A/N: Song for the epilogue is Ladyhawke 'My Delirium'. Main A/N at end. Enjoy.


Life did get better, slowly.

It was waking up in Jack's bed again that told him as much, really. There was always something different about it to anywhere else he'd slept. And slept he did, in long, fitful bouts of slumber, catching up on the hours he'd been skipping.

"You're not indestructible," Jack had said, and Ianto had raised his eyebrow, "Well, you are, but not sleeping takes getting used to. You're still young, Ianto."

Ianto sighed, "Yeah, that's not gonna last long."

Here Jack's brow had creased in consternation, until he finally said, sitting next to Ianto on his bed, and putting an arm around his in a friendly way; he supposed Ianto was still raw from Charlton. That was another talk for another time.

"Ianto," he said, "I wish more than anything in this world that you could have had a normal life. I wish you had never gotten involved with Torchwood One – that's where it all started, isn't it, with Lisa?" Ianto sighed and nodded, glancing away, and Jack continued, "I wish I could have met you normally, we could have been together like a normal couple, without all the weird Torchwood stuff we have to deal with. I wish you hadn't died when you did."

Ianto started to speak, but Jack quieted him with a hand, "No, Ianto, let me finish. Life with me was never gonna be normal. Life being you, special and unique as you are, was never going to be normal. I don't think we can even be normal now – we've been through a whole lot together." He laughed slightly, "But hell, I hope in time we can try again. All we've got is time, Ianto, and I'm not getting any older. And I guess, really, neither are you."

Ianto sat quietly after this, holding Jack's determined blue eyes with his for as long as he possibly could. Finally, he leant in and kissed Jack on the cheek.

"Thanks, Jack," he said, laying back down on the bed and pulling the covers over himself, "I hope we can try again too."

He watched as Jack let his gaze linger fondly, then left, flicking off the light switch as he went back up to his office. In the dark, Ianto smiled slightly, missing the warmth of Jack's arm around his shoulders.


Daria filled in Charlton's final report, in the end.

She was told by Jack in no uncertain terms that Ianto couldn't, shouldn't, be allowed to do it, and that Gwen shouldn't even be in the Hub now, so close to her due date. So, the responsibility fell to Daria to do it, and she found herself visiting the Basement for the second time in her entire life, and not through the visitor's entrance.

She'd previously felt the Hub was dreary – now, she realized it was a beacon of warmth and comfort compared to where the Officials spent their time.

"I know you," Charlton had said, his gaze sharp and electric on her face.

"I'm Daria," she smiled, holding out her hand, "We know each other cause I've visited here before. When you were just getting started."

This seemed to make sense to the new Charlton, because he smiled in a strange way that was heartbreakingly similar to his old self but cold, somehow, and said, "That must be it. Let me show you to Learner's office; he's the senior Official here, after all."

The bizarre Charlton-bot walked her down a long, dank corridor to a blindingly white room, all mahogany furniture and shining white linoleum. Daria watched her old colleague's departing back, and found herself frowning minutely at the smooth, artificial way he moved now.

It struck her Ianto should have stayed like that. She wondered why he hadn't.

The Official called Learner's voice beckoned her back to the present, "Ms. Morris. Would you please step into my office?"

That simple request felt very ominous, but she obliged, leaving the door open just a crack.

Learner was an unassuming looking fellow. His face was bland to say the least, with regular dark hair and generically pleasing features, aside from his striking jade eyes which held hers with a magnetic sort of power. She guessed his outward age at about 35, and he was dressed simply, in a white t-shirt and black jeans; but she frowned - he wore no shoes.

Daria reminded herself quietly that she had seen his real form once before here, when she first came to Torchwood. She shuddered at the memory, at the echo of spikes unfurling, the hiss of air between the rows of teeth. The whisper of the forked tongue.

Tearing her eyes from him, she studied the bookcase to her right studiously, and said simply, "I'm here to pick up your report on the Jones-Harrison incident. I'd also like you to tell me why you took Charlton, what processes he has undergone in his entire life, and their effects on him. Why you took him alive would be interesting, too."

"Hm?" Learner said, and she looked at him, surprised to see his gaze focused on her. She frowned again, and he snapped out of his thoughts. "Sorry," he said, "Your face is very interesting to me. Where did you get that scar?" He gestured towards her mouth with his fingers, and she lifted a hand to her lips, rubbing the barely-remembered scar that ran across them.

"When the 456 invaded. I had an altercation with the authorities. I was just a regular doctor at the time." Daria kept her voice staccato, her facts brief.

"Hm. Quite so," Learner said, pulling out a drawer and placing a thick file onto the desk with an equally thick slapping sound, "That is everything I believe you need to know and everything you have asked for. You know, Ms. Morris, I think you've got an interesting life ahead of you. You could have so easily ended up with us, in Mr. Harrison's place."

Daria felt herself flush; whether it was with indignation or fear, she didn't know. Standing briskly, she picked up the file, folding it to her chest, and said, "I don't know who gave you people the right to interfere with our lives and I don't care – you won't find out anything about me. Good day, Mr. Learner."

Learner folded his arms and smiled in a way that made her feel uneasy, "Good day to you too, Ms. Morris. This has been enlightening. But just one thing; we did not take Mr. Harrison. He came willingly."

Charlton met her outside the door and walked her back up to surface level. She tried not to look too hard at him for fear she might cry.


Jack ended up agreeing with Daria; Ianto needed therapy. For everything that had happened, during and post-456.

"No," he'd said, alarmed, "I'm okay. Really. Don't worry yourselves."
Gwen, Jack and Daria all turned to him, arms folded and stern expressions on their faces. Ianto flinched.
"But who's going to listen to everything I have to say?" he said, resigned.
"I will," said Daria, "My medical training covered psychological techniques and therapy. And I'm completely impartial, so you can trust me."

Ianto agreed to it, on one condition.

"It's not fair that I'm being the only messed up one. Jack, you and I both know you have some issues you need to talk about. I'm only doing it if you do it too."
Jack wrung his hands, "Ianto. My issues are just that: mine. I can deal with them."
"What the hell are you doing Jack? Rejecting our Earth logic and substituting your own just because you don't like where this is going? Daria, how long would I be in therapy for, exactly?"
"Two months, give or take. Depending on how you progress."
"Two months, Jack. Give it a try. For me."

Jack gritted his teeth. Goddamn, he thought, looking down at Ianto's beseeching expression, he's got me there.

"Fine. Two months, no more, no less."


He liked doing the training exercises, with the disposable droids.

'Like', of course, was a relative term; it could range from bland approval to complete adoration. In this case, it was merely a presumption – he guessed the way he felt about the exercises probably fell into the 'bland approval' category.

He felt a certain camaraderie with Learner, and to a lesser extent Catherine; he knew she had once been the ideal Official, the best of the best, but now her fragile human state repulsed him somewhat.

He recalled he had been human once; he just could not recall what it had been like.

Moving seamlessly through the course, he stopped at the end to survey the piles of dust he had reduced the droids to. A small smile flickered to life on his lips; smugness, he recognized. Surely he had a right to be smug – he was, after all, the best Official the Basement had in employment.

He flicked dust off the shoulder of his black t-shirt, and moved on.


Burning the suit seemed appropriate, somehow. He could still smell the antiseptic of the Basement, the dank, humid stench of it. When he had been a full-time Official, it had never even crossed his mind, but now, with his mind free of the block, it was repugnant.

Hey, his vocabulary was returning. That had to be a good sign.

He couldn't quite bring himself to wear his suits again, just yet. He stuck to his old jeans and a series of classy t-shirts, but he was sure soon the suits would return. Ianto felt too…soft, too half-baked to return to them.

He stood in front of the incinerator, feeling slightly stupid. The suit, unwashed, but pressed, was folded in his arms, and Ianto sighed slightly – it had to go. He knew it had to go, and somehow he wanted to hold onto it; the ideal blend of cotton and viscose (he never could stand wool), the black suit was comforting. One of his favourites, ironically.

In one fluid motion, he pulled the door to the incinerator open, and tossed the suit in. He watched it burst into flame, and felt as though a weight had been lifted.

Ianto walked away, head held high.


She watched him, in the chair opposite, and was amused to notice similarities between him and Ianto.

Both sat seemingly calmly, but she noticed the skittish scratching of nails against the armrests, the nervous way they would not meet her eyes unless she really pressed.

"Look," Jack had said, "I feel weird about this. You know I'm only here because I'm making Ianto do this. He's needed help for a long time."

She nodded, of course – no need to speak, a non-verbal action was more impartial – and said, "So there's nothing you want to talk about? Not…your immortality and how that came to be, not Ianto's death, nor his immortality - everyone around here seems to be immortal, now, I wonder if it's contagious - nor the many losses you've suffered since joining Torchwood in…1899?" She punctuated her words with her turning of pages in his file, and raised an eyebrow, "That's a long time, Jack."

At first Jack seemed taken aback at the new size of his file; Daria knew that it had been a scant page at first. Then he raised his eyebrow in retaliation

"You did your research," he said, smoothly.

"All of that was easy to find. Imagine if I pushed myself," she retorted. Closing the file, she folded her arms, "I think I'm going to pick an easy topic for you because you're a difficult person to open up. Tell me about Ianto, as you see him."

There was a sad look in the Captain's eyes when he said, "Oh, Daria, sweetheart, that's the hardest topic of all."


"Tell you about Jack? God, what can I say that you don't already know?" Ianto said, looking amusedly at Daria, who frowned, "Can you be more specific?"

"What drew you to him, then, in the first place?" she amended, tapping her biro against the clipboard. She noticed her notes about Jack from his last session were still in place – 'Subject hard to crack. Incommunicative at best.' – and quickly turned over to a new page.

"I suppose it was what made everyone come to him, really. Jack is just so separate to the real world, even when he's in the middle of it, that he's just interesting. He's something new. With the coat, and the grin," Ianto smiled slightly, "Don't tell me he didn't convince you slightly at the interview to join up."

"Strangely enough, he did," Daria said, with a smile, "But actually you convinced me, Ianto. You're a lot more unusual than you believe you are."

"Am I?" The knowledge drew a wry smile onto the Welshman's lips, "Well, thank you. I dunno, I guess…I guess when Lisa died, it made me let go a little. I hated him for a long time, but I'd been fooling around with him during Lisa. To keep the secret that little bit safer."

This sudden rush of information came as a surprise to Daria, and she couldn't hold back a, "You're a lot more open than Jack."

"I have a lot less experience keeping things in. Last time I did was Lisa – look where that got me. Anyways, to answer your question…it was just the way the real world never quite touched him. He's completely detached from all of that. And the way he smells."

"The way he smells?"

"51st Century pheromones. You have no idea."


Gwen patted her stomach fondly, "Only 2 more months 'til this little bundle of joy joins us."

Daria smiled, "I really love how even amid all of the Torchwood stuff, one of us manages to start a family. Andy and I have a long way to go before we even consider that stuff."

Gwen tilted her head, "I'm sure you two will get there. I've never seen Andy so happy – Rhys says he's like a changed person."

Daria blushed. In her mind, she could see Andy marrying her, having a family with her, but had no idea where he stood with her. The long hours they both worked weren't ideal, but that was the problem with the job; she was needed.

"I hope so," she said, blithely, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking around at the Plass. The two women had stepped out to wait for their respective partners, and Daria liked Gwen's company, so she asked, "Gwen. I was wondering – well, Andy and I were wondering – if you and Rhys would like to come to dinner with us sometime. You know, a double date. I like spending time with you."

Somehow Daria thought Gwen caught her meaning; that they should have spent more time with Charlton, while he was around and himself, and that they'd missed their chance. Working for Torchwood, Daria's social life had deteriorated to the point where she only really knew people with some connection to work. She wanted to know them as well as possible - who knew when they would be gone?

"I'd love that, Daria. Rhys and Andy are getting along well since…" Since he got with you, Gwen finished in her own mind, and smiled. Her eyes widened, "Ah, here's Rhys. Must be off, love, we're going to the obstetrician."

Daria stood and hugged her, with a smile, "Be sure to update me, I'll add it to your file."

She watched Gwen depart with Rhys, who gave her a mute wave and a grin, and settled back into her bench, staring around the Plass. Irritated, she rubbed her eye – something was bugging her, and she wondered if she had something in it.

She didn't. Something – or someone – was standing at the corner of her vision. Daria turned.

There was a woman standing a few metres away, watching her. She seemed normal at first, but then Daria began to notice a slight shimmer at the woman's outline, the way her image seemed faint, faltering. She was dressed a long red dress, nipped in at the waist, with matching shoes, and had the whitest hair she'd ever seen on someone so young.

The woman stared at her for what seemed like hours with piercing dark eyes, then raised her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Daria hardly dared blink for fear she'd vanish.

Slowly, the woman made her way to the bench, and took out an envelope from her pocket, placing it down on the bench. She smiled coldly, then turned and began to walk away. Daria glanced down at the envelope, the ordinary, rectangle of white, then looked back up again.

The woman was gone. Blinking rapidly to restore moisture to her eyes, Daria felt a hand on her shoulder and turned quickly.

"Daria?" It was Andy. Wonderful, blonde, Welsh Andy. She smiled beatifically to distract him, sliding the envelope into the pocket of her jeans. He smiled back, kissing her deeply, before saying, "God, I miss you all the time. Fancy a Chinese?"

"Yeah," she replied, tracing his cheek with one hand and cupping his chin in her fingers, "Let's go."

The pair walked off hand in hand, and deep in the Hub, Jack and Ianto stood, watching the CCTV.
"This doesn't look good," Ianto commented, straightening his tie. Jack shook his head, "No, no it doesn't. Get me that envelope, at any costs."

Ianto nodded, and smiled wickedly, "Consider it done…sir."


A/N: Well, here we are at the end of arc 2. It's been a bumpy ride, I know, and I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this arc and stuck with it. As you can see, I can continue, but I shall only do so if you guys would like me to. So, to the 25 people who have favourited this and the 51 who have it on alert - what do you think? One more arc? I don't have enough left for a fourth, but a third is do-able. I don't want to be the writer who flogs a dead horse. I have a storyline for Daria planned (obviously) as I'd like to show you more of her, and there is still the Cooper-Williams baby and the Cath-Learner baby storylines to wrap up if need be. Let me know. Otherwise, thank you for reading - you guys rock.