Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It wasn’t much more than a simple, silver pocket watch, really.

There were swirls, intricate designs in circular arcs, crossing over and forming bubbles that shone dully where the watch caught the faint glow of the orange overhead light. With a calloused thumb, Gwen ran her hand over the grooves, tracing the more prominent etches as her fingers curled around the surprisingly light weight. Trying the clasp on the front brought no joy; the metal stuck fast, almost defying her attempt at opening it up.

Gwen opened her mouth to call out for her friend, but the words stuck in her throat. 

No. This was just a simple pocket watch. (And from the stories she’d heard surrounding Jack and Ianto’s sex life, the less time spent thinking about the watch, the better.) She put it back down into the cardboard box, alongside the eclectic mix of items that made up a chunk of Ianto’s past.

“Is that the last one?” Ianto asked Gwen as she entered the living room, stacking the box on top of the others in a hidden corner between a bookshelf and a wall.

Gwen nodded, straightening the stack. “I still don’t know why you’re so adamant in clearing the spare room.”

“It’s always a good idea for two people to have their own space. Jack will be grateful for his own room, I’m sure,” Ianto insisted, and Gwen rolled her eyes.

“You and I both know that Jack’s never going to want any bed but yours.” Gwen moved over to drop onto the sofa, ignoring the vague protests coming from Ianto as she reached for the TV remote. “You might as well keep your spare room the same, and save the clutter in here.”

“I’ll sort the boxes out sometime,” Ianto replied, and Gwen couldn’t decide if Ianto was missing the point completely, or just purposefully ignoring what she was trying to say.

But in reality, ‘sometime’ was never going to happen. First came the return of Jack’s manic, bomb-deploying, overzealous ex-lover, followed naturally by the chaos and destruction of the city of Cardiff, and then came- and then-

The sun shone intensely, which somehow felt entirely fitting for the funeral. Tosh had been one of the brightest people Gwen had ever known, and whilst rain might have hidden the tear tracks on her face, the sun was far more appropriate that morning. 

Owen didn’t get a funeral. Not with the circumstances, with no body to bury. And, if Gwen was honest about it, she didn’t think Owen would’ve wanted much. Not a whole ceremony, and certainly no family. 

Gwen looked over at the two hunched figures standing at the other side of the grave. She could hear muffled sobs coming from Tosh’s mother, and looked away before she could meet the eyes of Tosh’s father. There was a deep guilt that struck Gwen at the thought of how much of Tosh’s life her parents had missed. They would never know how Tosh’s eyes lit up with pride as she fixed the broken object that came through the Rift, nor would they ever get to see her get married, nor grow old. Torchwood had taken, as it always did, and though it wasn’t her fault, Gwen couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for that. 

How long would it be until the next funeral? Would it be her name engraved on the gravestone - her parents sobbing off to the side while Jack and Ianto refused to meet their eyes?

An arm on her shoulder. Martha’s hand, cool but kind, rubbing lightly in circles.

“It was bad enough the first time,” she heard Martha murmur, voice somber. Gwen didn’t know which ‘first time’ she was talking about - the day Owen was shot, perhaps, maybe another loss in Martha’s life, or quite possibly something else entirely. All that Gwen knew was that if you were in any way affiliated with Torchwood, you knew more than your fair share about loss.

“It won’t be a permanent thing,” Martha insisted later that afternoon, back in the Hub. “Just until things calm down, okay?”

Jack simply nodded, his fixed smile saying more than words could as he pulled Martha close, kissing her forehead.

“I’m not-” she started, then swallowed loud enough for Gwen to hear across the desk. “I’m not replacing him-”

“I know,” Jack murmured. “It’s only while things settle.”

Martha let out a quiet noise and allowed herself to fall into Jack’s embrace. Gwen let her eyes pass over the pair, catching a glance of Ianto, leaning back against a table, his knuckles white in a tight grip on the edge. They were all more than a little frayed at the edges, but time was moving, and with Martha’s help in dealing with the current Rift spat, she was sure that things would get better.

They had no choice but to.

Three weeks later, the Rift hadn’t let up - in fact, if anything it was spitting out more debris and junk. Shoved from Rift call to Rift call, Gwen and Martha were chasing down the latest drop, something that had landed in a back alleyway only half an hour ago. Martha followed Gwen’s lead, confident that Gwen knew the streets of Cardiff better than she did. 

Working with Torchwood was nothing like Martha had experienced before. For one thing, she had a gun now, loathe that she was to use it unless entirely necessary. It was vastly different from working with UNIT, who’s bureaucratic structure felt professional and stiff. Not that Torchwood wasn’t professional, but… well. With Jack Harkness as the Captain, what did anyone expect?

And it was different to her first stay in Cardiff, too. Everything was far more hands on, less jobs of inspecting alien biology and more… running. Lots of running. Running to catch up to a Weevil, running away from a poisonous spit shooting amphibian, running until her feet carried her home and into bed. It covered her days in a tinge of nostalgia, of chasing red converse and blue suits across the universe.

But that was the past. At present, there was a Rift drop to find, and Martha was going to luxuriate in the fact that it was stationary (and thus, not in need of any kind of chasing down.)

“Around here,” Gwen called, her voice slightly muffled as the wind carried her words down the alleyway.

Martha confirmed on her PDA, seeing a green circle sweep over their current location. “Let’s go from both ends and meet in the middle.”

It was only a couple of minutes later, after Martha had been debating whether it was worth it to stick her hand into a pile of rubbish or not, that Gwen cried out.

“It’s a pocket watch!” she yelled, and Martha felt all the blood in her veins go ice cold.

“Gwen,” Martha responded, her feet moving before she knew what was happening. “Gwen, don’t open it! Keep it shut tight!”

“What? Why?”

Martha turned the corner and saw her, the brass watch in her palm. “Are there circles on the back?”

Gwen frowned, turning it over. “I’m not… it’s just a simple watch.”

Reaching her side, Martha snatched the watch out of her hands.

“It’s…” she breathed, her panic subsiding. “It’s fine. It’s just a pocket watch.”

“Yeah.” There was a confused, slightly nervous frown on Gwen’s face. “Just a watch. What did you think it was?”

Martha shook her head, trying to spell memories of the apocalyptic year away. “Nothing. It’s fine. I just overreacted.”

Still eyeing her warily, Gwen held out her hand to take the watch again, but Martha held tight. There was no Gallifreyan writing, no swirls of design on the back, but that didn’t mean they could be sure. The metal was discoloured but dull, the glass on the front scratched and well worn. Four arms moved around it, smoothly and intricately, and the marking on it bore no resemblance to human numbering; it was definitely alien, but somehow it felt too light, too unimportant to be a Time Lord’s.

“So…” Gwen began, eyes wide in thought. Martha looked away from the watch. “When you said circles, what did you mean?”

Just as soon as her shoulders had slumped, Martha straightened her spine back up to attention. “Why?”

“Well, it’s nothing really,” Gwen began voice steady and slow. “Only… I saw a watch before with swirls on the back.”

“When?”

Martha’s question was so snappishly quick that Gwen jolted back.

“It was a couple of months ago. Before… before Tosh and Owen. When Jack was moving into Ianto’s house.” Gwen paused, and Martha made a ‘continue’ gesture. “I was helping Ianto clear his spare room. And there was a pocket watch in one of them, a silver one with circles all over the back.”

“It was Ianto’s ?” Martha said, feeling the air leave her body. “What did you do with it?”

“I, er. I left it.” Gwen fiddled with her fringe slightly; Martha presumed it was a nervous gesture. “Is it dangerous? Is Ianto in danger?”

Martha swallowed heavily. No, Ianto wouldn’t be in danger, really. It was far more likely that they were the ones in danger, if that pocket watch was what Martha thought it could be.

“No. At least, not for now. But we need to get that watch away from him.”

Gwen nodded, a fierce determination in her eyes that Martha had begun to recognise. It put her at ease; Gwen wouldn’t let anything happen to her friend.

Back in the Hub, Jack and Ianto were… bickering.

“-if you could keep any sticky alien secretions to yourself, please,” Ianto was saying, his voice coming from down by the autopsy bay. Martha raised an eyebrow at Gwen. “And I’ll thank you not to make any comment there.”

“Aw, but that’s half the fun,” Jack’s louder voice carried across the Hub. “Martha, are you there?”

Martha popped her head out at the top of the stairs that led to the medical bay. Jack and Ianto were standing over a mutilated corpse which, true to Ianto’s word, had a sticky goo sheen over it. Handkerchief in hand, Ianto was attempting to clean himself, though the stains on his shirt were going to need more work. Jack, meanwhile, had his hands on his hips, a wide grin over his face, and he appeared to be using the alien goo as hair gel.

“What happened here, then?” Martha asked, already pulling purple latex gloves onto her hands.

“Believe it or not, this,” Jack started, hitting the alien’s shoulder as if it were alive, “is a Hoix.”

Martha frowned. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Jack continued, thumbing his braces despite the way Ianto’s eyes followed the movement. (Martha had no doubt who would be cleaning the goo off Jack’s clothes later that day.) “He looks a little worse for wear, I’ll admit, but I’m sure.”

“Autopsy, then?”

Jack flashed a grin, and turned to finally wash his hands. “How did the retrieval go?”

“It went fine,” Gwen answered before Martha could. She held out the watch, waving it in the air. “Nothing dangerous, for once. Just this cool little-”

“Gwen.”

Everybody in the room froze. Martha cursed herself for not thinking in advance, and turned to face Jack, who was staring daggers at what Gwen was holding. 

“Jack, it’s not what you think. I checked.”

Jack whirled to face her. “You checked?”

Nodding, Martha waited for him to continue. “How sure are you?”

“Almost definite.”

They stared at each other for a long few moments, until finally Jack broke away and strode towards Gwen. She let out a noise of protest but couldn’t stop her boss from snatching the watch out of  her hand, all the warmth gone from his face.

There was silence as Jack inspected it, nobody in the room even daring to breathe.

Slowly, Jack began to speak again. “I’m going to take this upstairs, and then... I’m going to destroy it.”

“Jack-” Martha tried, but Jack interrupted.

“I don’t care how sure you are, I’m not risking it. I’m gonna make sure it’s dealt with.”

From where he’d been silently standing, Ianto straightened. “I can take it to the secure archives for you, sir, if you-”

“No!” Jack barked, again silencing the room. Ianto’s eyes were wide, and Gwen was looking between Jack and Martha, trying to piece things together.

Jack turned on his heels and left.

“So,” Ianto said, his clean hands now in his trouser pockets. “Does anybody know why Jack has a new, sudden hatred for pocket watches?”

“No idea,” Martha lied. But, catching Gwen’s narrowed eyes, she had a feeling that Gwen could see right through her calm pretense.

It wasn’t until the end of the next day that Gwen finally got a chance to confront Martha. Grabbing her arm, Gwen stopped her from leaving the Hub.

“Jack and Ianto are out this evening.”

Gwen watched Martha close her eyes briefly, nodding. There was something deeper at work here, Gwen could already tell - something that made Martha pale in fear, and made Jack destroy a perfectly harmless watch. Tonight, Gwen was going to get answers. Not just for her own curiosity, but for Ianto’s safety too. The previous night had been… well, difficult to say the least. Dreams of circles and silver had swirled through her consciousness, weaving in and out of reality.

“Right,” Martha said, facing Gwen.

“I’m presuming we’re not telling Jack?” Gwen added, tapping her foot nervously.

“Best not to.” Martha looked uncomfortable. “I’ll explain everything when I’ve seen the watch, I promise.”

Gwen felt her lip twitch in a moment of uncertainty, but swallowed her worry. Martha was good . She knew what she was talking about - Jack trusted her as much as - or perhaps more than - Gwen herself, and Jack’s trust was good enough for her.

With the spare key from underneath the recycling bin, Gwen unlocked Ianto’s door. There were no lights on, the whole house dark, and she quickly stopped the security alarm.

“How long will they be out?” Martha called, following her in.

“They’ve gone for dinner, but it’ll be a while.”

“Nice place?” Martha grinned, and Gwen smiled.

“Somewhere fancy, apparently,” she replied, already making her way towards the boxes hidden in the corner of the living room. She began to rifle through the top one.

“A special occasion?” Martha joined Gwen in her search, lifting the top box off so that she could get at the second.

“I hardly think Jack’s planning to propose anytime soon. Not quite his style,” Gwen laughed, feeling the words come out of her mouth without really thinking, too focused on the bubbling anxiety simmering just beneath the surface. “Jack likes nice things.”

They fell into an uneasy silence. Gwen was sure that the watch had been in one of the boxes - unless, of course, Ianto had moved it. (She sincerely hoped that he hadn’t.)

“Is Rhys out tonight?” Martha asked, though Gwen could hear her voice wasn’t in the conversation. She hummed in answer, focused too much on the box that she had just taken out, a frayed corner suddenly all too familiar. With a deep breath, she opened the top.

The pocket watch was there.

Martha’s hand was back on her shoulder. “Is that it?”

Gwen nodded. When she picked it up, she couldn’t remember how she had ever been able to put it back in the box all those weeks ago; the watch was almost thrumming with a power that Gwen could barely comprehend.

“It didn’t feel like this before.”

Martha gave her a sharp look. “How’s it different?”

Gwen licked her bottom lip as she thought of the right words. “It feels… warmer. Almost, well - almost alive .”

Martha closed her eyes and cursed softly. “I’m not sure that’s a good sign.” She reached out a hand and closed it over the top of the watch, so her hand was pressed against Gwen’s. “May I?”

Gwen let her take it. She watched Martha turn it over, catching her fingers over the grooves in the circles.

“What is it?” Gwen whispered.

“This,” Martha spoke, her voice almost softer than Gwen could make out. “This is Ianto.”

Gwen frowned. “What do you mean? I told you it was his.”

“No. This is Ianto.”

Another pause, another silence that stretched on. “How much do you know about the Doctor?” Martha finally asked.

“Not that much. He’s Jack’s… friend, I suppose. He’s - he's an alien, right?”

Martha nodded. “I travelled with him, it’s how Jack and I know each other. I met Jack on a planet in the future, so far in the future.”

“Jack’s always been a man out of his own time.”

Martha smiled. “This was further than we’d ever gone before. The Doctor has a time machine - it took us to the furthest point in the universe. And there, we found a man.”

This wasn’t the full story, Gwen could already tell. The way Martha’s eyes were flickering gave it away, as she decided which parts of the tale to mention as she told it.

“The man was nice - he was kind, selfless. Just a genuine, good guy, who wanted to do the right thing. But then,” Martha continued, her voice trailing away. “But then, he opened his fob watch.”

Martha’s hand tightened on the silver watch. “I’d seen it happen before. The Doctor did it once, to cloak himself.”

“Did what?” Gwen asked, frowning. 

“The Doctor is a Time Lord, Gwen. He’s the only one left - well, at least he thought so.” Martha paused. “Sorry, there’s so much to explain. I don’t think I’m doing very well.”

Gwen, though definitely confused, shook her head. “The Doctor is an alien - a Time Lord, was it? And he can hide himself in a pocket watch somehow?” Martha nodded in conformation. “How?”

“He made himself human,” Martha whispered, refusing to catch Gwen’s eyes. “Made himself so human, and forgot all of the memories of his past life. It’s virtually undetectable - even his DNA, every cell in his body, truly human.”

“Then…” Gwen swallowed. “Then you’re saying… if this watch is Ianto’s? Human Ianto? You’re saying he -”

Martha finally looked at Gwen. “I don’t know. I can’t be sure.”

“The Doctor, is he still human now?”

“No, no,” Martha quickly said. “He changed back. Remembered his past life, but didn’t forget what it was like when he was human.”

Gwen reached back for the watch, flipping the front around. “How does it work? Could we give Ianto his memories back?”

Martha shook her head. “I don’t know. The Doctor, he opened his watch. But human him - he saw it as suicide .”

She waited for the words to set in, and Gwen tried to comprehend everything that she was being told.

“He was in love,” Martha said, once again breaking the silence. “And the woman he’d fallen in love with couldn’t love the Doctor. He’s not exactly good with emotions, but that hurt him. I could tell.”

Gwen’s eyes suddenly moved to the sofa, well worn on both sides. She looked to the room’s open door, to the rack of shoes, each pair one of two different sizes. There were two coasters left out on the coffee table, circular marks on each one; all obvious signs of cohabitation.

“It’s not our decision to make, is it?”

Looking back at Martha, Gwen saw her small smile spread. “No, it’s not. Which is why this is such a difficult situation.”

Gwen hesitated for a moment, and then spoke. “That’s not all, is it? What happened in the future, with the man you met?”

Martha’s smile froze, and Gwen knew she’d hit on something big. “Professor Yana,” she began, the name rolling off her tongue like a curse. “He was a good person, until he opened his watch. The Time Lord hiding in the watch… well. He wasn’t.”

“What did he do?”

“Tried to destroy the universe with a paradox machine, for one,” Martha said, quirking an eyebrow, and Gwen choked. “The rest? He was a sadistic bastard. The things he did… it’s not my place to say, if Jack hasn’t told you.”

Gwen remembered the haunted look that had been in Jack’s eyes for a good few months after his trip with the Doctor. She remembered not caring, feeling justified even in her anger towards him for abandoning them. Now she felt sick.

“If it was bad enough for Jack to freak out and smash a perfectly normal alien watch, I don’t think I could imagine.”

Nodding, Martha reached over to take the watch again. “That’s why I really don’t think we should tell Jack about this. About Ianto.”

Gwen paused to consider. It wouldn’t be lying, per se, to not tell Jack about this. But she couldn’t sit here doing nothing, either.

“What can we do, then?” she whispered, staring at the watch in Martha’s palm.

“I think,” Martha slowly replied. “It’s time for me to phone an old friend.”

Martha’s friend didn’t answer. According to her, that wasn’t exactly unexpected, as this Time Lord had a history of ill timed adventures, but Martha was certain that he’d turn up at some point. Gwen, privately, doubted this. Jack had waited almost two hundred years, after all.

By a unanimous decision, they decided it was best to keep the fob watch somewhere close to hand. They were out of their homes too often to leave it alone there, and they spent more of their time at the Hub than anywhere else. Hiding it proved to be a bigger problem, however, as there weren’t many places that they could be sure Ianto wouldn’t touch. In the end, Gwen hid it inside a zipped pocket of her handbag, something she would either keep in the Hub, or on her at all times.

And so life went on at Torchwood Three, just like clockwork, for a good few weeks. If Martha was checking her phone more regularly than she had been, well - Gwen still got a shake of the head every time she asked if Martha had got a reply.

It was hard not to look differently at Ianto. Gwen found herself analysing his behaviour, trying to note anything seemingly out of the ordinary, but there appeared to be nothing different. If he had really been a Time Lord, changed himself human, then it had been far before Gwen had met him.

In fact, everything seemed to be - dare Gwen think it - going well, for once. The Rift was beginning to settle, the four of them finally managing regular evenings, and even weekends off. The hurt of losing two of Gwen’s best friends was finally beginning to ease, tapering into a still painful, yet somehow now nostalgic memory. Martha was even having time to go back to home, as she was doing the coming working week.

Of course, they should’ve known better than to let their guard down.

The next Monday, Ianto Jones died.

“I’m heading out.”

Gwen swiveled round in her chair, pen caught between her teeth. Ianto was standing at the other side of the floor, pulling his coat on.

“Out already? It’s barely six,” Gwen pointed out, by now used to putting in the extra hours at the end of the day. 

Ianto smiled wanly. “ Himself didn’t seem in the right mood to stick around.”

“Oh,” Gwen said, trying to read between the lines.

“He found,” Ianto started, and broke off to cough. “He found an old report at the bottom of the stack on his desk. The… the semi-conductive transistor report that Tosh had finished.”

Gwen nodded, understanding clouding her features. “Do you want me to have a word?”

Ianto looked up at her. “If it’s not too much to ask, of course. I offered, well. I tried to offer my help, but he wasn’t having any of it. You’ve always been better at these kinds of things.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she moaned. “Honestly, do you ever talk about anything meaningful with each other? Mention the ‘f’ word?”

“F?” Ianto asked, nonplussed.

“ Feelings .”

“Oh.” Ianto looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Gwen decided to take pity on him.

“I’ll talk to him. I know he still feels like all this is his fault.”

Ianto scoffed.

“I’ll sort him out tonight.” Gwen watched as Ianto nodded, buttoning up his coat.

“Thank you,” he said, brushing the creases out of his coat.

“Go on, get out of here,” Gwen said, smiling softly. Ianto took a breath, pausing as if he wanted to speak. Gwen waited patiently.

“We do… talk,” Ianto said, the word sounding as if it tasted like chalk in his mouth. “We’re not that bad.”

“I know,” Gwen sighed.

“It’s just… Well, he is who he is, and I am who I am,” he said, as if that made perfect sense.

Gwen reached over to give him a small shove. “I know,” she repeated. “Go on. I’ll talk to him, you head home.”

Ianto smiled at her and finally turned on his heels, heading towards the exit of the Hub.

It wasn’t until another hour or so had passed that Gwen made it up to Jack’s office, not even waiting for an answer to her knock as she entered and sat down. Jack barely looked up at her, his eyes focused on the paper he was writing on, pen in hand as he hunched over his desk.

“Ianto said you found something on your desk earlier. One of Tosh’s old reports.” Gwen didn’t waste any time in getting to the point.

“Did he?” Jack asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching in an obvious tell. He paused, leaning back on his chair to regard Gwen. “Well, you can tell Ianto-”

“I’m not telling Ianto anything. You can do that.”

Jack turned to almost glare at her, but his eyes held more hurt than anger. 

“He just wants you to be okay,” Gwen restarted. “We all do. Martha too.”

“I know,” Jack said, his shoulders sagging. He took a deep breath, and Gwen could see words forming that he couldn’t quite yet get out. “I just… it’s-”

Jack’s phone rang.

Gwen could’ve cursed as Jack gleefully took the offered distraction. “Captain Jack Harkness speaking. Yes, that’s right.”

He paused, and all of a sudden his face was wiped of emotion. Gwen felt dread fall down her spine as Jack uttered his next words. “Ianto Jones?”

Jack was standing up to reach for his coat before Gwen could react. His hand was shaking.

“Yes. I - yes, I can get there. Is he-” he continued to speak, mouth trembling as he froze. “Oh God. Oh God. Okay. Yes.”

There was a pause; neither of them dared move. 

“Right. Yes, I’ll be there as soon as - yes. Thank you.”

Jack ended the phone call and let his phone clatter down onto his desk. 

“Who was-” Gwen asked, but Jack cut her off.

“Ianto’s in hospital.”

Gwen drove the SUV in a haze, and yet still knew she was safer than Jack would have been on the road. She remembered the route to the hospital well; it had only been a few years since she’d lost her Gran. She swallowed down the thoughts that came with that, ignored the tugging feeling in her stomach at images of Ianto lying lifeless in a bed like her Gran had.

Jack didn’t say a single thing on the ride. Gwen wasn’t sure if he knew any details, or if he was as in the dark as she. Either way, by the time they’d arrived at the front desk, he was striding forward, his usual imposing attitude only slightly hampered by a frantic edge.

“Ianto Jones,” he demanded at the front desk.

“Sorry, sir,” the worker said. “Are you here to visit someone?”

“Yes,” Gwen cut in. “Ianto Jones. He was brought into A&E in the past hour.”

The woman nodded, turning to her computer to search. Gwen could feel Jack twitching beside her.

“He’s in the ER, just down the first corridor and second on the left.”

They were off, almost before the woman had stopped talking. Bursting through doors, they reached the room, and stood in shock at the sight before them.

“He’s collapsing, someone start the defib charging.”

“Heart down for forty seconds now.”

“Pull back.”

Jack and Gwen stood and watched as the team of doctors pulled away, attaching a defibrillator to Ianto’s chest. Gwen grabbed for Jack’s arm, unable to comprehend the sight in front of her.

There was a thud, the body shook, and the main doctor shook her head. “Again.”

“Excuse me, you can’t be in here right now,” a man said, noticing the two of them at last.

“That’s my- you can’t-”

“I’m sorry sir, you need to leave. You can wait outside.”

Jack and Gwen found themselves crowded backwards, moving until the doors were opened behind them. 

“We’ll send a doctor out to update you shortly,” the man told them, before he turned on his heels and returned to the room. Jack’s hand on Gwen’s arm dropped, and he collapsed into a chair.

They sat in silence, hearing only vague noises that were loud enough to escape the room. All they could guess was down to the levels of voices, and the sharp beeps of machines.

“Did you see..?” Gwen started, and Jack nodded tersely. “The blood? His shirt? Jack…”

“Gwen!” Jack snapped, silencing her as he put his hands to his face.

Gwen closed her mouth.

After what felt like hours, but was more likely just minutes, a man finally walked out of the room.

“Are you Jack Harkness?” he asked, looking at Jack as he nodded. “Hi, my name’s Doctor Roberts, I’m-”

“Is he alive?”

A pause. “Yes,” Roberts said, and both Gwen and Jack sagged in relief.

“Mr Jones was brought in at 18:57, after sustaining multiple stab wounds and other injuries from an unknown assailant. We estimate he was on the streets for around twenty to thirty minutes before he phoned and the emergency services got to the scene.”

Gwen took a look at the torrential rain pouring down outside and felt something stick in her throat. God.

“We were very lucky to find him still alive, as his body was in a state of shock. Whilst trying to stem the bleeding and regulate his temperature, his body went into cardiac arrest, but he was resuscitated shortly after in the ambulance.”

Jack’s hand had found Gwen’s, a death tight grip.

“He was rushed to the ER, but sustained another cardiac arrest soon after arrival, as you are likely already aware of.”

“How is he now?” Jack asked, and the doctor paused for a moment.

“Mr Jones has yet to wake up. His heart is stable, but his body isn’t. We believe that the second cardiac arrest has caused hypoxia, therefore there has been a shortage of oxygen getting to his organs.”

Jack took a breath. “Brain damage?”

“We can’t be sure until we do scans, but it’s looking like a high possibility.”

Jack dropped his head forward. Gwen didn’t know what to do, what to think.

“What happens now?” she asked instead.

“We’re waiting to ensure his heart is stable, and then he will need to be taken to the theatre. The flesh wounds will need to be dealt with, and infections fought off. We believe an early onset infection might have caused the heart issues, but it’s too early to tell. If that all goes well, we will observe his condition and send him for a CT scan, and possibly then an MRI.”

“Can we see him?”

Doctor Roberts turned to look at Jack. “Usually, I would say no, not until surgery. But as we are waiting for confirmation on the heart regularity, I think I can let it slide this time.”

Jack knew intimately what death looked like. He’d seen good, innocent men get blown to pieces in front of his own eyes in the wars, had seen Owen’s life forcefully dragged out of his body far before he was ready to go. But nothing could prepare him for the sight that greeted him in the hospital room.

Ianto looked lifeless. There was no other way to describe it, not with the wires and the beeping and the bloodied rags - once dressed in a crisp white shirt and a silk blue waistcoat; now thin and pale in a hospital gown. Ianto’s face was even chalkier than usual, gaunt and sunken as if he hadn’t been striding out of the Hub like normal two hours earlier.

Jack sunk into a chair, grabbing for Ianto’s hand (careful as he was not to knock any wires protruding out). There were no words to be said, nothing he could think of that would make any of this better.

Gwen took the seat on the other side, reaching forward but hesitating, as if she were scared to even touch her best friend. Jack looked away, turning to study Ianto’s face instead. If he stared carefully enough, focused on the button nose and the drooped eyelids instead of the wires and scrapes that littered his face, it was almost like one of their early mornings - one of the ones where Jack would wake up, unable to sleep, whiling away the time until dawn by watching the moonlight reflect off Ianto’s face.

But they weren’t in their bed, nor was the moon shining on Ianto’s face. Instead, there was a smear of blood on his cheek and dark, sunken eyes that lay closed. Jack reached for a tissue, wiping at the stain on his face. It had been there too long; Jack couldn’t properly clean his cheek, and he sighed as he reached for a cup of water to help. His hands shook and his teeth worried at his lip to stop it wobbling, but he kept at it. Ianto would hate knowing he’d been lying in a hospital in this mess, Jack knew.

“There we go,” he said, putting the dirty tissue in a bin before placing his hand on the newly cleaned cheek. Jack had big hands, and he knew he could fit his whole palm over Ianto’s face, though right now he settled for resting his thumb against his cheekbone, rubbing it absentmindedly. Somehow, despite everything, Ianto’s skin still felt soft as anything.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack heard Gwen murmur. 

Not sure what to do as he tried to ignore the words Gwen was saying to Ianto, Jack reached for a bag off the side of the hospital bed. He’d seen a bit of fabric sticking out the side. Jack tutted as he rifled through a screwed up silk waistcoat - one of Ianto’s favourites - and cringed as he saw the numerous slashed holes in the material. There were so many, so much blood staining it, almost unrecognisable as blue by now. His shirt was no better, but his trousers, at least, were only wet and cold.

The last item he found was cold and blood stained. Jack wrapped Ianto’s tie around his fist, pulling it taut. He slipped it into his pocket.

“Jack,” Gwen said. “You can’t - the police are gonna need his clothes for evidence.”

“I don’t care,” Jack stated plainly, before his voice turned cold. “Besides, I’m gonna need some evidence of my own for when I track down the bastard who-”

He broke off, not wanting to say the words. Instead he returned to looking at Ianto, bringing his hand to run through Ianto’s hair. It was one of the only parts of his body that wasn’t covered in wires.

“Why didn’t he fight back?” Gwen asked, a tear falling down her cheek. “He had his gun on him. Why didn’t he use it?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “But you know Ianto. You know what he’s like.”

“Yeah,” Gwen said, and she did.

They stayed like that for some time, just sat there, listening to the rhythmic beeps of the monitors. Gwen had tried talking to Ianto, but even she had run out of things to say.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Gwen said, after the silence had stretched too long.

Jack shrugged, his tongue like a stone in his mouth. “I don’t - there’s nothing to say.”

“Jack,” Gwen said, sympathy laced with frustration that Jack could understand. “I can leave for a bit, if you need me to. Surely there’s some things you want to say to him, that you-”

“No, there’s not, Gwen,” Jack snapped, his hand gripping Ianto’s tight. “Because he’s not going to die, okay? He’s gonna get through this; he’s strong.”

Gwen reached a hand across to his shoulder. “I know. Of course he is. But you know there’s a chance - wouldn’t you want to make sure-”

“Mr Harkness?” a voice called, and then a doctor was striding into the room.

Jack straightened, his posture changing as he turned to the man who had walked in. “Yes?”

“We’re taking Mr Jones in for surgery, now,” he explained, walking over to observe a few readings from the machine. “Yes, he’s stabled well, all things considered.”

The man turned to look at the two of them. “Should I give you a minute?”

“A minute?” Jack asked.

The doctor grimaced, his facade falling slightly. “He’s going into theatre. He’ll be in the best hands of well trained doctors, but you have to be prepared. There’s a chance there might be… complications, or that his body might not hold out.”

Jack closed his eyes, nodding as he took a deep breath. “I know. I understand.”

He stood up, moved to look at Ianto. There was nothing he could say, nothing that was going to make any of this right, so instead he leant down and pressed his lips gently to Ianto’s own.

“There,” he muttered, close enough that their noses were almost touching. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

They were moved back out to a waiting room, not knowing where Ianto would be once the surgery was done.

“Is there anyone else you need to call? Any other family who should be here with you?” Doctor Roberts asked them a bit later, coming over to tell them there was no news yet.

Jack looked at Gwen, who stared right back at Jack.

“His parents, they aren’t still…?” Gwen asked, and Jack shook his head.

“No, you’re right. They’re dead.”

“He doesn’t talk about his family much. Siblings?”

Jack thought for a moment. “He has a niece, he’s mentioned her before.”

“Right. So… sister? Brother?”

“I want to say sister,” Jack said, running a hand through his hair.

Doctor Roberts looked at them, and Jack refused to meet his eyes. “Should I check his family records, contact his sister?”

“Yes, please,” Gwen replied, and Roberts nodded, walking off. “Jack, should we tell Martha?”

Jack shook his head. “You could do, but she’s all the way in London. She wouldn’t get here quick enough.”

Gwen bit her tongue but ultimately let Jack have the final say. Instead, she chewed her cheek, lost in guilty worry. “How do we not know that about Ianto? His own sibling?”

Jack shrugged. “Ianto never talks about his family. I don’t talk about mine, so we don’t pry into each other’s.”

“But yours is different,” Gwen said.

Jack simply shrugged again. 

Rhiannon, the name Roberts informed them belonged to Ianto’s sister, hadn’t turned up by the time Ianto returned from surgery. Gwen and Jack had barely spoken the whole hour, both stuck too far in their own heads. 

“The surgery went well,” the doctor told the two of them, nodding towards a now more bandaged Ianto. “His body accepted the surgery and no major organs are at risk. Right now we have to watch out for infections, and get him on the waiting list for the CT scan. And watch out to see if he wakes.”

Gwen nodded, thanking the man. 

Something seemed to change in Jack as he watched over Ianto. His eyes raked over Ianto, every blemish, every mark he found sapping the belief out of his eyes, dull within minutes. 

“Come on,” Jack muttered, gently reaching to softly shake his shoulder. Jack coughed. “You can never get him to wake up when he doesn’t want to leave his bed.”

Gwen huffed a tiny laugh. “I’m sure you had a few ways.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack said, the ghost of a smirk almost making its way to his smile. “But I doubt any of them would be appropriate in a public hospital.”

“Coffee, maybe.”

“Coffee?”

Gwen nodded, standing up as she made her decision. “I’m gonna go buy the crappiest, cheapest machine made coffee this hospital has to offer, and wave it under Ianto’s nose.”

Jack snorted. “Make sure you add at least five sugars with that.”

Gwen grinned and left, hoping that giving Jack a bit of alone time would be a good decision.

Walking through a hospital late at night was an entirely surreal experience. The public, family members hovering on chairs or by bedsides, all had a certain tinge of tiredness, pain lacing at the edges of even the smiling people’s expressions. If you were at the hospital outside of visiting hours, allowed the exception of staying by a loved one’s side, then there wasn’t much more to be said. Gwen checked her watch. 10:30 already.

As she stood waiting for a short, hunched man to pay for his coffee, Gwen felt her phone buzz in her pocket, her ringtone loud in the halls.

“Alright, love? What’s got you staying late tonight, then?”

Rhys.

“Something with razor blade arms chasing you down the streets? Or, no - a tentacle monster, you’ve not had one of those in a few months.” There was a pause. Gwen couldn’t get the words from her throat to her mouth. “Hello? Gwen? You there”?

“Rhys,” she managed to crack out, knowing what she sounded like.

Rhys picked up on her tone immediately. “Oh, love, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“It’s… it’s Ianto - he’s, we’re. We’re at the hospital, he-”

“Oh God, is he..?”

“He’s hurt, he’s really bad Rhys, he’s not woken up.”

Gwen felt tears rising to her eyes again, ones she had been trying to keep down through the past couple of hours. But hearing Rhys’ voice, having to tell him what had happened...

“Hang on love, let me get in the car and I can come help, I’ll-”

“No,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “No, it’s okay. We don’t know how long, whether he’ll… it could be hours, it could be days. He could be fine.”

“Are you sure? I can come if you need me to, whatever you need love.”

“It’s okay, Rhys. His sister is on the way, too. I might need some things, depending on… how long, and-”

She broke off, both as she wasn’t sure what else to say, and also as the man in front of her finished with the coffee vending machine.

“Look,” she continued. “I need to get back to them.”

“Okay, love. You stay safe, okay? You got money, your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“And you let me know if you need anything at all, okay? I can bring a bag, bring you some food or anything, yeah?”

Gwen hummed. “I love you.”

“I love you too. You… you take care, of yourself and Jack, alright?”

Ten minutes later, the coffee was done and Gwen’s tears were dried once more.

The sight in the window of the door to Ianto’s room was difficult. Jack was leaning on the bed, his forehead pressed to Ianto’s shoulder, arms resting on the thin mattress. Gwen couldn’t see Jack’s expression, only the slow rise and fall of his body as he breathed in and out.

“Knock, knock,” Gwen said as she entered. Jack’s head rose. “Bought the coffee; as many sugars as could dissolve, and then some.”

Jack stared at her outstretched hand, and reached to take the cup that was in it. He peered inside. He swirled the cup. Drops of coffee escaped the top, spilling slightly over his hand, though Jack didn’t flinch.

“What are we doing, Gwen?” Jack asked, putting the cup down. “You just made a coffee, one neither one of us will drink, for what?”

Gwen pursed her lips, and sighed. “I just wanted - I needed to do something . I can’t just stand here and watch him-“ her voice cracked.

There was a hand on her shoulder, and Gwen collapsed into the chair next to Jack.

“I know,” Jack said, almost lamely with how little the words meant. Gwen’s hand found his on her arm. “It’s just… people don’t magically wake up from these kinds of things. And even if he did, his head-”

“Don’t say that,” Gwen was quick to respond. “Don’t speak like that.”

“But it’s true. Ianto… Ianto’s gonna die, Gwen.”

The room fell silent. 

“He’s gonna die, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing good in my life ever lasts.”

“Jack-”

“I was too busy being… being stupid over two people who died months ago that I didn’t stop to consider what I had left. And now?”

“He’s not gone yet!” Gwen suddenly snapped, eyes wide. She indicated Ianto in the bed in front of them. “We’ve no idea if Ianto could be hearing everything you say right now, so you watch your mouth. Do you think he’d want to hear you, hopeless, giving up on him?”

Jack stared at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“He’s gonna live, okay? I’m not gonna let him die - he can’t . Not-”

There was a knock at the door.

“Mr Harkness?” Doctor Roberts said, sticking his head in. He looked between the two of them, and Gwen was left to wonder how much of their conversation he had heard. “We’re ready for Mr Jones in radiology now.”

Chivied again across the hospital, Jack and Gwen followed the team of doctors and nurses taking Ianto for his scans, Gwen’s hand having found Jack’s at some point, now gripping tight. The smell of antiseptic was strong, perfuming the air with an overpowering scent down the corridors they moved through. Gwen still felt like she was dreaming, nothing of the past few hours registering with her.

The chairs they collapsed into outside the radiology ward were plastic and hard. There was nothing to do but wait; the doctors had said it could take any time between thirty minutes and two hours, depending on the extent of the issue.

The first half hour was passed in near silence, nurses and doctors moving between wards. Gwen had found herself almost close to passing out at one point, the clock now nearing the hours of the early morning. But both Jack and Gwen were shocked out of their quiet peace with the arrival of one woman.

Gwen looked up as she burst through the doors to the waiting area, her face frantic and panicked. She was a short woman, features expressive, wearing a dark blue coat that looked like it had been thrown on in a rush. The woman immediately raced up to the nurse at the end of the ward.

“Where is he?”

The nurse looked up. “Who?”

“Ianto Jones. My brother. Where is he?”

Gwen blinked twice, and locked eyes with Jack. 

“Rhiannon?” Gwen asked, standing up. Rhiannon twisted round almost comically fast, staring at the two of them. Her eyes lingered on Gwen, then passed to Jack beside her, the frown growing. “Ianto’s having a CT scan at the moment.”

It looked like Rhiannon had too many questions to decide what to ask. She turned back to the nurse.

“Is he okay? What’s his condition like?”

The nurse looked down at her notes. “He’s… stable at the moment, except… well, it would be best if Doctor Roberts could update you.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in another ward.”

Gwen watched as Rhiannon, full of nervous, almost angry worry, sent the nurse to find him. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for Rhiannon, who had evidently rushed to get to the hospital as soon as she knew her brother was in danger. Gwen couldn’t imagine not being immediately told that one of her close family members was in hospital.

“And who are you?” Rhiannon suddenly almost spat, whirling around to throw a finger at Jack and Gwen.

“I-” Jack croaked, mouth hanging open as he tried to speak. “His boss. And coworker.”

Rhiannon’s face clouded in even more anger, though Jack wasn’t sure how that was possible. 

“Why the fuck would Ianto’s next of kin be his boss?” The next moment, she was almost shrieking in laughter. “Fitting, isn’t it? He’s so devoted to his job, always needed, never having time for his own family - of course he’d need to let his boss know he was dying before his own fucking sister! Jesus Christ-”

“We’re not just his coworkers,” Gwen shouted back, staring into the furious eyes of Ianto’s sister. “We’re his best friends.”

“His best friends that I’ve never heard anything of? Never even met? Fat chance, love, that I’m gonna believe-”

“Please,” Jack whispered, so quiet that it immediately shocked the two out of their heated argument. Gwen turned to look at Jack, his hair messy and askew and his eyes just terrible . “Please.”

“Jack,” Gwen murmured, sitting back down to put a hand on his shoulder.

Rhiannon looked at the two of them, saw the bloodied tie that Jack had wrapped tightly around his hand, and the anger dissipated from her in an instant.

“God,” she said feebly, dropping into the chair opposite them. 

They sat in silence for a few moments. 

“You’re his next of kin,” Rhiannon started again, slower. Jack’s eyes snapped up to look at her, and Gwen could see the moment everything made sense to her. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, oh Ianto. You never said. You-”

Jack gave her the smallest of smiles, one that wobbled and twitched. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

And then, without knowing when or how, Rhiannon had her arms wrapped tight around the six foot man, her face pressing onto his military wool coat as they both shook on each other, united by the one thing they shared: their grief for the man lying in the room next door.

By the time Roberts came to fill Rhiannon in, the three of them had made their awkward, quiet peace. It was an incredibly odd feeling to be sitting next to someone who knew so much of Ianto’s past, the opposite knowledge that Gwen and Jack had of Ianto’s life. Whilst Rhiannon knew him as her younger brother, knew all about him growing up, she knew nothing of the man he currently was, as was evident with the small talk she and Gwen made to pass the time.

They were only broken apart when a bed was suddenly wheeled out of the double doors, Ianto lying on it. Following it along, they were soon entering a spare room, one not on the ward from before, but a private place. As the workers got the bed set up, Doctor Roberts turned to the trio.

“Can I have a word?”

Dread passed through Gwen at the look on the doctor’s face - an easy, fixed in place smile that Gwen was sure was well practised. She knew the kind, had been good at putting those smiles on herself back in her police days. And yet, despite knowing this, the next few words he said still hit her like a truck.

“I’m afraid the CT scan has come back with some serious issues. There is a very high chance that Mr Jones has suffered severe cerebral hypoxia, and we currently do not know the effect this will have on him. His EEG levels are abnormally low, which means there isn’t a lot of activity going on.”

Gwen felt her ears start to ring.

“Of course we don’t know anything for certain until he wakes, but it’s looking like the chances of him doing so are decreasing every minute that passes.”

“Did you do an MRI?”

Doctor Roberts hesitated at Gwen’s question. “The radiologists decided… well, after the CT scan results came through, they thought an MRI wouldn’t be appropriate. It takes longer to analyse results and… well, they weren’t sure the timings would-”

“He’ll likely be dead before they get them back, do you mean?”

Three heads snapped to look at Rhiannon. She looked between them, hands worrying the hem of her jumper. “Look, we’re all adults here. We just wanna know what’s going on, so tell it to us straight, okay?”

Roberts nodded, coughing once before he looked away from his clipboard. “It’s almost certain that Mr Jones isn’t going to wake up. His condition isn’t improving, and there’s no way of knowing if or how long his body will last - it could be minutes, hours, days.”

“Christ,” Gwen whispered, physically feeling her head sink.

“As his next of kin,” Roberts continued, looking up to Jack, whose face was an emotionless mask, “and his close family, you do have the right to choose how long, or whether at all to keep Mr Jones on his life support.”

There was silence. Gwen felt, rather than saw, the wool of Jack’s grey coat brush past her, and in seconds he had left the hallway. Roberts sighed and reached to rub his shining forehead.

“I’m so sorry. I wish I wasn’t telling you this, it’s the worst part of my job.”

Gwen shook her head, still not fully processing what she had been told.

“Thank you for telling us,” Rhiannon said, taking the lead. “Can we go see him?”

Roberts nodded. “He’s set up with all the support he needs, and we’ll keep a nurse coming in to check up every half hour.”

Rhiannon looked up at Gwen. “Do you mind if I go see my brother, alone?”

Gwen nodded, face feeling swollen and her movements jerky. 

“There’s a place to wait outside, and chairs set up in the room.” Roberts nodded towards the door.

“Thank you,” Rhiannon said. She put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder, gave a gentle push towards the chairs, and Gwen let herself move over.

It wasn’t right. Ianto wasn’t allowed to - Gwen wasn’t meant to outlive all her friends. This could not be happening. Not like this, not this early, not this close to Tosh and Owen and-

The next thing Gwen knew was a hand at her shoulder, and suddenly she was jolting back into consciousness. She blinked blearily, sitting up straight to look at the time on her watch.

“Sorry, love, I didn’t want to wake you, but I thought I should.”

Rhiannon was standing in front of her, her eyes red with obvious tear tracks still down her cheeks. She sat down in the chair next to Gwen.

“I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” she said, hand patting Gwen’s. “I feel like I’ve missed so much of my brother’s life recently, but - well, there’s nothing doing now.”

“I didn’t even know Ianto had a sister, let alone your name,” Gwen admitted. “It’s what he’s like.”

“Yeah,” Rhiannon said, cracking a small smile. “He liked it that way.”

Gwen watched as Rhiannon rifled through her bag, checking the contents. Her coat was on again, and Gwen frowned.

“Are you not staying?”

Rhiannon looked at her. “I can’t.” A pause. “Ianto and I have barely talked in three years, and I can’t be the one to decide. He wouldn’t want it that way. And,” she continued, her voice cracking. “I can’t stay here and watch my brother die.”

Gwen gripped Rhiannon’s hand tight, squeezed and let go. “I understand.”

“You do, don’t you?” Rhiannon said. “Then I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Rhiannon broke it with a short laugh. “God, to think this is where he and I ended up. I still remember the day Mum and Dad officially adopted him - do you know, I hated him for that first week. Thought he was replacing me.”

“Adopted?” Gwen asked, frowning. 

“Yeah, we both were, though he was a lot later than me.”

“Oh, of course,” Gwen replied, suddenly remembering the pocket watch she and Martha had found, the likelihood that Ianto wasn’t really…

That he wasn’t human.

That there was a Time Lord tucked away inside the silver pocket watch.

That there was a chance, the tiniest chance, that Ianto didn’t have to - that he could still - that Gwen could -

Gwen wasn’t ready to lose her best friend, and if there was the slightest chance that she could save Ianto’s life, she would try.

A few miles away, in the street where, a few hours earlier, Ianto had been lying, rain washing at his wounds, Jack was typing furiously into his Vortex Manipulator.

It hadn’t been hard to hack into the police database, finding the location of the scene of the crime. He’d snuck in the other side of the alleyway, pulling police tape down as his wriststrap scanned the scene for blood traces. Whilst Jack had held tight to Ianto’s hand earlier in the hospital, he’d noticed blood underneath Ianto’s fingernails - something that could’ve easily been been explained away as Ianto’s own blood, if Jack hadn’t been so determined to believe that he had a chance of finding Ianto’s attacker.

The Vortex Manipulator made easy work of the scans, bringing back reports of Ianto’s blood (matched already to results in the Torchwood database) and an unknown other source.

Jack’s heart leapt as determined anger passed through him. He set his wriststrap to scan locally for similar DNA, waiting as it calibrated. The signal that appeared was incredibly faint - a larger radius would always produce less accurate results - but Jack wasn’t going to give up easily. He was entirely determined to focus on finding the attacker - because to stop now would mean accepting defeat.

And Jack wasn’t ready to give up on the man lying, almost lifeless in the hospital, just yet.

Click.

The noise of Jack’s webley cocking sounded loud in the early hours of the morning.

The noise of a door slamming inwards as Jack broke his way into the small, slightly old looking flat was louder.

There were no lights on; it was dark, early enough that nobody would be awake. Jack flipped the switches on, lighting the flat with a yellowing glow, uncaring for how loud his boots were as he marched through the building.

A faint sound of movement came from behind one door. Jack pushed it open, throwing it so hard that the door slammed against the wall.

A figure on the bed scurried upward, reaching to flick a bedside lamp on. Jack got a look at his face - confused and terrified for being woken up, his eyes small and squinting, short hair ruffled slightly with sleep. He was holding the bed sheet up to him.

Jack’s Vortex Manipulator gave a loud beep and Jack turned it off, his entire focus switching to the man in front of him.

“What were you doing yesterday evening?” Jack demanded, marching closer until he was by the side of the bed.

“I don’t - who the fuck are you?” the man asked, shuffling away from Jack, panic evident in him.

“What were you doing, around five pm?” Jack spat, reaching to grab at his shirt and pull him up, pushing him against the wall. “Answer me!”

“Nothing! I was working!” the man replied hastily, and Jack let go of him - only long enough to pull back a fist and aim it at the man’s face.

A part of his insides glowed with satisfaction as he heard the man scream, a crunching noise accompanying his fist colliding with his nose.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Jack asked, his voice calmer and yet more threatening. He held his gun up, re-cocking it.

The man froze.

“Oh, God,” he said, his lip wobbling. “Oh, God save me. I didn’t mean to, I never meant to.”

“Mean to what?” Jack snarled, pressing the gun into the man’s temple.

“I never meant to hurt him. I just meant to scare him, yeah? A skinny lad in a suit, they’re always the easy targets.”

“Watch what you’re saying,” Jack warned, through gritted teeth. “The skinny lad is currently lying, almost dead, in a hospital ward.”

The man started muttering what sounded like curses, though it could just as well have been prayers.

“And it’s your fault.” Jack pulled the man’s shirt tighter as he tried, futilely, to pull away from Jack’s grip.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to. I’d never… I wouldn’t…” he continued, but promptly changed tactics as Jack’s anger increased. “He had a gun! He had a gun in his pocket, what was I meant to think?”

Jack snarled, shaking the guy. “Yeah? And did he use it on you? Did he even get it out? No. Because he’s a good man.”

The man whimpered as Jack’s gun brushed his bloody nose. “I’m sorry! I was just defending myself!”

“The guy you attacked - that good man - he’s gonna die,” Jack said, satisfied in the shocked gasp he got in response. “He’s waiting for me to come back and tell the doctor to take him off life support. You’re a murderer.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus…”

“And do you know what I like to do to murderers?”

The fear on the man’s face intensified, his eyes almost going cross-eyed as he looked down the barrel of the gun.

“Please, don’t do it,” he started to babble. “Please, I never meant to! You’ve gotta understand, you-”

“Shut up!” Jack shouted. “Did you give Ianto a chance to escape, yesterday? Why should I?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the man mumbled, his eyes closing tight. Jack knew what he was preparing for, and a not-so-small part of him wanted to give in, to pull the trigger on his gun and watch as he died, alone in his room. But-

“You’re lucky,” Jack said, clicking the safety back on. The man cracked an eye open, confused.

“What-”

“Unlike Ianto, I’m not a good man. And trust me, I would take great pleasure in putting a bullet in your skull. But even though you pulled a knife on him, Ianto didn’t shoot you,” Jack said, his grip loosening ever so slightly. “You can thank the man you killed for your survival." 

The man gulped air in at once, as if he hadn’t been breathing for the past five minutes. 

“What’s your name?” Jack demanded as the man sagged in relief.

“Dylan,” he answered, voice trembling still. “Dylan Collins. Thank you, sir, thank you.”

“I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet,” Jack said darkly.

“Wh-” Dylan started to ask, but Jack brought his webley down hard and fast, cracking it against Dylan’s head. The man dropped, unconscious on his bed.

Jack reached into his pocket, bringing out both his phone and Ianto’s tie, the blood now dry and brown. He wrapped the material a few times around the man’s wrists, tying him to the headboard. That would be evidence enough for even the police to understand. With his other hand, Jack texted the local branch the location of the flat. Dylan could rot in jail, for all that Jack cared.

He turned on his heels, giving Dylan one more disgusted glance, and left the flat.

Gwen burst past the hospital doors, the watch in her grip almost pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She ignored the looks of everyone around her, too busy with thoughts going this way and that to even consider them.

She reached the room Ianto was in. Jack still wasn’t back. Ianto was alone.

It almost felt like the watch was whispering to her, guiding her to open it. 

Reaching out a hand, Gwen ran it down the side of Ianto’s face. There wasn't even a shadow of a doubt in her mind, not a single questioning thought about what she was going to do. Martha had warned her, told her to wait for her Doctor - but if the Time Lord wasn’t even going to show up, what right did he have to make them wait?

Gwen ran her fingers around the groove, reaching the clasp of the watch, and opened it.

There was a light, an incredible golden light that swirled out of the watch, it’s silver interior glowing with the power of a thousand stars. Gwen felt her hand shake, her breath jolt, and suddenly the watch was dropping from her hand.

And Ianto’s hand reached out and caught it.

“Ianto!” Gwen whispered, a hand on her mouth, and Ianto’s eyes snapped open, the same golden energy turning his blue eyes warm.

He stared into the pocket watch, almost unable to register anything else, and reached to yank the wires and tubes out of his body. Gwen gasped, tried to move towards him, but the golden light was so powerful that it almost felt like a physical barrier. She watched on, helpless, as Ianto sat up, pushing himself up off the bed.

The window was open, and Gwen saw his plan only shortly before it happened. He strode towards it, ignoring Gwen’s cry of his name, and stopped short.

Turning to face her all of a sudden, pretty much glowing, he smiled. “Nice to see you,” he said, nodding, and crashed out of the window.

By the time Gwen had raced out of the hospital, she had almost lost Ianto. Only the faraway glow of a moving body was how she could follow him, as she ran to catch up.

He’d stumbled his way towards a small child’s park, the moon hanging low in the sky in the early hours of the morning. When Gwen reached him, he’d collapsed onto a grassy verge by the side of a slide.

“Why…” Ianto said, breathing heavily, almost in time with the pulses of golden energy. “Why are you here?”

“Ianto, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Ha!” Ianto laughed, his eyes rolling to the top of his head. “Oh, ow, shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have opened the watch.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Me? Nah,” he said, grinning maniacally. The light was getting brighter, now seeming to be leaking out of his hands. “Well. Kind of, I guess. You’ll see, you’ve done it now. You’ll see what you’ve done.”

“You’re not making sense,” Gwen said, rubbing her sides, scared, to keep warm in the cold.

“Don’t suppose I am. I’m… I’m alone. I didn’t want… I never wanted to wake.” Ianto suddenly sat up, glaring daggers at Gwen. “You’ve cursed me.”

“I was trying to save you!”

“And you have. Good job.” Ianto coughed, particles of dust coming out of his mouth. “Not long now. You might want to take cover.”

And with that, his head was jolted back and the gold mist was shooting from every point of his body: his head, his arms, the tips of his fingers down to the soles of his feet. Gwen felt it wash over her like heat from a fire, and ran to throw herself behind a nearby bench as quickly as she could.

Gwen gripped the wood of the bench as hard as she could, trying to ignore the way Ianto screamed and howled, his voice carried by the wind that was blowing all around the park. 

And then - “Gwen!”

Beside her, Jack was crouching, his coat flapping as he had to shout to be heard. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” she cried back.

“I saw the regeneration energy - is it him? Is it the Doctor? He could - he could help Ianto, he could-”

“No,” Gwen said, shaking her head. Irrationally, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. “No, it’s not him.”

“Then who is it?” Jack yelled, trying to pop his head above the bench to see, but recoiled sharply, wincing as the light hit his eyes.

“It’s Ianto. It’s him. He’s the Time Lord!”

The gold disappeared. Everything fell silent.

“Ianto?” Jack whispered, face clouding with confusion.

“I opened his watch. I did it.” Gwen was frozen, not daring to stand up from the bench even in the silence now.

Jack, however, did. He jumped away, twisting round to stare at the figure on the floor. Gwen finally got to her senses and joined him.

On the ground, there lay a short man in a hospital gown, long brown hair wild and tangled around his face, eyes closed.

Jack shot Gwen a look, then stepped forwards. 

“Ianto?” he asked, reaching out a hand to touch.

But before he could, the man’s eyes snapped open to look at Jack, and he screamed .