Fandom: Torchwood

Characters: Jack, Ianto, Jeremiah Bash Henderson

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 3,746 words

Content notes: Major spoilers for Big Finish audioplay "The Torchwood Archive". Excerpts written by James Goss.

Author notes: Written for Challenge 334 - Smoke

Summary: Jack is forced to send his life's work up in smoke, but maybe he doesn't have to lose everything.

Jack’s desk was tidy of everything as he waited for his visitor to arrive. Being a Commander of a space station was hard work but tonight he had only one task he wanted to complete, regretful as it was. He toyed with the cufflinks on the ends of his shirt sleeves, a quaintly anachronistic airplane shape that hadn’t been seen in this part of that galaxy for millennia. He’d heard all the hushed whispers about himself from the crew around here: that crazy Commander with his funny accent and strange figures of speech. Old-fashioned was what they used to call it, but now he was labelled ten K point zero years out of date. If only they knew.

The light on the door flashed yellow, signalling that his charge had arrived. He pressed a button on his desk panel to admit them entrance. ‘Jeremiah, welcome to Space Station Cardiff,’ Jack said, casting his gaze around the room that was already showing the rapid signs of interstellar decay. It was one of the oldest ships in the fleet and in a pocket of space that had once housed the very cornerstone of humanity, but now was a poor cousin of its larger, more modern relations. A posting here was to most minds a demotion, shunted and forgotten, but it gave Jack the kind of freedom he needed to attend to other projects, even if it was falling apart. ‘Such as it is,’ he added.

The young man stood to attention, ever formal, though slightly relaxed in his Commander’s company. ‘You wanted to see me Commander?'

‘Well, obviously.’ It was why he’d summoned him, though his usual uniform had been exchanged for something more formal. He knew the young man had two weeks liberty booked, but he wasn’t dressed like he was about to hit the islands. ‘Huh,’ Jack remarked. ‘Looking good. No need to dress up on my account.’

Jeremiah gave a sheepish bow of his head. ‘It’s for my wedding,’ he admitted. ‘We’ve hired the Great Cobalt Pyramid.’

Jack nodded in approval. ‘Nice. That’s today? They all blur into one at my age.’ He often forgot that he didn’t look nearly so old as he felt. Just one more reason why his crew thought him a bit batty. ‘Can I fix you a drink?’

Jeremiah quirked an eye at him. ‘Haven’t you got an Ood for that?’

Jack couldn’t repress a smirk as he turned to the antiquated set of crystal tumblers and decanter behind his desk. ‘Never liked having servants,’ he replied, pulling off the top from the decanter and pausing to reflect a moment. ‘Had a butler once. But, no. Sure you don’t want a drink?’ he asked, pouring out a generous finger of dark amber liquid.

Jeremiah held up a hand. No, I’m fine, thanks, I’m saving myself ‘til later.’

‘Very wise,’ Jack said, coming around from behind the desk, glass in hand. ‘I’ll be brief. Don’t want to keep the lucky guy or gal waiting.’

‘Gal,’ Jeremiah confirmed, falling into the trap of mirroring Jack’s Scottish accent before stopping himself. ‘Oh, er, girl. Delilah’s made me learn a dance.’

Jack couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He’d always loved weddings. ‘Splendid.’ He raised his glass in toast. ‘Delilah and Jeremiah. Must be love.’

‘I like to think so,’ he said, an awkward blush rising into his cheeks. ‘The, uh, help I can give you?’

‘Oh, aye, aye, yeah,’ Jack said, turning back to their business at hand. ‘Uh, ever heard of Torchwood?’

The young man raised two very skeptical eyebrows at him. ‘Seriously?’ Then he saw the expression on Jack’s face. ‘Oh, you are being serious. I’ve heard of them. A bit.’

Jack turned behind him and tapped at his touch screen, bringing up a vast projection on the wall that represented every star and colony in the chartered universe, of which he commanded what had to be the tiniest little fragment of it, right at the centre, far from any of the main action. ‘Look on the map,’ he instructed, before highlighting a tiny blinking light on the furthermost right hand edge. ‘The Torchwood Archive,’ he explained, ‘at the very edge of what used to be the great and bountiful human empire.’

Jeremiah stepped closer to the map, honing in on the tiny red dot. ‘It’s still functioning after all this time? Surely not.’

‘Like many things about Torchwood it was built to last. That complex has withstood meteor impacts, solar flares, and at least one bombardment, more’s the pity. Look again at the map.’

Jeremiah peered closer still, looking at the planets and star systems that were in closest proximity and then stepping back to see the bigger picture. ‘It’s no longer in our territory.’

Jack smiled as he confirmed what he already knew, that the kid was sharp as a tack. ‘Got it in one, laddie. Needless to say we’re worried. What was a quaint reminder of a bygone era, a treasure trove of knowledge, is now… well, a sitting target. We’re worried this Torchwood Archive could be compromised.’ Jeremiah turned to give him a perplexed look.

'Can’t Torchwood deal with it? I mean, I know they’re officially outlawed but, surely… there are rumours it still operates.’

Jack cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for the proverbial penny to drop.

‘Oh. Oh my God.’

‘Aye…’ There it was, the cat out of the bag at last. ‘Sure you won’t have a drink?’ Jack asked, reverting back to his original Midwestern lilt.

‘Perhaps a little.’ Jack laughed, pouring a second glass of scotch and handing it to him. ‘You’re Torchwood?’

‘And you never had a clue. Well done me,’ Jack said, congratulating himself on the ruse. ‘We very much work behind the scenes these days. Do what we can to help out in the battle against…’ he paused, swirling the contents of his glass, ‘…the enemy.’

Jeremiah looked gobsmacked. ‘You’re recruiting me?’

Jack’s expression turned serious again. ‘On a temporary basis. Get the wedding out of the way. Love’s important. Really should try it again sometime myself,’ he added, feeling suddenly and inexplicably sentimental. ‘Huh,’ he muttered, shaking those thoughts away. ‘Uh, is Delilah pretty?’

Jeremiah scoffed. ‘Oh, you don’t stand a chance.’

Jack laughed back, enjoying their repartee.’ Don’t be so sure. I had my moments. Oh, anyway, get married, have the honeymoon, and you know, if you could see your way clear to swing by the Torchwood Archive, and destroy it, before the enemy get their hands on it, I’d be very grateful.’

Jeremiah didn’t even pause to consider it. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Good. I’ve always known my man.’ Jack raised his glass and smiled. ‘Here’s to love, marriage, and to one day being free of the enemy.’ Jeremiah raised his own and both men threw them back. ‘Now go,’ Jack said. ‘Give the blushing bride a kiss for me.’ He suffered through Jeremiah’s rolling of eyes at his cheeky grin before the young man left his office.

As soon as the hydraulic door hissed back shut, the smile dropped from Jack’s face. He stared down into the empty crystal tumbler and felt that desperate need to refill it, though knowing he shouldn’t. There’d already been far too many nights where one drink had become many, trying to dull the edge of so much responsibility. ‘It’s done,’ he said, talking down into the empty depths of the glass.

‘You’re doing the right thing,’ Ianto told him, appearing at his side, leaning casually against the edge of the desk. He had his own glass of scotch, carefully nursing it in one slender hand.

Jack set his own glass aside on the desk and considered his holographic companion. He’d seen and heard all of it, of course, even if he hadn’t been present. That was the trouble with computers. They tapped into CCTV and motion sensors, recording everything and storing it away in their memory banks. There wasn’t anywhere he could go on this space station without Ianto knowing where he was and what he was doing. He should have been used to it by now, but there were some things that were so shameful or pride destroying that even Jack didn’t want a witness.

‘All that information and technology…’ Jack began. ‘All the lives that were sacrificed to build it and keep it safe.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Torchwood’s legacy.’ His legacy, in so many ways as well. All of it about to go up in smoke. ‘Millennia of entries and case files and testimony and history and understanding of the universe.’

‘Your entire life’s work,’ Ianto mused.

‘And I just set a match to it all.’ He sunk his head in his hands, feeling a failure. This was the last thing he’d wanted to do but he was left feeling like there was little other option. It was easy enough to make light of it in front of his young recruit, making it sound like a merry little jaunt, but Ianto knew better and knew what was really at stake if they didn’t destroy it. ‘Please tell me there’s another way and I’ll go and belay the order right now.’

‘I’ve been running permutations based on the Archive’s computer records for nearly ten thousand years. Don’t you think that if there was a better alternative I would have found it by now? Even whilst you’re off causing chaos across the universe I’ve been here working on the problem.’

Jack felt chastised by the comment. It was easy to forget sometimes that the thing Jack was speaking to was nothing more than a holographic representation of someone he’d once cared for very deeply. He was just ones and zeroes now, all that was left of Jack’s detailed memories of him – how he spoke, how he moved, the way he disapproved and Jack’s behaviour but always let him get away with it regardless. Ianto had always been there for him when he needed him when he’d been flesh and blood and now he was still here, when Jack needed him, and just as unobtrusive as he’d been back then. The ever dependable Ianto Jones, still working on Torchwood’s archives ten millennia on. Jack knew that once the Torchwood Archive was destroyed, so too would be Ianto. There was only one computer system in the known universe with enough power to sustain such a complex avatar and once it was gone, so too would be the Ianto he knew, tethered however slightly still to the original computer programme.

It had taken six years to build that program, loading up every single detail of everyone Jack had ever known to act as guardians and guides for the Torchwood Archive. He’d even created a version of himself, spending hours just on the little bit of code that would make his cheekbones and smile just perfect. After all, why go to the trouble of creating your own avatar if it didn’t properly represent you to the outside world. The Jack Harkness inside the computer would be as good as the real thing, excepting one physically limiting trait. He’d even given his holographic self and Ianto a dog, because it was something he’d always wanted but never gotten around to in real life, though he realised just now that he’d never gotten around to actually naming it. Presumably the pair of them were still just going around referring to it as Untitled. Whoops. Oh well. They wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer. All three of them would be gone; no more chasing balls, throwing sticks or running along digitally recreated Welsh beaches.

Ianto sipped his scotch in that same calm, considered way he always did. ‘They’re closing in on us, little by little. We just never expected them to want that little sector of space right at the very edge of our known universe. Someone must have tipped them off about what might be out there. Someone they possessed, perhaps. Why else be out there winning territory, billions of lightyears from the main enemy front?’

Jack scowled. ‘Don’t call them the enemy. We both know what they are.’ They were probably the only two people who did. They’d been fighting them so long that people had forgotten who they were and what had started it all in the first place.

‘Sorry,’ Ianto apologised. ‘Just adapting to modern one hundred and twenty two point zero K century terminology. They’ve been using that term for five and half thousand years. Hard habit to break.’

Jack nodded, conceding the point. ‘And no one is going to worry about claiming it back, even if they knew what we’re hiding out there.’

Ianto took a long swig, finishing the oak-scented liquor. ‘Torchwood. The only thing possibly capable of defeating them. Well, except for the obvious other thing. Outlawed for nearly six thousand years. Punishable by decommissioning.’

‘We overreached. My fault,’ Jack confessed. How many agents had been decommissioned on his watch, sent into those terrifying pressure chambers and obliterated into protons, neutrons and electrons, incapable of ever being reconstituted? It was an old Time Agency method of execution and still the worst way to go. Even Jack wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could survive that. He shook the thought away. ‘We can’t ever unleash the Committee against the enemy. One or the other is bad enough, and it was that enemy that wiped them out in the first place. Even if they could destroy the enemy, we’d be right back where we started, still facing a terrible threat.’

Ianto nodded. ‘That’s what my programming concluded too. In some simulations we beat them back for a while, even a few hundred thousand years, but in the end they always win. I re-ran those scenarios a thousand times over, just to be sure. Sped them up, slowed them down, tweaked little things here and there, but it was no use. Nothing from the Archive made the slightest difference for more than a few millennia to hold them off. Unleashing the Committee only makes things worse.’

‘That’s why we have to make sure it can never happen,’ Jack said. ‘The Committee and the Torchwood Archive both, so that the enemy can never use them against us.’

Ianto shook his head slowly in agreement, but still pensive. Jack waited patiently for him to finish his thought. ‘I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t give him Object One. I thought we were supposed to be getting rid of it once and for all, locking it away inside the Archive before it gets destroyed. Are we planning a road trip?’

Jack smirked. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’ Just one last time for them to hit the road together on an adventure. But no. The archive was barred to Jack. He’d done that so that no one could ever use him to gain access to it. It was that very failsafe that prevented him from going there now to destroy it. Anyone who could find it would be welcome to access its data core but that was it. It was like the universe’s biggest library; you can look but don’t touch. Only Torchwood could access its physical artifacts, each stored in a careful crystal matrix that had digitised everything into the computer’s core, capable of being reproduced on demand like a hugely complex 3D printer. Object One belonged in the Archive along with everything else, but it had always felt too risky so Jack had kept it. He’d carried it around with him for ten thousand eight hundred and twenty six years – not that he was counting. And everywhere he went, it went with him, bringing its own brand of chaos along for the ride. He couldn’t entrust it to anyone else, knowing what was inside. Too many minds weaker than his would have opened it and unleashed the enemy within.

Jack tugged it from his pocket and let it dangle from its silvery chain, spinning and catching the light. Such a tiny thing but full of so much potential evil. ‘Tosh once fixed it you know,’ he said.

‘I know.’ Ianto gripped the edge of the desk and he leaned against it, looking lost in that memory. ‘For two whole days the world was perfect. I remember because for the first time we were able to go out on a date without a single interruption. That alone made me think there was something wrong.’ He gave a wistful little sigh. ‘That night was so perfect. Just the two of us.’

‘Too perfect,’ Jack agreed with no small amount of bitterness. There had never been enough days with Ianto, perfect or not. ‘That’s why she got rid of it. Perfection and horror are two sides of that same coin. But this thing…’ he tilted his head and studied it from a different angle, ‘it’s too powerful. Nothing she did would ever have fixed it to stay that way. It was always destined to corrupt itself again and find its way back.’

‘And everytime we got rid of it, it caused even more trouble, because we didn’t know where it was or what it was doing.’

‘Keep your enemies closer,’ Jack mused. ‘I’d rather battle the enemy for the next hundred millennia than risk someone trying to open up the pocket universe where the Committee are trapped, hoping that they might defeat them.’

‘We’d just be trading one enemy for another.’

‘Exactly. Whilst they were here in this universe they didn’t much care about Object One, happy to let it just cause whatever chaos it liked, but now that they’ve been wiped out, they’ll be more desperate than ever to regain a foothold here.’

Ianto sighed. ‘And the Torchwood Archive is the only thing powerful enough to destroy it once and for all.’

‘Yup. Sealed away inside and then the whole thing razed to the ground.’ Jack forced a smile. ‘All that technology will make one hell of a bang. Probably rip open a black hole in its wake, but it’ll be gone. Forever. Trapped permanently in N-space where it can’t ever reach this universe ever again.’

‘All of it gone,’ Ianto said, a sad little tone in his voice. ‘Me included.’

Jack felt another wave of guilt rip through him. It was one thing to destroy everything that Torchwood stood for without a second thought, it was quite another to condemn to death the one thing that had kept him going all these long years. He didn’t know how he’d keep going without his virtual conscience keeping him in line. Wasn’t that the real reason he’d resisted making this decision for centuries? ‘I wish there was another way.’

Ianto looked at him. ‘You could always make me into a real boy. You still have those design specs from Ovid. You could make a real body to house my programming.’

Jack had considered it a thousand times over. An android that looked and felt like a real human. The ones the Committee had made had to learn how to think and act like their human counterparts, but there was nothing to say you couldn’t upload a preprogrammed consciousness into one. Jack’s reluctance had always been one of no longer being able to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t. It was okay when he knew Ianto was just an intuitive hard-light simulation. He could keep telling himself that he didn’t need him and could walk away at any time. Having something he could touch made it all too real, but very soon he was going to have to make a choice between all or nothing. Not everything had to go up in smoke when Jeremiah obliterated the Archive. Something could survive. How much data could one android hold? Did it matter so long as the very essence of the person could be saved? The Archive could always be recreated in some form or another, given enough time, but people were irreplaceable.

Jack chose instead to change the subject. ‘Jeremiah is getting married. Did you know that?’

Ianto smiled knowledgeably. ‘Of course.’

Jack rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you did. Ianto Jones who knows everything.’ And who made every effort not to look hurt that I changed the subject, belittling his impending demise unless I do something about it, Jack mentally added.

Ianto shrugged bashfully. ‘Just very observant.’

‘So,’ Jack said, folding his arms, ‘I figure as his boss, it would be rude of me not to get him a little wedding present. You know since we weren’t invited and all.’

‘Ah, I see. A silver locket, perhaps? Not quite the height of fashion for your average 120K.0 man.’

‘It’s a classic. Just like me.’

Ianto hummed, refusing to be baited.

‘It’s a shame we’ll never see Jeremiah again to thank him.’ Jack’s commission here as Commander was about to come to an end. He wasn’t sure what the future held for him yet, or whether Torchwood would continue to be a part of it, but on the off chance that Jeremiah succeeded and came back, he’d have no one to regale the tale with. Torchwood was still outlawed, after all. He’d be forced to keep mum and say nothing. And Jack was due a promotion, but perhaps not until he’d taken a break from war and hardship for a while. The Vegas Galaxy still ticked along, oblivious to the conflict. A few years living it up there would make for a nice change.

‘At least we won’t have to put up with your Scottish accent anymore,’ Ianto replied.

Jack’s head turned in surprise. ‘Hey, what’s wrong with my Scottish accent?’

Ianto pursed his lips but couldn’t stop the smile. ‘Oh, so many things.’

Jack pouted and folded his arms. ‘I could have tried a Welsh accent.’

‘Thank God you didn’t. There’s only so much I can take. Even an avatar has its limits.’ He paused for a moment. ‘By the way… a butler?’ Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Jack shrugged off the descriptor. ‘You were still way better than any Ood. They don’t make coffee like you.’

‘Used to,’ Ianto reminded him. ‘And no one makes coffee like me.’

Jack gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders. ‘Maybe you will again.’ There was still a little time before the Archive and all this priceless data would be erased forever. Time enough to download a few details. Maybe this didn’t have to be the end of everything.