Rating: PG (so far. Might get higher and the subsequent chapters)
Pairing/Characters: Ianto; Jack; Gwen, Martha (if someone else pop in, I'll let you know); Jack/Ianto and there probably will be mentions of Gwen/Rhys
Genre: General so far, but maybe romance eventually? It is after all a Janto fic
Summary: Nine months later and Ianto wakes up from death.
Spoiler: Mentions of Children of Earth, but nothing especific, except Ianto's death, but I don't consider it a fix it fic; at least not yet.
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine. I'd never kill Ianto and ruin the best cannon shipper ever!
Notes: Huge thanks to specialj67 for being my beta. Jackie, you rock!
Half an hour passed before Ianto calmed himself down and sat up again, drawing deep breaths. Crying wasn’t going to help. He needed to get a grip--fast.
Another breath and he tried to think back the last thing he remembered. 'Jack!' his mind supplied. He remembered Jack crying above him. Ianto forced his mind a little bit more and suddenly, everything came back.
The Hub’s explosion, Jack being captured, the rescue, the 456, Thames House, the virus...dying…
He had died.
That’s why Jack cried, because he, Ianto Jones, died in his lover’s arms; yet, here he was, alive, hiding in a supply closet.
A frightening thought formed in Ianto’s mind, and he reached for the left side of his chest almost afraid. When he felt the somewhat erratic flutter beneath his fingertips, relief washed over him. He was alive, not just brought back from the dead like Owen. Really alive. Alright, that was a comforting thought; one less thing to worry about. He’d wonder how he came back later, now he needed to get out of… wherever he was. And for that he needed a plan. But first things first. He needed clothes.
Ianto stood up again and opened the door a crack, eying the hallway. There was no one in sight, no one in earshot either. Good. He slipped out of the closet without making a sound and started making his way back down the hallway carefully.
After a while, he realized he was in some sort of medical facility. Not a hospital, more like a laboratory. He found some kind of locker room and crept inside. All the locker doors were labeled. He tried his luck on a Morgan, D., tugging at the padlock. The thing snapped open, and Ianto stared at the contorted metal in his open palm in shock. It was NOT supposed to do that.
He shoved the disbelief and fear to the back of his mind and shuffled through the locker. Morgan, D. was a male, but his clothes were too big for Ianto. He closed the door and moved to the next. Ianto eyed the padlock for a second before tugging it, using just a light force. As before, it snapped in two.
“What the hell?” Ianto frowned. That shouldn’t happen; he wasn’t that strong.
Again, he roamed the contents of the locker but found nothing usable. He broke into another three cabinets before finding a pair of jeans and a shirt that fit. He felt uncomfortable out of his suit, but it would do for the moment. He closed the doors, disposed of the broken padlocks in the garbage can, and left the room to continue the search for an exit. Ianto soon found himself outside the room he had run away from. It was a morgue.
Ianto peered inside, but it was thankfully empty. He entered, moving slowly to the table he had been lying on. To the side, he saw several kinds of scalpels and other medical instruments. They were about to perform an autopsy when he came around. Lucky he woke up before, not during it. That would have been awkward. He glanced back to the door, making sure no one was coming before returning his attention to the task at hand. Besides the surgical instruments, there were chart. Ianto picked it up and scanned quickly.
On the first sheet there was inscribed: subject #33 – Jones, I. Date of death: 09 JUL 2009. Cause of Death: Undetermined (possibly alien in origin)
'Alright, so whoever these people are, they obviously know about aliens, so they probably knew about Torchwood too.' Ianto thought before returning his eyes to the paper.
Body retrieved from Thames House: 11 JUL 2009. Element administered: 1600 h. 13 APR 2010.
April. He had been dead for nine months. Ianto swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and resumed reading.
26 mg administered to the subject. 24-hr. waiting period. No response to the element. Subject discharged to the morgue for autopsy and incineration.
The information didn’t give Ianto much to work with, but it was a start. He ripped the page from the chart and neatly folded it before shoving in the back pocket of his jeans. Now, time to get out of that place.
Ianto was almost at the door when his ears registered footsteps. They were distant yet, probably 300 meters. Not giving much thought about how he had been able to pick up a sound from that far away and estimate distance, he looked for a place to hide. His gaze sweeping over them, he made for the morgue drawers and checked each one until he found one that was empty. He lay on the metal bed and, gripping the edges of the drawer opening for leverage, slid the drawer back inside and closed it just as the morgue door opened.
Two sets of footsteps: one heavy and slightly metallic, probably boots, and the other light and clicking. Heels. One man and a woman then.
“He jumped off the autopsy table and ran, sir. The doctor was too stunned to do anything about it.” The woman reported efficiently.
“It’s quite understandable. It’s not everyday an assumed dead man returns to the land of the living, Emma.” The man’s voice was deep and dark; it sent shivers down Ianto’s spine. “Sanders said the element hadn’t worked on the subject.”
“Maybe he estimated the time wrong. God knows he’s always getting things wrong in this research.” Emma suggested, her eye roll almost audible. Ianto didn’t hear any immediate reply, so he assumed the man had nodded.
“It doesn’t matter now. We need to find the subject. It’s the first time someone responded to the element. We need to study him.”
“I already alerted security and they confirmed the subject has not left the building. They stationed men at every exit. It won’t be too hard to find him.” The woman said confidently.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. He is, after all, one of Harkness’ people. I bet Mr. Jones can be quite resourceful, especially now.”
Ianto was sure he could hear the grin on the man’s voice and didn’t like it. Whoever this man was, he was familiar with Jack and probably Torchwood. That usually spelled trouble.