Title: TORCHWOODGATE

Author: Soledad

Disclaimer: the usual: don't own, don't sue! Everything belongs to RTD and BBC, and whoever happens to own the rights to SGA. I've lost count somewhere along the way.

Warning: not Gwen-friendly. Nothing I ever write will be. If that bothers you, hit the Back button, now. Also, beware the big, honking AU label. Everythign that's different is meant to be different.

Author's note: This is the end of the first story arc of Torchwoodgate – Year One. There will be more to come, and there will be at least a second year, eventually. I hope you've enjoyed the ride and will be back for the further episodes.

Episode 18 – Consequences

Carson Beckett was sitting in his office, in the infirmary of Atlantis, studying the personal file of Captain Jack Harkness. It was an interesting file – both what it included and what it didn't. He shook his head in sorrow. The UNIT people were keeping some secret from him, that much was bloody certain. And that secret was somehow related to the military commander of their expedition.

They had brought Jack Harkness back to Atlantis in a body bag, and even though Miss Cooper had insisted that he wasn't really dead, that he could take a lot and survive it all, he was taken to the morgue. From the medical personnel, only Martha and Owen were allowed access to the body, and when Carson protested, pointing out – and rightly so – that as the chief medical officer of the expedition, it was his right and his duty to know everything about their military commander's condition, Liz Shaw overrode his protests.

"Captain Harkness' condition is a secret known to all too many people already," she said. "It's his right to decide whom he'll tell about it when he returns to us."

"And if he doesnae return?" Carson asked.

"Then it's a moot point anyway," she replied with a sigh. "But I hope he does, for Ianto's sake; because if he doesn't, I cannot guarantee that Ianto would deal with it well."

The waiting for Jack's return – or he proof that it wouldn't happen, this time – lasted weeks. Weeks that Ianto practically spent in the morgue, holding his wizened hand, talking to him in a low voice, sometimes in English, but mostly in Welsh, because that was how he always talked to Jack when they were alone and intimate.

Besides, only two people would have understood his words if secretly listening, and those two people had no access to the morgue. Professor Taylor had no interest to begin with, and Gwen was stopped by Owen when she tried.

"Keep out, Gwen," the doctor said. "You've elbowed yourself into Ianto's place once already. You don't get to play the grieving widow again."

Gwen stared at him with impossibly wide eyes, hurt and confused. "What are you talking about? I just want to sit with him. I was the one who saved him, wasn't I?"

"That's by no means certain yet, though we're all glad that you've tried," Owen replied. "It still doesn't mean you got to sit with him. That's Teaboy's place now; had been the last time already. I was just too shocked and guilt-ridden to interfere. So leave them be. If Jack comes back, he'd want to see Teaboy, not you. If he doesn't… well, Teaboy will need some peace to come to terms with that possibility."

"Why wouldn't he come back?" Gwen pressed the issue. "He always came back before, even after Abbadon. Even if it took him a little longer that time."

"He never had an encounter with the Wraith before," Owen pointed out logically. Gwen frowned, logic never having been her forte.

"Why would the Wraith be any worse than Abbadon? I mean, Abbadon was the ultimate evil, wasn't it?"

"I don't know," Owen replied tiredly. "I don't know which one is worse: Abbadon, who wanted to extinguish all life, or the Wraith who simply want to eat. Sometimes simple, all-devouring hunger is the worst thing you can encounter. Do you remember the Brecon Beacons? Have you ever asked yourself whether Jack would have returned if those bloody cannibals had butchered and eaten him? No? Then think about it; and think about the Wraith. The possibilities are… discouraging, to say the least."

He couldn't continue his musings because Gwen suddenly became green around the gills, threatening to throw up all over him if he didn't shut up. So he ushered her out of the anteroom of the morgue to recover somewhere else and went in to check on Jack's condition.

At first sight, he couldn't see any difference. Jack still looked like a two-hundred-year-old desiccated mummy. Ianto, however, looked up to him with something akin to hope in his reddened eyes.

"Look," he said, lifting Jack's hand that he was holding. It was like the dried claw of some great, dead bird, shrunken flesh pulling back from the fingernails that seemed way too long, curved and yellow-ish, now that the body they belonged to was no longer alive.

"What am I supposed to look at?" Owen growled. "It's the same as it was last week. No difference at all."

"I think you're mistaken," Ianto said, moving the cramped fingers gently. At first Owen couldn't understand what he meant, but then, all of a sudden, realization hit.

Jack's fingers could be moved! Granted, they were still cramped and withered, but no longer stiff and brittle, as the fingers of a desiccated corpse would be. Using the alien diagnostic kit, Owen hurriedly checked Jack's vitals. There were still no lifesigns at all, but the suddenly elastic fingers gave some basis for hope. Nonetheless, Owen didn't trust the signs and ordered Jack to be kept in the morgue, until they could be more certain that he would, in truth, return again. He only told about it Martha and Tosh, for the time being.

During the following week, Jack's body slowly, gradually regained some elasticity. After some hesitation, Martha and Owen decided to put his still unresponsive body on a saline drip, and as a result, his wrinkled skin began to smooth out more and more with each passing day. He still didn't show any lifesigns, but started – mysteriously – build back some muscle mass, despite the general lack of nutrients. Owen and Martha didn't want to feed him through an IV-drop, as they had no idea how that might interfere with the regeneration of his life energy. But he was getting better, by the look of him, even though he still registered dead on the instruments.

Finally, three and a half weeks after his death by Wraith, he gasped alive again, bolted upright on the stretcher, eyes sightless and wide with blind panic, voice hoarse from the long lack of use.

"Ianto!" he rasped desperately. "Ianto, where are you? Are you safe?"

"I'm here, cariad," Ianto took him in his arms and rocked him like a frightened child. "I'll be here as long as I can; and I'm glad that you're back with me again."

His low, soothing voice seemed to ground Jack again, who calmed down considerably, the panic gone from his eyes that now seemed to measure up his surroundings consciously, once again.

"The morgue," he said dryly. "How… predictable. How long was I dead this time?"

"Three and a half weeks," Ianto told him simply. Jack was shocked by that news a little.

"That long, huh?" he tried to be nonchalant about it and failed miserably. He shivered. "Perhaps that's why I feel like shit – this is a new record. Never been dead in one stretch for that long," he raised his hand and turned it back and forth before his eyes, checking it out. "Looks the same as always. Does the rest of me look the same, too?"

Ianto swallowed hard. "Mostly," he replied, finding Jack more beautiful and gorgeous than ever, despite the slight changes. "Save from a few new grey hairs at your temple. Looks dashing, though."

"What?" Jack tried to jump from the stretcher and nearly collapsed, his legs shaky from the long lack of use. "Do you have a mirror?"

"Yeah, 'cos morgues are usually equipped with such things," Ianto replied dryly. "Don't be so vain, it's just a few grey hairs, and they suit you."

"You don't understand," Jack muttered darkly. "I found the first ever grey hair after the Abbadon incident, and you know that wasn't an ordinary death."

"Neither was this one," Ianto pointed out.

Jack shot him a dark glare. "Exactly. Now, does it mean I'm gonna die permanently if getting drained by the Wraith often enough, or will I just age really fast and live forever like a dried-out husk? 'Cos that wouldn't be an existence I'd prefer."

Ianto had no answer to that, and neither did Martha or Owen later, when they examined Jack. All his vitals checked out as they used to – with the small yet significant difference that they were the vitals of a completely healthy forty-year-old, while earlier he'd seemed to be frozen at the permanent age of thirty-five. Being drained by the Wraith apparently had taken from him the equivalent of five years. What that would mean in the long run was everybody's guess.

"We need to research Wraith genetics in true depth," Carson Beckett declared, when he was finally let in into the secret. "Search the Ancient database for related species to learn more about their origins. Perhaps we'll find a clue how their life-drainin' goes and what effect it exactly has on the human body."

"Aside from killing it within moments," you mean?" Owen asked sarcastically. Carson nodded.

"Aside from that part, aye. The main question isnae what they do; it is how they do it, and whether they feed on human life energy alone."

The debriefing after Jack's full recovery took place in Atlantis, in a fairly exclusive circle. Aside from the ranking military officers and the science department heads, only Teyla and Halling had been invited. Martha was present by default, of course, together with Owen, as they already knew about Jack's unique nature… something that Dr. Shaw still intended to keep as confidential as humanly possible.

"We must realise that what many of us might see as an advantage – or even as a secret weapon – could turn out as the biggest liability for all," she pointed out; then she looked at Teyla. "What, do you think, would happen if the Wraith learned about Captain Harkness' regenerative abilities?"

The Athosian elder was still digesting the shocking news about Jack's nature; and it wasn't an easy thing for her, or for Halling, either. It had uncomfortable reminiscences of Wraith regenerative powers. But they both tried their best. She looked at Jack gravely.

"They would consider him as an undepletable food source," she answered. "They would hunt for him and fight each other for the chance to possess him. And they would destroy everyone in their way to get to him."

"That is exactly what I was afraid of," Liz Shaw said. "I hope everyone understands now why we must keep this to ourselves?"

There were nods of agreement all around. Dr. Shaw turned to Beckett.

"Carson, have you come up with any useful results about the effect of Wraith feeding on Jack's life?" she asked. Beckett shook his head.

"Not yet, Liz. We still know way too little about Wraith physiology and practically nothin' about heir evolution. All I can tell ye is that Wraith cells have none of the normal human proteins that inhibit regeneration, which isnae surprising. They're not human, after all… although what they are, exactly, is still everyone's guess."

"What our people have seen certainly supports that," Captain Price said thoughtfully. "An arm, crawling across the floor all by itself… like something out of a really bad B-movie…"

Beckett shrugged. "As far as independent behaviour goes," he explained, "I'd say that any movement they saw was caused by a residual command language in the severed nerve endings."

"I see," Liz Shaw was one of the few present who actually understood that statement. "Did you find out anything else?"

For a moment, Beckett hesitated.

"Well," he finally said. "The creature that arm came from? I couldae hazard a good guess that it was very, very old."

"How old?" Dr. Shaw asked quietly.

"As long as the cells are properly nourished," Beckett answered slowly, "I cannae see any of those… those lifeforms ever dyin' of natural agein' the way we do," he paused, then added grimly. "And they'd be bloody hard to kill."

"Hard, but not impossible," Halling said. "The surest method is beheading. Not even they could regenerate from that."

"The truly hard part is getting close enough to behead them without getting eaten first, of course," Teyla added dryly.

The expedition members grinned, remembering a similar discussion taking place a few weeks earlier. People had been discussing whether the Wraith could be killed with the same methods hypothetical vampires would be. The consensus had been that holy water and garlic would most likely be not effective, although fire probably would.

"In any case," Martha turned the discussion back to the actual topic," we need to learn more about the Wraith. Especially about the evolution of their species. The more we learn about Wraith genetics, the better a picture we can make about their effects on Jack's life."

"Have you found anything in the Ancient database related to Wraith genetics?" Markova asked. Martha sighed.

"Not yet; but I'm sure we will, eventually. They've fought the Wraith for a long time; they ought to have data about them. The problem is finding the right keywords, so that Toshiko's search programme could work. We know practically nothing about Ancient medical vocabulary, and our little alien iPod isn't fully compatible with Ancient technology. But we're working on it."

"Work on it harder," Liz Shaw said. "I'll assign Peter and Doctor Kusanagi to this project; it has absolute priority," she glanced at Grodin, and the Englishman nodded in agreement. Then she turned back to Teyla. "Have your people heard any news about an increased amount of cullings?"

"Not yet," the Athosian leader replied, "but that does not necessarily mean there would not be any. The sleeping Hives are scattered all across the stars; even if they are, indeed, waking up, it will take time for them to fall over the feeding grounds in great numbers."

The Earth people shivered at the causal manner she was speaking about that horror. But again, for Pegasus galaxy citizens this was something they always had to take into consideration.

"What are we doing if they will, indeed, wake up?" Captain Magambo asked. "If that happens, we'll be responsible. After all, it was Cooper who woke them up by killing the female Keeper."

"She did it to save Jack," Owen pointed out. Magambo nodded.

"I know that, Doctor. I'm not blaming her. Especially in the light of our new knowledge what it would mean for us if the Wraith learned about Captain Harkness' nature," this had become the euphemism they used to describe Jack's immortality; something that still made uncomfortable those few who knew about it. "Nevertheless, it will still be our responsibility if hungry Wraith hordes fell over helpless words. More hungry Wraith hordes than usual, that is."

"You should not blame yourselves," Halling said calmly. "Yes, it was the doing of one of your people, but she had no way to know about the consequences. Not even we knew that killing the Keeper might wake them all… or do you believe any of us would have acted differently?"

"We're still responsible," Jack said quietly. This was the first time he spoke during the debriefing, and he looked more troubled than anyone had ever seen him.

Halling nodded. "In a sense, you are. So accept your responsibility and act upon it. But wallowing in guilt will help no-one. You had found a vulnerability; use it to your advantage."

"How?" Captain Price asked with a frown. "If they are awakening right now, we'd hardly be able to hit them during their sleeping cycle again."

"Perhaps not," Bates agreed. "But we still have an advantage: the cloaked gateships."

"Guerrilla warfare!" Jack's eyes came alive with understanding. "Get in, place a bomb, and get out before it goes off… you know, Sergeant, it could actually work!"

"Until we run out of naquadah warheads," Professor Taylor reminded him, drumming his fingers on the table nervously.

Jack shrugged. "If we do, we'll find other ways to destroy a Hive ship. There are a number of methods to blow things up."

The professor's eyes narrowed behind the thick glasses he wore to balance out his extreme myopia. "Are you sure that'd be an effective use of our resources? We weren't sent here to fight a war. It isn't even our war…"

"Somehow I doubt we'd be able to persuade the Wraith about that," Markova commented dryly. Then she turned to Zelenka. "Radomir Aleksandrovich, could we, with our current resources, build more nuclear warheads, should the need arise?"

The scruffy little Czech thought about that for a moment… then he shook his head.

"Ne," he replied, seeming more relieved than disappointed; apparently, the idea of building a nuclear bomb didn't appeal to him. "Not without naquadah or similar energy source."

"Look in the ancient database for planets where we my find naquadah," Markova ordered. "The Ancients had to get it from somewhere," seeing Zelenka's unhappy face, she added. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we must be prepared. We need a weapon to protect ourselves."

"Is it not the way war always begins?" Zelenka asked quietly; then he sighed and gave in. "Of course, Svetlana Mihailovna. We'll try our best."

"We should also keep looking for outposts where we might find new ZedPMs," Tosh added. "Without at least one, we cannot hope to operate either the command chair or the shield properly; not to mention operating them at the same time."

Liz Shaw nodded in agreement. "That should be our primary goal indeed. However, we might profit from the contact with technically advanced civilizations here, in the Pegasus galaxy. Perhaps our Athosian friends can be of assistance with that?"

Teyla and Halling exchanged thoughtful looks.

"There are very few that can be considered," Teyla finally said. "You must understand: the Wraith do not allow their herds to develop beyond a certain level of technology and become a real threat. When a society grows beyond that level, they did not simply cull that planet – they destroy it as a pre-emptive measure."

"But there are such that we could consider?" Captain Magambo insisted.

The two Athosians exchanged looks again. "You could try Olesia," Halling suggested after a moment of consideration. "Or Hoff. They are not on your level of technology yet – no world I have ever visited is – but…"

"… but we could help them develop further," Dr. Shaw finished for him. "And protect them from the Wraith as well as we can."

"If we can," Jack warned. "And if they're willing. It would be a great risk for them. We cannot force them to take it."

"True," Captain Price admitted. "It's worth a try, though."

The others nodded.

"Good," Dr. Shaw said. "We've sketched the plan for the near future, then. Let's adjourn this meeting and begin with the real work."

Jack was relieved when the debriefing finally ended, and he and Ianto could return to their shared quarters, situated in the wing of Atlantis where all other married couples lived when in the city. He felt weary beyond measure. Dying in itself was nothing new for him, but feeling the life being sucked out of him, the monster feeding on him, growing stronger and stronger while he was growing weaker and weaker had been an experience that had shaken him to the bone.

He also understood that – should word about his immortality ever reach the Wraith – he'd never have a safe moment for the rest of his life. Which, in his special case, was a damn long time. The thought of being captured by those creatures and used as some sort of milch cow made him shiver with fear. For the first time since he'd become… well, whatever he was now… he was deadly afraid. Not even the return to their home could make him feel safe again. He wondered whether he'd find back to his former joy in life eventually.

"Hey," Ianto, attuned to his moods, as always, took him into a tight hug and kissed his neck. "You're trembling, cariad. Why don't you take off that uniform and let me pamper you a little? Have you known that our quarters are equipped with a very nice bath, complete with a hot tube?"

"A bath would be good, especially having spent weeks in the morgue," Jack agreed. "But I need more than that tonight. I need you."

"You've got me," Ianto kissed him, and Jack opened up to him eagerly, filling his senses with Ianto's scent and taste, desperate to drive out the memory of the Wraith. The memory of death and decay.

"Bath first," Ianto ordered, breaking the kiss reluctantly. "You still stink of the morgue."

Jack followed him obediently, and the two of them soaked in the surprisingly spacious bathtub for an hour or so, enjoying the rare chance to spend some leisure time on Atlantis together. Since the rising of the city, they'd been mostly on different planets, or in Ultima Thule where privacy was still somewhat limited. This was practically the first time they could explore the comforts of their quarters.

After two rounds of frantic sex in the bathtub and a refreshing shower afterwards, they relocated to the bedroom to test the possibilities of the Ancient-issue mattress. Making love had usually been something that helped Jack to deal with the horrors of his unusual existence, and this time it promised to be a real marathon, as he had brand new and intense horrors to deal with. It took him half the night to calm down gradually, enough to at least talk about what had happened on the Hive Ship. He wouldn't have done so before, but he'd come to value Ianto's insights and soothing presence since they'd been married.

Talking about his most recent death took the other half of the night. He doubted he'd ever be able to talk to anyone else about it, but Ianto… Ianto had become the one fixed point within the changes around him. Being with Ianto meant safety… such as it was ever possible, after what had just happened.

"Things will never be what they used to be, will they?" he murmured. "Never again."

"True," he could hear the smile in Ianto's voice, even with his eyes closed. "For starters, you owe Gwen your life now. Without her, you'd be either the food replicator of the Wraith, or floating in a thousand pieces around that planet."

Jack frowned. "That's a disquieting thought," he admitted.

"But true nonetheless," Ianto stated calmly. "You should think about it, and what it would mean for your future relationship."

"I don't have a relationship with Gwen!" Jack protested.

"I meant working relationship," Ianto corrected, rolling his eyes, although Jack couldn't see that in the darkness of their quarters. Jack laughed quietly.

"I know. I just couldn't resist the temptation to tease you a little."

"You never can," Ianto scolded him; but it was all pretence. He was glad that after such a traumatic experience – not to mention after having been dead for weeks – Jack could still laugh and keep his sense of humour.

"Guilty as charged," Jack admitted; then, after a lengthy pause, he added. "There's something I'd like to tell you, but you twenty-first century guys find such things cheesy."

"What?" Ianto asked softly when Jack trailed off. Jack swallowed hard.

"You're the best thing that's happened to me for a very long time," he admitted. "I hadn't allowed myself to fall in love, to really fall in love for decades, because I'd been so afraid to lose more loved ones. Until you came into my life. I… I don't know what I'd do without you. Especially now. I couldn't deal with this alone."

"You're not alone," Ianto gathered him in his arms and pulled him against his chest. "I'll do my best not to leave you until I'm old and feeble. In the meantime… we have a new galaxy to explore. Together. What else could we ask for?"

That wasn't enough to cast away all of Jack's fears – far from it – but for the time being, it had to be enough. They'd deal with the rest when the time came.

~The End – for now~