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The thing about time was that it was less of a linear point, event A to event B, and more of a...giant mess.
This was one of the first lessons that The Time Lord Who Would One Day Become Ianto Jones learned.
It was simpler to think of it as a line, point A, event A, action A, then B, but it wasn’t quite right. Oftentimes event A started before event B, but event B caused event A. Sometimes event B was not related to event A but still came after. Maybe they ran simultaneously, maybe they ran parallel, and perhaps they didn’t run at all.
It was a fine art to muddle through the strings of time such that you could enter the point that you desired to go to and change the pastpresent or futurepresent
(It was always the present for the time in which you were, but it was also never the present for you; it was always a different time. You had to be careful about tenses when it came to examining time. There were far better languages to decipher the did - does - will do - will never do if you keep messing with the time stream than English.)
It took a deft hand to swirl through the dense fabric of time, untangle the string that you wanted to enter, insert yourself into the weave effortlessly, and leave without leaving a mark, no visible stitches that might endanger the universe. Unlike the Doctor’s rust bucket, Ianto’s TARDIS, his Gwen, was an adept seamstress. One of the best. After all, she was far more advanced.
One had to be very aware of the fact, the undeniable fact that most of time was not undeniable; it was not always set in stone. Sometimes things had to happen, like an unmistakable fact of the universe, but almost all the time, it was like soft clay, moldable, subject to the will of the one who wanted to change it.
However, the lives of The Time Lord Who Would One Day Become Ianto Jones and The TARDIS Who Would One Day Become Gwen Cooper did not concern themselves with the mundane, with the tangled strings of the changeable time.
Their lives had far more to do with one very unmistakable fact.
One very specific fixed point.
Amser, known to his superiors as the Horologist, later known as Ianto Jones, was an especially patient sort of Time Lord. He had to be; his TARDIS was not.
That was not the same for the majority of his peers.
“You,” screamed his superior officer. “Yes, you. Come here.”
He made his way to them calmly, picking up the pace when they clicked their tongue in annoyance.
“Yes, walk as slow as you possibly can.” They rolled their eyes. “There’s a war on if you can’t tell!”
“Sorry,” Amser apologized, trying to mold his face into a grimace that looked apologetic enough. He didn’t actually care, but it was never good to bite at the hand that led to your next promotion.
“We’ve got a situation. Daleks have breached the time-stream at coordinates 223-22-3-7889. Sol 3, 3rd century by their calendar. Fix it!”
“Yes, at once,” said Amser, and nodded his head in respect. His superior jerked their head up, the elaborate headpiece raising high and strode off, red robes swooshing in the air.
Idiot , thought Amser.
They weren't more of an idiot than the rest of Gallifrey was, but they were one indeed. They were sending Amser off to take care of a silly matter that could have been handled by the military, not a Time Lord, save for the fact that it was in a different time.
Normal military personnel were barred from using and operating TARDISes, something that Amser found to be ludicrous. Sure, only Time Lords had the training to operate a TARDIS to their full capacity, but you didn’t need to know how to do that to just use one to take you places. He was a Time Lord, he had been through training, he was needed in the strategy room. And yet, he, along with many other recent graduates, had been relegated to mundane fights, ones that he was far too qualified to deal with, but they were the only ones that could under the antiquated laws of pre-war Gallifrey. It was aggravating - the kind of ridiculous behaviors and rules and restrictions that the idiots from higher up refused to change. It was like they were against the concept of change itself.
And yet Amser could not be like the Doctor, the renegade who cared not for rules nor restrictions nor loyalty nor diplomacy nor anything other than his own authority. He wasn’t selfish enough to run away from rules and responsibilities, there was a war on for the stake of the universe, and regardless of how vile his side was, how arrogant and pompous and ridiculous, he wasn’t willing to leave.
He wasn’t the sort of person who’d run away, rather than stay and try and fix them.
He walked past the open hallway to the outdoors, the hot sun in his face, and smiled at the sight of the deep orange sky. No matter how disastrous their situation, nothing could change the peace he felt when looking up at the double suns up above him.
“Sun-gazing again?” came an indulgent voice.
There stood his TARDIS, looking at him with a smile, and Amser couldn’t help but grin back fondly.
His TARDIS was extraordinary, almost one of a kind, because she was a sentient and humanoid, almost unheard of. He’d been met with many jealous looks, especially from older Time Lords with older TARDISes, but she had chosen him and he had chosen her, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. If the TARDIS didn’t like you, then they wouldn’t move an inch, and his TARDIS wouldn’t give anyone other than him the time of day.
“Where are we jetting off to today?” she asked. “Barcelona? Kesjit Five? We could go back to Villanova and eat sticky cake and marucki juice again?”
“There’s a war on,” he reminded her. “We’ve got another mission.”
“We’ve always got a mission,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s been forever since we’ve gone anywhere for fun!”
“You know we have to do what they say,” Amser reminded her. “We have a responsibility here.”
“And you are wasting your responsibility on a cause that doesn’t care for you or your talents. You knew how to win the Battle of Behsin, and no one listened to you!”
“They didn’t listen to me because they’re stuck up their own arses. But that doesn’t mean that we can just abandon them.”
“You’re giving them too much of yourself,” she said, eyes wide with concern. “What if you die?”
“Then, I’ll just regenerate,” Amser said, blasé. “Easy.”
She tsked and gave him an angry look.
“Look, I’ve made up my mind, and you can’t change it.”
“You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met,” she griped.
“And you’re the most stubborn TARDIS in this universe,” he retorted.
“Am not!”
“Yes, you are! You refused to move for anyone other than me. When Gilhar threw you to the ground in anger because you didn’t take him anywhere, you called him a-”
“He deserved it!” she said, haughtily.
“He did,” Amser said, biting back a smile. “Gilhar is an ungrateful bastard who doesn’t deserve to be a Time Lord, let alone have a TARDIS. But you’re still stubborn.”
“And isn’t that why you’re my Time Lord?” She winked. “Come on then, I suppose. I’ll take you.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“What I’m here for.” She smiled. “Any time you want, my Amser.”
And she extended out her hand. Amser clasped it in his own and let his TARDIS extend herself into his mind, gleaning the location. She smiled, and then in a blip of light, a wave of golden washed over him and filled his vision and he knew they were off. He let his mind go loose as they hurtled through the Time Vortex, something that they’d done millions upon trillions of times.
And yet, something seemed different this time.
As they passed over one particular section of the timestream, Amser felt a tingling in his body, starting at his fingers and toes, then moving its way to his chest.
Something’s wrong, his TARDIS thought. He agreed. It was like someone was pulling him away from her, clawing its way into his heart - he only had the one, the other would grow after his second regeneration - and yanking it out of the timestream.
Help, he thought as the force tightened and he felt his hand slipping out of hers. For a moment, he held onto her with the tips of his fingers, nails digging into her skin desperately, and thought for a moment that everything would be alright.
(It would, just not for a while.)
Then his hand slipped out of his grasp, and he began to fall, plunging down outside the timestream to an unknown time, and without the help of his TARDIS, his mind scrambled, the cells in his body morphed, changed into something different, and he landed down on the ground with no memory of anything at all.
On August 16th, 1978, Mary and Geraint Cooper, a couple that had desperately been wanting children but had been having no luck, adopted a baby girl who had been found lying on the street, crying desperately, as if she had not been fed in years. The rightfully concerned woman who found her brought the baby to a local police station, where she was informed that no baby matching her description and footprint was ever recorded in any hospital.
They named her Gwen, after one of Mary’s great-aunts.
A few days and a few years after that, on August 20th, 1983, Glenda Jones was out for a walk when she discovered a baby boy lying on the street, crying desperately, as if he had not been fed in years. She had always wanted another child, and her daughter Rhiannon had been asking for a sister, so she brought him home and told everyone that it was her own. Her husband didn’t bat an eye, though he did become far angrier about having to feed one more mouth once he lost his job.
Luckily, he never did let it slip that, though he was their son, Ianto was not of their own blood.
When Gwen turned five, she started asking for someone so desperately that it worried her parents.
“Where’s Amser?” she kept asking insistently. “Where’s my Amser?”
“Who is Amser, darling?” Mary asked. “Is he your friend.”
“Amser is my -” and at this, she paused, scrunching her nose, as if she couldn’t remember the word. “He’s my -”
“He’s your what, duckling?” asked Geraint.
“I don’t remember,” said Gwen, and started to tear up. “I want my Amser! Where did he go?”
“Oh, Gwen,” said Geraint, and scooped her up into his arms. He patted her back soothingly as she sobbed, crying out for someone they didn’t know.
“Where did he go,” she cried. “He said he’d stay with me forever, and I lost him!”
“Is Amser one of your teddies?” Geraint asked. She was constantly losing those, to the point that Mary had scolded her quite harshly.
Gwen didn’t respond, burrowing her face into Geraint’s shoulder and hiccuping slightly. She’d worn herself out, and he knew they wouldn’t get any answers out of her anymore. He lifted her gently and carried her to her tiny bed. Pulling the covers over her, Geriant leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.
“Daddy?” whispered Gwen.
“What is it, duckling?”
“It feels like I don’t work properly. Not without him,” she whispered. “I lost him; it’s my fault. I don’t want to feel like this; I want my Amser.”
“Who is he, Gwen?” Geraint tried to ask again. “We can’t find him if we don’t know who he is.”
She sniffed, then turned her head away. Geraint stayed with her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep, then walked into their kitchen, where Mary was angrily washing a dish.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” asked Mary. “What is she, is she delusional? Is she seeing things?”
“I don’t know,” sighed Geraint, and sunk onto a chair. “She’s - she says she doesn’t work properly without him.”
“Geraint, what the bloody hell does that mean?” demanded Mary. “She doesn’t work properly?”
“Does she - do we need to call a psychiatrist?” Geraint asked.
“I think she’s just taking one of her pretend games too far,” said Mary, nodding her head. “We just need to remind her that Amser isn’t real. Within time, she’ll forget all about it.”
“But what if she’s-”
“-There is nothing wrong with her,” said Mary. “She’s just - she’s got an overactive imagination. Head in the clouds. If we keep telling her that Amser isn’t real, she’ll move on.”
“I’m not sure this is the right thing to do,” said Geraint. “What if it leads to other problems?”
“Then we can deal with them in the future,” said Mary, determined. “So stop comforting her about this and keep telling her that her imaginary friend isn’t real.”
“Mary-”
“-What else do we do, Geraint?” said Mary, shoulders slumped. “Why can’t she have normal interests? Bronwyn’s girl plays with dolls and has tea parties. Gwen pretends she’s being chased by monsters and has an imaginary friend that she’s already codependent on.”
Gwen did have the unfortunate tendency to run around yelling about monsters that were chasing her. She’d scribbled one to show them at point and it looked horrific - rust-colored blobs that “shooted at her” and “tried to make her dead” - language that Geraint was horrified to hear and didn’t understand where she picked up from.
“She’s an imaginative girl,” Geraint said. “That’s the way she chooses to express herself.”
“By imagining monsters? And she can never keep silent, can she? Not for one minute?” Mary said, scrubbing a pan so hard that Geraint was worried it might break. “We just need to - be stricter with her. She’ll learn.”
“Now, Mary, that lecture you gave her on losing her toys almost made her cry,” he said. “There’s no need to be harsh; we just need to be a little patient.”
“ Patient? Like I haven’t tried to be-” she trailed off, visibly upset. Geraint got up and walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. She leaned against him, and he kissed the side of her neck.
“Mary, it’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll do our best, and if we do, we’ll raise a good child who will be a good adult. This is just a passing cloud.”
“I hope so.”
Ianto walked into his house silently, following his father into the kitchen, where his sister sat at the table and his mother watched with a disappointed look on his face. His father turned and glared at him, which he happily mirrored.
“Nicking fags off the corner store? You fucking idiot,” his father seethed. “What the hell is wrong with you.”
“Nothing,” said Ianto, looking down stonily. “Fuck off.”
“Oi! You made a mistake, now own up to it,” said Dad. “You’ve got a bloody record now. Shoplifting. ”
“Who the fuck cares. Fuck off,” he repeated, and his father slammed a fist down onto the table.
“How dare you talk to me like that,” Dad yelled. “I’m your father!”
“Then act like it,” he screamed back. “Stop getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon, you fat fuck!”
“Ianto,” said his mother, outraged. “Stop that. You’re in big trouble - why didn’t you just buy them? Actually, why are you smoking in the first place?”
“‘Cause he’s the family screw-up,” came Rhiannon’s voice from the corner. “He’s gonna die in five years when his lungs give out.”
“Yeah, well, at least some idiot won’t get me up the duff at eighteen like you,” Ianto spat back. “Remind me, what else do you do around here other than spread your legs for any shithead that’ll have you?”
“Ianto!” Mum yelled. “Apologize to Rhiannon.”
“For what? Being a slut?” he asked sarcastically. His father’s face turned bright red.
“You’re a disgrace. I’m ashamed to even pretend I know you,” Dad said.
“And I’m ashamed to know you, so let’s just call it even,” said Ianto, almost daring his father to do something.
“I’m not the one that’s got a record now,” said Dad. “So I’d shut up before you make this worse on yourself. What a joke.”
“No, you’re the joke. And you’re the one that’s pissed all the time,” said Ianto. “Don’t fucking try and parent me when you’ve done a shit job so far.”
“Watch it, boy! I’ve kept you fed for sixteen years, and I didn’t have to do that,” spat his Dad. “You’re such a disappointment.”
“And you fucking are too,” yelled Ianto. “God, what a shit family this is.”
“Then you can get out of this house,” Dad roared. “Live on the street for all I care.”
“You certainly don’t!” sneered Ianto. “Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be such a drunken cuck!”
His father narrowed his eyes and then lunged at him, grasping his hair and pulling so hard that Ianto thought he could see spots for a moment. Then he smacked Ianto across the face, jerking him by his hair. Ianto screamed and twisted his body, trying to get away from his father’s angry hand.
“Alun!” he heard his mother cry, but his father ignored it and tried to knock Ianto over the head again. Ianto twisted and bashed his elbow against his father’s chest, making him cry out in pain and yank Ianto’s hair even more. He kept thrashing, striking any part of his father he could find to get away until his mother quickly stepped between them and pushed Ianto forward, separating the two of them.
Ianto stood, gasping, hot tears rushing to his face as his mother cradled his face and his father watched, contemptuously. Rhiannon sat quiet at the edge of the table, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.
“Alun!” his mother chided. “What is this?”
“Teaching that brat of ours a fucking lesson,” his father yelled. “Maybe now he won’t be such an embarrassment.”
“Unlikely,” Ianto shouted, still gasping. His face burned hot with anger and pain. “Not with you around!”
His father lunged forwards, ready to strike him again, but his mother stopped him, holding out a hand. She shook her head angrily, and his father snorted.
“I’m going out,” he said. “And if he makes even a sound when I come back, I’ll do worse.”
Then he turned and walked out the door. His mother turned to him, her face a mixture of pity and disappointment.
“Why do you do this?” she asked, desperately. Her eyes were watery, matching his own. “What have I done wrong with you?”
Ianto stared at her for a moment. Then he shook his head and stormed off angrily until he reached his room, where he slammed the door as hard as he could. Brushing the tears off his face hastily, he dropped onto his bed and took out the stolen cigarettes.
He lit one with shaking fingers.
He felt so empty inside.
It was like there was a part of him that was missing, like he was broken and the missing piece had been sneakily hidden away. Nothing brought him joy, not taking the piss out of Rhiannon, not the fags, not even talking to his mates. It was like someone had carved a hole into his heart, and he couldn’t be happy anymore.
For a second, he swore there was a flash of golden light across his face just as he thought about his missing piece. Someone calling out for him, not using his name, not saying Ianto, but he knew, within him, that they were calling for him.
Then it passed, and Ianto was sure that he’d imagined it.
He didn’t steal because Danny dared him to. He didn’t care what anyone said, he didn’t do it on a stupid dare like he told the copper that had caught him; he had more self respect than that.
But stealing had given him a momentary rush, made him feel like he wasn’t all alone, horribly alone in the stupid shithole of a place where his father hated him and his mother didn’t care enough and his sister was too busy saving her own skin to think about his.
He smoked the cigarette until all there was left was ash and the butt, which he dropped onto the ground. Who cared if it set the house on fire? Maybe it would take him with it. Then he opened up the pack and took out another.
The hours passed, and before long, he could hear his father stumbling into the house, probably going to pass out on the sofa. He stayed silent and waited until he could hear the loud snoring. He let out a shaky breath.
He was either going to have to get the fuck away from his dysfunctional mess of a family, or he was going to die here.
“Having a hard day, love?” asked Catrin as Gwen flopped herself onto her bed, hair flying everywhere. “What’s wrong?”
Catrin, Gwen’s first friend she made at uni and her closest so far, barring Rhys - who didn’t really count because he was her boyfriend - was the first person that Gwen went to when she was feeling down. Unfortunately, she was always feeling down. Or at least, feeling a certain way.
“It’s not a hard day,” she sighed. “Well, it’s not horrible. Well-”
“Well, what?”
“You wouldn’t get it,” Gwen said, putting her hands over her face. “It’s like it always is, you know. Nothing changes; it’s all the same every day. It’s just hitting me a little harder right now.”
“What, are you depressed or something?” asked Catrin, eyebrows raised. “My mam says depression’s something that the pill companies made up so they could sell more pills.”
“I’m not depressed, Catrin,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “And your mam’s wrong, even if my mum thinks the same thing.”
“So what’s the problem then? Is Rhys not doing it for you anymore?” asked Catrin, looking eagerly at her. “Sometimes the gorgeous ones are the most boring in bed. If his cock’s not big enough, I know a girl who sells supplements for them.”
“His cock is fine, ” Gwen exclaimed. “It’s not Rhys - I knew you wouldn’t get it!”
“Well, you haven’t bloody explained, have you?” said Catrin. “And you don’t need to be embarrassed if it is Rhys. I’ll get her to give you the family discount, don’t you worry.”
“Rhys’ cock is massive, thanks!” Gwen exclaimed. “It’s just, have you ever thought that there was a part of you that was missing?”
“Not even once,” replied Catrin. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s like I’m not - like there’s a part of me that’s not in me,” said Gwen, trying her best to explain. “Like there’s a part of me that’s just missing, like I’ve lost something about me that I desperately need back to be whole.”
“What do you mean by a thing?” asked Catrin. “Like, when did you lose that thing?”
“It’s not a physical object,” explained Gwen. “It’s like, oh, I don’t really know how to explain it, it’s just this feeling, like I’m not whole. And it’s been like this for all my life.”
“All your life?”
“Yeah. It’s like there’s something that I’ve forgotten that’s so incredibly important to me but I can’t even remember what it is. And it’s been like this my entire life. Like there’s something out there telling me, Gwen, remember me, remember this, but I can’t! And it’s so frustrating!” she cried out. “It’s like someone’s carved a hole into my heart and taken out a chunk, and now I don’t know how to be happy without it!”
As she said that, Gwen thought, just for a second, she could see a flash of golden light in front of her, and someone faintly whispering something, something in a language that was not English but something that she could understand very clearly. Someone calling out for her, not her name, but she knew, instinctively, it was calling out for her and her alone.
Then it passed, and Gwen was sure that she’d imagined it.
“Damn,” said Catrin. “Maybe you really are depressed.”
The spell broke, and Gwen laughed loudly at Catrin, the heavy atmosphere dissipated. It was a relief to finally tell someone the secret, the pain that Gwen carried with her every day and yet dared to tell no one. It seemed too personal to share with anyone, even her closest friends, almost like there was something that wrapped around her throat and squeezed every time she wanted to talk about it.
For years and years, she wondered if there was something wrong with her, if there was some kind of thing that she was doing wrong. When she was younger, she thought that everyone around her wasn’t whole and was missing some part of them that they couldn’t go on without.
Then she quickly learned that she was the only one.
It was extremely isolating. Gwen was a social person and was well liked by almost everyone, always there to lend a helping hand (or ear, she was good at listening), but she felt almost as if she couldn’t relate to anyone because there was something, something inside her, that spark, that was just gone. She knew in her heart that she had had it at some point; that was why she knew what it felt like for it to be missing. But at the same time, she couldn’t remember a moment when she did.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all, but this was what she had to deal with, and deal with it she would. Gwen was an extremely stubborn person - everyone said it about her - and if life had given her the short end of the stick by making her incomplete, she was going to deal with it just fine. She had to. She had no other choice.
“Seriously though,” said Catrin. “If you feel depressed, just tell me. The girl who sells the cock supplements also sells sertraline and horse tranquilizers, so if you want any, I’ll talk to her for you.”
“Thanks, Catrin,” she said, snorting. “But I’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll figure out why I feel like this someday.”
(Gwen would, only it would take a few more years for that to happen.)
“Do you ever feel rather lost sometimes?” asked Gwen, sipping indelicately from her glass.
Beside her was Tosh, who was barely lucid, swaying gently from side to side, whispering something to herself, and Owen, who was passed out, a glass clutched in his hand and slowly dripping out into a puddle beside him. She suspected that Ianto would be more concerned about it, had he not been as equally pissed as she was.
It was a quiet night; Tosh’s new Rift Predictor had announced that it was going to be a quiet night, nothing coming through at all, so they’d finally decided to break into Jack’s liquor cabinet and empty it out of spite. And they’d made an admirable effort to do that.
Gwen guessed that if they had a few more of these nights, his cabinet would be completely empty. She thought that she might feel more guilty about it but found that really, she didn’t care at all.
Then again, they deserved it. It had been a month since Jack - rat bastard that he was - had left them, left them bare and ignorant and so so tired, so extremely tired that Gwen thought she had never been this tired in her life. It was exhausting, beyond exhausting to exist like this, in this state of utter unpreparedness. No one was ready to admit how much they needed Jack, least of all Gwen, who had lost the despondency and was now in a state of fury so hot that she thought she might scorch him with just a look if she ever saw him again, but the experiment had proven conclusive. Without Jack there, all of them were just barely holding on.
“Sometimes,” slurred Ianto. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I feel like that. A lot,” replied Gwen. “Like I’m just drifting through the universe, looking for my missing piece.”
“Is it because he left?”
“Not everything is about bloody Jack,” she said, furiously, taking a deep swig from her glass. “Believe it or not, I don’t spend every hour thinking about him.”
“I know,” said Ianto softly, and she flushed in embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Only, I’m tired of letting him invade all areas of my life. I go home at all hours of the night, I’m always busy because he bloody left, I can’t be at peace at home because I’m worried about all of you - this is the one part that’s not at all caused by him.”
“And what is it?” Ianto asked, looking curiously. “What do you mean by missing piece? ”
“LIke exactly that,” she said, draining her glass. “Like I’m not whole. Oh, I don’t know how to explain it, just exactly that.”
“Like there’s something out there that’s yours,” he whispered hoarsely. “Like there’s a part of you that’s not with you anymore, and you don’t know when it left because you’ve been feeling this way your entire life.”
“Yeah,” Gwen said, surprised. “Exactly that. How did you-”
“Because yes,” he said.
“Yes, what?” she asked.
“Yes, I feel like that too,” said Ianto, looking at her intently. “I feel like that all the time.”
Gwen stared at him, completely at a loss for words. She’d never met anyone who had ever understood, not Catrin, not her parents, not even Rhys when she finally told him. They were all supportive - her mother aside - but none had ever fully grasped what that meant. What her feeling empty inside meant.
“What-”
“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” said Ianto, cutting her off. He ran to the nearest dust-bin, stumbling wildly, and threw up. Gwen winced, turning away. She’d talk to him in the morning, she decided. He didn’t seem to be in state to talk at the moment.
Besides, exhaustion was clawing its way over her, and she thought she might just rest her eyes for a moment, not go to sleep but maybe lie down for a few minutes. She lay her head on the cold floor, relishing the way it felt against her flushed face, and closed her eyes.
Then she opened them to the sounds of groaning and the smell of coffee.
‘“Morning,” whispered Tosh. “There’s a chance we may have overdone it last night.”
Gwen nodded, wincing as the movement made her head pound. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Ianto’s getting it,” Tosh answered. “Owen’s still asleep.”
Owen lay on a pile on the floor, snoring away. Gwen smiled at the sight and rubbed her temples with the heels of her hands.
“Feel like someone has stomped on my head,” Tosh groaned. “I’m never drinking with you all again.”
“Yes, you will,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “Come here; I’ll help.”
She tugged her friend so that she was leaning against her chest, in between her legs, and started to massage at Tosh’s forehead. Tosh made an appreciative noise, and Gwen rubbed against her forehead harder.
“Was a fun night though,” Tosh murmured. “Can’t remember the last time I felt like that.”
Gwen could. It was before Jack had left them. She scowled and dug her hands into Tosh’s hair, massaging.
“Coffee?” asked Ianto, appearing with two mugs in each hand. He looked wrecked, hair sticking up in odd angles, tie askew, suit rumpled, and large bags under his eyes. Gwen didn’t know how he was still standing.
“Yes, please,” Gwen said, and he dropped down, passing a mug to both her and Tosh and setting down. “Aren’t you going to get one yourself?”
“Already had two,” he said. “Made it for myself first, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”
“Thanks, Ianto.” Tosh smiled. Gwen nodded in agreement, then frowned at him. She felt like there was something she was forgetting to do, something about Ianto specifically.
“Is everything alright?” Ianto asked, looking at her curiously.
“Oh, yes,” Gwen responded immediately, and took a huge gulp from her coffee. Whatever it was, if she had forgotten it, then it couldn’t have been that important anyways.
“We’re getting some funny readings from the monitor,” said Ianto, peering into the screen. “Don’t really know what’s going on.”
“What does it look like?” asked Jack, laying a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “Anything dangerous?”
“Don’t know,” he replied, biting his lip. “No one could read this thing like-”
He cut off, embarrassed and angry at himself. He hadn’t meant to bring up Tosh, but he’d simply forgotten that she was - well - not here anymore. It sent a pang of grief down into his heart, a loss that he hadn’t yet hardened himself to. It had been a few months, and he still couldn’t help it. They’d all gotten over weeping at the mentions of their names, but it almost felt like a taboo to say them out loud, because if they didn’t, they could still pretend that Tosh was typing away at her computer, and Owen was slicing at the latest Weevil down in the autopsy bay, playing his shite music loudly.
The Hub was far too empty for the three of them.
“Like Tosh could,” Jack finished for him with a sad smile. “Here, let me try.”
He stepped back so that Jack could see the monitor more clearly and observed him. Perhaps this feeling, the feeling of gradually hardening yourself to the loss was what Jack left all the time. The feeling of the Hub being empty, being full of ghosts of his own making - Ianto wondered how many ghosts Jack carried with him.
“Are you getting anything?” asked Ianto. “I don’t know why it’s showing up like that?”
“Well,” he paused, hitting the side of the monitor once. “It looks like the problem has cleared itself up.”
“Jack,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes. “You cannot hit the monitor. No one knows how to repair it.”
“Come on, I’ve been at this for a while!” Jack grinned. “Trust me, it’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of Ianto’s head and ran off.
“What about the - oh, well,” said Ianto, looking at Jack running up into his office. “Guess I’ll just make coffee then.”
He strode over to the coffee machine and started making a new batch of coffee, tamping down the grounds and turning the machine on. He pulled out Gwen’s mug and began the process of making her disgustingly sweet concoction - milk, sugar, and caramel all mixed together - a mixture that would ruin the taste of the fresh coffee.
Oh, well.
He pulled out Jack’s mug out of the cupboard, and then his own. Both of them took it black, but Ianto liked a bit of sugar in his, just for the taste. Just as he started pouring the coffee, he heard the cog door alarms blare.
“Come over here for your coffee,” he called out. Minutes later, Gwen walked over, a grin on her face, kissed his cheek, and took her coffee from him. She took a gulp and smiled gratefully.
“I just checked the Rift monitor, and it looks like it’ll be a quiet day,” said Gwen, smiling at him. “Think you can distract him long enough for me to pop home early?”
“Why? Planning something special?” Ianto asked.
“I feel like I’ve been neglecting Rhys because I’m here all hours of the day and night,” she explained. “I’m going to surprise him with dinner when he gets home.”
“I hope you’re not cooking,” Ianto said, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think a burned down flat is a good surprise.”
“Oi!” exclaimed Gwen, punching him lightly. Ianto laughed at her expression - no matter how much Gwen tried, she couldn’t cook to save her life.
“But yes, I can,” he said. “Go sneak out in fifteen minutes; I’ll go distract Jack. But you owe me.”
“Owe you for what? I know you’ll be enjoying it as much as Jack will,” Gwen teased. Ianto raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly, and she sighed, rather dramatically. “Fine, breakfast on me tomorrow.”
“Deal,” he said, and she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, then ran off to her workstation to pack up. He smiled at the sight, then looked up to Jack’s office, where it seemed like Jack was actually doing work, for once.
He probably deserved some kind of reward, Ianto thought to himself. And his desk had quite a bit of legroom.
Suddenly, the Rift monitor went off, blaring the high alert alarm. Ianto shot up and ran over to it, almost tripping in his haste. He looked down at the monitor and scanned it, then gave Gwen a dire look.
“What’s it saying?” she asked, already stood up, expecting to leave immediately. “Where is the alert?”
“It’s here,” he said, urgently. “I don’t understand.”
“What do you mean it’s here?” she asked, eyes wide with fear. She pulled her gun off the desk and held it aloft, ready to use it at any second. “Ianto?”
“What’s wrong?” exclaimed Jack, sprinting over to where he was, Webley held close to him. “Where is it?”
“It says the alert is coming from inside the Hub,” said Ianto frantically, looking around, scanning his surroundings for any sign of a typical Rift opening. “I don’t understand.”
Suddenly there was a loud screech, and Ianto ducked down, covering his ears in a desperate attempt to block it out. It only lasted a second and the minute the horrible ringing left, Ianto shot back up, looking at Jack and Gwen, making sure they were unhurt. He didn’t understand where the noise had come from.
“Boys,” Gwen screamed. “Look at the Rift manipulator!”
It was fizzing, vibrating furiously in a way that Ianto had never seen it do before. His eyes widened as he saw golden sparks coming off it, coming precariously close to them.
“What’s happened to it?” she yelled, holding the gun towards it like it might help.
“What do we do?” Ianto yelled, looking at Jack pleadingly.
“Run,” yelled Jack, and made to pull both him and Gwen out of the Hub, grabbing his hand and lunging forwards to Gwen when the Rift manipulator made another high-pitched squealing noise and he watched in horror as the golden sparks hit everywhere, coming very close to Gwen.
“Gwen,” Ianto screamed to warn her, and she turned her head to look at him in shock, when the Rift manipulator exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere, streams of golden light erupting from its center. Ianto dropped to the ground, curling into a ball to protect his vital organs, and watched in shock as a rip in the fabric of the universe opened. Jack, who was next to him, screamed as something hit his chest and he collapsed.
And from inside, a stream of golden light hit Gwen squarely in the chest, burning so hot and bright that Ianto had to look away, in awe, in fear, in absolute horror. The light pierced through her chest and radiated outward, filling his vision with gold, gold, and more gold, filling his senses and burning bright, so bright, until he could see nothing at all, the brilliance blinding him. He screamed, calling out for Gwen in agony, but he couldn’t hear himself, and he didn’t know if she could either.
“Gwen,” he tried again, but nothing seemed to come out of his mouth.
A few moments later, when all was quiet, the white faded away, and he could see again, Ianto looked up and saw the level of destruction. Jack lay to his left, lying in a pool of his own blood, metal shards everywhere. He craned his head to look for Gwen - where the hell was she?
“Ianto,” came her voice, echoing and from all directions. “Ianto Jones.”
“Gwen,” he screamed. “Gwen, where are you?”
She popped into being five feet off the ground, levitating in mid-air. Her eyes, he realized, were glowing bright gold, tendrils of glowing golden thread all over her. She looked like some kind of goddess, like she could raise her hand and raze him to the ground.
“Gwen,” he sobbed. “Oh my god!”
“Gwen,” she said, her voice coming from all directions, but not from her mouth. “That’s a pretty name. I think I’ll keep it.”
“Who are you?” he choked. “Get out of her body!”
“I am Gwen,” she said. “I was Gwen. And I will be Gwen. Time is funny like that.”
“No, you’re not,” said Ianto between gritted teeth. “Let go of her.”
“Don’t you remember me?” she asked, and the glowing seemed to dim slightly, her eyes returned to normal, and she floated gently down to the ground. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Get out of her body,” he threatened. “Last chance.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll shoot,” said Ianto and ran to pick up his gun from where it lay. He raised and pointed it towards The Woman That Was Not Gwen. “Get out of her right now before you run out of time.”
“Time.” She laughed. “No, no. You cannot run out of time. You can only run through it. Don’t you remember any of your lessons, darling?”
A burning sensation erupted between his head, enough to make him drop the gun and clutch at his temple. It hurt, it hurt so much, like he was forgetting something, like he had forgotten something, like he will forget something. The tenses blurred together, almost like they didn’t matter at all.
“Life and Death, forwards and backwards, it’s all a circle,” she said, and raised her arm. Jack’s lifeless body raised into the air, surrounded by golden light. He gasped his eyes open and looked at the sight in horror.
“What-“ he started to say before a golden tendril wrapped around his neck and began to squeeze.
“Time does not start, and time does not end. It’s not linear, it’s a circle, it repeats over and over and over. There is life-” Gwen let her hand go slack and the tendril over Jack’s neck loosened.
“And there is death.” She clenched her hand into a fist and the tendril tightened over Jack’s neck.
“Let him go,” he yelled. Gwen dropped her hand, and Jack fell to the ground with a thud.
“Come on, Time Lord,” said Gwen. “Remember me. Remember you.”
And he did.
“Line up,” yelled their teacher, the Instructor. Amser tried very hard to stifle the absolute glee that he felt inside - there was no way he could show any kind of emotion without being ridiculed for it - but he was filled with excitement. Finally, after years of hard, grueling training at the Academy, he was going to be a real Time Lord.
And he was going to get his own TARDIS.
All twenty of them in his class stood in a straight line, arm to arm, and faced the white screen that hid the row of TARDISes from them. He held his breath, almost nonsensically and then inhaled sharply as the Instructor pulled down the screen. In front of them stood thirty different TARDISes and, surprisingly, a black-haired woman, sitting on a stool, with the fiercest scowl Amser had ever seen on a person. Her arms were crossed as she looked upon all of them haughtily.
“Now, just as we’ve said, the Time Lord and TARDIS relationship is an extremely close and personal one. You may not find your perfect fit on the first try, but gravitate towards the one that calls to you the most,” said the Instructor. “We have a fine selection for you to examine today, including our one of a kind, type 102.”
He pointed towards the woman, who seemed to scowl even more when he said that.
“Our very own humanoid TARDIS. Isn’t she a beauty? A marvelous sight,” he said, smiling almost lecherously at her. Amser was a little shocked that he’d refer to her like she wasn’t even in the room, like she was some kind of object.
“Too bad you’re not so easy on the eyes. Still bitter that you couldn’t get me to take you anywhere?” she asked, rolling her eyes. The Instructor scowled back, ignoring her.
“She’s very temperamental. We haven’t been able to get to use her; she doesn’t want to cooperate with anyone,” he explained. “You’re perfectly free to try though.”
“You’ll fail,” said the TARDIS in a sing-song voice.
“You may now examine them,” said the Instructor, and everyone around Amser surged forwards, moving to a TARDIS that they felt the most close to. Not surprisingly, almost half walked up the type 102, who seemed content to ignore all of them and stare forwards angrily.
“Are you even planning on being useful?” asked Gilhar, one of Amser’s more impatient classmates. Amser had a very low opinion of Gilhar and thought that if he was not related to Rassilon, he would have been booted out of the Academy immediately.
He had that air to him, the proud air that all the high houses of Gallifrey exuded, because they were of Gallifrey, they were Time Lords, they thought themselves to be the Masters of Time itself and nothing could change that, nothing could break their superiority.
(They would be proven wrong a few years after that.)
“Not really,” said the TARDIS, shrugging. “Feel free to move on.”
“Come on; make yourself useful and move,” he ordered, grabbing her by the hand and yanking her up. “I’d like to go to Vynis.”
“No,” said the TARDIS, and stood still with her head held high. “I will not.”
“I’m asking you nicely,” Gilhar repeated. “Do it.”
“No!”
“Do it! What’s the point of you if you won’t even move?” Gilhar demanded. “Do it before I make you.”
The TARDIS laughed. “You can’t,” she said. “You can’t make me do anything!”
“Do it,” he ordered, and pulled her forwards, toppling her to the ground. “You’re such a useless machine.”
“You little fucking time tot. Learn some respect before I throw you into the Time Vortex and leave you there,” she snarled.
“Oh, yeah?” asked Gilhar, and made to kick her before Amser ran and grabbed him.
“Hey,” Amser found himself saying. He couldn’t be silent any longer. “Stop that. She’s a TARDIS, not some kind of antigrav board. You should treat her with respect!”
“She’s a useless TARDIS if she doesn’t work,” Gilhar shot back. “What kind of machine does that?”
“She’s not a machine,” he said. “And she has the right to not take you anywhere. Especially after the way you acted.”
“Don’t make an enemy out of me,” Gilhar snarled.
“Then treat her with respect,” he demanded. “She’s not a roentgen block, so stop treating her like some kind of toy.”
Gilhar snarled and strode off, and Amser held out a hand. The TARDIS gripped it and rose, and when she was up, he let go and started to walk away.
“You’re not going to try anything?” she called out in surprise. “Everyone else has.”
“Well, I don’t think you want to go anywhere,” he said. “So, I’d rather respect what you want.”
“Most people would expect a reward for helping,” she said, an eyebrow raised.
“Don’t need a reward for basic decency,” Amser said. “You’re a TARDIS, not a toy that someone can just command.”
“Hm,” she said, and Amser took it as a sign that she was done with the conversation. He turned to look at the nearest TARDIS.
“What’s your name?” she asked, to his surprise.
“Amser - no, wait. It’s the Horologist,” he said as he turned around, stumbling over his words. “Horologist.”
“Very certain of yourself, I see,” said the TARDIS, looking very much like she wanted to smile.
“Well, I just - got it,” he trailed off. “Haven’t had time to adjust.”
“Amser is a pretty name,” she said. “Shame you have to change it.”
“Well, the Horologist sounded more-” he began. “Just more.”
She laughed, a wide smile on her face, and everyone around them turned to look at them, in shock that the TARDIS who had done nothing but scowl was now laughing.
“And what will you do if you don’t find your perfect TARDIS today?” she asked.
“Then, I’ll wait,” he responded with a smile. “Can’t force these things, you know.”
The TARDIS grinned, then held out her hand. “You know, I think I’m in the mood for Hasiss Soda. You can only find the best on Buos Nineteen. Care to join me?”
‘I’d be honored,” said Amser, and took her hand, and he let their minds meld together for the very first time.
As the memories clawed their way back into his head, Ianto screamed, digging into his temples in agony. There was another lifetime, another set of memories that were invading his mind, enveloping his senses until he could not think of anything, could not feel anything. It was like he was dissolving from the inside out.
Then, finally, he could feel it. He could feel her, the missing piece that he had been feeling his entire life as Ianto Jones, his TARDIS back in his mind, as it should be. He reached out, almost pathetically, and his Gwen reached back, clasping their minds together, and she pulled him out of the memories.
He opened his eyes and saw her for the first time in so long, really saw Gwen. He ran over and hugged her, squeezing her tightly, and she embraced him back just as hard, projecting protection and affection and love through their psychic link.
“What happened?” he finally asked. “The last thing I remember from being Amser was travelling through the Time Vortex because we had a mission. Then-”
“-It’s just these memories,” she finished for him. “I’m not sure either.”
From behind them, Jack gasped awake, and the both of them turned around rapidly. Ianto looked at him in shock.
He was used to seeing Jack as Jack when he was human, and he was used to seeing humans as their timelines - he was not used to whatever Jack was. Usually when he saw a human, he saw their timelines, a web of golden thread emerging from their chest, swirling and splitting off into various different threads, almost like a web of possibilities. The longer one’s life was, the more elaborate your web, and if you were part of a fixed point, that glowed brighter than any other part of the web.
Jack, on the other hand, just glowed, no web to be found. He was a fixed point; his life was just a fixed point. Jack was a Fact, and he glowed so much that Ianto’s knees almost buckled under the beauty of it.
“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Gwen, do you see it? Do you see him?”
“Yes,” she whispered back. “He shines. No wonder his ego is that massive.”
Ianto burst out laughing as Jack stared at the both of them in shock. He looked awestruck, like he didn’t know what to say.
“Are you okay?” he asked, desperately, and Ianto stopped laughing, almost guiltily. “Are you hurt?”
“We’re fine,” said Gwen, grinning at him. “Only, we have some news.”
Jack rose to his feet and held out his hands, clutching the both of their cheeks with almost a reverent look, as if he was reassuring himself that the both of them were still standing. “As long as you’re okay, I don’t care what it is,” he stated.
“Excellent.” Gwen smiled. “Then, it might just be easier to show you,” she said, and grabbed both of their hands. And with a flash, Ianto felt, once again, the feel of the Time Vortex on his being.
Dinner on Axis Three was delicious. Gwen took the three of them - Rhys, Jack, and Ianto - to her favorite restaurant in that sector, which served the best Disnn Gos, a food that tasted remarkably similar to lamb, although it was made from the Gos bean, rather than any animal. Rhys watched, his eyes wide with delight and shock, as dancers performed one of the traditional dances of Axis Three. They twirled around the stage, their skirts made of many different colors and blending together, like a kaleidoscope of cloth
Ianto and Jack, who had both been here before, looked less awestruck; however; Jack kept looking at Ianto and Gwen with an expression that she couldn’t place. It made her feel uneasy, not because she thought Jack would think of them in any other way, but because she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.
“So, this is an alien planet,” said Rhys finally, once the dancers had walked off the stage. “It’s incredible.”
“Ask Gwen to take you to Midnight,” said Ianto, a gleam in his eye. “They have waterfalls made out of sapphires.”
“You’re taking the piss out of me,” said Rhys, eyes the size of dinner plates. “No bloody way.”
“It’s true,” said Gwen, grinning at his face. “And of course I’ll take you. Anywhere you want.”
“Well, do they have toilets on alien planets?” asked Rhys.
“Right over there,” said Jack, pointing to the side of the room. “It’s the symbol that looks like this.” He mimed it.
“Thanks, mate,” said Rhys, and kissed Gwen on her forehead. When he walked off, she turned to Jack and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” he asked, looking amused.
“So,” she said. “What are you thinking?”
Ianto turned to look at him, and Gwen knew he was concerned. Not only because they had a psychic link, but because she knew him, and she knew that was his I’m Concerned But I’m Trying Not To Act Like It Face.
Jack looked down, smiling slowly, and slid his hand over to Ianto’s and clasped it. He turned it over, seemingly marveling at them.
“The last two Time Lords I met,” he started to say. “They both told me something that I’m not sure how to tell you.”
“What did they say?” Gwen groaned. “They’re an annoying bunch; you can’t take anything they say to heart. Amser’s the only good one.”
“Amser?”
“Me,” said Ianto. “That’s my name. Or the Horologist, but that’s a little pompous for everyday use, don’t you think?”
“Would you like me to call you Amser?” asked Jack.
“No need,” he replied. “Ianto works just as well. It’s - well, it’s my name.”
“And what was yours?” Jack asked her.
“They don’t name TARDISes,” replied Gwen. “It’s Gwen. Or you there, if you want me to kick you in the bollocks, but-”
“ Anyway, what did they tell you?” Ianto asked.
“They said I was wrong,” said Jack. “The Doctor said my very presence made him feel disgust. Because I was a fixed point. So I’m wondering, how can you be okay, you know, around me?”
“No,” said Ianto, looking disgusted. “You are not wrong. What a horrible thing to say!”
“There is no way we would ever feel anything but love for you,” said Gwen, looking intently at him. “For as long as we go on.”
“You will never be wrong,” said Ianto, squeezing Jack’s hand. “No matter what anyone says. We’re not leaving you. Ever.”
“Everyone does,” Jack responded, melancholically, and Gwen shook her head. “It’s true.”
“No it’s not,” she said. “We’re not going to. You’ll never be alone again.”
And she saw the realization strike his face, the insight that perhaps Ianto and Gwen were not going to leave him after all.
“How long do Time Lords live?” choked Jack.
“Long enough,” replied Ianto, and pulled him into a deep kiss. After a few seconds, when it became apparent that the two of them were not going to separate, Gwen excused herself in search of Rhys.
She found him staring at one of the signs, which had directions in seven different languages, all of which she could read.
“They’re all in English,” said Rhys, eyebrows raised. “Would have expected them to be in an alien language.”
“Actually, everyone here is speaking Galactic Standard,” said Gwen. “It’s my translation circuits. It’s projecting a psychic field so everything shows up in the language you’re most comfortable with.”
“That’s amazing,” said Rhys. “After all, it’s not every day you learn that your wife is an alien.”
“Not an alien.” Gwen giggled, laying her hands on Rhys’ shoulders. “I’m a sentient humanoid time travel machine.”
“That’s bloody amazing,” said Rhys, beaming, and leaned forwards to kiss her. “You’re amazing.”
And suddenly, Gwen couldn’t stand it any longer. She broke away and burst into tears clutching at Rhys, unsure if she could even stand without his help.
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
“Why are you sorry?” Rhys asked, kissing her forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t give you the life you want. I can’t have children, I won’t grow old, and one day, I’ll watch you die,” she sobbed. “Oh, Rhys, I’m so sorry.”
“Gwen, look at me,” he ordered. “I don’t care about any of that. We can always adopt children if we want them. I’ve never felt the need to pass on my genes or anything stupid like that. And who wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a young wife?”
He winked at her, and Gwen couldn’t help but snort.
“But what if you start to resent me?” she said, breath hitching in her throat. “What if you start to hate that I can’t grow old with you?”
“I love you,” he said, and brought her in for another kiss. “Human, alien, sentient humanoid time travel machine, I don’t care. I could never resent you, you daft woman. I love you. So much.”
Gwen pulled him close and wrapped her arm around him, and they walked back to their table, where Jack and Ianto were still connected at the lips.
“Breathe,” she said, smirking. Ianto made a rude gesture at her, but Jack pulled away after a moment.
“I don’t need to breathe,” Ianto said, rolling his eyes.
“Could come in handy.” Jack grinned, and Rhys groaned. “What? I’m just saying-”
“Jack?” came a voice from behind. “Jack, what are you doing here?”
Gwen turned around and recognized the Doctor, both from when she met him over the screen during the Dalek battle and the first time they had met, back at the Time Academy, when they had first rolled her out. She still remembered how they had all treated her, like an object to be seen and desired, to be controlled and owned.
“Doctor,” said Jack. “Hello-”
“-Wait,” the Doctor cut him off. “You are-”
“-Hello,” said Ianto, and stuck out his hand. “I’m the Horologist. You must be the Doctor.”
“You’re a Time Lord,” he said, awed. “And you’re alive?”
“Yes,” said Ianto, confused. “What do you mean like that? Why wouldn’t I be alive?”
“You weren’t on Gallifrey when the Time War happened?” the Doctor asked, looking at him in shock. Gwen wondered why - surely, he would have known that everyone was.
“Of course I was,” said Ianto. “I was sent out for a mission, then my TARDIS and I were pulled off-course for some reason, and we ended up in twentieth century Wales for some reason. As babies. Without our memories.”
“Oh?” said the Doctor. “What do you mean by you and your TARDIS?”
“I’m his TARDIS,” said Gwen, and smiled politely. “We were both - turned into babies.”
“Oh!” said the Doctor in delight. “You’re a type 102!”
He held out his hands and ran them up and down Gwen’s arms, feeling her skin, and she frowned, trying to turn away, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Oi!” yelled Rhys. “Let go of my wife.”
“Your wife?” asked the Doctor. “Oh, lovely, you’ve formed a connection with a human - mine does too, although my companions don’t have romantic feelings back.”
He grinned widely, showing off his teeth, and Gwen grimaced, knowing her expression was matched on Ianto’s face. He hated how Time Lords treated her as well.
“Okay, well, I’ve been trying to connect back to Gallifrey to figure out what happened,” said Ianto, turning to meet the Doctor’s eyes. “Only, it’s not been working. Would you mind helping?”
“I’m sorry,” said the Doctor, and to this, he really looked apologetic. “But you can’t go back. Ever. Gallifrey is destroyed.”
The Doctor stepped manically around his TARDIS, and Ianto winced as he saw the way it was piloted, not with a deft hand like his, but haphazardly, and shakily. After propelling them into the Time Vortex, he turned to face all of them, grinning.
“So,” he said. “Let’s find out what happened.”
“Why don’t I show you around?” said Jack to Rhys. “Give them some privacy to talk.”
Rhys nodded, and the two of them left, with Rhys craning his head all around in awe. It had been a long day, and the first time he’d been anywhere other than Earth, and Ianto thought he must have felt a little worn out.
“Now,” said the Doctor. “Why don’t we have my girl scan you both and the time around where you got sucked in?”
He plunked a few buttons here and there on the main console, and Gwen winced, reaching out to clutch Ianto’s hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“You know you could just ask her,” said Gwen to the Doctor. “You don’t need to be that damaging to the center console.”
“What do you mean? She loves it,” replied the Doctor, running around, pressing buttons and moving levers.
“No, she doesn’t,” said Gwen. “I can talk to her; she says she’ll do it if you stop prodding about.”
The Doctor looked quite offended at this but obediently stepped back, glaring at Gwen. Ianto felt an obligation to stare back at him sternly. There was no need to, really - Gwen was more than equipped to handle herself both when she still thought of herself as a TARDIS, and now, after she’d had the chance to be human, but she was his TARDIS. He was her Time Lord. There was a sense of duty to her, even if there was no need for it.
And besides that, the Doctor was an absolute idiot for even daring to call Jack wrong.
A moment later, the screen chimed, and the Doctor ran over and checked it. His eyebrows raised, and he looked at both of them curiously.
“What?” asked Ianto.
“This is very interesting,” he said. “It seems the reason you were yanked out of the Time Vortex was because of Jack.”
“What?” asked Gwen, shocked.
“Yup. He’s a fixed point; he must have pulled the two of you out of phase for some reason. You three seem to be connected somehow. But when he did, you both couldn’t handle it, and you repressed those memories and turned into babies. That’s why,” he said. “If you both had gone on not remembering, you would have noticed that both of you wouldn’t age properly. Ianto, if you’d died, you would have regenerated without realizing.”
“So it’s because of Jack,” said Gwen. “That’ll do wonders for his ego.”
Ianto chuckled, then turned to look at Gwen. “So,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”
“Well, there are no more Time Lords,” she said. “We can go wherever we want now.”
“What about Torchwood? What about Jack?” he asked. “What if he doesn’t leave?”
“You know I’m never leaving you and you’re never leaving me,” said Gwen, and pecked him on the cheek. He took her hand in his, something he wouldn’t have done as Ianto, but felt second nature as Amser.
“No,” he said. “But I don’t know if I can leave Jack. I don’t want to stay in Torchwood forever. But I don’t know if I can leave him.”
“And you know that I’m not letting Rhys go,” said Gwen, with a sad smile on her face. “Not until I have to, anyway.”
“You could always do what I do,” said the Doctor, who had been watching their exchange with an odd sort of jealousy. Ianto suspected it was because the Doctor wished he could talk to his own TARDIS, and have her talk back. It was a privilege that he knew many envied him for.
“And what’s that?” asked Gwen.
“Travel. Help out where you can. Live your lives,” the Doctor said. “Make Jack your companion. Hell, take on more if you want. You don’t have to live under the old rules anymore.”
“Yeah,” said Gwen, with a small smile on her face. “We don’t have to.”
“Just me and you,” Ianto said. “And Jack and Rhys. If they want.”
“Oh, Rhys will want,” she said. “Did you see the way he looked at that restaurant? It wasn’t even that special, and he was amazed.”
“Well, I guess you’d better ask them,” said the Doctor, and pressed a few buttons on the side of the console. “That’ll bring them here.”
Within minutes, both Jack and Rhys walked into the room, eyes wide and chatting eagerly. When they looked up, they both froze, looking at Gwen, Ianto and then the Doctor.
“This isn’t the library,” said Jack, raising an eyebrow.
“Your ship is amazing,” said Rhys. “Gwen, are you really the same species as it?”
“Different model.” Gwen winked. “Not as big on the inside, I’m afraid.”
“We figured out what happened to us, by the way,” said Ianto. “It was you, Jack.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you pulled us out of flight,” said Gwen. “It was like we were destined to meet you. You pulled us out of the Time Vortex.”
“Oh,” he said, awestruck.
“Now that we have a little more clarity, though, we were wondering,” Ianto started. “Do you want to travel around with us?”
“I know you have Torchwood, and Rhys, I know you have Harwoods, but we want to see the universe,” said Gwen, biting her lip anxiously. “Do you want to come with us?”
“Bollocks to Harwoods; it’s not better than the universe,” said Rhys. “Of course I’m coming with you.”
“Jack?” asked Ianto, and he was truly afraid. What if Jack wouldn’t leave Torchwood? What if he had had enough of the Doctor’s lifestyle?
“You know I’ll follow you wherever you go,” replied Jack. “Where are we headed first?”
“I believe I owe someone a trip to the Sapphire Falls of Midnight,” said Gwen. “How does that sound?”
“Oh, actually, I wouldn't,” said the Doctor. “Had a fair bit of trouble there. It wasn’t good.”
“Of course you got into trouble there,” said Jack, smirking at him. “When do you not?”
“No, this time it wasn’t my fault,” said the Doctor, looking dire. “Really, I would avoid that whole place. Not good this time of year anyway.”
“Alright,” said Ianto, calmly. “Well, how does the Dillax Mountain on Filo sound? We can see the whole galaxy from the summit.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Jack.
“Well, come here and hold hands in a circle,” ordered Gwen.
“See you around, Doc,” said Jack, smiling at the Doctor. He grinned back, nodding at the four of them, and Ianto turned back to face Gwen, clasping both her and Jack’s hand.
Ianto felt his and Gwen’s minds meld together again, finally surrounded by his missing piece. He felt the warmth of her presence, then in a blip of light, a wave of golden light washed over him and filled his vision, and he knew they were off.