Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the long break. I've been rather busy lately (as usual). Microbusiness to get off of the ground, education, all that fun stuff. Anyway, here's chapter 9 - think of it as an early Christmas present!
I, of course, own neither REPO! The Genetic Opera nor Torchwood.

Jack glanced at the billboards for the time – there was another half hour left before he'd said he and Ianto should meet up. That was certainly long enough to get to the Hub, but whoever was in there – if anyone – were probably going to be easier to talk to if there was just one strange visitor, as opposed to two. And if there was no Hub, he would have to get back to the alley. "I should go," he told Graverobber.

The man nodded. "I'll see you around, then," he said with a small smile, slipping into the shadows.

Jack looked after Graverobber. He wanted to get to know this man better, but he knew it would be a poor idea. And besides – Cardiff was a rather sizable city. Unless he wanted to hang around graveyards, chances were the two of them would never cross paths again.

With that in mind, he set off towards the Hub, his thoughts turning towards Ianto once more.

To Rhys' disappointment, the day off had been effectively cut short by Jack's and Ianto's disappearances – after the deal had been struck with John, they had returned to their jobs.

For John, this meant doing almost nothing – they didn't trust him enough to let him make coffee, even, despite the fact that there was no sort of poison either in the kitchen or that they could find on his person – they had taken the paralyzing lipstick, as well as his guns. He wore the holsters anyway, empty or not. If his stories were to be believed – which was a topic they sometimes debated – he had gotten them in the American West, and the coat from the Napoleonic Wars. They knew he had been a Time Agent, whatever that was, but that didn't tell them much.

"I still say it's a lie from a crazy man,"

"You've said," Gwen rolled her eyes. They were sitting around the conference table, the day after the Captain had vanished. The police were on alert and looking – both reluctant and amused, as they always were when they were asked to help Torchwood – but they had found nothing. There was no sign of any sort of struggle in the alley where Jack and Ianto were presumed to have been. There was an odd absence of garbage, yes, but that was hardly grounds for a criminal investigation of any sort. In fact, as the police rather pointedly commented, it seemed more like something Torchwood ought to be investigating, themselves.

Tosh was staying home for the day, keeping in touch from her laptop and her com. Owen was repeatedly making hints that he ought to be with her, but as Gwen pointed out, they were already understaffed at the Hub, even with Rhys helping where he could.

Owen scowled and turned back to his post at Tosh's screens. "Still can't believe you used to be a cop," he commented to Gwen.

"They're not that bad," Gwen said hotly. "They're just doing their jobs, that's all!"

"Didn't know they were paid to complain and do nothing," Owen complained. Gwen and Rhys shared a look, and Gwen bit her lip and fought down a laugh.

"What?" Owen demanded, looking up to see their expressions. "Look – I do my job, don't I?"

"So do they," Gwen pointed out. "Besides, they are right. Chances are, it's out of their depth."

"Still don't have to complain about it."

"I hear you complaining a load more than them," Rhys said. The comment earned him a glare from Owen and a grin from Gwen.

"I don't complain," Owen protested. "Much."

Gwen held back a snort.

Jack headed towards the Hub, walking through the empty streets. The billboards could be heard more clearly, now – male and female voices reading off the news they displayed, all about GeneCo and the change of leadership. He gathered that something called the "Genetic Opera" was when Rotti Largo had died, and a girl named Shilo Wallace was involved who had since vanished. What the hell was a Genetic Opera, anyway?

The tourist office was located exactly where it had always been in his universe, though it had ads for GeneCo pasted here and there, just the same as every other business in the area. The cog door opened, and Jack stepped in warily, expecting to have a less than happy greeting.

There wasn't a sound. "Hello?" he called, wary. There was no response.

He walked slowly through the complex. The computers were off, the coffee maker was cold. The cells were empty. There was no sign of Myfanwy overhead. The lights, though, were on, and there was no sign there had been any sort of fight.

He started towards the couch, thinking. Step one would be to boot up the computers and see what he could figure out about the operations of this version of Torchwood. There would be security – there would have to be security, if this Torchwood was at all competent – but maybe he could get around that. Maybe.

Putting that thought aside – a more thorough search of the Hub was certainly in order. The archives, at least, should yield interesting results, whether or not the computers were accessible. Even papers on desks – that should come first, if he was going to gather as much as possible about current events before the current occupiers of the Hub returned from whatever they were doing. Assuming they did return. If the Hub was abandoned – well, that would be a mystery to solve in itself.

He reached the couch, and found Ianto lying there, eyes closed. He nodded to himself – Ianto had turned on the lights, then, in an otherwise deserted Hub. Then he frowned. Something was wrong – very wrong.

"Ianto?" he said. He took his shoulder, shaking him gently – Ianto's head lolled slightly from side to side, but he didn't stir – at all. "Ianto!" He was shaking him by both shoulders, now, his heart starting to pound. "Wake up!"

Ianto's eyes didn't open. One arm slipped from where it lay at his side on the couch, swinging down limply towards the floor. His skin, Jack realized, was white, and he wasn't so much as breathing.

"Ianto!"

The scream tore from Jack's throat again and again as he continued to shake his friend, his lover, even knowing he would never wake, was already beyond help. Even knowing those blue eyes would never open again, the small smile would never twitch his lips. Thoughts of the lights and the room around them had fled his mind. Had it been anyone else lying there – even Tosh, or Owen, or Gwen – he would soon have risen to find out what had happened, to get rid of it before giving himself time to mourn. But this was different. Now, all he knew was that Ianto was dead.

Slowly he stopped, staring down at Ianto's pale face. It was still, peaceful enough to look as though he was asleep, and growing blurry as tears pricked Jack's eyes. He wrapped his arms around his lover's motionless body, kissing him for a moment, then burying his head in his shoulder.

"Ianto." He murmured the name, his voice breaking as he began to sob. "Not now." His voice seemed almost alien. "Not so soon."

Author's Note: Alright, maybe not the best Christmas present I could have ever given you guys, but believe me - there is a plan! Post a review and let me know what you think is going on.
I will try to get chapter 10 up for you guys in a slightly shorter amount of time than three months, but no promises. I'm venturing into the territory where I have to decide EXACTLY what I want to have happen between the beginning (yes, all these chapters were basically the beginning) the middle (by which I mean things are going to get a bit more complicated than they are now) and the end (which is planned, though not written).
Thanks for reading, and please don't hate me!