Doomsday: Post Apocalypse
a Torchwood story
by RoadrunnerGER
Dislaimer: Oh, really! They're the BBC's.
Summary: Ianto comes to Cardiff for a week to help with the archives, but is it as simple as that? Jack/OC, Jack?Ianto
Suspense/hurt/comfort – T – Ianto Jones & Jack Harkness
A/N: Thank you very much for your feedback that already was a source of inspiration. Sorry that it took longer to get chapter 6 ready for posting. That happens when I'm posting as I'm writing… Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!
I don't get tired of thanking my lovely beta mandassina. You rock!
Chapter 6 – Tense conversations
The horrible stench assaulting his nose was the first thing Jack noticed when he woke on the concrete floor of his office. Lifting his head was an effort as was opening his eyes. Seeing the mess he made did not help his sour mood. Suspecting that he had died choking on his own vomit almost turned his stomach again. It was just as likely as simply waking up after an exhausted sleep and he could not rule it out. Slowly memory returned and he fought to get up.
"Ydris?" he called, stumbling over to the hole leading to his room.
No answer was forthcoming. Scowling Jack tried to recall if he just imagined the young man's company. No, they had cleaned up together and Ydris stayed after the team had left. They had awe-inspiring sex. Then his memory became foggy.
I went to watch CCTV after he fell asleep.
Flashbacks of the night hit him, making Jack search for the bottle. Finding it empty he tossed it aside, his feeble motion just sending the sturdy glass rolling and clonking against the wall. Searching for more alcohol Jack crawled to his desk, but the bottles he found there were empty as well. Groaning he sagged on the floor, feeling thoroughly miserable. A single thought of the Doctor was enough now to push him over the edge and he started to cry.
A soft touch against his forehead startled him.
"Yvonne!"
The calico cat snuggled up against him and let him pet her. Whenever his desperate caresses went too far she meowed and squirmed, once she had to claw at Jack to keep him in line, but she never went away.
Jack was terribly grateful to her for that.
"I'm sorry, sweetie," he murmured into her fur. "I'm a pain to live with."
Purring in response she squirmed into a comfortable position and stayed there while he caressed her stomach.
Thinking he heard it growl Jack asked, "Are you hungry, sweetie? Wait, I'll get you something."
Caring for the wellbeing of the cat who claimed him as her human put the mess he made into a new perspective. Disgusted by himself Jack went to get bucket and mop. While he cleaned up he reflected on last night's demons, his conversation with the Brigadier, and the events surrounding the Cyberinvasion. The fact that he had missed the Doctor still lay like a rock in his stomach, making him ache from the inside out.
But there've also been good things, he realized. As Alistair's said, I'm free, and he's also right with his assessment of what's expected from me.
He had thought that he came to grips with it, but waking in his own puke taught him differently and he suspected that it would take some time to get really used to the idea of taking over the leadership of Torchwood.
There's no way I'm going to rebuild One like it was. I'd sooner close it for good. I'll have my hands full with just Three and Two, even though Archie's not actually difficult, just weird in some ways. Yeah, Torchwood should be much smaller. We should have only as many agents as are needed to guard the Rift.
That thought confronted him with a problem he had racked his mind over before: How many agents did they need to properly guard the Rift? Recent events had shown that it was really, really hard with just the four of them. True, Suzie, Toshiko, and Owen were brilliant, loyal, and courageous, but they were only three people. Jack knew there had been situations before where they could have done with some support, and the Rift going volatile after the Cyberinvasion was just another example. They had been lucky to get through everything relatively unscathed, but the truth was that Jack should rethink his no job vacancies routine.
Toshiko said Ydris would be an asset, he recalled. I didn't even give it a second thought. Yes, I like having him around, but that doesn't mean that I should hire him. Maybe I should have a look at his CV.
Thinking of Ydris made Jack aware that he had chased the young man away.
He probably won't want to have anything to do with me anymore. No surprise there if I'm being such a bastard.
As he went through the main Hub to the tunnel leading to the bathrooms Jack noticed how empty the base was. Due to his insistence the team stayed at home, having the weekend off as he had ordered.
And Ydris won't come back. Heck, even if he would he couldn't get in.
With a sigh Jack continued to the bathroom to take a scalding shower, but even when the hot water was streaming down his body he was still shivering. His legs felt wobbly and he sank down on the tiled floor. There he sat, hugging his legs to his chest, the hot stream of water drowning out his sobs.
xXx
When he woke up Ianto felt surprisingly rested. Only when he stood under the shower and the hot water was streaming down on him the latest events caught up on him and sent shivers down his spine. Gasping for breath he leaned against the wall. He needed a moment to compose himself before he was able to wash off the shower gel and could turn the water off. Climbing out of the shower he reached for a big towel and dried himself off.
Returning to the other room to find himself fresh clothes Ianto found someone snoring on the sofa.
"Owen?"
Grunting the medic rolled over.
"Owen, what are you doing here?" Ianto prodded, nudging the doctor's shoulder. "C'mon! Wake up!"
"Wha…?"
"What… are you doing here?" Ianto repeated.
Squinting up at the Welshman, Owen grunted, "What did I do to earn this sight right after waking?"
Becoming conscious of his nakedness Ianto grimaced. "You didn't answer my question, Owen. What are you doing here?"
"Sleeping. Well, I was sleeping anyway," the medic groaned. "You weren't in good shape last night, so I stayed over to make sure you'll be all right."
"I told you before, I don't need a babysitter."
"Hey, I just kept you company!" Owen complained.
Still scowling deeply Ianto decided to stop arguing as neither of them could win.
"How late is it anyway?" Owen whined.
Checking his watch Ianto replied, "About half past ten."
Groaning the medic rolled onto the other side.
"Hey, we already slept in," Ianto smirked and grabbed some underwear. "You should get up."
"Too early for a Saturday," Owen grunted.
"It's almost noon."
Craning his neck as he did not want to move Owen grimaced at the Welshman. "You know all that shit about the early bird gets the worm?"
"Yeah. What about it?"
"You can have my share. I don't fancy worms for breakfast."
"And I don't fancy a slugabed occupying my sofa," Ianto teased as he put on his jeans. "C'mon! Get up!"
"Hey! Don't push! I'm sensitive."
At that Ianto laughed out loud. "Stop kidding and get up!"
Finally Owen swung his legs over the edge of the sofa where he sat for a moment, slumped, ruffling his hair. Blinking a few times he focused on Ianto who was fully dressed now in jeans and a casual dress shirt, and putting on his trainers.
"What are you up to?" the medic queried.
"Organizing things," Ianto told him evasively. Mostly because he was not certain yet what he wanted to sort and how.
"Oh?" Owen stretched his stiff muscles. "Thought we could have a lazy day. We have the weekend off after all."
"Go ahead if you like," Ianto shrugged. "Just don't do it on my sofa."
"Your sofa?"
"For as long as I'm renting this room… yes, it's my sofa. Now get up!"
Realizing that the Welshman was serious Owen finally stood and padded to the bathroom. When he returned a few minutes later Ianto was reclining on the sofa, engrossed in a book.
"Thought you were against a lazy day," Owen teased.
"Just killing time," Ianto murmured without looking up from his reading.
Pushing against the book in Ianto's hands to get a better view, Owen glanced at the title.
"Live and let die," he chuckled. "I should've known. Why aren't you with MI6 if you love Bond so much?"
"Too much excitement."
Laughing heartily at the Welshman's wry humour Owen remarked, "You're right, Ianto. Compared with MI6, Torchwood is horribly boring."
"It's not that funny," Ianto spat.
"Hey, you started it."
"No, I was just reading a novel." Putting the book forcefully down Ianto got up. "I'd like to have some space, Owen. Please, leave me alone."
"I don't think that…"
"Right," Ianto cut him short. "Don't bother. Just go home, okay?"
"Look, I'm just trying to support you, mate."
"Fine, then support my independence, please." Pointing at the door he added, "Out! Now!"
"You don't have to get abusive," Owen snarled.
Rummaging through his pockets for a pen, he found a stubby pencil instead and scrawled his number on a box flap.
"I'll go, but you call me this evening between five and eight," he said. "You're still Torchwood, so I'm, still your doctor, and as far as I'm concerned, I haven't released you from my care, got it?"
"Understood," Ianto bit out. "Now please, go."
Grudgingly Owen grabbed his jacket and left.
As soon as the door fell shut behind the doctor Ianto sank heavily onto the sofa. He was on his own. Exactly as he wanted to be. Now he just had to figure out what he wanted to do with his liberty.
xXx
Once he regained his equilibrium Jack busied himself with unloading the truck. The magna clamps served him well for that task whenever an artefact did not fit into the cart. Still he wheeled down to the archives numerous times as well before he decided to take a break. Returning a last time to the lorry Jack gathered the box with the little coral. Just when he entered his office the telephone rang and he put the box on the tabletop before he picked up the receiver.
"Alistair!" Jack said with honest pleasure at hearing the Brigadier's voice. Of course he knew that the conversation had the potential to become unpleasant, so he was glad that it was not Mace who was on the phone. Suppressing a chuckle at his memories of the Brigadier calling the Colonel a prat, Jack cordially asked, "What can I do for you?"
"The better question would be what can I do for you," the Brigadier replied. "So far we could identify thirty-two of the bodies we have recovered. The two you've asked about are among them."
"Thank you," Jack managed to rasp. Suddenly his mouth was dry. "How many victims did you find in the end?"
"Inside the tower one hundred and seventy-three dead were found. Twenty-seven partially converted victims were euthanized. Forty-three escaped and were kept at the Millennium Dome until your agents took care of assuring the discretion of the thirty-nine civilians."
Jack could not help his chuckle.
"The four remaining Torchwood agents are currently residing at our headquarters," the Brigadier continued, his tone becoming more serious. "We should meet and discuss further actions, Jack. You'll have to make some decisions. Your agents can't stay in our custody indefinitely. You're in charge of them, Jack."
Unfortunately the Brigadier was right. Jack felt the responsibility weigh heavily on his shoulders. The problem was that he did not want to have anything to do with Torchwood One. He desperately wished he could refuse the legacy.
"Jack? Are you still there?"
"Listening to you," he flatly said.
Of course the Brigadier picked up on the lack of enthusiasm. "I can't tell you what to do, Jack. All I can do is encourage you. I know you're capable of leading the Institute. I'm just waiting to see you do it." As a snort was his sole reply he went on, "How can we help, Jack? The identified victims who can be released for the funeral will have to be prepared. We can do that for you and help you organize the ceremony. Is there a special honours service that you do when one of your own dies in the line of duty?"
Confused Jack had to think for a moment before he told him, "There are no special honours. If someone dies in service and his death is suspected to be due to alien causes it is customary at Torchwood to store the body and all of his possession are to be impounded by the Institute until the cause of death is determined and any potential threat to the planet assessed and eliminated." For just a second Jack realized how indifferent and callous he sounded but explained nevertheless, "Once the body can be released it will be incinerated."
When he paused the line remained silent.
"I don't know what to say to that, Jack. I can't judge you because I know you didn't make the policy. I don't know how your people deal with death, so I don't know what you might think of it, but you've lived here long enough to know the kinds of things we usually do. Do you want to change things?"
"I... Yes, I do, but I can't think about it, I can't cope with it right now, Alistair," Jack stammered. "It's all I can manage to clean up the sheer physical mess in my facility at the moment. You say you can't tell me what to do, but that's exactly what I need! I'm lost here! I'm drowning, and if you aren't going to bail me out, then please, just leave me alone for a while!"
"You're not alone, Jack, and if you were, I never would have sent you back to Cardiff by yourself," the Brigadier reminded him. "You have the team that came with you to London, and you might find the Torchwood survivors we have here to be helpful. UNIT can keep the bodies in cold storage for a couple of weeks, give you time to get your feet under you again. You might consider contacting Sarah Jane Smith to write a funeral service that is both relevant to Torchwood and vague enough to be suitable for civilian friends and family. Unless you have anything else you need to discuss with me, I think I should say goodbye now."
Jack sighed. "I'm sorry, Alistair," he said.
"You don't need to apologize, my boy," the Brig sounded infinitely understanding. "But do give some thought to what you want to do with your Torchwood survivors here. I'm going to call you back in exactly forty-eight hours, and if you don't take my call, I'm coming to Cardiff myself."
"What state are the survivors in?" Jack asked.
"Those we kept at the Dome were not wounded or had only minor injuries. Your agents are in good condition. There were… twenty-three more who were taken to hospital," the Brigadier read from his notes. "Two of them did not pull through, five others are in critical condition…"
"What is it, Alistair?" Jack prodded when his friend trailed off.
"This report doesn't contain the information if any of the more severely injured belong to your personnel," the Brigadier explained. "I will check on that and let you know when we talk again."
"Thank you," Jack all but sighed. "Um… I'll take care of making room in the budget to help cover the… final expenses." He paused before he hesitantly asked, "Who will you appoint to arrange the funerals?
After only a moment's hesitation the Brigadier firmly replied, "Anyone but Colonel Mace… who has more important things to do anyway."
Jack could hear amusement lace the latter words and smiled.
"Thank you, Alistair."
"You're welcome, Jack. We'll talk in forty-eight hours."
"Yes, sir," Jack playfully agreed. He could almost hear the Brigadier's smile before the call disconnected. For a moment he just sat and let the conversation sink in. There was so much to consider and he was not sure if he could handle it all.
I should ask Suzie to take care of the budget. She's good at that stuff. And maybe Ianto could help me to get a grip on One's customs. I should do… something. No idea yet what that should be. I won't take any of the employees over, though. They've got One's philosophy too ingrained in their systems. I don't want them to poison the atmosphere here.
By extension that made him think about Ianto's possible future.
I can tell that Ianto Jones is different. He was a big help and proved to be trustworthy. Aside from that I still think he's gorgeous. He's no easy prey, though, and Owen seems to be perfectly right when he says that the Welsh boy is looking right through me where my amorous intentions are concerned.
He chuckled.
I'll put the next week to good use with courting and then we'll see. I could imagine offering Ianto a permanent position here but I should wait and see how things develop. At One, right after the invasion, we all were in a unique situation. I need to watch closely how the team gets along on the daily routine.
The part of him that found Ianto Jones terribly attractive hoped that they worked together well on an everyday basis, too. But even then he had to give the man enough leeway to make his own decision. Maybe he did not want to stay. Jack thought that that would be a horrible waste of talent, but he intended not to stand in his way if he actually chose to leave Torchwood for good.
Musing about those things Jack got up and opened the box on his desk.
Now, where's the best place for you?
Lovingly he looked at the coral in the paper padding he had made to protect it on the ride to Cardiff.
"Right on my desk would be fine," he thought out loud and was about to lift the coral out of its bed when the phone rang again. With a sigh Jack dropped back into his chair and grabbed the receiver. Back to business.
"Harkness."
tbc…