A/N: Shorter chapter than the last, and the chapter after this is going to be extremely brief. After chapter 12 (which will be titled 'The Fallen Interlude') there will be three chapters left. They'll likely be very long, as I have a plan for the rest of the story but no solid points right now, so they'll make up for the shortness of chapter 12, and then...well, we'll see where I can take this. Possibly just drabbles around this universe, which even I'll admit is turning a little AU. I'll probably follow some prompts, and you guys can tell me whether you'd like some extended as separate oneshots. I dunno, I'm rambling. Anyways, enjoy this - there's some serious angst, and some Learner origins, but not a sad end, I think. Enjoy!


They always came to Earth, and now it was his turn.

The Umbreyta made their homes on a small cluster of asteroids just past Earth, following the orbit of the Earth's moon. Small enough to ignore, at least to the humans, but big enough to be called a home.

Learner didn't want to leave, originally. His asteroid (N8-106, to be precise) was, despite its barren appearance, home to him, and he'd learned all he thought he needed there. Umbreyta lived on the atmosphere of their planets – food was an unnecessary luxury, though not unappreciated when available, as they only needed nitrogen to live, and Learner could follow the logic his elders did. Earth's atmosphere was predominantly nitrogen. They would be able to be awake for more hours of the day, not need to hibernate during the coldest times of year, and with that high level of nitrogen, essentially they could thrive.

He did leave, in the end. It wasn't as if he had a choice, anyways. But something went wrong in his teleportation, something went awry – and somehow, he had not ended up in the place that had given the Umbreyta their name. Iceland was a mere plane ride away, but something made Learner stay.

Maybe it was the idea of just being anonymous for a while and living without others of his species, maybe it was the Welsh air. Actually, forget that, it was definitely the anonymity. The level of pollutants did not matter to Learner – nitrogen was nitrogen, the same everywhere. Universal.

He spent his nights – as sleep had long deserted him as he adjusted to the atmosphere – learning all about human civilization. Learning languages, history…everything he could get his hands on. Living blissfully during the day, with his non-descript human skin to put on, and working in an office with numerous other disposable colleagues suited him fine, until somehow, the Officials found him.

"You see, son, we've been keeping an eye on the Umbreyta colonies for a long time. Most of you are in Iceland, some are further north than that – but you. You're alone. Sure, some didn't stay in Iceland, but they never went alone. Why is that, do you think?"

The man was tall, broad, and of the kind of appearance one might describe as 'hunky', to use a colloquial human term. It pissed Learner off somewhat that this creature had decided to disrupt his quiet routine with all these questions.

"I don't know…Maybe it's just to most of us, this isn't a lifestyle change. They do the same as usual just on a different planet with a better atmosphere. They don't want to learn."

"Funny. Why didn't that suit you?"

Learner did not get a chance to reply. The man suddenly had a hand on the small of his back and his sharp blue eyes were boring into Learner's own muddy brown ones and he somehow couldn't look away.

"You can hear her, can't you? That presence in your mind?"

Admittedly, yes. He hadn't thought it was a female – the persistent prodding at his psyche seemed to just be an energy form to him.

"She's chosen you, Learner. Don't back down."

Learner jolted awake, suddenly boiling hot all over. Uncomfortably so. Where humans woke up in cold sweats, being naturally warm, Learner woke up hot, being naturally cold.

He sighed, running his hands down his skin, waiting to cool down. Glancing to his left, he watched Cath's chest rise and fall with her breathing, and marveled at her warm, soft presence at his side.

God only knew why the Rift had picked him all those years ago. Maybe then it was reason enough to stay in Wales, but now – he hated to admit it, sitting staring at his crazy/beautiful…whatever Cath was to him, but nowadays…

He trailed a hand absently down her face, cupping her cheek briefly before getting up. Before, humans had been a mere addition to his life, neither good, nor bad. But after seeing their great moments and their worst regrets…

He strolled across the corridor and into the feed room, surveying the screens with a weary glance. Soon they'd find Ianto Jones. Soon he'd be a true Official, once he saw what it could give him.

Learner smiled. Sometimes, it felt like these humans were really what he had been looking for.


The Doctor and Amy were playing chess.

It was a game Amy knew she couldn't win, and one that the Doctor knew she knew she couldn't win, but they played regardless, and with every day Amy improved, and the game lasted a little longer.

It was startling to him how perceptive humans could be, even after so many years of interacting with them and helping them. Especially, however, in the case of Jack and Ianto.

"Do you suppose Jack really loves him, Doctor?"

"Hm?" The Doctor looked up at his companion from his study of the chessboard and its pieces. His brow furrowed, and his ran a knuckle across his lips in a pensive gesture, "Well, it's not inconceivable; though, I don't feel qualified to pass judgment. Why?"

"I don't know. I just worry they'll end up hurting each other." The girl was chewing on her lower lip in what the Doctor interpreted as anxiety. His gaze softened.

"He was…different, when we picked him up. He's lost team members before, but he was different this time. If that helps."

Amy offered him a small smile, though her eyes betrayed her worry, "Well, you are considerably more eagle-eyed than me. I don't know him at all well, but it felt like there was something…off, between them."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose, saying quietly, "Yes. I felt that too," he moved his rook forward two spaces, "and check."

"You're certain it will work out, Doctor?" Amy swiftly moved her queen out to capture the Doctor's rook, and smiled, "Check to you too."

"Mmm, it should. Although, my old self was extremely unhelpful. He left very few details," The Doctor muttered from behind his hand, then his eyes wrinkled in a smile. He captured Amy's queen, and placed his bishop down carefully by her king, "Checkmate."

Amy's jaw dropped, though not at the familiar sight of losing to the Timelord, "That weird guy was you? The tall, skinny guy in the brown suit I saw you talking to in that market on Barcelona?"

"One and the same. The blonde you saw with him was Rose," the Doctor admitted, the sad look creeping into his eyes as he remembered Rose Tyler, "and I couldn't speak with him for long. As I would say, 'timey-wimey' problems. He gave me the pick-up and deposit points, no more, no less."

He got up, clearly brooding. Amy sighed, recognizing that she would get no more out of the Doctor. Muttering a 'thanks' and a 'good game', she went to bed.

The Timelord ran a hand through his unruly dark hair and sighed, then followed suit.


I really miss the Archives, Ianto suddenly thought.

He was sitting on the edge of Jack's bed, with Jack beside him, and this awkward silence was making him crazy. Honestly, what he wanted right now to soothe his nerves was some nice paperwork or filing to do – a mundane activity, admittedly, but his job at Torchwood had technically been an archivist. It wouldn't be great if he didn't enjoy it.

Jack seemed on edge, so Ianto didn't push further. Clearly something in his discussion with the Doctor had rattled him – and Ianto's instincts told him it wasn't about paperwork.

Funny how his hormones always choice the most inopportune moments to kick in. He could feel the blood pulsing under his skin, and he longed to close the chasm of distance between Jack and himself.

As if sensing his mood, Jack looked at Ianto hollowly, "Don't."

"Come on Jack, I'm still me."

Jack shook his head a fraction, "Ianto, you know I can't."

Something in Jack's tone and the way he was using Ianto's words against him made him bristle with indignation, "You've no right to do that to me, Jack. That isn't fair."

"Fair, Ianto? Where was 'fair' when you tortured me?"

The blood drained from Ianto's skin, and his pressed his lips so tightly together he was sure they'd disappeared. He was cold all over in an instant. Suddenly, it was all he could do not to jump on Jack there and then – and not in the way he'd originally wanted to.

Clenching his fists, Ianto stood, staring white-lipped with fury at the Captain, "How dare you. You know that wasn't me. You know they did that to me."

The words were so quiet they were barely audible, but Ianto caught them as they slipped from his lover's lips.

"I don't know what 'you' is anymore."

Ianto shook with anger and hurt and crouched in front of Jack, meeting his gaze squarely, and barking out some semblance of bitter laughter, "Well, Jack, that makes two of us. I have no fucking idea what's happening to me, I'm scared witless and you choose now to rip me apart? How bloody kind of you."

The American snorted, equally as bitterly, "Ianto, I don't know what you want me to say."

"Say you love me. Say you came back for me. Say something that doesn't make everything hurt."

Maybe it was something in Ianto's broken tone that caused it – he didn't know. But all of a sudden, Jack was kissing him, and his hands were working on the buttons of Jack's shirt extra-carefully so as not to damage it, and Jack was curling his hands into Ianto's hair.

Ianto pulled away, eyes pained, "Jack."

"Ianto?"

Ianto gulped in a breath, and pressed his forehead to Jack's, "Jack, will you just shag me? Right now, it's not about emotions. Right now, it's about proof."

Jack drew his lips back to Ianto's, and the Welshman dimly thought, 'Huh, the Archives weren't that great anyways…'


Some time later…

Jack pressed a kiss to Ianto's collarbone, hands loosely looped around his wrists, before he rolled off of him, to the side, and sighed.

"Ianto…I didn't mean---"

"---Jack. It's fine."

Ianto's voice – particularly the strange, contented sound to it – made Jack turn his head to look at the younger man. Ianto looked into his eyes, and Jack saw no remnants of the previous pain Jack had caused him.

"Your thoughts gave you away."

This warranted an eyebrow raise, and Jack questioned, "You read my thoughts? How could you concentrate?" He grinned wickedly. Ianto rolled his eyes and punched him lightly – well, especially lightly – on the arm.

"No, Jack, your reputation is intact. I didn't read them – you were thinking so loudly I couldn't help but hear."

The Welshman got up and moved to put his carefully discarded – draped over a nearby chair – clothes back on. Jack admired the view for a moment, then questioned, "What was I thinking?"

Ianto smiled, back in his clothes so quickly Jack could have sworn he'd blinked and missed it. He was awarded a kiss from the archivist, gentle and brief, and then –

"You kept saying, 'He's still the same'. I don't know in what context you meant it, but in my context, it means more than you know."

Ianto rose, and Jack propped himself up on his elbow to stare at him, "I know in what context I meant it. And I can tell you that it means just the same in mine as in yours. I may not understand it, what they did to you – and what that means for Torchwood, when you're back – but I understand you. I wouldn't go so far as to say your soul – although," Jack paused, looking as Ianto's gaze softened, "I could maybe go that far – but I understand something behind the body and the complexities and all of that."

Ianto smiled. Not a big smile, not a snarl like the horrific day when he'd tortured Jack – just a small, not-even-full smile. And just once, Jack didn't reply with a Jack Harkness Grin – just a small, not-even-full smile.

Ianto climbed back onto the bed, and slung an arm around Jack's shoulders. Jack moved closer. Maybe, when they got back to Earth and Torchwood, maybe they could get back to normal.

Well, Jack smiled, as he closed his eyes. If this isn't proof, I don't know what is.