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… 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: Okay, so a lot is happening in this chapter to prepare for the all that's coming in the future of this story. The real action starts next chapter, so I tried as hard as possible to not make this chapter a jumbled mess with a million plot holes. Hopefully, it's halfway decent. Tell me what you think, even if it's a 'wtf.'

Also, this is the last of my pre-written chapters. Because of this, and now that I've started school, updates may be a bit slower. I'll still try to keep them once a week for as long as I can, but the updates will probably be closer to once every two weeks.

Enjoy!

Chapter Five: Hello Cardiff

Ianto was sitting outside of his sister's home, trying to conjure up the nerve to get out of his car and knock on her door.

Never had he dreaded any conversation with a family member so much, and considering the state of his familial connections before his death, that was quite an accomplishment. He wasn't even sure what the best way to go about it was. Should he just walk up and knock on the door as if nothing had occurred? Or should he call and ask her to come outside? Should he have asked her to meet him somewhere? Hell, should he even be here at all? He'd picked a time when the kids would be at school and Johnny would be at work. It would just be the two of them. But was that best?

Ianto was certain that he was doing all of this wrong.

What if she fainted and cracked her head on the sidewalk?

What if she had a complete mental breakdown from seeing her dead little brother standing on her doorstep? Normal people, people outside of Torchwood, weren't equipped to deal with that kind of shock.

What if— Ianto saw a shadow in one of the windows and automatically ducked in the SUV, heart pounding before he snorted, laughing at himself. Really, hiding in an SUV? He was being beyond ridiculous. Rhiannon was his sister, and while the shock would be great, he doubted that she would be anything but ecstatic to see him alive and well.

So, all that was left to do was to get out of the SUV and knock on her door.

Simple. Very much so.

Despite how dreadfully simple it was to get out of a vehicle, Ianto found a way to postpone his arrival at Rhiannon's front door for another five minutes, going so far as to obsessively smooth his coat jacket—as if she would care about the state of his suit! He was sure she'd be more concerned with the dead relative on her doorstep.

His knock could have been louder, but he supposed a part of him was hoping she wouldn't answer—that he could escape from what was becoming one of the most uncomfortable experiences of his life. But Rhiannon had always had the ears of a hound, and the door opened far too quickly.

And Rhiannon froze, staring at him in the way you might stare at a stranger who was flashing you in the supermarket. Mouth of open, eyes wide with shock and confusion with a bit of horror thrown in for good measure.

Ianto figured this would be the moment to say something. If only he knew what that something was.

"Bore da, Rhi." She continued to stare at him blankly. "It's um, good to see you."

She finally said something. "Johnny told me that curry had gone bad."

Ianto blinked, wondering what he was supposed to say in response to that. "It's me, Rhiannon. It's Ianto."

Her blue eyes were still far too wide, but they were now moving widely, staring at him from head to toe, lingering on his face finally. Her hand rose slowly, almost hesitantly to touch at his shoulder before moving to his chin, which she touched only for a moment before gasping and stumbling away. "I-I… but you're dead. I, you died," Rhiannon choked out as tears began to spill from her eyes. "This is… this is impossible. This can't be real."

"Rhiannon, I promise you that this is me. This is real." He stepped forward a bit, reaching for her hand but she moved backwards again, receding a bit more into her house. Ianto sighed and didn't follow her, not wanting to distress her more than he already had. "I just, I wanted to make sure you knew I was alright and—"

"You wanted me to know you were alright," Rhiannon choked out a bit hysterically. "I was at your bloody funeral, and what, now you're alive and you want me to just say 'oh, well, as long as you're okay'!"

"Rhi…"

"Was it all a lie? Were you ever dead at all? Oh course you bloody weren't, standing here like you are! No wonder that bitch Gwen didn't want to give us your 'body,' bet that coffin was filled with rocks, or-or… how, how could you do that to me? To mam? Do you hate your family so much that you would put us through something like that—making us think that you'd died?"

Ianto ducked his head, eyes clenching shut as they filled with tears. This was it, this was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, coming here and expecting—hell, he didn't know what he'd been expecting. His sister was normal, husband and two kids normal, and he was Torchwood, darkening her doorstep with all the baggage of someone who dealt with the extraordinary everyday, expecting her to just accept it and welcome him back into life with open arms. She was thinner, paler, tired looking and he could only think that his death had done this to her. He'd had no right to come back here, to… to… "I-I'm sorry, Rhiannon," Ianto whispered lowly so that she wouldn't detect the tears in his voice as he began to turn around. "I'll just… just go and—"

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Ifan Jones! Not until you explain to me what in the hell is going on."

What did she want from him? He couldn't tell her the truth, and he was almost positive that the cover story he'd thought of in the SUV wouldn't cover it this time. "I… there was a mix up at the hospital and—"

Ianto reeled back stunned, clutching his bleeding mouth in the wake of Rhiannon's hit. She wasn't like most women—she didn't slap, she sucker-punched. At the most inappropriate time, Ianto couldn't help but feel a bit of pride that his sister could still hit like a man, which shouldn't be all that surprising considering that she'd taught him how to fight when they were kids.

"You don't start that crap with me, don't you dare," She hissed dangerously. "I may not have gone to University like you, but don't think you can treat me like a fool, like I'm going to smile and believe it when you spout complete and utter shite. No hospital mix-up could possibly excuse this, Ianto. It's been, what, three months and you haven't come to see me? Try again and be a bit more convincing this time."

Ianto stared into his sister's flinty blue eyes and realized that she wanted the truth. Now. She wouldn't take any more of his lies, not that she'd ever truly believed them before. But he couldn't tell her, God, how could he possibly tell her? How could he tell her about what really happened in that graveyard without telling her about Torchwood, about Canary Wharf, about Lisa. How could he tell Rhiannon about the darkest years of his life, about the terrible things he'd done while hiding under the façade of a civil servant?

Ianto wasn't aware of the tear sliding his cheek until Rhiannon wiped it away with the same hand she'd hit him with. "There now," she almost whispered, her voice surprising gentle. "No need for any of that. Just tell me what happened."

Ianto almost replied with a 'you can't handle the truth' but he wasn't really in the joking mood, nor did he want to get hit again. He opened his mouth, a million plausible lies on the tip of his tongue, but something stopped them from leaving his lips.

Perhaps it was because, for once, he just didn't feel like lying anymore. Or perhaps he was just too selfish to suffer alone, he wanted his burdens to become someone else's for a little while. Jack had once been that, been the strong shoulders that helped to carry all of the pain he hid behind witty one-liners and endless cups of coffee. But Jack was gone, and that weight was breaking him down so much that he felt as if he was crawling on the on the pavement with scraped knees.

So, for once, Ianto decided on truth. "I died. Then I came back about… two weeks ago. I don't know h-how, or why, but I'm back and I don't know what to do," Ianto finished faintly.

The words hung between them like barriers, and Ianto stared into his sister's eyes, waiting for her to tell him to leave and never come back.

But she didn't.

Rhiannon merely opened the door wider and stepped to the side. "C-Come in, then."

The moment he walked through the door, she launched herself at him with a sob, squeezing so tightly he could hardly breathe. Ianto remained immovable for a moment, stiff and slightly shell-shocked. Then Rhiannon choked out, "You're telling the truth, you're finally telling me the truth," and Ianto knew she wasn't just talking about his death, but the years of oppressive silence caused by his dishonesty. And Ianto finally relaxed, the tension completely leaving his body as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Yes, I am."

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

It took them a while to break away from each other and move to the living room, where Rhiannon sat him down with a cup of strong black tea and stared at him with inquisitive eyes until he told her. Told her about what he did for a living, about Torchwood One and Torchwood Three, about Cybermen and Daleks, about Lisa and Jack. He told her everything. Ianto talked, talked more than he could ever remember doing, his voice shifting constantly from the barest of whispers to near shouts, sometimes thick with tears and other times seething with rage. By the time he was finished, his voice was hoarse with overuse and he was only waiting for his sister to finally say something.

Rhiannon was silent for a long time as she stared out of her window with a faraway expression, and Ianto feared what she would say more with each passing moment.

Then she sighed, all of the tension leaving her body as she gave him a watery gaze and a rueful smile. "Well, shite, Yan. D'you want a smoke?"

Ianto stared at her blankly before a smile snaked across his face. "God yes."

It was just his luck that Jack was teleported to Cardiff, where he immediately stumbled on a piece of cracked pavement and found himself impaled on a wrought iron fence. He only managed to free himself of it before he died, falling forward onto the cement.

When he woke, gasping and shuddering as his body was forced to heal in seconds, Jack slowly brought himself to a sitting position before grumbling. If he didn't know it was impossible, he would have said John planned that. At least there was no one around to witness his less than graceful landing, but that wouldn't last for long with the state of his now bloody clothes. And Jack growled when he realized that his greatcoat was now sporting three lovely new holes in the back, not the mention the bloodstains. Dammit, maybe if he begged he could get it fixed tonight, Ianto was becoming tired of patching up the coat every day and—

Fuck.

Jack's shoulders slumped as he started to walk down the street, trying to keep his thoughts as far away from the Welshman as possible. But even an idiot knew that the more you try not to think of something, the more you actually do think of it. It was a vicious cycle.

He didn't know where he was, more familiar with the urban parts of Cardiff rather than this quiet rural setting, but he continued to walk carelessly, not really seeking anything familiar. The places he knew would only remind him of the lover that he'd lost, of all the people he'd lost in this damn city, and the only thing he was interested in doing was finding a car to hotwire so he could get the hell out of Wales.

Then was going to find John's scrawny ass and kill him, really kill him this time. And Jack pitied him if he actually was immortal, because that just meant Jack was going to have to kill him again. And again. The bastard had no right to send him here, because Cardiff would only make Jack weak and he couldn't continue on the way he had for the past few weeks—a pathetic shadow of the man he once was. The only way to get a hold of himself, to curb the overwhelming need to weep for the rest of eternity was to get as far away from Earth as possible.

Where no one knew him, where no one could find him and he could perhaps find some measure of peace alone with his nightmares and shattered dreams.

Yes, being anonymous sounded wonderful. And he was anything but anonymous here. Now, all he had to do was see about hotwiring that car— "Jack? Jack Harkness."

Jack stiffened, cursing under his breath before continuing to walk as he hadn't heard his name being called out clear as day.

"Harkness!" The voice, a woman's that was vaguely familiar, was louder now, closer to him. Jack sped up a bit, hunching his shoulders and resisting the urge to break out in a full run. He could hear the sound of quick footsteps behind him and quickly ducked into a narrow walkway between two houses, hoping that whoever it was would get the not so subtle hint.

When he felt the hand on his shoulder, he spun around quickly with a snarl. "What!"

And stared into the unimpressed face of Detective Swanson. "Are you aware that you're officially on Cardiff's missing persons list? Half of the city is looking for you."

This day couldn't possibly get worse, Jack thought with no little despair as Swanson crossed her arms and leveled him with a look.

Then the heavens rumbled and it began to rain.

Gwen was relieved when Ianto left the Hub earlier that day, admitting that he was finally going to Rhiannon's. Not just because it was about time that he talked to his family, but because he was there all the time and she was about to scream from frustration if she didn't find out how it was the Ianto had taken over Torchwood so effectively without her ever noticing. Johnson followed him around like some kind of adoring body-guard and even Lois was looking more and more to Ianto for answers instead of Gwen.

That wasn't how things were supposed to be, she was supposed to be in charge now. And yes, she was aware of how utterly childish that sounded, even inside of her head, but she couldn't help the way she felt. The only reason why the Hub was even here right now was because of the fact she'd lived and breathed Torchwood from the moment that Jack had left Earth, doing everything that she could to make sure that the organization regained it's feet. And while Gwen was more than grateful that Ianto was back—even though she had no idea how that was even possible—he'd appeared and taken the reins from her, hiring Johnson and refusing to allow her out in the field. She was still hardly showing!

Gwen ignored the small voice in the back of her head that said if it had been so easy for him to assume control then it was probably for the best the he was leading them.

It burned, because she'd proven herself to be an apt leader when Jack had gone off with the Doctor. It was she that kept the place running by taking charge and keeping everyone on task. Except for Ianto, he hadn't needed to be kept on task. In fact, he'd always seemed to anticipate what everyone needed, there with a file or artifact before they could even ask him for it. And, he knew more about the paperwork than she could have ever comprehend, telling her what she needed to sign. Actually… Gwen squirmed uncomfortably in her seat… after the first week or so, she hadn't even bothered with the paperwork because Ianto said he was more than able to forge her signature. And he seemed to know what he was doing, so she let him. He'd even handled the calls from UNIT and the Prime Minister, notifying Gwen when he felt she needed to know something. But she'd controlled everything when they'd gone out into the field, she had! Except… except for when Ianto came along, and she hadn't minded stepping back and allowing him to subtly lead them. She even remembered snapping at Owen when he second guessed Ianto's orders in the field.

Ianto's… orders.

Oh crap.

Tears blurred her vision and she didn't even have the energy to blame them on hormones. How could she have been so blind? How did she not notice how much of the responsibility that had rested on Ianto's shoulders in those months? Gwen had been nothing more than the public face of Torchwood, the figurehead. She'd believed herself to be the leader, telling Jack so confidently that she'd led the team in his absence. Gwen wondered if he'd ever known otherwise, if he merely took her words at face value or had just humored her because he knew who had really been controlling the things behind the scenes.

No, Jack wouldn't do that. Would he?

Gwen took a deep breath and wiped her eyes covertly, glad that Lois was exploring for the moment and not sitting at the desk next to her. She logged onto her computer and quickly got on the mainframe of the system, looking to see if Jack had listed a second in command. He must have, right? Suzie had been the first, then Owen and after he... Gwen closed her eyes and shuddered. Jack must have picked another second after Owen's death.

She was so eager to see who Jack had thought was the better leader that she didn't even hear the 'invisible' lift and stared at the electronic files with a frustrated expression. She didn't even know where to look for the damn employee database—Ianto had been the one to enter Lois and Johnson in the system.

It was all coming back to him, wasn't it? "Dammit!"

"Were you looking for something? Perhaps I can help."

Gwen jumped slightly at the sound of Ianto's voice and quickly minimized the page, turning slightly with a guilty expression on her face. "Oh, um. Nothing, it's nothing really. I was just looking through the electronic records for something. Oh, hey, are those sandwiches? I'm starved," she said hurriedly, trying to quickly change the subject.

Ianto stared at her oddly before nodding. "Yes, from the shop up the street. I got some while I was out—got you turkey on wheat, they were out of rye. Hope that's alright."

She smiled at him weakly, feeling even guiltier. Not only did he run everything, he still managed to find time to feed them! "Of course, that's fine. How did things go with Rhiannon?"

Ianto smiled genuinely, and it struck her how rare that expression was on his face. "Very well, actually. After she nearly knocked my front teeth out, at least."

Gwen raised an eyebrow as he handed her the sandwich. Ianto's face looked fine, there wasn't even a bruise. "She hit you?"

"Only once," Ianto said with a shrug, not really ready to go into all that had happened at his sister's. "Things are fine now. Rhiannon sends her love."

Gwen snorted. "I highly doubt it, but thanks for saying so."

Ianto gave her his classic deadpanned expression. "I was being sarcastic."

Gwen paused in unwrapping her sandwich long enough to throw a pencil in his direction, which he dodged quite artfully. Then she realized that her sandwich was complete with mustard and relish. "How did you know this was exactly what I'm craving?" She asked, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Ianto raised his eyebrow. "Because—"

"You know everything, I know, I know," Gwen finished with a laugh.

"I'm going to go give these to Johnson and Lois," Ianto said, gesturing to the sandwiches in response. Just as he turned around, the computer beeped, asking if she'd sign in again before the session expired. Ianto frowned, wondering why she suddenly looked so uncomfortable. "Did you find what you were looking for, by the way?"

There were those guilty eyes again, staring away from him as Gwen flushed slightly. "No, but it's alright."

"Are you sure? I could be of assistance if—"

"No!" Gwen almost snapped out. "I-I mean, no thank you Ianto, but I appreciate the offer." She gave him a weak smile and he frowned deeper, but decided to leave her be.

When Ianto left, Gwen maximized the page again, searching for something she wasn't sure she wanted to find.

Very, very reluctantly, Jack agreed to have coffee with Swanson after extracting a promise that she wouldn't go blabbing to all of her detective friends that he was back, however temporarily. He didn't plan on telling her anything important, he was just doing this to get her off of his back—the last thing he needed was for Swanson to get in touch with Gwen and reveal that he was in Cardiff.

Because he didn't want anything to do with Torchwood or Gwen. Nothing at all. Wasn't even curious as to how she was doing, how she and Rhys were adapting to their upcoming parenthood. Didn't want to find out if Torchwood was still present in Cardiff. Not a bit.

Yeah, he was really convincing himself here.

So he glared across the booth at Johnson as the waitress put down their drinks (coffee for Swanson and a water for him—Jack couldn't even think of drinking coffee right now), skillfully ignoring the looks he was getting for his bloody and drenched appearance.

Swanson gave him a somewhat amused glance, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Still know how to make a spectacle out of yourself, don't you Harkness? Do I even want to ask where all that blood came from?"

Jack remained stubbornly silent.

She raised an eyebrow. "The famous Jack without a single smart comment? No off-color jokes or sexual advances? I may have to document this in the logs."

Jack turned his head away, gritting his teeth in anger as Swanson raised her cup to her mouth.

"Are you really going to stay silent? Because that makes it really hard for you to convince me why I shouldn't have half of the Cardiff police force outside right now."

Jack snapped his head back to her. "You said that you wouldn't say anything to anyone!"

"And I won't—provided that you give me a reason not to. Are you aware of the fact that you are under suspicion of six separate homicides, not to mention the fact that you are main suspect in the explosion that blew up the Millennium Centre? You are bloody lucky that no other member of law enforcement happened upon you—they would have had you buried under the jail by now."

"As if any of them could take me. Please, be realistic," Jack snapped, thinking about the other time he'd been buried. And if that wasn't yet another place he didn't want his mind to stray right now…

"Oh and here comes the ego," Swanson remarked with a shake of her head. "I'm surprised you could fit through the door with that big head of yours. Do you really think you're invincible, Jack?"

"You have no idea," Jack murmured, taking a sip of water.

She gave him a strange look before continuing forward in a relentless manner Jack couldn't help but admire. "So, then. Tell me why I shouldn't be turning you in."

"Well," Jack began with a shadow of his familiar smirk. "I did save the world."

To his surprise, Swanson merely rolled her pretty eyes again. "Tell me something I don't know. Did you actually think I would be sitting here having coffee with you otherwise?"

Jack sputtered.

"Not that Torchwood is letting up on any details, as usual," Swanson continued. "Your little team claims to have nothing to do with that horror show a few months ago, but I know better."

"My little team?" Jack couldn't help but ask, cursing mentally the moment he said it.

"Gwen bloody Cooper is a menace, I swear and Jones is even worse," Swanson scowled and Jack's heart skipped a beat for a moment before he realized she must be talking about Martha. He couldn't help but let loose a chuckle, the first real laugh he could remember in the longest time. He hadn't even thought of the possibility that Martha would be in Cardiff—Gwen must have called her up for a bit of help. He bet the two of them were raising all kinds of hell together. Ah, good ole Gwen. "Thinks that I'm stupid enough to not notice the way files have disappearing from the database for the past two weeks."

"Files disappearing?" That was a bit strange. Gwen or Martha weren't skilled enough with a computer to mess with the police databases that way, not unless they'd acquired some new skills in the past few weeks. Which made him wonder who it was that was doing the hacking. Perhaps UNIT was sparing a few more specialists other than Martha to keep Torchwood running temporarily. God, he hoped not—UNIT and Torchwood were nothing but trouble when they operated under close quarters.

Swanson gave him a dry look, clearly knowing that he was trying to pump her for information. "That's not the way things work, Harkness. You answer my questions, not the other way around."

"Then ask," Jack shot back nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair and threading his fingers behind his head.

Swanson gave him a rather disconcerting smirk, as if she knew something that he didn't. "Very well then. Can you tell me why Ianto Jones' death certificate has been deleted from the coroner's database and why his grave doesn't exist any longer? Or how he's been cited around Cardiff and seems content to give me the bloody run around on the phone every time I get in touch with him when I saw his body myself? Or how no one else seems to recall that he's been dead for the past two months? Just how much do you know about the new head of Torchwood?"

Jack froze—didn't breath, didn't move a muscle as his brain struggled to process what Swanson was getting at. He could swear that his heart stopped beating and he didn't notice Swanson's increasing concerned expression until she reached over the table to shake his shoulder vigorously. "Snap out of it, Harkness! Breathe, for Christ's sake."

And now he was shaking, eyes blurring and the very world itself to seemed to tremble before he managed to reel himself in with a will he didn't know he had. "What did you just say?"

TBC

Notes on Rhiannon: Before any of you ask, I am not bashing Rhiannon as a character. So please don't judge her too harshly for the way she reacts to Ianto's resurrection—I'm going for realism here, and I just don't find it very realistic that she'd immediately fall into his arms crying how she missed him and saying that every thing was hunky-dory. Plus, Ianto as been somewhat estranged from his family due to his career choice (Torchwood) so her reaction is also a response to be cut out of her brother's life for so long. She has taken more than enough of her brother's secrets and is taking no prisoners until she gets the truth out of him. Which isn't a bad thing, really.

Also, I do realize that some of this may seem a bit out of character for Ianto, but I don't think it is so far off. I see him as an intensely private individual and breaking a habit of silence to let Rhiannon in would be very hard for him.