Author's Notes: Thanks again to everyone who so kindly reviewed the previous chapter. And sincere thanks as always to Prothrombintime for unwavering encouragement and support.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
November 11th, 2008
Jack stared at Dylan as his mind twisted with confusion, neither of them answering the questions they'd just asked each other. The young woman they'd just met clearly knew him by his former identity, and she seemed to know who Dylan was too, although she'd called him by a different name. He'd never heard the name 'Ianto' before, although he immediately liked it, and it seemed to suit the young Welshman.
Frowning suspiciously, Jack began to wonder if this was all some kind of elaborate con. Perhaps Dylan had been playing him all along, although for what purpose he couldn't begin to imagine. His heart sank with the thought that everything they'd shared had been a lie, and in hindsight, he realised he should have known better. It had all seemed just a little too good to be true, but he'd wanted it so damn badly that he'd let his new found happiness overrule his instinctively distrustful nature. As loath as he was to admit it, he'd foolishly let his heart rule his head. Regardless, it seemed that a part of his past had caught up with him, and a piece of the puzzle that was his missing five years was about to be revealed, whether he wanted it to be or not.
Dylan stared back at him, a perplexed frown marring his youthful features. The panicked glint in his wide eyes suggested he was at least considering the option of bolting from the coffee shop.
"Jack? What on Earth's going on?" the unfamiliar woman asked.
Before Jack could respond, Dylan cleared his throat nervously. He gestured towards the table they'd just vacated at the rear of the shop. "Er... perhaps we should sit down?"
Quickly glancing around, Jack realised they were attracting unwanted attention from the handful of people nearby. He nodded and gestured for Dylan and the young woman to precede him. "Jack?" the woman repeated, looking at him warily.
"I'm not sure what's going on here, but we'll try to figure it out." Jack tried to produce a genuine and reassuring smile. "How about I get up us some coffees? What would you like?"
Absently noting the woman's reply, he stole another glance at Dylan, who was looking back and forth between the two of them with what was unmistakeably suspicion in his eyes. Mentally shaking himself, Jack moved over to the counter and ordered another round of coffees for Dylan and himself, and a latte for the young woman.
He watched as the pair made their way over to the table, the woman watching him closely, while Dylan continued to look anxious and unsettled. That was a feeling Jack could wholly relate to. Clearly the younger man had some rather large secrets of his own, and Jack had the terrible feeling that the unexpected happiness they'd found together was about to come crashing down in spectacular fashion. They'd become so comfortable with each other, it was easy to forget that they were still strangers in many ways, neither of them knowing anything particularly substantial about their respective pasts.
After waiting impatiently for their beverages to be prepared, he thanked the barista when they were finally ready, then carried the drinks over to the table and sat down beside the Welshman.
"You don't know who I am, do you?" the woman asked, taking her drink as Jack passed it across the table.
"I'm sorry, but no, I don't," Jack replied honestly. "Obviously you know who I am though."
The woman nodded. "We met just over a year ago." She glanced at Dylan, a hesitant, uncertain expression passing briefly over her features. "At least it was that long for you and me. I'm Martha Jones. I travelled with the Doctor until recently. That's how we met."
"The Doctor?" Dylan asked sharply, before Jack could say anything. "You know the Doctor?" He raised his eyebrows at Jack. "You both do?"
Martha nodded in reply. "And apparently, so do you," Jack interjected dryly, startled by Dylan's revelation.
"Only by reputation," Dylan replied, reaching for his cup of coffee and taking a sip.
Martha was looking at Dylan curiously. "Just now, Jack called you 'Dylan'. So, you're not Ianto Jones... Jack's boyfriend?"
The shocked look on Dylan's face would have been almost comical if not for Jack's escalating confusion. He watched as Dylan swallowed visibly.
"My real name's Ianto Jones," the younger man eventually replied, glancing nervously at Jack. "That's who I was until seven weeks ago. But I only met James here a bit over three weeks ago." A deep frown creased his forehead. "His name's James Huntley. At least, I thought it was."
Jack sighed heavily, knowing there was no point in denying the truth any longer. "Actually, my name's Jack Harkness."
A flicker of recognition immediately appeared in Dylan's blue eyes, and they widened as he looked at Jack incredulously. "Captain Jack Harkness? The man who runs Torchwood Three in Cardiff? That's you?"
Jack stared at Dylan in astonishment. "How the hell do you know about Torchwood?" he demanded, struggling to keep his voice low and avoid unwanted attention.
Dylan gaped at Jack, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing several times. Finally he let out a choked laugh. "So, these last three weeks, I've been shagging Jack Harkness." He shook his head in apparent disbelief. "Bloody hell," he muttered.
The stab of hurt Jack felt must have been apparent in his features, because Dylan immediately looked contrite. He began to reach for Jack's hand, but then seemed to think better of it and slid it back towards the cup of coffee in front of him. His gaze shifted briefly to Martha before settling on Jack again. "Sorry, I didn't mean... er... just a bit of a shock, that's all." He shrugged meekly. "You... well, you have somewhat of a reputation."
Jack didn't want to think about whatever Dylan might have heard about him, although he suspected it was at least partly based in fact. He'd never particularly tried to hide his voracious sexual appetite unless it was out of necessity, although he'd eventually learned to be more discrete. But whatever Dylan had heard about his past escapades seemed to be the least of their problems at the moment.
"I used to work for Torchwood One," Dylan continued, answering Jack's question. "Then I was reassigned to Torchwood Three. That's all I remember. Given what Martha just said, I'm assuming I worked for you... and we became... involved." He waved his hand awkwardly between the two of them. "I suppose that explains this thing between us. We've done it all before, just that we don't remember it."
Jack nodded thoughtfully. As astonishing and improbable as it all was, it was beginning to make a strange kind of sense. If nothing else, it explained the intense connection they shared and how their relationship had progressed so rapidly. Except one thing was still a mystery, but just as he began to open his mouth to ask his next question, Martha pre-empted him.
"So, the two of you have some sort of long-term amnesia?" she asked, gazing at them appraisingly. "You've both assumed different identities and you don't remember anything about each other before three weeks ago?"
"Retcon," Jack and Dylan both replied simultaneously, then stared at each other with shell-shocked expressions.
"How long?" Jack asked the other man, fearing he already knew the answer.
"Five years," Dylan replied, scrubbing a hand over his face in obvious consternation. "The last memories I have are of my first six months at Torchwood One in 2003. The five years since then are blank. All I know is that I moved back to Cardiff and transferred to Three. Then five years later, I left Torchwood Three and moved back to London." He looked at Jack intently. "Then I met you. How... um, how long for you?"
"Same. Five years." Jack shook his head in disbelief, breathing out a low whistle. "Wow."
"Hold on. What's retcon?" Martha asked, looking at them both with a confused expression.
"It's an amnesia pill developed by Torchwood," Jack replied, struggling to regain his composure. "We've been using it for decades. It's used to suppress short-term memories when people see things they're not meant to see." He glanced at Dylan, who was staring down at his coffee, looking every bit as dazed and confused as Jack himself. "In extreme cases, it can be used to erase longer periods of time," he finished.
Martha stared at him with wide, questioning eyes. "So, you take a pill, go to sleep, then wake up and your memories have been erased?"
Jack nodded. "Yeah. That about sums it up."
"But that's insane," Martha protested, looking aghast. "Not to mention dangerous. What about neurological damage? Messing around with the human brain like that is asking for trouble. There could be all kinds of psychological repercussions. I'm a medical doctor. I have some idea what I'm talking about here."
Jack shrugged mildly. "It's been refined over the years. I'm not saying it's perfect, but most of the time it works pretty well. Besides, you've got two healthy specimens right here in front of you to prove it."
Martha shook her head in what was clearly disapproval. She sipped his coffee, her expression turning thoughtful. "Right, so the two of you decided to erase your memories of the last five years. But why? What happened? The last time I saw you, Jack, you were desperate to get back to Ianto. You were excited to be back home again. You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him."
Dylan looked up sharply at Jack, his expression one of utter astonishment. "You said that?"
All Jack could do was shrug his shoulders in response. He was still reeling from the revelation that he and Dylan had not only known each other previously, but had also worked together at Torchwood and been in a relationship. Try as he might to search his mind for answers, everything remained infuriatingly out of reach. Since all the time he'd spent with Dylan over the last several weeks hadn't jolted any memories back to the surface, it seemed highly unlikely that anything would at this point.
"I suppose I must have," he replied, not knowing what else to say. He turned his attention back towards their female companion. "Martha, I need you to tell us everything you know. It might help to make some sense out of all of this."
Martha nodded, taking another sip of her coffee and glancing around the shop. "It might be a good idea if we go somewhere more private. We can go back to my flat if you like? It's not too far from here."
Looking at Dylan, she added, "Oh, I almost forgot. Ianto, I've got your diary. It arrived in the mail a few weeks ago." She looked back at Jack with a curious expression. "Jack, you must have sent it to me just before you erased your memories."
Jack frowned, thinking it was a strange thing for him to have done. But it seemed that he'd trusted Martha, and he supposed it made sense. If he'd had Dylan's diary in his possession, he couldn't have kept it if he was planning to erase his memories of the man in question. He could imagine not wanting to destroy something as precious as the private thoughts of a friend and lover.
He distractedly took a sip of his coffee as he tried to process what he'd just discovered. Clearly, his past self and Dylan, aka Ianto, had been in a serious relationship if he'd talked about wanting them to spend their lives together. The obvious conclusion was that his former self had been in love with the Welshman, despite his resolve to avoid emotional attachments and the pain they inevitably caused. It was an astonishing revelation, but given the intensity of his feelings for the younger man, it wasn't difficult to believe he'd fallen hard once before.
"How did you get hold of my diary?" Dylan asked, his voice pitched dangerously low as he glared at Jack.
Pulled from his ruminations, Jack rolled his eyes. "Retcon, remember? I have no idea how I got hold of it."
"Right. Sorry." Dylan sighed and shook his head in obvious self-admonishment.
"I haven't read any of it, I promise," Martha interjected. "I can't vouch for Jack though."
Dylan nodded, giving Martha a small, wan smile. He then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Jack.
"Hey, don't look at me like that," Jack protested, holding up his hands in prostration. "I don't know, okay? I could tell you I've never so much as opened it, but we both know that might be an outright lie. Kind of a moot point though, since even if I have seen some of it, I can't remember anything I might have read."
"I suppose," Dylan muttered grudgingly. "Can I have it back?" he asked, turning his attention towards Martha again.
"Of course," Martha replied. She quickly drank the remainder of her coffee and stood up. "Come on. Let's see if we can figure out this mess the two of you have gotten yourselves into."
Jack tried to give Dylan a reassuring smile as they rose to their feet. The younger man, however, was looking deeply perturbed and seemed unwilling to meet his gaze for more than the briefest of moments.
"It's going to be okay," Jack said softly as they followed Martha out of the shop, trying to impart the words with more conviction than he felt. "We're going to sort all this out."
Dylan gave him a small nod in reply, but his eyes were wary, and he was keeping a small but conspicuous amount of distance between them. Despite his words, Jack wasn't sure that anything was going to be okay at all.
###
The taxi ride to Martha's flat was awkward and mostly silent, with neither of them seeming to know what to say to one another. Martha attempted to engage them in conversation several times, but it was obvious that she was also struggling with the bizarre situation the two men had suddenly found themselves in.
Jack was lost in his tangled thoughts as he stared out at the bustling city. With more than a little bitterness, he pondered why fate had once again delivered a cruel and unexpected blow. His stomach twisted with dread as he tried to imagine how Dylan would react to learning the truth about him. There seemed to be no avoiding that now, and he genuinely feared losing the younger man who meant so much to him.
They arrived at Martha's modest but neatly furnished flat, and once they were ensconced on her sofa with mugs of hot tea in hand, she began to recount what she knew of Jack's recent past.
Jack listened carefully as Martha described how he'd grabbed hold of the TARDIS in Cardiff almost eight months ago, and then been whisked to the end of the universe. The Doctor had returned him to Cardiff in early October, almost seven months after he'd left. Nine days later he'd retconned himself, waking up alone in a London hotel room with no memories of the previous five years. Martha was evasive about what had happened during the time they'd both been with the Doctor, but she said that an entire year had passed and it had been subsequently erased from history, with only a handful of people retaining their memories of that time. Jack and the Doctor had been imprisoned by an insane Time Lord, and both of them had suffered horribly at the hands of the sadistic psychopath. Jack wasn't sure how much of that year he'd want to remember, and it didn't take much imagination to contemplate what a twisted madman would do upon discovering his previous affliction. A cold shudder coursed over his body, and when Martha wasn't forthcoming on the details, he decided it would be wise not to press her further for the time being.
He was surprised when he felt Dylan's fingers intertwine with his own, and when he turned to the other man, he found worried blue eyes staring into his, and a concerned face that was noticeably paler than usual.
He squeezed Dylan's hand and gave him a grateful smile. Martha concluded the tale with their arrival in Cardiff, reiterating that Jack had been intent on getting back home to Ianto. Martha added that she'd decided to end her travels with the Doctor and he'd brought her home to London after they'd returned Jack to Cardiff. She hadn't had any contact with Jack or the Doctor since.
"It was September twenty-first when I took the retcon," Dylan said slowly. His brow furrowed with a confused frown as he looked at Jack with troubled, searching eyes. "I'd already left Cardiff when you came back. Why didn't I wait for you? Why did I decide to retcon myself?"
"I don't know," Jack replied. Not knowing the status of their relationship when he'd left, there were just too many possibilities. "But I was gone for a long time. Maybe you thought I wasn't coming back? Maybe something else happened that made you decide to leave?"
"Maybe," Dylan agreed, but he didn't look particularly convinced. "There's just too much we don't know."
Jack could only nod in agreement, and Dylan looked at him curiously. "Do you know why you left? Obviously you wanted to see the Doctor. But if we were together..." He trailed off and lowered his gaze, leaving the unspoken question of why Jack had apparently left him behind hanging in the air.
Jack glanced over at Martha, who was watching them and looking concerned. He wanted to ask her about how the Doctor had fixed him, but there were things he needed to tell Dylan first. "Martha, do you mind giving us a few minutes?"
He stole a nervous glance at Dylan, steeling himself for the uncomfortable conversation. As much as he feared the outcome, they were in this together, and he couldn't hide himself from the younger man any longer. There was an unpleasant gnawing in his stomach and he had the horrible feeling that it was his actions which had landed them in this situation. Whether intentional or not, he'd run off with the Doctor, apparently leaving Dylan behind in the process. Knowing he could be thoughtless and impulsive at times, it didn't seem much of a stretch to conclude that he was ultimately responsible for Dylan leaving Torchwood and retconning himself. He knew all too well how devastating it was to feel abandoned and forsaken. It also seemed to explain his own motives for taking retcon. He'd returned home with a year's worth of extensive psychological trauma, only to discover he'd lost the man he loved and had wanted to build a future with.
"No problem," Martha replied, standing up. "Jack, I think I should call the Doctor. He might be able to help to get your memories back."
Jack was about to agree when he felt Dylan stiffen beside him. "Is that okay?" he asked, turning to the younger man and finding anxiety clouding his features.
"Do you really think he can help?" Dylan asked hesitantly.
"Honestly, I don't know," Jack replied with a slight shrug. "But if anyone can help, it's him. I think it's at least worth a try."
Dylan chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then nodded. "All right."
"You're sure?" Jack asked.
Dylan nodded again. "I'm sure."
"Okay, I'll call him," Martha said, picking up her phone from where she'd put it on the coffee table earlier. She moved down the small hallway and into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Jack squeezed Dylan's hand once more, then released it and sighed heavily. "Dylan, there's some things I need to tell you."
As succinctly as possible, Jack told the younger man the basic details of where and when he'd been born, how he'd first met the Doctor in 1941 in London during the Blitz, his eventual death and resurrection on Satellite Five in the distant future, and how the Doctor had abandoned him, leading to him being stranded on Earth in 1869. He then added how he'd been forced to work for Torchwood thirty years later and had remained with the organisation ever since.
"I waited for almost a hundred and forty years to find the right version of the Doctor again," he concluded, his voice unsteady as he recalled all those long years of bitterness, fear, and uncertainty. "I needed to find out what happened to me. I needed to know if he could fix what was wrong with me."
Dylan had remained unnervingly quiet during Jack's discourse. He'd merely nodded intermittently, his stoic expression giving little away about what he might have been thinking.
"I don't think I ever intended to abandon you," Jack added, willing the other man to understand. "I'm sure I didn't. But when the Doctor showed up after all that time, that was my chance to get some answers. I'd waited too long to miss that opportunity."
"Do you know if he was able to help you?" Dylan asked quietly, still appearing remarkably composed.
"When I woke up after taking the retcon, I'd left a message for myself on this." Jack tapped his wrist-strap. "I don't know how, but the Doctor fixed me. I'm mortal again."
"I'm glad he was able to help." Dylan's gaze shifted down to the table in front of them. "I can't begin to imagine what that must have been like... all those years... waiting... not knowing... losing everyone you'd ever known or cared about." Finally, he looked up at Jack with sadness and compassion in his eyes. "It must have been very lonely."
"Yeah," Jack replied, his throat becoming uncomfortably tight. "Yeah, it was." He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "So, you're not too freaked out? It's not every day you find out your boyfriend was born on another planet three thousand years in the future, travels through time and space, and is a hundred and seventy-five years old."
"No, I suppose not," Dylan agreed, a tiny wry smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. He rested against the back of the sofa with a sigh. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit freaked out. It's a lot to process."
Unsure what else to say, Jack nodded silently and also settled back into the sofa, causing their shoulders to brush together. Resisting the urge to touch the other man, and unsure how well it would be received, he folded his arms over his chest instead. All things considered, Dylan had taken his disclosures better than he could have hoped, yet he couldn't shake the sickening feeling that nothing would be the same between them again.
They sat that way for several minutes, until Jack finally broke the silence. "I'm not sure whether I should be calling you Dylan or Ianto."
Dylan shrugged his shoulders. "Don't suppose it matters now."
"It matters," Jack said insistently, unfolding his arms and shifting so he could look directly at the other man. "What do you want me to call you?"
Dylan took a deep breath. "Ianto," he replied, lifting his eyes to meet Jack's, but quickly looking down again.
"Ianto it is," Jack agreed. "Ianto," he repeated slowly, savouring the unique name of the equally unique man. "It's a beautiful name. Very Welsh, just like you. Not that I don't like Dylan, but Ianto suits you."
The Welshman looked up at Jack again, but this time he didn't avert his gaze. "So, should I still call you James... or Jack?" he asked cautiously.
"Jack," Jack replied without thinking. He exhaled a sigh and tried to gather his thoughts. "I've been Jack for so long now, nothing else seems to fit. When I woke up and found I had a new identity, I wanted to forget the past, to start over... no reminders of my old life. But some things are just too hard to shake. I've been Jack Harkness for over a hundred and forty years." He paused and gave Ianto a small, sad smile. "Every time you called me James, I wanted you to be saying Jack. I wanted... well, I never wanted to hide myself from you... I wanted you to know who I really was."
"And now I do," Ianto said softly.
"Now you do," Jack agreed.
A loud, wheezing groan suddenly filled the room, causing Ianto to jump to his feet and look around with wide, startled eyes. Recognising the sound, Jack stood more slowly as he saw the achingly familiar sight of a blue police box begin to shimmer into existence in the far corner of the room. Martha re-appeared from the bedroom, a smile spreading slowly across her face.
Standing at Ianto's side, Jack rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "The Doctor will help us," he said firmly. "It's going to be okay," he added, repeating his earlier reassurance, although he suspected it was as much for himself as it was for the man at his side.
Ianto looked at him, the fear in his expressive eyes unmistakeable. "I'm scared, Jack. I'm scared of losing what we have."
Jack wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulders and pulled him in close against his side. To his great relief, Ianto didn't make any attempt to pull away. "Me too," he admitted, watching anxiously as the TARDIS finally achieved solid form.
He just hoped it wasn't already too late.