A/N1: Spoilers for Children of Earth.
A/N2: This will in no way act in redemption of Captain Bloody Jack Flipping Harkness, the Coward Who Runs More Than The Doctor. This is written because we don't believe Ianto should have died for Ianto's sake. Because YOU JUST DON'T KILL IANTO.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, I wish I did, because none of Day 5 and little of Day 4 would have happened if I did. Instead, I resorted to this, as my only option.
"You will die," The voice of the 456 spoke, Jack looked up, the rage inside him, dampened by the heavy wait in his arms, and his heart, "And tomorrow, your people will deliver the children."
Jack looked from Ianto Jones, dead, to the shapes in the blue tank that had killed him, he smiled, a grimace really, and resolved inside that he would fix this somehow. Leaning over, because it was his last chance to do it, Jack kissed Ianto before slumping over his body, dead.
Cabinet Office Briefing Room A was silent, every man and woman shocked. The Prime Minister spoke first, "What now?"
"Two choices," the man speaking sounded reluctant, refusing at first to look anyone in the eye. "Either we go to war against an enemy we can't beat, or we go to war against our own people..."
Gwen and Jack sat with John Frobisher and his assistant, Bridget Spears, Gwen attempting to ignore the sinking feeling that surrounded her, the despair. "The threat still stands." Frobisher attempted to interrupt, but Gwen continued through him. "My husband is still out there with everything you've done recorded on his laptop. One word from me and he will release that information to the public." Her words were quiet but layered with anger and grief.
Frobisher hated himself inside for taunting them like this, but continued with his job, "What do you think Torchwood is now? Do you think you're still players?"
Gwen's voice broke while Jack remained silent, not trusting himself to speak, to do anything, "We can try."
Blackmail followed from the hard face of John Frobisher, barely veiled threats, harsh warnings. Jack looked to the ground, finally opening his mouth, but as he spoke, he could not meet Gwen's eyes. "He's right."
Gwen looked round at him in disbelief. Since when did Jack Harkness allow himself to be beaten down by civil servants? He didn't blanch before twenty foot tall monsters, sucking the life from the human race. Usually. Jack continued. "Look what happened..... Phone Rhys, tell him we've lost."
Gwen sighed, looking at Jack, but he was no longer the man she had once known, he was crippled, mentally, giving in to greater odds than were imaginable. This was not the Jack she knew, still, he was her boss. Gwen drew out her phone and walked away from him.
Rhys grabbed the ringing phone beside him. "Typical, I only just got a bite to eat an... Hello? Yeah, me, an' I'm bloody freezing... Where're you?" there was silence at the other end. "Are you alright?" Still no reply. "Do you want me to send the files?" Rhys was getting worried.
Finally she answered him. "It's too late, sweetheart, they've killed him... Not just him, they killed... they've killed Iant..." The 'O' became a slight breath of disbelief. Rhys closed his eyes as she confirmed the last words he'd hoped that he had misheard. "He's dead."
Jack finished with Frobisher, "... one thing, please. Take Gwen home. I can't... look at her anymore."
Jack watched from the ground as Gwen and Rhys' helicopter took off, shaking off at first the soldier waiting to cuff him, "Wait. Just wait." He spoke quietly, it was almost impossible to hear over the blades cutting through the air and the faint, curious warping that rang… Jack started, he knew that sound, he knew it twenty times over, he turned to face the men behind him, but as they held out his bonds he ignored them, walking through towards the steadily growing sound, towards the blue cuboid that became clearer with each passing second, until eventually the solid shape stood before Jack.
Too chirpily for such a time, a man in a brown pinstriped suit and dirty white Converse hung round the door. "Hello, Captain. Do you need a hand?"
Jack looked at him in disbelief. The Doctor, the man they had needed so badly, chose to turn up now, now the deeds were already done. The worst was already happening, Jack had failed, Earth was doomed whatever he did, and it was already too late for some.
"Doctor," he breathed, "what are you doing here?"
The Doctor held up Martha's phone. "I got a call."
The armed guard suddenly came to themselves, and advanced upon the two men, with a quick glance back, Jack followed the Doctor into the TARDIS.
As the Doctor busied himself with the tapings of the negotiations with the 456, Jack walked around the TARDIS, something he had not had the chance to do in years. Just look, distract himself by marvelling at the Time Lords' technology, even broken, the TARDIS was a formidable and beautiful being. He ran his hands lightly along the surfaces and rails, and found, at one point, a blue-purple cloth jacket slung over one of them. Rose's jacket. A rush of memories hit him out of nowhere. With a hopeful, fleeting smile, he looked down at the floor. His crazed eyes widened in amazement. He glanced up at the Doctor, rushing around at the controls. At the floor. At the jacket. At himself. His brain had already begun forming a plan.
It might take me a while to get an UD together, but for once I do have a plan. Which is good.