Nobody ever really leaves Torchwood, even when they die. You don't need a quantum transducer beeping frantically at you to feel Tosh's presence at her desk, or Owen in the autopsy room, or even the eternal imprint of Guppy and Holroyd stalking back and forth in the cells. Jack is fine-tuned to deviant chronology like this but he doubts Gwen and Ianto feel any differently, even if they don't have the memories to put a name to a shade.
"What about Martha Jones?" Ianto looks at Jack quizzically, twisting his neck to face away from the computer screen where Martha's details flicker in shades of blue.
"Ehhhhh." Jack makes a completely noncommittal sound, even though he knows he'll probably be talking persuasively down a line to UNIT in a few weeks, maybe days. He isn't in the mood for filling gaps that don't even feel empty, replacing people who can never be replaced, but it has to be done. They're holding the fort well enough for now but soon they'll need to do a proper autopsy or they'll find some new alien tech and they'll all be stumped.
"How do I spell that, sir?" Ianto raises his eyebrows. "I have to make comprehensive notes." He obviously hasn't been sleeping; the bags under and the shadows around his eyes are getting darker every day. Jack wants to yell at him to go home and rest but it won't help anyone. Shouting won't make the ghosts go away, never has, never will.
"How about we leave it for now." He puts his hand on his hip and smiles but Ianto isn't looking at him anymore, he's staring at the screen again.
"We've got to sort this out, Jack," he mutters into the keyboard, looking ready to either collapse or punch something. Jack touches his shoulder gently and Ianto leans into his arm slightly, just slightly but enough.
"I think some caffeine is in order."
"Right you are, sir." He looks straight at Jack, a little connecting moment, and he finally smiles for the first time in days before turning on his heel and heading off to find the coffee mugs. Jack could swear the damn things were sentient and kept getting away, and Owen had agreed, but Ianto and Tosh would say that they were both just making excuses for laziness. Happy memories in a sad place.
Gwen is typing up a report about last night's incident, because alien activity knows no mourning period. She's broken for now but she's coping; maybe Jack can put up with Rhys and Andy if they're the support network she needs right now. She makes big puppy-dog eyes at Ianto as he passes by her. "I don't suppose you could make me a coffee while you're there?"
"Of course." Ianto nods, looking businesslike and far too young.
"You're an absolute angel, Eye-Candy, thank you." Perhaps she's trying too hard to be funny but it's better than nothing. Jack doesn't suppose this, he knows.
"Oh don't you start," says Ianto, looking angry and offended and ready to stalk off into the basement, but then he grins. "That's my official nickname now, is it?"
"Well, I'd say it was accurate," says Jack with an over-dramatic shrug. Ianto rolls his eyes but the smile stays, warm and grateful.
The Hub is too quiet, so quiet he can almost hear things that aren't there anymore.
***
"I fear you are getting a little too fond of the electrodes."
"Nonsense!" Alice Guppy laughs, deceptively sweet-sounding. "Although..."
"No," says Emily, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Surely there is a way to get information from this creature that does not involve draining the entire electricity supply of our headquarters?"
"Ask Jack, he'll know."
"He's busy."
"Then electrodes it is!"
***
"It's our fault, Gerald," says Harriet quietly.
"We can't dwell on it. It was necessary - time needed to be stitched - " Gerald splutters and knows that he's making excuses. Sometimes they can be a very brutal organisation indeed.
"But surely we could have done something, anything!"
"I suppose I put too much faith in the humanity of the Army."
"Yes. You did." Harriet does not look at him. "Or perhaps you just don't care enough about anyone other than us."
***
"OWEN!" Toshiko's voice is shriller than usual and rings through the Hub. "You spilled coffee on my workstation again!"
"Wasn't me!" Owen doesn't even look up from the corpse he is dissecting, but he's stifling laughter.
"It was definitely you, no-one else here insists on having coffee that's more like... bitter black sludge!"
"Are you sure it's not some kind of escapee alien life form?"
"That's your explanation for everything." Toshiko walks off in a huff, stealing glances at the medic.
***
They are Torchwood, and they will find a way.