Same Ianto, Different Jack

Chapter 32: Homecoming

by Gracefultree

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Ianto stumbled to his knees as dizziness washed over him. Riding the Rift had been especially difficult this time, even with the vortex manipulator to protect him from the worst of the ill effects. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, hoping the nausea and pain would pass along with the dizziness. At least the pain wasn't as bad as it could be this time, he thought. At least there hadn't been the horrible visions that characterized so many of his Rift jumps. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in Jack's bunker, rather than cell 27, where he'd landed in just about every other Rift jump he'd made. He shrugged off his backpack and set it next to the bed. Without thinking, he pulled a comm unit from his suit pocket and put it in his ear, activating it, though he made sure his end was muted, in case he wasn't home. All of the Torchwoods he'd been to had similar comm units and used similar frequencies, and this particular unit had been modified by Future Jack with some special technology to be able to pick up on any nearby transmission within the range of signatures Torchwood had used over the years and across the universes, even the ones that were supposedly private.

Ianto stood, examining the room. Jack's bed looked the same as always, made with his usual military precision, the scratchy wool blanket folded at the end. Ianto smiled. The one thing Jack kept clean and orderly was his bunker, and this universe was clearly no exception. The nightstand stood in its usual place, complete with a dog-eared copy of The Time Machine and lamp and picture of Ianto.

Wait.

Stop.

Picture of Ianto?

No Jack he'd ever known had a picture on his nightstand. None. Of anyone. They always kept them in a tin or in an album in the bottom desk drawer. He picked up the photograph to look at it more closely.

It wasn't a photograph. It was a drawing, done with so much detail that it appeared to be a photo. He glanced at the signature. Captain Jack Harkness, as he thought it would be. He didn't know Jack could draw, but then again, every Jack had his own skills and hobbies, so the fact that this one could draw shouldn't have surprised him. But the date underneath the signature couldn't be right. It was August 19, 2013, Ianto's 30th birthday. Two whole years after he was supposed to get back home, according to the Doctor. And it'd only been three months before the Rift flare he needed came to take him home…

The experiment had failed. He'd ended up in another universe rather than his own. He set the picture down and cursed, struggling against tears. "Damn it, Doctor, this was supposed to work!" he shouted in anguish.

Wait, maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. He'd made mistakes upon landing before, like last time when he'd kissed New New Jack. He made too many assumptions. He needed to think, to evaluate. What if he was home, just later than he thought he'd be? He'd have to do some more investigating.

He opened Jack's wardrobe, finding the usual assortment of Jack's clothing and — one of Ianto's suits, still in the dry cleaning bag from the shop he'd used in his home universe. It had been in Other Ianto's universe, too, and Alex's Jack's universe, though not the others. Three of his shirts hung next to it, including Jack's favorite red one. He closed his eyes, glad that this Jack knew him, that this Jack cared about him, and, clearly, had a relationship with him. He started to hope that he was home after all. He turned back to the nightstand and pulled open the top drawer. Lube, condoms, wet wipes, a pair of Jack's cufflinks, and Ianto's favorite brand of breath mints made up the contents of the drawer, exactly as he remembered, though it had been a while since they'd used condoms. Ianto's smile deepened, remembering that His Jack had liked to keep them for form's sake, to reassure Ianto they could use them again if he ever felt the need. By the end, Ianto hadn't, and he wasn't sure they hadn't expired. These ones expired in 2014, which said something about time, though if the drawing was from 2013, they could still be good. He'd need to find a computer to check the date. He glanced in the second drawer, finding the ubiquitous handcuffs, with key, of course, as well as Jack's preferred blindfold, two of Ianto's ties, and some sex toys Ianto didn't recognize, though they resembled the ones they'd had before he got taken by the Rift.

The dresser was a mix of Jack's and Ianto's socks, underwear, undershirts, and the few casual clothes they allowed themselves. Jack's spare laptop was in the sock drawer, and Ianto muttered to himself about the lint that would get into the processor. The dresser-top held Jack's spare Webley, a broken watch, Jack's, several alien artifacts Ianto couldn't immediately identify, and the random change they always seemed to accumulate. There was also a picture of the Torchwood Three team, all five of them. Ianto remembered when they'd taken it, a few days after the space whale incident when Jack was feeling particularly sentimental and had systematically browbeaten everyone into posing on the sofa. You couldn't see it in the photo, but Ianto knew that behind Tosh's back, Jack had taken his hand and given it a slight squeeze as his thumb ghosted over his wrist where he still bore a fading welt from being tied up. None of the others had seen, or, he reasoned, they pretended not to, even Owen, who usually gave them grief about anything to do with their relationship, especially if one of them was showing anything resembling actual affection instead of simply the 'acceptable' (to Owen) feeling of lust.

He glanced in the laundry basket, though it was empty. Unusual, but not unheard of. Jack used to do his own washing before Ianto entered his life, so perhaps he'd just done it.

All in all, Jack's bunker was mostly as he remembered it, with the addition of the pictures.

In his ear, the comm unit beeped. "Hey, World War II, how long does it take to pee, huh?" a brash American voice asked.

"Can't a man go to the toilet without being interrogated?" Jack responded in one of his half-joking voices. Ianto breathed a sigh of relief to hear Jack's voice.

"Not when you've been gone ten minutes already and we're expecting a call from the President of the United States," the other man said. "You've got one minute to get back here."

"Who made you the boss of me?" Jack asked in a way that made Ianto think this was a conversation these two men had on a regular basis based on the exasperated teasing tone Jack used. It also meant they were probably friends. "Last time I checked, I was the Director of Torchwood, not you. And Gwen's second in command, so that makes you third, at the most. Get off my back, already!"

"So unprofessional," the man grumbled, but it, too, seemed like a long-standing complaint between them. "When are you going to grow up and run this organization like —"

The comm unit clicked again and a new voice spoke, this one Welsh and female, though not Gwen. "Captain, Mr. Matheson, we have a —"

Alarms sounded loudly throughout the base, and Ianto immediately identified them. Rift Flare and Intruder Alert. They'd noticed his arrival, apparently. He opened his vortex manipulator to get the Rift numbers. But why hadn't the alarms sounded immediately? He'd already been here a few minutes, and none of the other universes had any delay with the Rift alerts. Something odd was going on.

"Jack, I want you back here —"

"Mainframe, initiate barracks lockdown immediately, authorization: Harkness, Captain Jack," Jack said, speaking over the other American.

"Barracks?" Ianto asked himself. "Since when does Torchwood have barracks?"

"Barracks lockdown initiated and confirmed," Mainframe declared over the base-wide speakers in her usual calm voice.

"Son of a bitch! Harkness, what are you playing at?"

Jack's next order surprised Ianto. "Mainframe, initiate Archives lockdown on my mark, authorization: Harkness, Captain Jack." Ianto could hear Jack's breathing over the comms, which meant he was either running or jogging somewhere. What the hell was going on? "Mark!" Jack shouted.

"Archive lockdown initiated and confirmed," Mainframe reported, again over the base-wide intercom. Over the comms he heard a door slam shut and lock behind Jack. He must have been in the Archives, then, and wanted them locked down for some reason. Or he wanted to lock himself inside.

"Harkness!" the other American shouted.

"Sir, you need to see these numbers," the Welshwoman said. "I'm sending them to your mobile." Suddenly the American started swearing loudly and creatively.

"Jack! Do not attempt contact! You don't know —"

"Mainframe, initiate Vault lockdown on my mark. Authorization: Harkness, Captain Jack," Jack panted, shouting over the other American's voice again. Ianto could tell now that he was running. Running, and fast.

"Mainframe, belay that!" the other man yelled. Ianto could hear someone typing, even over Jack's heavy breathing and the other noises on the comms. Suddenly, the intercom on the wall flared to life, sending Matheson's voice throughout the entire building. "Code Black! Code Black! All personnel, we have a Code Black situation. Assume Black Protocols."

"Mark!" Jack declared, and even over the comms Ianto could hear his heavy footfalls on metal grating. It sounded like the particular bit of grating near the beginning of the Vaults that always seemed a little loose, no matter how many times Ianto tightened it and no matter how many Torchwoods he visited. So Jack was in the Vaults and wanted privacy? That could mean anything. Better than being trapped in the Archives, anyway.

Ianto turned around to get to the ladder out of the bunker, drawing his handgun, only to find himself facing an open reinforced perspex door. He blinked, his mind working through possibilities as quickly as he could. He looked around again.

He wasn't in Jack's bunker! Rather, Jack's bunker had been recreated in one of the cells. And he would bet good money that it was cell 27. Had Jack done this for him? So he'd be reassured he was home? Did this mean he was with His Jack again?

"Unable to initiate Vault lockdown," Mainframe said, interrupting his thoughts. "Captain Harkness' command codes revoked during Code Black."

"What the fuck?" Jack snarled.

"You think I didn't prepare for this situation, Jack? You think I didn't train my men for this?" The comms again, rather than the the intercom.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Jack shouted, and by the sound of his voice, Ianto could tell he was turning a corner.

"Just try," the other man taunted. The comms beeped, indicating an open line. "Team One, are you in position?"

"One minute to position, sir" a male Welsh voice answered in Ianto's ear. "I'm short three men because of the barracks lockdown."

"Team Two?"

"Also one minute, give or take," someone English answered. "I'm short four."

"Alright, everyone, this is not a drill," the American said, back on the intercom. "I repeat: This is not a drill. Do not allow contact. Use deadly force if necessary. I repeat: Use deadly force."

"Deadly force, acknowledged."

"Acknowledged."

Ianto stepped into the hallway, gun at the ready. From the far end of the corridor, he heard running footsteps. Whatever was going on was big, he could tell that much. And if it involved deadly force, Jack would likely die, given that his command codes had been revoked. The other American seemed to think Jack had gone rogue, and the fact that Jack was locking down vital areas of the base could indicate he had. But why would he do that?

Ianto knew he needed to be there for Jack when he revived, no matter which Jack it was, no matter if the man knew him or not. Though he probably did, given the picture in the bunker/cell and all the other evidence.

He also knew that he would defend Jack, any Jack, no matter what.

The door at the end of the corridor slammed open, and suddenly Jack was running down the hall as fast as he could. Ianto made a quick assessment. This Jack dressed as any Jack did, light blue shirt, red braces this time, dark trousers and the standard military boots from an era long past. He wasn't wearing his greatcoat, which meant he'd been in the Hub for a while and wasn't coming back from a mission or getting ready to leave for one. Slightly underweight and tired, Jack seemed to resemble His Jack when they'd spoken through the technology of the TARDIS. Despite the tiredness, however, he had a huge smile on his face, and his eyes were bright and shining.

"Ianto! Brace yourself!" Jack shouted, excitement oozing from every pore. Ianto could smell his pheromones even from this distance.

Ianto took a half-step back, settling his leg for stability and bending his forward knee slightly. He flicked on the safety of his gun, knowing he wouldn't have time to holster it with Jack running that quickly. Jack put on a burst of speed, and Ianto realized there were more footsteps behind him. He braced himself even more, not wanting to topple over when Jack barreled into him.

He just managed to keep them both standing when Jack crashed into him, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs might break. "Ianto," Jack whispered, his voice full of longing and joy. "I love you."

Before Ianto could respond, Jack kissed him, desperate and needy and passionate. It was a harsh kiss, a demanding kiss. It was perfect. Just as Ianto felt himself relaxing into the embrace and kiss, Jack bit his lip, hard. He lapped at Ianto's blood on his split lip.

In the background, Ianto was aware of the American shouting in his ear and over the intercom, of the corridor filling on both ends with people in black uniforms with the Torchwood hexagon T embroidered over their hearts. They stopped, cocking their automatics and finding their formation in the narrow space. Jack pulled away.

"I'm sorry you have to see this," he said. "But they know you're my weakness."

Jack shoved Ianto as hard as he could, sending Ianto backwards into the bunker/cell. He used so much force that Ianto stumbled and fell on his behind, his gun falling from his hand to roll under the bed. He looked up at Jack in shock, seeing the captain's back. Jack pounded a fist on the emergency close button for the cell door. The surprisingly clean glass slammed down between them.

"Mainframe! Emergency Protocol CJH 819! Authorization: Harkness, Captain Ja—"

"— Kill the motherfucker!" the American shouted over the intercom.

"Open fire!" one of the soldiers ordered.

A dozen machine guns fired at the same moment, sending hundreds of bullets into Jack's body, chest, and head. Blood and brains sprayed everywhere. Ianto watched in horror as the glass became coated with streaks of it.

"Jack!" he screamed, falling to his knees on the other side of the glass.

"— ck," breathed Jack, finishing his command with his last breath.

For a brief second, everything stopped. The lights went out in the corridor. The comms went silent. The gunfire stopped. Ianto moaned, pressing his hand against the glass. Jack knew this was going to happen, he knew Ianto would be at risk, and he sacrificed himself to make sure he got into the cell behind the bulletproof glass. The emergency lighting clicked on, bathing the corridor in an ugly red light, except for the strange blue glow around Ianto's cell. It made Jack's blood seem black as it ran down the glass in messy rivulets.

"Emergency Protocol CJH 819 engaged," Mainframe intoned into the silence. "Welcome home, Mr. Jones."

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tbc