Title: Calling Dr Jones
By: Jessie Blackwood
Pairng: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these lovely characters and I am envious of the BBC and RTD because they do. Thanks guys. No infringement intended, no toes intended to be trodden on, no disrespect intended either…
Summary: And its not Martha we're talking about. AU. Dr Jones is on duty at A&E ER when the victim of shooting is brought in. Well what would your reaction be if the corpse came to life again? But there's more to Dr Jones than meets the eye...

A & E on a Friday night was not Ianto Jones’ idea of the ideal medical career but, after all, beggars can’t be choosers. To all intents and purposes, he had returned to his native country less than six months ago having secured a junior position at St Helen’s Hospital in Cardiff. He had simply come back home having had a taste of the big city and found it not to his liking. In truth though, he was fleeing from worse demons than a simple dislike of London. His life had taken a nose dive with the fall of Torchwood 1. Ianto had worked for them for two years and he was lucky to escape with his skin intact. That debacle had cost him his fiancée and his future. He had escaped by the skin of his teeth but had lost Lisa, having seen some things he would rather not have seen and others too amazing to talk about. In the long run, though, he was glad to be home. He was happy where the road signs were in two languages, the phallic symbol of a fountain in Roald Dahl Plas reflected the Welsh sky and the wind blew in off the bay carrying with it the smell of salt and rain. He had left the horrors of Torchwood 1 behind, although not forgotten, even if the powers that be had intended otherwise.

As far as he knew, no one knew he was there. There were less than 30 survivors of the terrible battle at Canary Wharf between Cybermen and Darleks that took out most of Torchwood 1’s staff and HQ. He had worked to try to save some of them afterwards, but some were too far gone to be saved. Some had simply been destroyed, their transition to Cybermen too far along to reverse. The kindest thing and, as far as Ianto was concerned, the most terrible thing had been the decision to euthanase them. They were Cybermen, even if only partially completed, and Cybermen were a threat to security. He was not ashamed at his part in that action, but he was not proud of it either. Since he had been one of the few medical personnel left, it had fallen to him to carry out the order.

He did not want to be retconned afterwards but ‘they’ had insisted. He knew they would. However, Ianto had not spent all that time working in the medical department without learning all about retcon. The retroactive continuity drug did not have an official antidote. Yet just in case they were required to ask questions of people who had been subjected to it or (God forbid) the wrong people were retconned, the antidote had been synthesised and, if taken regularly in very small doses, could render an immunity to the drug itself.

Let them think he did not remember. But Ianto Jones was not about to forget any of it. He had no desire to live in a world subject to alien invasion without remaining fully aware of it. He wanted to be at an advantage if the worst happened. Of paramount importance, though, was the fact that he did not want to forget Lisa, his beautiful Lisa. He had administered the fatal dose of anaesthetic that had killed her. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to do so. As a result, he knew he was taking a risk being in the same place as Torchwood Three but he was willing to take that chance. He was only using this as a stepping off point anyway, hoping for a better job either in private practice or abroad.

He had secured the job because he spoke Welsh and one of the senior surgeons was his uncle. It wasn’t what you knew in this job, it was who you knew and Ianto had exploited that connection shamelessly. He had worked out a careful back story to cover his last few months because he could hardly admit to working for Torchwood, even if they would have believed him. He had played the system, been respectful to the right people, never complained, never been late and so far, they were satisfied with him. He kept his head down and did the work, taking extra shifts when they were short handed, always completing paperwork, forgoing a social life in favour of anonymity.

And then, just when he thought he had it cracked, fate stepped in and screwed around with it all.

“We’ve got a shooting coming in!” the Duty Sister called to him, coming off the phone and rushing past, heading towards the ambulance bay doors. Ianto rushed off after her. That was all they needed, the police would be everywhere, cluttering the place up and getting in the way. There were always a few, there were enough drunk and disorderly cases and road traffic accidents of a Friday night to keep the Coppers in paperwork for the rest of the week. Fielding their involvement had to be carefully choreographed though, otherwise chaos ensued.

The ambulance was just backing in as they arrived, then its doors were flung open and the gurney offloaded, green-clad medical technicians and paramedics spilling out after it. There was blood everywhere, dressings had been applied and the patient was wired to the machines sitting beside his legs on the gurney, but Ianto’s mind cycled through what he knew about bullet wounds and this did not look promising. The paramedic rattled off the information he had on the patient - a 36 year old male, three through-and-throughs to the chest at close range, one lung collapsed, they had managed to get an IV into him, they had intubated - Ianto listened to the non-stop stream of information as they were hurrying the patient through to a resuscitation bay where there would be a trauma team waiting. He glanced at the unconscious man, seeing short dark hair, pale skin, dark eye lashes…

The patient began to deteriorate as they arrived, plunging them all into frenetic activity to try to stabilise him.

“BP’s dropping!”

“He’s going into ve-tac!”

Someone grabbed the paddles from the de-fibrillator and shouting “Clear!” before applying them. Ianto was very aware that there was no response.

“Nope, going into ve-fib, we’re losing him!” somebody said. “BP still dropping!”

They tried again, still nothing.

They worked for the next ten minutes before someone finally said “Let’s call it people, this one’s not coming back.” and everybody relaxed, standing back from the dead man. Ianto sighed, he hated losing anybody. However, blood loss, trauma, it had all conspired against them. He glanced at his watch “11.33pm” he said tiredly and the nurse wrote it down.

“Anybody with him?” he asked nobody in particular.

“I’ll go see. The Police will want a word anyway…”

“Who were you?” Ianto asked gently, carefully removing the endotracheal tube from his throat. The relatives wouldn’t want to see him like that. The face was handsome, mid to late thirties. Ianto peeled back an eyelid. Blue eyes. Pity, he thought. He paused as he pulled the sheet up over the face, something about the man was familiar and it slightly unnerved him. Shrugging the feeling off, he went out of the room.

“Dr Jones?”

A policeman stood there, accompanied by a police woman, both of them in fluorescent yellow tabards and body protectors. Chalk and cheese, Ianto thought, looking at them. The man was blond and significantly taller than the woman who was dark haired and green eyed. He recognised her, had met her before.

“Gwen Cooper?” he smiled and then stifled a yawn. He kept forgetting he was nearing the end of a double shift and hadn’t seen his bed in more than 24 hours.

“Hello Ianto. This is PC Andy Davidson” and indicated her partner by way of introduction “The shooting victim, we have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

“He’s in there.” Ianto said, gesturing to the room “We called it at 11.33. Do you know who he was?”

“No formal ID has been given yet.” PC Davidson answered “Is there anywhere we can go that’s more private?”

Ianto took them into a side office and answered their questions as best he could and they went away satisfied. When he came back out, he saw Wendy, the nursing sister, fending off two people who were insistent on seeing the dead man.

“Are you relatives?” Ianto asked, coming to her rescue.

“I’m his fiancée!” the woman was crying. The man who was with her was smaller, forceful, not to be fobbed off.

“And I’m her brother.” he said, dark eyes fierce and challenging.

“Right, look, sorry, but we need to get some details first.” Ianto said tiredly “Go with Nurse Walker there and she’ll fill you in. Mr…?”

“Harper”

“Right Mr Harper, Wendy will see to you both” and Ianto left Wendy, who was much better at patient liason than him, to do her stuff.

In the room, someone had dimmed the lights. Ianto moved to the dead man’s side and lifted the sheet. Although there was a lot of blood soaked into his clothes, the cloying scent of it was sickly and metallic, the entry wounds had been fairly small, the visible damage minimal, the exit wounds hidden.

“Poor guy.” Ianto murmured “Wrong place, wrong time.”.

What happened next nearly gave him a cardiac arrest. With a great gasp of a breath, the body on the bed struggled to sit, wild-eyed and arms flailing. Acting on reflex alone Ianto grabbed the man before he could land himself on the floor and steadied him, one hand round his waist, one on his shoulder. Ianto felt the heat radiating from the man’s body. To stop himself falling he grabbed at Ianto’s arms with a powerful grip from a pair of large long-fingered hands. The blue glare was disorientated, fierce and altogether frightening. “Where the hell…?” the accent was oddly ordinary, he was an American.

“A&E, St Helen’s” Ianto breathed “…but you're…you were…” looking down at the man’s chest, Ianto also saw something he wished he hadn’t. The bullet wounds had gone…

Ianto stood there in shock as the man looked at him, assessing him with those dark blue eyes of his. He was rapidly regaining his equilibrium which is more than Ianto could say of himself. Ianto’s first assessment of him had been right, he was very handsome. A gamut of emotions rushed through Ianto as he stood there, then a mass of questions.

“There’s people here to see you…?” was all he could say, then he realised he was talking to a dead man, some part of his mind tried to tell him. Oh God, was he having a nervous breakdown?

“Good, my team probably.”

“Your…team…?” Ianto suddenly came to his senses, the whole bizarre incident coming into clear focus “How the hell are you alive?” he almost screamed “What team, who are you!?”

“Shh, I’m sorry about this.” The man said, capturing one of Ianto’s hands and squeezing it comfortingly “I’m Captain Jack Harkness, I run Torchwood 3. Who are you?”

Oh My God! That’s why his face was familiar! “Jones, Ianto Jones…” he murmured weakly, too shocked to invent a false name.

“Well, Jones Ianto Jones, nice to meet you,” He smiled, flashing teeth “but I have somewhere to be.” He got off the gurney just as the door opened and the woman who had claimed to be his fiancée and the young man who said he was her brother came into the room.

“Owen, Suzie, meet Ianto Jones.” Harkness said, watching as the others nodded to him. “Owen, clothes?” and the man threw a bag at him. He retrieved a clean shirt and put it on. “Go get the car and I’ll meet you out back.” Jack said as he pulled out a jacket out, stuffed his bloodstained shirt into the bag and threw it back at Owen.

“The Police are outside.” Suzie said.

“I’ll get round that.” He said confidently, shoving his arms into the jacket and shrugging it on. He patted the pockets, found what he was looking for. “Go with Owen.” he added pointedly “Gimme five, I’ll see you round the back.” and he watched as they left. Then he turned to Ianto and smiled a little sadly “Sorry you had to see this.” he said, flashing a charming smile, showing impossibly white teeth as he did so. “You’re a good looking man Ianto Jones, pity we didn’t meet under different circumstances.” he moved quickly then, pressing his lips to Ianto’s in a searching kiss. With a gasp at the unexpectedness of it, Ianto found himself responding, opening his mouth, moaning into it. It had been too long since Lisa, since Canary Wharf… Jack stood back, deftly pressed a small bottle to his lips and tipped it “Drink!” he ordered and the stuff flooded across Ianto’s tongue and down his throat. He swallowed convulsively and the brandy burned a fiery trail down to his stomach. He also recognised the slightly bitter aftertaste. Retcon. Ah well, you couldn’t blame him. Jack captured his face in those hands of his and their eyes locked.

“You never saw me.” Jack said gently, an arm around Ianto’s waist, supporting him. “There was no shooting tonight, just an accident. Some guy impaled on a metal spike, chest wound, complications, died on the table. You tried, but there was nothing could be done. Lost too much blood. Not your fault.” Ianto filed that away for future reference. Jack was at pains to reassure him that non of it was his fault. He was obscurely touched by the gesture. As the drug took effect, making his eyes sag closed, Jack lowered him gently to the floor. “Sorry Ianto.” he said, with a regretful wistfulness “Maybe I’ll see you round.” then he hit the call button, walking casually away as a nurse hurried towards the room.

o0o0o0o0o0oo

Ianto woke in a hospital bed. Disorientated, he lay there for a moment, trying to sort his thoughts.

“You’re awake at last, how are you feeling?” Doctor Macintosh was looking him over critically “Can you remember what happened?”

“Not a thing” Ianto lied. Actually he remembered it all, he was just expected not to.

“You collapsed. At least, Nurse Harding found you on the floor in A&E, unconscious. Damn good job you didn’t hit your head on the way down. We’ve done the blood work on you, nothing at all. You’re clean.”

“What did you expect Michael, drugs?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried. No, I think its probably exhaustion. Everybody has been saying you’ve been pushing yourself, taking extra shifts. You need to take care Mr Jones. You can’t burn the candle!” he frowned “You’re staying right where you are for now. Get better, and that’s an order.”

Ianto had been signed off for a week, told to go home and rest, then abandoned to his fate. Nobody really cared if he lived or died, but he couldn’t blame them for that. He hadn’t gone out of his way to make friends. This was a transient post, a stepping off point, and he was determined not to put down roots. His flat was spartan, his stuff still boxed up and in store, apart from his DVDs and the wide screen television, his few favourite books and, of course, his coffee machine. One thing he could not live without was decent coffee.

He sprawled on the couch watching the morning news and wondered at where his life was going. Not far at this rate. He figured he would get on the internet later and check the job postings. He might fancy some back-of-beyond clinic in Kashmir or Kenya…scratch Kenya, he didn’t fancy carrying a gun, even though Torchwood had taught him how to use one.

He kept going back to Jack Harkness, asking himself if there was any way they could have missed anything, but he kept getting the same answer – no. The man had been dead, everybody on the trauma team had concurred. He had heard of Torchwood 3’s charismatic leader, everybody had, even seen him once at a distance on one of his infrequent visits to Torchwood London. It was common knowledge he did not get along with Yvonne Hartman, Torchwood 1’s boss. There were other rumours too, the fact that the man was a terrible flirt and would bed anything with a pulse. And he had kissed him! Ianto could still feel it, if he concentrated, the pressure of those lips on his. It had been a shock tactic, nothing more, designed to take him off balance so the retcon could be delivered with minimum fuss. No use reading anything into it, but…he had told him he was good looking, so Jack found him attractive, and that had sounded genuine. What was genuine was the way he had taken care to reassure Ianto that the ‘accident victim’ died due to complications and that he had not been at fault. The man had a conscience at least, a streak of kindness in him.

Ianto missed Lisa, sometimes achingly so, but he had long ago come to terms with his variable sexuality. He had finally understood that he was bisexual, not bi-curious as someone had accused him of being. He found himself attracted to both sexes and, what's more, he enjoyed it. He decided to live dangerously and try a gay bar later, look for someone to spend the evening with and possibly get himself shagged senseless. Man or woman, didn’t matter.

Owen had efficiently dealt with the records, doctored (he had sniggered at the pun) the hospital and police records and ‘lost’ Jack's body somewhere in the system. The ‘shooting’ never happened. Jack was concerned though, the fact that he had managed to get so badly damaged this time round. If it had been one of the others… He was bothered by the fact that they had no doctor on the staff, just Owen, who was good with computers but little else, Toshiko who was a wonder with the archives and working out what the alien tech did that they harvested from the rift, and Suzie, who was, like Tosh, a scientist, an investigator. Jack wondered for the millionth time if they shouldn’t get more people. They were stressed as it was and breaking point wouldn’t be far away at this rate.

Over the next few days though, Jack found his thoughts straying back to the good looking young doctor he had retconned, he found himself wishing he had met him under different circumstances and fantasised about what they might have got up to. It crossed his mind once or twice whether to offer him a job, he had definitely taken Jack's return to life quite well, even though he had been shocked. He had definitely responded to that kiss, surprisingly so. That had been…nice, actually. OK, not so much of a shock as he had intended but what the hell. He couldn’t forget his eyes, so blue and…sad, was that it? There was a sadness, a weariness about them, which was not, if Jack was any judge, anything to do with being overworked and under paid.

That evening Ianto dressed up, picking out a particularly well-fitted dark pinstripe suit and purple shirt to complement it. He felt surprisingly good actually. Time to enjoy himself a little. He kept thinking back to Jack Harkness though, the man’s charisma was off the scale. He shivered and headed for Maxi’s, the gay club across town.

Jack packed the others off home, then showered and changed, deciding to go find a date somewhere. He would take someone home, be asked in for coffee, maybe get lucky. His thoughts kept going back to the young doctor though. Ianto, such a very ‘Welsh’ name. With his dark good looks and blue eyed stare, to Jack he was the epitome of whatever it was that he thought of as ‘Welshness’. Couple that with the accent, those beautiful vowels flowing from the young man’s lips with such a musical lilt and the whole effect had been amazingly erotic.

Ianto was on his second pint when he saw the door open to admit a tall man and an accompanying gust of rain-soaked wind. Ianto had been approached twice that evening, although neither man had peeked his interest. He had feigned waiting for a date and put them off. He watched the newcomer arrive, his period military great coat swinging round his legs as he strode to the bar. The dark hair was slightly spiky, the blue eyes sharp and observant…Ianto hurriedly turned away. Damn it! It was him! Of all the places… He turned, composing his face to blankness. Harkness could not be allowed to realise that the retcon had not worked. What was he doing, stalking him to see if it had worked?

Ianto’s gaze travelled over the man, ignoring him, although he knew he had been seen. He watched the door, deliberately checked his watch and sighed, for all the world looking as though his date hadn’t appeared. Over the next couple of minutes he finished the pint, checked his watch again and glanced at the door one last time. Easy does it, make it look like you’re leaving because your date didn’t show…

Jack had made a last minute decision to go to Maxi’s. His preference had taken a swing towards his own sex that evening and Maxi’s had yielded good results before. He drew a couple of admiring looks as he entered but he was at the bar and ordering his drink before he spotted the young man. Damn it all, his luck was in. Ianto Jones, large as life and twice as attractive as he remembered. He was definitely dressed to impress but there was something subtly different about him…more confident, less tired. He watched as Ianto checked his watch and glanced at the door. Damn it, he was waiting for someone. Jack stepped a little closer, deliberately wanting to see if there was any recognition in those eyes. As he watched, Ianto’s gaze swept over him without apparent recollection and he looked at the door again. In that moment Jack decided that if the date showed up he would personally show him the door. He moved purposefully towards where Ianto was sitting.

“Stood you up, did she?” asked the voice beside him. There was a hint of good humour in the tone and Ianto looked up innocently, staring into the blue eyes gazing intently down at him, matching them gaze for gaze. Jack blinked first.

“Er..no, actually.” Ianto said carefully “He stood me up, over an hour late…I don’t know why I wait for him.” Ianto paused, assessing the man who stood over him. “Do I know you?”

“Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, I’m sure I would have remembered.” He stuck out his hand “Jack Harkness” Ianto took the offered hand and shook it.

“Ianto Jones.” He smiled, making a spot decision “I was about to head off home…”

“Aw, wouldn’t that would be a waste of a good evening?” Jack said, encouragingly. "Why don’t I join you and we can see if there’s something worth salvaging?”

Ianto looked at the half-finished pint in Jack's hand “What are you drinking?”

“Thanks, I’ll have another beer.”

He watched as Ianto rose from his seat and went to the bar. The rear view was worth watching. Front view was even better, Jack thought as the man returned and took a seat opposite, placing a frothing pint in front of him.

“Thanks. So, you were waiting for the boyfriend?”

“Not any more.” Ianto’s voice was grim.

“Ouch. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m better out of it.”

“You need me to teach him a lesson?”

Ianto laughed. Jack smiled, showing teeth. Ianto’s laugh was gorgeous, like the rest of him, Jack found himself thinking. Their eyes met and Jack's smile faded. Ianto was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“So” the younger man said, breaking the moment. “What do you do Jack?”

“Do?”

“For a living, you know?”

“Oh, I see. Security Consultant. You?”

“Doctor.”

“Wow.” Jack laughed. “Impressive.”

Ianto had to admire the man’s acting skills. He smiled “Always does that to people. Its nothing special, really. I’m just a junior A&E doctor, overworked, under paid, no social life.”

“How come you escaped tonight?”

“Off work.”

“You’ve been ill?” As if, Ianto thought, you didn’t know…

“Nothing catching, don’t worry. I was just over-tired. I’m OK now though.”

Jack looked concerned “You sure?” he didn’t sound convinced.

“Really, I’m fine. Just needed a distraction this evening, which hasn’t turned up. I’m going nuts at home. There’s only so many times you can watch Little Britain.”

“Hasn’t the boyfriend been looking after you?”

Ianto awarded him with a look that was calculated to say it all “As I said, I’m better out of it. Didn’t even visit me in hospital.”

“Sounds like you need someone to take care of you.”

“Chance would be a fine thing.” Ianto muttered, then belatedly realised Jack had fed him the perfect line “Why, are you offering?” he smiled, turning on the charm. Jack Harkness wasn’t the only one who could captivate his audience…

“Doctors usually make bad patients” Jack commented cheekily. “They don’t do as they’re told.”

“Well, I promise to be good.” Not the only one who can flirt either, ball’s in your court Harkness…

“Your place or mine?” well, that was coming straight to the point.

“Mine, its probably closer. Its only about two minutes walk away and…I could make you breakfast. I’ll warn you, people say my coffee is addictive.”

“That’s an offer I would be stupid to refuse.” Jack rose from the chair and extended a hand. Ianto took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Jack was gratified to note that their eyes were on a level.

They walked the short distance to Ianto’s flat with barely a word between them. Ianto couldn’t believe he had agreed to this. He was living dangerously, unsure whether this was some kind of bizarre test and Jack already knew who he was. If he didn’t, Ianto wondered why he had come over, unless simply to satisfy himself that the retcon had worked. If that was the case, why had he pursued it this far? He could have talked and then left him alone. He had chosen to take things further. Well, Ianto had no one to blame but himself after all. He had decided to go out on the pull, just hadn’t imagined for one minute he would pull the much sought-after leader of Torchwood 3, the legendary Jack Harkness. Damn it, he had to pretend he didn’t know who the hell he was. He was an ordinary, if good looking, guy on the pull, just like himself.

Once through the door, Jack did not waste time. He wanted a repeat of that kiss, even although he knew Ianto would not remember it. He pushed him against the wall, uncertain how rough he could be, certain he wanted to be forceful enough to make his point. Ianto’s eyes were lustfully fixed on his, his mouth slightly open, breath coming in short gasps. Jack loosened Ianto’s tie, leaned in and pressed his lips to the young man’s eager mouth. Their tongues battled for dominance of the kiss before Ianto gave way and allowed Jack to explore his mouth, allowing the man to thrust his tongue deeply in, moaning round it. Hands roamed, popping buttons open, sliding under cloth and touching hard hot skin beneath. Fingers raked through short hair, slid round and down to touch pebbled nipples and on to grab hips and pull them close. Jack ground his hips into Ianto’s and Ianto responded by grabbing his arse and pulling him even closer. Clothes were discarded and left where they fell, forming a trail to the bedroom. Ianto broke away long enough to find the supplies in the drawer of the bedside table, wordlessly pressing the condom into Jack's hand.

Jack grinned “You want it that way round then?” he murmured huskily into Ianto’s neck.

Ianto nodded “Do you mind?”

“Mind? Hell, no. I like it that way round.”

“Good…” Ianto took a deep breath but Jack was no fool.

“I’m not your first, am I?”

“Well, not exactly…but we didn’t…”

“So I am your first?”

Ianto laughed “Its that obvious?”

“Well, you’re a little nervous.”

“Damn, thought I was hiding it well…”

“Ianto…no need to worry. I’m flattered you chose me. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“You could never do that Jack.”

“You don’t know me very well…” he gave a slightly sarcastic smile.

Ianto captured Jack's mouth in another kiss, but this time, Jack was the one to capitulate and moan into it, Ianto’s hands finding interesting things to do further south. He slid to his knees on the floor and looked up at Jack standing there, anticipation trembling through both of them. Jack's hands threaded through his hair as Ianto’s mouth swallowed him whole, his breath coming in little grunts, hips pushing forwards. Ianto’s warm hands gripped his hips, his eyes were closed.

Suddenly, Jack pulled back, breaking the hold. He dragged Ianto roughly to his feet and turned him, pushing him down to the bed. Ianto nearly stopped breathing as he felt Jack's slick fingers preparing the way, an intimate invasion he was powerless to stop. The older man’s weight shifted and he felt the press of hot flesh to his own. “Take a deep breath and relax” Jack murmured, his voice husky and gentle, hands roaming across Ianto’s back. Obediently, Ianto drew breath and Jack pushed, sliding in. Pain blossomed up his spine but he didn’t care. He groaned as Jack's thrusts rode him past the pain, bumping against the sensitive prostate, sending a multitude of sensations through his body. Ianto thrust himself back against Jack's thrusts, taking him deeper still. Jack obliged, finding his rhythm, rocking against Ianto’s body. A hand took hold of Ianto’s cock and pumped it in time to the thrusting rhythm. Non of it took very long. Shuddering, Ianto spilled into Jack's hand, growling with the blossoming pleasure as Jack's hips suddenly snapped forward, once, twice, three times, as he emptied himself into the willing embrace of Ianto’s body.

Afterwards, Jack was surprised to see, Ianto liked to cuddle. He lay in Jack's arms, embraced, warm and strangely secure, given the present company.

“That was good” he mumbled against Jack's chest.

“Did you mean it about making me breakfast, I should tell you I go to work rather early.”

“No, I meant it…” Ianto suddenly lifted his head and looked at him “Was this a one night stand or…” he looked closely at the man. Hells Bells, what was he asking? Why was he asking?

Jack's expression softened “Not necessarily” he said “Can I see you again?”

“Yes, yes, you can…if you want.”

“Good, get some sleep. I’ll wake you in time.”

Jack spent the time that he didn’t sleep prowling round the man’s flat, surprised to see how transient it seemed. Looked for all the world as though Ianto wasn’t attempting to put down roots. There were boxes in the second bedroom that had not yet been unpacked, furniture that hadn’t been unwrapped. He surveyed the DVD collection with amusement. The guy was a born romantic. A single DVD that was obviously computer generated sat on the top of the pile next to the television. Video’s probably, Jack thought, it was marked ‘Lisa’ in black pen. It had obviously been recently viewed as the case was open.

Curiosity got the better of him and he turned the television on, muted the sound, then slid the DVD into the slot and pressed play. There was a short pause and then a lively dark skinned girl danced into view, carrying a picnic basket. Jack sat as if pole-axed. He knew her. She was laughing and Jack risked turning up the sound. They were talking and joking about inconsequential stuff, then the camcorder was handed over to her and Ianto hove into view, pretending to be the butler with a tea towel over his arm, serving her. Then he got down on one knee and presented her with a small box, opening it to reveal a ring. “For the record I’m asking Lisa to marry me” he said happily and caught the camcorder as, with a squeal of delight, she almost dropped it. The camcorder turned on her as Ianto took it back and he fumbled the ring onto her finger one handed, while she danced around and he continued to video the moment. She pushed her hand almost into the lens so the ring could be recorded too. A sapphire, as blue as Ianto’s eyes. Jack remembered that ring, he had seen it on his last visit, commented on who had beaten him to it. She had laughed and told him she was engaged to - Jack groaned - one of the doctors. The video stopped suddenly and was replaced with a brief wobbly video of the two of them, heads together, the camcorder held at arms length and facing them both, as they pulled faces. “I love Ianto Jones!” Lisa cried, throwing her arms round him and joggling the camcorder again. Then it jumped to an evening scene, London, looking out at the river. Lisa was talking about giving up work at Torchwood and having babies. Ianto’s voice telling her it was recorded and she couldn't on back on it now. Then it stopped. Jack slipped the DVD out and replaced it in its cover.

Ianto woke slowly, aware that the bed was cold. Jack had gone. He padded to the bathroom but in so doing realised he had been abandoned. Jack had really gone. It disappointed him but he wasn’t altogether surprised. So much for asking about breakfast. He showered, dressed and went to the local shop for a paper and a bottle of milk before returning. He noticed a large black SUV outside but thought nothing of it until he got back to his flat to find Jack standing there, waiting.

“Jack?” Ianto was uncertain.

“Can I come in?

“Of course…I missed you this morning. Was going to cook breakfast.”

“Something came up…” he shrugged. Ianto unlocked the door and led the way inside “Coffee?” he asked and saw the answering nod.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Ianto Gareth Jones, 26 years old, worked for Torchwood 1, engaged to Lisa Hallett, 2006. Need I go on?”

Damn. Ianto hung his head. “How did you find out?”

“Your DVD of your engagement, I happened to find it last night, on the top of the pile, open. I figure you must watch it regularly.”

“You were going through my stuff?” Ianto was ruffled.

“Yeah, well, I was curious. Always am when I meet someone I like. In my line of work it pays to be careful. Lisa was one of the PR people I met every time I visited London. I remembered her face, I remember the ring you gave her. On the DVD she talks about Torchwood. So I looked you up on the database, found your record.”

“Ah”

“I find it a little coincidental you being here on our doorstep. I also know you were retconned after Canary Wharf, and I did the same thing after you saw me that night at the hospital. So how come it didn’t affect you?”

“How do you know it didn’t?”

“Because you’re talking to me, not freaking out and asking me what the hell I’m talking about” Jack sighed “To me, that’s a good indication”

“I don’t know why”

“Liar”

“Jack…”

“Ianto, nobody is immune”

“Stands to reason somebody might be”

“And you’d know…”

“I’m a doctor, I might have the edge on you concerning this one”

Jack paused. He had to concede that one. However, he still didn’t believe the man.

“So Ianto, what am I going to do with you?” There was suddenly a very hard edge to his voice. Jack was back to being the leader of Torchwood 3, in fact, after the Canary Wharf battle, he was probably leader of Torchwood itself. Ianto looked at the man, suddenly uncertain of him. What would he do himself, presented with secrets that needed to be kept, a man who wasn’t affected by retcon and who was, at that point, a loose canon? He realised Jack was on duty, he had come back armed, he wore a holster at his hip. Ianto watched as Jack's hand dropped to rest on the leather. Oh God, the man was going to shoot him. He broke out in a cold sweat, he was frozen to the spot. His body was screaming at him to run but the cold logical part of him knew he wouldn’t reach the door. And this was Torchwood, they could and would make it look like a murder.

“Do I get a last request?” he said softly.

A fleeting look crossed Jack's face, then his gaze hardened and he looked into Ianto’s eyes.

“I still want to know how?” he asked again.

“Antidote” Ianto said flatly.

“There isn’t one”

“Not now there isn’t. There used to be though. Taken in sufficient dose every day, you build an immunity. They didn’t know that. I also didn’t know how long it would last.” Jack was looking at him strangely. “They didn’t tell you that one, did they? You didn’t know there was an antidote?”

“Who else knew?”

“What about? The antidote or the immunity?” Ianto asked “They didn’t know about the immunity. I tried that myself. The antidote was only known to a select few. Don’t misunderstand, I wasn’t one of those, but my Supervisor was. I heard him talking to Hartman one morning about it. I was a researcher as well as medic, I got into the stores and retrieved some, wrote it up as having been dropped and destroyed. I copied the signature of one of the staff who had just been, conveniently, dismissed and retconned herself. Untraceable, neat and tidy. I knew I was breaking the contract, but frankly, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to lose my memory. Hells bells, we live in a world subject to alien invasion! Do you think, knowing what I know, I wanted to lose that? I’d be just like everybody else, lambs to the slaughter if anything kicked off. And if you think I wanted to lose my memory of the woman I loved so much, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“You wouldn’t remember, so it wouldn’t matter.” Jack pointed out reasonably.

“Like you would know…” Ianto walked into the kitchen, switched on the coffee machine “Would you like one?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m going to have a coffee, then I’m going to lie down. I suggest…you do it then. I don’t blame you, I forgive you, you’re only protecting Torchwood after all. Above the Government, beyond the police and all that crap” he smiled, sadly. “My world collapsed after Canary Wharf, when she died. I was one of the last of the medics left alive so they asked me to do it. There were six partially-converted people, Lisa included. They asked me to…to put them to sleep…” he stared into the distance, unfocussed “It was humane, they were too far gone to bring back, nobody knew how anyway. They were too dangerous to leave alive.”

“What did you do?”

“Just flooded them with pentothal, followed with a paralytic and potassium.”

“Lethal injection?”

“Unconsciousness, followed by paralysis and cardiac arrest. Painless.”

“But Ianto, you’re a doctor, you cure people, you don’t kill them. You really want to remember what you did?”

Ianto smiled “Because I am a doctor. In case I’m ever tempted to play God. I had to, Jack, they would have done it anyway, they would have shot them if I hadn’t said yes. Lisa was one of them. What could I do? I owed her that much.” He finished making the coffee and handed a mug over to Jack. The man sipped and paused, marvelling at the taste.

“Where did you learn to make such great coffee?” he asked. “you might be right about it being addictive.”

“Was a Barista one summer, worked my way through college.” He smiled “never forgot how to make it but it’s the beans that are important. Shouldn’t be roasted too much”

Jack watched him as he went through to the bedroom. He sipped his coffee and thought hard. He really couldn’t do this, could he? He couldn’t shoot Ianto, not in cold blood. But it wouldn’t be, would it? He was a threat as outlined in the Torchwood Handbook, not subject to memory wipe and, as such, would remain an uncontrolled risk. Jack sighed, tugging on the holster at his waist. Sometimes he hated the job. He hated the way it made him feel, hated what it made him do. He took out the Webley and felt it fit into his palm, curled his fingers round the familiar grip and felt the weight in his hand.

Jack straightened his shoulders and marched to the bedroom. Ianto was lying on his side in bed, his face set in a serene smile. He had taken his clothes off and pulled the fleece blanket over himself, snuggled into its warmth and comfort. Jack brought his gun up, imagined the bullet crashing through Ianto’s skull, wiping the memories, solving all their problems in one drastic swoop. He could see the blue eyes dulled, that vital body lax and unresponsive in death. Just another unsolved murder for the police to investigate. Simple, Bloody Torchwood strikes again. He walked to the edge of the bed near Ianto’s head.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Ianto roused from a deep sleep, wondering why the lights were on. A side lamp was on next to the bed and he could smell…coffee? He turned to see steam rising from a mug on the night stand. Memory came crashing back, he had not expected to wake up.

“Hey” Jack stood in the doorway, mug in hand “Sorry, its probably not as good as yours but I thought you might want one”

Ianto sat up, the blanket dropping from his bare chest “Why am I still alive?” he asked warily “Are you still going to shoot me?”

“Nope, I have another idea”

“You’ve poisoned the coffee?”

Jack laughed at that, a full blown belly laugh which made Ianto smile too. “No, its not poisoned…not a bad idea though…” he wiped his eyes and sobered, took a deep breath and said quickly “Come work for me. Join Torchwood 3 as our medic. We need someone like you, we’re quick to get beaten up and mauled but we’ve nobody to patch us up. What do you say? Would solve all my problems.”

“All your problems? What about me? I think I might prefer a bullet through the brain to working for Torchwood again!”

It was obvious Jack hadn’t considered that angle “Look, I can’t! I can’t shoot you, OK?” he was angry, probably with himself. “Don’t think I couldn’t call somebody up and get someone else to do it” he glared at Ianto as he said it as if daring him to challenge it and Ianto nodded.

“I believe you.”

“Good. But I wish you’d consider it. I need a doctor, someone who doesn’t cringe when I come back to life, someone for whom aliens are second nature, someone who can patch everyone up without asking awkward questions. I need somebody I can shag senseless and who can fuck me until I can’t remember my own name! Ianto, I need you!” He watched the blue eyes regarding him over the rim of the mug. Then Ianto put down the mug and threw back the bedclothes in silent invitation.

“OK” he sighed.

“What?”

“I said OK. I’ll do it, OK? I must be mad…” he shook his head in exasperation. Jack quickly shed his clothes and slid into bed, his body fitting alongside Ianto’s, taking the young man in his arms “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise” he murmured in Ianto’s ear, his lips grazing the earlobe and making him shiver.

“You’d better!” Ianto said “And I’m nobody’s part time shag, you got that? I work for you, I work for you, when we’re at work we act professionally, OK?”

“OK” Jack agreed.

“You and me, we see where this goes. Commitment time Harkness, if you’re with me, you’re with me, no nipping off to get laid by any Tom, Dick or Harry - you got that? Or ET either, come to that”

“Be happy to” Jack grinned at him, eyes fixed on Ianto’s.

“Good, you can start now”

“The pleasure is all mine” Jack said, hands roaming over Ianto’s warm skin.

“It had better not be” Ianto countered and Jack laughed, his mouth fastening over Ianto’s in a deep kiss.

Fin.

Next story in series - The Doctor Is In.