I was planning to torture you all a good deal longer, but I just can't stand it. Everyone thinks the story is over and it's NOT! It will be at the end of this chapter though. (Except there will be one more chapter for my saintfully patient Mr. You-Know-Who-You-Are, but you don't have to read that, and then perhaps another for any Superwhovians, because I reeeeeally want to put Castiel in here. So this is the end.)
Carrying On
Jack Harkness was no stranger to pain - an occupational hazard of being unkillable. Nor was he unfamiliar with loss. He was over 200 years old, after all. He had outlived a great number of both friends and lovers. But being accustomed to something and being immune to it are two incredibly different things, and the regularity of his loss was doing nothing to soften the impossibly sharp knife which seemed to have permanently lodged itself into his heart. Everything he looked at in the Hub carried some memory of Ianto. They came alive as he looked at them, until a different Iantos stood all around jack, paying him no mind in the slightest. But it wasn't just the Hub. Torchwood had run all over the godforsaken city. Every street lamp, it seemed, was obligated to project Ianto's formally clad, irresistible body, casting shadows under his round chin, making his face darker, more rugged. Every green lawn lay underfoot as Ianto sprinted across it in the dark, chasing after the galloping figure of a Weevil. Every cup of coffee was wrapped in Ianto's smooth pale hand.
But none of those were the worst, not by a long shot. No, on any scale, what was worse was the fact that Jack's memories were it. As River Song had promised, Ianto never existed. There were no records of him, no photographs. His team mates had no idea who he was. Jack was alone.
Only one real thing in Jack's life remained of Ianto Jones, one collection of random atoms bonded together to acknowledge his existence…
Jack locked the door to his office, wishing he had curtains, or proper walls. Something to hide him from the concerned stares of his teammates. He collapsed into his chair, and his eyes fell upon a white envelope resting atop his desk, with only one word written on it: Jack.
Jack slit the envelope open and out slid a piece of paper covered in neat, looping handwriting.
Jack-
I know that right now you feel alone and angry. You have every right to. In keeping with my far too oft repeated refrain, I'm sorry. I am so very sorry, for everything. I wish that I could tell you that the pain goes away, that everything will eventually go back to normal, but that would be a lie. The truth is that the holes Ianto has torn in your life will never be properly filled. I beg you not to try to fill them with revenge.
Jack, there is no revenge to be had. No one is at fault except me. None of this would have happened had I recognized the Master sooner, and for that I am truly sorry. I pray that you will learn from my mistakes, and use your suffering to raise yourself higher. You will live for a long, long time. Billions of years. That time will be ten times as long if you let yourself become bitter and filled with hate.
The only small consolation I can offer you is something a very old, very wise man once told me: a man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer. Jack, I cannot lessen your suffering - no one can do that but you. But I want you to remember this. Jack Harkness, you are, and always will be, a good man. And you've got plenty of time to do some good in this universe.
Prove me right.
There was no signature.
Jack was about to crumple up the envelope and toss it away when he realized there was another, stiffer piece of paper tucked into the corner. He pulled it out and felt his heart lodge in his throat. How the Doctor had done it, Jack had no idea, but he held in his hand a glossy photograph of a young man with short brown hair, a round face, and stormy grey eyes, grinning while pumping the lever on a silver and black coffee-maker. Leave it to the Doctor to have a photo of a man who didn't exist.
Jack slid the picture back into the envelope, and dropped it into his top desk drawer. Then he picked it up again and slipped it into his inside pocket. A second later, he took the picture out of the envelope and laid it face down on the desk. Then face up. Then back in his pocket, next to the letter, and that was where it stayed.
Jack was sometimes prone to taking out the letter, unfolding it as though to read it again, before refolding it and shoving back into the pocket without looking at it. It seemed that it was only now the true gravity of what he was had taken hold. That he would exist forever, be here, around mortals, forever. This sort of thing would happen again, the Doctor had as good as told him. It was his choice whether he let it change him into a monster, or something else entirely. Perhaps this time Jack wouldn't screw up quite so badly.
The others were courteous enough to leave him alone. They didn't understand why he was behaving so oddly, but they didn't ask, for which he was grateful. Every time he looked at them, he still saw their broken, scared faces as they'd watched the man Ianto had become destroy their planet. He wished he could comfort them. But he knew they didn't need comforting, because for them, it had never happened.
One night in November it all became too much. Jack strode out of the Hub without a word and drove. He drove and drove all night, losing track of time, not caring where he ended up.
He parked the SUV at dawn, on some street in some city, and stepped out, taking consolation in the fact that he recognized nothing. Ianto couldn't follow him hear.
"Damn it!" There was a shout and the unmistakable bang of a gun shot. Jack ran towards the source of the noise, his hand closing around his own gun. His ears led him to the stairwell leading down to a subway. He sprinted down the steps, and found himself face to face with a Weevil. He brought up his gun but- BANG!
"What the hell was that thing?" demanded an angry voice. Jack raised his eyes from the dead Weevil at his feet to the young man standing a few paces away, with his gun still raised. Oh Jesus.
"Ianto?"
The man frowned, clicked the safety back on his gun, and slipped it into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He frowned at Jack. "Sorry, mate. You best get out of here." The man who wasn't Ianto reached down and grabbed the Weevil's right wrist, making to drag it away. Jack moved and grab its left.
"Captain Jack Harkness," he said as he helped Not Ianto drag the Weevil to a maintenance closet and lock it inside.
"Lloyd," said the man. "Gareth Lloyd."
"So, Lloyd Gareth Lloyd," said Jack, wiping his hands on his pants. "Can I buy ya a drink?"
oOo
River was quiet during the flight back to Stormcage. She curled up on the jump seat and let the Doctor fly, which of course immediately alerted him to the facy that something was wrong. He plopped down on the seat beside her.
He didn't need to say anything. "You hate me," River said. It was the most vulnerable he had ever heard her sound.
"I don't," he assured her. He wrapped her hand in his bigger one, and squeezed it comfortingly. "Not even then. I think I do, but trust me, I don't. When you next see me, everything will be fine." He kissed her on the head. "I promise."
The TARDIS ground to a stop. Looking outside, River said in surprise, "This isn't Stormcage."
"No," the Doctor agreed. " Of course not! We're going somewhere entirely much more exciting. There's just one stop to make first." He opened the door onto a rural street River didn't recognize.
She did, however, recognize the man standing in the middle of it. He looked so small, almost diminutive now, standing with slumped shoulders in the drenching rain. His soaked hair seemed to be wilting, and when she got a glimpse of his face, she felt her heart nearly break. Quickly, her Doctor explained what she needed to do, and that this version of him was a year older than the one she had left in Cardiff a few minutes ago.
She splashed toward him. "Doctor!" she called.
He turned to look at her with those empty, anguished eyes. "River," he said in a monotone. "What are you doing here."
"There's something I forgot to tell you," said River, shielding her eyes from the downpour. "When the paradox broke, the universe sort of…shook itself up. Some things got replaced, or moved. Justin Bieber was never supposed to be in this reality, for one thing." She nodded toward his TARDIS, for the one which had brought her was invisible. "I need to show you something."
They landed in a small, snowy courtyard surrounded by inexpensive looking apartments. incredibly familiar inexpensive apartments.
"What are you doing?" asked the Doctor.
Before River could answer, there was the sound of slow, scuffing footsteps, and a young woman bundled up in a coat, scarf, and hot pink hat trudged into view, clutching her shoulders and shivering. She looked up as she passed them, brushing a strand of dirty blonde hair from her eyes. When she caught sight of the Doctor, she smiled in recognition. His hearts skipped a beat, so fixated on the woman he hadn't even noticed River discreetly disappear.
"Hey," she said, "I know you."
"Oh, yeah?" he said, not sure what to do.
"Don't you remember?" said Rose Tyler. "New Year's Eve. Coupla weeks ago."
He was so entranced by that bright smile he barely registered the words. New Year's Eve. He hadn't been here on New Year's Eve. Not yet anyways. But if Rose was still here, then…
"What year is it?" he asked.
She laughed. "You been out drinking again?"
He shrugged in a noncommittal way, not sure what she was talking about.
"It's 2005," she said. "February twelfth."
"Two-thousand five," he repeated, more to himself than to her. His memory was flooded with deformed mannequins marching the streets of London, of Christmas Day, Jackie hanging mistle-toe. "You know what?" he said.
Rose cocked her head to the side. "What?"
The Doctor felt a pained, yet completely sincere grin spread over his face. "I bet you're gonna have a really great year."
Rose narrowed her eyes in a playfully suspicious manner. "Do you know something, mate? You said that last time, too."
"Well, it must be true then." The Doctor took a deep breath, the smile fading from his face. "I'll see you around."
"Yeah, see you." Rose continued her way up the metal steps to her apartment, and for a moment, the Doctor wanted nothing more than to follow her. To sprint up the stairs and wrap her in a gigantic bear hug and never ever let go. But…
"Sweetie?" River was leaning against the invisible doorway of the TARDIS. "It's time. Allons-y." Her voice was gentle, not at all flirtatious or suggestive. Just kind, pure and simple. Perhaps he could understand what his future self saw in her.
She left him back on Donna's street and disappeared around the corner, to where her Doctor's TARDIS was waiting. The Doctor himself stood at the control panel, smiling expectantly.
River returned the smile and shook her head. "You hypocrite. Messing with timelines."
"I'm a Time Lord," said the Doctor, straightening his bowtie in a self-satisfied fashion. "I get to do that sometimes. But before we go, there's something you absolutely must see! Or rather, hear. Listen."
River listened. Through the doors, in the distance, she could hear a melodic chanting which reverberated inside her ears, sending shivers down her spine. "It's beautiful."
"They're towers," said the Doctor. "Towers perfectly constructed to sing when the wind blows just right. Singing towers. Come on, Dr. Song. You look like you could do with some cheering up."
oOo
On the way to the Library, Martha received a call that her brother's wife had had her baby, and that they wanted her to be godmother. Instantly, Martha ordered the Doctor to turn around and take her home.
"Have fun," he said when he dropped her off on her street. "I'll just be around. There's this thing going on, at Adipose industries. Thought I might check it out. Give me a ring when you're done."
And there, of course, appeared none other than Donna Noble. For a moment, the Doctor couldn't look at her without seeing the woman standing in the conference room, her face hard with fury, holding a gun. But the image melted as Donna beamed and mouthed through the glass, "This is brilliant!"
And…
The first astronaut lumbered forward, its breathing magnified tenfold by the suit's respiratory unit. A gloved hand reached up to remove the reflective visor.
"Hello, sweetie."
The Doctor could not stop a smile from spreading across his face. Of all the bloody people the universe could have sent him…
"Hello, River."
And this concludes "The Fob Watch". Enormous thanks to everyone who has supported me and read this story. It has been a most exciting journey. Have a nice life.