He finds himself in the Plass as the golden cloud of energy dissolves around him. Not bad, taking into account the timelines have sort of just reverted to what they should be and this whole century is now a bloody minefield when it comes to ending up in the right time and the right place when time travelling. Around him, the usual crowd of tourists and locals is starting to thin, leaving just a few stragglers behind; soon, the night shift will come out, and Mermaid Quay will be busy again.
On the nearer side of the Plass, somebody is standing near the base of the water tower. As he approaches, something stirs inside him. He knows that stance, hands on hips and tilted head that is no doubt accompanied by a piercing glare and the promise of eternal trouble and decaf – well, not really eternal, only until apologies are issued. He knows that suit, the one with the pinstripes that looks as prim and proper with the jacket as it does right now, without it, waistcoat still buttoned.
Even after what feels like too long without him, he would recognize Ianto anywhere.
Leaning on the railings that surround the Plass, he looks around, trying to determine the target of Ianto's displeasure. He can barely stifle a laugh when he looks up and notices the stickers on the water tower. Strawberries, of all things. Something to do – according to the banners all over the place – with some festival or another.
No doubt nobody thought of consulting Torchwood before sticking those awful things.
No doubt someone will next time.
When Ianto gets closer to the tower and starts scraping off one of the lower stickers, muttering what sounds like a litany of curses, he laughs out loud. Ianto spins around, almost dropping the scraper when he sees him, a smile replacing the frown on his face. As he walks towards him, right hand on his sword, he finds it hard not to run and snog the living lights out of Ianto, here and now, just to convince himself he is really alive and kicking and scraping stupid stickers off Torchwood property on what feels like a Friday evening.
"How are you going to manage the rest of them, Eye Candy?" Ianto is still staring, as if he didn't really believe what his eyes are telling him. Probably taking in every detail and figuring out more than is healthy. "You don't happen to have an aerial platform or some kind of levitating device in your pocket, do you?"
He stops barely a step away, hands gripping tightly on his gun belt, waiting. Waiting for Ianto to come to him; after all, he disappeared, without an explanation, close to two months ago – he couldn't get any closer to the moment he left. And how it still bothers him that his internal clock still seems to be off and doesn't provide precise-to-the-second times.
There are a lot things he could say, but Ianto would probably think he's not himself if he apologised. Because John Hart does not apologise. Not just yet, anyway. Though given the way his future self was behaving... Probably never will, given that Ianto is still here, alive and kicking. So he just raises an eyebrow, gives Ianto that come-and-fuck-me smile. Opens his arms, all invitation.
When he finally moves, Ianto almost pounces on him more than hugs him. Ianto's shirt is slightly damp from where it touched the tower, even though the water is not running. So are the hands running through his hair. Ianto doesn't say a word, just squeezes him tightly and breathes deeply. There are a lot of things he wants to say, but the knot in his throat is too tight, and he can't really find his voice. So he just holds Ianto. Settles his head on Ianto's shoulder, enjoying the simple feeling of being here and now, where Ianto is alive and the Hub is still in one piece and hopefully both will stay that way at least a bit longer.
Ianto pulls away, that rare genuine smile on his face, and brings a hand to his neck, holding him, running thumbs along his jawline. Dives in for a kiss, only to stop barely a hairsbreadth away from him.
"Paralysing lip gloss or any other kind of trick up your sleeve that I should worry about, Captain?" He's got to give it to Ianto, the kid can keep a cool head. Nothing else can explain the fact that one of his own guns is currently in Ianto's hand, pressed to his side. Aimed in a way that a shot would hurt like hell, but not be lethal. He smiles. Pulls a face. Shakes his head. Ianto doesn't move.
"No tricks." Not of that kind, anyway. After everything he and other versions of himself have done to keep this place in one piece, he's not going to let all his work go to waste: anybody wanting to harm, maim, or in any other way damage Torchwood property or employees is going to get the very bad side of Captain John Hart. Sharp blades and bullets first.
As Ianto finally slides the gun back into its holster, he can't help but think that nobody should be allowed to make handling weapons feel so sexy. When Ianto brings his hand back to his neck and kisses him like there's no tomorrow, he doesn't even have the presence of mind to wonder what happened to that veneer of shyness that seemed to reappear on Ianto when in public.
Not that he misses it.
It feels good. It feels right. Around him, time no longer feels wrong, or bent, or displaced. Despite how much he tried to downplay it when he met his future self, he could feel it, once John mentioned it. He can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like closer to the tear in time. This, the passion, the promise dressed as a reunion kiss, the look on Ianto's face just before he closed his eyes, is exactly why he came here in the first place. Well, in the second – the first one involved a maniac and a molecularly bonded bomb.
When Ianto pulls away again, he is panting. Damn Ianto Jones and his ability to have him like this without even ruffling his own hair. Ianto picks up the scraper and stands on the invisible lift. He steps onto the kerb stone and taps a couple of buttons on his wriststrap before Ianto has a chance to do anything but shoot him a questioning look.
"Jack loves surprises." True, even if not what Ianto wanted to hear. But the last thing he wants now is having to explain he's the only person in the whole Universe who remembers a timeline that never happened, and carries the scars for it. Ianto doesn't need to know how he won't die, or how Jack – and he himself – won't deal with his death. Not that he has any details about it, but what his future self let slip was more than enough to read between the lines. Jack doesn't need to add the deaths of Toshiko and Owen, deaths that never happened, to that bloody roll of honour he keeps in his head.
Ianto keeps a hand on the small of his back as the lift descends. He's not entirely sure whether Ianto is reassuring him or trying to make sure he is really there. Probably both. Around him, the Hub is just as he left it: the dragon that Tosh painted on the dam wall, plants still somehow surviving in the hot house, water pooling at the bottom of the tower.
"Ianto, if you need a hand with those strawberries I'm sure I could call..." Jack's voice breaks as he comes out of the office, looks up and nearly drops the folders he is carrying. By the time the lift reaches its place at the bottom of the Hub, Jack is standing by it, one of those annoying scanners in his hand and pointed at him.
"Oh, come on, Jack, don't you have more interesting ways of checking whether it is really me?" Ianto steps down and stands behind Jack, peeking over his shoulder to the readings on the scanner. He pulls a face, tucks his thumbs on his gun belt and lets out a sigh. "Have it your way, then." Of course, it is more banter than actual resentment. After all, as far as Torchwood know, he was taken against his will. And it wouldn't be the first time hewalks in here with a bomb hidden in his body. "Hope you lot have improved those things while I've been away."
He's barely finished the sentence when Jack tosses the scanner towards Ianto and drags him down from the kerb stone into a hug, almost making him lose his footing. Hands sneak under his jacket – Jack knows only too well how many weapons he can conceal in his clothes. Fingers dig on his sides, warm and demanding and saying all the things Jack won't say, all the 'I missed you' and 'I was worried' and 'where were you?'.
Behind Jack, Ianto doesn't look away, just seems to take in the sight and enjoy it. With a smile, he offers Ianto a hand and pulls him towards them when he takes it. It reminds him a little of that time when Jack came out of cryostasis just in time to take them out of the Vaults and clean up the mess Gray left behind, when Gwen and Ianto clung to Jack as if trying to make sure he was real.
"All we need now is the rest of your little team and we can have that orgy I never got when I first visited." He aims for carefree, but his voice is shaking. When Jack gives him a not-entirely-playful slap on the back of the head, he rubs the ache absent-mindedly and glares back.
"Gwen is a married woman." He snorts – that never used to be a problem for Jack. "Owen would much rather have your head on a plate, and you know it." That one makes him laugh out loud. "And Toshiko is too much of a lady for you." The quiet smile Ianto tries to hide tells him there is more to Tosh than meets the eye. "Besides, I'd say Ianto and I are more than you can handle." At that, Ianto laughs, quietly, and holds him a bit tighter before patting his back and letting go.
"What did I tell you, Eye Candy?" He turns towards Ianto and raises an eyebrow. "Thinks himself the centre of the fucking Universe." With that, he starts walking towards the corridors, leaving Jack and Ianto, still surprised, by the water tower. "My room is still where I left it, I suppose."
"Well..." Steps clatter behind him as Ianto catches up with him. "Jack did think about turning it into storage, but..."
"He's joking!" Jack's voice booms in the open space as he walks towards his office. Ianto shakes his head, grave expression on his face before he breaks into a smile. "I never said anything about storage!"
"What happened to you?" He's barely closed the door behind him when the question hits him. He finds it very difficult to sidestep it, to not give Ianto a straightforward and honest answer. So, as he takes of his gun belt and drops it by the bedside table, making a note to attach some supports to the wall to hang his sword, he ponders what to tell Ianto.
"Time went a little crazy." As close to the truth as he'll ever go. "Generally not much of a problem, but I – my future selves, that is – forgot their manners and were too busy saving the Multiverse to worry about me."
He turns around to Ianto, who's comfortably sitting on the edge of the bed; the meaningful look he gives him gets a curt nod in reply. With a bit of luck – and barring major disasters that may require to explain exactly what he meant by that cryptic explanation – Ianto won't force the subject. Gotta be grateful for that eerie way in which Ianto knows how far he can push people for answers.
Taking off his jacket, he folds it carefully and drapes it on the back of a chair; Ianto looks amused, and he can nearly see the questions he's buzzing to ask. When he sits on the bed to take his boots off, Ianto gives him a small smile. He can't help but stop, halfway through unbuckling his left boot, and just drink in the sight. Still unruffled Ianto, collar buttoned up, tie in place, but there is something about Ianto in shirtsleeves, jacket discarded. A slight unpolished edge under all the prim and proper façade, maybe.
He still can't believe he's managed to pull this off. Tosh was never shot by Gray. Owen never died in that nuclear power plant, never died and was brought back to life, never became a living corpse. Jack was never buried for two thousand years – at least not by his hand. So many changes to the timelines, and so far no unwanted consequences. Not that it means much, not having found side effects yet – they could still creep up. But it's not a bad start.
"Something has changed." His heart almost stops for a moment as Ianto stares at him. Defiant, stubborn, demanding in that soft way of his. "I'm sure of it." He shakes his head firmly. "And you have something to do with it." Ianto pauses for a second, staring at him, as if taking in every detail. "I see."
It should surprise him that Ianto has noticed, but it doesn't. Caught in a ripple within a ripple, it's no wonder Ianto felt it. The surprising thing is that nobody else has. Jack seems to be losing his touch when it comes to Time.
He takes a deep breath, head still spinning, timelines mixing in his head, the past that he remembers with the past that he created. He knew this would happen. The changes he made are too significant, too many, making the ripple too fast. He knew he wouldn't be back in time to catch it. He rolls his eyes. Next time he has the brilliant idea of volunteering for killing headaches and double memories just to keep somebody alive he'll have to remind himself of this one.
"See what, Eye Candy?" He aims for light-hearted but probably doesn't even come close. Ianto leans towards him, barely a hairsbreadth way but still keeping out of reach.
"Your future self dragged you into this, didn't he?" It should surprise him that Ianto can so easily tell him apart form other versions of himself, but it doesn't. Not in the slightest. If anybody could notice all the little details that differentiate a man from himself in twenty years time, it would be Ianto Jones. Who probably keeps tabs of the number of scuff marks in his boots and the knives stashed in his jacket at different points in time.
"Dragged me into what?" He puts on his most innocent smile, knowing full well Ianto won't be fooled by it. But he has to try anyway. Ianto stares at him. Simply stares. He waits it out. "What has my other self been telling you?" He lets out a sigh, eventually admitting defeat. Ianto raises an eyebrow, and he can almost see the cogs turning, pieces being put together. "And where is my other self, anyway?"
"Jack sent him home." A pause, silence heavy, and he allows himself to relax just a fraction. "With the other Jack." It is his turn to shoot Ianto an inquisitive look, to try and find out just how much Ianto knows. Ianto sighs and for a moment looks like a man carrying heavy secrets on his shoulders. "So the ripple would catch them." He nods, acknowledging everything Ianto isn't saying. So that Jack had a chance at not remembering the awful future that won't happen. So that he himself won't get a Hell of a headache when he catches up with his future self. "I'm not even going to ask why he dragged you into this."
"Does that mean you are finally beginning to trust me?" Ianto just gives him an undecipherable smile, hands coming up to adjust his tie, one of them then disappearing in a pocket. He has to wonder what Ianto is not telling him.
"You should know the answer to that." A flash of red in Ianto's hands catches his eye. "At least your future self should." Without warning, Ianto tosses the small object to him. The touch of silk on his skin as he catches it is almost electric. "Keep it. As a reminder."
It's a small decorative knot, the kind that one would attach to a keyring or the hilt of a sword, made of red rope. Quite likely the same rope he saw in the flashes of memory in the memory cube he... borrowed from his future self during their little encounter in the hospital. Not that he could replay it entirely – his presence was not enough to trigger it properly, but enough to give him an idea of exactly what his other self had been up to.
"Reminder?" He raises an eyebrow, pretending not to know what Ianto is talking about, but something tells him Ianto is too good to be fooled. "Of what?" Ianto doesn't answer. "Oh, come on, Eye Candy, you can't drop something like this on my lap and not give me the details." Ianto snorts in a way that sounds dangerously close to 'watch me'.
"Anything you need?" Ianto stands up and takes a couple of steps towards the door. "We could get takeaway in if you..." He grabs Ianto's hand as he goes by and pulls him back onto the bed, ignoring what sounds like a complaint about it.
"Do you think Jack would like to join?" He smiles like the cat that got the cream. Slowly, Ianto brings out his headset, puts it on and gives it a tap.
"Jack? Care to join us, or shall we start without you?" A pause, then a laugh, another tap, and the headset vanishes back into Ianto's pocket. "He's on his way."