The retcon isn't because of what happened at the coffee station, it's because of a little red box. Jack says he can't explain it to me completely, due to some statute of a 'shadow proclamation law,' whatever that means. He isn't allowed to spread knowledge of 'their existence on certain class worlds' (!?!) He said he can only tell me about it in limited, sketchy terms or he'll have to retcon me as well. Okay, Jack tells me that the retcon isn't at all because of what happened at the coffee station. The others also claim that it's all because of the box, so I chose to believe him. I have to start trusting him again… sometime… I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Okay. So, after The Kiss, I was in a rather good mood (I should have known better.) Tosh kept smiling at me and giving me the thumbs-up. Odd looks from Gwen and Owen but I didn't care enough to figure out why. Lunchtime came around and I thought I'd order us all something to celebrate. (Okay, I'll admit that the idea of splitting a side of egg rolls with Jack had crossed my mind. Offering to feed him one off my chopsticks in the middle to the conference room, and all.) So in calling the restaurant, apparently the regular delivery driver for Mister Lu's had been in a bit of a collision last night. No delivery, could I pick it up instead? Sure. Why not? They'd given me the address and directions and I'd hung up before I realized that I couldn't find a pen. I always have a pen… and a spare. Looking all over, the directions fading slowly from conscious recollection, I desperately looked for a pen. Where do they all get to, do they hide? A pen! A pen! My kingdom for a pen! Then, to top it all off, I'm under the desk looking for a pen that may have fallen and the phone rings. In fact, it won't stop ringing and voicemail isn't picking-up. I answer and it's some girl trying to sell me a miracle weight-loss pill. As an incentive, wants to give me a gold necklace with purchase. What do I want with an 18kt gold weight-loss-pill-shaped necklace? When all I really need is a pen. Fat lot of good she was, she couldn't get me a pen either.

It wasn't anything, but it was the start of the downwards spiral of my day. So with half-remembered directions, I found the restaurant (and I must admit, if I'd ever actually seen the place, I probably would never have ordered food from them. But as we've been ordering from them for a couple of years now and nobody's died from it yet…) Got the lunch, and got back to the hub to be greeted by Owen, 'Bet you're glad you missed it. But you always miss it." Miss what? That's when Jack hit me with the news of the need to retcon everyone else. Seems Gwen had opened that little red box on Jack's bookshelf, the one labeled 'DO NOT OPEN. EVER!' Jack told me that he was immune to the thing, but that the others would need to 'loose their memories or risk loosing themselves.' Brilliant Jack… you can't tell me what's going on, but you can put statements like that out there.

It would seem that as some minor chemical component of retcon would kill whatever it was as well as make them forget its existence. They'd take the pill and be down for lunch in a few minutes. In any case, while I set out lunch in the conference room, Jack administered the retcon in his office. Since it was only a half-dose of level one retcon, and they didn't need the sedative portion, they were up and ready to eat with only a mild disorientation. Owen kept insisting he'd only just had breakfast. He ate, however, like breakfast had been last week. Over lunch Jack handed-out some new projects. And for the first time I was included. My own special project. Sure, it was still research, but it wasn't the usual 'we need a quick report as we go into battle' thing. This was a long-term project on, of all people, the royal family. Their blood-lines, any abnormalities. He didn't give me too much to go on, for fear of it directing my research, but Jack said to just look for anything… 'alien-ish.' Wonder if he suspects something specific. Wouldn't it be funny if they all turned out to be vampires or something? Anyway… perhaps I should get on with the… events. I'm probably just putting off putting to paper all that happened later.

Lunch done and meeting adjourned. I was cleaning up the cartons when Jack came back in. There was strange look on his face. Not really concern, or confusion, but a mix. There was also something else. Something I didn't recognize, and it was something I didn't like. I asked him if there was something wrong. He looked at me like he'd never seen me before in all his long life. Then there seemed to be a slow, dawning realization and he said no, he just couldn't remember why he'd come into the room. "Couldn't be to help me carry out the rubbish, could it?" He stared at me a moment and finally said, 'No. That wasn't it.' and left without further comment. At the time I thought it was a joke and nothing more.

Owen, Tosh and Gwen went to check out a minor Rift flare. (Which, it turned out, amounted to absolutely nothing.) While they were gone I started in on my new project. Jack came and stood behind me. I could feel the heat from his body and leant back until I was up against him. He took a half step back and I almost fell off the chair. I turned to look up at him, but his look was utterly blank, the look one would give a stranger. Asked him if there was something I could help him with. He just turned and walked away to his office. When the others returned I asked them if they'd noticed anything strange about Jack lately. Apparently not.

The afternoon progressed. I pulled some files from the archive and when I returned Jack and Gwen were laughing over something or the other. He seemed back to his old self. I was just beginning to think that maybe it was just me. Off kind of day, or some such.

Still later, however, I was down in the vaults feeding the weevils and noticed a shadow in the corner. Like it was watching me. It startled me, 'til I realized it was just Jack. I smiled, raised the bucket in a gesture of "Hello." I closed the cell door and turned. The shadow was gone. At that point I was sure it was just me, a lack of sleep or something. Imagining things. As I returned to the hub I glanced around for Jack, but he wasn't in his office. Had he been in the vaults, watching me? Figured probably not and vowed to just get a better night's sleep tonight. Wasn't back at my project five minutes when I started to get that creepy feeling again, that feeling of being watched. Glanced around, but nothing. Minutes passed, but the feeling didn't. That's when I looked-up and saw him. He was standing on the walkway above, but not forward, not against the railing as he often does. Jack was in the shadows, leaning against the back wall, just in front of the dragon, staring at me. I looked away. When I looked again he hadn't moved. I picked-up a file folder and went to where Owen was bent over some half-dissected… something. When he finished his cut and looked up at me I asked him if he could take a look at some monarchy medical information for me. As he scanned the file I asked him if he'd noticed anything odd going on. He made some comment about me or the way I dressed or something, but other than that, no. I asked him if he'd noticed Jack acting peculiarly this afternoon. Owen then made some comment about Jack never acting exactly normal at any time. When I returned from autopsy, Jack was no longer on the walkway. Checked with both Gwen and Tosh, neither had noticed anything unusual. Once again, I tried my best to shake-off the feeling that something was wrong.

The rest of the day went quietly. I kept my head down over my research and made the occasional foray into the archives for more information. I even Googled the royals. As evening set-in, Jack started to suggest that the reason no one at Torchwood had a life was that they never left. Gwen was the first to bolt with an exclamation, 'Speak for yourself! I have a very nice life waiting for me. Thank you very much." Owen was in his jacket and up the stairs as soon as the half-dissected something was back in cold storage. Tosh was not far behind. Several hours later my eyes were getting too tired to continue my research. Figured it was time to call it a day. As I cleared the usual daily clutter off the desks and into a bin-liner Jack called out and asked for a cup of tea. Little unusual, that. While I've known him to take the occasional cuppa, Jack has almost universally preferred coffee. Just to be sure, I brewed both. I placed the cup and saucer on a tray and took it to where he was standing, staring at the reflective cover of the manipulator. I told him I had his tea.

Jack slapped me. Hard. I was stunned. All I got out was his name, "Jack?" when he hit me again. This time it was a backhand that sent me flying down the steps. I landed hard on my back, hot tea burning through my shirt and waistcoat. I could hear the sound of the teacup shattering at my side, the saucer spinning slowly on its edge until that too, fell and splintered. It was all as if someone had pressed the slow-motion button on the DVD player. I looked-up at Jack. He glared down at me with such a look of disgust and cruel hatred, a scowl contorting the features of his face. I felt a wave of panic, of terror. I ran. In a blinding rush of adrenalin and horror, I fled from Jack. Thinking back, I'm not sure, but I can almost recall an impression… that as I turned to run, I saw him reach for his hip. The place where his holster often rests.

I sat shaking in the back of the labyrinth that is the deep archives, for what must have been an hour, though it felt like several. My mind refused to believe. Jack? My Jack? He'd teased me before, slapped my arse as I walked past, even privately threatened once or twice to put me over his knee if I didn't behave… But never had he… would he… My nerves jumped at every noise, imagined or otherwise. I couldn't tell if sounds were dripping water or bootsteps. I didn't want to know. Eventually I managed to come back to some level of thought. Help. Call for help. I called Owen. No answer, I left a voicemail. Same with Tosh. Rhys answered Gwen's mobile. She was unavailable. I told him it was urgent. He started in on: 'isn't it always', 'never any time off,' 'promised one night alone,' and the usual 'bloody Torchwood.' By the time he was done with his rant, Gwen was back from wherever she'd been and took the phone from him. I tried to explain that there was something wrong with Jack. She tried to soothe me. From her tone of voice and word choice, I must have sounded hysterical. Maybe I was hysterical. I was also, it seemed, on my own.

Don't know how long I'd been in the archives, or what time it was when I finally resolved myself: I had to do something. I had to help Jack. Find what was wrong and fix it. I made my way up to the hub, keeping as best as I could to the shadows. The cog wheel was open. I could get out. Escape. I could have… but at the time, the thought never entered my mind. If I could, however, make it to my desk in the Tourist Office, there might be a chance.

"There's something wrong with Jack." I'd said

'What have you done?' Tosh sounded worried. I didn't look at her

"I had to stop him." I looked at Jack

'Ianto, what have you done?' Gwen had joined her now and I could feel their eyes as they stared at me. She tried that soothing voice; calling me 'Sweetie' and telling me it'll all be okay. I tried to tell them again that there was something wrong with Jack.

'No, that's just what happens when you hit someone with 10,000 volts. Drop the gun, Ianto." Owen had joined the others. I imagined, more than saw them: standing in a line, trying to decide whether to point their weapons at my back or not. Eventually I turned to face them, the stun-gun barely hanging from my numb fingers. It fell to the floor with a plastic clatter. I caught only the briefest glimpse of their faces before their expressions changed. Each of them lowered, then holstered their guns and stared at me. Tosh was the first to run to me, embrace me, followed soon after by Gwen. Owen just clapped a hand on my shoulder before bending to check on Jack, sprawled at my feet.

When I went to splash some water on my face I saw what my teammates had, what had made them lower their weapons. Made them realize I wasn't a threat, realize what had happened. There in the mirror was a face I didn't even recognize. My right eye was swollen almost shut and was surrounded by an angry black and purple bruise. My lower lip was cracked and swollen as well. To complete the picture, a reddish mark raced across my left cheek. If I squinted, I could almost make out the shape of Jack's hand. Emotions welled within me, but I couldn't sort them out, one from the other. In the end I just sat down and cried.

There I sat, knees-up and head down, buried in darkness. It was sometime later that Owen came to check on me. He made a show of being there just to wash his hands. After a moment he gave up the pretense and came and sat next to me on the floor. He didn't say a word, just sat and put his arm around my shoulders until the tears stopped. Then he got up, offered me a towel and then a hand up. When we returned to the hub, I could see Tosh and Gwen trying to look at me, without looking like they were looking at me. Jack was strapped-down on the examination table. Owen had sedated him… heavily.

When Owen ran Jack's blood through analysis, it triggered an automatic data file. Whatever had affected Owen, Gwen and Tosh earlier… as it turns out, Jack wasn't immune to the effects, after all. The data file was a recording of Jack, all smiles. From his hair style, I'd guess it had been recorded more than a few years ago. according to the file, a chemical component in B67 should be all that was required to clear the alien organism, with the happy side effect that you wouldn't remember what you'd said or done while under the influence. A further warning tacked on to the end advised that failure to treat the organism could lead to violence and homicidal rage, often singularly targeted.

When Jack started to wake-up, I was as far away as I could be, without leaving the hub. I wanted to be in Abergavenney. As I stood on the walkway outside the hot house I could see the others clustered around Jack, read what they were saying without hearing a word, their expressions and movements making everything clear:

Jack opened his eyes, looked around, asked what happened. For a moment, no one answered.

Then Gwen explained it, starting with something about the little red box, as she mimed the small cube. She concluded with, 'You were affected, Jack.'

Jack smiled, denied it, grinned. 'No, really.' Jack frowned, 'Okay. If you say so. Everything's fine now? Right?'

The rest of the team looked to where I was standing across the hub. Jack's eyes followed. Even at that distance I could see the look in his eyes, the dawning realization... I looked away.

So Tosh gave me a lift home tonight. I tried to tell them I was fine, I could drive. She just smiled and said it was okay, she was going the same way, anyway. She stayed up with me for a while. I told her I was tired and going to bed. She's asleep now. The whole city's asleep, it's just me. Back at the hub, earlier, Jack had come to me. As he drew closer, he saw the bruises that he'd caused and raised a hand to touch my face…I tried so hard… not to flinch, not to turn away.


So that was yesterday. This morning the sun is shinning. This morning someone turned off my alarm. This morning I overslept. This morning Tosh made me breakfast. She's so different. It's so different from when Owen was staying. I'm going to miss her when she moves out. (I miss Owen, not that I would ever admit it to him.) Tosh, she doesn't know that I've heard the answer-phone message. I'm loosing my roommate again, her new flat is ready. Alone again… and soon. Right now I'm just waiting for her to choose which shoes to wear before we head in to work. Even though the swelling on my eye has gone down through the night, she still won't let me drive. If this is how Tosh is reacting, I don't know that I'll be able to deal with Gwen.

We ran into Owen in the parking lot (well, not literally.) He was rather annoyed that I was coming in to work at all, today. He said that as my doctor, he should send me home, to rest. I told him it was like falling off a horse… Owen started to say something (and I have a pretty good idea what it would have been) but instead he just frowned and nodded. Gwen caught up with us as we got to the Tourist Office. As we entered together, the others seemed clustered around me and I couldn't help but think they were attempting to lend support, if not make a physical barrier. That they were trying to make me feel safe again as I entered the hub.

Whenever Jack has looked at me today, he's smiled at me, talked softly to me... He's apologized oh so many times this morning. I can feel his sorrow, his regret. His lament for actions over which he had no control. I know it wasn't his fault. It wasn't really him, but still… I've tried to mask it. Eye contact and smile. But it's no use. He knows me too well. He knows what's underneath. What's hiding. I don't know what to do. I can't just forgive him, because there's nothing to forgive. It wasn't him, wasn't his fault. But still… I can't help but feel… a little afraid of him.

Since mid morning Jack has been giving me a little space. I don't know which hurts me more, being afraid of him, or the look in his eyes that tells me that he knows I am.

Slight break in the tension this morning. Appears the British Visitor's Bureau is still trying to recruit me. They'd left several messages recently for Gwen to see if she'd be willing to 'share' me, work part time for them, or something. She's just now gotten another call and told them in no uncertain terms that I'm not available, not interested, and not going anywhere.

Took around the coffee this afternoon, took Jack's to him last of all. On the way, I've never had so many offers to help. I'm fine, thanks. No, really. That mug with its blue and white stripes sat on my tray and felt so heavy. I could feel half a dozen eyes on my back as I walked to Jack's office. I paused, took a deep breath and knocked on the frame of the office door. "Coffee?" I had to bite my tongue, not to add "Sir." Jack smiled at me and I felt my head swim. The path across his office felt a mile long, but I made it and set the mug on his desk. Jack reached for it and I saw my hand dart away from his, involuntarily. At least I wasn't physically shaking anymore. I looked to Jack and could see a glisten in his eye. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. For all the pain I felt from the bruises, nothing compared to what I felt just then. I glanced out into the hub. No one was watching anymore. Apparently satisfied that all was okay, the others had resumed their work. As I looked back to Jack, the tear that had been lingering rolled slowly down his cheek, 'Ianto.'"Jack." I sat on the edge of his desk, "Now, c'mon Jack. The coffee's not that good." I smiled at him and this time the smile wasn't forced. He touched the bruise on my cheek and said he was sorry. I leant into the touch and didn't say a word about forgiveness. I didn't have to, he knew.

When Tosh and I got home there were flowers waiting at the front door. When I say flowers, I mean Flowers. It was a bouquet roughly the size of my Audi. I've never received flowers before. The card read simply, 'Love, J.' And I thought, Yes, I do.


This morning I insisted Tosh and I take separate cars. Told her that I needed to run some errands today. She seemed reluctant, but I told her it was fine and eventually she agreed. Also asked about the phone message, about her new flat. She hadn't wanted to mention it. She wanted me to know she'd be here as long as I needed her. I told her it was hard, but that I'd always realized that one day my little girl would grow-up and move out on her own. First she looked insulted, then she threw a tea-towel at me and laughed. She'll call around to hire a truck for this weekend. I suggested she try Harwood's, maybe Gwen could get her a discount.

Jack has offered to re-create The Kiss, now that Owen, Tosh and Gwen have forgotten it. Told him I'd think about it. He cautioned, however, that if we're going to re-intact it, he wants some rehearsal time with me first, that accuracy and proper staging are important.

Staying late tonight… a little late. There was a sighting of several weevils on St. Mary's tonight. Jack and I are going to take a look. Really starting to feel like things are getting back to normal. Where else in the world would a roving band of carnivorous aliens on city streets feel like 'normal?'

While he asked me, I didn't stay overnight tonight. Once the weevils were captured and locked in the vaults, I came home. I want things back the way they were… before Jack left. I just can't bring myself to take that final step. When he was gone, all the thinking I did led me to the conclusion that I had to take more control over my personal relationships. The conclusion I find myself coming to, now, is that whatever it takes… I don't care. I need Jack. I want Jack.


Jack said he missed me last night. That he missed having me to talk to at night, while he was… away. The tone, the pause, the wistful sigh. So much more happened to Jack, wherever he was. I really wonder that he doesn't want to talk about it. But he will, eventually. And when he does, I'll be there for him. Bit by bit, piece by piece. It's just the way he does it. I can wait.

I've decided I don't need the others to know about Jack and me. I don't need it, at least not yet. And not enough to have Jack stage a re-enactment of The Kiss. It really is enough that Jack was willing. (Who am I kidding? Jack's always… willing.) I have officially reserved the right to reconsider and request the re-enactment at any time in the future. To this Jack agreed, assuming that something doesn't occur to make the 'situation' obvious to the others in the meantime. I considered questioning his choice of terms… 'situation?' Is that what I am? A 'situation?' I must've frowned or something. 'Cause Jack quickly added, 'As I'm finding it increasingly difficult, just keeping my hands off of you.' With that, I made my escape, before he had a chance to demonstrate.

Great, just as the tourist board finally seems to be getting the idea that I'm not interested, U.N.I.T. has taken-up where they left off. Jack had the call on speaker phone while Owen was in his office. U.N.I.T. officially requested that if Jack won't allow me to transfer to their service, that he at least 'loan' me to them. Seems that there was some Whitehall endorsement to the request, which made it less of a request and more of a demand. I don't understand the interest in me. Do they need someone to make coffee? They actually used those words: loan, borrow, provide. I can't even put into words, the thoughts racing through my head. What if he said yes? Would he though? Would Jack 'lend' me out? Should I be worried? Think maybe I'd better stop back by Jack's office and see.

Apparently not. Seems that Jack listened to the U.N.I.T. Colonel for all of a minute before launching into one of those rambling Jack-speeches, all full of colourful American phrases and undecipherable references. He was just finishing-up a rather one-sided outburst and hanging up on the man when I entered. The switch in his tone was amazing as he looked-up at me, 'You didn't want to go work for U.N.I.T. did you?' Nope. 'Well that's good, 'cause I told them they couldn't have you.' I asked why they wanted me anyway. To which he replied, 'Are you kidding? Who wouldn't?'

As I was leaving his office, Jack stopped me. 'We still haven't gone on that date. You promised. You said yes.' Yes I had. Jack asked me if I'd changed my mind. I told him I hadn't (and thought to myself, as if I ever would!) In turn, I asked him if he'd changed his mind. To which he replied, 'Yeah, as if I ever would.' Jack then inquired if my Saturday night was available. I told him that for him, I was pretty sure I could make it so, but that I'd have to check with my boss, make sure I didn't have to work. Big mistake, that. He just got that big grin and I could tell what he was thinking.


It's Friday. Tomorrow's Saturday. With my luck, the world will end sometime today. No, I'm helping Tosh move tomorrow. The world will end shortly after that.


Helped Tosh move this morning. She doesn't have half the rubbish that Owen does. Didn't take long at all. Her new flat's nice. I'm going to miss her. I so want a shower.

If I look at the clock one more time, I'm going to go completely insane. He isn't late. He said eight o'clock. He's not late. He's got three more minutes. Besides, even if he's a few minutes after, it's not like he doesn't want to go. Not everyone thinks ten minutes early is late. Get a hold of yourself Jones. It's just a date. Just a date. Just… stop it. Don't look at the clock. He's gonna be late. You know it. Accept it. You know him. He's always late. Probably an American thing.


Jack wasn't late. The chime clock in the kitchen had just started to strike when there was a knock at the door. His knock. I opened the door and there he stood, a bunch of flowers, a box of chocolates, a big grin… and a suit. I can not recall, in all the time I've known him, seeing Jack Harkness in a suit. But there he stood before me, two-piece and a tie, shiny dress shoes. Underneath, I caught a glimpse of those Welsh dragon braces I'd given him last Christmas. I looked down at my t-shirt and black jeans, back at him. It was like something from an O'Henry story, I'd dressed down for him and he'd dressed-up for me. I invited him in and told him I'd go change. Jack told me, 'Don't you dare. Here. Thought it'd be better than a bottle of wine.' He handed me the flowers and the chocolates. Absolutely and utterly perfect. But I don't eat chocolate at work. I asked him how he knew. Jack was looking around my flat as he answered, 'The pterodactyl, your secret weapon… preferably dark. 'You remembered that? 'Are you kidding? Of course I remember our first date. As I recall, you couldn't keep your hands off of me…' That bloody big grin of his. Couldn't help but counter: "And as I recall, you fell on top of me and I just happened to catch you." Jack turned and gazed at me, 'Well, yeah. I fell alright.' He took my chin in the palm of his hand, so strong and warm, 'But you were the catch… and not easily landed, as I recall.' I glared at him with mock annoyance, "Are you comparing me to a fish?" Jack just laughed, 'If you're the fish, can I be the chips?' I told him he was making me hungry and Jack told me, 'You always make me hungry, IantoJones.'