A/N: Yes, I'm cruel. But here is another chapter for you, and I promise it'll get nice again soon. (: Enjoy.


Dawn broke.

The Doctor knew, of course. And by extension, Amy knew.

Time passed differently in the TARDIS, so of course, Jack didn't know.

But his body did. The immortal yawned and stretched, blossoming out of sleep into consciousness and finding no one at his side, and no trace of warmth on the bed.

Stumbling out of the room, pulling on clothes as he went, Jack acknowledged a cold feeling growing in his gut, but shrugged it off as regular worry.

But slamming into the control room, and seeing the drawn, darkened (by sadness? Anger?) expressions on the Doctor and his companion's face…

…Jack knew.

And Jack broke too.


The return was expected, obviously. For all their dalliances, Learner and Catharine were organized this time, and it happened to be Learner who was watching the feeds when the TARDIS faded into existence.

He watched as the blue box appeared in their room, even fancied he could hear it from just down the hall, and he watched as the tall Welshman, suited and booted, stepped out, laughing.

Learner laughed too, and turned on his comm, "Cath."

"Learner?"

"We've got him back."

He got up quickly, hardly daring to look away from the feeds as he left the room at a swift walk, meeting Cath halfway up the corridor. She squeezed his hand in hers, "You were right."

Learner nodded – and yet, looking at Cath's expression that he was sure matched his own, he wished he had been wrong.


A while ago, back at the beginning of her life with the Doctor, he had told her something.

His expression was serious (though when was it ever not, nowadays?) and he could hardly bear to look at her, so chose to tell her while they were frantically working the controls on a journey.

He didn't even raise his voice over the racket, but Amy caught every word.

The Doctor had told her that often, the worst things she would see wouldn't be aliens, wouldn't be other planets, wouldn't be wars and wouldn't be governments.

Often, the worst things would be humans and Earth and emotions and cruelty.

Standing with the Doctor in that room, knowing what she knew about life and Jack and Ianto, it was all Amy could do not to cry as she watched one of the Doctor's ex-companions crumple before her eyes.

She managed not to cry then.

But moving to hold Jack carefully, to listen to his hyperventilating and know that he wasn't crying, to smooth soothing circles into his broad back, she cried then.

Because the Doctor had been right again, and she wondered how many times this had happened.


Jack's attitude changed swiftly, in the grand scheme of things, the Doctor noted as he watched him pace, occasionally swearing and kicking the scenery in frustration. Amy stood to one side, wringing her hands anxiously and following the older man with her eyes.

Jack turned his gaze to the Doctor, and it took a lot to keep a neutral mask on when he caught the expression on Jack's face. He had never honestly seen Jack look this tortured before. The image burned into the Timelord's retinas, and every time he blinked it was there.

Blink.

"Doctor."

Blink.

"Take me back to him."

"It's not the right time."

"Make it the right time."

Blink.

The Doctor groaned in frustration, running his hands through his dark hair, "Jack, how do I make you understand this?"

"You can't."

Blink.

Amy piped up, "Doctor…I think I have a way we can work this."

He looked up at her, and gave a tiny quirk of the lips which might have qualified as a smile. She couldn't be sure.

"One moment, Jack."

He led Amy to the other side of the control room, into the shadows. The Timelord heard Jack sit down loudly with a curse, and shuddered as he blinked again.

"Doctor. Why don't we take him back to – oh. You've got that face on. You know, don't you?"

"That, Miss Pond, is why you're here. That is inspired."

The pair walked back to Jack, who looked up at them with a morose expression. Blink.

"Okay, Jack. I'll make the time right."


As the TARDIS churned and threw itself through space and time, Jack clung by his hands to a railing grimly, expression dead.

It was hopeless, inconceivable, infeasible, unimaginable and just too much.

It was impossible for him to comprehend. The pain he felt could not be described, and honestly there was no time more than now where he had wished himself dead permanently.

He – the name was too hard to say – had gone back. Left. He had reverted to that monster again, and returned to the people who had made him that way. He was the best of them – Torchwood, Wales, Britain, Earth. Brilliant, wonderful, somehow sneaking into Jack's life and making it his, too.

It still was. His, that is. Jack didn't think his life would have ever stopped belonging to the young man, even if Ianto had stayed dead and Jack had left like he'd planned.

And yet Jack couldn't help thinking that maybe this, this pain, this was what he deserved.


He could see Jack standing in the corner of the room while Learner and Cath gave him a check up.

He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stood, hands thrust deep into his pockets, staring at Ianto relentlessly.

Ianto stared back, of course. He had no idea how Jack had gotten into the Basement, but he didn't care. Just as soon as the check-up was finished, he'd get up and kill him.

He'd gotten through the strength test and the reflexes test, but felt strange, and didn't like it. He wasn't quite up to par, so to speak.

While he was better than normal humans, he wasn't inhuman either.

They were apparently going to do a CAT scan, and Ianto's brow furrowed as he glared at Jack. He blamed him for his weakness, and let a small growl escape his lips. Cath turned to look at the corner in which Jack stood.

"What're you looking at, Ianto?"

Here, Jack grinned dazzlingly. The action made Ianto clench his fists at the older man, the physical representation of all of Ianto's past weaknesses.

"Nothing."

He lay back, barely breaking eye contact with Jack, and tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his head as he was brought into the scanner.

"We'll need to check you asleep, too. After this one, we'll just pipe some anaesthetic in and you can go nicely to sleep, okay, cariad?"

Ianto nodded, drawing in deep, calming breaths.

He'll die, soon.


They arrived with a shudder, and Jack looked up as the last strains of the TARDIS' landing siren faded.

"Well, Jack. It's time."

Jack took this to mean, 'Well, Jack. You can piss off now', and so grabbed his coat and headed out, with a small salute.

Shutting the door behind him, he came face to face with one Gwen Cooper-Williams.

"Jack?"

Sometimes Jack didn't like how Gwen could read him like a book. Right now, however, it was welcome, and he sighed.

"Yeah."

Her entire face embodied sympathy. Jack ran a hand over his wayward hair, brow crinkled in worry and despair.

"Oh, Jack."

And as Gwen folded him into her arms, it was all Jack could do not to stay there forever.


"I can't explain it, Learner. I ran him through the heavy machinery and it all comes up the same."

"Cath, I respect you both as an Official, and my partner, but there must be some mistake. He fixed himself last time, so how do you expect me to believe he's just…well, reverted?"

The pair watched Ianto from behind the one-way mirror. He was asleep in one of the containment units for Officials undergoing therapy. For what, Cath didn't know. Learner almost certainly did, but she'd never built up the courage to ask him.

She could remember her own time in there, though. That would never go away.

As soon as the plunger on the injection went down, there was pain.

She screamed unashamedly and clutched at the alien's cool, soft hand desperately. On three, the group lifted her from the table and carried her through endless corridors. She hadn't realized how many people were here – there were at least 10 of them, all carrying her along until they reached a door.

One – a tall, brooding type with dark eyebrows – held her up with one arm while he opened the door. She was surprised they could keep ahold of her; she was trapped in her own head, watching helplessly as her body writhed in agony.

They carried her through into the room, and placed her ever-so-softly onto a huge bed. The alien smoothed her red hair back from her forehead, and pressed a cold kiss to it.

"I'll stay with her. The rest of you are dismissed."

He did stay with her. She blacked out several times, but whenever she was conscious, he was there, soothing the fierce heat with his hands and water that he always seemed to have access to.

The process usually took a few days. That was the average, she found out later.

They let her fever rage for a week and a half.

The last day was different. She had blacked out the day before, and instead of waking up in a couple of hours, she slept through what felt like the night. Waking up the next day, there was no pain at all, only strength.

She rose, looking at Learner with new eyes. Suddenly he was in brilliant focus, and she could see the facets of his skin, glinting in the low light.

She studied the room critically, marveling at the smoothness of the cotton sheets under her hands. There was the wide mirror that spanned the length of one of the walls – only now she realized it wasn't a mirror at all.

Eying it, she smiled, seeing the people who had carried her watching expectantly behind the glass. She waved, grinning, feral.

"How do you feel?"

She found out later what they had done, what the Rift had wanted. The nanogenes had replaced her entire body with new material, stronger, less human and breakable. Cath could not be considered human.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering as she felt her solidness. She did miss being soft and warm, sometimes.

"He's got high altitude cerebral edema. It's caused the excess fluid to press down on the tumor the injection gave him, which made him into the perfect Official. Thanks to travelling in the TARDIS, I guess it replicated the conditions one would need to get HACE. Thus, Ianto reverts. End of."

"Is there anything we need to watch out for?"

"Dizziness, loss of coordination, hallucinations, irrational behaviour. Although I guess we can use that last one to our advantage."

Cath looked back at Ianto, and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept, trying to ignore the hopeful look on Learner's face.


Spending time with a fairly pregnant Gwen Cooper-Williams and her husband was almost like being normal. The warm smell of their living room brought back memories of the warm smell of Ianto's flat, and he swallowed thickly.

"He went back?"

"Yep. I need to get him back to normal or…"

The last two Torchwood operatives stared at the floor, inwardly wincing at the thought of the alternative. They both knew what the protocol was for an out-of-control operative.

Suddenly the room seemed too warm, and Jack wiped his brow haphazardly, "Gimme a second, Gwen. I'm gonna go get some air."

He swiftly left, and stepped outside of Gwen's building, breathing deeply. The sun had long set, and the pleasant smell of the night had settled over Cardiff, and clung to his skin. It was times like these that he could almost believe things would be okay.

Then cold hands closed around his throat, and he knew they wouldn't be.

"Do it now!" a female voice shouted, in a whisper.

Whoever was holding him was apparently having trouble, and the cold hands were replaced with scolding hot ones.

"I'll do it, then."

Jack had anticipated a broken neck, and was surprised when, at the moment when he expected darkness, a syringe was plunged into his neck, and he began to fade out.

As he blacked out, he could hear a whispered argument going on, and fancied he could hear the soft drawl of a Welsh accent.