Chapter Forty-Seven

MY DAD BOUGHT ME A LAPTOP!!!!!!!! *does mad dance of glee* And it's sooooooo beautiful and... *bounces*

Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, although I do own this lovely laptop that—uh, yeah. You know the story. I'll just, uh, shut up now.

The Doctor paused before starting, a haunted look on his features. He pulled the sonic screwdriver from his pocket, aiming it at the AutoPilot, still staying silent as the end glowed blue and the rain fizzed around it.

"What are you doing?" Gwen asked cautiously.

"Setting up the AutoPilot," the Doctor replied, his tone deceptively casual.

"You can just press the button, y'know," Owen said. "Like normal people do."

The Doctor grinned at him, although Gwen could see that it was a fake, forced smile. "Where's the fun in that?"

Gwen waited. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Explanation?"

"Oh… explanation. Yeah." The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down on the other side of the boat and stowing his sonic screwdriver back in his suit-jacket pocket. "I can't really say much, timelines and all that, but I'm pretty certain that Jack and Ianto take care of themselves."

"How can you say for certain?" Gwen challenged. "They might not be able to take care of themselves. They might need us to—"

"I know that they look after themselves," the Doctor said. "If we did anything, it could mess around with timelines."

"So you'd sacrifice them both because you didn't want to take a risk?" Donna asked incredulously.

"A risk that, if the worst happened, could potentially destroy the universe," the Doctor said bitterly. "Believe me – if there was anything I could do, I'd be doing it."

"So we just… do what, exactly?" Gwen asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "Wait. Hope."

"Why can't you just get in the TARDIS and whizz to when they return?" Donna frowned.

The Doctor hesitated again; Gwen imagined he was choosing his words very carefully. "It would… complicate matters."

I guess that's the best we're going to get out of him, Gwen thought ruefully. But at least he seems confident that Jack and Ianto are alright.

I just hope that he isn't making it up to make us feel better.

-T-

Ianto was going to wear through the floor if he paced for much longer, Jack was certain. He sat in his chair, watching the younger man walk up and down, up and down, until he felt tired simply from watching.

"Ianto, relax," he tried again. "Getting yourself into a panic isn't going to help matters."

Ianto swung around to face him, eyes wild. "What am I supposed to do?" he spat. "Just sit and wait? Why the hell should I do that?" He ran an agitated hand through his hair, ruffling it in a way eerily similar to Jack's partner. "I can't, Jack. I can't. I…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

Jack got up, the chair creaking as he did so, and touched Ianto's arm. "There isn't anything you can do, but getting like this is certainly only going to make things worse."

Ianto's shoulders sagged. He almost fell into Jack's vacated chair, like a boneless rubber doll. "What do I do?"

Jack's heart broke at the desolation in Ianto's voice. "You cope," he told him quietly. "You stay strong. For her."

Ianto nodded slowly, still staring at the floor. "You're right," he said quietly, in nearly a whisper. He looked up. "You're right," he repeated, stronger this time. "I have to stay strong for her. For Lisa."

Jack smiled sadly. "That's the idea."

The door banged open. A group of nurses and porters wheeled a trolley through; Ianto rushed to help them lift Lisa onto the bed, his face white.

Jack felt cold dread clutch at him as he saw the young woman's body swathed in bandages. A metal neck-brace supported her head; wires snaked from every possible crevice. She had so many machines hooked up to her that she looked more metal than flesh.

He heard a pained gasp from Ianto; when he looked at the young man, Jack saw that his face was contorted, his eyes screwed shut and his hands clutching his head.

"Ianto?" he asked quietly, feeling out-of-place.

Ianto was muttering under his breath, his voice low-pitched and feverish, "Nononononono—"

"Ianto," Jack tried again, still to no avail.

"Not again…" Ianto moaned. "Please, God, not again."

Jack reached out cautiously and laid a hand on Ianto's shoulder. A flicker of hurt flashed into life when Ianto flinched away from him, wrapping his arms around his torso and scrunching his eyes closed.

"Ianto, talk to me," Jack said. "What's wrong?"

Ianto shook his head, still not opening his eyes. "Not again – what did I do wrong? God, please…"

"What do you mean, 'not again'?" Jack demanded. "Has this happened before?"

Ianto stiffened and looked at the bed again. "This can't be happening," he whispered, his face grey. "Lisa's dead. She died long ago."

"Ianto, what are you talking about?"

"What am I doing here?" Ianto unwrapped his arms from around himself and pointed at Lisa. "Lisa can't be here. She died at Canary Wharf. I know that."

"Calm down," Jack said. "Ianto, you're not thinking straight. Canary Wharf was a bombing in London. You're in Cardiff. Neither of you were in London." He reached out again, and was surprised when Ianto held him in a vice-like hug. Cautiously, he stroked Ianto's hair, still marvelling at the similarities between this man and his partner. "Lisa's your girlfriend. Remember?"

Ianto shook his head, face buried in Jack's shoulder and hands clutching at his shirt. "Lisa's dead. I work for Torchwood in Cardiff. I hunt aliens. So do you." He looked up at Jack, tear-tracks staining his cheeks. "Don't you remember, Jack?"

Jack's breath caught in his throat. "Ianto..." he murmured. "I think you need to sit down. Have a cup of tea. You're in shock."

"I'm not in shock," Ianto argued, still not releasing his death-grip on Jack's shirt. "You can ask me anything about you and I'll be able to answer."

"So could a stalker," Jack replied drily.

Ianto's blue gaze never wavered. "Try me."

Jack let out a tired laugh. "Fine. But I still think you're in shock."

Ianto didn't even blink.

Jack sighed. "How do I like my coffee?"

"That's easy," Ianto scoffed. "Black, with three sugars. Industrial strength." He smiled, as if remembering some fond memories. "I always tell you that you'll rot your teeth."

Jack sucked in air through his teeth, thinking. "Do I like cabbage?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "No. You say that it tastes like washing-up water. Not like you ever do the washing-up, anyway." He paused. "Except for on my birthday."

Jack frowned. "Okay, that's slightly freaky." I did that for my Ianto on his birthday, too.

"Do you believe me now?"

"No," Jack said honestly. "I still think you need a lie-down and a drink."

Ianto groaned and pulled away, scrubbing at his face. He deliberately didn't look at the woman in the bed. "How can I prove it to you?"

"Well, you can explain to me why any of this," he gestured to the room, "is happening if what you say is true."

Ianto frowned. "I haven't worked that bit out quite yet."

"See?" Jack said. "You're in shock." He held out a hand, which Ianto took grudgingly. "C'mon. Let's get you sorted."

I hope that you all liked that. :-) If any of you are getting slightly bored with the pace/length/anything, then please let me know! I'm just very conscious that this is getting to be rather long, and the reviews have started to decline these last few chapters... :-(