It was nearly Christmas, and Ianto Jones was kneeling in an empty graveyard, all alone, in the dead of night.

It would have been a bit more societally acceptable if he had been visiting the gravesite of a family member or a dear friend, but that wasn't the case. The grave he knelt in front of was one that dated all the way back to the 1800s. There was literally no point or excuse in him being out in the cold London air that night.

And yet he was. Rubbing his hands together to keep them warm, Ianto squinted at the name on the gravestone – It was his own. Not a relative of his, to the best of his knowledge, just the same name. Ianto Jones. He didn't know why he had been drawn to the gravesite; he had just needed to get away, for a variety of reasons.

His main issue was that London was sucking the life out of him. He'd been here for only three days and was suffocating from the overpopulated, expensive city. His sister Rhiannon, along with her husband Johnny, were moving back to Wales after quite a few years down in England for Johnny's work. They were headed back to Cardiff as soon as the holidays were said and done, and had asked Ianto to help them pack.

He agreed, though reluctantly, and as soon as his university had let out for winter break, he headed down to England. Rhiannon, although she meant well, was not a part of Ianto's idea of a perfect Christmas. She was overbearing and protective and Ianto felt endlessly awkward around her. Nonetheless, here he was, on Christmas Eve, sneaking out of his sister's home for a walk in the cold night air and ending up in a cemetery.

Ianto didn't even pretend to understand his reasoning on the subject. He gave up his attempts to properly interpret his thoughts and actions years ago.

"Hello."

A voice rang out from behind him, its loud cheerfulness a direct contrast to the darkened home of the dead. Ianto turned his head to see a man, dressed peculiarly in a long, purple overcoat and top hat, with childlike features and long brown hair slightly curled behind his ears.

"I'm sorry," Ianto rose to his feet, wiping the traces of snow from his jeans. "Uh, did you…?" He trailed off, gesturing towards the other Jones's gravestone. The man seemed to get his point, for he smiled.

"Oh, no," he shook his head. "I just wanted to say hi. Hi!" He waved his hand.

"Oh, erm, hello to you as well," Ianto tried not to stammer. He wasn't an expert in the art of meeting new people, and often came across awkwardly. "Nice to make your acquaintance."

The man chuckled, tipping his top hat in Ianto's direction. "And you, Jones, Ianto Jones."

"How – How do you know my name?" Ianto asked, mystified as to whom this mysterious strange might be.

"Let's just say that we were friends once," the man had a strange look in his eyes. "Or will be. I'm not entirely certain."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are or what you're talking about," Ianto tried not to let any fear filter into his voice. The man had begun to speak like a psychopath fresh out of a mental asylum.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The man held out a hand as if to shake. "I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor?" Ianto's polite nature overtook him and he took the man's hand. It was slightly smaller than his, and numbingly cold. "Doctor who?"

"That's the magic question," the Doctor winked one of his hazel eyes infuriatingly.

Ianto stared at the other man, wondering whether he should continue speaking or try to run away in the opposite direction. However, his inquisitive nature gave him no choice but to continue speaking. "A bit of a prestigious title you have there, you know. I mean, you speak as if you're the only person in all of history with a medical degree."

Ianto expected the Doctor to be offended or, at the very least, slightly miffed at his comment. It was quite the contrary that occurred. The man's grin began to encompass his entire face. "You're sarcastic, too!" He sounded quite delighted. "Oh, that's brilliant!"

"What's the matter with you?" Ianto's disoriented feelings about the whole situation started bubbling up and spewing out around him. He didn't enjoy not knowing things, and this Doctor fellow obviously knew something that he did not. And that made Ianto unnecessarily angry.

"Ianto Jones," the Doctor stepped forward, snow crunching under his feet as he did so, eyes sparkling with excitement. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

Of all the things Ianto was expecting to hear, his plan for the holidays was not one of them. It didn't even make the list of the top one hundred ideas he had considered popping out of the Doctor's mouth. It caught him so off-guard that he answered truthfully. "I – I'm spending it in London with my sister and her family." Ianto cursed himself slightly. He was usually a brilliant, accomplished liar. So why the hell was he telling the truth to a strange man that claimed to know him from somewhere?

"Do you want to spend Christmas with them?"

Ianto looked at the Doctor with incredulity. He wasn't sure what he was so unbelievably confused about – The fact that there was a possible lunatic asking him questions about the holidays, or that anyone actually cared about what went on in the brain of Ianto Jones.

"Not particularly," his forehead creased as he gazed at the other man. "Don't see how that matters to you, though."

"Of course it matters!" The Doctor's smile never faltered as he reached forward and, shocking Ianto once more that night, grabbed his hand tightly in his own. "Because you could spend it with me."

"Erm," Ianto stammered, pulling his hand away quickly and trying to regain his composure. "Is this an attempt at flirting? Because if so, you're coming across as slightly stalker-like and, if I'm honest, a bit creepy."

"No, of course it's not flirting!" the Doctor scoffed, waving a hand dismissively as Ianto's heart rate returned to normal. "My wife would kill me in thirty different ways. She flirts enough for the two of us." His brown eyes met Ianto's baby blues as they lit up once more. "I was simply suggesting that you, Ianto Jones, want more out of life than a dull, dead-end career, working at a nine-to-five pace, with a couple of annoying, bratty kids to take care of."

"And this has what to do with Christmas?" Ianto couldn't help but let his sarcastic side shine through once more. The Doctor's smile turned mischievous and Ianto's eyes darted about the winter wonderland of a cemetery, looking for possible escape routes in case the man really was a psychopath.

"What would you say if I told you I had something special," the Doctor began, his eyes twinkling. "Something very, very special – A box that could travel anywhere throughout time and space, regardless of physical boundaries. Would you come along for a ride?"

Ianto studied the other man for a moment before declaring "I'd say you're a lunatic."

"Eh," the Doctor tilted his hand back and forth. "Maybe a little bit of lunacy in this old head of mine, but I'm not kidding about this time. Would you come?" He looked at Ianto expectantly, and for the first time, Ianto saw a shadow of something in the man's eyes – Of what, he wasn't certain. Doubt? Fear?

"If it was real, then maybe," Ianto put his hand on the cold, hard grave the bore his name as he slowly edged away from the man. However, he was far too intrigued to run now, even if every inch of his body was screaming at him to do just that. "Which it can't be."

"But it is!" the Doctor's eyes were dancing in an odd, feverish way. "She's called the TARDIS. That stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space, in case you were wondering. And I think she'd like you very much."

"You…I…this is insane!" Ianto spluttered, tripping backward slightly in an attempt to force himself to move away from the brown-haired man. Trying not to let his voice shake, he commanded "Leave me alone, alright?"

The Doctor's face fell, the smile that Ianto had grown accustomed to drooping off his features in one fluid motion. "C'mon, at least let me show you!" There was a pleading tone in his voice. "If I show you and you still don't want to come, I'll let you go without any interference. But you have to at least see!"

"No," Ianto shook his head firmly. "I…I have to go." He turned away, prepared to stumble into the night and back to Rhiannon's, leaving the cemetery behind, when a voice called out to him. A strangely familiar voice.

"He's telling the truth, you know."

Ianto swiveled back around slowly at the sound of a smooth baritone with a Welsh accent. He nearly fell to the ground in shock at the sight that was before his eyes, for there, standing directly in front of him, was a carbon copy of himself, Ianto Jones. Ianto attempted to take in a breath, but found that the air around him seemed to be closing in as if it wanted to choke him.

This Ianto gave him a half-smile, one that Ianto himself had given many times before. Finding that he had air in his lungs once again, he took a deep, shuddering breath. "What – How…?"

"Ianto Jones," the Doctor whispered reverently, stepping toward the other Ianto with wonder and shock shining in his eyes. "How is this possible?"

"It almost isn't," Ianto's double gave a slight chuckle. "I've had to travel a long way to talk to you, Doctor. I'm dead, after all. Well," he added thoughtfully. "For now."

"For now?" The Doctor gazed at him, eyes unblinking. "What do you mean for now?"

"What about," the real Ianto breathed. "How it's even possible that there are two of me standing here?"

"That's a surprise," the duplicate turned to him, a wry smile gracing his features. "Wouldn't want to spoil the ending for you."

"But how are you here?" The Doctor asked, reaching out an arm to touch the other Ianto's shoulders. Much to his and the real Ianto's shock, his hand passed directly through the man, as if he was transparent. "Or, should I say, how is your image here?"

"I'm a free-floating spirit made from ectoplasm," Ianto explained. "What you would call a ghost."

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Ianto tried not to stumble over his words. "And even if there was, I'm still alive."

"Sometimes you're alive, sometimes you're dead," the other Ianto shrugged his shoulders. "Time travel is very confusing."

"But wait," the Doctor began again, seeming to have been struck by an idea. "How do you know about time travel? I don't think I told you about time travel back in the 1800s. Did I?"

"1800s?" The non-ghost Ianto asked before finding a realization. The grave he'd been looking at, the grave that this Ianto was standing upon had his name on it. Ianto Jones – And he had died in the 1890s. It was only then that Ianto noticed the peculiar clothing choice of his doppelganger. A suit and waistcoat duo complete with a top hat to match the Doctor's. How had he not seen that sooner?

"Where we met," the Doctor informed him. "Well, sort of. So how do you know about time travel?"

"Because I know what he knows," the ghost gestured over to his sold counterpart. "Or what he will know."

"I'm very confused," Ianto said.

"So am I," the Doctor added, frowning. "And I'm never confused because I'm a genius. I know almost everything about the universe, but I don't have any idea what the hell you are, Ianto Jones."

"I am something of an oddity," the ghost laughed quietly. "But you'll figure it out eventually."

"Wait," Ianto unstuck his throat. "What's so special about me? I'm nothing."

"What would make you say that?" The Doctor looked truly confused as he turned his attention away from the ghost. "You're brilliant, Ianto Jones. Why do you think I asked you to come away with me?"

"I – I don't know," Ianto forced himself to speak. "You're lonely and desperate?"

For a moment, Ianto thought he saw the Doctor's vision grow darker and more downcast, but it seemed to simply be his imagination, for when he blinked, the other man's eyes had returned to normal. He had opened his mouth as if to reply, but Ianto's ghost cut him off.

"I have to go."

"What?" The Doctor swiveled around, eyes dancing wildly. "Where? Why?"

"They're coming," the ghost said, looking afraid, his eyes darting about the nearly empty cemetery.

"Who's coming?" The Doctor's eyes followed the ghost's.

"The others." Fear was laced into Ianto's every word. "I had to break a few rules to get here, Doctor. And now they're coming to bring me back."

"What do you mean?" The Doctor's orbs were unblinkingly shocked.

"The rest of the ghosts," the ghost told him. "If I don't leave, they'll get me. But if I do manage to make it out of here, they'll come after you. Next best thing, you know?"

"Wait, what?" Ianto asked his double, now panicked. "Come after us?"

"I can't let them take me," the ghost said. "You'll understand why someday. Besides, I remember this all clearly. I leave now." He turned to the Doctor, a smile lighting his face. "Good luck, Doctor. And goodbye for now."

The ghost of Ianto faded into the oblivion of the night. The Doctor and the real Ianto were left staring at the place it had dissolved with matching expressions of incredulity on their faces. Then the Doctor looked up, something mysterious glittering in his eyes.

"You're a bit more impossible than even I planned, Ianto Jones," he said with a chuckle. "Utterly mad."

"What's going on?" Ianto ran a hand through his dark hair. "I want it explained to me right now, because I'm going crazy."

"I couldn't tell you," the Doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said – Utterly mad."

"Then can you at least tell me what…what he," Ianto refused to refer to the ghost as himself, "meant by the other ghosts coming after us?"

The Doctor opened his mouth as if to respond to the question at hand, but he was cut off by a quiet pop that echoed throughout the graveyard. Ianto looked around the cemetery, gaping, for he and the Doctor were now completely surrounded by an array of people, all appearing as if from nowhere, standing upon their own customary grave marker, each of them looking directly at the two men in the center.

"Shit," Ianto whispered, making eye contact with the Doctor, who suddenly looked like a mix of excitement and of apprehension.

"Ianto," he began. "I think we should run."