Jack is awake. He's still restrained, but now he's taped to a chair and seated at a table set for tea. He's been conscious for a while, twenty minutes maybe, but steam still curls from the spout of the elaborate porcelain teapot. There's cream in a matching creamer and a saucer stacked with sugar cubes, each with a candy violet piped on top. There are scones and cream and jam. He's at a tea party. A mad tea party. Is he supposed to be trying to believe six impossible things? No, that's not right, and anyway, he should be concentrating on getting loose. His bonds are tight, however. He can't wiggle loose, the tape sticks fast; with the tiniest bit of give, he could peel the skin from his wrists and tear himself away, but wounds like that take time to heal and would leave a blood trail he'd rather avoid if there's another option for escape. He's looking around for anything that might help when he hears footsteps. Two sets. The Master's voice rings out sharp and bright.
"Oh, I brought you a present! Look, it's my very favourite way to break Jack Harkness."
The first thing Jack registers is a man who resembles Ianto Jones to a startling degree. The second thing he notices is that the man is taped up just as he is, steered with one of the Master's hands tight in the collar of his jumper and the other keeping him under control with Jack's own Webley pressed into the small of his back. Just like Ianto, perfectly calm even when tied up, except, of course, when he was tied up for recreation. He was quite enthusiastic then. But this man isn't Ianto. He's older. Somewhat broader, too, but still, close enough to make Jack's heart skip a beat. It's a trick and he knows it, but he can't stop the angry words before they're out.
"You can't use him against me. He's dead."
The Master grins wide and shark-like, her lips stretching blood-red over her too-white teeth. "Oh yes, once by my hand and once by yours. But look, we can do it again! He's the gift that keeps on giving!"
It hurts, but it's not untrue. Not-Ianto hasn't said a word. In fact, he's been staring at Jack since he was brought in. Jack's been staring back, too, starved for the sight of Ianto even knowing this is not him. Sparkling blue eyes: check. Lusciously curved kissable mouth: check. Appropriately generous bulge in his tight denim (Ianto dressed right, too): check. But jeans are all wrong and so is the aran jumper and the empty holster; Ianto had stashed his sidearm casually, as all of Torchwood Three had. And now that Jack looks, this man is more angular, his stance more confident and aggressive. A frosting of grey shines at his temples and the crown of his head. Tiny details. Wrong. No matter how much he looks like Ianto, no matter how much Jack misses his lover, he can't be. Ianto Jones is dead; Jack held him while he faded away, saw him laid out, kissed his cold lips. The Master can't use him to manipulate Jack again. She's shoved the man into a chair across the table from Jack, keeping him docile with the Webley. His hands are already taped in front of him, and she proceeds to tape his ankles together and his hips and torso to the chair.
"You did your best, I suppose," Jack is saying in a taunting voice, addressing the Master though he's watching the other man closely. "He's too old, and he should be wearing a suit. Sloppy form. You used to be better at this."
The man speaks for the first time, beloved Welsh vowels teasing at Jack's resolve. "It's been five years, Jack," he snaps, "Not all of us are eternally un-aging. Given how much you obsessed about my mortality, I'd think you'd remember THAT!"
Gods, even the accent is right, though the voice is a little rougher than he remembers. Jack closes his eyes, wanting nothing more than to listen, to pretend, but he's furious. How dare this man, this imposter? Jack suddenly can't bear the sound of the man's voice. "You shut your fucking mouth. You have no right to impersonate the man I loved."
"Love? You couldn't even call us a couple; even when I was dying you couldn't say it to me, why should I believe you. You don't love me, never did."
He's been coached, then, to use Jack's guilt against him. And gods, the guilt. Having refused to say it before, he can't hold it back now. He owes Ianto's memory that much.
"I loved him!"
"Don't." The tone is sharp, the word crisp and clipped.
It's like being kicked in the gut. This is what finally convinces him. As easy as it would be for the Master to coach a suitably convincing doppelganger how to emulate him, only Ianto himself would know exactly how to flay Jack's soul bare with a single word. It's him. Somehow, impossibly, Ianto Jones is being held captive across a tea table in the Master's underground lair five years after dying in Jack's arms. The slight greying is starting to make sense now.
"Ianto?"
"I see you're finally catching up, sir," Ianto responds dryly, underscoring that this is Ianto.
The Master looks positively gleeful. She uses Jack's stunned inattention to yank the tape holding his arms to the chair and retape them together in front of him. The duct tape adhesive burns where the removal pulled up skin, leaving his wrist raw, but Jack barely notices. Ianto. Somehow, impossibly, Ianto Jones is alive and in front of him. And the Master has them both. It's Jack's fondest dream and his worst nightmare.
The Master prattles on. "I went easy on you last time, my Jack. Last time I had the Doctor and world domination to distract me, but now it's just you and me. And him, of course. Brave Mr. Jones, who always comes for you, ever willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. So clever, yet so stupid. You're not worth it, Jack Harkness. Not worthy of him."
It cuts deep. She's right, Jack has never deserved Ianto. Jack denied what they had at every turn, but he needed the man, still needs him. Will always need him. Jack won't squander this opportunity to make things right with Ianto, even if there's no hope of rekindling their relationship.
The Master continues, "I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. I want you to know exactly what you'll be losing. Such fun! Behave, children." She runs her fingers through Ianto's hair, then yanks it savagely, leaning down to breathe low words into his ear, barely loud enough for Jack to overhear. "I'm going to kill you. Enjoy your tea." Then she swishes away.
Jack and Ianto stare uncomfortably for a while. Jack has so much he wants to say, but doesn't know where to begin. Without breaking the silence, Ianto struggles to his feet, hunched over with the chair riding on his back, to prepare two cups of tea with his bound hands. Cream first, then tea, then two cubes of sugar, which dissolve instantly, leaving the icing violets floating on top. He thoughtfully balances a scone on the edge of one saucer and passes it across the table to Jack, who takes it much less gracefully than it was prepared.
Ianto's hands have always been a marvel. Whether holding a gun or stroking Jack to completion (he allows himself a few seconds to revel in this memory), they are steady and sure. He can cradle the dandelion puff of a Teraxian without damaging it or hold a Weevil securely as he walks it to the cells. Jack could watch Ianto's hands all day, and after five years of thinking him lost, Jack drinks in the sight of him raising a teacup to his lips and sipping delicately. Ianto's mouth is a marvel, too, but if Jack lets himself think on that too long they'll run out of time.
Nibbling on a scone, Ianto finally speaks. "I thought you left Earth."
"I thought you were dead!" Jack says, biting off a hysterical laugh
Ianto had the grace to look abashed. "Yes, well…"
"How?"
"It's complicated. I was dead, but it suffices to say that Cyber technology isn't all bad, and Torchwood Four isn't nearly as lost as we thought."
Of all the possibilities, all the ways Jack had imagined Ianto coming back to him- time travel, vaccinations, cloning, his own immortality transferred, even fairies- this is one he's never considered. He's starting to ask questions when Ianto reminds him that they need to be planning an escape.
OK, he's right. As desperately curious as Jack is, they don't have time for this. "Work to do?" Jack asks, remembering all the times Ianto said it to him. Ianto grins. Jack's heart beats fast at this sign that there's hope that things will be all right between them. Eventually. "Right, then. First we need to get free, then we need to figure out what the hell is going on. The Master-"
"Missy," corrects Ianto.
"No, the Master," Jack insists. "Not Missy, always the Master."
Ianto looks at him incredulously, saying, "You'd give those memories of him that much power?"
"I can't afford to lose sight of who's in there. You of all people should understand, after Lisa."
He watches as understanding dawns. Ianto always called her Lisa, even when speaking of the Cyberman she became. She has never been a monster to him, never a thing, even when she wasn't there anymore. He won't allow himself to forget how it all happened, what he lost. Ianto nods.
Jack is still reeling. The entire situation is surreal. Ianto. The Master. Cybermen. Tea cups. Duct tape. Ianto. "I can't believe you're here. Alive," Jack says.
"You do believe it's me, though? At first you thought I was an imposter. Why?"
"She's done it before." He never told Ianto this part about his time on the Valiant, how the Master put a bounty on men who looked like Ianto, then promised to reward them if they could convince Jack to believe in them. When they failed, they were killed. Brutally. In front of him. One after another, until he brought in the real Ianto Jones. Jack recognized him immediately. He begged, screamed until his throat was bloody, and promised everything he could think of for Ianto to be spared, and the Master allowed it for a time. Even now, Jack refuses to share what happened when the Master decided there was no more reason to keep Ianto. So when the Master brought in a man who looked like Ianto, it had been a familiar game.
"How would she have found someone so quickly? You can't have been down here more than a day or two."
"A few hours, actually. Maybe more, but she read my mind early on, and I know better than to doubt her ingenuity."
Ianto purses his lips. It's a far cry from the old eye-roll, but it warms Jack's heart. "And still you came down here alone. Jack, you really need to stop rushing into things."
"What makes you think I came down here alone? For all you know, I have a team about to rescue us with laser blasters and theme music. UNIT could be staging an invasion at this very moment with Kate Stewart at the lead," Jack says, knowing it's a weak argument.
And there's the eye roll Jack's missed so much. "One, I know you better than that. And two, Kate doesn't lead missions. She's more a behind-the-scenes mastermind. Fine woman. Very organized."
Jealousy flares. Jack suppresses it ruthlessly. He tells himself Ianto wouldn't have an affair with someone Kate Stewart's age, ignoring the fact that Ianto has a history of older lovers. Much older.
"Fine. You're right. I rushed in without looking, and now I'm taped to a chair. And so are you. Do you have the cavalry coming?"
"Fine," Ianto huffs. He's quiet now, drinking his tea. He finishes it and fixes another cup. He offers one to Jack too, but Jack hasn't finished his first. It's cooling on the table, the sugar violet melted into a swirl of colour.
"And why are we sitting here having tea? Shouldn't we be trying to get free?" asks Jack.
Ianto quirks a slight smile. "I haven't had caffeine in approximately six hours. Can't save the world without it." He raises his teacup in a mocking toast. "Cheers." Then he drains it. "Right, then. Duct tape is harder than rope or cuffs."
Jack has a solution. He knows Ianto will hate it, so he doesn't say anything, just starts rocking and hopping his chair over to the railing overlooking the generators. Ianto is staring at him in confusion until-
"Jack, NO!"
It's too late. Jack has pulled himself up over the railing and is plummeting to the floor below. There's an instant of pain when he hits the ground, then nothing.
Author's Note: My brilliant beta reader, Gmariam (on whom be thanks and praise) has got some interesting things going on right now. Go check out Fires Within, as she has a followup in the works! Also, looking back, make sure you've read Sacrifice and A Different Life, as I'm obscenely proud to have been a part of both of them. And review! With the reduced number of readers, it's sometimes disheartening to see older stories with heaps of commentary while newer things languish. And if you review something of mine, I'll respond, often with commentary. Guest reviewers, this means you're missing out!
