Sometimes I Wish Someone Out There Will Find Me – 28

Ianto changed quickly into the UNIT uniform Harry had brought for him, pulling the red cap snugly onto his head. He smiled thinking of Jack.

He turned to Harry. "Well, do I pass?"

The commodore coughed and walked over as Ianto stood in mock attention. Harry turned the stiff material of the dark collar, adjusting it slightly before brushing the fabric on the shoulders "Any father would be proud," he said as he stepped back.

"I'm not looking for a father's approval," Ianto replied as their eyes caught and held, speaking in feelings neither would utter.

Harry lowered his gaze as he turned to his Gladstone bag. His fingers hovered on the catch, looking to the cold glint of the metal. "It was too close, Titch," he reflected, glancing at Ianto. "Never again." The statement was final, allowing no argument.

Ianto looked at him, acknowledging the anguish in Harry's eyes with a brisk nod. "Never again," he repeated, looking away.

Harry handed Ianto a UNIT issue handgun, he weighed it in his hand before placing it in the holster.

"And this." Harry passed him an alien stun gun. "The UNIT troops left are only following orders, however misguided. We're all meant to be on the same side after all."

"Sometimes," Ianto replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," Harry agreed with a small smile. He shut the bag, running his fingers along the length of the creased leather. "I was UNIT once."

"Seconded," Ianto reminded him, watching as Harry reminisced.

First do no harm.

"I was a surgeon once." He looked fleetingly at Ianto. "And now…"

"And now?"

Harry laughed. "And now I'm bloody James Bond, OAP." He pushed the catches into place, exhaling loudly as he snatched at the handles.

He turned and held eye contact, coughing slightly. "Did…?" His free hand went to where Ianto had been injured, the question hanging between the two men.

Ianto gave a reassuring smile. "I felt nothing, Hal, for me there was only darkness for a time then light, like awakening from a deep sleep."

"No pain?" Harry watched each minute expression on Ianto's face.

Ianto shook his head. "Only the initial death blow." He inadvertently rubbed his stomach. "No chorus of angles or demons with sticks, either, just a 'nothingness' where I cease to be."

Harry was drawn to where Ianto's fingers stretched across his uniform. "Do you want me to…?"

"I'm fine, Hal, honest."

"Good." Harry took a stepped toward the bridge. "Good," he repeated, nodding his head.

Ianto swallowed and hesitated. "Harry?"

The commodore glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "No change, Titch, you're still the same skinny, little sod. But me, I think I've aged ten years." He turned back to the entrance as Neil came into the morgue carrying the Kahr PM40.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Lazarus raised from the dead?" Neil mused rather dramatically. "Keep your hands where I can see them, Jones. You too, old man."

"Put the pistol down and play nice." The voice was deep and gravelly and Neil felt a gun barrel press against the back of his neck.

He swallowed but did not relinquish his hold on the weapon. "Andrews? Andrews, what do you think you're doing?" His voice was thin, yet still held the tone of command.

The metal pushed hard into his skin. "Getting myself a little payback. Now, drop the gun." Andrews's breath was hot against Neil's ear. The Kahr clattered to the floor.

"Sir." The UNIT man looked toward Harry as he grabbed Neil by the collar, almost choking him with the force and tearing the hand finished stitching. "If you don't mind, me and Pricilla, here, have some unfinished business to attend to, haven't we?" He pulled out a double bladed stiletto knife. "You like stilettos don't you, Down? Well, let me introduce you to Bessy. Say hello to the nice man, Bessy."

Andrews wrapped his bulky arm around Neil's neck and slid the tip of the knife down the subdued man's cheek. Red followed the path of silver. "You'll appreciate Bessy, Neil, you don't mind if I call you Neil, do you?"

Down gave a tiny shake of his head. "She's classy weapon, Neil," Andrews continued, "double edge, carbon steel blade, stag handle." He let the edge run down Neil's jaw line to his neck. "I think she likes you," he whispered close to Neil's ear.

Andrews looked up at Ianto and smiled; his lips seemingly unaccustomed to the action. "He killed my cat, sir, skinned it alive, brought me the remains in a cake box complete with candles. It was my birthday, you see, so I get the irony, I really do. But you see, sir, I may be many things and done some really bad things, but I'm an animal lover first and foremost."

"Ianto, we need to go." Harry stepped between the two men. "Andrews, eliminate the threat, then carry on with your orders is that clear?"

Andrews nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned his attention back to Neil. Neil let out a strangled cry.

Ianto followed Harry but stopped a little way along the corridor. "Andrews works for you." There was no accusation in the statement.

Harry did not turn round. "Not on paper," he replied, his eyes fixed forward. "I needed someone, someone else on the inside."

Ianto nodded, he would have done the same given the circumstances. "He helped tortured me." Again no blame.

The words scraped Harry's heart. "Yes, I know."

"He was good," Ianto conceded.

"He always is." Harry gave a remorseful smile as he looked back at Ianto, his stare falling away as if eye contact was too great a burden. "I'm not the Doctor, Titch," he said softly. "I don't have the luxury of the moral high ground."

"We do what we have to, Hal."

First do no harm.

Harry drew a long breath that threatened to break him. "Eighty-seven people, Ianto. Eighty-seven people I have sent to an early grave, some without a second thought, some deluded, some…" he broke off, "… some just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He gave a bitter laugh. "In an ideal world we could use Retcon, but Retcon isn't infallible and there are some things that are just too dangerous to remember." He listened to the edge of his words dull against the resonance of the corridor.

First do no harm.

"Eighty-seven sacrificed so the world can remain ignorant to the reality living in its shadows." He was running out of words to excuse himself, just like the echo against the walls.

First do no harm. An oath of a much younger, innocent man.

"Someone has to clean up the mess." Ianto had always been a realist.

Harry shook his head. "Yet I never wanted any of this for you, Titch. I'm sorry."

Ianto reached out and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I don't think there was ever a choice for me."

"I could have walked away, taken you with me, given you a normal life." He looked at Ianto.

"You gave me my childhood back, Hal, you gave me a family. I was never looking for a father, and yet, I found you." Ianto conveyed so much more with his eyes.

And Harry snatched at it and took it to his heart. He wasn't looking for forgiveness, that he could never expect because he could never forgive himself, but that Ianto understood was a step closer to redemption.

Harry looked away and coughed. "We should…" he murmured, delving in his breast pocket and handing Ianto the lipstick.

"Yes, we should," Ianto concurred with a nod, accepting the sonic device, but Harry made no attempt to move.

He looked at Ianto. "I've changed, since…" he began with reservation.

Again, between the two men, there was no need for elaboration.

Ianto gave a soft smile. "So has he."

"Younger," Harry offered.

"Only externally." Ianto looked at him. "We all age, Hal."

"Some quicker than others," Harry said, gesturing for them to continued down the corridor.

Ianto smiled and headed off.

From the morgue, Neil screamed.

Harry looked back. "Eighty-eight," he whispered to himself.