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Chapter Text

From the very beginning, Yohanan knew that he was different from the other angels.  First and foremost, he seemed to feel everything.  Not that the others didn’t have feelings, of course.  It was just that all of their feelings were so… righteous. 

But Yohanan felt the other things, too.  The things that weren’t just righteous.  The things that were sweet and lovely; the things that were mean and petty; the things that were beautiful and joyous; the things that were wicked and sinful.

The others did not like this.  And they certainly did not approve.  Yohanan became quite accustomed to being ostracized, taking comfort in the knowledge that his FATHER would not have made him to feel these things without a reason.  So he bore his loneliness as cheerfully as he was able, though he felt it deeply.

His only friend was Azrael.  When not performing his duties as the Angel of Death, he could be a right laugh, even if he was a cranky bastard.  For some reason, Azrael never judged Yohanan, but perhaps that was because he was a bit of an outcast, himself.  They were two loners who occasionally found solace from the loneliness in a distant companionship that vaguely resembled a friendship.  If you squinted…

The angels did not often have direct experience of their MAKER.  And it was rare that they experienced HIM individually.[1]  However, those who had been created for a specific purpose, or with different abilities, were occasionally granted an audience.

Yohanan had existed for an age before his turn came for a meeting with his FATHER.[2]  He was thrilled to know that he was different for a reason, though the ALMIGHTY had not deigned to tell him what that reason was.  Well, there was a bit of an explanation.  Yohanan had been given the ability to feel the entire spectrum of human emotion because while the rest of the Heavenly Host knew all too well what it was to be righteous, they had never taken the trouble to learn how to be compassionate.

But that in itself was a curiosity, because angels had so little contact with humans.  Why did any of them need to understand compassion?  With all humility and respect, Yohanan asked what purpose his compassion would serve.  The ALMIGHTY merely smiled and assured him that his fate was written in the stars.

This was not a particularly satisfactory answer, but it was one with which Yohanan had to be satisfied, as he was summarily dismissed in the next moment.  He was glad to go, as the presence of the ALMIGHTY was overwhelming, even for an angel.  But he was also sad to go, as the unconditional love of his CREATOR was a balm to his lonely existence.

Yohanan would carry the memory of that meeting, the feeling of that love, in his heart for the rest of his many days.  It sustained him when he was at his lowest, and bolstered him at his weakest.  But its comforts would, in many ways, be offset by the confusion that would follow. 

But that would not happen for another two epochs, or so…[3]

Some million years or so after Yohanan met the ALMIGHTY, a group of angels, led by the Light Bringer, rebelled.  The Morning Star had grown resentful of the CREATOR’s love for the filthy human rabble.  He and his cohort had been growing more dissident and vociferous in the last millennium, and Yohanan had learned to steer well clear of them, as he had come to be seen as something freakish in his resemblance to humans.

He often agreed.  He had the full spectrum of human emotion, but he felt it with all the amplification of an angel’s range of sensitivity.  He did not experience joy, but rather JOY.  He did not experience loneliness, but rather LONELINESS.  Everything was amplified by his very nature. 

It was both a blessing and a punishment, and the greatest irony was that he was the only one capable of understanding his own predicament.  Everyone else was either resentful or uncomfortable.  Azrael seemed to revel in discomfort merely on principal, so he abided the unease.  But otherwise, Yohanan was shunned.

And then one day, Lucifer went too far.  The war was swift, the retribution complete.  Yohanan had fought, though he had no stomach for it.  But Lucifer had been very much in the wrong, so of course Yohanan set himself against any who would dare to defy their FATHER.

Even if he understood the source of Lucifer’s resentment…

Yohanan was the first to forgive.  He was the first to add his name to the petition asking to restore those cast out.  He was not the initiator, and he was not the only one to do so, but it was just one more thing about him that served to alienate the others.

Yohanan’s loneliness began to wear on him, and about three million years after the war, he began spending more and more time with the humans.  He sang and danced and laughed and cried with the strange, self-destructive creatures that his FATHER loved so much.  He healed those whom Azrael was not set on taking and comforted those left behind when his duty could not be denied.

Azrael did not understand Yohanan’s fascination with the appalling apes, but he did know the loneliness the younger angel was attempting to assuage.  So he said nothing, did nothing beyond his normal grumblings, and eventually regretted his inaction.

Another two million years passed.  A young Hebrew man took a stand on the FATHER’s behalf, and the Romans were seemingly everywhere.  They made their way to the relatively obscure island of Britannia, and were pushing their way across the island when it happened. 

Yohanan watched as the Romans turned their eyes towards the west, and the gold to be found there.  Curious, he joined the tribes and watched their struggles.  He was fascinated by the Silures tribe’s resistance, so he took human form and joined them, to learn more about them.

There was one warrior, a young woman of twenty years named Rhan, who particularly caught Yohanan’s eye.  Her people were the Demetae, but she understood the threat posed by the invading Roman forces and decided to join the Silures tribe in their fight against them.

She explained a great deal to him about the uprising, and they became great friends.  She told him about her home to the west, where she hoped to someday return, once the threat had been eliminated.  She taught him to fight, though it was more as an amusement, as he had always shied from such things.  But he learned, despite himself, because of her skilled, laughing instruction.

It was thus that, at the tender age of five million (give or take), that Yohanan was seduced and lost his virginity to the beautiful, spirited Rhan.  It was not an unusual circumstance.  Angels had been visiting humans for a very long time.  What was unique was that Yohanan fell in love.  But Yohanan, who experienced human emotion with the full potential of an angel’s heart, did not just fall in love. 

He FELL IN LOVE.

Angels might not have souls, but what they lacked in that area, they made up for in sheer capacity.  So Yohanan kept his human form and stayed with Rhan, reveling in the novel feeling that consumed his entire being.      

In his long life, he had experienced some of the physical sensations before, but when coupled with the depth of emotion as well, he felt lost as well as found.  The hollow loneliness became a mere memory.  He experienced the simple happiness and contentment of loving and being loved, in return. 

When Rhan fell in battle, it took all of Yohanan’s self-restraint to refrain from joining in and wiping out the Romans, who ultimately won the day.  Yohanan was by Rhan’s side in an instant.  He ensured no one was near and healed her as much as he could before feeling a heavy hand grasp his shoulder.

He looked up into the livid face of Azrael.

Azrael, who had been about to take Rhan.  He couldn’t now, of course, because she had been healed by the idiot angel who had, once again, gotten way too involved.

Azrael dragged Yohanan before the Council of Angels that had been convened long ago for just such interferences.  Though usually the interferences were merely of a carnal nature.  This was a much more serious offense.

“Azrael, what is the meaning of this?” Jehoel asked.

“This… this idiot healed a human I was meant to take,” Azrael seethed.

“Yohanan, is this accurate?” Jophiel asked, looking confused.

Yohanan stood a bit straighter.  “It is.”

“That is against every rule we have regarding non-interference,” Jehoel said.

“What have you to say for yourself?” Kushiel asked, sneering.

Honestly, Yohanan had always considered Kushiel to be a bit of a git.

“I love her,” he replied.

 “What you have done is beyond love.  It is interference,” Jophiel pointed out. 

“We were made to love all,” Kushiel continued to sneer.

“No,” Yohanan said, his voice ringing all the more loudly for how quietly he spoke.

“No?” Kushiel sputtered, but Jophiel stayed him with a hand to his wrist.

“The reason humans are so misunderstood by our kind is because we were not created to love them,” Yohanan said, and they knew he was not wrong.  “Angels are asked to love them, but we all know that is sometimes difficult.”

Jophiel looked at him and nodded for him to continue.

“But I was created to… understand them,” Yohanan said, hoping he was not sharing something not meant to be shared.

Jophiel finally understood Yohanan’s oddity, and he felt his own heart open to the angel in compassion for the lonely position he had been assigned.  Angels are not meant to be isolated and alone, and yet Yohanan had been practically designed to be an outcast.

“Well, it seems you’ve got a bit carried away,” Jehoel said, his voice somewhere between amused and annoyed.

“I fell in love with Rhan, and so I saved her,” Yohanan confessed.

“Very well,” Kushiel said, sitting back with a look of malicious satisfaction.  “You will be forgiven once you return to her and take her life.”

Azrael jolted as if struck.  This was not what he had anticipated.  Jehoel and Jophiel stared at Kushiel, surprised at the severity of what he was asking.  It was nothing to the shock of Yohanan’s response.

“No!” he said.  “I won’t do it.  You can’t make me.”

“You will do as you are told, or be cast out,” Kushiel said, his voice raised in righteous anger.

Yohanan sucked in a shocked breath.  “I have acted according to my nature, and now you wish to punish me for it?  How is that just?”

“The Morning Star acted according to his nature,” Kushiel said, his voice smug, “and as I recall, you were among those who wished to forgive him and have him return here.”

“Tread carefully, Kushiel,” Jophiel warned.  He too had added his name to the petition, asking for reconciliation.  “He saved someone he loved.  That is nothing like leading a rebellion against our FATHER.”

“Is it not?” Kushiel asked.  “I see more similarities than differences.  He has willfully defied the ALMIGHTY.  And he continues to defy HIM by refusing to make things right.”

Jophiel began to speak, to argue, but he heard a chime.  Only he heard the beautiful sound, which he knew to be one used by the FATHER, when HE wished to weigh in on a matter.  Jophiel did not understand why the FATHER was asking that Kushiel’s cruel agenda be followed, but he trusted that it would be revealed, in time.

With no one challenging his words, Kushiel continued.  “Fine.  Azrael, you will return to Earth and take the woman.”

“I most certainly will not,” Azrael stood, his arms crossed over his chest, looking like thunder.  By reflex, the three members of the council cringed.  “You overstep, Kushiel.  It is my decision, and unless our FATHER steps in, mine alone, who lives or dies.  You have now asked two different angels to murder a human.  Because whether I am pleased or not, she lives.  Her exit point has passed, at least for now.  The timelines have not been substantially affected, so I only brought Yohanan here because he took that decision from me.  Shall I do the same to you, now?”

“Of course not,” Kushiel replied smoothly, having recovered himself.  “Forgive me for overstepping.  However, the fact remains.  Yohanan, you have refused to make things right, so your choices are now to fall or to be cast out.”

Yohanan was attempting to make sense of the fact that he was being punished for not making things right, but Azrael had just said that he couldn’t do that, anyway.  He tried to force himself to think.  If he allowed himself to be cast out, he would become a demon, as Lucifer and his lot had done. 

If he fell, he would be exiled to Earth, and would likely be harassed by both angels and demons.  He would keep his wings, and his powers, though he would have to keep them hidden from the humans.  But he would be able to ask for and await his FATHER’s forgiveness, so there was a chance he would someday be allowed to return. 

He briefly wondered just what it was he thought he could return to.  He could be alone on Earth just as completely as he could here, and at least the humans were nicer to him than angels had ever been. 

He knew what they expected.  They expected him to force their hand.  Anything he said, now, if it was not to express his choice from the two options that had been offered, would default the decision.  Kushiel knew this.  He wanted to cast Yohanan out, to send him to the demonic realms, stripping him of his wings and tainting his powers.  But Kushiel knew that Jehoel and Jophiel would not allow him to simply do that, so he needed the excuse.

“I shall fall,” Yohanan said, and though it hurt, it was almost a relief.  His own brethren despised him.  Humans could be small and ignorant and cruel, yes.  But as a rule, they were not deliberately so.  The righteousness of the angels made them cold and hard and unkind, and Yohanan could now see that it was their choice, to be so.

Fine.  He could choose, too.

Azrael looked appalled.  Jehoel looked confused, as though wondering how such a minor offense had led to one of the worst punishments imaginable for an angel.  Kushiel looked satisfied and disappointed, all at once.  Yes, the hated Yohanan was leaving, but he wasn’t being cast out.  He shrugged inwardly, deciding to be happy with the result. 

Jophiel looked incredibly sad.  “I will go with you,” he said, rising from his seat.  He was the Angel of Wisdom, Understanding, and Judgment.  But he did not understand what had just happened.  As they walked to the Gate of the Fallen, he said, “I am sorry, Yohanan.”

“Why?” Yohanan asked.  “It has been made perfectly clear, from the moment of my creation, that I do not belong here.  I would think it would be a relief, to have me gone.”

Jophiel knew that Yohanan was not exaggerating.  He had witnessed the angel’s treatment, himself.  He now felt deep shame that, while he had not participated, he had done nothing to stop it, either.  As an archangel, it was up to him to help lead the others, and he had failed.  He knew full well that the FATHER was often concerned that HIS angels’ righteousness could easily veer into cruelty.  Perhaps this was part of the plan.

“You know that nothing that happens is without reason,” he said.

“Then I hope to someday know the reason, that I might bear this burden with a heart less broken,” Yohanan replied.

Once again, Jophiel heard the beautiful chime.  “You will know the reason once it is presented to you,” he said.  “All things will be made clear, in time.”

“I suppose there are rules,” Yohanan said, needing to get on with it, now.

“Yes, but nothing too onerous.  You may use glamor as much as you like.  That will allow you to pass as a human, and to appear to age, as well.  I believe your greatest strength is in healing and providing comfort.  You may heal, but nothing miraculous.  Be sure to check timelines before saving a life, and no more stepping on Azrael’s toes, or there will be consequences, most likely involving you becoming closer to the Morning Star than you would prefer.

“Try not to let anyone see your true form.  I know this might be difficult, but you are allowed to alter people’s memory of it, on a very limited basis.  Do not abuse this.  You may use your powers, but again, no miracles, and only proceed if you know you will not alter the natural course of history.  You will know what you should and should not do.”  Jophiel thought for a moment, but could think of nothing else to add.  “Understood?”

Yohanan nodded and was surprised when Jophiel embraced him.  “Courage, Brother.”

Yohanan stared at him, shocked.  No one had ever called him ‘brother’, though it was a common practice, among those who were not shunned.  That this was the first, and likely the last, time he would hear it broke his heart anew.

“But I don’t understand,” he said, his voice quiet as a tear rolled down his cheek.  “Why is this happening?”

Jophiel listened for another helpful chime, but none was forthcoming.  “You will know, in time.  I know this is difficult, but remember that you are never truly alone.”

“HE is allowing me to fall, though I have done nothing wrong, other than an admitted inconsideration to Azrael.  That has been done before, but it has never been punished so harshly.  And my choices were to make it right or fall, but there is no way to make it right.  I do not understand why HE made me thus and is now forsaking me for it.”  He looked at Jophiel with wide eyes.  “Does this mean I am a mistake?”

Jophiel reached out and slapped Yohanan.  Not hard, but with enough force to stop that line of thought.  “HE does not make mistakes, Yohanan.  I know you are hurting, but do not indulge such thinking.  Lucifer will find it easier to recruit you to his ranks, if you do, and I know you have no love for him or his lot.”

“No,” Yohanan replied, subdued.  He added the blow to the growing list of hurts this day had wrought.

“Indeed.  And also remember that the demons cannot harm you, nor anyone under your protection.  They can be a nuisance, but I trust you will learn how to keep them at bay.  They will lose interest and leave you be, in time.”  He sighed.  “And you will be the only fallen, for now.  There have only been a few others, and they have all…” he hesitated.  “They have all sought out Azrael, so you will be the only one.”

Yohanan nodded, understanding that Azrael was allowed to take a fallen angel if exile became too much to bear.  It was nice to know.  He nodded to Jophiel once more and turned to the gate.  He hesitated a moment and turned back.

“Thank you,” he said, before turning and walking through the postern.

Jophiel felt as though he had been the one slapped.  He was being thanked for showing kindness as an injustice was carried out.  He closed and latched the gate and turned away, already preparing a scathing speech for the next gathering of the archangels.

***

[1] Yes, yes, this is the Judeo-Christian God, who is most often depicted as male.  In this fic, for ease of reference, I am doing the same.  Also, I’m making this up as I go along, so while some parts will follow various mythologies, other parts will not.

[2] 2,160 years

[3] An epoch is three million years.  Humans have been on earth between five and seven million years.  We’ll go with seven here, and assume they’d been around for a while before the Creator began this experiment in compassion by creating Yohanan.  Of course, there are other factors at play, as well…

Chapter Text

Falling wasn’t a literal act.  There was no plummet from a great height (the greatest height imaginable, actually), nor a painful crash to the earth.  Not physically painful, at any rate.  No, falling was an exile.  It was leaving everything you know with nothing more than the robes you are wearing at the time, and arriving wherever you choose to settle.

No dramatic drops, no disagreements with gravity (after all, the wings would win), no broken bones or bruises from the landing.  One just walked through the gate (the one gate that did not allow re-entry) and got on with one’s banishment. 

Simple.

Except there was nothing simple about it.  The whole reason that Heaven was Heaven was that the FATHER was there.  Even if one never saw HIM, HE was there.  One could feel HIS love and support and presence no matter where one went, and it was beautiful.

Beautiful, and entirely too easy to take for granted.  But the second one left through the Gate of the Fallen, one was disconnected from Heaven.  Deprived of HIS presence in one’s heart and mind.  It was far worse than the sudden stop from a lofty drop.

Yohanan fell to his knees, his head in his hands and sobbed.  “FATHER, please forgive me.  Whatever my transgressions, please, I beg you.  I…” he sucked in a choking breath, and then another, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him.  “Shhh, just breathe, Brother.  You will be all right.”

“HE’s gone,” Yohanan sobbed.  “I can’t feel HIM.”  He tried to straighten, gasping for breath, and he broke away from the embrace that could never possibly comfort him.

There was no possible comfort for this deprivation, this abandonment.

Azrael let him go, feeling his part in this keenly.

Yohanan stumbled to his feet and looked around.  He was in the field near Rhan’s cottage.  He turned around, noticing that the world looked just the same.  It even felt the same.  None of his powers had dampened.  But his sense of his FATHER was gone.  And the void was consuming him.  He turned back to Azrael, his eyes wide and wild.

“Please,” he said, falling to his knees before the Angel of Death, “Take me.”  He bowed from the waist, his forehead to the ground, spreading his arms to the side as he allowed his outstretched wings to fold onto the earth.  It was the pose of supplication – the pose that an angel fell into when asking for an end to eternity.

Now it was Azrael hearing a beautiful chime.  It should have been Yohanan’s choice, but Azrael was under no circumstances to comply.  Which meant it was up to him to make Yohanan choose differently.

Azrael sighed heavily and gently pulled Yohanan upright.  “I know you’re hurting, but this is not the way,” he said, his voice soft.  “I am mightily sorry for my role in this.  I should have been there sooner, should have known that you could not help but want to save her.  And I should have known what Kushiel would take the opportunity to do.  I… I hope someday you can forgive me, Yohanan.”

“I didn’t think it was so wrong.  I mean, I’d heard it had been done, before.  I didn’t interfere with the timelines.  I didn’t know I was risking this.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Yohanan looked towards Rhan’s cottage.  “Probably not,” he drew in a deep breath, trying to quell his panic and despair.

“You are right.  It seems a heavy price.  But maybe HE will forgive you, in time…”

“I never realized, before.”

“What?”

“That I could feel HIM, whether I was there or here.  You can, you know.  Do you realize, or just take it for granted, like I did?”

Azrael was surprised to notice it.  He had taken it for granted, as well.  “You’re right.  I don’t think I realized.”

“It’s gone.  They don’t tell you that, about falling.”

Azrael winced.  He could not imagine.  The very thought of it made him uneasy.

“I feel… forsaken,” Yohanan whispered.

“Not that, Brother,” Azrael assured him, but another chime, softer this time, told him he could not explain.  “Never that.”

“All these years, I’ve been shunned and ignored and ostracized,” Yohanan said, turning to Azrael.  “And today, the day I fell, two have called me ‘Brother’.”  He looked more weary than accusing, though he had every right to look the latter.  “Why is that?”

“Because it has taken this for us to realize our part in your isolation,” Azrael replied.  “You will not be alone.”

“That statement seems to be predicated on the notion that you are welcome here,” Yohanan turned away from Azrael.  “Your temper…”

“I know.  I am sorry.”

“Save your sorry, you self-righteous prick,” Yohanan’s shock was quickly giving way to anger.

Azrael took the anger, realizing this was something he could never make right.  But before he could speak, they were interrupted.

“Well, well, well.  What have we here?” came a new voice, oozing with ill intent.

Azrael’s wings unfurled in menace, even as Yohanan pulled his closer into his body.

“What do you want, Tamiel?” Azrael asked with open hostility.

“We sensed someone fell, but what a surprise,” Tamiel gave an oily smile.  “Or perhaps not.  This freak was always more human than angel.  Set everyone’s teeth on edge, how wrong he was.”

“The ALMIGHTY does not make mistakes,” Azrael thundered, and the air around them shifted dangerously.

“True,” Tamiel conceded.  Even those cast out knew better.  “But that just begs the question…  What could HE have been thinking?”

“Fuck off, Tamiel,” Yohanan said, shocking both Azrael and Tamiel.  “This land is under my protection, as are its people.  Go pedal your wares elsewhere.”

The land shifted, accepting this as Yohanan’s vow of protection.

“What, just this land?” Tamiel sneered.  “Not the whole island?”

Yohanan shrugged.  “I have no interest in the petty arguments of warring tribes.  I shall content myself with this place, for now.”

The ‘for now’ was a clear threat, as those cast out would want the area under the protection of an angel – even a fallen one – to be as limited as possible.  Yohanan was offering them a gift by confining his scope.  Tamiel knew it was in his best interest to take it and run.

As though to punctuate Tamiel’s line of thought, Azrael seemed to grow larger.  “You have heard Yohanan’s intention.  You and yours shall respect it, or you will face more than his wrath.”  He flexed his wings, causing a breeze to whip through Tamiel’s hair.  “After all, the ALMIGHTY does tend to look the other way, if I choose to take a demon, every now and again.”

“Since when does the Heavenly Host concern itself with the fallen?” Tamiel was intrigued.  With the additional benefit that it helped distract him from how terrifying Azrael could be.  “You lot tend to enjoy it when you get someone else to look down on.”

Azrael hid his flinch.  And perhaps he wanted to start making things up to his friend.  “Since it has become obvious that even a fall is part of HIS plan.”

Yohanan looked sharply at Azrael, and Tamiel felt a shiver of warning.  “Very well,” the demon said, giving a mock bow.  “We shall leave this land…”

“And its people,” Yohanan asserted, and Tamiel couldn’t help but respect the fallen angel’s presence of mind, despite the devastation that his day had held for him.

“And its people,” Tamiel mimicked irritably.  “We shall leave you and those under your protection in peace.”

“A compact, then,” Yohanan seized upon the implication of Tamiel’s words, despite that not being the demon’s intention, at all.

“What?” Tamiel squeaked, knowing this would displease Lucifer and his brethren.

Azrael smirked, the bastard.

“A compact,” Yohanan repeated, holding out his hand.

Tamiel could not refuse.  Technically, he had made the offer.  To refuse now would give Azrael more than enough reason to take him, and while he was damned tired of this existence, he wasn’t quite ready for it to end, either.

“Very well,” he growled, and took Yohanan’s hand.

Once again, the land rumbled and the air around them shifted.  The compact was complete.

Tamiel left before he could do any further damage.  He had been sent as the one out of all those cast out who had caused the least offense to Yohanan, over the years.  It had been hoped that he could be persuaded to join them – if nothing else, his untainted power could come in handy.  But he had clearly staked his claim on this patch of Earth.  It seemed that, unless provoked, he would remain neutral in the ongoing strife, though if it came down to it, they knew he would still fight for Heaven before Hell.

Once Tamiel was gone, Azrael’s wings relaxed and he turned to Yohanan, smiling.  “Nicely played,” he said.

Yohanan shrugged.  “He was only off balance because you were here.  I suppose I should thank you, for that.”

In that moment, Azrael knew that he had lost his friend.  “Yohanan, I hope someday you can forgive my betrayal.”

“I suppose you can rely on it happening, eventually,” Yohanan snarked.  “Apparently, I’m predictable, that way.  But whether you meant for this to happen or not, it’s your temper that…  You cannot possibly understand, Azrael.  HE is gone.”  Yohanan pounded a fist to his chest, trying to convey the gaping void where his FATHER’s presence had once been.  “I…” he turned away.  “There is only one way you can make this right, now.  If you are unwilling to do so, then I need for you to leave.”

Azrael left, knowing his own prayers for forgiveness would not be answered any time soon.

Yohanan dropped to his knees, his balled fists pressed into the earth as he bowed his head and began to pray, begging forgiveness.  As his words fell uselessly from his lips and his tears fell unceasingly from his eyes, his wings faded from view.  He allowed his human glamor to mask his angelic attributes.

It would be one thousand nine hundred and fifty-six years before anyone saw Yohanan’s wings, again.[1]

***

Rhan was no fool.  She knew something of Yohanan’s nature, and she knew that she should have died in that battle.  And she knew that when he arrived at her door a few days after she returned to her home, he had lost something dear to him.  She did her best to help him navigate his grief, and in time, she helped him remember why he had sacrificed everything, to save her.

Yohanan married Rhan.  Their union was childless, but that suited Rhan.  And unlike most Celtic marriages, theirs was monogamous.  If Rhan were honest, she had never loved anyone before, so it was easy enough to not wish to stray from the happy marriage bed she shared with Yohanan.  And Yohanan was too in love with Rhan, and too devastated from his fall, to be interested in other partners.

His glamor allowed him to appear to age as she did.  If she realized this was not the case, she never let on.  She loved him, and never questioned him.  She never asked what grief kept him at prayer for many of the hours when he was not helping to work her small farm. 

She was an intelligent woman, and knew that his prayers and his grief were closely related; but she never asked, never forced his confidence.  That alone kept his heart firmly in her hand.  She comforted him as best she could, and when that occasionally failed, she kept him from harming himself.  Not that he could.  Well, not permanently.  But she did not know that, so she refused to allow him to descend into such despair. 

As requested, Azrael left Yohanan to himself for some years.  But inevitably, they were to meet again.  Rhan lived a long life.  Perhaps because of Yohanan’s initial healing, perhaps because of a life lived so close to him, perhaps because of the subtle, non-miraculous assistance he provided through the years.  But eventually, after an extraordinarily long (and contented) life, it was time for Azrael to come for her.

Much to his dismay, it did nothing to endear him to his friend.

Yohanan had known it would eventually happen, that it could not be avoided forever.  He and Rhan lived happily together for some ninety-five years before she told him it was time for him to let her go.  Her health did not fail; she was hale and hearty until she was ready to depart.  And Yohanan realized that she knew enough to know that it was his love that had kept her thus.

She was one hundred and fifteen years old when she told him that she was ready.  Her only regret was leaving Yohanan, but she knew he would be all right.  She had been given a vision that made it easier for her to ask her beloved to stop bolstering her health.  Yohanan granted her wish, though it broke his heart to do so.

Even so, there is something to be said, even for the residual energy of an angel’s healing support.  She stayed with him for another seven years before Azrael arrived one warm summer evening.  Yohanan slammed the door in his face, not even marveling at the fact that his former friend had actually knocked.

Rhan let Azrael in and invited him to sup with them.  She seemed to recognize him, and took her husband’s hand, kissing his worn, wrinkled cheek.

“It is not his fault, my Love,” she told him.  “You know this.”

It took every shred of his self-restraint to be civil to Azrael and to make his wife’s last evening pleasant.  They laughed and danced and talked, late into the night.  When Azrael stood from the table, her knees weakened.  Yohanan lowered her to the floor, and she reached out and caressed his cheek.

“Let me see you again, my Love,” she smiled weakly up at him.

He let his glamor revert him to his normal human appearance, which was the same as his angelic form, missing only the wings, the cool body temperature, and the moon-like glow that shimmered across his already pale features.  These things he would not reveal to anyone, for a very long time to come.  But his beloved Rhan seemed to understand that he had been disguising himself, all these years.  Now he once more appeared to be a young man in his early twenties.

“So beautiful,” she smiled.  “Thank you for spending my life with me.”

“Thank you, my Love,” Yohanan cried.  “Thank you for allowing me to share your life.  You have made my life here worth living.”

“And you must keep living it,” she admonished.  She placed two fingers upon his lips, to stop his protest.  “Do not despair, my Love.  There is a reason for your pain.  Your suffering is not without meaning.  Should you accept it, comfort will be provided until your purpose is revealed.”

In that moment, Yohanan realized that Rhan was relaying a message to him.  It made him unspeakably angry.

“If, after all these years of silence, YOU have something to say,” he gritted, casting his eyes Heavenward, “let it be through some other vessel.  Do not be so cruel as to deprive me of my final moments with her.”

“My beloved husband,” Rhan breathed.  “Do not let your despair consume you.  My love for you shall live forever.”

“As all love does, my beloved Wife,” Yohanan replied.  “I shall keep your memory in my heart, for all my days.”

Yohanan wept over his wife’s body as Azrael carried her soul away.

***

The years passed.  Yohanan continued his daily prayers of supplication, begging forgiveness for he knew not what.  Begging to once more feel his FATHER’s love. 

He never did.

He felt forsaken, but his despair at the abandonment was somewhat assuaged by the memory of having once met his FATHER, and by the love he found, through the years. 

Yohanan loved and subsequently lost nine wives after Rhan, over the next two millennia.  Each loss was uniquely devastating.  Azrael could hardly look at him, each time he arrived to deprive his friend of another helpmeet.  The Angel of Death looked the other way as Yohanan quietly extended each of his beloveds’ lives, but none after Rhan stayed with him for more than a century, and he always let them go when they let him know they were ready to move on.  He would tell them goodbye, then isolate himself and mourn for at least a full century (in some cases, well more) before emerging from his grief and eventually allowing another to catch his notice.

Azrael took Tarran, Yohanan’s tenth (and last) wife, mere weeks after Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie had fallen to an assassin’s bullets.[2]  Yohanan shocked his brethren, both in Heaven and in Hell, by joining the army. 

It was not a surprise that he chose to fight; he had often taken up Rhan’s sword, in defense of the land he had sworn to protect.  But this war was not in Wales, and it left everyone wondering why he chose to become involved.

Of course, those who knew him best were not surprised.  Azrael found it entirely predictable that, after losing another beloved, Yohanan would choose to enter the fray, and not necessarily for entirely altruistic reasons.  Azrael continued to refuse to take Yohanan, though the fallen angel had asked, after each wife was taken.  He knew he could not die in battle, but he could be… damaged.

Jophiel had taken an interest in Yohanan from the moment he fell.  He visited often, though as often as not his presence was ignored.  Yohanan was not bitter, but he suffered the absence of his FATHER keenly.  Jophiel wondered if Yohanan went to war to try to prove something to the ALMIGHTY.

No one was more surprised than Tamiel when he continued to visit Yohanan, through the years.  His intention had never been to torment, for he knew all too well that he could devise no punishment more acute than the one Yohanan suffered.  He laughed with the other demons at Yohanan’s pain, but secretly he knew that pain as his own, and he often found his own comfort in offering commiseration.  An unlikely friendship grew from his visits, and he did not like the idea that Yohanan had gone to war to punish himself for whatever it was the ALMIGHTY refused to forgive.

Yohanan ignored them all and willingly walked into a hell of human creation so he could help where he could.  He stepped between his fellow soldiers and the bullets and shrapnel meant to end them when he could do so without altering timelines, raising suspicions, or making Azrael cross.  He healed injuries in the same way.  He acted with such grace and subtlety that not even those on the Council who clearly despised him could find fault.

When the war ended, he ignored those who had genuinely come to care for him and crawled into an abandoned mineshaft, sleeping through two decades of isolation before he felt the land tremble around him, telling him there was another war to be fought.  No one was surprised when he joined up, again.

He was not in very good shape, but the camps were what finally broke him.  His unit had found a small camp, almost by chance.  The mass graves, the skeletal survivors, the piles of shoes and other belongings.  Gas chambers fitted out to look like showers.  The echoes of the cries of the dead.  The injustice.  The horror.  The hate.  Yohanan was overwhelmed by what he saw.

His screams shook the earth, reducing the camp to rubble, while somehow protecting the former prisoners and his fellow soldiers from harm.

Tamiel pulled him from the wreckage, when the echoes of his cries finally died away.  Azrael quietly took the German guards and camp workers who had not survived the destruction, and Jophiel managed to remove the memory of Yohanan’s screams and the damage they had wrought from those who had witnessed it. 

Yohanan was completely unresponsive, so detached from himself that they could not reach him.  It was a hell of a thing, to see the Angel of Comfort and Hope move so far beyond despair.  The strange group of unlikely allies returned him to his mineshaft and induced him to sleep for the next forty years, as they plotted.

The first thing they did was try to piece together what had happened, that he could not heal himself from his traumas.  They realized that he had not properly grieved for Tarran before going off to war.  And sleeping through his grief and trauma before going off to war again had only compounded the problem.  They were not certain how to bring him back to himself, other than to give him a rest.  But simply allowing him to sleep clearly wasn’t the solution.

Ultimately, they decided to give Yohanan a normal, human life.  They thought it might be a comfort for him to not know his own nature, and to overlook for a while all that he had lost.  Surely, if he forgot he was an angel, he would also forget the absence of the ALMIGHTY that had been so painful to him.  They would simply allow him to live a human life, and if it went well, they would repeat the process.  Rather than dying, he would be induced to sleep until another life could be created for him.  Perhaps after a few lifetimes, he would be healed enough to return to himself.

Tamiel designed the glamor.  As Yohanan slept, they were able to test it.  He was accustomed to aging glamors, but he had never regressed his appearance to that of a child, so it took a bit of trial and error, particularly as this was not something that would be under his conscious control, this time.

Jophiel repressed his memory.  He could not repress Yohanan’s nature, so he would still feel too much and would still be highly intelligent and far too clever for his own good.  But he would not remember being an angel, or his endless existence, or falling, or those he had loved and lost.

Azrael found the perfect opportunity.  They waited almost an entire decade for the right choice.  A Welsh baby boy whose timeline was… muddy.  That occasionally happened, with children born close to the rift.  The timeline was muddy, which meant that even though the human child was stillborn, a life could still be lived – inserted into the timeline, as it were.

And so, on the nineteenth of August, 1983, two angels and a demon snuck into the maternity ward of St. David’s Hospital in Cardiff.  Strangely, it was the demon holding the small bundle of angel baby. 

The others just didn’t seem to have the knack.

***

[1] Caratacus, who assisted the Silures with their resistance, was defeated in AD 50.

[2] 1914

Chapter Text

Glenda Jones was heartbroken.  Her labor had been induced, that she might be delivered of a stillborn child.  The heartbeat had been weakening over recent weeks, but the doctor had assured her that everything was still well within the normal range.  During her appointment earlier that morning, he had broken the news.  Her baby was gone.  But now she still had to deliver it.

Her husband was drunk.  The nurses had bullied and shamed him into being by his wife’s side, and he would have wished to be anywhere else.  But in the end, he was there.  And when a heartbeat was detected after all (thanks to Jophiel’s interference with the machines), everyone cheered.

The child was delivered, and a glamor made everything seem normal.  A nurse was briefly mesmerized as she cleaned the baby, and the switch was made.  For the eleventh time in his existence, Azrael helped bury a body.  This time, it was not one of Yohanan’s brides, though it was still in aid of his friend.

And so, Ianto Jones began what was meant to be a perfectly normal, human life.

***

Young Ianto Jones was an unremarkable infant.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  He was a quiet, contemplative baby.  Sure, he’d squall to beat the band if he was cold or wet, but not so much if tired or hungry.  His wide eyes seemed to take in the world around him, drinking everything in.

He grew into a quiet, serious child.  He was more interested in his sister’s books than the footballs and rugby balls his father shoved in front of him.  His disinterest led to a great deal of shouting from the disappointed, drunken man who had (not) sired him.  His mother tried to defend him, but she was often given a smack for trying to make the boy (even more) soft.

She herself was a soft woman, gentle and sweet, but unable to cope with everyday life for any sustained period of time.  She was committed to Providence Park, but ended up being one of those stories you read in the paper and wonder how someone could manage to commit suicide whilst in care.

A frighteningly precocious, eight-year-old Ianto found the sense of abandonment he felt upon her death to be an intimately familiar feeling.  An old ache, like the broken bone their elderly neighbor complained about when it rained, many years after the injury had occurred. 

The sad and serious child was bored in school and faced anger and resentment at home.  For the first time in his extraordinarily long life, he rebelled.  This may not have seemed strange for a twelve-year-old, but those observing his life could not help but wonder if this might get some unhealthy tendencies out of his system.

Yes, the mad trio were watching.  Not so much fairy godmothers, or even angelic (and in Tamiel’s case, demonic) godfathers.  More like creepy stalkers, if taken from any perspective other than that they cared enough to keep tabs on their friend.  They had sworn they would not interfere in Ianto’s life, but they watched closely, somewhat dismayed to find certain patterns repeating themselves.

The abandonment of a loving parental figure, combined with the bewildering indifference of another hit far too close to home.  The issue was compounded by Ianto’s confusion as to why his father seemed to dislike him so much.  Punishments were random and completely unrelated to any discernable transgressions.  It left young Ianto feeling lonely and confused.

The fact that the young human Ianto was able to find and express his anger and frustration seemed like progress, though sometimes the trio worried that he would take it too far.  But he was a good kid, conscientious and kind, intelligent and wryly funny.  Naturally he didn’t fit in, anywhere he went. 

Another echo of his true self…

Much to the disgust of his sister, Ianto left home as soon as he was able and went to London, to University.  His calls to check in with her became less frequent, as she used each call as an excuse to accuse him of not caring about his family. 

When his father fell ill, he couldn’t make himself care enough about the source of so much childhood terror and shame to attend the bedside vigil.  It was almost an accident that he even got there in time to see him, before he died.

Rhiannon was some strange blend of livid and relieved, when he arrived.

“He’s been asking for you,” she said, her tone accusatory.

“I can’t think why,” Ianto calmly replied.  “He’s always hated me.”

“Ianto, that’s not true!” she exclaimed, though unconvincingly.

“You know what he told me, when I was ten, and got pushed down on the football pitch?”

“You’re really going to dredge up something he said to you when you were ten?”

“It’s not just that I was ten, it’s what he said.  Gave me a proper lay of the land, so to speak.”

“Go on, then,” she stood back, arms crossed over her chest.

“He said that some days, he wondered what it would have been like, if I’d been stillborn, after all.”

Rhiannon went pale, then red.  “You must’ve misunderstood.”

“No, I understood, well enough,” Ianto replied hotly.  “Always drove you crazy, how I remembered everything, word-for-word.  Right?  Well, those were his words.  And how the hell was I supposed to forget them?”

“Ianto,” Rhiannon had regrouped, and was trying to be the voice of reason, now.  “If you don’t say goodbye, you’ll regret it.  Maybe not today, or even a year from now.  But I know you.  You’re too tender-hearted for it not to hurt you, at some point.”

“Tender-hearted,” he pointed in her face.  “Sensitive.  Soft.  Weak!”

"I’d say the first two are true enough,” she said, and spoke over his angry splutter to finish her thought, “and nothing wrong with it, either.  God knows, we could use a bit more kindness, in this world.  But you’re too prickly to be soft, and too stubborn to be weak.  And in the end, they’re just words.  You get to decide who you are, and whether you let yourself be defined by the words of a bully.”

Ianto blinked at her.  “So you admit he was a bully.”

“He never was to me, but I remember some of the things he said to you, and I think that if I ever heard Johnny saying anything like that to David, I’d lamp him one.”

Ianto let out a startled laugh.  “You never believed me, though.”

She shrugged.  “I never wanted to.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at his feet.  “That’s why I went away.  I couldn’t take it anymore, but I didn’t want to ruin your image of him, either.”

She nodded.  “I eventually figured that out, but not until after you stopped calling.”

“So why do you want me in there?”

“Like I said.  I think you’ll regret it, if you don’t.”

Ianto blew out a breath.  “Lead on, then.”

The man lying on the bed was frail and thin, and… old.  Well, not really.  But his illness had taken a toll, and Daffydd Jones a mere shell of the man Ianto had left, four years before.  His skin was thin and papery, and bruises from the lightest touches had purpled his arms.  His coloring was yellow from jaundice, and his belly was swollen by fluids, despite how thin he had become.  His breathing was shallow and labored.  In looking at his vitals, Ianto knew enough to know the man was barely clinging to life.[1]

“I’ll go get us some coffee,” Rhiannon said, and quickly left the room. 

Ianto had the irrational desire to chase after her and kick her in the shins.  He looked around the room, the hair in the back of his neck prickling like there was someone else in the room that he couldn’t see.  His eyes swept the room again, pausing in the corner and giving Azrael a startle because for a moment, it seemed as though their eyes met.

Ianto edged towards the bed and took his father’s hand.  “Tad?” he said, his voice low.  Part of him hoped the old man would continue to sleep.  Ianto caught himself again.  His father wasn’t actually an old man.  Only…  He thought for a moment.  Daffydd had been thirty, when Ianto was born.  Ianto realized with sadness that his father was only fifty.  That was too young, but drink and disease had clearly added decades.

In the next moment, he woke and gave Ianto’s hand a squeeze.  “You came,” he rasped.

“I’m here,” Ianto replied, having no idea what to say.

“Good,” Daffydd smiled.  “That’s good.”

They were both quiet for a few moments, before Daffydd spoke again.  “Your mother always said it was a blessing, the second chance we had with you.  Swore how she knew you were dead, but you came out alive, anyway.  That always made my skin crawl, but she… embraced it.  I sometimes wondered if you were some sort of changeling,” he was rambling, his eyes closed, so he didn’t see Ianto bristle.  No one saw Azrael wince.  “So different from me, from her.  I… I was hard on you, because I didn’t know how to deal with you.”

It wasn’t a great shock, really.  But Ianto wondered why Daffydd was confessing this, now.

“I’m sorry for that,” Daffydd continued, as though he had heard Ianto’s unasked question.  “You were a good son.  Deserved better than my… confusion.”

“I forgive you,” Ianto said, his eyes sad.  “I’m sorry I was such a disappointment.”

“No, no,” Daffydd protested, his voice fading.  “Never that, Son.”  He drew in a gurgling breath.  “I know I’ve made your life difficult, Son, but I needed to be sure you’d be prepared.”

“Prepared?” Ianto frowned.  “For what?”

Daffydd nodded.  “Your purpose,” he breathed.

Ianto just assumed Daffydd was delirious, but Azrael realized it was not just Ianto’s father, but Yohanan’s FATHER who had been speaking.  He briefly wondered why now, when Ianto had no clue that he was finally receiving an answer to almost two millennia worth of prayers.  As he took Daffydd Jones, he could not help but have the possibly treacherous thought that he hoped the ALMIGHTY knew what HE was about.

***

Ianto lost his father a month after he graduated from University, and two months before his twentieth birthday.  He bounced around aimlessly for a while, finally landing a job as a barista in a coffee shop near the newly revitalized Canary Wharf.  Soon enough, he caught the eye of a frequent customer (‘Large skinny vanilla latte for Yvonne!’) by adding an unrequested but nevertheless desired half-pump of hazelnut syrup to her drink, three mornings in a row.

This seemed like a strange sort of thing to catch someone’s eye for a job, but she talked him into an interview, anyway.  He tested off the charts for empathy, and once he learned the ropes for a few months as a junior researcher, she advanced him onto her team, where he eventually became her primary personal assistant.

By this time, Jophiel was wringing his hands, Azrael was cursing like a sailor, and Tamiel had taken up drinking, again.

A few months later, they learned that human Ianto still had an angel’s capacity for feeling, as Ianto proceeded to FALL IN LOVE with Lisa Hallett.  They had suspected, even though his father’s mean-spirited claims about his sensitivity had seemed like an exaggeration.  But Ianto was happy and in love, so they hoped for the best.

And then the ghost shifts began.

After the battle, Ianto refused to give up on Lisa.  His empathy told him that she was still herself, so he decided to do everything in his power to fight for her.  He ignored his own trauma, packed up their things, and headed for Cardiff.

As soon as he began his campaign for a job at Torchwood Three, Azrael grabbed Tamiel’s bottle and took a long slug. 

“Oh, come on!  Not this guy,” he groused.

“What?” Tamiel eyed Jack as Ianto attempted to flirt with him over an unconscious Weevil.

“He won’t stay dead!” Azrael said. 

“Ooh, not many immortals around.  That must really grate,” Tamiel grinned.

“Fuck off.  Of course it grates.  He dies, I go to take him, and he pops back up again.  It’s annoying as hell, and a waste of my time, because I don’t know it’s him until I get there, to take him.”

“The poor soul,” Jophiel muttered.

Tamiel continued to grin.  “I thought you were the one to decide who lives or dies.  How does that work, that you can’t take him?”  Actually, it was a bit disturbing.  He’d never heard of such a thing, before.  Someone the Angel of Death couldn’t take?  That was… terrifying, actually.

“No idea,” Azrael grumped.  He didn’t seem terrified.  More put out by wasted trips, than anything.

Jophiel stared at Jack Harkness for some minutes before speaking.  “It’s the time vortex.”

“What?” Tamiel asked.

“Look at him.  You can almost see it swirling around him.”

Tamiel squinted at Jack.  “Oh, yeah…”

Jophiel turned to Azrael.  “You knew that, didn’t you?”

“I’m not often thwarted.  I do like to know why, when it happens.”

“Of course,” Jophiel smiled.

“It’s not funny!” Azrael growled, but the others had started to chuckle.

“Look at him, Azrael,” Jophiel pointed out.  “He’s trying to do good work.”

“Oh, hey – I remember this guy,” Tamiel said, clicking his fingers.  “Lucifer was livid, because an immortal had landed on Earth, and we couldn’t even approach the arsehole, because he’d decided to live in Wales.”

“Ooh, I bet he had some choice words for you, because of that compact,” Azrael snickered.

“That’s not really a laughing matter, either,” Tamiel said, looking uncomfortable.  “It’s not a pleasant thing, to be on Lucifer’s bad side.”

“Of course not,” Jophiel said, trying to be kind to Tamiel without having Azrael tell him later he was being overly sympathetic towards a demon.

But Azrael surprised him in the next moment by wincing in sympathy.  “I remember.”

Jophiel looked closely at Jack and scanned his history and timeline.  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you would have had much luck.  He’s trying too hard to make up for his past.  He wants to be a good man.  That kind never works out, for your lot.”

“You think?” Tamiel looked hopeful.  Jophiel and Azrael got the impression that even now, the demon hoped that this detail might be used to appease Lucifer.

***

Azrael could not be blamed for being relieved that Ianto did not see him take Lisa.  Jophiel clapped him on the shoulder when he returned.

“It’s not your fault,” the Angel of Wisdom said.

“How many did this make?” Tamiel asked, but there was no sneer in his tone.  If anything, he seemed sympathetic, but that might have been more for Ianto’s sake than Azrael’s.

“Eleven,” Azrael sighed.  “Eleven beloveds I have taken from him.”

“That’s what comes of falling for humans,” Tamiel said, trying to sound philosophical, but still feeling great sorrow for his friend.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Azrael said.

“What, endures the losses, or falls in love, in the first place?” Tamiel asked.

“Either,” Azrael admitted.  “He is the only angel who has ever fallen in love with a human.”  He frowned and looked at Tamiel.  “Has any demon?”

Tamiel scoffed.  “No.  Demons are too bitter to remember love.”

“And yet, you are here, watching over a fallen angel who has been your friend for almost two millennia,” Jophiel observed.

“Well,” Tamiel looked uncomfortable.  “That’s different.”

“Of course it is,” Jophiel said, trying not to sound amused.  He did not mention the petition that was currently being circulated, asking forgiveness for Tamiel.  It cited his love for his friend as proof of the potential to be rehabilitated.  The suggestion was to perhaps change his status from ‘cast out’ to ‘fallen’, thus returning his wings and removing the taint from his powers.  But it was far too soon to mention that.

“So what is it about Ianto… I mean, Yohanan?” Azrael asked.

Jophiel didn’t hear any telltale chimes, so he replied.  “He told the Council that the CREATOR made him to understand the humans.  I think that means he feels all human emotions.”

“But… he’s an angel,” Tamiel seemed to grasp the horror of this, first.  “That must be agony.”

“He told me, one time,” Azrael began, “after I took his seventh wife…  He told me it was worth it.  So not just agony.  But still…  His despair has been terrible.  He has asked me to take him more times than I would care to count.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Tamiel asked, outraged.  “That is the one thing we hold dear.  Our only solace.  That when it becomes too much, or it has been too long, we can ask to be taken.”

Azrael also chose to speak when he heard no chime.  “His requests have been the only ones ever countermanded.”

“BASTARD,” Tamiel gritted.  “It’s like HE has set out to be deliberately cruel.”

“There is a reason,” Jophiel said, not entirely comfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.  Because part of him could not help but agree with the demon.

They watched over Ianto as he cleaned up the hub, and they watched Jack watch over Ianto.  At first, they were angry that Jack had demanded Ianto do this, but soon they understood that this was his way of looking after the traumatized man as the shock wore off.  It kept Ianto’s mind and body occupied so that when the grief finally hit, he would not be alone.

Ianto had scrubbed the room in the archives until it was spotless, and had put the main area of the hub to rights before collapsing.  He had just scrubbed the last of the blood and barbecue sauce from the side of the retention pool when he lost his footing as he rose, and fell in.  He found himself sobbing on his hands and knees in the water, ignoring the slimy feeling of the bottom of the pool.

“Please forgive me.  Please, I beg you.  I…” he sucked in a choking breath, and then another, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Azrael shuddered, remembering an all-too similar scene, just after Yohanan fell.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Ianto.  “Shhh, just breathe, Ianto.  You’ll be all right.”

“She’s gone,” Ianto sobbed.

“I know.  I’m sorry.”

“I thought I could save her.  I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“I know.”

Ianto sniffed and tried to straighten, but Jack was still holding him.  He leaned against Jack’s warmth, feeling so tired.

“When will you take me?” he asked, his voice calm.

“Excuse me?” Jack loosened his hold enough to look at Ianto, a blend of shock and humor on his face.

“Execute me,” Ianto clarified, shaking his head at the strange turn of phrase he had used.  What chilled Jack was that Ianto could have been talking about their lunch order, whether to go for Indian or Chinese.

“Ianto, I’m not going to execute you!” Jack was stunned.  Did Ianto really think…  But he shook his head in dismay.  Of course he did.

“Please?” came the whispered plea.

“Ianto…”

“You have to,” Ianto said, still leaning against Jack as the water began seeping up his shirt.  “I’m immune to Retcon.”

“That wasn’t in your file,” Jack frowned, momentarily sidetracked.

Ianto jolted from his arms and scrambled backwards up the side of the pool.  “I…” he looked around, then seemed to settle, again.  “I doctored my file, so you’d hire me.”

“Of course you did,” Jack nodded.  “What else is in there?”

“I did start out as a junior researcher,” Ianto said, looking frightened.  Jack didn’t understand the expression until it turned to resignation, and he continued, “but eventually I became Yvonne Hartman’s P.A.”

Jack was too shocked to be angry.  He blinked a few times, and then snorted.  “And we’ve been getting you to clean up our trash.”  He rubbed his eyes and stood, trying to ignore the water dripping down his legs.  “Come on.  I’m not going to kill you.  And I’m not going to Retcon you, either.  I’m suspending you for four weeks.  Once they are up, you’ll return to work and become a proper member of this team.  This,” he looked around the hub, though there were few traces left of the Cyberwoman’s destruction, “was partly my fault, for keeping you separate.  I treated you differently because you came from One.”

“Turns out you weren’t wrong,” Ianto spat bitterly, though Jack couldn’t tell whether he resented how they had shunned him or felt guilty for betraying them.

“If we had welcomed you onto the team the way we welcomed Gwen,” and he needed no further proof than Ianto’s flinch, to know he was right about this, “I think you might have asked us for help.”

“You said there was no help,” Ianto said, his voice wavering.

“No, but you said she was still herself.  Maybe we could have helped her to…” he knew no good could come from finishing that thought, right now.  “Before the cyber-tech took over.”

“I’m sorry I called you a monster,” Ianto said, his voice low and weary.

“And I’m sorry I asked you to execute her,” Jack replied.  “C’mon.  Let’s get you cleaned up.  Once you’re warm and dry, we’ll get some food in you, and I’ll give you something to help you sleep.  Once Owen checks you out in the morning, I’ll take you home.”

Ianto’s knees buckled when he tried to stand, and Jack had to help him shower and change.  He gave the exhausted man a peanut butter sandwich, and after it became clear Ianto couldn’t manage more than two bites, he gave him the promised alien sleeping aid.  He helped Ianto down into his bunker and Ianto was asleep before Jack could tuck the blanket around him. 

Two angels and a demon watched in shock as Jack kissed Ianto tenderly on the forehead and said, “Try to sleep, Angel.”

***

[1] These are common symptoms of cirrhosis.

Chapter Text

Time passed, and while Yohanan had always given himself decades to mourn, Ianto only took months.  Perhaps it was a matter of scale.  After all, you can take half a century, when you have eternity.  Humanity and its implied mortality seemed to have changed that requirement.  As did the fact that Ianto was not as isolated as Yohanan tended to be, after a loss.  But Jack’s friendship proved vital to Ianto’s recovery from his loss of Lisa.

Given his ability to handle the team, the fact that Ianto had empathic abilities came as no surprise to Jack, though he was shocked at the test scores, which had been the highest Torchwood One had ever recorded.  Upon seeing the scores when Ianto shared his actual personnel file, Jack began to reach out to him more intentionally, knowing that the battle must have been agony for him, in more ways than one.  Jack was frankly surprised that Ianto’s PTSD wasn’t crippling.  And in reaching out, Jack inadvertently cultivated a friendship that was beginning to rebuild their trust in one another. 

Their friendship had deepened in the six months following Lisa’s death, so it was no surprise when Ianto came to Jack the night Estelle Cole died, unable to explain why he was so angry at the woman’s death, but hoping to comfort his friend.  When he brought coffee, Jack reached out and clung to him, weeping into his shirt for long minutes before pulling himself together.  Ianto offered to take care of Estelle’s affairs, and ended up with a new roommate in the form of her cat.

The next day, Jophiel used his influence to get Ianto to join the team at the home of Jasmine Pearce, as his presence was required.  As Jack and Gwen faced down the faeries, Tamiel carried on a separate conversation with them.

“How dare you murder an innocent!” he snarled.

“What care you for innocents, demon?” they mocked.

“Me?” Tamiel immediately calmed and ran a hand down his chest, smoothing his suit.  “I care nothing for her.  But if my brethren are precluded from interfering with those under the protection of a fallen angel, then you should be, as well.”

The faeries cackled and capered.  “He does not even remember the compact.  Why should we honor it?”

In that moment, Ianto walked up the path and joined them.  He spotted the faeries and, not realizing why, began to snarl, and the faeries cowered as the land rumbled in response to its protector’s displeasure. 

“He remembers enough to know when he has been disrespected,” Tamiel stated with no small amount of satisfaction.  “Perhaps you should take your chosen one and leave.”

Jophiel touched Jack’s and Gwen’s shoulders, and then Ianto’s, as well, and all three forgot Ianto’s rage as Jasmine joined the faeries and Tamiel gave a final warning.

“Do not think the death of Estelle Cole will go unpunished,” he spat, disgusted that the faeries had killed her for no other reason than to menace Harkness. 

(It is a common misconception that demons are, by nature, evil.  They defied the ALMIGHTY and were cast out as a result, and they now spent their time trying to make alliances to renew the battle.  But many still retained that sense of righteousness that had been molded into every fiber of their original, angelic existence.)

The faeries cringed, fading away as Jasmine skipped away from Jack and Gwen.  Ianto caught Jasmine’s mother as she railed against them all for letting her child go.  He calmed and comforted her, and then took her into her house to Retcon her as the others cleaned up as best they could and Retconned the party guests and loaded the boyfriend into the SUV.

The others were angry and refused to speak to Jack, who kept asking, “What else could I do?”

Ianto rode up front with Jack and began writing the report on his PDA, asking Jack questions that he didn’t need to ask, just to make the point that he was still speaking to their leader. 

“Why don’t you just drop down and suck his dick, teaboy?” Owen sneered.

Ianto ignored Owen and said, “So, am I correct in reporting that there are no known ways to combat these creatures, Sir?”

Jack gave Ianto a hard side eye and gripped the wheel tighter.  “Correct.”

“And the threat posed by the creatures.  Would you say local, regional, hemispherical, or global?”

Hemispherical?  Jack tried to suppress the quirking at the corners of his mouth.  “Global.”

“And, please forgive me, this is only my own observation, but I couldn’t help but see her smiling as her mother’s boyfriend was brutally murdered.  Would you say that she was still entirely human, when she joined the faeries?”

“No, Ianto,” Jack’s voice sounded weary, but also relieved as he saw the others’ anger begin to dissipate.  “She wasn’t human anymore.  I believe she began to lose her humanity as soon as they chose her.  Once she decided to go with them, which I believe was well before this afternoon, she likely shed the last of her humanity.”

“No… way… to… combat… creatures… that… use… weather… and… …nature… as… weapons…” Ianto spoke aloud as he pretended to type what he had already documented.  “Creature… formerly… known… as… Jasmine… Pearce… no… longer… considered… human…  Went… home… with… her… new…” Ianto looked up.  “Would you call them her new family, or comrades, or…”

“All right, teaboy, you’ve made your point!” Owen shouted. 

Jack let out a sound that was half-sob and half-laugh.  Toshiko sniffed.  Gwen gritted her teeth.  Owen seemed to have calmed himself, with his outburst.

“Brethren…” Ianto muttered as he finished the report.

Jack looked over at his archivist like he was only now seeing him, for the first time.

***

Ianto got beaten to a pulp by cannibals in the Brecon Beacons, and because he was the only one with any talent for healing (not that he remembered that), his friends were unable to help him.  He brushed off Jack’s offer to stay when he took him home, but was surprised when, an hour later, Jack showed up on his doorstep with egg drop soup, plain fried rice, and enough prawn crackers to feed the Russian army.

Ianto had only managed to undress (he’d had to cut off his t-shirt) and shower in the time Jack had returned to the hub, showered, dressed, and picked up the food.  He had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and was trying to figure out how to put on a t-shirt when there was a knock at his door. 

He was too tired to care that he was only half-dressed, but was relieved it was Jack (and not a neighbor or someone looking for the wrong flat) when he opened the door.  He immediately regretted it when Jack’s smiling expression turned to regret and horror at the sight of his bruises.

“Did Owen look you over?” Jack asked.

Ummm... 

“He was pretty busy with Gwen, and the… the…” Ianto couldn’t finish that thought, because thinking about the villagers made him think about what they had almost done.  He sucked in a breath, but it caught in his chest, and then he couldn’t take another, and within seconds he was hyperventilating, which fucking hurt.

“Shit,” Jack set down the bags of food and closed the door, then made sure Ianto saw him approach him.  “Hey,” he wrapped his hands around Ianto’s biceps and crouched slightly to be able to look into Ianto’s eyes, since he had hunched over his arms that he had wrapped around himself, trying to contain the throbbing agony.  “C’mon, Ianto.  You’re all right.  Just breathe with me, okay?”

Ianto watched as Jack took exaggerated breaths in and blew them out, again.  He was vaguely grateful that he had brushed his teeth as he tried to mimic Jack’s actions.  It took a few minutes, but the panic subsided and he was left trembling with pain and cold, chilled by the thin sheen of sweat that now covered his naked torso. 

Jack placed his hand along the unbruised side of Ianto’s face and looked hard into his eyes.  Ianto vaguely wondered what he was looking for, and almost fell backwards when Jack swore, his voice angry and harsh.

“Sorry, sorry,” he closed his hands over Ianto’s biceps, again.  “That wasn’t about you.  You’re trembling – cold, pain, or both?”

All Ianto could do was nod, but that made his head hurt worse.  He closed his eyes and let out a strangled noise.

“Okay.  Let’s get you warmed up, first.”  He took Ianto by the arm and led him to the bedroom. 

Ianto briefly wondered how Jack knew where the bedroom was, but then realized the door was open and the light was still on, so it wasn’t exactly a tough thing to figure out.  Jack asked if he had anything that buttoned or zipped, and he pointed to a drawer that had a couple of hoodies in it.

Jack noticed the t-shirt on the bed and shook his head.  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he said, placing it on top of the dresser, the picture of Lisa catching his eye.  He let out sigh.  “Hopefully this will be warm enough,” he kept talking, his voice calm and low as he helped Ianto into the hoodie and zipped it up for him.

Ianto leaned in and Jack’s arms automatically wrapped around him.  He felt like a child, but it wasn’t entirely a bad feeling.  He felt… taken care of.  He leaned back and stared at Jack.

“’m sorry,” he muttered.

“What?” Jack looked startled.  “Why?”

“Tried to get Tosh ‘way, but they caught her ‘gain.”

“Ianto,” Jack had him by the upper arms, again.  “That was not your fault, do you hear me?”

Ianto stared at him, wide-eyed.  “’s not?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth quirked like it did when he was sad and amused, all at once.  Ianto reached out and placed the pad of his index finger on the quirking corner.  “Why’re you sad?” he asked.

“Because you’re hurt,” Jack answered, his eyes looking serious.

Ianto made a scoffing noise.  “I’ve always hurt,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.  “Ever’thing hurts.  Millions of years,” he almost sang, his voice taking on a sort of floaty quality before crashing back to something brittle, “and no one ever noticed, before.  NO ONE.”  He looked closely at Jack.  “How’d you know?”

Jack was frowning, now.  As were Jophiel and Tamiel.  “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

“Socks,” Ianto said, blinking at Jack.  “Please?”

Jack smiled.  “Of course.”  He found them on the bed, then helped Ianto back to the living room, where he sat the injured man on the sofa and put his socks on him.  Then he found a pretty little crocheted rug on a wing chair by the window that he tucked around Ianto’s legs.  Finally, the fleece blanket folded neatly on the sofa got wrapped around him. 

He took the bags of food into the kitchen and quickly found spoons and bowls and returned to the living room with a lap tray he’d found, putting the soup in front of Ianto.  But Ianto’s hands were shaking, and he didn’t want to wear the soup, so he just stared forlornly at it.

Jack sat down and began spooning soup into Ianto’s mouth.  At the first swallow, he made a strange noise, like the soup’s warmth and Jack’s care had pressed into one of his bruises.  It was a comfort, but somehow it also hurt.  Once the soup was gone, Jack took the container into the kitchen and pulled out his phone.

“What?” came Owen’s voice, angry at the interruption of whatever it was he was doing.  “This had better be good, Jack.”

“Oh, it’s better than good, Dr. Harper,” Jack replied, the silken tone of his voice making the hairs on the back of Owen’s neck stand on end.  “It’s so good that you’re going to get your kit, and your scanner, and the best meds you can find for pain and panic, and you’re going to get your arse to Ianto’s.  Now!”

“Wait.  What?  What’s wrong with teaboy?”

“Did you even check him out, Owen?”

“I thought he was fine!”

“So that would be a ‘no’, then,” Jack was seething, now.

“Tell me what you’re seeing, so I can bring what he might need,” Owen’s voice was sober and serious.

“Severe bruising, everywhere.  Pupils unevenly dilated, so probable concussion.  Probable multiple cracked or broken ribs.  Panic attack because he didn’t give Tosh long enough to get away.”

“Fuck.  I’m on my way.”

Jack ended the call and returned to the living room, where Ianto was staring at the television, looking even paler than before.  The news story was all about cannibals found in the Welsh countryside.

“Hey, let’s watch something else, okay?”  Jack took the remote and changed the channel to find an old movie playing.  “This all right?”

Ianto just blinked at him.

“Want some rice?” He dished rice into a bowl and held a spoonful up to Ianto, who took the food slowly and carefully.  Jack had a spoonful while Ianto chewed.  They ate quietly and were just finishing up when Owen knocked.

Jack let him in and helped Ianto out of the hoodie so Owen could scan him, then poke and prod the terrible bruises.

“Christ, teaboy,” Owen said as he looked him over.  “Well, two ribs are cracked. Another is bruised.  Scans aren’t showing any internal damage, but this bruising is…  What the hell did they beat you with?”

“Not beat,” Ianto shook his head, though it made him dizzy.  “Tenderized.”  He didn’t see Owen flinch and Jack recoil.  “Bat.”  He sniffed, then clarified, “Baseball, not cricket.”

“He had that cleaver to your throat, too,” Owen said, grabbing Ianto by the chin and forcing his head back.  “Did he cut you, before Jack came charging in?”

“Owen,” Jack admonished as Ianto jerked his chin out of the doctor’s hand and shook his head, closing his eyes as the room swam.

“Yeah, sorry,” Owen actually did look contrite for his rough treatment.  More gently this time, he palpated the bruises on Ianto’s face and looked into his eyes before scanning him again.  “Concussion.  Moderate side of mild.  How’s the pain?”

“Hurts,” Ianto muttered, swiping at the tears that had sprung to his eyes when Owen had pressed the bruise from the shotgun stock.

“Fair enough,” Owen said, looking at Jack.  “Coherent?”

“Talking a bit of nonsense, but nothing that you couldn’t follow.”

Owen nodded.  He prepared an injection and gave Ianto a quick jab before pulling out a bottle of pills.  “Can you stay with him?”

“Him’s right here, ya know,” Ianto slurred.

“Of course,” Jack replied, putting a hand on Ianto’s shoulder, hoping to steady him. 

“Good.  He’s okay to sleep.”  He shook the bottle, letting the pills rattle.  “Two pills every four hours.  Don’t let him tell you he doesn’t want or need them.  Try to get him to take them with a bit of food.  A biscuit or something will do, overnight.”

“What about the…” Jack cut his eyes to Ianto, not wanting to embarrass him.  But then he realized that Ianto wasn’t listening to them.  “…the panic?”

Owen dug around in his bag and gave Ianto a different injection.  “That one may take a few minutes to kick in.  It’s slow, but once it hits, it’s good for a while.  I’ll come check him in the morning and see if he needs more, or maybe something different.  Let’s see how the night goes.”

“Okay,” Jack said, checking the time and setting an alarm on his vortex manipulator for four hours.  “C’mon, Ianto, let’s get you tucked in.”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” Ianto sniffed.  “Head hurts too much to lie down, anyway.”

“Good luck, mate,” Owen shrugged and turned to go.  He hesitated at the door and turned back, saying, “You’re right, I should’ve checked him over, before.”

“We’ll discuss it during your mission debrief,” the edge to Jack’s tone saying he had not forgotten Owen’s oversight.

Owen nodded and left.

Jack helped Ianto back into his hoodie, then sat on the sofa next to him as he stared at the movie playing on the television without seeing it.  “Hey,” he said, reaching out and running his hand gently down the back of Ianto’s head.

Ianto blinked and turned his head slowly to Jack.  “Hey,” he said, his eyes still bright with unshed tears.

“C’mere,” Jack did not pull Ianto to him; rather, he slid next to Ianto and gently wrapped his arms around him.  “You’re all right.”

“I don’t belong here,” Ianto whispered, and the tears spilled down his cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Jack leaned back and gently caught a tear on his knuckle.

“Never belonged anywhere, really.  But this life…  It was supposed to be different, yeah?”  He sniffed.  “I just can’t manage to get it right, can I?”

“Ianto, what are you talking about?” Jack was getting concerned.

“But if I can’t fit in here, even after all this time, what hope is there?”  He snorted.  “Ironic, right?  That I’m the hopeless one…”

“Ianto?” Jack frowned, and Ianto rested his head on his shoulder.

“Damn,” Tamiel muttered.  “What’s going on?”

“The head injury must have thinned the veil between his human mind and his true self,” Jophiel frowned.  He walked over to the couch and pressed his hand against the back of Ianto’s head.  He closed his eyes in concentration.  “Yes.  The blows he took damaged the shielding I set up.”

“I will make them pay,” Tamiel said, his eyes glowing red with wrath and rage.

“Oh.  Sorry, but you may have some difficulty with that,” Azrael drawled from the corner.  He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What did you do?” Jophiel asked, his eyes wide.

“Oh relax,” Azrael huffed.  “Nothing fatal.”

“What,” Jophiel demanded.

“Fine.  I took the women’s teeth and shortened the length of the men’s flesh members by approximately three quarters.  And they all have boils in really uncomfortable places, now.”

Tamiel made a choking sound as Jophiel stared, wide-eyed.

“What?” Azrael gave Jophiel a defiant look.  “I did not take them, did I?”

“You have never been one for… interfering,” Jophiel settled on as the most neutral observation he could manage.

“Well, I am the Angel of Death and Retribution.  Every now and then, it’s good to make sure I can still do the retribution bit, when I am so inclined,” Azrael shrugged.  He looked at Ianto.  “Has he remembered?”

“He’s drifting, a bit.  More the thinning of the veil giving truth to his delirium than him actually remembering.”  Jophiel gave Ianto’s head one final stroke.  “I’ve done what I can, but he’ll need to mend a bit more, for me to fix everything.  His coworkers will just think he’s talking more nonsense, and attribute it to the concussion.”  He stepped back from Ianto and sighed.  “We should go.”

“Does anyone else see this?” Tamiel gestured between Jack and Ianto.

“It would be a first for him, in terms of preference,” Jophiel observed.

“It would not surprise me if he’s doing it, just to annoy me,” Azrael grumbled, his peevishness at Jack’s inconvenient immortality unabated.

They left Jack and Ianto to their quiet conversation.

“I’m so tired of being hated, Jack,” Ianto raised his head from Jack’s shoulder and gave him a weary look.

“No one hates you, Angel,” Jack whispered.

Ianto didn’t seem to notice the endearment.  “That’s the only explanation for forgetting that she helped kill Lisa, and then playing that ridiculous game right in front of me.”

“She didn’t mean any harm,” Jack defended weakly.

“Oh, no,” Ianto sneered, and it did not suit him.  “She never does.  It’s just interesting to me that the so-called ‘heart of Torchwood’, who is somehow so much more human than the rest of the team, can be so frequently and thoughtlessly callous.”

Jack winced.  Ianto wasn’t wrong.  “I’m sorry.”

Ianto nodded slowly enough to try not to jar his head.  “You do indulge her rather a lot.”  He heaved a sigh.  “But then again, you forgave me for almost ending the world.”  Now he was shaking his head.  “You should have let them bleed me.”

Jack reached out and touched Ianto’s cheek.  “Stop that.”

“I don’t understand, Jack,” Ianto leaned into the bend where Jack’s neck met his shoulder and snuffled softly, causing the immortal to shiver.

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I care,” Jack frowned, wondering when the meds would kick in.  Ianto’s anxiety wasn’t really calming.

“About me,” Ianto leaned back, looking dubious.

“Of course, about you,” Jack chuckled, but the laugh died in his throat when Ianto shook his head. 

“You’re just saying that because I work for you,” Ianto said, looking like Jack had kicked his puppy.

“Ianto, you’re not just my employee,” Jack said, feeling like it might not be the best idea to argue with the distraught man, at the moment, but not certain how else to calm him.  “You’re my friend.”

“I am?” Ianto’s head came up fast enough that Jack knew it had hurt.  He looked equal parts pleased and surprised.

“Of course you are,” Jack chuckled, then blinked.  “Wait, aren’t I your friend?”

“I…” Ianto blushed.  “I hope so.”

Jack smiled, feeling himself back on more solid ground.  That blush said an awful lot, and Jack felt himself pleased with everything it had to say.

“Okay, then,” He grinned.  “Now that’s settled, how about you try to rest?”

“m’kay.”

Ianto fell asleep within thirty seconds of resting his head against Jack’s chest.  After a while, Jack gently lay him down on the sofa and began cleaning up the dishes from dinner, but within a half hour, Ianto sat up, groaning and holding his head.

“Hey,” Jack was immediately beside him.  “You okay?”

“Hurts,” Ianto had broken out into a cold sweat and was trembling.  Jack barely got a bin in front of him before he began casting up his dinner.  He apologized over and over as Jack took the bin away and found a clean flannel and soaked it in cool water and began mopping Ianto’s face.

“Shhh.  It’s okay,” Jack assured.  “I should’ve listened to you, about not going horizontal, right now.”

It took a few minutes for Ianto to catch his breath, vomiting having aggravated his cracked ribs.  The pain had flared, but the drugs Owen had given him were pretty good, so once he calmed down, it eased.

Between them, he and Jack figured out a way he could sleep without intensifying the headache.  Jack moved the wing chair away from the window and into a darkened corner.  He then moved another chair from the bedroom so Ianto could put his feet up.  Wrapped in fleece and propped against pillows, he settled back into sleep for a couple of hours until it was time for him to take Owen’s pain pills.

Over the next few days, Jack was there as often as he wasn’t.  Owen came by twice a day for the first three or four days, showing just how rattled he had been by Ianto’s condition.  For all his faults, Owen was a good doctor.  This glaring evidence to the contrary had shaken him, and he was working hard on making up for it.

Ianto suspected that Jack had handed Owen his own arse over the matter.  He couldn’t bring himself to worry about it, as Jack was being kind and Owen was, for once, not being a twat.  Ianto really couldn’t ask for more than that.

Toshiko stopped by every evening, usually with dinner.  Even Gwen brought some of Rhys’ famous lasagna one night, seeming a bit too bright and cheerful.  Ianto couldn’t figure out why that might be, but then between the head injury and the pain meds, he was a bit off his game.

***

Chapter Text

Soon enough, Ianto was back at work.  Owen only cleared him for light duty, at first.  And that was fine by Ianto, who was still incredibly sore.  He was also newly light-sensitive and ended most days with headaches of varying degrees of severity.

The day Owen kicked out the plug to Toshiko’s computers while her programs were running, Jack had taken Ianto home to sleep off the meds Owen had given him for a bourgeoning migraine.  Ianto would later regret not being there to notice Tosh’s frustration and maybe invite her out for a drink, as a distraction. 

He had still not healed enough for Jophiel to fully repair the shielding between his human and angelic minds, so he was remembering certain impressions, at an emotional level.  Sadly, the most prominent impressions bleeding through were those of the aching loneliness of missing the presence of the ALMIGHTY.

His memories as an angel remained hidden, so he had no context for the profound pain he was feeling, other than his own grief, which had suddenly and inexplicably compounded, leaving him feeling sick and depressed.

The alien pendant helped Toshiko to hear Ianto’s ruminations on the pain that was all but crippling him.  Later, after Mary was dead, Ianto held her hand as he wrote up her report.  He was calm and kind, and she came out of the conference room feeling comforted and hopeful that she could get through this.

Owen and Gwen dampened that somewhat, but then she spoke to Jack.  Her view of humanity had taken a bit of a beating, of late.  Between the cannibals and what she overheard while wearing the pendant, she felt disillusioned and disheartened.  Jack’s reminder that she had only got a snapshot was helpful, and she was able to realize that many of her own thoughts were fleeting and meaningless, so a lot of what she’d overheard was probably much the same. 

It made it easier to let go of what she had learned.  But she couldn’t forget what she had heard, from Ianto.  His desolation struck her as more than a snapshot, more than a fleeting bit of moaning.  He was in pain, and she didn’t know how to help him.  In the end, she told Jack about it, hoping he would know what to do.

Jack headed to Ianto’s flat and decided at the last moment to pick the lock rather than knock.  Something resembling a boulder had settled deep in his gut when Toshiko described what she had heard from Ianto.  Jack had seen Ianto withdrawing, but he thought he was just licking his wounds from the mission to the Beacons.  It had not occurred to him that Ianto’s sense of loss was still so acute. 

He felt like an idiot.  Of course Ianto was still hurting from losing Lisa.  He wasn’t the type to just forget and move on.  But that he had fallen into such a state of despair was an unwelcome surprise.  Jack had vaguely hoped that their friendship might have helped to anchor Ianto, but…  He shook his head.  This didn’t need to be about him.

As he entered the flat, he didn’t hear the two angels and a demon bickering with one another in Ianto’s living room.

“Why can’t you just heal him?” Tamiel asked, concern, frustration, and anger making his eyes spark orange and red.

“I’m not really a healer.  I can help a little, but we decided that too much would be too obvious to the doctor,” Jophiel pointed out.

“Yes, and see how that’s worked out,” Tamiel hissed snidely, gesturing at Ianto.

“I wish we could have seen this timeline,” Azrael ignored the bickering, looking sadly at Ianto.  “It doesn’t seem like this life has been much of a rest, for him.”

“It’s only been twenty-three years,” Jophiel shook his head.  “And no, not much of a rest, because you can’t exactly say it’s been an easy twenty-three years.”

“We have to help him,” Tamiel said.  “If the ALMIGHTY will not allow him to be taken…”  He looked incredibly sad.  “What can we do?  I really thought this human lifetime would help, but…”

“I think it has helped,” Jophiel said.  He held up a hand to quiet Tamiel’s protest, but the demon just gestured wildly at Ianto.  “Actually, I think we were meant to insert him into this particular life.”

“What do you mean?” Azrael looked at him sharply.  “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Nothing,” Jophiel sighed.  “It’s just a feeling.”

“I thought the only feelings angels got were of smug superiority,” Tamiel snarked, straightening and folding his arms eloquently over his chest.

“Peace, Tamiel,” Jophiel sighed, sending a look to Azrael to calm him down.  “I know you are concerned, but…” he gestured to Jack, who had just entered the room.

Tamiel relaxed a bit and nodded, appeased.

“Great,” Azrael grumbled.

“Peace, Azrael,” Jophiel resisted the temptation to become cross.  “He comforts the Comforter.  That is no small thing.”

Jack’s eyes widened and his face paled as he entered the room and saw what was on the coffee table in front of Ianto, who was sitting on the sofa.  Ianto had taken off his suit coat and tie and simply tossed them onto the floor.  That alone was a bad sign.  His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, the vest beneath peeking out from underneath his shirt untucked, as well.  His shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing well-shaped forearms.

Jack swallowed.  “Ianto,” he whispered.

Ianto was slouched forward, his elbows on his knees, his head hanging.  On the table before him were three sets of items.  On the left was a tear-stained sheet of paper with a pen tossed on top of it.  Only a few lines were written, but Jack could not see them from where he stood to Ianto’s right.  On the right side of the table was a pill bottle turned on its side, a handful of its contents strewn around the near-empty glass of water.

Jack moved slowly around the sofa and sat next to Ianto, who had raised his head to stare at the item sitting in the center of the table, directly in front of him.  It was a Glock 23, undoubtedly from the Torchwood armoury, cocked and locked.

“Talk to me, Ianto,” Jack said, his voice still quiet.

Ianto reached for the weapon, tears streaming down his face.  It was all Jack could do, to keep from reaching out and trying to wrest the gun from Ianto’s grasp.  But that could be disastrous.

“She was going to hurt Tosh,” Ianto said, his voice rough.  “I know that.  I do.”

“Yes, she was,” Jack agreed.

“But it reminded me…” Ianto let out a sob, and Jack closed his eyes, feeling terrible.  “I miss her, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack said, reaching out and pulling Ianto into his arms.  He noticed that Ianto had the pistol firmly in his grasp, resting on his thigh in his left hand, away from Jack.  “I know.  I’m sorry.  And I was far too flippant about it.  I apologized to Toshiko, for that.  I know she cared about Mary.”

“She fell in love,” Ianto nodded miserably.  “And when you told her you sent Mary into the sun, her heart broke.  I felt it, Jack.”

Jack made a mental note to start teaching Ianto how to devise mental shielding so his empathy wouldn’t leave him so devastated when someone else’s loss triggered his own grief. 

If he could keep his distraught friend from shooting himself in the next few minutes, that is.

“Ianto, can we put the gun down and talk?”

Ianto leaned back and looked at the gun, seeming almost surprised to find it in his hand.  He gave Jack a long, steady look.  “You going to lock me up, Jack?”

Jack shook his head.  “I just want to talk.”

“What is there to say?” Ianto brought his gun hand up, and Jack flinched.  But Ianto just rubbed the heel of his hand against his temple, the gun pointing towards the ceiling.  A glance told Jack the safety was still engaged, but Ianto’s thumb was resting against it.  The smallest movement would have the gun ready to fire.

“Tell me what’s going through that beautiful mind of yours,” Jack replied.

Ianto made a scornful noise.  “I almost ended the world for her, and I’m not certain I wouldn’t do it again, if I thought there was a way to save her.”  He looked at Jack, his face distraught.  “I’m the real monster, here.  I got those two people killed.  And she’s gone, and…” he choked, slamming the gun into his chest, “…it’s like there’s this hole in my… being.”  He turned wide eyes to Jack.  “I am completely and utterly alone,” he gasped.  “Bereft,” he whispered.  “Forsaken.”

Jack shivered.  Those were not just words, to Ianto.  He was utterly mired in despair.

“I’m not going to tell you it’s okay, but you have to know, Ianto,” Jack reached out and grasped the back of Ianto’s head.  “You are forgiven.”  Ianto sobbed, and Jack pressed on.  “I forgive you, Ianto.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it until you can believe it and try to forgive yourself.  You didn’t know she couldn’t be saved.  You didn’t know what would happen.”  He ran his hand through Ianto’s hair and gave it a gentle pull.  “And it’s okay to miss her.”

Ianto shut his eyes tight and shook his head, rapping the gun against the side of his head.  Jack didn’t know what to do.

“Do something!” Tamiel hissed.

“I think the Torchwood doctor will either have a slightly anomalous recovery to ponder or an autopsy to perform,” Azrael said.  He looked up as he heard the now familiar chime.  “I am not to take him, so we will have to use a lot of glamor, if he chooses to end his human life.  And let’s be honest.  He is only in despair because he is feeling Yohanan’s feelings but does not have an angel’s capacity to process them.  He is overwhelmed, Jophiel.”

“I know,” Jophiel nodded.  “I was hoping he would pass out from the pills, but I suppose that’s too much to expect.”

“Since when has Yohanan ever done anything expected?” Azrael chuckled, fondly exasperated.

To their surprise, Jack stood and pulled Ianto into him, the gun now pressed between his belly and Ianto’s head.  Ianto went still and rigid.

“Jack,” he whispered.

“Ianto,” Jack said, his voice calm but seeming loud in the room.

“What…?”

“If you’re not going to put the gun down, I’m going to make sure it’s not pointed at you while we talk.  I want to understand.”

“Please,” Ianto whimpered, suddenly terrified.  “I’ll put it down.  Just please…”

“Let me,” Jack took the gun by the barrel, and Ianto surrendered it, terrified of accidentally shooting Jack.

Jack kept Ianto’s head pressed against his belly as he removed the safety so he could lower the hammer.  Once he reengaged the safety, he set the pistol back down on the table.  “How many of the pills did you take, Angel?”

Ianto pulled away.  “You call me that, every now and again.  Why?”

Jack smiled and caressed his cheek.  “You are so beautiful.  And sometimes, it’s almost like you glow.  Sometimes,” Jack gave a small, shy smile, one Ianto hadn’t seen before.  “Sometimes, the way you comfort me, and give me hope…  It seems like you’re an angel, sent just for me.”

Jophiel and Tamiel exchanged a look as Azrael cursed in a dead language that he favored when particularly annoyed.

“I told you!” Tamiel crowed.

“Noted,” Jophiel murmured, frowning like he was trying to figure out where the next piece of a puzzle went, despite not knowing what the picture should look like.

“Will you talk to me?” Jack asked, sitting down and facing Ianto.

“I don’t know what to say,” Ianto said, standing up and moving behind the sofa to pace.

“Say anything,” Jack suggested.  “Just start talking.  Tell me why you’re sitting here with pills and a gun.”

“I feel so empty, Jack,” Ianto had stopped, his back to Jack, his head hanging.  “It’s been worse, since the Beacons.”

“You miss Lisa,” Jack said.

“No,” Ianto shook his head.  “I mean yes, of course I do, but this…  It’s always been with me.”  He began pacing, again.  “Like a low-level background noise… this… emptiness.”

Jack frowned, confused.

Ianto shed his shirt and added to the pile with his coat and tie.  “It’s like all of a sudden it got dialed up to eleven, after the beating.”  He stopped for a moment, then turned to Jack.  “I’ve never belonged anywhere, Jack.  Ever.”

Jack was reminded of Ianto’s rant, the night they returned from the Beacons.  “It’s okay, Ianto.  You belong here, with us.”

“Do I?” Ianto asked, his eyes boring into Jack’s with a strange intensity.  “I’m not sure I do,” he muttered, looking away.  But then his gaze returned to Jack’s.  “I think maybe I’m an alien.”

Azrael began cursing again.

“Ianto, if you weren’t human, we would have known, by now.”

“You must think I’m crazy,” Ianto began pacing again.

“I promise you, I don’t,” Jack said, his voice sincere.  “And I’ve yet to meet a Torchwood operative who hasn’t, at one point or another, suspected they might be an alien.  It’s perfectly normal.  Kind of an occupational hypochondria, if you will.  You see enough strange things that when you see something strange in yourself, you get suspicious.  It’ll pass.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ianto’s shaking head gave lie to his words.  His steps sped up, and next off was his belt, which got tossed in the general direction of the pile as he continued to pace.  He walked a few paces, but then his trousers simply fell from his hips.  He gave an impatient noise and kicked them off, also in the direction of the growing pile of clothing. 

Jack would have been amused, if it hadn’t been for the twin concerns that Ianto had lost enough weight again for that to happen and that he was sweating profusely and breathing hard.

“Ianto, how many pills did you take?” Jack asked.

Ianto made a dismissive gesture.

“Did you see how many he took?” Tamiel asked Jophiel.

“It’s not a lethal dose,” Azrael said.

“It’s not a lethal dose,” Ianto muttered.  He stopped a moment, frowning and shaking his head.

“What just happened?” Tamiel asked.

“You need to fix this,” Azrael hissed.

“He needs to stand still long enough for me to do it!” Jophiel said, frustrated.

“Ianto?” Jack stood and rounded the couch.  Ianto was down to his vest and boxer briefs, and he was practically vibrating in agitation.

“I feel so guilty,” Ianto said, looking at Jack with wide, pained eyes.

“Why?”

Ianto resumed his pacing, passing Jack as he made his way from one side of his living room to the other, then back again.  “Everyone died, that day.  And I couldn’t stop it.  I couldn’t help anyone.  I couldn’t even die with them.  And then I made it worse.  I made her suffer, because I couldn’t let her go.  I lied to you and betrayed you all and got two innocent people killed, and it’s like I’m not… allowed to die.”

All of a sudden, he dropped to his knees.  “And that’s not even the worst part.”

Jack knelt down in front of him, taking him by the arms and trying to get Ianto to look at him.  “Tell me the worst part, then,” he gently commanded.

“I betrayed her, even as I was trying to save her!” Ianto confessed.

Jack blinked.  “What?”

“And I betrayed you first, so I know you must hate me for it, but you’re so kind to me, sometimes.  But then you seem to hate me again, and I just…  I can’t keep up, anymore.”

Ianto slumped down, his ankles splaying out as he sat between them.  Jack idly thought that if he tried that, his knees would tear themselves apart. 

“What do you mean?”

“You hate me because I’m from One and ignore me, but then you flirt with me.  You hate me for betraying you and ignore me, but then you’re kind to me.  You let me be your friend, but then you leave me out of everything except unfortunate team building road trips.  You let me comfort you when you lose people or have to make difficult decisions, but then you act like it’s Gwen whose opinion matters the most.  Which clearly it does, even if she never understands… anything.”

Jack hung his head.  He hadn’t realized his ambivalence had been so marked.  “I’m sorry for the mixed signals.  But why do you feel like you betrayed Lisa?  You never did.”

“Didn’t I?” Ianto’s head came up and he stared at Jack, wild-eyed.  “Didn’t I, every time I flirted with you and smiled at you and… and wanted?”

“Wanted?” Jack asked, moving a bit closer to Ianto.  “What have you wanted?”

“Things I shouldn’t,” Ianto curled in on himself.

“Why not?”

“Because unrequited l…” he caught himself.  “Unrequited anything is a bad look on anyone.  I should be missing Lisa.”  He slumped.  “And I do.  But it doesn’t keep me from wanting things I shouldn’t.”

“Is the only reason you think you shouldn’t because you think you aren’t wanted, in return?” Jack asked.  He had been holding back for so long, trying to give Ianto time to mourn Lisa.  But if his distance had led this beautiful man to feel rejected, he couldn’t have that.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ianto sniffed, completely dejected.  He shifted slightly to bring one foot forward and pulled off a sock.  “’m not allowed to die, not allowed to love, not allowed to live.  I’m completely pointless, Jack.”  He shifted and moved his other foot around and pulled off that sock, too. 

The more Ianto spoke, the more worried Jack became.  Ianto had used the words ‘forsaken’ and ‘pointless’, and Jack had been around long enough to know that either of those words could drive men to drastic action, if felt deeply enough.  And clearly, Ianto did.  Jack could practically feel Ianto’s despair, and it was painful to witness.

Ianto was now sitting tailor-style before Jack, his head hung low as tears began to stream, again.  He was finally still enough for Jophiel to run a hand down the back of his head and grasp his neck. 

Ianto sucked in a breath as some of the fog the pills had caused began to clear.  He began to breathe easier as some of his pain resolved.  Even the headache that had never completely gone away since he sustained the concussion eased.  And feeling that he had a gaping hole in his chest began to fade into the background, once more.

“That is all I can do, for now,” Jophiel said as he stood back and looked at his friend.

“We should go, then,” Tamiel said.

“But…” Azrael frowned.

“Come, Azrael,” Jophiel said.  “He is in good hands.”

In the next moment, Jack and Ianto were alone in the flat.

Jack watched as Ianto’s breathing began to even out.  He was sorry for adding to the Welshman’s burdens.  He had hoped Ianto wouldn’t notice the strange dance he had engaged in, knowing he shouldn’t get attached, despite being drawn to Ianto.  Clearly, Ianto had noticed, and his survivor’s guilt had made him give the worst possible interpretation to Jack’s behavior.

Jack reached out and ran his index finger along Ianto’s jawline before tucking it under his chin and raising his face.  Reluctantly, Ianto met Jack’s eye, and Jack had to force himself not to flinch at the pain and loneliness he saw.

“Maybe it’s time for both of us to stop equivocating,” Jack whispered.  He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Ianto’s.  He felt the Welshman draw in a surprised breath, but he did not pull away.  Jack moved his hand from Ianto’s chin to cup his cheek and tangled the other in his hair.

Ianto’s mouth was soft and sweet, and he opened to Jack when the Captain deepened the kiss.  It was a slow exploration, and Jack wasn’t sure whether he leaned forward first, or Ianto leaned back, but as he settled beside Ianto, leaning onto him slightly, he was jolted back to reality as Ianto’s breath caught, this time in discomfort as sore ribs protested.

Jack leaned back and realized that he was about to do something incredibly stupid.  Yes, he was all for passionate encounters on any surface available, but those were for strangers or people who knew each other well.  There was no way he was going to have a first experience of any kind with Ianto on the floor. 

Ianto’s eyes opened slowly, as though he was forcing them to do his bidding, and Jack felt another alarm go off.  He had been about to do he wasn’t sure what on the floor with a heavily impaired man. 

That was not on.  At all.

“Jack?” Ianto’s eyes finally focused on Jack’s face, and his own expression melted from something hopeful to something resigned.  “Perhaps you should be on your way, Sir,” he said, rolling away from Jack and sitting up, his movements slow and deliberate so he wouldn’t fall over.

“Ianto,” Jack sat up and pulled Ianto to him so his back was pressed to Jack’s chest.  He rested his chin on Ianto’s shoulder.  “How about you go get ready for bed.  I’ll be right in.  I want to talk to you.  Okay?”

Ianto nodded and Jack helped him to his feet.  He padded towards the bathroom, a hand held out to the wall to steady himself.  Jack grabbed the pills and put them back in the bottle, then took it and the gun out to the SUV and locked them in a containment unit that only he knew the combination to.  Then he grabbed the scanner from the med kit and returned to Ianto’s flat.

***

Chapter Text

Jack left his coat and shoes by the door, picked up Ianto’s clothes, and headed to the bedroom.  He had hung up Ianto’s suit, belt, and tie and put the shirt and socks in the laundry by the time Ianto came out of the bathroom.  Without ceremony, Ianto took off his vest and tossed it into the laundry basket.  His torso looked jaundiced, the bruises from the cannibals having faded to an ugly brownish yellow with some green highlights.

He reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs, but Jack caught his hands.

“Ianto,” he sighed.

“You said I should get ready for bed,” Ianto smiled.  “This is how I sleep.”  He tried to tug at his pants again, but Jack held firm.

“Keep them on, damn it,” Jack grumbled.  “We need to talk.”

“Talk,” Ianto said flatly.  “Funny, you’ve never mentioned talking, in all those stories you’ve told.”  He leaned into Jack and kissed just behind the hinge of his jaw.  “You said we should stop equivocating.”

“Yes,” Jack shivered, but then put his hands on Ianto’s shoulders and gently moved him out to arm’s length.  “As in, stop sending you mixed signals.  I do want you, Ianto.  But not tonight.”

Ianto frowned.  “Why not?”

Jack moved his hands to Ianto’s face and kissed him, hard.  “Because when we finally do something about this, we’re both going to be stone cold sober.”

“I am perfectly able to…”

Jack put two fingers to Ianto’s lips.  “Stone.  Cold.  Sober.”

Ianto huffed, but allowed Jack to lead him to the bed to sit down.  Jack grabbed the scanner and gave a sigh of relief that Ianto hadn’t overdosed.  Ianto saw his expression and huffed.

“Told you it wasn’t lethal.”

“Not lethal, but you are heavily impaired,” Jack gave him a pointed look.  “And you are going to feel like crap tomorrow, as this shit works its way out of your system.”  He sat beside Ianto.  “Why did you take them?”

Ianto shrugged.  “Figured it’d take the edge off enough for me to go for the gun.”

“Why the gun, then?”  Most people would have gone for one or the other.

“Gun’s more of a sure thing,” Ianto shrugged again.  “And quicker.”

“Or you wanted to give yourself time to back out,” Jack said, looking closely at Ianto.

“Now is not the time to question my resolve, Sir,” Ianto said darkly, and Jack realized that while this attempt had been thwarted, Ianto had not entirely given up on the idea.

“Get in bed,” Jack said, setting aside the scanner and stripping down to his boxers.

He climbed in with Ianto, who had suddenly transformed from quiet office boy to some sort of master of seduction.  He pressed his body close to Jack’s and threw his left leg over Jack’s so that his thigh was snug against Jack’s bollocks.  He moved sinfully against Jack’s body and kissed Jack with all the meticulous focus Jack had only seen in his work, before now.

Jack broke the kiss with a groan of frustration.  This was going to be harder… Christ.  This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

“So…  No qualms about being attracted to a man, then?” he asked, trying to divert Ianto’s attention.  It only served to divert Ianto from Jack’s lips to his neck, where he was lapping at Jack’s pulse point.  “C’mon, we need to talk about this.”

Ianto sighed and leaned back.  “Yes, Jack.  Until I met you, I identified as heterosexual.  And you’ve already made it perfectly clear that you find our ‘quaint little categories’ ridiculous.  Honestly, if I hear you say the words ‘you people’ one more time, I might lamp you one, meself.”

“Sorry,” Jack mumbled.  He knew his frustration with this time zone and its uptight standards was sometimes unfair.

“See, you think labels shouldn’t be necessary, but as an archivist, I can tell you that they can be damned useful things.  It’s confusing, you know?  Well, clearly you don’t.  But imagine spending your life thinking you’re one way, and then you find out you’re not.  It’s useful to know what you might be, instead.  That you’re not the only one.  That you’re not some sort of freak, or something.”

“Ianto, I promise you, you’re not a freak.”

“But don’t you see, Jack?  The labels give you something to hold onto, when you’ve lost your mooring.”

“Fair enough.  You’re right.  This world is just a lot more… constricted than the one I grew up in.”

Ianto looked at him, nodding.  “Okay, I get that.  But that doesn’t mean you get to mock me, for my experiences.”

“Okay.”

Ianto blinked, clearly surprised that Jack had backed down.  “Okay.”

“So what happened, to shake your view of yourself?” Jack asked, smiling slightly.

“The night we caught Myfanwy, and I realized I was attracted to you.”  He sighed.  “I don’t know what was worse, how confused I felt because I really wanted you to kiss me, or how guilty I felt.”

“So, you decided to do some research,” Jack smiled fondly.  “All right, then.  What label did you find?”

“Demisexual.”

“Ah,” Jack nodded.  Then he frowned.  “But we hardly knew each other, that night.”

“Yes, but I really needed you to hire me.  I think those three meetings…  I kind of got it all confused, in my head.  Convinced myself that I needed you, period.”

“And then sexual attraction followed the emotional attachment, even though it was based on a false construct.”

“Just so you know,” Ianto muttered, tracing Jack’s ribs with long, elegant fingers, “our actual friendship has since solidified the attraction, so it’s no longer reliant on the… false construct.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Jack observed, feeling thrilled and wanting to shout for joy, but knowing that if he laughed in this moment, he would hurt Ianto terribly.

Much to Jack’s surprise, Ianto rolled out of the bed and began pacing, again.  “I’ve done almost nothing but think about this, Jack.  There has been so much guilt, grief, and confusion that I feel like I’m drowning!  And now, you give me a glimmer of hope that you might not hate me, and…” he stopped, his shoulders rounded in despair.  “You don’t want me.”

“Hey,” Jack stepped up behind Ianto and wrapped his arms around him.  “I told you, I do want you.  Just not like this.”

“Maybe you should go,” Ianto said, his voice flat.

“Not a chance.  I hate to break it to you, but I’m not planning on leaving your side until you can convince me that you’re not going to harm yourself.  Now come back to bed and let me hold you.  Once you get these drugs out of your system, we’ll start again, okay?  I promise.”

“I’m embarrassed,” Ianto blurted.

“Why?”  Jack turned Ianto around to see his face, but Ianto wouldn’t look at him.

“Because I kept coming on to you,” Ianto said, his voice low and mortified.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed about that,” Jack smiled.  “I like it, that you want me.  It’s just that tonight wouldn’t be good.  I mean, what if one of the side effects of the pills you took is that you want to have sex, and then you wake up tomorrow and decide you didn’t really want to, at all?  I don’t want to take that chance.”

“What kind of chance is it, when I’ve wanted you since Myfanwy dropped you on me?”

“Not one I’m willing to take,” Jack tipped Ianto’s face up and kissed him.  “We have plenty of time, Angel.  I promise.”

“If you’re waiting for me to not be screwed up, there’s not enough time in the universe,” Ianto muttered.

“We’re all screwed up, in some way.  It’s what makes us interesting,” Jack smiled, and Ianto huffed.

Jack sat back on the bed and let Ianto pace and rant until he wore himself out.  Seems the pills (and possibly Jophiel’s healing) had made him restless.  When he finally collapsed onto the bed, he was still a little twitchy, but could barely express to Jack how exhausted he felt.  Jack folded him into his arms and held him as he finally allowed sleep to claim him.

Ianto didn’t wake for thirty-six hours.  Jack called Owen to come check Ianto over, telling him the bare minimum and implying that Ianto had merely self-medicated because the situation with Mary had hit too close to home.  Owen called him an idiot, but didn’t seem to suspect anything as drastic as a suicide attempt.  Jack felt it wise to keep that information from the acerbic doctor, at least for the time being.

When he finally woke, Ianto felt shaky and weak, but not as terrible as he had expected.  Jack fed him lunch and talked to him.  After food and a shower, he felt more himself.  He apologized to Jack, feeling embarrassed on many counts.  But he felt stronger than he had since before the Beacons, and it was a relief.

He and Jack camped out on his sofa and watched movies that afternoon.  Ianto felt guilty that his issues had left Toshiko alone at the hub with Owen and Gwen for two days, but Jack had been checking in with her, and she was doing well, all things considered.

Sometime during the second movie, Ianto found himself pressed into Jack’s side, where he fell asleep for a while.  After dinner, they began making out in front of the next movie like a couple of teenagers.  Without really knowing how it happened, Ianto found them both stripped naked.  He was sprawled on the couch with Jack crouching between his legs, his mouth and hands doing wicked things as he explored Ianto’s body.

Ianto trembled with each touch, and Jack realized that this beautiful creature had likely not experienced any loving physical contact since that terrible day in London, almost a year ago.  He smoothed his hands over ivory skin and slowed down, savoring every gasp, moan, and shiver.  Ianto wasn’t very vocal (not yet, anyway), but he could not stop himself from making those small sounds that seemed to be going straight to Jack’s cock.

Jack nipped and nibbled, kissed and licked his way down that delicious body, noticing it was a bit too thin but refraining from commenting on it, in this moment.  As his lips moved over Ianto’s stomach, he felt it tremble and smiled at how responsive his new lover was.  He nuzzled the soft hair at the base of the Welshman’s cock and licked him from root to tip, dipping his tongue into the slit and lapping at the sweet fluid glistening there.

Ianto was writhing beneath Jack as he pulled the head of his cock into his mouth and gave a gentle suck.  Jack took a deep breath and then swallowed him down, reveling in the broken cry and full-body shudder.

“Jack!” Ianto plunged his hand into Jack’s hair and pulled him up, whimpering at the loss of sensation and then letting out another broken sound as Jack slowly dragged his body up, relishing the glide of skin against skin as he licked one long, broad stripe from stomach to neck before crashing their mouths together. 

Their bodies slotted together, Jack’s cock hot and hard and Ianto’s spit-slicked, and for a few moments they just moved together, enjoying the heat and friction as they kissed.  Jack leaned up to be sure Ianto was all right with how quickly this was all happening, and the sight of those eyes, hungry and lust-blown with just a hint of blue around the edges, almost took his breath away. 

Ianto grabbed Jack’s right hand and licked it, sending a shudder of lust through Jack’s body.  Jack leaned back far enough to take them both in his hand, letting out a moan of surprise as Ianto’s hand joined his.  Each of them began rolling his hips, thrusting his cock into the combined sensation of his own hand, as well as the other’s hand and cock, and for a few moments all that could be heard were their labored breathing and hitched sighs of rapidly growing desire.

Jack felt a bead of sweat roll from his temple down the side of his face, and Ianto craned his neck to lick it from his jaw.  The sensation tipped him over the edge and he let out an unexpectedly loud cry as his orgasm crashed through him, but he quickly caught enough of his release to coat Ianto’s cock, sliding their hands faster and faster as Ianto’s climax caused him to arch his back and go still as he sobbed out a wail of intense pleasure.

Jack collapsed, his forehead resting against Ianto’s clavicle, their hands trapped between their bodies as they slowly caught their breath.

“Wow,” Jack chuckled, when he could finally move.  He shifted and grabbed Ianto’s vest and cleaned them up, earning a glare but reasoning that he’d need to wear his vest, when he left.

“In the morning,” Ianto said.

“What?” Jack frowned, confused.  He was pretty sure his brain hadn’t finished rebooting, just yet.

“When you leave, in the morning,” Ianto clarified, then looked uncertain.  “You…  You’ll stay, right?”

Jack grinned.  “Oh, yes.  I’m not done with you, just yet.”

To his delight, Ianto’s eyes turned dark again and he nodded.  “I think you have a few more things to show me, Sir.”

Jack shivered.  “What do you want me to show you?”

“Everything,” Ianto growled, pulling Jack into a hungry kiss.

In the hours, days, and weeks that followed, Ianto proved to be as apt as he was eager.  Jack wasn’t used to having a lover who could keep pace with him; that was why he generally shied from monogamy.  But he was beginning to have the rather appalling sense that this time, he was the one lagging behind.

On the bright side, he hadn’t slept so well since before the game station.

***

“If you’re interested, I’ve still got that stopwatch.”

Ianto’s favorite game with the stopwatch was not to see how quickly he could make Jack come.  No, no.  That would have been too easy.  Simple.  Uncomplicated.  Satisfying.  But no.  His favorite game was to see how long he could keep Jack on the edge without allowing him to topple over. 

It was cruel and unfair. 

It was sadistic and mean. 

It was horrible and evil.

At least, that’s what Jack declared each time Ianto backed him away from the edge. 

Part of the problem was that he’d been half-hard for the Welshman since he’d used the water tower as a relay for the cell phone.  That had just been… hot.  He knew better by now than to say it was unexpected, because there was so much more to Ianto Jones than met the eye, and Jack was only just beginning to plumb those depths.

But now, this exquisite torture was somehow exactly what he needed.  Something quick and dirty, no matter how fun, would have left him feeling empty and cold, with thoughts of how he had failed Suzie – again – spinning through his head on an endless loop.  But this…

“Please!”

This was a beautiful distraction and a gorgeous indulgence and ohgodohgodohgod.  It was absolute perfection.  Ianto was buried in him to the hilt and was covered in sweat and beginning to show the strain of stringing Jack along for…  Jack had actually lost track of how long they’d been at this, but he could hear the bloody stopwatch ticking away, somewhere close by.  He was fairly certain Ianto had topped a new record.

Ha.  Topped. 

He would have been amused by his own errant thoughts if Ianto hadn’t chosen that moment to do something involving his teeth and tongue and Jack’s left nipple that had brought him right back to the brink.  Ianto smirked, the bastard, and leaned back, breathing heavily as he pushed Jack’s knees up.

Jack’s hands were as sweaty as the backs of his knees, but he took hold of each, glad of his own flexibility as Ianto nipped an ankle.  Jack’s hips rotated just so, and they both moaned at the change in angle.  Ianto traced a finger down the length of Jack’s livid cock and played with his balls for a moment before shifting them up, slightly. 

With the pad of his thumb, he began pressing firmly into Jack’s perineum, slow circles that caused Jack to give a full-body shudder and cry out in surprise as Ianto located his prostate.  He flailed for a moment before grabbing the back of his thigh again.

“Fuck!  Ianto!”

Ianto began making shallow thrusts that had Jack seeing stars as his prostate was hammered from the inside even as Ianto continued his ministrations externally.  He didn’t even realize when he started babbling in the language of his home world.  Ianto continued his relentless assault and Jack felt sparks shooting down his spine as his body coiled tighter and tighter.  He vaguely wondered if Ianto would finally let him come.

The question was answered in the next moment as powerful contractions swept from his pelvis throughout his entire body.  He vaguely heard Ianto make some sort of growling noise, pulling out of Jack and replacing his cock with well-lubed fingers, continuing to press against Jack’s prostate from the inside and keeping the intense pressure on his perineum with his other hand.

Jack lost the plot a bit for a few minutes, as several orgasms slammed through his body in quick succession.  When he came back to himself, Ianto had the stopwatch in his hand, but his eyes were wide and he looked shaken.

“What?” Jack wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.

“That was bloody gorgeous!” Ianto exclaimed.

“New record?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Ianto growled, dropping the stopwatch beside them and surging forward to kiss Jack hungrily. 

In that moment, Jack noticed two things.  First, he was still hard.  Somehow none of the orgasms had been penile.  And second, Ianto had lost all semblance of control.  Jack wrapped his legs around Ianto’s waist and pulled him closer, and that was all the invitation his lover needed.  He thrust back into Jack and began driving into him, hard and fast.

It didn’t take long.  After hours of foreplay, it didn’t need to.  Ianto took hold of Jack’s cock and he felt himself spiraling into another orgasm after a few strokes, and this time he pulled Ianto over the edge with him.  They both cried out, and Jack would later swear that he had an out-of-body experience. 

He floated along on gossamer wings, but in his orgasmic fugue, he had strange visions of the wings belonging to Ianto, who held him close as they flew through the air. 

When he came back to himself (again), Ianto had cleaned them both up and was leaning up on one elbow, watching him closely.  He heard the click of the stopwatch as his eyes fluttered open.

“Ianto?”

“You all right?”

“Jesus.  Better than,” he grinned.  “How long was I out?”

Ianto glanced at the watch.  “Seven minutes, forty-two seconds.”

“Mmmm,” he stretched languorously before taking a closer look at Ianto.  “You all right?”

“You…  That…” he shook his head, and Jack reached out to caress his cheek.  “You’re beautiful, Jack," he whispered, leaning in to kiss Jack tenderly.

Jack felt raw and vulnerable, and it scared the hell out of him.  So he grasped for anything to say, when Ianto leaned back, again.  “So did you break your record?”

Ianto huffed out a small laugh.  “Two hours, seventeen minutes, thirty-eight seconds.”

“Ooh, you added almost a quarter hour.”

“New time to beat,” Ianto grinned.

“I’ll start planning my strategy,” Jack smiled, his eyes drooping.

“Have some water before you sleep,” Ianto reached across Jack to grab a bottle from the bedside table and handed it to him.

“Wouldn’t want to get dehydrated,” Jack slurred, sitting up on one elbow to drain the bottle. 

He tossed the bottle and lay back down on his side, facing away from Ianto and felt strong arms gather him close.  He would never admit it, but at times like these, being the little spoon was just what he needed.  He sighed into the pillow they shared.

Ianto kissed the back of his neck.  “Good night, Jack.”

“Good night, Angel.”

***

Jack slept ten full hours, that night.  He woke to a steaming cup of coffee on his night table.  Once he showered and dressed and headed for his desk, Ianto brought him egg and bacon butties and more coffee.  They sat and devoured a half dozen of the sandwiches, famished from having forgone dinner in favor of other activities, the night before.

Later that day, Gwen and Owen were out on a retrieval and in the quiet of the hub, between projects, Toshiko happened to notice Jack moving around with an extra spring in his step.  He was grinning from ear to ear, and she could not help but return his smile.

“What has you so chipper today?” she asked.

“Have you ever been so magnificently shagged out that you sleep like the dead and wake up so rested and refreshed that you feel like a teenager?”

“Uh,” Tosh had stalled at ‘shagged out’.  “Good for you, Jack.”  She basked in his smile for a moment before asking, “So, is this someone you’ll be seeing again?”

“I’d be crazy not to,” he winked and then wandered off with a goofy grin on his face.

Now, one of the reasons that Tosh was so good at her job was that she noticed things.  Little things, really.  Seemingly unrelated things. 

Like the fact that as she’d left the evening before, with Jack practically pushing her out of the door, she’d asked where Ianto was, and Jack had said something about him needing to finish what he’d started.  At the time, she assumed it was to do with Suzie’s interment. 

Like the fact that since she’d told Jack about what she heard when wearing the alien pendant, he had been much more attentive towards Ianto.  She was always the next to last to leave, and she often saw Ianto taking Jack a final cup of coffee and joining him for a chat.  She had been pleased that Jack had taken Ianto under his wing and that they were forging a friendship from the ruins of Ianto’s betrayal.

And the fact that Owen had asked Ianto earlier why he looked so smug.  She would have said the expression was more pleased than smug, and she was happy to see him looking less miserable and more at ease.  Ianto had replied that he was still chuffed about getting the water tower to work as a relay for his mobile phone.  Owen had called him a nerd and wandered off, and Ianto had...

“Oh.  My.  God.”  Tosh broke out in a grin as she realized what these seemingly unrelated things added up to. 

Ianto had glanced towards Jack’s office and smirked, and his expression had definitely been self-satisfied.  Tosh rather thought that if he had truly succeeded in rendering Captain Jack Harkness ‘magnificently shagged out’, he had every right to feel smug.

She giggled and turned back to her screen.

***

Chapter Text

The following weeks unfolded like in a dream.  The rift ebbed and flowed, and no one besides Toshiko noticed that Jack seemed to take Ianto with him more and more often on retrievals.  Well, at one point Gwen stood as Jack left his office on an alert, but she sat back down again when he bellowed for Ianto.

“Well, I suppose Ianto does need the training,” she huffed as she returned to the report she had been procrastinating on, all day.

Tosh smiled and cut her eyes to Ianto, who had just emerged from the archives, putting on his coat and looking as professional as ever.  Did he realize there wasn’t actually an alert?  She suppressed a chuckle, knowing with Jack’s next words that he hadn’t thought she’d look at the program.

“Just a Weevil sighting, but it’s the other side of town.  Finish up and get out of here, kids,” Jack grinned and followed Ianto out of the hub.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Owen muttered,

That incident had been the only obvious thing Jack had done.  It was surprising, because Toshiko would have been willing to bet that Jack was incapable of subtlety.  And yet, only the closest observation revealed anything more than their usual flirtation.  Jack was as vocally appreciative of Ianto’s coffee, suits, and just about everything else as he’d ever been. 

And Ianto parried each advance as he always had, with that dry wit that seemed to shut Jack down by giving him nowhere to go but actually – as Tosh learned upon closer study – seemed to give Jack no end of satisfaction and… promise.  She realized with a blush that it was now foreplay.

What was as surprising as Jack’s subtlety was Ianto’s interest.  She still had pangs of anger at Jack for what he had done to Mary.  She was quite curious as to how Ianto reconciled his attraction to Jack with what had happened to Lisa.  She found herself going back through the CCTV of that night, and was surprised by how Jack and Ianto had pretty much made their peace after Ianto broke.

The budding romance became a source of endless entertainment to the resident technical genius, who was still nursing a broken heart and found great comfort and hope in the signs of Ianto’s healing.  The small touches, the way Jack brushed Ianto’s fingers when handed his morning coffee, the way Ianto smoothed the fabric of Jack’s greatcoat after helping him on with it…  Like precious baubles, she began collecting them.

Likewise, the quiet looks, the small smiles, the friendly banter that was fast becoming second nature.  She drew them all to her and held them close, like a hot water bottle on a cold night.  Because she could see what was happening.

She’d have been willing to bet that both men would declare, if confronted, that they were just having a bit of fun.  That they were friends, to be sure, but nothing more.  Friends with benefits, as the saying went.  But that was all.  And in all of these imaginary confrontations, Toshiko called bullshit.

They were falling in love.  But it seemed bigger than that.  More momentous, somehow.  Almost like they were…

FALLING IN LOVE.

***

The Sky Gypsy threw everyone on the team, other than Toshiko and Ianto, off kilter.  Jack returned to the hub with John’s body in Ianto’s car, thankful that the hour was late and no one noticed that he had a dead man in the passenger seat.  He wasn’t quite recovered from the multiple carbon monoxide poisoning-related deaths, so he simply staggered into the hub.

“Jack!  Are you all right?” Ianto asked, rushing up to him.

“You’re still here,” Jack said a bit stupidly.

“Well, you had my car.  And my car key, with the key to my flat.  And the SUV.”

“Oh,” Jack said.  “Uh, I brought your car back…”  He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Ianto took Jack by the arm and helped him out of his greatcoat, leaving it in his office as he helped his captain down into the bunker beneath his office.  Jack was pretty out of it, and Ianto wondered how he’d managed to get back to the hub in one piece.

He started the shower and gently helped Jack out of his clothes.  At his direction, Jack shuffled under the spray of water and began to mechanically wash.  Ianto picked up the discarded clothing that reeked of exhaust fumes and emptied the pockets onto the dresser.  Then he took the clothes up the ladder and meticulously emptied the pockets of Jack’s greatcoat.

He paused for a moment when he found, in the depths of the right pocket, a red plastic jack.  He smiled fondly as he remembered finding it as they walked together one night, enjoying the air after having a meal together.  Ianto had picked it up, wondering what it was.  Upon realizing it was a child’s toy, he made to take it to the trash can, but Jack took it from him, to inspect it.

“You know, they used to be metal,” he remarked, reaching out for the bin but then grabbing Ianto and kissing the daylights out of him. 

Now, Ianto realized, Jack hadn’t thrown it away, and the uncharacteristic magpie move sent small thrills through his heart.  He set the jack down and continued to empty pockets, ensuring nothing was left before taking all of the clothes down to the furnace and tossing them in. 

He stopped by the locked cabinet hidden in the archives and retrieved replacements for everything destroyed, from greatcoat to socks and pants, even boots, ensuring everything was a perfect match.  He then returned to Jack’s office and put everything in the pockets of the new greatcoat and hung it with care before taking the rest of the clothes down to the bunker and putting them away.  He moved Jack’s other boots forward, knowing he was unlikely to notice, as Ianto had been rotating his clothing like this, for a while.

He turned off the water and helped Jack out of the shower, gently drying him and leading him to the bed.

“Would you like something for your head, or to help you sleep?” he asked, coaxing Jack to drink some water before helping him to lie down.

Jack shook his head, and Ianto kissed his forehead before straightening.  Before he could turn, Jack reached out and took his hand.

“Stay?”

Ianto’s heart almost broke at the whispered request.  He sat by Jack and took his hand, promising he would be back, once he shut down the hub.

“You rest.  I’ll be back before you even know I’ve been gone,” he said, smiling sweetly.

Jack stared at him for a long beat before nodding and closing his eyes.  Ianto kissed him again and climbed the ladder, once more.

He almost gagged when he got to the garage.  The fumes were overwhelming, and his head began to ache almost immediately.  He turned the ventilation fans on high and tried to ignore the uneasiness that had gripped his guts as he gently pulled John Ellis from the car and placed him on the gurney he had brought with him.

He took John to the room where he prepped bodies.  It looked like a room in any morgue, with tiled walls, a drain in the floor, and plenty of hoses leading from the water supply.  He undressed and washed the body, then left it to dry, noticing how the whole room now smelled of fumes.  He tossed the clothing in the furnace and returned to the garage.

He was beginning to feel queasy, but he forced himself to continue.  He pulled the paperwork from the glove compartment and his spare key, nail clippers, sunglasses, and a few other items from the console.  He put those items on the worktable by the wall, and pulled the keys to his flat, the tourist information center, and the hub from his car’s keyring and placed them there, as well.

He checked under the seats and was sad to see one of his ties there.  He put it in the bin bag he had, along with the odds and ends in the car that he knew would never lose the smell of exhaust.  He gagged into the bag himself when he opened the boot and a wave of fumes washed over him.  But then he straightened and cleared that out, as well.  He made a mental note of everything there, so he could replace it all.  Finally, he removed the license plates and tossed them onto the worktable.

He tied off the bag and took it down to the furnace before returning to John’s body.  He made sure it was dry before dressing it in the hospital gown and putting it in a body bag on a dry gurney.  He wheeled it up to the crypt, where he found an empty drawer and interred the poor man.  He said a brief prayer, noted the drawer number, and went back to the main hub.

He sat at Tosh’s desk to fill out the forms for a rift-related fatality.  He took care of all the paperwork, even closing out the file on John Ellis that had been created upon his arrival.  He printed the forms, created the hard record, signed the papers, and filed it all away.

He was feeling woozy, but he returned to the garage, and his headache seemed to compound itself.  Ignoring it, he got into the car.  Lowering the windows didn’t seem to help, and his vision swam as he carefully backed out of the parking spot and left the garage.  He drove the car to a nearby car park and left it, windows lowered and the key under the driver’s seat.

He staggered to a taxi stand, where he was met by the car he had called for.  Using his PDA, he located the SUV and gave the address to the cabbie, who thought he just had another fare who had overindulged on Christmas Eve on his hands.

Once he was in the SUV, Ianto called a number he hadn’t dialed in years.

“Jonesy, that you?” a voice answered.  “Hey, man!”

“Hey.  You still got a contact who chops cars?”

There was a long pause.  “Ain’t seen you in a long time, Jonesy.  Why you calling me out of the blue and asking me about potentially illegal activities?”

“Someone topped themselves in my car,” Ianto answered.  He gave the address of the car park and a description of the car. 

His old friend gave a low whistle.  “Nice wheels, man.  Doing all right for yourself, then?”

Ianto’s head was pounding too hard for him to have the wherewithal for a friendly catch-up.  “It’s no good for anything but scrap, now.  It’s there for the taking, if you want it.  But I’m reporting it stolen in…” he paused, checking the clock on the radio for the time, “thirty minutes.” 

He had to swerve back into his own lane and cursed, telling himself to pay attention.  Wouldn’t do to wreck the Torchwood SUV.

“Yeah, I’ll take it.  You want your cut?”

“Nah.  Get yourself some extra Christmas cheer,” Ianto chuckled, but his laugh turned into a cough.

“Hey, you okay?”  There was a pause.  “You ain’t the one who tried to top yourself, are you?”

“What?” Ianto startled for a moment, but couldn’t really get too upset.  After all, it was only a few weeks before that he’d taken a handful of pills and grabbed a gun.  “No, man.  Poor soul grabbed my keys from work and took it.  He didn’t make it, but I don’t have the patience to fight the insurance.”

“Yeah, they’ll try to clean it, and that never works.  Best to start over.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Well thanks for the tip.  That’ll net us an easy few quid.”

“No worries.  Just remember, you’ve got thirty minutes.  Keys are under the seat.”

“Got it.  Later, man.”

“Later.”

Ianto hung up and carefully returned to the hub.  It took the whole half hour to drive as slowly as he could manage.  By the time he passed the car park, his car was gone.  He felt a bit of a pang for it; he’d liked that car.  He considered not replacing it, but as his mind drifted, so did his driving.  He refocused and managed to get the SUV into the garage in one piece. 

The fumes were still strong, and he staggered as he got out of the SUV.  He turned off the lights and locked up.  After another trip to the furnace, where he stripped and tossed his own clothes in, he stopped in the med-bay and took something for the headache that was making his vision blur.  He’d have to remember to delete the CCTV footage of him walking around the hub like a naturist, later.  He also decided to wait to report his car stolen, as well.

He shut down the hub and went to the showers, not understanding how he now seemed to reek of fumes as badly as Jack had.  After scrubbing himself down, he headed for Jack’s bunker.  He slipped on the last rung of the ladder, landing on his arse.

“Ianto?” Jack blinked awake, and was surprised to see Ianto sitting at the foot of the ladder, wrapped in a towel.  Jack frowned as he noticed the cherry red splotches on Ianto’s skin.  He sat up, noting he felt a lot better, physically, and helped Ianto to his feet.  He looked on in confusion as, in the next moment, Ianto was pushing past him and practically running for the toilet.

He barely made it there in time to cast up what little remained in his stomach.  Sadly, that included the pills he’d taken for the headache.  He groaned in misery as his body kept heaving long after his stomach had emptied.  He felt a warm hand on the back of his clammy neck.  He collapsed against the cool tile wall and listened as the toilet was flushed, the lid closed, and water ran.  He groaned at the spike of pain through his head when he flinched at the first touch of the cool flannel that was gently pressed against the burning skin of his face.

“You didn’t turn on the exhaust fans, did you?” Jack asked, his voice gentle but chiding.

“Did,” Ianto protested.

“I’ll get them checked out, then.  Can you get up?”

Ianto groaned again as shaking his head ‘no’ caused another head-swimming wave of pain.  “Need a min…” he trailed off, as even speaking was too much.

“You take anything?”

Ianto gestured towards the toilet, clearly communicating that what he had taken had been in vain.

“I’ll go get you something.  You all right here?”

He waved his hand again, unable to do more, to answer.

Jack climbed out of the bunker and was surprised to see the hub was powered down, for the night.  He went to the garage, and was further surprised at how strong the fumes were, despite the ventilation fans running on high.  He’d have to get Tosh to run a systems check and get that fixed. 

Even more surprising was the fact that Ianto’s car was gone and the SUV was there, in its place.  Jack checked the med-bay but didn’t see John laid out.  An autopsy wouldn’t be necessary, but surely the paperwork would need to be…

He paused long enough to fill a syringe with painkiller and grab a portable oxygen tank and breathing mask.  Then he went to the file cabinet where Torchwood-related deaths lived.  Nothing.  He turned to the rift-related cabinet and found John Ellis’ file, completed.  He smirked at the sight of his own signature, which Ianto had learned to forge, early on. 

But he felt a spark in his heart at the fact that Ianto had taken care of everything.  The file indicated a drawer in the crypt, which told him that there was nothing left to be done.  Ianto knew Jack hated interments and would prefer to mourn in another way, so he had taken care of all the steps that he knew would only give his captain pain.

He sighed and knew he had already taken too long.  He returned to his bunker, to see Ianto in the bed, sitting up, a pillow propped behind him and his head leaned back against the wall.  Jack realized the headache must have been too severe for him to lie down. 

Jack placed the oxygen tank by the bed and attached the tubing.  He turned on the supply and placed the mask over Ianto’s face.  Ianto flinched but didn’t move, otherwise. 

“Deep breaths,” Jack instructed.  “Going to give you a shot now, so don’t freak out.”  He gave the shot and put the cap over the needle and put it on the bedside table to be disposed of in the med-bay sharps container, later. 

He dug around in the drawer of the table and brought out a heavy eye mask, which he slid over Ianto’s eyes, knowing that since the concussion the cannibals gave him, any light made Ianto’s headaches worse.  He winced, thinking about the stubborn Welshman driving across town with such a severe headache.

He pulled Ianto forward and piled more pillows behind him, trying to make him more comfortable even as he made him whimper in pain at the movement.  Finally, he put a soft pillow behind Ianto’s head, making sure it supported his neck.  When he stopped moving, Ianto let out a sigh, telling Jack he was situated more comfortably, now.

Jack lay down between Ianto’s legs, draping himself over his Welshman, wrapping an arm around him and resting his head against Ianto’s abdomen. 

“This all right?” he asked, ready to move if Ianto wasn’t entirely comfortable. 

In answer, Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack, holding him by the shoulder with one hand and carding the other through his hair.  Jack nuzzled into Ianto’s bare belly, kissing him gently.  “Thank you, Angel.”

Ianto continued to card his hand through Jack’s hair, comforting him without words.  It did not take long for Jack to finally allow the comfort, and in doing so, the dam burst.  He wept into Ianto’s skin for a long time, his grief almost overwhelming.  Ianto had a feeling he would have fainted from the intensity of it, if Jack hadn’t dosed him with some really fantastic painkillers.

Jack mourned John’s loss, but he hadn’t really known the man, other than that he was very much like Jack, a man out of his own time.  The loneliness, the unending pain of living and living and living, even when those around him died.  He was so tired.  He wanted to rest.  He wanted to lay down this burden and be done. 

Ianto held him through the storm, not saying anything, not trying to do anything other than hold him close and let him know he was not alone.  And that was the point, wasn’t it?  In this particular moment, Jack was not alone.  He was being comforted by a beautiful young man who, despite his own pain, was completely present with Jack, helping him to weather his own. 

As he calmed, he marveled at Ianto’s attentions.  Only a few points of deliberate contact – his knees had tightened against Jack, his hand never slackened in its powerful grip on his shoulder, holding him against Ianto’s body and grounding him, and the other hand never wavered in its attentions to his hair and scalp.  Every touch was comfort.  Every caress was hope.  Every breath was love…

Jack shied from that last thought and shoved it brutally away.  He focused instead on Ianto’s presence, which wrapped around him like… like wings.  He smiled at the aptness of his nickname for his lover and relaxed into his body. 

He could tell the precise moment the painkillers kicked in, because Ianto gave a great sigh of relief and his movements faltered.  His hand came to rest against Jack’s head, and the other stayed where it was, but the pressure pulling Jack against Ianto’s body relaxed, causing him to realize just how tightly Ianto had been holding on to him.  His heart gave another lurch in his chest, and he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him.  A hum from Ianto and a flex of his fingers told him that Ianto had felt that, as well.  He shored up his shielding and drifted off to sleep.

***

Chapter Text

The oxygen tank beeped as it hit empty a few hours later.  Jack woke and slowly sat up, hoping he could get the mask off of Ianto and help him lie down so he could sleep more soundly.  But Jack removing himself as Ianto’s blanket woke the Welshman, who helped Jack get the mask off.

“Hey, since you’re awake, we should probably see if you can keep some water down,” Jack said, pitching his voice low.  He unscrewed the cap on a bottle of water and handed it to Ianto, who took a long drink.  “Slowly,” Jack admonished.

“Thanks,” Ianto croaked.  He took another swallow of water and sighed.  “Didn’t realize it was getting to me.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes carbon monoxide so dangerous,” Jack said.  “I’m sorry.  I should have left your car there and brought John back in the SUV.  But I wasn’t thinking that clearly, myself.”

“Just glad you’re all right,” Ianto said, reaching out.  His hand found Jack’s cheek, and the Captain leaned into the touch, kissing Ianto’s palm.

“I’m always all right,” Jack said, the truth of that still smarting, despite the cathartic outburst, earlier.

Ianto didn’t even dignify that with a response.  He still had on the sleep mask, and his movements lacked his usual grace.  Jack wondered if he should go get another oxygen tank, but before he could move, Ianto began to shift.  He felt himself being guided down onto a pillow, and it was Ianto’s turn to drape himself over Jack’s body.

In the next moment, Jack noticed that Ianto was feeling much better as he felt the evidence of that pressed against his hip even as Ianto reached up and kissed him tenderly. 

“Hmmm,” Ianto pulled back, frowning.  Then he pulled off the mask, wincing, and climbed over Jack and headed for the bathroom.  Jack chuckled.  Ianto had vomited earlier.  And while this had not been evident from the chaste kiss they had just shared, he knew his lover would rather brush his teeth before attempting anything more… thorough.  Jack was pleased that Ianto seemed to be feeling better.

When Ianto returned to bed, Jack asked, “How are you feeling?”  He kissed the end of Ianto’s nose.  “Really?”

“Headache’s gone,” Ianto replied.  “Light still hurts, though.  And the painkillers you gave me have me feeling a bit doped up.  And the usual post-headache haze, besides.”  He leaned up on an elbow as Jack put the sleep mask back on him, then rolled so he was once more draped over Jack and even without being able to look, was able to find Jack’s mouth in a long, lazy kiss.

“Ianto,” Jack gasped when the kiss finally broke.  “Shouldn’t you rest a bit more?”

“Mmmm,” Ianto hummed, kissing that spot behind Jack’s jaw before nibbling his ear.  “Haven’t you ever heard that sex is excellent for headaches?”

“You just said the headache was gone,” Jack smiled, then groaned as Ianto licked the strip of skin behind his ear.

“Might come back,” Ianto muttered, licking and biting his way down Jack’s neck.  “Not sure we should chance it.”

“Tell me what you want,” Jack demanded hoarsely.  “What would you like?”  He wanted to give the maximum pleasure to Ianto while demanding the least effort from him.

“Mmmm,” Ianto hummed again, and it sounded like a purr.  The sound seemed to go straight to Jack’s cock.  “You choose,” he said, rolling onto his back and stretching lazily.  Clearly, he was feeling a lot better.

Jack raised himself up and leaned over Ianto, kissing him and drinking deep.  He knew that these slow, deep kisses could leave Ianto drunk and loose-limbed, so he set about loosening the Welshman as much as he could before kissing and licking his way down Ianto’s body.

In his extensive experience, people responded to different things.  Some loved to be touched, so hands and fingers did it for them.  Others, lips.  Still others, only a cock inserted strategically.  But Ianto…  Ianto was one of those who could be driven wild by a few well-placed licks.  Well, he loved it all, Jack had been pleased to discover, and at various times, Ianto had come from Jack’s touch, his fingers, his hands, his lips, and his cock.  But it was Jack’s tongue that could work Ianto into a lather most reliably, an unfamiliar dialect of Welsh tumbling from his lips as he came undone in the most spectacular and satisfying ways.

Never mind that his skin was silky and delicious.  And responsive?  Jack had come, untouched one time, just from Ianto’s reactions to his attentions.  They were potent and addictive.  He licked a smooth patch of skin along Ianto’s stomach and noted how his body trembled.  Jack smiled and gently lifted Ianto’s hips, placing a pillow beneath them.

He crawled further down the bed and settled once more between Ianto’s legs, licking broad stripes from his knee, up his inner thigh, to the crease between leg and pelvis.  Ianto gasped and moaned as he thrust his hips reflexively.  Before he could settle back onto the pillow, Jack cupped Ianto’s arse in his hands, gently spreading him and wasting no time before running the flat of his tongue over the tempting and tightly furled hole.

Ianto cried out and flailed a hand, and Jack heard it smack the wall.  He looked up, but Ianto seemed fine.  It occurred to him that the sleep mask was likely intensifying Ianto’s experience of everything, and he leaned back down to continue his assault.  He licked all around Ianto’s buttocks and hole, then laved his perineum, pressing into the area until Ianto jerked on the bed.  His thumb replaced this tongue as he then lavished attention on his lover’s bollocks before licking a stripe up his cock and returning to his hole.

Jack smiled as Ianto began babbling in Welsh, the only thing he understood of it was his own name and some curses.  That was most gratifying.  Ianto, who was always so self-possessed, always in control.  That Jack could shatter that control was perhaps his guiltiest pleasure.

He alternated between the lavish licks all over the area, strategic sucks, and fucking into Ianto with his tongue.  He thrust his tongue in deep, licking him open and as he pulled his tongue out, he gave a hard suck. 

Ianto cried out, “Jack, please!”

Jack had planned to bring Ianto off like this, but the broken plea had him reconsidering.  He grabbed the lube from the night table and, after coating his cock generously, he thrust into Ianto without further preparation.  Ianto was loose and relaxed, but with the eye mask on, he was not expecting Jack’s cock.  He let out a scream as Jack filled him that had the Captain freezing in his tracks, worried he had misjudged.

He was buried to the hilt and for several moments he was afraid to budge, but then Ianto almost shouted, “You have to move!”  Jack slowly withdrew, and then just as slowly plunged back in, and then Ianto went wild beneath him. 

Ianto planted his feet by Jack’s thighs and then wrapped his arms around him.  One hand was in his hair, pulling him down into a kiss as the other landed on Jack’s arse and pulled Jack into him as he began moving under Jack, undulating his body and riding Jack’s cock, hard.  His frenzy set Jack’s blood on fire, and he lost all control. 

What had started out as something meant to be gentle and slow became wild and desperate.  Jack braced his arms and began driving into Ianto’s body, hard and deep.  Ianto had his arse in both hands now, urging him on and growling for more as he licked and bit at Jack’s neck and shoulder. 

Jack felt Ianto’s body begin to shudder and knew he was close.  He managed to get a hand between them without disrupting the punishing drive of his hips.  As soon as he took Ianto in hand, he let out a bark of pleasure and began moving faster, thrusting his hips up into Jack’s hand and back onto his cock.  Jack was almost dizzy with lust and moved his hand faster, desperate to make Ianto come, to see the culmination of this ferocity he had let loose.

Ianto screamed as he came, arching off the bed as his entire body went rigid.  Jack felt wave after wave of the orgasm that crashed through Ianto’s body, and just as he began to calm, the continued clenching of his body around Jack’s cock pulled an intense orgasm from him. 

He collapsed on top of Ianto for several long minutes before regaining his breath and gently pulling out.  He leaned up and looked at Ianto, who had gone completely slack and was still breathing harshly. 

“Ianto?”

“We wish you a Merry Christmas…” Ianto sang drunkenly, and Jack let out an unexpected laugh, leaning into his lover and kissing him repeatedly.  When they both finally stopped laughing, he tried again.

“You all right?”

“Better than,” Ianto grinned.  “I think I like it when you choose.”  He turned his head and pulled off the mask, wincing at the low light in the bunker but continuing to smile.  “Happy Christmas, Jack.”

Jack kissed him again, long and lazy.  “Happy Christmas.  I think you passed out.”

“I think I did, too,” Ianto grinned again, then stretched.  He winced again, and Jack knew he was going to be sore, after that shagging.  “I need a shower,” was all he said, though.

“Care for some company?”

“Well, it is Christmas,” Ianto smiled invitingly.

***

Ianto almost felt guilty for being so happy in the face of Owen’s heartbreak.  Tosh was still mending, and Gwen had made her choice, seeming to choose Rhys, though clearly she had lost none of her fascination with Jack.  Ianto caught her staring at their leader as often as he caught himself, and he did his best not to let it get to him, because while Jack indulged her at every turn, he still told her not to let things drift with Rhys, and it was Ianto who shared whichever bed they fell into, each night.

Ianto was not a pessimist, but he could be forgiven for not getting too attached to any happiness he managed to find.  He held onto what he could get for as long as he could, but he was under no illusion that he was one of those who got to keep it.

His friends were watching over him less, having stumbled upon him in a passionate clinch or compromising position with Jack one too many times.  Later, it would not be lost upon them that their absence gave one with ill intent the opening he needed.

It had begun, of course, with Jack helping John Ellis to die rather than to live.  And then an entirely sensible creature like Diane Holmes doing something so foolish as to fly back into the rift.  Followed by Owen’s path of self-destruction, in response.  Other, smaller moments also occurred, and it would only be in retrospect that anyone would realize the full scale of the manipulations perpetrated on the entirety of Torchwood Three and those related to it.

Ianto was harder to manipulate.  At first, Bilis Manger could not figure out why.  Once he realized the complexity of Ianto’s mind – though the true shape of it eluded him – he knew it would be dangerous to interfere, too much.  He could tell Ianto was not human, and he amused himself by thinking of ways to expose that, knowing Torchwood’s response was not likely to be friendly.  But in the meantime, it was Jack who became the focus of his efforts, because that would keep both men off kilter.

He was ridiculously pleased to see that it really didn’t take that much effort to sway Jack.  Just a liberal rubbing at the raw sore that was Jack’s immortality and longing for some sort of cure.  In the end, Bilis really didn’t need to do much, at all.

***

Ianto woke slowly, feeling sore and relaxed and ridiculously happy.  He held the feeling close, not wishing to scare it away by drawing too much attention to it.  He had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Jack’s shoulder, and as he woke, he nuzzled into Jack’s skin and squeezed a bit tighter.  Like the happiness, he held in the plea that often accompanied such lovely moments.

Please don’t leave me.

He caught the feeling and buried it as deeply as he could, but in doing so that old LONELINESS swept over him and before he could bury it as well, he inadvertently projected it at Jack.

Jack knew, of course.  Ianto’s grief over Lisa was still too fresh for it to be a surprise that he was afraid of losing this new connection, too.  But he could not afford to get too attached.  According to the tarot girl’s prophecy, the Doctor would arrive soon, and he had no intention of staying.  He would go with the Doctor, get whatever was wrong with him sorted, and then resume traveling with him and Rose.

The fact that the prospect of leaving had grown less attractive recently was studiously ignored, and as his fondness for Ianto grew, his conviction that he would never want to return began to wane.  This annoyed Jack.  It was damned inconvenient, and he had no intention of allowing a shag, no matter how magnificent, to stand in the way of everything he had been waiting for, for almost fourteen decades, now. 

But he felt less strongly about that than before, and he felt a wave of hostility and resentment wash over him, as a result.

Ianto flinched and scrabbled away from him, gasping.

“Don’t, Jack,” he pleaded.  “I haven’t asked anything of you, and I won’t.”

Jack sighed.  “I know,” he said, and he did his best to shield those feelings from his lover. 

But it was too late.

“It’s no use,” Ianto let out a sob, cursing himself for killing the delicate butterfly of sodding happiness by trying to hold onto it.  He sat up and put his head in his hands.  “I know it’s there, now.  You resent me.  If we keep at this, you’ll end up hating me.”

Jack knew this was one of Ianto’s triggers, but he was still too sleepy to understand what his lover was saying.  “Ianto?”  He reached out, but Ianto shied from his touch as though Jack had hit him, and he was afraid of another blow.  Which, emotionally speaking, was true enough.  There had been a great deal of venom in that wave of resentment.

Ianto dropped his hands and Jack hated the blank, emotionless mask that had fallen over his face.  Because now he knew just how much pain that mask could hide.  He felt another spike of annoyance, and Ianto hissed and stood from the bed, grabbing clothes and pulling them on as quickly as he could.

“We need to end this,” Ianto said.  “Before your resentment turns to loathing.  There will be no place for me here, if that happens.”

“Ianto, what are you saying?” Jack felt as though he had been slapped.  They had gone from a sleepy, happy morning to breaking up?  Not that they were together, to break up, mind.  But still…

The salient point seemed to be that Ianto wanted to end their… arrangement.

That hurt Jack far more than he could have expected.  “Ianto,” he got up and tried to still his lover’s movements by wrapping him in an embrace.  Ianto simply stood, rigid, not returning the hug.  Jack leaned away from him and saw the mask slipping, unshed tears filling those beautiful blue eyes.  “You don’t mean this.”

“Don’t I?” Ianto asked.  “I’m not stupid, Jack.  I know who you are.”

Jack felt his stomach drop.  “What do you mean?”

“I know you traveled with him.  That you’re waiting for him.  That you’ll leave us all without looking back, the second the right version of him arrives.”  Ianto slumped against the ladder, but kept speaking.  “And who could blame you?  What does this place have that could possibly compete with the entirety of space and time?”

“Ianto,” Jack couldn’t meet his eyes.  He knew.  But he seemed to understand.  That was good, right?  “I’ve been waiting for a long time.”

Ianto sniffed and nodded, then pulled out of Jack’s grasp.  Jack realized he’d made a serious error.  By not denying Ianto’s words, he had inadvertently confirmed that there was nothing here to tempt him to stay.  But that didn’t mean he didn’t care.  Couldn’t Ianto see that?

“Don’t do this, Ianto.  I need you.”

He saw anger spark in Ianto’s eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t understand.  But then Ianto spoke.

“Yes, of course.  That’s what matters, isn’t it?  We’re expected to carve our hearts out and hand them over to you, but we’re not allowed to ask for anything, in return.  Heaven forbid we get to have any feelings on the matter.  Those who hold you in any sort of regard are only allowed to worship you, at your convenience.  We are to be grateful for any attention you deign to give, but not ask for anything, at the risk of being punished and shunned until we learn to do better.

“Well, I can’t do it, Jack.  I thought I could, but not if you’re going to sit there and resent me for every scrap of regard I manage to wring from your cold, stingy heart.”

He moved quickly through the room, grabbing the belongings that had accumulated there, during the course of their affair.  He stuffed them into an old duffel bag he found under Jack’s bed.

Jack just stood there, icy panic and revulsion racing through him, making him feel queasy.  Is that what he did?  Is that really how he’d made Ianto feel?  He knew Ianto had been holding back, and he had sensed that it was for Jack’s benefit, but to have it thrown at him now, laid out before him with such cold precision…

He felt his heart break as Ianto turned back to him and reached out, caressing his cheek and kissing him with all the love and tenderness that Jack had never deserved.  He further shocked Jack when he said, “I’m sorry.  I thought I could do this on your terms.  I understand it’s difficult for you, and I really was willing to just… play… until you left.  But if you’re going to hate me for it…”  He leaned back, and Jack saw so much loneliness, emptiness, and pain that he had to look away.  “That would destroy me, Jack.”

Jack nodded, and Ianto climbed out of the bunker.  A few moments later, Jack followed, watching Ianto collect more of his things and stuff them haphazardly into the bag.

“I’ll go home and change and pack up your things and bring them back,” Ianto said, his voice pitched low.

“Tosh and I are going to check out that old dance hall, then I’m taking her to catch her train,” Jack replied.  He was standing in the middle of his office, hands in his pockets, feeling utterly lost. 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had broken up with him.  He was usually the one leaving.  Well, to be fair, he hadn’t been with anyone really, since Lucia.  And yes, she’d been the one to leave then, but that was because of his condition, not…

Not because he’d let them know how much he resented the feelings they’d inspired.  He realized just how shitty that was.  How much that would hurt anyone, but especially Ianto with his feelings of loneliness and isolation.

Ianto nodded his acknowledgement, but for the moment, he seemed rooted to the spot by his own misery.  He tried to rally with, “It was fun, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack huffed.  More than.  It had been amazing.  And wonderful.  And everything he could ever ask for.  And he had ruined it.  He looked at Ianto, and his guilt and self-loathing turned to concern.  “Are you going to be all right?”

Ianto bristled.  “What, you think I’ll turn suicidal again, because this ended pretty much how I expected it to, just a bit sooner than I thought?”

Jack flinched.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sir.” 

Jack’s annoyance flared again.  “You do seem to have a track record, Ianto.  Forgive me if I’m concerned.”

“My track record consists of surviving something I shouldn’t have, and then failing to save the only reason I survived.  Forgive me if I don’t draw a parallel between losing everything and losing someone who I knew would end up leaving me for something better, anyway.”

That cut deeper than Ianto could have imagined, and Jack actually looked down to be sure Ianto hadn’t just punched a hole in his chest and gouged the heart out of him.

“Ianto.”

“Leave it, Jack.  I’ll be professional.  I won’t let this interfere with our work.  I won’t let it hurt the others.”

Jack knew this.  But it wasn’t what he’d wanted to say.

“You’ll find someone better, soon enough,” Ianto mumbled, and Jack was struck yet again by how poorly his lover… former lover… thought of himself.  Did he really think Jack thought so little of him, as well?

Well, that flash of resentment and annoyance hadn’t helped.  But that wasn’t how Jack felt.  Not really.  But Ianto had latched onto it, and now it was all he could see.  And it hurt him so badly that he had ended things…

Jack’s ruminations meant he lost his last chance to prove Ianto wrong.  He lost his last chance to deny Ianto’s insignificance.  And so, it was with a numb sort of shock that Jack watched the best thing that had ever happened to him slip through his fingers.

Just hours later, it was with a vicious sense of righteous indignation that Jack proved Ianto right by falling for his own namesake.  But it hurt all the way down to his soul to tell the original Jack Harkness that there was no one waiting for him, back home.  An unexpected ache that was almost unbearable.  Perversely, it made him chase the impossible, doomed romance with the American captain all the more, like pushing on a bruise, to make it hurt.

Toshiko looked on in confusion and growing horror as Jack repeatedly made his way into the American pilot’s orbit.  The kiss they shared as the rift opened was worrying, as well.  As romantic as the gesture might be seen, Jack had just exposed a man as homosexual in a time when that was illegal and potentially deadly.  Her research when they got back seemed to indicate that thankfully, he had died as Jack had described rather than falling victim to sabotage or “friendly fire”.

She felt it best to keep her mouth shut regarding Jack’s behavior while they were in the past, but Jack must have said something to Gwen, who told Owen, who of course decided to be as cruel as possible to Ianto in the aftermath of their fight.

Despite the fact that Ianto had shot Owen, it was the Welshman who looked as though he had been put through the wringer.  She pulled up the CCTV of the fight and saw the beating Owen had given Ianto, and heard his venomous words.  She sent the file to Jack, but he did nothing, though she knew he had opened and watched it.

***

Chapter Text

After Gwen and Owen left, and Ianto took some files down to the archives, Toshiko stormed into Jack’s office.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Jack asked, frowning.

“So it’s acceptable for one of your employees to beat the other now, is it?”

“Well, given that Ianto shot Owen,” Jack began, but Tosh cut him off.

“So that’s how it is, when an affair doesn’t go your way?” she asked, her voice angry.  “You allow bullying behavior?  What, do you see that as your due?”

“What? No!” Jack blinked.  Is that what he was doing?  “I just…”

“Just what, Jack?  Owen went against every order and opened the rift.  He assaulted the one person following protocol and yes, he was shot for it, but he was in the wrong.”

“If he hadn’t done it, we’d still be back there,” Jack argued.

“Yes, and that’s the risk we take on, doing this work.  Ianto was right, Jack.  After Canary Wharf, I imagine he would have thrown himself into the rift before allowing it to be opened.  But all you see is whatever your petty argument against him is.”

“I don’t have a petty argument, and I don’t appreciate you implying that my leadership…”

“Please,” she spat.  “I know, Jack.  I know you two have been… seeing one another, at least since Mary.”

“What?” he sputtered.

“And it was none of my business, so I didn’t say anything.  But now,” she sighed.  “Look, affairs at work are great, unless something goes wrong.  But if it does go wrong, everyone has to stay professional, or the whole team will fall apart.”

“And Ianto trying to keep us in the past is professional?” Jack sneered.

“Yes.  Because our first directive is to not tamper with the rift.  He wasn’t doing that out of spite, Jack.  He was doing that because it’s his job.  If you ever worried about whether he learned his lesson with Lisa, you needn’t concern yourself.  He was ready to destroy his own happiness, to protect everyone else.”

“Well, he already destroyed his own happiness this morning, when he ended things,” Jack muttered.

Tosh blinked.  At least that explained everything.  “I’m sorry, Jack.  You both seemed really happy together.  But if you were paying attention to the CCTV, you would have seen that maybe he hadn’t given up on you, entirely.  He actually gave Owen a way of hurting him when he said that you need him.”

Jack was about to argue, but there was nothing he could say to deny the truth of what she was stating.  He slumped.  “He said I’d find someone else in no time,” Jack pouted.

“Well, you certainly didn’t waste any time finding your rebound guy,” Tosh stood back, crossing her arms over her chest disapprovingly. 

A noise behind her had her turning, and she saw Ianto, his face pale and terrifyingly blank.  “I’ve fed Myfanwy and Janet.  If there’s nothing else, Sir, I’ll be going, now.”

Tosh looked back at Jack, who’d been stunned into silence and was staring, wide-eyed.  She looked back to Ianto and said, “Can you walk me out?  Some of the lights in the car park are out, again.”

Ianto didn’t meet her eyes, but he nodded.  “I’ll meet you upstairs,” he said, and walked away before Jack or Tosh could react.

Tosh turned back to Jack.  “I don’t care if you two never sleep together again.  You need to lead this team impartially, Jack.”

She left Jack’s office without a backward glance, and Jack was left alone with his thoughts.  He had messed up, all the way around.  In the beginning, his ambivalence had hurt Ianto.  But once he surrendered to his attraction, he had known a moment of happiness.  But then he let the idea take root that Ianto would somehow prevent Jack from going with the Doctor and getting his answers.  But that would never have happened.  Ianto was far too selfless, for that. 

So Jack’s second thoughts about his own desire to leave when the Doctor finally turned up had led to annoyance and frustration, which he had blamed on Ianto.  Worse yet, he had allowed Ianto to feel those things, from him.  The question was, why?

Jack’s shielding was flawless.  Why had he allowed Ianto to feel anything, much less his resentment?  The one thing that was guaranteed to drive Ianto away… 

And now, in Tosh’s words, Ianto had proof of his assumption that he meant nothing to Jack. Jack had no doubt that Ianto had overheard her dig about him finding a rebound.  Within hours.  Could he possibly have fucked up any more spectacularly?

He didn’t really have time to ponder this, because he started getting rift alerts, followed by calls from all over the world about anomalous phenomena.

***

“You all right?” Tosh asked Ianto as they walked to her car.

“Of course,” Ianto lied.

“You heard me tell Jack that I know you two have been seeing one another,” she said.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘fucking’, Tosh.  We were, and now we’re not.  Simple.”

“How did you fool us for all those months?” Tosh frowned at him.  “You really are a terrible liar!”

Ianto looked at her, surprised, but then huffed out a laugh.  “Fine.  Maybe not simple.  But that’s all it was, to him, so I need to let it go.”

“Why?” she asked, deciding to be blunt rather than tentative.

“Because he’ll only hate me, if I try to hang onto him,” Ianto shrugged.  “I can handle his indifference, much as it hurts.  But his hatred would be the end of me.”

“Ianto, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Not yet,” he replied darkly.  He couldn’t violate Jack’s trust and tell her that their leader would abandon them in a heartbeat, once the Doctor showed up.  But he knew it was true.

“Why would he?” she asked.

“Because he’s grown a bit fond of me, I think,” he admitted.

“And that’s… bad,” Tosh said slowly, frowning.

“Considering he doesn’t want to be fond of me, yes.”

“Oh, Ianto,” she said, saddened by his obvious heartbreak.

“It’s all right,” he shrugged.  “I knew it would happen, but I jumped into it, anyway.”

“But are you sure?” she asked.  “It’s just, you both seemed so happy, together.”

“C’mon, Tosh.  He’s Captain Jack Harkness.  He can have anyone.  Why would he settle for me?”

“Um, because you’re gorgeous and amazing and smart and funny and he’d be a fool not to?”

Ianto turned pink at the praise, but Tosh could tell he didn’t think any of it was true.  She sighed and unlocked her car. 

“Try to get some sleep, okay?”

“Sure,” he smiled, but for once, his mask was unconvincing.

***

Jack called everyone in early the next morning as the rift began to splinter, spewing out horrors from various points in time and space.  Ianto derived a strange satisfaction from finding the bible verses about end times.  Then something twigged his memory when he read about Abaddon, the Great Devourer.  There was something familiar about that name…

“Yeah, thanks Ianto,” Jack snarked.  “I can do without the superstition.  You people love any story that denies the randomness of existence.”

“Thanks,” Ianto twitched at the ‘you people’, and did his best not to throw the heavy tome he was holding at Jack.  “That makes me feel better.”

Jack blinked at the annoyance in Ianto’s face and gave a defiant grin when he realized what had irked the archivist.  Ianto cut off what would have undoubtedly been an unpleasant rejoinder by asking about the issue.

As he went about his duties, rounding up Weevils and preparing the vaults for more guests, he vaguely wondered why nothing pleasant ever accompanied such events.  Was the universe so completely terrible that there was no hope of ever running across the occasional cute little space puppy?

Those thoughts were completely short-circuited when he saw Lisa.  Of course, it couldn’t be Lisa.  He knew better than that.  It rattled him, though.  Was he losing his mind?  Was the stress of Canary Wharf and every bloody thing since, including the breakup with Jack, finally getting to him?

“You’re not real,” he said, staring at her.  Drinking her in, because she was so beautiful, and he loved her still, and he missed her so much. 

“People will die, Ianto,” she said, ignoring him.

“Yeah, and the ghost shifts were for the good of the empire,” he retorted, suddenly angry that her memory was being used in such a way.  “Who are you, and why are you wearing her face?”

Someone stepped behind him and grasped his head in both hands.  Before he could move, he felt as though lightning was shooting from one of the hands to the other, searing his brain.  He saw Lisa shake her head sadly just before he passed out.

When he regained consciousness, Ianto staggered up to the hub in time to see Jack firing Owen.  He thought it strange that, after fighting so hard to get Jack back from the past, all Owen seemed to do now was question and challenge him.  He opened his mouth to point that out, but then he felt it.  Something slithering in his head, and then it was like someone was putting a hand over his mouth.  

Ianto began to struggle against the invasion, but the assault in the vaults had left him weak and muddled.  But as the other presence took over more and more, he began to fight in earnest. 

Being trapped in his own mind space forced him to take stock of its landscape.  For the first time in his life, Ianto realized that his mind was in a small corner of a larger space.  It was as though he and the invading other were behind a curtain in the dressing room of a large store.

He didn’t seem to have much luck in pushing against the other, so he began pushing against the boundaries in his mind, instead.  He had a very strong sense that they were temporary structures, though he couldn’t imagine what that meant.  But as the other told Jack “no” and began running the protocols to open the rift, Ianto began hurling himself against any surface that might give way.

The metaphorical curtain was in tatters by the time Owen shot Jack.  In that moment, Ianto’s rage pushed the other from his mind and he dropped to his knees beside his lover. 

“What have you done?” he asked brokenly.

He sat staring at Jack, trying to comprehend what had just happened.  He vaguely wondered what was taking Azrael so long to arrive, then shook his head, confused.  That only served to make his head hurt terribly.  He closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness and absently dabbed at the strange wetness on his top lip, only to realize that his nose was bleeding.

Owen grabbed Ianto by the chin and scanned his retina before he could react.  Then he scanned Jack’s.  Ianto wanted to reach out and close Jack’s eyes, but he seemed to be frozen to the spot. 

Just like earlier, lightning was flashing through his mind.  But this time, the flashes were memories.  Millions of years pouring though him, and all he could do was hold on and try not to pass out as Ianto remembered the entirety of Yohanan’s existence in the space between two heartbeats. 

It felt as though something separate from himself (either of them) was watching as Gwen hit “OK” to open the rift.

Jack reached out and grabbed Gwen, gasping, “What have you done?”

Ianto reared back in surprise, falling on his backside in shock.  “Jack?”

He was still reeling from the violent return of his memories, including the horrors that had led to his friends doing this for him.  He loved them dearly and owed them many thanks for what they had tried to do, but he wasn’t sure how much healing he had achieved in this lifetime, having found and lost two more lovers.

He felt like retching into the nearest bin, but there was no time.  Electricity pulsed around the water tower and a massive wave of energy shot out of the rift as though the structure was a lightning rod, in reverse.  He felt the land he’d sworn to protect groan in protest and begin to tremble violently.

They all managed to make it out of the hub before it crashed down around their ears.  Once outside, Gwen started assuring Jack that everything would be fine, now.

Ianto wasn’t so certain…

“It’s going to be all right, Jack,” Gwen said.  “Everything is going back to normal.”

“From out of the darkness, he is come,” Bilis Manger intoned as he stepped triumphantly before them.

Ianto stared at him, frowning.  “You!” he growled as recognition dawned.

“What is he talking about?” Gwen asked, staring at Bilis.

“Son of the Great Beast, cast out before time, chained in rock and imprisoned beneath the rift.”

“What?” Gwen looked stupefied that the villain had tricked her.

“All hail Abaddon, the Great Devourer, come to feast on life!” Bilis was in an ecstasy of devotion as Abaddon rose above them, roaring.  “The whole world shall die beneath his shadow!”

Ianto clicked his fingers, and the earth rumbled beneath their feet.

In the next moment, Jack ran off with Gwen.  Ianto turned to Owen and Toshiko and said, almost conversationally, “Actually, Abaddon was apprentice to the Great Beast, not his son.  Both were not only cast out, but forsaken, which is a whole other… thing.”  He waved a hand in the direction of the roaring demon.  “Hence the horns.”

Owen and Tosh stared at him as he turned to Bilis.  “I almost didn’t recognize you, Manut.  Nice touch, turning everyone against one another.”

“I thought it was quite well done,” Bilis sniffed.

“Bit ham-handed, actually,” Ianto said dismissively. 

“What do you know?” Bilis sneered.  “Who are you, anyway?”

“You’ll wish you hadn’t asked,” Ianto replied, assuming the glamor that made him seem human also kept him from being recognized, despite his features being unchanged.  He drew a breath and roared, “TAMIEL!”

The land rumbled beneath their feet in response, or perhaps in sympathy.

Within seconds, a handsome man in a fitted sharkskin suit appeared.  Owen hissed and pulled Toshiko behind him.

“What?  What’s with all the yelli…?” Tamiel shouted, but then he saw who had summoned him.  He stepped towards Ianto and looked closely at him.  “Oh, no.  Have you remembered, then?”

Ianto closed his eyes and nodded, but then the creature roared again, drawing Tamiel’s attention.

“Shit!  Is that…  That’s Abaddon!  Shit!”

“Yes, and guess who raised him?” Ianto pointed at Bilis, who was rooted to the spot, unable to move since Ianto clicked his fingers, but only now realizing it.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, indignant.

“You summoned Abaddon,” Tamiel rounded on Bilis, “despite the compact.”

“Well, it was rumored that the land’s protector finally persuaded Azrael to take him.  And as he hasn’t been seen since the war, I decided to take advantage of the… malleability of the humans.”

“The humans.  Who are also under the protection of this land’s guardian,” Tamiel stated, crossing his arms over his chest and inclining his head towards Ianto.

Bilis’ eyes grew large.  “Yohanan?”  He squinted until he spotted whatever it was that confirmed his suspicion.  “Well, well, well.  Seems Torchwood really is scraping the bottom of the barrel, these days.  A fallen angel?”

“Ianto?” Toshiko asked, her voice small.  They were saying that Ianto wasn’t human, and she was frightened.  Owen reached out and took her hand, looking disconcerted.

“Yeah, try again, mate.  We’re not in for this gods and angels bollocks.”

“Ah, shunned again,” Bilis shook his head in mock sympathy.

Ianto looked at Tamiel.  “What do I do?”

“Oh, this gets better and better,” Bilis crowed.  “A fallen angel, seeking counsel from a demon!”  He laughed, clearly enjoying the idea.  His laughter died when Tamiel turned to Ianto.

“He has broken the compact.  You’ll have to call on Lucifer, to help make this right.”

“No!  Lucifer will not deny this gift I have wrought!” Bilis declared, spreading his arms wide.

“He will honor the compact,” Tamiel hissed.  He turned back to Ianto and frowned.  “You all right?”

Ianto dabbed his handkerchief at the nosebleed.  “It was a lot to remember, all at once.”

“I’m sorry.  You should call Jophiel.  Perhaps he can soothe any damage.”

Ianto groaned and held the heel of his hand to his brow.  As his concentration slipped, Bilis took advantage and flashed out of sight.

“I’ll get him,” Tamiel growled and blinked away, as well.

“What the hell is going on, Ianto?” Owen demanded.

Ianto pushed away the pain and turned to Owen and Tosh.  “You two may want to head back to the hub, now,” he suggested.

“Like hell!” Owen shouted.

“Very like,” Ianto gave a grim smile.  “I’m about to summon Lucifer himself.  You should go.”

“Lucifer,” Owen crossed his arms and gave an unimpressed look.  “Bullshit.”

“As in, the devil?” Tosh asked, looking shaken.

“Common misconception,” Ianto tried to give her a reassuring smile.  “Not all demons look like that,” he pointed at Abaddon, who was still roaring and stomping, but hadn’t moved far, as yet, thanks also to that click of Ianto’s fingers, which had slowed down time outside of the bubble surrounding the street they were stood on.  “Lucifer is not the devil, though he did become a demon when he was cast out.”

“Like you?” she asked.

He smiled again.  Not much got by Tosh.  “No.  I’m not a demon, I’m fallen.  Fallen angels keep their wings and their powers.  Those cast out become demons and lose their wings, and their powers become tainted.  And then there are the forsaken, who become so twisted by the evil that got them cast out that their outward appearance comes to match the ugliness inside.”

“Do we really have time to dive into the teaboy’s delusion?” Owen snarked.

“You’re right,” Ianto said.  “If you’re not going to leave, then at least try not to draw attention to yourselves.  He can be… a bit much.”  He turned away from them and his voice grew into a powerful roar, and the land beneath their feet seemed to respond to the sound of his voice. 

“LUCIFER!”

“No need to shout,” came a lazy, sardonic voice as Lucifer shimmered into existence.  If Tosh and Owen were expecting cloven hooves and red skin, they were disappointed.  The Morning Star was every bit as beautiful as the stories told.  He was not quite as tall as Ianto, and not quite as lean.  He was dressed in a fine suit that showed off his frame. 

Light, shoulder length hair framed a stunning face.  High cheekbones and hollow cheeks led to a narrow, square chin.  A thin, straight nose and full, sensuous lips, all below a subtly prominent brow.  Long lashes contrasted with green eyes so pale they almost glowed.  Even his voice was lovely, if a bit confused.

“Who…” he took a closer look at Ianto and then laughed.  “Yohanan!  I haven’t seen you in an age!”

“Not since before you were cast out,” Ianto replied.  “Which reminds me…”

Out of nowhere, he hit Lucifer with a haymaker that lifted the demon from his feet before he landed on the ground, flat on his back.

“You were a bully and an arse, and I owe you and your lot far more than that, but I’m pressed for time, so we’ll call it even, shall we?” Ianto reached down and offered Lucifer his hand.

Lucifer took the offered hand with a wry grin and as Ianto hauled him to his feet, he said, “There was a rumor that Azrael took you, but…”  He frowned.  “Why are you wearing human glamor?”

Ianto blinked.  Lucifer actually seemed concerned.  He shrugged.  “Jophiel, Azrael, and…” he hesitated, not wanting to get Tamiel in trouble.

“Don’t worry, I’m well aware of your friendship with Tamiel.  I do not hold it against him.  Particularly as I still hold out hope that he will sway you to join us,” he leered, knowing full well it was a completely forlorn hope.

“Fine.  Jophiel, Azrael, and Tamiel created this life for me, including hiding my memories and fitting me with a human glamor.”

“Why?”

“Lost the plot during the war,” Ianto shrugged, looking at the ground.

“Oh, I heard about that.  You levelled a village, didn’t you?”

“It was a concentration camp,” Ianto muttered.  “But for the record, no innocents perished by my hand, that day.”

“Oh,” Lucifer’s eyes widened.  “But with your empathy…” he shuddered, but then bristled.  “You see?  That is precisely why I rebelled.  How could HE favor these apes, who perpetrate such horror on one another?”

“Don’t start,” Ianto sighed.  “You know as well as I do that they aren’t all bad.”

“Hmmph,” was all the response he got.  “Well, you look like hell.”

“In my mind, I was completely human until a half hour ago,” Ianto shook his head.  “Then I remembered everything from before, all at once.”

“Ouch.  Well, your glamor is in tatters.  I don’t think it’s going to hold for much longer.”

“Noted,” Ianto grumbled.

“Yohanan, why am I here?”

Ianto pointed at Abaddon, who chose that moment to roar again.

“Shit.”

“Manut summoned him,” Ianto said, and his eyes glittered angrily.  Tosh and Owen could see what Lucifer meant when he said Ianto’s human disguise was slipping.  “He has violated the compact by interfering with this land and its people.”

“All under your protection, yes,” Lucifer grumbled.  “Where is he, now?”

“He scarpered,” Ianto said, ignoring Lucifer’s raised eyebrow.  “Tamiel went after him.”  He turned and looked up at Abaddon, who was slowly moving away.  “What do we do?”

“The forsaken are not my responsibility,” Lucifer protested.

“Well, not until someone under your authority summons them, anyway,” Ianto stared hard at Lucifer.  “I cannot fight him, alone.”

“There’s no need to fight him, at all,” Lucifer mocked.  “Your immortal leader can defeat him.”

“He could, except it’s not his fight,” Ianto pushed back.  “Are you going to make me enforce the compact?”

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped.  Compacts were tricky things.  Tamiel fell under Lucifer’s authority, and so everyone under his authority now had to honor the compact Tamiel had made.  Stupid bastard.  But any who broke a compact to which they were subject could be taken by Azrael, or simply have life become a misery until Yohanan had claimed his pound of flesh, as was his right.

***

Chapter Text

Lucifer sighed.  “At this point, the only choice is to fell Abaddon so Azrael can take Asbeel.  He was allowed to live, if imprisoned.  Now he's on the loose…”  He frowned and looked around.  “And time has gone strange.”

“I think it rewound to the point that the rift fractured, when he was released,” Ianto said, looking up at the sky.  That had been Manut’s compact with the team in exchange for opening the rift.  It was a price he certainly would have considered negligible, as well as moot, considering the obvious plan for Abaddon to kill everything in his path.

“It did, but it’s still doing strange things,” Lucifer said, also looking around.  “Did you…” his eyes snapped back to Ianto.  “Have you slowed down time?”

“You think I’d be having a leisurely conversation with you while Abaddon rampages, otherwise?” Ianto shook his head.  “I’ve just slowed it, a bit.”

“You,” Lucifer laughed.  “You learned that from Azrael!  Does he know you’ve stolen his trick?”

“Not stolen,” Ianto defended.  “Just… observed.”

“Didn’t you get kicked out, for pissing him off?” Lucifer asked, but realized his error when Ianto bristled.

“Well, what else can they do to me?” Ianto groused.

“You know full well what else they can do,” Lucifer chided.  “Better fallen than cast out, Yohanan.  Don’t provoke Kushiel.  He’s a vindictive bastard.”

“My instructions were to not tamper with timelines,” Ianto sniffed.  “Slowing down time so we can have this conversation does not violate those instructions.”

“And why is it you never joined our ranks?” Lucifer asked with a smile.  He could use this sort of cleverness.

“Because you and your lot were horrible to me for millions of years?” Ianto replied, and Lucifer winced.

“Too late to apologize?”

“It is if you’re only doing it to try to get me to join your little club,” Ianto snarked, watching as Abaddon drew further away.  “My loyalties have not changed.”

“Whipping boy,” Lucifer muttered.  When Ianto turned on him, he held up his hands defensively.  “I just don’t understand how your loyalties remain intact, when you’ve been treated so unfairly.  Half of my lot is terrified that when they’ve had enough and call for Azrael, he will refuse to take them, too.”  He shook his head.  “It’s a hard, cruel thing, to lose one’s only remaining source of comfort.”

“I’m the only one Azrael has ever refused,” Ianto pointed out.

“Yes, but it has set a precedent, hasn’t it?”  Lucifer eyed Ianto.  “How many times has he refused?”

“Eleven,” Ianto shook his head.  He didn’t much like the Morning Star.  Why was he telling him these things?

Lucifer glanced around.  Seeing Owen and Tosh, he decided to make the most of his audience.  “The Angel of Comfort and Hope, brought to such despair that he has begged the Angel of Death to take him multiple times now, and end his existence.  And the ALMIGHTY has forbidden Azrael from taking him.  Now I ask you, how has such a cruel CREATOR inspired such loyalty?” he waved an elegant hand towards Ianto and stared at them for long enough that it was clear he expected an answer.

Tosh cleared her throat, fighting down the terror.  She had no doubt that this was actually Lucifer, and she had no wish to find out which of the myths about him were true.  But she was also afraid what would happen if neither of them answered.

“Ianto’s loyalty is part of what inspires comfort and hope,” she said, her voice wavering.  Then she looked at Ianto.  “But what if there’s a reason?” she asked.

“Tosh,” Owen chided in a low voice.  This was not the way to avoid drawing attention.

Tosh glanced at Owen, then looked back at Ianto.  She stepped forward and took his hand.  “Maybe there’s a reason you were meant to survive,” she said, giving him a small smile.  Human or not, he was still her friend.  She was still trying to comprehend what it meant, that he was a fallen angel, and she wondered what differentiated him from a demon, and what he had done, to fall.

So many questions.

Ianto returned her smile, and she barely contained a gasp of surprise.  He was beautiful.  Well, more so than usual.  He had always been attractive in a young professional male sort of way, but as his human disguise continued to abandon him, more of his angelic beauty began to show.  His normally pale skin was alabaster, smooth and almost glowing.  His eyes were a bit more intense.  And his smile held nothing but love and comfort. 

“Comfort and Hope,” she nodded.

Ianto looked at Lucifer, who was staring.  At Ianto’s quirked eyebrow, Lucifer huffed.

“Okay, so there’s one that isn’t completely horrible.”

Ianto chuckled, but then gave himself a shake.  “So.  I doubt it’s as easy as calling Azrael and asking him to take Abaddon.  What’s the catch?”

“Azrael can only take a forsaken under two circumstances.  If the forsaken asks, or if it has been defeated and felled.”

“So we need to fight it,” Ianto nodded, looking determined as a bit more of his glamor fell away. 

The length of his hair and the shape of his features did not change, merely the smoothness (and coolness, Tosh noticed) of his skin and the intensity of his gaze. 

“Its shadow kills.  That’s what that creepy geezer said,” Owen said, snapping himself out the stupor that had overtaken him during the conversation.  Pretty much his entire atheistic ideology had been turned on its ear in the space of a few minutes.  And even if Ianto had shot him the day before, they were still on the same team against that huge bastard of a…

“You’re saying that’s a demon?” he asked for clarification.

Lucifer snorted.  “No.  I am a demon,” he gestured towards himself with an elegant hand.  “Note my loveliness and complete absence of monstrousness.”

“Or horns,” Ianto smirked.  He was trying to figure out how to shed the last of the glamor.  It had become an irritant, like how Lisa used to complain about chipped nail polish.

“What is it with you and horns?” Lucifer asked, and Ianto was surprised to find the banter amused him.

“Just concerning, is all,” Ianto shrugged, being honest.  “The Great Beast and Abaddon were both cast out well before I was created.  And I was still quite young when they were forsaken.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Owen protested.  “What’s the difference?”

“For angels, there are several levels of punishment,” Lucifer explained, and Owen immediately wished he hadn’t fallen under the demon’s gaze.  “Varying degrees of separation from the CREATOR.  Mind you, being separated from HIS presence at all is…” he trailed off and looked away.

“The worst punishment imaginable,” Ianto muttered, looking down.

“Yes, well,” Lucifer aimed for flippant but missed.  “But then there are insults that can be piled upon injury.  Fallen angels,” he gestured to Ianto, “keep their wings and their powers.  Those who are cast out become demons.  They lose their wings, and their powers are corrupted.”

“In what way?” Tosh asked, and regretted it as those glowing eyes turned to her.  Ianto gave her hand a squeeze.

“I am the Morning Star.  I was created to cast light upon the world.  I can still bring light, but without my wings it’s rather difficult to share it.”

“Well, there’s always up-lighting,” Owen said.

Lucifer glared, but Ianto laughed outright. 

“Cheeky fucker.”  He slapped Owen on the shoulder, causing the doctor to hiss in pain.  “Oh, right.  Sorry,” he reached out a hand, his look tentative.  “I can help with that.  May I?”

“Why not?” Owen snarked.  “You shot me.  You should help.”

“Shooting coworkers…  Is that what you do, when you’re human?” Lucifer mocked, but his tone was good-natured.

“Seems to be,” Ianto rejoined.

“So what’s the difference between ‘cast out’ and ‘forsaken’?” Tosh asked.  “Other than general appearance…”

Lucifer turned back to her.  “There is hope for all creatures,” he said, sending an ironic look towards Ianto, who was focused on Owen’s shoulder.  “Fallen angels may be forgiven and allowed to return to HIS presence.  Those cast out may be forgiven.  They may get their wings back and have their powers returned to them, and be fallen, or they may rejoin HIS presence.  It has happened, though to my knowledge, only once, in each instance.

“But it is when all hope is lost that one who has been cast out becomes forsaken.”

“It’s more than that, though,” Ianto said, turning to them.  He missed the shocked look on Owen’s face as he touched his shoulder, which was now almost entirely healed.  “Demons are not necessarily evil.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer gave him a slight bow, which he ignored.

“But some, when they lose hope, begin to flirt with evil deeds.  They become so twisted up inside that the opposite of righteousness becomes their touchstone.”

“Basic design flaw, if you ask me,” Lucifer drawled.  “Angels are righteous,” he explained to Tosh.  “Mind-numbingly so.  Well, except for this one,” he inclined his head towards Ianto.  “But after being cast out, it’s all too easy to allow the angel’s righteousness to become tainted and twist into a lust for evil.”

“Some demons twist,” Ianto shrugged.  “Others don’t.  But those that do…  Once they go too far, they are forsaken.  No chance of forgiveness.”

“And what’s too far?” Tosh asked.  She knew this was just a distraction, that there was still a battle to be fought, but she was afraid, and wanted to stay in this bubble for just a few moments more.

Lucifer shrugged again, but it was clear he found this a difficult subject.  “We’re a hearty lot, angel stock.  I heard the Great Beast only perished because he was thrown into a black hole.  But short of that, the only thing that can kill us is Azrael.  Or each other.”

Ianto recoiled instinctively.  “It is anathema, to us.  Even in the rebellion…  It was war, but we did not kill one another.”

“Great harm was done, nonetheless,” Lucifer admitted.

“On both sides,” Ianto nodded.  “Those who rebelled were cast out, but only the ones who killed were forsaken.”

“Later, one who was cast out despaired.  Became twisted.  Began ambushing Watchers.”

“Killed three before the Council found him,” Ianto shook his head sadly.

“I did try to stop him,” Lucifer seemed to share his sadness, for a moment.

“Manut seemed to think that you’d like his little gift,” Ianto said, more conversationally than accusingly.

“Manut twists more, by the decade,” Lucifer declared.  He heaved a sigh.  “If you are going to seek redress, I suggest you do it.  Better to be taken by Azrael for breaking a compact than becoming forsaken for…” he gestured vaguely.

“You mentioned that before,” Tosh said.  “What compact?”

“This land and those who walk upon it fall under my protection,” Ianto explained.  “This one and his minions are obliged to honor the compact that was made when one under his authority agreed.”

“I still cry foul,” Lucifer sniffed.

“Keep it up, I’ll claim the whole island,” Ianto replied.

Lucifer wisely kept his own counsel, as he could not tell whether Ianto was joking.

“Protection from what?” Tosh asked.  “A lot has happened to Wales, through the years.”

“From supernatural forces,” Lucifer replied.  “There is no protecting a land or its people from the damage humans can do to one another.”

“What about aliens, then?” Owen asked.

“Mortal beings of planetary origin, whether human or alien, must be allowed to proceed according to what is written in their timelines.  There is latitude when events are not set, but fixed events are not to be meddled with.”

There was a moment of silence as Tosh seemed to chew on this information.

“So,” Owen smirked at Ianto.  “You’re not actually Welsh, are you?”

“This land is my home, now,” Ianto answered.  “A human is born here, walks the earth for eighty years or so, and they are considered Welsh.  I chose to live here, after I fell.  I have travelled occasionally, but this has been my home for almost two millennia.  If I am not Welsh by birth, then I am, by choice.”

Owen stared at him for a beat.  “Fair enough,” he finally said.  He still wasn’t sure about the whole, ‘Ianto thought he was an angel’ thing, but they had bigger issues to resolve, for now.

“Want some help with that glamor?” Lucifer asked, sensing Owen’s doubt and eager to see both humans’ reaction to Ianto’s true form.

“If you would be so kind,” Ianto said, his voice somehow both flat and irritated.

Lucifer reached out and cupped the side of Ianto’s head.  He flinched at the turmoil he sensed, but refocused, seeking out the remnants of the glamor.  Then he leaned back and clicked his fingers.  In the next moment, Ianto stumbled backwards into the wall behind him as the last of the glamor fell away.

He bounced off the wall and slammed down onto his knees, gasping. 

“You’ve actually kept your wings hidden, all this time?” Lucifer asked incredulously, realizing how confining and exhausting that must have been.

Ianto let out a growl of pain as a flash of light surrounded him.  As it faded, six glorious wings unfurled, seemingly out of nowhere. 

“You,” Toshiko gasped.  “You’re a seraph!”

Ianto remained kneeling with his head bowed and eyes closed as he tried to regain his equilibrium.  Not just because of the redistribution of weight.  No, too much had happened for him to just take it all in stride.

Owen fought down his shock and managed to move behind Ianto, trying to get a better look.  Whatever had just happened, Ianto was now shirtless, so Owen took the opportunity to try to map how the wings attached to Ianto’s anatomy. 

The topmost set of wings followed the line of his trapezius muscle.  The bottom of the joint ran alongside his spine, level with a point a bit more than halfway down his shoulder blade.  The joint then fanned up and out, following a gentle curve to where the top of the joint terminated just below the shoulder, midway between the neck and the deltoid.

The middle set were the most substantial.  The top of the joint sat between the bottom of the top wing joint and the shoulder blade, and then curved down and out towards the space just below the bottom of his ribs.  This joint was much thicker and sturdier.

The bottom wings’ joints began a rib or two up from the bottom of the thoracic spine.  They ran close to the spine, running down either side of the lumbar spine before curving outward, almost to a horizontal line.  Owen noticed that Ianto’s trousers rode low on his waist so as not to interfere with the joints of the lower wings. 

He stepped back to Toshiko when Ianto stood and flexed his wings, stretching them all carefully before moving them gracefully and lifting off of the ground, a few feet.  Owen could not help but continue his observations.

The middle set of wings were obviously what got him off the ground.  He guessed their span to be about eighteen feet across, fully stretched.  They were long, as well as wide, and doubtless the power and speed of flight was provided by their work.

The top set of wings were thinner, and a bit shorter – their span was about fourteen feet across.  They probably aided agility and maneuverability, mostly.

The bottom set was thicker and shorter, still.  Spanning about twelve feet, they probably provided extra power and speed, but also stability. Owen noted how Ianto’s body seemed utterly still and suspended as the wings worked smoothly to keep him aloft.  His wings were moving in the same way as someone’s arms and legs did, when they were treading water.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Owen muttered, awed.  Then he took a closer look at Ianto himself.

Ianto’s trousers were a soft, woven affair, with vertical black and indigo stripes.  Owen recognized the style from his history books, drawings of ancient Celtic and Welsh tribal warriors who went shirtless with checkered or stripey or even plaid trousers that looked like pyjamas, more than anything else.  A cord secured them at the waist, where, as he had noted before, they rode low enough not to interfere with the joints of the lower wings.  They were a bit short, hitting well above the ankle, but they fell about an inch below the tops of the thoroughly modern black combat-style boots with thick, heavy treads. 

Ianto’s hair was long, the thick, wavy tresses held back by a thin leather cord.  His face was the same, though his eyes were more piercing.  But that could have been how they were set off by his long, dark lashes and alabaster skin.  His skin was the biggest change.  Well, other than the wings.  But it practically glowed, it was so pale and luminous.

As Owen had noted before, Ianto was shirtless.  What was new was the ink.  Rich blue swirls and spirals were tattooed in intricate patterns on his torso and down his shoulders and arms, his pale, flawless skin contrasting vividly.

Lucifer was staring, as well.  “How have those not faded?”

“Because I did not want them to,” Ianto looked down.  “My Rhan gave them to me.”

“That was the one you saved, wasn’t it?” Lucifer asked, and took Ianto’s half-shrug as confirmation.  “You fell because of that,” he said, choosing his words carefully.  “I’ve often wondered if you thought it was worth it.”

Ianto opened his mouth to say something scathing, but he realized it was only necessary if he cared what Lucifer thought of him.  And he didn’t.  So he shrugged and said, “It wasn’t her fault I fell.  They used her as an excuse, but that’s all it was.  Azrael is easily offended.  Angels have done far worse to him, before and since, and the reaction has never been to force an angel to choose between falling and being cast out.”

“I’ll say it again.  Kushiel is a bastard,” Lucifer bristled again at yet another example of the ALMIGHTY’s injustice.  “Surely it must pain you.”

“It does, but the only thing that makes sense is that there is a reason,” Ianto said, his eyes drifting to Toshiko, who was hanging on every word.

Lucifer made a derisive sound.

“But to answer your question,” Ianto said, staring off at the figure of Abaddon, mentally preparing himself for the fight to come, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Rhan?”  He smiled wistfully.  “So worth it.”

“And those since?”

Ianto nodded.  Then he shook himself out of that reverie and reached into the spaces in between to retrieve his – Rhan’s – short sword.  As if on cue, Abaddon bellowed.

Ianto looked up.  “So how do we fell him?”

“No idea,” Lucifer said.

“Can you summon help?”

“You’re kidding, right?  Most don’t even understand our obligations, under the compact.  It’s all we can do, to get them to agree to keep it.”

Ianto frowned, thinking.  After a moment, he grinned.  “Up-lighting!” he said.

“What?”

“He can’t cast a shadow, if everything is lit from below,” Ianto grinned.  “Care to show the world the beauty of the Morning Star, once more?”

A wicked smile spread across Lucifer’s face.  “And what will you do?  As you said, you cannot fight him, alone.”

“No,” Ianto shook his head.  “But there are others who have broken the compact, and they will fight, or face my wrath.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

Ianto closed his eyes and pushed his energy into the earth, feeling his way along.  “I now summon the creature once known as Jasmine Pearce,” he intoned, and his voice was like granite, “and her brethren.  I call upon the fae and demand their attendance, now.”

Tosh and Owen recoiled as the creatures sprung from the earth. 

“Ugh!” Lucifer protested.

“Why do you summon us, fallen one?” the leader of the fae hissed.

“You broke a sacred compact,” Ianto said, his anger causing the earth to tremble.  “This land is protected, and yet you came here and harmed those who belong to it.”

“They tried to harm our chosen one,” the fae screeched.

“And what harm did Estelle Cole do?” Ianto growled.

The fae shrank back, having had enough time to realize their mistake, in harming the innocent woman.

“You have called upon us to demand recompense,” the leader stated, eyeing Lucifer with open hostility.  As Lucifer snarled in response, Ianto spoke.

“I have.  You will help me battle the forsaken one known as Abaddon.  He must be felled so Azrael can take him.”

As soon as he mentioned a forsaken one, the fae began to hiss and screech in protest.  “You ask too much!” the leader remonstrated.

“It is my prerogative to demand the terms of recompense when a compact is blatantly and willfully disregarded,” Ianto replied, his anger radiating through the earth and causing the fae to tremble.  “But consider this: I would not ask this much of you, had you not murdered an innocent.”

They hissed and bowed, then stepped back as Ianto turned to Lucifer.  The demon smirked and gestured towards Abaddon, saying, “Shall we?”

***

Chapter Text

Gwen had driven Jack out to a remote spot, where he had pushed her away, telling her to get the hell out of there.  He shouted for the creature’s attention, and stood waiting for it to approach.  He wondered if it might be the thing that would finally take him from this life.  He vaguely hoped so, though there was that old resistance.  Even after all this time, all this suffering, that survival instinct was still stubbornly strong.

He regretted not even looking back, one last time, to see Owen, Toshiko, and Ianto, to tell them goodbye. 

Ianto.

Now he had a moment, he realized that Ianto had been strangely blank when he’d gone to join Owen.  Moving without his usual grace.  And his nose had been bleeding when Jack revived.  What was that about?  Was it possible that he hadn’t consciously betrayed Jack?

It didn’t matter, of course.  In a few more minutes, maybe nothing would, ever again. 

But it was Ianto.  Jack should have said goodbye.

Abaddon got closer, and Jack watched as his shadow approached with a calm acceptance that competed with the clenching of his gut.  But just as the shadow was about to touch him, a stranger appeared beside him, kneeling down and touching the earth.  A beautiful glow emanated from the man, who was clearly anything but, and then spread out around them until Abaddon’s shadow disappeared.

“Who are you?” Jack asked, the reprieve disconcerting, because he had been prepared for whatever was about to happen, but now he wasn’t, anymore.  He’d been pulled back from a ledge, but it didn’t feel quite right to be relieved, just yet.

“I am Lucifer,” came the beautiful stranger’s drawling reply.

“Lucifer,” Jack shivered.  He had a very bad feeling that this was not some delusional vagrant.  “As in…”

“The Light Bringer,” Lucifer grinned in a way he knew was unsettling.  “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Jack said, his voice a bit vague.  “And you’re here, because…”

“This is not your fight, Captain.  There is one who has sworn to protect this land, and its people.  One of my idiots raised Abaddon, so now I am obliged to help vanquish him, or face the guardian’s wrath.”

“A guardian,” Jack grinned, thinking of the Doctor.  “Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Lucifer chuckled wickedly.

It was fucking terrifying.

In the next moment, Jack heard the clicking of someone’s fingers and looked up, frowning.  Abaddon seemed frozen.  Perhaps more accurately, it looked as though he was moving through mud.  Like he had been slowed down, somehow.  And between Abaddon and Jack was another creature.

Lucifer’s light kept Jack from seeing its features, other than its beautiful, silvery-white wings.  So many wings!  Jack counted six of them, moving gracefully through the air.  He was certain he had never seen anything so beautiful.

He was also pretty sure this was an actual angel.  He had met one before, a long time ago.  Stroppy, cross fellow who was extremely annoyed that Jack wouldn’t stay dead.  But that angel only had two wings.  This one must be a different kind of angel…  It hovered above them for a moment before slowly descending, and there was something familiar about the figure.

“Jack,” the creature said, gently landing before him.  Jack shook his head.  He knew that voice.  But it wasn’t until he stepped in front of Jack that he recognized him.  He stood gaping as Ianto said, “I cannot allow you to do this, F'anwylyd.”[1]

“Ianto?” Jack finally found his voice.

“He’s breaking free,” Lucifer warned.

“Are you actually friends with the devil?” Jack asked.

“Not the devil,” Lucifer groused under his breath as Ianto spoke.

“There’s no time, Jack,” Ianto said.  “I’m sorry you’ve found out this way, but honestly, I didn’t remember until Owen shot you.  Manut… I mean, Bilis Manger… he sort of… possessed me.”  He gave a shudder that rippled through every feather.  “Fighting him made me remember.”

It was in that moment that the faeries appeared.  Jack recoiled violently.

“The undying one!” they hissed.  “We will not come to his aid!”  They swarmed menacingly close.  “He should be punished!”

“You will leave him alone,” Ianto growled, and the earth shook as his wrath unspooled at their threatening posture against his lover. 

Lucifer hissed as he fought to keep his balance.

Ianto rounded on the leader of the faeries.  “And you will fight Abaddon to atone for the murder of Estelle Cole.  I have claimed this land, and those who walk upon it.  They fall under my protection.  You violated a sacred compact, and I demand recompense.”

The fae shrank back, cowed, but still angry.  “Very well.  But we do so under protest.”

“Noted,” Ianto replied in a way that made it clear that he gave zero fucks about their protests.

“You,” Jack stared, taking in everything about Ianto’s appearance.  “You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

Ianto stepped up to Jack.  “Stay safe, Jack.”  He leaned forward and placed a hand alongside Jack’s neck and kissed him tenderly. 

“Jack?” Gwen called out, approaching them.

“Ah,” Ianto smiled ruefully, muttering, “the first choice,” under his breath, and Jack flinched.  “Get yourselves a safe distance away.  If we do this right, Abaddon will be taken in the moment after he broke through the rift, but before he killed anyone or destroyed half the city.”

“Ianto, wait,” Jack reached out and grabbed Ianto’s hand.

“Goodbye, Jack,” Ianto kissed Jack on the cheek and turned.  With a flex of his wings and a click of his fingers, he was in the air and Abaddon was no longer moving so slowly.

“What did he mean, ‘Goodbye’?” Jack whirled on Lucifer.

Lucifer sighed.  “Even with the aid of the fae, it is highly unlikely Yohanan can defeat Abaddon and keep his own hide intact.”

“But…” Jack couldn’t process the meaning behind Lucifer’s words.  “But…”

“It was elegantly done.  He has punished the fae for killing an innocent, sent one of mine after the one who raised Abaddon, and left the mark of his blessing on his beloved.  Unrequited, I take it?”

“What?” Jack looked startled. 

“It is there, for any with angelic eyes to see,” Lucifer shook his head sadly.  “He has been begging to be taken for millennia, now.  This time, I fear, Azrael will have no choice but to comply.”

“If he’s planning to fall in this battle, then how does he expect to win it?” Jack challenged.

“Oh, he plans to win, but does not expect to walk away.  You see the difference, of course.”

Jack nodded absently and watched as Ianto and the faeries maneuvered Abaddon far enough away that Jack, Lucifer, and Gwen would not be trampled.  Time seemed to go strange, and Jack could sense that the faeries had done some sort of manipulation, that this was now a version of Abaddon from a different point in his own time stream. 

He marveled at the power required to do this, and realized that it was probably not a huge shift – just a matter of minutes, most likely.  Which made sense, given what Ianto had said, about how he hoped this would be resolved.

He was also impressed by how fast and agile Ianto was, in flight.  He executed a dive, pulling up as he flew between Abaddon’s knees, and folded in his wings and spun as he pulled out a short sword and slashed through Abaddon’s right hamstring.

Lucifer whistled.  “And to think, he hasn’t flown in almost two thousand years.”

Abaddon roared and fell to one knee.  The faeries swarmed around him, attempting to stifle him, limiting his movements as Ianto searched for a vulnerability to exploit.

Jack ran back to the SUV and retrieved Big Bertha, his favorite energy weapon.  He sighted up the target, aiming for Abaddon’s heart, and made sure Ianto and the faeries were clear before firing the weapon. 

It had almost no effect, but it caught Ianto’s attention.  He directed the faeries to swarm again, and he flew to Jack at full speed, shouting “Gun!”

Jack got the message and held it aloft.  Ianto grabbed it as he flew by, not slowing at all as he circled around and headed back towards Abaddon.  He stopped mid-air, just out of Abaddon’s reach, and began firing directly into its face.  When it had no effect, he brought the weapon back and tossed it to Jack.

“Oh well.  It was worth a try,” he huffed.

“An energy weapon is not going to affect it, I’m afraid,” Lucifer called out.  “Only an old weapon.”

“Well, then,” Ianto pulled his short sword from its sheath.

“That is a human weapon,” Lucifer sniffed.  “And not all that old.”

“I suppose two thousand is pretty young.  But you will recall that I did not carry a weapon… before.”  Ianto twirled his wrist, and when the sword circled back around, it was ablaze.  “Will this do?” he asked, smirking.

“Go, you tiresome creature,” Lucifer groused, though he was fighting back a grin.

Ianto flew back towards Abaddon, calling out for the fae to try to hold him still.  They had been attempting to suffocate him, but it was taking a while to generate the number of rose petals that would be needed.  It was slowing Abaddon down, but they needed to stop him.

Ianto took a good look.  His sword was too short to penetrate Abaddon’s brain from the roof of his mouth, and Ianto would really prefer to avoid those teeth, anyway.  The eye was an option, as well, but beady and a bit of a small target.  The neck was thick and muscular, but Ianto could see the pulse point clearly.

Decision made, he sped forward, pulling his wings in close to his body and making himself into a missile, with the fiery sword leading.  Even with Abaddon struggling against the fae, he was stationary enough that, when the sword hit its mark, Ianto’s aim was true.  The fire helped the sword carve through the tough hide of the demon, and blood was gushing down its torso as Ianto pulled the sword free and flew out of its reach, covered now in the thick, tar-like black blood.

Circling back, he charged at the same artery on the other side of Abaddon’s neck.  The forsaken was moving more slowly now, due to the blood loss, but it would take a short while for him to bleed out.  That would give the faeries plenty of time to move him back to the moment before he appeared, so the deaths and damage could be reversed.  For once, Ianto was grateful that the faeries could move through time.

Back on the ground, Tamiel appeared, holding tightly to a bound Bilis Manger. 

“Who are you?” Gwen squeaked.

“My Lord,” Bilis oozed.  “I have raised Abaddon for you!”

“Yes, and now I’m here, cleaning up your mess,” Lucifer snarled.

“But… I thought you would be pleased,” Bilis whined, confused.

“Pleased to have an angry, mindless, murder demon on the loose, on the one patch of land that falls under the protection of a very powerful, very pissed off, fallen angel?”

Bilis blinked.

“That would be a no,” Tamiel clarified.  As he stared, he realized what was happening.  “He’s fighting Abaddon alone?” Tamiel asked, horrified.

“He enlisted the fae,” Lucifer said, watching the fight with fascination.

“We should help him!” Tamiel looked genuinely worried.

“I must keep the light shining,” Lucifer gritted.  “And you must hold Manut, for Azrael.”

Tamiel nodded, then shouted, “AZRAEL!”

“What!” Azrael shouted back, then uttered something very un-angel-like upon spotting Abaddon. 

It vaguely registered that this was Jack’s stroppy angel acquaintance.

“Manut summoned Abaddon,” Tamiel quickly explained.  “Ianto seems to have remembered himself, and he’s fighting him.  With just the fae, to help.  You need to take Manut, so I can join the fight.”

“JOPHIEL!” Azrael shouted.  He looked at Bilis with righteous wrath snapping from his eyes like lightning.  “Manut.  Long time.”

“All hail, the Great Devourer!” Bilis intoned.

“Your Great Devourer is bleeding out,” Azrael pointed out.  “I’m not waiting for Ianto to give his judgment,” he said, stepping forward and taking Bilis by the arm.  “You’re one more twist away from becoming forsaken.  I think it’s time to go.”

“You cannot take me!” Bilis whined.  “I must serve Abaddon.  He will overthrow Lucifer, who does not seem to appreciate the true gift he has been presented.”

“I beg your pardon,” Lucifer looked truly affronted. 

Azrael glared at Lucifer.  “Well, at least you know which side of the fight to be on, for a change,” he spat.  Then he turned, and they were gone.

“How do I get up there?” Tamiel fretted.  “He needs help!”

“What’s all the shouting about?” Jophiel asked, appearing on the far side of Gwen and Jack from Tamiel and Lucifer.  “What’s…  Oh, shit!”

“Lot of that going around, today,” Lucifer muttered.

Tamiel explained as quickly as he could.

Jophiel grabbed his sword and took a breath.  “Where angels fear to tread, indeed.  He didn’t even hesitate, did he?”

“Only stayed long enough to bless his beloved,” Lucifer smiled grimly.  “I literally know no one else who would have flown at that thing with less hesitation.”

Abaddon let out a howl of pain as Ianto’s blade sank into his second carotid.  He managed to grab Ianto in a mad, grasping flail.  Ianto barely refrained from screaming as his wings were crushed in the demon’s grip.  He lost his hold on his sword, and the fire died as it dropped to the earth, where one of the faeries scooped it up and flew back up towards the trapped angel.

At this point, the faeries were merely fighting for the fun of it.  The battle was all but won, with Abaddon bleeding profusely.  So no one was under any illusion that they were actually trying to help or save Ianto.  Nevertheless, their bloodlust did prove helpful.

Abaddon managed to stand and, opening his grasp, he stabbed Ianto through the chest with the claw of the opposite hand’s forefinger.

Ianto did scream this time, as the claw impaled him.  But in the next moment, the faery with Ianto’s sword cut off Abaddon’s claw (and indeed, his fingertip).  The faeries swarmed around Abaddon as he flung Ianto away from him.  Ianto was in too much shock from being stabbed, and his wings were mangled, so he dropped like a brick, hitting the ground as Abaddon seemed to shrink within the swarm of faeries.

As the others ran towards Ianto, Lucifer allowed his light to fade and stood, looking at Azrael, who had just returned.  “Abaddon has bled enough.  He has been felled, so he is Asbeel, once more.  The faeries brought him here from the moment before he appeared today, so the past version of him is the one who has been felled.  It has reversed the damage done.  If you join them, you will be able to take him, from that moment.”

Azrael nodded and, casting one last glance towards Ianto, disappeared, again.

Ianto lay in a crumpled heap beneath a tangle of broken wings.  Jack fell to his knees by his lover’s head, running his hand through the long hair that had come loose from its tie.

“Help me straighten his wings, Jophiel,” Tamiel said.  “I can’t glamor them away while they’re twisted, like that.  It would pain him too greatly.”

“It will still pain him,” Jophiel pointed out.

“Yes, but he has worse injuries, and we need to move him.  That will be easier, with his wings hidden.”

Jophiel nodded.  Tamiel helped him un-mangle Ianto’s wings and arrange them as normally against his body as they could.  Then Tamiel cast a glamor.  It was only then that they saw the claw, still run through Ianto’s body.

“Where can we take him?” Jophiel asked, knowing the answer, but needing Jack’s permission.

“The hub,” Jack said, without hesitation. 

“One of us should carry him,” Tamiel said.

“I’ve got him,” Jack replied.  “Gwen, take the SUV and return to the hub."

“What about you?” Gwen asked, eyeing the others.  “And what is Ianto?  What else has he been hiding from us, Jack?”

“Go,” Jack growled, kneeling beside Ianto and trying to figure out the best way to lift him without hurting him.

“Here,” Lucifer waved a hand, and Ianto floated up high enough that Jack could stand and take him in his arms.

“Thank you,” Jack said.

Gwen was still standing there, but in the next moment, she was alone as Jophiel, Tamiel, and Lucifer transported Jack and Ianto back to the hub.

***

Owen cursed and Toshiko let out an undignified squeak as the angel and two demons arrived with Jack, who was carrying Ianto.  Jack lay Ianto on the table in the med-bay, arranging him in the recovery position, as that was the only way to not put pressure on the entry or exit wounds, or the claw that was still piercing his torso.

“Everything seems to have reversed,” Toshiko reported.  “It’s like Abaddon was never released.”  She squeaked again as the leader of the faeries appeared beside her.

“If he survives, tell the Guardian that our debt is repaid,” he said, tossing Ianto’s sword down.

The faery looked like he had been in a hell of a battle, and it was with great satisfaction that Tamiel snarled, “He is the one who decides when you have cleared your debts.  And he is the only one who can declare it so.  Pray he survives, that you may have the opportunity for the stigma of your reprehensible actions to be forgiven.  Eventually.”

The faery grumbled but gave a slight bow of his head before disappearing, again.

Owen had been looking over Ianto.  “I…” he looked up at Jack, tears in his eyes.  “If we pull out the claw, he’ll bleed out in seconds.  And even if there was a way to prevent that, he’s got a great, bloody hole in his chest.”  He threw up his hands, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that angels have violet colored blood.

“He needs a healer,” Tamiel said.

“I can ask, but you know how they are, with the fallen,” Jophiel shook his head sadly.  “This is beyond my meager skills.”

“Surely there is one healer somewhere who is willing to help,” Lucifer frowned.  Yet another reason he had rebelled – the attitudes of his (former) brethren could be downright infuriating.

“I will find someone,” he said, and vanished.

“I pity any who refuse him,” Tamiel said grimly.

“Really?” Lucifer asked, surprised.

“Apparently, he has been quite outspoken against those who shunned Yohanan.”

“You’ve said that name, before,” Jack cut in.  “Is that Ianto’s… original name?”

Tamiel chuckled.  “You have the right of it.  Yohanan is the Angel of Comfort and Hope.  Or he was, before he fell.”

Jack’s eyes widened.  “He fell?”

“He saved someone about to be taken by the Angel of Death.  That is generally frowned upon.”

“It’s rude,” Azrael corrected, and Toshiko let out a string of curses, frustrated at her own squeaks of surprise.

“Rude, yes,” Lucifer pointed out.  “Reason to be given the ultimatum of ‘fall, or be cast out’?  I think not.”

“Kushiel wanted him out,” Azrael shrugged.  In the past two millennia, he had made something of a game out of making Kushiel’s life a misery, to repay how his protocol complaint had been used in such a mean-spirited, vindictive way.

“Why?” Lucifer frowned.

“You really need to ask?” Tamiel looked incredulous.  “You went out of your way to be terrible to him, before… before.  We all did.  Everyone who was not cruel to him, shunned him.  Except for his only, sort of friend, Azrael, who is the one who brought him before the Council, and gave them their excuse to exile him.”

“Why was he treated that way?” Toshiko asked, and Jack admired her courage in entering into the conversation.

Tamiel sighed.  “Angels are not really in need of comfort and hope.  So from the beginning, it was baffling that one such as Yohanan had been created.  But it seems he was created to provide those things to humans.  And in order to be able to do that, he was given the full range of human emotion.”

“What?” Lucifer looked appalled.  “But…”

“Yes.”

“What?” Jack asked. 

“Angels don’t have much emotional range, but what they do have is capacity,” Lucifer explained.  “They… and we demons, don’t feel a wide range of emotions, and there are few that we feel deeply.  But those we do feel…”

“Entire universes can exist within an angel’s heart,” Tamiel said, as though he was quoting something.

“So to feel the full range of human emotion, with an angel’s capacity,” Lucifer shook his head.  “How did he never go mad?”

As if in reply, Ianto groaned.

“Fuck,” Owen muttered.  “Will painkillers work on him, now?”

“Yes, but it will take a large dose,” Tamiel replied.  “At least double.”

“Right,” Owen prepared the syringe and then administered the alien concoction.  It would not take the pain away; the damage was simply too great.  But it would ease Ianto’s suffering.

Just then, the alarm sounded and the cogwheel door opened.  Gwen ran through.  “Jack!”

“He’s with Ianto,” Toshiko tried to intercept her.

“Did you know Ianto’s some sort of alien creature?” Gwen asked, almost giddy with vindictive spite.

“I do know that he is an angel,” Tosh replied curtly.  “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions without all the information, Gwen.  It’s ignorant.  And dangerous.”

Gwen stared at her, wide-eyed, but Tosh turned away to join the others in the med-bay.

“Jack,” Ianto whispered, squeezing the hand that was holding his.  He was lying mostly on his left side, with his left arm flung towards the top of the table.  His right hand was held in both of Jack’s.  Jack was sitting on one of Owen’s stools beside the bed, holding onto his lover and attempting to quell the terror that he might die.

“I’m here, Love.”

“Luc’fer,” Ianto mumbled.  He looked and saw the demon standing to Jack’s left.  “Thank you… fer helpin’.”

“Like I had a choice,” Lucifer drawled.  “No one wants to face your wrath, Yohanan.”

Ianto could only manage a minor quirk of his lips, in response.

“Save your strength,” Jack admonished.  “Your friends are going to get you fixed up, okay?”

Ianto gave a small shake of the head.  “Don’t think you’ll be able to avoid it this time, Azrael.”

Azrael moved around the table and took Ianto’s left hand.  “You know I don’t like being told what to do,” he replied.

This earned a small huff, then a groan.  After a few minutes, he squeezed Jack’s hand, again. 
“Jack?” he forced his eyes open and gave a small smile when he saw Jack’s face near his.

“I’m here.”

“I…” he took a breath and tried to steady himself.  “I love you,” he breathed, closing his eyes again.

“Don’t,” Jack choked.

***

[1] My dearest

Chapter Text

“Don’t.”

Ianto gasped painfully and jolted backwards, letting go of Jack’s hand and curling in on himself as the others reached out to hold him still.  “Azrael,” he sobbed.  “Please!”

If looks could kill, Jack would have been a dead man, five times over.  Even Owen was glaring at him as his eyes grew wide and he realized how what he’d just said must have sounded, to Ianto.

“No, no, no,” Jack took Ianto’s hand.  “No, that’s not what I meant, Ianto.  I meant, ‘Don’t say it like it’s the only time you’re ever going to say it.’  And, ‘Don’t say it because you think you’re going to leave me.’  But mostly, ‘Please don’t leave me!’  Please,” he begged, his voice raw with emotion.  “You can’t leave me, because I love you, too.”

“You do?” Ianto gasped.

“Yes, Angel,” Jack sighed, taking Ianto’s hand again and kissing it.

“I’m afraid,” Ianto confessed.

“Why?” Jack asked.

“Angels… don’t have souls,” Ianto sniffed.  “When Azrael takes me, I’ll be gone.  No afterlife.”

“But there’s nothing there, when anyone dies,” Jack frowned.

“Azrael hasn’t taken you, yet,” Ianto explained slowly.  “You get stuck in a sort of limbo, when you die.  Because you’re not dead, for good.”  He tried to catch his breath to continue.  “But… it’s not my ending that I fear.”

“What is it, then?” Jack asked.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then please don’t,” Jack pleaded.  “Please don’t leave me, Ianto.”

“Love… you…” Ianto sort of just faded out, going very still, barely breathing.

Azrael drew in a breath.  Ianto had been right.  His body was too damaged to sustain his life force.  The only thing to be done was to release him, allow him his rest.  The problem was, Azrael couldn’t move.  He had so few friends, and he’d never lost one, before.  He’d almost lost Yohanan’s friendship because of the Council’s reaction to his saving Rhan, but Yohanan’s loyalty meant that Azrael was eventually forgiven. 

But this…

“Please,” Jack straightened as panic swept through him.  “Please.  If there’s an afterlife, but he doesn’t go there, then that means I’ll never see him, again.  I don’t even have the thought that he’ll be there waiting for me, when I finally die for good, to comfort me.”  He was shaking, now, weeping at the thought of being alive for so long that he would eventually forget Ianto, and then never have any reason to remember him. 

He looked around and spotted Azrael, who was shedding silent tears for his friend.  “Please.  You’re the Angel of Death, right?  Take me, too.”

“Jack!” Gwen protested.  She tried to run to Jack, but Owen, who was holding a crying Toshiko, grabbed her.  He and Tosh held onto her, watching helplessly as forty percent of their team made to leave them.

“No,” Jack said, looking sadly at them.  “I’ve lived long enough.”  He looked back at Azrael.

“The time vortex is keeping you alive,” Azrael frowned.  He wasn’t even certain he could take Jack.  That was what had always irritated him.

“Then take it out.  Put it back where it belongs.”

Azrael could see the vortex swirling through Jack, if he squinted.  He wondered.  If he could catch a thread of it…

Just then, a loud chime was heard, interrupting everyone’s train of thought.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Owen shook his head as he, Tosh, and Gwen broke apart, holding their ears.

“That was the ALMIGHTY, telling me not to take either of them,” Azrael replied quietly.

“But…” Tamiel stared at Ianto, who was barely breathing.  Unless healing was provided, he would just linger, suffering profoundly.

“Typical,” Lucifer spat.  “Nothing but injustice and heartbreak, and not a peep from HIM until everyone is so full of pain and despair that there is no point in stepping in.  Well, I’m not having it.  I’m not going to be a puppet in one of HIS little dramas.”  He stepped around Jack and placed his hand on the back of Ianto’s head.  In a quieter tone he said, “Good fortune, Brother.”

As he stepped back, he noticed Azrael and Tamiel both gaping at him.  “What?”  He huffed.  “In a single day, I have come to understand Yohanan better than I ever did in our millions of years of acquaintance, before the war.  I am glad of the opportunity, and sorry for the way the day unfolded.  But I am even sorrier for the manipulations HE has put Yohanan through.  I’m not even sure how I can respect him, knowing his loyalty has not been shaken by such terrible and unjust treatment.”

“He is as the ALMIGHTY created him,” Azrael defended.

“He was created to be shunned, misunderstood, despised, and exiled?  Tell me how that is fair,” Lucifer spat.  “Tell me how that is just.  And please, tell me how that inspires such blind loyalty.”

“I cannot speak for Yohanan,” Azrael replied.  “I can only tell you that his compassion knows no bounds.  And that is because of his suffering.  He would be no good at providing comfort and hope, if not for the shape of his heart.”

Lucifer scoffed.  He had to, after all.  But he did understand what Azrael was saying, and he appreciated it.  He had been on the receiving end of that compassion, after all.  It had been no secret that certain angels had hoped for reconciliation, and Yohanan had been among them.  Still, Lucifer had a reputation to uphold.

“Whatever,” he said, feigning boredom.  “But I have no intention of being at HIS beck and call.”

With that, he was gone.

Jophiel, who had returned while Lucifer was mid-rant, smirked.  “I suppose it would have only annoyed him if I told him that his help today was noted, and appreciated.”

“Oh, there’d be no living with him,” Tamiel chuckled, but then turned serious.  “You are alone.”

“I am.  But that is because HE has summoned us.”

“What, the three of us?” Azrael asked.

“No,” Jophiel smiled.  “The five of us.”

Everyone looked appropriately confused.

“Tamiel, if you are willing, HE would like to speak to you.”

“Oh!” Tamiel looked startled.  “Of… of course.”

“And you,” Jophiel looked at Jack.  “You have been invited, but the choice is yours.”

“Are you taking Ianto?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m coming, too,” Jack declared.

“Jack!” Gwen protested again, but Owen took her by the elbow before she could move forward.

“Jack,” Toshiko said more quietly, and he turned to her.  Rather than the objection he was expecting, she stepped up to him and gave him a hug.  “Bring him back, if you can.”

He had no words.  He simply nodded, then turned to the others.

“I will take Tamiel,” Jophiel said.  “Azrael, you take these two.”

Azrael nodded and turned to Jack.  “It will help if you carry him,” he said, stretching out a hand and levitating Ianto so Jack could pick him up without causing too much additional pain.  Jophiel and Tamiel helped to situate Ianto in Jack’s arms.  Despite their care, Ianto gave out a small whimper before going quiet, again.

Toshiko stepped forward and petted Ianto’s hair.  “Can he be healed?” she asked Jophiel quietly.

“If anyone can heal him, it’s Raphael,” he answered kindly.

Azrael and Tamiel turned to him and gaped.  “Raphael?” they asked in unison.

“Who’s that, then?” Owen asked, curious at their amazement.

“An angel of healing?” Toshiko asked.

“No” Tamiel said.  “Not an angel of healing.  The Angel of Healing.  Most angels can do some healing.  Ianto can, for example.”

”Yeah,” Owen nodded, still astounded by Ianto’s help, earlier.

“But nothing like Raphael,” Tamiel finished his thought.  “If he cannot heal it, it cannot be healed.”

“He’s an archangel, right?” Tosh asked.

“So are these two,” Tamiel gestured to Jophiel and Azrael.  “Don’t believe everything you’ve read, but most of the sources are correct that the archangels are at the pinnacle of the angelic hierarchy.”

“And, I take it, seraphim are further down?” she asked.

“I see why he likes you,” Tamiel grinned flirtatiously.  “Your beauty is eclipsed only by your intelligence.”

Toshiko blushed, and looked down, hiding her pleased grin at the compliment.

“Oi, no flirting with the demon,” Owen protested.

Jack smiled sadly at Owen’s petulance, wondering if the doctor had any idea where it was coming from.  He doubted it.  The sting of losing Diane was probably still too fresh.  But perhaps with a bit of time…

“Jack?” Gwen stepped forward.  “You’re not actually going with them…”

Jack frowned at Gwen.  “Of course I am.”

“But they’re aliens.  You don’t know anything about them.  We should be locking them up, not following them God knows where!”

Both angels looked thoroughly affronted.  Tamiel sneered.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Peace, Tamiel,” Jophiel soothed.  “Technically, as we are not from this planet, in their eyes we fit that description.”

“We are not from any planet,” Tamiel seethed, properly affronted, now.  “We are not some pedestrian, planet-bound species.”  He pulled himself up, standing tall.  “Aliens are the same as you.  Made from clay, animated by the CREATOR.  We are completely other.”

“Which makes my point,” Gwen said, not knowing when to back down.  “Ianto was hiding something from us.  Again.  How can you trust that they won’t harm you?”

“He wasn’t hiding anything,” Tamiel protested.  “He didn’t even know who he was, until he remembered, today.”

“Enough,” Jack growled, finally seeing Gwen’s ‘concern’ for what it was.  “Gwen, go home to Rhys.  You did try to end the world for him, after all.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” she protested.  “We were tricked!”

“You chose to listen to a stranger who had already proved himself untrustworthy, rather than me,” Jack said, standing straight and holding Ianto close, almost protectively.

“So did your precious teaboy,” she spat, looking panicked that Jack had noticed her betrayal.

“Actually, he didn’t,” Jack replied calmly.  “He wasn’t fooled, so he was forced.  Now, I know it was a powerful demon working on all of us, and I forgive you all, for what you did.  But if we are to move forward, we’re all going to need to rebuild a lot of trust.”

“We’ll be ready to work on that, as soon as you get back,” Toshiko said, and Owen nodded his agreement.  “But you should go, so they can heal Ianto.”

Jack nodded.  Gwen drew breath to protest, but before she could say anything, they were gone.

***

In the blink of an eye, they went from the med-bay in the hub to a large, bright… space.  There were columns around the perimeter, and beyond them, everything just sort of got… hazy.  If there was a ceiling, it was beyond what seemed like clouds, or the same sort of gauzy haze that lay beyond the columns.  The space was large – at least the size of half a football pitch. 

Jack glanced behind him, as there was too much open space there, and he was too used to checking for potential lines of attack.  But he had to turn away, half-blinded by the LIGHT coming from the dais at the end of the room. 

“Careful,” Jophiel warned.  “It’s best you don’t try to look that way.  Human eyes were not made to gaze upon the CREATOR.”

Jack nodded and blinked several times.  He gauged them to be in the middle of the room, where there was a raised table directly in front of him.  It looked like an altar, except for the sumptuous fabrics and cushions.  He realized it was a bed, of sorts.

“Allow me,” a new voice spoke, and Jack felt Ianto being pulled from his arms.  Instinctively, he tightened his grip.

“Hold, Raphael,” Jophiel spoke up, and the pulling stopped.  “Our guest is not familiar with our ways.”

“And Yohanan is suffering needlessly,” Raphael pointed out, impatient with the niceties Jophiel seemed intent upon.  Still, he moved forward, and Jack realized that he had been one of the figures standing before the dais.  He stepped around the small group that had just arrived and moved to the other side of the bed/table.  “I am Raphael.  I will do what I can to assist Yohanan.”

Jack stepped forward and, with Raphael’s help, he lay Ianto on the bed.

“Ah,” Raphael shook his head.  “He fought one of the forsaken, yes?”

“Abaddon,” Jophiel answered.

“Asbeel,” Raphael spat.  “Horrible creature, even before he was cast out.”

“Can you help him?” Jack asked, his voice small.  One hand was carding through Ianto’s hair, the other was holding one of Ianto’s hands.  “Please?”

Raphael looked at Jack, and the human was struck by the coldness of the expression.  Even Azrael was less terrifying.  Sure, the Angel of Death looked perpetually cranky, but that was, it seemed, part of his charm.  Raphael was beautiful, certainly.  But he didn’t seem to care, one way or the other, about Ianto’s fate.  It was disconcerting, and Jack was only now beginning to reconcile the myths he had learned, about angels being the embodiment of love and light, with the reality of these cold, righteous creatures.

All excepting Ianto, of course, who had been the embodiment of every assumption he’d ever held, about angels.  Hence the oddly apt endearment Jack had inadvertently given him.

Jack did admit that Jophiel and Azrael were less cold, and Tamiel the demon was much more relatable.  He couldn’t help but wonder if that was due to their own nature, or Ianto’s influence, as their friend.

“The damage is extensive,” Raphael stated, and he could have been speaking of someone stepping on a plant in his garden, for all the compassion he showed.  He lifted a hand and waved over another healer.  “This will take time, and even once I help, he will be weak and take a good deal of time, to recover.”

Jack nodded, feeling relieved that Raphael hadn’t declared outright that Ianto’s recovery might be hopeless.

“He always showed up as human, on all of our scans,” Jack said.  “His blood was red.”  He stared at the dark violet blood on his hands and clothing, leaving the question unasked.

“I’m curious about that, myself,” Raphael said, directing his assistant’s hands to move around the claw protruding from Ianto’s back as he slowly worked from the front, drawing the claw out, millimeter by millimeter, and healing the damage from the front as he went.

Jophiel spoke in a low tone of Ianto’s unresolved grief after the death of Tarran.  How he had gone to war, but it had only compounded his anguish.  How he had slept in that mineshaft for decades until he felt the call to return to war.  How the concentration camp had been his undoing, and how he had razed it to the ground before his friends could bundle him off, again.  How they had taken the decades after the war to perfect a human glamor that could withstand any sort of scrutiny, and how they helped Yohanan to forget, so he could have a normal, human life.

“Except it has been anything but normal,” Jophiel sighed.  “A mother who was unwell, a father who was abusive, and one nightmare after another, with Torchwood.”

“He’s strong,” Tamiel declared.  “We knew he would recover, if he could have a rest from his grief.”  He paused, looking thoughtful.  “At least in this life, he has allowed himself to grieve his losses.”

“He grieved all of his other wives,” Raphael pointed out, not even realizing that he had given himself away, showing that he had been following Yohanan’s life more closely than he’d been willing to admit.  Truth be told, many of the archangels had, after the thorough bollocking Jophiel had given them, when Yohanan first fell.  “What was it about this one, that he didn’t?”

“I think he just hit his limit,” Azrael admitted.  “He asked me to take him, as he did after I took each of his other mates.”

“Mates?” Jack’s eyes widened.  “How many?”

“Lisa Hallett was the eleventh.”

“So few?” Jack frowned.

“He’d stay with each, keeping them alive and healthy for about a century.  When they would ask for him to let them go, he would.  Then he’d withdraw and mourn for at least that long, before re-emerging into the world and eventually meeting another.”

Jack nodded sadly.

“After Tarran, he asked me to take him, knowing I would refuse, again.”  He glanced towards the dais.  “As I’d been ordered to, each time, before.  But I could tell something was different.  He was just going through the motions, like he’d lost the will to go on.”

“And so he went to war,” Raphael said flatly.  “That makes no sense.”

“I suppose he figured the next best thing to dying is having an excuse to get shot, repeatedly,” Azrael spat, tired of Raphael’s shit.

Raphael seemed taken aback.  Finally, in Jack’s opinion.  What he’d heard so far made him incredibly sad.  He had thought he’d had a difficult time, in the span of almost a century and a half.  But that was nothing compared to millions of years of Ianto being shunned by his own kind before being forced into exile and spending almost two millennia falling in love and then losing those loved ones.

He had seen how deeply Ianto loved, with Lisa.  What was it they had said?  Feeling these things with the endless capacity of an angel’s heart?  No wonder the force of his love was rivalled only by the depths of his despair, in his losses.

Jack was glad to know more about Ianto, though he could have wished to have heard it directly from his lover.  But this could be the beginning of more conversations, for them.  This could be the point from which they could become closer.  There was no more need for holding back.

Was there?

Ianto had told Jack that he loved him.  Surely that meant he would give Jack another chance, didn’t it?  Yes, they broke up (was that really only yesterday?) but so much had happened, since then.

Like Jack falling for someone else. 

Like Ianto thinking Jack didn’t care. 

Like Ianto thinking Gwen was Jack’s favorite.

Jack felt his knees go slightly weak at the realization that he may not be able to make this right.  And where would that leave them?  He now realized that he had been manipulated, like the others.  Bilis, or Manut, or whoever the hell he was, had stirred up old feelings and insecurities.  But now Jack realized that he didn’t care if the Doctor ever came back, as long as Ianto stayed with him.

His thoughts were interrupted as Ianto’s body shuddered and he let out a moan.

“Shhh, Love,” Jack tried to soothe, but Ianto was not conscious enough to hear him.

“Peace, Yohanan,” Raphael said, not unkindly.  He reached out and lay two fingers along Ianto’s temple, then flinched away.

“What?” Jack asked.  He had the feeling that there wasn’t much that could make the taciturn archangel flinch.

“Manut did a great deal of damage, in order to force Yohanan’s compliance,” he said quietly.  “And Yohanan fought the… violation,” he paused here, and shook his head.  “He… what is that human expression?  He bit off his face…”

“Bit off his nose, to spite his face,” Jack corrected.

“Yes,” Raphael nodded.  “Quite so.  He damaged himself greatly, in banishing Manut’s presence from his mind.”

“Can you heal that sort of damage?” Jophiel asked, looking appalled.

Raphael looked at him, affronted.  Then his eyes fell, and he returned his fingers to Ianto’s temple.  “He fought valiantly today, on many fronts.  I shall give my best effort.  First, I shall dull the pain.  Then we shall finish healing his physical injuries.  Then we can address this.”

Ianto settled, and Jack kissed his hand.  He watched as the claw slowly withdrew from Ianto’s body.  As the healer at Ianto’s back mended the damage, the claw was pushed back out.  After a while, Ianto’s back was unmarred, and the healer helped Raphael turn Ianto onto his back.  Then they stood on either side of Ianto and continued to move their hands around the claw.

It would have been fascinating to watch, if it had been anyone else’s chest impaled by the horrible thing.  Jack had been forced to let go of Ianto’s hand, but he kept a hand on his shoulder and petted his hair, with the other.

“Do all angels have tattoos?” he asked, unable to bear the silence for long.  Despite the fact that he could see the progress Raphael was making, he was restless and worried.

“No, those are human markings,” Tamiel said.  “I believe Rhan gave them to him.”

“They should have faded away,” Jophiel observed.

“Not if he did not wish them to,” Raphael said.  “Some angels do have that level of control.  Yohanan seems to be one.”

“Did you know her?” Jack asked them.

“Not well,” Jophiel said.  “We did not visit often in those first years, after he fell.  But she was lovely.”

“She knew he was something other,” Azrael said.  “The night I went to take her,” he hesitated, then huffed.  “Yohanan slammed the door in my face.  But she let me in, treated me kindly.  Made certain he followed her lead.  In the last few minutes before I took her, she told him she wanted to see him.  She somehow knew about the glamor that made it appear he was aging.”

“She was quite astute,” Tamiel agreed.  “And she knew how to help, when his grief became too much to bear.”

“His grief?” Jack asked.

“Angels have an inherent connection to the ALMIGHTY,” Tamiel said, his voice quiet.  “Those who fall, or are cast out, no longer feel that connection.”  Tamiel looked pained.  “It never eases, never fades, that… absence.”

Now Jack understood Ianto’s sense of isolation and loneliness.  At first, he had attributed it to how the others spoke of how he had been shunned as an outcast.  But he could tell that what Tamiel was describing was so much worse, so much more profound.

“How do you live with it?” the apprentice healer looked up from her work, her curiosity outweighing her tact.

Tamiel gave a brittle smile.  “Depends.  Yohanan spent nineteen hundred years praying, begging forgiveness for he knew not what trespass.  Some drink.  Some pretend they don’t care.  Some get angry.  Some twist.  And some seek out Azrael, prostrating themselves before him and begging for death.  Yohanan did that, too,” he nodded sadly.  “That he was refused has shaken all of us.  It’s really the only solace we have, knowing that if the burden becomes too heavy, we can lay it down.  Now we don’t even have that.”

There was no rancor in his voice.  Just a weariness borne of millions of years of carrying that burden.  And now, he was there, in the presence of the CREATOR, and he still could not feel that connection.  In many ways, it was worse.  He looked at Azrael, his eyes showing the strain.

Azrael knew that look.  The look of one who was reaching his limit.  Most demons had that look before throwing themselves at his feet.  But he had never seen it on Tamiel’s face, before.  In a flash of insight, he realized that merely being here had not restored Tamiel’s connection with the ALMIGHTY.  He could only imagine how much of a punishment it must be – like a starving man sat before a feast, forbidden to eat.

He turned to the dais.  “With respect, FATHER.  May I approach?”

Jack could only assume he had been granted permission, because he walked towards the dais.  He saw Jophiel put a comforting arm around Tamiel, who seemed to be in some sort of distress.  It took a moment, but Jack made the mental leap Azrael just had.  And he realized that Ianto would be feeling that same distress, as soon as he was mended enough to waken.

***

Chapter Text

Time seemed to function differently, in Heaven.  Jack couldn’t seem to get a feel for how much time was passing.  It seemed to be taking a long time for Ianto to heal, but at the same time, he felt no fatigue, standing next to the table Ianto was lying on.  Based solely on how his body felt, it didn’t seem like it had been more than a quarter hour.  But watching the healers work, it felt like they had been there for twelve hours, or more.

The apprentice healer was now only using one hand, holding the claw steady, with the other.  Raphael looked as stone-faced, as ever.  Jack watched Ianto’s chest slowly expand as the claw worked its way out, until only the tip was left, puncturing the skin.  And then, even that was healed, and the claw was taken away.

Raphael moved around to the head of the table/bed and took Ianto’s head in his hands.  Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and slowly released it as he settled in to heal the damage done by Manut’s invasion.

Jack looked from Tamiel to Jophiel, who were watching the healing, both seeming to be deep in thought.

“Why are we here?” he asked.

Jophiel looked at Jack.  “Because once Ianto is healed, the ALMIGHTY wishes to have a word.”

Jack fell silent, once more.  He had no idea what sort of a word the ALMIGHTY might have for him, but he wasn’t certain it was anything good.  He ignored the thought and returned his attention to Ianto, whose face looked a bit more peaceful, now.

Sometime later (or perhaps not, Jack’s time sense was getting more and more stupid, the longer he was in this place), Raphael released Ianto and looked up. 

“Well?” Jophiel asked.

Raphael gave a curt nod.  “I have done as much as I can.  Some of Manut’s hold still needs to be broken, but Yohanan will have to do that, himself,” he said, looking slightly offended that he had not been able to fully heal the damage.  “We should heal his wings,” he added after a moment, and with a wave of his hand, Ianto was turned over, his head resting on a pillow.  “Who glamored his wings away?”

“I did,” Tamiel said.  “With your permission…”

“Please,” Raphael gestured.

Tamiel clicked his fingers, and Ianto’s wings appeared.  They were dirty and covered in blood – both Abaddon’s and his own – and dreadfully mangled.  As one, everyone hissed in apparent sympathy.

Raphael clicked his own fingers, and the bed Ianto was lying on grew perpendicular arms placed strategically in order to support Ianto’s wings as each one was carefully extended.  When Ianto began whimpering in pain, Raphael reached out and tapped two fingers against his temple again, and he settled.

Another click of Raphael’s fingers, and the wings were clean of blood and dirt.  He called his apprentice back over, and together they worked on each wing, starting with the lowest two, working from joint to tip, repairing damaged bones and tendons, muttering to one another, as they worked.  As they finished, they folded the wings over Ianto’s body.

The middle set of wings had taken the most damage.  The apprentice seemed shaken, as she spoke.

“The tendon is damaged.  Humerus bruised, as is radius.  Ulna is cracked.  Metacarpals feels… crushed.”

“Just work your way out, from joint to tip, and focus on one thing at a time,” Raphael’s reminder seemed to ground the apprentice, who nodded and slowly healed the wing. 

Raphael finished the middle wing on Ianto’s right side and folded it comfortably over his body.  He rounded the table and the apprentice looked relieved.

“I’ve mended the bone injuries, except the metacarpals.  If you take that, I can focus on that main tendon.

Raphael nodded and they were quiet for a few moments.  Raphael had the apprentice feel what he had done, so she could learn the process, herself.  He returned to the opposite side of the bed while the apprentice folded the wing.

The top wings took a bit longer.  Being more delicate, they required extra care in the healing.  Once they were folded neatly, Raphael reached out and ran two fingers from the center of Ianto’s forehead, just over his eyebrows, to his temple. 

“Yohanan?”

“Mmf,” Ianto frowned.

“You may rest a bit longer, but it would probably be best for you to glamor your wings away, rather than have someone else do it, for you.”

Ianto made another incoherent sound, and then the wings shimmered from view.  His body relaxed somewhat, though his face showed he was still in discomfort.  Raphael waved a hand and turned Ianto over.  A click of his fingers, and Ianto’s skin, clothing, and the bed linens were pristine.  Raphael passed two fingers over Ianto’s brow, and the frown eased as he settled into a deeper rest.

Another angel brought fruit and water.  Jack sat beside Tamiel and ate and drank and listened to the beautiful singing that seemed to infuse the space.  Everything about this place was beautiful.  Beautiful, but cold and remote.  Not a place where you could sink in and feel like you belonged there.  He felt a shiver down his spine and wondered whether Ianto had been exiled or escaped.  No one as warm and loving as his Welshman could ever have belonged here, in this cold, harsh place.

“You all right?” Jack asked Tamiel, who looked at him, surprised.

“They say you can never go home, right?” he replied, a sad smile quirking his lips.

“Yeah, that is what they say,” Jack replied.

“I don’t know how long I can do this,” the demon confessed.  He looked pale and sweaty, and the strain on his face made it seem as though he was enduring some sort of physical pain. 

Which, for all Jack knew, could have been the case.  He remembered after the Beacons, when Ianto had been injured and was raving about hurting, for millions of years, and no one noticing.  And the night after Mary, when Ianto spoke of a hole in his very being… 

“He almost remembered, didn’t he?” he asked.  “After the cannibals.”

“Yes, he did,” Jophiel nodded.  “The concussion thinned the barrier, somewhat.”

Jack nodded.  “He told me he felt forsaken.  I knew it wasn’t a word he used lightly, but now that you’ve told me what it means, to you lot…  He called himself a monster.  Was he afraid he was twisting?”

“Perhaps,” Jophiel looked thoughtful.  “Not consciously, though.  He had not remembered enough, for that.”

A few moments later, a small, pleasant chime sounded.  Raphael frowned.

“Are you certain, FATHER?  He should rest, more.”

They heard no response, but Raphael nodded and stepped back to the bed.  He ran his fingers across Ianto’s brow.  “Yohanan?  You need to wake, now.”

Ianto frowned, then groaned.  He lay still as he woke, and Jack could see him testing his body, checking for injuries.  Then he seemed to recognize where he was, because he sat bolt upright, looking around with wide, panicked eyes. 

“What?”  He turned towards the dais, and then his face crumpled.  He folded in on himself, holding a hand over his heart, unable to mask the pain he was feeling.  Before Jack could embrace him or Raphael steady him, he scrambled off of the bed.  His legs gave way, so he crawled to Azrael.  He fell forward, arms spread out, and then his wings appeared, similarly laid out in a pose of complete degradation and surrender.  “Please,” he begged, his voice a ragged whisper.

Azrael looked to the dais.  “FATHER, please!”  His tone was equal parts anger, pain, and pleading.  He had known that, upon waking, Ianto would be hit particularly hard by this.  He looked over and was dismayed to see Tamiel on his hands and knees, his head hung low, weeping, though it was not clear whether it was at his own pain, or in sympathy for his friend.

In the next moment, there was movement, and Jophiel pulled Jack to the ground.  Jack was not pleased, because Jophiel had him facing away from Ianto.  But he couldn’t move, as the angel had a strong grip on his forearms.  They were both on their knees, and Jophiel whispered to Jack that the ALMIGHTY was approaching Ianto.

“Peace, my child,” came a voice that scraped along Jack’s insides.  He could tell that it was deliberately pitched low, but it was the voice of the CREATOR, the voice of CREATION, itself.  There was little to be done, to soften anything that ancient or powerful.

In a whisper, Jophiel told Jack that the FATHER had glamored Ianto’s wings away and was now kneeling beside him, petting his hair and humming something.  Jack could feel the humming rattling his bones, but he couldn’t make out any particular tune.  He could only hope it was soothing, to Ianto.

“Please,” Ianto begged, his voice broken.  “I don’t know what I did wrong.  And YOU are right here, but I still cannot feel YOUR presence.  And my beloved has…  My beloved has rejected me.  Please, I cannot do this, anymore.  I beg you, please let me go!”

“Ianto,” Jack sobbed, shaking his head in denial.

“Peace,” the voice soothed, and Jack could hear Ianto give out a sobbing sigh that he hoped was one of relief.  “All will be explained, now.  Though I suspect you have worked out at least part of it by now, my clever seraph.”

HE must have turned towards them, because Jophiel encouraged Jack to lower his head and close his eyes. 

“Tamiel, allow me to ease your pain.” 

Now Jack heard a similar sound of sobbing, gasping relief from Tamiel.

“I shall give you both the choice,” the ALMIGHTY went on.  “You may either re-establish your connection to me, or I can make you immune to the pain of the lack of connection.”

“Connection,” both Ianto and Tamiel stated.

There was a sound that Jack identified as a chuckle, and something like hope bloomed in his chest, that this being, arguably, THE BEING, had a sense of humor.

“Allow me to explain each choice before giving me your decision.  You have both been independent for long enough that the old connection might not best serve your future life.  As you said, Tamiel, you cannot go home again.  Either you or your home will have changed too much for it to be the same source of comfort that it was, before.  However, something different might allow for a better source of comfort, now.  One more suitable to your present and future life.”

“I don’t understand,” Tamiel said.

“Patience, Tamiel.  I shall explain it all.  But first, I must explain why I have brought a human here.  Well, mostly human.  A human infused with the time vortex.  Javic Thane, are you aware of what happened to you?”

Jack shook his head.  “I’ve been waiting for a very long time – well, a very long time, for a human, anyway – to find out what happened to me.”

“You are correct.  Time does tend to be relative to one’s natural lifespan.  The same is true for one’s perception of it.  Time is a construct, you see, established by beings with linear minds.  Which are pretty much all beings outside of Heaven.  Here, there is no linear time.  Angels have no need of it, as their minds are not linear, though they can learn to perceive linearity.  They develop a conception of time as they watch over those in the worlds outside this place.

“So a very long time ago,” the ALMIGHTY said with no little amount of irony and amusement, wondering if Jack would get the joke and immensely pleased when Jack let out a little huff, “time was constructed in order that planet-bound minds could understand and organize their linear reality.  As a sort of universal construct, it took on its own dimension, and thus the time vortex was born.

“There are those who understand its workings better than others.  You have met one such.  And it was during your travels with him that you were changed.”

“Yes,” Jack said.  “I have been waiting for the right version of him to arrive, to tell me what happened.”

“He sent away your friend, that she might be safe.”

“Rose,” Jack smiled sadly.

“But after you fell in battle, she returned.”

“What?”

“She looked into the heart of the TARDIS and took the vortex into her own mind.  But like the child she was, she did not understand what she was doing.  Drunk on power and desperate for her friends to be safe, she brought you back to life.”

There was a pause as Azrael huffed.

“However, because she did not understand the power she wielded, she brought you back, permanently.  You are, for all intents and purposes, immortal.”

“No,” Jack sobbed.  If he had not already been on his knees, this news would have brought him there.

“I am sorry for that.  But as it was her free will that rendered you thus, I cannot change the fact that she did.”

“But can you remove it now?” Jack was holding onto Jophiel’s arms, looking at him as a proxy for the ONE to whom he was speaking.  “Please, can’t you undo it?”

“Her actions have woven the time vortex into the fabric of your being.  You do not revive because it is in your body, though it is, and that is why you heal so quickly.  No, you revive because it is woven into your soul.  To pull it out would render you…  You would not be you, anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Jack said.  “If you can pull it out and then kill me, I don’t care.”

“Jack, no!” Ianto said, and Jack chanced a glance in his direction.  He was sitting up, wrapped around one of Azrael’s legs.  The Angel of Death had one hand tangled in his hair, seeming to hold him up.  Ianto’s face was distraught and frightened.

“To do so would destroy your soul, Javic.  This I cannot allow.”

“No,” Jack slumped.  If the ALMIGHTY HIMSELF couldn’t help him…  “But what about free will?” he asked, desperate.  He felt a pang when Ianto sobbed his name, again.

“I will not destroy you, Javic.  But that does not mean I cannot help you.”

“But if you can’t make me mortal, what can you do?”

“If you choose it, I can change the shape of your mind.  You are correct that a human mind was not made for eternity.  But with a mind the shape of an angel’s, you can endure, and dare I say it, even enjoy the long life ahead of you.”

“Why would you help me?” Jack asked, having slumped down from his knees to sit on the floor, dejected.  “The things I’ve done…”

“Things you have spent a very long time atoning for,” the ALMIGHTY replied.  “Despite what human mythologies have asserted, I do not cast judgment.  The afterlife is not made up of Heaven as a reward for those deemed worthy, and hell as a punishment for those who have sinned.  You have met Lucifer.  Can you imagine him, responsible for such a place?”

Jack couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.  No, the demon he had met was not in any way suited to running the hell that humans had imagined.

“This is Heaven.  It is where I reside, and the angels dwell.  It is not the afterlife.  In trying to control behavior, humans have imagined a strange sort of construct that blends the two together, but it is neither accurate nor compassionate.  But my point is, you deserve help because you are a part of MY creation.  It is not a question of deeds or worthiness.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Jack frowned.  That he would be given the same grace as the likes of Rose…  He couldn’t reconcile it.

“Ah.  Justice is handled in the afterlife, just not as you have been led to think of it.  Perhaps in time, Ianto will explain it to you.”

“FATHER?” Ianto sounded confused.  Jack dared another peek and saw his former lover looking pained and… yes, baffled.  Jack realized that it was the use of his human name that had confused him.

“My clever seraph.  You have been on this journey from the moment of your creation.  I know you have not remembered yourself for long, but I believe you might suspect…  After all, you left your mark on him.”

“I thought I was about to die.  I wanted him to be protected.”  Now he was looking a bit cagey.  His friends seemed to notice, as well.

Azrael chuckled.  “Protected.  Yes.”

“Marked as your own, more like,” Tamiel snorted.

“What are they talking about?” Jack asked Jophiel, who was still holding onto him.

Jophiel freed one hand and waved it, pulling a hand mirror from the spaces in between and handing it to Jack, pointing to the left side of his neck.  There, almost glowing from his skin, was a mark.  Fluorescing a pale shade of bluish silver, he recognized the ancient Celtic symbol called Serch Bythol.[1]  But here, in this place, Jack could tell it was much older.

“What is it?” he asked.

“An angelic mark,” Jophiel said, glancing towards Ianto, who was looking embarrassed and incredibly sad.  “He marked you as being… special to him.  Under his protection.”

“Don’t worry, Jack,” Ianto said, and he sounded utterly defeated.  “It will fade.”

“Only if he rejects…  Oh,” Tamiel looked as though he wished he could pull the words back into his mouth.

“Ianto,” Jack said, his voice gentle.  “Bilis Manger was manipulating all of us.  The fact that you picked up anything from me means he had compromised my defenses.  And the fact that I was annoyed in the first place…  Well, I think a lot of that was manufactured.  I know I’ve sent a lot of mixed signals.  But seeing you injured today, I realized that I don’t even care if the Doctor shows up.  I’m not going anywhere, unless you’re coming with me.”

Ianto opened his mouth to argue, to say that Jack didn’t need to say such things, but the mark on Jack’s neck pulsed a deeper shade of blue – one that matched Ianto’s tattoos.  His eyes widened at the realization that Jack had accepted the mark.  He pulled away from Azrael’s leg and stumbled to Jack.  Jophiel turned Jack loose and moved back, allowing the two to embrace.

Jack kissed Ianto, and then pulled back slightly, looking at him.  “Now what is it you suspected, when you marked me?”

Ianto looked almost shy.  “It’s all a bit jumbled, actually.  A lot happened, in a very short time.  When Owen shot you,” he stumbled, here, but cleared his throat, “I was so angry.  I shoved Manut out of my head.  And then all of Jophiel’s memory work just crumbled, and I remembered everything.”

“That sounds painful,” Jack reached out and brushed a lock of hair back from Ianto’s face.

Ianto nodded.  “And then you revived.  And something…” he shook his head, frowning.  “Something seemed familiar, somehow.  And then Abaddon rose, and you ran off with Gwen,” he made a face.

“Who is, most decidedly, not my favorite,” Jack clarified.

“Then stop acting like she is!” Ianto snapped, then huffed.  “Sorry.  Anyway, that was all in a matter of, what… a quarter hour?  By the time Lucifer and I joined you, I was halfway convinced, but I knew it was just wishful thinking.”

“What was wishful thinking?” Jack asked, confused.

“That maybe…  Maybe I was there.  For you.”

Jack blinked.

“I was created to be… separate,” Ianto said.  “To be shunned, to be ignored, to… to fall,” his voice broke.  He looked up at the ALMIGHTY, who was now standing behind Jack.  “Wasn’t I?”

“This is where it gets a bit complicated,” came the reply.  “You were meant to fall because of Tarran, not Rhan.”

Ianto blinked.  It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been clear just how painful Ianto’s fall had been.

“You, my sweet seraph, FELL IN LOVE with a human, just as I suspected you would.  But that lovely, boundless heart of yours did so eighteen centuries early.”

“YOU knew when YOU created me that I would fall?” Ianto asked, looking incredibly hurt and confused.

There came a sigh from behind them.  “We were discussing time.  Each moment like a pearl.  For those with linear minds, each pearl rides along a string, each moment happening in order, each string representing a life.  But for those with non-linear minds, all of the pearls are just there, as though collected in a bucket.  Because here, all time is now.

“I happened to be gazing into that bucket, if you will allow the metaphor, when I saw one of the pearls glowing golden, saturated with the time vortex.  I plucked it out and saw immortality being forced upon young Javic Thane.  I knew that it could not be undone.  And I knew that if I did nothing, he would have a difficult life, full of exile, rejection, loneliness, and pain.”

“So YOU created me to understand him,” Ianto said, looking from the ALMIGHTY to Jack.  “So he would not have to endure his immortality, alone.”

“My clever seraph.”

“YOU created a seraph, just for one human’s comfort?” Raphael frowned, not understanding.

“He comforts all who know him.  But yes, he was created to bring comfort and hope to an immortal human.  The scale of Javic’s life would be too burdensome, otherwise.”

“But…” Tamiel looked from Ianto to Jack.  “But that puts Ianto in a difficult position, does it not?  He was created for this human, who is notoriously fickle – as all humans are – and has already treated him badly.  After the pain of his existence so far, is he to be subjected to such mistreatment, for the rest of his very long existence?”

Ianto cast Tamiel a relieved look.  He was incredibly fearful of what an eternity of being taken for granted by Jack might feel like.  Then he saw Jack, whose head was hanging as tears streamed.  Ianto felt a moment of empathy.  He knew Jack felt guilty for his actions, but he also knew that it was likely that Jack would repeat his mistakes. 

He was, after all, so very human…

***

[1] Serch Bythol is a Celtic symbol for everlasting love.  It is formed from two triskeles.

Chapter Text

There was a chuckle.  “I did not create a guardian angel with no power or influence, who can be disregarded at the whim of the one watched over.  I created a seraph with the capacity to understand and empathize with the pain of others, that he might provide comfort and hope.  He has power and autonomy, and is not tied to this human in the way that guardian angels are tied to their charges.  And as for any mistreatment…” 

There was a sigh.  “There was an imbalance of power within the relationship, before.  Ianto Jones was a young, naïve human.  Now he has remembered himself, Ianto is a powerful seraph, millions of years of years old, with thousands of years’ experience interacting within healthy human relationships.  There is no longer an imbalance of power.  Ianto realized this, in the moments before facing Abaddon.”

“When he marked Jack,” Tamiel said, nodding.

“In marking Javic, Ianto recognized his purpose, his role in Javic’s life.  In accepting the mark, Javic has, in turn, acknowledged his role in Ianto’s life.  If Javic accepts the changes to his mind, that will allow him to adapt to his lifespan.  Their relationship will be unlike any other between angel and human.  It will be balanced.  Symbiotic.  Mutually fulfilling.  The symbol Ianto chose is very apt.”

“So his suffering has been deliberate,” Tamiel frowned.

”I knew of no other way to provide a helpmeet for an immortal human.  Only an angel would endure, but none of my angelic children had the capacity to understand Javic’s pain, much less have compassion for it and be able to love and comfort him through it.  So I created Yohanan, who exceeded every intention I had.  Such a lovely heart, so ready and willing to love.

“I do regret that the only way for him to embody the comfort and hope he was created to provide was to suffer.  But it was all for a purpose, and it has molded one of my most beautiful creations.”

“I don’t think Jack signed up for eternal monogamy,” Ianto said quietly. 

“You are still thinking like a human, my child.  Remember, he has accepted your mark.”

Perhaps a bit too late, Jack wondered what that meant.  He had no interest in any other partner than Ianto, but wouldn’t that change?  Shouldn’t that change, as eternity unfolded before them?  Would this change to his mind, if he agreed to it, deprive him of his… imagination?

He heard another chuckle.  “Such human fears.  Accepting his mark means you have accepted his love into your heart and soul.  And have pledged your own love, in return.”

Jack would have expected to feel fear and dread, hearing he had entered into such a commitment, without altogether meaning to.  But all he actually felt was relief.

“Would you like to change your mind, Javic?”

Jack thought the question sounded almost whimsical.  He suddenly had the impression that the ALMIGHTY was more Willy Wonka than omnipotent deity.  Then again, weren’t those two interchangeable?  He shook his head at the strange turn of thought, and realized that his fears were taking him off on tangents, so he couldn’t focus on the primary question.

“Will it really help?” he asked, his voice small and hopeful.  He was so afraid.  But the thought of adapting happily to immortality, with Ianto by his side forever…  It filled him with such hope as he had not experienced since before the game station.

“A non-linear mind does not find the vastness of time to be burdensome."

“I don’t want to keep mistreating Ianto,” if possible, his voice was even smaller, with this declaration.

“You will not.  You cannot.  There is an innate righteousness in the non-linear mind that will help you be less… careless.  It will also make you incapable of taking anything for granted, particularly with regards to your chosen mate.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to stop being me,” Jack said, only half-joking.  His stomach fluttered at the word ‘mate’.

“You will not lose your sense of humanity.  All of your thoughts and thought processes will remain.  But there will be a different underlying structure that will help you to be less thoughtless in your interactions.”

It occurred to more than one entity in the room that the CREATOR might just be experimenting.  If angels were so righteous that they were cold and unfeeling, and humans were so flighty that they were inadvertently thoughtless, then what would a hybrid be like?  Then they realized, the experiment had already been conducted, with Ianto as the result.

“Okay,” Jack said, nodding.  He liked that tradeoff.  He was tired of hurting those he loved the most.  He was tired of longing for a death from which he would not revive.  Now, knowing that was not a possibility, he needed the ability to adapt to immortality.  And he wanted to be a worthy partner to Ianto, if his angel would have him.  He reached out to touch Ianto’s cheek.

“To think, you’re not just my angel.  You’re my angel,” he grinned happily as Ianto smiled shyly.  He knew he’d have to reassure his angel, but it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have time, right?

“Jack,” Ianto whispered, leaning forward so their foreheads touched.  “I really think this will help.”

“This is where that comes from,” Jack said, suddenly realizing.  “That serenity of yours.  No matter what’s happening, no matter how chaotic, you’re just…”

“The non-linear mind is more creative, gets less bogged down in drama.  It is more peaceful, more prone to contentment.  The linear mind’s default is busy-ness.  The non-linear mind’s default is tranquility.”

“The more you describe it, the more I think I won’t be me, anymore,” Jack said, worried.

“Think of it this way, Jack,” Ianto smiled at him.  “When we’re all sitting in the conference room, having lunch, and you’re telling stories, there’s a sort of anxious undertone underneath it all, because you don’t know how long any of us will be there, listening to your stories.  That’s down to the drama your mind is used to generating.  But with a new structure, you won’t have that undercurrent of angst.  You’ll just be able to tell the story, relish the telling of it, and have fun in each moment with the team, enjoying them for as long as you have them.  Nothing will change about you, just… how you fit into each moment.”

Jack nodded, beginning to understand what was being offered.  “Then…  Yes,” he said, smiling at Ianto.

“Ianto has explained it well,” the CREATOR said.  “Lie on the bed, and Raphael will make the changes.”

Jack hesitated for a moment, and Ianto took his hand, giving him a reassuring smile.  “Raphael is good at this sort of thing,” he said.

“He just healed you,” Jack nodded.  Ianto was still shaky on his feet, but he was actually up and moving around, after being injured so badly by Abaddon.

Jack lay down on the bed, and he felt Raphael’s cool hands cradle his head.  Ianto did not let go of his hand.

“I shall make you sleep, and you will need to rest, once I have finished,” Raphael said, his voice as cold as his hands.

“I’ll be here when you wake,” Ianto assured.

“Love you,” Jack whispered, smiling sleepily as Raphael drew two fingers across his brow.

“Love you, too,” Ianto replied, also smiling. 

“May I ask a question?” Jophiel turned to the ALMIGHTY.

“Of course.”

“You keep calling him Ianto, rather than Yohanan.”

Ianto looked over to the ALMIGHTY, curious about this, as well.

“Yohanan was created in an environment that meted out pain, isolation, and loneliness.  And yet, it did not taint his heart.  He is so full of love that he sought it out – and found it – among those who would not shun him.  He found a people who would accept him.  A land he could call home.

“As you know, many who fall, are cast out, or are forsaken take on a different name.  Yohanan did not do that, right away, but by the time he fell, he was no longer Yohanan.  Not really.  FALLING IN LOVE changed him.  And then the fall changed him, further.  Almost immediately, he became guardian of the land where he settled, and the land accepted him as its own.  And so, he became my first Welsh angel. 

“It was in Yohanan’s mourning that Ianto was created.  From the ashes of Yohanan’s heart, Ianto rose like a phoenix, ready to meet his purpose.”

“FATHER?” Ianto, still clutching Jack’s hand, watched the CREATOR approach him.  HE lay a hand upon Ianto’s head as he bowed it.

“You are Yohanan, no more.  Your name is Ianto, now.”

Ianto felt the name settle like a cloak around his shoulders, and suddenly his wings were there, each feather shivering, in response.

”My beautiful seraph.  You fell, that you might find your purpose.  Now it is found, you need not remain fallen.” 

Ianto heard someone, likely Raphael’s apprentice, gasp in surprise.  His friends were quite still, behind him.  He dared not look away, though, for fear he would wake from this beautiful dream.

“However, I sense you will wish to stay with your beloved.  And I realize that you never felt particularly comfortable, here.  Your true home is there, now.  And so I would like to offer you a compromise, of sorts.”

“FATHER?” Ianto looked at HIM, curious.

“You will no longer be fallen.  You – and Javic – are welcome here, any time.  But you will not be tethered to me again, as…”  HE paused, stroking the back of Ianto’s hair as the angel let out a sob, “Peace, my child.  You have been untethered for too long, and I fear you would not adjust well to a return of the old bond.  You are more used to your independence than you realize.  However, I shall forge a new connection, so you will feel it whenever you open your heart to me.  Would that be acceptable?”

“Yes, please,” Ianto let out another small sob.

A CARESS of his head, a KISS to his brow, a HAND to his heart, and it was done.  Ianto was almost overwhelmed, and he realized that this was indeed the ideal solution.  “Thank YOU,” he sighed.

“I will also give you the choice, at the end of Javic’s life, to join him in the afterlife.”

“Really?” Ianto’s eyes widened.  Angels were never allowed to go there.

“It is only fair.  By then you will either be thoroughly tired of or unable to do without one another.  Likely both, so the choice will be yours.”

“Thank YOU,” Ianto smiled beatifically, even as he swayed on his feet.

“Rest now, my seraph,” the ALMIGHTY cupped Ianto’s cheek and steered him over to the bed where Jack lay sleeping.

Ianto lay down next to Jack, taking care to arrange his wings comfortably.  But he was too curious to immediately sleep.

“Tamiel, my child,” the ALMIGHTY reached down and helped the demon to his feet.  “You have been a good friend to Ianto, Jophiel, and Azrael.  A true friend.  And your help against Manut and Asbeel today was important.  All of these things have me wondering if you have reconsidered your role in the rebellion.”

“I have, FATHER.  I have sought forgiveness, and despaired at the silence with which my pleas were met.”  He sighed.  “I understand if you do not wish to forgive me, because I continue to wonder at the cruelty of the world YOU have created.”

There was a soft chuckle.  “I could always rely on your honesty, Tamiel.  And your apparent cynicism is a product of your idealism, which is refreshing.  I will admit that my anger was long-lived.  But it is done, now.  You are forgiven, my child. 

“Am I no longer cast out?” Tamiel asked, his voice quiet and tentative.

“I believe the best solution is for you to be fallen.  Welcoming you back here may be a step too far, for many.”

“I understand, FATHER,” Tamiel cast his eyes down.

“But as I said earlier, I shall give you a choice.  I believe you would have an even harder time than Ianto, if re-tethered to me.  Would you like a connection, similar to the one I just forged with Ianto?”

“Yes, please,” Tamiel looked up, his eyes pleading.

The same CARESS, KISS, and HAND to Tamiel’s heart had his restored wings unfurling behind him, causing him to stumble back because he had not had that weight to compensate for in a very long time.  Jophiel reached out to steady him, laughing.  Azrael looked incredibly pleased, and Ianto hauled himself from the bed to embrace his friend and offer congratulations.

Tamiel’s joy knew no bounds, and his thanks rang through the great hall.

“FATHER,” Raphael spoke up.  “Forgive me, but I do not understand.  How can YOU forgive one YOU had previously cast out?”

“I know you remember that I have done so before, Raphael.  But I believe you are asking more about the mechanics of it, than the precedent.  And I will tell you that it would serve you and every angel well to learn what it is, to have compassion, and to offer forgiveness.  Be careful that the rigidity of your righteousness does not cause you to break, because it is often someone else who bears the pain of that breaking.”

Raphael looked perplexed.  “I shall think on these things.  Thank YOU.”  He gestured towards Jack.  “My work here is complete.  Yo… Ianto is healed, and the shape of Javic’s mind now mimics that of the angels.”

The ALMIGHTY cast his eyes at the two on the bed, and HE could see that all was as it should be.

“Thank you, Raphael.”

***

Jack woke slowly, feeling warm and safe and more at ease than he could remember feeling in quite some time.  He tried to stretch, but found he was immobilized by a weight pressed against – and draped over – him.  When he finally worked his way up to opening his eyes, his breath caught.

Ianto was pressed against his side.  His head was on Jack’s chest, and he could tell that Ianto, who was lying on his left side, had thrown his leg over Jack’s right thigh.  He felt Ianto’s hand spread across his ribs as the angel hugged Jack close, in his sleep.  He could see none of this, however, because of the wings that were draped over him like an inside out duvet. 

It was beautiful, and in that moment, Jack would have given almost anything to be naked under those wings, feeling their softness against his skin.  When he had first seen them, Jack had noticed that Ianto’s feathers were a silvery white.  Now he was up close, he could see that some of them had a bluish cast to them, as well.  They were quite lovely, and he only realized he’d been petting them when Ianto stirred.

“Keep doing that,” Ianto muttered, moving the top wing from where it had covered his face, “and we’ll find out just how much of an exhibitionist you are.”

Jack chuckled.  He knew Ianto was joking.  Well, he was pretty sure.  And despite his own exhibitionist tendencies, he wasn’t about to get too naughty here, in front of all of these disapproving angels.  He was grateful, of course.  But he could feel their disdain for him.

He knew that for Ianto’s friends, this was down to how Jack had treated Ianto.  But for the others…  Their cold indifference was a welcome change from the utter disapproval he had felt before being welcomed by the CREATOR. 

“Maybe some other time,” Jack replied, his voice low.  He looked, and Ianto folded all of his right wings back against his body.  In the next moment, they disappeared.  Jack found that disconcerting, but chose not to remark upon it.  He would get used to it, he supposed. 

He found he rather loved the idea that he would be able to, now.

He looked more closely at Ianto, and noted the pallor and fatigue.  “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” came the surprisingly frank reply.  “And weak.  It will take some time for me to regain my full strength.  I may need a leave of absence, Sir.”

Jack chuckled, but then sobered.  “You can’t die unless Azrael takes you, is that right?”

Ianto nodded, lifting his head to look Jack in the eye.

“So you would have just suffered, if they hadn’t healed you?”

At another nod, Jack frowned.  “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

“I was too far gone to heal,” Ianto answered quietly.  “That was why Azrael was so upset to be told not to take me.  He knew I was suffering terribly.”

“If you were too far gone…” Jack frowned again, confused.

“HE almost never steps in,” Ianto explained.  “But HE gave Raphael the power he needed, in order to heal me.”

“I wish you’d let me face Abaddon,” Jack said, looking pained.  “I hate it that I almost lost you.”

“It wasn’t your fight,” Ianto shrugged.

“It would be now, though.  Wouldn’t it?” Jack asked, a smile quirking his lips.

Ianto returned his smile.  “Perhaps.”

Jack kissed the smiling lips.  “I’m sorry.”  At Ianto’s questioning look, he said, “I’m sorry you felt like I resented you, for making me love you.  And for… for what happened in 1941.”

Ianto kissed Jack, this time.  “Manut was in my mind, so I caught a glimpse of his, as well.  He caused all of that.  You should be able to tell, now.”  He canted his head.  “I’m sorry.  I should have asked.  How are you?”

“I don’t really feel any different,” Jack said, frowning.  He cast his mind back over the past few days, and was surprised to find that there seemed to be two aspects of certain memories.  One was how he was actually feeling, and the other was Bilis Manger’s interference, sort of overlaying those feelings and thus overriding them.  “Wow,” he looked at Ianto, wide-eyed.

“I think you’ll discover the differences as you go along,” Ianto smiled.  “So hopefully the changes won’t be overwhelming.”

Jack nodded.  “I was surprised and a little embarrassed to meet my namesake, and I was sort of pleased that he was so attractive, but I wasn’t…  I wasn’t actually…” he frowned.  “I don’t understand.”

“It was sort of an emotional glamor,” Ianto said.  “He took your attraction and your shame and the pain I had caused, and even some of your feelings for me, and projected them onto your namesake, and then let the attraction do the rest.”

Jack nodded.  He could see that, now.  The romantic feelings he’d experienced for the original Jack Harkness were sort of a veneer.  He was relieved he could parse out what had been genuine from what had been the manipulation.

“I really hate that guy,” he muttered darkly.

“Manut?  I mean, Bilis Manger?”

Jack nodded.

“Then it’s as well that Azrael took him.”  He drew Jack into an embrace.  “There is no need for you to hate anyone or anything, my Love.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jack smiled.

“I think I’m the one who owes you an apology, though,” Ianto looked uncertain.

“Why?”

“Because I marked you,” Ianto looked shy, all of a sudden.  “I…  Jack, I really did think I was going to die.  I just wanted… someone to know that I had loved you.  It would have faded, once I was gone.  Or if you had rejected it, which I had no doubt would happen, if I did by some miracle survive.”

“And then by some miracle, you did survive,” Jack smiled sadly at the thought that Ianto had faced what he thought was his death, feeling that his love was not returned.  “If I understand correctly, acceptance of such a thing happens at the soul level.”

“For humans, yes.”

“So I’m not sure if there’s a problem,” Jack smiled broadly.  “We may have to do something to make it official back home, though.”

“It doesn’t feel too soon?” Ianto worried.

“The only thing holding me back was thinking you were mortal,” Jack confessed.  “And even that wasn’t working.  You really threw me, when you broke up with me.  But I was always going to try to figure out a way to win you back, because losing you made me realize that it didn’t matter if I only got a short amount of time with you.  I wanted whatever I could get.”

“And now, when you know you’ll be saddled with me forever?” Ianto asked, and Jack caught the uncertainty under the teasing glint in his eye.

“I want it all,” Jack whispered, leaning in and kissing Ianto, long and hard.  When he pulled back, both were a bit breathless.  “But what about you?”

***

Chapter Text

“What about me?” Ianto looked confused.

“I can’t mark you.”

Ianto smiled.  “We both carry my mark.  Once you accepted it, its twin appeared on me.”  He turned his head so Jack could see.

Jack reached out and reverently stroked the mark on Ianto’s neck with two fingers, delighted by the little shiver the contact elicited.  He vaguely wondered if the mark itself was sensitive, or if Ianto was just enjoying Jack’s touch.  “And only we can see it?”

“It’s up to you.  I would like for mine to show, but not if you don’t want that.”

“You can control it?”

“So can you, now.”

Jack blinked.  He loved the idea of his skin finally having a mark on it, after all this time.  Particularly this mark.  He hoped he could learn how to let it show, as Ianto seemed confident he could.  He wanted everyone to know they belonged to one another. 

It had been so long… so long since Jack belonged anywhere.  He’d had tastes of belonging, with Lucia and Melissa, before Lucia’s vanity caused her to resent his immortality so ruthlessly.  And Estelle… dear Estelle.  And Sarah, his wife.  But he had lost them all, and trying to hold onto them was like trying to catch the morning fog in his hands.  To a devastating degree, he had given up.  Which was why he had treated Ianto so terribly.  Part of it was because he was so out of practice.  But part of it was because his heart wanted one thing (so much) and his head knew better than to try.  He could see it all so clearly, now.

It was like a breath of fresh air, this new clarity.  He knew it was the change – the reshaping of his mind.  But it felt good.  For so long, he had been fighting the feeling of too many memories.  Too much time for his mind to process.  It had started to feel like wearing shoes that pinch.  But now, it felt like there was room for everything – and there always would be.  It was liberating.  He felt like he might be able to survive all of this with his wits intact.  Hell, it might even be fun, with someone by his side…

With Ianto by his side.

He grinned.

“You look like a mad thing, grinning like that,” Ianto chuckled.

“I feel like maybe I could be happy,” Jack said, his words cautious. 

Ianto caressed his face.  “It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it?

“You too?” Jack asked.

“Jophiel, Azrael, and Tamiel gave me a human life because my grief had become too much.”  At Jack’s concerned look of curiosity, Ianto explained how losing Tarran had been too much for him.  She had been the only thing keeping him from despair over the loss of connection with his FATHER.  So he had buried his grief and tried to simply punish himself by going to war.  He admitted that he refused to sleep at all during his deployment.  No one had noticed, and he was still able to function, but by the time he returned home, exhaustion claimed him. 

Jack made a sound of horror when Ianto confessed that he had simply crawled into an abandoned mine shaft and slept, and then went back for more when Britain joined the second world war.  He hesitated before describing the day his unit found the camp.  How his tenuous hold on… well, everything… slipped.  How his anguish had levelled the camp and killed the guards who had surrendered to them, even as the prisoners and his fellow soldiers were protected.  How his friends had made everyone forget and then made him sleep.

“Have you still not grieved for her?” Jack asked, his voice gentle.

“No, I did.  The war, and the punishment, and the exhaustion, and then war again…  And then I slept for almost four decades, but I didn’t sleep the whole time.  I mourned a lot, actually, though it wasn’t all about her.  I just didn’t have it in me to leave that mine shaft.  So I let them make me forget.  I welcomed it.

“You knew?” Jack asked.  “Did they realize?”

“I don’t think so.  Doesn’t matter, really.”

“They’re good friends.”

“They really are,” Ianto smiled fondly.

“So…  Are you okay, now?”

Ianto nodded.  “Most of the issue was the… the pointlessness of it all.  I didn’t know my purpose, so I was just drifting.  And yes, I was tired of losing my loves.  But even more so was the… the hole in my heart.”

“From falling?” Jack asked, his voice gentle.  “Why?”

Ianto struggled to describe how feeling bereft of the ALMIGHTY’s presence affected those who were fallen or cast out.  He must have succeeded in describing his pain, because Jack pulled him into a warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Ianto,” he said, his voice tearful.  “I can’t even imagine.”  From his own observations, he could tell how much that connection defined each of the angels.  To lose that…  He couldn’t imagine how painful it must have been for Ianto, to lose so much of what had previously defined him.

Ianto realized that Jack had been unconscious for a very important part of the story, though.  With tears of joy, he told Jack about no longer being fallen, and about the new connection that had been forged.

“I know my purpose, Jack.  And I know why my life was so hard, for so long.  And now I can feel HIS presence, whenever I wish.  I…” he beamed, and Jack knew he had never seen anything so beautiful.

“You feel like maybe you could be happy?” Jack asked.

Ianto nodded, his eyes shining.

“What else did I miss?” Jack asked, half joking.

“Tamiel isn’t a demon anymore,” Ianto said, smiling.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Jack said, looking relieved.  When Ianto raised an eyebrow, he added, “He really was rubbish at being a demon, wasn’t he?”

Ianto threw his head back and laughed.  “He was.  But remember, demons aren’t what humans think they are.”

“Yeah, I caught that,” Jack said.  “But still.”

Ianto grinned.  “He’s fallen, now.  But he has the same connection.”

“Think he’d like a job?”

Ianto raised an eyebrow.  That didn’t sound like a bad idea.  After all, they were tougher than humans.  Might be handy…

“Think Owen can deal with him flirting with Tosh?” he asked, a glint of humor in his eye.

“You caught that?”

“I was trying not to scream in agony.  Any distraction was welcome.”

Jack took Ianto’s hand and kissed his knuckles.  It was too soon to joke about that.

“Sorry,” Ianto looked sheepish.

“You’re all right, now,” Jack said, feeling giddy with relief and love and joy and all sorts of feelings he wasn’t used to.

Then he thought of something Ianto had said, just before the battle with Abaddon.  “You made the faeries fight, because they killed Estelle?”

A look of wrath and rage flashed across Ianto’s face.  “She fell under my protection.  And they killed her, just to menace you.”

Jack blinked.  “Wow.  You’re really angry about that, aren’t you?”

“I declared myself the guardian of the land – of Wales.  And the land accepted the promise.”

“The land is sentient?” Jack frowned.

“Of course,” Ianto said, apparently amused by Jack’s confusion.  Then he went on as though Jack hadn’t interrupted.  “And as guardian of the land, I am also the protector of all who walk upon it.  They attacked Estelle, who fell under my protection.  I was well within my rights, to seek redress.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, his voice quiet.  “I mean, I know you didn’t do that for me, but…”

“But that was a bonus,” Ianto replied quietly.  “I am glad I was able to make them pay, in some small way.  I know she meant a lot to you.”

Jack pulled him close and they held onto one another for a while.

“So what now?” Jack asked, pulling away and looking around them.  There was still a great glow from the dais, and he could not look in that direction without feeling dizzy and blinded.  And there were some angels wandering to and fro, going about their business, but not paying the bed in the middle of the room or its occupants any mind.

“More sleep, please,” Ianto replied.  “You know facing the team when we get back will be exhausting.”

“True,” Jack smiled.  “And it’s no hardship, holding you.”  He tried not to worry when Ianto fell asleep as soon as he lay his head back on Jack’s chest.

***

When Ianto next woke, the neurotransmitters Raphael had released for pain relief had worn off.  He felt as though his brain was too large for his skull and Abaddon’s claw was still lodged in his torso. 

“Mmff,” he muttered, then coughed.

Big mistake.

His hand clutched his chest, and he could not squelch the pained groan that escaped him.

“Ianto?” Jack shifted slightly, having only just wakened, himself. 

Ianto’s hand moved from his chest to his head.  He raised up onto his elbow and held his head in both hands, making a small, keening sort of sound.

Jack looked around frantically, but before he could call out for help, Raphael was next to Ianto.

“Peace, Brother,” the archangel said, likely thinking his tone was soothing, but missing the mark, in Jack’s opinion.  It sounded more like he was ordering Ianto to be quiet.  But Jack didn’t have to like Raphael’s tone, as long as he helped Ianto.

Raphael placed a hand on the back of Ianto’s head, then another on his shoulder, encouraging him onto his back.  Jack rolled with him, sensing his angel’s reluctance to let him go.  Once Ianto was on his back, Raphael took his head in both hands and closed his eyes. 

“The damage you did to your own mindscape in fighting Manut was extensive.  There is a great deal of inflammation and irritation.  It will likely be uncomfortable, for some time.  But I can help soothe some of it.”

After a few moments, he let go of Ianto’s head, placing it with surprising gentleness onto the pillow.  Then he ran his hand down Ianto’s bare chest, causing Jack to experience an unusual jolt of jealousy.  He tamped it down, but made note to circle back to it.

“You have healed well, but you will be tired and sore and weak, probably for some few weeks, as time is measured on Earth.  I can show your mate how to release the neurotransmitters that will help with the pain.”  He looked at Jack, who nodded.

It took a few tries, but once Jack had the knack, he was able to help settle Ianto’s pain with a gentle touch.  Once his pain was taken care of, Ianto fell back to sleep.

“You should rest, as well,” Raphael advised.  “The changes to your mind may feel pleasant and expansive, but there was still a significant restructuring that took place.  It will take a bit of time for it to settle, and rest will help.”

Jack nodded.  He did feel tired, in a way he had not felt, before.  And so, despite the fact that he just woke up, he snuggled up to his mate (he really was stupidly thrilled at the idea) and fell asleep, once more.

***

The third time they woke, they were both deemed well enough mended to return to Cardiff.  Both were glad to be going home, though Ianto was still tired and weak, and neither was looking forward to the inevitable confrontations with the team.

Before they left, there was another conversation about the mark.  The two marks would forge a bond between them, and over time, it would grow.  Empathy would be almost immediate.  Telepathy would develop, over time.  At the moment, they could hardly stand to be out of sight of one another.  That would ease, as the bond solidified, but in the meantime, they would need to figure out how to navigate it.

After embracing Azrael and Jophiel and shaking Raphael’s hand, Ianto took Jack’s hand and they blurred from sight, appearing in the next moment in the hub.  Toshiko was working on reassembling some of the systems, and she was the first to spot them.  She ran past Gwen, who looked around, confused, and threw her arms around Jack, who had stepped in front of Ianto, knowing he wasn’t up to catching Tosh in an embrace that was more flying tackle than hug.

Once he released her, she stepped to Ianto a bit more tentatively.  Ianto opened his arms to her, and she moved into them, hugging him gently.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she enthused, stepping back and looking closely at him.  “But are you all right?”

He didn’t have the chance to answer, as Owen stepped up to Jack next, his face troubled.

“I…”

“I forgive you,” Jack said, his voice gentle.

Owen fell into Jack’s arms, weeping.  He knew that he was largely responsible for the success of Bilis Manger’s plans.  He was responsible for raising Abaddon.  They all were, really, but if not for the momentum of his anger and resentment, the plan wouldn’t necessarily have succeeded.  But mostly, he had shot Jack, not realizing that his leader was immortal.  He had murdered Jack.  It had him all twisted up inside, and Jack’s forgiveness went a long way towards healing that pain.

When he finally stepped away from Jack, Owen turned towards Ianto with something akin to relief.  Ianto had fought Abaddon.  He had cleaned up their mess.

As per, really.

Buy try as he might, he couldn’t joke about this.  About the teaboy just doing his job.  Apparently, Ianto was just as immortal as Jack, but he had been willing to sacrifice that in order to save them all.

Owen offered his hand to Ianto, saying, “Gonna have to look you over, you know.”

Behind him, Gwen hurled herself into Jack’s arms, bleating about how she had been beside herself with worry and casting daggered looks at Ianto.

“I probably won’t be fit for duty for a few weeks,” Ianto said, ignoring Gwen’s looks but beginning to get cross at how she was pawing at Jack.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Tosh asked, her arm still around Ianto.

“Can we sit?” Ianto asked.  He had gone another shade paler and looked haggard.

Jack extricated himself from Gwen’s hold and turned back to Ianto, fussing over him like a mother hen.  He took Ianto’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around the angel’s waist, just above Tosh’s arm.  Together, they supported Ianto and got him to the sofa by Jack’s office.

Gwen did not look pleased, but she followed after Owen.  They all sat, Jack and Ianto on the sofa, with Toshiko perched on the arm next to Ianto and Gwen and Owen rolling chairs over.  Jack asked how long they had been gone.  It had been two days.  Jack looked at Ianto, frowning.

“It didn’t seem like two days, there,” he said.

“Heaven is sort of timeless,” Ianto replied.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Owen objected as Gwen scoffed and rolled her eyes.  “Heaven?”

“It’s not what you think,” Ianto said.  “The religions and mythologies have it all twisted about.  Heaven isn’t normally a place that humans go.  It’s not the afterlife.  It’s just where the CREATOR and the angels live.”

“Oh, is that all?” Owen deadpanned.

“It seemed like longer than two days,” Jack said.

Ianto shrugged.  “It was as long as we needed it to be.”

“You’re going to be all vague and cryptic now, aren’t you?” Owen asked.

Ianto shrugged again. 

“So why didn’t you tell us you were an alien, Ianto?” Gwen asked, her voice hard.  “What else are you hiding from us?”

“Gwen,” Jack tried to keep his temper in check, but it was a struggle. 

“It’s all right, Jack,” Ianto put a hand on Jack’s thigh, and no one missed the intimacy of the gesture.  He turned to Gwen.  “As Tamiel already explained, angels are not aliens.  We are creatures outside of time and space.  But occasionally, some of us choose to leave Heaven and live on this plane.”

“Choose?” Gwen snorted.  “They said you were fallen.  Sounded to me like they kicked you out of there.  You betray them, too?”

Ianto flinched, and Jack practically snarled at Gwen.  “He fell as a part of the ALMIGHTY’s plan.  So he could find his purpose, here.”

“His purpose?” Tosh asked, looking at Ianto curiously.

“Jack,” Ianto said, blushing.  “I was created to help Jack bear his immortality.”

Gwen looked momentarily gobsmacked, but recovered quickly.  “Doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell us what you were.”

“He didn’t remember,” Jack said, then explained how Ianto’s friends had helped him to forget, so he could have a human lifetime as a comfort, after losing his wife and the travails of war.

“Ironically, it was their interference that led me to meeting Jack,” Ianto smiled at his beloved, looking thoroughly besotted, and receiving an equally smitten look, in return.

“Whoa,” Owen’s eyes grew wide.

“Get used to it,” Jack warned, the warmth in his eyes flaring into something more challenging as he turned to look at Owen, then Gwen.  “I only knew I couldn’t stay dead.  I didn’t know why, or how, or anything.  So I pushed people away.  And Manger took advantage of my… exasperation that Ianto was beating all my defenses.  But now, I have my answers.”  He smiled at Ianto again.  “And my very own angel.”

He leaned forward and kissed Ianto on the forehead, the gesture reverent.

“You really expect us to believe that you didn’t know that you were an ali…” Gwen hesitated at Jack’s snarl.  “A whatever you are?”

“An angel,” Ianto replied calmly.  His human self would definitely have started to get frustrated with Gwen’s doggedness, by this point.

“A fallen angel, right?” she smirked.  “C’mon.  What’d you do?  Must’ve been pretty bad.”

“I saved my human lover before the Angel of Death could take her,” Ianto explained.  “He took me before the Council, thinking the penalty would be minor.  But I fell.  And I ended up here.  Married Rhan.  I’ve lived here, ever since.”

“And now,” Jack prompted, smiling proudly.

“And now,” Ianto returned his smile, “I am no longer fallen.”

“Oh, Ianto, that’s wonderful!” Tosh smiled and hugged him.

“How do you un-fall?” Owen asked.

“HE declared it to be so,” Ianto replied.

“How do we get in touch with Tamiel?” Jack asked.

“Whoa.  What?” Owen asked.

“He’s no longer a demon.  He’s fallen now, but mostly because the others would be resistant to welcoming him back into Heaven,” Ianto explained.  Then he turned to Jack.  “You want to speak with him now?”

“No time like the present,” Jack grinned.

“Why are you so happy?” Owen groused.

“I changed my mind,” Jack said.

“Great.  They’re both going to be vague and cryptic, now.”  Owen looked from one to the other, and frowned at how rough Ianto was looking.  “You all right, mate?”

“Tired,” Ianto admitted.  He was starting to hurt, as well, but maybe he could persuade Jack to let him have a nap, soon.

“You want to lie down?” Jack asked, instantly solicitous.

“We can talk to Tamiel first, if you’d like.”

“What do you want to talk to him about?” Owen asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Seems like he’d be a good addition to the team,” Jack answered, still looking at Ianto.  “How’re the pain levels?”

“Jack, I’m SIC,” Gwen jumped in.  “You should run staffing decisions by me, first.  And I have serious concerns about allowing – and keeping – non-humans onto the team.”

Jack turned his head slowly to look at Gwen.  “You’re what, now?”

“Don’t be daft, Gwen.  Second-in-command goes to the most senior officer,” Owen snorted.  “That’s… Ianto, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at Jack, who was staring at Gwen as if seeing her, for the first time.

“No, Suzie was second-in-command.  I was hired to replace her, so SIC was part of the deal.”

Jack blinked.  In a flash, he could see all the ways his favoritism had fostered this little misconception, and now it would be a hell of a thing, to fix.  He looked at Ianto, who just raised an eyebrow.  Clearly, his mate had doubts that he would fix this. 

Well. 

Time to fix this, then.

***

Chapter Text

“Your employment paperwork does not say that, Gwen.  And I know I never told you any of that.  Where is this coming from?”

“But…” her eyes grew wide as she realized he wasn’t doing that teasing banter thing that she loved so much.  “But you said I was to take Suzie’s place on the team.”

“As a field agent, yes.  As SIC?  No way.  You have no experience.  I knew I could train you up, for field work.  But the SIC has to know Torchwood protocols and procedures, inside and out.  Participate in meetings and take care of the paperwork.  No way you could do that, not having moved up through the ranks of Torchwood.” 

Owen stared at her.  “What, did you just think it was an extra title, a bit of extra power to throw around, lording it over the rest of us, without any additional work?”  He let out an evil chuckle.  “You did, didn’t you?  That’s exactly what you thought!  And judging by the amount of paperwork teaboy gets through, and the number of meetings he attends with Jack…”

“He has seniority,” Jack explained.  “He tried to turn it down, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Yeah, he was too busy with the cyberwoman in the basement,” Gwen snarled.  “Jack, how could you let him be SIC, after what he did?”

“Following that logic, why would I let you be SIC, after what you’ve done?”

“What did I do?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

“Uhhh,” Owen said, drawing out that single syllable.  “Mutiny?”

“That was for Rhys!” she protested.  “I was tricked!”

“Yeah, and what makes you so special, that you get to open the rift to save your boyfriend, but you’re like a dog with a bone, about Ianto trying to save his girlfriend?”

Ianto was staring at Owen like he was a stranger.  Where was this coming from?

“That’s different,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Owen shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Enough!” Jack thundered.  “Tosh, since once again Torchwood Operative Cooper will not believe the word of her superior officer, please pull employment records for Gwen and Ianto.  Show Gwen her offer letter, which is for the field agent position, and makes no mention of second-in-command.  And show her the offer letter to Ianto, with the same date, promoting him to SIC.  Redact personal information, though.”

“On it,” Tosh turned to her computer.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten the xenophobic portion of your little rant,” Jack warned.

“But Jack!”  Gwen paled, realizing Jack wasn’t playing.

“Pain level?” Jack turned away from her and asked Ianto again.

“Seven,” Ianto whispered, looking a little grey.

Jack traced his fingers over Ianto’s brow.  “Maybe you should rest, before we talk to Tamiel.”

Ianto struggled to keep his eyes open.  “Need to… wings.”

“Are they hurting?” Jack asked, looking around. 

“Like a toothache,” Ianto mumbled, unable to describe the miserable ache where the delicate bones had been broken.

Jack spotted Owen.  “Is the recovery room set up?”

“Yeah,” Owen answered.  “Clean sheets, and everything.”

Jack rose and began guiding Ianto towards the room that had been kitted out with a bed and medical equipment, for when anyone injured needed to rest before being sent home.  “We’ll need a couple of camp beds, as well.”

“What for?”

“I doubt he’ll want his wings dragging on the floor,” Jack replied, noticing that he was taking more and more of Ianto’s weight.  “Just a little further, Angel,” he soothed.

“I’ll help get the room ready,” Tosh offered, rushing ahead.

“C’mon, Gwen.  Help me grab a couple of camp beds,” Owen plucked her sleeve.  When she started to refuse, he added, “Look, I know you have your suspicions, and you’re disappointed that Jack’s made his choice, but I don’t think you want to see Ianto suffer, do you?”

Gwen had begun to puff up at Owen’s speech, but then she deflated.  Owen was right.  Ianto had almost died, fighting the demon that she had helped raise.  She couldn’t begrudge him the rest he needed to recuperate from the ordeal.  And judging by the looks he and Jack were giving one another, she’d never even stood a chance.  Just as well.  She really did love Rhys.  She just needed to start acting like it.

It did sting a bit, finding out she wasn’t SIC, but she realized that her assumptions had been deeply flawed.  She also realized that it was more than okay.  She certainly didn’t want to do all of that paperwork, and sit through those mind-numbing meetings.

Owen had told her where to get the camp beds and went to look Ianto over.  So she was the last to join them and was a bit surprised to see Jack stripped down to his pants, sitting on the bed beside Ianto (also in his pants) as Owen looked him over.

She was mildly surprised.  Granted, she hadn’t seen Ianto shirtless before, but she was fairly certain he hadn’t been quite so…  She couldn’t find the word.  She remembered the wings and assumed they must have been quite heavy, because his physique showed off the core strength that would be required to stay upright, with all that weight attached to his back.

And he was preternaturally pale.  Not the pasty kind of pale so common in her countrymen, and not the blue kind of pale that some fair-skinned people showed.  No, his skin was a beautiful alabaster that almost glowed.  He didn’t look unhealthy; he looked other-worldly.  The contrast between his pale skin and dark hair was almost stark.  And his eyes stood out even more.

But gone was the uncertain, tormented young man.  This creature that Ianto had become… had turned out to be… was beautiful and wise and joyful.  Ianto had always seemed to carry a natural calm, but now it showed itself to be a serenity borne of knowing one’s place in the universe.  And clearly, of knowing one’s place in the heart of one’s beloved.

She shook her head.  No, she’d never stood a chance with Jack.  Not the way he was returning the love and joy that Ianto was almost radiating.  She took a deep breath and set down the camp beds, resolving to stop letting her jealousy alienate those around her.  It was time to let Jack go. 

“And they healed everything?” Owen was asking.  At Ianto’s nod, he asked, “Do you know what the injuries were?”

“Pretty much what you’d expect,” Jack replied, reaching out for Ianto’s hand.  “Raphael’s assistant told me that angels have pretty much the same physiology as humans.”

“I believe you mean, humans have pretty much the same physiology as angels,” Ianto corrected, the soft smile on his face doing nothing to soften the haggard expression of pain and exhaustion.

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Jack grinned.

“So based on the position and size of the wound,” Owen began, ignoring the banter, “the right lobe of your liver was probably obliterated.  And at least two lobes of your right lung.  Probably gall bladder.  Significant damage to stomach and colon…”  He winced.  “You were impaled on that thing… what was it?”

“The claw from Abaddon’s left forefinger,” Ianto shivered and curled into Jack’s side.

“Jesus,” Owen muttered.

“What’s with the tattoos?” Gwen asked, curious.  “I don’t remember them.”

“They were covered up by the glamor that made me look human,” Ianto replied. 

She frowned at the ink, thinking it looked vaguely familiar.  “So is that an angel thing, then?”

“No,” he shook his head, slumping into Jack, who had put an arm around him and was now pretty much holding him up.  “Rhan gave them to me.”  At their blank looks, he added, “My first wife.”

“The one you saved,” Toshiko said.  When Ianto nodded, she asked, “When was that, Ianto?”

“The Battle of Caer Caradoc,” he replied.  “In the year 50.”

Owen whistled as Toshiko stared, surprised.  Gwen just shook her head, not sure if she believed him.

“This one is new,” Toshiko pointed to the Serch Bythol on his neck.  “It wasn’t there, before.  In the alley.”

Jack lifted his chin, and Tosh was the first one to clock the mate of Ianto’s mark on Jack’s neck.  Her eyes grew wide and she looked from one to the other.

“What?” Owen asked, following her gaze.  He let out a bark of laughter when he saw it.  “Really?  Matching tattoos?  What are you, a couple of kids?”

“These aren’t tattoos,” Jack grinned.  “Ianto blessed me before he went to face Abaddon.  He left this mark, which became permanent when I accepted it.  And when I did, its mate appeared on him, as well.”

Tosh continued to stare.  She grinned at Ianto, realizing the significance of what Jack had just said.  He returned her smile warmly.

“Yeah, whatever,” Owen said.  “You were saying your pain level was pretty high,” he said to Ianto.  “You want something?”

Ianto shook his head.  “Jack took care of it.  But I’m fading, fast.”

“C’mon, then,” Jack said, his voice gentle.  He lay down on his back and grinned, opening his arms to welcome Ianto.  “Go ahead and let out your wings, Angel.”

Ianto unselfconsciously draped himself over Jack, distributing most of his weight on his side and stomach.  Tosh pulled a blanket up to their waists, then they all stepped back.  In the next moment, Ianto’s wings unfurled.  He shimmied next to Jack, shifting so the way he was lying would not interfere with any of his wing joints. 

He was lying on his right side.  He gently lifted his right wings and allowed Owen and Tosh to guide them around so they were draped comfortably across two of the camp beds.  Likewise, his left wings draped over Jack to rest on a third camp bed on the other side of their bed.

With the camp beds taking most of the weight of his wings, he was able to stretch them somewhat, and rest them comfortably.  He snuggled into Jack’s chest and was almost immediately asleep.

Jack kissed the top of Ianto’s head as the angel settled against him with a happy sigh.  He smiled fondly and then looked up to see the others staring.

“What?”

“Just wondering what the angle is,” Owen shrugged.  “You’re awfully keen, all of a sudden.”

“You don’t understand,” Jack said, his voice quiet.

“Then explain, because it seems like you’re running some sort of con on him,” Owen hissed.

“I love him,” Jack confessed, and Owen blinked.  Gwen hid a wince but couldn’t keep the frown from her face.  Toshiko beamed happily at him.

“Since when?” Owen asked, his voice slightly less challenging.  He was beginning to realize how guilty he felt for how he had treated Ianto. 

“For a long time, now,” Jack shifted slightly, finding it strange to be talking to them while he was flat on his back.  “But I thought he was mortal.  Knew that I wasn’t.  Knew I’d lose him, so I tried to keep him at arm’s length, so it wouldn’t hurt as much, when I did.”

“And then Bilis Manger began manipulating all of us,” Toshiko nodded as though piecing it all together as they spoke.

“Yes.  It wasn’t until Abaddon was raised that I realized what had been going on.  I hurt him so much,” he whispered, “and I know I still have to make up for that.  But he thought he was going to die, and he marked me.  And I accepted the mark, at the soul level.  So now we’re… bonded.”

“What does that mean?” Gwen blurted.

“It means that once he’s well enough, I’ll start making it up to him, for all the things I did to make him doubt me.  Once he trusts me, we’ll talk about making it a bit more official, though if I understand it correctly, the bond will begin to grow, all on its own.”

“Grow,” Owen said.  “How?”

“There’s already a bit of an empathic link between us.  Next to grow will likely be telepathy.”

“And affection?” Tosh asked, smiling impishly.

“That’s already there,” Jack returned her smile.

“I’m so glad, Jack,” Tosh said.  “You two were so happy before, when you weren’t overthinking things.”

“What do you mean?” Owen asked, turning to her.

“Jack and Ianto have been together for a while, now.  You were just too busy carrying on with Gwen to notice anything else,” Tosh said, and Owen colored, slightly.

“Right,” Owen said, looking awkward.  “Let’s leave them to sleep.  They both look exhausted.”

As they left the room, Owen dimmed the lights.  Jack closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of the cool body in his arms.  He’d always run warm – likely because of the vortex – so the fact that angels seemed to have a slightly cooler body temperature was both interesting and comforting.  Like Ianto balanced him out, somehow.  His skin felt delicious against Jack’s.

And any concern that Jack might catch a chill was assuaged by the silken feathers draped over him.  They were beautiful, and now Jack had got his wish – to feel them against his naked skin.  It felt decadent and gorgeous.  He knew he was going to be addicted.

It would take some getting used to, of course.  He hardly knew where to put his hand, at the moment, not wanting to disturb any of the wing joints that now made Ianto’s back somewhat inaccessible.  But as his angel slept, he explored what he could reach, mapping out the new terrain with gentle touches.

Ianto snuffled closer to him in his sleep, and Jack left off, for the moment.  Wouldn’t do, to disturb his lover’s sleep.  But he couldn’t wait to explore Ianto’s true form.  He knew Ianto would likely glamor his wings away, most of the time.  But he hoped the wings would come out on special occasions.  He really wanted to feel them wrapped around him – preferably as Ianto loved on him.

He deliberately left off from those thoughts, shifting before he grew uncomfortable.  There’d be plenty of time, to learn and play.  And wasn’t that a kick in the head?  They would have all the time there was, to live and laugh and love together.

It was with that thought that Jack drifted off, a happy smile gracing his lips.

***

When Ianto woke, it was to a feeling of warmth and joy, and he realized that his bond with Jack was beginning to take shape. 

“Good morning, Angel,” Jack murmured, pulling him just a bit closer.

“Morning?” Ianto didn’t mean for it to be a question.  He didn’t open his eyes, which were covered by his top wing.  He shifted it enough to pry one eye open and look at Jack, who was smiling at him.

“It’s a bit after eight.  We slept for sixteen hours.  Guess we’re still healing.”

“Mmmf,” Ianto didn’t even try to reply.  His wing covered his face again and he burrowed back into the heat of Jack’s chest, tightening his grip.  He felt Jack’s amusement, followed closely by concern.

“Hey.  You all right?  How’s the pain?  Are you really still tired, or just being your usual ‘morning person’ self?”

Well.  Ianto couldn’t let Jack worry.  “I could sleep more, but it won’t speed up the process, really,” he replied, deciding to be verbal, after all.  He folded back the wing, and made to withdraw the middle and lower wings from where they had been draped over Jack, but a gentle hand stayed him. 

He smiled.  He’d been worried Jack might not like the wings, but clearly that had been a foolish concern.  Jack was stroking Ianto’s left middle wing with one hand and was rubbing his back with the other, exploring where the wings joined with his back. 

It should have been a normal touch.  Like Jack touching his elbow, or something equally mundane.  There was no reason for it to be so erotic.  And yet…

Ianto arched into Jack’s touch, letting out an aroused hum.  Jack shifted slightly so he could kiss Ianto, then nibbled along his jaw until he got to that creamy neck.  He absently noticed that Ianto had no growth of beard but then became distracted as he began to kiss the mark on Ianto’s neck.

Their mark.

Jack’s shiver was an echo of Ianto’s.  With the bond growing, he could feel Ianto’s arousal from a bit of a distance, but this reaction was more intense.  More visceral.  Never one to be afraid of experimenting in order to learn more, Jack licked the mark, and heard Ianto gasp as a jolt of heat lanced through Jack’s body.

Wow.

Seemed each mark was a shared erogenous zone.

Ianto surged forward and began lapping at Jack’s mark, and they both moaned in response.  Heat pooled low in Jack’s belly, and he felt Ianto’s arousal against his hip.  His own hips moved against Ianto’s as he threw back his head to give Ianto better access to his neck.  He felt the wet heat of his lover’s tongue and the sharp insistence of his teeth, and each contact against his mark caused another wave of arousal to course through him.

Ianto’s labored breathing told him that his lover was just as affected, the sympathy of their burgeoning empathic bond leaving him hard, his cock weeping through his pants.  Jack lowered his chin and kissed Ianto, pouring all his love and desire into his angel. 

When they parted, breathing hard, Jack took his turn and sank his teeth into the mark on Ianto’s neck.  Ianto let out a broken cry, and Jack came untouched as the wave of lust and need crashed over him, met with equal force by the flood of love and completion that washed over him immediately after.

They lay there in one another’s arms for a moment, trembling and trying to remember which way was up.

“What the hell was that?” Jack asked, pulling away from Ianto, slightly.

“The marks might be a bit sensitive,” Ianto deadpanned.

“You think?”

Ianto chuckled.  “Bit of a feedback loop, apparently.  Built up pretty fast.”

“Is it just when we touch each other’s mark?” Jack asked.  He put a hand up to his own neck, and did not feel any sort of reactivity.

Ianto, who had done the same, reached out and stroked a finger down Jack’s mark.  Jack shivered violently, eliciting a sympathetic tremble in Ianto.

“Okay,” Jack grinned.  “Noted.”

It was like a happy button on Ianto that only Jack could push.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Ianto returned Jack’s grin, his thoughts pretty much taking the same path.  He stood, and unselfconsciously peeled off his pants, then used them to mop the mess from his abdomen before tossing them into the bin.

Jack stood and did the same, then drew Ianto into his arms for a kiss.  For long, delicious moments they just stood there in their altogether, drinking deeply but without the intention of it going any further.  Jack could sense Ianto’s persisting fatigue, and despite their recent discoveries and explorations, he knew that Ianto was not yet ready for more.  He had forgiven Jack, but he was only just beginning to believe in Jack’s regard for him, and he still needed to mend from the previous week that had been so hurtful.

Jack had one hand in Ianto’s hair and the other clutched the angel’s shoulder blade.  Ianto’s hands were roving over Jack’s back, and Jack’s knees went a bit week as he felt Ianto’s middle wings fold tightly around them.  The lower wings followed suit, and the top set hid their faces and heads.  Ianto’s wingspans were such that each set could encompass them both.

When Owen walked in to check on them, the room smelled of sex and all he could see was a large, feathered cocoon encasing both men.  He could only confirm it was both of them by the number of feet and Jack’s soft murmurings that Owen had no interest in attending.

“Oi!” he called out.  “Enough of that.  I need to check you both over.”

The wings slowly unwound, and Jack stepped away, completely naked and grinning dopily.  Owen chuckled, because clearly their leader was completely besotted.  Ianto wasn’t much better, though thankfully at least he was wearing his pants.  Owen tactfully ignored the state of both men, who had clearly been enjoying their morning snog.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Jack complained.

“What?” Ianto asked innocently.

“You can just glamor clothes on?”

Ianto grinned.  “Matter of fact…”

Jack looked a bit put out, though truth be told it wasn’t so much that Ianto could glamor himself un-naked; it was that he did.

“And furthermore,” Ianto chuckled as his wings folded in close to his body before disappearing altogether.

Now Jack was full-on pouting.  But the playful expression quickly turned to concern.  “I thought they were less sore, when you could stretch them out.”

“They’re fine, Jack.”

“They’re mended, right?” Owen asked.

“Yes, but he told me last night that they ache terribly, especially when they’re hidden.”

“Only after a while,” Ianto smiled gently.  “It’s worse when I’m tired.  But they’re okay, for now.”

“Are you sure?”

Owen would have thought Jack just wanted the wings out all the time, if his concern for Ianto’s pain wasn’t so plainly written all over his face.

“I’m fine, my Love,” Ianto leaned over and kissed Jack on the cheek, and was drawn into another embrace.

Owen felt as though he was intruding, which naturally annoyed him.  “Oi!”

Ianto stepped away from Jack and sent Owen an unrepentant grin before looking around for his clothes, which Toshiko had folded and left on one of the chairs.  He pulled them on and then looked at them, frowning.  They were the denims and long-sleeved blue Henley top he had glamored on before they left Heaven.  He decided not to change until he could have a shower, though.

Jack smirked at him, knowing the frown was because Ianto hated putting on stale clothes.

Owen ignored the exchange and scanned Ianto, asking about pain levels and getting him to move around a bit.  To the extent that he believed Ianto’s organs were pretty much the same as human, everything looked to be in really good shape, but there was something he could detect but not define that was contributing to the soreness and fatigue. 

He supposed it was a small price to pay, given the massive, gaping hole that had been in Ianto’s torso, just three days before.  But he didn’t want Ianto to be in any discomfort, if he could help it.  He began muttering to himself about going soft, but he really was relieved. 

“I’ll be fine,” Ianto reassured him as he frowned at the scanner.  “It’s residual pain from the wounds.  A lot of it is what you would call psychosomatic, or even psychic pain, because it takes the mind a while to catch up to the body when this sort of healing has taken place.”

“Never mind the damage the bastard did, when he invaded your mind,” Jack said.

“That’s what’s causing the fatigue, I think,” Ianto nodded.

“Well, come on out.  Gwen, Tosh, and I are going to make a coffee run,” Owen eyed Ianto, “unless your healing skills extend to the coffee machine.”

Ianto laughed.  “Not today, I think.”

Jack looked sharply at him, then at Owen.  Ianto admitting he wasn’t up to scratch was unheard of.  Declining to help, particularly with coffee, was telling.

“Fair enough,” Owen nodded, glad Ianto was willing to pace himself, at least for the moment.  “You two try to behave, while we’re gone.”

***

Chapter Text

Owen and Tosh practically had to drag Gwen out.  Naturally, she wanted to talk to Jack.  But the other two very kindly ran interference and got her out of the hub.  He and Ianto just walked around, assessing damage.  Jack had his arm around Ianto’s waist, trying to both support him and stay close to him as the angel made lists of what would be needed for repairs.

Jack was nuzzling the soft skin behind Ianto’s ear when they heard it.  Ianto went still and Jack’s head jerked up.  He looked over to the hand-in-a-jar and it was vibrating like mad.

“Shit!” Jack exclaimed, grabbing the hand and bolting.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Ianto muttered, following closely behind.

Jack stuffed the jar in his go bag and ran across the Plass, Ianto holding the stitch in his side as he struggled to keep up.  Jack grabbed onto the TARDIS, which began to dematerialize no sooner than it had materialized.

Ianto reached out and touched the TARDIS, sensing her haste.

“Please stay,” he entreated, knowing her pilot was attempting to do a runner.  “It’s all right,” he soothed.  “It’s all right.  Please don’t run.  It’s not fair.  You’ll both have to face him, sooner or later.  Might as well get it over and done with, don’t you think?”

The dematerialization process ceased, and Jack stepped back, gasping for breath.  He watched as Ianto stroked the side of the box and cooed to her, telling her everything was all right.  No need to panic, no need to run.  It would only feel strange until she got used to it…

Used to what?

Jack frowned as the door opened and a lovely young woman with lightly bronzed skin stepped out, speaking to someone over her shoulder.  “Well, clearly, she doesn’t agree that it’s time to take off.  Since she’s landed, we might as well explore.  Cardiff, right?  Oh!” she stopped short when she saw Jack and Ianto.  “Hello,” she smiled.

In a flash, Ianto was between Jack and the woman, pushing Jack back and looking angrily at her.  “Who the hell are you, and why are you wearing Addie’s face?”

“Ianto?” Jack placed a hand on Ianto’s shoulder.

“Martha?” the Doctor (presumably) stepped out of the TARDIS.

“The Cybermen killed her,” Ianto said, clearly rattled.  “WHO ARE YOU?” he shouted.

“Please,” Martha held both hands out in a calming gesture.  “My name is Martha Jones.  Adeola Oshodi was my cousin.  She died at Canary Wharf.”

“I know that,” Ianto spat.  “I was there, wasn’t I?”  He turned and stepped away from them, hands on his hips as he tried to calm himself.  “People really need to stop wearing other people’s faces,” he muttered.

Jack stared after him, worried.  But he could tell that Ianto just needed a moment, so he turned to Martha and gave her a megawatt smile.  ”Captain Jack Harkness.  Nice to meet you, Martha Jones.”

“Oh, don't start,” the Doctor griped.

“I was only saying hello,” Jack replied.

“I don't mind,” Martha smiled demurely.

Jack finally turned to the Doctor.  “Doctor.”

“Captain.”

“Good to see you,” Jack frowned at the Time Lord’s chilliness.

“And you,” the Doctor replied coolly. “Same as ever.”

Jack felt the earth shift beneath him.  Same as ever. 

Had the Doctor known?  Jack felt the bile rise in his throat as he realized the truth of it.  The Doctor hadn’t left him behind, by accident.  It had been on purpose.

“Although,” the Doctor continued to speak, as though he hadn’t just told Jack far more than he had intended, “have you had work done?”

“You can talk,” Jack snarked, trying to regain his equilibrium. 

“Oh yes, the face. Regeneration. How did you know this was me?”

Jack rolled his eyes.  “The police box kind of gives it away. I've been following you for a long time.”  He looked the Doctor dead in the eye.  “You abandoned me.”

“Did I? Busy life. Moving on.”

The sudden rumbling of the earth beneath their feat distracted them, so none of them noticed Ianto turning and striding back to them.  He grabbed the Doctor by the scruff of his neck and Jack by the elbow.  He shoved the Doctor into the TARDIS and pulled Jack in after them.  Martha quickly followed.

“How dare you,” Ianto snarled.  “It’s bad enough you did it, but to be so fucking flip about it?  Not acceptable.”

“Excuse me,” the Doctor griped.  “Who are you?”

“Ianto,” Jack said, in a warning tone.

Ianto rounded on him.  “What, Jack?  Three days ago, you were telling me you didn’t care if the Doctor showed up.  Today you’d be gone if I hadn’t chased after you and asked her not to run.”

“And since when do you listen to strangers?” the Doctor asked the TARDIS, annoyed.

Jack sucked in a breath.  Shit.  “You’re right.  That was…  That was just instinct, Ianto.”

Ianto reached out and grabbed Jack’s chin brusquely, turning his head.  “You reject it already, did you?”

Jack’s eyes widened.  “Of course not!” he said, feeling anger rising as Ianto looked to see if their mark was gone.  “I told you, I have my answers.  But…”

“But?” Ianto let go of Jack’s chin, not knowing whether to be happy or sad that the mark was still there.  Jack was just going to run.  After he’d said he…  “You know what?  Never mind.  Doesn’t matter.  Tamiel was right.  You’re just going to spend eternity taking me for granted, aren’t you?”

“What’s happening?” Martha asked the Doctor, looking confused.

“Lover’s quarrel,” he replied.  “It is Jack, after all.”

Ianto turned and glared at the Doctor, his eyes almost glowing with anger and pain.

“What are you?” the Doctor whispered.

“Ianto,” Jack took Ianto by the arm and turned him back so they were facing one another.  “You almost died, so I wouldn’t have to.  You marked me as yours, and I accepted your mark.  Look, I still have it!  Give me a little credit, will you?  I’m not leaving you.  But I need answers.  I need to know why he left.  And this?  It’s a time machine.  He could have brought me right back.”

“That’s not what would have happened,” Ianto said, slumping tiredly against the console.  “I…” he looked concerned.  “I might have messed up.”  He looked up.  “Jophiel?”

“Ianto, are you all right?” Jophiel rushed towards them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the Doctor exclaimed.  “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”

Jophiel just gave an amused look.  “You’re adorable.”  He turned back to Ianto.  “What’s happened?  You look…  Have you reinjured yourself?”

“What?” Jack looked startled.  His hands instinctively reached for Ianto.

“I’m fine, just too soon to be sprinting across the Plass,” Ianto waved away their concern.  “But I kept her from running, and I might have messed up the timelines.”

The Doctor looked around sharply, then let his eyes go out of focus.  He looked at the timelines.  Something had them humming, like the strings on a guitar having just been strummed.  But nothing seemed amiss.

Jophiel had closed his eyes, feeling the same timelines.  “You did change something, but none of it was fixed.  Actually,” he paused, frowning, “you prevented at least one paradox and have bailed this one out of several potential difficulties,” he hooked a thumb at the Doctor as he opened his eyes.  “You’re okay.”

Ianto gave a shaky nod.  “Thank you,” he said, letting out a breath.  “And thank you for coming.”

“Always, Brother,” Jophiel smiled.  “But I should get back.”  He clapped his hand on Ianto’s shoulder and disappeared.

“Wait!” the Doctor called out.  “How did he get in here?”  He looked at Ianto.  “You’re not human.  Who are you?”

Ianto turned to the Doctor and straightened his shirt.  “Ianto Jones, at your service.”

“They’re angels, Doctor,” Jack said.  He had an arm around Ianto and was watching him closely, not liking how pale and tired he looked, again.

The Doctor’s eyes widened.  He’d not met an angel, before.  Hadn’t really believed they existed.  “Angels,” he said, his voice disbelieving.

“Oh, he’s being an arse,” Jack chuckled, and then spoke over the Doctor’s huff of protest.  “Please show him?”  He smiled at Ianto.  “For me?”

“The things I do for you,” Ianto muttered, smiling at Jack as he allowed his wings to unfurl, once more.

Martha gasped and the Doctor took a half-step back, staring as Ianto turned around to face him.  He was back in what Jack assumed was his battle gear.  Those black and blue striped trousers, black combat boots, sword hanging by his side, shirtless, with those tattoos in full view, making Jack want to lick them.

The only thing that didn’t change was his hair.  It had stayed long until they returned to the hub the day before, and he had taken on his former appearance – not quite as pale, hair cropped short.  But now, while his skin was once more angel-pale, his hair was still short.

Jack wondered about these little details, but realized that Ianto was trying to decide how he was going to be, in the world.  No longer human, no longer bound to his human appearance, but likely wondering what would draw attention and what would not.  So he was experimenting with different looks.

And Jack was enjoying the hell out of it.  He grinned at Ianto, letting his angel know he approved.

Ianto flexed his wings, then drew them back in.  In the blink of an eye, he was wingless and dressed as before.  But this time, he had kept his angel skin. 

“Very nice,” Jack muttered, smiling.

“Thank you,” Ianto replied, looking at the Doctor with a raised eyebrow.

“Angel,” the Doctor nodded.  “Right.  Haven’t met any, before.  Just heard the myths.  You know how it is.”

“Of course,” Ianto said, his voice somewhere between friendly, accommodating, and deadpan.

The Doctor caught the sarcasm and he realized that he had just met two from a species previously unknown to him – one his own people had considered mythological.  And he had been faced with his own arrogance and hypocrisy, with one slightly raised eyebrow and a politely sarcastic rejoinder.

Martha watched in fascination as the Doctor silently ate a bit of humble pie.

Jack decided to take pity.  Well, a bit.  Mostly, he had questions.  “So Doctor.  Just got to ask.  The Battle of Canary Wharf.  I saw the list of the dead.  It said Rose Tyler.”

The Doctor’s face lit up.  “Oh, no!  Sorry, she's alive.”

“You're kidding,” Jack looked hopeful.

“Parallel world, safe and sound.  And Mickey, and her mother.”

“Oh, yes!” Jack exclaimed.  He strode forward and hugged the Doctor.

When they stopped hugging, the Doctor confessed, “She's gone, Jack.  She's not just living on a parallel world, she's trapped there.  The walls have closed.”

“I'm sorry,” Jack said, knowing how the Doctor had felt about Rose.

“Yeah.”

“I went back to her estate, in the nineties.  Just once or twice.  Watched her growing up.  Never said hello.  Timelines and all that.”

“Good old Rose,” Martha muttered as Jack and the Doctor commiserated.

“Yeah,” Ianto huffed.  “I came here from One, and they all treated me like shite, because of Canary Wharf.  Him especially, because his dear friend Rose died there.”

“But,” she frowned, “why would they blame you?”

“Because I was there?  Because I worked for One?  Because I survived, when others didn’t?  Because only twenty-eight of us survived, and I was an easy target?”  He shrugged.  “Take your pick.”

“Someday you’ll accept my apology,” Jack said, stepping back from the Doctor and looking sadly at Ianto. 

Ianto shrugged.  “I’ll be the first to admit, I have a lot to work out, when it comes to you, Jack.”

Jack walked over to Ianto and took his hand.  “Good thing we have time, then,” he smiled and kissed the angel on the cheek.  “Yeah?”

Ianto gave a small smile and nodded.  “Yeah.”

“You’re both Torchwood,” the Doctor all but sneered. 

“Torchwood Three,” Jack clarified.  “I divorced us from One, years ago.”

“Three’s remit is watching over the rift here, in Cardiff,” Ianto explained.  “The one that, according to Charles Dickens’ personal diary, you and Rose Tyler tore open.”

“Not on purpose!” the Doctor protested.

Jack turned to look at Ianto.  “Charles Dickens?”

Ianto straightened.  If he’d been wearing his suit, Jack just knew he’d be straightening his perfectly straight tie, right about now.  “You’d be surprised how many interesting tidbits are down in the Archives, Sir.”

“Sir?” Martha smirked.

“Why does Torchwood have Charles Dickens’ diary?” the Doctor asked, cross.

“Because it referred to the rift,” Ianto replied, looking confused that such a question had even been asked.  Hello…

“And why are you with Torchwood?” the Doctor rounded on Jack.

“I swear to you, it's different. It's changed. There's only half a dozen of us now.”

“Everything Torchwood did, and you're part of it?”

“The old regime was destroyed at Canary Wharf,” Jack explained.  “I rebuilt it.  I changed it, and when I did that, I did it for you, in your honor.”

When the Doctor gave no reply, Ianto made a rude noise, and Jack felt all the love and support it was meant to convey.  He sent an appreciative look his angel’s way.

“So what’s your story?” Martha asked Jack, realizing he needed some answers, and the best way to get started was to get him talking.

He launched into the story, talking about travelling with the Doctor and Rose, and how their travels had come to an end.

“So there I was, stranded in the year two hundred one hundred, ankle deep in corpses and Dalek dust, and he goes off without me. But I had this,” he gestured to his vortex manipulator, telling her what it was.

Of course, the Doctor then had to complain about it being a space hopper and its inferiority to his TARDIS.

“Oh ho,” Martha laughed as Ianto rolled his eyes.  “Boys and their toys.”

“All right,” Jack admitted, “so I bounced.  I thought, 21^st century – the best place to find the Doctor – except that I got it a little wrong.  Arrived in 1869.  This thing burnt out, so it was useless.”

“Told you,” the Doctor sneered.

Jack ignored him.  “I had to live through the entire 20^th century, waiting for a version of you that would coincide with me.”

“But that makes you more than one hundred years old,” Martha said.

“And looking good, don't you think?” Jack flirted, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it.  “So I went to the time rift, based myself there because I knew you'd come back to refuel. Until finally I get a signal detecting you, and here we are.”

After a strange exchange regarding the hand-in-the-jar, Martha said, “But the thing is, how come you left him behind, Doctor?”

“I was busy,” he said, and they all looked around as the earth beneath their feet trembled with Ianto’s barely contained fury.

“Is that what happens, though, seriously?” Martha asked, concerned.  “Do you just get bored with us one day, and disappear?”

“Not if you're blonde,” Jack snarked.

“Oh, she was blonde?” Martha asked, a bitter edge creeping into her voice.  “Oh, what a surprise!”

“You’re both being petty and ridiculous,” the Doctor pouted.

“Petty?” Jack asked.  “Tell me this, then.  How long have you known?  Hmm?  How long have you known that I can’t stay dead?”

“Ever since I ran away from you,” the Doctor replied, not looking the least bit contrite.

The ground rumbled, again.

“When did you first realize?” he asked Jack.

“Earth, 1892.  Got in a fight in Ellis Island.  A man shot me through the heart.  Then I woke up.  Thought it was kind of strange.  But then it never stopped.  Fell off a cliff, trampled by horses, World War One, World War Two, poison, starvation, a stray javelin.  In the end, I got the message.  I'm the man who can never die.”  He looked at the Doctor, his expression full of pain.  “And all that time, you knew.”

“That's why I left you behind.  It's not easy, even just looking at you, Jack.  Because you're wrong.”

The TARDIS tipped as the ground lurched beneath her.

“What is happening out there?” Martha asked as they all found their footing.

“If I had to guess, I’d say that Wales is angry,” Jack said, eyeing his lover, who was quietly seething.

“Wales.” Martha turned curious eyes to Jack.  “Seriously?”

“Well, she seems to respond to her Guardian’s rage and wrath,” Jack explained.  He turned to the Doctor.  “Thanks for that, by the way.  You’re too kind.  Really.”

“I can't help it.  I'm a Time Lord.  It's instinct.  It's in my guts.  You're a fixed point in time and space.  You're a fact.  That's never meant to happen.”

“Time Lords,” Ianto seethed, his voice filling the space, even though he was not shouting.  “The most arrogant of all species.  You understand a laughably small portion of the vortex, and so you think you’re better than any of the others.”

Ianto’s wings were back out now, spreading threateningly as he stalked towards the Doctor, who seemed like a deer frozen in the headlights of oncoming traffic.

“You declare things to be wrong, just because they are different!  Just because you don’t understand them!  Naturally, it can’t possibly be your own ignorance, so it must be Jack who is wrong.  Do you even hear yourself, you jumped up little wanker?”

That seemed to unfreeze the Doctor.  “So you’re saying it’s perfectly natural and normal, for a human to be made immortal?” he challenged.

“I’m saying this thing was done to him, through no fault of his own, other than he inspired such love in his friend that she could not bear the thought of losing him.  And though it is unique and has never happened before, and will never happen again, that does not make it, or him, wrong.”

“You seem awfully sure of that.”

“The ALMIGHTY could have unmade Jack, to ‘fix’ the situation.  If Jack were truly wrong, HE doubtless would have done just that.  But Jack’s soul is too precious.  So HE made… other arrangements.”  Ianto cast a glance at Jack before facing down the Doctor, once more.  “Does that sound like something that could have happened, if Jack were wrong?”

Ianto crossed his arms and stared at the Doctor, allowing the moment to unfold and the question to linger.  Finally, the Time Lord could stand the biting silence, no longer.

“All right!” he almost shouted.  “Jack, I apologize.  I shouldn’t have called you wrong.  But you’re fixed.  You feel… strange, to me.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest.  “So what you’re saying is, you’re prejudiced?”

The Doctor’s eyes widened in surprise.  “I never thought of it, like that.”

“Shame on you,” Jack chastised.  It was more a tease than a reprimand, though.  Yet again, Ianto had eased Jack’s way.  He couldn’t imagine enduring the Doctor’s words, without Ianto there to stand up for him and help him to weather the slights, those little barbs that cut so deep.

“Yeah,” the Doctor muttered, staring at his toes.  After a moment, he looked up.  “I’ll try to do better, okay?”

Jack nodded thoughtfully.  “It still hurts, that you left me there.  Everyone else was dead.  It was…” he sniffed, and the Doctor looked suitably chastened.  “And then, waiting, for all those years.  Not knowing why I was… the way I was.”

“When did you find out?” the Doctor asked.  “About Rose and the vortex?”

“Three days ago.”

“Why was that?” the Doctor was curious, now.

“He met the ALMIGHTY,” Ianto replied.

“Is that when those other arrangements were made?” Martha asked, having no more trouble wrapping her mind around angels and the ALMIGHTY than she had, with aliens.

“Some of those other arrangements were made more than six million years ago,” Jack smiled fondly at Ianto.

“I don’t understand,” Martha frowned.

“Heaven exists outside of time and space,” Ianto spoke up.  “There, all time is now.  Some of us are more attuned to linear time than others, but there, it’s simply a matter of how you look at something.  So my FATHER saw Rose make Jack immortal, and HE created me then, close enough to the timelines that I would have a sense of linear time.”

“And you’re more than six million years old?” Martha asked, her eyes wide.

“I am.”

“How do you bear it?” the Doctor asked, and then blinked, clearly surprised by his own question.

“Angels were constructed to exist, regardless of time.  Our minds are uniquely able to understand and – arguably – endure both infinity and eternity.”

“You were created to accompany Jack through time,” the Doctor marveled.

“I was,” Ianto straightened, practically daring the Time Lord to mock him.

“They also changed my mind,” Jack said, not wanting the Doctor to rise to Ianto’s challenge. 

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked.

“They changed the shape of my mind, to resemble an angel’s, so I can… endure,” Jack said, looking at Ianto to be sure he’d described it correctly. 

Ianto’s smile was full of love and reassurance, and for a moment, Jack forgot there was anyone else there, with them.

“That was… kind,” the Doctor looked from one of them to the other.

Ianto turned slowly to face the Time Lord, his face hardening.  “Yes.  It was.”  What he left unsaid spoke volumes, but the angel’s expression relayed his meaning, nonetheless. 

Unlike you, it said.

Martha, who had been fighting Rose’s ghost since she’d started traveling with the Doctor, was now shaken to see how coldly the Time Lord could treat his companions, when he was done with them.  It salved her raw feelings somewhat, to see someone calling out the Doctor’s callous behavior.

“So what now?” the Doctor asked.

Jack let out a sigh.  “Now, I suppose you can stop here and refuel, whenever you want, and you don’t have to worry about trying to avoid me.”

“And if you happen to need his help, know this,” Ianto added.  “He will not be your cannon fodder.”

“Must be nice, to have your own little guardian angel,” the Doctor said to Jack, his voice far too mild.

***

Chapter Text

Jack frowned.  He remembered the ALMIGHTY talking about guardian angels, like they were powerless, helpless watchers of those to whom they were assigned.  And Jack remembered that HE had been very specific, that Ianto was not a guardian angel.  He felt himself bristling, but deflated when he heard Ianto’s wry chuckle.

“Clearly, you know enough of our mythology to try to be insulting,” Ianto said, looking amused.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not what he meant,” Martha cut in, though not very convincingly.

“Whatever,” Ianto dismissed the Doctor, and Jack could swear he could see steam coming out of the Time Lord’s ears.  “I am a seraph.  Which you also probably figured out, from the wings.”  He gave a smile, as bland as pablum and dry as the desert.  “Nice try.”

“Doctor, is Jack your friend, or not?” Martha asked, tired of the Time Lord’s posturing. 

“I don’t see what that has to do with…” the Doctor began, but Martha cut him off.

“It’s a simple question.  Yes, or no?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said, albeit a bit reluctantly.  He realized that in the end, it all boiled down to that one question.  “Yes, he is.”

“Then you need to stop insulting his…” her eyes narrowed as Jack grinned and Ianto straightened, “…mate.”

“Oh, I like you,” Jack laughed, not noticing the uncertainty that flashed across Ianto’s face before disappearing, again.

“Mate?” the Doctor looked from Jack to Ianto, baffled.

“That’s why Ianto is so protective,” she explained.  “You said yourself, a lovers’ quarrel.”

“Yes, but mates?”

“Change of mind,” Jack smiled, then looked at Ianto, “and change of heart.  I can’t promise I’ll be as perfect as he is, but he makes me want to try.”

“Eternity is a long time, Jack,” the Doctor said, and Martha gave him the stink eye.

“It is,” Jack admitted.  “But now I’m equipped for it.  You left me with no explanation, no help, no friendship.  He has brought me comfort and hope.”  Jack tore his eyes away from Ianto’s, to look at the Doctor.  “You haven’t been a friend to me, Doctor.  I died for you, that day.  I didn’t ask to be saved, to be brought back.  And since that day, my only focus has been to be a better man – someone worthy of being your friend.”

The Doctor finally looked properly ashamed.  “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“You are a good man, Jack,” Ianto said, interrupting any further monologuing from the Time Lord.  “Without reference to anyone but yourself.  He may have made you want to be a better man, but the fact that you are a better man is down to your own efforts.”

“Really?” Jack turned wide eyes to Ianto, wanting to believe him.

“Really,” Ianto smiled.  “You can use the people you love as inspiration, but your choices and actions are your own.”

In that moment, Jack realized that ever since the game station, he had felt like he had been dragging around iron shackles.  Now, they had fallen away, and he was free. And it was beautiful.  And a bit terrifying.  He reached out and took Ianto’s hand, hoping the contact would ground him.

The Doctor watched, marveling at Ianto’s wisdom and Jack’s joy.  He stared hard at both men for a moment, wondering why a practically immortal angel didn’t give him the willies the way Jack did.  And then he realized. 

He was a bigot.

Ianto’s immortality was a natural part of his existence.  It was the same for Jack now, and they both occupied space and time in precisely the same way.  But it was the Doctor’s opinion that no human should occupy space and time in that way that was the source of his unease.  Jack had called him on it, but it was only now that he realized the full extent of his wrong-minded-ness. 

It was a humbling moment.

And Ianto had caught it, damn him.

But it was with his usual grace that Ianto turned his attention back to Jack, allowing the Doctor to collect himself.  Ianto kissed Jack’s cheek, then turned to Martha.

“I apologize for shouting at you, before.”

“It’s all right,” she smiled.  “I know it’s a bit of a shock.  My auntie can’t stand the sight of me, anymore.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he said, his voice sympathetic.  “Perhaps, with time…”

“Maybe,” she shrugged.  Truthfully, she had lost more than just Addie, that day.  Adeola’s mother, sister, and brother all found it too painful to be around Martha, now.  Only her mother’s brother seemed able to see that while Martha and Adeola had resembled one another in looks, they had not been identical, nor had they been so alike that one wouldn’t be able to immediately discern the difference between them.  She was still just Martha to her uncle, and she was glad of that.  And maybe Ianto was right – perhaps in time, the others would come around, as well.

“So why was an angel at Canary Wharf?” the Doctor asked, having recovered from his flash of insight.

“Ianto’s friends gave him a human life,” Jack explained.  “Until three days ago, he thought he was human, the rest hidden from his memory.”

“Seems a lot happened, three days ago,” the Doctor remarked.

Jack looked at Ianto, the love in his expression raw.  “It did.”  He reached out and wrapped an arm around Ianto’s waist, once more supporting some of the angel’s weight.  “I almost lost him.”

“But you didn’t,” Ianto gently nudged Jack’s jaw with his nose.

“And damned if I’m going to do anything, to change that,” Jack said, and his words held the weight of a sacred vow.

The Doctor was still staring at them, but Martha’s ‘aww’ brought him out of his reverie.  “I’m glad you’ve found happiness here, Jack,” he said.  “I’m sorry the answers you were seeking were not… what you might have wanted to hear.”

Jack looked at the Doctor, and knew their friendship would never be what it had been, before.  And for once, he was all right with that.  He realized that he had been mourning his friends for well over a century now, and it was time to set that burden aside and begin a new chapter.

He shook the Doctor’s hand, causing the Time Lord’s eyebrows to shoot sky high (he had expected a kiss), and hugged Martha, inviting her to join them in Cardiff whenever she’d like.  Still slightly disturbed that she resembled his deceased friend so closely, Ianto shook her hand warmly, nonetheless, and nodded farewell to the Doctor.  As they left the TARDIS, he saw Jack give her door a stroke and tell her goodbye, and he did the same, inviting her to visit any time she liked.

As she dematerialized, Jack gave Ianto a questioning look.  “She’s the last of her kind,” Ianto shrugged.  “She gets lonely, sometimes.”

“He’s the same,” Jack pointed out.

“Yes, but they haven’t yet learned to commiserate with one another.”  He smiled.  “They will.  But she deserves friends just as much as he does, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Jack grinned, knowing that his angel was just the one to provide that friendship.

“Oi!” Owen called out from halfway across the Plass.  “What was that all about?”

“That was Ianto, offending the Doctor,” Jack laughed.

“Me?” Ianto sputtered.  “He called me a guardian angel!”

“And that’s… a bad thing?” Owen asked.

“I don’t think it’s a compliment,” Jack stage whispered.

“Today is not the day that I explain to you the hierarchy of Heaven,” Ianto told them, his face and voice beginning to show some fatigue.

“You all right?” Toshiko asked.

“Just tired,” Ianto replied.

“Tell you what,” Jack said, “I’m going to go pack a bag and then take you home.”  He looked at the others and added, “You three, keep working on cleanup, and call me in, if there’s something you feel like you can’t handle.”

“Rift predictor says things will be pretty quiet for a few more days,” Tosh said.

“Yeah, don’t worry about us,” Owen added.  “We’ll set up a rota, make sure everyone stays rested.”

“But Jack, we need you,” Gwen cut in.

“Jack needs to rest,” Owen spoke over her.  “And we can cover for him.  It’s the least we can do, yeah?”

She backed down in the face of Owen’s challenge, but she wasn’t happy about it.

Jack sighed.  “Gwen, you wanted to talk.  Come with me while I pack.”  He turned back to Ianto and paused, seeing the angel’s frown.  He leaned in and gave him a kiss, smiling reassuringly at him.  “You sit and rest, and get some fresh air.  I’ll be back before you even miss me.  And remember what I said,” he kissed him again.  “You’re my favorite.”

Ianto snorted and rolled his eyes, then waved Jack away, knowing they’d get no peace if Jack didn’t talk to Gwen, at some point.  Might as well get it over with, so they could have a day or two of peace.

“Let’s go sit by the water,” Tosh took Ianto’s hand and pulled it over her shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist.  He didn’t let her take on much of his weight, but he did let her support him a bit, as they walked.  The three sat on the bench and enjoyed the sunny morning.  Tosh handed him one of the coffees as she and Owen took the others.  “Sorry,” she apologized as he made a face after taking a sip.  “Owen says you should drink decaf until you’re back on your feet.”

“I am back on my feet,” he protested.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re sitting on this bench, resting,” Owen rejoined.  “Look, based on my scans, that thing Jack did to help you released a bunch of neurotransmitters that assist with pain relief.  And that’s great.  If you don’t need drugs for pain management, that’s awesome.  But caffeine will mess with any of that, so until you’re pain free, I really think you should lay off the coffee.”

Ianto huffed, but didn’t argue further.

“Gwen will come around, you know,” Tosh ventured, after a few moments of companionable silence.

“Yeah, but will Jack?” Ianto asked quietly, staring out at the bay.

“Mate, have you seen how he looks at you?” Owen asked. 

“And the mark,” Tosh pointed at his neck.  “Jack said that his soul accepted your mark.  That you’re bonded, now.  And Ianto, he seems really happy about that.”

“I know,” Ianto said, rubbing his forehead.  “I know.  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…” he sniffed.  “I’m a bit of a mess, really.”

“You seem fine, when he’s with you,” Tosh rubbed his arm comfortingly as Owen looked out at the bay, trying to give Ianto some space to collect himself.

“I…” Ianto hesitated, and then plowed ahead.  “It’s just that I’m having a hard time holding on to what’s real, right now.”

“What do you mean?” Owen asked, turning to look at Ianto.

“My mind is still settling,” Ianto explained.  “After Bilis’ attack, and remembering… it was all pretty violent.  So when Jack’s with me, I feel our connection growing, and things just make sense.  But when he’s not…  It’s like all of the things Bilis did, all of the things Jack did…  I…  I can’t…”

Tosh pulled Ianto into a hug and he struggled not to sob into her shoulder.  “It’s all right.  You’ll just have to stay close to Jack, until your mind settles.”

“But what if that’s not the problem?” Ianto asked, his voice small and afraid.  Tosh made a questioning sound, and he added, “Four days ago, he fell in love with someone else.  Three days ago, he took Gwen with him to face Abaddon.  An hour ago, he tried to run off with the Doctor.  Five minutes ago he went down to his bunker.  With Gwen.”

“Ianto,” Jack’s voice was quiet and filled with emotion as he took Owen’s seat next to his angel.  “We talked about the thing with the original Jack Harkness.  How it was Bilis.”  He took Ianto’s hand.  “And I took Gwen with me because Owen had just shot me, Tosh wouldn’t have let me face Abaddon alone, and you were bleeding.  I knew Gwen would stay clear.  That’s all.”

Ianto straightened from Tosh’s embrace and stared at his knees, trying to keep the tears from falling. 

“And I’ve waited for the Doctor for so long, Ianto.”  He chuckled.  “I know a century and a half is nothing to you, but it was a long time, for me to wait.  It was pure instinct, to try to get answers.”  He was silent for a moment, trying to contain his own emotions.  “He left me.  On purpose.”  He cleared his throat when Ianto squeezed his hand.  “And I needed to know that, so I could let him go.  Let go of the fantasy of traveling with him, again.  Ianto, I don’t even want to see him again.  Not any time soon, anyway.”

Jack folded Ianto’s hand between both of his own.  “And I just spent less than five minutes packing a bag and listening to Gwen ask me why I need to leave, again.  And explaining to her that we both need time, to recover.  Time to let our bond strengthen and settle.  Time for you to believe me when I tell you I’m not going anywhere.  Not without you.”  He kissed Ianto’s hand.  “I love you, Angel.”

“I know,” Ianto’s voice broke.  “I’m sorry.”  He swiped at the milky white tears that were rolling down his face.  “Everything just hurts right now, is all.”

Ianto needn’t have said that, but Jack admired his lover’s courage in admitting to that vulnerability.  In truth, Jack could feel Ianto’s inner turmoil.  The bone-deep desire to believe this was real, the need for it to be true, and the terror that it might not be.  And he realized that his own actions had not helped.  Particularly in running after the Doctor earlier, he had reinforced Ianto’s worst fear, that Jack would spend eternity taking him for granted.

“Hey,” Jack pulled Ianto into his arms, sharing a concerned look with Owen and Tosh.  “You don’t need to apologize.  I hurt you, and even though everything has changed, it takes time to shift gears.”  He loosened his hold on Ianto and leaned back, catching a tear with the knuckle of his right forefinger.  “You take as much time as you need.  I’ll be here, to let you know it’s real.”

Jack brushed his fingers across Ianto’s forehead, to his temple, and Ianto let out a small sigh of relief.

“Let’s get you home,” Jack said, his voice quiet.  “I grabbed your keys from the tourist office.”

Ianto nodded and let Jack help him up.  He gave Tosh a quick hug and shook Owen’s hand, then let Jack support him as they made their way to the garage.

***

When Jack woke the next morning, he was flat on his back, with Ianto draped over him like a cool blanket, dead asleep and drooling on Jack’s chest.  Sometime during the night, his wings had come out, and they were stretched across the bed and draped onto the floor on either side of it.

When they’d got to Ianto’s flat the day before, Jack had chivied the angel into the shower while he ordered them something for lunch.  Ianto met the delivery driver as Jack had his own shower.  Once they ate, Ianto fell asleep plastered against Jack on the sofa as they had pretended to watch a movie, but mostly kissed and chatted and dozed.

When he couldn’t rouse Ianto to eat dinner, he carried his angel to bed, peeling him out of his clothes and stripping himself before climbing into the bed and arranging Ianto next to him, the way they had become accustomed to sleeping.

Clearly, at some point during the night, Ianto had sought out more contact, more warmth, or perhaps just a different sleeping position.  No matter the reason, Jack could not be sorry for it.  He thoroughly loved every sensation, from the weight of Ianto’s body, enhanced by the weight of his wings, to the feeling of his smooth skin against Jack’s, to the coolness of his skin, to the silken sensation of the feathers that surrounded them.

Jack held Ianto close and savored the feeling of each warm exhalation against his chest.  He ran his hand through Ianto’s hair and fell in love with each snuffle and hum the angel made as he slept.  He drifted in and out of that sweet twilight between sleeping and wakefulness, remembering the visions he’d once had of being wrapped in gossamer wings after loving Ianto.  He vaguely wondered how much of their empathic bond had already formed, even before the mark.

“I love you,” he whispered into Ianto’s hair as he drifted off, again.

***

The days that followed held surprises for both lovers.  Ianto had not expected the level of concern and caring that he received from Jack.  The consideration was new.  Jack’s care had never really been in question, but until now it had been a bit slapdash, because of his ambivalence.  Now, all hesitation was gone. 

As Ianto rested and recovered, there was very little that Jack allowed him to do, for himself.  Jack had seen the effects of overexertion – Ianto had required almost two days of sleep, after the race across the Plass – and he was not going to allow Ianto to do that, again.  But he was almost too solicitous.  Ianto was not used to such treatment, and the fact that Jack even insisted on helping him walk from one room to another was annoying and endearing, by turns.

Truth be told, Ianto was too weak and fatigued to argue, even if he was inclined to do so.  It was more the strangeness of the situation that was unnerving than the help, itself.  But as the days passed and the bond continued to strengthen, he came to cherish the attention as an expression of Jack’s love.

For his part, Jack had begun to notice the changes in himself and how they impacted his view of the world around him.  This was particularly evident with regard to Ianto.  He now clearly saw things that had been all too easy to overlook, before.  And he found himself in awe of his angel’s love, and how obvious it was.  There was simply no other way to interpret the looks, smiles, and touches that were such an integral part of how the quiet man communicated.

It was not Ianto’s first bond.  But the intensity of it was breathtaking.  He surmised it was because Jack was something a bit more than human, and the connection would last so much longer than the century or so that most of them had endured. 

“There are two things that could happen, when a mark is offered,” Ianto explained, snuggling into Jack’s embrace and speaking softly.  They were on the sofa, Ianto situated between Jack’s legs and lying against his chest.

“Acceptance or rejection,” Jack nodded.  He had gleaned as much from their earlier discussions.

“Mmm,” Ianto replied.  “If it’s accepted, a bond forms.”

“So you were bonded to all of your wives?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice soft.  “And Lisa.”

“But…”

“Seems I did it, by instinct.”

“That’s… wow.”

“I think that’s why I fought so hard, even after she was gone,” Ianto sighed.  “Once the cyber tech won, the mark was rejected.  But it takes a while for an established bond to die, and for a mark to fade away.”

“Could you tell?”

Ianto sniffed.  “Not at first.  The pain of her partial conversion had been so constant, my empathy was fried.”

“Oh, Ianto,” Jack kissed the top of his angel’s head.  “I’m so sorry.”  He remembered all too well Ianto’s pain.  And then he remembered something else.  “You asked me when would I take you,” he whispered.

“I was all muddled.  I had just betrayed you.  Betrayed Torchwood.  Plus, every time Azrael took one of them, I would ask him… beg him to take me, as well.  Lisa had just been taken,” he trailed off, then shrugged.  “Bit of an automatic response, I suppose.”

“Tell me about them,” Jack said, and Ianto sat up, looking at Jack with raw affection in his eyes.

“You’re sure?” he asked.  He had no intention of hiding his love for any of his beloveds, even to spare Jack’s pride. 

“Angel, I want to know about them all.  They are an important part of who you are, and I have a feeling they always will be, no matter how much time passes.”

“The shape of our minds, Jack,” Ianto gave him a smile.  “We will never forget those we love, no matter how many we need to remember.”

Jack had already discovered that his memory was now bright and clear on every detail about everyone he had ever loved.  It was the greatest gift of all.  He had been terrified he would begin forgetting his own beloveds, one day.  Now that fear was gone, because the memories lived, and he felt such joy and relief as he could hardly contain.

They spent a lot of time talking in those days and weeks as Ianto recovered and Jack acclimated, mostly about their past.  Ianto told Jack about each of his wives, and Jack told Ianto about all those he had held dear.  This drew them closer, as it helped them to trust one another with their pasts, their secrets, and their hearts.

***

Chapter Text

The first ten days after Jack took Ianto home, the angel slept for more than twenty hours a day.  When he was awake, Jack managed to get him up and showered and take him for a walk, each day.  They never went far – Ianto was still incredibly weak, leaning on Jack after a block or so.  But neither man protested Jack’s support. 

Jack slept a lot as well, but he did not require the long stretches of slumber that Ianto needed for his recovery.  Jack began idly wondering whether Ianto was a bird (feathers) or a cat (napping) and playfully teased him accordingly, whenever he seemed to become discouraged by how tired and weak he felt.  Jack did the grocery shopping, and even went to the hub one morning, early on, but found he could not stay away for very long.  Until their bond was solidified, too much distance for too much time caused uneasiness and discomfort, for both of them.

Jack found that staying close to Ianto as he recovered was a strange blend of courtship and house arrest.  He couldn’t leave, but then again, he didn’t want to.  Ianto wasn’t up to much more than canoodling on the couch between meals and naps, but Jack knew better than anyone that he’d be worth the wait.

Once Ianto began spending more time awake, they would talk and cuddle and even do work.  Ianto’s kitchen table had become a joint desk, and they spent many hours there as Jack actually caught up on his paperwork and Ianto designed a digital framework for the archives.  Both projects ambitious and heretofore deemed unattainable.

One of the team would drop by each day to visit and to either bring work or take completed files back to the hub.  Tosh usually brought sweets.  Gwen occasionally brought something Rhys had cooked, the offering an olive branch, of sorts.  Owen came empty handed, but for his scanner.  He was getting plenty of data on Ianto’s physiology, and was able to assure Jack that the angel was healing well.

After another week had passed, Ianto had regained some of his strength.  He was eating more, and their daily walks were getting longer.  Jack was pleased to see that their long conversations were beginning to rebuild the trust that had withered between them.  By the end of the third week away from the hub, Jack had begun flirting, again.

The return of their normal banter was a relief, as well as a balm.  Ianto had loved the care and concern, but he had missed the sparks that they could create between them.  It wasn’t that there wasn’t still plenty of fire, but they had both been holding back.  Ianto had on several occasions tried to do more than kiss and cuddle, but Jack had gently pulled away, not wanting to do anything to set back Ianto’s recovery.  Ianto’s disappointment had only been soothed because it was obvious that Jack was struggling to do the right thing.

After extracting Ianto’s hand from Jack’s boxers for the third time in as many days, Jack broke down and went to Owen.  It had not been a fun conversation, for either man.

“Owen, I need you to tell me when Ianto is strong enough for… more activity than a stroll around the park.”

“Harkness, I am not having this conversation with you.  Keep your hands to yourself.”

“My hands aren’t the problem,” Jack replied miserably.  At Owen’s raised eyebrows, he slumped.  “Telling him ‘no’ is starting to affect his mood.  And mine.”

“Really,” Owen sounded skeptical.

“The bond, it’s growing, but it seems to… want more from us.  It’s starting to hurt, to hold back.”  He rubbed his chest.  “I actually need to head back, soon.”

“Already?” Owen frowned, glancing at his watch.

“Yes.  It’s starting to get uncomfortable.  Once I’m moving in his direction, it will ease, so I need to do that, as soon as I grab those files.  I don’t want this to wake him, or for him to feel like I’m disregarding the bond.”

“Yeah, you’ve got some work to do, with the trust thing,” Owen nodded, then sighed.  “For the record, I don’t like being sex counsellor for you and angel-boy.”

Jack grinned as he stuffed more files into his briefcase.  “Oh, trust me.  We don’t need any counselling."  He chuckled as Owen groaned in protest and looked around, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything Ianto had asked him to pick up.  But he turned serious again as he said, “I don’t want to hurt him, Owen.  And right now, I feel like I will, no matter what I do.”

Owen could sympathize with Jack’s dilemma.  “Well, my concern is that everything is kind of raw for him, physically.  Yeah, he’s healed, and everything is there, intact, and doing what it’s supposed to do.  But it’s like…  It’s like that new skin under a blister that pops, too soon.  It’s really tender and new.  You don’t want to do too much, not knowing if it will cause damage.”

Jack nodded.  That had been his suspicion. 

“That’s why you’re getting back to normal things, slowly.  Short walks, followed by longer walks, as he regains his strength.”  He blew out a breath.  “But…  Maybe you could try, I don’t know.  Something that doesn’t tax his system too much?”  He shook his head.  “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“Yeah,” Jack looked thoughtful.  He could think of a few things they could do, that would be gentle on Ianto.

“Wait,” Owen frowned.  “He’s… reacting already?”

Jack chuckled.  “Has been for a few days, now.”

“And when you turn him away, is he…”

“Taking matters into his own hands?” Jack grinned at Owen’s discomfiture.  “Pretty sure he did in the shower, this morning.”  Jack was beginning to hate this conversation as much as Owen.  He knew this was not something Ianto wanted Jack to share with Owen.  But he also desperately wanted to be the one relieving his lover’s desires.

“And was he okay, after his shower?” Owen looked concerned, now.

“He was fine,” Jack said, then frowned.  “He needed a nap after breakfast, though.  First time since last week that he’s done that.”

“Okay, so it taxed him, but his heart didn’t explode.  Good to know,” Owen nodded.  “Tell you what.  I’ll come over and scan him tomorrow.  Let you know if he can weather… anything.”

“Thanks, Owen.”

“Please, let’s never have this conversation, again.  And you’re rubbing your chest more.  You should go.”

“Going,” Jack snapped his briefcase closed and headed out the door.

***

The next morning, Owen was not quite as circumspect as Jack (or Ianto) would have preferred.

“All right, your systems seem to be getting stronger.  How’s the appetite?”

“I’m not hungry, but I’m eating,” Ianto said, his voice more morose than Owen was used to.

“Be sure you stay hydrated, too.  Dehydration sucks.”

“Is that all?” Ianto’s fatigue had left him less patient with Owen’s intrusions than usual.

“No.  I’d say as long as you take it slow and don’t get too acrobatic, the Captain can have his wicked way with you.”  He ignored Ianto’s indignant sputter and continued, “But you may want to give it another week or so before you have at him.  No point in overtaxing yourself.”

“Thank you Owen,” Jack grumbled as he grabbed the doctor by the arm and shoved him down the hall and out the door.

“What the hell, Jack?” Ianto griped, more annoyed than embarrassed.

“What?” Jack tried to play innocent.  Which, to be fair, was unfamiliar terrain, for him.

“You asked Owen about when we could have sex?”

Jack decided to bite the bullet.  “I did.  I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s killing me to say no to you.  So I asked him to let us know if he thought you were strong enough.  I didn’t know he’d…”

“You didn’t know Owen would be a complete and utter arse about it?” Ianto stood at the bedroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, looking highly indignant.

“Sorry,” Jack tried to look suitably contrite before a smile began spreading across his face.  “Good news, though.”

“If you can call being humiliated by Owen ‘good’,” Ianto snarked.

Jack’s smile faded.  He hadn’t meant to embarrass Ianto.  He just wanted to…

Out of nowhere, Ianto’s hand shot out and grabbed Jack by the shirtfront.  He hauled Jack to him and before Jack could even register the movement of Ianto’s hand, his face was in very great danger of being snogged off.

“Take me to bed,” Ianto growled when he released a breathless Jack.

Jack was more than happy to comply.

***

Later that week, they visited the hub.  Owen was adamant that Ianto wasn’t cleared for work, not even the paperwork he had been doing from home. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he fussed.

“But Jack needed to take care of some things, and we were going to talk to Tamiel today,” Ianto pointed out, trying to sound reasonable rather than highly annoyed that they were acting like he couldn’t even be allowed into the hub.  “Look, I’m sitting.  Not doing anything.”

Owen scowled.  “You need at least another month, Ianto.”

Gwen’s head shot up.  “Jack’s already been gone for a month.  He can’t be gone for another.”

“Well, if Ianto hadn’t talked the TARDIS into staying that day, Jack would have been gone for four months,” came a smooth voice from beside Toshiko.  “Were I you, I’d count two months with him available by phone as a win.”

“Hey, Tamiel,” Ianto smiled, standing up and taking a moment to be sure he wouldn’t fall over, again.

Tamiel quickly stepped over and embraced Ianto before helping him to sit, again.  “Peace, Brother.  Are you well?  It is good to see you.”

“Good to be seen,” Ianto replied with a half-smile.  “But I’m tired of being so tired, all the time.”

“I seem to remember Abaddon’s claw plugging a giant hole in your chest.  Anyone else remember that?” he looked around inquiringly.

“I do,” Owen called out as Tosh winced and nodded grimly.

“I am glad you are here,” Tamiel glanced at the others and nodded before turning back to Ianto with a smile.  “Even if you are tired.  That will pass.”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful,” Ianto nodded, looking subdued.

“But you want to be well, of course,” Tamiel smiled.  “And you will be.”

“What’s this about four months?” Gwen asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Had your captain taken off in the TARDIS, an unfortunate series of events would have resulted.  He would have been gone for four months, from your perspective, and it would not have been pleasant, from his.  At least this way, he is still on this planet, and in this time zone.”

“Well, I don’t see why we have to do without Jack, just because Ianto’s a bit tired,” Gwen grumbled.

Tamiel turned and stared at her, his eyes suddenly ice.  “Do you have any idea what it takes, to kill an angel?  He almost died!  And it was no small thing, to heal him.”

“Peace, Tamiel,” Ianto smiled at his friend.

Jack, who had just finished up his call to the Queen, heard Gwen’s complaint and Tamiel’s rejoinder and frowned.  He bounded down the steps, feigning cheerfulness.  “Tamiel!  Just the fallen angel we wanted to see.  How’re the wings?”

“Heavy,” Tamiel declared.

“Right?” Ianto grinned.

“Can’t believe I forgot that,” Tamiel kept grinning.  “I’ve fallen on my arse dozens of times, so far.”

“You haven’t done that,” Jack turned to Ianto, curious.

“Tamiel’s been without his wings for millions of years,” Ianto replied.  “I only had mine hidden for about two thousand.  Plus, I haven’t really been walking around with them, that much.”

“Yet,” Tamiel grinned.

“So let’s see them,” Jack gestured to Tamiel, who looked surprised, but then pleased.

Tamiel walked over to where there was slightly more room and his wings appeared, white tipped with light grey.

“He only has two,” Jack said, turning to face Ianto.

“Well, he’s not a seraph,” Ianto pointed out, his voice reasonable but his eyes dancing with mirth.

“Oi!” Tamiel groused.  “Most archangels only have two.  The number of wings doesn’t mean anything.”

“C’mon, then,” Ianto grinned, standing, then stepping onto the coffee table before leaping up as his wings appeared and he flew up towards the top of the hub.

“Ianto, wait!” Tamiel took off after him, but couldn’t catch him. 

Clearly, he was still a bit rusty as he chased after his friend, both of them laughing.  But Ianto quickly tired, and he returned to the work area, landing neatly in front of Jack as Tamiel stumbled gracelessly behind him.

“I flew!” Ianto exclaimed, and Jack could feel the joy thrumming along their bond, even as his angel’s knees buckled.

“So I saw,” Jack smiled, catching Ianto before he crashed to the floor and helping him back to the sofa.

“This is why you’re not cleared for work, you twat,” Owen grouched, even though he had enjoyed watching the two angels fly.

Toshiko brought Ianto some water as Jack pitched the job to Tamiel.  The former demon was thrilled at the prospect of joining his friend at Torchwood.

“Do I get to carry a gun?” he asked, with far more enthusiasm than Ianto would have preferred.

“I personally teach every new recruit,” Jack said, then frowned as Ianto just sort of deflated.  He excused himself to go make coffee for everyone.  Jack looked at Tosh, who had become his go-to for Ianto-related advice.

She gave him a pitying look and shook her head, then stood and followed Ianto.

“What?” Tamiel asked, seeing the exchange.

“No idea,” Jack shook his head, baffled.

“You’re kidding, right?” Owen scoffed.  “Jack, your idea of weapons training is little better than foreplay!”

“That’s not true!” Jack protested.

“It’s the main reason Cooper thought she had a shot, for so long,” Owen smirked.

“Oi,” Gwen was the one protesting, now.

“Jack,” Tamiel sighed, pulling the immortal aside, leaving Owen and Gwen to bicker.  “I’ve known Ianto for a long time.  And he may seem fine, right now.  It might seem like he’s begun regaining his strength.  But everything that happened, having Manut in his head…  It didn’t just affect him physically.  It really shook his confidence, as well.”

“I don’t know how to get him to trust me,” Jack sighed.

“This isn’t really about trust,” Tamiel waved an unconcerned hand.  “It’s about him spending two millennia thinking he’d done something so terrible that the ALMIGHTY turned HIS back on him.  It’s about feeling guilty for he knew not what.  It’s about feeling unworthy of love or forgiveness.”

“But… he married,” Jack protested, confused.

“Yes, and for all their differences, Ianto’s wives all had at least one thing in common.  They were fierce, loyal creatures who never once gave him a moment of doubt.  Each one was an oasis from the uncertainty, at least for a while.”

“And that’s not me,” Jack sighed again.

“You need to give it time.  Once your bond settles, the uncertainty will fade.  But I imagine that right now, he’s all over the place.”

“One minute he’s fine, the next he…” Jack stared after Ianto, looking concerned.  “I’ve given him so much reason to doubt me.  And now it’s fueling his insecurities.”

“He’s still healing.  Remember what Raphael said.  Ianto must break the hold that Manut had over him, so he can mend.  Then let the bond strengthen.  Now that he’s not sleeping so much, perhaps you two should take some time alone together, without distractions.  And,” he hesitated, but then charged ahead.  “Maybe stop flirting so much with that Cooper woman, at least until he’s himself, again.”

Jack let out a frustrated huff.  “I know it looks like sexual tension, but it’s actually just a power struggle.  Gwen thinks she has the moral high ground, and so she fights tooth and claw when my decisions don’t match her viewpoint.”

“That may be so, from your perspective.  But surely you realize that she would bed you in a heartbeat,” Tamiel stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Jack as though he were a simpleton.  “And the way you respond makes it look as though you’d be up for it.”

“I flirt with everyone,” Jack defended.  “It’s just how I communicate.”

“I get that,” Tamiel replied.  “And I’m not saying you have to change.  But maybe until Ianto heals, just… rein it in a bit?”

Jack slumped.  “It’s not like I’m trying to hurt him.”

“And yet…”  Tamiel relented when Jack slumped further, looking thoroughly defeated.  “Look, Jack.  Manut’s attack was a serious violation.  He forced his way into Ianto’s mind, and because we had made Ianto forget himself, he didn’t know how to fight the coercion that followed.  So knowing Ianto, I would be willing to bet he’s beating himself up for not being strong enough to fight back, and for betraying you, as a result.”

“But he didn’t,” Jack said, shocked to hear this.  “Like you said, he was forced…”

“I’m sure that logically, he knows that.  But he’s fighting an uphill battle against millennia of misplaced guilt.”

“So you’re saying that he’s a mess of guilt and pain, and even though he has moments of joy from our growing bond, it’s not enough.”  Jack looked thoroughly discouraged.

“It’s not enough, yet,” Tamiel said gently, trying to placate Jack.  “But it will be.  You two need some time alone, so he can heal and your bond can grow.”

“I have this terrible feeling that he doesn’t believe I’ll stay with him.”

“Well, none of the others did.”

“What?” Jack felt his stomach drop, but he wasn’t sure why.  Of course Ianto’s mortal wives couldn’t have stayed with him.

Tamiel sighed.  “You know this isn’t the first time Ianto has marked a loved one, yes?”  When Jack nodded, Tamiel continued.  “I believe yours is the fourteenth bond he has initiated.”

Jack felt something like dread ooze through his belly, but he still wasn’t sure why. 

“The bonds were with mortal humans.  With Ianto’s healing abilities, each of them could have survived for hundreds of years.  But none of them made it more than a decade or two past the century mark.”

“Why?” Jack asked, frowning.

Tamiel shrugged.  “They decided they had lived long enough.  They were tired, and ready to move on.  So…” he sighed.

“So they rejected his mark,” Jack finished, his eyes wide with shock.  He couldn’t imagine how painful that must have been, for Ianto.

“Yes,” Tamiel nodded, looking sad.  “Well, all but maybe three of them.”  He paused, gathering his thoughts.  “An angel can mark another for various reasons, but most often for love and protection.  If the mark is accepted, a bond forms.  But the mark can later be rejected, and the bond will then wither and die.”

“Does the angel feel the death of a bond?”

“Yes.”  Tamiel’s expression became remote, as he remembered the death of a bond he had experienced, long before being cast out.  He still remembered the pain of it.

“Ianto,” Jack muttered, looking towards the kitchen area where Ianto and Toshiko were sitting.  “So each one – when they decided they’d had enough, they rejected the mark.  And Ianto felt each bond die, well before they died?”

“He was always so good about understanding.  He knew they weren’t rejecting him.  Not really.  But in rejecting the mark, they were letting him know that they no longer wished for his help.”

“So he ended up mourning two losses,” Jack shook his head.  “First the bond, and then the wife.”

“In a way, it might have been easier,” Tamiel said, looking thoughtful.  “Being able to mourn the bond but to still have the loved one close.  In those… three cases, I think… where the bond wasn’t rejected, I imagine the loss was compounded, happening all at once.”

“So in those cases, how did they know to ask him to stop helping?” Jack asked.

Tamiel smiled at Jack’s perspicacity.  “You are going to hear a lot about them all.  I hope you don’t mind that, because he loved them so deeply, and he always will.  It does not detract from what he feels for you, but they are a part of him, now.”

“As my lost loves are a part of me,” Jack replied.

Tamiel nodded.  “Good.  But you will probably hear more about Rhan and Tarran than anyone else.  I believe Catrin was the third.  They all somehow knew that he was something other.  And they all asked him to stop helping them.  It still took time.  And none of them suffered in any way.  But without help, eventually time runs out, for mortals.”

“That must have been so hard for him.”

“He asked Azrael to take him, after each loss,” Tamiel sighed.  “Rejected bond, or not.  What you need to understand is that he finds his purpose in loving.  He has been fortunate enough to find those who return his regard, but…”

“But not for very long.”

“In the life of an angel?  No.”

“Was it because he stayed young as they grew older?” Jack looked incredibly sad.

“No, no.  He used glamor, and aged with them.  It wasn’t vanity so much as…”

“Weariness,” Jack nodded.

“Yes.  Humans tend to get worn out, after a century or so.”

“Still.  If Ianto was the reward for staying…” Jack stared off towards the kitchen, again.

Tamiel smiled.  He understood Ianto’s misgivings, but Jack was beginning to show the beginnings of their bond.  “If that’s how you feel, I’m sure you’ll be able to calm his fears, in time.”

Jack nodded, seeming to have become lost in thought.  After a moment, he frowned.  “Fourteen.”

“Pardon?”

“You said this one of ours makes fourteen bonds.  But he only had ten wives, and then Lisa, before me.  That leaves two unaccounted for.”

“Ah,” Tamiel nodded.  “So he didn’t tell you, yet?”

“Tell me what?”

Tamiel glanced towards the kitchen.  “I’m not sure it’s for me to say.”

“Well, now you have to say something,” Jack said, looking nervous.

“It’s nothing bad.  It’s just…” Tamiel sighed.  “He never fathered any children.”

“He mentioned that,” Jack nodded.  “But angels can breed with humans, can’t they?”

“They can.  And it causes no end of trouble.  He never did, though.  But on two occasions – once with his third wife, and again with the sixth, I think it was… Foundlings were left with them.  Ianto raised each of them, as his own.”

“And marked them.”

“The last descendent of either child passed, just before he met Tarran.  He watched over them all, but never marked another.”

“It would have hurt too much,” Jack nodded, understanding.

“Look,” Tamiel shook himself from his reverie.  “You two should get away for a couple of weeks.  Help him throw off the last of Manut’s hold.  Let him heal.  Let your bond strengthen.  The rest of this will resolve, and you two can move forward.  But you really do need some time to yourselves.”

Jack nodded, seeming to warm to the idea.  “He mentioned he has a cottage near St Brides.”

“The cottage?” Tamiel looked startled.  “Yes.  Well.  I mean…”

“What?” Jack looked at him suspiciously.

“Jophiel, Azrael, and I have used it, through the years.  That’s all.”

“And?” Jack didn’t like the sudden shiftiness of Tamiel’s demeanor.

“We may have…” he trailed off.  “Look, he hasn’t been back there since Tarran passed.  We’ve kept the place for him, but…”

“What have you done?” Ianto asked from behind them, making both man and angel jump.

Tamiel sighed.  He reached out and grasped Ianto by the arm.  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but about eight years ago, there was a fire.  The cottage was destroyed.”

“What?” Ianto seemed to reel, a bit.  Jack reached out to steady him.

“It was a lightning strike.  We saved what we could, but the cottage had to be pulled down.  It was a hazard.”

“But…” Ianto looked like he was going to fall over.

“Sit, Love,” Jack guided him back to the sofa.

“We ended up renovating the barn, and incorporating what we were able to save from the cottage.  It’s a sweet place, but it’s completely different from what you remember.”

Ianto nodded, then sighed.  “That’s probably for the best,” he shook his head.  “But…” he looked at Tamiel.  “My carvings?”

“Part of what we saved,” Tamiel assured him with a smile.  “I can summon Jophiel and tell him to be sure the place is ready, if you want to go.”

Ianto looked at Jack.  His wish to see his old home – the home he had shared with each of his wives – was naked and raw in his eyes, but Jack knew that a word from him and Ianto would stay in Cardiff.  He realized that he hated that uncertainty that was so out of character for Ianto.  But Jack realized that right now, Ianto needed him to step up, grant permission, and take charge.

“What do you say?” he asked, smiling at his angel.  “How about a few weeks’ holiday, exploring your old stomping grounds?”

Ianto’s sweet smile took Jack’s breath away.

***

Chapter Text

Ianto woke as they turned from the narrow, paved road into the lane leading to the old homeplace.  It had only been a two-hour drive (Jack was not in a rush, for a change), but Ianto had nodded off before they were even properly out of Cardiff.  He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to waken as the familiar scent of the wind blowing from the bay over the grass soaked into his cells.  He felt his mind begin to thrum with old memories even as his body relaxed, recognizing a place he had called home for most of his years on this planet.

Jack came to a stop by the ancient stone barn that had clearly received a recent facelift.  Ianto didn’t even glance at the barn.  His eyes were focused off to the right, on the small grove of young fruit trees.  It was the dead of winter, so of course they were bare, but it looked like a pretty little spot.  Jack realized that Ianto’s friends had planted the grove where the cottage had stood, so the land would not seem so bereft.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Ianto nodded.  “It’s just a bit disorientating.”

Jack ran a hand up and down Ianto’s arm in comfort.  “That’s true any time something that’s always been there simply isn’t, anymore.  But I’ll bet that grove is lovely, in summer.”

Ianto nodded, then gave a small sniff, the only indication of the emotional toll this must have been taking.  “I had not planned to see the place again,” he confessed.  “I had already said goodbye.”

“I hope it’s not too painful, to be back,” Jack said, not sure how to ease Ianto’s way.

“It’s nice,” Ianto finally looked at Jack, a small smile gracing his features.  “I think it would have been harder, bringing you to the cottage.”

“Too many memories?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the terrible trio have arrived,” Jack chuckled as Jophiel opened the door and Azrael stepped out as the two bickered about something or other.

Jack and Ianto got out of the car and Azrael offered to get their bags.

“We’ve cleaned and aired the place,” Jophiel said from the door as they approached.

“How about a tour?” Ianto smiled at his friend.

“Ianto, I hope you know that with every change we made, we considered what you might want.  This place is still yours.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s as much yours as mine, as it is your design.  I hope you all will treat it as your own.”

Jophiel smiled warmly.  “Thank you, Brother.”  He turned and with a gesture of welcome, beckoned them into what once had been the barn.  The structure was about three times as long as it was wide, with one narrow end facing the drive and the other facing the overlook, with the drop-off to the bay about fifty yards from the structure.  The front door was about a third of the way along the long side from the end facing the drive.

As they entered, there was a bench, under which their shoes could be placed and above which there were coat hooks.  Jack and Ianto made quick use of both, and stood looking around.  The entryway opened into a lovely living room that filled both levels.  To their right, the end wall was taken up almost entirely by a massive fireplace.  Ianto quickly noticed that the stones used for the fireplace had been reclaimed from the cottage, as was the mantelpiece.  He carefully looked away from the items on the mantel, knowing he’d have time to take a closer look, later.

Two huge, overstuffed leather chairs faced the fire, with a table between them.  Ianto noted that each chair could comfortably hold more than one person, in a pinch.  Backed up to the chairs was an equally massive, overstuffed sofa, with more chairs to each side making up another conversation area that faced the huge television on the wall facing the fireplace.  On the far side of the television was a door, doubtless leading to a half-bath under the stairs.

The opposite side of the television wall was the stairwell that led up to the second level.  There was a landing, and the stairs switched back before reaching the second floor.  An open area with a lovely carved railing overlooked the living room, below.  The wall opposite the front door and the wall facing the fireplace held floor to ceiling bookcases.  A wing chair sat in the corner by the railing, and a desk was centered in the room, facing the fireplace.  It was a perfect blend of study, library, and office, while not being overly formal.

A hallway ran along the same wall as the front door.  The first room off of it was a modestly sized guest room decorated in deep greens and burgundies.  A door in the far-left corner led to an ensuite bathroom, which was shared with the next guest room, a mirror image of the first, but this one in soft browns and blues.  They entered the green bedroom, walked through the ensuite into the brown bedroom, and then back out into the hallway.

At the end of the hall was the master bedroom, made up in dark blues and pale greys.  It was not huge, but the size was more than adequate.  At the end of the room were floor-to-ceiling windows showing a stunning view of the bay.  Room darkening shades controlled by a switch next to the night table could cover the windows, allowing for sound sleep.  The shades could also be adjusted so they only covered the bottom half of the windows, allowing for privacy for the bath.

Ianto’s mouth almost watered at the sight of the huge, claw-footed bathtub sitting on a slightly raised area in the middle of the floor in front of the windows, with a large waterfall showerhead situated above it.  Along the right wall was a vanity with sink and mirror.  Along the left was a water closet for the toilet.  A wardrobe sat next to the notch in the wall holding the water closet.  The rest of the room was open, though a screen could be dropped between the bathing area and the bed, to preserve warmth.  A queen-sized bed was placed on the wall opposite the windows. 

Ianto looked down.  The flooring seemed to be slate or some other stone, with hand-knotted throw rugs tossed everywhere.  But he could feel the delicious heat seeping through his socks.  He looked at Jophiel and smiled.

“Radiant floor heating?”

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Jophiel returned his smile.

They returned downstairs and continued the tour.  There was a storage closet next to the stairs, and a small laundry room next to that.  Then the hallway opened into a spacious, modern kitchen.  There were plenty of worktops, and an island for food prep or eating, with stools stowed under the side facing away from the appliances.  Looking around the wall, they could see it enclosed an eating nook with a large table – big enough for up to ten people.  The walls above the table held wine racks, filled with the many vintages the angels and demon had collected, through the years.

The far kitchen wall marked the end of the barn, but another door opened out into a solarium.  This had clearly been added to accommodate the master bathroom at the end of the building, upstairs, but it was no mere afterthought.  The solarium had thick glass windows that allowed the enjoyment of the outdoors without requiring any participation in it.  However, the windows could be cranked open in fine weather and screens were in place to keep insects out.  Comfortable, overstuffed furniture filled the space, and it was warm and pleasant, offering more lovely views of the bay.

Jack had caught glimpses from Ianto, but it was only now that he was realizing the full extent of the hedonism of angels.  No expense had been spared, and the place was beautiful, functional, and above all, comfortable.  Clearly the three friends enjoyed use of the place, but it was also quite clear that every detail had taken Ianto’s tastes and preferences into consideration.  It was very endearing, and Jack well understood the misty look in Ianto’s eyes as he turned to his friends.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice low.  “Thank you, so much.”

“Well,” Azrael huffed, and Jack recognized the gruffness as a cover for the angel’s own emotions.  “Couldn’t have you come back here and not have a place to lay your head.”

“The timbers that could be reclaimed from the cottage were used for the wardrobes and dressers in the bedrooms,” Jophiel said.  “And a lot of the stones were used for the fireplace.  The mantelpiece was also reclaimed, as was,” he walked to the end of the wall separating the hallway from the eating area and placed his hand on the beam that sort of capped the wall’s end.

Jack followed Ianto over, and watched as he ran his hand over the notches carved into the beam.  One set on the right side, another on the left.  The kind that mark a growing child’s height.  He took Ianto’s hand and kissed it as his angel shed a tear for the long dead children commemorated by the ancient piece of timber.

“Megless and Griff,” he said, pointing at each set of marks, his voice rough.  He cleared his throat and repeated, “Thank you.”

“We saved as much as we could,” Jophiel assured him.  “And we found your carvings, under the floorboards.”

Ianto nodded.  “I saw them.”

They walked back to the living room, and Ianto picked up his suitcase and placed it on the bench by the door.  He opened it and pulled out an object about the size of a pint glass but with substantially more heft.  It was wrapped in one of his vests.  He set the object in one of the chairs and stepped to the fireplace, where a small fire had been lit.

Jack followed his gaze and saw a series of stone statues lined up on the mantel.  He counted ten of them, each an abstract shape carved into a different type of stone.  As he watched, Ianto reached up and took down the first carving.

“Chrysocolla.  Rhan’s favorite.  Always called it a goddess stone.”  He turned the carving in his hand and Jack felt his jaw drop as a beautifully rendered face appeared.

“It is a good likeness,” Tamiel broke the silence.

“They all are,” Azrael added quietly.

Ianto turned the stone in his hand, and on the bottom of the piece, Rhan’s name was neatly inscribed.  He replaced it and pulled down the next.  He showed each carving to Jack.  All seemed abstract until turned just so; then they showed a likeness of the woman whose name was marked on the bottom.  Each stone had been selected with great care, that it would be a good match for the woman being remembered.

Siwan’s stone was a blue and white mottled sodalite.  Liliwen’s was a purple and white chevron amethyst.  Obsidian for Nia’s hidden depths.  Catrin’s was a clear quartz, perfect as glass except for the rainbow inclusion running through the center.  Meleri’s was a blue and green fluorite with some purple banding that showed when the light hit it, just right.  Wynne’s was rose quartz, a stone as sweet and gentle as her nature.  Blue onyx looking like the sea roiling outside, for Petra.  A happy citrine for Ffion’s cheerful personality.  And moss agate – another goddess stone – for Tarran. 

Ianto took down each carving, running his hand over it and giving himself a moment to remember.  After showing each piece to Jack, he returned them to the mantel, arranging them slightly closer to one another.  As he turned back to the chair, Jack realized he had been making room for one more.

Ianto slowly unwrapped the last stone from the white cotton vest, revealing a garnet carving.  “I didn’t understand,” he said, his voice quiet.  “Far as I knew, I’d never carved anything, before.  But I just… had to.  I found the stone online, and just… did it.”

It was another abstract shape, and as Ianto turned it in his hand, Lisa’s face appeared.  Jack wrapped an arm around him and kissed his temple.

“It’s beautiful,” Jack said.

Ianto ran his hand over her name etched on the bottom of the piece, then placed it alongside the others.  He stood looking at them for a moment, lost in his thoughts as Azrael took the vest and put it back in Ianto’s suitcase before he and Tamiel took it and the rest of the luggage up to the master bedroom.

“I’ve stocked the pantry and refrigerator,” Jophiel told Jack.  “You shouldn’t need anything for a few days, at least.  Someone comes every Thursday to clean, so wings away and trousers on, please.”

Jack snorted, but then sobered.  “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course.”

In the next moment, the three angels took their leave, and Ianto and Jack were left to settle in.  Once they unpacked, Jack cooked them lunch and they took a wander around the property so Ianto could see what else had changed.  It had been a long time since the land had been worked as farmland.  It was mostly made available to neighboring farmers (for a fee – Jophiel was no fool) for their livestock to graze.

They walked through the grove, but it was impossible to even detect where the cottage had been.  Ianto knew just by feel, but there were no markers, nothing to show it had been there.  Ianto felt a pang for the loss, but he was also strangely relieved.  Now he and Jack could make a fresh start – at least during holidays – in the new place.

The bitter wind blowing in from the bay drove them back inside, where they sat by the fire with mugs of cocoa and chatted.  Coffee was still forbidden, and Ianto was still feeling too weak and sore to argue about that too much, so the dark chocolate cocoa was warm and comforting, and just sweet enough without being overly so.  As soon as Jack set his mug on the table, Ianto crawled into his lap, curled up, and fell asleep.  Jack was very happy with this development, and glad he had put his book within reach on the table earlier, when they were unpacking.

When Ianto woke a couple of hours later, Jack had just gotten to the climax of the story, but he couldn’t complain about the interruption.  He would maintain until his dying day (and beyond) that a sleepy, rumpled Ianto was the most adorable sight in this or any universe.

They stepped outside for a moment so Ianto could wake up as Jack hauled in a bit more firewood.  There was another door on the wall opposite the front door, close to the end wall with the fireplace.  A pair of Wellingtons was tucked discreetly beside the door, and just outside a sort of lean-to had been built along the wall to shelter the firewood stacked there.  Jophiel, Azrael, and Tamiel had brought in plenty, but a winter storm was blowing in off the bay, and there was no harm in keeping an extra load or two dry.  There was certainly room on the wide hearth.

Ianto stood in the doorway in his socks as Jack stomped into the wellies and hauled in several baskets of wood.  Ianto shivered at the cold, wet wind that was blowing, glad they didn’t have anywhere to be for a few days.  Perhaps their provisions could even last them the four days until Thursday, when they could go to town for supplies while the place was being cleaned.

Once the wood had been neatly stacked by the hearth, Jack took Ianto into the kitchen and sat him on one of the stools by the center island so they could talk while he cooked them dinner.  It had always surprised Jack.  Ianto was good at so many things, so he supposed it stood to reason that there might be something he would be complete rubbish at.  It just so happened that that something was cooking.  Ianto could ruin a pan, trying to boil water.

Unless said water was for coffee, that is.

(Jack suspected divine intervention, considering how heavenly his angel’s coffee was.)

Likewise, Ianto was equally surprised at what a good cook Jack was.  He certainly had every reason to be out of practice, given that the kitchen at the hub was less than optimal for any ambitions of a culinary nature.  But like with so many other things, Jack was an excellent cook.  Ianto sometimes wondered if his lover was bad at anything, but he shied away from potential answers to that question, as his mind was still tender from Manut’s invasion, and prone to coming up with the worst possible answer to any question, or the most painful interpretation for any circumstance. 

It sometimes felt as though part of his mind was still in Manut’s vice grip of dread and doom.  Raphael had warned him that there was still some influence to break free from, but he had been too exhausted to even attempt to go looking for it, in order to do so.

After they ate, they curled up on the sofa under a warm blanket and watched a movie.  Well, Jack watched the movie.  Ianto dozed and drooled on Jack’s chest, something he found no less embarrassing for the number of times it had happened in recent weeks.  But Jack just chuckled and kissed him tenderly, asking how he was feeling and if he’d had a nice nap.  It was sweet, really. 

Still embarrassing, but very sweet.

He woke up in time to watch the final act of the action movie Jack had picked.  Ianto had insisted that Jack choose the movie, because he knew the odds of him staying awake through all of it were against them, at the moment.  As the credits rolled, they stood.  Jack banked the fire as Ianto folded the blanket and placed it on the sofa, then Jack took his hand, leading him up to the bedroom.

Ianto leaned into Jack and kissed him as they helped one another undress.  There was no rush, just slow, lazy kisses as clothing was discarded, to be folded or hung up or tossed into the laundry basket, in the morning.  Jack lay Ianto down on the bed – and honestly, he’d met royalty with lower thread counts on their sheets – and began doing all those things he knew his angel liked best.

Broad, sweeping strokes of his hands, caressed every part of Ianto’s skin that he could reach.  If any of those caresses happened to drag across a sensitive spot or pert nipple, then the hitched breath or hum of pleasure was completely coincidental, right?  He smiled as he watched Ianto lose himself to sensation. 

He had opened his lover enough to have two fingers working him with a slow, patient rhythm when he began doing that other favorite thing of Ianto’s – licking him in broad, sweeping strokes of his tongue.  It hadn’t taken long, particularly after a lick was followed by a nip at one of those temptingly pert nipples, and Ianto was already muttering who knew what in that first dialect of Welsh that he had learned.

Jack smiled with satisfaction as he continued his travels past that sensitive navel (he’d really have to ask Ianto if his belly button was a matter of glamor, since angels weren’t gestated in wombs and so an umbilicus wasn’t actually a biological necessity, but that was most decidedly a question for another time).  Ianto was writhing under his ministrations, but he was always too polite, too in control, to thrust up into Jack’s face. 

Jack did not always love Ianto’s good manners.  Just once, he wanted to see Ianto completely lose that control.  It was one of his greatest ambitions, and he knew it would be incredible when it finally happened.  But he could be patient.

In the next moment, Ianto grabbed a fistful of sheets in one hand and a fistful of Jack’s hair in the other as the immortal swallowed him down in one go.  The growling Welsh swearing was doing nothing for Jack’s composure, but he focused on what he was doing and tried to ignore his own needs, for the moment.  He wanted to bring Ianto off so he’d be loose and languid when Jack took him.

Ianto swore again, and Jack hummed his approval, gaining a gasped, “Jack,” for his troubles.  He turned his fingers and crooked them just so as he swallowed, and Ianto let out a sound almost like a howl.

Huh.

So this was the unforeseen benefit of not having neighbors to worry about disturbing.  Jack smiled around the delicious obstruction in his mouth and moaned when Ianto canted his hips in a stuttered, aborted movement.  He brushed his fingers against that spot and swallowed again, and Ianto’s back arched as he came with a shout.  Jack swallowed every drop and kept up his ministrations, gentling Ianto through the aftershocks.  Then he licked his way back up Ianto’s body, his fingers still moving, though gently enough that he didn’t over sensitize his beautiful lover.

He kissed Ianto, drinking deep and in adjusting his hold, he brushed over Ianto’s prostate again, causing the angel to yelp as his cock jerked a final time.  The yelp turned into a soft, sighing moan as Ianto quickly regained his composure and began returning the kiss, in earnest. 

Jack pulled back, surprised.  Ianto refraction had always been quick, but something seemed… off.  He looked at Ianto and saw a pleading, almost desperate light in his lover’s eyes.  True, they’d had plenty of sex since Owen gave the all-clear, but it had all been oral or manual, so far.  They’d yet to have need of the lube, which Jack now reached for more of so he could slick himself up. 

Ianto was loose-limbed, but no longer languid as Jack sank into him, both of them moaning as Jack buried himself to the hilt and then stilled to allow Ianto’s body time to adjust.

“Please, Jack,” Ianto begged, and that was another note that was slightly off-key.  Ianto rarely begged.  Not like this. 

Jack shoved the thought to the back of his mind and began moving.  Slow, deep thrusts that were perfect and anything but gentle.  Ianto wrapped his legs around Jack’s waist, locking his ankles together and then wrapped his arms around Jack’s torso, pulling him down from where he had locked his elbows for leverage. 

As Ianto kissed Jack with that same unnerving desperation, he grabbed the top of the mattress to keep their rhythm, driving into Ianto with painstaking deliberation.  He felt Ianto’s body coiling like a spring, and he reached between them to take his lover in hand.

Jack had planned on taking Ianto apart, but he wasn’t prepared for the way his angel shattered, sobbing out a deep bellow like an animal in pain.  Wave after wave of Ianto’s orgasm caused his muscles to contract around Jack and pulled him over the edge, as well.  Jack cried out, calling Ianto’s name as the intensity of their climaxes left them both gasping for breath.

Jack was doing his best not to collapse on top of Ianto, who was having none of it, pulling Jack down and holding onto him for all he was worth.

“Ianto?” Jack murmured, trying to pull up and take some of his weight off of his lover.

“Please stay,” Ianto begged, his voice broken as he tightened his hold on Jack.

“I’m not going anywhere, Angel.  Just let me get off of you.”

“No!  Please!”

Jack went still and realized he could hear Ianto, despite the fact that his lover wasn’t speaking.  He realized that he was hearing echoes of Ianto’s thoughts along the bond, because they were so frantic.  What he heard broke his heart.

Please don’t leave me.  I know you won’t stay, but don’t go, yet.  Please stay, just for a little bit.  Don’t leave me yet.  I know I’m not what you want.  You want the Doctor, or Rose.  You want Gwen.  You want the original Harkness.  Not me.  Never me.  But please, just pretend.  Just for a moment…

Jack felt ill.  He stayed very still and held Ianto close to him, not sure how to reassure his angel that none of that was true.  And then, whatever was left of his heart shattered as he sensed what happened next. 

Ianto drew in a deep, shuddering breath.  As he released it, a sense of resignation washed over him.

I am his.  This is what I was made for.  But he will never be mine, and I need to learn to live with that. 

Jack heard Ianto give that sniff that meant he was folding up all of his pain and packing it away where no one would see it.  He knew that if he looked at Ianto now, he would see one of those terrifying masks.

“We should get cleaned up,” Ianto rasped, releasing his hold on Jack.

Yep.  There it was.

Jack got up and grabbed a flannel and soaked it in warm water.  He gently cleaned Ianto and then himself before tossing the flannel towards the bathtub and climbing back into the bed.  Ianto turned over and let Jack pull him up against his chest.  Another sign.

When Ianto was happy, he’d drape himself over Jack, using him as a giant lovie-slash-body-pillow.  When Ianto was miserable, he’d go foetal and make himself the little spoon.

As the angel’s breathing evened into sleep, Jack finally allowed his tears to fall.  He lay there wide awake, wondering what the hell he should do.  Those thoughts…  They weren’t Ianto.  Well, some of them were.  But most of them were clearly Bilis Manger’s leftover manipulations.

Raphael and Tamiel had both spoken of the need for Ianto to break the hold Bilis had established.  Whatever it was, Jack suspected that it was blocking Ianto from sensing Jack along their bond.  Clearly the connection was only running one way at the moment, which was helpful, but definitely needed to be rectified.

The question was, how?

***

Chapter Text

Jack slept very little, that night.  He had looked at the problem from every angle, and he knew what he needed to do.  He felt nervous and a bit afraid.  After all, what if it didn’t work?  What if Ianto misunderstood?  What if it made things worse?

But in the end, there was no choice.  With the bond strengthening, he knew he couldn’t bear to have Ianto in so much pain, and all because he was under Bilis Manger’s thrall and false ideas were proliferating, of their own accord.  It didn’t seem to be rampant – just with regard to Jack.  But whatever Bilis had done had created a blind spot.  The abuse Bilis had created in Ianto’s mind with regard to Jack had begun to block Ianto’s sense of their bond.

Jack only knew one way to fix this, and it could easily be construed as an abuse.  But he was going to have to take that risk.  Ianto’s fear of losing Jack and resignation to an eternity of being taken for granted and mistreated were too much to bear.  Jack knew that if he didn’t address it, he would lose Ianto (if not physically then certainly emotionally, perhaps even mentally), and he could not run that risk.  Not now that they were finally so close to having something between them that was real.

Sometime before dawn, Ianto got up and staggered to the water closet, then drank from the glass of water on the night table by the bed before crashing back into sleep, likely not having properly awakened for any of that.  Jack merely shifted to allow him to curl back into his warmth and held him as he slept again.

An hour or two later, the room was lit by the soft morning light through the northerly facing windows.  They had forgotten to close the room-darkening shades, so the subtle pinks of the morning sky bathed the room in a gentle glow.  Jack watched the changing light play across his angel’s pale skin.  Ianto was still trying to decide what human attributes he wanted to keep and which ones to allow to be subsumed by his angelic features.  This morning, he was angel-pale, and the pink light was painting him human, again.  It was strange and beautiful.

Jack got up and used the facilities and brushed his teeth, then drank some water and climbed back in bed, turning Ianto onto his right side and snuggling up behind him.

“Ianto?” he called softly.

“Hmm,” Ianto barely replied.

“Angel, remember what they said, that Bilis, or Manut, still had a hold on your mind?”

“Jack, it’s too early,” Ianto muttered.

“I know, Angel.  But do you remember?”

“Hmm.”

“I think I know how to break the control, but I need you to agree to it.”

“Later,” Ianto muttered, settling back into the pillow.

Jack reached out and ran a hand through Ianto’s hair, eliciting a purr as his hand stroked down Ianto’s back, around to his side, and down to his hip before caressing the perfect swell of his left arse cheek.  Ianto hummed again as Jack’s clever fingers dove into the cleft between his cheeks and gently swept over his hole, still a bit loose from the previous evening’s activities.  Residual lube and semen helped the sole finger currently exploring glide around the ring of muscle, helping it to relax a bit more.

“Jack?” Ianto sleepily enquired.

“Do I have your permission, my Love?” Jack asked, continuing his ministrations.

“Hmm,” Ianto purred, his hips canting back into Jack’s fingers, just enough.

“Thank you,” Jack breathed, kissing a path from Ianto’s shoulder, up to his neck.  He added a second finger and was relieved that while this might be a bit rough, Ianto was open and wet enough that it wouldn’t be painful. 

“Jack,” Ianto whined, still half asleep, but clearly awake enough that he was canting his hips back to take more of Jack’s fingers. 

“Tell me what you want, Angel,” Jack growled, nipping at Ianto’s shoulder.

“Want you,” Ianto whimpered.

“Okay,” Jack actually felt nervous.  He withdrew his fingers, causing his lover to make a low, querulous sort of sound.  He smoothed his hand down Ianto’s ribs to his hip, and kept going as he stroked down his thigh.  He then took Ianto’s leg and, bending it at the knee, moved it behind his own legs.

He made a mental note to do this again sometime in front of a mirror.  Ianto was impressively flexible, and with his leg situated like this, he doubtless looked open and wanton and utterly fuckable.  Jack carefully found Ianto’s entrance but simply allowed the blunt head of his cock to kiss the opening as he smoothed his hand from Ianto’s bent knee, back up the inside of his thigh, and took hold of his cock.

Ianto made another needy sound as Jack wrapped his hand around him and gave a loose stroke, root to tip.  But then he tightened his grasp and stroked down, using his hold on Ianto’s cock to pull his hips back as the thrust his own hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in Ianto’s arse, hard and fast.

“Jack!” Ianto was most definitely awake, now.  “What the fuck!”  But that was the last coherent thought in his head as Jack pulled his hips forward by his cock and almost pulled out of Ianto before slamming back into him.

Ianto cried out at the invasion that was half pain, half bliss and all blitz attack on his higher brain function.

“All right?” Jack asked, rocking his hips back as he pulled Ianto’s hips forward, still using his lover’s cock as his point of leverage.  “Need you to use your word, if you want me to stop.”

“N-no!” Ianto cried out as Jack thrust back into him, again.  He flailed back with his left arm, burying his hand in Jack’s hair and pulling him in for a kiss.  When their lips parted, he begged, “Don’t… Don’t stop!”

Now that was the kind of begging Jack could get behind.  He kissed Ianto again, deep and dirty, before making his voice hard and saying, “There are a few things I need you to understand, Ianto.  You still with me?” 

His well-timed thrust elicited a loud, “Yes!” from his angel.

“First of all… You,” thrust, “Are,” thrust, “Mine!” he plowed into Ianto, pulling him back brutally and causing the angel to cry out in shock and something that was still riding that line between pleasure and pain.  “Understand?”

Thrust.

“Yes!”

“Tell me you understand, Ianto.”

Thrust.

“I understand,” thrust, “Jack!”

“Say it!”

Thrust.

“Yours!” Ianto cried out.

“Say it!”

Thrust.

“Yours!” Ianto cried out again.

“Say it again!”

Thrust.

“I’m yours, Jack!” Ianto cried out once more, this time sounding broken.

Jack could feel confusion battling arousal along their bond, but everything else was being blotted out by those two overarching reactions.

“Good,” Jack whispered, not pulling back from the thrust that had elicited that last jagged confession.  He leaned in and kissed Ianto’s mark, feeling him shiver as the spike of arousal travelled along their bond.  “My beautiful Angel,” he praised, kissing the mark again. 

“Jack,” Ianto arched his back, but he really didn’t have much range of motion, in the position Jack had him in. 

“Shh,” Jack whispered, “Just take a breath.  We’re not done yet, Angel.”

“Jack?” Ianto sounded confused and a bit scared.  He turned his head, and Jack caught his lips in a scorching kiss that had him arching his back and doing everything he could to get some friction, but Jack held him fast and didn’t let him move as he took everything Ianto offered in that kiss.

As the kiss ended, Jack pulled Ianto forward and withdrew almost entirely from his body before slamming back into him.  Ianto shouted a garbled curse and Jack knew he didn’t have much longer.  But it was time.  Ianto was completely undone.  He had dismantled his lover once more – this time with deliberate intent – and he could tell that Ianto had arrived at a place that was almost completely incoherent.  Only Jack’s voice would be heard, now.

No more Bilis.

No more Manut.

No more of Ianto’s own insecurities.

Just Jack.

It was more power than any one person should have over another, and he was terrified of abusing it.  But Ianto needed this.  He needed to break free of Bilis’ hold over him.  Jack prayed he would get this right.

Jack pulled out and thrust back into Ianto, biting his earlobe and in a hard, implacable tone said, “But what you don’t seem to comprehend, my Angel, is that I,” thrust, “Am,” thrust, “Yours.”

“J-Jack?”  The confusion was back, but that was good.  It meant Ianto had heard him.

He repeated his words and actions, and vaguely thought that they’d be lucky if Ianto would be able to sit any time in the next week or so.  He was not going easy on his lover, but this particular tactic wouldn’t work if he was gentle.

Jack had a hard grip on Ianto’s cock and was holding him close against his body, his own cock buried to the hilt, once more.  “Do you hear me, Ianto?”  He withdrew and slammed back into his lover, to make his point.

“Y-yes,” Ianto said, but he didn’t sound very sure of himself.

Jack repeated the process, once more.  Just three little words, accompanied by three brutal thrusts.  Ianto was almost howling with each thrust, and writhing, in between.

“Understand?”

Thrust.

“Yes!”

“Say it!”

Thrust.

“I understand, Jack!”  Ianto almost shouted.  “Please!”

“Then tell me, Ianto!” Jack growled.

Thrust.

“You’re mine!” Ianto cried out, but it was far too weak for Jack’s satisfaction.

“Say it like you mean it!”

Thrust.

“Mine!” Ianto shouted, and Jack felt something shift along the bond.  Like a barrier had been broken through.

“Say it again!”

Thrust.

“Mine!” Ianto growled, and there was something intense and possessive in his tone.

“Yours,” Jack cried, exultant, feeling his body thrumming with the love, desire, and joy of their now unimpeded bond.  He leaned down and licked Ianto’s mark, and this time, Ianto’s responding shiver was his own.

“Mine,” Ianto called out again.

“I’m yours, Angel,” Jack began moving in earnest, now, but the rhythm he had already established did not change.  He felt Ianto’s body tightening around him, and his own responded as it never had, before.  He continued to wrench Ianto roughly by the cock as he slammed into him, and soon they were both lost in the sensations of an incredibly intense orgasm that seemed to pass from one to the other, and back again.

Jack only realized he had blacked out when he came to, sometime later.  The sun was fully up, so he wondered how long he had been out.  He quickly looked to Ianto, who was still out of it.  He hissed as he pulled out of his lover’s body and checked him carefully for injury after the rough treatment before walking on shaky legs across the room to get several flannels.  A warm one to clean the lube and come from Ianto’s body, as well as his own.

He used a fresh one soaked in cool water to wipe down the rest of Ianto’s body.  Starting with his brow, and brushing a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, then behind his ears and all around his neck, then down his chest and arms.  The gentle ministrations were meant to help cool down his overheated skin and help the angel come back to himself.

Jack ended at the insides of each elbow and wrist.  He was gently stroking the cool cloth along Ianto’s hand when he seemed to return to consciousness.

“All right?”  Jack asked, still praying that he’d done the right thing.

“Better than,” Ianto answered, smiling up at his lover.  “I can feel you, now.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to be feeling me for a few days,” Jack quipped, and Ianto snorted.

“Just when I was finally not sore anymore.”  He stretched, and then grimaced.  “I’ll think of you every time I move for the next week or so, you brute.”

“I’m happy to be thought of,” Jack grinned, but it was a tentative, brittle thing.  “I mean it.  Are you all right?”

“Yes, Jack,” Ianto reached up and cupped his lover’s face.  “How did you know that would break Manut’s hold?”

“I knew I’d need to subvert it, and to do that, I needed to dig beneath your conscious thoughts.”

“After rendering me nonverbal,” Ianto said, still smiling and clearly not holding a grudge.

“Old brainwashing technique,” Jack admitted, and felt his eyes filling with tears.  “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do.  I could feel your despair through our bond, and it… it hurt.  And I knew you couldn’t sense me, at all.”

“Jack, it’s all right,” Ianto sat up, but winced and then shifted so his weight was settled more towards one hip.  “I understand.  And it worked.”  He smiled, and it was radiant.  None of that tentative, asking-Jack-for-permission-to-be-happy nonsense.  His own joy, untainted by anything.  “Manut’s hold is gone.  Completely gone,” he said.  “And…” he cupped Jack’s face again, staring into his eyes for a moment.

“And?” Jack asked, feeling something else barreling down the bond at him.

“I love you,” Ianto smiled, and it was the first time he was saying it, without any of the baggage that Manut had attached to it.

Jack let out a small whimper as the full force of it hit him squarely in the chest.  But then he felt Ianto’s joy, and he could see the effect of his own traveling back to Ianto.  In the next moment, they were kissing and laughing and holding onto one another, unwilling to let go again as they arranged themselves more comfortably and used the controls on the night table to close the shades on the windows, engulfing themselves in a warm, soothing darkness and finding a deep, peaceful rest in one another’s arms.

***

When Jack woke, it was well after noon.  He retracted the shades and looked over to where Ianto was sprawled out on his belly next to him, the top sheet riding low over his hips and showing vast expanses of snowy skin over a finely muscled back.  But Ianto’s weight was down, so his ribs and vertebrae were also on display, and Jack felt a pang of regret at Ianto’s slow recovery even as he felt overwhelmingly grateful that Ianto was still with him and able to recover.

He got up and stared out of the window at the snow falling so heavily that the bay wasn’t even visible.  He lowered the partition and began running a hot bath, unsurprised to find some rich bath products by the tub.  He returned to the bed and gently woke his lover.

Ianto was still groggy with sleep when Jack led him to the water closet and let him use the facilities while he made sure the bath was ready.  Then he helped Ianto into the bath, climbing in with him to help him wash. 

Jack was gentle and thorough, washing Ianto’s hair and massaging his sore muscles as he bathed him.  Once they were both dressed, he led Ianto downstairs and fed him before allowing him to sleep, once more.

For all the good it did, breaking Manut’s hold took a toll on Ianto.  He slept even more than usual those first few days, after.  Jack made sure he was fed and hydrated, and bundled him up and took him for walks when the weather wasn’t utterly dreadful, but he spent most of his time in the study working as Ianto barely left the bed for three days. 

Part of the issue – and Jack only felt a little guilty – was that he was too sore to move.  But he recovered fairly quickly from the physical aspects of Jack’s chosen treatment, even as the fatigue still plagued him.

Jack had called Toshiko and Owen to come that Tuesday.  Tosh, to upgrade and secure the tech at the barn, and Owen, to make sure Ianto was actually improving.  They stayed for lunch before heading back to Cardiff, leaving Jack with some projects to work on with a secure link to Mainframe.  Owen was pleased by the marked improvement in Ianto’s physical health, and reassured Jack that the renewed exhaustion was only to be expected, after the damage Bilis Manger’s mischief had done.

So for a few days, Ianto slept and Jack worked, when he wasn’t sat in the bed with a book and his angel wrapped around him like a sloth around a tree.  Despite Ianto’s inactivity, it was a happy, restful time.  Each had found a deep well of patience around the healing that they both needed, and the long, quiet days left both of them feeling a degree of peace and contentment that neither had experienced in a very long time.

Their bond was now alive with sensation, and Jack was relieved to find Ianto’s fears settling.  He was still wary, which was entirely understandable, but the dread and despair were gone.  And each attention Jack paid elicited a thrill of happiness and joy that flowed through the bond, surprising and delighting Jack each time.  Ianto’s attentions were likewise met with a blend of joy and uncertainty, but the latter was quickly fading as the fledgling bond allowed for no secrets between them.

Ianto had explained that the bond would be more intense, at first.  They would not be able to block anything until it settled.  That was why having quiet time to themselves was so important, without distractions that would make it easier for them to inadvertently do harm to one another.  But the days that followed unfolded beautifully before them.  They laughed and loved and Ianto finally began to heal, in earnest.

Now that the sense of dread was no longer dragging at him, his appetite began to return.  And Jack was more than happy to feed him up, experimenting with the different foods Jophiel had stuffed the pantry with.  Through trial and error, he even discovered the secret to getting Ianto to eat his vegetables.

Bribery.

Turned out, the promise of sexual favors could motivate all manner of cooperation and compliance.

Ianto had the terrible habit of not seeing the point of healthy eating, but Jack was able to argue that the better Ianto ate, the more quickly he would mend – both this time, and from any future injuries.  Ianto saw this somewhat blatant tactic for what it was, though he was willing to concede its truth. 

Mostly he just enjoyed making Jack prove his point. 

That, and the bribery.

He very much enjoyed the bribery.

And Ianto was not above taking full advantage of Jack’s negotiation tactics.

***

That Thursday, Ianto felt strong enough to accompany Jack to town.  They left just after the cleaning lady Jophiel had engaged arrived.  Linette was a kindly, middle-aged woman who smiled at their banter and quietly went about her work as they prepared to go into town.  The storm earlier in the week had not left much snow, but a large winter storm was in the forecast in the next day or two, and Jack was having fantasies about being snowed in with his angel.

They drove into town and then walked around for a while, exploring the place a bit to see how much had changed since Ianto had last been there.  After lunch at the pub, they visited the market, where Jack made every impulse purchase available, with Ianto watching with fond exasperation.  By the time they headed back to the car, Ianto was leaning heavily on Jack’s arm and had gone pale and quiet.

When they got home, Linette was on her way out.  Jack took Ianto up and put him to bed, and by the time he got back downstairs, Linette had brought the groceries in.  She stayed and helped him put them away, then headed out with Jack’s heartfelt thanks.

Jack puttered around for a half hour or so, checking emails and making sure there was nothing pressing before making a cup of cocoa, grabbing his book from the living room, and heading to the bedroom.  He undressed and crawled into the bed with Ianto, who began wrapping himself around Jack before he could get properly settled in.

“You’re cold,” Ianto muttered, shivering as his sleep-warm skin pressed against Jack’s.

“If it really bothers you, I could always read downstairs in front of the fire,” Jack said, chuckling as Ianto tightened his grip on him.  “But you seem to like using me as your lovie.”

“Mmmm,” Ianto purred, snuggling into Jack and kissing the smooth skin over his ribcage.  “My lovely, loving, lovable lovie.”

“Did you have a lovie, when you were a little human?” Jack asked, curious.

“Hmm.  Pretty little red dragon plush, but me tad tore her wings off and threw her in the garbage when he decided that seven was too old for any son of his to be carrying around a plush toy.”

“Fucker,” Jack grumbled.

“Hmm.”

“You didn’t sneak out later and rescue her?” Jack asked, halfway expecting a story of a seven-year-old Ianto clumsily sewing the wings back onto his reclaimed dragon.

“Got caught,” Ianto muttered, pulling Jack closer.  “Beat the shit outta me for tryin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack held him and tried to keep the rage from building.

“Not your fault,” Ianto soothed, clearly feeling Jack’s anger and trying to cool it back down.

“What was her name?”

Ianto mumbled something incoherent into Jack’s skin, causing him to shiver.

“What was that?” he smiled, catching Ianto’s reluctance to answer.

“Her name was Myfanwy,” Ianto sniffed.  “She was so pretty.”

“A lovely name, for a lovely dragon,” Jack smiled.

“Don’tellOwen,” Ianto cuddled closer.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack replied, and it struck him that even if Ianto wasn’t human, he’d lived as one for the most formative years of a human lifetime.  “Is it strange, having the memories of being human?”

Ianto sighed.  Clearly naptime was over, for now.  It was fine, really.  Most of his fatigue from their outing had been quietened by the sleep he’d already managed to grab.  Besides, he couldn’t resist the open, loving feelings flowing so freely along the bond.  He reached across Jack for the mug of cocoa sitting on the night table and took a sip, then set it back down and shared the chocolate flavor with Jack in a luscious kiss.

“My father…  Daffydd, that is, he was right.  I was a changeling.”  Ianto settled against Jack’s chest again.  “The one I replaced had died, still in my… his… mother’s womb.”

“She raised you as her own, Ianto.  It’s okay for you to call her your mother.”

“Something no angel has ever had,” Ianto sniffed.  “She was lovely.  So delicate.”  He went quiet, for a moment.  “You’re right, it is confusing.  But it was real.  I was glamored into infancy, but I experienced growing up, as a human.  All of the growing pains and awkward childhood moments, all of the boredom of school, all of the angst and heartbreak unique to the human drama.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t experience the joys of childhood as well, Ianto,” Jack whispered into his hair.  “I wish you could have enjoyed the best of the human experience, as well as the worst.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Ianto protested.

“I’m surprised Azrael and Tamiel didn’t figure out a way to smite your father,” Jack rejoined.  “They are very protective of you, you know.”

“Yes, and I’m sure they feel very guilty for the circumstances they placed me in.  But,” he looked up, his eyes shining with pure love and happiness, “I wouldn’t have found you, otherwise.”

“My Angel…”

***

Chapter Text

Jack and Ianto had both been far too sore from their little escapade four days before, and Ianto had been sleeping far too much for them to engage in much besides kissing.  Ianto was still a bit tender in places, so it took some creativity for Jack to find a way to bring him off without hurting him.

Jack kissed Ianto breathless, then stroked and licked his way down his angel’s body, every touch gentle and tender, without even a whisper of discomfort.  That edge that could be so thrilling had no place here, this time.

For his part, Ianto was just damned glad that getting hard didn’t hurt.  His cock had been bruised by that last encounter, and his arse ravaged.  Well worth it, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle much for at least a few more days.  He wasn’t surprised that Jack knew just what to do.

Jack worked his way down, kissing and teasing.  He had Ianto writhing beneath him as he gently pressed the pad of his thumb into Ianto’s perineum and paid a great deal of attention to each of his bollocks.  Before long, Ianto’s body was vibrating with tension and he was calling out.

“Jack!”

Jack grinned as he pressed into that spot just a bit more firmly and took the tip of Ianto’s cock into his mouth, sucking gently and tonguing the slit.  Ianto’s hips jerked but didn’t lift as he called out again as his climax rolled through him.

Ianto felt as though he dissolved into Jack like spun sugar on his lover’s tongue.  He moaned again as his body quaked through the orgasm.  Before he could draw breath, Jack was kissing him, his cock like steel against Ianto’s hip,

Ianto broke the kiss with a gasp, and leaned back to get a look at Jack.  He felt Jack’s love and lust and need, and he felt as though he’d been immersed in a warm bath on a cold day.  It was more than love.  It was ecstasy.  It was bliss.

It was relief.

Ianto surged forward and latched onto the mark on Jack’s neck, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth and running his tongue all along the length of it as his teeth worried the edges.  He buried one hand in Jack’s hair and the other grasped Jack’s hip, pressing him closer but making no move to take him in hand. 

Jack had begun to babble, and Ianto ran the flat of his tongue along the mark again, then gave a firm suck, and Jack’s entire body seized as he came with a surprised shout.  Ianto felt the warm splash across his belly, and his own cock twitched again in response to Jack’s pleasure.

Ianto flopped onto his back as Jack stared at him from where he had collapsed beside him.  The angel reached down and traced across his belly through Jack’s come, then raised his fingers to his mouth and licked, relishing Jack’s unique flavor.

Jack moaned.  “Angel, you’re killing me,” then rolled over and got up, stumbling across the room and returning a moment later with a warm flannel.  He gently cleaned his lover, who was still sucking on his fingers, making that damnable purring noise with a teasing smile.

Jack clambered back into the bed and resumed his spot leaning into the pillows propped against the headboard.  Ianto wrapped around him, again.  After a moment’s pause, Jack resumed their earlier conversation.

“So you were human, but now you’re not.  Is it confusing?”

Ianto snorted in amusement at Jack’s ability to pick up the thread of conversation again after the lovely distraction.  But then he sobered as he tried to articulate his experience.

“Not confusing, no,” he began.  “But…  I think you feel it, now.  How different the shape of your mind is.”

Jack nodded.  It had been an easy thing to get used to.  Very much like the Doctor’s TARDIS, if you didn’t think too deeply on it.  Able to fit everything that had come before.  Able to expand to fit everything yet to come.

Bigger on the inside.

“My mind was sort of cordoned off, I suppose.  The part I was aware of was human shaped.  So now I know, in every sense, what it is, to be human.  To be petty, and small-minded.  To fear failure and loss.  To fear, and to lose.  To love, and to burn.  To find something worth dying for.  And something worth living for.”

He shook his head, still trying to find the words.  “None of those things are a part of an angel’s life experience.  Well, not a normal angel, anyway.  I have loved.  Deeply.  But that desperation to save Lisa was new.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, his words coming slowly.  “But now that I know…  I think it will shape how I live, going forward.  I’ve always had empathy for humans, but now I understand the fears and irrationalities that sometimes drive the behaviors that I had little sympathy for, before.  Turns out, for all their claims otherwise, humans are not rational creatures.  But you weren’t made to be so.  To expect it is… unfair.”

“We’re capable of rationality,” Jack argued.

“Yes, but to take a punishing view of those moments when you are literally incapable of it… that’s what would be unfair.”

“You’re waxing philosophical,” Jack chided, smiling fondly.

“I can’t help it,” Ianto defended.  He went silent, again.  “I spent many years feeling that my FATHER had forsaken me.  And then my human father mistreated me.  All of these things have shaped me.  I am…  I cannot pretend those things did not break me.  But perhaps because of all the ways I’ve been broken and mended, I can be a better…” he trailed off.

“Being?” Jack suggested.  He had felt Ianto’s mind catch on the words ‘man’ and ‘person’, and even ‘angel’.  “I think you can use any of those words, and not lose any integrity over it.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

They lay there for a while longer, enjoying the warmth and love thrumming along the bond.  Then Jack screwed up his courage and broached a topic they’d been avoiding for days, now.

“So can you tell me what Bilis… I mean, Manut… what he did to you?”

Ianto did his best to describe Bilis’ first tactic.  “He needed to isolate each of us.  I think he’d been influencing the team for a while.  At least from when the Sky Gypsy came through the rift.  Maybe even before that.”

“Owen?”

“The most susceptible.  The one most out in the world.  And with no psi training.”

“You don’t think he was in love with Diane?”

Ianto shrugged.  “I think he cared for her.  But she was off balance, too.  I don’t think she was the type to fly off into a rift in time and space without a hell of a nudge from a powerful demon.”

“Damn.  I should have seen that.”

“But you were being nudged, as well.  I…” he hesitated.

“What?” Jack asked, feeling a spark of nerves along the bond.

“I don’t think John was the type to just give up, and I don’t think your go-to mode of helping someone is to assist with a suicide.”

Jack paled.  “Oh, gods…”

“No, don’t do that.  This is all on Manut.  He manipulated all of us, Jack.  He did what he could to isolate each of us, so when the time came, we’d each be desperate for the solution he offered and not trust one another if anyone tried to rein in anyone else.  That’s why we turned on each other, in the end.”

“Not you,” Jack pointed out.

“Yes, me,” Ianto argued.  “I broke up with you, remember?  I had felt so isolated and alone, for so long.  And then you and I were…  I was happy.  Having fun.  Falling hard and denying it with everything I had, and terrified that you’d realize it and bolt.  He played on my fears, and preyed on my loneliness and fear of your antipathy.  He let me read you just enough that I picked up on that resentment, and it was my undoing.  And I didn’t stop to ask how any of it had unfolded.”

“I hope you aren’t blaming yourself for what happened,” Jack said, his voice gentle.

“It’s all so clear, in hindsight.  But I know we would have all done better, if we could have.”

Jack was shocked to hear Ianto describe how Lisa had appeared to him, and how he had been attacked when he hadn’t been fooled.  He had assumed that Tamiel had been talking about the manipulations when he’d spoken of Manut invading Ianto’s mind.  He’d had no idea it was anything so literal or violent.

He found himself gathering Ianto into his arms and holding him tenderly.  “I’m so sorry, Ianto.”

“I’m all right, now,” Ianto reassured him, but holding onto Jack tightly and allowing the comfort his lover was offering. 

“But it was still hurting you,” Jack said, his concern and panic growing as he considered what Bilis had done to Ianto.  “And how do we know it won’t come back and affect you again?”

“Because you helped me break his hold.”

“But what does that mean?”

“His lies had burrowed in and taken root, and it was festering like the tissue around a splinter.”  Ianto leaned back and cupped Jack’s face in his hand.  “But you, my brilliant, beautiful Captain, drew the splinter out.  It’s gone, now.  To indulge the metaphor a bit further, let’s say the tissue is tender now, but it’s healing.”

“I had the terrible feeling I was going to lose you, if I didn’t do something.”

“Jack, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” Ianto smiled grimly.  “But I was losing myself.  Convinced that I’d be miserable, that I’d be yours, but you’d never be mine.”  He shook his head.  “But that is such a human way of seeing things.  This bond between us isn’t about possession, though your… tactic the other day served to even the playing field so I could remember that.”

“What do you mean?”

Ianto smiled, but Jack felt another hint of apprehension.  “This,” he gestured between them, “isn’t about what’s yours, or what’s mine.  It’s about what’s OURS.  You will still be you, and I will still be me, but the bond makes us… US.  And together we will be more than the sum of our parts.”

“Why are you so nervous, telling me that?” Jack asked, making sure his voice was gentle and held only curiosity.

“Because I’m worried you’ll think I’m saying that you’ll lose your individuality, or your independence.  But the whole point is that we can’t be US unless each of us is completely ourselves, first.”

“Owen would say that I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid,” Jack chuckled after a moment’s consideration.

Ianto frowned.  “I don’t understand.”

“It’s just, a few weeks ago, what you just said would’ve had me running.  Far, far away.”  He reached out and took Ianto’s hand as the angel sat up and made to move away.  “But now, I find myself completely in love with the idea of US.  I can’t wait to see what that will look like.  What it will feel like.”

Jack sighed and leaned in for a kiss that was sweet and tender.  “Ianto, I love you.  And I am willing to tell you that as many times as it takes, for you to be able to trust it.”

“I know you mean it, Jack,” Ianto quickly interjected.

“Yes, but you’ve been through hell.  And I did my part to put you through it.  I know it will take time for you to trust this, even though you believe it.  And that’s okay.”  He reached out and caressed Ianto’s cheek.  “I’m not afraid of you and me becoming US.”

“An angelic bond is nothing like a human marriage,” Ianto warned.

“So I’ve gathered.  But we’re not human, are we?”  He shook his head when Ianto frowned.  “I stopped being fully human when Rose brought me back, that first time.  And now my mind is no longer human.  I…” he smiled at Ianto, and there were tears in his eyes.  “I love it.  I feel…  I feel free.  I feel like me, again.  Like I can breathe.  I didn’t even realize it, until it all changed, but I had felt so… confined.”

“The human mind was not designed to withstand more than a few hundred years.  And anything past a century or so needs assistance.  One of the reasons you were struggling was because of that.”

“I am so grateful.  I feel like I’ve been given so much.”

“Well, it’s not everyone who has a seraph created, just for them,” Ianto pointed out, and Jack felt a burst of joy at the delivery that was both playful and deadpan.

A moment later, Jack sobered.  “That does not make you my possession.”

“I’m glad you know that, Jack,” Ianto smiled.  “That was another thing that was getting twisted up, in my head.  But seraphs cannot be possessed.  We must give ourselves freely.”  He took Jack’s hand and looked down at it, and Jack felt him gathering the courage to say what he needed to say.  “I was created to provide humans in general, and you in particular, comfort and hope.  And I will always be there for you, to do that.”

“But…” Jack prompted when Ianto paused.

“But I cannot…  I will not be mated to someone who mistreats me.”  Ianto looked at Jack, and there was a fierceness in his eyes that took the immortal’s breath away. 

“Nor should you be.”  Jack was damned glad to see that strength and intensity.  That refusal to be a victim and willingness to stand up for himself.  This was his Ianto. 

“I mean it, Jack.”

“I’m glad you do,” Jack said, squeezing Ianto’s hand and looking at him earnestly.  “I don’t want you to stand for any mistreatment.  Especially from me.”  He brought Ianto’s hand up and kissed his knuckles, trying to gather his calm.  “But can we please not talk about you leaving me?”

Even if Ianto hadn’t heard the slight tremor in Jack’s voice, he couldn’t help but feel the frisson of fear Jack felt at the thought of losing him.

“Like I said, my Love.  You’re stuck with me,” Ianto smiled gently and leaned forward to press a tender kiss to Jack’s lips.

“So what happens next?” Jack asked, when Ianto leaned back, again.

Ianto chuckled.  “Don’t be impatient.  A becoming bond is a thing to be savored.”

Jack leaned forward and kissed Ianto breathless.  When he pulled back, he laughed.  “And I plan to savor every nanosecond of this.”

Ianto smiled fondly.  “Once the bond has become, it will allow for empathy and telepathy.  Right now, we’re picking up stray thoughts, and that will likely always be the case, if strong emotions are involved.  But it can be more deliberate.”

“And what if one of us doesn’t want to share?” Jack asked, feeling reluctant.

“We’ll be able to learn a degree of control, in terms of blocking what travels along the bond.”  Ianto sighed.  “But I don’t think we’ll be able to block all of it.  It will be too strong.”

“How do you know?” Jack asked, curious.

“It hasn’t even become, and it’s already stronger than any of the other bonds I’ve had,” Ianto confessed.  He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, and he couldn’t shield Jack from that uncertainty.

“I guess that would feel strange, for you,” Jack said carefully, then added, “But it’s probably only because of the vortex, or something.”

Ianto smiled fondly at his beloved.  “Every love is as different as the lover,” he said softly.  “I’m not afraid that the strength of my love for you might mean I loved any of them less.  It’s just… the strength of this bond…  It tells me where I stand, with you,” he said, his voice awed.  “But it frightens me, because I’m not accustomed to knowing where I stand, with you.”

“But you’ll get used to it,” Jack smiled.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ianto gave that shy smile that melted Jack’s heart.

“So how can you tell it’s stronger?” Jack asked.

“The other bonds were so… ethereal,” Ianto frowned, trying to describe something so abstract.  “Like gossamer.”  He let out a sigh, remembering the sweetness of each of those bonds.  Then he closed his eyes and felt along the newly forming bond with Jack.  “But this,” he opened his eyes and smiled, “It feels like braided steel, and it’s not even finished forming.”

Ianto looked at Jack, startled, as he felt a trickle of disappointment across their bond.

“Braided steel isn’t very romantic, is it?” Jack pouted.  “Gossamer sounds all sweet and delicate.”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Ianto replied, and Jack finally registered first the initial startle, and then the snark, “if you find running through cobwebs more romantic than knowing that we are forging a bond strong enough to withstand the weight of time it will have to bear…”

Jack caught Ianto before he could leave the bed, and the bond trembled with contrition.  “I’m sorry, Angel,” he whispered.  “I was being silly.  I should have realized it was too soon to…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Ianto sniffed, slumping back into Jack’s grasp.  “I wasn’t expressing it well, and your disappointment with my words just hit me wrong.”

“You expressed it perfectly,” Jack kissed Ianto, knowing it was too soon for all of the angel’s insecurity regarding the previous imbalance between them to have dissipated.  “I’m not disappointed that our bond is strong.  But I want the romance too.  Yeah?”

Ianto nodded and leaned into Jack, still a bit shocked at how much it had hurt, to think Jack was unhappy in any way with their bond.  But he was able to let it go fairly quickly, able to see the context of Jack’s momentary lapse.  He knew – he could feel Jack’s love and his joy that the bond was growing. 

“Tell me more,” Jack said, still holding Ianto close.  “Were you able to speak telepathically with your wives and kids?”

“Kids…” Ianto pulled back, frowning.  Then he nodded.  “You didn’t ask about the marks on the reclaimed timber in the kitchen.  Tamiel?”

“He said that he thought this bond would be your fourteenth, and I did the math.  He didn’t tell me much, wanted you to be the one to tell me.”

“It’s all right.  Feels like there’ve been a lot of things we’ve needed to talk about, lately.”

“And I’ve loved every minute of it,” Jack hugged Ianto and kissed his temple.

Ianto sighed, as the tender feelings settled, once more.  “The bonds were always these light, airy, wispy things.  The ones with the kids were the weakest, because physical intimacy is one of the things that strengthens the bonds.”

“That makes sense,” Jack nodded, then kept the thought to himself that Sunday morning’s shenanigans alone would account for the image he had in his mind of their braided steel bond.

Ianto gave him a knowing look and a small grin before continuing.  “All of the bonds were empathic.  The ones that weren’t as strong were mostly one-way.  Most of the time, they could only read me if I was experiencing particularly strong emotions.”  He closed his eyes and for a moment was lost in memory.  “Only a few of the bonds were strong enough to be telepathic.  All of those were by touch.”

“I had some training,” Jack admitted.  “I can communicate telepathically, a bit.”

“Toshiko told me,” Ianto confessed.  “That night with Mary, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded.  That had been a tough night, for everyone.

“She said she couldn’t read you, though.”

“I had a lot of training,” Jack replied. 

“Then we should be able to have more control,” Ianto nodded, as though to himself.

“I don’t mind you knowing,” Jack said, and Ianto looked at him, curious.  “How I’m feeling.  Even as a human, you already had a really good read on me,” he smiled.  “And what I’m thinking.  But I…  I don’t want to burden you.”

Ianto reached up and caressed Jack’s cheek again.  “Supporting you is no burden, my Love.”

Jack leaned into Ianto’s touch and closed his eyes, sighing.  “I’ll do my best.  But this is all really new.”

“For me, as well,” Ianto replied.  “But we’ll figure it out, together.”

“Together,” Jack leaned in and kissed Ianto, again.

***

Chapter Text

“One of the benefits of the time it takes for a bond to become is that there is the chance to acclimatize to the bond being wide open.  Any shielding that is added later can then be tempered by the knowledge of how it feels to be completely open with one another.”

“I do like this,” Jack confessed, nuzzling behind Ianto’s ear and enjoying that humming purr even as its emotional equivalent rumbled along the bond.  “But Ianto,” he leaned back.  “There’s so much that I’ve…  For a really long time, I was not a good man.”  He hesitated and drew in a deep breath.  “For a really long time, I was a very bad man.”

“And what are you now?” came that beloved voice, pulling Jack from the quagmire of guilt and shame he had tumbled into.

“Doing the best I can,” Jack choked.  “But it will never undo what I’ve done.”

“No, my Love,” Ianto said, placing his hand against Jack’s cheek and sending comfort and understanding along their bond.  “But you have made the decision to be a better man.  And you’ve been a better man.  All you can do in a linear world is step forward from this moment, choosing to do better than before.  And that’s what you’ve done.  So now the task is to forgive yourself.  Forgive your past.  You will bring your best self to the next moment, if you lay down those burdens.”

“But you don’t know,” Jack said, his anguish palpable.  “If you knew, you wouldn’t tell me that.  Some things can’t be… shouldn’t be forgiven.”

“You taught my human self a great deal about forgiveness, Jack.  I said some of those same things to you, and you forgave me, anyway.  Encouraged me to forgive myself, as well.  Are you saying that was a lie?”

“No!” Jack was taken aback by the vehemence of Ianto’s question.  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then tell me,” Ianto said, his voice calm but firm.  “Tell me something you’ve done that you feel couldn’t be forgiven.”

And so began Jack’s confession. 

Most of the things were done under orders, either as a soldier or a Time Agent.  Some of the things were simply mistakes.  Some were poor judgment.  Almost nothing had been done in malice.  Ianto was able to look at each of Jack’s admissions from a distance, providing a dispassionate argument for each, always in favor of forgiveness.

“But Ianto, the whole village…”

“You said yourself there was no other way.”

“Forty-six people,” Jack muttered.  “All in one go.  How can you say that’s okay?”

“I’m not saying it’s okay.  I’m saying you had no choice.  I’m saying I forgive you, and I dearly hope that you can forgive yourself.”

“You do?” Jack’s head jerked up and he stared at Ianto, wide-eyed.

“Do you know why they created a human life for me?”

Jack shifted.  “They mentioned a concentration camp…”

“Did they mention that I completely lost my shit and razed the camp?  The only survivors were the prisoners and the soldiers in my unit.  I killed everyone, Jack.  Guards, soldiers, the camp commandant, the secretarial staff, the laundry workers…”

“Ianto,” Jack breathed.  He began to realize that it wasn’t just Ianto’s grief that had led his friends to create a human life for him.  It was also the grief and guilt for what he had done in a moment of anguish and insanity.

“Eighty-two souls, Jack.  And I felt every one of them die.”

“Wait.  What?”

“I am the Angel of Comfort and Hope,” he explained.  “I am deeply empathic, though I do what I can to block it, so it won’t drive me round the twist.  But as soon as we rolled into the camp, the latent pain and death, and the suffering of those still living…  My shielding just crumbled under the weight of it.”

“You felt what had happened there?” Jack asked, horrified.

Ianto nodded, his eyes filled with tears.  “So many lives lost.  And I felt each one, like a spark flaring and dying in my mind.  It was too much.  I lashed out, desperate to ensure the safety of those who had survived.  It wasn’t a coherent thought, just a need to protect.”  He paused, looking at Jack.  “I killed eighty-two people, that day.”

“How?” Jack asked, wide-eyed, but with no judgment.  He knew Ianto was likely a very powerful creature, but he had not yet asked about what powers he might possess.

“We have spoken of the land possessing a sort of sentience,” he began, and Jack nodded.  “Sometimes it acts in sympathy to my emotions.  So much had already happened there.  The land was already angry and grief-stricken.  My horror and rage proved too much for it.  I screamed, and the land roiled, and every black heart that took part in the horror burned.”

“You…” Jack blinked.  “You can set someone on fire?”

Ianto chuckled, but there was little humor in it.  “Not normally.  I don’t know how I did it; I only know the end result.  I certainly would never try to make it happen, again.  I think it was more like that electrical surge that fried my toaster the other week.  Just a byproduct of a power surge.”  He looked at Jack for a moment before adding, “But all seraphim can wield fire.”

“The sword,” Jack nodded, remembering the flaming sword Ianto had used against Abaddon.

“My point is,” Ianto sighed, “in the years that I rested in that mine shaft, I was able to get some perspective on what had happened.  I wish it hadn’t happened, but I cannot undo it.  All I can do is ensure I don’t do that kind of harm, again.  And between my friends and you,” he sent Jack a sad smile, “I hope that will be manageable.  So the only thing I can still do is forgive myself.”

“And have you?” Jack asked, curious.

“I have found a measure of peace in understanding that without someone by my side in that moment, there was no other way I could have responded.  I would never consciously do something like that, but I was out of my head, and on my own.”

“And understanding is the first step,” Jack said, repeating something Ianto had said earlier about understanding being a stepping-stone to forgiveness.

“It is a work in progress, but it’s important to embark on the work,” Ianto smiled gently at Jack.  “I’m not telling you about the camp so you can worry about me, but to show you that it is possible for you to stop despising yourself.”

“I know,” Jack said, kissing Ianto’s hand.  “I just feel so…”

“I know.  I do.  I felt every one of those souls die, Jack.  Perhaps that contributed to my collapse as well.  Believe me when I say that forgiving myself for that has not been easy, and is ongoing.  But it is necessary, if I want to carry my best self into the next moment and be… better than I was.”

“Okay,” Jack nodded.  “I’ll try.”

“My beautiful beloved,” Ianto breathed, leaning forward to kiss Jack’s forehead.  When he leaned back, he looked at Jack steadily.  “But there’s something more, isn’t there?”

Jack burst into tears and an almost overwhelming wave of grief and guilt and shame and remorse and self-loathing and recrimination washed over Ianto.  It was all he could do, to remain upright.  He pulled Jack into his arms and held him as he wept bitter tears and choked out an almost incoherent statement.

“I let go of his hand…”

Eventually, Jack calmed enough to tell Ianto what had happened, that terrible day.  Once more, Ianto attempted to reason with Jack, knowing that some part of his mate could hear the truth of his words, particularly when they were accompanied by the calming comfort flowing along their bond. 

They talked for hours, and Jack would remember that conversation as a turning point in his long life.  Ianto could not, in that one conversation, convince Jack to forgive himself for losing his brother that day, but he was able to make a start.  They had plenty of time, though, and the victory was in getting Jack to promise he’d try.

By the time the conversation was done, it was three in the morning, and they were both exhausted.  But they were also hungry.  Well, Jack was.  Ianto just wanted to sleep, but Jack bundled him down the stairs and fixed eggs and toast while Ianto brewed a calming tea.

Once they ate, they collapsed back into the bed and didn’t wake until almost noon.  Both men were feeling raw and vulnerable from their sharing, but neither regretted the conversations.  They felt safe with one another, their growing bond ensuring they knew they were loved without judgment or reservation.

The day was a lazy one, spent on the sofa in front of the television watching movies they took turns picking out.  Jack cooked a fantastic meal and they found themselves in bed well before midnight, loving on one another tenderly, continuing to be gentle and careful, though their bodies were almost fully recovered.

The next day saw a foot of snow dumped on the coast along St Brides Bay.  Jack pretended they were snowed in, and they spent most of the day tangled together under a blanket on the sofa in the solarium, watching the snow come down and reading to one another.

Another few days passed before Ianto claimed Jack as his own in the manner his mate had been hoping for.  Jack hadn’t said anything, but he most definitely wanted Ianto to stake his claim.  And he wanted to do the same, but this time without having to exorcise Manut.  But he could wait for that…

It was slow and intense, both completely present with one another and feeling everything so deeply, and unable to hide it from the other.  They were completely exposed.  And completely safe.  And utterly besotted.  And as Ianto sank into Jack’s body, they both felt a sense of completion, a sense of home that neither had experienced in a very long time.  It was glorious.  It was beautiful.  And it was almost over too quickly.

Jack frowned as images of Weevils, Owen, and Yvonne Hartman floated through his mind.

“Uh, Ianto?” he asked, twigging the reason for the unsettling images and trying not to laugh.

“Just…  Give me a moment,” Ianto gritted, trying not to fall over the edge too soon.

Jack stifled his amusement, not wanting this to end just yet, either.  But he well understood how close Ianto was.  The bond was flooded with their love and lust and affection and arousal and tenderness and desperation.  It was heady, and Jack marveled that Ianto hadn’t given in to the overwhelming need pulsing between them.

“You won’t find it so funny, when it’s your turn,” Ianto muttered, but his voice was heavy with amusement, now that he’d regained a bit of control.  He then proceeded to shag Jack senseless, allowing every feeling to flow along the bond as he slowly pushed him higher and higher before unceremoniously shoving him over the edge.

They clung to one another as they fell together, and the passion and pleasure, love and joy roaring through the bond hit a crescendo before wrapping around them, soothing them through the aftershocks as their bodies and minds recovered.

This was the effect of an unshielded bond.  And the tradeoff.  The practicalities of everyday life would mean that they would have to employ some shielding; otherwise, they would drive one another mad.  And it’s not like the sex between them would ever be bad.  But it would not have this intensity, when shielded.  Of course, there would be occasions when they would strip themselves bare in order to enjoy the wild, unbridled joy of their bond, unshielded.  Rather often, actually. 

But that all lay in the future… 

For now, they lay together in a heap, struggling for breath and feeling more than a little awestruck.

“Holy…”

“Definitely.”

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“Can we…”

“C’mere.”

Seven hours later, they collapsed from exhaustion and slept for eighteen hours.  When they finally woke, neither could walk a straight line, and they had to leave the house so Linette could clean the place in peace. 

They walked through town, Ianto still leaning heavily on Jack’s arm.  Really, they were leaning on one another, still a little tired and a lot sore, again.  Neither of them had a single regret, and they both had ridiculous grins on their faces as they navigated the slippery pavement to get to the pub, for lunch.

And so went their holiday.  When the winds died down from squall to gale, they walked together along the bay, but the weather was still wintry enough that they did not venture out, much.  Nor were they inclined to, when they could be wrapped up in one another’s arms.  They migrated from one of the chairs before the fire to the sofa in the solarium when not watching movies or sleeping.

There was occasional work to be done, but Owen and Toshiko did everything they could to keep from interfering with their time together.  Gwen was a bit more apt to call for no good reason, but Jack managed to get the point across that she needed to knock it off, much to Ianto’s surprise and delight.

Owen drove out once every ten days or so, usually with Toshiko.  Ianto’s recovery was making steady progress now, and he was almost back to full strength, though he did still have a good deal of weight to regain.

Owen and Tosh had begun training Tamiel, and it was going fairly well.  The fallen angel was learning the protocols and the systems, and he had even helped on some inorganic retrievals.  Owen was hopeful that he could be a good field agent, if he could learn to follow orders.

Owen took Tamiel’s advice and put off giving Ianto a clean bill of health for as long as he could with any trace of credibility.  Tamiel had told them about the development of a becoming bond, and explained that until the process was complete (and even well after), Jack and Ianto would have to remain in close physical proximity to one another.

By itself, this would not have been an issue, and at first, Owen argued that they could return to the hub and just stick together to work on their projects and be paired up on call-outs.  But then Tamiel had explained how the bond also craved physical contact, and if they returned to the hub too soon, the team would likely witness far more of the developing relationship than they’d like to.

Toshiko and Tamiel didn’t seem entirely averse to the prospect, but Owen and Gwen were convinced to allow a lengthy convalescence, if it would spare them any spectacle between their captain and teaboy.

Ianto was in no way fooled, but each time Owen told him to give it a bit more time, he found himself needing to convince Jack of his good health in creative, sometimes acrobatic ways, to keep his lover from worrying.  Eventually, they worked it out that Tamiel was running interference for them, and they relaxed into their time together.

***

Owen and Toshiko had left Cardiff at 7:30 that morning.  Owen had called the night before, to let them know they were coming.  And he had called when they first set out.  And he called again when they were twenty minutes away.

With all that advance prep, he was excessively annoyed when they got to the barn and found Jack straddling Ianto on the sofa.

“Oi!” he cried out, stalling abruptly in the doorway and stumbling a bit as Toshiko ran into the back of him, not having expected his sudden stop.  He quickly stepped aside so she could come in out of the cold rain and close the door.  His annoyance grew at her stifled giggle.

“Hi, Owen,” Jack said, turning to face them.

Thank Christ they were dressed.  Owen stalled out again at the sight of them, though.  Jack’s face was glowing with what could only be described as surprise and delight as he gave them a smile that was not entirely for them.  In the meantime, Ianto was still staring at Jack, his face blazing with awe and adoration. 

Owen had to look away.  Both men were fully clothed, neither was doing anything particularly sexual, and yet he felt as though he was disturbing an incredibly intimate moment.  He cleared his throat and summoned as much bluster as he could manage.

“Three times, I called you!  You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself?”

“Owen, I smell coffee,” Tosh said, tugging at his arm.  “Let’s go have a cup, give them a moment, yeah?”

Owen allowed himself to be dragged down the hall to the kitchen, but called back over his shoulder, “And you’d better not be drinking coffee yet, Teaboy!”

Jack turned back to Ianto, and his smile widened.  “I think we embarrassed him.”

“Good,” Ianto breathed.

Really, they hadn’t planned for it to happen.  Owen’s first call had awakened them, but they spent the intervening hours in bed, enjoying a lazy morning of languid lovemaking before showering and having a large breakfast.  Tosh and Owen were going to be disappointed with the dregs of Jack’s coffee, but Jack wasn’t about to let Ianto make coffee and then not let him drink it.  That would just be cruel.

And Ianto loved Jack for recognizing that.  He would have been glad to fix coffee for his lover, but it would have been disappointing not to be allowed any.  Jack refused to take advantage of Ianto in that way, and it was a straightforward example of the kind of thing that was going to rebuild trust between them.

Owen called while they were eating.  Once they were done – and Jack was very pleased that Ianto’s appetite was returning – they cleaned the kitchen and began pretending to argue about whether Ianto would allow Owen to examine him, when he and Tosh arrived.  Ianto threatened to refuse.

“Well, I’ll just have to hold you down,” Jack rejoined, his eyes suddenly full of heat.

“You’d have to catch me, first,” Ianto grinned at him and ran, Jack hot on his heels. 

It wasn’t much of a chase, really.  More playful than serious, but it ranged upstairs, over the bed and around it again, and ended when Jack caught Ianto at the foot of the stairs.  He walked his lover back to the sofa, pushed him down, and clambered into his lap, straddling his thighs.

“Looks like I caught you,” he breathed, noting Ianto’s heavy breaths and pleased that he seemed less winded than after a similar chase, the week before.

His angel was getting his strength back.

“And what are you going to do with me?” Ianto asked, his eyes darkening as they flicked down to Jack’s lips and then back to his eyes, again.

Hold onto you forever.

Ianto went completely still as his eyes widened.

Jack?

Jack grinned and they stared at one another in surprise until interrupted by Owen.  Now, they spent a few moments whispering to one another telepathically, getting used to the new development.  Jack was curious if it was touch telepathy or full, but he wasn’t willing to stop touching Ianto long enough to find out. 

He whispered words of love and awe as he claimed his angel’s lips in a kiss, rising onto his knees and pressing their chests together.  As Ianto’s head leaned back onto the sofa, Jack followed, deepening the kiss and listening to Ianto returning each endearment.

At length, they forced themselves to calm down, knowing that if they disappeared up into the bedroom, Owen would just leave.  Jack knew Ianto was improving, but he’d come too close to losing his lover.  He wanted Owen to confirm Ianto’s continued recovery.  He slowly stood and held out his hand to Ianto, and they walked to the kitchen together, smiling like idiots.

“What the hell, Jack?” Owen started in as soon as he saw them.

“Feeling better?” Tosh asked Ianto with a knowing grin as she handed him a cup of tea.  Her grin widened as he hesitated a moment before releasing Jack’s hand in order to take the tea.

“Hush,” he smiled into his cup as he took a sip.

Owen’s scans showed Ianto almost fully recovered.  Still weak, but gaining both strength and weight.  But based on what he had just seen, he wasn’t certain Jack and Ianto were ready to return, yet.  They had been in St Brides for almost four weeks, now.  But the level of distraction – or preoccupation with one another – that Owen was seeing did not bode well for safe field work for the others.  Plus, he wasn’t entirely certain they could be out of one another’s company, just yet.

“What’s the furthest you’ve been apart, these past few weeks?” he asked.

Jack frowned, but Ianto nodded.

“No further than the length of the barn,” he answered.

“No, at the store the other day,” Jack began, but then his mouth snapped shut as he remembered the near-desperation that had him seeking Ianto out when the angel had gone to the other side of the store for a few of the items on their list.  They had met in the middle of the store, neither mentioning the discomfort that had pulled them back together.  The relief and happiness with one another’s proximity was enough to have them enjoy doing the rest of their shopping together.

“Yeah,” Owen nodded.  “So that means another two weeks before I evaluate you, again.”

***

Chapter Text

They spent eight weeks at the barn in St Brides, altogether.  They were sad to leave it, but also happy to return to Cardiff.  Their time together had been beautiful, and their bond had grown stronger by the week.  It had not yet settled, but it was beginning to even out enough that they could comfortably leave one another’s company for a few hours at a time.

The touch telepathy had gotten stronger, and there were flashes of full telepathy that would doubtless grow as time passed.  They had begun shielding themselves from one another, but neither liked it, much, so those efforts were more limited.  They knew they would need to practice more, once they returned to work, but while they were hidden away, they didn’t bother, much.

Thankfully, there had been no activity that required a trip to Flat Holm, though Ianto and Jack both checked in regularly to be sure Helen had everything she needed.  One of the first things they did upon returning to Cardiff was make the trip out to the island to be sure all was well.  Helen fussed and flapped over Ianto, despite the fact that he was fully recovered.  Jack smiled at her care, and he knew that Ianto enjoyed the attention, now that he was no longer sick with weakness and fatigue.

In fact, Ianto was in peak condition.  In the last few weeks at St Brides, as the weather began to improve, he had begun running along the cliffs and beaches.  Jack had joined him, and was pleased to watch as Ianto regained his strength.

And, on particularly fine days, Ianto would fly. 

His wings had been badly injured, and other than that brief flight through the hub (that he later paid for, in terms of soreness and fatigue), he had mostly left them to heal.  He had become rather used to ignoring them, after all, but he did find that it took more energy than he sometimes had, to keep them hidden.  So he had let them out as he and Jack had lounged around the barn, recovering.

Jack was endlessly fascinated by them, and Ianto was shocked to discover just how erotic it was, to have certain parts of his wings stroked and fondled.  More than once, Jack’s attempts at easing the aches of recovery led to Ianto shagging him senseless. 

But Jack was still waiting for Ianto to be strong enough to fly with him.  Never mind the fantasies of a mid-flight shag.  He kept those to himself, worried Ianto would think it was just a fetish. 

Which it totally was, but that wasn’t why Jack was attracted to him.  Ianto was still healing, and Jack didn’t want to muddy the water and let Ianto think that the novelty of his wings was in any way fueling Jack’s desires.

But what Jack couldn’t hide was that whenever Ianto flew, Jack found it incredibly arousing.  Invariably, as soon as Ianto would land from a quick flight, Jack would find the closest surface to stand Ianto against before dropping to his knees.

Jack needn’t have worried.  Ianto was well aware of Jack’s fetish, and was more than willing to indulge it, once he had his strength back.  But he definitely had to be at full strength, for what he had planned for his lover…

***

Upon their return to Cardiff, they began experimenting with various aspects of their bond.  They did little test runs to determine how far apart they could travel, and they began working on their shielding, just in case they would need it.  But they had both agreed to only employ it when not doing so would cause unnecessary distractions, at work.

They knew, of course, that going completely unshielded all the time might be maddening, but they had managed it for a couple of months now, and they were reluctant to give up that closeness. 

Jack was surprised to find that Ianto was the first to engage his shielding, not long after they returned to the hub, their very first day back in town.  But he realized with chagrin that Ianto was hiding his reactions to Jack’s interactions with Gwen.

The former police constable was as tenacious as ever, and still smarting over not being second-in-command.  She was also not best pleased with the addition of Tamiel to the team, though his performance was above reproach.  It had become clear that his lazy insouciance was entirely feigned, for he was almost as meticulous as Ianto in his work, and he clearly wanted to do a good job.

Jack was glad to be back, and pleased to see the team.  He did not think he had shown Gwen any undue favor, but when he felt Ianto’s shielding engage, he began to wonder.  He shut down Gwen’s demands for a one-on-one debrief – she wanted to give him a report of what had gone on, in his absence – and followed Ianto down into the med-bay.  He watched as Owen scanned Ianto, and listened as they discussed how Ianto was feeling.  Owen glanced at Jack, then looked back to Ianto.

“I’d prefer you have two weeks of light duty,” he looked at Jack and added, “both of you, so we can make sure there aren’t going to be any nasty surprises, if you move too far apart.”  He held up a hand as each man drew breath to argue.  “Look, we’re doing fine, here.  There’s no need to rush.  And having you both in the hub will help us all get caught up.”

Jack could see the sense of Owen’s suggestion, but it didn’t mean he liked it.  But he wanted to be sure Ianto was fully recovered, so after a few obligatory squawks, he conceded.  Owen looked from one to the other and then retreated.

“What’s going on?” Jack hopped up onto the table beside Ianto.

“Nothing,” Ianto began picking an invisible speck of lint from the left knee of his trousers.

“You didn’t honestly think I wouldn’t notice, did you?” Jack asked, his voice gentle.  He took Ianto’s fidgeting hand in his and brought it up to his lips.  What is it, Angel?  You know I don’t want her.

Ianto sighed, and to Jack’s surprise, when he looked at him, his eyes were wet with unshed tears.  But she wants you, Jack.  And that makes me feel so…  He let out a long sigh.  I’m being stupid, and I didn’t want you to feel like you’ve done anything wrong.  Because you haven’t.  It’s not your fault I’m stupid and insecure.

“Not.  Stupid,” Jack said, pronouncing each word distinctly, though in a very low voice.  “And maybe if you don’t block that from me, I can help to reassure you.  You didn’t feel anything from me that fed this, did you?”

Ianto shook his head, then sighed.  Very tentatively, his shielding began to lower.  “I feel like I’m being petty,” he said, “but she has very strong feelings for you.  It batters my empathy.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Jack kissed his hand, again.  “But I think you should reconsider.  She doesn’t have strong feelings for me,” he squeezed Ianto’s hand to ward off the protest on his lips.  “She has strong feelings for that image she has of me.  The big, damn hero that doesn’t even exist.”

“You are a big, damn hero,” Ianto said, his lips twitching in amusement.  “You have the coat for it, and everything.”

“But I’m nothing like that image,” Jack said, his voice patient as he knew he had to make this point.  Which is why I’ve never returned any of her affections.  Her feelings for me are no more real than that image she has fooled herself into believing is actually me.

“I don’t want to annoy you with my…  I know I’m being unreasonable,” Ianto said, his eyes back on his knees.

“I believe we already discussed this,” Jack said, his smile gentle.  “I gave you a lot of reasons to be insecure.  You’re not being unreasonable.  But you need to share these things with me, so I can let you know when you’re tormenting yourself, for no reason.  I do think Manut cultivated some very bad habits in there,” he reached out and stroked Ianto’s temple.

Ianto sighed, and it was the most natural thing in the world, to lean in for a kiss.

“Oi!” Owen came stomping back down the stairs.  “Not in my med-bay.”  When he reached the bottom of the steps, he looked at both of them.  “Don’t you two have work to do?”

“Yes, sir!” Jack snapped off a jaunty salute as he jumped from the table and bounded up the steps.  He glanced back at Ianto and sent him a stunning smile before disappearing from view.

“You all right?” Owen asked, his voice quiet.

“I’m good,” Ianto smiled after Jack.  His smile faded as he looked back at Owen.  “Look, I don’t think I ever said,” he blew out a breath and looked awkward, for a moment.  “I’m not sorry I shot you.”

That took Owen by surprise, and he barked out a laugh.

“I mean, I am sorry,” Ianto amended.

“But you had to do it, and you’d do it again, if you had to,” Owen waved him off.  “It’s all right, Ianto.  As soon as I saw that… thing…  I realized we’d all been played.  And you healing me was as good as any apology,” he added with a lopsided smile.

Ianto nodded, but looked intently at Owen.  “So…  We’re okay, then?”

“Yeah, mate,” Owen reached out his hand, and he and Ianto shook on it.

***

Two days after Ianto was released from light duty, he was knocked unconscious and abducted by an alien.  Almost immediately, Jack collapsed.  They found out that while they could be on opposite sides of Cardiff, having Ianto on a ship in orbit was a bit too far, just yet. 

Tamiel was able to find Ianto and bring him back, and both Jack and Ianto recovered fairly quickly from the strain of the separation.  Thankfully, the bond had not been damaged by the event, but it had taught them caution.  It was another ten days before either of them allowed the other out of his sight.

Once the pain of the forced separation had eased, they got back to work, though Ianto knew Jack would not be sending him into the field, anytime soon.  On the day that marked four months since Abaddon had been raised, they had a blazing row about Jack’s overprotectiveness and Ianto’s stubborn disregard of their bond.

That hadn’t gone over well, at all.

Jack immediately attempted to retract his hasty and foolish words.  They both realized that Jack hadn’t actually meant the hurtful comment, and that if they were going to argue, it might be a good idea to shield some of the snark, so it didn’t muddy the waters or make matters worse.

They calmed down enough to talk things through and work everything out, and Jack was grateful that they were learning to navigate the intricacies of their bond. 

A few days later, Jack sent Tamiel to a UNIT conference in London.  The fallen angel had drawn the short straw.  Normally, either Jack or Ianto would go, but because they couldn’t both go this time, they were out.  Jack would never consider sending Toshiko.  Owen would offend too many people, and as amusing as the idea of letting him be a bull in UNIT’s china shop was, it wouldn’t be worth the mop-up.  The opposite risk was that Gwen would concede too much.  Jack didn’t want to give up anything to UNIT, and he didn’t trust her ‘can’t we all just get along?’ attitude to conciliate Torchwood out of everything Jack had worked so hard to gain.

So despite being the newbie, Tamiel headed to London, where he could be relied upon to be diplomatic without giving anything up.  Almost as soon as Ianto had put him on the train and got back to the hub, a call came in – a blowfish in a stolen car.

Jack didn’t let Ianto take the shot.  He felt really weird about his angel having to kill anyone.  Ianto knew that was something they would have to work through, but for now, they had Retcon to distribute and a dead fish to put on ice.

Jack and Gwen were having some sort of strange dance around the fact that Rhys had proposed the previous weekend, but most of the issue was with her “Well, no one else will have me” tactic.  It had made Jack feel uncomfortable, but Ianto was now able to reassure him.

Keeping their bond unshielded had helped no end in reassuring Ianto every time he felt insecure about Gwen or any other thing that came up.  Given Jack’s flirtatious nature, things came up all the time, but Ianto was finding his footing because Jack was constantly reminding him of where they stood, with each other.

So Jack was able to weather Gwen’s attempt to garner some sort of reaction, and as they rejoined the others in the main area of the hub, a rift alert sounded.  The callout to the car park was unexpected, in that it wasn’t often that someone came through the rift, stopped a mugging, and then pushed the mugger off the roof.  Plenty of murderous aliens came through, but they were seldom so tangentially helpful.

But then Jack’s wrist strap went off, and Ianto immediately disliked the man leaving a holographic message for Jack.  Before they could come up with a plan, Jack simply ran off, ordering them not to follow.  Ianto projected annoyance through the bond and in return felt desperation and a trickle of fear before Jack abruptly blocked it. 

Ianto had run and hailed a cab, but the sudden blocking had him staggering against the taxi as the others ran towards him.  He caught himself with a gasp and they piled in.  He shoved enough cash at the driver that they quickly caught up with the SUV, seeing Jack enter the bar as they tumbled back out of the taxi.

Ianto and Gwen entered just in time to see Jack grab the stranger.  He felt the world slip sideways as the two kissed violently before starting to brawl.  Ianto felt his mask slip into place just as Gwen grinned at him spitefully.

“Guess that’s just how they greet each other, in the future, eh?” she asked, disappointed not to get a reaction from him as he watched the two idiots inside wear themselves out.  When they finally stopped fighting, the newcomer shot at the doors at the front and rear, ordering them to come out.

Ianto, who had pulled Gwen away from the door as soon as he saw the gun pointed at it, stepped aside and covered her back as they entered.  The next few moments were a strange combination of annoying and agonizing.  He wanted to bite off his tongue after asking the idiot in what way he and Jack had been ‘partners’.  Too late, he realized that he had given himself away.

As a result, the answer had been designed to be humiliating.  He felt something icy slide through him, freezing him, from the inside out.  Jack shivered and glanced sharply at him, but Ianto kept his eyes on the stranger, Hart, as he spun a web of lies about a dying woman and radiation cluster bombs.

Ianto sat behind Hart in the SUV on the way back to the hub.  Tosh perched on his lap, and she sent him a silent look, asking if he was all right.  He ignored her and stared straight ahead.  He barely noticed when she began rubbing the flat of her palm over his heart.  He was so numb, he felt nothing.

Owen jumped out and got in the driver’s seat when Jack pulled Hart out, to enter the hub via the Plass.

“Ianto, mate, you need to say something,” he glanced at them in the rearview mirror.

“He seems shocky,” Tosh said, still watching him closely.

“How about this?” Ianto said, his voice as cold as his heart.  “His mark is gone.”

“Maybe he hid it, to protect you?” Tosh offered.  Her heart sank as she watched Ianto’s mark fade from his own skin, as well. 

“Maybe,” he gave her a small smile with leaden eyes as he moved her from his lap and climbed out of the SUV.  She glanced back at Owen, who shook his head and followed.

Ianto didn’t even look at Jack as they disarmed Hart.  He could feel Jack’s eyes sweeping over him as each weapon was placed on the tray he was holding, but he knew his face was as cold as the rest of him.  During the debriefing, it was Gwen’s turn to give away too much as she got into yet another power struggle with Jack.  Ianto left them to it and headed to the SUV, to be sure it was properly stocked.

The ride to the office building was cold and silent.  Jack seemed to sense that this was not the time to speak to Ianto, but he was extremely concerned.  Ianto’s mark was gone.  And okay, so was Jack’s, but he had assumed that as long as one of them was gone, they were safe.  And every time he tried to reach out to Ianto, he felt as though he had been submerged in ice water.

After spewing a bunch of nonsense once they arrived in the office, he finally reached the point where he couldn’t take any more. 

“Ianto, are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, Sir?” Ianto replied, looking through the drawers of a desk at the far end of the room.

Jack shivered again.  He was beginning to worry; his attempts at unblocking their bond were being met with the psychic equivalent of an ice bath.  In a flash, he realized that he had not explained to Ianto what he was doing, or why.  He had been in such a hurry to get to John, to stop him from hurting anyone else, that he, Jack, had been the one to hurt someone.

After everything, Ianto had finally begun to gain confidence in Jack’s regard.  And in a moment of blind panic, Jack may very well have destroyed that confidence.  He took a deep breath and walked towards Ianto.

“That wasn’t about you,” he said, his voice low and calm.

“I know,” Ianto looked around at Jack.  Any relief Jack may have felt evaporated as the angel added, “Nothing ever is.”

Ianto turned and went back to his search.

Jack stepped closer. 

“Ianto.”

Ianto slammed the drawer shut and rounded on Jack.  “What.”  He stalked towards Jack, who began backing away from the fury in his mate’s eyes.  “Going to tell me that you didn’t mean to leave the team and run away?  That you didn’t mean to block our bond with such vicious brutality that it almost brought me to my knees?”

“Ianto?” Jack felt his stomach drop.

“Going to say that you didn’t mean to leave us behind while you went to meet your ex?  I suppose kissing him was an accident, as well?”

“That’s not…”

“Save it, Jack,” Ianto spat.  He stepped past him to the next desk and yanked open the drawer.

“No,” Jack growled, grabbing Ianto by the arm and swinging him around.  “You’ve got it all wrong, Angel.”

“Just don’t,” Ianto jerked his arm away.  “You shut me out so you could go meet up with your old flame.  You just didn’t count on getting caught at it.”

“That’s not true,” Jack protested.  “Ianto, you have to understand,” he ran a hand through his hair.  He felt chilled to the bone, and his hands were shaking.  “I was afraid of what he’d do.”

Ianto frowned.  Of all the things Jack could have said, this was the only thing that had any chance at short-circuiting Ianto’s anger and pain.

“You heard him, Ianto.  We were together in that time loop for five years.  We both said we’d stick together, just to pass the time, and that’s not a promise to take lightly, so we both checked in, a lot.  By the time we got out of the loop, nothing had changed, for me.  He was always a psychopath, and I don’t find that the least bit attractive in a real partner.  But somehow, after we were out of it, he became sort of… fixated.”

“On you.”

“Well,” Jack smirked, but it lacked his usual arrogance.

“And you were afraid he would…”

“I was afraid he would hurt you, if he knew what you are, to me.”

“And what am I, Jack?”  Ianto’s temper flared, again.  “Because apparently I’m not important enough to be kept in the loop.”

“Ianto,” Jack held up his hands in a gesture meant to beg calm.

“No, Jack.  You don’t get to do this.  Block our bond.  Run away.  Kiss him.  All because you’re afraid he’ll hurt me?”  He scoffed.  “The only human who can do that is you.  And guess what!  You did!”

Jack reached out and hauled Ianto into his arms, holding him close even as he neither accepted nor returned the embrace.  For the moment, Jack counted it as a win that Ianto wasn’t pulling away. 

“Let go of me,” Ianto said, his voice harsh and low.

“I’m sorry, Ianto.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.  But please believe me.  He makes me panic.  He’s unpredictable.  And… mean.  And just because he can’t kill you doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you.  I…” he sniffed.  “I’m so sorry.”

Ianto pulled away and nodded.  “We can talk later, but we need to do this.  You know he’s lying?”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t,” Jack nodded.

“How about you check the roof.  I’ll keep looking, down here.”

“Are we okay?”

“You shut me out,” Ianto whispered, his back turned to Jack.  “You made my mark disappear without telling me you were going to, or why.”  He sighed.  “You hurt me, Jack.”

“I know.  And I’m sorry.  I panicked.  And I’ve been trying to relax the shielding, but it’s gone strange.  Like it’s frozen,” he shivered again.

“I think it’s shock,” Ianto admitted, and Jack took him in his arms, again.  “The cold you’re feeling… It’s me, inside.”

“Ianto,” Jack began pouring warmth and love along their bond, hoping to help, but Ianto hissed and pulled away, again.

“Stop, please.  It’s too much.  Like hot water on frostbite.”

“Ianto…”

“It’s all right,” Ianto lied.  “We’ll talk later.  Let’s just…” he sighed.  “Why are we helping him?”

“I want him gone,” Jack answered.  He leaned forward and kissed Ianto on the cheek.  “I’m still yours, Angel.”

Ianto nodded, but Jack could tell they were back to where they’d been, before Ianto had broken free of Manut’s hold. 

He didn’t believe Jack.

***

Chapter Text

Ianto was on high alert when he heard the elevator chime, ten minutes later.  He drew his pistol and carefully moved to clear the area.  The conversation with Jack had helped, but he was still chilled to the bone inside, and he would later blame that for having him off balance and allowing Hart to sneak up on him.

He relished Hart’s flinch when he slammed the doors open to ask him why he was doing this, but Hart recovered quickly and made a mockery everything Ianto held dear.

“We're a cosmic joke, Eye Candy. An accident of chemicals and evolution. The jokes, the sex just cover the fact that nothing means anything.”

Ianto wanted to wring Hart’s neck, somehow make him realize that his shallow life was to blame for his sense of futility, not any accident of creation.  But he knew he needed to get to the others, before it was too late.

He was almost to the SUV when he looked up towards the roof of the building.  Something made him hesitate.  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, feeling along the bond.  He gasped as he felt Jack’s uneasiness, but he was deeply relieved that his mate was allowing him to listen in.  He wasn’t certain about Jack’s chosen method of dealing with Hart, which was to insult and belittle the man who already had a ginormous chip on his shoulder.

Move on. Here I am, in a new life and you're still churning out the same old tunes. And sorry, but they don't play as well now you're looking a little older. And what are they, wrinkles around your eyes?

Laugh lines.

Oh, hell of a good joke.

It's you I'm laughing at. Canister.

Whoops. Ha, ha, ha.

Ianto opened his eyes and saw the canister fly over the edge.  He began moving to catch it when he heard Hart’s answering, “Whoops,” and watched with horror as Jack followed the canister over the edge of the building.

Ianto felt Jack’s panic and then – even worse – resignation to another painful death.  He growled and with a running leap was in the air, wings unfurled and flying fast to meet Jack as he fell.  He felt the air rushing through his feathers as he worked all of his wings to give him the power and speed he needed to reach Jack in time.

His mate did not scream as he fell.  That alone was horrifying, as it told Ianto that Jack had fallen, before.  He stretched out his arm as Jack came within reach and caught the immortal by his ankle.

Jack let out a surprised yelp and relief flooded him as he realized he’d been caught mid-air by his beautiful angel.  It was a bit disorientating, to suddenly reverse direction, and he knew his ankle would be sore for a bit, but all in all, he was pleased. 

But then he felt it.

The bond was still frozen underneath, but on the surface, it was now alight with a rage that could turn asbestos to ash.  He tried not to get dizzy as Ianto’s powerful wings had them hurtling back up the side of the building. 

His surprise redoubled when he felt Ianto’s other hand close around his ankle as they reached the top of the building.

“Hart!” Ianto shouted, his voice all gravel and rage.

From his awkward angle, Jack saw Hart turn, and his shock was quite gratifying.  That is, until Jack was the one spinning.  He caught the fury sparking from Ianto’s eyes, and he vaguely wondered if in-flight hammer-throw was a sport, among angels.  The ridiculousness of the situation struck him as he was released, and he tried to control his flight/fall as he crashed into a suitably gobsmacked John.

John broke some of Jack’s momentum, so he was able to tuck and roll back onto his feet in time to see his livid mate land on the roof and stalk towards the former time agent.  Jack lowered himself back to one knee to take in the scene.

Ianto was in full angel mode, wearing his battle garb.  But for the tattoos, his alabaster chest was bare.  His locks were long and flowing.  He was masked, a leather affair that covered the top half of his face, but his eyes blazed.  As he stalked forward, his wings were spread so they would not touch the ground.  He reached for his sword, and with a flourish, it was flaming.

He was fire and ice. 

He was utterly terrifying.

He was fucking magnificent.

Jack felt a bolt of lust lance through his body, and Ianto’s pause was barely noticeable.

You and I will have words later, Captain.

Jack almost swooned.

John Hart was on the ground, transfixed by the terrifying creature now bearing down on him.

“Who are you?” John asked, but Ianto cut him off.

“How dare you!” the angel ground out.

“Wh-what are you?” John amended, but the flaming sword became a more immediate concern as it was levelled at him.  He tried to back up, afraid of being singed.

Jack took that moment to hit John with the Weevil sedative he always carried in his pocket.

Ianto sheathed his now unlit sword and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as though listening to something.  “Timelines are in flux,” he murmured.  “I can safely travel to Owen and Tosh, then bring them to the docks.  You secure this idiot and meet us there, yeah?”

Ianto stepped back, about to travel, but Jack caught his hand.

“Thank you, Angel.”  Jack leaned forward and brushed his lips against Ianto’s.  He was dismayed to find the chill was still there, though not quite as severe, as before.

Ianto blinked, then stepped back, avoiding Jack’s eyes as he nodded awkwardly.  It would have been adorable, when they’d first started seeing one another.  Now, it was yet another indication of just how badly Jack had screwed up.

In the next moment, Ianto was gone.  Jack found a pair of restraints on Hart.  Hypersteel, deadlock sealed.  He found the key and cuffed Hart, then found more restraints in the SUV, to keep the psychopath immobilized while they looked for Gwen.

Ianto found Owen and Toshiko easily enough.  He healed Owen’s gunshot wound despite the cranky doctor’s protests that he should take care of Toshiko, first.  Then he healed Tosh’s nose.  Once that was done, they clambered into Tosh’s car and headed to the docks, where they found Jack scanning for Gwen.

Tosh’s quick thinking helped them locate her, and Owen was able to quickly administer the anti-toxin.  Tosh drove Owen back to the hub, and Ianto sat in the back seat of the SUV listening to Gwen marvel at how taking Rhys’ call (against protocol) had saved her.  Much to Ianto’s surprise, Jack pointed out that Hart would never have gotten the drop on her in the first place, if she hadn’t broken protocol to take the damned call.

Ianto felt so encouraged by the turn of events that he hardly put anything behind the punch to Hart’s face over the back seat when the former time agent began to come around.

***

Jack knew it had been a mistake to take off the restraints, to let Hart activate the device.  At least even Hart was surprised that it wasn’t a diamond.  The bomb attached to his chest was due to explode in nine minutes and change (Jack would laugh later at Ianto having that stopwatch, at the ready), and now Hart had managed to attach himself to Gwen.

He really needed to give the team more training about situational awareness, though to be fair, it hadn't been that long since she had been poisoned.

Owen’s idea of corrupting Hart’s DNA with Torchwood blood had been a good one.  The bomb got tossed back through the rift, Gwen was released, and now Jack was telling Hart to leave.

“Oh. By the way, I meant to tell you. I found Gray.”

Jack felt the earth shift beneath his feet, and from very far away, he heard someone click their fingers.

Jack had experienced a time manipulation, before.  It felt very much like a sudden change in barometric pressure.  It felt as though there was suddenly a bit less air, and rookies often passed out when they panicked and tried to overcompensate.  He took a slow breath and watched as Ianto stepped up to John, who was standing in the middle of the rift, harnessing its energy for his next jump.

Jack felt real panic when he saw Ianto begin to glow, as well.  He watched as his lover’s eyes went out of focus, and he knew Ianto was watching timelines.  His face turned into a mask of grief as he glanced back towards the team.

“Jack,” he said, his voice broken.  “It’s not fixed.  I can stop it happening.” 

“Ianto?”

“I have to…”

The rift snapped closed, taking Ianto and John Hart with it.

Jack collapsed to the ground, feeling as though his heart was being gouged from his chest.

“Jack?  C’mon, Jack.  Breathe,” Owen was there, turning Jack onto his back and checking his vitals.

This wasn’t like when Ianto got abducted.  It was so much worse.  Whatever shock Ianto had experienced had frozen and numbed out the bond, but now there was a pain that was somehow both sharp and dull all at once, throbbing through the numbness.

Jack jolted onto his side and vomited.  He felt his body begin to convulse, then everything went dark as Owen hit him with a Weevil sedative.

***

The worst part was, they couldn’t go back to the hub.  The closest place was the flat Jack and Ianto had purchased.  It was in the process of being renovated, so they had not yet moved in, but it was a good place to decamp to so they could regroup and see what could be done for Jack.

***

Ianto ignored the pain as he wiped John Hart’s memory of all reference to Gray Thane, any winged creatures he may have encountered in the last twelve hours, his fixation on Jack, and any knowledge of the whereabouts of the time agent once known as Javic Thane.  He left Hart in a flophouse on the edge of the Vegas Galaxies after pouring a bottle of hypervodka down his throat and all over his clothes and bedding.

He shimmered away, breathing through the pain of the bond being stretched too far.  He had traced Hart’s timeline.  The arse had been lying, of course.  He had not found Gray.  Yet.  He would, as a way to try to lure Jack back to his side.  So Ianto found Gray along Hart’s timeline, along with the damage that would be done, if Hart found him. 

Owen. 

Toshiko. 

Jack buried for thousands of years. 

It was too much to bear.

But none of it was fixed.

Ianto had no choice but to find Gray.  So he reached out along Hart’s timeline before it blinked out of existence, now that the former time agent no longer remembered Gray, to search for him.  He found a spot to hide and watch, and his heart broke at the filthy, insane young man chained to a wall in a city ruin in the Bedlam Outlands.

It was a bleak, terrible place, foul with the decomposing bodies of those fortunate enough to have escaped the continued existence of torture and slavery.  Ianto ignored his own pain and glamored himself invisible, then examined the timeline of the man sitting far too calmly amidst the carnage.

He breathed a sigh of relief that this fate was not fixed, either.  He traced the timeline back, back, back to the day of the attack.  He found where Gray had tripped and fallen, young Javic continuing to run, thinking his brother was by his side.  And then…

So that was how it happened.  Jack had almost immediately turned around, but it was only Gray tripping that saved Jack from being taken, as well. 

The creatures had used transmat beams to take prisoners in the chaos of the attack.

Ianto stepped into that moment and took Gray’s hand, and they were beamed away from the surface, together.  Ianto pulled the boy into his arms, told him to stay quiet, and glamored them invisible, again.  He then felt along the bond, to check Jack’s timeline.  He found the day Jack left his mother’s home, never to return.

The next day, Ianto shimmered onto her front doorstep, a bewildered Gray still wrapped in his arms.  To her credit, Alice Thane did not faint, nor become hysterical.  She merely stared, then turned and went back into her house, leaving the door open for them to follow.

Ianto was able to explain to her, as best he could, how the only way to save Gray had been to bring him forward in time.  Once Gray’s confusion cleared and he began to speak to his mother, she seemed to come around from her shock.  She took him in her arms and sat down with him in her lap, not letting him go.  After the terror of the attack and his capture, he seemed content to stay there.  He seemed to have intuited what had happened to his father, and he wept with her for a while, eventually falling asleep in her arms.

Ianto reached out as she wept over her found child and did some subtle healing that would help her recover her mental health after the battering it had taken, with her losses that terrible day.  He covered his work by explaining to her what had happened.

“They had transmat technology?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ianto confirmed.

“And if Javic hadn’t lost his hold on his brother…”

“They would have both been taken,” Ianto nodded.

“I blamed him,” she began weeping anew.  “My poor boy.  It wasn’t his fault, and now he’s gone off…  He blamed himself, because I blamed him.  Now he’s gone off to war, and I don’t think he will return.”

“He can’t,” Ianto said.  He took her hand.  “And you cannot reach out to him or give any indication that his return would be welcome.”

“But I have to make this right!” she exclaimed.

“And you will.  I will help you.  But you cannot reach out to your contemporary version of Ja… Javic.”

She eyed him speculatively.  “If I cannot reach out to my boy, then you need to tell me why.”

Ianto sighed.  He knew he couldn’t stay much longer, but as succinctly as he could, he explained about Jack being selected as a recruit for the Time Agency after a few years of soldiering.  “They’ll call him the Face of Boe, because he’ll be the first from the area to be recruited.”

Alice scoffed.  “That will please the old one, to have someone called that.”

“Pardon?”

“Ancient creature.[1]  Lives on an outpost at the edge of the peninsula.  Looks like a giant head, lives in a jar.  Calls himself the Face of Boe.  He will find it highly amusing that some ad campaign will call our Javic that, as well.”

Ianto nodded and continued the story.  How Jack… Javic… left the Time Agency, became a conman, and met a Time Lord.  He tried to break it gently, when he described Jack’s first death, and how his life had been saved, forever.  He held Alice’s hand as she wept for her son’s pain.  He then told her about Jack landing on Earth and living there as a futuristic castaway, playing the hero with Torchwood.

“And that’s where he is now?” she asked.

Ianto nodded.  “The early 21^st century.”

“And you are his mate.”  Not a question.

“…Yes.”

She caught the slight hesitation.  “What is it?”

“I saw the opportunity to come here, do this.  Nothing will have changed for him, up until that moment.  He searched for Gray for decades, and he didn’t give up so much as get stuck on Earth, where he couldn’t do anything but wait to get back here, by the slow path.  When I go back to him, Gray will still have been lost to him, all his life.”

“My poor child,” she sniffed.

“But this will be good news,” he smiled, but it felt forced.

“You are in pain,” she said, her eyes wide as she realized it.

“Our bond is too new for this distance between us,” Ianto explained.

“What sort of bond is it?” she asked, frowning.  “I have witnessed many bonds, but I’ve never heard of this sort of reaction.’

Ianto stared at her for a few moments before sighing.  “I am an angel.”

Alice blinked, and Ianto found himself explaining a bit of his own history.  She had her son who was supposed to have died two years before in her arms.  Clearly this… man… had traveled through time, as less than a day had passed, for Gray.  But this seemed strange, and unlikely.

“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Ianto nodded.  “I can show you, but I don’t want to frighten you.”

“Please help me to understand,” she said, her voice showing her resolve, and he saw Jack in her eyes.

Ianto stood in the middle of the floor, and she gasped as his wings unfurled.  “I am a seraph,” he said, his voice quiet.

“An angel,” she breathed.  “For my Javic?”

“Immortality is a singular burden, for a human,” he replied.  “The CREATOR wished to ease his way.”

“And you love him?”

“Heaven help me, but yes,” he smiled sadly.

“I see he hasn’t changed,” she chuckled.  Then she frowned.  “And does he love you?”

Another whisper of hesitation, followed by a shrugged shoulder as he suddenly found the toes of his shoes infinitely fascinating.

She stood and carefully carried her son to the sofa in the living area and lay him there, then returned and took Ianto’s hand.  “He made you doubt him, and your bond is still too new for you to truly believe that he loves you,” she nodded as his eyes widened at her perspicacity.  “You get back to him.  Mend the damage this distance has caused.  And… can you bring him back here?”

“I was planning to do just that,” he nodded.  “We can visit for a while, but I imagine he will want to stay with you when he gets here, the long way ‘round.  So we’ll have to balance a visit now against how much uninterrupted time he’ll want, later.  And you know he’s no good at waiting.”

She laughed then, a lovely, bubbling sound.  “Go,” she smiled.  “Mend.  Bring my boy, when you can.”

Ianto nodded, took her hand and kissed it, and then shimmered from view.

***

Ianto returned before Jack’s sedatives wore off.  But it was clear that he had been gone longer than… well, longer than he’d been gone.  He collapsed next to Jack and could not be roused.  All Owen could think to do was to get both men undressed and into bed. 

Ianto’s normally cool skin was icy, and having him skin-to-skin with Jack’s furnace-like heat could only help.  Owen scanned them, and found that they were both in distress, but that was easing, as they instinctively shifted and wrapped around one another before settling into a more restful sleep.

Jack was the first to wake.  He was in a great deal of pain, but his relief at having Ianto there in his arms was profound. 

“How long was I out?”

“About three hours,” Owen replied, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Toshiko, who was asleep on the chair in the corner of the room, her head at an unpleasant angle.  “Ianto returned about an hour ago.  But I think he was gone for longer.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He’s wearing his human glamor.  Check his beard.”

Jack looked more closely and discovered that Ianto did have almost two days’ growth darkening his face.  It was kind of sexy.  He shook off those feelings and began to think of practical things.

“Reach out to Tamiel and see if there’s anything that can be done for the pain.  If I’m feeling like this with only two hours of separation, I’m worried he’ll have a greater impact after two days.”

Owen nodded and reached for his phone as he walked out of the room.  Tosh had awakened and offered to go get some food.  She kissed Jack on the cheek and left, as well. 

A few minutes later, Ianto began to stir.  He gave a broken groan as he came awake enough for the pain to assert itself.

“Hey, Angel,” Jack tried to smile at him.  “You gave me a hell of a scare.”

“’m sorry,” Ianto mumbled.  “I had to do it.”

“I believe you.  But can you tell me what you had to do, and why?”

Jack’s emotions ranged from horrified at what would have happened, had Hart found Gray and brought him to Cardiff to overjoyed at the news that Gray had been saved and taken home to their mother.

“That’s why she never reached out to me,” Jack said, his voice full of wonder at the realization.

“I told her she couldn’t.  I took Gray to her, the day after you left.  Had she ever reached out, you wouldn’t have ended up here.  And what Rose did to you was fixed, so it would have been dangerous.”

“Ianto, I was a time agent.  I understand.”

“Good,” Ianto blew out a breath, relieved.  “Now, once we have healed, you have a choice to make.”

“More time with them now, or later,” Jack nodded, already understanding.

***

[1] Not Jack.

Chapter Text

Jack watched as Ianto tried to hide his pain, breathing slowly and moving carefully.  Their bond still felt cold and numb, but also… strange. 

Injured.

“Ianto?” Jack reached out and took Ianto’s hand, but the angel didn’t return the squeeze.  Before Jack could question it, Owen walked in.

“Tamiel says you need to get to Heaven and let Raphael heal your bond.  Jack, he says that you know how to help Ianto with the pain, and I can give you this,” he held up a syringe.  Once he gave Jack the jab, he looked from one to the other and frowned.  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Once Owen was gone, Ianto spoke, his voice low.  “Once Raphael helps, I’ll take you to see your mother and brother.  Bring you back here, after your visit.  I’ll…” he cleared his throat.  “I’ll return to Heaven and w-watch over you, from there.”

“Ianto, what are you talking about?” Jack asked, feeling dread creep through his gut.

Ianto shook his head and threw back the duvet, standing unsteadily as clothing glamored onto his body.  “We should go,” he said, his voice betraying his pain.

“Come here,” Jack jumped from the bed and stood before Ianto, whose eyes were so full of pain Jack could hardly bear to look.  “Ianto, what’s going on?  You said you understood.”  He reached out and traced his fingers across Ianto’s forehead to his temple.

Ianto closed his eyes and shook his head.  “It’s no good, Jack.  You want to be free.  I don’t want…” he sniffed, then waved a hand, and Jack found himself dressed.

“What don’t you want, Angel?” Jack held Ianto by the arms and tried to get his mate to look at him.

“I don’t want to trap you.  You’ll just hate me for it.”

“Why do you think…”

“We should go,” Ianto took his hand and they shimmered away.

***

They were not in the same place, as before.  This was a smaller space.  Jack looked around and realized it must be some sort of healing area.

“Ianto?” Raphael approached as soon as he saw them.  “What has happened?”

“I was forced to go to a different time zone, and the bond was too new,” Ianto explained.

Jack was horrified by the ‘was’.  Was their bond beyond repair?

“Jack needs healing,” Ianto said.

“So do you,” Raphael frowned.  “Jack was not the only one affected.”

“I need a moment,” Ianto replied and with that, he was gone.

“Ianto?” Jack felt something dark and desperate slither through him.  He looked at Raphael.  “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Raphael placed a hand alongside Jack’s head and shook his own.  “You blocked the bond.  Very violently, by the looks of it.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jack said, his eyes wild.  “I was afraid.  We haven’t been shielding, so I didn’t realize how hard I slammed the door closed.”

Raphael sighed, then nodded.  “I can see it was inadvertent.  But understand.  Until it has become, the bond is very much an extension of the one offering it.  Like a limb.  And while you may not have meant to, you crushed it.”

“Crushed?” Jack whispered, horrified.

“If we are using the analogy of a limb, it was not a break, but more like a crush.”

“Can it be healed?”

Even an angel of Raphael’s extreme righteousness could sense Jack’s horror and remorse.  “It can.  But tell me how Ianto has reacted, since it happened.”

“He seemed withdrawn and shocky.  I tried to pull down the shielding, but each time I tried, it felt like I was being doused in ice water.  He told me the cold I was feeling was him, inside.”

“Oh, dear,” Raphael nodded.  “Let’s take care of you, and then we need to find him.  He’s probably not thinking very clearly.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked tremulously.

“Think of the shock and pain of someone suffering an injury such as I’ve described, only to have it compounded by being stretched and twisted mercilessly.  You are only feeling a fraction of the pain he is in.  And with the cold of the shock, he doesn’t even realize the overload.”

“We talked, before he went through the rift.  I thought he understood.  I mean, he was still hurt, but…”

“Now the pain has made that understanding distant and fuzzy,” Raphael explained.  “Come.  Let me help you, then we can go find him.”

***

It was Azrael who found Ianto, huddled in a quiet place and breaking his heart with weeping.  They ended up on the floor, Azrael holding Ianto and trying to comprehend the pain and confusion that had rendered his friend irrational.  He was completely out of his head, shaking with cold and pain and shock.

“He doesn’t want me,” Ianto choked out.

“Pretty sure that’s not true,” Azrael replied.

“He damaged our bond,” Ianto sobbed. 

“Why?” Azrael leaned back and looked at Ianto, who looked dreadful, and was shivering with cold.  His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and his forehead was far too cool to the touch.  “We need to get you to Raphael,” he said, but Ianto answered his question and stayed on the floor, completely despondent.

“Said he was scared what his ex might do.  But then he kissed him!”

“Jack kissed his ex?”  Azrael was thoroughly confused.  He’d seen them just over a week ago, and the two were over the moon for each other.  There had to be something missing, here.

Ianto nodded miserably.  “Well, they kissed each other.  But it was definitely a mutual initiation.”  He curled in on himself, the memory seeming to cause physical pain.  “Stupid, weaselly looking arsehole in a dirty shirt,” he muttered darkly.

Azrael ran his hand up and down Ianto’s back, trying to offer comfort.  Then something struck him.  “But if Jack was afraid of his ex, and his ex was expecting that sort of greeting, maybe that’s why…”

“It sounds perfectly reasonable when you say it,” Ianto said, rubbing his chest as silent tears continued to fall, “but I can’t feel it, Azrael.”  They sat quietly for a moment, then Ianto added, “And then the arsehole pushed the idiot off the roof.”

Azrael blinked.  “Jack’s ex pushed him…  What happened?”  He knew for a fact that Jack hadn’t died today.  He had learned to ignore Jack’s deaths, but he was still aware of them.

“I caught him,” Ianto said.

“Naturally,” Azrael pulled Ianto to him in a one-armed side hug.

“And then I sort of threw the idiot at the arsehole.”

Azrael enjoyed the image for a moment before asking, “And how was your aim?”

“Quite good,” Ianto said with a sniff.  “Not a great distance, but the velocity was impressive.”

“Sounds like they both deserved it,” Azrael chuckled, but he was worried about Ianto, who was clearly still convinced that he and Jack were done.

“I can’t do this,” Ianto whispered, his voice small and broken.  “Azrael, if this is how it’s going to be, I… I can’t.”

“Hush, now.  That’s just the injured bond, talking.  You said yourself that things that make sense aren’t landing.  You just need to get yourself sorted.”

“He injured it, but I think… I think I’m the one who may have killed it,” Ianto sobbed.

“What?”

“I left the time zone.  I knew what it would do, but I saw in the timelines what would happen, if I didn’t.  It… It would have destroyed him.  So the choice was to destroy him, or our bond.  Azrael…  What have I done?” he almost wailed, and Azrael gathered his friend into his arms, trying to calm him.

“Ianto, it’s all right!  Try to calm yourself.”

“Don’t you understand?  It will never be all right!  I’ve ruined it.  And even if this mends…  I’m pathetic, Azrael.  Needing constant reassurance about Gwen, and in the end, she wasn’t even the problem!  It’s humiliating.  I’ll never be enough!”

Azrael heard a gasp and didn’t need to turn to know that Jack had arrived and had heard all of that.  He wasn’t sure what to do, other than try to level the playing field, a bit.  He owed Ianto, after all.  So he braced himself for an interesting few moments and cleared his throat, before speaking.

“So get out.”  He ignored the growl behind him and could only assume Raphael was keeping Jack from charging forward.

“What?” Ianto’s head jerked up, and he looked incredibly confused.

“Leave him.  You can still watch over him.  Plenty as would call you a catch.  You don’t have to be with him, you know.”

“But…”

“Matter of fact, it’d serve him right, if someone else snapped you up.”

“Stop talking non-mmmf,” Ianto’s words were cut off as Azrael’s mouth crashed into his in a kiss that was somehow both forceful and gentle.  He tried to protest, but then a wave of jealousy hit him like a rugby tackle.  It was then that he realized that Raphael must have been able to heal the bond enough that Ianto could feel Jack’s anger, jealousy, and regret. 

Wait.

Jack was jealous?

…

…

…

Jack was jealous.

Azrael stopped kissing him and he looked at his friend, wild-eyed. 

“What?  You…  You’re…  He’s…  What?”

“All right?” Azrael asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

As confused as Ianto was at the moment, the one thing he knew with certainty was that Azrael did not see him as anything but a friend.  Azrael was only attracted to the female form.  They had discussed it at length, through their many years of friendship.  Particularly after that time Lucifer had made a pass.  Ianto could only conclude that Azrael was doing him a kindness.  Making a point.

And Heaven help him, he wanted more.  Never in his wildest dreams could he have realized that Jack was even capable of being jealous.  Over him.  Ianto had always been very good at being honest with himself.  He knew he wasn’t the type to inspire jealousy.

Except maybe he was.  Maybe Jack was jealous because he wanted Ianto.

Deep down, Ianto did know this.  But the pain and confusion had muddled him to such a degree that this was a revelation.  And he wanted more.  And his friend was being so accommodating…

Ianto reached out and pulled Azrael back into another kiss, pouring all of his pain and confusion, anger and jealousy, fear and loneliness into it.  It should have felt weird, to kiss his oldest friend, but he was too busy basking in the intense feelings of irate possessiveness pulsing along the bond.

It hurt.  Anything moving along the bond at this point was scraping against something battered and raw.  But it was so worth it.

He didn’t want it to stop, but he was finding it harder to breathe.  He released Azrael (who would definitely be getting a Bestest Friend Ever bit of swag, sometime soon) and gasped for air.

“Never by halves, Ianto,” Azrael chuckled, but then frowned.  He finally looked around.  “Raphael?  Something’s wrong.”

“Yes, that is why we came looking for him,” Raphael replied, his voice faintly amused.

“Ianto?” Jack ran forward and fell to his knees in front of Azrael, as he cradled Ianto, who had fainted.  As much as he wanted to punch the Angel of Death in the face several dozen times, all he could see was how pale and still his mate was.  “What happened?”

“I think he overdid it,” Azrael said.  “Let us go back to the healing chambers.”

He shimmered away, and Raphael grasped Jack’s shoulder before doing the same.  Once in the healing chamber, Azrael placed Ianto on a bed as Jack took his hand.

“He’s so cold.”

“It is an exceptionally rare thing, for an angel to become feverish,” Raphael explained as he stood at the end of the bed and took Ianto’s head in his hands.  “We do rather the opposite.  He is injured and in shock.  As a result, his temperature has dropped, as an autoimmune response.”

“So when angels get a fever, their temperatures drop,” Jack said, and Raphael shrugged, finding it as close to an accurate comparison between humans and angels as he was willing to concede.

The Angel of Healing closed his eyes and began repairing the damage, first to Ianto’s mind, and then to the bond.  “Yes, it is as I suspected.  His reaction was severe.  He must have been extremely confused and irrational.”

“Must have been,” Jack said, his voice low and dangerous as he glared at Azrael, who was holding Ianto’s other hand.

“Before you get too angry, I would invite you to consider that Ianto was only going to be jolted out of his confusion by something shocking.  And sadly, the most shocking thing for him right now is that you could ever be jealous over him.”

“You mean that’s why you…”

Azrael nodded.

“But then he kissed you,” Jack pointed out.

“I think he was rather enjoying the sensation,” Azrael grinned, not bothering to specify whether it was the sensation of Jack’s jealousy or Azrael’s kiss that Ianto was enjoying.  “I will say this, though,” he just couldn’t seem to help himself, “he can certainly kiss.”

Jack stared at him a moment before huffing out a begrudging laugh.  “Yes,” he agreed, “yes, he can.”

“He will probably be quite embarrassed, when he wakes,” Raphael observed.  Pity, that.  It really had been necessary.

“You know what that means,” Azrael shook his head.

“We shall never speak of it, again,” Jack huffed again.  That was usually what happened, when Ianto was embarrassed.

“But we’ll have to,” Azrael said.  “Otherwise, he’ll feel like he’s done something wrong.”

“But he hasn’t,” Jack protested.  Even he knew that.  He’d felt how Ianto relished his reaction to the kiss.  It hadn’t been about any sort of attraction to Azrael.  It had been about Jack’s jealousy being some sort of proof of his regard for Ianto.

Jack was the one who was embarrassed.

“Doesn’t matter.  He’ll feel that he’s been disloyal.”

“Or maybe he’ll just decide that from now on, the appropriate response to Jack kissing someone else is for him to do the same,” Ianto muttered.  He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he wanted to weigh in so they’d stop talking about him.

“Ianto!” Jack exclaimed, kissing Ianto’s hand before placing it against his face.  “You scared me, Angel.”

“S’rry,” Ianto mumbled.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Jack said.  “We’ll talk when you’re feeling better, yeah?”

“Sleep, Brother,” Raphael moved his fingers across Ianto’s forehead, ending at his temple.

***

Raphael actually had to persuade Jack to join Ianto in the same bed, to rest.

“If he’s still upset with me, maybe I should sleep somewhere else,” Jack fretted.

“And if he wakes up and you’re not by his side, what will he think?” Raphael rejoined, already weary of the angst. 

New bonds were the worst.

“He’ll think I’ve rejected him,” Jack nodded in realization.  Without further argument, he stripped down to his pants and climbed into the bed next to Ianto.  But as a concession to any anger Ianto might still be feeling, he did not pull his mate close; he just lay beside him, shivering at the still too-cool body lying next to him, and eventually slept.

***

Ianto woke with Jack wrapped around him like a tree vine.  It was a lovely sensation, one he had begun to fear he wouldn’t again experience.  He felt much more clear-headed, and he could now see the events of the past few days from a more balanced perspective.  He realized his view had become skewed from the moment Jack had tried to shield their bond.  It had recovered somewhat when they talked in the office while searching for Hart’s canister, but Ianto leaving the time zone had completely buggered it.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of the bond mending.  It was so strong, but it had suffered great harm.  It would heal, but they needed to be much more careful, until it finished becoming.

“How long will that take, do you think?” Jack asked.

Ianto chuckled.  “I’m sorry.  Was I thinking too loudly?”

“Nah,” Jack shifted up onto his elbow so he could look at Ianto.  “I wasn’t entirely asleep.  I felt you waking up, that big brain of yours starting to whir, you sorting through your feelings.  It’s,” he looked down, suddenly a bit shy.  “I hope you don’t mind me witnessing that.  It’s really nice.”

Now it was Ianto’s turn to feel shy.  “I like feeling you there, too,” he admitted.  “It feels…” he paused.  “It feels like home.”

“Angel, I’m so sorry I hurt you,” Jack whispered, his eyes red with emotion.  “I was trying to protect you, but I made it so much worse.  I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Ianto reached out and stroked Jack’s cheek.  “It’s all right.  We’ll be all right, yeah?”

“He just…  He’s always made me uneasy.  Even when we were together.  And then after…  He put my next lover in the sick bay.  Almost beat him to death.  I wasn’t sorry to see the last of him, or so I thought, when I left the Time Agency.”

“I see why you were worried,” Ianto said, his voice gentle.  “But Jack…”

“I know,” Jack nodded.  “If I had told you, it would have been better.  But I’m not used to not being on my own, just yet.  I promise I’ll do better.”

Ianto nodded.  “I didn’t help.  I did far more damage, by leaving with him.”

“But you did that for me,” Jack said, catching a tear as it slid from the corner of Ianto’s eye.  “I knew that, even before you told Azrael about the choice you thought you were making.”

“Azrael.”  Ianto shifted so each of them was propped up on an elbow, facing one another.  “You should know…”

“That neither of you is interested in the other?”

“Not in the least.”

Jack’s lips quirked.  “And why should I believe you?” he teased.

Ianto didn’t return his smile.  He needed Jack to know this.  “Because he is only interested in the female form.  As was I, until I met you.  Jack, it’s just you.”

“Ah, give yourself time,” Jack joked, but at Ianto’s look, he turned serious.  “I am honored, Ianto.  Honored and blessed and so damned lucky that you could have anyone, but you’ve chosen me.”

“That’s not true,” Ianto looked away.

“Oh, I think it is,” Jack said.  “I’ve never been jealous because I know you have the most loyal heart that ever beat.  But I could never take that for granted, because that won’t keep others from wanting you.  Azrael helped me see that, with that kiss.”

“I’m sorry I kissed him back,” Ianto blushed, and Jack felt his embarrassment.

“Well, you were feverish, and feeling my jealousy was probably a bit of a rush.  I understand.”

“It…  It felt like proof, you know?” he looked at Jack, desperate for his mate to understand.  “And all I could think in that moment was that it was some beautiful dream, and I wanted a bit more, before I woke up to you not loving me.”

“Oh, Angel,” Jack shook his head, feeling sad.

“Hey,” Ianto caressed Jack’s cheek.  “I wasn’t thinking straight, remember?”

“I know, but I didn’t help.  I made you doubt me.  I’m sorry I kissed Hart.  But any other greeting would have made him suspicious.”

“And then I went and asked him that stupid question.”

“It wasn’t.  You’ve been trying so hard to trust me.  And the fact that you’re still trying so hard, after all I’ve done to give you perfectly good reasons to walk away… that is so precious to me.”

“I’m sorry that all of the things that have happened have made me insecure,” Ianto began, and he had to place his index finger over Jack’s lips to keep him from interrupting.  “Please be patient with me, Jack.”

“Until I heard what you said to Azrael, I didn’t realize how humiliating it had been, for you,” Jack said, and Ianto could feel the sorrow and regret thrumming along their bond.  “From now on, I promise I will do my best to be more open with you, so that doesn’t happen.”

Jack leaned forward and kissed Ianto.  It was a sweet, soft, lingering kiss that conveyed Jack’s love even as the feelings flowed along their bond, as well.  When he leaned back, Ianto looked more solid than he had since before the standoff with the blowfish.

“I love you, Angel.”

“I love you too, Jack.”

***

Chapter Text

Once Raphael checked them both over and provided some extra care for their bond, he gave them more information about what they could do to ensure their bond would grow strong and be unbreakable, once it had become.

Jack couldn’t help but think this would have been useful information to have had before they left the last time, but before he could say so, Raphael apologized for just that, saying it hadn’t occurred to him that Ianto had only ever had bonds with mortal humans, and there were some things he didn’t necessarily know.

By the time they left Heaven this time, they were well-versed and better prepared as they journeyed to visit Jack’s mother.  Ianto took them to the main city of the colony, where they spent a few days reconnecting and gathering supplies.  They decided it would be best to arrive a month after Ianto had dropped off Gray, to give both Alice and Gray the opportunity to acclimatize to one another before descending upon them.

They also had to discuss how long they would stay.  The longer they stayed now, the less time they would have by the time they arrived via the slow path.  There were certain rules that even angels had to follow, of course, and they would not be able to slide through time very much without affecting timelines, which was verboten.

Naturally, Ianto had worked out a plan, of sorts.  There were thirty centuries between their time and Jack’s original home.  They could spend two months now, and then a month per century, going forward, and that would still allow for four month-long visits (or more frequent, shorter visits) for in-between times.  That way, only three years would pass for Alice and Gray before Jack and Ianto reached them on the slow path.

“I know a month per century doesn’t seem like much,” Ianto began, but Jack shushed him with a kiss.

“It sounds like a really good plan.  As nice as a weekend per decade sounds, that would hurt more, I think.  A month per century, or a fortnight per half-century…  That would be a good, solid block of time.  I’ll still miss them, but it’s more than I could have hoped for, before now.”

That night, Jack spent a lot of time thanking his angel for making it possible.

***

As planned, they spent two months with Alice and Gray.  During that time, Jack told all of them about his daughter, who had originally been named Melissa, but in a stroke of irony had been renamed Alice when Lucia ran with her.

Jack was wiping tears from his eyes as his mother cried.  “I didn’t name her Alice because it would have hurt too much.  When I found out…” he choked out a laugh.  “It was like it was meant to be, and the universe was laughing at me for trying to make it otherwise.”

“But she took your child and ran and hid from you?” Alice was aghast.  Ianto no less so.

Jack shrugged.  “Torchwood is dangerous.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” Ianto asked.  Even without the bond, he knew Jack well enough that he was leaving something out.

“She started hating me because she was aging, and I wasn’t,” Jack admitted.  “She’d always been a beautiful woman, but very vain.  I never realized just how vain until every sign of aging brought out more resentment.  More venom.”

“She became abusive,” Ianto realized.

“She was bitter.”

“Jack.”  Ianto looked at him, and the tenderness on his face held no pity.  Only love and compassion.  “She mistreated you.  It wasn’t your fault, and instead of trying to understand,” he shook his head and sniffed, then pulled Jack into his arms. 

Alice and Gray left them alone as Jack began sobbing onto Ianto’s shoulder, finally having permission to grieve the terrible treatment he had received.  After a quarter hour, Jack had calmed, and they returned with tea.

“She barely speaks to me,” Jack said, pulling up images of his daughter Alice and grandson Steven on his Vortex Manipulator.  “And even if she did, we wouldn’t be able to arrange a meeting.”

“It’s all right, Javic,” Alice sat beside her son when Ianto beckoned for her to take his spot on the sofa next to Jack.  She pulled him into her arms and sighed.  “I have regained so much of what I thought was lost forever, my son.  I am sorry I will not meet her, but I understand.”

Their time there was idyllic.  More so even than their time at St Brides, though special in different ways.  They built a small cottage in Alice’s back garden, so as not to impose on her and Gray, though they were both eager for them to stay, for good.  Ianto explained how the visits would work for both parties, and they were all excited.

Jack spent time with his brother, who had taken the news that in a month’s time his brother had aged almost two centuries with remarkable aplomb.  It took a bit more time for Jack to grow closer to his mother, but once again, Ianto smoothed the way for him.  Ianto developed a rapport with Alice very quickly, her kindness reminding him so much of his own human mother.  He easily helped them both navigate their reconciliation.

The time passed lazily, which in itself was a blessing that Jack suspected Ianto of bestowing on them, but all too soon it was time for them to say goodbye, at least for a while.  It was not a tearful goodbye, as Alice and Gray would see them the next day, and Jack was able to comfort himself that they would be right there to pick up where they left off, the next time he and Ianto could visit them.

It was a strange arrangement, but it would serve them well.  Some centuries they tried four weeks every hundred years, and some they tried two weeks every fifty years.  Once they even tried one week every twenty-five years, but found that was more difficult for Jack.  On a handful of notable occasions, Jack needed his mother and brother, and so Ianto took him to them, off cycle.  Thankfully, those occasions were rare.

By the time they reached the 51^st century on the slow path, they were able to join them, for good.  They watched Gray grow up and marry, and they stayed with Alice and took care of her into her extreme old age.  Once again, Jack suspected Ianto of helping her, but it was not something they spoke of, even if he expressed his gratitude with great exuberance and frequency.

***

They returned to Cardiff the day after Owen had chased them off.  Tamiel had returned from the UNIT conference, and all were busy toiling away in the hub when Jack and Ianto arrived.  Everyone was happy to see them, if a bit surprised to find that they had been gone for more than two months.

They were all pleased to see how happy and healthy both Jack and Ianto were.  Their bond had almost become, and each was settling more and more into the strength and comfort of it.  The return to the madness of Torchwood did not have a great effect, though they were taking no further chances. 

They were inseparable.  Owen rolled his eyes, Tosh giggled, Gwen huffed, and Tamiel smiled as he bore witness to one of the most beautiful things in Heaven and Earth. 

Of course, it would have been out of character for the former demon to make no mischief.  So it was he who explained to Jack about how the bond could facilitate virtual sex.  A bit of telepathy, a lot of empathic projection, and a vivid imagination were all that were required.

Ianto dropped everyone’s coffee, that day.  Luckily for Jack, he was alone in the kitchen, at the time.  Once he changed his suit (though not because of spilt coffee), he returned the favor.

During a team meeting.

Everyone was used to Jack’s bizarre behavior, so no one (besides Tamiel, the bastard) realized anything was amiss.  Jack just told Owen to take over and sat back, idly swinging back and forth in his chair, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and across his top lip.  At the… ah, moment of crisis, Ianto handed him a cup of coffee and no one knew the difference, given that was the noise he normally made, when drinking Ianto’s coffee.

Things might have escalated from there, but the next alien invasion derailed the competition, and the telepathic bond-sex became a way to enhance the actual sex, though in more private settings, after that. 

***

The night before they sent Tommy Brockless to meet his fate, Jack made a particularly heartfelt declaration.  As a result, he experienced his first coupling with an angel in flight. 

It was glorious.

The wings were definitely a fetish, after that.

***

That was the night their bond became.

The residual empathic joy had everyone in the hub sharing their love and joy, happiness and contentment for weeks, after.

***

Then came the space whale. 

The addition of Tamiel to the team paid dividends, that day.  He and Ianto managed to disarm everyone before the standoff became dangerous.  Ianto summoned Jophiel and Azrael, and asked that one of Raphael’s healers be sent.  He weakened himself significantly, trying to ease the beast’s suffering, in the meantime. 

The healer, heartbroken at the creature’s suffering, summoned her team.  Ianto soothed its anguish as they healed its flesh.  Then together, they all shimmered the poor thing back to its home.

Jack had been deeply affected by the space whale’s pain and suffering.  His relief was equally profound when Ianto told him he had helped the poor thing to forget its time on Earth.

Gwen’s behavior during the entire mission had been unprofessional and insubordinate.  Her tantrum over retconning Rhys was just icing.

“You all think it’s cold and lonely out there.”

“Do we?” Tamiel drawled.  He looked over at Owen and Tosh.  “Is that a requirement, or something?  Nobody told me…”

Owen snorted, and Toshiko giggled.

“Look, I know you’re used to parading your relationship around so you can feel superior to everyone else,” Tamiel began.

“That’s not true!” Gwen protested.

“And quite frankly, no one has said anything to the contrary, because it’s not worth the argument, or the three-day strop that you’d proceed to treat us to.  But you really should stop being so bloody rude.”

“Jack, he can’t talk to me that way!”

“Why not?” Jack asked, feeling much more himself, now.  Ianto had taken advantage of the distraction Tamiel provided in order to reassure Jack.  “You seem to think you’re allowed to be offensive to your team, with no repercussions.”  He looked around at the others.  “I apologize to you all, for allowing that, until now.”

“Jack!”

Doe eyes, deployed.

Jack snorted as Ianto’s snark floated through his mind.  Then he took a deep breath.

“Fine.  I’ll allow Rhys to keep his memories.  But he will have to sign the Official Secrets documents and be subject to a thorough vetting.  He will be used as a resource in future, and he will be monitored indefinitely.”

“But Jack,” Gwen cut herself off at Jack’s look.

“The reason this organization is a secret is for the safety of its operatives.  If he jeopardizes any of us by running his mouth, I will Retcon you both without a second thought.”

Face like a smacked arse.

Behave, Ianto.

Must I?  You enjoy it so much more, when I don’t.

Gwen considered herself dismissed as Jack turned to Ianto without a backward glance.  They were having one of their little silent conversations, so she took the opportunity to leave, before Jack could change his mind.

***

Some weeks later, Jack went on a solo retrieval and brought back a stray. 

“Guys!  Adam and I found the weirdest artifact.”

Then it tried to tell Ianto and Tamiel to remember. 

In the next moment, they both shouted, “Azrael!”

“What!” Azrael groused as he appeared.  “You know, it’s really impolite to shout, like that.”

“So sorry, perhaps next time we shall sing you a sonnet,” Tamiel simpered, his voice mild enough to annoy Azrael anew.

“Focus, please,” Ianto said above Jack’s protests as he held Adam by the ear.  “Azrael, we seem to have a pest control issue.”

Azrael’s eyes narrowed.  “So you do,” he said.  “Nasty variety, too.”  He sniffed.  “Came from the void.  Shall I return him, do you think?”

“No, please!” the creature begged. 

“Ianto?” Jack frowned, then shook his head.  That was all it took, for his new mind to shake off Adam’s influence.  He pulled his gun.  “What the hell?”

“It’s like a cuckoo,” Ianto explained.  “Manipulates memories to insinuate its way into a place, and then thrives on those memories.”

“It was trying to make me forget our bond,” Jack said, his face livid.  “How do we kill it?”

Ianto reached out telepathically and reassured his mate. 

“You can’t kill me,” the creature declared.  “I live as long as any of you carry a memory of me.  And I’ve hit the jackpot here, haven’t I?  Three angels and an immortal?  I’m going to live forever,” he smirked.

“My Love,” Ianto said, taking Jack by the arm and turning him so he was facing away from Adam.  “Remember when I taught you how to quarantine certain memories, so they would not cause you harm?”

Jack nodded.  He closed his eyes and did as Ianto had instructed.

Adam hissed as he flickered before them.

“No!” he shouted.  “You can’t!”

Tamiel had already turned around. 

Ianto had stepped to Tosh’s computer and quickly erased all record of the retrieval, Adam, and the few minutes he had been there, in the hub.  He set the system to reboot again in ten minutes.  Once he was done, he went to stand next to Jack.  Taking his mate’s hand, he stood with his back to Adam and closed his eyes.  He turned within and blocked off the memory of the last hour or so – since before the rift alert.

“You could have asked for help,” Azrael said.  “Instead, you chose to invade, infest, and inveigle.  Your first instinct was to do harm.”

“You cannot take me, Angel of Death,” Adam sneered, though he was showing a great deal of distress.

“No,” Azrael agreed.  “But I can forget you.  Which, at the end of the day, amounts to the same thing.”

For a creature like Adam, to be forgotten by the Angel of Death was to have never existed, in the first place.

Azrael turned his back on Adam, and in the next moment, Adam was gone.

***

Tamiel flirted shamelessly with Toshiko until Owen finally asked her out on a date.  Ianto was highly amused at the selfless gesture, only to be gobsmacked when Tamiel stepped between Owen and Dr. Copley, literally taking a bullet for the person he often observed was “crankier than Azrael”.

The bullet didn’t kill him, but it hurt like blazes.  Ianto healed him quickly, though, so it wasn’t a bad outing, all in all.

(Owen and Toshiko would one day name their first child Tamiko, in honor of the fallen angel.)

***

It was a Tuesday when Jack accidentally asked Ianto to marry him.

Sure, it wasn’t legal in this time zone (yet), but he just couldn’t help himself.

***

Toshiko’s time lock worked, and everyone waited out the return of the Earth to its place in the solar system, grateful for Ianto’s coffee and that he had laid in extra biscuits, for emergency lockdowns.

They got a sort of garbled explanation of how Donna Noble had saved the day, and curious, Ianto looked at her timelines.

“Brother,” Tamiel scolded.

“What?” Ianto looked at him, all wide-eyed innocence. 

“It’s scary how good you are, with that look,” Tamiel muttered.

The Doctor was very cross at Ianto for stopping him from destroying Donna’s memories, until he realized that Ianto could excise the Doctor Donna from her mind without destroying the sense of self she had cultivated, in her travels.

Of course, Jack recruited her as soon as the dust settled.

***

When the children started chanting, Jack’s first thought was of his grandchild.  Ianto checked on his niece and nephew, as well.

The plot to blow up Jack was foiled, almost by chance. 

Turns out, Ianto’s healing abilities extended to disarming gastrointestinal explosive devices.

A little-known fact is that because angels have watched all species, from the dawn of time, every species has some version of the concept.  And it is true that humans were designed to look like angels.  However, every species perceives angels as a winged (always winged) version of themselves.

The 4-5-6 were no different.  They released the gas, which thankfully did little harm, as Jack and Ianto had ordered the building evacuated.  Only Jack was affected, and Ianto lay him gently on the floor before standing before the alien’s tank and unfurling his wings, snarling.  As he gasped his last, Jack noted that Ianto made a rather fetching winged 4-5-6, despite the slime.  The alien saw an avenging angel on the other side of the glass, and for the first time, even through the haze of its high, it knew fear.

It was about to have a really bad trip…

Ianto crashed through the glass, took hold of it, and shimmered back to the creature’s ship, where he was joined by Tamiel.  They took the ship far, far away and made its occupants forget about Earth and its children. 

They would never know the reason for the severe pain of withdrawal they were about to suffer. 

The angels then collected the children, and Tamiel returned to the hub with them.  Ianto went to retrieve Jack from Thames House.  He sat with his mate until he revived, then took him home.

The children had survived, but they needed to recover before anything else could be decided.  Helen made room for them at Flat Holm, where they were treated for some minor injuries associated with being connected to the creatures, and the process of helping them to acclimate to waking up in the future was begun.  Mercifully, they remembered nothing of their ordeal.

The Queen cleaned house in her government, and publicly acknowledged Torchwood.

Turned out, it was the 21^st century, and everything had changed.

***

Jack introduced Alice and Steven to Ianto.  A tentative friendship was forged, and Ianto’s calm influence meant that reconciliation would be inevitable.

***

Tamiel left the hub one winter evening, and when he came in the next morning, Ianto almost dropped the tray of coffees he was carrying.

“What?” the former demon was absolute rubbish at looking innocent.

“Why didn’t you say?” Ianto asked, putting the tray down and walking over to his friend as the others watched intently.

Tamiel looked at his shoes for a moment before answering.  “I wasn’t certain there was anything to say.”

“Well I’d say you’re certain, now!” Ianto grinned.

“Ianto, care to share?” Jack asked, looking from one angel to the other.

Ianto reached out and dragged the collar of Tamiel’s jumper aside, showing a mark.  It was nothing like the one Jack and Ianto shared, but there was no doubt as to what it was.

“You sneaky bastard!” Jack exclaimed.  “Congratulations!  Who’s the lucky angel?”

“That would be me,” Jophiel said quietly as he shimmered into the hub.

Ianto reached out and embraced both of his friends, employing arms and wings to pull them close and share his joy of their bonding with them.

“Your bond has become!” Ianto said as he released them.  He smiled at Jack, who pouted as the wings disappeared again.  “Where did you go?”

“St Brides,” Tamiel smiled.  “We went just after you and Jack left.”

“Have you told Azrael?”

“No, Azrael is always the last one to bloody know anything around here,” the Angel of Death grumbled before he was even done shimmering.

“How do you do that?” Owen asked.

“Tamiel and Jophiel have a telepathic connection, now,” Ianto explained.

“And I was telling Azrael the news when Tamiel reached out to me,” Jophiel smiled.  “And you weren’t the last to know, Azrael.  You and Ianto found out at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

***

They began planning the wedding as soon as same-sex marriage became legal.  On a sunny day in the autumn of 2014, they wed on the cliff-top overlooking St Brides Bay.

As a gift, Azrael brought Alice and Gray to the wedding.  Seeing Jack’s mother Alice meet his daughter Alice was surreal.  They looked like twins.  They enjoyed the afternoon together as Gray and Steven laughed and played.

Ianto’s wedding gift to Jack was a raw ruby roughly the size of a fifth of whisky.  It was shaped like a flame, and there was a small glamor on it, so only Jack could see, when he was holding it just so, the likeness of Ianto’s face smiling knowingly at him.

“You always said I look good in red,” Ianto purred as Jack stared at the gift in awe.

Ianto’s gift to himself had been a raw sapphire the color of Jack’s eyes.  It was the same size and shape as the ruby, but this one had Jack’s likeness etched lovingly into its surface.

Jack’s wedding gift to Ianto was no less special. 

“Jack…  How?” Ianto stammered as he held the precious item in his hands – a little piece of his human past, a sweet little red dragon plush named Myfanwy.

“Well, your mad trio of friends decided to take me out for a stag-do,” Jack said.  Actually, it had started as the mother of all shovel talks, but as their bond had long since become, he pointed out they were a bit late to that party.  So together, they decided on a different outing.  One for Ianto.

“We went back to that night,” Jack explained.  “They remembered.  It had been all they could do, not to interfere.  They were with you, after…” he sniffed.  “You were so small.  So precious.  They let me have a peek.  And they checked the timelines, to be sure what we were doing wouldn’t have an impact.”

“What were you doing, other than raiding the bins?” Ianto asked.

“Well, I kind of got caught.  The second wing, see.  It had fallen between two bins, rather into one of them.  I found it, but not before he came staggering back from the pub, where he’d gone for a drink after… after.”

“He caught you?”

“Yeah.  I… I may have tuned him up, a little bit.”  He looked down before gazing at Ianto, once more.  “Azrael had to stop me from killing him, actually.”

Ianto vaguely remembered his father’s bruises, but his own had meant he’d kept his head down and tried to be invisible, in the days after the beating his father had given him.

“But you saved her,” he said, turning the soft plush in his hands and trying not to cry.

“The mad three helped to clean her up, and I figured I’ve seen you mending my coat often enough…”

“You sewed her wings back on?” he asked incredulously.

“Hey!  I have skills, too,” Jack smirked.  “Of course, Jophiel may have had to clean her again once I was done, to get the blood off from where I kept pricking my fingers with the needle.

Ianto inspected the stitching and decided that Jack did, indeed, have hidden skills.  He hugged the plush to his chest, brushing his cheek against its softness, and feeling such joy and comfort that he was speechless, for a moment.

The wedding night was quite memorable.

***

It was a quiet day in the hub when Tamiel came rushing back, from lunch. 

“Ianto, you’ll never guess what I ran across, in the bookstore!”

“What?” Ianto handed him a coffee and sat back down on the sofa, next to Jack, where they had been sorting through old files.

“Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, come on,” Ianto groaned in dismay.  “Thomas Aquinas was a prat!”[1]

“But he had such interesting views on seraphim,” Tamiel grinned, brandishing the book.

Ianto groaned again.

“Ianto?” Jack asked, smiling.

“Jack, tell me if any of this sounds familiar,” Tamiel said.  “’The name ‘Seraphim’ does not come from charity only, but from the excess of charity, expressed by the word ardor or fire…’”[2]

“That does ring a bell, yes,” Jack chuckled as Ianto covered his face with his hands.

“It says the name is expounded ‘according to the properties of fire, containing an excess of heat.’”  Tamiel’s voice was absolutely dripping with suggestion.

“Well, he is very hot,” Jack pointed out as Ianto groaned, Gwen and Toshiko giggled and Owen grinned.

“Ooh, there’s more!  ’…the active force which is ‘heat’, which is not found in fire simply, but exists with a certain sharpness, as being of most penetrating action...’”

“Only you could load Aquinas’ words with such innuendo,” Ianto tried to interrupt.

“I could probably give it a go,” Jack smirked.

“True,” Ianto finally began to see the humor.

“’…and reaching even to the smallest things…’”

“Hey!” Jack objected as Ianto snorted out a laugh.  The others joined in as Tamiel continued to read.

“’…and, as it were, with superabundant fervor; whereby is signified the action of these angels, exercise powerfully upon those who are subject to them…’  That’s you, Jack.  ‘…rousing them to a like fervor…’  Does that sound like anyone we know, people?”

Everyone was laughing uproariously by now, and satisfied his job was done to derail serious work for the afternoon, Tamiel set the book aside.

Toshiko reached for it and read the last part of the passage Tamiel had been quoting from.  “’We consider in fire the quality of clarity, or brightness; which signifies that these angels have in themselves an inextinguishable light, and that they also perfectly enlighten others,’” she quoted quietly, smiling at her friend.

Jack beamed, and Ianto blushed.

***

Later that night, as they gasped for breath in the afterglow, Jack whispered to Ianto, “You know, Aquinas is all well and good, but for my part, I’m inclined to take a page from Suzie’s book.”

“Suzie?” Ianto blinked, surprised.

“Yeah.  Dickinson.  ‘Hope is the thing with feathers’…”[3]

“Jack,” Ianto tried to shush him, finding Jack’s endearingly corny sentiment filling his heart with love and joy.

That perches in my soul, came the telepathic whisper as Jack caught Ianto’s lips in a tender kiss.

***

*****

***

[1] Artistic license – I’m sure he was a perfectly lovely saint…

[2] Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae, by way of Wikipedia.  Same for the rest that Tamiel proceeds to quote.  It is not my fault that some of it sounds a bit dirty.

[3] The first two lines of the poem are, “’Hope’ is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – “.  I took a tiny liberty with the second line, there at the end.