It's night. That's the first thing Ianto notices. It's night, and it's raining, and there's a woman. His…his hands are around her throat. She's crying, thrashing against the wall of what looks to be an alley, screaming for him to let her go even though she scarcely has any breath left. He throws her – he doesn't mean to, doesn't tell his arms to do anything, they just do – to the ground. But she doesn't land on the rain-slicked concrete of the alley, rather on an old discarded mattress. Her head cracks against the wall of the alley, and she falls to the mattress, disoriented and terrified.

"I know you didn't mean to kill her." He doesn't know where the voice is coming from. The woman's lips aren't moving, save around incoherent pleas and sobs. He know it isn't him; it's not his voice, and even if he's not in control of his hands or arms, at least they are his.

He's not in control of his legs, either, it seems. He finds himself kneeling on the ground in front of her, the cold rain on the ground seeping through the knees of his already-drenched trousers. It feels so real, from the chill of the water to the sting of broken glass digging into his knee.

She's starting to get up, and he cheers her on desperately. If she could only get up, could only run away, then it would be alright. He doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want to be the one bringing the tears to her eyes or the terror to her young, pretty face.

But she doesn't get up and run, and before she can even recover from her disorientation, he pushes her back down. Only it's not him. It's his body, but not him, because he's screaming now, on the inside. He's crying, and this form is not.

This body is laughing.

He can feel the bite of her nails as she fights him off, and he tries to focus on it. Anything to block this out. He tries to scream at himself, begging these foreign, yet painfully familiar limbs to listen to him. He doesn't want to hurt her, but he's killing her! He's watching the light drain from her petrified eyes, and it's killing him, too.

"You just couldn't stop yourself."

Suddenly there were hands on him, on his forehead. He wasn't in the alley anymore, but in the Hub. He was choking, gasping. He couldn't breathe, and he was in agony, like his brain was being ripped apart from the inside. Through his blurring, unfocused vision, he saw something. Blond hair, violent eyes, and lips moving around the two words that had been haunting him:

"Remember this!"

Ianto woke with a start, his heart thudding painfully loud and fast in his ears. His stomach was churning, and—he was going to be sick, he was going to be sick, he was going to be—

"Ianto, what's going on?" Jack's bleary voice sounded from behind him.

He didn't get a response, though, as Ianto half-tore, half-rolled out of bed and ran into the attached bathroom. He barely made it in time, collapsing to his knees in front of the toilet just as the sick worked its way up his throat.

The terror in her eyes, the scream dying in her throat as he closed his hands around it. His eyes were already burning and itchy from where he'd cried last night – God, because he needed something else to feel horrible about – and they were quick to well up again as heaves continued to wrack his frame.

"Ianto?" came a voice from the door. Jack. "Oh, Ianto," he breathed, kneeling beside Ianto and rubbing his shoulders soothingly. "Catch your breath, Yan. Catch your breath."

But he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her there, and heard that voice.

Remember it!

A whimper broke from his throat and he clenched his eyes. He had nothing left to throw up, but he couldn't manage to draw in a steady breath as the dry heaves wracked his frame.

Something fell on the back of his neck, cold and wet, and he realized Jack had draped a cool rag there. Normally, it helped. Now it just made him shiver. All the same, it did help him get his stomach under control, if only for the shock.

"Feeling any better?" Jack asked after the worst of it was over. Ianto managed a shaky nod and sat back on his heels, just in time to take the glass of water Jack held out to him. "Small sips," Jack reminded him as he went to chug the water. Jack always did know him well, even if he didn't know it.

"Sorry," Ianto mumbled, once he'd gotten as much of the disgusting taste of sick out of his mouth as he possibly could. He'd sat back now, because the chill of the tile was starting to seep into his knees and make the ache stronger, and Jack was sitting in front of him.

Jack smiled reassuringly, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze. "Nothing to apologize for, Yan. Think you can get up?"

Ianto thought for a moment. Could he get up? Probably. Did he want to? No. He rather wanted to be alone right then, to let himself wallow in his panic and humiliation for a little bit. That nightmare…God, it had been so real. And it had been just like those flashes from before. It was too similar to be coincidence. And those two days missing from his memory and Torchwood records.What if…what if he really had…?

He pushed himself off the ground and hurried, albeit shakily, back into Jack's room. He had some extra suits in Jack's closet, and he pulled one of them out. Jack caught up to him right about then, as he turned to go to the spare showers in the Hub.

With a hand on his shoulder, Jack turned him around. "Hey, where do you think you're going?" His eyebrows were knotted, and his face contorted with confusion and concern. As much as he tried to play it cool, Ianto knew Jack's dirty secret: the man was the biggest mother hen that side of the North Atlantic.

But, of course, Ianto was the master of hiding. Even as his heart pounded in his chest alarmingly fast, and his stomach churned in time with his racing thoughts, he kept his face steely and calm. "I need to get ready for work," he said, and he was proud to say his voice barely even trembled, even though his hands shook uncontrollably in the fabric of the suit he was holding.

Just hold it together long enough to make it to the Archives. Just pretend there's nothing wrong.

Jack wasn't buying it. "You're not working today," he said, and he said it in that voice that left no room for argument.

Not that it stopped Ianto from arguing. "I only felt a little sick," he protested. "I think dinner might've been off last night."

"Funny, I had the same thing as you and I don't even feel queasy," Jack retorted, arching a single eyebrow. He had still had a hand on Ianto's shoulder, his thumb stroking a distractingly soothing pattern across Ianto's exposed collarbone. "Come on, Yan, just tell me what's wrong."

"I told you, I just felt a bit off. I'm fine now." He started to turn again, but Jack forced him back around.

"Ianto, stop. There's something going on here, and if you're not going to trust me enough to tell me, then I guess I'll have to deal with it. But I can't have you walking around here like this. Either stay down here, or let me drive you home." Ianto opened his mouth to protest, but Jack held up a hand. "No buts, Yan. Those are your two choices."

To be honest, neither of them sounded terribly appealing. He didn't really want to be alone – the voice came to him when he was alone, more than it did when he was with Jack – but at the same time, he didn't want to be around people. He didn't have a reason for it, just a feeling. An uneasy feeling.

At the same time, staying there would mean constant scrutiny. He knew Jack well enough to know that he wouldn't just leave him be, and if he got sick again like his rolling stomach suggested he might, he'd probably sic Owen on him. That'd make an already bad situation worse.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, it was really just a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. While he didn't want to be alone, he couldn't risk being around the others. What if they found out…what if they found out…what, exactly? He hadn't the slightest idea what they might discover, and that terrified him more than anything. He couldn't hide what he didn't know, couldn't fix it or make amends. Those pictures in his head, the woman screaming, the voice…he didn't know what any of it meant, and he was scared. God, he was scared.

"Home," he said finally. "I want to go home. Just…let me get dressed first."

Jack didn't look terribly pleased at the idea, but he eventually nodded. "All right, then, but I don't think the suit's really necessary," he said, before taking the suit from Ianto's hands and sitting it on the bed. At Ianto's sour look, he smiled a little. "I'll hang it up later, I swear." Then he went over to his drawers and rifled through until he found a t-shirt and some jeans Ianto had left over. "I'm glad you finally decided to start hijacking some of my storage space; I don't know if anything of mine would fit you anymore." It used to be that they were pretty close, but lately, Ianto was running a little on the lighter side than Jack, and since the older man was already taller, he imagined they'd just about dwarf him now.

"All right, then, go get changed. If you're not out in ten, I'm coming after you," he said as he handed Ianto the clothes. Instead of letting him climb the ladder back into Jack's office, though, he turned him and pushed him towards the bathroom there.

Ianto leaned his head against the mercifully cool glass, watching the buildings pass on the way to his flat. Jack was being surprisingly quiet, though every now and then, he caught him looking at him out of the corner of his eye, that same concerned expression on his face. He really did hate that he was worrying him; Jack had enough to deal with on any given day without him adding to the troubles. He couldn't help it, though. His foot tapped nervously, his hands fidgeted in his lap, and every now and then…

Remember it!

He'd try really hard not to gasp, really he would, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Jack put a comforting hand on his thigh, glancing at him, but he wouldn't say anything.

When they finally came to a stop in front of Ianto's complex, he got out. Jack was already coming around to him, and slipped a hand around Ianto's waist as soon as he reached him, like he was afraid Ianto would fall at any moment. He stayed like that, walking with Ianto all the way up to his flat, and letting him go only so that Ianto could fish his keys out of his pocket and go inside. He followed closely enough behind.

"Can I get you anything?" Ianto asked as he walked in. He was pretty confident Jack could find anything he needed there – God knew he'd been there enough times, in the past, between post-mission stay-overs and the occasional out-of-office shag. It was more than that, now, he supposed. Now that Jack had started asking him on dates and other things that people in relationships did. Movie nights, cuddling on the sofa, breakfast in bed…it was definitely new to Ianto, but Jack seemed more than willing to show him the ropes.

"You can get in bed," Jack replied, gesturing down the hall towards Ianto's bedroom. "And for once, that has nothing to do with sex." The last was said with a hint of a smirk and a wink, and for the briefest of moments, Ianto felt some of the tension release from his chest.

"Should I be offended?" he asked.

Jack's hand found his hips again, and the man pulled him in for a kiss – thank God he'd brushed his teeth before he left the Hub – before walking him the rest of the way into his bedroom. "Not in the least, Yan." He kissed him again, this time on the forehead as he backed him up until his knees hit the bed. "But you need to get some sleep."

Sleep. That was the one thing Ianto didn't want. All the same, he forced a smile and nodded. After a moment's thought and hesitation, he unfastened his jeans and slid out of them before sitting down on the bed.

Brushing his hand through Ianto's hair, Jack smiled. "You want me to stay for a while?" he asked. Ianto could tell he was asking just as much for him as he was for himself; Jack didn't want to leave him alone, and honestly, part of him didn't want Jack to go. He wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon, though, and Jack would be watching him. He needed to be by himself, to sort this out, as much as he hated the thought.

"It's fine," he said. "I'll be fine. Just…tell the others not to touch the coffee machine, yeah?"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah. Now get some sleep, okay?" Cupping his hand to the side of Ianto's face, he leaned in for one last kiss before straightening back up. "Are you sure there's nothing I can get you before I go?" he asked.

Ianto nodded. "Positive. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Or call me, if you're still feeling bad. I'll try to come by tonight." And before Ianto got a chance to protest, Jack left. For the longest time, he just sat there, listening as the door to his flat closed signaling he was once again alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

And as silence fell in his flat, two words echoed in his head with nearly painful clarity.

Remember it….