STORIES
TWENTYFOUR
"Ianto?"
"Yes, Jack?" Jack smiled inwardly despite the unsettling situation. At least the 'sir' business had stopped.
"Is secure storage still as I left it?"
"Yes, no one has touched it, as per your departing orders."
"Good, good. Remember the drawer I told you to never under any circumstances open?"
Ianto drew a sharp breath, "The lower left hand corner one?"
"Roger that."
"Yes, I remember it."
"I want you to go and open it. There's a second, separate security measure inside. Once you've exposed it, you'll have ten seconds to correctly enter the following code on the keypad: 12711826. Grab the container that's inside and bring it here, quick as you can."
Without another word Ianto turned and hurried out. Jack liked that about him. No further questions, no additional explanations, no unnecessary clever comments, no inane chit-chat. Jack hadn't needed to tell the Welshman that if he fucked up the code bad things would happen. Very bad things would happen. Ianto was, for all intents and purposes, perfect.
And then there was The Doctor… the Captain sadly gazed down at the motionless Time Lord and shook his head. He'd found himself in this situation one too many times. If it wasn't so disturbing it'd probably almost be funny. But it wasn't funny – there was no doubt the man from Gallifrey looked absolutely terrible. Not older literally, but rather older sort of figuratively – he looked phenomenally fragile, care-worn, and infirm. The dark rings under his lidded eyes contrasted sharply with his colorless face. Even his lips were pale. On the positive side, however, The Doctor was breathing softly, regularly. Jack took that for a good sign. He found he had to take it for a good sign, otherwise…
Jack knelt down and gently touched The Doctor's forehead with his fingertips. The skin was cool, dry; just as it should be. For better or worse the Captain had come to the conclusion that whatever had happened was survivable. Still, he felt a hot flash of anger; how many more times could the Time Lord tolerate donating a portion of his life's energy to the damn ship? And if he did it one too many times, what would be the result? A permanent coma? Could he die? Would he regenerate? These were just a few of the oh-so-many questions Jack had about his precious Doctor. Endless questions…
But both of them were by nature secret keepers. Revelations came slowly if at all, and in unexpected ways and during unforeseen times. Tellings that often enough were dragged out of their dark hiding places kicking and screaming. Jack really had no right to be overly critical. By nature and choice he kept himself unrevealed, even to his closest colleagues, his best friends, his most intimate lovers. He had let Ianto in farther and deeper than he'd planned for at the time; had told the Welshman stories he'd not told anyone for, well, many, many years. The strength of his feelings for the young man had taken him by storm, and by surprise. Feelings – stirrings – that he couldn't deny he still felt strongly. That he always would feel, for as long as he was alive.
Of course the person who knew him best was still, would perhaps always be, John Hart. In the end, there'd been few secrets between them, and even when there was the rare secret to be had it seemed in his heart of hearts the other man simply and instinctively already grasped it. The Doctor had once described the quasi-mystical connection – he'd called it a glimmering thread – which he'd perceived enduringly linking the two former Time Agents together. Jack Harkness had never for a moment doubted the existence of such a bond. There was a level of comfort between them which was unmatched in Jack's life. Comfort that was the result of all those years they'd spent together as Time Agents. Comfort that had grown from all those stories they'd shared and adventures they'd lived. Jack closed his eyes. He'd been purposefully not thinking about John. Not wondering whether it was John or Wil who had pressed the blue button. Not worrying about what had happened to them… to him. The Captain was purposefully trying not to obsess, but a part of his brain was already working hard on the problem and imagining what might lay ahead – hence Ianto's urgent and mysterious task.
Jack opened his eyes and gazed at The Doctor, his fingers still softly touching the Gallifreyan's brow. The Time Lord was stretched thin, diluted, as if pale morning sunlight could shine right through him and give his brave hearts a sunburn. Almost like a lover, in fact just like a lover, and closing his eyes once again as if in prayer, the Captain gently stroked The Doctor's face and, somehow, through that intimate physical connection, he could feel the TARDIS watching, waiting… humming with energy. He realized the ship was listening to him, expecting an order. He could sense the ship's calm anticipation. Again the Captain experienced a small jolt of anger. You allow him to do that, he thought, to give of himself.
[And you do not?] was the soundless response.
Jack's eyes flashed open but the conversation was interrupted by the return of Ianto Jones. He quietly closed the doors behind him and walked up the ramp.
The Captain stood and blinked at the Welshman, who was gingerly carrying a smallish, silvery cookie jar-sized cylindrical container. The container had a worn-looking yellow radiation symbol sticker on its side. "Excellent," Jack murmured. And then, the two men's eyes meeting, he asked, "You're coming with me?"
"Yes, Jack. Of course I'll be coming with you."
The former Time Agent's response was thoughtful, quiet. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Suddenly Jack inhaled sharply as his eyes narrowed, "Shit, I should've asked you to set…"
"The Hub is now in full lockdown, Jack. Nothing can get in, or out."
"But Gwen…"
"She's been notified."
Jack nodded and allowed a brief but sincere look of gratitude to grace his countenance. It didn't come close to reflecting how truly relieved he was that Ianto was there and had agreed to journey onward with him. Nor did it betray that the Captain fully appreciated how difficult a choice it had been for the young man to make. There was loyalty and courage in the Welshman's eyes, but there was also vulnerability.
Ianto glanced down worriedly at The Doctor, "What about him?"
"He's coming too."
"No, I mean…"
Jack smiled, "I know what you mean. And I know it doesn't look so good right now, but I think he's okay. What he did was give up some of his life force to the ship, so that she can take us to wherever and whenever John's wristband is. And, Ianto, when I say give up I mean permanently. He's forever lost some amount of years from his life, but I've seen him like this before. He'll recover." At least he always has…
"How many years?"
"I'm not sure I even want to guess," the Captain frowned deeply. "But he told me not to dawdle, so…"
"Allons-y?" Ianto smiled thinly.
Jack grinned and walked over to the console, but it was unnecessary. The TARDIS engines came to life and they were on their way.