Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After Emma had come back to her senses and sort of half registered that she was in shock at the discovery that she would never see her family again, she noticed immediately that there was a grating tension in the team she’d been introduced to. Her mother had always said she was a bright girl, with a woman’s intuition, but Emma was sure it wouldn’t have taken someone so intelligent to notice the distance ‘Dr. Harper’ was putting between the rest of the team and himself, constantly glancing to a flight of stairs leading deep underground.

It was worrying, to say the least. Along with her intelligence, Emma had been born with an massively over-active imagination and it was all she could do to focus on the Welshwoman - Gwen, she thinks her name is, but she didn’t bother to listen much after she had turned her doey-eyed, insincere gaze on her - and not on the looming thoughts that something dangerous was lurking in the ‘dungeons’ underground.

Emma was, above all else, inquisitive, though. So, when Gwen turned her back and the rest of the team were busy with Diane and Mr. Ellis, the young woman slinked off as quietly and as slyly as she could. She wasn’t as unseen as she had hoped, but Dr. Harper simply smiled, a tiny curve in his lips, as he glanced away from Diane to glimpse Emma disappearing into the lower levels.

Of course, Emma had no idea where on earth she was going, but as she ventured further into the ‘dungeons’, she realised that they weren’t dungeons at all, but rather a safe-haven of information, stored safely in cardboard boxes that resembled some sort of order, known only to whoever had catalogued them. It was clear whoever had been working down here hadn’t been down for a while, but had lovingly arranged each of the stacks of reports and strange metal trinkets - this was their life, not just their hobby or job.

It came as a shock to her, though possibly more to him when Emma stumbled across another small room, with a warm, friendly tint of orange and fell almost right into a tall, dark-suited man in his mid-twenties.

“Shit!” he shouted, dropping what he was holding - although Emma couldn’t for the life of her describe what it’s purpose was - and grabbing ahold of Emma instead, who had tripped and would have smashed her nose painfully against the wooden floor had it not been for her knight-in-shining-armour.

Blushing brightly at the use of the curse, Emma gingerly picked herself up out of the man’s grip, straightening her skirt self-consciously. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she murmured, knowing that it was partially his fault as well.

She wasn’t expecting him to grin sheepishly - though tiredly, too - and shake his head. “No, I wasn’t paying attention either. Are you alright?” he asked, words forming quite beautifully past his blood-flushed lips. He was quite an attractive man, in a strange, uncommon sort of way, Emma decided, before registering his question.

“Oh, yes, I’m quite alright. Sorry for making you drop this,” Emma apologised (she’d always been taught to respect the men she met, but she despised the blatant inequality behind the actions. There was something about this man, however, that she wanted to like and to respect. He seemed like someone who deserved it) and knelt slowly to pick up the discarded lump of metal.

“Don’t touch that!” the man shouted frantically, batting her hand away to scoop it up. His hand seemed to pulse with blue for a second and Emma shook her head, rattled by the sight and the sound of the man’s yell.

He marched round a corner and then reappeared a moment later, with an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just that that piece of tech is pretty dangerous to touch with your bare hands. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Oh, right. That makes sense. I’m Emma, by the way. Emma-Louise Cowell,” Emma introduced herself, kicking herself for not doing so sooner. This tentative just-forming friendship - at least, that’s what Emma hoped it was - was going so well…

“I’m Ianto Jones. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ianto smiled briefly, raising his hand delicately for Emma to shake. He was warm to the touch and Emma found herself immediately thinking of the man she had lived across from, in her time - it felt so strange to say that - who had been almost like her father, so much kinder than her own father.

“So...what are you working on down here?” Emma asked curiously as Ianto lead her over to his desk, pulling a seat up for her. He startled for a moment before settling back in his chair with a small smile.

“Maybe you should get used to the twenty-first century first, before you try and wrap your head around Torchwood,” Ianto advised and Emma felt a spark of pain tingle up her spine. She’d almost forgotten about everything going on upstairs.

“How do you know about that? You don’t have a fancy earpiece thing, and you weren’t upstairs when everyone was introduced,” Emma said, matter-of-factly, distinctly pleased with herself when Ianto looked already very proud of her deductive reasoning.

“Owen - Dr. Harper - told me. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I’m sorry,” the man said, the meaning behind his words soothing Emma for a moment, before a realisation struck her. Gwen, the woman from before, had been disgusting in her sympathies, laying it on thick whenever she thought Emma was able to see but her face dropping down into a natural sneer when she wasn’t looking. Gwen hadn’t understood, offering meaningless anecdotes, because she hadn’t gone through half the things Emma was. But Ianto…

“Are you like me? Not from your time?” Emma asked, scared for the answer. Perhaps being stolen from time was a lot more common than she first had thought. How many missing people from her time had appeared in the twenty first century?

“It’s not that common, don’t worry,” Ianto reassured Emma, almost as if he had read her mind. “But I’m not all that different from you. My friends and family aren’t with me here either,” Ianto went on, eyes drooping with exhaustion and depression. It was clear that the man in front of Emma was broken beyond any repair she could offer but she still wanted so desperately to try.

“So I guess you’re the expert on this then? I could just come to you whenever I want to cry about those I’ve lost,” Emma replied, intending to inject some humour into their conversation, but only resulting in Ianto seeming even more upset. Her lips twisted in anger at whoever had caused this obviously wonderful man such stress, before slipping into a smile when Ianto glanced back up.

“We should probably get you back upstairs, you know. The team will be worried about you.”

It struck Emma that Ianto hadn’t called the team his own - not ‘my team will be worried about you’, but instead ‘the team’. As unsettling as it was to be in the hands of a team so divided, Emma found that her main goal, aside from accepting her new place in the twenty first century, was to try and light up the deadened, dull spark in Ianto’s soulful gaze. He deserved happiness, and although Emma had only known him for a few short moments, she was already attached.

“Emma! There you are,” Gwen called out as soon as Ianto had brought her back up to the main levels. She shot a glare at Ianto, who arched an eyebrow, seemingly used to the woman’s hostility. Her anger melted into her sickly sweet facade as she looked down at Emma and steered her away from Ianto with a ‘don’t go looking for him again. He’s not a good man.’

Emma furrowed her brow in confusion, turning discreetly in Gwen’s tight grip to try and glimpse Ianto again, but the man had disappeared. No one else but herself - and possibly Dr. Harper, if he looked up long enough from Diane - seemed to care, although there was something akin to guilty wistfulness on both Dr. Sato and Captain Harkness’ features.

Emma decided, as she was sat down once more, that she was going to figure out what the hell was going on in Torchwood.

-

“Don’t stay here for too long, okay? I know we have a new case, but you’re used to running yourself dry for this team and you shouldn’t, not if everyone’s been treating you like shit,” Owen sighed, finally giving up on his otherwise relentless persistence that Ianto shouldn’t stay late in the Hub. Certainly not along with Jack, who had practically shattered Ianto’s heart.

Yes, Owen could imagine what Jack must have thought when Ianto alluded to the fact that he was able to control other people’s feelings now - to a small degree - but there was no way in Hell that Ianto would ever force Jack to fall in love with him. But, that had never been the real issue.

The lying, now, the lying Owen could relate to completely. He’d lied a lot, in his first few months with Katie, mainly to protect himself, to keep up all those perfectly crafted walls around his mind that he hadn’t let crumble since he had left his mother when he was sixteen. He knew why Ianto had done it, knew why he had felt so vulnerable about Bond, knew why he had let it die.

Owen understood why Jack had shut Ianto out, too, but it didn’t mean that he had to like it.

“I’m going to head out then,” Owen murmured finally, after having watched Ianto work on forming the Rift-refugees’ new credentials. He rose from his seat across from the telepath, pausing for a moment as he registered just how bad Ianto looked.

He’d lost weight, and his eyes were sunken and dull. Owen’s heart, which he had thought was lifeless after Katie’s death, beat that much more forcefully at the sight of how depressed Ianto was. He knew that he’d do anything at all to protect the vulnerable man - and he was barely a man - in front of him, would topple mountains and drain seas to try and make him happy, because, shit, Ianto really deserved to be happy.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” he said instead, not knowing how to articulate the new crispness that thrived in their Link, the sharp way he felt Ianto’s pain.

But Ianto understood, smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time in forever as he brushed his mind against Owen’s, the brightness in their Link lighting a place in himself that Jack had inadvertently ruined. “Thanks,” he murmured softly, the buzz in his veins because of their friendship - no, their brotherhood - fading to a dull pang as Owen reluctantly left.

It took about three and a half minutes for the dull pang to become full-fledged, panicked agony that he barely concealed as Jack strode out of his office, stopping abruptly at Ianto’s desk, tantalisingly close to Ianto. It was torture, because he knew that he wasn’t allowed to touch, to caress, to hold Jack’s body in the way he so desperately needed to.

“Sir.” It wasn’t a question, but rather an acknowledgement. Almost as if Ianto was showing in his mere words that Jack was the one who held dominance, that it was Jack who he wasn’t allowed to question.

“Ianto,” Jack said, his voice cold and hard and distant. Ianto almost flinched, but suppressed it, focussing on the mindless task in front of him.

“Could you mark them? Telepathically. Could you implement trackers in their minds?” Jack asked suddenly and Ianto did flinch.

Psychic markers were cold and cruel and invasive. It was a disgusting, horrible experience, and intrusion on privacy. And it hurt, so, so bad every time Ianto had been forced to practice marking humans by his teacher in Demetae.

“I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t have that ability?”

“I do,” Ianto said quietly, defiant despite his sheer terror at having his Bonded - well, his ex-Bonded - so close and yet so hostile and rejecting. “But, I don’t think I could do it morally.”

“Would it hurt them, physically or mentally? Would they know about it?” Jack demanded and Ianto shook his head. Had he only explained to Jack that it wouldn’t have hurt Emma or John or Diane, but instead him - and badly - he’d have avoided everything coming. But he didn’t explain and so Jack didn’t know.

“Get it done, Ianto. That’s an order,” Jack said, voice just that side of a snarl. Ianto turned to him briefly, eyes flashing bright blue before he blinked once and the colour receded as he set up the temporary markers.

“It’s done,” Ianto murmured, steeling himself for everything he’d have to put up with when he next saw the refugees. Jack’s retreating form only served to force the metaphorical knife deeper into his battered heart.

-

Emma, or rather Deborah, was extremely grateful for her new name. When Ianto had presented her new passport and credentials to her, she had positively beamed, obviously not having taken Gwen’s brash advice to stay away from Ianto seriously.

“These will be your means of identification for the authorities. We've set up bank accounts for you but we'll give you an allowance so you can practice with the currency and money management,” Jack explained as Ianto handed them out, strengthening his psychic markers every time he brushed against one of the refugees, just like Jack had ordered him to that morning.

“David Ward?” John muttered, the steel in his voice hitting Ianto in the chest, coiling around his ribcage for a moment, tightening so that he couldn’t breathe before releasing him. It didn’t help that their psychic markers were making their emotions directed like blades to Ianto’s mind.

“Sally-Anne Hope.”

“Deborah Morrison. And it's spelt how Deborah Kerr spells it,” Emma grinned, eyes shining bright with her glee. It was clear that she was seeing this as a brand new start.

John didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm.

“Your background stories should incorporate the skills you already have. For instance, John, you could have run a corner shop,” Jack said absent-mindedly, wincing as Ianto flinched sharply when John answered, his voice strong and harsh. He was a man used to getting his own way.

“No.”

“We can fake references,” Jack assured him, positive that he was talking about the name change rather than occupation, but hoping against hope that it wasn’t.

“You can't take away our names! For God's sake, man, it's all we've got left. It's my son's name. It's the name above my shop!” John shouted, eyes blazing with fury. Ianto thought for a second that for a man who had supposedly been taking care of his family for decades, John was rather immature; then, the pain set in, a dark, curled heat at the base of his neck, creeping into his mind to snap and hiss at the Links and Lines and Marks in his mind.

His eyesight faded to black spots for a moment as Ianto wobbled on his feet. He noticed vaguely that Owen had grabbed ahold of his shoulder in a deathly tight grip, the only thing really keeping him grounded. Dealing with anger telepathically had always caused Ianto more pain than it should have caused any Gifted, no matter the circumstance.

“You're right. I didn't think. You should keep your name,” Jack hurried out, noticing Ianto’s obvious discomfort. A sick sense of smug satisfaction burrowed its way into Ianto’s mind as John smirked in triumph. Ianto cursed Jack in his head, knowing that he’d have more work to do now. Vaguely, he registered that Jack had panicked over his state of well-being, had impulsively made a move to try and help him - it was a shame it wasn’t enough to save their failing relationship.

Owen’s grasp on him loosened. Ianto walked off to his Archives without even a glance behind him.

-

Ianto supposed he should be thankful that Jack had allowed him to be alone around the refugees. Then again, it was a rather tedious task, if Ianto was honest and he’d probably only been given it because no one else wanted to have it.

Deborah, as she had insisted he now call her, was easy enough to be around. It seemed that she trusted the telepath already and Ianto couldn’t have been happier. The only hiccup that came was when Deborah was wandering idly around the grocery section of the supermarket, picking at tomatoes and cabbages before putting them back with a dissatisfied huff.

“Was there any truth behind what Gwen said? About you not being a good man?” Deborah asked suddenly, turning to face Ianto with a ripe turnip in hand.

Ianto startled. “I-I...what? I, no, I don’t…-” then, thinking about it, “- I think that you should decide that for yourself, Deborah.”

The petite woman grinned brightly. It was clear she had already made her decision.

John and Diane were harder to keep on a leash. There was a tension already between John and Ianto, seeing as the elemental had been the one to orchestrate the construction of a new name for John, so Ianto steered safe from him, bumping into Diane in the film aisle with Deborah, as they gushed over the boxed movies.

“What would you recommend?” Diane asked, turning to Ianto with an easy, ruby smile. Ianto couldn’t help but beam back, picking out a few films he guessed were right up Diane’s alley.

“I have a friend who owns a flight school in Cardiff. I know you’re trained, but you’ll need a new license. Mark owes me a favour, so you won’t have to go through the long waiting list and he’ll probably give you a license after a few flights in the air with you, along with the written assessment, too.”

Diane’s head snapped up from where she had been wistfully staring at a movie with a massive war plane of all things plastered on the front. “You’re serious? You’d help me like that? But you barely know me,” she asked hesitantly, suspicious.

“I can see how much flying means to you. I know what it’s like to have something you love ripped away from you,” Ianto replied quietly, thinking of Jack’s warm smile and tender touches after their first time together. Thought of what he and pushed away and lost.

“I hope they come back to you,” Diane murmured softly, her eyes and words speaking volume of what she had given up to become a pilot, and what she could never get back because of the Rift. Diane understood exactly what Ianto was going through and that broke his heart just that bit more.

John wasn’t so easy to charm. By the time that they’d paid for their things and were back in the car, John was still stony with him, though considerably less so. Ianto wondered vaguely how many layers there were to chip away from the rather stroppy man, as he turned into an intersection to avoid traffic and subsequently came right up to the stadium.

“I want to take a look at the stadium,” John demanded.

“I don’t think that-”

“Are you keeping me as a prisoner then? Am I not even allowed to go and see the stadium? To walk the streets of Cardiff on my own?” John shouted, anger piercing Ianto like shards of hot glass. He could see arguing with the man would only make things worse and Deborah was cowering in the back seat. She’d obviously taken the brunt of someone’s anger before and Ianto refused to allowed such negativity to fester in their tight enclosed space.

“Fine. I’m sure you can make your own way back, then.”

John smirked, pleased at Ianto’s submission. If that was the only way to get the man to trust him, even slightly, then Ianto supposed that that was what he was going to be doing.

Deborah relaxed immediately as soon as John was out of the car and far away. Ianto breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her loosened shoulders, his own tensed body uncoiling slowly but not fully, like a spring.

Jack was confused when they arrived back at the Hub without John. Ianto watched with baited breath again as the confusion started to morph into frustration and then anger that simmered just below the surface of Jack’s mind.

“He went to the stadium, supposedly. I couldn’t stop him.”

Ianto steeled himself for anger, for shouting and questions followed by an even more horrendous bout of Jack ignoring him completely, but it never came. Jack’s hand came up, soft and tender as it brushed against his shoulder in a soothing, almost apologetic way.

“Just tell me next time, alright?” Jack asked, pleased with Ianto’s nod, no matter how delirious it was.

Ianto couldn’t have been more confused it he had tried.

Chapter Text

Jack had gone out to look for John, and probably treat him to some of the typical Harkness charm - only Ianto, his Linkmates and Gwen were left in the Hub, silent and working. Time dragged on for an age, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes feeling like hours. Ianto had thought that he’d get through the day relatively unscathed, other than a near heart attack Jack had given him earlier and the strange, half-hurt, half-guilty glances Tosh kept throwing his way, but he was so very wrong.

“Ianto!” Gwen called out from where she had been lounging lazily in her seat. Ianto’s spine snapped straight at the sound of his name. “Make me some coffee, will you?”

“After I’ve finished this report,” Ianto replied, more confident in knowing that Gwen couldn’t boss him about considering Jack wasn’t there to see his open defiance. He had work to do, and Gwen’s lack of caffeine fix wasn’t going to stop him from completing it.

“You’re kind of paid to be the tea boy, you know. I’m getting on with work a lot more important than that. I need something to help me through it, so get me some coffee,” Gwen repeated darkly. Her voice was both angrily high-pitched and whiney all at the same time.

“I have work to do, Gwen. Just let me finish it, please,” Ianto murmured, feeling his resolve crack. Gwen could blow this way out of proportion and he’d taken his fair share of anger from John today.

Gwen opened her mouth again, presumably to make some sort of haughty comment about him being only a glorified receptionist that wasn’t even human, but Tosh turned in her chair, face a mask of rage.

“Ianto has work to do, Gwen. Go get your own bleeding coffee!” she shouted, fingers twitching against her own keyboard as she struggled to somewhat reign in her anger. Ianto flinched visibly, making a wounded noise as his Link with Owen filled with irritated concern and a sudden blast of emotion from Toshiko, for the first time in at least a week, filled his senses.

He was barely aware of Gwen storming out in a huff, so consumed by the new thoughts and feelings racing through his skull until a dainty hand pressed hard against his shoulder, grounding him.

“Ianto?” Owen called out, another hand joining what Ianto assumed to be Tosh’s on his other shoulder. The medic hesitated for a moment before he clumsily sent a wave of reassuring energy to Ianto, their Link lighting up as it was utilised, finally.

“I’m so sorry, Ianto,” Toshiko whispered suddenly. Ianto opened his eyes to meet Tosh’s, which were slightly tear-damp. She looked ragged, as if she hadn’t been sleeping for weeks; in actuality, she probably hadn’t been, worried as she was for Ianto, but still too hurt to confront him.

“Why?” Ianto asked, near-silent. “I don’t deserve an apology. I didn’t tell you about my Gift and I didn’t even mention the possibility of a Bond. You should have known, I should have told you.”

Toshiko sighed, dropping her hands to grasp Ianto’s, rubbing small circles into the flesh to try and soothe Ianto’s growing franticity. It worked, Ianto’s shoulders dropping as he relaxed slightly. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. Or Jack. I was upset, angry too, when I figured out that you had been lying, or at least not telling us everything. But, seeing Owen being so warm and kind to you, and how much Gwen is mistreating you, I’ve realised that you didn’t necessarily deserve how I was ignoring you....”

Her apology was a little stunted, but not forced and Ianto smiled slightly. He and Tosh would need to work a little together to fix their friendship, but already, their Link was singing with glee at the idea of being used once more.

“Do you forgive me?”

“Sort of. You owe me a hug, I think, to make up for it,” Toshiko smiled, launching herself into Ianto’s arms without even waiting for a reply, knowing that Ianto was all too happy to accommodate the arms wrapped tight around him.

“Love you, Tosh,” he murmured against her forehead, hugging her tighter as Tosh repeated the sentiment back to him.

“Now, as much as your friendship is adorable and all, if I see any more of it, I may be sick. I think Diane might need some help adjusting to the...nightlife here, so I’ll be off. Have fun, you too. Call me if you need anything!” Owen called out as he disappeared out of view through the door leading to the parking lot.

“I hope he’s safe,” Ianto mumbled, pleased when Toshiko giggled against his neck.

“Do you really think that it’s best for him to get entangled with Diane? She’s only been in the twenty-first century for a day or two. And Owen isn’t exactly the most patient or gentle of people,” Tosh wondered aloud. She didn’t want Diane confused about what Owen and she were - Tosh knew all too well that people like Owen could make a girl feel like they were so very special and committed to one another whilst Owen only saw them as fuckbuddies.

“I think that both of their feelings go beyond just sex. But, I see your concern. Honestly, though, having seen such a different side to Owen as of late, I can safely say that he’ll be head over heels in love within the week. I worry more about Owen getting his heart broken than Diane.”

Toshiko hummed thoughtfully, burrowing her head back down to rest against Ianto’s shoulder. They sat together for some time, Jack not returning for a long while from his outing with John - who Ianto was beginning to like less and less - and Gwen not returning at all.

The day went by smoothly after that, until night fell.

-

It was around 7 o’clock when Deborah called Ianto - the telepath immediately smiled, proud at how well Deborah was at commandeering the device already and picked up. His smile fell as soon as Deborah started talking.

“And he never stopped yelling, Ianto, please, I can’t stay with him. He’s a wretched man, and you know it too!” she cried down the line, breath short from sobbing. It seemed unlike the girl to get so upset from an older man shouting at her, but she was already rather tender.

“Hey, don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t you worry,” Ianto soothed. “I’m going to hang up now, but I’ll be there soon, is that okay?” At Deborah’s affirmation, Ianto pocketed his phone and car keys and headed out, for once not much bothered about the state of his clothing - a tattered old sweater and loose fitting jeans, which he always wore when he was alone and relaxed.

It did only take a few minutes to get to the hostel that Deborah and John were staying at. When he got out of his car, Ianto noticed Jade and Alesha standing in the cold, with thin cardigans on. They had obviously been waiting for him, perking up slightly when they spotted him.

“Are you Ianto?” Jade asked. Ianto had checked out the two women when they moved the refugees to live in the same hostel, but they hadn’t ever met him. “Deborah said you’d be coming to pick her up. I don’t know who the hell that man is with her, but he’s horrible. Are you sure she should be around him?”

“John is...a bit old-fashioned. I’m taking Deborah to live with me for a short while, until she settles in here, in Cardiff, I mean. Thank you both for being so nice to her, I’m sure she really appreciates it,” Ianto murmured in return, all of them falling into silence as Jade and Alesha led him up a flight of stairs to where Deborah was staying. The shouting from inside the room felt like it was rocking the entire house.

“I think I should take it from here, girls,” Ianto said, a silent question for them to go back downstairs and pretend none of this happened. For a long moment, the girls shared a look that Ianto couldn’t decipher - he was afraid that they would refuse and they’d end up hearing more about Deborah and John’s situation than they should have a right to, but the pair nodded eventually, drifting off with a concerned look.

Ianto steeled himself as he opened the door to Deborah’s room. Nobody sane wanted to be yelled at, and Ianto knew exactly what he was putting himself up for when he stepped into the room to face John’s wrath.

“Ianto!” Deborah cried out, as she registered the new presence in her room. Without warning, she threw herself into Ianto’s arms, tears running freely down her face as she hid away in Ianto’s tight grasp.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m here now,” Ianto reassured her, rubbing her back as she sobbed and hiccupped against his neck. “My car is parked in the street below. Why don’t you go hop in and I’ll be down in a few minutes, okay?”

It took a moment for Deborah to recognise the words in her hysterics, but when she did, she was away like a shot, obviously not wanting to be anywhere near John anymore. Ianto watched her leave, taking a deep breath before turning to face John. The refugee didn’t like to speak unless he had an audience.

“I don’t know why the hell she would call you, of all people! You’ve been nothing but a nuisance since we got here! And not to mention what Gwen has told us about you - we know your dirty secret, we know how unnatural you are,” John shrieked, voice so high-pitched it would have been funny in any other circumstance.

“And what would that be?” Ianto asked, half afraid that Gwen had told John of his Gifted heritage. His voice was decidedly calm, though, and Ianto would have grinned in satisfaction had he been anywhere else other than pinned underneath John’s harsh gaze.

“Your bloody relationship with your boss! The way you pine after him like some sort of queer! She says that you’re seducing him with chemicals or something, to make him fall in love with you,” John replied, a small, evil smirk growing on his face suddenly. “Can’t you see that no one wants gays, like you?”

“Mr. Ellis, I think you need to adjust to your new surroundings. Homophobia is a thing of the past. I would advise you to hold your tongue,” Ianto hissed, relieved for a moment that the ‘dirty little secret’ was his sexuality and not his species before rage set in. He was not new to harassment about his bisexuality, he just didn’t expect it when he walked into the room that evening. He didn’t expect Gwen to tell John, to tell a man she knew must be homophobic.

“I don’t think Emma is safe with you. That girl shouldn’t be coddled, she needs to be shown some discipline! Queers like you can’t show her how to live properly! She needs to learn to respect men above her, she’s only a girl,” John shouted, one last little dig at ideas that were lost to the past.

Ianto gritted his teeth, striding up to John until they were practically touching noses. His face was a twisted mess of rage. “I’m not leaving an innocent child to be abused by you. You’re a disgusting excuse for a man, John Ellis.”

Ianto wasn’t expecting the punch that followed. For a man that looked like he was all bark and no bite, John could certainly throw a punch that sent Ianto’s head reeling. He was almost sure that he’d swallowed one of his teeth.

Not looking behind him, Ianto stormed out, nursing his already swelling jaw. There wasn’t the same satisfaction he had felt on John when he was allowed to keep his name coursing through their psychic marker. No, all Ianto could glean from John in that moment was deep regret. Maybe he hadn’t meant everything he’d said and done.

The ache in his jaw had dulled to a throb once Ianto arrived back to his car. A quick glance in the side mirror showed that there was a bright yellow-red mark on his cheek that didn’t look like it was going to age prettily. He didn’t want to risk Deborah seeing him in his Gifted form, so he couldn’t shift to help it heal quickly. Make-up would have to do as far as covering it up went.

The drive back to Ianto’s place was uneventful, filled only with Deborah worrying about the bright blemish on Ianto’s skin. He brushed her off easily, the poor girl too exhausted to keep badgering him about the matter.

There was a spare room in Ianto’s house that he quickly made up for Deborah to sleep in, slipping a sheet over the bed and cover over the duvet and pillows to ensure a good night’s rest for her. Ianto might have made up the bed had Jack been staying over more - not for him to sleep in, no, because Jack was always easily persuaded into sleeping curled up with him - to seem like he knew how to look after his own household, but no-one but Owen had been over for a while and Ianto’s careful tidying of his house was growing lax.

“You...you aren’t trying to...take advantage of me, or anything?” Deborah stuttered out as Ianto went to fetch her something to wear for bed.

“What?!” Ianto replied, reappearing suddenly with pyjamas and an indignant, but reassuring look. “No, no, of course not. What made you think that?”

“It’s just…” Deborah began, looking admonished. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.” She looked sorry.

“Don’t worry about it. You can never be too careful, but I promise I’m not the type of man to try anything. My intentions are pure,” Ianto murmured, thinking suddenly of Jack as he handed over the bedclothes for Deborah to change into.

After a short while, she came out of the bathroom again, having brushed her teeth with another spare amenity Ianto had but never used. The shirt and pants were too big on her, but she looked comfortable. “Does your heart belong to another, then?” she asked suddenly and Ianto choked on his own saliva.

“Wha-what?” Recovering, Ianto stared at Deborah with wild eyes. She was a smart cookie, that girl, and Ianto refused to lie to her to spare himself some heartbreak for the evening. “I...I suppose so. But, I fuc- I made a mistake… and now he doesn’t trust me. Quite frankly, I think I’ve lost him for good, which is a big shame because I really did love him,” Ianto joked, trying to inject some humour into his words. Deborah just looked sad.

“I’m sorry, Ianto. But I’m sure if he has a brain, it won’t be long before you’re back together,” Deborah said, but her attempts to reassure Ianto didn’t exactly work. He smiled gently and left the room as Deborah lay down, burrowing down beneath the quilt on her borrowed bed.

Ianto knew that Deborah would need a lot of help to adapt to her entirely new surroundings, but for now, he was satisfied that she was safe.

-

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Jack’s voice drifted through the Hub, deep and placating. Gwen’s shrill tone shot back as soon as he had finished speaking.

“John didn’t know where she went, he said - she could be anywhere! She could be dead” she cried out and Ianto felt a sinking feeling in his heart as he figured out who they were talking about.

“Deborah is with me, I took her to my place last night.”

Jack and Gwen both whirled around to face him. They were horribly close together and a flare of jealousy sparked up Ianto’s spine before he carefully tapered it down. Jack’s eyebrows pulled down to form a furrow above his eyes. There was a mixture of confusion and anger across his face, a look that Ianto was becoming gradually more familiar with.

“And you didn’t think of telling anyone?” Here it came - the rage.

“I didn’t think it would have been an issue,” Ianto replied, tone wavering slightly as irritation simmered beneath his skin. He hid his hands behind his back, not wanting a few lone sparks of powers to flake off, as they had been doing a lot more lately due to the broken Bond.

“I had hoped that you had learnt to tell us these things, Ianto. Lying has gone well for you in the past,” Jack hissed back, a low blow. Gwen smirked slightly, hidden behind Jack. They seemed to provide a united front - they were together in this and it made Ianto hurt more than Jack’s comment had.

“It’s not like I expected you to understand,” Ianto half-whispered, voice broken. The anger that Jack was radiating was to be expected - breaking Bonds and still having to be around your ex-Bondmate was hellish. The need to be around one another was a stronger force than gravity, but the majority of those with broken Bonds didn’t want to be anywhere near each other. It resulted more often than not in a perpetual state of fear and anger and vulnerability.

“Jack?” Toshiko’s voice, Ianto’s saving grace, sliced through the thick tension in the air like a meat cleaver. “It’s John’s son. I think I’ve found him.”

“Where?” Jack snapped, his ‘Captain-voice’ turned on, although it was a bit shorter than usual. Tosh flinched ever so slightly, before reading the address out to Jack.

“You,” Jack turned, pointing harshly at Ianto, who felt a rather bit like a deer in the headlights. “You’re coming with me.”

Ianto arched an eyebrow, somewhat pleased at Gwen’s aghast look from behind Jack. “Why?” he asked, words blunt and stony. “I thought you didn’t trust me around our refugees.” Jack’s face twisted into something unreadable for a sharp moment, a tender look that felt like a knife to Ianto’s gut.

“I never-.” A pause. “This way, I can keep an eye on you,” Jack amended, his words admittedly a lot less believable that what he was obviously going to say at first. He threw a pair of car keys carelessly at Ianto, who caught them deftly with one hand. Despite what Jack had said, Ianto knew he didn’t just give the keys to the SUV to anyone - it took everything he had in him not to get his hopes up as he followed, exhausted, after Jack.

-

“We’ll just wait here for you, John. Take your time,” Jack murmured, voice lowered in sympathy as John stared on, distraught at the sight of his own son with more wrinkles than him. His whole world was crashing and burning and Jack and Ianto both knew that it was going to become ten times worse when it was revealed the extent of the differences between John’s eight-year-old son and the old man sitting in front of him now.

They watched on, discreetly, silently for a few minutes, before Jack broke the quiet, almost peace. “Do you think we’ll be like that one day?” Jack wondered idly aloud. “You’ll be old and grey and barely remember me, whilst I look as young as the day you met me. We wouldn’t be father and son, of course, not like John and Al-”

“With all due respect, sir,” Ianto interrupted, too heart-broken to listen to Jack’s ramblings as if he still loved Ianto, “I don’t think that I would make it to that age. And even if I did, you certainly wouldn’t be around for me to see you.”

It was the order that he had phrased everything that really dug the knife deeper into Jack’s heart. Ianto could have easily said that ‘I wouldn’t be around you for you to see me’, proving that Ianto had lost all feelings for him and didn’t want him around as he grew older. But, no; Ianto seemed to think, if they were basing everything off their one conversation, that Jack wouldn’t want to stick around, wouldn’t continue to love Ianto with everything that he had.

“Ianto-”

“I think I’m done here,” John said, suddenly, stepping into the pair’s space as he exited the main room of the nursing home. There were poorly concealed tears in his eyes that Ianto and Jack were too kind to comment on.

Ianto nodded softly, turning on his heel and strolling slowly towards the SUV, which he had parked outside the nursing home. John and Jack followed swiftly behind; the drive back to the hostel was tense and uncomfortable, the only words spoken an affirmation from Ianto that John didn’t want to go somewhere else.

“I...thank you, both of you, for taking me to see Alan. It helped, I think. And,” John hesitated awkwardly, not a man used to offering apologies. “Ianto, I’m sorry. For the way I treat both you and Deborah. You didn’t deserve to be struck.”

There was a long pause as Ianto sat, speechless, before he stammered out a short thank you. John, happy with the assumed forgiveness, shimmied out of the car, walking up to and disappearing inside the hostel without a second glance back.

Ianto turned back to the steering wheel, ready to drive away and forget that the apology and the argument coming beforehand, but Jack’s hand on his arm, grip tight, stopped him in his tracks.

“He hit you?” Jack’s tone was soft, too soft. Cracking on the words, as if he was holding back tears, which didn’t make any sense. Ianto glanced at his captain, noticing the unhidden guilt across his too pretty face.

“He...I insulted him. He had a reason to.”

Jack shook his head. “Where?” Without thinking, Ianto flicked his fingers sharply and the makeup covering the blackening blemish dissolved into fizzles of blue magic. Jack swore under his breath as he got a good look at the bruise, close enough to see the blood vessels broken underneath Ianto’s skin. Instinctively, he reached up a hand, brushing his fingers lightly across the mark before he cupped Ianto’s cheek in his palm.

“You don’t ever deserve to be hurt,” he whispered as he caressed Ianto’s skin. The telepath made a noise in the back of his throat, breath caught between a purr and a sob and Jack touched him. It was gentle and careful and it shattered any little piece left of Ianto’s heart.

“Why do you hate me, Jack?” he asked in a near-silent tone.

“I don’t hate you, Yan,” Jack replied and Ianto’s eyes, shifted into their Gifted perspective, shot open to stare at the honest curl of Jack’s pink mouth. “That’s just the problem.”

Chapter Text

Things between Jack and Ianto were strange after that conversation. Although they certainly weren’t back to the way that they used to be, Jack was less cold around Ianto, kinder, and for some reason, it made it even harder for Ianto to breathe. Because now, Ianto craved everything he used to have with Jack, but especially their Bond.

And he couldn’t get it back.

Still, there was something there. A few days after their conversation in the SUV, in the middle of the mess with Gwen taking Deborah to a bar and the subsequent Sex Ed that Ianto had to give, and then the job interview that Deborah had come back to Ianto positively beaming at that Gwen had screamed at Jack about.

Afterwards, when Deborah stormed out of Jack’s office and plonked herself rather heavily down into the chair across from Ianto, and Gwen had disappeared to wherever, Jack walked slowly over to where Ianto and Deborah were sat.

Ianto felt a flicker against his mind, and felt a sharp lurch in his stomach as Jack weighed out his options of communication. In the end, much to Ianto’s dismay, he chose to speak aloud, though Toshiko seemed distinctly pleased that they were talking.

“Perhaps you two should go down to the Archives, have some time away from everyone else? I’ll make sure that Gwen won’t go down there, so you can properly think about this job offer. Not that I’m all that against it - we both just want to make sure you’re happy and safe,” Jack murmured, referencing Ianto out of pure habit.

Deborah nodded quickly, rising from her seat and hurrying down to the Archives without looking back to see if Ianto was following. The telepath glanced at Jack for a moment, expression unreadable, before he continued after the sweet woman. He found her in his office, head bent low over his desk.

“Deborah?”

“I don’t understand, Ianto!” she cried out, her head lifting up with a crack from the desk. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and Ianto could feel in his core through their psychic marker how truly hurt she was. “As much as I don’t care for her opinions, Gwen was always trying to make sure I was happy. And now when I’ve found something that will make me happy, she’s trying to take me away from it!”

“Oh, Deborah...if going through with this job will make you happy, then I think that you should go for it,” he paused, pulling up another chair. “But if you’re just doing this to try and run away from all your memories and thought and feelings from Cardiff, then I don’t know if I want you to go either. Do you understand?”

Deborah hesitated, gazing up at Ianto for a long, dragging moment. There was only honesty in his calculating stare. “I do. It’s just...I need to do something. I need to work towards some sort of goal, or- or…”

“What about university?” Ianto proposed suddenly, resisting the urge to chuckle at the incredulous look on Deborah’s face.

“Most women wouldn’t go to university,” she started, but Ianto cut her off.

“In the past, yes. But not anymore. And if you did choose to go, you’d learn a lot more than you would a job in an entirely different country. Perhaps you need some experience with education in general before you try something massive like a job. Graduating could be that goal you were talking about.”

Sitting back with a pensive expression, Deborah thought for a while. Silence fell upon the room, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Ianto allowed himself to bask in the sensations he was receiving through his psychic markers on both Deborah and Diane - the latter was like sunshine, bright and happy, but like needles pricking into Ianto’s brain. Deborah’s mind was sharper and quicker, thoughts almost like a stream of ever-flowing water as she pondered. And John’s mind...there was something there, a niggling thought like mist that Ianto couldn’t grab a hold of.

He was about to investigate further, but Deborah’s voice snapped him out of his almost-trance. “What if I still wanted to go to the job in London?” There was something in her demeanour that told Ianto that she wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. This was a test.

“If you still wanted to, I would support you in any way you needed me to.” Deborah breathed out an audible sigh of relief, obviously pleased with Ianto’s answer. “Come on, let’s go back upstairs. Jack will probably want to make sure you’re okay and then I can drive you back to the hostel - or mine, if that’s what you want.”

“That would be nice. Thank you, Ianto.”

Ianto smiled softly, shortening his pace so that Deborah could catch up as they neared the top of the stairs leading into the Hub. He was about to reply, but suddenly, all he saw was the ceiling and all he heard was Deborah yelling something. Her voice was weak, watery, as if she was trying to speak underwater.

It took the telepath a moment to gather his thoughts, and figure it was probably him who was underwater and heaved a deep breath, no water but no wair filling his lungs. The pain in his body was so severe that his organs were just shutting down, too overwhelmed to continue working. It would be a peaceful death, at least, Ianto thought to himself, the pain too unbearable for him to even comprehend, for him to even feel.

He was catapulted back into life when a strong pair of arms encircled him, hugging him close to a shuddering chest. It was a wonderful, warm feeling for half a second before the ugly beast inside Ianto reared it’s head, breathing fire into every one of his cells. Somehow, it took Ianto a long moment to realised the tortured scream reverberating around the Hub was his own.

“Jack! What do I do?” Tosh...she was on comms a moment later, as per request of Jack, who hugged him tighter, walking steadily over to the opposite wall. Ianto’s thrashing must be making it hard for him.

Clear thought flooded back to Ianto as soon as his back hit the sofa beneath him. He’d fallen to the ground, body twisting in on himself as agony filled his mind. Deborah had screamed for Jack, who had frantically picked him up, rushing him over to the sofa - he was currently attempting to stop some of Ianto’s involuntary spasms. Toshiko was trying to get in touch with Owen, eyebrows knitted together with worry.

“J-Jack,” he choked out, and then the immortal was there, deft hands moving over his face, whispering something to him over and over again. Ianto wasn’t lucid enough to understand what it was, but Jack stopped a moment later as Ianto arched up into his touch, desperate for more, for another distraction from the pain.

“Ianto, darling, you’re alright, you’re okay. Deborah, do you know what happened?”

The walls felt like they were closing in on the tiny space, trapping Ianto’s breath in the churning stone. It took everything in him to drag his eyes away from the illusion. He couldn’t speak; he chose the next best option, tugging Jack down until their foreheads were pushed together, grinding painfully.

‘It’s John. The SUV keys are gone, I don’t know where he is. The psychic marker is breaking, Jack. This was the risk, this is what happens when people die,’ even in their minds, Ianto’s voice was anxious and breathless.

‘People? What people?’ Jack adapted so very quickly to the telepathic communication, and it only made Ianto crave it more. But prolonged exposure to his mind, especially like this, could damage Jack really quite severely.

‘It’s John. He’s dying, and our physic marker is breaking. You need to save him to save me.’

Jack broke the connection first, his face pinched with anger and frustrated anxiety. “I am coming right back as soon as I find out what’s going on with John. I am not losing you, do you understand?” His voice was fierce and Ianto couldn’t help but nod, the movement sending a jarring ache to his temples.

“Deborah, try and get him to drink some water, anything,” Jack ordered, drifting away sharply, snatching his car keys from his desk in his office. “Tosh, keep me updated on Ianto’s condition. I need him alive.”

“So do I, Jack. He’s going to be okay,” Toshiko replied, glancing over at Ianto’s panting, concave form spread out on the sofa. Deborah was bent over him, now with a glass of water that she seemed to have conjured up out of nowhere.

Jack nodded once, sharp and jerky, before spinning on his heel and racing into the parking lot, practically cannoning into his car. A moment later, the co-ordinates for John’s location appeared on his Vortex Manipulator. It wasn’t far away.

Around two minutes later, as Jack sat restlessly, stuck in necessary traffic, he switched on his comms. “Tosh, update.”

Her voice was shaky and breathless. “I-I...Owen is here, with Diane. He’s trying to help Ianto, but we don’t think it’s working. His pain is getting worse. He’s...Jack, I think he might shift forms.”

Jack cursed loudly, feeling a small victory as the traffic moved up enough for him to speed through a red light. He was getting closer to John now, only a minute or two away. Did Ianto even have a minute or two left?

The thought had him accelerating again, his speed getting dangerously high. Half a minute away now, at this speed.

“Oh my God! Jack, he’s transforming, you have to hurry. He looks like he’s actually dying,” Toshiko’s voice was dimming, cracking on every syllable. She was utterly terrified.

“I’m there, Tosh, I can see John.” The sight was both depressingly sad and also the worst thing Jack could have wished for in this situation. John was...John was trying to gas himself. He was dying, by his own hand, and despite how many times Jack had died himself, he could never imagine attempting it through means of suicide.

It was easy enough to get John out of the car, although he was rather heavy, a dead - God, too soon - weight in Jack’s grasp before he began gulping in lungfuls of air. Jack felt a wave of relief wash over him, a burning desire arisen to see Ianto and smother him with affection.

“Tosh! Tosh, I got John. He’s alive. Ianto’s alright…..Tosh?”

An ominous pause filled the silence of the garage Jack had found John in. Tosh sniffed. “Ianto broke his psychic markers on Diane and Deborah. He thought...he thought he could handle John better that way...but he just started thrashing again and then this blue light, like a gas, it left his mouth and-and he doesn’t have a heartbeat-”

“Check again!” Jack snapped, not wanting to imagine the possibility of not having his beloved in his life. He had given up so much for Ianto and knew that if his telepath was gone, John wouldn’t be the only one committing suicide that night. The only difference was that John had the bliss of it being permanent.

“Please, please. I can’t-” A flicker went through Jack and Ianto’s broken Bond for a split second, and the immortal allowed himself to hope. Another pulse and the hope turned into ecstasy as Toshiko sobbed through the comms.

“He’s alive, Jack. Jack, oh my God. He’s okay,” she half laughed, half choked. “Get your ass down here and kiss your boyfriend.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Jack gasped, a tear trickling slowly down his cheek. He wiped it away absently, turning on the ball of his foot, as if to run back to his car. He’s forgotten about John, who was staring at him with desperate, unadulterated rage.

“My wife is dead. My son is a shell and I have nothing to live for. How dare you take this opportunity from me? I deserve the right to die, don’t I? Haven’t you taken enough from me? I’ve lost everything!”

Jack scoffed. He understood John, more than the man thought he did, but it didn’t mean he was necessarily John’s biggest fan at the moment. He stalked, eyes murderous, towards John, stopping when their gazes were mere inches apart. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet and low, an underlying threat beneath his words.

“I don’t give a damn. You have been a burden since you got here, but what you did tonight, throwing your life away without even trying? You almost cost me the person that I deem my everything. Get in the car.”

John didn’t have the gall to protest, nervously shuffling over to Jack’s car, and clambering into the passenger seat. “Where...where are we going?” he asked when Jack had gracefully climbed into the driver’s seat. The immortal’s actions had a peculiar eagerness behind them.

He turned to face John for a moment, searing him with his glare. “We’re going to see the man who almost lost his life tonight because of you.”

-

Ianto was in the same place he had been when Jack had left him. Jack lost his breath the moment that he saw him, runes glittering in the light, eyes feline like from this distance. His ears, strangely, had morphed with the rest of him, elongating into slightly furred elvish ears.

“Jack,” Ianto murmured, his voice sounding like a thunderstrike in the now silent room. Jack was by his side in a heartbeat, mindless of the team gathered around Ianto already.

“I’m here, I’ve got you,” he murmured, every fiber of his being craving Ianto’s touch, his kiss, but refraining because of how fragile Ianto looked on the sofa. A gasp from behind the engrossed couple drew everyone’s attention.

“What is that thing?”

“This is Ianto’s true form. The ears,” Jack reached out to stroke one of the furred appendages, causing Ianto to shiver, “I admit are a bit new, but I’m sure we can make them work, hmm?” he teased softly.

Then, his tone grew darker. “He almost died tonight because of what you...what I did.” John was confused, and he certainly had the right to be.

“I can take John home. Me and Deborah have heard the story from Ianto, I’m sure he doesn’t want to repeat himself. We’ll come back in the morning, I promise,” Diane said, rising from her place beside Ianto. The telepath smiled faintly at her, but his eyes were all for Jack.

“Deborah? Are you coming?” The young woman nodded, patting Ianto’s side lightly - it earned her a small glance from Ianto’s soulful gaze, which she counted as a success - and hurrying after the shell-shocked shopkeeper and the beautiful pilot.

Tosh glanced meaningfully at Owen, who nodded with a small huff. “Take it easy, both of you. I’m coming to Ianto’s tomorrow morning to check up on him.”

“Make sure you take care of yourself, Yan,” Toshiko murmured, bending low to press kiss to Ianto’s forehead.

“And you, clover.” After a moment, Toshiko and Owen had left and the only noise that filled the Hub was the whirr of machinery and the sound of Myfawny settling for the night. It took a second for Ianto to speak, as exhausted as he was, but Jack didn’t mind the weight.

“I...I know things aren’t the best between us right now, Jack. But, I’m so so tired. I just want you to come home. To me.”

Jack smiled in a slow, tender sort of way, effortlessly pulling Ianto into a bridal carry that left the elemental breathless. “Always.”