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

Chapter 30 – Fallout

Unfortunately, Owen turned out to be right. Jack did not return and neither did Ianto. Between Toshiko, Suzie and him, debriefing the survivors seemed to take forever. UNIT could not help them with the interviews as they needed to cover confidential subjects. A few soldiers stayed with the survivors, though, especially with those who chose to take the Retcon and were sleeping it off, and in another conference room those who chose to go to UNIT could talk about their applications.

Owen had just finished the paperwork with the last person in his queue, when a scream disrupted his concluding words. Alarmed by the sounds of terror, the medic darted into the adjacent room to find a man flailing on his cot, trying to defend himself against an attacker only he could see.

"Hey!" Owen called with his soothing doctor's voice as he stopped beside the other and tried to catch his waving hands. "Easy mate! It's a nightmare. Just a bad dream. Calm down…"

While he kept talking to the agitated man, he managed to still him and gradually the man's breathing eased as well.

"That's it," Owen muttered. "You're safe."

"N-n-not safe."

"Now you are," Owen assured him firmly.

"C-c-cybermen…" he stuttered, his voice shaking with terror.

"It was just a dream," Owen tried to convince him. "The Cybermen are gone for good."

With still contorted features, the man looked up at Owen. One's former employee took the wind out of the medic's sails, though, when he plaintively accused, "You turned your back on us."

"We didn't!" Owen shot back, with righteous anger. Choking it down, he explained somewhat calmer, "We had our hands full with Cybermen materializing inside our base! We fought for our lives just as you did in London!"

Seeing the man's obvious distress, Owen felt bad for his outburst, but at the same time annoyance threatened to overwhelm him.

"Why didn't you help us?"

"I get what you're saying, mate," Owen tried to calm him, "but you don't know what was happening in Cardiff. After the Cyberinvasion the Rift was spewing out all kinds of chaos, not to mention an alien ocean, complete with a giant octopus, and our boss was dealing with all that alone in the field, supported only by two police constables he temporarily recruited, while our computer expert observed the Rift to warn him of anything that came through."

"I had no idea…" the man said hoarsely.

Owen could see that he was still halfway caught in the throes of his nightmare, but he was willing to listen now.

"There was no way you could know what Captain Harkness had to contend with alone because he sent half of his staff to London. I was here at Canary Wharf only hours after the Cybermen were gone and worked with UNIT to secure the tower. I wish we could've done more, but there was nothing we could do. Nothing…"

Exasperated, Owen trailed off.

"You are safe now," the medic assured the man. "And we're taking care of you."

"Really?" the survivor queried with obvious disbelief. Owen's nod did little to calm him. "I'm so sorry, for everything. I know I've behaved badly, but… man, I haven't been able to sleep for days. I… just can't think straight."

"For how long exactly?" Owen asked, switching to doctor mode.

"Since the invasion."

Now that was definitely too long.

"Look… would the Retcon take away the nightmares?"

"Probably," Owen shrugged. Nobody could tell for sure.

"What if it doesn't?" the man asked fearfully. "I mean, at least now, I know why I'm having them. If I lose my memories… Knowing it was real is the only thing keeping me from going mad!"

"Well, we could provide you with counselling and see how it goes," Owen suggested. Apparently that idea was not convincing. "Or you could take the Retcon now if it's too much for you, and we can assign a counsellor to help reinforce the story we give you to cover the gap in your memory and explain the dreams."

"That's possible?" the man asked insecurely, a stark contrast to his earlier behaviour.

"Sure," Owen nodded. "There are a lot of ways we can work this. The point is, we're not going to abandon you."

All the tension seemed to bleed out of the man and he slumped on the cot with a sigh.

"Thank you," he breathed.

"You're welcome," Owen replied and it was heartfelt.

"I don't want to forget," the man murmured to himself. "Someone has to remember, don't you think?"

"Right," Owen nodded.

"Can I stay some more?"

"Sure. Do you want something to help you sleep?"

"No Retcon…"

"No, of course not," Owen assured him. "I'll be right back."

Nodding at him encouragingly, the doctor went to get the medicine.

xXx

Jack did not really know how he got to be into this small Tesco, perusing the paltry selection of booze, and he did not care. He did not stop to think about what he was doing and went to the checkout with four bottles of the strongest stuff on the shelf. Right now he did not care about quality but quantity.

I wanted to go back to Cardiff.

He stood, waiting to be able to pay and get the hell out of there.

Just what the hell do I want in Cardiff? What's keeping me there?

Nothing.

All Jack felt within himself was an aching emptiness. He paid for his purchase and opened the first bottle on his way to the SUV that he had parked in a side street.

I'm such an idiot. Why was I even surprised that Ianto assumed the worst? I gave him every reason to presume I retconned the man against his will.

The hard liquor was awful, which was perfect for its purpose.

Reminds me of moonshine. Oh, prohibition times, lots of alcohol and Charleston dancing at the speakeasies. Easy to get pissed and fall into bed with a stranger. Went blind once, from bad booze, but that particular bootlegger never made another batch, did he?

A bitter laugh escaped him as he opened the driver's door and scooted into the seat, placing the bottles on the passenger's seat.

No wonder Ianto thinks the worst of me. No second chances with me, are there? I'm a ruthless bastard.

Drinking once more, he started the engine. It hummed away while he stared into vacant space, taking another swallow frequently. The stuff really was terrible, but that did not bother him.

Wasting good whiskey would be a crime. Would take way too long anyway.

Realizing that he was wasting fuel as well, Jack killed the engine.

Kill the engine, yeah. What an expression. Kill…

His thoughts trailed off on that word and he spoke it to himself, tasting its sound and its feel. His gaze still was unfocused and it did not get better with more drinking. With a sigh he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

At some point later he opened his eyes and realized that the buildings cast long shadows.

It's getting late. The others should be finished by now, and mad as hell at me for abandoning them. He snorted. Not the only time I let them down. Almost got them killed. I, of all people, should've known better. Ghosts my ass! I should've known they weren't harmless! If I had listened to my gut, none of that crap would've happened!

At that Jack started.

I wouldn't have met Ianto.

That thought caused a lump in his throat and had him lift the bottle again. His mobile phone chirping made him pause. Hearing Suzie's ring tone, though, he ignored it and took a big gulp.

Not achieving anything yet.

Another series of beeps alerted him of an incoming text message. Hoping against hope that it came from Ianto, Jack checked and saw that it was from Suzie. They had wrapped up the meeting and were ready to head home, asking where he was and if he would come with them.

Home.

The idea made his whole being ache. Home was a distant memory, a sentient ship a long time ago in the future.

Are they going to pick up Ianto?

The question sat heavily in his stomach, drowning in cheap liquor. As he did not want to call Suzie to ask, he dialled Ianto's number instead.

The call went to voice mail. Hearing Ianto's deep voice on his recorded message, made Jack shiver.

You're not into communicating with anyone yet, huh?

So instead he texted, 'We should think about heading back to Cardiff.'

Strangely, Jack's heart began to thump in his chest as he waited for a reply. When it finally came, he read, 'You go on. Don't let me hold you up.'

Now his heart skipped a beat.

'You are coming back, right?' Jack typed into the device, hesitated, and erased the message to replace it with, 'We should talk before I go.'

Impatiently Jack waited five minutes for a reply.

'Ianto?'

Another ten minutes later he had to accept that Ianto was ignoring him. Jack dialled Ianto's number, but hesitated to send the call. He sincerely doubted Ianto wanted to talk to him right now.

It's like taking a date to a party, he told himself, trying to convince himself that he should try. Even if you have a fight, you don't leave without making sure your date has safe passage home.

He frowned at the thought and from his subconscious he could hear a reprimanding voice that, strangely, sounded like Mickey Smith's.

'Except he's not your date. He's not even interested in being your date, and it definitely isn't a party.' His internal dialogue became even weirder when the Doctor piped up, 'You were here to decommission twenty-seven survivors out of a workforce of over eight hundred, and you made a mess of things. It was supposed to be a nice little memorial service and a bit of paperwork, but they made fun of Ianto because of you and then you gave him a panic attack. No wonder he walked out on you.'

He killed the call before he ever sent it, hearing Mickey jeer him, 'Ianto's a grown man. He'll find his own way back to Cardiff, if he decides to return. He sure as hell doesn't want to ride back in the same car with you after what you did today.'

"That's none of your business!" Jack groaned, starting the motor. He had to get away from here.

'Sure it is,' Mickey shot back. 'Gotta try and prevent you from killing anyone else.'

"What?" Jack gasped, "What are you talking about?" He could feel the other man's gaze drilling into him, which made him wonder even more whom he was talking about.

"Well, for one thing… she was MY girl and she died because of you, Captain Cheesecake!"

Jack felt a sudden pang as the scales fell from his eyes,

"Rose!"

Of them all, Mickey had loved Rose Tyler first, so it should not come as a surprise to him that his subconscious took on Mickey's voice to accuse him of getting her killed at Canary Wharf. When Jack had met the Brigadier earlier this week, he had looked at the lists UNIT had compiled of the casualties. Feeling the pressing urge for certainty he had glanced over the names more than reluctantly in search for those that he knew.

Jacqueline Andrea Suzette Tyler; missing; presumed dead

RosE Georgiana Jacqueline Tyler; missing; presumed dead

Jack had choked at finding those two names and quickly returned to the current issues they were discussing.

Now the disturbing information pushed to the forefront of his mind…

…and was blown away by a horn honking in protest when the SUV drifted to the wrong side of the street. Jack had been so deep in thought that he did not even realize he was driving on autopilot. Swiftly he pulled his car back to the left.

I need to get away from here!

He did not necessarily mean the road he was travelling. If possible, he would have left the planet altogether and returned to the stars. Instead he found his way to a less populated street. Driving through dark and empty alleys, he stopped at a random place, took the bottles, and entered the building to his right. He climbed up to the roof where he started to put considerably more effort into getting drunk.

You should always be ready for volcano day, a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind, sounding a note of caution. Bitterness pushed it to the side and more alcohol silenced it.

Rose!

Two more gulps of hard liquor could not quench the pain spreading from within. There was the slightest chance that Rose escaped the tower together with the Doctor, but just the mere possibility was not enough to make Jack believe she might still be alive.

That she was not found does not mean she got away with him, Jack mused. She could've fallen victim to the emergency upgrades, but it's even more likely that the Daleks killed her. Rose was in the sphere chamber when the void ship opened after all. Confronted by three Daleks… I know only too well how that feels.

Having convinced himself that his beloved Rose was dead, Jack downed more liquor and tossed the empty bottle aside.

One down, three more to go.

With big gulps, Jack emptied about one third of the second bottle.

Doesn't work yet, he thought as he padded over to the edge of the roof. Even though he had not heard a ring tone, he pulled out his mobile phone to check if he got any new messages.

Zero.

A breeze ruffled his hair and caught in his coat, making it swing around him. Urged by the elements, Jack stepped forward. One inch more… Below him the depths of the dark alley beckoned him. The fall would embrace him with the oblivion he craved.

They're doing right to ignore me. I'm good for nothing. Just a fraud that perfected the art of cozying up to people, flirting and conning my way through the galaxy. I should never have escaped that Chula ship. It was Rose with her soft heart and big eyes who convinced the Doctor to save me. Now look what her compassion earned her: death by Daleks.

His wordless scream shattered the silence of the falling night and another empty bottle smashed against a brick wall. Unnoticed by Jack, his phone slipped out of his other hand with the same motion.

Which demon brought me back anyway? If travelling with the Doctor was my final reprieve, then dying on the Gamestation was my destiny. There my death at least served a purpose. Which cruel entity condemned me to live this perpetual life, an abomination, a freak of nature?

Not for the first time Jack quarrelled with his warped existence.

It must be my punishment for everything I've ever done wrong. I always thought that what the Time Agency did to me was horrible, but this is so much worse. My failures are coming back to haunt me. Losing Gray. Going rogue, though I still think it was justified. Almost wiping humanity from existence by releasing the Chula nanogenes. All the mistakes I made working for Torchwood. Allowing the Institute to pave the way for the Cybermen. Ultimately getting Rose killed…

No wonder the Doctor left me behind. I'm impossible to bear. He should have ignored Rose and let me die on that Chula ship.

Once more he drank, downing the burning alcohol like water.

How can I dare waiting for him? Why would he ever talk to me again, let alone answer my questions. I'm not worth the dirt under his fingernails, least of all his understanding or, even worse, his forgiveness.

Hearing his phone chirp, Jack whipped around in search of it. The sudden motion overbalanced him, which made him stumble sideways. Stepping onto a length of pipe, he lost his equilibrium as it rolled beneath his shoe, giving him a momentum that made him stagger forward and fall into a heap of debris.

"Aaarghhh…..!"

His scream died away as his lung deflated, pierced by a metal piece of scrap that he fell on. It speared him right in his chest. His breathing rattling, Jack stared incredulously at the thing he impaled himself on.

Of all the ways to go, impaling myself was not on the list.

Trying in vain to push himself far enough up to get off the spear, Jack fought a futile fight. Peripherally he realized that his phone was still ringing and looked for it once again, spotting it just about a yard away. With growing horror, he recognized the caller ID.

Ianto.

Closing his eyes, Jack gave in and sent a prayer to whatever deity that might take pity on him, asking for this death to stick.

xXx

When nobody answered his call, Ianto snapped his mobile phone shut. He had only found Jack's messages when he switched it back on after leaving the hospital where he had visited with fireman Jeffreys. Ever since the man had been injured while trying to get him out of the conversion unit, Ianto had wanted to check on him and now had seemed to be the perfect opportunity. They had talked for a short while before Jeffreys got too tired, which was Ianto's cue to leave.

What now?

A part of him regretted running from the meeting, but another part was glad that he could escape for a while. He needed time to think. Properly.

Even as I stormed out onto the street, I knew I was wrong. Instead of asking what had happened, I just assumed the worst, jumping to conclusions and getting angry with the captain for forcibly retconning the man who had insulted me.

I can't go back, though. I can't spend another minute inside that hotel, near Torchwood. Away, just away…

First he stopped at a grocery store, though, to get some food and other necessities. Going shopping felt surreal. It was so normal that it appeared unreal. In a trance he moved through the aisles.

I've got to stop!

Ianto was not sure what exactly he meant, but he knew that he could not continue like this. So he stopped right in the middle of the aisle and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Slowly he released the air. As he still was tense he repeated it twice. When he opened his eyes, he was determined to choose his dinner deliberately.

Once he decided to have fish, Ianto picked a piece carefully before he returned to the shelves with vegetables. In his mind's eye he saw a dish he once had at a Greek restaurant, with fried fish served with sweet pepper, onion, and zucchini. He was not sure if there were mushrooms as well and chose to take those for Sunday.

What did they have for a side dish? Something with potatoes, scalloped, I think, with a thick, creamy sauce with feta cheese.

The simple task of gathering the ingredients soothed Ianto's frayed nerves and gave him new purpose. He put some more vegetables and a few things for breakfast into his trolley and headed to the checkout.

When Ianto finally dragged himself into his apartment, he sat his bags down at the kitchen door and scuffled into the living room where he dropped onto the sofa.

How can something as ordinary as going shopping be so exhausting?

Of course he knew that it was not his shopping trip that had drained all his energy. The day had been long and eventful, and as Ianto reflected on all the events, he felt like a whole week had passed in just a few hours.

His gaze drifted around the living room that felt as familiar as it was strange to him now that it was only filled with memories instead of Lisa in flesh and blood. He could almost see her standing by the shelf, hear her talking to him, her laughter echoing from his memory.

Alarmed by his growling stomach, Ianto pushed himself up and went over to the kitchen, picking up the bags on his way. After unpacking everything, he quickly changed into casual clothes before he started to work on his dinner. He had missed this. It was not like he often got the opportunity to cook before, but the bedsit in Cardiff was too small and lacked a proper kitchenette. Preparing the food became meditative, up to the point of Ianto being astonished when the finished meal stood in front of him.

A second plate on the other side of the kitchen table.

For a minute or two, Ianto stared at the carefully arranged dish that would never be touched. A lump formed in his throat. Lisa would not come to join him, neither in the next few minutes nor ever again.

'Why don't you eat?'

Her question startled him. She was not there. Could not be there. Her voice an echo from his memory.

'You need to eat, love,' Lisa said. 'This looks too bloody good to go to waste.'

"I can't," he murmured, putting his cutlery down.

'Oh, but you will,' she scolded gently. 'It's bad enough that I can't taste it, because it looks delicious. I won't allow you to throw all of it away. Besides, you need the energy.'

"I don't need any…"

'Nonsense!' Lisa cut him short. 'I knew what I was doing, and I didn't sacrifice myself for you to wallow in grief now instead of doing something significant with your life.'

"I'm not ready yet," he meekly defended himself.

'You know that I trust you, don't you?' Lisa went on. 'I understand your grief. Don't use it as an excuse to avoid life, though. Okay?'

"I won't. Just give me some time."

Finding himself unable to eat what he had prepared, Ianto got up and went to the bathroom. He used the toilet and washed his hands. Then he stood at the washing bowl and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

I should eat.

Back at the kitchen table he could not bring himself to touch his meal, though.

I should put her plate away. What a waste. I can't throw it away, but it's too much for one.

With a sigh he sat down and racked his mind about what to do with the excess food. In the end he pulled out his mobile.

tbc…