8.

Jack sat by Ianto's side, elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. Machines whirled and beeped, but he didn't hear them, too absorbed in his thoughts. Every time he looked at the man lying in bed, asleep, he saw instead Ianto in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life. And the thought terrified him.

Fear was not something Jack was immune to, in spite of what others may have thought. He felt it all the time, but he was good at pushing it away, or burying it, and getting the job done. Some people might have called it courage, but Jack knew it was pure stubbornness, nothing more. He wasn't going to let anything scare him enough to defeat him. After living as an immortal for over a hundred years, that included death…but only his own, as the thought of those around him dying still frightened him more than anything.

He'd lived through a lot of history with Torchwood, seen so many people come and go, live and die. He'd mourned them all, but most had been no more than passing friends. A few he'd grieved for more…Greg, Lucia, Alex…but it wasn't until he'd taken over, until he'd learned what being a leader and part of a team really meant, that he'd understood how terrifying losing someone he cared about could be.

Suzie had been hard. Yes, she'd gone mad and killed innocent civilians, but she was still someone he'd brought onto the team, had enjoyed working with, and had cared about, albeit in a slightly more detached way than the others. But that was Suzie, aloof and distant. He couldn't imagine losing Tosh or Owen, having also sought them out and introduced them to the dangers of Torchwood. The guilt would be terrible, but more importantly, he would miss them even more—their brilliance, their pain, their warmth and humor. And Gwen…he already felt bad enough for bringing her into Torchwood on such a whim, he'd never forgive himself if it got her killed. And as much as she drove them all mad with her unfailing insistence on doing what she thought was right, he sometimes needed that stubborn persistence and push to make sure he was exploring all his options and not acting spontaneously.

Ianto…god. This was a man Jack could lose himself in, if he let himself. Which was exactly why he didn't, because he knew himself, and he knew Ianto, and he saw the potential for something amazing. It stung, that if Jack wasn't immortal, he could grab hold of that potential and live a long and happy life with Ianto…only who knew how long Ianto's life would really be, working for Torchwood. Jack had forever, but Ianto could be gone in a month, a year. He could have died that day, in Jack's arms.

Jack would be devastated, there was no doubt. And the longer he and Ianto were together…in whatever way they were together, by conventional standards, anyway…the harder it would be when that inevitable day came. Which was why Jack kept his distance most of the time. He suspected that Ianto understood and quite possibly felt the same, but he also suspected that Ianto still longed for something more traditional. Jack hated being the man someone settled for, and he felt like Ianto was settling for him. Why, Jack wasn't sure, but deep down, he was undeniably glad that he got to be with Ianto, though he felt guilty about it. Ianto should be with someone who could give him everything Jack never could.

It was moments like these, when Jack faced losing someone, that he vowed to do better, to be better. And yet…how could he ever be enough?

Jack tried to bring his thoughts to some sort of order, but was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath on the bed before him. Glancing up, he saw Ianto trying to sit, his eyes open but full of pain. Jack jumped up and tried to guide him back down, but Ianto shook his head.

"I want to sit up," he said, his voice rough. "I want to know what's going on."

"You've had major surgery," Jack said. "You shouldn't strain the stitches." Ianto glared at him, a flash of anger passing across his face before he nodded and laid back down.

"What happened?" he asked when he'd settled. Jack pulled his chair closer.

"You were stabbed," he started, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

"I know that," he snapped, and he sounded angry. Jack frowned. Was Ianto mad at him? "I was there, Jack. I felt it. I meant, did you stop it? The alien?"

Jack stared at him, slightly stunned by Ianto's unexpected anger. When he didn't respond, Ianto deflated immediately, fear in his eyes. "Jack? What's wrong? Did it attack someone else? Is everyone all right?"

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Jack nodded. "They're okay, everyone's all right. Even you. Owen stitched you up and said you'll be fine. Complete recovery."

Ianto watched him for a moment, obviously sensing that something else was wrong. "Thank you for finding me," he said. "Were you able to stop it?" He paused. "Was it a Xrillian?"

Jack couldn't help but lean forward and kiss the man. "You're amazing, you know. You're lying here in bed, after being stabbed by an alien intruder, and you're not only more concerned about the rest of the team, but you're curious what actually got you."

"Of course I'm curious," Ianto replied, sounding both defensive and embarrassed. "It all sort of hit me in that moment, when it stabbed me, that it had something to do with the cube."

"How did you put it together?" Jack asked.

"It was the eyes," he murmured in reply, his own going distant with memory. "In every dream I had, your eyes were wrong…violet, not blue. And the cube, the squares kept lighting up violet and purple."

Jack raised a skeptical yet impressed eyebrow. "So you figured it out based on the color purple?"

"It was a hunch, anyway," Ianto replied defensively. "Was I right?"

"Yes, it was a Xrillian," Jack admitted. "But no…we haven't stopped it."

"What?" Ianto exclaimed. "Jack! It could be anywhere! Why are you sitting here, you should be tracking it down!"

"We're working on it," Jack replied. "I'm sitting here because I was worried about you."

"You were getting in Tosh's way, weren't you?" Ianto asked, the hint of a smile appearing around his lips.

"No, I was worried about you, which is why she said I was too jittery to be hanging over her shoulder," Jack grumbled. "Her and Owen were bouncing too much techno-babble back and forth for me to follow. It was annoying."

"How did it get in?" Ianto asked. "And what does it have to do with my nightmares?"

Jack started in surprise. "Your nightmares? What do you mean?"

"When they started, I dreamed I was stabbed in the shower," Ianto replied. "And when it stabbed me, it said 'Time to die for real this time.' It knew."

Jack leaned back, stunned again. That was unexpected. And dangerous. He took Ianto's hand. "The alien disappeared after it stabbed you. We haven't found any trace of it yet, but we have a theory. This might change things, though. Are you up for the others coming down to talk about it?"

Ianto nodded. "But now I definitely want to sit up. And another blanket would be good."

Jack helped him up, got him another blanket, and then gathered the others. They spread out around the medical bay, except for Owen, who hovered around Ianto, checking him over. Ianto endured it impatiently, wanting to start the team meeting.

"So what's this theory?" he finally asked, batting Owen away when he tried to listen to Ianto's chest yet again. Owen rolled his eyes but backed off.

Jack was leaning forward on his knees. He gestured toward Tosh. "It's all Tosh, as usual."

She shook her head. "No, it's not. You recognized the Xrillian."

Ianto didn't appear surprised. "It was in the file, from 1963. You've seen one before."

"I first saw them in the history books when I was in school. They were extinct by the 51st century." Jack blew out a breath. "But we had one here in 1963, when that cube you've been studying was found."

"You shot it," said Ianto, nodding as he tried to think through everything. Gwen, of course, was already frowning.

"It had killed one person already and was going after a second," said Jack. "So yes, I shot it. The Xrillian's body disappeared, we mourned a teammate, and the cube went to the archives. End of story."

"Until it fell off the shelf downstairs and somehow got activated," said Ianto.

"Which was right after the Riftquake," said Tosh. "Jack asked me to look at the records for 1963, and apparently there were several at that time too."

"So we have the device, the Riftquakes, and the alien, exactly as in 1963. It's obviously all connected."

"But how?" asked Gwen from where she was standing by the stairs. "What happened that day, Jack?"

"It was October, 1963," Jack started, leaning back. "It was busy, so I was around a lot helping out. Lots of small Riftquakes, just like this week, which meant more Weevils and retrievals. One of the teams brought back that cube. Apparently there were two, but the other was in pieces. They studied it a bit, though I don't think they got far. Then there was a bigger Riftquake, and we were all out on calls. When we came back, the alien appeared and killed Daniel, our tech guy." Jack paused. "Which is why we don't have any other information on it. If Daniel found anything, it died with him."

They were silent for a moment before Jack continued. "Anyway, it was about to kill Alexis, our medic, when Sinead threw the cube at it and knocked it down. I shot it when it got up and went after her. The alien disappeared, but I'd recognized it as a Xrillian."

There was silence for a moment. Gwen was watching Tosh. "What else, Tosh?" she asked.

"It can't be a coincidence, can it?" she asked. "That we find the cube in the archives, we experience a series of Riftquakes, and then the alien appears? It's all too similar."

"There's more," Ianto spoke up softly from his bed. "It's connected to my nightmares."

"Bollocks," said Owen without thinking, then held up a hand in apology when everyone glared at him. "Sorry. What do you mean, it's connected?"

Ianto took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable about sharing so much. "In my first dream, I was stabbed in the shower. When I stepped out and the alien stabbed me today, it said, 'Time to die for real.' I got the distinct impression it knew about my dreams."

"But how's that possible?" asked Gwen. "They were only dreams."

"Or psychic projections?" suggested Tosh after a moment's silence. "The alien projecting itself into Ianto's dreams?"

Ianto was staring at his hands. Jack wished he didn't have to go through this—the nightmares were bad enough, and then being attacked. Jack knew how hard it would be for Ianto to reveal the true nature of his dreams.

Ianto met Jack's eyes, his face filled with pain and grief. Jack shook his head, but Ianto only sighed sadly.

"It wasn't the alien in my dreams," Ianto said quietly. "I never dreamed about it, not once." Jack hoped that would be it, but of course Gwen couldn't let it lie.

"Who did you dream about, then?" she asked curiously. "Who attacked you in your dreams if it wasn't the Xrillian? And how would it know about them if it wasn't there?"

"It was someone else," Ianto answered, his tone final, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief that Ianto had managed to avoid sharing his secret. "And that's the big question, isn't it? I'm sure it knew about my dreams. Does that mean it simply read my mind at that moment, or did it somehow cause them?"

"I don't know how it could cause them," Tosh said, frowning. "We were thinking the cube is some sort of receptacle, that it was somehow inside the cube, and after the cube was activated by the Rift, it was able to come out. How could it cause your dreams if it was locked up in the cube?"

Everyone was silent, clearly thinking over the puzzle. Ianto, however, started thinking out loud.

"The cube lit up bit by bit. Could we trace each Riftquake to an increase in the cube? And maybe to one of my dreams?"

Tosh looked skeptical, but Jack saw where Ianto was going. "Every time we had a Riftquake, it made the cube stronger—as well as the alien within the cube."

"And so it what?" asked Owen. "Haunted Ianto? Is that where we're going with this?"

Silence again. It was Gwen who spoke next. "Is it possible?" she asked. "That an alien trapped in a box could somehow influence Ianto's dreams?"

Ianto snorted, then grimaced with pain. Owen took a step nearer, but Ianto waved him off. "When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous. But we know there are aliens out there with psychic powers. That one could read my mind and influence my dreams is not unthinkable. That it could do so trapped in a box—"

"Is insane," said Owen. "Even for us. Come on, how is that even possible?"

"Jack," said Tosh, when no one answered. "What did you learn about the Xrillians in school? You said there were legends about them."

Jack laughed nervously, earning him that look from Ianto that called him on it even whilst showing concern. He offered a sheepish smile and answered honestly. "It was a long time ago, you know," he started, then sighed. "And I wasn't the best student. All I remember is that they died out due to some sort of illness, a plague of some sort. Sudden and devastating."

"Were they psychic?" asked Ianto. Jack shook his head.

"I don't know. The big lesson about Xrillians was that they all got sick and died, and it was held up as an example of how not to manage planetary epidemics."

"What did the legends say about them?"

Jack tried to remember and hoped he wasn't mixing up his stories. "If I remember correctly, it was said that they would return one day. Legend had it that they had somehow preserved their culture and would rise again, stronger than before." Jack shrugged. "That's all I remember, sorry."

"But that's it!" Tosh exclaimed, and Ianto was nodding as if agreement. Gwen exchanged a look with Jack.

"What is?" she asked. Jack was glad, as he didn't want to be the one who hadn't figured it out.

"If our theory about the alien being inside the cube is true, it could explain the legend," Tosh said. "Maybe they created the cubes to preserve their culture, storing the essence of their people in them."

"Oh my god, do you think there's more than one in the cube?" asked Gwen. She looked horrified, and again Jack had to agree. The thought of more aliens escaping from the cube was too dire to imagine.

"I don't know," said Tosh, sounding apologetic. "I can't get any readings on it. But I doubt it. It would seem too easy to get everything mixed up inside, at least to my 21st century thinking."

"Hang on," said Owen, stepping forward. "If these things hid in a box to escape a plague, and one of them got out and stabbed Ianto, does that mean we need to start a quarantine? Because I do not want an alien plague from the future on my hands."

Jack swore under his breath, leaning back in his chair again and running a hand through his hair. Owen had a valid point, as well as a terrifying one. And it only added to the concerns already on their plate—the Riftquakes, Ianto's nightmares, the attack by an alien that could still be in the Hub, and now the potential for a deadly disease.

Ianto, however, did not seem as worried. He shook his head, drawing everyone's attention. "I doubt it's infected. Think about it. If they were trying to preserve their race for some sort of glorious return, why put the sick ones into the cubes? They would come out sick and restart the plague."

"We've done it with cryo-freeze," Owen pointed out. "Think about Beth. We couldn't help her, so we decided to freeze her until a time when someone could. Maybe that's what these Xrillians did."

"We weren't trying to preserve the human race, though," said Ianto. "We were hoping to save one life. We assumed in the future there would be more advanced humans around to help her. If the entire planet were at risk for extinction due to a plague, would you want to freeze sick people or healthy people to restart the human race?"

"Ianto has a point," Jack said before Owen could argue more. "But we still need to take precautions. We'll stay on strict lockdown with quarantine procedures for the Hub in place. In the meantime, we need to figure out what to do about this cube and the alien we think is inside it." He paused and looked at each of them. "If that's even the case here."

"I think Tosh has a good theory," said Ianto. "It makes sense, at least as far as science-fiction serials go."

"How did it get into your dreams then?" asked Gwen, either ignoring Ianto's joke or more likely not understanding it. "And why? What's the connection there?"

"We don't know if they're a psychic race, right?" asked Ianto, and Jack shook his head, wishing he knew more about what they were dealing with. "Assume they are then. Because somehow this thing knew about my dreams, I'm sure of it. If one was preserved inside the cube, my guess is that with each Riftquake, it somehow grew stronger and was able to project its thoughts outside. It affected my dreams."

"But why?" asked Jack, watching Ianto closely. He was reluctantly impressed with the man's line of reasoning, even though so many questions remained unanswered. "Why you?"

"Because I found it?" Ianto replied after a moment. "Perhaps touching the cube created some sort of connection that it used? If the alien is responsible and psychic—and I think it is, from my encounter with it—then maybe it was able to establish a connection, read my mind, and knew exactly what kind of dreams would rattle me the most."

"Getting killed over and over," said Owen. He blew a raspberry. "We face death every week. Why would it pick that?"

"Because it was always someone I cared about who killed me," Ianto replied, his voice surprisingly strong. Jack couldn't look at him, and stared at the floor. He felt the others staring at him, though, as if they knew, and he had to return to the conversation.

"So we think this alien read your mind and created these dreams, but the question is still why?" asked Jack. "What purpose does it serve?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "To hurt you, of course. To watch someone you care about suffer."

Jack frowned. The others said nothing, exchanging uncomfortable looks with one another. They didn't know the full extent of Ianto's dreams. They didn't know that Ianto had dreamed over and over that it was Jack who killed him. They didn't understand how much Ianto's statement made sense—and much it indeed hurt.

"So it tortured you to get to me?" Jack asked slowly. Ianto smiled, that dangerous yet sexy smile that Jack knew meant something was coming.

"Did it work?" asked Ianto. "Do you feel bad, Jack?" His voice was dripping with scorn.

"What?" asked Jack.

"It used me," said Ianto. He laughed bitterly. "Of course it did. I suppose I should be flattered, that this creature actually believed you might care enough to feel any pain at my expense."

"Ianto," Jack started. "That's not what this is about, of course I—"

"Of course you do," said Ianto. "Why wouldn't you? I do everything you want, including quite literally bending over backward for you. Which wasn't as great for me as it was for you, by the way." He rolled his eyes. "I make your coffee and do your paperwork and offer blind faith and blowjobs without cost or commitment. Of course you love it—who wouldn't love that kind of arrangement with unlimited forgiveness for each and every transgression?"

Jack stared at Ianto, his heart racing in his chest. The image of Ianto in Hell, in the conference room with his shirt off and arms around another man, flashed across his mind, and he shook his head, trying to forget it, to forget Ianto's harsh words to him. He trusted Ianto, Ianto didn't believe that, wouldn't say those things…

"Tosh!" he shouted, turning away from where Ianto was sitting on the bed grinning coldly at him. "The matchbox! This isn't real, get me out!"

"Jack," Ianto sing-songed behind him. "It's as real as it gets. It used me to get to you, even though we both know it would never work."

"I'd do anything to save you!" Jack whispered, pressing his hands to his temple, trying to drown out the horrible words, the even more damning implication. "This isn't you! Tosh! Help me!"

"Jack!" called a familiar voice. A gentle hand touched his arm and he jumped, whirling on Gwen. She took both his hands in his. "Jack, look at me. You're all right... you're here at the Hub, with us, and it's real."

He shook her off and backed away. "No, it's not. It's couldn't be, because Ianto wouldn't…he'd never…" He trailed off at the look on Gwen's face, then turned toward the bed.

Ianto was sitting there, pale and upset, his face a mask of sad understanding. "It just got to you, didn't it?" he asked.

"Oh god," said Jack, and he sank back into his chair and collapsed with his head in his hands. "Not again."

"What happened?" asked Gwen, moving closer. Once again, Jack waved her away, remembering his visceral reaction to her when he'd been trapped in Hell. It had been a gross exaggeration and he'd been influenced by the matches, but he couldn't deny it was something picked up from his subconscious. Yes, sometimes Gwen drove him mad with her poking and prodding and blind bleeding heart. He didn't need that right now. He needed Ianto…

But no. Ianto didn't care about him. Ianto was scared of him. Ianto had dreamed over and over that Jack murdered him. Why had he even saved Jack from Hell? What was the point now that Jack knew the truth?

"Jack!" Ianto snapped. "It wasn't real. You didn't go anywhere, so whatever it was, whoever you saw, it wasn't real."

"I know," Jack whispered. But he didn't, not really. It was like being in Hell all over again, not knowing reality from dreams.

"Tosh," he heard Ianto say in a take-charge voice that belied the fact that he'd just had major surgery. "We need to figure out a way to block this from happening. Is the cube in the containment box?"

"Owen and I were looking at it earlier," she said. "But yes, we put it back when we came down here."

"Damn." Jack glanced up and saw Ianto scrub his hands over his face. "Is there anything else we can do to block it? Or can you come up with something?"

Tosh appeared skeptical. "I don't even know what it's doing, it'll be hard to stop it when I don't know what to stop!"

"Try," said Ianto. "Because if it starts messing with the rest of the team, we are well and truly—"

"Right," she said, standing up. "I'm on it."

"Jack," started Owen, but Jack stopped him.

"I'm fine."

"You did the same thing Ianto did this morning," Owen stated flatly. "And from the way you were shouting at Tosh to get you out, it sounds like you flashed back to your time in Hell."

"If the alien is reading our minds," Ianto said quietly, "it makes sense it would pick up on Jack's most recent experiences."

"Then why does it keep making you think someone is out to get you?" Owen demanded. "Are you really that paranoid and just good at hiding it?"

Ianto's eyes flashed, but Jack jumped in to stop any retort, as Ianto had intervened for him. "It's none of your business, Owen. Think about how to help us rather than make it worse."

"I'm not trying to make it worse," Owen replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I feel like we're missing something here... Why Ianto? Why you? Why are people killing him? Why are you back in Hell?"

"It's the alien messing with us," said Jack, stomping down on his own insights. He noticed Ianto frowning, as if he'd come to his own conclusions about the strange connection affecting them. "And as it's an alien, I'm not sure there's a rhyme or reason to it."

"Owen has a point, though, Jack," Gwen pointed out. Jack had forgot she was even there. He braced himself.

"And what's that?" he asked. She stepped closer, glancing between him and Owen.

"If we can figure out why it targeted Ianto and now you, maybe we can figure out a way to stop it before it targets someone else."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Not exactly what I was thinking, but close enough."

Gwen gave him an irritated look before returning to her line of thinking. "It's motive, Owen. If we understand the motive, we can better understand the perpetrator, find them, and stop them."

"This isn't a cop case, Gwen," said Jack, shaking his head. "This is alien. There are species out there so different from us that trying to understand their motivation is like trying to understand why the Prime Minister likes ABBA. It's not possible."

"That doesn't mean we can't try," Gwen insisted. Jack geared up for a response, but Ianto stopped him.

"Gwen, it's a sound theory, for earth-based cases," he said. "However, this is a potentially psychic alien using some kind of alien device we can't even get a reading on."

"We can still—" she began, and he nodded as he interrupted her.

"You're right, we can. And I know how to start. Can you go to the archives and start researching anything we have on psychic species?"

She frowned. "I thought we didn't have anything on Xrillians."

"We don't," said Ianto. "But sometimes reading around the issue will still help. Any small scrap of information could be useful. Database search for psychic powers, dreams, hallucinations—anything like that should get some hits, especially if you include the Torchwood One database."

She sighed. "I can try. What about Owen?"

"I'm going to keep an eye on my patients," he said. Gwen nodded and turned to go, laying a hand on Jack's arm and nodding at Ianto. When she'd left, Owen pointed a finger at Ianto.

"You sent her on a wild goose chase."

Ianto shrugged and started to lay down again. "Maybe. Or maybe she'll find something useful. It's better than trying outdated police tactics on aliens."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," said Owen. "Plus it will give me a chance to go back to my point. What's really going on here with these dreams and visions? Because I know there's something you're not telling us."

Ianto pulled the blanket up and closed his eyes. "It's still none of your business, Owen."

"But is it important?" Owen pressed. "Something to do with whatever's going on? Because we're all a part of this now. We need to know."

"You really don't," Jack said wearily. "It's enough to know that this alien is using our thoughts and fears against us. You don't need to know our thoughts and fears, and I don't need to know yours."

Owen was silent for a moment, chewing his thumb. "Fine. I get it. But I highly suggest you two talk it out on your own. I'm not blind, Jack. You're the one who keeps killing Ianto in his dreams, and whatever happened to you in Hell has to do with him. So figure it out. I'm going to go help Tosh."

And with that he left Jack alone with Ianto, both of them unable to meet the other's eyes.

"He's right, you know," Ianto said softly. "In order to figure this out, we might have to lay it all on the table." He sighed. "As much as we don't want to."

Jack nodded. It was terrifying, but so was the thought of slowly losing his grip on reality. It was time to face what his time in Hell really meant, and why Ianto kept dreaming of death.


Author's Note:
Thank you for all the comments on this, I'm so glad to know that yes, it is sort of scary. That's what I was going for, the sense of not knowing what's real and what's fake. Just wait until the next chapter! Look for it in a few days, with fair warning that it may be the darkest yet…