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fictionalTitle: There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains To Bear Their Names To Time
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Ten, +TW team, +sundry members of DW Cast
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rm & kalichan
Rating/Warning: NC-17, slash, plot, religion (!!), and porn.
Summary: Some people say goodbye and others say hello.
Wordcount: ~32,000 words posted in five parts
Authors' Notes: This is the penultimate installment of our series, I Had No Idea I Had Been Traveling. The title is from a poem by Leonard Cohen; summary is, of course, courtesy The Beatles. Next up: the final installment of the main story arc, though we will be returning to the 'verse at some point after that for some digressions and interludes, and a DVD commentary! Just prior to this, we posted two prequels (one for Jack, and one for Ianto) which are fairly important to the conclusion of the series. They are numbered 8 & 9 in the links below if you'd like to catch up.
Previous installments:
1. A Strange Fashion of Forsaking | 2. Dear Captain, Last Night I Slept in Mutiny | 3. To Learn This Holding and the Holding Back | 4. The Most Beautiful Girl in the World | 5. I Imagine You Now in That Other City | 6. Many of My Favorite Things Are Broken | 6.5 Up, Down, Strange, Charm, Truth, Beauty: or, A Child's Guide to Modern Physics | 7. In Our Bedroom After the War | 8. And I Cannot Know How Long She Has Dreamed of All of You [Jack/Nine/Rose] | 9. The Spectacular Catastrophe of Your Endless Childhood [Ianto/OFCs, Ianto/Lisa]
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 1
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 2
Jack had retreated to the deepest bowels of the Hub -- near the incinerator and the unused storage rooms neatly stacked with the detritus of a hundred years of tenancy: broken chairs, tables, and other furniture, crockery and broken down computers.
The neatness of it enraged him. Had Ianto been wasting his time organizing down here too? Jack kicked a box morosely.
He was trying to run the last day with Ianto back through his mind. Had he seemed odd? Distracted? Like he was hiding something? Jack thought not, but apparently, he had been mistaken.
Upstairs he knew Gwen filling in the rest of the team on their missing member. Although Jack couldn't hear them, he knew how they'd be responding: Ravi would be shocked and devastated at the loss of his mentor, Andy would think that Ianto had been kidnapped, and Maeve wouldn't even bother to speak, but would simply begin making a list of possible actions to take.
How could he know this team with such certitude and yet not have been able to see this coming?
Jack knew he himself had never had the patience for the long con, but maybe Ianto did. Maybe this was revenge. Because they'd been happy, and Ianto had sworn once to rip that away from him. Maybe this was that day.
Or maybe he hadn't been happy at all. Or enough.
Jack picked up a broken chair and threw it at the wall. It made a satisfying crash. Luckily, there were plenty more where that had come from. And down here, no one could hear him.
***
When the clerk came back for him, Ianto was prepared. Or as prepared as it was possible to be, under these extremely strange circumstances. He had washed his face, rinsed his mouth, even lain down for a while. He had also just about managed to convince himself that he had either grossly misunderstood, misinterpreted or simply exaggerated the whole unsettling quality of the episode.
It had been a long time since anything but Jack had been his first thought when he woke up in the morning. Or his last one before he went to sleep. Or anytime he did something new. Clearly, he was just missing him. And seeing him everywhere. It was completely understandable.
He rose when the man entered the room. "Can we get this over with?" he said abruptly, knowing it was ungracious -- but it was all the semblance of control and calm he could manage.
"Come with me," the clerk instructed him, and Ianto picked up the box and followed him.
He was led down the warren of hallways down towards the same enormous dimly lit room. The clerk stopped him in a small curtained alcove, and then gestured for him to stop and stay silent. Pulling back the curtain a bit so Ianto could see, he said softly, "Someone is with Him now. It should only be a few moments more."
Ianto peered through the gloom and saw, at the end of the room, someone sitting in front of the tank. He could hear the rise and fall of the voice -- it sounded like a woman's -- but was unable to distinguish the words. He turned to the clerk and lifted his eyebrows quizzically.
"Pilgrims," the man supplied, in a whisper.
"Pilgrims?" Ianto asked. "What kind of place is this?"
"It is a temple," the clerk said, as if it were obvious. "She is a pilgrim. She's come to lay her life into His keeping."
"He owns her? Like a slave?"
"Of course not," the man replied, sounding shocked. "Her life. Her story. He will keep it for her. As long as he can."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"Shouldn't you be there... I don't know, taking dictation? Aren't you his... secretary or something?" Ianto asked, eying the man's suit, still pristine, still business-like.
The man laughed. "He doesn't need me for that. She could write things down herself if it came down to it."
"What does he need you for?"
"Hands," the man said, with a note of humour.
"And those come in very useful for the writing things down."
"I'm not a secretary," he said, still sounding amused. "I am a priest."
"A priest?" Ianto repeated disbelievingly, and then remembered the short word. Clerical. Of course. "A priest of what?"
"My Lord of course," the man said, nodding towards the Face and the woman.
"He's not a god," Ianto said, frustrated by the whole encounter. "Is he?"
The man simply smiled enigmatically. It made Ianto want to hit him.
"Ah. It seems He is free now. Go on. He wishes to speak with you."
"Are you recovered?" the Face asked him when he returned to its presence.
"I think so, but I'm not making any promises," Ianto said, worrying less about manners and more about not being seduced once again into the insanity of the situation.
"One never should."
It was hard, Ianto thought, not to get sucked into the absurd gravitas of the head in a jar especially when it was thinking into his head and still felt like Jack, goddamnit, but cheap philosophy not only wasn't solving his problems, it was coming right close to making him furious.
"Look, I'm from far and -- " he paused, trying to think of how Jack always put it, "-- long away and for reasons that are pretty unclear to me other than I was convenient and he's spiteful, the Doctor asked me to fetch this thing and return it to you. I don't know what it is, I don't know who you are, why I'm here, or even how to give the damn thing to you, seeing as you don't have hands. But if you could let me know, so I could go wait for my ride home, I'd really appreciate it."
"I'm sorry I don't remember you."
"You're never met me. How could you remember me?" Ianto said, grateful that for as weird as this was, the con was bad and there was no proof of his own terrible suspicions beyond the fact that he had them.
"You remember me," the Face offered, as if the proof of the matter was so obvious.
Ianto shook his head. "No. I'm not used to psychic communication. That's all. It just, felt familiar for a second. I'm not a traveler, I'm not used to these things."
"No. There is more than that," the Face said and closed its eyes.
Ianto looked around for help, spotting, finally, his guide in a corner, but when Ianto met his eyes and made a gesture that clearly asked for help navigating the situation, the man looked away. Ianto was suddenly seized with the possibility that this was out of neither negligence or discretion, but, just possibly, deference. God, this situation was fucked.
***
Jack was attempting to make a list, the only problem was that making lists wasn't the sort of thing Jack usually did, unless it was to bark orders at people. But if the Doctor wasn't going to answer his goddamn phone and his team thought he was incapable of functioning (and he was going to punch the next person who threatened, even jokingly, to relieve him of duty), he was going to try to solve this fucking thing on his own if that's what it came to.
Which meant making a list. Of every time Ianto had been out of his sight working backwards from when he left with the Doctor. Because this had to have been planned. There had to be a clue. Because there was no way, no way at all, no matter how batshit crazy, careless and persuasive the Doctor could be, that compulsive, reserved Ianto who wasn't even sure if he wanted to see the stars and for god's sake hated airline travel was just going to randomly say okay when the Doctor popped up for no good reason and suggested they run off together.
There had to be more data to be had, he was sure of it. The only problem, really, was that this was not the sort of information Jack was adept at assembling. After all, he saved his memory for the important things. Like the look on Ianto's face when --
"Gwen! Get in here now!"
***
The Face sighed and opened its eyes. Ianto thought it seemed rather put upon, as though he had disappointed it.
"Show me what you've brought then," it asked, all business now.
Jack, Ianto thought as he flipped the latch on the box and picked up the ridiculous thing that had caused so much trouble, would tell him with a wicked grin that he should hold it for ransom.
The Face gaped, for it couldn't, Ianto thought, gasp. "Where did you get that?" it asked.
"The basement," Ianto replied a bit dumbly. "Torchwood's basement."
The Face smiled ruefully. "You are from a very long when ago indeed."
"What should I do with it?" Ianto asked.
"Leave it when you go. It will be taken care of."
"Is that it then?" Ianto asked, hopeful at the thought of getting out of all this madness, and yet feeling like he'd missed the point of the whole horrible thing too.
"If you wish. But if you will not tell me my story, perhaps you could be enticed to tell me yours."
"I don't know your story, so I certainly can't tell you that." Stubbornness had got him a lot of places, Ianto reflected, and he definitely wasn't going to abandon it now. The Face's lips were very red, he noticed. Exaggerated, almost pouting. "And I don't know that I want to share mine either. What good could it possibly do you?"
"It is the custom. And if you tell me, it becomes mine, does it not? A story is a gift that you can give away and yet still keep. And sometimes, they become more in the telling."
"Or less. Like a secret," Ianto said, without thinking. "Once shared, it doesn't amount to anything much at all."
There was a great deal of amusement emanating from the Face now. "I like you," it said.
"Thank you," Ianto said reflexively, not at all sure that he was, in fact, thankful.
***
"What is it, Jack?" Gwen said, standing in the door of his office, slightly out of breath from having raced up the stairs in response to his bellow.
"I want the cctv tapes of everywhere Ianto was in the past day, and I want them five minutes ago."
She didn't move but simply looked at him.
"Why are you still standing here? Was something I said unclear? I want those tapes. Pull them up. He went shopping, didn't he? To restock the pantry? I want their security cam footage, and I want it now."
"Jack... you're acting... well..."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Gwen came forward and perched on the desk, reaching out to stroke his hair gently. He yanked away.
"Jack, you saw him get into the TARDIS, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he said. "So?"
"He's with the Doctor, Jack. Your Doctor. You trust that man with everything. Why not Ianto?"
"Gwen, I'm not going to say this again. Pull up those tapes, or I will, after I suspend you."
She stood up, and bent down to kiss his forehead. "Okay," she said kindly, which Jack couldn't help but resent.
"And don't humor me," he ordered.
"No, Jack. Of course not."
***
"We must compensate you for your trouble," the Face announced.
"Thank you, but it was no tro--" Ianto started to say, and then broke off, since it had in fact been a great deal of trouble, and he wasn't sure that lying to a giant telepathic head was a good idea. "Really, I don't need anything. Your money wouldn't be any good back home, anyway."
"You must be our guest."
"I really have to be getting back," Ianto said firmly.
"And how will you manage that?" the Face inquired innocently.
Ianto swallowed and pulled out the metal pendant. It was still silver. He cursed silently to himself and then winced as the Face seemed to smile.
"I'm still waiting for my lift," he said hurriedly. "But I can easily do that elsewhere. Perhaps some food and water, if you'd be so kind."
"You will stay with us, until it is time for you to depart. I insist, young traveler. Hospitality is the hallmark of every civilised race."
Ianto sighed. There seemed to be no way out.
***
Jack watched the grainy, black and white footage again. Yep, there was Ianto, in the bread aisle and then strolling into the shot was the unmistakable figure of the Doctor. He slung an arm around Ianto's shoulders.
"Do you think if you watch that for the millionth time, the camera angle will suddenly change, and you'll be able to read their lips?" Maeve said, breaking into his concentration. "Because somehow, don't think it's going to happen."
"You don't understand," Jack said, through his teeth.
"You're right, I don't. Explain it to me."
***
Ianto had expected the accommodations that had been foisted upon him to be austere and simple, like the room he had been shown to so he could gather his wits and what he could of his stomach, but this place was different. People actually lived here. Truly lived, Ianto thought, looking around the long room with its thick wood tables and various clusters of comfortable chairs and good couches and warm lighting. It reminded him of what he had imagined university to be before he had found it utterly wasn't.
Here and there people -- mostly in suits but sometimes in robe-like garments that Ianto felt were rather more befitting an alien religious order -- gathered in small groups, eating and talking and laughing. Here and there someone sitting alone tried to read, and at one end of the hall twin boys no older than ten chased each other through a warren of badly arranged chairs.
There was nothing of the religion of his childhood in this or the assumptions of the 21st century Jack so disdained.
"Are they all...?" Ianto trailed off as he gestured, still feeling absurd and likely to be wrongfooted yet again by this place and time and circumstance.
"Members of the order?" his clerk asked dryly as if telling a particularly biting joke.
"Er.. yes?"
"No. Some are friends, family, those considering the matter, travelers like yourself. We do have lives, you know."
"No, I don't, actually," Ianto said sharply. People kept promising to explain and then explained nothing. It was no wonder they were so fond of the Doctor.
"Ah."
"It's different where I'm from. Religion."
"Tell me?"
Ianto sighed into a shaky laugh. "It's complicated."
"More complicated than a giant head in a jar?" the clerk asked, almost benignly.
Ianto glanced at him, sharp and quizzical.
"Like I said," the man said, laughing, "we do have lives."
"I wish I knew your name, and not just because I find this awkward," Ianto said.
"And I like you too, Mr. Jones, but you haven't answered my question."
"Yes. More complicated than that."
"Try to remember that, then, while you're with us."
***
"No."
"That wasn't a question, Andy," Jack said.
"I'm sorry but it wasn't an order that made any sense at all. I am not going to Tesco and I am not interviewing people there in the vain hope that they overheard something of what Ianto and your Doctor were discussing. What are they going to say anyway? The shopgirl's going to mention they were discussing how butter was cheaper two galaxies over? Sorry, but I thought the part where you lot get to make me look like seven kinds of idiot was over."
"Finding Ianto is part of our... your job," Jack said, with just a hint of menace.
The truth was Andy didn't agree, not really, even though he did really think they should get him back, but regardless he sure as hell knew better than to say any of that.
"And it's not going to happen by harassing a bunch of folks at Tesco."
"Fine. How's it going to happen then?" Jack asked, slamming a pen down on his desk.
"You. Pulling yourself together."
"You don't --"
"Understand. Yeah. We've all got the speech. Personally, I think you can stuff it. The way Gwen tells it, Ianto worked out of his depth for months while you were gone for no other reason than he didn't know what else to do. If you're even half of what you're always saying you are, he's going to expect better from you when he gets back."
Jack started to speak but Andy held up his hands.
"Fine, fine, complain about insubordination and threaten to retcon me, but I've got a stack of suspicious vehicular collision reports to look at and several calls to make, and I figure you'd probably be happier if I finally learned to multitask," Andy said, almost sheepishly before pulling himself up tall and trying to march out of Jack's office like he'd just done some good. Unfortunately, he probably hadn't.
***
There was a communal meal -- great hunks of sour, chewy bread and bowls of some deliciously spicy broth that reminded Ianto vaguely of Asian cuisine, with bits of matter floating in that he thought might be pieces of meat and vegetables, although they were so unfamiliar, he couldn't be sure (and it was all very tasty, if a slightly alarming ruby red shade) -- where Ianto found himself at a long table, seated between a blue, scaled woman and another suit-wearing man.
There was wine of some kind, and after Ianto drank it, everything became a sort of pleasant blur of warmth. Somewhere in there, Ianto collapsed in a corner chair in an overwhelmed, overloaded daze. As the people continued to laugh and talk around him, meaning vanished completely and Ianto could only take it all in as the ebb and flow of light and sound and movement.
Eventually he was taken to to a chamber much like the one he'd been in before, if not the same one and told to rest, for he'd have another audience in the morning. Ianto, with some effort, managed to refrain from telling them exactly what he thought of that idea; he didn't think it would go over at all well, all things considered.
When he was brought to the hall in the morning, he saw the giant tank surrounded by several men and women, all in their impeccable suits. They were laughing merrily and talking amongst themselves, occasionally throwing a teasing sentence to the giant Face, who seemed rather cheerful about it all. Whatever formality that had attended this hall the previous evening, seemed to have been dispensed with.
Ianto stared. "So," he said to his guide, "these are the friends and family then? Of the order?"
The man shook his head. "This is the order."
One of the men pressed his cheek fondly against the side of the tank, laying the palm of his hand beside it, adoration and familiarity evident in every line of him. Ianto turned to stare at the man beside him. "This is how you are with your... god, is it? Rather familiar, I'd have said."
"This is how He is with us," his guide said.
At that moment, obedient to some signal that was invisible to Ianto, the assemblage dispersed purposefully, until there were only the three of them left in the hall. His guide nodded at him to go forward, and then he too disappeared.
Ianto thought about running away, but realized he had nowhere to go. He checked the pendant again -- still silver -- and sighed.
The Face seemed to laugh. "Come forward," it said. "There is nothing to harm you here."
"Right," Ianto muttered, but did as he was told. "Would you like your... thing... back now...?" he asked, brandishing the box.
Maybe if the Face would take its hazelnut off his hands, the Doctor would sense it and come back for him. Not a great working hypothesis, but one Ianto was willing to test out.
"You don't know what it is?"
"I don't know what it is. I don't know where I am. I don't even know what you are. The list of things I don't know is so long at this point, I don't even know how long it is."
"I told you who I am," the Face said. "I am the Face of Boe."
"Right, and who's Boe when he's at home? And where's the rest of him?"
"What is home, young traveler?"
"Yes, that's very enigmatic, very mysterious, very impressive. Do any of you ever answer a question in a straightforward manner?"
"Any of us?"
"And I wish you'd stop calling me that. My name is Ianto Jones. And I'm not that young."
"Everyone is young to me. You seem distraught this morning."
"I've been distraught since I arrived here, actually. And your sonic refresher thing is very disconcerting. Like being decontaminated."
"I've heard it can be quite pleasurable," the Face said reflectively.
Ianto stared. "I'm sorry, was that an... never mind." Surely this giant Face wasn't making a sexual reference. It had little tentacles! They were waving in its smoke! And it was probably reading his mind, right now.
The Face seemed to smile. Ianto thought very seriously about banging his head into a wall until he was dead.
***
"Jack, look, this has got to stop, at least like this," Gwen was saying as Jack did his best not to listen. Sadly, rubbing his hands over his face over and over like he was actually tired as opposed to just weary and miserable wasn't doing anything to silence her.
"I know," he said, surprising himself. He didn't want to give these people an inch in their intolerance or enjoyment of his... well whatever this was. Distress? Was he distressed or just bloody furious? Or scared. Because Ianto and the Doctor were the only two people that had ever betrayed Jack and made him love them more. And now they were somewhere together and Jack was pretty sure that meant something really terrible was going to happen to him.
That was reasonable, wasn't it? To be worried about it on those terms? Why couldn't his team see that, instead of teasing him about being heartsick. Even if he was. Sort of. As much as he could be. Which was apparently quite a lot. Jack hated this. More than he could have possibly imagined.
"So, we can't keep making this our only focus. I don't know why I'm explaining this to you sir, I mean, you were a soldier. Nothing gets in the way of the mission, right?" Andy chimed in.
Jack looked up at them incredulously, feeling furious all over again. "And you never leave a man behind. Ever. Now get out of my office."
Andy looked down at the rest of the team as Jack slammed the door behind them.
"That," he remarked, "didn't go at all well."
***
"You don't have much longer here," the Face said, "and I would like to talk to you before you go, about something other than your distress at merely doing a thing you agreed to do."
At his words, Ianto felt embarrassed. It was a rather effective scolding and one that could have as easily come from his father or from Jack. You don't make a commitment to luxuriate in the misery of it and then blame that on someone else. He knew better, and the Face knew he knew better.
He looked down at the pendant again, reflexively. Still silver.
"How do you know?" he asked, hoping it wasn't rude to sound hopeful. "That I'll be going soon?"
"The whole of your life is soon to me," the Face said.
"Well, not to me," Ianto said petulantly, unsure if he was annoyed by more riddles or honestly frightened that he would never get home from here.
The Face chuckled in its way, the lips moving like stone into something of a smile. "So opinionated a moth."
"What?" Ianto asked quietly, going very still.
"A moth lives just three nights in the moonlight."
"Jesus," Ianto whispered, trembling finely even as he had somehow been ready for this. "You really are Jack."
"No, not anymore," the Face said sadly. "But once was, I think. Will you be all right this time?"
"I... I think so," Ianto said, but wasn't actually sure. His legs felt weak, and there was a bit of roaring in his ears. "Would you mind if I sat down?"
"Go ahead," the Face said.
Ianto had expected somehow that his guide or some other priest or person would materialize with a chair, but none did as they seemed to be well and truly alone. So Ianto did as he supposed one did in the presence of gods and knelt on the floor.
"Did it hurt?" he asked. It seemed the worst of his many questions and the most important to know.
"Sometimes. Living does. I look at you and could ask the same."
And it was then that Ianto leaned his own face against the glass tank and started crying, even as it felt like he already had been for days.
***
Jack had decided that he was no longer going to talk to the rest of his team about anything having to do with Ianto, the Doctor, or anything that could remotely be construed as emotional. He remembered when he had been much more successful at keeping them all at arm's length. That had been nice. No one questioning his authority, or trying to get inside his head, or feeling sorry for him, for fuck's sake.
Obviously, this was the solution. The job, that was what counted. He wasn't here to make friends.
He cleared his throat. "So, reports on outstanding issues? Make it snappy, kids."
"We're still running tests on that meteor strike out by Swansea," Gwen said, her voice business-like.
"If there was life on it," Maeve said, "it was silicon based. So we're keeping an eye out for that."
"If it's sentient, it'll be curious about any computerized systems. Look near places that have a lot of tech. Call up UNIT and make sure they're briefed," Jack ordered. "It's likely to pay them a little call -- that is, if it doesn't come here first."
Gwen looked at Ravi, who was uncharacteristically silent. "Ravi's already on that," she said.
"Well, why didn't he say so then?" Jack snapped.
"I might need you for back-up," Ravi said, still staring down at the table. "UNIT doesn't like taking orders from me."
"Yeah? Well, maybe if you'd brought it to me earlier, we could be done with it by now," Jack said. "Fine. Whatever. You can brief me with what you've got after the meeting. What's next?"
Andy looked sheepishly down at his notes, and then back up to meet Jack's eyes. "The vehicular collision thing's sorted. Police have been briefed as to the status of the road, which is back to normal as of this morning."
"And how did we fix that?"
"It was a temporal storm, related to the Rift... uh... reacting to some kind of strong presence. Rift spots, you could call it," Andy said hesitantly.
"Lovely," Jack said, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. "Guess we can put that down to our visitor. Let's make sure to add it to his tab. Any fatalities?"
"It's not a storm," Gwen said soothingly. "More like a shower, really. A drizzle."
"If you strain that metaphor much further," Maeve interjected, deadpan, "it might snap, and then kill us all."
"Could we stay on target? If it's not too much of an inconvenience to your social hour," Jack said, through his teeth. "Let me repeat myself. Any fatalities?"
"None," Maeve said. "A few bruises, nothing terrible."
"I want you to check on that again."
"Okay, Jack," she said. "But I won't find anything."
"Check again. That's an order. What else?"
"That's all," Gwen said, after looking around the conference table and ascertaining that no one else wanted to say anything else.
"Okay," Jack said. "Keep an eye on that road. I don't want it opened to traffic again just yet."
Andy blinked. "But I already--"
"Then you'd better hurry, huh?"
"But Jack--"
"I don't think you completely understand, but the Doctor has chosen to pay us a little visit. Do you know when that happens? It happens when the world is ending. And do you know what else accompanies the Doctor? Death. And pain. So forgive me, if I seem a little concerned to you. Now get back to work, and keep an eye on that road. Do I make myself clear?" By the end, Jack realized he was shouting.
Everyone nodded.
He lowered his voice again. "Good. Now get going. You don't get paid to sit around."
***
It was strange to be consoled by something so alien and that could not touch him, but still the Face knew the way of it, Ianto thought, too tired to be nearly as hysterical as he thought he probably should be.
"Tell me a story, young Ianto Jones. Tell me who I was, so that I should not forget you again for a long while."
"A distraction," Ianto sniffed.
"For both of us," the Face admitted.
"From what?"
"Time, of course."
Ianto laughed, sharp and a little bitter. "All right," he stammered. "I'm not a storyteller, though."
"No? I'm surprised. What are you?"
"An archivist," he said defensively.
The Face almost seemed to purr; Ianto could feel it against the glass.
"Does that please you?" Ianto asked, with an awkward laugh.
"Details. Details please me. There are few at this scale. I remember sometimes in a shadowy way, the fineness of things."
Ianto smiled sadly, thinking ruefully of the way Jack fingered his ties, fussed with his cufflinks, was so particular about his coat and this notion of being deprived of the texture of things was another way in which he couldn't avoid finding all of this alarming.
He took a deep breath. He would try. And it was easier, down here, on the floor, leaning against glass rather than looking at the Face. He and Jack had, had a few conversations like this and dozens more lying side by side in bed, looking at the ceiling and never each other.
"Very well. Then I'll tell you... I'll tell you about the first time you forgot anything."
"Really?" the Face asked, captivated, and, Ianto thought, coy.
"Really. And I made you remember then too. But this is probably going to be a little different." He laughed then at his own joke, which the Face did not yet get.
***
After everyone else had left, Ravi remained seated at the table. He was still staring down at it, as if it had some sort of answer to the mysteries of the universe.
"Okay," Jack said abruptly. "Fill me in on this meteor thing. And by the way, you're Torchwood. What the hell are you doing taking shit from UNIT? You tell them about something, they damn well better listen, I don't care if it's you, or the dinosaur or one of the fucking weevils doing the talking."
"Yeah," Ravi said, almost as if he hadn't heard.
"You know what? Don't even bother briefing me. I want it handled, and I want it done by you," Jack said flatly.
Ravi nodded.
"Normally you're full of back chat. Now I compare you to a weevil, and I get, 'yeah'?"
There was no reply.
Jack looked down at Ravi's head -- just a boy, really. Younger than Ianto when Jack had met him. Too young for Torchwood, Jack had thought, when they'd found him. Only twenty, but a fucking genius. And now he was unhappy because his friend had gone. Well, they all had to learn someday. Everyone leaves. And now Jack had to do his job, and slap him into shape. Just one more thing to add to the massive proportions of how much he hated his life right now.
"Listen up," Jack said coldly, and all the more so because he knew exactly how the kid felt. Ravi jerked his head up at the tone, and Jack went on. "When the Doctor needs us, when he comes by, it's end of world time. He doesn't just come to visit a friend, or to stop by for a cup of tea. It's defending this goddamn planet, which he's unaccountably attached to, even though he thinks we're all a bunch of apes at the mercy of our hormones."
"Some more than most."
When he saw Jack's expression, Ravi closed his mouth with a snap. Jack went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "This isn't about me, or us, or you. It's about defending the earth, which is what we do here. Whatever they're doing, they might need help, and we have to be ready. Maybe Ianto's coming back. Maybe not. Either way, be prepared to do your fucking job, or get out and don't come back. Got that?"
"That's very funny coming from you," Ravi said.
"You want to explain that?"
Ravi stood up hurriedly, and his chair flew back with his impetus. "Sure. Maybe it would help if you started acting more like our Captain and less like a fifteen year old emo girl!" he shot back and with that, he was out the door, which slammed shut with a bang.
Jack sighed. "I don't even know what that means," he called after him.
For some reason, he suddenly felt very old.
***
Ianto's voice was hoarse with the telling by the time he'd come to the end of that particular story. He'd noticed that the Face, or rather Jack as he couldn't help but try to think of him seemed equally entranced by the little details of food and drink and the ordinary, every day mechanics of living, as he did with the often pornographic bits that, Ianto was certain, would have been his Jack's favourite parts.
He supposed it made sense in a way, that after enough time, all the missing senses -- taste, smell, touch -- would blur together with loss. He had blushed a little when he got to certain parts but had kept on going because it seemed unfair to elide over things, or make himself look better than he had been.
He paused, and realised he'd been speaking for a very long time. His knees hurt. He stood up to stretch himself out and felt the pins and needles of feeling returning to his calves.
"Are you well?" the Face asked.
"Fine," he said. "Legs are a bit numb, but the feeling comes back."
"So I've been told," the Face said, and Ianto could hear the sardonic shading now in his thought.
"I've been taking up a lot of your time."
"I have a great deal of that to spare."
"No, but really. Don't you have -- people to see? And what's with that anyway? They seem to think you're some kind of god."
"I perform a service, one that they can see and touch. So I suppose in some ways, I'm better."
Ianto found himself laughing and shaking his head simultaneously. Because after however many millennia, it seemed Jack could still stagger him with the breathtaking, blinding audacity of his arrogance, and that, above all things, was a comforting thought. The Face smiled.
"No, really," he said, after he'd managed to stop laughing, "what is it you do here?"
"You know that I cannot die," the Face said, with seeming irrelevance.
"I know you can't stay dead, yes."
"Yes," the Face agreed. "A man for precision. I prefer to think of the bigger picture."
"Well, you'd have to, wouldn't you," Ianto said, lightly, because this... bantering with Jack was something he knew how to do very well. "That's why you have me."
The Face smiled. "So it seems. At any rate, I have not died for quite some time. Matters seem to have become somewhat less dangerous than when I was young."
Ianto wondered briefly if the Face was killed -- would he revert? Rise and re-form back into the Jack that Ianto knew? He supposed it wasn't a good experiment to attempt without a guarantee of success. "Yes," he said instead. "You did lead a rather... risky existence."
"So while I am here, I listen."
"You... listen," Ianto repeated blankly.
"To their stories. Murderers, poets, lovers, parents, soldiers, kings. Whoever wishes it. So something of them will remain, when they and all their works are dust."
Ianto stared at him.
"I cannot give them my gift," the Face said sadly. "But I share what I can."
***
"Jack."
He looked up. Maeve. Maeve was all right. Maeve would be decent, or at least sensible. Damn shame she didn't like men, they would have been great together. Ruthless. Cold. Like Torchwood back in the bad old days.
"Yeah, whatever that thought was, stop having it," she said and sat down.
"So I don't owe this visit to a sudden change of heart?" he tried, but knew it sounded lame and disinterested.
"I don't have a heart. You on --"
"No. No no no no, don't you start too."
"I was going to say you have one, it's just mostly cold and black."
Jack chuckled in spite of himself.
"Ravi's terrified of you, and I don't want to babysit. I also don't want to listen to Andy and Gwen do so poorly. So please take it easy on the kid."
"Is this a job where I get to take it easy on anyone, Maeve? Really? Think," Jack said, turning back to the file he had been flipping through on his desk and no longer relieved for her presence.
"I am thinking, and I don't know how to get it through to you that Ianto would not want you acting like this."
"I think what Ianto wants is somewhat immaterial at the moment," Jack said nastily.
"Dangerous line of reasoning, Jack. Want is how we do things. Want is how he gets home."
"Well you all keep making it perfectly clear that my wanting isn't helping, so tell me, what is it you'd like me to do, Maeve?"
"Act like the damn soldier you are."
Jack peered at her and knew somehow in that moment that her father had been a military man and raised her like a son so that she could face the end of the world with a shotgun and a knife if need be. Jack loved her for it.
"I'm not a soldier," he said quietly, like someone had died. "Not for Ianto. So please stop telling me what he would want and get out of my office."
***
"Tell me," the Face said, "how we met."
Ianto laughed unpleasantly, paced some more and finally sat down at the top of the stairs on the platform they were on so that his back was largely to the Face.
"I was working at Torchwood One. I've never told you this first part, so you didn't forget it. And I was dating this girl, Lisa. She was older than me and a lot cooler and worked with the tech, right? And I was just down in the archives, so I was always looking for stuff to talk to her about because I had no idea why she liked me other than the sex which was pretty twisted and mostly her idea. ANYWAY, I found a file, on you. On Captain Jack Harkness, and it didn't make any sense." Ianto sighed. "Look, this story doesn't end well, you should know."
"Yes it does."
"How's that? You said you don't remember me," Ianto said, annoyed with himself for sounding so accusatory and weary.
"But you're here now," the Face said kindly, almost sounding pleased.
Ianto groaned and hid his face in his hands. It wasn't enough apparently that Jack was now a big giant head that didn't remember him at all and happened to be living in a jar. No, Jack was a big giant romantic head in a jar. Ianto missed him. And wanted to go home. And thought he might start crying again.
"I've tired you," the Face said, apologetically.
"No. No. It's all right. Let's just do this one, okay?" Ianto said, and then told the story of Lisa and the Cybermen and Jack and Myfanwy and felt oddly disappointed when the Face didn't even seem to remember the damn dinosaur. Ianto missed her too.
***
Jack was considering killing himself, just to make all this stop for awhile. Because now Ianto had been gone for two days, and he had somehow allowed Gwen to take him out of the Hub and come to her flat for dinner. Aside from the fact that she was a terrible cook, he was sitting across a table from Rhys, who he was pretty sure still loathed the sight of him, and who was enjoying the hell out of this.
"So, Harkness, shoe's on the other foot now? How's it feel to be traded in for a better model?"
"I don't know what you mean," Jack tried to say insouciantly, while also glaring at Gwen who seemed to have shared all this... this classified information with her husband. Unfortunately it was pretty hard to do both those things at the same time successfully, but he could make a valiant effort.
"Oh, I'm certain you do, mate," Rhys said, and then winced as Gwen swatted him one.
"Rhys. Be nice," Gwen hissed.
"I'm nice," Rhys said, holding his hands up innocently. "Have another chop, Captain. Gwen made them just for you."
"Great," Jack said, staring at the shoe-leather masquerading as meat. "Don't you usually do the cooking, Rhys?"
"This is a special evening, Jack," Rhys said with friendly malice. "Not often you honour us with your presence."
Jack bared his teeth in a smile, and then began sawing at his meat.
"I'll just get some more wine, shall I?" Gwen said hurriedly.
Jack stared fixedly at his plate, as she got up, hearing her thump her husband's head on her way to the kitchen, and his yelp of pain.
There was a brief pause. "Jack," Rhys said.
Jack looked up. "What?"
"It'll be all right," he said, all the teasing stripped out of his voice. "He'll be back. You always come back, you Torchwood people. If you can."
Pity. That note in his voice, that was pity. And it was at that moment that Jack lost his temper. Completely and irrevocably. Because how could Ianto have put him in this position, where he had to sit here and listen to this bullshit?
Jack cut a piece of meat, chewed deliberately, swallowed. Then took a drink of water. "Of course we do," he said, and then got up to pull Gwen's chair out for her with a flourish. He stroked the side of her cheek with the back of a finger, felt her shiver a little. Then he smiled. "Look at what we have to come back to." He pressed a kiss into the top of Gwen's head, before sitting back down.
Rhys shook his head. "Daft bastard," he said, without heat. "Keep your hands off my wife before my fist meets your face."
Continue to Part 4
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Ten, +TW team, +sundry members of DW Cast
Authors:
rm & kalichanRating/Warning: NC-17, slash, plot, religion (!!), and porn.
Summary: Some people say goodbye and others say hello.
Wordcount: ~32,000 words posted in five parts
Authors' Notes: This is the penultimate installment of our series, I Had No Idea I Had Been Traveling. The title is from a poem by Leonard Cohen; summary is, of course, courtesy The Beatles. Next up: the final installment of the main story arc, though we will be returning to the 'verse at some point after that for some digressions and interludes, and a DVD commentary! Just prior to this, we posted two prequels (one for Jack, and one for Ianto) which are fairly important to the conclusion of the series. They are numbered 8 & 9 in the links below if you'd like to catch up.
Previous installments:
1. A Strange Fashion of Forsaking | 2. Dear Captain, Last Night I Slept in Mutiny | 3. To Learn This Holding and the Holding Back | 4. The Most Beautiful Girl in the World | 5. I Imagine You Now in That Other City | 6. Many of My Favorite Things Are Broken | 6.5 Up, Down, Strange, Charm, Truth, Beauty: or, A Child's Guide to Modern Physics | 7. In Our Bedroom After the War | 8. And I Cannot Know How Long She Has Dreamed of All of You [Jack/Nine/Rose] | 9. The Spectacular Catastrophe of Your Endless Childhood [Ianto/OFCs, Ianto/Lisa]
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 1
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 2
Jack had retreated to the deepest bowels of the Hub -- near the incinerator and the unused storage rooms neatly stacked with the detritus of a hundred years of tenancy: broken chairs, tables, and other furniture, crockery and broken down computers.
The neatness of it enraged him. Had Ianto been wasting his time organizing down here too? Jack kicked a box morosely.
He was trying to run the last day with Ianto back through his mind. Had he seemed odd? Distracted? Like he was hiding something? Jack thought not, but apparently, he had been mistaken.
Upstairs he knew Gwen filling in the rest of the team on their missing member. Although Jack couldn't hear them, he knew how they'd be responding: Ravi would be shocked and devastated at the loss of his mentor, Andy would think that Ianto had been kidnapped, and Maeve wouldn't even bother to speak, but would simply begin making a list of possible actions to take.
How could he know this team with such certitude and yet not have been able to see this coming?
Jack knew he himself had never had the patience for the long con, but maybe Ianto did. Maybe this was revenge. Because they'd been happy, and Ianto had sworn once to rip that away from him. Maybe this was that day.
Or maybe he hadn't been happy at all. Or enough.
Jack picked up a broken chair and threw it at the wall. It made a satisfying crash. Luckily, there were plenty more where that had come from. And down here, no one could hear him.
When the clerk came back for him, Ianto was prepared. Or as prepared as it was possible to be, under these extremely strange circumstances. He had washed his face, rinsed his mouth, even lain down for a while. He had also just about managed to convince himself that he had either grossly misunderstood, misinterpreted or simply exaggerated the whole unsettling quality of the episode.
It had been a long time since anything but Jack had been his first thought when he woke up in the morning. Or his last one before he went to sleep. Or anytime he did something new. Clearly, he was just missing him. And seeing him everywhere. It was completely understandable.
He rose when the man entered the room. "Can we get this over with?" he said abruptly, knowing it was ungracious -- but it was all the semblance of control and calm he could manage.
"Come with me," the clerk instructed him, and Ianto picked up the box and followed him.
He was led down the warren of hallways down towards the same enormous dimly lit room. The clerk stopped him in a small curtained alcove, and then gestured for him to stop and stay silent. Pulling back the curtain a bit so Ianto could see, he said softly, "Someone is with Him now. It should only be a few moments more."
Ianto peered through the gloom and saw, at the end of the room, someone sitting in front of the tank. He could hear the rise and fall of the voice -- it sounded like a woman's -- but was unable to distinguish the words. He turned to the clerk and lifted his eyebrows quizzically.
"Pilgrims," the man supplied, in a whisper.
"Pilgrims?" Ianto asked. "What kind of place is this?"
"It is a temple," the clerk said, as if it were obvious. "She is a pilgrim. She's come to lay her life into His keeping."
"He owns her? Like a slave?"
"Of course not," the man replied, sounding shocked. "Her life. Her story. He will keep it for her. As long as he can."
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"Shouldn't you be there... I don't know, taking dictation? Aren't you his... secretary or something?" Ianto asked, eying the man's suit, still pristine, still business-like.
The man laughed. "He doesn't need me for that. She could write things down herself if it came down to it."
"What does he need you for?"
"Hands," the man said, with a note of humour.
"And those come in very useful for the writing things down."
"I'm not a secretary," he said, still sounding amused. "I am a priest."
"A priest?" Ianto repeated disbelievingly, and then remembered the short word. Clerical. Of course. "A priest of what?"
"My Lord of course," the man said, nodding towards the Face and the woman.
"He's not a god," Ianto said, frustrated by the whole encounter. "Is he?"
The man simply smiled enigmatically. It made Ianto want to hit him.
"Ah. It seems He is free now. Go on. He wishes to speak with you."
"Are you recovered?" the Face asked him when he returned to its presence.
"I think so, but I'm not making any promises," Ianto said, worrying less about manners and more about not being seduced once again into the insanity of the situation.
"One never should."
It was hard, Ianto thought, not to get sucked into the absurd gravitas of the head in a jar especially when it was thinking into his head and still felt like Jack, goddamnit, but cheap philosophy not only wasn't solving his problems, it was coming right close to making him furious.
"Look, I'm from far and -- " he paused, trying to think of how Jack always put it, "-- long away and for reasons that are pretty unclear to me other than I was convenient and he's spiteful, the Doctor asked me to fetch this thing and return it to you. I don't know what it is, I don't know who you are, why I'm here, or even how to give the damn thing to you, seeing as you don't have hands. But if you could let me know, so I could go wait for my ride home, I'd really appreciate it."
"I'm sorry I don't remember you."
"You're never met me. How could you remember me?" Ianto said, grateful that for as weird as this was, the con was bad and there was no proof of his own terrible suspicions beyond the fact that he had them.
"You remember me," the Face offered, as if the proof of the matter was so obvious.
Ianto shook his head. "No. I'm not used to psychic communication. That's all. It just, felt familiar for a second. I'm not a traveler, I'm not used to these things."
"No. There is more than that," the Face said and closed its eyes.
Ianto looked around for help, spotting, finally, his guide in a corner, but when Ianto met his eyes and made a gesture that clearly asked for help navigating the situation, the man looked away. Ianto was suddenly seized with the possibility that this was out of neither negligence or discretion, but, just possibly, deference. God, this situation was fucked.
Jack was attempting to make a list, the only problem was that making lists wasn't the sort of thing Jack usually did, unless it was to bark orders at people. But if the Doctor wasn't going to answer his goddamn phone and his team thought he was incapable of functioning (and he was going to punch the next person who threatened, even jokingly, to relieve him of duty), he was going to try to solve this fucking thing on his own if that's what it came to.
Which meant making a list. Of every time Ianto had been out of his sight working backwards from when he left with the Doctor. Because this had to have been planned. There had to be a clue. Because there was no way, no way at all, no matter how batshit crazy, careless and persuasive the Doctor could be, that compulsive, reserved Ianto who wasn't even sure if he wanted to see the stars and for god's sake hated airline travel was just going to randomly say okay when the Doctor popped up for no good reason and suggested they run off together.
There had to be more data to be had, he was sure of it. The only problem, really, was that this was not the sort of information Jack was adept at assembling. After all, he saved his memory for the important things. Like the look on Ianto's face when --
"Gwen! Get in here now!"
The Face sighed and opened its eyes. Ianto thought it seemed rather put upon, as though he had disappointed it.
"Show me what you've brought then," it asked, all business now.
Jack, Ianto thought as he flipped the latch on the box and picked up the ridiculous thing that had caused so much trouble, would tell him with a wicked grin that he should hold it for ransom.
The Face gaped, for it couldn't, Ianto thought, gasp. "Where did you get that?" it asked.
"The basement," Ianto replied a bit dumbly. "Torchwood's basement."
The Face smiled ruefully. "You are from a very long when ago indeed."
"What should I do with it?" Ianto asked.
"Leave it when you go. It will be taken care of."
"Is that it then?" Ianto asked, hopeful at the thought of getting out of all this madness, and yet feeling like he'd missed the point of the whole horrible thing too.
"If you wish. But if you will not tell me my story, perhaps you could be enticed to tell me yours."
"I don't know your story, so I certainly can't tell you that." Stubbornness had got him a lot of places, Ianto reflected, and he definitely wasn't going to abandon it now. The Face's lips were very red, he noticed. Exaggerated, almost pouting. "And I don't know that I want to share mine either. What good could it possibly do you?"
"It is the custom. And if you tell me, it becomes mine, does it not? A story is a gift that you can give away and yet still keep. And sometimes, they become more in the telling."
"Or less. Like a secret," Ianto said, without thinking. "Once shared, it doesn't amount to anything much at all."
There was a great deal of amusement emanating from the Face now. "I like you," it said.
"Thank you," Ianto said reflexively, not at all sure that he was, in fact, thankful.
"What is it, Jack?" Gwen said, standing in the door of his office, slightly out of breath from having raced up the stairs in response to his bellow.
"I want the cctv tapes of everywhere Ianto was in the past day, and I want them five minutes ago."
She didn't move but simply looked at him.
"Why are you still standing here? Was something I said unclear? I want those tapes. Pull them up. He went shopping, didn't he? To restock the pantry? I want their security cam footage, and I want it now."
"Jack... you're acting... well..."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Gwen came forward and perched on the desk, reaching out to stroke his hair gently. He yanked away.
"Jack, you saw him get into the TARDIS, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he said. "So?"
"He's with the Doctor, Jack. Your Doctor. You trust that man with everything. Why not Ianto?"
"Gwen, I'm not going to say this again. Pull up those tapes, or I will, after I suspend you."
She stood up, and bent down to kiss his forehead. "Okay," she said kindly, which Jack couldn't help but resent.
"And don't humor me," he ordered.
"No, Jack. Of course not."
"We must compensate you for your trouble," the Face announced.
"Thank you, but it was no tro--" Ianto started to say, and then broke off, since it had in fact been a great deal of trouble, and he wasn't sure that lying to a giant telepathic head was a good idea. "Really, I don't need anything. Your money wouldn't be any good back home, anyway."
"You must be our guest."
"I really have to be getting back," Ianto said firmly.
"And how will you manage that?" the Face inquired innocently.
Ianto swallowed and pulled out the metal pendant. It was still silver. He cursed silently to himself and then winced as the Face seemed to smile.
"I'm still waiting for my lift," he said hurriedly. "But I can easily do that elsewhere. Perhaps some food and water, if you'd be so kind."
"You will stay with us, until it is time for you to depart. I insist, young traveler. Hospitality is the hallmark of every civilised race."
Ianto sighed. There seemed to be no way out.
Jack watched the grainy, black and white footage again. Yep, there was Ianto, in the bread aisle and then strolling into the shot was the unmistakable figure of the Doctor. He slung an arm around Ianto's shoulders.
"Do you think if you watch that for the millionth time, the camera angle will suddenly change, and you'll be able to read their lips?" Maeve said, breaking into his concentration. "Because somehow, don't think it's going to happen."
"You don't understand," Jack said, through his teeth.
"You're right, I don't. Explain it to me."
Ianto had expected the accommodations that had been foisted upon him to be austere and simple, like the room he had been shown to so he could gather his wits and what he could of his stomach, but this place was different. People actually lived here. Truly lived, Ianto thought, looking around the long room with its thick wood tables and various clusters of comfortable chairs and good couches and warm lighting. It reminded him of what he had imagined university to be before he had found it utterly wasn't.
Here and there people -- mostly in suits but sometimes in robe-like garments that Ianto felt were rather more befitting an alien religious order -- gathered in small groups, eating and talking and laughing. Here and there someone sitting alone tried to read, and at one end of the hall twin boys no older than ten chased each other through a warren of badly arranged chairs.
There was nothing of the religion of his childhood in this or the assumptions of the 21st century Jack so disdained.
"Are they all...?" Ianto trailed off as he gestured, still feeling absurd and likely to be wrongfooted yet again by this place and time and circumstance.
"Members of the order?" his clerk asked dryly as if telling a particularly biting joke.
"Er.. yes?"
"No. Some are friends, family, those considering the matter, travelers like yourself. We do have lives, you know."
"No, I don't, actually," Ianto said sharply. People kept promising to explain and then explained nothing. It was no wonder they were so fond of the Doctor.
"Ah."
"It's different where I'm from. Religion."
"Tell me?"
Ianto sighed into a shaky laugh. "It's complicated."
"More complicated than a giant head in a jar?" the clerk asked, almost benignly.
Ianto glanced at him, sharp and quizzical.
"Like I said," the man said, laughing, "we do have lives."
"I wish I knew your name, and not just because I find this awkward," Ianto said.
"And I like you too, Mr. Jones, but you haven't answered my question."
"Yes. More complicated than that."
"Try to remember that, then, while you're with us."
"No."
"That wasn't a question, Andy," Jack said.
"I'm sorry but it wasn't an order that made any sense at all. I am not going to Tesco and I am not interviewing people there in the vain hope that they overheard something of what Ianto and your Doctor were discussing. What are they going to say anyway? The shopgirl's going to mention they were discussing how butter was cheaper two galaxies over? Sorry, but I thought the part where you lot get to make me look like seven kinds of idiot was over."
"Finding Ianto is part of our... your job," Jack said, with just a hint of menace.
The truth was Andy didn't agree, not really, even though he did really think they should get him back, but regardless he sure as hell knew better than to say any of that.
"And it's not going to happen by harassing a bunch of folks at Tesco."
"Fine. How's it going to happen then?" Jack asked, slamming a pen down on his desk.
"You. Pulling yourself together."
"You don't --"
"Understand. Yeah. We've all got the speech. Personally, I think you can stuff it. The way Gwen tells it, Ianto worked out of his depth for months while you were gone for no other reason than he didn't know what else to do. If you're even half of what you're always saying you are, he's going to expect better from you when he gets back."
Jack started to speak but Andy held up his hands.
"Fine, fine, complain about insubordination and threaten to retcon me, but I've got a stack of suspicious vehicular collision reports to look at and several calls to make, and I figure you'd probably be happier if I finally learned to multitask," Andy said, almost sheepishly before pulling himself up tall and trying to march out of Jack's office like he'd just done some good. Unfortunately, he probably hadn't.
There was a communal meal -- great hunks of sour, chewy bread and bowls of some deliciously spicy broth that reminded Ianto vaguely of Asian cuisine, with bits of matter floating in that he thought might be pieces of meat and vegetables, although they were so unfamiliar, he couldn't be sure (and it was all very tasty, if a slightly alarming ruby red shade) -- where Ianto found himself at a long table, seated between a blue, scaled woman and another suit-wearing man.
There was wine of some kind, and after Ianto drank it, everything became a sort of pleasant blur of warmth. Somewhere in there, Ianto collapsed in a corner chair in an overwhelmed, overloaded daze. As the people continued to laugh and talk around him, meaning vanished completely and Ianto could only take it all in as the ebb and flow of light and sound and movement.
Eventually he was taken to to a chamber much like the one he'd been in before, if not the same one and told to rest, for he'd have another audience in the morning. Ianto, with some effort, managed to refrain from telling them exactly what he thought of that idea; he didn't think it would go over at all well, all things considered.
When he was brought to the hall in the morning, he saw the giant tank surrounded by several men and women, all in their impeccable suits. They were laughing merrily and talking amongst themselves, occasionally throwing a teasing sentence to the giant Face, who seemed rather cheerful about it all. Whatever formality that had attended this hall the previous evening, seemed to have been dispensed with.
Ianto stared. "So," he said to his guide, "these are the friends and family then? Of the order?"
The man shook his head. "This is the order."
One of the men pressed his cheek fondly against the side of the tank, laying the palm of his hand beside it, adoration and familiarity evident in every line of him. Ianto turned to stare at the man beside him. "This is how you are with your... god, is it? Rather familiar, I'd have said."
"This is how He is with us," his guide said.
At that moment, obedient to some signal that was invisible to Ianto, the assemblage dispersed purposefully, until there were only the three of them left in the hall. His guide nodded at him to go forward, and then he too disappeared.
Ianto thought about running away, but realized he had nowhere to go. He checked the pendant again -- still silver -- and sighed.
The Face seemed to laugh. "Come forward," it said. "There is nothing to harm you here."
"Right," Ianto muttered, but did as he was told. "Would you like your... thing... back now...?" he asked, brandishing the box.
Maybe if the Face would take its hazelnut off his hands, the Doctor would sense it and come back for him. Not a great working hypothesis, but one Ianto was willing to test out.
"You don't know what it is?"
"I don't know what it is. I don't know where I am. I don't even know what you are. The list of things I don't know is so long at this point, I don't even know how long it is."
"I told you who I am," the Face said. "I am the Face of Boe."
"Right, and who's Boe when he's at home? And where's the rest of him?"
"What is home, young traveler?"
"Yes, that's very enigmatic, very mysterious, very impressive. Do any of you ever answer a question in a straightforward manner?"
"Any of us?"
"And I wish you'd stop calling me that. My name is Ianto Jones. And I'm not that young."
"Everyone is young to me. You seem distraught this morning."
"I've been distraught since I arrived here, actually. And your sonic refresher thing is very disconcerting. Like being decontaminated."
"I've heard it can be quite pleasurable," the Face said reflectively.
Ianto stared. "I'm sorry, was that an... never mind." Surely this giant Face wasn't making a sexual reference. It had little tentacles! They were waving in its smoke! And it was probably reading his mind, right now.
The Face seemed to smile. Ianto thought very seriously about banging his head into a wall until he was dead.
"Jack, look, this has got to stop, at least like this," Gwen was saying as Jack did his best not to listen. Sadly, rubbing his hands over his face over and over like he was actually tired as opposed to just weary and miserable wasn't doing anything to silence her.
"I know," he said, surprising himself. He didn't want to give these people an inch in their intolerance or enjoyment of his... well whatever this was. Distress? Was he distressed or just bloody furious? Or scared. Because Ianto and the Doctor were the only two people that had ever betrayed Jack and made him love them more. And now they were somewhere together and Jack was pretty sure that meant something really terrible was going to happen to him.
That was reasonable, wasn't it? To be worried about it on those terms? Why couldn't his team see that, instead of teasing him about being heartsick. Even if he was. Sort of. As much as he could be. Which was apparently quite a lot. Jack hated this. More than he could have possibly imagined.
"So, we can't keep making this our only focus. I don't know why I'm explaining this to you sir, I mean, you were a soldier. Nothing gets in the way of the mission, right?" Andy chimed in.
Jack looked up at them incredulously, feeling furious all over again. "And you never leave a man behind. Ever. Now get out of my office."
Andy looked down at the rest of the team as Jack slammed the door behind them.
"That," he remarked, "didn't go at all well."
"You don't have much longer here," the Face said, "and I would like to talk to you before you go, about something other than your distress at merely doing a thing you agreed to do."
At his words, Ianto felt embarrassed. It was a rather effective scolding and one that could have as easily come from his father or from Jack. You don't make a commitment to luxuriate in the misery of it and then blame that on someone else. He knew better, and the Face knew he knew better.
He looked down at the pendant again, reflexively. Still silver.
"How do you know?" he asked, hoping it wasn't rude to sound hopeful. "That I'll be going soon?"
"The whole of your life is soon to me," the Face said.
"Well, not to me," Ianto said petulantly, unsure if he was annoyed by more riddles or honestly frightened that he would never get home from here.
The Face chuckled in its way, the lips moving like stone into something of a smile. "So opinionated a moth."
"What?" Ianto asked quietly, going very still.
"A moth lives just three nights in the moonlight."
"Jesus," Ianto whispered, trembling finely even as he had somehow been ready for this. "You really are Jack."
"No, not anymore," the Face said sadly. "But once was, I think. Will you be all right this time?"
"I... I think so," Ianto said, but wasn't actually sure. His legs felt weak, and there was a bit of roaring in his ears. "Would you mind if I sat down?"
"Go ahead," the Face said.
Ianto had expected somehow that his guide or some other priest or person would materialize with a chair, but none did as they seemed to be well and truly alone. So Ianto did as he supposed one did in the presence of gods and knelt on the floor.
"Did it hurt?" he asked. It seemed the worst of his many questions and the most important to know.
"Sometimes. Living does. I look at you and could ask the same."
And it was then that Ianto leaned his own face against the glass tank and started crying, even as it felt like he already had been for days.
Jack had decided that he was no longer going to talk to the rest of his team about anything having to do with Ianto, the Doctor, or anything that could remotely be construed as emotional. He remembered when he had been much more successful at keeping them all at arm's length. That had been nice. No one questioning his authority, or trying to get inside his head, or feeling sorry for him, for fuck's sake.
Obviously, this was the solution. The job, that was what counted. He wasn't here to make friends.
He cleared his throat. "So, reports on outstanding issues? Make it snappy, kids."
"We're still running tests on that meteor strike out by Swansea," Gwen said, her voice business-like.
"If there was life on it," Maeve said, "it was silicon based. So we're keeping an eye out for that."
"If it's sentient, it'll be curious about any computerized systems. Look near places that have a lot of tech. Call up UNIT and make sure they're briefed," Jack ordered. "It's likely to pay them a little call -- that is, if it doesn't come here first."
Gwen looked at Ravi, who was uncharacteristically silent. "Ravi's already on that," she said.
"Well, why didn't he say so then?" Jack snapped.
"I might need you for back-up," Ravi said, still staring down at the table. "UNIT doesn't like taking orders from me."
"Yeah? Well, maybe if you'd brought it to me earlier, we could be done with it by now," Jack said. "Fine. Whatever. You can brief me with what you've got after the meeting. What's next?"
Andy looked sheepishly down at his notes, and then back up to meet Jack's eyes. "The vehicular collision thing's sorted. Police have been briefed as to the status of the road, which is back to normal as of this morning."
"And how did we fix that?"
"It was a temporal storm, related to the Rift... uh... reacting to some kind of strong presence. Rift spots, you could call it," Andy said hesitantly.
"Lovely," Jack said, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. "Guess we can put that down to our visitor. Let's make sure to add it to his tab. Any fatalities?"
"It's not a storm," Gwen said soothingly. "More like a shower, really. A drizzle."
"If you strain that metaphor much further," Maeve interjected, deadpan, "it might snap, and then kill us all."
"Could we stay on target? If it's not too much of an inconvenience to your social hour," Jack said, through his teeth. "Let me repeat myself. Any fatalities?"
"None," Maeve said. "A few bruises, nothing terrible."
"I want you to check on that again."
"Okay, Jack," she said. "But I won't find anything."
"Check again. That's an order. What else?"
"That's all," Gwen said, after looking around the conference table and ascertaining that no one else wanted to say anything else.
"Okay," Jack said. "Keep an eye on that road. I don't want it opened to traffic again just yet."
Andy blinked. "But I already--"
"Then you'd better hurry, huh?"
"But Jack--"
"I don't think you completely understand, but the Doctor has chosen to pay us a little visit. Do you know when that happens? It happens when the world is ending. And do you know what else accompanies the Doctor? Death. And pain. So forgive me, if I seem a little concerned to you. Now get back to work, and keep an eye on that road. Do I make myself clear?" By the end, Jack realized he was shouting.
Everyone nodded.
He lowered his voice again. "Good. Now get going. You don't get paid to sit around."
It was strange to be consoled by something so alien and that could not touch him, but still the Face knew the way of it, Ianto thought, too tired to be nearly as hysterical as he thought he probably should be.
"Tell me a story, young Ianto Jones. Tell me who I was, so that I should not forget you again for a long while."
"A distraction," Ianto sniffed.
"For both of us," the Face admitted.
"From what?"
"Time, of course."
Ianto laughed, sharp and a little bitter. "All right," he stammered. "I'm not a storyteller, though."
"No? I'm surprised. What are you?"
"An archivist," he said defensively.
The Face almost seemed to purr; Ianto could feel it against the glass.
"Does that please you?" Ianto asked, with an awkward laugh.
"Details. Details please me. There are few at this scale. I remember sometimes in a shadowy way, the fineness of things."
Ianto smiled sadly, thinking ruefully of the way Jack fingered his ties, fussed with his cufflinks, was so particular about his coat and this notion of being deprived of the texture of things was another way in which he couldn't avoid finding all of this alarming.
He took a deep breath. He would try. And it was easier, down here, on the floor, leaning against glass rather than looking at the Face. He and Jack had, had a few conversations like this and dozens more lying side by side in bed, looking at the ceiling and never each other.
"Very well. Then I'll tell you... I'll tell you about the first time you forgot anything."
"Really?" the Face asked, captivated, and, Ianto thought, coy.
"Really. And I made you remember then too. But this is probably going to be a little different." He laughed then at his own joke, which the Face did not yet get.
After everyone else had left, Ravi remained seated at the table. He was still staring down at it, as if it had some sort of answer to the mysteries of the universe.
"Okay," Jack said abruptly. "Fill me in on this meteor thing. And by the way, you're Torchwood. What the hell are you doing taking shit from UNIT? You tell them about something, they damn well better listen, I don't care if it's you, or the dinosaur or one of the fucking weevils doing the talking."
"Yeah," Ravi said, almost as if he hadn't heard.
"You know what? Don't even bother briefing me. I want it handled, and I want it done by you," Jack said flatly.
Ravi nodded.
"Normally you're full of back chat. Now I compare you to a weevil, and I get, 'yeah'?"
There was no reply.
Jack looked down at Ravi's head -- just a boy, really. Younger than Ianto when Jack had met him. Too young for Torchwood, Jack had thought, when they'd found him. Only twenty, but a fucking genius. And now he was unhappy because his friend had gone. Well, they all had to learn someday. Everyone leaves. And now Jack had to do his job, and slap him into shape. Just one more thing to add to the massive proportions of how much he hated his life right now.
"Listen up," Jack said coldly, and all the more so because he knew exactly how the kid felt. Ravi jerked his head up at the tone, and Jack went on. "When the Doctor needs us, when he comes by, it's end of world time. He doesn't just come to visit a friend, or to stop by for a cup of tea. It's defending this goddamn planet, which he's unaccountably attached to, even though he thinks we're all a bunch of apes at the mercy of our hormones."
"Some more than most."
When he saw Jack's expression, Ravi closed his mouth with a snap. Jack went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "This isn't about me, or us, or you. It's about defending the earth, which is what we do here. Whatever they're doing, they might need help, and we have to be ready. Maybe Ianto's coming back. Maybe not. Either way, be prepared to do your fucking job, or get out and don't come back. Got that?"
"That's very funny coming from you," Ravi said.
"You want to explain that?"
Ravi stood up hurriedly, and his chair flew back with his impetus. "Sure. Maybe it would help if you started acting more like our Captain and less like a fifteen year old emo girl!" he shot back and with that, he was out the door, which slammed shut with a bang.
Jack sighed. "I don't even know what that means," he called after him.
For some reason, he suddenly felt very old.
Ianto's voice was hoarse with the telling by the time he'd come to the end of that particular story. He'd noticed that the Face, or rather Jack as he couldn't help but try to think of him seemed equally entranced by the little details of food and drink and the ordinary, every day mechanics of living, as he did with the often pornographic bits that, Ianto was certain, would have been his Jack's favourite parts.
He supposed it made sense in a way, that after enough time, all the missing senses -- taste, smell, touch -- would blur together with loss. He had blushed a little when he got to certain parts but had kept on going because it seemed unfair to elide over things, or make himself look better than he had been.
He paused, and realised he'd been speaking for a very long time. His knees hurt. He stood up to stretch himself out and felt the pins and needles of feeling returning to his calves.
"Are you well?" the Face asked.
"Fine," he said. "Legs are a bit numb, but the feeling comes back."
"So I've been told," the Face said, and Ianto could hear the sardonic shading now in his thought.
"I've been taking up a lot of your time."
"I have a great deal of that to spare."
"No, but really. Don't you have -- people to see? And what's with that anyway? They seem to think you're some kind of god."
"I perform a service, one that they can see and touch. So I suppose in some ways, I'm better."
Ianto found himself laughing and shaking his head simultaneously. Because after however many millennia, it seemed Jack could still stagger him with the breathtaking, blinding audacity of his arrogance, and that, above all things, was a comforting thought. The Face smiled.
"No, really," he said, after he'd managed to stop laughing, "what is it you do here?"
"You know that I cannot die," the Face said, with seeming irrelevance.
"I know you can't stay dead, yes."
"Yes," the Face agreed. "A man for precision. I prefer to think of the bigger picture."
"Well, you'd have to, wouldn't you," Ianto said, lightly, because this... bantering with Jack was something he knew how to do very well. "That's why you have me."
The Face smiled. "So it seems. At any rate, I have not died for quite some time. Matters seem to have become somewhat less dangerous than when I was young."
Ianto wondered briefly if the Face was killed -- would he revert? Rise and re-form back into the Jack that Ianto knew? He supposed it wasn't a good experiment to attempt without a guarantee of success. "Yes," he said instead. "You did lead a rather... risky existence."
"So while I am here, I listen."
"You... listen," Ianto repeated blankly.
"To their stories. Murderers, poets, lovers, parents, soldiers, kings. Whoever wishes it. So something of them will remain, when they and all their works are dust."
Ianto stared at him.
"I cannot give them my gift," the Face said sadly. "But I share what I can."
"Jack."
He looked up. Maeve. Maeve was all right. Maeve would be decent, or at least sensible. Damn shame she didn't like men, they would have been great together. Ruthless. Cold. Like Torchwood back in the bad old days.
"Yeah, whatever that thought was, stop having it," she said and sat down.
"So I don't owe this visit to a sudden change of heart?" he tried, but knew it sounded lame and disinterested.
"I don't have a heart. You on --"
"No. No no no no, don't you start too."
"I was going to say you have one, it's just mostly cold and black."
Jack chuckled in spite of himself.
"Ravi's terrified of you, and I don't want to babysit. I also don't want to listen to Andy and Gwen do so poorly. So please take it easy on the kid."
"Is this a job where I get to take it easy on anyone, Maeve? Really? Think," Jack said, turning back to the file he had been flipping through on his desk and no longer relieved for her presence.
"I am thinking, and I don't know how to get it through to you that Ianto would not want you acting like this."
"I think what Ianto wants is somewhat immaterial at the moment," Jack said nastily.
"Dangerous line of reasoning, Jack. Want is how we do things. Want is how he gets home."
"Well you all keep making it perfectly clear that my wanting isn't helping, so tell me, what is it you'd like me to do, Maeve?"
"Act like the damn soldier you are."
Jack peered at her and knew somehow in that moment that her father had been a military man and raised her like a son so that she could face the end of the world with a shotgun and a knife if need be. Jack loved her for it.
"I'm not a soldier," he said quietly, like someone had died. "Not for Ianto. So please stop telling me what he would want and get out of my office."
"Tell me," the Face said, "how we met."
Ianto laughed unpleasantly, paced some more and finally sat down at the top of the stairs on the platform they were on so that his back was largely to the Face.
"I was working at Torchwood One. I've never told you this first part, so you didn't forget it. And I was dating this girl, Lisa. She was older than me and a lot cooler and worked with the tech, right? And I was just down in the archives, so I was always looking for stuff to talk to her about because I had no idea why she liked me other than the sex which was pretty twisted and mostly her idea. ANYWAY, I found a file, on you. On Captain Jack Harkness, and it didn't make any sense." Ianto sighed. "Look, this story doesn't end well, you should know."
"Yes it does."
"How's that? You said you don't remember me," Ianto said, annoyed with himself for sounding so accusatory and weary.
"But you're here now," the Face said kindly, almost sounding pleased.
Ianto groaned and hid his face in his hands. It wasn't enough apparently that Jack was now a big giant head that didn't remember him at all and happened to be living in a jar. No, Jack was a big giant romantic head in a jar. Ianto missed him. And wanted to go home. And thought he might start crying again.
"I've tired you," the Face said, apologetically.
"No. No. It's all right. Let's just do this one, okay?" Ianto said, and then told the story of Lisa and the Cybermen and Jack and Myfanwy and felt oddly disappointed when the Face didn't even seem to remember the damn dinosaur. Ianto missed her too.
Jack was considering killing himself, just to make all this stop for awhile. Because now Ianto had been gone for two days, and he had somehow allowed Gwen to take him out of the Hub and come to her flat for dinner. Aside from the fact that she was a terrible cook, he was sitting across a table from Rhys, who he was pretty sure still loathed the sight of him, and who was enjoying the hell out of this.
"So, Harkness, shoe's on the other foot now? How's it feel to be traded in for a better model?"
"I don't know what you mean," Jack tried to say insouciantly, while also glaring at Gwen who seemed to have shared all this... this classified information with her husband. Unfortunately it was pretty hard to do both those things at the same time successfully, but he could make a valiant effort.
"Oh, I'm certain you do, mate," Rhys said, and then winced as Gwen swatted him one.
"Rhys. Be nice," Gwen hissed.
"I'm nice," Rhys said, holding his hands up innocently. "Have another chop, Captain. Gwen made them just for you."
"Great," Jack said, staring at the shoe-leather masquerading as meat. "Don't you usually do the cooking, Rhys?"
"This is a special evening, Jack," Rhys said with friendly malice. "Not often you honour us with your presence."
Jack bared his teeth in a smile, and then began sawing at his meat.
"I'll just get some more wine, shall I?" Gwen said hurriedly.
Jack stared fixedly at his plate, as she got up, hearing her thump her husband's head on her way to the kitchen, and his yelp of pain.
There was a brief pause. "Jack," Rhys said.
Jack looked up. "What?"
"It'll be all right," he said, all the teasing stripped out of his voice. "He'll be back. You always come back, you Torchwood people. If you can."
Pity. That note in his voice, that was pity. And it was at that moment that Jack lost his temper. Completely and irrevocably. Because how could Ianto have put him in this position, where he had to sit here and listen to this bullshit?
Jack cut a piece of meat, chewed deliberately, swallowed. Then took a drink of water. "Of course we do," he said, and then got up to pull Gwen's chair out for her with a flourish. He stroked the side of her cheek with the back of a finger, felt her shiver a little. Then he smiled. "Look at what we have to come back to." He pressed a kiss into the top of Gwen's head, before sitting back down.
Rhys shook his head. "Daft bastard," he said, without heat. "Keep your hands off my wife before my fist meets your face."
Continue to Part 4
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Date: 2009-02-03 06:30 am (UTC)