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English
Series:
Part 1 of 101 Resurrections of Ianto Jones
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Completed:
2020-11-05
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3,454
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2/2
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25
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1,800

Circles in the Sand of Time

Summary:

Jack meets a familiar stranger.  And sometimes, the smallest gesture can have unimagined consequences... 

Chapter 1: History Repeats Itself

Notes:

Post CoE, spoilers apply.  When I started this, I had no intention of it turning into a "fix-it" but well, things just kinda happened... I guess I couldn't help myself.  It's not a totaly fix though, there are repercussions to live with...

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.  No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Text

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Circles in the Sand of Time

.

Let me go from this lonely land

Before my dreams all vanish like water in the sand

Let me run from this lonely place

Before my dreams are shattered by a love I can’t erase…

--Battles, Axe

.

Part One: History repeats itself

Earth, July 2109:

“Are you all right, mate?!”

When Jack gasped to life, the first thing he noticed was concerned blue eyes peering down at him. They reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what. “I’m…fine,” he said, allowing the man to help him to his feet. “Thanks,” he added. He had in fact, just died, in a dirty back alley in one of the rougher parts of town. Déjà vu. He’d been there so often it almost felt like home. Well, not here specifically, but when you’ve died in one alley you’ve died in them all.

“For a minute there, I thought you were, well, dead…” the man said and Jack saw his throat muscles work as he swallowed anxiously. “Do you need a doctor? A PC?”

Jack shook his head. “Maybe a drink would be good.”

“There’s a pub right down the street,” the man said with a jerk of thumb. He gave Jack an intense gaze, possibly wondering if he was really all right, then turned and started in the direction of the pub.

“I’m Jack, by the way,” he said, falling into step beside the stranger.

“Aeron,” the man replied, offering his hand.

Jack felt a warm jolt of…something at the contact. He studied Aeron with curiosity as they continued on in silence. He’d expected to be bombarded by questions, what was he doing there, what had happened. Aeron didn’t seem inclined to make small talk. Ah, the strong and silent type. Jack grinned to himself. He really hadn’t intended to pick up a good looking stranger but if this one intended to accompany him into the pub he decided he’d have no objection.

“Let me buy you a pint,” Jack told him. “Least I can do to repay you for your concern for my welfare.”

Aeron gave him another one of those disconcerting gazes and nodded. It made him both intrigued and oddly uncomfortable at the same time. He had a feeling it was going to be an interesting night.

XXX

Jack didn’t spend much time on earth these days, hadn’t since… in a very long time. It was funny though, how so little had actually changed in one hundred years. Not the outward obvious things. Oh, the technology was far advanced, but really, compared what he was used to it even seemed rather primitive. The mix of old and new around him was heartrending. The bar was old, probably a landmark although he couldn’t remember ever being there. Sometimes Jack wondered how much he’d forgotten over the long centuries. The thought terrified him. He shook his head, physically trying to shake off the melancholy mood that had hit out of nowhere. What was doing moping when the night was young and he was having a drink with a beautiful young Welsh--.

When he looked up from his drink, Aeron was staring at him again.

“You’re Welsh.”

“What gave it away?” Aeron said, smiling slightly, teasingly.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve uh, been here, but I recognize the accent.”

Jack was getting some mixed signals. He wasn’t sure if it was that kind of interest, or something more benign. Most people tended to be attracted to him, no matter what their sexual orientation, but he wasn’t sure he was in the mood to coach a first timer tonight. Unfortunately, humans still had a long way to go before they learned to stop labeling themselves.

“And you’re American,” Aeron said, but instead of a question or statement, it almost sounded like a challenge.

“Something like that.” He affixed his best flirty smile to his face. “I hope you like Americans.” Was that the hint of a blush? It’d been a long time since he’d seen one of those. He grinned wider, leaning back with his arm across the top of the booth. A relaxed yet in control pose, with just a hint of predatory interest to spice things up.

Aeron leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand with an elbow on the table. Looking at him. Looking into him. Jack’s cool veneer dropped away and he had the oddest feeling that he could drown in those eyes. “What’s your last name, Jack?”

“H-Harkness. Jack Harkness.”

A blink, meaning in the expression that he couldn’t interpret, before a slow, almost shy smile spread over Aeron’s face. Something in Jack’s gut twisted at the sight, but he didn’t understand why. “Nice to meet you, Harkness, Jack Harkness. Aeron Jones.”

His heart literally stopped for two beats, then plummeted into his stomach. “I knew a Jones once,” he whispered. Suddenly the years dropped away and all the memories came rushing back as if it was yesterday. Those blue eyes stared into his with an intensity that took his breath away, obliterating the caution he should have been feeling.

Aeron gestured to him with a nod. “Do you still have the coat?”

“Who are you?!” he demanded harshly.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Wondered if you’d even be back this century.”

It was crazy. It sounded like himself so long ago, waiting for the Doctor. He grabbed the arm on the table hard enough to leave a bruise. “Tell me who you are!”

“My father’s name was Samuel Davies,” Aeron began in a formal tone, not reacting at all to the violence. “I changed my surname when he… went away,” he said, not explaining further. “My grandfather was Leuan. His father was named David Davies. And David’s uncle was…”

“Ianto.” The word was barely more than a breath on his lips.

Aeron inclined his head in a nod.

“I don’t understand. How do you know me?”

“I found it. I’m the one who found it,” Jones said with sudden vehemence.

“Found what?!”

“The journals he kept.”

Jack paused with his drink halfway to his lips, and then completed the motion; draining it in one swallow and putting the glass carefully back down on the table. “Impossible,” he said shortly. The Hub and everything in it had been blown up, and all the personal effects at his flat were… forgotten, under lock and key next to Owen’s. Jack desperately wanted another drink, but was unwilling to pause the conversation long enough to order one.

“We had a class project on Genealogy one year. Tracing my family back, there was a man who had died young, but there was next to no public record information on him. Family legend told he had died a hero.”

“He did,” Jack responded automatically, his voice like gravel.

“I found the whole project boring, until this mystery man popped up. Then I set out to learn everything about him.”

“You’re lying,” Jack told him, although it hurt to say. “There were no diaries,” he bluffed. There was no way Aeron could have found anything like that. He didn’t want to play rough with this man. He wanted to take him in his arms and kiss away the pain he could feel radiating from both of them. He had no idea what Aeron’s was borne from, but he knew his own too well.

“I found them in the storage area.”

Jack gaped at him, forgetting all about his vague plan not to reveal too much. “How could you know about that?”

Aeron smiled, and Jack could now recognize the family resemblance. It was Ianto’s smile. “The computer network I can’t hack into, can’t be hacked,” he said with a touch of pride.

“You hacked into—“

“Torchwood,” Aeron finished with a grin. “By the way, they don’t want to give me a job; do you think you could put in a good word for me?”

Jack stared at him speechless for long moments, then finally found his voice. “Oh sure, I’ll tell them the man has access to all your classified data already, you may as well hire him on.” He wasn’t quite sure whether he meant the words sarcastically, humorously, or seriously. “What is it about you Joneses?,” he asked in exasperation.

“Genius runs in the family?”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. Then he sobered. “Why were you waiting for me?”

The smile dropped from the boy’s face and he gazed at Jack with such longing that he felt all his defenses crumbling. He was insane. It was a terrible idea, probably for about a million reasons.

He stood and tossed some money on the table to cover the drinks, holding out his hand to Aeron Jones.

.

I search to find the meaning of the path I am on

And I’ll hope that my direction will not make me walk alone

I stumble for the answers to the questions that remain

Around the world I’ve touched the sun and now I’m back again…

.

Jack lay on his back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Aeron was on his side next to him, head propped in his hand as he gazed at Jack in that disconcerting way of his. He wished he’d turned off the light… but he hadn’t wanted to be tempted to pretend, even for a second... It wouldn’t be fair to this boy who’d waited for him so long. This man who knew things he shouldn’t know. Knew Jack’s soul when Jack had never set eyes on him before. Because he’d read Ianto’s hopes and dreams and fears, and most of them had revolved around Jack Harkness.

He wanted to close his ears to the voice speaking quietly to him, but he couldn’t bear to give up hearing the soft Welsh accent that brought with it so many memories. The surprising comfort it brought was a rare gift, and he didn’t get too many of those.

“Human beings are desperate for our pathetic, short lives to mean something. We raise families and delude ourselves into thinking that gives us some kind of immortality -- but it doesn’t. A mere century after we’re gone, unless some kid gets a school assignment, no one knows we ever existed.” Aeron traced Jack’s jaw with one finger. “You give us immortality, Jack,” he said vehemently. “Because you knew us, remember us, because you loved us. We live on inside of you, forever. In here,” he tapped his finger to Jack’s forehead. “And even if time fades the memories, always in here,” he whispered, placing a warm hand over Jack’s heart. “You take us with you into immortality.”

Jack rolled over and kissed him passionately to staunch the flow of words.

XXX

Like a tiny pebble tossed into a lake, the ripples in time from even the smallest act can spread out ever wider, causing unimagined alterations in the past. Every time agent knows this. Yet, in the end, we all make mistakes. Poor judgments. Rash decisions. Some are huge regrets that crush our spirits and haunt our nightmares if we don’t find a way to forgive ourselves for them. Others… we can’t bring ourselves to feel guilt over, no matter how wrong. The hardest of all to resist are those that are made out of an unselfish love, those we do for others not ourselves. Who decides which the worst of the sins is?

end chapter One