Title: Memory and Time (14/14)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, 10th Doctor, Torchwood Three, others

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack and Ianto in it!

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Spoilers: None. This takes place in my Homecoming AU, twelve years after Invincible Summer

Summary: Something is trying to mess with Jack’s time line…

Author’s Note: This is Jack’s POV – for obvious reasons.

Author’s Note the Second: Those of you who enjoy classic fantasy and science fiction will of course recognize the homage to Ursula Le Guin’s The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas. With my own chosen solution because hers (arrogant of me) left me unhappy.

            Jack stepped up to the torus. In spite of Ianto’s words, he was feeling uncharacteristically uncertain. The old him would have jumped at the chance, certain that the Gods loved him, egotistical ass that he was. The new him, who understood the concept of hostages to fortune, knew that the Gods could love you and still beat you bloody. He looked at the Black Guardian, raging impotently in the shadows beyond the torches. At least that particular threat was contained for now.

            He examined the stone. It seemed impossibly smooth and warm to the touch. As he stroked it, the empty center began to glow. Gripping the edges, he leaned into the light.

            It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was awful, in the old sense: awe-full. He had traveled in the Vortex to the end of the Universe and back, and, if Owen was right, he shared his life and bed with one of its avatars. When Rose had brought him back to life, she had flooded him with enough Vortex energy to activate the residual Ageroi energy in his cells – the Ageroi, whose Ascended form was pure energy. Before he had even been conceived, the Vortex had been integral to his existence.

            But this was different. The Time Lords called this the Untempered Schism, where the fabric of the Universe was ripped apart and the magnificent transcendence that was the Vortex was visible in its entirety. In this place, knowing the Unknowable was forced on you with a pitiless disregard for the limitations of your senses; no wonder people went mad.

            And suddenly he stood in a promontory above a city so beautiful it put all others to shame. Its graceful crystal towers soared about dazzling white walls. Embroidered banners and hangings provided elegance and colour. Gardens lined the river banks, swayed on rooftops, and cascaded down the walls. This city cast a shadow on all the cities of the Universe.

            “This is T’zirah.”

            He turned and saw Her and knew Her. He bowed formally in the High Style. The Guardian of Time smiled at him impishly. “So formal, my Captain?”

            “It seemed appropriate.” He shrugged, turning back to the city. “What did you call it?”

            “It has many names: Lakh’eloi, Death Knell, Omelas. In your childhood culture, it is T’zirah.”

            He translated it in his head: the Place of Choosing. It was part of the Cautionary Tales. A beautiful, perfect city built on the misery of a single child, and of the choice each of its citizens had to make. “So this is a fiction?”

            “Call it a moral construct. I place it in the hardwired subconscious of every race that shows promise of civilization. It raises the ultimate question.”

            Below, one of the city gates opened and a couple emerged. They both carried backpacks and were hurrying away without a backwards look.

            “They chose.”

            “Indeed. That one,” She pointed, “will become a great healer and teacher. The other will be a martyr and saint that will inspire the birth of a great civilization. It is always the same. Those who walk away carry great beauty with them. They have made a moral choice and the Universe rewards them. And yet…”

            “And yet?”

            “The child still suffers.”

            Jack’s whole body shook as he realized what his choice would have to be. “Look,” he said desperately, “I’m supposed to have two futures, right?”

            “Indeed.”

            “Then I can’t make this choice by myself. It would be only half an answer!”

            With a smile that old him she saw right through his subterfuge without difficulty, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps it would be instructive at that.”

            He materialized in a great marble room, obviously some kind of meeting chamber. Something terrible had happened – there were corpses in some of the seats – but Jack’s attention was riveted on the two beings at the far end. The giant head in a jar could have been human at one time, even with fleshy tentacles where its hair and neck would have been; it was rather compelling in an alien sort of way. Standing next to it, a human-sized bipedal feline in an old-fashioned nursing sister uniform smiled gently in welcome.

            “Captain Harkness. I am the Novice Hame, and this is the Face of Boe.”

            “Nice to meet you… what did you say?”

            She grinned widely, showing fangs. “I said, this is the Face of Boe.”

            Jack walked forward very slowly until he was… body to face… with the giant head. At the same slow pace he made a wide circle around the jar, noticing the hoses and power cables running from it to the control panel beyond.

            “Ianto would freak.”

            The soft chuckle resonating in his mind was very familiar. “Oh, no. Unless your Ianto is very different from mine, I suspect he would just sigh and set about learning to maintain the equipment.”

            They laughed in agreement. Jack placed a hand on the glass. “Do you miss him?”

            “Every day. I miss them all every day of my life.”

            “So… what happened?”

            “Train accident?” The wry riposte made Jack snort. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say catastrophic evolution and leave it at that. So… what can the Face of Boe do for Captain Jack Harkness?”

            “We… I… have to make a choice.” He sat cross-legged on the floor and told his other self the story. At one point he accepted a glass of water from Novice Hame to ease his parched throat. When he finished, he waited quietly, examining the giant face on the other side of the glass.

            “He fascinates you.” The cat nurse came to crouch down next to him.

            “I’m my own greatest fan, Novice Hame. Didn’t you know?”

            She sighed. “Now I really believe what She told us. He’s very good at deflection, too.”

            “Now, Hame.” The voice was amused. “Jack, I have no answers for you. We made that decision back in Boeshane when we were kids, but when I look back on my life I see so many mistakes. Just because I am ancient doesn’t mean I am wise, in spite of what people think.”

            “If I may,” Novice Hame said diffidently. “When I was assigned to care for the Face of Boe, I studied his life. After a while I noticed something. Boe may not always be wise, but he does have an inexhaustible capacity to love. His greatest successes come when he leads with his heart.”

            “That does not mean it won’t hurt.” Jack got to his feet. “That’s my answer, then, and may God have mercy on me. Thank you, Novice Hame.” He took one of her paws and raised it to his lips. “If you ever need me, send word.”

            “Jack!” the Face of Boe mocked him gently.

            Jack grinned his lady-killer grin. “What? I was just saying goodbye!”

            “Good bye, Jack. Say hello to the Doctor for me.”

            Jack gave a shout of laughter. “I should have known.”

            The door was the first ugly thing Jack had ever seen in the city. Made of  thick rough wood bound with iron bands, it looked like it belonged in a medieval dungeon. As it swung open, the stench made him retch. The room beyond was in total darkness. As he stepped in a weak light began to glow, as if the sunrise outside had managed to penetrate the stone. Jack looked around and had to bite down hard to keep from vomiting.

            The floor was covered knee deep in the refuse of centuries: rotted food, vomit, urine and feces, dead rats, and things he didn’t want to look at too closely. The child cowered in a corner, whimpering and babbling to itself. He was so emaciated Jack could see his internal organs through his skin. He was covered in scabs and suppurating sores. Jack couldn’t tell the color of his hair or the shade of his skin for the centuries of dirt caked on.

            And yet, the child reached for him. As Jack bent over to pick him up, he wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and hung on. Jack cuddled him against his chest, unmindful of the stench and dirt on his clothes. The child burrowed in, reminding Jack of Toshi, and a towering rage filled him.

            As he left the room, he heard the great bells of the city ringing an alarum. People were running about aimlessly – the perfect city had never needed soldiers – and those who crossed his path slunk away in terror when they looked into his face. He supposed he must have looked like vengeance come calling, but he didn’t care. His fury at the centuries-long suffering of the little bag of bones in his arms made glass shatter and wood splinter as he passed; tapestries burst into flames when they brushed against him.

            He stepped out into one of the rooftop gardens. Roses grew in elegant pots around a central fountain. Several young women cowered against the parapets. A single look sent them running, screaming in panic as the towers above started to shake. Picking up one of their discarded veils, he sat down on the rim of the crystal fountain. He dipped the veil in the cool scented water and wiped the child’s face with it. The boy smiled and hung on to the soft gentleness. Jack wet the other end and wiped some more. The boy made joyful sounds more like kitten meows than human cries, and rubbed his face against Jack’s chest.

             At some point he realized tears were running down his face. The boy was dying. In many ways the boy was the city and the city was the boy and their futures were bound together. So be it. Jack sat there, in the rose-scented sunrise, holding his charge, until the boy breathed his last breath and the city collapsed into dust around them.

            “Hold him!” Owen shouted as Jack shook from the effort of trying to contain the Vortex inside himself. “You need to ground him, or he’ll fly apart!”

            Jack watched helplessly as Ianto and the Doctor grabbed his hands and hung on. He tried to tell them to leave, but words would not come. So much power poured through him that it took everything in him to hold on to it. If he released it all at once Gallifrey would shatter from the explosion. Across from them, Owen hung on to Toshi, who was struggling to launch herself into the middle of things.

            “Cariad.” Ianto’s voice reached him as if from a great distance. “Release it through us, slowly. We can guide it.”

            “No.” He forced the words out. “We don’t know what it will do.”

            “Yes, we do. Listen, cariad. The Face of Boe needs the energy to complete his transformation, and it needs to come from you. Right now. TARDIS and I can guide it to him.”

            “Backwash…”

             Ianto grinned impishly. “The Doctor can use a few extra regenerations, can’t he? Come on, Cariad. Time doesn’t wait for many.” 

            Ianto placed his hand inside the torus.  Jack fed the energy through him as slowly as he could. Some of it escaped back into the Doctor, who swayed with the impact but hung on. From the shadows came a howl of rage and loss as the Black Guardian was forced back into the void.

            It seemed to take forever, but finally the last of the fire left his bloodstream. He collapsed into Ianto’s arms. The Doctor held them both tenderly, guiding them to the ground. Toshi and Owen ran up. Toshi threw herself at the Doctor, not quite yet knowing whether to laugh or cry. He wrapped his arms around her and hung on for dear life. Owen rocked back and forth, looking mightily pleased with himself.

            “Owen?” Jack raised his head from Ianto’s lap. “Now what?”

            “Now you go back home and keep on going, Jack. You know, the twenty-first century is when it all changes, blah, blah, blah…”

            “And you?”

            “Oh, I’ve got tons to see to. You wouldn’t believe how long you lot and your descendants are going to live if I told you.”

            Jack and Ianto managed to stand up and pull their friend into a three-way hug. Finally, the doctor pushed them away.

            “Enough of that. Time for me to head out.” As he started to fade, they could hear his shout. “Oi! No reckless foolishness! It’s not fair to a hard-working guardian angel!”

            Jack waited until Owen had disappeared completely, then he turned to the embracing couple standing behind him. “Doc?”

            “Yes, Jack?”

            “I think you, Ianto, and I need to have a long talk. You’re going to need some pointers. Otherwise, Gwen is going to wipe the floor with you when you and Toshi tell her your plans!"