A/N: Aww, no reviews at all for the last chapter! I don't know whether you were stunned into silence or hated it! Very sad. Anyways, here is a new and extremely long chapter for you. No Torchwood Team except Jack, and of course Ianto, but I have written Eleventh Doctor, and his companion Amy Pond, into this, as I think they look AWESOME. At least, from what I've seen in pictures. I can't wait to see if they live up to my expectations. No reunions just yet, but we'll see. Do review this one, pleaaaase, even if it's to tell me you hate me and wish I'd never continue. (hopefully) Enjoy.


Everything was extremely clear, and extremely easy, Ianto mused, as he whirled and weaved through the Officials' training course. Things had never been this easy before.

He barely winced as a thick blade bit into his shoulder with a heavy thud; the wound would be healed by the time he finished the course, living nothing but a thin scar which looked like he'd gotten it years ago.

Several days had passed since the pain of revival and the injection, and Ianto Jones had not thought of Jack Harkness once. And in Learner's opinion, he was all the better for it. That man, ravaged by time and yet unharmed, was a poison to Ianto's potential, and it was better that he forgot him. Learner eyed his stopwatch, which was still running. 2 minutes thus far – this would be the best time a subject had ever managed.

Ianto ran to the checkpoint with amazing speed and strength and Learner stopped the watch. 2 minutes 30 seconds, dead. Cath stood, congratulating Ianto, and then led him to where Learner was standing, stopwatch in hand and a triumphant smile on his face.

They watched nervously as Ianto spotted the stopwatch, as if gauging his reaction and analyzing whether he'd be a threat. He looked at the time, grinned, and raised his hand to stroke through his short crop of hair.

Then the grin faltered, and the hand clutched, for one mere second, then Ianto Jones swiftly turned it around. Just a headache, he thought absently. Nothing to worry about. He smiled widely at Cath and Learner, who eyed him with a speculative expression, and walked off, and wondered why someone else's memories had appeared in his head. A man in clothes of an earlier time, no face that Ianto could make out, but a grey RAF greatcoat draped around his shoulders. He saw another faceless man, too, next to the other – dressed in a tidy black suit and red shirt. He seemed familiar, but Ianto felt it could not be him; the man radiated weakness, screamed mortal.

He shrugged it off. Probably just a side-effect.


"Captain Jack Harkness and the remnants of the Torchwood Institute, Branch Three. Greetings. We send you this message in hopes you will be smart enough to find it. We didn't make it too hard just in case you were as stupid as we originally thought. You have shot at bulletproof glass on one occasion – I'm sure you remember, Captain. You may think that we have been being careless with our endeavours – the coffee machine, the blood, letting you spot one of our Officials – but all has been intentional. As you read this, Ianto Jones is in our possession. You can thank us later for what is being done. If you wish to see him again, don't hesitate to find the Basement. Ask the right people and you'll find us – but beware. What you find may not be what you want to see, and you may not recognize what you are faced with. However, we have one condition – leave Gwen Cooper and Martha Jones at home. This is for your eyes only. Fear not, the right person will appear momentarily."

Jack furrowed his brow after reading the translation aloud for the umpteenth time, feeling as though his spine had been frozen solid and was now trying to break free from his back. This gave some answers, but many more questions – who were the Officials? Where was the Basement? Who was this person they had sent?

He presumed they'd sent whoever it was. Although the way his life was going, anything could happen.

He got up off of the dingy bed in his hotel room and sighed, braces hanging about his hips and boots kicked off haphazardly on the floor. His greatcoat was draped over the one chair in the room, which was placed in front of a lopsided desk with a television perched carefully on the higher side. He padded softly to the room's bathroom to splash some water on his face, then froze in place as he felt the strangest sensation go through him, and his ears pricked up, hearing the faintest sound outside. His flesh felt as though it was buzzing, and he clenched his fists subconsciously; this did not feel right.

He walked on auto-pilot, losing control of his own body, and reached the window, where the curtains (which clashed rather horribly with the floral wallpaper, being bright green) were drawn, hiding the night's view from his tired eyes. He opened them a tiny fraction, and peered out into the darkness, and felt himself inhale sharply at what he saw.

That damn blue box. He should have known. And yet his Doctor was not standing outside of the TARDIS, staring resolutely at his window. The only signs of life outside were a young man with dark hair reading a newspaper some distance from the box on a bench, and a redheaded girl sitting next to him, texting on her phone. He shook his head.

He was going to hammer on that door and demand to be let in. Or answers. Preferably both.

Speedily he pulled on his boots, pulled up his braces, and slung his heavy greatcoat on, and ran out of his hotel room, having just enough time to grab the keycard and his phone as he left. Feet pounding the ground furiously, he ran out of the hotel and stared at the blue box with a mixture of happiness and anger. If the Doctor was any part of this whole thing, Jack was going to be having words; although admittedly, he should have seen this coming. He approached the police box tentatively, feeling its energy hum at it approached.

Ah, Jack, she seemed to say. One of my own, back to the fold.

"Jack."

He spun promptly on his feet, tearing himself away from the familiar feeling the TARDIS seemed to emit, and found himself face to face with the dark-haired young man and redheaded girl from the bench down the street.

Jack scrutinized the young man – he wore a tweed jacket with a lavender shirt and red bow-tie, and faded black trousers turned up to reveal equally faded black walking boots. The newspaper was tucked under his arm, folded perfectly. The girl's red hair flowed easily over her shoulders, and she had a pretty, innocent face, marked with happiness and an oh-so familiar spark of knowledge behind her brown eyes. She wore a large light blue sweater and black shorts, with grey tights and dark red high-tops, with thick black socks just peeking over their rim.

All at once, Jack felt anguish flood into him, as well as some hope. This was not his Doctor – but it was the Doctor.

"Doctor. You seem to get younger every time. New companion?"

The man nodded once, and said in a quiet, musical voice, "Her name is Amy. We've come to – well, I suppose you already know."

Jack swallowed, "Yeah. But, Doctor – how did you die?"

His questioned was greeted by a resolute shake of the head, "Not yet, Jack. I can't tell you anything until the right time."

"Right. Timey-wimey stuff. I get it."

The Doctor looked to his companion, who smiled and said, "Well, let's go then."

The trio headed for the blue police box together, and Jack noticed that the Doctor was still vaguely uncomfortable around him. Some things, he thought, will never change.


"His IQ is off the scale. His reaction times are immaculate. His brain activity is at perfect efficiency – he runs at 100% until he sleeps; then it goes down to 10%. He saves energy beautifully. He's the ideal machine – just what we need!" Learner raved, as he and Cath watched Ianto sleep in the pods they reserved for Basement personnel. Cath frowned, biting at her sharp nails pensively.

Sure. He was all of that and more. He was perfect, but she couldn't help wondering if this life was right for Ianto. Watching his memories back on the heavy machinery while Ianto was dealing with the injection had made her feel uncomfortable – this was a man who had memories of both unimaginable danger and strange, otherworldly creatures; of pain and anguish and misery, teamed with quiet memories of sitting in the Hub with that Harkness creature, calm and serene, and at other times passionate and painful and raw.

Would the block they'd put on that part of his brain hold?

"--- and his speed, I've never seen any of our Officials work that way. It's like he was born for this!" Learner looked at her expectantly, now in his true form – his wide white eyes stared at her from his glimmering indigo face. His black spines quivered expectantly.

She placed her hand in his and smiled, squeezing it softly, "Yeah. He's perfect for the Officials. Truly unique."

Learner eyed her skeptically, then his gaze drifted to her tattoos, which were etched everywhere, even on her face. Distracted, he questioned, "Cath, tell me again why you got those?"

She hummed appreciatively, "You've never asked before." Cath sucked a great breath in, and exhaled, "I wanted people to know I'm dangerous, not of their world. I wanted them to see it on every inch of my skin, and feel fear in their hearts when I walked by. I wanted everyone – especially you – to know that I am the best of the best, and no new kids are gonna change that."

Cath glared into Learner's gaze until she felt him wince under the power of her eyes. Her grip on his hand became a vice, and she noted how her nails bit into even his thick skin.

"Lord knows I love you to the ends of the Earth, Learner, but you and the old team ripped out every part of me that was human and rebuilt the remnants into something no one would recognize. A horrible mistake. I just wanted the rest of the world to know what you did to me, and make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

She turned mutely to Ianto, who she was surprised to see staring back up at her evenly. She did not balk from his gaze, instead offered him her other hand, pulling him up with something Ianto identified as unnatural strength.

"Come on, Ianto Jones. Let me show you what you could have become."


There was that noise again, thought Jack. Completely unique, nothing like it – in all his eternities of living, he'd never found anything that could make him feel the same way as the TARDIS' leaving siren did.

He practically tingled with anticipation as he rocked on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back. The TARDIS was the same as ever on the inside, but the people in it were suddenly alien to him. Maybe that was the way it was meant to be.

"So, um…Doctor. Can you tell me anything about what's going on?"

He didn't seem to be able to get used to seeing the new Doctor's young face stare up at him with such sadness and age in his eyes. Under the full strength of the Doctor's stare, he felt himself fill with dread.

"Nothing good, then?"

The Doctor shook his head, then paused in what he was doing, clearly thinking. Then, in that new, quiet voice which still held just as much gravitas as his old one, the sound carrying perfectly well to Jack's ears despite him standing some distance away, the Doctor replied.

"You'll get him back. He won't be the same. But you'll get him back."

Jack blinked, then smiled.

"That's something; no, wait. That's everything."


"She's fantastic."

Ianto looked at Learner as he said it, and Learner looked back with a grimace.

"Fantastic, but we broke her. There was a point at which we had balance, and we should have left it there. Like we did with you."

Ianto stared, openly stared. He had not yet grown accustomed to Learner's real form, but could make out sadness in his blank, staring eyes – and a strange sort of hunger. It made him want to flinch away. He swallowed, and sighed.

"I feel like I'm missing something. I keep seeing these pictures in my head and I don't know where they came from. There's this man, and there's something so familiar about him, but I don't know why."

"That's…a side effect. It'll pass."

Ianto stewed over this awhile, then curtly nodded, instead turning to watch Cath on the training course. Droids sprang up from all around her, and she came up with increasingly unique and brutal methods of crumpling them and reducing them to the recyclable dust they decomposed into. Ianto's stomach fluttered at the pure strength of it, and yet something was off. He knew in his heart that this woman was wrong. He knew that every so often he got terrible migraines which made him wretch hollowly and remember the weak, mortal man in the suit and the strange man with the greatcoat. And he could remember how to make coffee from a machine he felt he'd never seen before in his life.

"Coffee, Learner?"

"Yes. That would be excellent, thank you Ianto."

Ianto headed out of the spectator's booth, and down the hall, thinking of stopwatches and hockey sticks, and wondering why.


The TARDIS made its infamous sound again, and Jack knew they had reached wherever he needed to be.

"We're actually here yesterday, which was unexpected," the girl (Amy, Jack reminded himself) said, glancing at her Doctor with what looked like a pointed glare, "So you'll have to stay here tonight."

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by the Doctor, who said, tersely, in a near whisper, "They're not ready for you yet. They know you're here now, but they need to organize some things. We can't even let you outside yet."

He knew at once his protests would fall on deaf ears, "I suppose you two will be off somewhere, though?"

The Doctor nodded, "Yes. To visit them and make sure they're sorted. You know where your room is, Jack. Don't make this difficult."

Amy grinned, "Don't touch anything – I learnt that lesson on the first day."

Jack smiled, though it held no warmth for her. He felt as though he was being treated as a first-timer. Amy, you just wait. You'll see your Doctor and I dance this dance again and again.

Her and the Doctor began to leave. Jack caught the Doctor's arm.

"Doctor. You've…you've changed."

A small, sad smile, "I know Jack. I know."

And with that the pair walked out of the TARDIS and into the unknown, Jack left behind. He heard the Doctor lock the door, and sighed heavily. He'd be getting no sleep tonight, no doubt. Out of habit, he shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his coat, despite it not being cold. Kicking off his boots and scooping them up with one hand, he walked slowly through a doorway and down a long corridor, stopping just before what he remembered was his room. Here was the Doctor's inner sanctum – his wardrobe.

Jack had always liked this room, with it's overflowing shelves and rails groaning under the weight of so many different clothes. He breathed in its heady scent – no matter how much the Doctor changed physically, his smell was always the same. It smelt achingly familiar, and equally as sad – he smiled, because it was the smell he woke up to when he cheated death for the first time, and was left all alone.

But suddenly he noticed something at the end of a rail, in its own plastic wrapping to keep the smell out. A suit – black suit and tie, red shirt, Ianto's. Presumably they'd need it. Practically running, he picked up the wrapped ensemble by the hanger, and carried it out of the room. If he was going to open it anywhere, it wouldn't be in this room, where the scent of time and space could contaminate the only smell that kept him grounded to the Earth.

He headed into his room, and smiled at how the bed was still rumpled and disheveled from the last time Jack had slept – or attempted to sleep – there. He sat down on it after dropping his boots and draping his coat over a chair, and then opened the wrapping.

Somehow, Jack's nose was hypersensitive to Ianto. He could smell coffee, and aftershave, and cleanliness. Toast, cotton, and aromatherapy soap given to him by Gwen. Breathing in something so familiar had Jack gasping on the bed, remembering everything.

And somehow, this hurts and heals him more than words could say.


There was something comforting about making coffee. Something beautiful and rhythmic, something that Ianto could appreciate even now, with a headache coming on.

He leant against the sticky countertop of the Basement's kitchenette – he'd worked for two (well, three, if you separate One from Three) secret organizations, and yet this feature – the faded, green plastic countertops, the coffee stains marking it, the floor making tiny ripping noises whenever he moved his feet – never changed in any of them.

The coffee was percolating nicely and the smell was slowly drifting out. Ianto inhaled it like a drug.

And then he fell, clutching his head.

He could hear a strange buzzing noise in his ears, and feel ants crawling under his skin, in his scalp, and suddenly he couldn't feel his body. He closed his eyes to the suddenly searing kitchen air and grit his teeth – and slowly started to piece things together.

The faces were appearing on the people in his head. There was the Japanese woman, and the frog-faced man, the Welsh woman with the doe eyes, then the other two.

He put names to faces. Toshiko Sato. Dr. Owen Harper. Gwen Cooper-Williams.

The strange man was materializing, and Ianto felt his heart leap.

Captain Jack Harkness.

With a smile big enough to light up the room, Ianto remembered Jack with all of his being, feeling the longing and the – dare he say it? – love flooding back and warming his soul back into life. With a sinking heart, he realized the man in the suit – the weakling, the coffee boy – was him, and had been all along. He scowled, not wishing to be connected with someone so pliable and mortal.

Another sharp pain shot through his body, and he bent double on the floor. No. Not weak. Just human. Remember being human.

The ache in his limbs faded as Cath and Learner rushed into the room and Cath pushed a button on some remote in her hands – the remote lit up bright green and then faded through angry amber into a dripping red, and as it did, the agony dissipated.

Cath looked at Learner with anger in her eyes, "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

"But…Cath, I---"

"No. You tried to turn him into me. You know that could have killed him – he wouldn't have overcome the mental block like me. You'd have turned him into a semi-alien husk of a human, with no emotions or morals or sense of right or wrong. A killing machine. Is that what you wanted?" Cath shook Learner by the shoulders, and stormed out.

Ianto looked at Learner with a question in his eyes, and said but one word, "Jack."

Learner nodded, "Soon. Let me explain some things."

They walked slowly through the corridors of the Basement, and Ianto winced at the damp, subterranean smell he had never noticed before. He passed many rooms - one pitch black, with a blue police box in the corner - until they finally reached a large, white room – Ianto felt a spark of familiarity.

The mahogany furniture was not pushed to the walls this time, the floor uncovered by thick cables. The blood – my blood, Ianto remembered – had been cleaned up by disposable personnel, and a large armchair was sat behind a heavy, dark desk. Ianto sat down in the regular chair in front of the desk, as Learner took the armchair.

"I think you need to know what we've done to you."

"I think so too."

"We've watched you your entire life, you know. We waited for you to die – well, more hoped. You needed to be young. We couldn't kill you like we did with Cath, planting a disease-carrying mosquito in a package we knew she'd open. Well, many mosquitoes in many packages, but we needn't go into that."

Learner paused to draw breath.

"If you hadn't died in your twenties, we'd have no business left with you. We only recruit the young. We took your body from where you died and we brought you back to life. That bit, no doubt, you remember."

Ianto nodded curtly – the cold fingers of the plugs in his chest and arms were hard to forget.

"Then you'll recall the injection. We injected nanogenes, and certain aiding chemicals, straight to your heart. They entered your bloodstream and fixed every part of you that had started to waste away after your death. However, after seeing you recover so quickly, I did not push the kill trigger on them. I thought I'd let them do more."

Learner waited, his spines bristling anxiously, eyes searching for some reaction in Ianto's face. Seeing nothing except whitened lips, he went on.

"Right now, your muscle tissue is brand new, and your fat levels are down to a permanently low level. Your bones are stronger, you heal immeasurably fast, and your senses are unparalleled. You are the ideal Official – beyond that really, as you broke the mind block completely. Even Cath didn't do that, though she believes she did. She hasn't found the part of her brain which stops her lusting for blood. You have. Hence the agonizing headaches and itching under the skin."

Ianto smiled slightly at that, quirking an eyebrow, "You still haven't told me why you picked me and what this organization does."

Learner frowned, "That's…need-to-know basis only."

"I need to know."


"The Officials are beyond Torchwood. They are the people who deal with the threats too big to allow Torchwood to deal with. They, for example, monitor the Earth's conditions, keeping natural disasters to the possible minimum. They monitor the Earth's core, intercept alien signals on frequencies you can't imagine, and they fight the good, the bad and the ugly alike. They're like super-charged soldiers who have access to technology only beaten by mine. Their ranks know both aliens and humans. They form alliances with space to keep out the worst targeting the Earth. And they are very, very dangerous."

Jack sat back after hearing the Doctor out (once he'd returned), and marveled. This was the most the man had said all day – Jack guessed it was necessary.

"Why did they want Ianto?"

"Jack, Ianto survived Torchwood One, kept a half-converted Cyberman in Torchwood's basement, and used your emotions to keep it a secret. There's more going on there than you can even begin to understand. His potential…even I've seen it. I was considering him as a companion, until you hired him."

Jack nodded, then rested his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He noted that the Doctor never lost his penchant for drama.

"Can you tell me what's happened to him?"

His reply was a sad smile and a shake of the head.

"Come on Jack, time to face the day," Amy said, shaking her hair out of its ponytail. Jack hoped she stayed pretty, and kept that innocence about her. But one look into her eyes told him it had already been lost.

The TARDIS doors opened for him, and Jack looked out.

Welcome

to

the

Basement.