Summary: Jack isn't the only Torchwood member with restorative powers. At least, not anymore. Jack/Ianto—Post COE.

Rating: R++ overall, this individual chapter…. PG-15ish?

Warnings for this chapter: Profanity, violence, angst, John deviousness… and that's it for now?

Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I claim any ownership over the Torchwood/Doctor Who Universe. This is a slash fanfiction. Don't like it? Don't read it!

Author's note: So, I was trying to figure out where this fic was going, because it started out relatively simple as a resolution to that horrible Day Four. But I'm starting to really develop a plot here, and I'm starting to see a bit of an epic. And because of that, I've started to actually think ahead, because I really want to finish this. And I can see this fic going on for a looooooong time.

And as always, thanks a bunch to my wonderful beta Vittani!

I take a bit of liberty with the Time Agency, which I know next to nothing about, so anything that seems completely out of place is something you can just consider as AU ^_^. Also, I take quite a bit of liberty with John and Jack's history.

I promise it's important to the plot.

Some more Jack/John interaction, but it won't be much longer until Jack and Ianto meet again. Promise!

Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Destination Earth

"There were a lot of things I loved about Ianto. His pretty words, the way he mumbled to himself in Welsh when he thought no one was around… hell, the fact that he had enough snark to kill a small child, but no matter what he told me, it would more often than not end with a cheeky 'sir.' And then let's not forget how absolutely fucking beautiful he was, with that dark hair and pale skin and blue eyes. And his lips. I loved Ianto's lips." Jack was faintly aware that his was babbling, about his recently dead lover to his psychotic ex-lover, but if figured it was all John deserved for getting him drunk and killing him for what had to be the thirtieth time.

John sat near the console (which, for some reason, he was guarding over with a protectiveness that was almost scary), leaning back against the chair and staring at Jack with rather apathetic eyes. "Uh huh."

"And while he often appeared to have complete deference, he didn't take much crap from me when it counted. He had a kind of quiet dissention, not necessarily telling me outright when I was doing something wrong, but pushing me to figure out on my own. And if he wasn't the most annoying passive-aggressive little shit at times, turning my coffee to decaf for a week until I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, then giving me the papers he'd been after me to sign for months. So devious," Jack sighed, staring out of the small window and into space. "Why did it have to be him? It could have been anyone, but they had to take him from me. I could have gotten over it, I think, if it was someone else."

"Even that PC bitch whose arse you were after for the longest time?" John asked curiously.

Jack gave him a flat stare, too tired to rise to the bait. "Shut up, John."

They were silent for a few minutes, but of course, John couldn't keep his trap shut for long. "What? Run out of things to say about Button-Nose?" That was John's new thing since he realized that Jack would react violently to 'Eyecandy' every time. And Jack didn't bother so much, because Ianto had possessed the most adorable 'button-nose' Jack had ever seen. Which was saying plenty, considering.

"No," Jack muttered vaguely, sending John a dirty look before continuing to stare out at space. Why in the hell was this trip taking so long? It shouldn't have taken more than three days, and it was going on the fifth. Honestly, he was surprised this little rust-bucket hadn't given out on them yet. The quicker they got to Planet 142, the quicker Jack could get stoned out of his mind, and the quicker he could regain some semblance of normalcy.

Hopefully. Maybe.

Okay, it wasn't likely.

Every time it thought about Ianto, it hurt, like someone was grinding an unyielding knife into his heart until he cried out for a reprieve that wouldn't come. It went beyond grief, beyond sadness, beyond guilt. Ianto was the first thing he thought about when he woke up, the only thing he dreamt about when he could manage to sleep, the one thing on his mind throughout the days and nights. Ianto was there when he closed his eyes, there when they were open. He was in everything Jack had done since leaving Earth, every stupid, disgusting decision he'd made to try and assuage his guilt, to forget his love. And wasn't that telling, that Jack was trying to do the very thing he'd promised Ianto he wouldn't?

To forget.

But Jack didn't deserve to forget. Not ever, and he was regretting ever getting on this ship with John with the intention of reaching Planet 142. Jack couldn't lose himself in the paradise of the tropic, hedonistic planet, using women and men and drugs to try to wipe Ianto from his memory. It was deplorable, and beneath the man Ianto had made him into. The man Jack wasn't sure that he could be anymore without his Welshman beside him.

Just as Jack opened his mouth to tell John that the trip was off and he wanted to be dropped at the next habitable planet, his eyes widened in shock and confusion as he stared at a small, red planet they were passing by.

"… Is that Mercury?"

Ianto wished Gwen would stop staring at him.

It had been nearly a week since his mysterious 'resurrection' and he was getting things in order for his return to the world. Destroying all copies of his death certificate, speaking to his landlord about resuming his rent (with the excuse that he'd been intensive care and there hadn't been a correct body count at the scene of the chemical poisoning that Mr. Gould actually believed), and getting all of his belongings out of storage. He still hadn't spoken to his family, but how did one start such a conversation? 'Oh, hey mam, remember how I died a couple of weeks back? Funny story, really…'

That would have to wait for another couple of days.

Despite that, Ianto was trying vehemently to return to his brand of normalcy, and Gwen wouldn't stop staring.

She stared at with a carefulness, as if expecting him to sprout tentacles or an extra head at any given moment, or even worse, with large pitying eyes as if he were about to bawl his eyes out because of Jack's absence.

And Ianto would do neither (or at least, he dearly hoped so about the former).

Right now, she was staring at him with a frown, as he'd just politely refused to come to her home for dinner for the fifth night in a row. She was even insisting that he spend the night this time. It was becoming tiresome, placating her need to be near him in case he 'turned weird' or broke down, and besides, her cooking wasn't exactly the most appetizing.

Ianto long since deduced that Rhys was either a very brave man, or had the stomach of a goat.

"I don't want to be a burden, Gwen." And you're smothering me.

"But you could never be a burden! Besides, I couldn't leave you in the Hub until your flat is ready. This place is positively dreary and—"

"I've spent plenty of nights in the Hub, Gwen," Ianto said somewhat stiffly, his mind going to a place he would rather forget.

"Oh," she said after a small pause. "Of course you have." She was clearly thinking of Jack, too. "But still, it's different being here on your own and—"

"Gwen," Ianto interrupted, patience running out. "I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you that I won't drown in my sorrows if you let me out of your sight for a few hours." That was the closest Ianto had come to mention Jack since he came back, and Gwen jumped at the opportunity, her expression turning a little frosty.

"Oh? I wouldn't know from the way that you refuse to even have a conversation about Jack, much less consider contacting him. I don't understand what you're thinking—you and Jack have something good together, and you're being foolish to miss out on a chance at that."

And wasn't that funny? Gwen, the woman who still refused to see the world out of anything but rose-tinted glasses, calling him foolish. "What Jack and I had," Ianto snapped out through gritted teeth, "is of no consequence to you. He left, Gwen, and I am not going to drag him back here without a good reason. Regardless, how would you suggest that I contact him? Send him a text message?" Jack can run away, and I won't begrudge him that. Much.

"He left because he thought you were dead!" She exploded. "And I'm sure you could find a way if you wanted to. You know more about the Archives that anyone else here." She didn't add that she'd taken a look at his records in the week he was dead and found out that he had an IQ of 163.

"He left because he had to sacrifice his grandson to save Earth's children." Ianto fought to keep his voice even, not even responding to Gwen's illogical claim that he could somehow contact Jack, who was most likely on the other side of the universe. They didn't have that type of technology in the Archives. He'd already looked. "I'm sure he was saddened by my passing, however—"

"'Saddened by your passing'!? Bloody hell, Ianto, the man loved you! You wouldn't be so cruel as—" She stopped, clearly agitated.

And, of course, Ianto was the cruel one here. He was clearly the one who treated his lover like a 'part-time shag,' refused to be classified into a relationship, couldn't even say 'I love you,' and probably would have left him in a second had Gwen shown the slightest interest. Yes, clearly, Ianto was the guilty party, it could never be Gwen's precious Captain.

"Cruel, Gwen?" Ianto choked out a bitter laugh. "You don't know the meaning of cruel. Jack never loved me. That's cruel." With that, Ianto turned around and began to walk towards the office, signaling the conversation was over.

It didn't mean Ianto missed Gwen's parting statement, however. "You're delusional, Ianto. I don't think Jack ever loved anyone as much as he loved you. I hope you realize that before it's too late."

Ianto didn't began to shake with tears until he was sure she had left, crying in a leather seat that smelt nothing like Jack in an office that held nothing of the man he loved. The man he loves still.

But Ianto wouldn't be cruel as Gwen accused him of being. He wouldn't spend years looking for a way to drag Jack back here, to the scene of the worst act the man had ever been forced to commit, just because of a selfish need to be near him. He wouldn't search for Jack just to see his face, just to hear his voice, just to have Jack touch him again. Because he knew Jack would come back, if out of nothing more than a misguided sense of duty. It wouldn't be out of love. Never out of love. Affection, guilt, lust… perhaps. But Jack could find an outlet for all of those things without Ianto. He probably already had.

Ianto loosened his tie with shaky hands, undoing the first two buttons on his shirt as the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. It hurt so much without Jack here. It hurt as much as Canary Wharf, as much as Lisa, as much as Owen and Tosh, as much as the 456 stealing his breath with an airborne poison, as much as Jack holding him and pleading for him to hold on.

He feared he wasn't strong enough do what he so vehemently claimed as right, because God, he wanted to look for Jack. It had not yet been a week, but was taking all he had to hold it together. And Ianto knew that it would never get better; no, this type of pain only got worse and worse. Because his life was falling apart, and he only knew one man that could make it seem better for one moment just with a cocky smile. But Jack was far away, and Ianto didn't know how to bring him back. And he was so scared. All he could think about was the grave, and not being able to die, and the fingers that had stopped bleeding long before he reached the Hub that night. He thought about forever, and if that existed for him now, and God, all he wanted was for Jack to hold him.

Ianto had loved Jack with all he had, and now it was time to let him go. But was that something he could survive doing?

Ianto woke in the morning far earlier than he needed to, took a shower to wash away the gummy feeling of tears from his face, dressed in a suit no one was likely to see (he found it unlikely Gwen would swing by today), and began to tidy up. Not that there was much to clean, but Ianto liked the monotony of repetitive movements like sweeping and dusting to lull him into an almost unthinking state. Cleaning was one of the few things that could put his mind at ease, shut down the machine that ran kilometers in mere seconds, plaguing him with thoughts of 'what if' and 'if only.'

But there was only so much one could clean, and in under an hour, he'd done possibly everything he could do.

And all he could think about, as he fiddled with his tie (something he had never done before), was how much he would appreciate a weevil sighting at the moment. Then he thought about Janet, and sighed sadly. She hadn't even had a chance, locked in her cell. He could only hope that she hadn't suffered any pain when the Hub exploded. Not like Jack had, Ianto thought with a shudder, recalling that Jack had told him he'd felt everything as his body was blown apart.

Ianto forcibly shook those thoughts out of his head, sitting at his (Tosh's) desk, and absentmindedly monitoring the CCTV. Which was when he noticed the figure of a woman standing outside of the tourist shop, her figure tense and stationary. Frowning, because it was rare when someone actually visited the shop for purely touristy purposes, he zoomed in on her face, waiting for the image to clear of pixilation. He took in her furrowed brow, slim figure, and almost permanent scowl.

He knew this woman.

She was the sociopath that put a bomb in Jack's stomach and incased him in concrete.

Ianto really didn't like her. Especially after hearing about her part in 'saving the world.'

And she was standing outside of the Hub. For what? So she could drop another explosive in it?

Ianto grimaced, and grabbed a gun.

----------------------------------------

She stared down the barrel of his gun with calmness that was almost admirable, her dark eyes staring evenly into Ianto's blue ones. He noticed she looked very different than before, her hair lying around her face seemed to soften her somewhat, and she was no longer wearing her SWAT-like uniform, instead dressed in dark jeans and a black collared shirt that hugged her slim figure. He was startled by how normal she looked.

But he didn't lower his gun.

"What are you doing here?"

Her eyes roved over him slowly. "You're dead."

"Clearly not." Ianto murmured back, just as evenly. "What is your purpose here?"

Instead of answering his question, her eyes took in the repaired square. "The resources Torchwood is privy to are quite astounding, really. It should have taken at least a year to rebuild." She didn't seem to be in much of a rush, and that annoyed him.

Ianto turned off the safety.

"Very well, then. I want to apply for a job."

Only Ianto's quick reflexes stopped the shock from showing on his face. Was she serious? Apparent, she was, her expression reflecting nothing devious or hidden—in fact, it was rather open. And she wasn't the type of woman meant for subterfuge, not really. But there was no harm in being careful, just in case this was a ploy. Ianto rather hoped it wasn't. Another individual, Gwen perhaps, would have run her away. But Ianto saw opportunity.

"A job? Do you believe yourself to have the skills necessary to become a Torchwood member?"

She raised an eyebrow, her expression cool. "You aren't going to ask why you should trust me? That doesn't seem very smart."

"Your lack of trustworthiness hardly merits mentioning, now does it?"

She almost smiled, watching his steady arm and was clearly impressed that he could hold the gun on her for such an extended period of time. "I suppose you are right. I… resigned from my position. I want nothing to do with a government that does not protect its own people. I would rather use my skills, which are numerous, in order protect the UK from the threats that face it. Especially if those threats are anything like the 456."

Inwardly, Ianto cheered. Outwardly, he kept his expression flat, speaking in his 'quiet, deadly voice,' as Jack liked to call it. "A good answer. Very textbook." Ianto paused.

She nodded, silently asking for him to continue. "Did you think that killing Jack Harkness, Gwen Cooper, and myself was essential to the protection of the UK and its citizens?"

She didn't even pause. "Of course. I would not have done it otherwise. Although, I did not know Torchwood members were so hard to kill. Or so opposed to staying dead."

Ianto ignored the hint. His resurrection was none of her business, and it would stay that way. "I will ask again. What are these skills that you believe Torchwood could gain by employing you?" Ianto couldn't believe he was holding an interview for a Torchwood position outside and at gunpoint in plain view where anyone could walk by and see, but he'd long sense learned to role with the punches.

Once again, her answer was immediate. "I have substantial mastery in hand to hand combat, the use of most guns, and other weaponry such as knives and stun guns. I also have the ability to quickly assimilate to any weapon I am presented with. I have an extensive knowledge of explosives," she paused, as if waiting for Ianto to react and seemed almost disappointed when he didn't. "as well as most poisons. Lastly, I am utterly ruthless, and I will kill indiscriminately when it is needed of me." You certainly are quite the sociopath, aren't you?

Ianto could help but clarify one fact. "Torchwood does not need a hitwoman."

She nodded. "Understood. Nevertheless, I believe it to be a skill worth mentioning."

Ianto stared her down, looking for something in her eyes that said Torchwood was in her future. He found it. "Jack Harkness is no longer at Torchwood." He felt the need to point that out as well, heart aching even though his face betrayed none of his inner turmoil.

"Understood. I am willing to defer to the current leader of Torchwood Three, whom is…"

"Me." Ianto hoped Gwen didn't kill him.

"Very well… sir. When can I expect notification regarding this position?"

Ianto turned the safety on, pocketing the gun with the grace of a man that was used to handling them. He turned around, heading into the shop. "Follow me, Agent Johnson."

Finally, a bit of surprise cracked through her cold, perfect façade. "Just Johnson now, Mr. Jones."

"Call me Ianto, or sir if you must. Never Mr. Jones." There were too many Mr. Jones' in his family that he didn't like.

She nodded, following him to the entrance to the Hub.

"And Johnson?"

She turned to him as they stopped in front of the entrance. "If I believe, for a moment, that you have any ill intentions towards Torchwood or any member of the team, or doubt your loyalty to this office, I will dispose of you. Do not thinking it to be above me." His tone was not angry, but neither was it pleasant. No, it was a statement of truth, one he needed her to take seriously.

Johnson gave him a tiny, but honest, smile as the Hub was revealed to her. "Understood, sir."

Ianto had to hide his own smile, and hoped Gwen wouldn't give him too much trouble over this.

There were several reasons why Jack hated John Hart, and he had just been reminded of them.

First off: John only cares about John, and what John wants.

He could care less that Jack could have gone a millennia without even seeing Earth's blue atmosphere, but because John 'had business,' Jack would be forced to revisit on the scene of the worst crimes he'd ever committed.

Second: John was a lying bastard.

He hadn't intended to tell Jack they were heading for Earth until they hit the atmosphere, hence his odd protectiveness over the console. Every time Jack had mentioned Planet 142, John had gone out of his way to be nonchalant—he'd been an idiot not to notice something was wrong. But John had a way of putting people at ease, even people who knew he was a selfish, lying prick.

Third: John had a remarkable reaction time.

Which was how, immediately after Jack noticed they were passing Mercury, John already had a gun aimed at his head. He knew how much Jack hated regenerating brain matter, and marched the other man into the ships tiny containment cell, which was actually in the cockpit (and if that wasn't faulty design, Jack didn't know what was).

Fourth: John was sadistic.

Killing him repeatedly until they got to Earth would have been preferable to making Jack watch their progression to the planet, making Jack dread every minute, every moment, every second. He tried to close his eyes, but they always opened, and he found that they were a little closer to the place Ianto was buried. Even for John, this was cruel and usual. Jack told him so, almost desperate to be released even if it meant dying for a while.

John merely tsked and shook his head slowly and said, "It's for your own good, Jackie."

When he said, "I'm going to fucking kill you, John," the young-looking man shrugged apathetically.

"Immortal, remember?"

Jack didn't believe that load of crap for a minute because, while the split lip had healed, the bruise Jack had given him when he 'woke' with a sword in his chest was still livid against the high cheekbone.

Jack would have to keep him alive long enough to find out how the man made himself look young, but that was a thought for another day.

And now, Jack was pacing in a box that was barely seven by seven, already shaking with the possibility of going back to that damned rock. He tried to fool himself, rationalizing that Earth had hundreds of nations, that he didn't know where John was going, when he was going, that John probably wouldn't even go near the UK… but John wouldn't miss an opportunity to cause Jack anguish. Even if John needed to go to thirteenth century China, he'd manage to make a pit stop in 2009 Cardiff.

"Why are you doing this, John?" Jack asked desperately for what had to be the tenth time. "You don't even like Earth, you said it was a 'backwater, primitive little piece of cosmic crap.' Are you that intent on screwing with me that you'd go somewhere that you hate? Don't go out of your way to make me miserable, I'm already miserable enough." His attempt at trying to get John to change his mind was pathetic, but all of his persuasive charm seemed to have died when Ianto did.

"It's for your own good," John said again for what had to be the tenth time, sitting lazily on a floating ottoman and watching Jack through… sympathetic eyes?

Impossible.

John wouldn't know sympathetic if it gouged out his eyes.

"That's just," Jack sputtered. "complete and utter crap! Since when have you cared about what's best for me?"

"I've always cared about what's best for you," John shot back. "When I thought it was in your best interest to be with me, I sought you out."

"Oh, and I suppose it was in my best interest to be buried alive for a few hundred years," Jack snapped out harshly.

To his surprise, John flinched. "I didn't have to put that tracking device on you, didn't have to make sure you got retrieved—"

"Oh, and that makes it so much better, sorry for getting snippy—"

"I didn't have a choice, I would have died then, not every man rises from the bloody dead like you!"

"If you were a better man, you would have died rather than do what you did," Jack growled out. They had never really had it out about this, and it sucked that he wasn't in the position to punch the outraged expression off of John's face.

"Oh, a better man like pretty little Ianto?" John bit out bitterly. "He lasted what, two years, relying on you to protect him? I learned long ago that when you were involved, I had to look out for myself."

There was a long silence, and Jack was too enraged to see the almost regretful expression on the other mans' face.

"Don't… you… fucking… dare—" Jack was so angry he was shaking with it, barely able to even talk. He punched at the metal keeping him confined, not even flinching when a few bones broke, and was gratified with John flinched slightly at the sound.

John sighed, looking almost tired. "What, Jack? Say the things you think but would never admit to out loud?"

"Shut up, you selfish bastard! Don't make your lack of a conscience, your complete inability to act like a human being into something about Ianto!"

The look on John's face almost made Jack regret his words. Almost. "Do you think it was easy for me, a bloody walk in the park, to bury the only man I've ever loved alive? That I wanted to help your psychotic little brother? God only knows why not," John snapped, his voice raising. "After the way you treated me, you ought to be lucky I didn't fucking SPIT ON YOUR FACE BEFORE THROWING THE DIRT ON, YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER PRICK!" By the time he finished, John was actually roaring out the words, his pale face red and his blue eyes glossy with tears. "I… I s-saved you," he finished nearly inaudibly.

Jack was stunned into silence, not having seen John so close to tears in nearly a decade. Was this some kind of trick, just John trying out crocodile tears because of his younger face? "What in hell are you talking about," Jack said suspiciously. "If you think that was saving me—"

"You don't know the whole story," John murmured quietly, his eyes still teary, and God, it was an unnerving sight. One that made Jack's insides squirm with guilt even though he knew John should be the one feeling guilty.

When John didn't speak after a long time, Jack realized that the man didn't seem keen on telling Jack the 'whole story.'

"What don't I know?" Jack asked soothing, using his I'll-take-care-of-you voice.

"Don't use that bloody voice with me, Jack, I've known you far too long to fall for that crap," John said tiredly, facing the wall, seeming determined to not look at Jack.

"So?" Jack said unrepentantly. "You wouldn't have mentioned something unless you wanted to tell me. So come on, give me you best shot at twisting this story to make you look like the victim," Jack said, tone mocking.

John was quiet for a long time, and Jack opened his mouth to bait the other man again when he finally spoke.

"You remember Toz D'Hozris?"

"Yeah," Jack said cautiously, "What about him?" D'Hozris had been another Time Agent, John's mentor actually. Jack had found the man beating on John when they were both new to the Agency, and took person offense to such a lovely face getting thrashed. Jack had told D'Hozris to leave John alone, and when he hadn't… well, one thing led to another and D'Hozris ended up dead. Jack had thought he would be removed from the Agency for sure, but as it turns out, several of the higher ups considered D'Hozris to be a loose cannon and were almost grateful that bastard was dead. That was when Jack realized the Time Agency wasn't what it claimed to be to allow a Mentor to abuse his Protégé simply because they were afraid to do anything.

He could remember John's bruised face as if it had happened only minutes ago, looking up at him with something akin to hero worship as Jack marched the slightly younger man to get his broken arm healed. It almost ached, remembering John bright-eyed and thankful, so young, barely into his twenties. Looking almost exactly like he did now. If only Jack had known how much damage D'Hozris had really done to John, what he'd made the seemingly innocent man into. The demons John hid behind that angelic face…

"What about him?" Jack prompted again, his voice unintentionally gentle. He couldn't help it, John hadn't mentioned D'Hozris in years, it was the one thing John wouldn't ever talk about, and because of that Jack knew that this wasn't a ploy. For once.

John's voice was soft as he responded. "He's not dead."

Jack froze.

"W-What?"

"I said, he's not dead," John said, almost forcibly.

Jack frowned. "We both know that's impossible. The, the bastard's brains were all over the floor, John! You don't get much deader than that."

"He got himself cloned."

"Cloning was outlawed in the 35th century," Jack pointed out after several stunned minutes of silence.

"Like that would really be a bother for a Time Agent," John snapped out. "Use your brain for once, Jack."

"But, but that's…" It was incomprehensible. Time travel to the 30th to 35th centuries was absolutely forbidden due to the invention of cloning. Just traveling back to those times was punishable by death. It was one of the first things a Time Agent learned.

Because clones were bad.

Really bad.

Cybermen and Delaks bad.

"Yeah, it's pretty fucked up," John agreed, relatively calm for a man who possibly had a clone after him!

"John… how," Jack began, still shocked. "Wait." A horrible thought came to him. John looked so young, so damn young, and he was acting differently, and oh god, he hoped he was wrong—"You didn't clone yourself, did you?"

John snapped his head to Jack, blue eyes wide and surprised, and Jack almost imagined seeing an unearthly light behind them, and oh fuck John had actually done it and—John began to giggle. Actually giggle. The giggles turned into full blown guffaws, causing the man to fall to the ground in absolute hilarity.

"I can't believe you," gasp, "thought," giggle, "I was," chortle, "a clone!" John continued to roll on the ground, clearly amused beyond belief. Jack didn't find it very funny.

"Really funny, John, that was freaking great," Jack half-yelled over the man's laughter. "You scared the crap out of me!" And Jack wasn't ashamed to say so—clones were nothing to joke about.

"Your face!" John managed to get before collapsing into laugher again. "Oh, god, thanks for that Jack. I needed a laugh."

"Did you make up that bit about D'Hozris too," Jack demanded, more than a little pissed.

John got his laugher under control rather quick after Jack said that. "No, wish I was though."

Damn, and Jack had hoped John was screwing with him. "So, what does D'Hozris have to do with what happened between me, you, and Grey?"

John's eyes were far too solemn as he sat back on this seat. "I don't know how, Jack, but Grey knew about him, knew what D'Hozris had done to himself, had a bloody hologram connection with the bastard, showed it to me and he said, he said—"

"What? What did he say?" Jack asked, dread building in his stomach.

"He said—D'Hozris said that if I didn't kill you, didn't avenge him, that he'd come and do it himself. And we both know that if D'Hozris had helped Grey…" John trailed off meaningfully.

Jack paled, doing a far impression of what he looked like when he was dead. Jack had gotten lucky, been at the right place, the right time, the stars aligned just perfectly, and he had been able to take D'Hozris down. He wouldn't have been a match for the man, still wasn't sure if he was a match for him. D'Hozris was bad news, even without the cloning bit. The man had been one of the best at what he did, and pillaged and raped his way through time in a way that no one had ever matched. To think that he had the power of cloning behind him now was terrifying. Him coming Earth would have been bad news in every way—for Jack, for Torchwood, for the whole world.

"He hadn't known that you were immortal, clearly, and Grey hadn't told him for some reason. I guess your psycho of a brother realized that I was still going to find a way to weasel out of killing you so he grafted that damn explosive to my skin. I'm not going to lie and say that it wasn't one hell of an incentive, but D'Hozris forced my hand. You're just bloody lucky that I convinced Grey to bury you. You don't even want to know what he had planned for you originally," John actually shuddered, and Jack, for once, just didn't want to know.

"When were you planning on telling me about D'Hozris, John?"

"Never," the slighter man snapped out. "I was never going to tell you. I was going to deal with it on my own—"

"Deal with D'Hozris on your own," Jack said in disbelief. "You know what he wants with you—"

"Of course I know, I'm not an idiot and I sure as hell didn't forget about my time with him, but it was my problem and you—"

"Your problem? And after you failed to deal with him, who do you think he would have come after? You should have just swallowed your pride and—"

"And what? Explained it all to you after you shot me in head? No-bloody-thank you, Jack, I like my head more or less intact."

Jack frowned. That was kind of true. "But you still should have—"

"I don't need you to save me!" John exploded. "I'm not that kid anymore, it was my bloody problem to handle, my responsibility, and I don't need you to protect me! Just because you get a hard-on from pretending to be some kind of hero—"

"Oh please, John, I don't have time for you and your several thousand insecurities. It has nothing to do with me trying to protect you, and everything to do with freaking D'Hozris being after my head."

John snarled out something in his native tongue that Jack didn't understand, but that was probably best.

"And I'm guessing you didn't 'deal with him,' right? That's why you came to me, why you did whatever it is that you did to yourself," Jack said with sudden insight. "You couldn't deal with him on your own—"

"You don't know what you're talking about," John snapped. "None of this has anything to do with D'Hozris—"

"So you telling me that you didn't try to confront him on your own and got completely thrashed? That you didn't barely escape and come crawling to me for help," Jack taunted.

He was disappointed when John didn't rise to the bait. "That's exactly what I'm saying. I can't even bloody find the bastard. I got a location on that hologram with Grey and figured I'd start there, find something that would lead me to him."

"Well, what did you find?"

"A planet," John said with an almost-growl. "A completely destroyed planet. He killed everything, Jack. Even the bloody plants."

"Fuck," Jack breathed, suddenly unable to look at John, turning to stare out of the window.

And he saw Earth.

All that he'd found out in the past few minutes faded away with a silence that was almost deafening, only the sound of his pounded heart reverberating through his body to keep him company. Even John fell silent, staring at the planet with a fear and trepidation that would have shocked Jack had he been able to see anything other than the memories flashing before his eyes. Memories of coy smiles, hot mugs of coffee, the love making that was even hotter, the feeling of utter helplessness when he heard that lovely voice say, "It's too late, I breathed the air." Memories of the words he could never get out, the words he would never have a chance to say. His heart panged almost violently and he wanted to scream, tear his eyes away from the blue planet that reminded him of a certain Welshman's eyes.

Jack closed his eyes.

Ianto.

TBC

And, ladies and gentlemen, we have a villain.