Title: Agent Eight
Author: Clarity
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack/Ianto & Ianto/Eight friendship
Note: torchwood/Doctor Who cross-over
Summary: A split decision takes Ianto's life off in a completely different direction as he is thrown through time with Captain John and runs into Jack's brother, Gray.

***

It was a case of trying to breathe before trying to speak, even though the latter was the foremost thing on Ianto's mind.

Breathe, breathe and then spew forth the stream of expletives that had burst into his mind the moment he realised what had happened.

Captain John, also fighting to breathe, just returned a slightly quizzical, slightly annoyed look as he leaned on his knees and coughed out some dust. 'Are you finished?' he asked, finally.

'I just paused for breath,' Ianto responded, through gritted teeth.

'Why are you ragging on me? You're the one who just stowed away uninvited.' John snorted and brushed down his jacket. 'Didn't even get to deliver my punchline.'

'Well you shouldn't... you shouldn't have...' Ianto stopped when he realised what he was about to say.

Of course, Captain John noticed this and grinned at him. 'Kissed my ex?'

Ianto hid his irritated grimace by turning away from John under the pretext of likewise dusting himself off, their less than graceful landing having really messed his suit up.

'Hmmm, or should that be your ex?' John coaxed him.

The phrase that flashed through Ianto's mind, that there was nothing "ex" about him and Jack, fizzled and died with the realisation that, no, there actually wasn't anything between them. Yet. Except a promise he was afraid to take to heart.

Instead of answering the question, Ianto cleared the dust from his eyes to look around at their distinctly non-Cardiff surroundings. The more he looked, the more his heart began to thud.

Distinctly non-Earth surroundings, in fact.

'So that punch you failed to land on me was just some sort of Torchwood bonding thing?' John sounded distinctly jaunty now. 'If so, I've gotta tell you, Gwen does it better. She had a better reason too. Hit her mark...'

Ianto turned, sharply, to deliver a scowl. 'I didn't miss. You raised your arm.'

'Right. Right.'

'You raised your arm,' Ianto repeated, grabbing it to hold up his wrist to look at the band on it, 'and I hit this... this device... and then there was a light and some sort of storm and... where the hell are we?'

'Next destination that was programmed onto its list.' John pulled away and ran up some rocks to the summit, holding his arms out. 'This is a moon outpost which, until recently, was crawling with a species called the Bane. We're about two days after the fall of their civilisation. Actually, we're looking at the dust settling from a hundred years of intergalactic war.'

After a long pause, Ianto shrugged. 'It's lovely. Can I go home now?'

'Sorry mate. No way back.' John chuckled.

'That' ridiculous. If you can go there once...'

'I can't go there again. Not exactly. The nearest we could safely do without risk of crossing my timeline would be six months to a year on.'

Ianto clenched his fist a few times, wavering before lashing out and reasoning with him. 'Okay, if that's all I can have, I'll take it. Send me back.'

Captain John leapt down off the rocks and started off across the barren wasteland of orange mud and patches of purple foliage.

'Hey...!' Ianto yelled and quickly ran on behind him. He grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. 'Hey, I told you to send me back!'

'Hands off the merchandise,' John said and straightened his jacket. 'No chance. Because if I take you back now, I won't be able to come back here at the right time and you have no idea what I had to go through to get the intel for this mission.'

'Mission? What mission?'

'That was my punchline. It was a bloody good one too until you ruined it.' Captain John sighed, his eyebrows waggling a little as he muttered, 'Guess if you're my only audience now, I might as well deliver it to you. But we'll have to get going if we're going to get to the fortress by suns-down.' John paused to look Ianto up and down, lecherously. 'You can be my pretty little valet. Come valet, come.'

He set off once again only to find six foot one of pretty valet leaping onto him from behind and wrestling him to the ground in an attempt to get his wristband off him. When it was pulled away, John lay back and laughed at Ianto's frantic attempts to operate it.

'That won't work, you know.'

'Yes it will. It has to.' He had to get home. To Torchwood. To Jack. He just had to.

'It's bonded to my DNA. It can't be used by others, unless I put in the code to unlock it. All Time Agent rift manipulators are made that way.'

Ianto got to his feet and pushed it in John's face. 'Then unlock it.' When he got no response, he pressed even harder. 'Unlock it!'

Captain John grabbed it back and put it back onto his wrist. 'No can do. I know what you're going to say, but hear me out. Like I say, I have a mission and it's somewhat time sensitive. We may already be too late.'

'Too late for what?'

'Follow me. Seriously, I'll explain on the way.' When he realised Ianto was still not following him, he turned back with a sigh. 'Look, this one's for Jack, alright? Trust me, he'll be grateful.'

Ianto gave him a hard stare. 'Promise you'll take me home afterwards.'

John seemed to consider it. 'Sure,' he said, in a way that Ianto wasn't sure whether to believe or not. 'Now let me tell you a little story about a pair of brothers from the Boeshane Peninsula...' John began as they set off towards the dot on the horizon that he knew to be an outpost fortress.

*

They found him amongst all of the bodies, shivering from the cold, clinging onto a rusty knife.

Ianto watched as Captain John triumphantly drew him away from the pit of bodies of dead former prisoners, cleaned him up a little, and started babbling to him about his brother.

All the while, Gray remained nearly silent, his brow furrowed, his eyes cold. Whenever he looked at Ianto, it caused chills.

The first time he seemed to respond was after John had recounted Jack's survival rate to him. Gray turned to him, sharply, and demanded his repeat what he had said. John, still looking smug from his victory at finding the brother Jack had spent years searching for, happily said it all again.

Gray's eyes grew even colder after that, if it was possible. John still didn't seem to notice. He really did like the sound of his own voice.

Ianto soon noticed that Gray looked a lot more comfortable with the technology within the fortress than someone who had been a prisoner ought to be. Even the explanation given, that he had observed the Bane operating their equipment many times, didn't really explain it.

'Oh quit whining,' was Captain John's invariable reply to Ianto's whispered warnings.

Sure enough, when Gray strapped Captain John into one of the Bane's torture trays and proceeded to weld his wristband to his skin, it started to become clear that rescuing Jack's little brother was not the brilliant plan it would have appeared to be on paper.

On the way to the fortress, as they'd walked along the desert, John had shared his intention to rescue and then train Gray up as a Time Agent as a means to draw Jack back into the fold. Since there weren't too many of them left in the time he had come from, it was logical enough to him to do that. He'd made all the arrangements already in fact; Agent Eight, Gray would be. Those few left at the Agency were even waiting for him on their training planet, in the year 5090, on a rock with three orbiting normal moons and two suns.

Ianto didn't intervene when Gray turned on John because, first of all, he had already realised that the bodies he had been sitting amongst when they found him had probably been killed by Gray himself after the Bane fled, and second of all, he already knew that the technology that Gray was now controlling in the fortress involved time travel. This much Gray had been happy to impart as he worked on it, muttering his desire to go back in time and get revenge on his older brother for the perceived failure to protect him.

He didn't try to stop him as he flayed John's flesh and literally welded his wristband to his arm, without so much as a blink at his cries of pain. Ianto could see the danger and, frankly, John was not his concern; in this alien environment, in such imminent danger, Ianto was his primary concern.

Of course, he did try talking Gray down afterwards at least. He couldn't help doing that. 'It wasn't his fault,' he told him. 'Jack wouldn't ever want to hurt you and I'm sure he's sorry for what's happened. John can take us back to where he is and you can talk to him. You'll see he's...'

'I'm not interested in talking to him,' Gray spat, right in his face, turning on him too in an instant. 'He needs to pay,' he continued and moved over to the device which bore more than a passing resemblance to Torchwood three's own rift manipulator. 'I'm going to make my brother pay. He will suffer in ways you can't imagine. A fate... especially for him.'

'What the hell does welding my damn wristband to me have to do with that?' John yelled from his bondage on the other side of the room they were in. 'And, also, OW! This really stings!'

'You will be my diversion,' Gray told him. His cold stare then turned to Ianto as he continued. 'I'm going to take him back in time and then bury him alive. Forever.'

'You can't be serious.'

Gray smiled. It was terrifying.

Ianto took a deep breath and made a dash for John, knowing he had a period sword still attached to his belt. Without his guns, it was the best he could do. Ianto grabbed it and pressed the tip at Gray's neck. 'I'll stop you.'

Gray was still smiling as he turned to look at the sword. 'You can't imagine the ways I've suffered. And believe me when I say that there is nothing you do to stop me.' Calmly, he flicked the switch on the rift-manipulator-esque device and a crack opened up between two clearly designated bars by the wall. Then he pressed his palm to the tip of the blade and pressed in until Ianto saw blood.

He lowered the sword and Gray grabbed onto him, de-arming him in a swift movement.

'I swear I'll stop you,' Ianto growled.

'The fool, I can use. He will be a useful tool. You, however, have no use to me.' Gray pressed the sword tip against his neck and slowly started to apply pressure.

'Gray, some part of you must know that what you're doing is wrong,' Ianto said, stepping backwards to avoid being lacerated. 'Stop! This isn't right. We can take you back, reunite you properly. Jack doesn't deserve your hatred.'

'My brother,' he spat, 'deserves everything he's going to get.'

Ianto looked behind him and realised he was about three feet away from the gaping rift that Gray had opened using Bane technology. He could sense that Gray was going to strike, sure as a rattlesnake would.

Logic told him that it would lead back to Cardiff, back to Jack, if Gray was intending to use it to go back for his revenge.

'I'll warn him, Gray. No matter what, he'll know you're coming. I promise.'

The sword was lowered and Gray was smiling again. 'Then go.'

Ianto turned to it, hesitantly, wondering if he was making a mistake. He looked to John, who just looked completely tense watching him, a curious sort of concern unmistakably in his eyes.

'Go on. I wonder if you could actually do it. It could be quite... interesting.'

'Hey Eye Candy,' John yelled. 'That thing probably isn't calibrated. It could lead anywhere. Just thought you'd like to know.'

The haunting scream of a boy who had been sucked up by the Cardiff rift and lost to the universe for a while stung Ianto's memory. He knew all too well how dangerous the universe could be to those unprepared for its dangers. If he was wrong and that particular rift didn't lead home, he could be lost forever. He could wander for years and go mad like Jonah.

'If you get to Jack first,' Ianto called over to John, voice quivering a little, 'tell him what happened to me. If not... well. It hasn't been much fun and I won't miss you.'

Ianto turned and made a run for it, leaping headfirst into the artificial rift that Gray had opened up. He heard John's voice sound out behind him but had no idea what had been said in the swirling haze that followed.

*

He landed in the middle of pure chaos. There were people running, hundreds of people, running back and forth frantically around him. Families, children, everyone. It was incredibly windy and the purple tinged sky looked as though it was splitting into fragments, like glass breaking up.

It was wrong; all wrong. Not earth. He knew it in a second and felt his heart shatter a little for fear.

Two men in uniforms he didn't recognise grabbed him and he was swept up with the crowds, through the deafening noise and over ground that didn't feel remotely stable.

The people all bundled into shuttles waiting on the periphery of the chaos, apparently evacuating the area. He headed towards one of them, expecting to be able to climb in alongside all of the families and panicking people.

The uniformed men apparently had other ideas. He was escorted to a smaller shuttle, where he was pushed into the back and immediately handcuffed with a strange device that automatically moved as he moved to keep him in one place.

Ianto was able to watch as they lifted off and followed behind the rest of the shuttles, battling through turbulence and flying around what looked like major cyclones shooting out fire into the sky. Through the window, he saw the ground they had been standing on split up like the sky and oscillate, before small fragments being sucked back into a split in the fabric of time down near the ground.

And suddenly, he realised.

He'd fallen through that split and landed on another planet, possibly in another time.

He was lost.

And from what he'd just seen happening on the planet's surface, and from the anger on the faces of the men who had grabbed him, he had a feeling that his arrival had been the catalyst for some sort of catastrophe on that world.

***

He didn't speak the language but he didn't need to.

Ianto knew a trial when he saw it.

Large angry mobs had gathered to watch evidence being given and footage of the catastrophe that was brought on by the rift being shown. He felt small and afraid in the middle of it all, sensing a lot of hostility emanating from these people.

Ianto kept trying to tell them he was sorry, that it was an accident, but of course they didn't understand.

He tried to stay calm and to do what he imagined Jack might do. He decided that that would be to stay strong, keep looking for a way out and not think about the very real fact that he was lost in space and time and had no idea how he was going to find his way home.

Ianto wasn't altogether sure what the sentence passed was, although it did seem to meet with a lot of general approval.

The last thing he thought before he was led away, presumably to face his punishment, was that he really need to take a piss.

He was stripped and put through a machine which felt like a CAT scanner, radiating his body through to the bone. It made him feel dizzy and nauseous; his skin tighter than it should be.

Then, he was led through a room with little lighting to a shimmering cube structure at the centre. One of the aliens activated a device which caused an opening to appear in it, into which Ianto was flung.

When he hit the other side of the ten metre square hollow, the door was already sealing back up.

Inside his cell, there was a board for a bed and a plinth with an activating button on it, but nothing else at all. The lighting was minimal and fluctuating.

He spent the first few hours in a state of terror over the possibility of his air supply running out, since there were no windows and no obvious sources of air. Finally he realised with a sudden jolt that he actually didn't seem to need to breathe. While he was doing it out of habit, now he could hold his breath indefinitely if he wanted to.

Ianto realised that he also wasn't hungry and, although he still felt as though he needed to pee, it wasn't desperate and it wasn't changing. Nor was he growing any stubble.

It didn't take a genius to conclude that they had somehow frozen his body and left his mind carrying on as normal. His punishment was that of solitude and timelessness, he concluded.

At the end of his first week, as the sensory depravation really began to break him down, he found himself admiring the ingenuity of it. There could be nothing worse, truly.

At least, that was what he thought at the time. Ianto wasn't to know that he was going to spend the better part of two hundred years there, in that cell, alone. Then again, it wouldn't have made much difference.

Life was a void. A blur. He had nothing, except ten metres square to pace or stare at or scream into until he hurt his ears. His only source of entertainment or respite came with the plinth; the hated plinth that soon came to be as much his punishment as it was his salvation.

Ianto found out quickly what the button did. It activated something which interfaced with his mind. All he had to do was choose a memory and it would appear like a movie in front of him, hovering in the air above the plinth and making him relive it in Technicolor. But the catch was, once it was over, the memory was gone. He felt like he had lost it from his mind or it had been put out of reach. Each time he did it, he was aware of just having an experience but he couldn't recall what he had seen or felt, aside from a lingering sensation of satisfaction.

Boredom invaded his senses like worms burrowing under his skin and, as much as he hated the notion of trading his memory for a short term fix, there was no other option. He needed something, anything, and it became something he would spend all his time resisting and then rationing as a treat.

At first he gave up small memories; learning to tie his shoelaces; figuring out a perfect recipe for a tasty dish of his creation; grazing his knee as a child; forgetting to pay his fare on a bus once. Small things.

Inevitably, he started to run out of the small memories. That made his memories of bigger events haunt him all the more; his parents' death, meeting Lisa, losing Lisa, Jack Jack Jack, Torchwood and how he'd come to be in that cell. Ianto knew by this time that, increasingly, he was becoming in danger of losing his mind entirely for the sake of pretending for a few moments that he wasn't trapped.

As the years rolled by, unmarked except as part of the endless void he was stuck inside, it seemed less and less important. He traded more and more, at first the memories he didn't want, and then a few he wanted to experience one last time.

When, one day, almost 190 years later, the green figure appeared, blurry and abstract through the gelatine-like surface of the cube, and looked inside, Ianto knew very few things about himself or his life now. He was vaguely aware that he wasn't supposed to be stuck in there. The details of it all were long gone however.

The green figure disappeared for a while and then returned a short time later, standing and looking in yet again.

Finally, the cube melted away.

***

Ianto saw a man with long, curly hair down to his shoulders and incredibly blue, expressive eyes standing across the dark room inside which the cell stood. He was wearing a green velvet coat over his grey trousers, waistcoat and cravat. He looked like nothing Ianto had ever imagined (at least, he supposed he didn't, it wasn't anything he could remember).

Their eyes locked and something passed between them. Ianto had the absurd notion that the stranger was sending a message into his mind; sympathising.

The ground suddenly started to shake and, suddenly, the roof was torn off the room they were in and flew off into a stormy sky.

The spell was broken. The stranger ran to Ianto and grabbed him by the wrist.

'You're the last prisoner locked down,' he yelled as they ran. 'The others were taken but the Ferosians were going to leave you behind and they're gone now. We have to hurry, this planet is tearing itself apart!'

Ianto felt like his skin was on fire and his lungs were aching with a sudden need for oxygen. His whole world had shattered around him and he had absolutely no idea what was happening.

'Bit of an accident, really, but if they will channel universal rift-energy towards their planet to create superweapons then they only have themselves to blame!'

The sky was a swirling mass of orange clouds, illuminated by giant forks of blue lightning and dotted with pieces of buildings and other objects being sucked away.

The stranger led Ianto across a street, away from the shattered building which has housed his prison home, where they narrowly ducked a few flying objects and fought against the wind to keep running.

Across the way stood a blue box, shaking a little in the wind. The stranger apparently had the key to it around his neck.

'Not really used to having guests these days, I have to admit! But don't worry. Climb aboard and I'll take you home. I am correct in my assumption that you're human, am I?'

Ianto opened his mouth but couldn't speak. His throat was constricted - completely out of practise - so he nodded instead.

The door opened and Ianto fled inside to get out of the storm. The stranger ran in after him and pulled the door closed. Then, while Ianto marvelled at the size of the room he was standing in, the stranger ran to the central control console and frantically started pressing buttons and pulling levers.

The box shook from side to side quite violently before finally righting itself and quieting down. The man turned to him, grinning and laughing. Then, he looked down Ianto and his expression changed at once to dismay.

Ianto followed his gaze and realised that his leg was wet, starting from his crotch. Something had happened and he didn't know what it was. Fear struck him hard and he found himself gasping for breath and shaking. Was he bleeding? Was he injured? His legs started to give way at thought.

The man ran over to him and threw his arms around him, cradling him as he sank down. 'It's alright.'

'I... I...' his voice sounded nothing like he expected. It was unfamiliar, like a noise he was making without realising it. 'Dying?'

'No! No not at all. You've just forgotten. It's a natural function but you didn't know to control it.' Sympathy once again radiated from the strange man in the green coat. 'I have similar problems sometimes, with my memory I mean. I... forget. Sometimes. It's a frightening thing. I know you're scared. You were in one of their stasis cells far longer than any of the others... far far longer.'

Ianto swallowed hard, thinking how expressive the eyes he was looking into were; how blue and caring. 'Do I...' he cleared his throat, finding the sensation of speaking odd after so long, 'do I know you?'

The man thought about it for a moment and grinned. 'You do now.'

'Who are you?' Ianto whispered.

'I'm the Doctor.'

Ianto thought about it but came up a blank. 'I'm... Ianto... Ianto...? I can't remember the rest.'

'Then we won't worry about the rest. Ianto will do just fine.'

The Doctor moved to try and help him but Ianto held him fast, looking straight into his bright blue eyes. 'Thank you,' he said.

That truly seemed to touch the man who had rescued him, if his smile was anything to go by. 'No need. From what I know of your arrival on that planet, from their records, you've been the most terrible victim of circumstances. But enough about that. I have a wonderful plan!' He helped Ianto his feet and ran back to the central console, once again pressing buttons and pulling levers with glee. 'The hotpool waterfalls of Sandree. That'll be just the trick to get you cleaned up and feeling human again. Trust me.'

Ianto had questions coming to him second by second but he didn't want to ask them yet, and not only because his voice was an unfamiliar thing right now. For some reason, he trusted the man to tell him later if he should ask. For now, he was willing to sit back and let the Doctor lead him wherever he wanted to go.

One thing he had clung onto with every core of his being was the need to find his way home. Ianto knew that was the most important thing to him; there was something imperative he had to do if he made it. He wasn't sure what that was but hoped he would be able to remember in time.

So he happily allowed himself to be taken over to the waterfalls of an alien world and dunked, without a word said. He then let the Doctor lead him back and throw him into an enormous wardrobe filled with clothes from every time and place in the universe with instructions to find something he liked, even if he wasn't yet comfortable choosing anything too dissimilar from the boilersuit he'd lived in for so long.

The Doctor told him that there were ways to recover memories and he was going to help him. Ianto was happy to go along with that too. He wasn't very talkative but the Doctor didn't seem to mind. A lot of the time, they seemed able to communicate without speech anyway by virtue of thinking much the same in most situations.

The first time a memory returned to Ianto, a fews weeks later, it hit him with such force he was left in tears.

The Doctor had torn a small hole in his green velvet coat. Ianto had taken it from his shoulders and started thinking about how to repair it. Then, suddenly, he remembered doing this before with another coat; one incredibly precious to him. He felt a squeeze to his heart as he remembered the blue coat and his insides were left quivering as the memory departed.

It was the start of a long road. It took some time for the Doctor to track down the people he knew might be able to help Ianto regain himself. They were wanderers, like goatherds travelling across intergalactic spans, tending to their animals. One such animal had an ability to pull lost memories to the surface and that was what the Doctor wanted Ianto to try.

The animal - the charmingly named borfalger wetch — looked something like a dog in form but with a four-legged starfish in place of a head. That part detached, Ianto found, as it was to be stuck against his temple.

The leach immediately suctioned on and then, to Ianto's horror, seemed to embed itself with razor-like barbs. It took hours and hours, during which he was vaguely aware of the Doctor dabbing his forehead with a damp cloth and occasionally holding his hand. The starfish seemed to melt in a little and then went still. Ianto then found himself with a whole lot of new memories of who he was and where he came from.

It was all a jumble still. He didn't know what time he was from, although he knew he came from the original Earth. He remembered some of his childhood and something about metal stomping robot-men that struck fear right through him. He remembered there was someone he wanted to see; someone with a big smile, eyes as blue as the Doctor's and a coat that made his heart swell for some reason.

The name of the man was a mystery but it was something to hold onto at least.

With the starfish thing - the 'wetch' part he soon learned - now apparently permanently a part of him until its task was done, memories slowly started to return. It was a start down his road to recovery.

He gave up his boilersuit and found something he felt more affinity for; a nicely tailored English suit from the 1920s Earth era that fitted him to a tee. He found ways to return the kindness shown to him by the Doctor by serving him tea and ensuring his slippers, records and books were always on hand; small things that were really appreciated.

Small things that made him feel peaceful and at home.

Ianto found himself running across planets, watching cosmic events and meeting people he could never have imagined. The Doctor was like an overgrown child, running from place to place and having adventure after adventure. Yet he also had a lingering sadness which Ianto wished he couldn't sense; loneliness beyond measure. Ianto did everything he could to help of course, and he knew that it was appreciated, but there were just some things that couldn't be cured.

Several months after coming aboard the TARDIS, Ianto finally woke up one day with the wetch pulsing and memories of his need to find a planet with three orbiting normal moons and two suns; his home, perhaps? He remembered that he had to stop a man he didn't know from doing something..

However, to own surprise, Ianto found himself not wantinig to think about. He actually didn't want to remember anything more. He was happy with the Doctor, in some strange way. Besides, he was now a little afraid of leaving the Time Lord alone, knowing of the deep well of despair that always existed just below the surface. I

Unfortunately, it was at that point that the universe started dictating its own commands. The Doctor and the TARDIS were plunged into the middle of a war; Ianto saw a thousand planets burn and collapse in exactly the same way as the planet he'd fallen onto so long ago, Ferosia, had expired. Causality was catching up with them, according to the Doctor, because the Time Lords were manipulating timerifts to try and defeat the Dalek invasion, but because the Daleks also had access to the same technology they were also changing things to thwart the attempts. It was like one big game of chess, with a billion planets being sacrificed as pawns and no one able to reach checkmate. With every move, time was being altered in an attempt at defeating the other side and chaos was encroaching.

The Doctor said that the only way to stop them was to take away their power; to channel the vortex energy powering the attacks elsewhere and erase the changes. The idea greatly agitated him and through his babbling, Ianto came to understand why.

The power had to go somewhere to be directed. The only option was to put it in the Doctor so that he could untie time and stop the war himself. Even Ianto soon came to understand why that was a frightening prospect, as much as he had full faith in the Doctor's goodness to prevail.

'No one should have that kind of power,' the Doctor told him. 'Least of all me.'

They landed the TARDIS on a red planet, in a rocky valley under the shadow of a great white palace, and Ianto walked behind the Doctor as he trod the path towards a large black circular disk hung in the air like a gong.

'The Untempered Schism,' the Doctor explained as they approached, very slowly. 'I said I'd never go near this thing again.'

'What is it?'

'It's a window into everything. Pure power over all time. It leads to the central nexis of all of time and space and it powers the TARDIS. She holds within her a link to the outer fringe of it, but this... this looks right into the heart. Pure unbridled power. Enough to burn the universe to ashes.' There were tears in his eyes as they grew close. Then the Doctor suddenly turned to Ianto, quickly, body tense. 'What if I...?'

'You won't. I know you.' Ianto squeezed his hand, confidently, because yes, he really did know him that well now. He knew him on a level above his own understanding. 'If this is the only way… I trust you.' Gently, he turned him back around to approach the gateway and let him go.

'I sensed this was going to happen a long time ago. As a child. It told me this would come to pass. That I would...' The Doctor slowly allowed his gaze to fall on the swirling vortex. 'I ran and vowed to prove it wrong.'

Ianto released his hand and stepped backwards away. Something was already starting to happen; the vortex appeared to be bending time and space to reach out and half engulf him. That in turn started to draw in their surroundings and hold them fast in an out of shape fashion, like a fly trapped in glue. The Doctor turned around to him and his eyes were bursting with bright light, so much so that Ianto had to avert his gaze.

'Guilty,' something that sounded like the Doctor but wasn't said, 'both guilty. Can't be untangled. But I... I can't. Alone. Alone forever.' The light seemed to grow dark, his face twisting with rage that made him ugly. 'Why? Why should I sacrifice my own kind? We owe the universe nothing. Kill the Daleks. Kill. Kill! Kill! We are Time! We do not die! Lesser beings... not worthy. Not worthy of the exchange! We are so much more! No!'

Ianto could feel the blackness seeping around him too now. It felt exactly like the lonely void he had always sensed as present within the Doctor coming to the surface stronger than ever. 'No Doctor!' he yelled. 'Don't!' He knew he had to bring the Time Lord back to his senses; remind him that this was what he had feared all along. 'Please...!'

Ultimate power was the ultimate temptation, after all. It didn't matter how good a person was.

Ianto ran to him and clasped his hands to his head, staring right into the holes where his eyes had been, trying to communicate the goodness he knew to exist back into him somehow. It was agony; immediate and absorbing. His hands burned like they were on fire. His eyes seered like they would explode any moment.

Then, for a moment, the Doctor seemed to be himself again. 'It told me I would destroy my own kind…' he whispered. 'I… have… no… choice…'

The Doctor roared and the sound seemed burst out across everything in an instant, engulfing the universe and time itself. Ianto was aware of nothing more after that.

***



He woke up on a beach. The sky was blue, the ocean likewise and the sand golden under the two suns above.

There was a man kneeling over him; not one he recognised. He had short, cropped hair, rather large ears and was wearing a black leather jacket.

'Awake now?' he asked in what Ianto recognised to be a fairly thick Northern English accent.

Ianto frowned and nodded, slowly, utterly perplexed.

'Good. Thought you were a gonner for a while there. Most humans would have been. I don't quite know... ah well, never mind.' He stood up and blocked the light over Ianto. 'Just wanted to say thank you. You gave me that little extra push I needed. The universe, well, it's looking fine now. Fantastic even! No more Daleks. No more...' He paused a moment as if to fight back a swell of emotion and cleared his throat to cover it. 'The great Time War's over and a lot of planets and populations are back where they should have been all along. I hope you don't mind me stranding you here but, well, I've been thinking that it's time to go it alone for a while. Safety; that sort of thing. Humans, they aren't really made for this sort of life. Oh but, before I forget,' the man held up a green velvet coat and draped it over Ianto, 'I wanted to give you this. You got rather attached to it so... seems only fair. Not really my style anymore.'

After an awkward moment, impulsively, the man leaned over and kissed Ianto on the forehead. 'This was the only place and time in your memory I could identify as somewhere you needed to be. Hope it's right, even if it's not Earth. Good luck finding your way home.'

If Ianto had had the presence of mind, he might have called to the man to stop and not leave him there, all alone. He would have realised who he was far sooner. He wouldn't have just nodded, dumbly, and let him go.

For a while, he couldn't do much more than clutch at the coat and stay still. He felt strange, inside and out, like his skin had taken on a new texture or he was sitting upside-down on a sideways planet.

Eventually, the tide started to come in and he had to move or else be submerged. Ianto tried to brush himself down as well as he could but his hands hurt. He jolted as he saw them. They looked like they were still on fire inside; a mess of black and simmering orange patches which almost appeared to glow. They didn't feel as bad as they looked but they did still hurt.

The sleeves of his jacket were irreparably scorched too, so he dumped it. Besides, the velvet coat was far more pleasant to the touch and smelled of the only fully fledged memories he had; his life on the TARDIS with the Doctor.

That was a life he had to leave behind now because the Doctor was gone. Not just walked away, completely gone. He could sense that, like a void had opened up inside the fabric of his being. He never did understand what that strange connection they had shared was; although the Doctor had once explained as being a natural kinship shared by all who had or someday would travel through time. There was some sort of bond that brought such travellers together somehow, as though the act itself was transcendental. That was how he kept running into the same people all the time, or so the Doctor thought. Ianto liked the idea for the most part, except that it also seemed to cause a greater sense of loss if his current feelings were anything to go by.

The sky above him grew dark too quickly and it got very cold very quickly. Ianto took shelter under a large set of rocks with an overhang.

As it began to rain and storm overhead, he found himself crying. He was scared. The realisation that he was alone and lost hit him hard.

Not too long ago, being alone had been something he was all too used to. It had been a source of solace even for a while, making it a comfort zone he'd had to fight to be free of to function. Now he felt like a small child that had been abandoned in an unfamiliar place.

He put a hand on the wetch, still attached to his temple, and tried to will it to find more memories to hold onto. Although he knew that the planet he was now on had something to do with stopping the man he had come to remember as "Gray" and going home, the details were still far too fuzzy. Ianto still didn't really remember why this Gray needed to be stopped. All he knew was that he had to do it; he'd promised and really meant it at the time.

He'd spent over a hundred years contemplating that as well. So even though he'd lost much of the detail, he knew it was important. He knew he had to hold himself together and find a way home.

Daylight came again faster than he expected. Ianto came out of his hiding and almost immediately came face to face with the barrel of a something which looked like a weapon.

Over it he saw the face of an old man with piercing brown eyes, cold yet intelligent. 'Who are you?' he asked.

Ianto narrowed his eyes a little, scrutinising the man. He definitely didn't recognise him; a feeling that was patently mutual. He wore a long black jacket with white trim at the cuffs and collar and insignia that meant nothing to Ianto. Then he caught sight of something on his wrist; a brown wristband.

The wetch creature on his temple dug in more and he started seeing something forming in his mind.

'I said, who are you?' the man asked again, and pressed the weapon against his neck.

It exploded a burst of electricity through his body, making him shudder all over. With it came a clear memory of the angry man he had seen in his mind before; the one he needed to stop. 'Gray,' he mumbled and shuddered as the wetch slowly slid down the side of his face, leaving a trail of slime blood which he wiped away with his sleeve. Ianto lifted the creature off and looked at it. Through his tears of stinging pain, he could see that it was dead. It felt strange not to have it stuck to him anymore.

'What?' the man barked.

Ianto let the wetch fall to the sand, still in a state of some confusion from the new memories, and slowly looked up again at the man. 'Gray...'

One eyebrow quirked and the gun was lowered. 'Where's Agent Five?' Before Ianto could respond, he put his gun away and tutted. 'Never mind. Probably stalking our errant and beautiful Agent Seven, if his last message was anything to go by.'

He held out his hand and Ianto accepted it, gingerly, to be yanked to his feet.

'You don't look much like your brother. Never mind. I hope you're ready to begin training right away.' The man started away. 'There's no time to waste.'

'Training?' Ianto called out, half shuffling behind him, half hanging back out uncertainty.

'Was it not made clear to you? I authorised your rescue on the condition that you become our newest Time Agent.'

'Oh.' Seeing the suspicion in the man's eyes, Ianto nodded and straightened his back. 'Yes.'

'No matter, son. We expected a little trauma, considering your past. Actually, I'm counting on that having made you strong enough to get through this challenge quicker than most.'

It was all about the wristband, Ianto realised. That was something he had wanted to find for a long time, and had forgotten. 'I'm ready,' he said, bolder now with the certainty that this was something he was going to have to do, as part of his more long term aims to find his way home and accomplish the important task he couldn't quite remember yet.

This certainty earned him a wry smile. 'Good. Before we head off to the training facility, let's get the preliminaries out of the way. With our ranks diminished, I'm currently Agent One because I'm the most superior and long serving of us left. Ergo, I will be your trainer. If you succeed in this training, you will go out and recruit others and help us rebuild the Time Agency. That will be your purpose. If you fail, you'll be buried on this dead rock and forgotten. It's as simple as that.'

Ianto nodded, sharply.

'Then follow me. We have a good hour's walk ahead of us.' He paused a moment, to snort. 'I wish you had been dropped here a little closer to the complex. Trust Five. No consideration for others, that boy.'

Ianto was happy to accede to the man's authority and follow behind. He threw a glance or two back towards the ocean, unable to quite push down the sense of regret he felt at being left behind by the Doctor, even though he sensed that this was probably how it was supposed to be.

Soon enough, the ocean receded and they were wandering along a landscape of brown rock and hardy plants dotted about, knowing that there was no turning back.

***

Cardiff. That was what the city was called. It sounded beautiful to Ianto's ears, since he hadn't quite been able to remember it before actually landing there.

Of course, he remembered Earth. And Wales. It was just that little detail that hadn't quite returned to him yet before he'd landed there.

He stood under the shadow of the water tower and smiled. It felt right.

Slowly, he stepped forwards and removed one of his gloves so he could dip his fingers into the cold water. But no sooner had he closed his eyes to savour the sensation had he almost been knocked from his feet.

The ground was moving. It took a moment for him to realise that he was sinking downwards.

Ianto contemplated grabbing onto the paving slabs that weren't moving and hanging on. It was too late to try that, however. So he put his glove back on and then stayed as still as he could until the ride grew smooth. Then he looked over the side.

There were people down there, on the ground of wherever he was being lowered into.

Trap, he thought, automatically. Prepare.

Ianto remained calm and still as the slab he was standing on lowered right the way down and clicked into place on a hydraulic pad. The three people staring at him looked more shocked than dangerous but he didn't pay attention to that.

'Ianto...?' one of them, a dark haired woman wearing a purple skirt and tight white blouse, said and stepped forwards, quickly.

In less than a second he had his twin guns drawn and held out in warning, although his expression didn't even flicker.

'Whoa whoa whoa!' the man said, stepped between him and the women, holding his hands out. 'Ianto mate, it's us! What the fuck?'

A door clicked open on the ring level above them and Ianto couldn't help but look to the side to see, though he was careful to keep his guns steady. There was another man coming out of the greenhouse up there; a taller one in a blue shirt which matched his eyes, even from that distance.

He saw Ianto and stood motionless for a moment. Their eyes met and a twinge of recognition flittered into mind. It didn't last long.

This second man broke into a run along the deck and ran down the stairs, making a run straight for Ianto.

The threat posed was clear. Ianto re-aimed and fired a warning shot over the man's shoulder, causing a nearby console to explode in sparks and instantly melt.

That stopped the strange man dead in his tracks, his expression both shocked and a little hurt all of a sudden. 'Ianto? What...?'

He didn't feel much like speaking yet; even now, almost two years after being liberated from his lonely cell, that didn't come particularly naturally. Instead, he let his gun do the talking by holding it steady at them while he looked around at his surroundings a little better.

Apparently, he had been lowered into some sort of base built underneath Cardiff. Not too advanced technology-wise. Messy though, with all the cups and pizza boxes scattered about. Needed airing. Finally, he caught sight of writing on the side of one of the walls and the letters made sense. He managed to read it off. 'Torchwood,' he thought.

'Put down your guns, Ianto.' The blue-shirted man was edging towards him.

'You know my name,' he observed, quirking an eyebrow.

'Course we do,' the shorter man scoffed, with considerably more attitude than the taller one.

'You don't remember us?' one of the women asked. She had really big, expressive eyes, he noticed.

'Sorry,' he said, quietly. Ianto put his guns away and stood with his gloved hands behind his back. They didn't seem to be enough of a risk to stand on ceremony. 'I'm looking for a man called Gray.'

They looked amongst themselves. The general consensus seemed to be that they didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

'Alright. Send me back up. Now.'

'Hold on,' the smaller woman in the skirt said and hurried to one of the desks. She opened a drawer and pulled out a photograph which she proceeded to hold outstretched, approaching Ianto closely.

He cautiously looked the image. It was of her and of a man he actually didn't recognise at first. It was himself; a version of himself he didn't remember anymore. Young. Very young.

Ianto put one of his guns away and took the picture in his hand. While he stared at it, the tall man in the blue shirt climbed up next to him on the paving slab lift. 'I thought you were gone forever,' he said, quietly.

Ianto blinked and lowered the photograph, frowning.

'I wanted to look for you but I had no idea where to start.' He sighed, deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. 'It's been almost five months since you were taken. I thought that was a long time. You look like it's been far longer for you.' The man beside him smiled, sadly. 'Oh Ianto,' he whispered and reached out as if to cup his face.

Ianto reacted almost without thinking as he stepped back, as if burnt by fire, raising his gun again. The other three all jumped a little in surprise as he did. He threw the photograph down to the floor and glared at them all, feeling irrational but unable to shake the feeling of anger at being ambushed by his distant past like this.

He pushed the man beside him off the paving slab lift and pulled the sleeve of his green velvet jacket back to gain access to his Time Agency wristband so he could hack it. Ianto didn't put his gun away again until it had raised him up high enough for them to be out of sight.

When at last he was back on the surface, under the water tower, he strutted away, feeling unaccountability angry over what had just happened.

In the back of his mind, he knew that it had been stupid to reject the people who had known him once so quickly. They could have helped him to remember more than he did; maybe enough to find the all-important Gray, whoever the hell he was. It was stupid to be frightened of remembering too much. Yet for some reason, he had felt almost threatened by them, as though the act of knowing too much of who he used to be might destroy the person that he had spent ten painful and intensive months training to become.

Agent Eight.

He didn't know much of his first life but he had an idea that it hadn't exactly been spectacular. Not happy either, not really. Aside from seeing to his Unfinished Business, it wasn't something he thought he'd really want to go back to.

As for his second life, in the cube, well he wanted to forget of that as possible. That was a nearly never-ending nightmare he couldn't afford to dwell on for his own sanity.

His third life with the Doctor had shown him what it was to have a purpose again and to know what it was to be devoted to another. It still ached not to be with him, serving him tea and learning all the wonders of the universe. The loss of the man he knew still hurt in ways he couldn't describe, and the strange fire still burning inside his hands from his final moments with his Doctor were a constant reminder of the life he had been rejected from. That too was an unhappy contemplation.

His fourth life had focused everything he had learned since emerging from the cube and had harnessed skills he never knew he had. Agent One had unlocked potential he hadn't realised he had. He'd made him into a fighter. The Agent had not been entirely kindly in his approach, true. Ianto had nearly broken more than once but he had come to appreciate the pressure. Without it, he would never have known the power resting in him, or that he could channel it. And truthfully he liked who he was now, in some strange way. Ianto liked the feeling of strength and confidence that being a Time Agent gave him. It masked all of the fear and loneliness existing just under the surface and allowed him to function far better than before. The mask fit perfectly.

As he walked, he felt a slight buzz in his wristband which alerted him to the presence of another Agent. Ianto turned around, sharply. Across the Plas, he saw the man who had tried to touch his face.

He would have turned and carried on but something caught his eye. Something which struck him like a bolt of lightening and left him paralysed.

The coat.

Blue coat.

The man walked towards him and as he did, Ianto felt his chest swelling from the inside out. He could hardly breathe as a litany of memories started to bombard him from every direction.

Captain Jack Harkness. Errant Time Agent. His mortal enemy; the love of his life; his master; his teacher; his reason for living most days. Long, long ago at least.

The man hurried over to him, coat billowing behind him like a cape in the breeze. Something of the uncertainty in Ianto's eyes seemed to be reflected as he drew close and, when only another pace would have joined them, they both remained still for a while, staring at one another. Jack seemed to be trying to say something but couldn't quite get it out. Ianto stood perfectly still, letting his emotions wash over him but also using his training to prevent them from taking command.

'Like the coat,' Jack blurted out at last and laughed, nervously.

Ianto didn't want to speak just yet but he couldn't help but smirk a little at that as it stirred up a few more memories.

'I'm sorry if I spooked you. I... I don't know what to say. I really thought...' Jack shook his head and sighed. 'I'm glad to see you. Even like this.'

'Like this?' he asked, sounding more offended than he really was.

'I hardly recognise you.'

Ianto gave him a curt nod. He contemplated telling him about his memory loss but didn't have the chance.

'I want to know what happened to you, Ianto. Everything. I need to know.' Jack stepped forwards and took hold of his wrist to look at the futuristic leather band on it. 'For a start, how did you get this? Was it John's? What happened to him?'

He snatched his hand back and glared a warning against Jack touching him again.

Jack looked suitably chastised. 'Sorry. I just... I had visions of you coming back like the people we have to send to Flat Holm. Or not at all. I can't believe you're really here.'

Ianto closed his eyes, tilting his head upwards a little and feeling the first drops of approaching rainfall on his face.

'Let's go somewhere,' Jack suggested, and quickly added, 'to talk.'

After a long moment of contemplation, Ianto agreed with a nod. 'Where?'

'Don't care.'

'I don't know this area anymore.'

Jack thought for a moment and then started away, inviting Ianto to follow him with a look. They turned down a small side alley and Jack led him up the fire escape of a tall building. He helped him climb in through an unlocked window on the top floor and they continued up the inner stairs onto the roof.

The view was excellent of the bay stretching out like it owned the world. The air was crisp and a little cold up there, but not too strong.

Jack was clearly no stranger to this roof. He led Ianto over to an area where they could sit and watch the water, under a slight concrete ledge offering some protection from the cold and rain.

'No one will bother us up here. It's just you and me.' Jack angled to him and tentatively moved to take his hand.

Ianto snatched it back, instinctively, more out of surprise that offence. The hurt in Jack's eyes and the poor attempt to hide it made him sigh; he must seem so irrational. Actually, it was quite irrational, since he rememebered knowing Jack and got the sense that they had once been close.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, rubbing his gloved hand, thoughtfully. He didn't like to take off his gloves since his hands were still as tingly and strange as they were the day he woke up on the training outpost's beach. The gloves helped. Much as he thought he liked the Captain, he wasn't quite ready to share his hands yet.

'You're so jumpy.' Jack tried to make light of it, even though his eyes were indelibly fixed on him and radiating concern. 'You don't look at me the way you used to.'

'It's been a very long time since I last saw you.'

Jack fidgeted inside his coat for a moment before producing the photograph he had been shown before. 'I took this photo. I know because of the way you're looking at the camera. You only ever looked at me that way.' He held it out to him, smiling fondly. 'You and Toshiko, about six months ago. Our time.'

He resisted looking and getting distracted again. 'I don't remember her.'

'Why?' The concern was back in Jack's expression. He then frowned, deeply, as he thought it all through. 'How long have you been away?'

Ianto once asked the Doctor how long he'd been in his cell. A big show was made of working it out, only for him to keep calculating it into time frames Ianto didn't know of. He only understood when the Doctor had figured out how long it would have been in Earth time. With an extra two years or so added, taking into account his time on the TARDIS and in training, he had been gone roughly, 'One hundred and ninety years, or thereabouts.'

That understandably flustered Jack. It took a moment for him to get a grasp of his voice again. 'You look good for your age,' he blurted, and nervously laughed before turning serious again. 'How?'

'It's not important,' Ianto said, almost before he'd finished saying the word.

'Alright. But is that why you don't remember Torchwood?'

'It's a related factor, yes.' Ianto turned to him and gave him smile. 'I will remember in time. I've managed to remember a surprising amount about you already.'

'Priorities! Good!' Jack shuffled a little closer to him. 'So, do you remember that I asked you out on a date before you left?'

'N... um... oh yes!' Ianto chuckled as that recollection returned to him.

'Just want to make it clear right now that I still intend to collect on that, memory or no memory.'

That made Ianto laugh out loud; something he couldn't remember doing in a very long time. He put his hand over his mouth in surprise.

Jack just smiled at him, eyes sparkling. Ianto couldn't help but be drawn in with the memories of how this man had once inspired passion unlike anything else he'd ever known in him.

'Ah, there's the look I was after,' Jack whispered, and pressed his hand to Ianto's cheek.

Although Ianto had a mind to allow the contact, the sensations it inspired were alien to him. His heart started to pound and his mouth all of sudden went dry. It was... too much.

He pulled away. 'I uh... I came back here for a reason. Not you.'

'I'm heartbroken,' Jack half-joked.

'When I was losing my memories, the one thing I held onto was that I needed to find someone. Now I remember you, it's like another piece of the puzzle falling into place.' When he had first met Agent One, he had accidently introduced himself as Gray; and he had learned that this person - the one that was actually expected there for training - was the younger brother of a wayward Agent who had gone off the radar.

Agent Seven. Captain Jack Harkness.

'I need to know about your brother. I need to know about Gray.'

Jack couldn't have paled faster had Ianto whacked him across the face with a kipper. If the mood hadn't already started to fail, it completely choked and died in that instant.

'Captain?'

The man blinked, hard and looked aside like he was having to concentrate on the simple act of breathing.

'Jack? Please?'

'I lost him. A long time ago. It was my fault.'

'When?' he pushed.

'I... I don't want to talk about it.'

Ianto sighed. 'This is important. Do you know where he is?'

The face that had been so warm and tender before had grown tearfully angry. Jack looked like he could burst for anguish and pain. 'Don't you think I've looked for him? Don't you think I looked in every corner of the universe trying to put it right?'

'I... I didn't mean to...'

'I know. I know.' Jack gave him a sideways glance and a halfway smile that didn't really convince.

Ianto got to his feet, making as if to leave.

'Hey, hold up.' Jack sprung to his feet and grabbed onto him. 'Where are you going?'

'If you don't know... that is, I don't want to stir up bad memories for you needlessly. I need to keep searching.'

Jack held him fast by his forearms, refusing to let him go. 'Wait up. Look, maybe you know already. Maybe it's one of those memories waiting to be revived and, well, if that's the case, I want to know as much as you do. So stay, Ianto. Please. Stay. Let me help you remember.'

In the end, the decision was all too easy. It was easy to fall into Jack's beautiful eyes and agree to anything that might bring the promise of a happy crinkle at their edges.

Before he knew it, Ianto was back underneath the water tower, staring up at it while Jack took his place on the lift that had plunged him downwards before. Jack held out a hand but Ianto needed no such incentive to take his place on the lift as well.

As they descended, he marvelled at how strangely right it felt to be at Jack's side.

***

Ianto knew they thought he was asleep. They had to think that, or they wouldn't be talking the way they were so nearby.

He was actually more dozing than sleeping. His Time Agency training had made it practically impossible to sleep for more than an hour in unfamiliar surroundings so he couldn't have snatched much shuteye, even after accidently crashing on Torchwood's couch.

'I don't know what to think,' Jack was muttering, quietly.

'I know what you mean,' a woman responded. He somehow knew that it was Toshiko Sato, the petite woman whom he now half remembered as being someone he had once liked and admired.

One of them sighed and there was a long silence, during which he could feel eyes upon him, prickling his skin.

'I suppose it doesn't matter,' the Captain continued, 'I get the sense he's not planning to stick around for long.'

'Really?' Toshiko sounded really surprised.

Another sigh, this time definitely from Jack. 'I pictured him coming home a thousand times and never once did I see him coming home and not seeing it as home, you know?'

A pause, and then, 'I'm sorry.'

In his mind's eye, Toshiko had her hand on Jack's shoulder now.

'No, it's fine. It's just… a lot to take in. But I'm going to help him remember as much as possible. Maybe he'll remember enough about this place, and us, to want to stay.'

'I hope so. I really do.'

'Me too.'

Inside, Ianto winced; they both sounded so lost and he knew he was responsible.

'Is this…' Jack started after a moment of silence, somewhat abruptly, 'is this what you felt like when I… when I came back?'

Toshiko snorted, so soft it could almost be missed, and probably smiled at the question.

'Forget I asked,' came a response in tones of bemusement and possibly a little shame.

Ianto felt a pang in his chest which he didn't quite know how to identify, like a memory of strong emotion attempting to break through into his consciousness. The emotion was linked with Jack, that much he knew; something about the coming back comment.

As they both walked away, leaving him in peace, Ianto allowed himself to drift off into a light sleep filled with new memories of days spent in longing for the man. The memories of that time were so exceptionally powerful, it wasn't long before he woke up, starting back to animation and inadvertently groaning at the way his brain seemed to bounce in his head.

He found himself approaching Jack's office, sensing his presence in there somehow. Ianto stood at the threshold looking at Jack, and Jack looked up to him from the papers he was looking over with a quizzical look. But he didn't say anything, which suited Ianto just fine; he had nothing to say, really. He just felt compelled, for some reason, to be there.

Ianto leaned against the door frame, head resting to the side, arms folded. Jack leaned back in his chair and continued to stare back. The air between them was static, as if they each knew that something had to happen.

Eventually, Ianto made his way to Jack's desk, leaning back against it so he was perched on its edge next to him. Jack tentatively held out his hand and Ianto took hold of it, in a way that wasn't possessive, or needy, or even wanting. It was merely the establishment of a connection.

It was a start.

***

The more of his old life he remembered, the sillier Ianto felt.

What was he doing with guns, and a vortex manipulator, and a coat which screamed out 'adventurer!'? He was - as Owen had taken to reminding him in his contribution to making him feel at home again - just a teaboy. Just a suit. A human filing system. He was the facilitator of adventurers and heroes.

That was what had made him happy when he had been with the Doctor; right? Being his facilitator, his carer and confidant. That was surely who he was at heart.

Now he felt kind of silly over his dramatic entrance and everything he had become.

As for all the training he had received from Agent One, and occasionally Agents Two and Three when they had deigned to put in an appearance; all the assault courses, time travel exercises, sleep depravation, physics assignments, weapons training, the field trips to dangerous times and places that had left him physically and mentally exhausted… well he had made it through all that through necessity. It wasn't really in his nature to be one of them. He wasn't a gung-ho hero type.

It wasn't long before he had put on his old suits again and then it was almost like he had never left.

The velvet jacket went into a box in the bottom drawer of Jack's desk, with his guns, followed a week or so later by his vortex manipulator. Although his gloves had to remain, and the scar on his temple was not so easily locked away, for all intents and purposes, he was Ianto Jones again. He fitted again.

It seemed to suit everybody best. Jack stopped watching him like a hawk, as though he'd slip the net and disappear again at the first opportunity, Gwen stopped taking time out to be with him in case he suddenly needed a heart to heart, Owen stopped ignoring him and Toshiko started to relax around him.

So what if the memories had come with a price? So what if they had triggered the old nightmares about the fall of Torchwood One. This was home.

Of course, he and Jack had fallen back into bed almost instantly. That was inevitable. And between that and running off to save the good citizens of Cardiff from the rift and, sometimes, from themselves, together he and Jack also fitted in a good deal of time working on Ianto's memory.

For the most part, the work succeeded. The Hub itself proved a very useful companion in reminding Ianto of a hundred things he should remember about the place and his life there. He didn't remember much of his life before Torchwood Three, save snatches torn from nightmares, but somehow that didn't seem all that important.

The big problem was now Gray. Ianto had come to remember Captain John and the unfortunate incident of his being thrown through time with him. He recalled something about a fortress in a desert, and that Gray wore brown sackcloth clothes, but not being able to go back to that fortress limited his ability to remember it. He still didn't know why he had the impression that he needed to stop Gray. He just didn't know why.

Jack's desire to know what Gray had to do with it all was continued with a wary desperation, as though he wasn't sure what he'd do if Ianto suddenly knew the answer. It was a bridge they both wordlessly knew they would have to simply cross when they reached it.

That was how things continued. Back to normality, more or less, until one cold morning when Torchwood walked right into a trap set by Captain John and had the senses near knocked out of them.

Finally, as he lay underneath the rubble, fearing for the lives of his friends, it all came back to Ianto. Everything.

When Jack and Gwen pulled him out, he couldn't stop himself babbling. The words were finally flowing about Gray and about what he did to John and about his plan to come back and find him and bury him alive and…

Jack listened but his mind was on his team and making sure they were all alive. But Ianto words were soon enough confirmed by the message left on Jack's vortex manipulator, even if Captain John didn't seemed to be quite as injured as Ianto had expected him to be after what he'd seen.

Events started to run away with him. Jack sent everyone out to answer the calls for help growing city-wide as the rift began to yawn and flutter and Ianto went, despite his well-honed instincts telling him, screaming at him, not to let Jack out of his sight.

Thing was, he was just Ianto now. Just Ianto Jones. Not the hero. That was Jack's department. And Jack knew what he was doing.

That was the thought Ianto held on to right up until he discovered Jack was missing and all hell was breaking loose. When he saw Cardiff burning, he started to wonder.

Ianto knew he had to get back to the Hub. He had to get his vortex manipulator and find Jack. It was their only hope.

But before he even made it that far, there were Weevils to be knocked out and locked up, and once he had been lured into one of the cells that was that. There was no way to get to his vortex manipulator.

Ianto knew with all the certainty of that terrible void opening inside his stomach that he had blown it. Ianto Jones had failed.

Long ago, he had surrendered something vital for the want of a moment of life. He had given a memory he shouldn't have lost to plinth in his prison cell and he had failed to bring it back in time to do what he had sent himself hurtling through time in the hope of doing. Worse, he had lost sight of what all the training and effort to earn his ticket home had been for. He had so much wanted to go back to how things were before, with Jack and with Torchwood, he had ignored the little voice at the back of his mind warning him that it was a big mistake.

Gray had won. He'd won.

And fuck Ianto Jones for letting that happen.

***

Jack and Gwen never knew what he did after they had bagged up all of Toshiko and Owen's possessions and parted to grieve.

Ianto went straight to the drawer in Jack's office and removed the box that he placed in the bottom, opening it as carefully as one would if opening Pandora's Box. The Doctor's velvet coat was still there, neatly folded into three and framed by his twin guns. His wristband was still on top of the pile, looking plain against the green finery.

He dropped his suit jacket into the bin in the corner of the room and said goodbye to everything it represented.

Jack and Gwen never knew that, once he had put his coat back on, he went across to the medical bay and opened the drawer containing the cryogenic chamber Jack had placed his brother inside. They didn't see, since all of the cameras had been so easily disabled, when he opened up its inner workings and used his manipulator to hack into the settings. Nor did they see him open up the lid and wait, patiently, for Gray's eyelids to flutter open.

'Hello,' Ianto said, evenly. 'A long time ago, I promised I would stop you. It seems I failed, and you have been responsible for the deaths of two people I came to have great affection for.' He smiled a little, sadly. 'I haven't felt that sense of family for a while. Perhaps it's not something you ever had the chance to understand. But I think that, if you knew, you wouldn't have done what you did.' Ianto paused, seeing confusion in Gray's eyes. 'Oh, don't be concerned, you're cryogenically frozen. Unable to move. Usually, the mind is inactive too but I've taken the liberty of making a few adjustments to this booth.' He leaned in closer. 'See, I know what it's like to be stuck in a box, conscious but not really alive. I know the torment. I think Jack does too now, thanks to you.' Ianto stood up and gave him a big smile which quickly turned into a snarl. 'I think it's only fair you have a taste as well. Enjoy eternity Gray.'

He banged the lid of the chamber closed, hiding the whites of Gray's wide open eyes from view, and pushed the draw back into place. The door clicked closed and he took a moment to lock it. No one would be opening it for some time, after all.

As he turned, he caught sight of himself in the circular mirror stood on Owen's autopsy tray and studied the person in its reflection.

No, he wasn't the man in the suit and there was no use pretending any more. He couldn't be Ianto Jones anymore. He had seen too much and borne too many scars. A certain darkness had crept under his skin and taken root and there was no way around that. Torchwood wasn't his life, or his home. Jack wasn't his compass anymore.

So where did that leave him?

There was only one thing he knew with any certainty. He knew he was going to go back to the Time Agency, because if he didn't, then Agent One would have beamed into his wristband and given him a very real and loud bollocking for deserting. That suggested to Ianto that he would be able to go back before Agent One ever knew he had left.

That was fitting, really. He had received his training because the Agency needed a recruiter; someone to help kickstart the reformation and chase the best new recruits all of time had to offer. As a future career plan, it didn't seem too bad.

The only reservation he had was embodied in the shape of a strong, beautiful but currently broken man. It would be so much easier just to leave and never look back.

Ianto knew he couldn't do that.

He left Gray to his lonely prison and took a seat in the main area to wait for Jack to return from his long walk through the night. While Gwen had gone to seek comfort in the arms of her husband, Jack had needed to clear his head alone.

It wasn't long before he returned, shoulders still heavy but his face visibly less pinched. Jack stopped dead still as he saw Ianto waiting for him and tensed right up again. 'You're leaving,' he said, matter-of-factly.

Ianto stood up and moved towards him, and was slightly taken aback as Jack flinched away and refused to look at him.

'This isn't where I belong,' he tried to explain.

'So you're just running away.'

'I can't be the person you want me to be.'

'You don't know a damned thing about what I want,' Jack growled.

Ianto sighed and turned from him, wondering if perhaps it would be best to simply go. He had no wish to pain Jack and every moment he stayed would add that much more to the sense of loss he knew he would feel the moment he went.

'You have changed,' Jack accused. 'The Ianto Jones I know wouldn't leave - not now, when we need him the most.'

'Perhaps you're right,' Ianto said, venturing to look back. 'I think that's the problem. I'm not him. I tried to be. The suit doesn't fit anymore.'

Jack looked at him finally but the anger didn't diminish from his eyes.

Ianto knew he had to make him understand somehow. He looked down at his hands, his painful hands, and found himself slowly, carefully, removing his gloves. 'I spent nearly two hundred years frozen in a box, a box which took my memories one by one. I didn't know much of anything, least of all about myself. This scar,' he touched the faded x-shape on his temple, 'was caused by my attempts to remember. Then,' he took a deep breath, 'I was shattered and spread across the universe.' He held up his hands for Jack to see; they were still a mess of blackened skin strips against open wounds of orange liquid fire, moving like lava. 'My hands will never stop burning and I can never forget.'

Jack was moving closer now.

'I was touched by something I can't explain; something old and eternal. I think it changed me. All I know is, I'm not the person you knew. I lost him somewhere along the way. I'm sorry.'

Tentatively, Jack reached out and touched one of his naked hands. 'Does it hurt?' he breathed.

'I feel it. But it doesn't hurt much really.' Ianto shuffled to put his gloves back on, feeling too exposed.

The anger seemed to have subsided a little and Jack was now looking at him with a more reasonable gaze, if still stern. 'Where are you planning to go?'

'I have a job to complete. I was trained as a Time Agent in a time when the organisation is in grave danger of folding. It seems only fair I do as was trained and start the process of filing the ranks again. I'll do that.'

Jack nodded, a tiny crease in his brow making him seem thoughtful. He turned away and moved towards his office.

'Uh, goodbye then,' Ianto said, not sure why Jack was turning away when he was clearly meaning to make a final departure. 'I want you to know that, well…'

Suddenly, Jack whipped around to him, so fast his coat made a whooshing sound as it struggled to keep up with him. 'I volunteer.'

'What?'

'You want recruits for the Time Agency? Well, I volunteer.'

All Ianto could do was stare at him, and, after a considerably long pause, again bluster an incredulous, 'What?'

Now Jack was starting to grin. 'I think you'll find I have impeccable credentials,' he said, moving slowly towards Ianto. 'Good references too, I hope.'

'Uh… but… but I thought you were on the run from the Time Agency. Won't you be punished?'

'Depends on what era I rejoin, I suppose. If the Agency really is in such dire straights in the time you've come from, then I should think they'll jump at the chance of having a fully trained Agent back in the fold, helping to sure up their numbers and train the fresh ones.' One of Jack's hands settled on Ianto's hip and the grin only kept on getting wider.

'But… what about Torchwood? What about Gwen?'

That caused a small shadow to fall across his eyes but it was brief lived. 'Everything changes,' Jack said, quietly. 'One day, I'll come back and carry on here. But if were ever to leave Torchwood to someone, it would be to her. And… if ever I were to have a reason to go, it would be to go with you.'

Ianto couldn't help it, the grin started to infect him. He felt a little giddy.

'So, am I hired?'

'Jack, I don't know…' Ianto began, concerned that Jack might be exposing himself to unnecessary punishment and an uncertain future on a whim.

'What, do I have to sleep my way in? If so, I have impeccable credentials in that area too…'

A second hand settled on his other hip and Ianto unexpectedly felt a flush go across his cheeks. 'But…'

Before he could make anymore objections, Jack's warm, inviting lips were sealing over his, gently asking permission and then revelling in the response given. It couldn't be helped; Jack was a force of nature and Ianto had no choice but to be swept up by him.

'I hope that's a yes,' Jack remarked as they finally broke apart.

Ianto slowly slid his fingers into Jack's and smiled, shyly, his eyelashes lowering a little and fluttering in a way which had always made Jack's stomach tie itself in knots.

'Yes,' Ianto sighed and wrapped his arms around him, finding all the peace he had ever wanted in the hollow of Jack's shoulder and the feel of strong arms enclosing around him. 'Thank you.'

***

Epilogue

Dear Gwen

You have no idea how sorry I am to leave you now, of all times.

I have to be with Ianto. There is no other way for me to be right now. I know you understand that.

I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise. But until I return, I trust no one more than I trust you to watch over this city while I'm gone. You are stronger than anyone I've ever known and I know you can do this.

Torchwood is yours.

Jack


When Gwen found the note, she cried for almost an hour.

Then she dried her tears and started to prepare. Jack had put his trust in her, and she trusted him to return when the time was right.

Until then, if she was the last line of defence, then so be it. She would keep Torchwood open for business because Cardiff needed it to be there. Perhaps she would find others, other who could help. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter anymore.

She went home to Rhys and got a good night's sleep in his warm and loving arms, dreaming in her exhaustion of the Torchwood of tomorrow.


THE END.

***