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The Hub, Cardiff, 1806 hours GMT
It had seemed like a great idea when Gwen had suggested it; going out guns blazing in a hail of fire and glory. But when Ianto found himself standing in the Hub with an all but useless gun and a Dalek baring down on them…
Gwen took a deep breath at his side, steadying herself. Another blast sent the Hub shaking and a small surprised yelp of fright left her lips. That made up Ianto’s mind.
He grabbed the portable PDA from the desk behind him and shoved it into Gwen’s chest.
“Gwen, take it and go. Hide,” he hissed as another blast shook the ground.
They grabbed each other, bending their knees to absorb the movement. Gwen opened her mouth to protest, her eyebrows narrowing into that familiar look of defiance. Ianto just shook his head and pushed her none too gently back away from the cog door. “Jack will need us at some point before this is over and we can’t do much if we are both vaporised!”
“I’m not leaving you behind!”
“We can’t fight this thing,” Ianto shouted. “All we can do is hold it off until Jack and the Doctor fix this.”
“What are you planning?”
Honestly Ianto hadn’t thought much past ‘keep Gwen safe and stay alive’ but as he spoke his eyes scanned the Hub desperately looking for some spark of inspiration to find him. Eventually his eyes landed on the small shadowed doorway tucked away in the corner.
“The Archives,” Ianto nodded determinedly as a shaky plan formed in his mind. “It’s a maze down there. I can lead it down there and lose it. You need to stay up here in case Jack needs us.”
“No Ianto that is too dangerous-“
Her argument was cut off as another blast sounded from the other side of the door sending sparks and dust down on them from above.
“We don’t have time for this!” Ianto grit out, losing his patience. “Go now before
that thing gets through the door.”
Gwen looked desperately between the cog door and Ianto but Ianto saw the moment that she decided. She swung the machine gun over shoulder and pulled him into a fierce hug.
“Don’t do anything stupid Ianto,” she whispered sternly in his ear. “Jack will kill me if anything happens to you.”
“I’ll be fine Gwen. Now go.”
With one last tear-filled look at him Gwen took off, disappearing amongst the haphazard wires and structures of the Hub. Then Ianto was alone. Another sharp bang on the other side of the cog door reminded Ianto that he wouldn’t be alone for long. Taking a fortifying breath he turned, securing the machine gun in his arms as he faced the cog door.
He had one more moment to hope desperately that he survived this long enough to see Jack one last time before there was one last huge blast and the cog door rolled back. Then it was there.
A Dalek. In the Hub.
-
The Tardis, deep space
The Doctor rushed back into the TARDIS as explosions sounded outside and Jack felt the same rush of excitement and adrenalin he always did. He shared a grin with Martha at his side as the group of ex-Companions crowded around the TARDIS console, grabbing hold of the vessel as the ship shook around them.
“Torchwood Hub this is the Doctor. Are you receiving me?” the Doctor shouted into his screen. Jack held his breath with a smile, waiting for Gwen’s excited voice and Ianto’s quiet stoicism. But the mic stayed silent.
The Doctor sent him a small look over the console and tried again. “Torchwood. Can you hear me?”
But again, the small glass screen stayed as it was and an eerie static played over the speakers.
“Torchwood!” the Doctor huffed, turning to Jack. “Jack, you said your team were helpful!”
Jack rolled his eyes and came around to the screen, swallowing down the fissure of panic that leapt in his chest. “They’re probably just away from the station. Let me get the CCTV feed up.”
With the press of a few buttons on the screen and his wrist strap he patched into the CCTV feed for the Hub. The view flickered and Jack frowned, tapping a few more buttons and stabilising the connection.
“Is that…” Rose whispered at his side as the picture materialised on the screen.
Jack just stared in abject horror. The Hub was a war zone. Cables and metal pipes hung from the ceiling, desks and railings seemed to be blown apart, there was paper everywhere. Sparks set off amidst the heavy cloud of smoke and dust that hung in the room.
“Daleks,” Martha whispered, her voice cracking.
“In the hub,” Jack whispered as the reality of what he was seeing permeated his stricken mind. “Ianto!” he cried into the screen. “Gwen! Ianto!”
“Jack I’m sorry,” the Doctor murmured, placing a conciliatory hand on Jack’s arm.
“No,” Jack shouted, shrugging off the comforting gesture. “They’re… They’re not. They’re fine. They’re just…”
“Daleks Jack,” the Doctor continued mercilessly. “There’s no way they would have survived.”
Jack’s heart broke further with every word the Doctor said. Because there was no arguing against it. He stared at the screen, tears blurring in his eyes. His team. His beautiful gorgeous team. The last family he had left. Gone.
Gwen and her burning optimism. What would he do with her? Her need for Jack to be better, stronger, braver. And his Ianto… God Ianto…
Just the thought had Jack’s knees buckling. “No,” he said brokenly at the screen, gripping at the console to keep him upright. He couldn’t… Pain lanced through his chest. What was he supposed to do now?
He reached a hand out to the screen and the scene of the destruction of his home. Of his family.
No sooner had his fingers graced the screen did the view flicker and Gwen’s face flashed onto the display.
“Jack?” she asked from the screen. “Jack!”
The view was too close and the angle too terrible to be a remotely flattering image of her but at that moment Jack would have sworn he had never seen anything more beautiful.
He choked on a laugh, a few tears escaping from each eye. “Gwen!” he called in disbelieving joy.
A ripple of relief undulated around the TARDIS console and Jack imagined he could feel the ship herself let out a breath of relief.
“God Jack!” Gwen choked from the screen, but her face lit up with a big grin.
“Ianto!” Jack called, trying to peer around her face to see behind her. “Where’s Ianto?”
Any relief that Jack was feeling promptly froze as her face melted into worry. “I don’t… I don’t know Jack. He…” she glanced over her shoulder and visibly pulled herself together. “He’ll be fine. What do you need?”
Jack’s choked rejection was cut off as the Doctor pushed him aside. “We don’t have time Jack!” he shouted, taking his position in front of the screen. “Torchwood I need you to open up that rift manipulator and send all the power to me!”
All the ex-Companions vibrated with excitement as the Doctor jumped in between them, shouting instructions and witty rejoinders all the while. But Jack felt separate from it all. Even as he held the TARDIS steady and piloted Earth back to its orbit a cloying fear had set up shop in Jack’s heart and it deepened with every breath.
As soon as the Earth was back where it belonged Jack made a beeline for the screen, ignoring the cheers and hugs going on around him.
“Gwen!” he shouted into the now blank screen. He hit the black screen and shouted again but the display remained ominously empty.
A hand clutched his elbow gently as he raised his hand to hit the screen once more. He looked down to see Martha looking at him knowingly.
“Towing the Earth would have taken a lot of power. The Rift Manipulator probably blew their circuits. They’re fine. He’s fine.”
“Martha,” he whispered brokenly. “I can’t… I have to get back. I have to…”
“The Doctor will take you straight there. Won’t you Doctor?”
“Oh!” the Doctor shouted from the other side of the TARDIS. “Yes! Absolutely. Least I can do.”
He jumped out of the arms of Rose and back to the console and the TARDIS lurched in time with Jack’s heart.
-
The Hub, Cardiff, 0834 hours GMT
Jack could see where the Daleks had gained access to the Hub from the side of the Bay. The entire frontage of the Tourist Office was blown to pieces and the debris was scattered across the deck. He stumbled slightly, catching his foot on a half blown up plank of wood, only to be caught by Martha’s sure hands.
He nodded in thanks and took a deep breath before running forward, Mickey and Martha following at his back.
The tourist office was obliterated. There was no evidence that a room – neatly organised and tidy – ever existed. Instead, a smoking hole stood in its place.
The trail of destruction continued inside and all the way down to the Hub proper. The hidden doors from the tourist office to the lifts, the lift doors, the secondary staircase; every barrier of protection between the Hub and the outside world had been blown to smithereens, as easy as if it had never even been there in the first place.
As the smoking remnants of the Cog Door came into view Jack started yelling.
“Jack!”
Jack barely had time to turn at Gwen’s half frantic, half relieved cry before he had an armful of the welsh woman. He clung back just as fiercely, closing his eyes for a moment before he looked over the top of her head at the disaster zone that used to be his Hub.
The damage he had seen on the small screen from the Tardis was nothing compared to seeing it in person. More than anything it was the smell - burning metal and plastic – that had his insides revolting.
“Jesus.” Mickey’s hushed murmur brought Jack back to the present. He saw Martha and Mickey in his peripheral vision gazing with wide eyes around the devastation. He pulled back from Gwen’s embrace, griping onto her shoulders as he peered down into her eyes.
“What happened?” he asked frantically. “Where is he? Where’s Ianto?”
Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. “The Daleks were coming, and he made me… he made me hide. He lured one into the archives. And then another came… I tried getting down there Jack, but it’s a mess. I called for him but he’s not….”
She broke off with an aborted sob and Jack forced himself to swallow down the lump in his throat. Of course Ianto would send Gwen to safety. Of course he would try to take on a Dalek on his own. Of course his brave, stubborn Welshman would put himself in danger, unthinking of what it would do to Jack.
His breath hitched but he could feel the tremors running through Gwen’s slight frame and blood was leaking from somewhere in her hairline, leaving a trail of red down her pale face. He forced his face into a reassuring smile.
“You said it yourself Gwen, he’ll be fine,” Jack said with a confidence he didn’t truly feel. “He’s survived the Daleks once. He can do it again. Martha?”
Martha materialised at Jack’s side and eased an arm around Gwen’s shoulders.
“Come with me Gwen. Let me check you out.”
“But Ianto. I have to -”
“Jack’s got it.”
Jack managed to summon one more reassuring smile for Gwen before Martha lead her to what was left of the medical bay. As soon as she was out of eyesight his fragile smile crumbled and his eyes were drawn to the far corner of the Hub, to what once used to be the doorway that led to the archives. Now it was nothing more than a smouldering blown hole in the wall.
-
Rubble littered the floor and grated metal flooring hung down from above, swinging ominously in Jack’s path. Holes of blown brickwork punctured the walls at various intervals exposing even more destruction beyond.
“Interesting filing system,” Mickey muttered as he and Jack climbed over another fallen filing cabinet, their feet crunching on half burnt paper as they moved forwards.
Jack grit his teeth and pushed down his angry retort. He didn’t have time for Mickey’s ‘sense of humour’. He had to find Ianto, take the boy home, have a shower, get naked and then have very vigorous ‘we just saved the world’ sex. There was no other alternative future Jack would allow.
They curled around another corner. Jack peered into the murk but all he could see was more rubble and dust and destruction. No Ianto. No bodies. But there was something there…
Squinting Jack strode forward towards the strange silhouette. Then he stopped, stumbling slightly as he took in the sight before him. A whispered curse behind him told Jack Mickey had seen it too; a Dalek.
The metal casing of the creature was stationary, half hidden by wiring and rubble. Jack fought through his primal reaction of fear and forced his feet to move forward. As he did, creeping slowly forward, he saw the damaged head to the machine, the blown machinery and the withered remains of the alien inside.
Gripping his gun with two hands Jack thrust out one of his legs, kicking the metal husk of the machine. The metal clang reverberated through the cavernous hallways of the archive and Jack tensed, waiting for the backlash. None came. The Dalek remained as it was; broken, smoking and dead.
Seeing the creature – dead, broken and harmless - woke something within Jack, a hope that he had not wanted to dwell on. It swelled inside him and he turned wide eyed to stare into the meandering walkways of the archives.
“Ianto!” he cried, hearing his voice echo back at him. “Ianto!” he tried again.
He waited, breath held, listening intently for an answering cry. But still there was nothing.
“Where’s the other one?” Mickey asked. Jack threw him a wild questioning stare and the man shrugged. “Thought there were two down here. ‘Ere’s one.” He jerked his head to the husk of metal to his left. “But where’s the other one.”
Swallowing down the scream that wanted to escape his throat Jack strode forward further into the mess of the Archives.
Mickey was mumbling something at his back about tinpot aliens and barbequed shrimp. Jack wanted to snap at him to shut up, that he couldn’t hear anything over Mickey’s babbling and heavy footsteps, but then he heard something, something small and quiet, something nothing like Mickey or Jack.
“Shhh!” he hissed at Mickey, waving his hand for the man to be quiet.
There it was again, a shuffle of movement on metal and a small rough sound. Jack strained his ears, clenching his hands around his gun. There it was again, closer, louder, a cough.
Before Jack could even open his mouth to call out a figure stumbled around the corner. Dishevelled, covered in dust and grime and limping slightly the figure looked up, their wide eyes falling on Jack. Jack just stared back, hardly daring to hope.
“Jack!” the dusty figure gasped.
“Ianto?” Jack cried, his heart soaring painfully in his chest. “God Ianto!”
He stumbled forward over the debris strewn floor, uncaring for what he was standing on or where. Ianto rushed forward too, meeting him in the middle of the corridor in a reassuringly harsh collision of bodies. Ianto’s hands gripped tightly to the back of Jack’s jacket and Jack held Ianto’s trembling body in his own. Now he could breathe, he thought to himself and a great tension suddenly left his body.
Jack didn’t know who moved first because he sure didn’t remember. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was that his lips collided with Ianto’s in a brutal wet kiss, one that spoke of longing, relief, fear and something dangerously like love. It was terrifying and startling, but Jack couldn’t dwell on that now; all that mattered was that Ianto was here, in Jack’s arms, and he was alive… God he was alive.
“I thought… I thought,” Jack mumbled between kisses.
He clutched at the back of Ianto’s head greedily, not willing to let the man move an inch away from his embrace. Ianto didn’t seem to mind though. He clung back to Jack just as eagerly, his hands fisted in the back of Jack’s coat.
“I’m guessing you’re Ianto.”
The voice cut through the rush of Jack’s beating heart and he reluctantly pulled away from Ianto’s lips to see Mickey stood to the side, watching. Jack felt Ianto tense slightly under his hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away, and if Ianto was uncomfortable with having Jack pressed tightly against his side he didn’t say anything.
Mickey surveyed Ianto with one seeping glance. His eyes roamed up from the man’s expensive dress shoes to his tight waist coat and pink shirt. Now all covered in a fine layer of dust and dirt and blood. Jack felt an uncharacteristic pang of possessiveness and pulled Ianto further into his side. But Mickey didn’t say anything. He just finished his assessment and looked up at Ianto’s face blandly.
“So, you managed to survive a personal attack from two Daleks?” Mickey asked in the end.
“Yeah,” Ianto mumbled cautiously.
Mickey pursed his lips and gave a short nod. “Nice one.”
“Um,” Ianto murmured, glancing from Jack back to Mickey. “Thanks...”
An involuntary snort of laughter escaped Jack’s nose and he buried his face into the side of Ianto’s neck, breathing him in. Mickey just looked between the two with disinterest.
“We should probably take this upstairs. Don’t fancy our chances if the roof caves in.”
The ominous squeaking of metal and the smell of burning came back to Jack’s senses then and he clutched at Ianto, suddenly desperately wanting to get him out of this disaster zone and away from this shell of an alien.
-
When Jack emerged from the archives with a limping Ianto in tow Gwen squealed and ran forward, nearly toppling the poor boy over with her hug. Jack just held a steady hand to Ianto’s back and grinned at them as Gwen gushed at Ianto and then punched him in the arm for worrying her.
Then Ianto was whisked away by Martha into the depths of the medical bay. Jack wanted to follow, not liking the thought of Ianto out of his eyesight but Gwen came forward with a PDA and Micky asked him where the generator was and Jack looked around the mess of the Hub.
He had work to do.
-
It was deep into the night before Jack finally had the chance to collapse onto his sofa.
He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cushions and just breathed.
Gwen had gone home to Rhys hours ago. Micky and Martha had disappeared to find a hotel when the worst of the mess had been cleared. But there was still one of his team left in the Hub. And soon enough he heard the tell-tale sound of measured steps moving gingerly towards the office.
Jack kept his eyes closed, mentally following Ianto’s path from the Hub floor to his office door. The footsteps paused at the threshold and Jack gave into his curiosity, opening his eyes and staring at the man before him.
“So,” Ianto drawled, lounging against the open-door jamb, arms crossed over his ruined shirt and waist coat. “How’s your day been?”
It was said with Ianto’s usual brand of dry humour and with that little quirk of his eyebrow and Jack couldn’t help but laugh. It was just a few hours ago that he thought this man was lost to him forever. And now he stood lounging gorgeously in the doorway and smiling at Jack with that hidden smile.
“Come here,” Jack murmured lowly, shifting to make space on the sofa.
Ianto gingerly made his way over to the sofa and dropped ungracefully into it. Jack promptly gathered him into his side, pressing a kiss to the man’s temple.
“So,” Jack asked after a few moments silence. “What’s the verdict?”
“A sprained ankle. Some cuts and bruises.” Ianto shrugged as much as he could tucked into Jacks’ side. “I’ll live.”
Jack couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Your second run in with the Daleks and you come out with a sprained ankle.”
“I know. Though they say third time’s the charm.”
Jack’s arms tightened reflexively around Ianto’s shoulders. “Don’t,” he choked out around the lump in his throat.
Today had been too close. Too damn close. But today was just one day. Every day that came after this was another opportunity for him to lose this, to be broken again.
Jack closed his eyes around the wash of pain and fear that engulfed him.
“I thought,” he found himself whispering into the night. “For a while there I really thought…”
“Yeah,” Ianto whispered back, just as quiet and careful. “I thought too. But I’m not. Not today.”
The terror and the panic receded with every calming thrum below his lips and palm. Jack felt his thoughts clear and he mused back over the day with a more objective mind.
Suddenly he twisted, pinching the sensitive skin underneath Ianto’s arm.
“Ow!” the man yelled, opening his eyes and send Jack a glare. “What the hell was that for?”
“You knew they were coming when you waved me off.”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you needed to go,” Ianto said with a shrug, settling back into the sofa, “and you couldn’t stay just for us.”
“Maybe I wanted to. You ever think of that?”
Ianto sent Jack that look, the one Jack hated. It was a mixture of pity, amusement and annoyance. It normally meant Ianto was about to be proven right.
“Did the doctor need you?”
Jack huffed and bit out his reluctant response. “Yes”.
“Then I don’t feel guilty about letting you go.”
There were so many things that Jack could say to that, but none of them seemed important right then. He gripped Ianto’s hand that lay casually on Jack’s leg and twisted their fingers together.
Ianto brought their entwinned hands to his mouth, pressing a small kiss to the inside of Jack’s wrist. It set something twisting and dangerous through Jack when Ianto did this. It was the little touches, the small gestures that Ianto did without thinking that lodged in Jack’s chest, somewhere deep and precious where he could lock them away forever.
Ianto looked at him then, his eyes so blue and deep and beautiful.
“Thank you,” he said to Jack. “For coming back.”
“Oh Jones, Ianto Jones,” Jack said, cupping his free hand around Ianto’s jaw. “When are you going to realise that I will always come back for you.”
‘It’s you who won’t always come back for me’.