Chapter 37

The air was becoming staler by the minute, which didn't make sense, unless there had already been high levels of carbon dioxide in the room before they had been sealed inside. It was then that Jack recalled a requisition for an improved air conditioning system for the archives and vaults. Ianto had been badgering him for months about the stuffy working conditions down here. Yet again, Jack realised that he really ought to pay better attention to the requests made of him by the man he had cradled in his arms. For the sake of approving the installation of a new system and subsequent application of Retcon to the contractors involved, they could have had at least another hour.

Jack was starting to feel dizzy and was fighting desperately to stay conscious; he was frightened that he'd fall asleep only to wake to find Ianto's dead body in his arms. He began to rock the limp body to and fro, moving more and more erratically as if struggling to hold onto the present. As Ianto slid from his lap he let him down gently onto the floor and then crouched over him, staring at his face, eyes closed and lips parted as he drew in one ragged breath after another. It looked as if the cuts were beginning to heal, although the bruising was still purplish on his cheekbone. Without stopping to think, Jack bent down and taking hold of Ianto's face he pressed his mouth to his lips, with the fervent desire to impart not only his love, but also whatever life force he could spare in a kiss. It had worked before and he needed it to work now. Slowly he exhaled, gently forcing his breath into the lungs of his ailing lover. Running his fingers through the sweat damp hair, he knew he couldn't just let him slip away. He kept kissing until eventually a flickering of eyelids signalled a shifting of the balance towards consciousness and life.

"Ianto, please wake up, please," he gasped, breathlessly. "I need you. Please."

But the exertion was all it took to send Jack, too, into darkness. He collapsed over Ianto, oblivious to the creaking sound that the door made as it slowly slid back into the recess of the wall. The sound of metal scraping against stone was horrendous, but it failed to wake either man.

"So there isn't any other way of getting into your base apart from that dodgy looking Tourist Office and a paving slab next to the water tower?" Rhys asked them with more than a touch of disbelief.

"They're the only entrances that I use," shrugged Gwen. "Owen?"

"Same here."

"How long has Torchwood been here?" Rhys frowned as he looked across the open area towards the Pierhead Building.

"The Hub? Since Victorian times by all accounts – set up in the 1890's I think." Tosh answered, wondering what he was thinking about.

"Right, so that was when this was the Oval Basin, there would've been coal docks here." Rhys pointed at the pedestrian area emphatically. "There was no water tower then and definitely no flipping tourists in Cardiff. So how the bloody hell did they get in then?"

"That's a fucking brilliant question, Rhys." Owen clapped his hands, applauding slowly. "But, I haven't got a bloody clue."

"I bet Ianto would know." Tosh spoke quietly, almost as if she was thinking out loud.

As the others argued pointlessly amongst themselves, Tosh's mind began to race as she recalled a conversation that she'd had with Ianto a while back, about a history of Torchwood that he'd been joking about writing. He'd jokingly referred to it as the 'Dark Ages of Torchwood, Cardiff'. She was sure he'd said something about there being stairways leading down from the cellars of various local businesses. There were also the tracks from the underground railway. There had to be other access routes, she knew for a start that Jack had a way to get onto the roof of the Millennium Centre without being spotted.

"There!" Tosh yelled, pointing at the massive structure that perched on the edge of the Plass.

"What?"

"The Millennium Centre. Jack has a way up onto the roof from the Hub. So if we can get up onto the roof, we should be able to-"

"Yes – I remember – he took me up there on my first day." Gwen smiled as the memory came back to her.

"He what?" Rhys looked from the towering edifice to his wife with annoyance. No wonder she'd come home all distant and moody. Bloody Harkness.

"It was ages ago now, love." Gwen had seen the vestiges of jealousy cloud his eyes and reached out to take his hand, wanting to reassure him that there was no longer cause for concern. Although at the time, it had been so hard to resist the charms of her new boss. If he'd invited her into his bed that day, she'd have leapt at the opportunity and not thought twice.

"Fuck – so we've got to get up on the bloody roof and work out where Jack's secret trapdoor into Torchwood is from up there." Owen pointed up to the curved, shiny copper roof and scowled.

"Come on then! What are we waiting for?" yelled Gwen as she rushed across to the foyer hoping that her Torchwood ID would gain access to the top of the building.

He took a deep gulp of air as he woke; surprised to find it cool and fresh, no longer stale. He was also shocked to find himself securely tied to a wooden chair. Without lifting his head he glanced from side to side and saw only plain brick walls. However as he looked up, his suspicions were confirmed as he took in the scratched Plexiglas wall, perforated in places with large ventilation holes.

"You're a heavy bastard, you know that? Nearly injured myself dragging your carcass here."

Beyond the cell wall sat his captor. He had made himself comfortable on one of the upholstered chairs that Owen kept to one side for when he had to spend time observing new prisoners.

"Whereas you're just a bastard," Jack spat. He twisted his neck trying to see if Ianto was in the cell with him and was alarmed to find that he was alone. "What have you done with Ianto?"

"Nothing." Patrick's lips stretched into a parody of a smile that failed to reach his eyes. "Yet."

"Where is he?" Jack thought with horror that he may have been left in the vault by himself.

"In the cell next door."

"IANTO!"

There was no reply.

"If he's there, why isn't he answering me?" Jack struggled against the bindings that held him firmly to the chair. "What have you done to him?"

"Oh, he's there alright, just not awake yet."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine, I'll prove it to you, and then we can have a nice chat."

Patrick walked across to the cell adjacent to Jack's and pressed the release panel on the keypad to unlock the door. Although he could no longer see Patrick, Jack heard a scraping sound as a wooden chair was dragged across the floor on its back legs. The chair was slammed down hard, inches away from the transparent wall in front of him, to make sure Jack couldn't miss a single detail. Ianto had also been tied up, but his head was slumped forward onto his chest, and he was showing no sign of waking up, which worried Jack inordinately. Patrick grabbed hold of Ianto's hair and wrenched his head up, but it wasn't until he was slapped about the face that his eyes flickered and then opened wide with terror. Jack could tell that he was having trouble focussing and wondered with dread if he'd been drugged again.

"Ianto? Are you OK?" Jack asked urgently, needing to know what the hell Patrick had done to him.

"He's fine, so far. Good of you to join us, Ianto. Now before I'm tempted to exact Biblical revenge, you know, an eye for an eye and all that, I'm going to put you back in your cell, while me and the Captain here have a little discussion." Patrick drew a fingertip across Ianto's face tracing a path across his forehead, over an eyelid and down the unmarked cheek.

Jack watched as the effects of Patrick's words and actions hit home, causing Ianto to blanch with fear. He then took in the appearance of the scar that disfigured the man's face and came to the only conclusion possible: Ianto had caused it. The fear that he would suffer a similar fate struck Jack like a blow to the gut.

"Don't you dare hurt him!"

"Touching, but you're hardly in a position to prevent me doing whatever I want to him. However, there are other pressing matters to deal with first. The outcome of those will determine the fate of your young friend."

There was barely time for either man to say a word before Patrick hauled the chair with Ianto back into his cell, but they managed to make eye contact long enough for Jack to get across the unspoken declaration that he would make this right, he would do whatever it took to save Ianto.

"We need to talk – you call yourself Jack, isn't that right?" Patrick waited until he was sitting down before speaking.

"I've been Captain Jack Harkness for longer than you've been Patrick O'Brien by all accounts."

"Ah, touché."

"You're not Irish at all are you?"

"About as Irish as you're American, Jack."

"Really?" Jack raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Oh yes."

Then Patrick stood up and took his long overcoat off, revealing an outfit that made Jack even more curious, he was wearing an anachronistic combination of a collarless shirt made of a soft white fabric, a dark red heavily brocaded waistcoat, skin tight black jeans and a pair of knee high, black leather boots. He cut a fine figure and the way he moved gracefully showed that he was all too aware of that fact.

However, knowing that this man had tormented Ianto, interfered with his memories and would have got him addicted to heroin if Tosh hadn't effected a rescue, all served to make Jack immune to his allure. But the one thing that Jack couldn't fail to be drawn to was the leather strap about his wrist. It was darker than his and looked more worn, a different model – but it couldn't be anything else.

"Time Agency?" Jack had already thought as much from the objects he'd taken from the container in the vault. He could still feel them pressing against his thigh, deep in the pocket of his trousers. There was always the possibility that Patrick may have just chanced upon those items, but the presence of the vortex manipulator strap, well worn and looking for all the world as if it was part of the other man's arm? That was the clincher, whatever his identity was, his occupation and origins were indisputable. "No wonder you knew your way around a rift manipulator."

"That damn thing only opens portals from the past, one way only. Pile of crap – I was hoping your Miss Sato could fix it for me, I've read about her expertise, but she just sabotaged it. Bitch, I'll make sure she pays for that."

"It's Dr Sato." Jack wasn't going to rise to the bait; he knew that Tosh and the others were safe.

"Do I look as if I care? It was just a toy anyway to tease you with, draw you out into the open and it worked." Patrick crossed one long leg over the other, his ankle resting on his thigh, as he smirked cruelly at Jack. "You are such an easy man to play, it's barely a challenge. You've been out of your own time too long, you've gone native."

"What the hell are you doing here and what do you want?" Jack never reacted well to being taunted. His usual response of flirting with the enemy wasn't an option, not when said enemy had threatened Ianto. This only left direct questioning of motives.

"It's a long story. As for what I want? Let's put it this way, if you care for that young man in the cell next to yours half as much as I think you do, then you'll do everything in your power to make sure I get exactly what I want."