A/N: Ugh, mocks at school have been keeping me too busy. I'm sorry this has taken so long. Hopefully you'll enjoy this, I dunno. I'd like to get to about 60 reviews before this ends, so all of you who have been reading but not reviewing, please do let me know what you've thought of the story thus far. I'm afraid this is the second-to-last chapter, and the last one where anything dreadfully significant happens. Anyways, enough of me. Enjoy.


The sedative didn't keep Jack under for long. Ianto wrinkled his nose as he heard the immortal stirring in the back of the van. His headache wasn't subsiding any and taking care of a semi-violent Torchwood operative while his reflexes weren't 100% was really beginning to irritate him.

He clenched the steering wheel of the van until his knuckles turned white, "Would you sedate him again, Learner? I'm really not in the mood."

A drawled, incoherent comeback came from Jack – if Ianto had been in a better mood, he might've even played along. Instead, the young man rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Tell me again what the Rift said."

From the passenger side, Cath glanced from under her lashes at Ianto, and smiled, "Just that we should convert him too. Apparently he's at the right place to be an Official, too. Wouldn't that be lovely, cariad?"

Closing his eyes briefly – the road was so straight that even in his weakened state, there was little risk of the van straying – Ianto nodded, longing for sleep, "Sure. Lovely."

He glanced into the rear view mirror, and his gaze met with Jack's, which was startlingly clear for someone being sedated. He tried to look away, but found he couldn't. Then Jack blinked, and Ianto tore his eyes away, trying desperately to ignore the faint stirrings of something in his heart.


The Rift sometimes shouted, and sometimes whispered. Sometimes her comments were to specific people, and sometimes the general psychic populace.

Today was one of those days where she felt pretty smug. Well, as smug as a huge expanse of time-space energy could feel.

She had plans for Jack Harkness, from the very beginning – although, the beginning implied a linear format, and the Rift couldn't agree with that. By beginning, she meant the 51st century, where Jack was formally born.

After that, Jack's timeline had leapt all over the place, and then just stopped. Jack just stopped obeying time and space. At least now he was easy to keep track of – being a fixed point and all.

Usually, she couldn't condone lies, but talking to her sister – or possibly cousin – she knew that was what was necessary. Learner and Cath would not – could not – understand Jack Harkness of Boeshane's future.

Because Jack Harkness had a whole lot of growing up to do, and not a lot of time to do it.

Where had she gone so far wrong that Jack – an allegedly 'specialist' force against aliens – had gone and shot at that bulletproof tank? Ianto Jones' death was not meant to happen then. The Officials had hungered for Ianto for years, and only after he grew too old – over 30, perhaps, maybe over 35, breaking the myth surrounding Torchwood ops – was she going to leave him to his own devices.

Picking him for the Officials had been difficult, but it was the only way to save him.

And now she could only count on Jack again. While whispering to Learner and Catherine, she shouted at the captain, and kept a stony silence when it came to Ianto Jones.

The Rift waited, and watched.


Sedatives didn't work, as a general rule.

He didn't know whether it was the immortality, or the fact that 21st century sedatives were redundant for a 51st century man, or some amalgamation of the two, but either way, he was stuck in the back of a van driven by Ianto – oh, sorry, insane brain tumor Ianto – and the Rift was practically screaming at him to save Ianto.

One problem – saving Ianto would mean saving Ianto…from Ianto. This version of Ianto was new to him, foreign. It was almost like when Ianto first started work at Torchwood – the quietness, at least. He wasn't sure if that Ianto had had homicidal tendencies. Hopefully not.

That fleeting moment where he met the gaze of Ianto's flint-grey eyes made it feel like maybe there was hope.

He resisted the urge to sigh, keeping up the façade of being unconscious, though he knew Ianto didn't believe him. Always was quick on the uptake.

Suddenly, the van shuddered to a halt, and the woman – Agent Catharine, Jack remembered – asked worriedly, "Ianto, what's wrong?" He heard her shift, and dared to open his eyes slightly. She was leaning towards the Welshman anxiously, one hand steadying his back. He could hear Ianto's ragged breathing from where he lay. He glanced back at Learner, to find he'd gotten out via the back and was at Ianto's window, expression drawn.

He watched Learner and Cath exchange a measured look, and immediately knew something was wrong.

"Okay, kids, clearly something's wrong. You might want to put him back here and get another driver."

The disbelief on the Officials' faces was enough to make Jack snort, "Yes, I've been playing possum. You should've just broken my neck like Ianto said, it would take me longer to recover." Jack slid himself upright, and peered round at Ianto. The Welshman was fading into unconsciousness, clutching his head in agony – Jack felt a frown settle onto his face.

Quickly he got up and helped the Officials to move Ianto round to the back, a temporary alliance over a mutual interest. Jack climbed in next to Ianto, shutting the back doors, as Learner slid into the driver's seat and continued driving.

Jack trailed a hand down Ianto's still cheek, and was surprised when beautiful grey eyes snapped open, then softened at meeting his gaze.

"Jack…"

There was something agonizingly familiar about this situation. The last time he'd held Ianto in his arms like this was the last time he'd died.

Not again.

"Ianto," Jack smiled, surprised as tears sprang to his eyes.

He reached out with shaking fingers to run a hand over Ianto's scalp, and watched as the younger man sighed.

"Jack…I'm sorry."

"I know. Me too."

They reached the Basement in what felt like the smallest amount of time measurable.

Jack spent the entire journey watching Ianto, who had fallen into unconsciousness in his arms. He isn't heavy, thought Jack. He's light as air to me.

He didn't let Learner or Cath touch him. When they tried to help him carry Ianto, the look on Jack's face shut them up.

Cath shared an anxious glance with Learner as they directed the captain to the operating theatre. They linked hands briefly, and Learner savoured the trail of warmth she left on his cold hands.

"You have to act now. You need to perform surgery on him, or he'll die."

Learner stepped forward at this, "I can do it. It's my fault, anyways."

Jack eyed the alien critically. The guilt in his face was evident, his posture slumped and spines lowered. The immortal gave a brief nod, "Do it now. Agent Catharine, with me."

The pair left the room while Learner prepped for surgery.

"I've not loved anyone this way for a long time, you know," Jack said, offhandedly, and Cath looked at him inquisitively. Jack continued, "If I lose him again, because of your carelessness, you know what you'll be dealing with. You know how long I've lived, you know what I've seen."

Cath nodded slowly, and said in a low voice, "I know. Let me show you something."

She led him to the dark room next to the bright white room he'd spent an eternity trapped in, and his mouth fell open.

The heavy machinery stood at at least 15 feet, dominating the room. It looked like a huge hard drive with no cover, so all of its components were exposed to the chill of the room – the parts stuck out, skeletal. Connected to it was a huge screen with lines of code scrolling down it, placed on a reinforced steel desk with a wheelie chair next to it. Cath walked calmly to the chair and sat down. Jack numbly followed.

"When we brought him back, we created back-up files of everything. His body state, his brain state, the state of all of his vital organs –"

"– wait. How did you do that? This technology shouldn't be here…"

"It's like you always say, Captain. The 21st century is when everything changes. This right here," she patted the immense screen, "is the first of many of these machines. Sure, they get smaller, but we built this baby about ten years ago. Makes the whole re-animation process easier."

Jack nodded slowly, still shocked. Cath went on.

"So basically, here I have everything that makes up Ianto Jones. I wanted to show you his mind, when we downloaded it. This basically goes in order of what he thought of first."

Before Jack could object, she pressed enter, and he couldn't look away.

The images moved quickly, but he caught every one.

The first memory he laughed at – trust Ianto to think of that at first. Then it went through to what must be Ianto's view Thames House, and endless other memories that seemed to be about him.

Cath sat quietly, and watched the captain relive old memories, laughing while a single tear trailed silver down his cheek.


Learner had shifted back to his human form for the operation. It looked like it would have to be an emergency procedure – Ianto's brain tissue was too swollen to be able to treat with a hypobaric bag and dexamethasone. The tumor would need to be removed for safety, because Ianto had already slipped into a coma.

Learner sighed, looking down at Ianto. The young man's face was relaxed in unconsciousness, despite the screen set up around his head.

The alien had never had this much trouble with an Official before. It seemed Ianto Jones would be no use to them after this, after all. Learner feared for the future of the Basement if the Welshman did not recover.

They could not reverse what they had done to Ianto's body. He'd left the nanogenes in for too long – Ianto's body was completely altered, and would remain that way for the rest of his life. Essentially, he was going to live forever, if he wasn't killed. For Ianto, death would not come easily – he could heal from most mortal wounds. Only something as violent as decapitation – Learner shuddered in spite of himself at the idea – would permanently do him away.

He wondered idly if that was a good thing.

Looking down at him, Learner sighed again. He worried for the young man and he worried that maybe this time, they'd let things get away from themselves. Maybe this time they should've just backed off.

Waking from his reverie, Learner shook himself, and started the operation.


Waiting for Ianto's operation to end felt like forever.

He stood outside the theatre, pacing so much he thought he'd wear a path into the sparkly-clean linoleum. This wasn't like anything else he'd dealt with.

Not like waiting for Estelle to leave him.

Not like watching Tosh pass away.

Not like never finding Owen.

This was different. This wasn't so certain – this was fragile, holding the moment in his hands like paper-thin glass, making sure nothing would break.

After an eternity – maybe a couple of hours, maybe the lifespan of several stars – Learner came out of the operation room, dusting his hands and sighing exhaustedly.

"Well?" Jack questioned.

"Best we can hope for. Did an emergency decompression, and sorted out the tumour best I could, but –"

"When can I see him?"

Learner wordlessly gestured to the door from whence he'd exited, and slumped down the wall, spent. Jack could see Cath just leaving a room down the hall to take him to bed.

He took a deep breath, and went in.


He was trapped inside his own head again.

It was not essentially a bad thing – he felt warm, safe and sheltered – but there was this irritating little nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him he could slip away at any moment.

It was terrifying. He was alone.

Then, footsteps. Slow, measured footsteps – Ianto guessed the person was either taking in the room, old or taking in the sight of him lying there in the hospital-style bed.

As it turned out, all three. As the person came closer, he could smell the familiar scent of Jack's 51st century pheromones, and his chest felt all at once warmer and compressed in anguish. Ianto listened to the scrape of Jack's chair across linoleum floors, and the small, tired sound the chair made when Jack sat down.

There was light pressure on his left hand – he guessed Jack was holding it, though he couldn't distinguish feelings yet. In spite of himself, he wanted to smile, or even just open his eyes, though he knew he couldn't.

"I…don't know if you can hear me, Ianto, but apparently it helps to talk to comatose people. You did it for me, after all."

Bastard. So he had heard…

"Yeah, I know, you didn't want me repeat anything you said, but I can't help myself. You know me – I'm a big talker. So don't get mad, okay?"

Fine. God, you absolute wanker. I love you.

"Okay, I can tell you're mad. But listen. I screwed up. Big time. All that week, with the 456" Ianto flinched inwardly "and UNIT and the government. Bringing you in there with it, all of that – I was rash. Completely. And if I'd known" here Jack took a shuddering breath, and Ianto guessed he was crying "If I'd known then what would happen, what that one stupid bluff would have caused, I'd have left you outside somehow."

Ianto's heart clenched in sadness. He wanted desperately to get up and shake Jack, to tell him that he was just doing his job, it was unique circumstances, anything to stop him from blaming himself.

He wanted to talk to Jack about dying and how sad it was to slip away.

"You'd probably be telling me to fuck off round about now, then asking me if I wanted coffee. Or sex. Right now, both, but that's not the point. That's not the main thing. I want you back, with Torchwood, with us. With me."

And I want to be back. God knows you lot couldn't keep even a new Hub functioning and tidy without me. Reflexively, Ianto felt his hand squeeze Jack's, and heard Jack gasp.

"Ianto? God, I hope that's a good sign. Stay with me, Ianto, stay with me, please."

The quiet desperation in Jack's voice had a feeling of coming full circle – he could recall exactly when Jack had used those words, and the warmth in his body grew. He squeezed again, of his own accord, and felt his eyelids flutter.

"God, I'd always come back for you. Always," Jack murmured.

There was a warm hand on his face, smoothing across his cheek, avoiding his head.

"Can you hear me?"

All at once, Ianto

opened

his

eyes.

"I can hear you," he said.