done and run away from."
Martha's face softened. "I want to understand."
He chuckled bitterly. "I suppose I should have known when I brought an almost-doctor on board. That's the thing about doctors, always trying to find out what's wrong and make it better." Martha cocked her head, trying to figure out whether one of them had just been insulted or complimented. "You want to know something about being a doctor? Some days, it doesn't work. Some days, you can't save everybody. Some days, you can't save anybody. You do everything you can and no matter how hard you try, you just can't fix it!" He turned his back and made to walk away when voices drifted in the distance, and they raised their eyes skyward as the city began to sing.
"So I should just stop trying, then?" Martha called at his retreating back. "Should I just give up? Is that what doctors do when they can't fix things?"
The Doctor froze, hesitated, until... "I lied to you." He turned to face them again. "Because I could pretend. Just for a bit, I could imagine they were still alive, underneath a burnt orange sky. I'm not just a Time Lord. I'm the last of the Time Lords. The Face of Boe was wrong. There's no one else." He hesitated again, before pulling yet another flimsy, abandoned chair from off the piles of cardboard and taking a seat. "And you're right, I do have you two. And I thought I had Rose, and so many others before her. And I lost her, and I lost them, and either you'll come to your senses and go home, or you stay, and then one day you're in danger and no matter what I do, I can't do anything to save you. And even if that doesn't happen, time itself takes its toll, and your fragile human body starts to fade, and your life gets used up while mine stretches on for miles. One way or another, I lose everyone."
His eyes watered and his voice cracked. "And I go on. And I don't give up, because there's an entire universe out there, because there's work to be done, because there are things to make better. It didn't start like that, exactly. When I was young and reckless, I stole a broken old ship and ran away from them, because there was so much to see, to explore, to discover. Only now the Time Lords are gone. Their knowledge, their power helped keep the universe in order, and now it's just me, trying to fix the things that are broken."
"What happened to them?" Martha asked softly.
"There was a war. A Time War. The last Great Time War. My people fought a race called the Daleks for the sake of all creation. " Ianto inhaled sharply. "And they lost. They lost. Everyone lost. They're all gone now. My family, my friends, even that sky. Oh, you should have seen her. Gallifrey." His eyes watered and they leaned in, entranced. "The second sun would rise in the south, and the mountains would shine. The leaves on the trees were silver, and when they caught the light every morning, it looked like a forest on fire. When the autumn came, the breeze would blow through the branches like a song …"