sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-17 02:27 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-17 02:27 pm
Entry tags:
The Theory of Two Centres 7/8 (The real one!)
Title: The Theory of Two Centres
Pairings: Canon. Set post-S2.
Summary: A scholar who carries a gun. Yes, I understand. It's very hard to be both. To want to know, and to know that you can't know, that sometimes the cost of knowing is too high.
Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
la_rainette, adina_atl, and spiderine for advice on fighting, firearms, italics, titles, eggs, and grammar. All are important!
Chapter Seven
Martha was a cautious woman, he decided. A soldier. It showed in the way she walked; she never went through a door without looking around it first, checking for attackers. And yet, she was a doctor first, and it wouldn't be hard to throw her off...
"Jack?" Martha called, as she entered the Hub. "Ianto?"
"Down here," he yelled back. "In medical. Bit of an accident."
"Why didn't you call me?" she said, and he heard her footsteps hurrying forward. She was worried, she wasn't looking --
He stepped behind her as she reached the top of the stairs and brought the butt of the gun up against the back of her skull. Caught her as she was about to fall -- hadn't meant to do that, some little fragment of Ianto pushing through -- and eased her down.
"Had it under control," he said with a grin.
He darted back to check the CCTV and saw Gwen's car pull past -- damn, she was moving faster than he'd anticipated. He ran back to Martha and made for the cells, hauling her after him, dumping her in the nearest empty chamber.
"Gwen," he said, tapping the comm in his ear. "You about?"
"Yeah, just coming," she replied easily. "Why, another Egg come through already?"
"No, but there's something a bit weird in the cells."
"Where's Jack?"
"Archives with Martha. Come down and have a look?"
"Course," she replied, and he waited patiently, counting in his head, until he could hear her coming.
"Over here," he called. She redirected her steps from the front of the cells to the access ports at the rear.
Brute strength was never as sublime as trickery, and Gwen knew how to fight, he knew that. Still, she wasn't expecting Ianto Jones to grab her roughly by the arms and throw her into a cell. She hardly reacted until she was already sprawled on the floor and the door was closing behind her.
"IANTO?" she shouted. "IANTO! Jesus, Martha -- IANTO!"
He leaned around the front of the cell to peer at her through the glass.
"Sorry, Gwen. I really am," he said. "Be a good girl and don't shout too much. Although," he added thoughtfully, "Nobody will hear you if you do."
"Oh, my god," she said softly. "Adam."
He grinned. "Hiya."
"Adam, let him go. Let him GO!" she drummed on the glass with her fists, furious.
"Can't do that. See, they're coming for me, and it's like Jack keeps saying -- you gotta be ready," he replied, dropping his voice to a thick American twang. "See you in an hour or two, sexy."
"ADAM!"
He had nearly twenty minutes before the drop was due, and he made good use of it. He checked on Jack (no longer dying at a regular rate but still unconscious), made certain everything he needed was packed, ate an apple. It was good to keep one's strength up.
Then he settled in what had once been lovely Toshiko's chair, and he waited.
***
At 2:37 precisely, the Rift opened.
He drew a water pistol out of the holster over his shoulder, hefting a small, efficient powder-bomb in the other. He'd have to wait until they all came through, or else the others back home would catch on that something was awry. Convenient, the timed drops. Not like them, really, to be so consistent, but he wasn't going to complain. He stood to meet them.
It spread out the same way, black to purple, static crackling around the gap as bodies began to pass through. They came easily, each stepping down the half-foot or so from the Rift-gap to the floor, as if they were simply walking through a badly-leveled doorway. The woman in front studied her hands briefly, crossed her arms, and looked around, but it was the man behind her that caught sight of him first.
"Hello," the man said, the words a little alien-sounding in a new human mouth.
"Lo," he replied guardedly, as a human might.
"This is cheery," the woman observed, still looking around her. Scanning for weapons and traps, probably. She wasn't a fool, after all.
She'd tracked him this far.
"We're with the police," the man said. There were two more, man and woman, behind him. "We're looking for -- "
He clicked the five-second delay on the powder-bomb and threw it; it smacked the man square in the chest and then detonated, spraying them all with a fine dusting of catalyst.
He took aim.
"Oh fuck no -- " the man yelped, and before anyone could stop him he'd thrown himself in front of the woman.
Bad move. He'd been aiming for her.
There was a shriek and a hissing noise; the body evaporated. The other two moved swiftly, closing ranks around her. She hadn't moved, was too busy watching him with narrowed eyes. Sending tendrils into his mind.
He repulsed them as best he could, firing again, then pumping to prime it. Two more screams and that was her little retinue disposed of.
"It doesn't matter how many of us you kill," she said calmly. "More will come after. What do you call yourself here?"
"Adam," he ground out, the nozzle still fixed on her chest. Why wasn't she frightened? They were supposed to be frightened.
"Ah. A little egotistical of you, don't you think?"
"You've studied Earth history."
"You came here. We had to. The beams weren't much but they got us enough. Language, history, geography -- Cardiff is adorable," she continued, eyes fixed on his. Hypnotic, almost. "So quaintly human."
She was divine, and clever enough to chase him across four planets in two galaxies. It was a shame he'd have to kill her.
"They'll scour the planet for you," she said.
"Let them."
"You're hurting the human."
"What's that to me?"
She sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. What are you using, anyway?" she asked, sifting some of the fine powder through her fingers. "They shouldn't have this technology yet."
"I've got friends in low places," he said with a laugh.
"Like the man whose body you've stolen? Murder isn't enough for you? You have to add petty theft into the bargain? Beneath you," she added.
"Let me go now and I'll spare you."
"Only because you know how unsatisfying it would be to shoot me," she hissed. "Because what you really want, Adam-on-Earth, is to get those lovely pale hands around my throat, isn't it? You think so small."
He tightened his grip on the gun.
"Well?" she lifted an eyebrow. "What are you waiting for?"
He screamed in rage and pulled the trigger, but not fast enough. As a solid weight hit him, bearing him down and wrenching his arm across the muscles so that bone ground on bone, he realised that she hadn't been talking to him.
He fought, flailing with his hands, and got in two solid punches, but the man on top of him was stronger and faster and angrier --
Jack Harkness.
He slid his hand up around the captain's throat but there wasn't enough power there for him to break into the steel-sided gearbox of Harkness's mind. He wondered just how far he would go to subdue his lover. Whether he would really break Ianto Jones's bones just to get at the thing in his brain. He scratched Jack across the cheek and took a ringing slap in the face for his pains.
Then the woman was there as well, kicking the gun out of his hand, stomping down on his arm and grinding it into the floor until he screamed and Ianto screamed with him and the world went black.
***
The Storytellers
Jack sat back, still straddling Ianto's hips, and looked up at the woman in his Hub.
"Was that necessary?" he asked, meeting her eyes. She was pretty, short curly hair framing an oval face with pleasant green eyes, but whenever he tried to pin down her features they seemed to drift away from his grasp. There was an air of hardness about her, on the other hand, that was very firmly in place.
"You were pulling your punches," she said with a shrug. "Not that I blame you. Always difficult when it's one of your own."
"I was trying not to kill him," Jack retorted. She offered him a hand up, and he regarded it warily before drawing his legs underneath him and standing without assistance. He rubbed at the raw marks on his cheeks where the belt had chafed, the scratches from Ianto's fingernails that were just beginning to bead up with blood.
"Well, you were doing a fine job of not killing him," she allowed. "You should tie him up. He won't remain unconscious for long."
She was already reaching for Ianto. Jack shoved her arm aside, stepping forward to block her access to his unconscious body. He lifted him, mindful of his arm, and carried him a few short steps to a nearby chair.
The handcuffs hadn't been hard to get out of, once he'd managed to shove the cloroform pad past the belt. It had really been wrangling that away from his airway that had been the bitch, but Jack was nothing if not good with his tongue. Besides, even Ianto underestimated the amount of damage an immortal dubiously blessed by the Time Vortex could sustain and stay conscious. Whatever was guiding Ianto's movements hadn't counted on Jack's ability to adapt.
He tipped Ianto's head back, over the edge of the chair, and used the belt that had until recently been on his own mouth to bind the injured arm to the chair's arm. He scrabbled in the rat's nest of tech and wires that was Tosh's "miscellaneous" drawer until he found a set of plastic ties, meant for bundling cords, and bound the other wrist securely, then strapped his ankles to the central post of the chair. He strapped Ianto's own belt around his chest, securing him in place. The woman simply watched, admiring.
"There are two others," she said. "Run along. I'll keep watch."
"And who the hell are you?"
"An ally. I won't harm him."
"Forgive me for not -- "
"Sir, your people are injured," she said sharply. "See to them. He's imprisoned them."
He leaned over the chair, resting one hand on the back of it. "If you hurt him I will kill you slowly."
"I understand," she said, cool and not at all frightened. Jack gave her one last growl and turned, running for the cells.
"Gwen?" he called. "Martha?"
"Jack!" Gwen's voice -- she sounded unhurt but angry, which was just how he liked Gwen. "Down here!"
He ran to the back of the cells and began keying in the code to release her, noticing through the narrow slits in the door that Martha was laid out on the bunk.
"Jack, it's Ianto, you've got to find him," Gwen shouted through the metal.
"I've got him, it's fine," he shouted back, opening the door. "How's Martha?"
"Unconscious. It doesn't look serious but I'm not a doctor Jack what's going on?"
"I'll explain later." He pressed his gun into her hands. "Get Martha topside and take her to A&E. Are you listening? This is an order, Gwen."
She swallowed and nodded.
"Here." He handed her his keys. "Go out through the garage. Don't come into the Hub. If it's on lockdown when you get back, call UNIT and tell them to gas and seal the place."
"Jack -- "
"Just do it. Martha will have the clearance codes. Go."
He left her to get Martha to the SUV as best she could and ran back to the atrium. The woman was standing where he'd left her, stock-still. When she saw him, she lifted her hands with a smile -- still no weapons.
"Your people?" she asked.
"Safe. Now," he crossed his arms, tightly controlling the anger surging through him. "You want to tell me what just happened?"
She shrugged. "Your man here's a wanted criminal. I came to take him in."
"Damn the civilian casualties?"
"I'm not the one carrying combustible projectiles," she pointed out. She dusted a patch of powder off one arm -- the catalyst, he realised. "Or the one who allowed a criminal access to chemical weapons that should not be in this time period, let alone this locality."
"Time Agent," he snapped, pulling what little rank he could. "Captain Jack Harkness."
"Ooh," she said, sounding bored. "Sergeant first-degree, and I believe you would call us the...Never-Theres. Or the Black Troops?"
"But you're -- " he clamped his mouth shut. A rookie mistake, blurting it out like that, but by the time he'd been born the Black Troops had been nothing but a legend, and nowhere in his travels had he found anything to confirm their existence. "What's your name?"
She smiled down at Ianto. "You may call me Eve."
"Adam and Eve?" Jack lifted an eyebrow.
"It has a pleasant symmetry to it, don't you think? Besides, Captain Jack Harkness, the Time Agency isn't in very good standing right now, is it? Used to be one couldn't throw a stone without hitting one of you. Now...well. We came across a man who said he'd seen one wink right out of existence. And a woman who'd worked as a nurse for an Agent who'd lost her mind -- seems all she could say was that you'd lost your Centre."
Chill fear swept through him. The Centre, the mongrel hybrid of human and alien technology, the supercomputer. A quintrillion calculations per second and a Vortex manipulator that kept the Agency's home office stable -- the mechanism that told Agents where to go to patch the past, to fix it and keep causality from slipping in the wake of the Time War.
If the Centre was lost small wonder the Agency was dying.
"You haven't worked for the Time Agency in a long while, I think," Eve said softly.
"No."
"A wise move, as it turns out."
"What are you?" Jack demanded.
"I've told you. I'm a Sergeant first-degree with the Black Troops."
"That doesn't actually mean anything to me."
"No, I suppose not. But you're aware of my race?"
"Only stories," he said.
"How humbling. We're just archivists, Captain, librarians. You might say that you protect the physical past, but we protect the past-as-remembered. We gather memory. We make sure that forgotten things are found."
"Nothing's been forgotten here. Not before he came, anyway."
"Well. When I say we, I speak of the race as a whole. In this particular case, I protect our interests. Our...reputation. You'd call me a policeman, I think."
"And what would I call Adam?" Jack asked.
"A monster. If one wanted to be kind, a throwback."
"A throwback?" Jack retorted.
"Indeed. A violent individual, slave to greed, serving his own ends -- tell me, how many people has he killed here?"
Jack looked down at Ianto.
"Four," he admitted. "That we know of."
"You must have caught him early, then. The last place he passed through, we counted twenty-two confirmed kills. Before that, he set an entire planet against itself. For fun, I think."
Jack sucked in a breath.
"We almost got him then; he's fast on the go, but not as clever as me," she said indifferently. "Sooner or later he'd have been caught. It's very pleasing to find you so...resourceful in detaining him for us."
"We didn't detain him. We tried to kill him. Twice."
"We don't die easily. Though it's admirable work. There's nothing else to be done with him anyway -- "
Jack moved swiftly, putting himself between her and the chair where Ianto was slouched, still unconscious.
"No."
"He killed three of ours as well," she said.
"You don't seem too broken up over it."
"Their memories are preserved in me. We are a collective, when we wish. What one knows, all know, if the time and place are right. He can't be allowed to poison the collective with the memories he has, and he can't be cut off and simply allowed to kill his way across the galaxy."
"You want him, you come through me."
She stared at him for a second, and then laughed.
"You think this is funny?" he said.
"You think I'm going to kill the boy!" she said merrily. "I can see why Adam liked it here. Such a black-and-white way of thinking. Even from a Time Agent who thinks we're nothing but stories." When he didn't join in her amusement, she sobered. "We don't kill other races, Captain. Our ancestors did enough of that. We used to be warriors -- we flung whole planets at each other, and they were happy to die for us. They remembered us as gods. We were genocides...the power must have been unbelievable. Now...well. All that was over long ago." She hesitated briefly. "In these stories you've heard, were the Time Lords ever spoken of?"
Jack found himself speechless. She nodded.
"They were great law-keepers...once," she said sadly. "They sent a man to stop my people. A single man brought centuries of slaughter to a standstill. He lives fondly in our memories, though at the time he wasn't thought well of. Respected, yes, but despised nonetheless. There's no doubt he was a bit arrogant, but then perhaps it was well-earned."
Oh God, oh Doctor, Oh God --
"You know of Ka Faraq Gatri," she said. The expression on his face must have made it plain. "So he touches this world, too. That's good; perhaps he'll draw your people as he drew mine."
"I don't..." he trailed off. "I can't..."
He was saved by a quiet moan from behind him -- Ianto was waking up. She circled him easily and crouched in front of the chair, carefully keeping her distance as she watched him begin to move.
"I live for stories -- we do love them -- and when this is all over, maybe you'll give me a story or two of Ka Faraq Gatri," she said to Jack. "I so rarely hear nice stories. Now, however...is there touch-taboo in your culture? Will you let me touch him?"
"Wait," Jack said, as Ianto straightened in the chair. He tugged his arms against the restraints and then cried out when the belt cut into the flesh of his injured arm.
"Jack?" he said, bewildered.
"I'm here," Jack said quietly.
"What -- oh, no," Ianto looked horrified. "No, oh, no -- "
"Shh, be easy," Eve said, smiling encouragingly at him. "You're no harm to anyone now. Poor child -- he did all that and left you to wake up and face my wrath. Hardly fair at all, is it?"
Ianto turned his head, obviously looking for Jack. He stepped into his line of vision.
"Gwen and Martha are fine," Jack said. "They're on their way to the hospital."
"He's still here," Ianto said, his voice low and rough. "You have to -- lock me up, kill me -- "
"No-one's getting killed," Jack interrupted.
"Certainly not. Ianto -- Ianto Jones, isn't that right? Sweet name. Musical to the ear," Eve said. Ianto wouldn't look at her. "And such a pretty mind you have. In our part of the universe you'd be much sought-after."
Jack watched her, aware that Ianto was watching him. She was very still, but her voice was enticing, as if she were speaking to a frightened animal. Soothing.
"Of course, I doubt you'd like a life that soft -- and you have a purpose here. A scholar who carries a gun. Yes, I understand. It's very hard to be both. To want to know, and to know that you can't know, that sometimes the cost of knowing is too high. But you've allied yourself well, I think, allowed yourself to be trained as you should. You accept because he wishes it, eh? And trust that you will understand one day why he wishes it...oh yes, Ianto Jones. I think we know each other very well, you and I."
Ianto's eyes drifted down to hers, his breathing slow but shallow. Jack tensed, ready to shove her aside if he had to.
"I think this will be easy, a meeting of the minds. I understand the full balance of loss. So much grief for one small solitary child -- but the grief is better than the missing of it, isn't it?"
Ianto's eyes were huge and unfocused. He looked almost drugged.
Eve lifted her hands slowly. "May I touch you?"
He nodded, but when she leaned forward his face twisted sharply into an ugly, vicious mask and Jack pulled her back by her shoulders just before Ianto's teeth would have closed over her fingers. She sighed.
"Adam," she said.
"Don't listen to her, Harkness," Ianto snarled -- or Adam snarled, through Ianto. "She's conning you. She'll kill him to kill me. She's a jackboot thug, she doesn't care about Jones -- "
Jack regarded him steadily. "And I suppose you do," he said.
"I didn't kill him, did I?" Adam demanded. "All I did, I did to live. I'm not the one who killed four years of his memories. I'm not the one invading Earth -- "
"Now, that's just a fallacy," Eve said, sounding almost amused. "You invaded first, after all."
"I was trying to survive!"
"Captain, I'm afraid you may have to hold him down," Eve said. Jack looked back and forth from Ianto's sneering face to Eve's serene one. On the whole, personally, he preferred open emotion to none at all...
"Captain," Eve said again, an unmistakable command in her voice. "If you want the boy back you will have to hold him."
"Let her in and we both die," Adam screeched. "Ianto doesn't want you to kill him, Harkness -- "
Jack's hand shot out, gripping his hair (Ianto's hair, fine and sleek, curling with damp in the shower of a morning) and pinning his head back against the hard edge of the chair. He held him there as he circled around, leaned over him from behind and looked him in the eye.
"Ianto's not the kind of man to like someone else running around in his head," he said harshly. "And he is the kind of man to give up whatever he has to give to keep people safe. He's Torchwood, see. Always was, always will be."
Ianto's whole body convulsed with Adam's efforts to free himself, but the bindings held.
"So if she's going to kill him, then he'd rather have death than you," Jack continued, tightening his grip. Silently he promised Ianto, if he survived, at least a week off somewhere warm and comfortable. "Nobody wants you, Adam. Nobody loves you. Nobody needs you. So now it's time to say goodnight."
Which was when Eve leaned over Ianto's body and pressed her thumbs against his jaw on either side, fingers cradling his ears. Adam -- Ianto -- Adam screamed high and shrill and the wheels on the chair rattled. Eve simply kept her grip, didn't move, didn't change from a look of intense concentration until there was one final whole-body arch that nearly sent the chair tipping over.
Then there was silence.
Jack eased Ianto's head down slowly, stroked a hand over it to smooth down the hair he'd gripped. Eve released his jaws with a small, sharp movement, as if she'd been shocked.
"Is that all?" Jack asked, surprised.
"He was willing," she replied. "I've never seen anyone so undefended. He really was willing to die, if he had to. He would have given up everything he was."
"But he didn't," Jack said sharply, half-question.
"No. Your Retcon is vicious but clumsy, by the way. Tastes like grease," she added, making a slight face. "What we caused to be done, we undo. Adam is dead, and your Ianto Jones is yours again."
"And where does that leave you?" he asked.
"Take the boy somewhere safe. Give him nourishment. See to your people. I..." she glanced around as if seeing the place for the first time. "Well, I'll hear some stories. This is a nice place, Cardiff. If there's time, I'll come back for some of your stories, Captain. If not, eventually someone will. After all, it's not like you're going anywhere." She smiled lightly at him. "I won't disturb your little planet unduly. By this time tomorrow I'll be home. With a bonus for executing the throwback."
"Nice for some," Jack muttered. She tilted her head at him.
"One last favour," she said. "You won't regret it."
"Oh?"
"Close your eyes."
Jack looked at her.
"Close your eyes, I won't hurt you. Tell me a story of Ka Faraq Gatri from your home."
He opened his mouth almost before he'd thought about it, but he never got a word out. She was kissing him, her mouth sweet and warm and slightly unreal.
An image rose in his mind, a memory that wasn't his, of the Doctor -- his Doctor -- standing at the door of the TARDIS, gazing out across a windswept grass field. Success glowed on his face. He looked happy, he looked delighted in a pure way, self-satisfied and smug the way Jack loved the Doctor best.
I've just remembered. I can dance! a voice crowed in his mind, and then it was his memory, almost his first clear memory of him, the Doctor dancing Rose around the column of the TARDIS and laughing with In The Mood playing in the background.
When she pulled away Jack opened his eyes and found hers. They were wide and so pleased.
"You knew him!" she said, delighted. "Oh, yes. Oh yes, Captain Jack Harkness. A story from your own lips! Thank you."
Jack gaped at her. The image was still strong in his mind, settling in as if it had always been there: the Doctor and the grass. The victory of Ka Faraq Gatri over the barbarism of her people, he realised. The end of the slaughter. The Doctor triumphant. Memory for memory.
"Now," she added briskly. "Untie the boy, splint his arm, care for him. I should warn you it's likely he'll sleep for some time. Let him rest."
"The Eggs -- " Jack managed, hurrying, as if she might disappear any second.
"They're wood, Captain. Burn them for all we care. Ianto first. Quickly, quickly," she added, and Jack bent to unbuckle the belts, to slit the plastic ties with a pocket-knife and re-bind one of the belts around the broken arm as a makeshift splint. He hefted Ianto gently and was already on the invisible lift, rising up, before he realised he'd left her behind in the Hub.
Or not -- when they surfaced he saw a flash of colour, short curled hair and green eyes, as she disappeared into the Cardiff night.
He tapped the comm in his ear and almost cried with relief when Gwen answered.
"Have them send an ambulance to the Plass," he said.
"Is Ianto -- "
"He'll be okay. I'll tell you about it when we get there. How's Martha?"
"Awake," Gwen said. "Are you sure, Jack?"
Jack pressed his face into Ianto's hair, a brief kiss, the reassuring warmth of his body in his arms.
"I'm sure," he said.
***
Then
After Ianto was unconscious, after Martha had taken the readings she needed and removed the IV needle from his arm, Jack sent them away.
He untied Ianto's wrists and ankles and undressed him carefully. The sedative they'd used in the intravenous mix made for deep sleep, but Ianto was a restless sleeper at the best of times. Better he have the freedom to move.
He shrugged out of his coat and spread it across him as if it were any consolation at all. Ianto loved the coat, and Jack hoped -- as he suspected what was left of Ianto had hoped -- that the lure would be too great. The mystery would appeal too much to be left alone.
Better some form of him than nothing of him at all.
He hung the DVD carefully on a hook on the wall, pressed on the note to make sure it was in place, and shut the door.
Gwen and Martha were waiting for him in the car.
"He'll come back," Gwen said confidently.
"He won't," Jack said. "Someone will."
"Jack -- " Martha started.
"I saw the Doctor's language written down, a few times," he said, ignoring her. "It's all circles. He taught me to write my name in it -- I think he thought it was funny. Circles inside of circles. Everything they did showed how well they understood the universe."
He leaned his head against the window.
"Everything goes in circles," he said. "And I've just closed one."
***
Chapter Eight
Pairings: Canon. Set post-S2.
Summary: A scholar who carries a gun. Yes, I understand. It's very hard to be both. To want to know, and to know that you can't know, that sometimes the cost of knowing is too high.
Notes: Thanks to
la_rainette, adina_atl, and spiderine for advice on fighting, firearms, italics, titles, eggs, and grammar. All are important! Chapter Seven
Martha was a cautious woman, he decided. A soldier. It showed in the way she walked; she never went through a door without looking around it first, checking for attackers. And yet, she was a doctor first, and it wouldn't be hard to throw her off...
"Jack?" Martha called, as she entered the Hub. "Ianto?"
"Down here," he yelled back. "In medical. Bit of an accident."
"Why didn't you call me?" she said, and he heard her footsteps hurrying forward. She was worried, she wasn't looking --
He stepped behind her as she reached the top of the stairs and brought the butt of the gun up against the back of her skull. Caught her as she was about to fall -- hadn't meant to do that, some little fragment of Ianto pushing through -- and eased her down.
"Had it under control," he said with a grin.
He darted back to check the CCTV and saw Gwen's car pull past -- damn, she was moving faster than he'd anticipated. He ran back to Martha and made for the cells, hauling her after him, dumping her in the nearest empty chamber.
"Gwen," he said, tapping the comm in his ear. "You about?"
"Yeah, just coming," she replied easily. "Why, another Egg come through already?"
"No, but there's something a bit weird in the cells."
"Where's Jack?"
"Archives with Martha. Come down and have a look?"
"Course," she replied, and he waited patiently, counting in his head, until he could hear her coming.
"Over here," he called. She redirected her steps from the front of the cells to the access ports at the rear.
Brute strength was never as sublime as trickery, and Gwen knew how to fight, he knew that. Still, she wasn't expecting Ianto Jones to grab her roughly by the arms and throw her into a cell. She hardly reacted until she was already sprawled on the floor and the door was closing behind her.
"IANTO?" she shouted. "IANTO! Jesus, Martha -- IANTO!"
He leaned around the front of the cell to peer at her through the glass.
"Sorry, Gwen. I really am," he said. "Be a good girl and don't shout too much. Although," he added thoughtfully, "Nobody will hear you if you do."
"Oh, my god," she said softly. "Adam."
He grinned. "Hiya."
"Adam, let him go. Let him GO!" she drummed on the glass with her fists, furious.
"Can't do that. See, they're coming for me, and it's like Jack keeps saying -- you gotta be ready," he replied, dropping his voice to a thick American twang. "See you in an hour or two, sexy."
"ADAM!"
He had nearly twenty minutes before the drop was due, and he made good use of it. He checked on Jack (no longer dying at a regular rate but still unconscious), made certain everything he needed was packed, ate an apple. It was good to keep one's strength up.
Then he settled in what had once been lovely Toshiko's chair, and he waited.
***
At 2:37 precisely, the Rift opened.
He drew a water pistol out of the holster over his shoulder, hefting a small, efficient powder-bomb in the other. He'd have to wait until they all came through, or else the others back home would catch on that something was awry. Convenient, the timed drops. Not like them, really, to be so consistent, but he wasn't going to complain. He stood to meet them.
It spread out the same way, black to purple, static crackling around the gap as bodies began to pass through. They came easily, each stepping down the half-foot or so from the Rift-gap to the floor, as if they were simply walking through a badly-leveled doorway. The woman in front studied her hands briefly, crossed her arms, and looked around, but it was the man behind her that caught sight of him first.
"Hello," the man said, the words a little alien-sounding in a new human mouth.
"Lo," he replied guardedly, as a human might.
"This is cheery," the woman observed, still looking around her. Scanning for weapons and traps, probably. She wasn't a fool, after all.
She'd tracked him this far.
"We're with the police," the man said. There were two more, man and woman, behind him. "We're looking for -- "
He clicked the five-second delay on the powder-bomb and threw it; it smacked the man square in the chest and then detonated, spraying them all with a fine dusting of catalyst.
He took aim.
"Oh fuck no -- " the man yelped, and before anyone could stop him he'd thrown himself in front of the woman.
Bad move. He'd been aiming for her.
There was a shriek and a hissing noise; the body evaporated. The other two moved swiftly, closing ranks around her. She hadn't moved, was too busy watching him with narrowed eyes. Sending tendrils into his mind.
He repulsed them as best he could, firing again, then pumping to prime it. Two more screams and that was her little retinue disposed of.
"It doesn't matter how many of us you kill," she said calmly. "More will come after. What do you call yourself here?"
"Adam," he ground out, the nozzle still fixed on her chest. Why wasn't she frightened? They were supposed to be frightened.
"Ah. A little egotistical of you, don't you think?"
"You've studied Earth history."
"You came here. We had to. The beams weren't much but they got us enough. Language, history, geography -- Cardiff is adorable," she continued, eyes fixed on his. Hypnotic, almost. "So quaintly human."
She was divine, and clever enough to chase him across four planets in two galaxies. It was a shame he'd have to kill her.
"They'll scour the planet for you," she said.
"Let them."
"You're hurting the human."
"What's that to me?"
She sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. What are you using, anyway?" she asked, sifting some of the fine powder through her fingers. "They shouldn't have this technology yet."
"I've got friends in low places," he said with a laugh.
"Like the man whose body you've stolen? Murder isn't enough for you? You have to add petty theft into the bargain? Beneath you," she added.
"Let me go now and I'll spare you."
"Only because you know how unsatisfying it would be to shoot me," she hissed. "Because what you really want, Adam-on-Earth, is to get those lovely pale hands around my throat, isn't it? You think so small."
He tightened his grip on the gun.
"Well?" she lifted an eyebrow. "What are you waiting for?"
He screamed in rage and pulled the trigger, but not fast enough. As a solid weight hit him, bearing him down and wrenching his arm across the muscles so that bone ground on bone, he realised that she hadn't been talking to him.
He fought, flailing with his hands, and got in two solid punches, but the man on top of him was stronger and faster and angrier --
Jack Harkness.
He slid his hand up around the captain's throat but there wasn't enough power there for him to break into the steel-sided gearbox of Harkness's mind. He wondered just how far he would go to subdue his lover. Whether he would really break Ianto Jones's bones just to get at the thing in his brain. He scratched Jack across the cheek and took a ringing slap in the face for his pains.
Then the woman was there as well, kicking the gun out of his hand, stomping down on his arm and grinding it into the floor until he screamed and Ianto screamed with him and the world went black.
***
The Storytellers
Jack sat back, still straddling Ianto's hips, and looked up at the woman in his Hub.
"Was that necessary?" he asked, meeting her eyes. She was pretty, short curly hair framing an oval face with pleasant green eyes, but whenever he tried to pin down her features they seemed to drift away from his grasp. There was an air of hardness about her, on the other hand, that was very firmly in place.
"You were pulling your punches," she said with a shrug. "Not that I blame you. Always difficult when it's one of your own."
"I was trying not to kill him," Jack retorted. She offered him a hand up, and he regarded it warily before drawing his legs underneath him and standing without assistance. He rubbed at the raw marks on his cheeks where the belt had chafed, the scratches from Ianto's fingernails that were just beginning to bead up with blood.
"Well, you were doing a fine job of not killing him," she allowed. "You should tie him up. He won't remain unconscious for long."
She was already reaching for Ianto. Jack shoved her arm aside, stepping forward to block her access to his unconscious body. He lifted him, mindful of his arm, and carried him a few short steps to a nearby chair.
The handcuffs hadn't been hard to get out of, once he'd managed to shove the cloroform pad past the belt. It had really been wrangling that away from his airway that had been the bitch, but Jack was nothing if not good with his tongue. Besides, even Ianto underestimated the amount of damage an immortal dubiously blessed by the Time Vortex could sustain and stay conscious. Whatever was guiding Ianto's movements hadn't counted on Jack's ability to adapt.
He tipped Ianto's head back, over the edge of the chair, and used the belt that had until recently been on his own mouth to bind the injured arm to the chair's arm. He scrabbled in the rat's nest of tech and wires that was Tosh's "miscellaneous" drawer until he found a set of plastic ties, meant for bundling cords, and bound the other wrist securely, then strapped his ankles to the central post of the chair. He strapped Ianto's own belt around his chest, securing him in place. The woman simply watched, admiring.
"There are two others," she said. "Run along. I'll keep watch."
"And who the hell are you?"
"An ally. I won't harm him."
"Forgive me for not -- "
"Sir, your people are injured," she said sharply. "See to them. He's imprisoned them."
He leaned over the chair, resting one hand on the back of it. "If you hurt him I will kill you slowly."
"I understand," she said, cool and not at all frightened. Jack gave her one last growl and turned, running for the cells.
"Gwen?" he called. "Martha?"
"Jack!" Gwen's voice -- she sounded unhurt but angry, which was just how he liked Gwen. "Down here!"
He ran to the back of the cells and began keying in the code to release her, noticing through the narrow slits in the door that Martha was laid out on the bunk.
"Jack, it's Ianto, you've got to find him," Gwen shouted through the metal.
"I've got him, it's fine," he shouted back, opening the door. "How's Martha?"
"Unconscious. It doesn't look serious but I'm not a doctor Jack what's going on?"
"I'll explain later." He pressed his gun into her hands. "Get Martha topside and take her to A&E. Are you listening? This is an order, Gwen."
She swallowed and nodded.
"Here." He handed her his keys. "Go out through the garage. Don't come into the Hub. If it's on lockdown when you get back, call UNIT and tell them to gas and seal the place."
"Jack -- "
"Just do it. Martha will have the clearance codes. Go."
He left her to get Martha to the SUV as best she could and ran back to the atrium. The woman was standing where he'd left her, stock-still. When she saw him, she lifted her hands with a smile -- still no weapons.
"Your people?" she asked.
"Safe. Now," he crossed his arms, tightly controlling the anger surging through him. "You want to tell me what just happened?"
She shrugged. "Your man here's a wanted criminal. I came to take him in."
"Damn the civilian casualties?"
"I'm not the one carrying combustible projectiles," she pointed out. She dusted a patch of powder off one arm -- the catalyst, he realised. "Or the one who allowed a criminal access to chemical weapons that should not be in this time period, let alone this locality."
"Time Agent," he snapped, pulling what little rank he could. "Captain Jack Harkness."
"Ooh," she said, sounding bored. "Sergeant first-degree, and I believe you would call us the...Never-Theres. Or the Black Troops?"
"But you're -- " he clamped his mouth shut. A rookie mistake, blurting it out like that, but by the time he'd been born the Black Troops had been nothing but a legend, and nowhere in his travels had he found anything to confirm their existence. "What's your name?"
She smiled down at Ianto. "You may call me Eve."
"Adam and Eve?" Jack lifted an eyebrow.
"It has a pleasant symmetry to it, don't you think? Besides, Captain Jack Harkness, the Time Agency isn't in very good standing right now, is it? Used to be one couldn't throw a stone without hitting one of you. Now...well. We came across a man who said he'd seen one wink right out of existence. And a woman who'd worked as a nurse for an Agent who'd lost her mind -- seems all she could say was that you'd lost your Centre."
Chill fear swept through him. The Centre, the mongrel hybrid of human and alien technology, the supercomputer. A quintrillion calculations per second and a Vortex manipulator that kept the Agency's home office stable -- the mechanism that told Agents where to go to patch the past, to fix it and keep causality from slipping in the wake of the Time War.
If the Centre was lost small wonder the Agency was dying.
"You haven't worked for the Time Agency in a long while, I think," Eve said softly.
"No."
"A wise move, as it turns out."
"What are you?" Jack demanded.
"I've told you. I'm a Sergeant first-degree with the Black Troops."
"That doesn't actually mean anything to me."
"No, I suppose not. But you're aware of my race?"
"Only stories," he said.
"How humbling. We're just archivists, Captain, librarians. You might say that you protect the physical past, but we protect the past-as-remembered. We gather memory. We make sure that forgotten things are found."
"Nothing's been forgotten here. Not before he came, anyway."
"Well. When I say we, I speak of the race as a whole. In this particular case, I protect our interests. Our...reputation. You'd call me a policeman, I think."
"And what would I call Adam?" Jack asked.
"A monster. If one wanted to be kind, a throwback."
"A throwback?" Jack retorted.
"Indeed. A violent individual, slave to greed, serving his own ends -- tell me, how many people has he killed here?"
Jack looked down at Ianto.
"Four," he admitted. "That we know of."
"You must have caught him early, then. The last place he passed through, we counted twenty-two confirmed kills. Before that, he set an entire planet against itself. For fun, I think."
Jack sucked in a breath.
"We almost got him then; he's fast on the go, but not as clever as me," she said indifferently. "Sooner or later he'd have been caught. It's very pleasing to find you so...resourceful in detaining him for us."
"We didn't detain him. We tried to kill him. Twice."
"We don't die easily. Though it's admirable work. There's nothing else to be done with him anyway -- "
Jack moved swiftly, putting himself between her and the chair where Ianto was slouched, still unconscious.
"No."
"He killed three of ours as well," she said.
"You don't seem too broken up over it."
"Their memories are preserved in me. We are a collective, when we wish. What one knows, all know, if the time and place are right. He can't be allowed to poison the collective with the memories he has, and he can't be cut off and simply allowed to kill his way across the galaxy."
"You want him, you come through me."
She stared at him for a second, and then laughed.
"You think this is funny?" he said.
"You think I'm going to kill the boy!" she said merrily. "I can see why Adam liked it here. Such a black-and-white way of thinking. Even from a Time Agent who thinks we're nothing but stories." When he didn't join in her amusement, she sobered. "We don't kill other races, Captain. Our ancestors did enough of that. We used to be warriors -- we flung whole planets at each other, and they were happy to die for us. They remembered us as gods. We were genocides...the power must have been unbelievable. Now...well. All that was over long ago." She hesitated briefly. "In these stories you've heard, were the Time Lords ever spoken of?"
Jack found himself speechless. She nodded.
"They were great law-keepers...once," she said sadly. "They sent a man to stop my people. A single man brought centuries of slaughter to a standstill. He lives fondly in our memories, though at the time he wasn't thought well of. Respected, yes, but despised nonetheless. There's no doubt he was a bit arrogant, but then perhaps it was well-earned."
Oh God, oh Doctor, Oh God --
"You know of Ka Faraq Gatri," she said. The expression on his face must have made it plain. "So he touches this world, too. That's good; perhaps he'll draw your people as he drew mine."
"I don't..." he trailed off. "I can't..."
He was saved by a quiet moan from behind him -- Ianto was waking up. She circled him easily and crouched in front of the chair, carefully keeping her distance as she watched him begin to move.
"I live for stories -- we do love them -- and when this is all over, maybe you'll give me a story or two of Ka Faraq Gatri," she said to Jack. "I so rarely hear nice stories. Now, however...is there touch-taboo in your culture? Will you let me touch him?"
"Wait," Jack said, as Ianto straightened in the chair. He tugged his arms against the restraints and then cried out when the belt cut into the flesh of his injured arm.
"Jack?" he said, bewildered.
"I'm here," Jack said quietly.
"What -- oh, no," Ianto looked horrified. "No, oh, no -- "
"Shh, be easy," Eve said, smiling encouragingly at him. "You're no harm to anyone now. Poor child -- he did all that and left you to wake up and face my wrath. Hardly fair at all, is it?"
Ianto turned his head, obviously looking for Jack. He stepped into his line of vision.
"Gwen and Martha are fine," Jack said. "They're on their way to the hospital."
"He's still here," Ianto said, his voice low and rough. "You have to -- lock me up, kill me -- "
"No-one's getting killed," Jack interrupted.
"Certainly not. Ianto -- Ianto Jones, isn't that right? Sweet name. Musical to the ear," Eve said. Ianto wouldn't look at her. "And such a pretty mind you have. In our part of the universe you'd be much sought-after."
Jack watched her, aware that Ianto was watching him. She was very still, but her voice was enticing, as if she were speaking to a frightened animal. Soothing.
"Of course, I doubt you'd like a life that soft -- and you have a purpose here. A scholar who carries a gun. Yes, I understand. It's very hard to be both. To want to know, and to know that you can't know, that sometimes the cost of knowing is too high. But you've allied yourself well, I think, allowed yourself to be trained as you should. You accept because he wishes it, eh? And trust that you will understand one day why he wishes it...oh yes, Ianto Jones. I think we know each other very well, you and I."
Ianto's eyes drifted down to hers, his breathing slow but shallow. Jack tensed, ready to shove her aside if he had to.
"I think this will be easy, a meeting of the minds. I understand the full balance of loss. So much grief for one small solitary child -- but the grief is better than the missing of it, isn't it?"
Ianto's eyes were huge and unfocused. He looked almost drugged.
Eve lifted her hands slowly. "May I touch you?"
He nodded, but when she leaned forward his face twisted sharply into an ugly, vicious mask and Jack pulled her back by her shoulders just before Ianto's teeth would have closed over her fingers. She sighed.
"Adam," she said.
"Don't listen to her, Harkness," Ianto snarled -- or Adam snarled, through Ianto. "She's conning you. She'll kill him to kill me. She's a jackboot thug, she doesn't care about Jones -- "
Jack regarded him steadily. "And I suppose you do," he said.
"I didn't kill him, did I?" Adam demanded. "All I did, I did to live. I'm not the one who killed four years of his memories. I'm not the one invading Earth -- "
"Now, that's just a fallacy," Eve said, sounding almost amused. "You invaded first, after all."
"I was trying to survive!"
"Captain, I'm afraid you may have to hold him down," Eve said. Jack looked back and forth from Ianto's sneering face to Eve's serene one. On the whole, personally, he preferred open emotion to none at all...
"Captain," Eve said again, an unmistakable command in her voice. "If you want the boy back you will have to hold him."
"Let her in and we both die," Adam screeched. "Ianto doesn't want you to kill him, Harkness -- "
Jack's hand shot out, gripping his hair (Ianto's hair, fine and sleek, curling with damp in the shower of a morning) and pinning his head back against the hard edge of the chair. He held him there as he circled around, leaned over him from behind and looked him in the eye.
"Ianto's not the kind of man to like someone else running around in his head," he said harshly. "And he is the kind of man to give up whatever he has to give to keep people safe. He's Torchwood, see. Always was, always will be."
Ianto's whole body convulsed with Adam's efforts to free himself, but the bindings held.
"So if she's going to kill him, then he'd rather have death than you," Jack continued, tightening his grip. Silently he promised Ianto, if he survived, at least a week off somewhere warm and comfortable. "Nobody wants you, Adam. Nobody loves you. Nobody needs you. So now it's time to say goodnight."
Which was when Eve leaned over Ianto's body and pressed her thumbs against his jaw on either side, fingers cradling his ears. Adam -- Ianto -- Adam screamed high and shrill and the wheels on the chair rattled. Eve simply kept her grip, didn't move, didn't change from a look of intense concentration until there was one final whole-body arch that nearly sent the chair tipping over.
Then there was silence.
Jack eased Ianto's head down slowly, stroked a hand over it to smooth down the hair he'd gripped. Eve released his jaws with a small, sharp movement, as if she'd been shocked.
"Is that all?" Jack asked, surprised.
"He was willing," she replied. "I've never seen anyone so undefended. He really was willing to die, if he had to. He would have given up everything he was."
"But he didn't," Jack said sharply, half-question.
"No. Your Retcon is vicious but clumsy, by the way. Tastes like grease," she added, making a slight face. "What we caused to be done, we undo. Adam is dead, and your Ianto Jones is yours again."
"And where does that leave you?" he asked.
"Take the boy somewhere safe. Give him nourishment. See to your people. I..." she glanced around as if seeing the place for the first time. "Well, I'll hear some stories. This is a nice place, Cardiff. If there's time, I'll come back for some of your stories, Captain. If not, eventually someone will. After all, it's not like you're going anywhere." She smiled lightly at him. "I won't disturb your little planet unduly. By this time tomorrow I'll be home. With a bonus for executing the throwback."
"Nice for some," Jack muttered. She tilted her head at him.
"One last favour," she said. "You won't regret it."
"Oh?"
"Close your eyes."
Jack looked at her.
"Close your eyes, I won't hurt you. Tell me a story of Ka Faraq Gatri from your home."
He opened his mouth almost before he'd thought about it, but he never got a word out. She was kissing him, her mouth sweet and warm and slightly unreal.
An image rose in his mind, a memory that wasn't his, of the Doctor -- his Doctor -- standing at the door of the TARDIS, gazing out across a windswept grass field. Success glowed on his face. He looked happy, he looked delighted in a pure way, self-satisfied and smug the way Jack loved the Doctor best.
I've just remembered. I can dance! a voice crowed in his mind, and then it was his memory, almost his first clear memory of him, the Doctor dancing Rose around the column of the TARDIS and laughing with In The Mood playing in the background.
When she pulled away Jack opened his eyes and found hers. They were wide and so pleased.
"You knew him!" she said, delighted. "Oh, yes. Oh yes, Captain Jack Harkness. A story from your own lips! Thank you."
Jack gaped at her. The image was still strong in his mind, settling in as if it had always been there: the Doctor and the grass. The victory of Ka Faraq Gatri over the barbarism of her people, he realised. The end of the slaughter. The Doctor triumphant. Memory for memory.
"Now," she added briskly. "Untie the boy, splint his arm, care for him. I should warn you it's likely he'll sleep for some time. Let him rest."
"The Eggs -- " Jack managed, hurrying, as if she might disappear any second.
"They're wood, Captain. Burn them for all we care. Ianto first. Quickly, quickly," she added, and Jack bent to unbuckle the belts, to slit the plastic ties with a pocket-knife and re-bind one of the belts around the broken arm as a makeshift splint. He hefted Ianto gently and was already on the invisible lift, rising up, before he realised he'd left her behind in the Hub.
Or not -- when they surfaced he saw a flash of colour, short curled hair and green eyes, as she disappeared into the Cardiff night.
He tapped the comm in his ear and almost cried with relief when Gwen answered.
"Have them send an ambulance to the Plass," he said.
"Is Ianto -- "
"He'll be okay. I'll tell you about it when we get there. How's Martha?"
"Awake," Gwen said. "Are you sure, Jack?"
Jack pressed his face into Ianto's hair, a brief kiss, the reassuring warmth of his body in his arms.
"I'm sure," he said.
***
Then
After Ianto was unconscious, after Martha had taken the readings she needed and removed the IV needle from his arm, Jack sent them away.
He untied Ianto's wrists and ankles and undressed him carefully. The sedative they'd used in the intravenous mix made for deep sleep, but Ianto was a restless sleeper at the best of times. Better he have the freedom to move.
He shrugged out of his coat and spread it across him as if it were any consolation at all. Ianto loved the coat, and Jack hoped -- as he suspected what was left of Ianto had hoped -- that the lure would be too great. The mystery would appeal too much to be left alone.
Better some form of him than nothing of him at all.
He hung the DVD carefully on a hook on the wall, pressed on the note to make sure it was in place, and shut the door.
Gwen and Martha were waiting for him in the car.
"He'll come back," Gwen said confidently.
"He won't," Jack said. "Someone will."
"Jack -- " Martha started.
"I saw the Doctor's language written down, a few times," he said, ignoring her. "It's all circles. He taught me to write my name in it -- I think he thought it was funny. Circles inside of circles. Everything they did showed how well they understood the universe."
He leaned his head against the window.
"Everything goes in circles," he said. "And I've just closed one."
***
Chapter Eight
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"You knew him!" she said, delighted. "Oh, yes. Oh yes, Captain Jack Harkness. A story from your own lips! Thank you."
I think Jack just got surprised for once!
You tied everything up and it makes sense and it's beautiful. I liked Eve, she was just odd enough to really be alien in that way. Plus I'm a sucker for the idea of archivists of the universe. Borges' Library and DW's always make me happy in the same way - collecting all that knowledge. I like that she had such a handle on Jack and Ianto through that as well.
Must go and read the conclusion now, but yay!
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I kind of fell in love with the idea of Adam's race as archivists of memory. They're like a walking, talking The Library. :D
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"He won't," Jack said. "Someone will."
"Jack -- " Martha started.
"I saw the Doctor's language written down, a few times," he said, ignoring her. "It's all circles. He taught me to write my name in it -- I think he thought it was funny. Circles inside of circles. Everything they did showed how well they understood the universe."
He leaned his head against the window.
I loved that moment.
And a quick question about this quote:
"A scholar who carries a gun. Yes, I understand. It's very hard to be both. To want to know, and to know that you can't know, that sometimes the cost of knowing is too high. But you've allied yourself well, I think, allowed yourself to be trained as you should. You accept because he wishes it, eh? And trust that you will understand one day why he wishes it...oh yes, Ianto Jones. I think we know each other very well, you and I."
You had posted that before, right? I've not got deja vu coming from nowhere?
I loved this chapter, although I'm slightly confused about the Time Agency's timeline, considering Jack worked for them in the 51st century. But then it is a Time agency, and the Time War allows for all sorts of handwaving, so.
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The time agency's timeline is....yeah. *grins* A little messy.
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Chill fear swept through him. The Centre, the mongrel hybrid of human and alien technology, the supercomputer. A quintrillion calculations per second and a Vortex manipulator that kept the Agency's home office stable -- the mechanism that told Agents where to go to patch the past, to fix it and keep causality from slipping in the wake of the Time War.
That would be an intriguing story, I think. Will you write something about that?
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"I saw the Doctor's language written down, a few times," he said, ignoring her. "It's all circles. He taught me to write my name in it -- I think he thought it was funny. Circles inside of circles. Everything they did showed how well they understood the universe."
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Thank you for the series, and The Rules of Social Conduct in between, it's an incredibly nice feeling to be in the beginning of a chapter and realise "this is going to be Good" and know you still have a full chapter ahead of you. Having that to look forward to makes late October Much Improved.
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Wait...is that his real name?!
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(Anonymous) 2008-10-31 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)"We're just archivists, Captain, librarians. You might say that you protect the physical past, but we protect the past-as-remembered. We gather memory. We make sure that forgotten things are found."
Great explanation of Adam's race.
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*dances with joy*
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As I was thinking, at some ungodly hour this morning (well before I read this part), "What if Adam's race were some form of archivist-historians?"
Of course they were.
"Of course, I doubt you'd like a life that soft -- and you have a purpose here. A scholar who carries a gun. Yes, I understand. It's very hard to be both. To want to know, and to know that you can't know, that sometimes the cost of knowing is too high. But you've allied yourself well, I think, allowed yourself to be trained as you should. You accept because he wishes it, eh? And trust that you will understand one day why he wishes it...oh yes, Ianto Jones. I think we know each other very well, you and I."
I am not sure why I like this paragraph; maybe it is because it touches so many aspects of Jack, Ianto and their relationship, personal and professional. Anyway, I just like it.
"I think this will be easy, a meeting of the minds. I understand the full balance of loss. So much grief for one small solitary child -- but the grief is better than the missing of it, isn't it?"
This is what I was talking about in my comment on Part 6.
"Ianto's not the kind of man to like someone else running around in his head," he said harshly. "And he is the kind of man to give up whatever he has to give to keep people safe. He's Torchwood, see. Always was, always will be."
Ianto's whole body convulsed with Adam's efforts to free himself, but the bindings held.
"So if she's going to kill him, then he'd rather have death than you," Jack continued, tightening his grip. Silently he promised Ianto, if he survived, at least a week off somewhere warm and comfortable. "Nobody wants you, Adam. Nobody loves you. Nobody needs you. So now it's time to say goodnight."
As if knowing this is what Ianto would want could make the whole pragmatism of this thing easier for Jack.
"No. Your Retcon is vicious but clumsy, by the way. Tastes like grease..."
Retcon makes memories slip away; of course it would taste like this. I can even see the slightly scrunched "eww!" face, and hear the "ick" in her voice.
He shrugged out of his coat and spread it across him as if it were any consolation at all.
No, it isn't any consolation; ask Ianto about Abaddon and grief. I didn't say this before, but I found the idea of Jack taking Ianto's overcoat sweet and sad at the same time (see "Abaddon and grief")
Better some form of him than nothing of him at all.
It is canon that Jack was not ready for Owen to die, so this makes me wonder if Jack, unintentionally, did influence the effect the Glove had upon Owen.
"Everything goes in circles," he said. "And I've just closed one."
You know those puzzles with the objects on the interlocking circles, and you have to turn the circles the right way so that the objects form some sort of prescribed arrangement. I thought about those when I read this line; circles can be closed, but they can also touch, and maybe even overlap.
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(I've never been able to look at Jack's inability to let go of Owen in a "this is really canon" light since I found out originally it was Ianto who was supposed to die and be revived).
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I agree, however, intellectual knowledge and emotional knowledge are not always the same thing; to me, for all his age and experience, Jack still has problems reconciling the two. I have always felt that this is the root of his reactions to Gwen in "KKBB" and "Meat." He knows that she, out the gang, is the one closest to the white picket fence and the happily ever after, and he knows that he might, one day, have to take away everything she has become since entering the Hub for the first time so that she can have that life; that he could pass her on the street, stop to compliment her on the children she might have, and she would have no idea who he is/was.
And it guts him, completely guts him.
So, yes, he would argue against doing this to Ianto, knowing that, in the end he would rather mourn his death, then grieve for what he has to do to Ianto's life.
But it still doesn't make it any easier.
(BTW, free discussion is a beautiful thing.)
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In a way, Jack was the best of all possible people to become immortal, because he craves a human connection and he'll always chase after it, which keeps him grounded. Of course, this also makes him the worst possible person, because he's never going to withdraw from offering comfort/affection/sex/love/whatnot to someone who needs it, and it's never going to be less than, as you say, gutting for him when he loses them.
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There's also the fact that Eve wouldn't necessarily know if the Time Lords SENT the Doctor or if the Doctor just, you know, showed up. :D
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The Theory of Two Centres 7/8 (The real one!)
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The point of Adam was that they didn't remember him, but obviously he lived on in Ianto the second time after actual-episode about Adam. So since they remembered him existing (albiet in Ianto's mind), why didn't they have to Retcon themselves so they wouldn't remember Adam in Ianto's mind? Would the memory of him in Ianto's mind remind them of Adam-the-fake-Torchwood-member and would that be enough for him to gain a foothold in their minds as well? Or can Adam only inhabit one mind at a time? No, that can't be right....
This memory-creature-and-Retcon business is tricky stuff. Perhaps this is just my confusion speaking here.
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Actually I never thought of that :D But presumably since he hadn't actually inserted himself into their memories anywhere, they were safe.
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Circles inside of circles. Everything they did showed how well they understood the universe.
I think you just redefined my understanding of the world (or at least, the reasoning behind how I see my life) with that comment. Seriously. Whoah.
(Did I mention I love this fic?)
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Finished it, loved it, loved the coincidences that happened around it. :)
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