Remorse

It is not an easy decision. It hurts to even consider what you are about to do, sending your youngest and most traumatized employee back into the Hub on his own to face a Cyberman armed with a hand gun, but it is the only option in a life or death situation. You need time and distraction to get to the armory and find something that will end this once and for all. Ianto is that distraction, will buy time with his life.

You should be used to it—of course you are; you've sent people to their death before. The problem is that Ianto has come to mean more to you than just an acquaintance or employee. You are not sure what, exactly—a coworker, perhaps a friend, definitely an attractive young man you've had suggestive thoughts about. Whatever it was, it's all over now. Ianto is a dead man, and by your hand, however indirectly. It's like sending a lamb to the slaughter.

You can't deny Ianto's accusation that none of you ever asked him about his life, because you didn't, and it stings. But it was at least partially Ianto's own fault. He'd hidden himself in the archives from the beginning, presenting a competent yet distant demeanor when he was in the presence of the rest of the team. It was only after hours, and only after several weeks, that he began to open up to you, though still in a detached way, deflecting any real connection with dry humor and pathos. Now you wonder if any of it was real, and it hurts, because you'd always suspected there was more to the man. Just not this.

The gun is cold in your hands, and for one of the few times in your life, you hate the feel of it.

"I'm giving you ten minutes, then we're coming in. Pick it up."

Ianto glances at you, at the others. He takes the gun and leaves, his face a pale mask of fear and anger. You wonder when he will go into emotional shock. If he can survive what you've sent him to do.

"How can you ask him?" Tosh asks, and you can feel her disgust and disappointment. You've already snapped at her once, but the stress is overwhelming. You feel ready to crack at any moment, to fly apart in fear and rage. It isn't right, what you've done, but it's necessary.

"I don't need your opinion," you tell her. Taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart—because you really don't want to do this, but you have no choice, not anymore—you continue. "Tosh, you get the armory open. Gwen, go with her. High caliber only, we're looking for all the stopping power we can find. Owen, see if you've got any heavy sedatives in the med stores, just in case. I'm going to selectively shut down critical parts of the Hub and scan for heat signals."

Tosh and Owen have already turned to obey when Gwen speaks. "What about Ianto? Shouldn't we start by looking for him?"

No one wants to say it, but it is Owen who finally tells her the truth they all know. "Ianto's dead, Gwen. He never had a chance."

Gwen turns toward you, horrified, eyes pleading with you to deny it. You can't, because it would be more merciful if it were true, and you're torn between hoping it is quick, and desperately praying that Ianto somehow survives the torture you've sent him to endure. "Go. We need those weapons."

"Jack," she starts. "How could you—"

You cut her off. "We need to use the time he's buying us right now, Gwen. Move. We'll talk about it later."

She stares at you, opens her mouth to protest, but you turn and head toward the lift into the Hub. Once again you have let her down; the darkness that is Torchwood will slowly tear her apart, like everyone else it destroys. You idly wonder why you let her in only to break her, but set the complex answer to that particular question aside for now. There are other things to deal with, before the end of the world spreads from Torchwood's door once more.

Tosh and Gwen head to the armory, Owen to the medical bay. You begin to scan for heat signals, but it's not difficult to find them. In the basement, in the room with the conversion table. Swallowing the terrifying thought that you will have to kill both the Cyberwoman and a converted coworker, you lead the others downstairs.

Everyone is on edge, nervous and scared and confused. How did this happen? How could you let this happen? You want to blame Ianto, but in the end, it's on you almost as much as the Welshman. You are the leader, the one who should know about his employees, whether they are suffering, what they are hiding. You should know everything that's happening in the Hub. Yet this man, so young but obviously not inexperienced, managed to sneak in a massive piece of alien equipment right under your nose. When did he get it into the Hub? How the hell did he even move it, yet alone assemble it?

Then there is the woman herself, partially converted and living for weeks, possibly months, beneath you all. Living and breathing and slowly dying in the dark, dank basement, suffering in silence. How had she endured such a thing? When had Ianto managed to go to her, take care of her? How had he kept his sanity?

The enormity of it is staggering, and you stumble slightly as the situation reveals itself for the tragedy it truly is: Ianto Jones, desperately trying to save his doomed girlfriend, hiding her from you and caring for her while trying to find a cure for cyber-conversion. Why hadn't he said anything, asked for help?

That, at least, is an easy question to answer. Because you are a monster. He said it, and he was right. You are worse than anything locked up in the vaults. You sent him in as cannon fodder, ordered him to execute the woman he loved, sacrificed him to save the world. What the hell were you thinking? The stumble turns to a halt, and the others stop with you, watching you with wide eyes.

"Jack?" Gwen asks.

You swallow the bile that threatens to choke your resolve. With a nod, you set your shoulders against whatever you may find in the basement and lead them forward. This is your fault. You did this—you sent him in to die. The least you can do is make sure that his sacrifice matters. Like he did.

The door is open, and you quietly step into a nightmare of blood and gore. The Cyberwoman is on the floor, body twisted at an awkward angle, eyes staring vacantly into the garish darkness. Yet there is another woman there, confronting Ianto, and you watch in horrified fascination as the tragedy unfolds further before you.

"Ianto? Ianto, it's me. It's Lisa. I'm human again."

God, no.

"You fought so hard for me, I had to hold on for you, so I took this body and transplanted the brain."

You want to vomit as the realization hits, that this woman has been brutally murdered by the Cyberwoman now inside her. That Ianto is watching his lover confess to something so horrifying is incomprehensible. You can't tear your eyes away as she offers devastating proof of their life together, as Ianto crumbles before her.

And yet…he is strong. He raises the gun. He apologizes. He cannot do it, however—how could anyone do such a thing? You were viciously cruel to demand it, wrong. Ianto turns and walks away. The woman—not really Lisa, not really the other—utters that single sickening word, upgrade, and with a sharp intake of breath, you know the truth. This is still a Cyberman and she must be stopped, and you must be the one to do it.

With a nod to the others, you open fire, and the strange hybrid is riddled with bullets, dead before she hits the ground. The rest of the world is safe, but for the man before you, the world has ended. Ianto falls to his knees, and it is the metal-clad body of his lover whom he cradles and weeps over, not the one who stole her memories. He is beyond devastated, beyond broken. You cannot watch anymore, because you did this, as much as Ianto, as much as Torchwood One, as much as the Cybermen and Daleks. You. What Ianto has experienced this night is on you, because you made the choice that led to this moment. That you had no choice does not mean you cannot feel overwhelming guilt.

You want to be sick and purge everything from your protesting mind and body, to run and never look back. You can't. You must fix this, and only when it is over can you let yourself fall apart. There is too much to do first.

"Gwen," you begin, your voice shaky and weak. You try again. "Gwen, take Ianto upstairs. Owen, sedative?"

Owen steps forward, pulling a small gage needle from somewhere. Ianto snarls at him to get away, and to his surprise, Owen nods once and moves back. You are not sure what to do now; you are not right the person to handle the broken man on the floor.

"We need to clean this up—clear away the bodies, dismantle the table…" You trail off, overwhelmed by the scope of the job. The room is a bloodbath, the Hub upstairs a disaster. There are bodies to clean, deaths to explain, a coworker's betrayal to understand and process. How will any of you recover?

"I'll do it," Ianto says. He gently sets down the metal shell of his lover, bows his head before nodding. "I did this, I'll clean it up."

"No, sweetheart," Gwen starts. "We're here, we can help—"

Ianto turns on her, his lip curling viciously. "You didn't help when I begged you to try and save her," he snaps. "Why would you help now?"

"Ianto," Tosh starts, but he cuts her off as well, standing and running a hand over his face, wiping away the snot and tears.

"I'll do it," he repeats. "My mistake, my mess." He raises his eyes to meet yours. "And then I'm done. Forever."

You meet his eyes, hold his gaze, and nod. "Owen helps."

Ianto laughs bitterly. "You don't trust me."

"Of course I don't," you reply evenly. "I have no reason to."

"I have nothing left to lose," Ianto murmurs, his eyes slipping closed. "It's over."

You want to reach out, reassure him with kinder words this time, remind him that there is always something left to lose, but then you glance around the blood-splattered room, and you know that such words will only ring hollow after what he's seen and experienced. For Ianto, those words are true. He cannot imagine anything else in his life; he's likely lost everything now. Only you have lived longer than all of them combined and know that for as bad as life gets, it always goes on, there is always more to lose. Pain and heartache are the only constant, particularly in life with Torchwood, and life with Torchwood means living with the pain and heartache.

"Owen and I will clear the bodies," you tell him. When he opens his mouth to protest, you hold up a hand and stop him. "You don't need to see this. We'll handle it."

Ianto steps closer, eyes blazing, and you half wonder if he'll strike you again. "Like you handled her?" he demands. Gwen lays a hand on his arm.

"We'll be respectful, and make sure you have a chance to say goodbye," she says. "Right now, how about we go upstairs and clean up?"

Ianto looks ready to blast her, but you clearly see the moment he swallows the brutal retort. A part of you is impressed at his restraint, because Gwen is out of her league here, even if she is trying, and she probably deserves Ianto's ire at being handled. Another part of you half wants Ianto would let go of some of his anger, because bottling up for so long has done him no favors. You are relieved, however, that he does not explode at the others, because team infighting is the last thing you need to worry about right now. He can take it out on you later.

"I need to do this," he grounds out. "I need to do something right."

Your heart breaks. You did this to him, destroyed everything in one night. This man before you, so much more than you ever suspected, is broken, and it's your fault. You want to be angry—you are, at both him and yourself—but you know too well the pain of what he is going through.

"I want it in pieces," you tell him, your voice as hard as you can manage. You suspect he can probably hear the forced tone. "And then we incinerate it, every last nut and bolt. Tosh, I want you to run checks on all the Hub systems, make sure everything is up and running the way it should. Gwen, go with her and start getting things in order upstairs. I want it done in an hour, people, and then we call it a night."

You turn your back on Ianto, jerking your head toward Owen. He glances from you to Ianto, then silently moves toward the body of the Cyberwoman first.

"Straight to the morgue?" he asks quietly, and you nod.

"No autopsy. We know what happened here."

You help him pick up the body, so much heavier for all the metal grafted onto what was once beautiful skin. You can feel Ianto watching, but ignore him and begin the long, awkward walk to the morgue. Owen does not speak, and you are glad, because what is there to say? When you arrive at the morgue, you lay the body out on an empty slab.

"I want to take the headpiece off," the doctor says, pulling a sheet up over the rest of the bastardized form of the once beautiful woman. "He should see her without it."

"Compassion, Owen?" you ask, not actually surprised, but playing at it. Owen's lip curls.

"He betrayed us in the worst way, but neither one of them deserved any of this," he snaps. "I don't know what you're planning to do with him—retcon him back to before he even joined Torchwood or put a bullet through his brain—but I'm taking these things off so his last memory of her isn't a nightmare in silver."

You are impressed with the understanding and conviction in Owen's voice, struck speechless for a moment. "Fine. I'll get the other body."

"She was person," Owen calls after you. "She delivered pizzas for Jubilee. She had a name."

"I'm not the one who took it from her, Owen," you point out.

"Then who did?" Owen demands. He throws his hands up and kicks at one of the drawers to the morgue, finally giving in to his rattled nerves. "How the hell does this happen? Right here, under our noses?"

"It happened because Torchwood One played with things they had no hope of ever understanding," you tell him. "They fell to pride and arrogance, and almost took the rest of the world with them." You motion at the body on the slab. "That was three months ago, and it finally ended today. Right here. We stopped them."

"Christ," Owen mutters. "Three months, Jack! He's been hiding her for three months! What if he's hiding something else? What are we going to do?"

"He's not," you tell him, and you know it's true. "He said it himself, he has nothing left. He only wanted to save her. He failed. It's over."

"And Ianto? What are we going to do about Ianto?"

You stare at Owen, because you have no answer. Finally, you admit it. "I don't know. But do what you have to do here. I'll get the other body."

Without waiting for a response, you turn and head back to the basement. You are striding down the hallway when you hear screaming and shouting and the sound of metal crashing upon metal. Heart racing in sudden panic, you sprint into the room, only to stop in your tracks when you see Ianto, destroying the conversion table with some sort of metal pipe. He is hitting it over and over, sparks flying around him, shouting obscenities at the vile machine.

You can't help but watch, wide-eyed and in shock. Here is the passion and despair he so carefully hid from you for months. The anger and pain flow from him, tears running down his face once more. He curses the Cybermen, and Torchwood, and even Yvonne Hartman; there is something about the Doctor failing to save them all. And then he is smashing the base of the table, condemning Jack and the others for doing nothing, for killing her. He screams her name as he swings at the knives overhead, yelling at her for leaving him, for giving in, sobbing as he apologizes over and over for failing her. For not getting to her fast enough at Canary Wharf, for not finding the cure, for not saving her.

You watch it all, feeling sick once more. You witness the desperation and determination Ianto clung to for months, trying to save the woman he loved, and it dissipates before you, leaving him an empty shell of a man. You wonder once more how you could send him inside to kill her, to buy the team time to get to the weapons, knowing he never had a chance.

Only you had no choice, and he did survive, and now you have to live with knowing that you hurt him even more when he was already suffering, because you didn't try to help him, try to understand, but offered him instead as sacrifice to save the others. Does he realize? Does he know what you did?

The sound abruptly stops. Ianto drops the metal pipe on the ground, breathing heavily. After a long moment of silence, he speaks without turning.

"There's another body, hidden in the corridor. She killed him. He was here to help her, and she killed him."

You are no longer shocked by anything and simply nod. When Ianto does not hear any response, he turns with a pointed look. "What, no self-righteous rebuke?"

"There's been enough anger and pain tonight," you tell him. "Nothing I say will change anything, bring any of them back." It is, however, another body you will have to deal with and cover up somehow. If Ianto brought in someone to help him, it will take more effort than faking the death of a pizza delivery girl. But you can't put that on him. Not now.

Ianto stares at you before abruptly turning back to the table. He starts ripping it apart with his hands, twisting it, pulling out whatever wires he can. Sparks dot his suit, leaving small burn marks, and his hands are quickly scratched and bruised. He works silently, though, perhaps because he knows you are watching. There are no more tears, either.

"I'm sorry," he says so softly you can barely hear him.

"I know," you tell him, tucking your hands into your pockets with a sigh. You are exhausted and cannot imagine what Ianto must be feeling. Ianto's shoulders slump before he turns to face you.

"I'm sorry it happened," he says. "I'm not sorry for what I did. I had to do something. I couldn't let her die…I couldn't let someone kill her, or kill her myself…I had to try," he repeats. And once more you feel the depth of your own betrayal, that you asked this man to do something so heinous. You should have gone down yourself. You did not know her, did not love her. You cannot die. He did, and he can.

"I know," you say again. He goes back to ripping apart the table, sheer grit keeping him standing upright. You want to help him, but are certain any effort would be rejected, that Ianto needs to do this on his own as a sort of penance. You understand, as you feel the need for your own. How will you make this better, make it right?

"I'm sorry too," you say, barely able to hear your own voice. Ianto freezes, his hands resting on the table, curling into fists. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, to her."

"But not for what you did," Ianto whispers. You can't tell if he is angry or resigned.

"I'm not sorry for what I did," you say, parroting his words back. "I had to do something. I couldn't let anyone else die."

Ianto kicks at the table, hits it again. "Except for me." He whirls on you. "You sent me in to die, at the end."

"I sent you in to stop her," you tell him, knowing it's a lie. Of course Ianto's figured it out, he's too smart not to, even in the middle of such trauma.

He laughs in your face. "You sent me in to stop her knowing I never had a chance. It gave you time to get to the armory. Were you shocked or disappointed to see me alive when you made it down here?"

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to shield yourself from the anger. "Honestly? Surprised, but relieved."

He goes right back to beating at the table, furiously smashing it as hard as he can. He reaches up and pulls metal from overhead, flinging them to the floor. "Relieved? I find that hard to believe, sir," he snaps. "Unless you just want to kill me yourself."

"I'm not going to kill you," you tell him, knowing it's true the moment you say it. He throws aside a metal clamp and advances on you, hands slashing through the air in agitation.

"I won't take the Retcon," he snarls. "You can't make me."

"Actually, I can," you reply, holding your ground against the furious energy of his defiance. "But I won't."

He stops and stares at you before he throws his hands up and walks away. "Fine. Toss me in the vaults as soon as I'm done." He goes over to a small side table, where he'd set up a photograph and other personal items. He swipes his hand across it, sending it all flying to the floor, where he stomps it to pieces. He kicks and hits and lashes out at the table some more, before stopping to stare around the room, eyes wide-eyed and wild. You wonder if he's finally had a psychotic break.

He begins gathering the heavy metal in his arms, then hurries from the room toward the incinerator. You gather up the second body, the pizza girl, and take it to Owen in the morgue, then return and watch as Ianto continues to dismantle the unit and walk the metal piece by piece to the fire. Silently, step by step, each scrap weighing him down until he can barely move, his face a portrait of pain and misery. He is broken: dirty and sweating, staggering to the point of exhaustion. He will collapse soon.

Will you be there to catch him?

Will he let you?

Can you help him now that you've destroyed him, or will you live with the guilt forever?

You must try. Just as he tried to save her, now you must try to save him.

Before endless remorse consumes you both.

Author's Note:
This story comes from an idea of my wonderful beta, Taamar. She envisioned a story in which Jack ruthlessly sent Ianto back into the Hub in order to buy the rest of the team time to get in and get armed. She wrote a few snippets (the opening few paragraphs) and passed them along, and this is what I came up with. Hopefully it is not too far from her original prompt! I turned it into a second person exploration of Jack's guilt, focusing less on his ruthlessness and more on his remorse. It really is exceptionally insane of him to send his youngest, injured, traumatized employee to take down a Cyberman—already proven to be rather difficult to beat—with nothing but a handgun. It seems quite possible he wanted to buy the team time to get to the armory. On the other hand, maybe he thought Myfanwy would have taken care of a lot of it, and Ianto only needed to end it. Maybe he wanted to give Ianto a chance to finish what he started; that idea is another story, however! As Taamar pointed out in our discussions, Jack was capable of being exceptionally ruthless and brutal. At this point in his long life, he understands the necessity of certain actions, so he probably doesn't regret things like this. That doesn't mean he doesn't feel guilty about what he has to do, or even great remorse. So this is my take on a very emotional post-Cyberwoman aftermath for Jack. Not my usual, but I hope you enjoyed giving it a try. I'll update my WIP next! Thank you for reading!