Title: Sometimes He Comes Back (1/4)
Summary: One of the dead bodies they had brought from Thames House was sitting up looking very confused and very alive
Characters: The two Joneses: Ianto and Martha (for this chapter)
Warnings: It starts off in a morgue if that needs a warning
Spoilers: CoE. This takes place right after Day 5.
Word Count: 1838
. You were a life saver with this one. Thank you.
Sometimes He Comes Back (1/4)
The shriek was loud enough that it gathered the attention of several UNIT soldiers taking a break in the next room. Quickly, they burst into the room with their guns drawn and it did not take long for the men to see why the morgue attendant had screamed and passed out on the floor; one of the dead bodies they had brought from Thames House was sitting up looking very confused and very alive.
“Whoa!” the once deceased man held up his hands as all eyes were on him, and weapons for that matter. “I didn’t do anything.” He looked to make sure he was all there and no extra parts. “What’s going on?”
“What’s your name?” The man in charge lowered his weapon and made a motion to clear out the room.
“Ianto Jones.” He looked around the room and saw numerous dead bodies on the tables around him. 'Why am I in the morgue?'
“He was…is Torchwood.” One of the soldiers picked up the clipboard at the edge of the table. “He was in the room with Jack Harkness when the virus was released.”
“Virus?” Ianto asked. He did not remember anything about a virus. “Jack who?” And he certainly did not know any Jack Harkness. The last thing Ianto saw before passing out was the confused looks on everyone's faces. Did he say something wrong?
“You're awake. Thank goodness. How are you feeling, Ianto?” The soft female voice sounded relieved when Ianto opened his eyes.
Ianto looked around. He was no longer in the morgue, but now he was in a hospital room. The tone the woman took was one of familiarity, like she knew him, but he had no idea who she was. “My head is killing me. Do I know you? Should I know you?”
“It's Martha.” Martha creased her forehead with worry, hoping the confusion would lift soon. Two days had passed since Ianto woke and subsequently lost consciousness in the morgue and the testing done on the unconscious man yielded nothing out of the ordinary.
As a result UNIT sent all available units to track down Jack, thinking he had something to do with Ianto's resurrection.
“Don't know any Martha. Sorry,” Ianto said sheepishly. “Where's Lisa? Did you get her out too?”
“Who's Lisa?” Martha asked with a measure of confusion. There was no Lisa on the list of the dead from Thames House and she thought Jack would have been the first person Ianto would have asked for.
“My girlfriend. I was trying to get her out when...” Ianto suddenly screamed as if a nail was being driven into his skull. He was unaware that Martha was trying to calm him down and as suddenly as the pain started, it was gone. He collapsed back onto the bed, panting and face soaked with sweat.
“It's going to be okay, Ianto. We are trying to find Jack. He might be able to tell us what happened, not to mention he'll be glad you are alive,” Martha said soothingly as she brushed the sweat soaked hair from Ianto's forehead. She was a little puzzled about Ianto claiming he had a girlfriend and she was going to wait until he was calmer before she asked anymore questions. “Your blood work did not show anything that would be unusual for working for Torchwood, but we can't rule that out as a cause.”
Ianto held up his hands, trying to stop her from saying any more, “I'm just a junior researcher. Did I get exposed to something during the attack? The last thing I remember before waking up here was trying to get Lisa and I out, making sure we weren't seen by the Cybermen and Daleks. You didn't find her, that's why you aren't answering me.” There was a tight knot in the center of his stomach as he tried to comprehend life without Lisa. It did not seem possible, but there were no tears to be shed. It was almost as if a part of Ianto had already mourned her and life went on. “God, I'm the only one who got out? Please tell me I'm not the only one.” Ianto's voice shook.
It took a couple of seconds for Martha to realize Ianto was talking about the Battle at Canary Wharf. She did not know that he had been part of Torchwood London before joining the Cardiff branch. “You weren't the only one,” Martha tried to reassure the obviously frightened man.
“You don't remember what happened in Thames House?” If Canary Wharf was the last thing Ianto remembered then he did not remember the last three years of his life. Which meant he had no memories of Jack, which made Martha wonder if some of Jack's immortality had been transferred to his lover.
“Just a researcher, remember?” Ianto was perturbed at what were dumb questions in his mind. “What business would I have with MI5? I've never been to Thames House. When can I get out of here?” Something did not feel right and the fright was telling him to run at the first chance he got.
“I'm not sure. We still have to figure out what happened to you.” Martha sensed the agitation and she had no idea what to do for Ianto. When she tried to take his hand in her’s Ianto snatched his hand away.
“So until you figure out what happened to me I'm at your mercy? Just like a guinea pig. That's just excellent.” Ianto sighed and folded his hands in his lap. His gaze shifted around the room, trying to figure out where he was, but a lack of windows thwarted those plans.
“We aren't going to hurt you. Is there anything you need?” Martha wanted to take her friend into her arms and reassure him, but she was a stranger to him.
“Something for my head and maybe something warmer to wear. This place feels like a morgue. You took me out of the morgue, right?” A hint of Ianto's dry humour surfaced. “I know I have a nice arse and all, but it's a wee bit cold to have it on display.” Hospital gown was not a good look on him.
“Yes, you are out the morgue,” Martha laughed. Jack did say Ianto always had a cheeky side. Two cheeky sides at the moment. “I'll see what I can get you. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
“I'll be here. Not like I can go far dressed in hospital chic.” That was what Ianto wanted her to believe, but he wondered how far he would get with this headache and lack of clothes.
“We'll figure this out. Don't worry, Ianto,” Martha said reassuringly.
“It's hard not to worry when no one gives me answers. My head tells me that the attack with the Cybermen and Daleks just happened, but there is something in my gut that tells me that's not the case. Am I right?” Ianto hid the fear that was coursing through every vein. Martha did not even need to reply as her reaction gave the answer he sought. “How long has it been?”
“Three years. Canary Wharf happened a little over three years ago.”
That was not the answer Ianto had expected. “Have I been unconscious all that time?” It was difficult to imagine being in a coma all that time and even scarier to think that he just did not remember those years.
“No,” she replied simply. Martha wondered how much to tell Ianto, not sure what was causing his memory loss.
“Do you know what I've been doing all that time and how I ended up here? Where is here anyway?” The Welshman closed his eyes as a wave of nausea threatened to make him retch.
“We are in UNIT's London base. You've been living in Cardiff and working for Torchwood there. There was an incident at Thames House...I shouldn't say any more. It’s best if you try to remember on your own.” She did not want to inadvertently plant any false memories.
“What about those who knew me in Cardiff? Perhaps seeing them might shake loose some of the cobwebs.” Ianto tried to hide his fear by joking.
“We are trying to locate them. Things outside are a little crazy right now.” Everyone was still in an uproar that the governments of the world were ready to sacrifice the children. “I'm going to get you a change of clothes and get something for your headache.”
Once Ianto was alone, he found it much harder to get out of bed than he thought. His legs felt like jelly and everything began to spin faster than a top. "Bad move." Ianto scrambled back into bed. 'Looks like I'm stuck.'
The next several days passed slowly for Ianto. No one would give him the answers he was desperately seeking. No one came to visit and he wondered if that was because it was a secure facility or did no one care enough to visit? Ianto's headache let up a little.
Martha explained that the headaches were caused by the virus working its way through his body. Not that anyone ever explained what the virus was.
After putting on a robe, Ianto managed to take a short walk before his energy was quickly used up. The exhausted man paused in front of a room where he could hear a video playing.
Then I take it back, alright? I take it all back -- BUT NOT HIM.
No! No no no no no no no--NO!
Stay with me please-- stay with me, stay with me, please.
Don't go. Don't leave me, please. Please, don't-
You will die. And tomorrow, your people will deliver the children.
Those were the only bits Ianto could clearly hear, but the one voice reeked with desperation. Whomever he was talking about and to was obviously someone the man loved a great deal and lost. It made Ianto ache because of the pain and loss the mystery man must be going through. He wondered if the man had anyone to help him through the trying time. Did he have someone to help through the pain of losing Lisa? It was as if the man's pain was his own.
The last voice sent shivers down his spine and the words were just as chilling. It was not human and it was a mystery what the creature wanted with children.
“That voice,” Ianto cried as he reached out to the wall for support. There was something familiar about the voice, but he could not figure out from where. The lines spoken by the man with the American accent played over and over, confusing Ianto more than ever.
The more confused he got the faster everything started to spin until everything was a blur of muted colours. It was so bad that Ianto could no longer stand up straight.
Doubled over, the Welshman crawled along the edge of the wall until he turned a corner and his head came into contact with someone's midsection.