The Quality of Mercy
The quality of mercy is not strained. – The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare (Act IV, Scene 1)
Prologue
"Will you snap out of it?" Owen barked. He hauled back and slapped Jack across the face. "You're acting worse than a Victorian Miss! Ianto's immortal, you idiot. And even if he wasn't, he's a Time Lord. He'll come back!"
Jack shuddered and tried to take in enough air. "You're right. I need to think."
"No. You need to calm down, Jack. You're flooding your system with the wrong sort of hormones.” Kate rested a hand on Jack’s stomach. “There's a baby you have to take care of."
Baby. The kids. Jack sat up and looked wildly about the room. “Where are the kids?” he demanded. “Kate, where are the kids?”
Kate reached out and shook Jack. She waited for him to focus on her. “They’re fine. On the sofa where Gray was giving Misha language lessons,” she said quietly. “Now, you take deep breaths and relax. You have to calm down or you’ll harm the baby. This early in the pregnancy and you could miscarry.”
No! Jack screamed in his head. Can’t lose Ianto’s baby. All I have left. He’s gone. He whimpered softly. His head ached from the echoing emptiness that speared though his whole body. Ianto was gone. What was he going to do now? Jack struggled not to scream, tear his hair out, and just will himself to die. “I can’t lose this baby, Kate.”
“Then calm down.” Kate made a quick hand gesture to Tommy. Knowing that Jack still didn’t fully trust Tommy, she needed to get him away from Jack. “Talk to me, Jack. What do you need to do in order to feel safe? What can we do to keep you feeling safe? Calm? Tell me what you need.”
“The flat,” Jack replied. “It’s secure. I need… the kids and me… there…” Jack panted out the words around his fear that he’d be alone forever again. “Kate, find him. I can’t…”
“I know, Jack.” Kate stroked Jack’s cheek. “You take the kids and go upstairs. Trust us to find Ianto. If he can be found, we’ll find him. Can you accept that?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Jack murmured. He dropped his head for a moment, struggling with tears, and gasped as he felt the particular tap of the Tardis against his mental shields. Leaning his head back, he cautiously lowered his shields enough to let the Tardis into his mind. She couldn’t speak to him, not like she did with Ianto or Misha, but she could reassure him. Jack almost smiled as the Tardis gave him the empathic equivalent of a long, lingering hug. He wished he knew what she wanted to say, but he just wasn’t linked to her like the Time Lords were. He sighed softly and rose to his feet. “I need to…”
“Go on.” Kate quickly rose and helped Jack steady himself. “I’ll keep you posted, Jack. Who aside from me….”
“Just you. No one else.”
“Okay.” Kate nodded. She followed Jack across the room to the kids. It was on the tip of her tongue to stop Jack from picking up Misha; however, Gray caught her eye and quickly shook his head. Kate nodded to the boy.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Misha said softly. “Tardis can still feel Tad.”
“But I can’t, sweetheart,” Jack murmured. “I need Tad with me to be whole.”
Chapter One
Pain, searing and all encompassing, tore through his body and stole his breath. Ianto panted for a moment before the pain surged again, ripping a scream from his throat. He flung his head back, screaming for all he was worth, as the white-hot pain seemed to reach deeper and deeper into his body on a line toward his hearts. He wanted to writhe, scream, curl into a ball until the bullet finally killed him. He’d come back. He would always come back.
“No, you won’t.”
The voice was soft and unusually gentle. A deep aching sadness echoed through the contralto voice. Ianto could almost feel the woman’s pain as if it was his own. He keened softly, pain overwhelming his yearning for more information, and attempted to curl up. Hands restrained him, kept him laid flat, and Ianto struggled against their hold even as the fight increased his pain.
“Bırak gitsin,” she, or at least Ianto assumed the voice belonged to a woman, said. “You’re safe. Relax. Let me help you, yiğit effendi.”
Before he could respond, a hand pressed hard against his chest. He arched and screamed as the touch seemed to force the bullet deeper into his body. A different hand was rested on his forehead. He felt a solid tap against the inside of his skull. It reminded him of someone knocking at a door. Ianto mentally chuckled even as he opened his mind to this stranger.
“Teşekkür ederim.”
Now Ianto heard the words both in his ears and in his mind. That was truly confusing. Usually, when he talked with someone telepathically, he only heard the conversation in his head. After that surge of pain when touched, it seemed that he felt fine. No pain. In fact, he felt perfectly normal. The only thing he now felt was an odd sense of expectation. Swallowing, he asked, “What have you done to me?”
“Stepped between you and the pain,” she, and now he was certain it was a woman helping him, answered. “It was the best I could do until…”
“Until what?”
“Until we know if you truly deserve our help. Open your eyes, yiğit effendi,” she softly ordered him. “We need to talk.”
“My name is Ianto,” he replied. Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes. He found himself lying on the cot in the one place he always felt safe – Jack’s bunker beneath their shared office. He blinked several times. Even went so far as to shake his head before reaching out to press a hand against the nearby wall. Cold, dank, and slightly damp, it was an exact replica of the space. Ianto wondered how far the construct went, just how much was copied, and slipped a hand beneath the pillow. His fingers closed around nothing. Where ever he was, it wasn’t the bunker as they kept a loaded pistol beneath the pillow on the rare occasions they slept there. “Where are we?”
“In your mind. You chose the place.”
The voice came from the far corner. Ianto sat up, surprised to find himself able to move, and reached over to flick on the lamp. He turned it to the lowest setting and sought out his visitor. “So why here?” he asked. He surveyed his guest. She was quite lovely. Thick dark hair pulled up to the top of her head to spill down her back in a long braid nearly as thick as his wrist. Her eyes reflected the light back at him leaving him at a loss as to their color. She was very pale, paler than him, and dressed in a richly embroidered deep maroon outfit which reminded him of an Indian salwar. A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it.
“What is it?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. “We always come to places where the patient feels safest.”
“I’m beginning to understand why Jack likes me in red.” Ianto crossed his legs, tailor fashion, and considered her. “Do I get to know your name? What do we have to talk about?”
“I am called Gulay.” She shifted a bit beneath his intent stare. Ianto idly wondered if he was making her nervous. “We need to talk about Derya. Why you did what you did. What’s happening to you now and how we could help you, if you deserve it.” Gulay sighed softly and curled her legs beneath her in the armchair.
“Does Jack know where I am?”
“Who’s Jack?” Gulay answered his question with another question. “The few of your screams we could understand were that name.”
“Jack is…” Ianto closed his eyes. It was so hard to categorize what Jack was. Not just to him, but to everyone. So many images flashed through his mind: making love to Jack, cuddling with Jack, Jack with the children, and claiming Jack as mate. “Jack is everything. My husband, my heart, my soul… he’s my life.” He didn’t receive an answer, just a soft moan. Raising an eyebrow, Ianto opened his eyes and manfully contained the chuckle that threatened to escape. Gulay was squirming in the chair, blushing, and staring down at her hands. It was then he realized that being in his mind meant she not only saw his memories but could experience them with him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“No,” Gulay interrupted. “It’s better I know everything. It’s been so long since a human came to Korumalanı that I’ve forgotten some things.”
“Korumalani?” Ianto asked softly. “Duw, Jack is likely in a panic. We’re psychically linked. He likely thinks I’m dead. That could kill him which would kill our baby.” He leapt to his feet. “I need to get back to him.”
“Korumalani is our world. We are healers and offer sanctuary to all who can get to us.” Gulay rose to her feet. She stepped into his path and rested a hand on his chest. “Korumalani is protected by the Shadow Proclamation. Even the Time Agency cannot take a fugitive from our planet. Many parents bring their children here to be raised when they are on the run from Time Agents.”
“Time Agency. Bastards.” Ianto snarled the words. “They took something precious from my husband. I’d destroy them if I could, but the time he was with them helped make Jack the man he is now.”
“What did they take from him?”
“His daughter,” Ianto said. “Not only did they take her from him, but they erased his memories of her. There’s no way to restore more than a few tiny fragments in dreams. Eirian, my Tardis, told me that.”
“You are a Time Lord?”
“Yes.” He turned to look over at Gulay. “Why the surprise?”
“Why would one of the great Time Lords save a pregnant woman?”
“It was the right thing to do.” Ianto shrugged and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m immortal. I’ll come back. Even if the woman survived the shooting, there was no way her child would. Not with where that bullet was aimed. It would have destroyed her child. I’ve seen Jack’s mourning. I’ve experienced it with him. No one should lose a child.”
“So you would give up one of your lives to save a life not yet begun?” Gulay asked. Disbelief still echoed through her voice. “You have answered our question. Even one we never expected to have answered.”
“But…” Ianto whirled to face the woman. Staring down at her in surprise as her hand came up to rest on his chest. All the pain taken away returned. He dropped to his knees, the concrete jarring his knees, and screamed his throat raw. The blackness returned, but not before he heard her voice one last time.
“I hope you can forgive me, Ianto Emrys Jones, beloved of Raksha, for what I do. Kendisi layık olmak karşılığını vermek. Izin vermek benimki anlamına gelmek özveri.”
Chapter Two
“Suck me,” Ianto ordered. He tangled his hands in Jack’s hair and pushed his head down toward his groin. His cock ached, throbbed, and pre-come oozed from the slit. He wanted Jack’s hot mouth wrapped around him. He wanted to thrust into that wet space, feel his cock slip down into his mate’s throat. “Dammit, Jack, suck me.” A low rumbling chuckle answered him. He arched and groaned as fingers teased at his opening while sucking kisses were trailed down his stomach. Ianto writhed and begged. “Jack… Jack… need you… suck me… want your mouth on me… want to fuck your pretty mouth…”
Ianto twisted against the sheets. More asleep than awake, he ran a hand over his hip in search of his cock. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. Something wasn’t right. He rolled over onto his stomach, winced, and muttered, “Cachau.” He shifted against the bed, rolling back onto his back, and again reached for his cock planning to have a good morning wank but his hand totally missed the intended target. Ianto’s eyes flew open in shock as his fingers closed around empty air. “Lle mae'r cachau yw fy pidyn?”
Torn between horror and fascination, Ianto dropped his hand onto his stomach. He rubbed his fingers back and forth over his skin, smooth hairless skin on a stomach that seemed to have developed a slight pudge. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Did he go looking for his missing cock? Or find out why he suddenly felt top heavy even laying down? After a moments debate, Ianto realized that he still had two hands. He could do both. Sliding the hand already on his stomach lower, he sought out his cock only to find nothing but crisp curls. He whimpered, reached up, cautiously felt and wanted to scream as he realized he now had breasts. He rapidly snatched his hands away.
“Cachu!” He cursed in Welsh. No! That wasn’t his voice. It was too high pitched. It was a husky contralto rather than his normal baritone. Ianto sat up, staring wildly about himself yet registering nothing of the room he was in, and panted for breath. “Cachu! Cachau!” Ianto gasped out the curses. “Fab i ast!”
“Ah, you’re awake now. We wondered how much longer you’d sleep.”
The voice came from behind him. Ianto twisted about in the bed. His fingers itched for his gun. He settled on grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of himself as a makeshift weapon. “What the hell has happened to me?” he demanded. Ianto stared at the woman just inside the door to what appeared to be his bedroom. She looked vaguely familiar to him, but he decided he’d figure that out later. “Tell me!”
“That will take some time, effendi.” She moved further into the room and leant back against a large curving piece of furniture. “Firstly, I want to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Ianto clutched his pillow more closely. “Why would you want to thank me? I just want to be me again! And get home!”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” She laughed softly and smiled. “I do look different then when last you saw me, effendi. You saved me and nearly died doing so.”
“Derya?” he asked, cautious. “What happened to your baby? It’s okay? Please tell me it’s okay.”
She nodded to him. “Chagatai is fine, effendi. My son is with his father while I aid you with your healing.” She spread her hands before her as she straightened. “Just as Gulay felt it her duty to heal you regardless of the cost, I feel it is mine to help you accept your new self before we introduce you to your mate’s daughter. Once you both are comfortable with each other, we’ll send you home.”
“What!” Ianto demanded. He threw the pillow toward Derya. “I can’t stay here! It’ll kill Jack. If he thinks I’m dead, it’ll destroy him. Please, I need to go home.”
“And we’ll get you home,” Derya replied. She crossed the room to settle on the edge of the bed in front of Ianto. “We have a way to travel to Sol Three that will allow us to get you back within six hours of your disappearance.”
“That’s too long!” Ianto cried. He struggled off the bed to his feet. He stumbled as he attempted to pace the space between the bed and the curved piece of furniture. Now standing, he discovered someone had dressed him in a long dress, a dress that tangled about his legs as he stumbled back and forth in a vain attempt to make his point. “He’s hurting. Don’t you understand that? I need to be with him. His pain is making me hurt! Even here so far from him. Take me home!”
“You must understand what has happened to you.” Derya reached out and grabbed Ianto’s wrist. He pulled him back toward the bed. “Sit, let me explain about the healing and about the child.” She gently touched his temple in an attempt to soothe him. “If you still insist on returning right away, we’ll arrange it once we’re certain Aimana is comfortable with you. When she leaves our care, you’ll be the only familiar presense in her life. Even if you are Ianto Jones and no longer Gulay Rhosyn.”
“What are you saying?” Ianto asked. Something in Derya’s tone penetrated his penetrated his panic to bring his more calm organized side to the surface. As his mind settled, he remembered the last moments with Gulay. I hope you can forgive me, Ianto Emrys Jones, beloved of Raksha, for what I do. Her words echoed through his mind. His eyes widened and he shifted on the bed to stare at Derya. “What did she do, Derya? Why am I now a woman?” He whimpered, dropping his gaze to his small, narrow boned fingers. “Where’s my wedding ring?” he asked desperately. “I…”
A narrow silvery chain was dangled before him. From it, twisting in the space between him and Derya, dangled his wedding ring. He reached for it, curled his fingers around the small circle, and pulled it close to him. Just a look told him that it would be way too big for any of his fingers. Before he could say anything, Derya opened the clasp of the chain, reached behind him and clasped it again. “There you are, effendi,” she murmured. “I knew you’d want it returned. If I lost my marriage symbol, I’d be panicked as well.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. He held the ring tight, kissed it, and continued to hold it tightly as he looked up at Derya. “This is only the second time I’ve taken it off since Jack gave it to me. Once for our wedding service and now. Please, what’s happened?”
Derya took a deep breath. Ianto could almost feel her pain before it snapped away into silence. Her eyes held his, never looking away as she began to speak. “When you saved me, you were hit with a temporal bullet. It is designed to not only kill someone but to remove the victim from any and all timelines. The bullet eats its way to the victim’s heart… destroys it as the method of death.” She paused, licked her lips and dropped her gaze for a moment. She reached for Ianto’s hand and held it as she finished. “I called for help. Gulay answered the call and stabilized you. We took you out of time, into the place of the ancestors, to keep the bullet from destroying you. Gulay went into your mind to question you. Find out why you would sacrifice your life for a stranger. She determined that you were worthy of healing.”
A sob escaped the woman in front of him. Ianto automatically reached out and gathered her into his arms. Well, tried to. First, much to his surprise, he had to scoot a bit forward before he could hold Derya and pull her close to him while she cried. This is so fucking weird, he thought. How in the hell do I explain this to Jack? How long am I going to be like this? He resolved to ask the questions as soon as possible. Finally, the storm of weeping ended and Derya sat back again.
“The only way to heal someone from such an ending is to combine their timeline with another’s. It’s rarely done because…” Derya’s breath hitched again. A sob threatened, but she swallowed it back. “To do such a thing requires the healer to give up their essence to the one being healed. It’s a great honor to be so healed. It’s a rare person who is willing to do it. Gulay did it for you, but there was a side effect. An unexpected one…”
“She died? To heal me? But I’m immortal,” Ianto protested. “I would have come back.”
“Not from that injury. It would have erased you from time. You’d never been immortal in the first place, just dead.”
“So… Gulay is gone… but how did I end up like this?” Ianto waved a hand at his suddenly increased chest. “And how long will I be like this?”
“The
merging of you and Gulay, which stabilized your timeline and healed
your body, combined you completely. Your mind, your DNA, but her
body. At least externally. You are, as far as we can determine,
still a Time Lord. Two hearts, binary respiration, etc.” Derya
took a deep breath, letting it out very slowly. Ianto recognized
a calming technique he’d learned at Torchwood One. “There’s
no way to give you your original body back. Your DNA is
still male, but your body is female. I’m sorry.”
Chapter Three
“Sorry. You’re sorry!” Ianto hissed the words into the silence of the room. “I’m the one changed. I’m the one who might be rejected by his mate. The mere thought of which tears me to shreds and all you can say is sorry!” Ianto shoved to his feet. He swayed for a moment as he struggled with the change in his center of gravity. Then he kicked his dress away from his legs, stalked across the room, and slammed his hands onto the top of the curving piece of furniture. He bowed his head, struggled to control his breathing and vainly attempted to ignore the curves of his breasts. Ianto growled softly, whirled about and leant back against the furniture. “Since you apparently know where she is, I want Aimana brought to me and then I want to go home. No delays. Just send me home.”
“You’re very demanding.”
“I command Torchwood,” Ianto snapped back. “Of course, I’m demanding.” He considered her for a moment. “I’m sorry. This is too damned much. I want to go home to my mate. I need to be with him and my children. Jack’s pregnant.”
“Congratulations. I think I understand why you want to go home so badly now.” She nodded to him. “Let me help you dress this first time,” she all but demanded. “Then I’ll get your daughter. Once I’m certain she’s comfortable with you, I’ll arrange for you to go home.” She rose slowly to her feet. “Is that acceptable to you, effendi?”
“Yeah,” Ianto agreed. Absently he shoved a hand into his hair and yelped when his fingers got caught in what felt like a heavy braid. “Ouch!”
Derya laughed, pointing a finger at him while she did so. Ianto rolled his eyes but couldn’t resist joining in the laughter. He frowned even as he laughed. Or perhaps giggled was a better term. Calming, he shook his head. “That is going to take some getting used to,” he said. He shrugged a bit and took in a breath. “Can I get a shower?”
“Sure.” Derya crossed over and opened a sliding a door. “Do you want any help? Everything’s similar to your century with regard to plumbing.”
Ianto considered for a moment, pulling his long hair over his shoulder to unravel the braid, and joined Derya in the doorway. He scanned the exposed bathroom and shook his head. “No, I think I can manage it.” He stepped into the room. “May I ask a favor? Whatever I end up wearing can it be either red or burgundy?”
“I’ll take care of it, effendi,” Derya replied. She joined him in the bathroom, pulling towels out of a concealed cabinet and setting a small bottle on top. She offered the bottle to Ianto. “This is both a shampoo and a soap.”
“Why do you call me effendi?” Ianto asked carefully. He wasn’t certain if he was pronouncing the word correctly. “My name is Ianto.”
“It’s a term of respect, Ianto. You hadn’t shared your name with me.” Derya smiled at him. “I’ll leave you to bathe while I fetch clothing for you. I’ll knock when I return.” She started to leave; sliding the door partially closed behind her, and then poked her head back into the room. “I’ll tell the bebek bakıcısı to prepare Aimana. Do you want her dressed a particular way as well?”
Ianto considered for a moment before he shook his head. “No, let her wear something she’s comfortable in. She’ll have enough shocks once we’re in Cardiff.”
“Very well,” Derya replied. “I’ll return shortly.” She slipped from the room leaving Ianto alone.
Ianto leaned on the counter, staring at his reflection in the mirror before him for a long moment, and then he dropped his head with a harsh sob. He cried. Harsh wracking sobs escaped him as he dropped to the floor. Ianto wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth as he cried for his lost body. All he could think of was getting home and getting back to Jack. Jack could fix this. Surely there was something in the archives which would give him back his body. Scrubbing his face with his hands, Ianto reached up and back, leveraging his way back to his feet. He felt filthy, mentally and physically, and all he wanted was for it to go away. To be a nightmare he could wake from and be comforted by Jack. Turning away from the mirrors in the room, he stripped off the clothes he’d been given, stepped into the shower and turned on the water to a temperature just short of scalding. Soon he was scrubbing himself for all he was worth determined to be clean again.
Even in the shower, Ianto found he couldn’t completely stop the tears. For himself, for Gulay, for everything that had changed in one instant. He heard Derya’s knock, but ignored it. He stayed in the shower, scrubbing himself near raw, until the water turned cold. Shivering beneath the spray, he slowly reached out to turn the water off. Stepping out, he wrapped a towel around himself and held it in place, covering his now feminine body, with one hand. The other reached for the door. Sliding it slowly open, he called, “Derya? How do I dry my hair?”
A soft laugh answered him. He bit his lip to keep from snapping at her. She was only trying to help. Derya likely didn’t understand the depths of his pain. Not only was a woman dead so that he would live, but he had lost everything that was familiar to him. He wasn’t even himself but a tiny woman. At the sound of her footsteps, he stepped back from the door and clutched his towel even tighter to him.
“I do not mean to laugh, Ianto,” Derya said as she entered the room. “I should have explained.” She grabbed a towel off the stack and shook it out. “Bend over and pull your hair up so it dangles in front of you.” She waited for Ianto to bend and moved his hair herself. “Once it’s there, you drape the towel over it, twist a few times and stand up again. The towel absorbs the water while you dry off and dress. You then remove it to work with your hair. As you are married, we should braid you hair while you are here on Korumalani. Once you are home, you and your husband can decide what to do with it.”
Swallowing, Ianto nodded. He looked at her for a moment. He didn’t know what to do now. Just dry off, move, what. Derya took pity on him, smiling and leaving the room for a moment. She came back with a couple of pieces of fabric which she set on the last of the towels. “The base garments… what you call underwear,” she said softly. To Ianto’s surprise, she was blushing as she spoke. “I think you can figure those out on your own. Once you have them on, join me and we’ll deal with the rest.”
“Alright,” he murmured. He watched her leave the room. Once she was gone, he briskly set to drying himself. Occasionally he had to reach up and steady the towel turban on his head. Folding the towel and laying it aside, he reached for the small scraps of fabric and shook them out. One made perfect sense, tiny panties that would definitely fit his now much smaller body. Stepping into them, Ianto blinked as he realized not only did he have tiny ankles but his feet were smaller and more finely boned. “Weird,” he muttered while dressing. “I’m really going to have to give in soon and actually look at myself.” Then he resolutely shook his head. “No, not going to do that until I have no other choice.”
The other piece of fabric took some thinking about. It wasn’t a bra, but it wasn’t a proper shirt either. Finally, he figured out that it was a variant on a halter top. Covering his breasts with the fabric, he held it in place with one hand while edging out into the bedroom. “Um… how do I?”
“Oh! I’m sorry.” Derya rushed across the room to his side, squeezed between him and the wall behind him and grabbed the strings dangling along his sides. She rapidly tied them behind his back and neck. “I don’t think sometimes. It’s why I’m usually at the kreş tending to the bebekler.”
“It’s alright.” Ianto chuckled. “We’re managing, aren’t we?”
“We are.” Derya waved a hand toward the bed. “Is this what you meant by burgundy?”
Ianto twisted to look at the bed. It was neatly made now. No signs of his panic attack when he woke lingered. Atop the bedding lay a longish top made of burgundy netted fabric. Ianto judged that when worn the top would be almost knee length with three-quarter sleeves. The center of the bodice was the same soft gray as the narrow legged pants lying beside the top. He nodded eagerly. Some portion of him was excited to see the outfit. He decided to not examine that too closely. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”
“I’m glad I understood.” Derya reached for the pants and handed them over to him. “First these, and then the top.”
Ianto dressed as quickly as he dared. It took a bit of work to get the pants over his legs and settled comfortably. He knew the second thing he was doing in Cardiff. Shopping. He accepted the top, pulled it on, dislodging his towel turban in the process, and settled it as best he could over the strange halter beneath. Looking down, he blinked and chuckled softly. He knew why he’d been given the halter now, but he couldn’t help thinking that Jack would much prefer this top without it. The netting was nearly sheer.
“What is it?”
“Just thinking of Jack’s reaction to this outfit,” he answered. At Derya’s urging, he sat on the bed and allowed her to brush and braid his hair. Ianto realized he felt a lot better with that heavy mass somewhat tamed. “When can I…?”
“Soon,”
Derya interrupted. “Let me take you to Aimana and the Zamanseyyah.”
Chapter Four
Ianto blinked but still stepped past Derya into the room he’d been lead to. Not once had he seen the outside of the building, but the interiors were wonderfully elaborate in a style that reminded him of the ancient Mughal palaces in India. Immediately upon entering, his ears and mind were assaulted by powerful screams. He staggered, putting out a hand to catch himself against the wall, and scanned the room for the source of the screaming.
He found it.
Without thinking of the consequences, Ianto strode across the room as rapidly as his changed form would allow. He grabbed the blonde curly-haired toddler from her minder and cuddled her close to his chest. He raised a hand, cupping the back of her head in his palm, and pressed his forehead to hers. Ianto concentrated hard. First, he quieted her mental shrieking. Then, he imposed the most powerful shields he could onto her mind using every bit of skill his grandfather and his Tardis had taught him. All the while, he hummed softly to distract the child from her crying until mental silence reigned.
“Oh, cariad,” Ianto murmured. “That had to hurt. No wonder you’re screaming all the time.” He looked up at her minder and, in icy tones only an angry parent could properly speak, demanded, “Did you not know her mind was under constant attack by the Vortex?”
“No, effendi,” the minder replied. She bowed her head to him. “We knew only that she would never stop screaming. You are the first to quiet her.”
Ianto forced down his anger. It would do him no good to get angry with these people. They had cared for Jack’s child and healed him, but still. He took a very deep breath, let it out slowly, and turned his attention to Derya. “I assume this is Aimana?”
“Yes,” she replied with a smile. “She seems to like you.”
“Or she likes the fact that I blocked the Vortex from touching her mind.” Ianto rubbed Aimana’s back, swaying back and forth in the absent manner of parents everywhere. “How are we getting back home?”
“The Zamanseyyah Narmer will take you back.” She waved her hand toward a young man who nodded in response. “I’m sorry to say that you must travel via the Vortex.”
Ianto hissed in response to that pronouncement. “Cachu!” he snapped. “Can you sedate her? Her mind’s already raw and bruised from constant contact with the Time Vortex. Going through it to get to Cardiff could snap her mind.”
“I…”
“It can be done, effendi.” Narmer interrupted, speaking over Derya. “I’ll find one of the healers. We should have thought of the Vortex as the source of her pain. Aimana is the child of a Time Agent. Who knows what experiment of the Agency birthed her.”
Ianto inclined his head with a soft smile. “Thank you.” He watched the young man leave the room. He looked down at the little girl cuddled against his chest. As he’d hoped, she’d drifted to sleep. He wasn’t certain about how her small hand kept kneading his breast, but he’d tolerate it if it helped her sleep. Looking up, he smiled at Derya. “Thank you as well, Derya. I know I’ve likely driven you crazy, but I truly need to get home to my mate before our separation harms him.”
“I think I understand,” she replied. “I know I hate being separated from my husband.”
“I doubt you can, but…” Ianto trailed off and shrugged one shoulder. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Gulay. What does it mean?” Ianto considered for a moment. “Her name did have a meaning, didn’t it?”
“It did.” Derya smiled. “It means ‘month of roses’.” Her hand reached out to stroke Aimana’s hair. “Why do you ask?”
“And yours?”
“Ocean.” Derya blinked at him. “Please tell me why you ask.”
“Memory is a powerful thing, Derya. Mine even more so,” Ianto replied. He considered the girl in his arms. “Aimana Rhosyn Morgana Harkness-Jones,” he murmured. “Yes, that’s what I’ll call you, cariad.”
“Does that have a meaning?”
Ianto laughed. “According to her father, Aimana means ‘moonlight beauty’. Rhosyn means ‘rose’ and Morgan is accepted to mean ‘sea-born’ in my native language.”
“You honor me and my sister,” Derya said softly. She stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for my life and my daughter,” Ianto replied. He reached out a hand and gently stroked Derya’s cheek. “I won’t forget either of you.” A sound from the door caused him to drop his hand and look over. Narmer was back. He was accompanied by a much older white-haired man who considered Ianto with a coldness that Ianto found disturbing. After a moment, the man nodded.
“You are keeping the child’s mind protected?” Ianto wasn’t certain he liked the man’s tone, but nodded anyway. The man continued before he could ask any questions. “You should be sedated as well then. So that any reaction you have to the Vortex doesn’t affect her. Can you still shield her…”
“I’m her father,” Ianto snapped. “Of course I can.”
An eyebrow was raised at his titling himself father, but the man waved a hand toward a pile of cushions on one side of the room. Ianto crossed over to them, sat, and looked up at the others. Carefully laying Aimana on the cushions, he reached out and caught Derya’s hand. He pulled her close, hugged her tight, and murmured, “I am sorry Gulay was lost to you, but I still would have stepped between you and that bullet. Take care of your son.” Releasing her, he swallowed back tears as she gave a half-sob, whirled and ran from the room. She was closely followed by Aimana’s minder, leaving Ianto alone with Narmer and the old man. “What now?” Ianto asked.
“I’ve already sedated the child,” the old man replied. “I won’t give you a large dose. Just enough to keep you calm. Once you are close to asleep, Zamanseyyah Narmer will return you to the çatlakiltere.”
Ianto nodded. Holding out his arm, he bit his lip as hard as he could. He hated needles with a passion. He looked away, focusing on Aimana instead, as the thin metal was slipped beneath his skin. He knew he shouldn’t trust these aliens, but they were his only way back to Jack. He had no choice. Ianto only looked back when he felt the metal removed from him. “Thank you,” he murmured. The old man didn’t reply, just rose and left the room. Ianto shrugged and looked up at Narmer. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get comfortable and hold the child. I’ll do the rest.”
Ianto nodded. He shifted about on the cushion until he could lie comfortably by Aimana. He gathered the little girl into his arms, pulling her close to his chest, and curled up around her. He wasn’t going to lose her now that he’d found her. Jack would never forgive him if he told his husband he’d found the girl only to lose her within the Vortex. Ianto yawned. One part of his mind freaked at the thought of Aimana being on the Rift. The rest reassured him that between himself, Jack and the Tardis, the girl would be well protected until she could protect herself. He felt his eyes start to close and forced them open again. “Thank you for taking us back. If you know Torchwood, the best place to leave us would likely be the medical bay. It’s usually empty. There or the office.”
“Do not worry, komutanı,” Narmer replied. “I know right where you need to be.” A barely there, and amazingly familiar, smile graced the young man’s face. “Sleep, büyükbaba, I’ll get you home.”
He recognized that word: büyükbaba. He opened his lips to question but found the sedative racing through his system far too powerful to resist. Ianto’s last thought before the darkness of sleep claimed him was why a young man on a world light-years away, in both time and space, was calling him ‘grandfather’.
Epilogue
Owen shoved a hand through his hair. He was running out of options. How in the hell was he supposed to find Ianto? There was nothing on the CCTV. No Rift activity of any kind. Not even a Tardis blip. There was no way to find Ianto. None. He shoved a hand through his hair and continued to pace behind Tosh’s chair. “Tell me you have something. Anything.”
“There’s nothing,” Tosh snapped. “Nothing at all. I can’t find him.” A sob slipped from Tosh. “All this tech, all my knowledge, and I can’t find Ianto.”
Owen looked at his watch. It was late. They’d been at this all evening. There was no sense in running themselves into the ground. The Rift never stopped. He took a breath and turned to Kate. “Love, would you…”
A very distinct pop noise from the direction of the autopsy bay froze Owen’s words in his throat. He reached for his gun, pulled it out, and waved to Tommy and Andy. Both men pulled their own guns, taking up positions to flank him. Owen started for the medical room only to stop and roll his eyes at a clatter on the gantry. He looked back, glared, and held up a hand at Jack, silently telling the other man to stay there. He continued to glare until Jack bowed his head in defeat.
With hand gestures and looks, the three agents headed for the medical bay. Andy went left, pressing his back against the outside of the archway wall. Tommy went right, his back against the archway as he crouched just inside the opening. Owen, well, he took the direct approach. He went straight for the railing, looked down into the room, and blinked in shock. Lying on the gurney was a woman, dressed in the deepest richest red he’d ever seen, curled around a small child dressed in a soft pastel blue. Unimaginatively, all Owen could think to say was “What the fuck?”