Paradox

by SnowWhiteLiar (LJ | comment)
Torchwood | R | Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Ianto | 24,321 words

When Torchwood were sent to the Himalayas, Ianto chose to stay behind and look after the Hub. He didn't think it would be quite this much trouble.

Takes place before Torchwood season 2 and goes AU from there.

Betaed by Laligin. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Warnings: Character death

Ianto checked his watch, sighing. The plane would have left by now. He almost regretted deciding not to go with the others, but it made sense for one of them to stay behind (they could hardly leave the Hub unmanned for weeks on end), and he was fairly certain they would find nothing anyway. He told himself he wasn't staying just in case Jack turned up – the likelihood of that was minimal anyway.

He mooched around the Hub for half an hour or so, left to his own devices and tidying up without interference for once, quite content until one of Tosh's alarms went off. Frowning, he checked her computers, only to discover that a dozen strange men in black uniforms had broken into the Tourist Information office, armed with semi-automatics.

Hurriedly, Ianto slammed the Hub into emergency lockdown and called up the audio feed from the Tourist Information office, routing it to his comm and dashing to the armoury while the invaders struggled with the hidden door, frustrated by Ianto's swift security measures.

"Blow it open if you have to," the men's leader snapped impatiently. "Saxon wants this place secure by tonight, no excuses."

Ianto clenched his fists briefly, glaring at the armoury as he used the lock-pick device he'd snatched from Tosh's desk to get past the lockdown. He grabbed two handguns once he was in, rapidly checking both and tucking one through his belt as he seized clips and loaded the other, then stopped to remove the power packs from all the alien guns, finding space for them in his pockets. If Saxon's men did manage to get past all the Hub's security, he had no intention of letting them get their hands on working weapons.

"Some time today," he heard, and then, "Alright, clear the area."

Ianto snatched his comm off his ear just before the explosion upstairs knocked out the audio feed from the office. Swearing, he locked the armoury behind him and dashed back to Tosh's computer to check the rest of the CCTV. He found that the men were starting down the stairs, pausing to kick open any door they came across and check that the room was clear, following their leader's orders – "Shoot anything that moves. Saxon got the team out of the way, and they're not coming back. We shouldn't meet any resistance, but stay alert."

Grimly, Ianto wiped the CCTV, all the way back to the others leaving. Making it look as though the Hub had been empty and powered down ever since, he shut all the systems off – including the locks on the cells, sighing, "I need all the help I can get, guys. Do me proud," as the Weevils crept out.

And then he dashed to Jack's office to seize the book of codes, stopping to change the code for the secure archives anyway, sure in the knowledge that no matter what the intruders did, they wouldn't be able to get in there. That done, he raced back to the archive entrance, just as the alarm sounded and the bars began to swing open, the lock on the door overridden.

Ianto slammed the archive door shut and locked it behind him, praying they hadn't seen him. Then he ran.

He knew exactly where he was going, racing to specific drawers and shelves in the Upper Archives, trying to remove as much vital technology as possible without revealing his presence. He fetched the emergency backpack he'd been keeping down there as a precaution against just such an occasion, wrapping the power packs and artefacts in the change of clothes, swiftly checking the dates on the bottles of water and packages of food, and cursing when he discovered he'd forgotten to replace the first aid kit. It was too late now, though, so he put it out of mind and moved on to the devices he could use in this fight.

The first thing he went for was a substitute for his bluetooth headset. With the right programming (which he hastily applied) it could pick up every radio conversation within a few miles. He set it to work within the Hub, and was instantly rewarded with the tail end of a report to Saxon himself.

"... the moment. We're moving on to the lower levels now, sir. Once they're secure we'll go to stage two."

He didn't catch Saxon's reply, drowned out as it was by screams and snarls and gunfire. Realising that this meant the intruders had come across the Weevils, Ianto stirred himself again and moved on to the more dangerous of the items he was after, taking advantage of the distraction to fetch a few devices he was particularly fond of.

"– backup now! Man down!"

"Withdraw to secure levels and regroup. Do not engage targets. Repeat, do not engage targets."

And Ianto smiled. Weevils 1, Saxon 0.

But from there it went downhill. To his dismay, they managed to override the security protocols on the computers, and took control of the cells. He tried to keep track of the number of Weevils they killed – and how many of their men died in the process – but it was almost impossible among the chaos he could hear.

Working more quickly now, he started setting up his traps in the archives, using as many devices as he could lay his hands on and leaving very few corridors safe for Saxon's men. He heard the first screams when he was only just clear of the upper levels, and, cursing, checked and loaded his second gun before moving on.

"More backup needed, boss. We were expected."

"Less of the speculation. If they knew we were coming they wouldn't have left in the first place. Get on with securing those corridors."

"No can do, sir. Some of the creatures escaped down here ahead of us, and we've already lost eighty percent of the squad to hidden traps. We're taking severe casualties here."

Ianto paused in his work for a few moments. Weevils loose in the archives with him? He hadn't anticipated that. Saxon's men were far sloppier than they appeared if they'd let many of the creatures get past them. And while that should make eliminating them somewhat easier, their mistakes were clearly going to cause him problems as well.

He finished setting up the last tripwire (connected to a very specific bomb, which he'd programmed to kill everything within its widest radius (which wasn't far) with the single exception of himself) and checked what items he had left. There was very little in his backpack now – that change of clothes, the emergency food supplies, some antiseptic wipes, the power packs, and three devices he hadn't dared leave for Saxon's men. He considered for a few moments more, then headed down another level, set up the last trap, shot out the lights, and settled down to wait.

It was a long wait, punctuated by occasional bursts of screaming or increasingly impatient and frustrated exchanges between Saxon's men. They proceeded more cautiously with each trap they sprang, and one of his best (a good old traditional shrapnel bomb, though the trigger was inspired and a secret he'd take to the grave) was tripped by a wandering Weevil, and didn't catch a single one of the intruders. Still he waited.

Eventually the door to his level opened, and he tensed.

"Fuck. What happened to the lights?"

"Shut up and get your torches on."

Three beams of light sliced down the corridor, nervously scanning for threats. They fell upon a huddled figure further down the corridor, and Saxon's men opened fire without hesitation.

Ianto dropped all three of them before they'd quite shot his spare clothes entirely to pieces.

Unfortunately for him, the next squad heard the gunshots. Fortunately for him, he heard them coming, and made it to the next door before they arrived on the scene. He locked it swiftly with the lock-pick device and hurried on.

"There's definitely someone down here," he heard one of the second squad report. "Lambda group have been shot."

"Then find him and kill him," the leader snapped impatiently. "And make sure it's painful."

Ianto increased his pace a little, winding his way down through the archives and locking doors as he went. He forced himself not to panic as he hit the darker corridors, where only the backup lighting was in working order – or, in some cases, was the only lighting available. And he heard as reinforcements arrived for Saxon's men, and around twenty of them descended into the archives to hunt him down.

At that point he started running.

He managed to avoid them for a couple more hours, trying frantically to think of some way of taking back the Hub while he ventured into the dangerous parts of the archives, dashing through two of the off-limits corridors in the hope that Saxon's men would follow his trail and fail to realise they were walking into a poisonous area. When he was clear he had to stop moving for a few minutes, dropping his backpack and going to his hands and knees, coughing until his eyes watered. He only stood up again when he was sure he could breathe past the roughness of his throat.

He'd gone three more corridors when they caught up with him.

Brickwork exploded around him as they opened fire, and he bolted down the next turning without even looking back, crying out as pain ripped through his left arm. He wasn't sure if he'd been caught by a bullet or a shard of brick, but it didn't much matter which.

"We have a hit," the group leader was yelling over their comms. "We're in pursuit. One man."

Ianto sprinted to the end of the next corridor, feeling blood oozing down the back of his arm and hoping distantly that he wasn't leaving an obvious trail. He took two corners in quick succession and then ducked into a small room off the next corridor, locking the door and slapping his hand onto the palm-print reader. He sighed with relief as the shields closed over the doorway, presenting a convincing image of bricks where the entrance had previously been.

His earpiece was giving him nothing but static due to the shields, so he took it off and went to sit down by one of the other walls. He let the backpack fall to the floor and yanked his tie off, draping it over his lap and then carefully easing apart the rip in his suit to have a look at the cut on his arm. It wasn't too deep, thankfully, and there was nothing lodged in his flesh, so he opened up his backpack and dug out the little pack of antiseptic wipes, cleaning his hands first and then struggling to get his left arm out of his jacket and shirt, biting his lip to keep quiet.

He cleaned up the blood and the wound, wincing at the sting, and then used his tie and handkerchief to bind the cut. At that point he felt liquid on his chin, and quickly raised a hand. His fingers came away bloody.

He kept his swearwords internal and traced the blood back up to a cut on his cheek, only starting to hurt now he'd noticed it. With a sigh, he wiped the blood away and then sat there with the antiseptic wipe pressed to the cut for a few minutes.

He refused to think. If he dwelt on any of this he'd lose his nerve and just curl up and hide down here until it all went away again. He was risking his life and the mere idea of it made him feel sick with terror.

When the cut had finally stopped bleeding, he checked his watch, startled to find it had been not quite six hours since the others had left the country. He gave it another five minutes while he repacked the bag again and tested his arm gingerly, then moved to the palm-print reader on the wall opposite the entrance and opened the shield on that side.

Cautiously, he looked out into a new corridor and checked both ways before edging out, keeping his gun at the ready. Quietly, he closed the door behind him. There were steps down to the next level at the end of the corridor, and he hurried down them before remembering his earpiece and digging it out of his pocket to put back on.

"– lost track of him. It's like a rabbit warren down here."

Ianto sighed softly with relief, and headed straight for the next set of stairs.

"How badly did you hurt him?" he heard the leader ask the group who'd stumbled across him.

"We don't know," reported the group. "There's no blood trail, but he was definitely wounded."

"What have you got down there?"

"Empty rooms, mostly. The artefacts stopped a couple of levels up."

"Then lock down the lower levels and leave him there. He'll be dead in a week."

Ianto stopped in his tracks and looked back at the stairs he'd just descended.

"All teams withdraw to the main level. Secure the entrances and post guards for the moment."

Ianto fought the urge to run upstairs and get out, and instead stood exactly where he was until the last of the teams had reported their exit, and the last echoes of slamming doors had faded in the corridors.

After a moment, Ianto took a deep breath, adjusted the straps of the backpack, and headed onward into sections of the archives even he hadn't explored. Somewhere down here there had to be a solution.

By rationing his supplies ruthlessly, Ianto survived ten days and still had a bottle of water, a pack of biscuits, some strips of preserved meat and most of a pack of vitamin tablets left. He'd explored the levels he knew were safe and found nothing useful, and proceeded down to the areas Jack had told him were restricted and had been for decades.

The lighting down here was dim at best, verging on pitch black in some places, and twice Ianto had had to feel his way along a corridor at snail's pace, wary at every step of tripping some hidden trap or stumbling across a section influenced by alien technology. He'd learnt to open doors with extreme caution after nearly having the ceiling of one room come down on his head, and had lost his watch in a magnetic field in another room, nearly pulled in by the force of it as he opened the door and his hand passed the doorframe, which seemed to mark the boundary of the field.

His earpiece had stopped receiving anything three levels down into the restricted area, and the constant static from then forward had got on his nerves enough for him to bury the device at the bottom of his backpack. It bothered him that he no longer had any idea what was going on in the Hub above or the world outside, and had no way of getting in touch with the others, if they were even still alive, but there was nothing he could do. His priority had to be regaining the Hub, and so far he couldn't even manage that.

He stopped to rest, dropping the backpack and sliding down the wall, leaning his head back against the bricks and sighing as he closed his eyes in the near-darkness.

"You don't even know where you are," he muttered miserably, having become resigned to the fact that he was going to have to talk to himself if he wanted any kind of conversation to keep himself sane. The irony didn't escape him.

"Think," he told himself firmly. "There has to be something. Some of the most powerful and dangerous stuff we've got is kept down here, you know that. There's got to be something you can use against them."

He couldn't help the thought that Jack would know. And even shoving that to one side he longed for the others to be there. Tosh would think of something. Even Owen or Gwen, maybe. And at least he wouldn't be on his own.

His stomach clenched painfully, and he licked cracked lips before digging the vitamin packet from his backpack and very carefully placing one in his mouth, letting it slowly dissolve on his tongue and trying not to wince too much at the sour taste as he put the packet away again. He wasn't hungry enough to warrant eating any more of his supplies just yet.

Jack would be far better in this situation. Jack wouldn't have taken ten days to get lost and start starving. Jack would never have let Saxon's men take over. He'd never have let the others go off on a wild goose chase to the Himalayas and probably get themselves killed. He wouldn't be wounded and cold and hungry and lonely and desperate and helpless.

He'd have thought of something.

"He's also fucking immortal and whatever he'd done would have got himself killed. Don't be stupid."

It took Ianto a few moments to remember to breathe again. Then he opened his eyes and looked to his right.

At his gasp, the other Ianto's head snapped round, then they both shot to their feet, snatching guns from their belts simultaneously.

Staring down the barrel of the other's gun, Ianto said hoarsely, "You're not real. I'm hallucinating. God, I wondered how long it would take."

The other Ianto stared back at him for a moment, then darted a look at the backpack by the wall. There were two.

He looked back up at Ianto, and then lowered his gun, saying, "Why would I hallucinate an extra bag? If I dreamt you up for company, you don't need your own baggage."

Ianto lowered his gun as well, then edged over to the two bags. With a glance at the other Ianto, who put the safety catch back on his gun and gestured for him to proceed, he knelt and opened both. They both felt real, and both contained exactly the same things, and he looked up as the other came to crouch beside him, saying, "Perhaps you're not a hallucination, then."

"We're in the deepest archives," Ianto said quietly, trying to think things through.

"Practically at the heart of the Rift," added the other, echoing his own thoughts. "So deep down not even Jack knows the kind of things that happen here."

"But it's off limits for a reason," Ianto said.

"It's dangerous," said the other, then suggested, "Torchwood don't understand it."

"We've... what? Duplicated? Split? Or has one of us jumped through time? Or a parallel dimension?"

The other Ianto frowned and bit his lip, then winced and checked that he wasn't bleeding, saying, "If that's the case then what I said should make no sense to you."

Ianto shook his head, and told him, "I was about to say exactly the same thing, word for word. You just beat me to it."

The other Ianto looked at him, then raised a hand to his own cheek, where a scab covered the healed cut from their first flight. Ianto mirrored the move, and said softly, "Duplicated or split, then."

The other Ianto started to reach out to investigate his double's cut, but Ianto recoiled, saying, "No. Don't touch me. Jack told us if we ever time travelled that touching our past or future selves could destroy the universe."

"I thought we'd decided this isn't time travel," the other said, withdrawing his hand only a little.

"It's still a paradox," Ianto said softly. "Just you being here..."

"This is nowhere near as paradoxical as we can get," said the other, and Ianto recoiled again, scrambling further away.

"Don't touch me," he said hoarsely, and his double shook his head wearily, then prodded at one of the two bags, and said quietly, "We've got twice as much food and drink now. Do you think one of us should eat, or should we both keep starving?"

Ianto stared, wishing that the other hadn't echoed his thoughts quite so precisely. He swallowed, hating that the mere mention of food could set his mouth watering, and said, "I still don't know whether to trust you or not."

The other Ianto paused, then dipped his head in acknowledgment of the point, and murmured, "Can't trust anyone any more. I'll eat some of my supplies. Keep yours. But I'm so sick of being hungry."

Ianto drew up his knees and watched his double pick his way slowly through half the biscuits, sipping at his bottle of water between bites. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to rip the food from his counterpart's hands and finish the rest himself.

At last his double stopped, carefully sealing the packet and putting it away again, shooting glances at Ianto and then leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes.

"The one thing I've hated most about being down here," he said quietly, "is being so... alone. All the time. I'd say it's been driving me mad except..." He stopped and glanced sideways at Ianto, who looked away into the darkness. "I don't care if this means I really have gone insane," he continued. "If that's what it takes... If you're all I can hope for, then fine. Because it feels like the rest of the world has stopped. There is nothing beyond this. I don't even know where I am, or how long I've been down here. I'm still thinking in terms of days and nights and I have no way of telling if it's morning or evening or if I slept ten hours last time I lay down or less than two. If you are real... If we've... split, then thank God because I can't do this on my own. I can't."

"But what if one of us is hallucinating?" Ianto asked. "What if I'm going mad? How am I meant to save the day or whatever if I've gone clinically insane?"

"Works for Jack," muttered the other, and for a second they both laughed.

Then Ianto's smile faded, and he repeated, "Jack. Oh God. Jack."

He felt a rush of tears burn at his eyes, and his throat closed painfully. He covered his face with both hands as the other Ianto said hoarsely, "This is his fault. If he'd just been here... That's all. If he'd just stayed..."

"What did you expect?" Ianto croaked. "Everything about him was a lie."

The other said nothing in response, and Ianto dug his fingers into his hair and curled over, struggling not to burst into tears. He gulped in a few irregular breaths, suppressed a whine at the sound of an angry sob beside him, and then there were arms around him and he clutched at his doppelganger and buried his face in his shoulder and dragged up every scrap of self control he had left and just about managed to hold it together, even when he felt his double's tears in his hair, and, like ice on his neck, every shuddering, whispered sob of, "I hate him. I hate him."

Ianto just held on and let the other Ianto take as long as he needed to calm down and get himself back under control. He said nothing to stop the other from cursing Jack to high heaven – how could he, when they both knew he felt exactly the same way? He fell silent eventually, though, and they stayed huddled together by the wall, loath to let go of each other. Ianto kept his eyes closed and his hand on the back of his double's neck, face still buried in his shoulder, the perfect mirror of the other Ianto's position.

"If he'd just stayed..." the other whispered.

"He couldn't have foreseen this," Ianto said softly. "We can't blame him. It's not fair."

The other sighed against his neck and pulled him closer, saying, "He abandoned us. Why couldn't he have waited?"

"If he'd stayed," Ianto whispered, "he'd have made us go with them. Saxon's men said they weren't coming back. We'd have been –"

He reeled suddenly, arms empty, struggling to work out whether he'd had his right or his left side against the wall. He clutched at his head, remembering both sides of a conversation and all the swirling thoughts that accompanied it. Groaning as pain swarmed through his head, he curled over and tried to relax and accept the idea that for a little while he'd been two people at the same time. The more he fought against the notion, the more it hurt.

"It's just a side effect of being this close to the heart of the Rift," he croaked, but his headache barely faded and he caught himself waiting for a reply.

He sighed, already missing the sound of another voice in the darkness, even if it was his own. He leant back against the wall and tried to clear his mind, and only then registered the lingering taste of food in his mouth. He sat bolt upright again in sudden panic, scrabbling for his bag, ignoring the thudding ache in his head and frantically opening up the backpack.

All his supplies were intact.

He sat back again, surprised, and then smiled to himself. He felt a little better already.

Closing up his bag again, he got up and headed onwards.

He found another two rooms down the next corridor, managing to pick out the outlines of the doors in the not-quite perfect darkness. The first one was locked, of course, so he stopped and dug out the alien lock-pick from his bag to open it. After a few seconds the device beeped at him and he tried the handle again. The door opened when he pushed hard enough, and he paused for a few seconds before cautiously edging inside.

As soon as his feet had cleared the threshold, the wall opposite lit up in a blaze of colour, and he fell back with a scream, snatching both hands up to cover his eyes. The lock-pick clattered to the floor.

That was the only thing that stopped him from dashing out and slamming the door shut again. Without the lock-pick he would be trapped.

Keeping his eyes squeezed tight shut, he fought down the desire to run and crouched instead, feeling around on the floor for the device. His fingers brushed something smooth and cold that rocked when he touched it, and he curled his hand around it. He picked it up carefully and met no resistance to suggest that it was a part of, or secured to, anything else. Frowning, he held on to it, and swept his other hand over the floor until it connected with metal. Grabbing the lock-pick, he scrambled out of the room and pulled the door mostly closed, turning his back to it and opening his eyes just enough to squint at the other object as the light slowly started to fade.

It was a human bone.

He jerked instinctively, hurling the bone away back up the corridor and hearing it clatter against the wall somewhere beyond the light as he wiped his hand on his trouser leg frantically.

Glancing back at the room, he winced at the light and then pulled back when he found himself unconsciously reaching forward to open the door again. The swelling urge to see the light, the pictures on the wall, drove him to his feet, and it took all his willpower and his still-confused sense of self to override it and slam the door shut and lock it again.

He sank back down and slumped against the door until he'd stopped shaking and his eyes had started to re-adjust to the gloom. Then he forced himself up and onwards. The light wall was deadly, but utterly useless to him if he couldn't move it or overcome its effects himself.

The second room in the corridor was not as seductive – or blinding. It contained only one thing, which Ianto managed to bash his shin against when he entered. From what he could tell by feeling around, it was a wide, squat machine, about the height of a coffee table but the size of a pool table. There were some buttons and switches scattered around on its surfaces, but he reasoned that playing about with controls he couldn't see on an alien device he didn't understand was not one of his better ideas, particularly since he was already aware of an unpleasant sensation that had him clenching his jaw and wincing as his headache was amplified.

He stepped back, and found his way out of the room again. When he closed the heavy door behind him, the painful sensation stopped.

"Low level audio signal," he told himself, imagining what Tosh would say as he rubbed at his ringing ears. "Probably pest control or something. Don't take offence, Saxon's men certainly think you're vermin, anyway. Can't blame an alien for having the wrong hearing range."

He waited a beat, then muttered, "I really am going mad," and headed on again. He was near the end of the corridor as it was, and at the door he turned, carefully feeling his way along to the next door and avoiding the ladder down to the level below. If this level was still the same as those above, there were another three corridors for him to explore before he could head down – but this was all off the map now, and he had no idea how much further down everything went. His lack of success so far gave him the unpleasant feeling that he was going to find out fairly soon.

The next corridor was warmer than the previous one, and he stopped a few metres in and sat down again. He'd been on the go a good twelve hours, at a rough guess, and by now he was feeling it. His feet hurt, his back ached, and his headache was starting to flare up again, worse from the second he thought about it.

Sighing, he lay down and curled up, hugging his backpack close and resting his head on his arm. He'd eaten and drunk today, which made a nice change, so he figured he might as well try to get some sleep into the bargain.

He'd deal with the insanity later.

By the time it crossed Ianto's mind that he was awake, he was already aware that things were different. He was far too comfortable, considering that his head was no longer resting on his arm but on something else he had yet to determine, and his backpack was out of his grasp.

"You've gone tense, so I'm assuming you're awake."

Quickly, Ianto sat up, and his other self smiled at him wearily, rubbing his leg where Ianto had been using him as a pillow.

"I think I woke up when we split," he said. "And since we seem to gain all the benefits of whatever either one of us has done when we get back together I thought you should make the most of being asleep."

Ianto winced and ran a hand through his hair.

"I just woke up. Don't throw paradoxes at me yet."

"You forget," the other one said calmly, "I know you know what I mean. And I ate some of the supplies as well. Just a little, in case it goes the other way this time."

Ianto stretched awkwardly, and told him, "It's no more paradoxical for me to be full and to have the same food left than it is for me to be two people at once. As long as we keep splitting apart, I should think we'll be alright for food and drink."

The other Ianto nodded, looking down at the floor in front of him. There was silence for a few seconds, and then he said quietly, "How much do you miss him?"

"You should know I don't want to talk about it," Ianto shot back, and got to his feet. "Come on. While you're here you may as well help me explore this section."

He gave his counterpart a hand up, and nodded his thanks when the other handed him one of the two backpacks by the wall. In perfect (and disturbing) unison, they slung on the packs and started down the corridor. Each of them kept one hand on opposing walls, to make sure they didn't miss any doors by accident.

"One here," Ianto said after a moment. The other Ianto crossed the corridor to join him as he pressed the lock-pick to the keyhole and waited for it to click.

"Place your bets," Ianto said quietly, and pushed the door in. They both peered around the doorframe, but the room appeared to be empty. They exchanged glances, then Ianto stepped in to check there was nothing there.

He'd taken two steps when there was a click beneath his feet. He looked up as the ceiling opened.

His double grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him out, just as a dozen harpoon-like blades stabbed down from the roof, chipping splinters from the floor as they struck. One slashed Ianto's arm on its way past, and he stumbled back into his double's arms, the rest of the blades barely missing him.

"That was close," his double said breathlessly, and Ianto nodded.

"Thank you," he said softly, as his double reached around him to take hold of his arm, one hand either side of the gash.

"This needs cleaned and bound," he told Ianto, turning his arm so that they could both see the wound more clearly. It took him a few moments longer to let go of Ianto, but then he slung his backpack down and dug out the antiseptic wipes to see to the injury.

Ianto sighed and sat down with his back to the wall to let his double deal with the wound. They were both silent until he'd finished binding the cut, and then the other Ianto packed their things away again, and said quietly, "They were a sick bunch, the first Torchwoods, weren't they?"

Ianto smiled weakly.

"They had no idea how to deactivate this after it secured itself to the ceiling," he told his double. "And you know that as well as I do. You remember the forms."

"I meant the décor down here," the other Ianto told him innocently. "And when was the last time this place was cleaned?"

Ianto stared at him for a second, then laughed.

"That's better," said the other, smiling slightly and patting his shoulder. "Come on. There's plenty more death traps we haven't investigated yet."

Ianto got to his feet and put on his bag again, and only hesitated briefly when the other Ianto took hold of his hand to carry on down the corridor.

He became one person again after another few hours of investigating mostly empty rooms. In the silence he stopped and waited in the middle of the corridor, taking a look at his now-healed arm and wondering how long it would be before he splintered again. Without his watch he knew he had no way of telling – he didn't know how long he'd slept or wandered, and sometimes it felt like hours and sometimes it felt like minutes. If there was a pattern to his duplication, he didn't stand a chance of working it out.

Sighing, he carried on, and fell into some kind of routine over the next few days – he gave up trying to keep track properly and simply counted one period of exploration and sleep as a day, regardless of the hours. He slept when he was tired, ate when there were two of him, and tried not to think about the dreadful state to which his hygiene was forced to sink. While he was alone, he longed for the company of his other self, thinking of a hundred things to talk about, even songs to sing and games to play while they walked. He couldn't bring himself to try any of them on his own – it seemed too much like madness to wander the archives singing if it was just him. With two of him it wasn't insanity, it was camaraderie.

But when he split they never quite got round to the songs and games. Instead he'd find himself avoiding his double's gaze, moving quickly away if their hands happened to brush while they were walking, settling down to sleep far enough from each other that even in the unlikely circumstance they rolled over, they wouldn't meet. It was torture. When he snapped back into one he knew both of him had been tempted to reach out and give them both what they needed so badly – contact, affection, recognition. But each was too reluctant to make the first move.

He didn't know what he'd think of himself if he gave in. So he resisted. And if he found himself taking opportunities to touch his other self (giving him a hand standing up, helping him put his bag on, taking his arm unnecessarily to start them in the right direction, putting cautioning hands on his back or his shoulder when they explored new rooms) then it was no more than his double did for him. That thought did little to comfort him.

Despite all that, the exploration went unexpectedly quickly for a few levels – frustratingly, it was only because most of the rooms they came across were empty. It annoyed them both beyond measure, until finally one of them opened the door of the seventh empty room in a row, and Ianto felt his temper fray drastically.

"There's nothing down here," he said flatly. "We should go back. All the way up. Maybe we can pick off a few more of them. If we're smart we could even take back the Hub. It's not impossible."

"It's suicidal," the other Ianto snapped back. "We're better off trying to find something useful down here."

"What if they think we're dead by now?" Ianto pointed out. "They won't even be looking for us. We can just walk right up there and –"

"Don't be stupid," interrupted the other. "There's so much down here we haven't looked at. We're bound to find something."

Ianto stood still and gave him a hard look, then said, "You know damn well anything we could use as a weapon would have been snapped up years ago. We're wasting time."

When the other Ianto started to protest again, he simply turned and started walking. The other shouted after him for a moment, then growled in frustration and followed.

They were still arguing about it as they reached the higher restricted levels, sticking to their original positions on the matter though they'd both calmed down a little.

"You know I'm right," Ianto repeated, making a gesture halfway towards his double's arm, then pulling back and turning away again to take the stairs to the next level.

"I know you think this is the best plan," the other said, rolling his eyes as Ianto started up the stairs. "But if this doesn't work we'll just have to retrace our steps. And they'll follow us all the way."

"Then we'll lay traps for them," Ianto said calmly. "They don't know this place like we do."

"We barely know it," his double reminded him, following him up and catching up with him in the corridor. "If we have to run we might stumble into something even more deadly than..."

When he trailed off Ianto blinked at him, well aware of the tug on his mind from further up the passageway. Firmly ignoring it, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"The light's up there," the other Ianto said hoarsely, grabbing his arm. "I want to go back. Ianto, can't you hear it calling?"

"No," Ianto lied quickly, grabbing him and hauling him into the room with the audio device instead, willing to risk the headache. "Control yourself. We have to resist that – if one of us goes in we could both die. We can't risk –"

Hello?

Ianto reeled, suddenly alone again and looking around desperately for the voice they'd both heard. He span around on the spot but didn't even catch a glimpse of anyone.

Listen, the voice said quickly, don't panic. You're the first mind strong enough for me to reach. I need your help.

Ianto staggered back, then turned to run, but found he couldn't move another step. He strained to lift his feet, crying, "No, let me go!"

Calm down, the voice told him firmly. Stop panicking.

Ianto struggled, but an overwhelming feeling of calm swept through him. His legs buckled and he went to his knees, then slumped against the machine, moaning.

Whoops, maybe a bit much there, said the voice. Just stay there, anyway. I'm going to need to borrow your mind for a bit.

"Let me go," Ianto groaned, but the voice wouldn't relinquish its hold on him.

Just take a look around so I know what I'm dealing with, it told him, and he found himself raising his head to look at the machine as it continued, and then we'll – oh! A telepathic amplifier! Fantastic. That explains why I could reach you. Well, we'd better get you shielded from anyone else for now, then.

At that prompt Ianto tired hurriedly to pull himself together and remember his psychic training from Torchwood One, but every block and shield he threw up did him no good.

Oh, you've had some practice, then, the voice said cheerfully, still in his head. That's not bad at all. Good, you just keep that up and nobody else will get into your head. Right. Now –

"Who are you?" Ianto moaned, closing his eyes and burying a hand in his hair, already suffering a painful headache.

Didn't I say? asked the voice, sounding startled. Sorry, I'm the Doctor. I'm –

"The Doctor? You took Jack," Ianto gasped despite himself. "Where is he? What have you done to him?"

Jack? How do you know – oh, you're one of his. Typical. The only mind within reach and you're Torchwood.

Ianto bristled, gritting his teeth and struggling back up to his knees through sheer fury. Aloud, he growled, "Excuse us for saving the world. I didn't realise you were the only one allowed to defend the Earth. Next time we'll sit back and wait for you, shall we?"

Oy! the Doctor said sharply. Your lot are the ones who let the Cybermen and the Daleks through –

"I was there," Ianto snarled. "More than nine hundred people died, Doctor. People I knew. Most of them had nothing to do with the ghost shift – they were innocent casualties. Don't you tell me we had it coming."

That's not what I said, the Doctor told him, with a distinctly injured tone.

"You didn't have to say it," Ianto snapped. "I know how much you hate us. Believe me, the feeling's mutual."

I didn't cause your problems, the Doctor snapped right back. You could have destroyed your whole planet.

"Oh, so we got off lightly, is that it?" Ianto asked, and the Doctor's anger slammed into his mind.

My people are dead. My planet was destroyed. You have no idea what that feels like!

Ianto grabbed hold of the machine and hauled himself to his feet, shaking, shouting, "What, because I'm human? Because I haven't suffered enough? How arrogant are you?"

I'm trying to save your stupid little lives, the Doctor shouted back at him, and his control over Ianto's mind slipped. Ianto threw himself at the door, fingers grasping at the handle – in vain.

No you don't, the Doctor snapped, and forced calm onto him again, driving him down to the floor as his strength flooded away.

He lay still, panting into the dirt and closing his eyes tight to hold back the tears.

Just listen to me, the Doctor said, sounding frustrated. I'm trying to help. Is that really so difficult to believe?

"You've taken over my mind," Ianto gasped hoarsely. "And I'm employed to stop you from threatening humanity. What do you think?"

It's the Master who's caused all this, the Doctor pointed out, then clearly registered Ianto's confusion, adding, Saxon. Harold Saxon. I can stop him. But I need to contact a few people to do it, and for that I'll have to use your mind, because thanks to that amplifier you've got enough psychic energy at your disposal to let me reach right across the world to anyone, whether they're trying to receive me or not. You understand?

Ianto groaned.

You're Torchwood, the Doctor said flatly. You keep track of this kind of thing. I need to find someone who helped build the Archangel Network. Someone who can show me the internal workings. Think of someone like that and I can try and reach their mind.

The laugh that bubbled up out of Ianto was completely unintentional, but it certainly startled the Doctor.

What? What?

"I saw the plans," Ianto told him. "The blueprints for the entire system. Can't you find it in my head?"

It doesn't work like that, the Doctor said cautiously. I'm only getting snatches of your thoughts. I'm borrowing your senses more than anything. And even if you saw the plans there's no way you can remember everything I need...

"I have a photographic memory," Ianto sighed. "I can tell you what you need to know. Just tell me why I should help you."

There was silence for a few seconds.

I'm trying to save your world, the Doctor pointed out quietly. You need more reason than that?

With a heavy sigh, Ianto said softly, "Alright, what do you need me to do?"

The Doctor kept a slight pressure of calm on his mind as he obediently rolled to his knees and started drawing the blueprints in the dust, by the light of the gently glowing amplifier. The mental pressure suppressed the fleeting urge to run that made his legs twitch every now and again. Ianto concentrated instead on the lines of the circuits and pathways, recreating pages and pages of blueprints for each of the fifteen satellites while the Doctor watched through his eyes. By the last set his fingers were trembling as he drew, and it wasn't lines in the dust that marked things out, it was the blood oozing from his shredded fingertips.

The Doctor didn't seem to have noticed the transition, too busy avidly taking in the details of the plans, his thoughtful comments (mutterings about the psychic network and programming matrices and hijacking the signal, none of which made any sense as far as Ianto was concerned) floating round in Ianto's head.

Good, he said eventually. Now I need you to focus the energy from the amplifier so I can get in touch with a few people. You'll need to concentrate.

"I've been concentrating for hours," Ianto said hoarsely, squeezing his eyes shut to stop his vision from doubling. He hoped it was a sign of his impending duplication – the Doctor couldn't hold him both, surely. At least one of him would be able to get free, rest and recover and come back armed and ready to negotiate properly.

Well, you're going to have to concentrate harder, the Doctor told him, impatient. Come on, look at the machine.

Ianto groaned, but obediently forced open his eyes and squinted at the amplifier. Under the Doctor's direction he flicked a few switches and turned a dial, smearing blood across the machine as it glowed brighter and the headache-inducing pressure built up suddenly and sharply in the back of his skull.

Keep a hand on the top of the amplifier, the Doctor told him firmly, then shoved calm at him until he was practically lying over the machine, eyes closed, unmoving. He felt the Doctor pull on the energy of the machine, drawing it through Ianto's mind like pulling wire through his head, and he whimpered with the pain of it. Whatever part of his mind that was still connected to the Doctor's was carried along when he flung himself out into the world, seeking one particular psychic consciousness.

Martha! No, don't say anything, I'm in your head. Just keep acting normally. You remember what I said about the countdown? I've learnt more. This is what you need to do...

The Doctor didn't take long to outline his plans, but it was long enough that Ianto could feel the pressure in his head becoming unbearable. It increased, just a little, when the Doctor broke away from Martha's mind and reached out to another instead.

Jack, listen to me –

Jack! Ianto cried, sending the power levels of the device soaring and slamming all three of their minds together in a tangle, mixing pain and anger and relief and not quite sure whose was whose in the first place.

Ianto, Jack responded quietly, separating them out a little. Thank God you're alright.

I'm sorry, we don't have time for this, the Doctor interrupted. Jack, you need to know what's going on.

Ianto was forced aside while the Doctor skimmed through the basics of his plan again, emphasising the importance of winning over the UNIT teams and cautioning them to show no resistance until the right time. Jack assured him he understood, then they both turned their attention to Ianto.

Where are you?

In the Hub, Ianto told them dizzily. The archives. Saxon's men drove me down here.

The Doctor cut short Jack's praise for his narrow escape.

That's enough. Ianto, you're going to have to come back and help me contact Martha again. A month's time should do. But I can't risk you being caught with what you know.

Ianto can keep a secret, Jack put in, but the Doctor ignored him, breaking contact.

Ianto jerked and opened his eyes back in the room with the amplifier. He still couldn't move.

I'm sorry, the Doctor told him quietly, you can't remember this.

"But –" Ianto started in confusion, then gasped as the Doctor reached into his mind. "No! Please, no! I won't get caught, I –"

He let out a brief, strangled scream, then everything went black.

Ianto opened his eyes but couldn't even try to focus, his head ached that badly. He felt likely to throw up any second, and he moved slowly, struggling to get up as he remembered that he'd entered the room with the audio device. When he looked around his other self was slumped against the machine, and he grabbed his shoulder, shaking hard. His double woke with a groan, and Ianto pulled him towards the door.

They managed to grab their bags on the way out, then closed the door behind them with significant relief, both breathing hard.

"You... you've got..." the other Ianto panted, indicating his nose, then blinking at his hand when the back came away bloody enough to contend with his fingertips.

"What happened?" Ianto asked in confusion, meeting his double's eyes and finding no answer there. He looked down at his own hands and dabbed the blood from under his nose with the back of his wrist, then shot a glance at the closed door behind them.

"Down," the other Ianto said hoarsely, slinging his backpack on. "As far away from this as we can get."

"Agreed," Ianto said without hesitation, taking up his own bag and grabbing his double's arm to keep them both upright as they headed for the stairs.

They didn't stop until they'd gone down another two levels, at which point one of them fell against the wall and slid down to his knees, half pulling the other with him. He looked up, and held up one trembling hand.

"We need to stop and clean these."

The other Ianto nodded and thankfully collapsed on the floor next to him, fumbling to open up his bag while the pain in his hands brought blinding tears to his eyes.

When they'd finally got a pack of the antiseptic wipes out and suffered through the sting on their fingers, they dabbed away the blood on their faces. As clean as they could manage again, the one who'd fallen first leant heavily against the other, laying his head on his shoulder, with his shoulder in the other's chest and his elbow digging into his thigh. It was far from comfortable for either of them.

"We should keep moving," said the other, but got no response. His double had either passed out or fallen asleep, uncomfortable or not.

Sighing, Ianto managed to move over to the wall and lie down, keeping his and his double's fingers off the ground as he did so, and making them both a bit more comfortable as he closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened after they entered the other room. There was a gap in his mind, a big black emptiness worse than sleep, and he wrapped his arms tighter around his double, needing the contact more than ever.

He fell asleep before it could plague him much longer.

The two of him carried on down into the archives when they woke, avoiding the irritation of the same unanswerable questions. The Ianto who'd slept second found his mind dwelling on Jack, among other things, and kept catching his double's eye as they walked. He looked away quickly every time.

They stopped to rest after what had to be a few hours, and Ianto examined his fingertips for a few moments. They no longer hurt, and appeared to be healing over already, so he could only assume they hadn't been as badly hurt as he'd first thought. He even managed to open up the bag with depleted supplies and have a quick drink and a bite to eat.

"What horrors do you think we'll find today?" his double asked, sitting too close beside him.

"Empty rooms," Ianto decided, and his counterpart laughed a little.

"Are you willing to put money on that?" he asked, turning quickly to look at Ianto, just as Ianto turned to look at him.

They paused, mere inches of air between them, and Ianto swallowed – then abruptly there was just him, trying to pull back in both directions at once. His head hit the wall, and he curled over, clutching it with both hands and cursing himself.

Eventually he carried on, finding empty rooms ahead and gaining no satisfaction from it whatsoever.

He stopped to rest again when he could feel himself swaying on his feet. Just as he was about to sit down, he duplicated. For a moment he and his double stared at each other, then he sat by the wall and turned away.

"We're in a hell of a mess, aren't we?" asked the other, and Ianto shrugged, saying nothing. It occurred to him that Jack would have had no trouble in his position – he'd probably have been delighted the first time he split and wouldn't have even hesitated to make the most of the opportunity. God only knew what he'd have done if he'd been there with both of Ianto.

"What do you miss most about him?"

Ianto looked at his other self, lying flat on his back on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. He let a moment pass before looking away again, gazing down the corridor as he said, "His smile. When he smiled for real, rather than just faking it."

"Oh please," his counterpart groaned, and Ianto stretched out one foot to poke his side.

"Hey. You're not allowed to make fun of me. I know you think the same."

The other Ianto caught his ankle, saying, "I don't. I'm not going to hide behind meaningless clichés."

"Then what do you miss most?" Ianto asked snippily, yanking his foot back and sitting up straighter against the wall.

"The sex, of course," said the other, holding his gaze as if to dare him to deny it.

Ianto couldn't even bring himself to smile as he said softly, "Liar."

The other Ianto sat up, glaring at him.

"That's it," he said flatly. "That's all it was, so that's all I miss. If you're going to pretend it was more then... well, you're not even fooling yourself. So why bother?"

Ianto shook his head and stared at his hands, and admitted quietly, "I miss the way he used to touch me."

"See," the other Ianto started, but Ianto interrupted, raising his head.

"No. He used to touch me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like nothing else even existed when we were together. And I miss that. No one's ever touched me like that before."

"And no one's touched you at all since," finished the other Ianto for him.

"Don't," Ianto said simply, and drew up his legs, wrapping his arms around his knees.

The other Ianto sighed and told him, "You know, there's no point trying to pretend you don't want this. I'm you. I know everything you think and feel, and I know if I want this then so do you."

"But maybe you're the part of me that the rest of me spends so much time reigning in," Ianto said dryly. "Had any suicidal urges recently? Felt like going back to that wall of light again?"

"Only as much as you have," shot back the other. "And you know it. We duplicated, we didn't split."

He reached out and grabbed Ianto's wrist, pulling his hand away from his legs. Ianto let him, sighing, and his counterpart shot him a pleading look, moving to kneel in front of him and maintaining a hold on his hand.

"We can't do this," Ianto said quietly. "It's wrong. I don't want –"

He was cut off by a kiss. For a second he still hesitated, and then, with one final sigh, he closed his eyes, raised his free hand to the back of the other Ianto's neck, and pulled his other self closer. The other Ianto let go of his hand to push his knees apart and draw them together, winding arms and legs around each other as he made short work of their few remaining shirt buttons.

Ianto pushed against him, matched in strength and desire and neither of them too willing to give way, until the other threw his shirt aside and let Ianto push him down to the floor. Ianto pinned him there, hands on his shoulders and the other Ianto's hands on his hips, and broke the kiss, breathing hard but whispering, "I'm not thinking of you."

"Neither am I," shot back the other, and Ianto let out a quick, bitter laugh before he brought their mouths back together and set about getting lost in himself.

Ianto blinked, and there were four of him. His double was still asleep and curled up against him, arm tight around his waist, leg over his, head nestled against his stomach, but now he had another Ianto curled around him, and there was yet another sitting up against the wall beside him. This fourth was awake.

"So," he said calmly, glancing over at the two sleeping Iantos. "This is getting completely out of hand, then."

"Not much we can do about it," Ianto pointed out.

"True," said his double, then picked up a selection of the four sets of scattered clothing, and draped shirts and jackets over the two sleepers. He smiled weakly at Ianto, and said, "No point one of us catching cold. Do you want to get some sleep while I keep an eye on things?"

Ianto shook his head, leaning forward a little so his double could drape a shirt over his shoulders, providing a little cushioning between his back and the wall.

"I'll stay up. You sleep as well, then we'll be triply refreshed whenever we snap back into one."

His double brought the backpacks within his reach as he settled down and curled around Ianto from the other side.

"Make the most of the supplies," he reminded Ianto, and Ianto nodded, stroking his hair idly. He looked over his blanket of doppelgangers, and managed a smile.

"Somehow I think we're going to wake up warm for once."

The fourth Ianto nodded against his chest, but said nothing. After a few moments his breathing evened out to match the other pair, and Ianto leant back against the wall with a sigh.

If things could get any weirder, he'd be very surprised.

The three sleeping Iantos woke simultaneously, and for a second they blinked at each other – then there was just one, startled and horrified by the clash of memories. Sex from both sides had seemed to have some advantages, but now he was faced with the consequences. Both of his selves had been pretending the other was Jack, and although the one that had cried out for him had gained so much satisfaction from it, it was far outweighed by the pain it had caused the other. And now he was both of them, and even knowing that the one hadn't meant to hurt the other, it was too much.

He gathered his clothes together and got dressed, red faced with shame and with no accusing eyes to avoid – that was all horribly internal.

With his bag on his back, he started on again.

It was another three levels and who knew how many hours before he finally confronted the issue.

"It doesn't matter, you know."

He looked around quickly, catching his double's gaze, then looked away again, biting his lip. He didn't stop walking.

"I know how it feels," the other Ianto pointed out, keeping pace with him. "I was both of us last time as well."

That wrung a smile from Ianto, and the other one reached out to take his hand, saying again, "It doesn't matter. It can't matter, or we'll go mad. We didn't know it would feel that way, but now we do. If you're still thinking what I'm thinking, then we won't get hurt like that again, so can we please just forgive ourselves and move on?"

Ianto stopped and turned to look at him.

"It still just proves we shouldn't have done it," he said softly, but the other one shook his head and moved forward to embrace him.

"You know we can't go for so long without even touching someone," he murmured, and Ianto buried his face in the other's neck. "It would have happened sooner or later anyway. At least this way we're still strong enough to deal with it."

Ianto laughed shortly, and his double pulled him over to the wall, sitting down and pulling Ianto with him, saying, "Come on. One of us needs to get some rest. You might as well sleep while I can keep you warm."

Nodding, Ianto settled down in his double's arms, dropping his backpack beside them and leaning back into his warmth. The other Ianto held him close, and they were silent for a few minutes. Ianto shifted once or twice but tried to stop thinking long enough to sleep. It wasn't working. He couldn't even clear his mind by counting, focusing on nothing but one number after another. Other thoughts kept intruding.

"What happens if one of us dies?" he asked eventually, staring blankly into the darkness.

"You're meant to be sleeping," his double said flatly.

Ianto sighed, turning his head to lean against his double's shoulder, and said, "I can't. Why don't you try?"

"I can't either," responded the other. "And besides, I'm the one keeping you warm enough to sleep well anyway. If I sleep that kind of defeats the object."

"Could swap places if you want," Ianto pointed out. "And you're avoiding my question."

There was a moment of silence, and Ianto pulled forward enough to twist and glare at his double, who squirmed a little, then snapped, "I don't know. And you know I don't know, so there's no point asking me."

"I wasn't expecting a definite answer," Ianto shot back. "I was hoping for some discussion, though."

"Worst case scenario," the other Ianto said quietly, "if one of us dies then when we come back together we stay dead."

"We reverted to healed skin," Ianto said thoughtfully. "And the water stays full. We might snap back to life."

"It's also possible that one of us dying will stop us from duplicating after that. Reduction of the life force," suggested the other.

Ianto shuddered. "I don't want that," he admitted. "I've got used to having you around."

"You mean you don't want to lose my company," said the other, "since I'm the only thing keeping you sane."

Ianto laughed slightly, saying, "Oh, the irony."

"Just because I'm talking to myself," his double said, with mock indignation. "Since we're two separate people at the moment, I think we'll allow it, don't you?"

"What about the rest of the time?" Ianto asked quietly. "Am I – are we going mad?"

"You realise the mere fact you made that question a plural implies –"

Ianto elbowed his double in the stomach, and said over the resultant gasping for breath, "This time I was expecting a definite answer."

His double leant his forehead against Ianto's shoulder, breathing under control again, and paused for a few moments. Then he said softly, "We're as sane as we can be."

"I suppose that'll have to do," Ianto conceded. "Though I still don't have an answer for what happens if one of us dies."

"Let's not find out," his double murmured, and Ianto nodded, leaning back in his arms again and making himself comfortable.

"Deal," he muttered.

His counterpart hugged him tightly, and Ianto awkwardly squeezed his arm in return, then closed his eyes and started counting to a thousand.

The days passed in extraordinary monotony as Ianto continued exploring, mostly on his own. He slept when he split, lying in his double's arms after making love to himself. The need for contact overcame his self-disgust, though if he was honest with himself, most of the time he did it because he missed Jack, painfully – constantly. But he was careful only to use his own name when he was wrapped up in his double.

He found himself wondering, as he went on, what was happening on the surface. Saxon couldn't be up to anything good if he'd felt the need to attack Torchwood first, but Ianto was powerless even to find out the consequences of his failure to hold the Hub.

Until it occurred to him to head back up to the higher levels and use the headset – which he'd completely forgotten about until now – to eavesdrop on what was going on.

He didn't rest until he got back up to the corridor with the wall of light. Exhausted from hurrying all the way back up, not trusting himself to avoid the light, he found himself entering the room with the audio device instead.

The machine started glowing as soon as he stepped across the threshold, and he hesitated, wondering why he'd been idiotic enough to come back in here at all.

Ianto? Oh, good, right on time.

He dropped his bag and stepped back, clutching at his head, but the voice in his mind said, One hand on the amplifier and let's get started, and he was too fatigued to resist the push in that direction. He knelt helplessly by the device and planted both hands on its surface, arms trembling, barely able to stay upright.

Martha! the voice called, and dragged him along for the agonising ride.

Ianto tried to concentrate on not passing out, wondering vaguely if he'd fallen asleep and this was all a dream, while the other minds exchanged thoughts and details he didn't understand. Martha's mention of a gun in pieces made him think longingly of the weapons to go with the power packs he still carried in his bag. He considered the possibility of taking them back, getting into the armoury despite Saxon's men – perhaps if he set up a distraction. There was more than one route back up into the Hub, after all.

He was still trying to make plans (which was made more difficult by his inability to concentrate, particularly while someone else borrowed his mind for a telepathic conversation) when they broke contact with Martha and the original voice said, Right, now for Jack.

And they plunged into darkness.

Ianto screamed – or tried to scream. There was nothing. No light, no sound, no warmth or cold, just nothing, endlessly. He tried frantically to pull away, and with dizzying suddenness he opened his eyes back in the room with the machine. He wrenched himself away from the amplifier, then collapsed bonelessly onto the floor when the voice said firmly, Calm.

Shivering, he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling and listened to the voice in his head telling him, It's just Jack, he'll be alright in a minute. Go back to the amplifier.

"I don't want to," Ianto croaked. "Don't make me go there again. I couldn't feel anything."

This is important, the voice told him sharply. Come on. Touch the machine. I'll give you a moment to talk to Jack if I can.

"Where is he?" Ianto asked, helplessly rolling over and crawling slowly back to the machine. "And who are you?"

I'm the Doctor, said the Doctor, and we've already done the fear and anger and hatred, so can we please move on to trusting me and saving the world? Come on.

He pulled at Ianto's mind the second his fingers brushed the amplifier, and brought them quickly to Jack, who was very much present this time.

Jack?

Doctor? Have you got Ianto with you?

He's right here, the Doctor assured him. I'll let you speak in a minute. Martha's fine, but I've got more for you to do.

Name it, Jack said simply.

It's not going to be easy, the Doctor warned him. Martha needs time. Lots of time. It could be months until the day of the launch. We need to keep the Master occupied.

So we escape, said Jack. That'll keep him busy.

We have to stay aboard until we can disable the paradox machine, the Doctor said hastily. I'm still thinking about that.

Just tell me where to shoot, Jack said firmly.

It doesn't work like that, snapped the Doctor. I'll tell you what to do when I know for sure. For now I need you to reassure Martha's family. Make sure they're ready to help with any escape attempt, and feel free to try a few things yourself as long as you don't leave the ship. And don't let the Master get bored with you. I'm sorry, Jack, you can't let him stop killing you.

I figured that, Jack admitted. Any more, or can I talk to Ianto?

Without hesitation, the Doctor told them both, Go ahead.

Ianto, Jack said quickly, how are you holding up? You alright?

Ianto paused, trying to work out what to tell him. The pain, the loneliness, the despair, the madness, the danger – constantly avoiding traps and capture, sleeping with himself for comfort, near starving to death every day...

I'm fine, he told Jack weakly. Where are you?

On the Valiant, Jack said. Don't worry, though, I'm okay. The Doctor's been putting his master plan into effect. He's –

Don't tell him that, the Doctor interrupted sharply. Don't tell him anything.

It doesn't matter what I say, does it? Jack said wearily.

I'm doing this from a distance, the Doctor said, and Ianto tried to ask what he meant, but they both ignored him as the Doctor continued, I can't guarantee it'll be perfect. It's not my area of expertise.

Then leave him alone, Jack started, and Ianto gasped as pain spiked in his head.

Ianto, what's wrong? Jack asked instantly, but it was the Doctor who answered.

The machine he's using, the amplifier. It wasn't meant for humans. It's already pushed him well beyond his normal psychic capacity.

You're burning him out! Jack cried.

The Doctor simply said, Sorry, got to go, and broke contact. To Ianto, he added, Better leave it a bit longer before next time. Make it two months, there's no way the Master can be ready before then. And I'm sorry, but you're going to have to forget again.

"Just make it stop hurting," Ianto gasped, and there was silence. He reeled, nearly fainting, then the machine's glow started to fade. He stared at it in confusion for a second, before scrambling to his feet, grabbing his bag, and bolting from the room while he still could. He'd gone three levels down before he remembered his plan to eavesdrop, but by that point he didn't care. He kept heading down until he stumbled and fell, and finally, exhaustedly, curled up to sleep right where he landed.

He woke free of headaches, with his doppelganger warm at his back. They went on together in silence for an hour or so, too afraid to discuss the gaps in their memories. When they became one he wished he'd spoken of anything, just to break the silence.

Sighing to himself, he carried on down. Eventually he reached the area he'd last been exploring, muttering to himself as he found the last door he'd checked and moved on. The last two rooms on this level were empty, so he took the steps down and looked around.

The faint glow in this corridor was even less than those above. Ianto could just about make out the walls either side of him, and the floor a few feet in front and behind, but beyond that all was shadow.

He pressed on slowly, concentrating on each step and stopping to investigate the walls closely, in case he came across a new door. It was colder than he'd got used to down here. Colder and damper, and he was shivering a little as he walked.

He stopped for a few seconds, rubbing at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, fighting a sneeze. It wasn't a cold. It couldn't be a cold. The last thing he could deal with now was getting ill. He barely had the food to keep going as it was – if his body needed any more energy it was going to be sorely disappointed.

There was a quiet scuffle behind him. The sound of feet shuffling on the floor, coming round the corner from the corridors off beside this one. And then they stopped.

Ianto froze.

He was about to risk a whisper of his own name (though it couldn't be him, it couldn't. He'd have noticed if he'd duplicated again. He always appeared so close to his other self he couldn't be missed) when there was a low growl from his follower. It took him a moment to place it, and another moment to force himself to believe, and then he slowly reached for his gun.

The Weevil gave a hungry snarl and lunged forwards.

With a yell, Ianto bolted. He felt the breeze from the Weevil's claws brush the back of his neck, and then he was careering down the long corridor, gun clattering to the floor as he ran into blind darkness, with the Weevil inches behind him.

The snarls suddenly doubled, and Ianto tripped and fell. He tried frantically to scramble up and on, but claws struck his back, ripping through cloth and skin as he screamed. He kicked back, but teeth closed around his leg and tore at his muscles. And then, as he struggled, striking out with elbows, hands and feet as best he could, twisting to try and see the Weevils and go for their eyes if possible, there were gunshots.

The Weevil ripping his leg to shreds fell away with a squeal, but the other dug its claws into his side and dragged them right across his stomach. He screamed again, and the Weevil sank its teeth into his shoulder.

More gunshots sounded, and the Weevil collapsed on top of him.

"Ianto! Ianto, tell me you're okay. Please!"

The Weevil was shoved off him, and then his double was there, pulling him over into his lap and parting his ripped shirt to see his wounds.

Ianto let out a whimper and coughed blood.

"Oh God," his double was saying frantically, "oh God. I need to get these bandaged. I dropped the bags, there's the antiseptic wipes in there, just hang on and we'll get you cleaned up."

He started to move away, but Ianto grabbed his shirt with his uninjured hand, and said hoarsely, "Stay."

His double shook his head, and Ianto felt his tears drip onto his cheek.

"You're going to be okay," the other promised him. "I'll use my shirt for bandages, and you can have all the water until we snap back together. That should heal you. It did last time, didn't it? I just have to get the wipes to clean your wounds first and then you'll be fine."

"Don't waste your time," Ianto muttered, letting his head fall against his double's chest. "Hurts enough without you making it last longer."

"Don't talk like that," his double told him sharply, trying to prise his fingers off his shirt, his hand slippery with Ianto's blood. "You're not going to die. You can't. Let me help!"

Ianto closed his eyes, murmuring, "There's nothing you can do. Just tell me it'll be okay."

"You can't die!" his double told him, clutching him closer. "We don't know what happens!"

"About to find out," Ianto said weakly.

His double let out an anguished moan, one hand skating uselessly over the bloody gash in Ianto's stomach, wrenching a sharp cry of pain from his throat. Gasping apologies, his double snatched his hand up to Ianto's cheek, fingers digging into his hair as he cradled Ianto's face, repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, Ianto, please, you have to live, I can't do this without you! I need you. I... I love you."

"You're the only one who does," Ianto whispered, with a thin smile. "Sad, isn't it?"

"I'm not the only one," his double whispered back. "You know he does."

Ianto forced his eyes open.

"If he loved me, he would be the one holding me while I die."

His double hung his head, and said nothing. Ianto flexed his fingers, tightening his grip on his double's shirt, and sighed, "Tell me it'll be okay. Please."

"Everything's going to be fine," his double said dully, and Ianto closed his eyes again and turned his face to his double's chest.

"It hurts," he whimpered.

"You're going to be okay," whispered his double, and kissed his hair gently, wrapping both arms tighter around him. "You're going to be alright. I'm here. It's going to be okay."

Ianto relaxed slowly, wincing once before the pain started to dull. It was an unexpected relief not to have to think about his next move or worry about any mistakes he might have made along the way. Instead he could just stop. It didn't even bother him that he couldn't feel his legs any more. That was simply a release from the pain.

His hand slipped from his double's shirt.

"Ianto?"

There was a hand on his hair, then lips against his forehead, and a breath ghosting by his ear.

"Everything's going to be okay. I love you."

And even the coloured lights behind his eyelids went out.

Ianto found himself on his knees, screaming. It was only when it filtered through to his mind that he could hear the scream that he realised he was out of the darkness. The momentary lapse in his panic left room for the memory of holding his own corpse, sobbing and helpless and bloodied.

He fought down the urge to be sick, slapping both hands to the floor and hanging his head, wrenching in hoarse, painful breaths until he felt in control of himself again. Then he slumped down and curled up on the floor, burying his face in his knees and wrapping his arms around his head.

Forcing himself to take ruthlessly regulated breaths, he kept his eyes open and stared hard at what he could just about see of his knees, to reassure himself that he wasn't still stuck in the dark while he slowly took stock of his situation again. Lack of pain seemed to imply that his rejoining had left him uninjured, though since there was no Weevil going for his throat at the moment it appeared that the alien hadn't been so lucky.

He tried to straighten out his two pasts, comparing the emotions from both sides and feeling sick all over again when he found the clash of love and hate. He'd never expected to be so jealously furious at himself for escaping uninjured, let alone the rage at his giving up without a fight. It was worrying how easily he could loathe himself when he was another person. And there was no way that thought should have made the sense it did.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back and stretched out, then absentmindedly checked for new tears in his clothes. There were none. They appeared to have opted for the more complete version in the reset, though he still had scratches down his arm, which his surviving self had picked up from the dying Weevils. He'd ignored them completely in his panic about his other self, and then he'd been so preoccupied forcing himself to pretend that everything was fine that he wouldn't have seen to them even if he'd noticed them while he was dying. And thinking about that from both sides made his head hurt again.

"This," he said aloud, partly to reassure himself that he hadn't lost his voice in the screaming – he had no idea how long it had been after he'd become one person again that he'd realised he was one person again – "is far from healthy. You lied to yourself. And you're meant to be the one you can trust. The only one. God, you're as bad as him."

He closed his eyes and imagined what Jack would say if he was there. Something soothing and reassuring, if he was in the right mood. He'd be holding Ianto close and telling him he was safe.

Then he remembered what he'd said as he lay dying in his own arms, and felt distantly ill again. If Jack was here he'd be pulling Ianto to his feet and slapping him on the back with utterly false cheer, spurring him on with jokes and anecdotes and completely deflecting any of his questions about what it was that he saw when he died. He could practically hear him doing it.

Bitterly, Ianto rolled to his feet, collected his backpack, and started on again, muttering, "Well, fuck you, Jack. Go ahead and fuck off with your Doctor, see if we care. We don't need you."

"Aw, Ianto, I'm hurt," Jack would say, smirking all the same because he never took Ianto seriously when he got angry at him. And he'd walk close behind Ianto, whispering along the back of his neck, "That's not what you said last time you were in my bed. Not when you screamed for me. All. Night. Long. I think you're a liar, Ianto Jones."

"Takes one to know one," Ianto muttered childishly, moving down the corridor a little faster.

"I never pretended otherwise," Jack whispered. "But us, you and me, that's real. You know that."

"Then how come you never once said my name?" Ianto said softly, coming to a halt. There was no answer, and he turned abruptly to look at the empty corridor.

"Shit," he said to himself, putting a hand against the wall while he caught his breath. "Now you're really losing it."

He shuddered and then forced himself on, taking the stone steps down to the next level as quickly as he could manage. He drew to a halt at the base of the stairs, blinking and frowning. At the far end of the corridor, there was a strange glow.

Ianto squinted at it as he approached, fearing another seductive wall of light, but as he got closer the glow resolved itself into a white door. He found the handle and tried it, distantly startled to find it unlocked. Cautiously, he swung it open and waited on the threshold for any traps to spring.

Nothing happened.

Ianto crept forward, and still nothing happened. He gave it a few more seconds, wishing he was two people again so he had some kind of backup if things went wrong, then decided that if certain death lurked in this room it would have sprung upon him by now.

He checked that he had the lock-pick safe on him, then closed the door and sat down heavily, leaning against it. He pulled the backpack into his lap and curled up, closing his eyes.

Ianto stirred sluggishly, fighting his way up out of sleep, aware on some level that something wasn't right.

He opened his eyes and winced slightly at the light, then located the backpack, which had slipped from his grasp, and started going through it to check he had everything.

After a few seconds he stopped, and looked up.

The room appeared to be a large dome, all white, and, apart from himself, entirely empty. And the walls were glowing softly.

Ianto looked down at the pack of antiseptic wipes in his hand, and swallowed hard. It didn't get rid of the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes but they didn't stop stinging, and no matter how many times he told himself that this room, above all the others, was safe, and that was why he was so overwhelmed with emotion, he couldn't keep his hands from shaking.

He opened his eyes again, and then abruptly hurled the packet across the room and burst into tears.

The glow got gradually brighter even as he sobbed and shuddered, lashing out every now and again at the wall or the floor, gasping in breaths when he stopped crying long enough. He couldn't get control of himself to the point of actually stopping, though – every time he caught his breath he remembered something else to cry about, from the terror of the dark nothingness that was death, through Jack (leaving, lying, loving: everything made him want to sit and scream) right down to the simple fact that this fucking room had, in one fell swoop, utterly destroyed what little night vision he had. Now how was he meant to carry on?

By the time he'd cried himself to a standstill, the room was light enough for him to read by. He lay on the floor unmoving for a while, then picked himself up and went to collect the packet of wipes.

"Your arm looks better," Jack pointed out as he reached down to pick up the pack, and he paused to investigate. The cuts were half-healed already, without a trace of infection despite the fact he hadn't managed to dredge up the will to clean them.

"I haven't been asleep that long," Ianto said anxiously, heading back to his backpack and sitting down beside it again, still staring at his arm.

"Don't ask me," Jack said, shrugging as Ianto looked up at him. "I wasn't paying attention, sorry."

Ianto blinked at him for a few seconds and then said flatly, "You're not real. Go away."

Jack pulled a face at him and said, "If I'm your hallucination then you've gotta want me here one way or another."

"I'm not that insane yet," Ianto told him, then muttered, "Why am I even talking to you?" and opened up his bag, carefully taking everything out and arranging it in front of him, taking stock.

Jack sat down in the middle of the room and watched him, saying, "No offence, but you've been talking to yourself for a couple of months now. It's about time you got round to me instead. I mean, I'm prettier, for one thing."

"No, you're not," Ianto muttered, checking that he still had all the power packs for the alien guns.

Jack snorted, and shot back, "Clean shaven, for starters. You've got, what, four, five months' growth there? That's gotta itch."

"There's not a lot I can do about it," Ianto snapped, glaring at him, and Jack smirked.

"There's a pair of nail scissors in the bag, you know. They got stuck in the lining when you pulled the first aid kit out last time. Remember how it fell open?"

Ianto blinked at him, then looked down at the bag he'd just emptied. There was a glint of metal at the bottom, reflecting the glow of the walls. He was halfway through wondering how he'd missed it when he remembered that he hadn't – Jack was just a projection, after all.

"Aren't you gonna thank me?" Jack asked coyly when he managed to get the scissors untangled from the inner lining and pull them out.

"You're not real," Ianto repeated. "And before you say anything else about me talking to myself, he's a splinter caused by our proximity to the heart of the Rift. You are a product of my exhaustion. And I have nothing more to say to you. So go away."

"Get some more rest and I probably will," Jack told him. "But I make no promises."

Ianto sighed and nodded, and carefully packed everything back into the bag, rearranging it neatly and leaving the scissors on top, wrapped up in his tie. He did the bag back up and looped his arm through the straps as he settled down to sleep some more.

Ianto opened his eyes, and then closed them again and rolled over with a groan.

"Hey, it's not my fault," Jack said in an injured tone. "I think I know why I'm here now, anyway. Do you want to listen to me or not?"

"No," Ianto said to the floor, and managed to go back to sleep.

"I know you're awake," Jack murmured. "I always do, don't I? So listen. You died. And you're alive. And you remember being dead. And that scares the hell out of you. You've gotta deal with it somehow and you're in no state to be landed with that kind of issue, so you've dreamt me up to help you. I'm the only person you know who's gone through that and stayed sane."

"Don't flatter yourself," Ianto warned him without opening his eyes.

"Well, I could just be here because you miss me," Jack said, and Ianto laughed, rolling over to look at him.

"Really don't flatter yourself," he said dryly. "Remember all those times Owen told me to go fuck myself?"

Jack winced and rubbed the back of his neck, saying, "Yeah, I know."

"He at least has the decency to use my name when we're screwing," Ianto spat. "That's something you never bothered to do."

"You mean you have the decency to use your name," Jack corrected him, then held up both hands when Ianto bristled angrily, saying, "Whoa, okay, it doesn't matter. That's not what's important right now. I don't want to argue with you, I'm just here to keep you company."

"Go away," Ianto told him firmly. "I don't need you. I have him."

"Not in here," Jack said, and then went silent. Ianto frowned at him for a moment, then ignored him and fetched the scissors from the bag. First he took his belt off and used the scissors to drill a couple of extra holes further in from the tightest one, which was almost broken through anyway. Putting it back on again, he tightened it, immediately feeling much more comfortable. Then he sat up straight, cross-legged, and patiently started to cut back his hair and beard. Jack sat and watched him, fidgeting with his shoe laces or sighing dramatically every now and again.

"Shut up," Ianto said eventually, and promptly cut his cheek with the scissors. Swearing, he dropped them beside him and clapped a hand to his face for a second, then brought it away bloody.

"How bad is it?" he asked Jack, but Jack shrugged.

"It'll heal."

Ianto glared at him, and snapped, "You mean you don't know, because you can't see it, because I can't see it and you're just a hallucination."

Jack smiled slightly, and said, "No, I mean it'll heal. Look at your arm."

Ianto pulled back his tattered sleeve to see the Weevil scratches again, but they weren't there. When he held his arm up towards the wall and squinted, he could just about see faint lines where the cuts had been, but otherwise they were entirely healed.

"I think it's this room," Jack told him. "Eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Ianto said sharply, then realised it was true. He stared at Jack, who shrugged and smiled. Looking back at his arm again, ignoring the blood dripping from his chin, Ianto asked, "So what's the catch?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jack.

"This is Torchwood," Ianto reminded him. "So this room heals me, and keeps me from being hungry or thirsty, but how? I mean, is it just screwing with my mind? Am I starving to death without noticing? Or is it... I don't know, is the air filled with those nanogenes you told me about, and they're... they're repairing me so fast I don't even notice my body's breaking down, or they're recycling what they think I don't need to feed me, or..."

"This is getting you nowhere except into a panic," Jack interrupted firmly, and Ianto stopped.

"Think about this sensibly," Jack continued. "It can't do that much damage to you right now. And you've got things to be getting on with, so once you're rested and feeling better you'll be moving on again. For now you're safe."

Ianto nodded slowly, then said, "This room must be shielded. This far down the Rift energy would interfere with it too much otherwise. I had to use all sorts of shielding to keep Lisa's systems stable and that was much higher up."

"And if it's shielded from the Rift..." Jack prompted.

"Then I won't be affected by any of the splinters," Ianto said, staring at him. "Oh, God, if I stay in here I'm going to be alone."

"Hey," Jack said, sounding offended. "You saying I don't count?"

"Of course you don't count," Ianto snapped, hurriedly packing his bag again and scrambling to his feet. "You're just me in another form."

"So's he," said Jack quietly.

Ianto stopped, facing the door.

"There's no one else down here, Ianto," Jack told him. "It's just you. And there's nothing to find. You're wandering around in the dark because you think it's better than waiting, but you're not fooling anybody. You're helpless and scared and hiding. What do you expect to happen? You think I'm gonna sweep in and save the day again? I'm gone, Ianto, and why the hell would I come back?"

Ianto whirled around furiously, but the room was empty. He stood shaking for a few moments, then fled back into the corridors.

The sheer black darkness of the unlit corridors disoriented Ianto beyond measure. He tried to turn either way and ran into wall, then stumbled along back to the last intersection he'd reached, and felt his way along the corridor there, blinking desperately with every step. He couldn't see a thing.

"Shit, shit, shit," he repeated under his breath, breaking off occasionally to curse the white room in every language he could remember, then turning his fury on Jack instead.

"This is all your fault. Now I'm blind as well as useless. You've got me chased down here and shot and killed and lost and –"

"I said I was sorry," Jack told him, in a wounded tone. "What more do you want?"

"You did not," Ianto yelped, whirling around in an attempt to look at him and meeting only darkness. He reached out vainly to try and grab hold of Jack, shouting, "That's the last thing you'd say to me. Everything you've done and you never once said you were sorry. Not to me. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"Ianto, calm down," Jack said firmly. "This isn't helping."

Ianto gave a wordless yell of fury, then shouted, "You're not helping! Just go away! You said yourself you're never coming back, so why are you doing this to me? Just leave me alone!"

There was silence in the darkness. Ianto gasped in a few shuddering breaths, then croaked, "Jack?"

He got no answer.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself together and spread his hands until he found the walls again, then moved on. He didn't stop until he found another door.

Without thinking, he wrenched it open and stormed in.

The access console attached to the far wall lit up immediately, and the worryingly gun-like attachments on the floor swivelled (screeching slightly against rusted hinges) to aim at him.

Password flashed on the screen, and he hesitated.

One of the guns sent out some kind of scan, and the screen went red.

Unauthorised personnel. Termination authorised.

Ianto dived back out and slammed the door behind him, just as the guns started to whine with charging power. He bolted blindly down the corridor and only stopped when he ran straight into another wall and just managed to reel around the corner, panting hard.

"Unauthorised personnel?" he gasped furiously to himself, rubbing at his eyes and blinking at what he could see of the dark corridor. "Oh, yes, because unauthorised personnel will have made it this far down without being cut to pieces or poisoned or blown up or had their brains melted or any one of a hundred other ways I could have died by now. Of course. Better put the laser cannons on standby as well. Just in fucking case."

"Stay calm," a voice behind him said cautiously, and he whirled around. His double was there, both hands raised in a placating gesture, saying, "You know it's not me you're angry with –"

Ianto dropped his bag and punched him. He staggered back and nearly fell, and Ianto tried to hit him again, but the other grabbed at his wrists and struggled to hold him back. Ianto kicked his legs out from under him and they both hit the floor, each of them trying to pin the other down with little success, too evenly matched for either of them to gain the upper hand.

"Get off me," Ianto gasped, mostly on top and trying to haul his double's hands close enough to bite.

His counterpart strained to keep their hands out of reach, grunting with the effort and panting, "Stop trying to hurt me and I'll let you go."

Ianto stopped struggling, and said breathlessly, "Okay. Okay, let me go."

His double hesitated for a moment, then told him, "If I can keep myself under control, so can you," and gingerly let go of his wrists.

Ianto hit him again.

Immediately, the other Ianto twisted and rolled them both over, grabbing his wrists again before Ianto could get away and pinning him to the floor, slamming his hands down against the dirt.

"Fucking idiot," Ianto spat at him. "This is all your fault."

"Yours too," the other one pointed out softly. "You're only lashing out at me because it seems a little bit less like self-harm that way."

Ianto writhed in his grip, snapping, "I hate you. Every decision you've made has got us into worse trouble. It's your fault he left. It's your fault we lost the Hub. And we'd be out of all this if you'd just gone with the others."

"We'd be dead," the other murmured.

"You don't know that!" shouted Ianto. "They might be alive. They're survivors. They're used to danger. If anyone can have survived whatever Saxon had planned for them..."

The other rested his forehead against Ianto's, both of them closing their eyes as Ianto fought a losing battle against tears.

"It's okay," the other whispered. "Ianto, it's alright. You're still here. We're still alive. We'll figure something out."

"Don't have much choice," Ianto muttered back.

His double sighed, then brushed his lips gently across Ianto's and said, "It's not our fault. It's not even his fault. The state we're in right now, and whatever's happened to the others, is Saxon's fault. Nobody else's. If Jack was here he'd tell you the same."

"So we have to hit Saxon," Ianto murmured.

"If we want to do anything useful," his double said, "then yes. Take out Saxon and everything stops."

Ianto relaxed entirely, sighing. "So how do we do that?"

There was a brief pause, and then his other self said firmly, "We take back the Hub."

Ianto opened his eyes and looked up at his double. The other Ianto stared back at him unwaveringly.

"You really think we can?" Ianto asked slowly.

"Yep," said the other, and smiled tightly. "We've done crazier things than this. If we managed with Lisa, we can do this. No problem."

Ianto laughed.

"Alright," agreed his double, grinning. "Maybe not no problem. But it's still possible. They'll never expect us to attack. Not now. They have to believe we're dead."

"They never found our body," Ianto cautioned him. "They'll still be wary."

"But it's been so long since they heard from us," the other pointed out, "they'll have mostly put us out of mind. If they haven't forgotten us completely."

Ianto smiled, and said, "Then let's do it. What the hell have we got to lose?"

The other Ianto leaned closer, whispered, "My thoughts exactly," and kissed him again.

This time Ianto kissed him back.

Ianto tipped his head back and stretched luxuriously, then twisted to look at his double, who was still sprawled indolently on the floor, creasing their clothes.

"Feel better?" he asked Ianto, and Ianto nodded. His double smiled a little and got up as well, handing Ianto his clothes and then cradling his face in an imitation of one of Jack's gestures.

"Plan, then?"

Ianto raised his hand to his double's, kissing his palm before saying, "We go back up. Like I said, they'll think we're dead by now. They have to have changed the codes for whatever they've managed to get into, but we can use the lock-pick to get out of the archives and into the weapons. We've got the power packs for the alien guns, and if we time it right we should keep the element of surprise for a while. Between the two of us we can take out the guards. They can't be expecting an attack. They won't be ready for us."

"What if they call for backup?" asked his double, thumb stroking Ianto's cheek.

"Our primary objective has to be to get the Hub into lockdown," Ianto said firmly. "That should help keep them off balance and give us the edge when it comes to the fighting. One of us has to override the computers or activate one of the automatic lockdown procedures. Either we split up and double our chances of getting to the switches, or one of us covers the other. What do you think?"

"Cover fire," the other said instantly, finally taking his hand back. "We don't know how many of them we're dealing with. And only one of us has to survive long enough to trigger the program."

Ianto nodded, then bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment.

"Jack had Tosh delete Suzie's vocal trigger, didn't he?"

The other Ianto nodded, saying, "Yes. First thing he did after we got Gwen back. Why? What are you thinking?"

"Don't you know?" Ianto shot back, with a smirk.

His double looked up at the ceiling, smiling, and said, "You're thinking: Tosh is good, but even she said that Suzie could beat her with the computers. If she couldn't retrieve what Suzie had wiped, then maybe she couldn't wipe what Suzie put in."

Ianto lifted one shoulder slightly.

"That's half what I was thinking. There's also the fact that Jack... Well. You know Jack."

"I thought I did," the other Ianto muttered.

Ianto looked away, and said, "That's not what I meant. I meant he's sneaky. And he's not likely to let something like that just vanish. He'd think it might come in handy to have a precaution like that around, as long as no one else knew about it."

"You think he reinstalled it afterwards?" asked the other doubtfully.

Ianto winced, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Something like that. It's possible. And if it's true then that would reduce the risk drastically. We'd just have to get in range and then activate the lockdown. They'd have no idea how to turn it off, and they'd be cut off from all their communications. Just us and them."

"We'd have to be within range of the sensors," his double said quietly. "If we sat still too long they might spot us and come find us before we can finish the trigger. You don't know how many times we'd have to recite the verse."

"We can always take it in turns," Ianto said, utterly deadpan, and the other shot him a smirk, then reached forward to pull him into a hug. Ianto hugged him back fiercely, and said, "Okay. Can we go do this? I'm sick of doing nothing."

"Likewise," his double agreed, and then added, "But you knew that already."

With a laugh, Ianto let go of him so they could finish getting dressed and set things moving.

Reaching the steps up to the next level, having been on his own again for an hour or so, Ianto paused and looked back.

Jack was standing forlornly at the other end of the corridor.

"Go away," Ianto told him flatly.

"I just want to help," Jack said, giving him a pleading look.

"There's nothing you can do," Ianto told him, and he shook his head sadly.

"This isn't gonna end well, Ianto. You know that."

Ianto turned his back and took the stairs.

"Please, think about this a bit more," Jack said, when Ianto reached the next level and found him waiting further down the corridor, leaning against the wall. Ianto marched straight past as Jack continued, "You're gonna get yourself killed, and then when your chance to sort this out comes along, it'll be too late. Give the Doctor time."

"What?" Ianto said sharply, looking back hurriedly. "What did you just say?"

"I said it'll be too late if you're dead when the perfect opportunity comes your way," Jack told him. "Just hold on. Don't do anything stupid. Please, I don't want you to die."

"Then you should have stayed," Ianto snapped, and carried on up. Jack didn't follow him.

Somehow that cast more doubt in his mind than anything Jack could have said.

"Just have a little faith in yourself for once," he told himself.

"We are sure about this, aren't we?"

He looked around at his worried double, and nodded, holding out his hand. The other took it, hanging on tightly.

"We have to do something. We have to go up there. We just have to."

"That's what bothers me," the other one said, even as they kept moving, walking fast. "I know we have to go up there. But I don't... We don't have a proper plan. Why am I so desperate to rush up there if it's only going to get us killed?"

"It's being so useless that's driving us mad," Ianto insisted. "If we don't do this we're as good as dead anyway."

The other Ianto tightened his grip on his hand, but nodded. They kept going.

They stopped to rest or sleep five times on the way up, each encouraging the other whenever Ianto was both of them, and repeating the same mantra to himself if he was alone. Anxiety dogged his steps, making him hurry from the lowest levels, then bringing him to a sudden halt when he got back to the corridor with the wall of the light. He stared down the passage in dismay.

"You were going to take another way," he whispered. "Why didn't you go a different way? You can't walk past that. You know you can't."

Despite himself, he started forwards again, step by creeping step. Before he got to the room with the light, he found himself shaking so hard he had to stop again. There door for the other room was right beside him, and he ducked inside to hide for a few minutes, hoping vaguely that the pressure of the audio device and the headaches would be enough of a spur to drive him on past the light. As long as he didn't stay long enough to pass out, he should be fine.

Ianto?!

"Who's there?" he yelled, startled, spinning around as the machine started glowing. He made to dive back out of the door but didn't get that far.

You're months overdue! I was sure you were dead. Jack must be out of his mind with worry. Where the hell have you been?

He couldn't help thinking of the white room, and the voice gave what sounded like a surprised laugh.

A healing room? Oh, I've got one of them back on the TARDIS. How'd your lot get their hands on it? No, wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know.

Ianto staggered and nearly fell, catching himself on the machine. To his horror, he found himself sinking to his knees there, unable to get back up again.

Anyway, come on, I've got to check on Martha. We've been out of contact far too long.

With a yelp of pain, Ianto felt a tug on his mind like a brand behind his eyes. The voice in his head seemed unconcerned, too busy picking up another consciousness and telling it, Everything's going to plan our end. How are you managing?

In agony, Ianto desperately tried to block out both their conversation and the pain. Everything became muffled, and he fought hard to maintain even that reprieve, concentration slipping only when the conversation stopped and he was dragged off to find another mind.

Jack! the voice called. Ianto's with me, he's alright.

There was a second's pause, and then he heard Jack's voice in his head, clear as day, crying with overwhelming relief and joy, Ianto!

That nearly undid him. He only just managed to keep the pain out by repeating to himself, "He's not real, he's not real, he's not real, don't listen to him."

We don't have time for that, the first voice was saying. The paradox machine.

Screw the paradox machine, not-Jack snapped back. What have you done to Ianto?

Nothing! insisted the first voice. Listen, Jack, this is the only way to end this! The vital components were on the front of the machine, facing the TARDIS doors. If you destroy them it'll undo the effect of the machine. Just don't touch the stuff at the back or you'll rip the universe apart.

Fine! not-Jack told him sharply. I'll shoot the damn thing next time I get loose. Now let me talk to Ianto!

You've got thirty seconds, then I have to let him go for his own safety, the other voice told him.

That's long enough. Ianto. Ianto, listen to me.

Ianto felt the pain spiral upwards as his blocks crumbled. He tried to keep breathing, to stay calm and relaxed and reduce the pressure somehow, but it was all futile.

Ianto, please, not-Jack begged him. Just hold on. I'm gonna make this right, I promise you. I... Ianto...

"Not real," Ianto sighed to himself, and not-Jack tried to speak again, but was abruptly cut off as the first mind dragged Ianto away, back to the room in the archives.

That's enough. You're too weak for any more right now. Come back in ninety-eight days. I'll need you here for launch day.

Ianto gave a strangled gasp as his blocks faded away and the pain slammed straight into his mind. It spiked suddenly, and he jerked away from the machine, collapsing back onto the floor.

It was a vast relief when he passed out.

"Come on. Ianto, come on. Wake up. We need to move. Please."

Ianto opened his eyes on the third attempt. His double was there, looking down at him fearfully. When he saw that Ianto was awake relief shot through his eyes and he sat back on his heels, thrusting a hand at him.

"Come on. Up."

Ianto grabbed his wrist and was pulled to a sitting position as his duplicate stood. He pulled again and between the two of them they managed to get him on his feet. Pausing only to grab the backpacks, they hurried back into the corridor.

Ianto shot a glance up at the room with the wall of light, then looked at his double.

"We did it again?"

His double nodded, lips thin with anger at them both.

"I can't believe we were stupid enough to go in there again."

"We couldn't help it," Ianto sighed, grinding the heel of his palm into one eye. "Now what? Back down?"

The other Ianto steadied himself with a hand tight on his shoulder, and said flatly, "We came up here for a reason."

Ianto hesitated, then nodded firmly. Fighting down the urge to turn and scurry back into the lower levels like a frightened rabbit, he held onto his double's arm to support them both, and they went on up. Their grip on each other tightened as they passed the bone he'd found with the wall of light, and one of them shuddered at the sight of it, trying hard not to think about it.

They'd gone two levels and made it to the third flight of steps when suddenly he was one person again, frozen on the steps, panicking quietly and praying that he'd split again before he got any further. He forced himself to take the last few steps up to the next level, checked that his earpiece was programmed correctly, and headed on upwards. Another two levels saw him within sensor range, and under his breath he started reciting the poem, waiting all the while for his double to appear.

"Richards. You've got a rogue lifesign up ahead of you. Careful, there's still a couple of those creatures unaccounted for."

Ianto turned and bolted back the way he'd come, rounding the corner for the ladder and halting for a split second when he saw the two guards approaching from the other end of the corridor. They raised their guns and shouted for him to stop, then opened fire when he dived for the ladder.

Agony ripped through his left side, and he missed his footing on the steps, falling with a cry but hauling himself up and on as soon as he'd hit the floor. He clutched at his side desperately, bleeding badly and limping with every step.

Behind him, the guards' feet clanged on the steps, and one of them shouted into his radio, yelling, "We got him. It's the same guy we got the first day. We're in pursuit."

Ianto made it to the next ladder and tumbled down to the level below, scrambling back up with both hands on the wall, blood smearing across the bricks as he dashed on. His pursuers took the stairs marginally more slowly, and, judging by their report over the comms, they stopped to take in the bloodstains he was leaving. That gave him just enough time to get down another level.

He stumbled, catching himself with his good hand against the wall, then looked up as another Ianto took a further step forward. He grabbed the back of the other Ianto's shirt, and the other whirled around, looking utterly panicked.

Ianto grabbed his arm instead, and the other wrapped an arm around his waist, each of them leaning on the other without question as they staggered further on. Just before the corner that led to the next flight of steps, Ianto stopped, letting go of his double and shoving him on.

"Get out of sight," he snapped.

Over the comms, their hunters were told, "You're all out of sensor range. We're going to lose communications in a minute. Be careful."

The other Ianto hesitated for a second, then his eyes widened and he clutched at Ianto's arms, gasping, "No! No, there has to be another way!"

Ianto shoved him away again, saying, "They won't stop until we're dead, you know that. Go."

His double, still shaking his head, glanced down the corridor as footsteps clanged on the stairs, then bolted round the corner. Ianto checked his gun and turned to face the guards as they reached the bottom of the steps.

They slowed, bringing their guns to bear and watching him warily as they took a few steps forward.

"Stay where you are," Ianto said hoarsely, swaying on his feet a little and using both bloodstained hands to point his gun at them. They exchanged glances.

"You can't shoot us both before we take you down," one of them pointed out. "Put the gun down and come quietly."

The other one muttered into his radio, "We've got him. You hear me? He's wounded. Don't think he's going to be conscious much longer."

Ianto glanced between the two of them, hands shaking, and they took a few more steps towards him. In one sudden, decisive movement, he brought the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

Ianto was careful not to leave a trail of blood as he crept silently down the next flight of stairs and around the corner. He had to stop there, legs buckling under him as he fell against the wall, biting back a yell of pain.

Breathing hard, he squirmed out of the backpack and then his jacket, easing his shirt open around the wound and just managing not to let out a hiss as the cloth pulled at his skin. He dug the antiseptic wipes out of the bag, getting blood over its entire contents in the process, and dabbed at his side, wincing and writhing with every sting until he could ease his shirt off and clean the cut in his arm as well. It wasn't far from the wound he'd received the first day Saxon's men had arrived, and that wrung a bitter smile from him. Always the same damn arm.

When the blood was cleared away and he could see the wounds more clearly, he traced both and was relieved to find that neither was too deep. The bullets appeared to have dug furrows in his skin but not got lodged in his body. He managed to tie a fresh wipe in place over the gash in his side, his tie wrapping round his waist with room to spare, and then gingerly prodded his thigh where his trouser leg was drenched with blood. Locating the hole in the cloth, he ripped it open further with both hands, and set about cleaning away the blood.

It burned like hellfire, and he had to bite his lip and screw his eyes up, nails digging into his palm as he clenched his fist and fought everything just to stay silent. He was panting for breath and had almost bitten through his lip by the time he could open his eyes again and get back to cleaning the wound. It was deep. Too deep.

Biting his tongue this time, Ianto started feeling his way around the other side of his trouser leg. There was another hole.

He was working his way through a litany of curses when the memories hit him. He gasped and jerked, flailing out of the darkness only to find that his leg was aflame with agony.

It took all his willpower not to scream, trying to stop feeling his gun pressed up against his temple, and seeing the emptiness of death. He focused instead on the here and the now, and the pain reminding him that he had a job to do. After a few seconds he had himself under control enough to examine his thigh again. His trouser leg was still ripped open, and he forced himself to concentrate and rip open the other side, tearing all the way across the back of his leg to join hole to hole. Breathing rapidly, he had to open the pack of wipes again to get his leg clean, then ripped the sleeves from his shirt and knotted them together to tie around the wounds, padding the inside with a few of the wipes.

By the time he'd finished binding the wound he was feeling dizzy and sick. He packed up the bag again and dragged himself to his feet, staggering to the next ladder and heading down. And down, and down. He lasted a few long hours through strength of will and made it barely a quarter of the way to the white room before he passed out.

He woke alone in the darkness, sliding from dreams of Jack smoothing back his hair and tending to his wounds into the reality of the cold, hard floor and his leg bleeding past the makeshift bandages.

It was a small comfort that Saxon's men hadn't followed him down here – they appeared to be satisfied with his death, though quite how they were managing to explain the disappearance of his corpse was another matter. That wasn't his primary concern right now, though.

He opened up the backpack with shaking hands again, and then slowly eased his leg out of his trousers to see to the wound better. His shirt sleeves were soaked with blood, and the knots were impossible to untie. He managed instead to slide them down and off his leg, then, wincing, peeled the equally sodden wipes from his skin. Dropping them on the floor, he held a fresh wipe against the wounds for a while, then ripped the torn trouser leg clean off and used that to replace the makeshift dressing.

Once he'd attached the bloodstained sleeves to the backpack, unwilling to abandon anything that could conceivably be useful at some point, he gathered himself up and headed on, taking each ladder down to the next level as fast as he dared. He slipped once when his wounded leg gave way, and promptly twisted his other ankle, which saw him curled up on the bottom step for a few hours until he could limp along again. When he reached the next level down he stopped again, eyes drifting closed exhaustedly.

It crossed his mind that he'd lost, and was still losing, too much blood to really be safe falling asleep, but by that point it would have taken far more energy than he had to wake up.

This time it was water on his lips that woke him. He opened his eyes and stared at his other self for a few seconds, startled by the other's haggard and bloody appearance.

"Come on," the other Ianto said, putting the lid back on the bottle of water and packing it away in his bag again. "I've eaten, so I'll help you, and when we're back together you should feel stronger. But we can't stop here."

Ianto nodded and got to his feet, with help, and the other Ianto took up some of his weight. Together they started down the corridor, limping along like some twisted version of the three-legged race. The idea had Ianto giggling.

"You're dizzy with blood loss and lack of food," the other Ianto told him breathlessly, grinning despite himself. "Save your strength."

"I know, I know," Ianto panted, struggling down the next flight of steps. "It was a bad plan."

"It was no plan at all," pointed out his double, following him and then putting an arm around his waist again to carry on forward.

"It was desperation," Ianto said quietly.

"And it only got us into a more desperate position," shot back the other.

"We had to do something," protested Ianto. "We couldn't just sit around in the dark any more. If we don't do anything, nothing gets done, you know that."

His double nodded, saying, "I know. But we didn't think, did we?"

"What else could we do?"

"Not get hurt, for starters."

"We're still alive," Ianto murmured, and his double drew them to a halt, looking down at the floor.

"We're alive because we died, Ianto. If this thing... this separation or duplication or whatever the hell it is, if this wasn't here, we would be dead. Both of us. We would be in the dark, alone. Forever."

Ianto shuddered, and nudged them on again.

"We have to be more careful," he admitted quietly. "We're both hurt now. But we are alive, and that's the most important thing right now. You know what Jack would say."

His double gave him a squeeze, and responded, "He'd say sometimes all you have to do to win is survive."

"Is that what we do, then?" Ianto asked tiredly. "Just... survive?"

"We'll think of something," his other self assured him. "But we'll think of it when we're fed and rested and healing in the white room. For now we just concentrate on getting there."

Ianto bit his tongue to hold back his protests, and just nodded instead as they moved on.

They kept heading downwards for endless, dragging hours, resting briefly whenever they blended back together, then holding each other up for another stretch of the journey when they splintered. Eventually, at some point in time when his leg had stopped bleeding but coated his leg and most of the rest of his clothes in blood, and he was wondering if he'd collapse from weakness before he died of thirst or blood loss, he reached the last staircase down.

He was helping himself take each step when he snapped back into one person. Without his counterpart to lean on, he wavered for a second midway down the stone stairs, then tumbled to the floor.

For a few minutes he just lay there, blowing patterns into the dirt on the floor with each breath, and then he closed his eyes.

"Ianto. Ianto, get up."

He sighed, and kept his eyes closed. Jack just raised his voice.

"Get up, Ianto. You're not gonna be any use to anyone if you die down here. Come on. Up. Now."

"I don't take orders from you any more," Ianto muttered into the floor.

"You wanna bet?" Jack asked sharply. "On your feet, Ianto. Get up or everyone you care about dies."

"You've already played that game with me," Ianto reminded him absently. "Who's left?"

"Your precious splinter, for one," Jack said. "And the others. Tosh and Owen and Gwen. Now move."

Ianto tried to open his eyes, then sighed again, blowing dust across the corridor.

"I can't."

"Move!" Jack yelled at him. "How the hell did you manage to keep Lisa alive so long? You can't even be bothered to save yourself. You've got your priorities all wrong."

"She was worth saving," Ianto whispered.

"The hell she was," Jack spat. "You spend all your time and energy keeping the shell of her alive just so she can kill other people, but when it comes to you... Oh, no, you're too stupid to even want to be saved. You think you'd be better off if you died, even though you know what it's like on the other side? God, why did I ever bother with you? Should have shot you the minute you turned up on my doorstep and saved myself the trouble. What the hell did I see in you?"

"I don't know," Ianto growled, raising his head to glare at Jack. "I never asked, and even then you probably wouldn't have told me."

"Yeah," Jack said, smirking at him as he crouched a few feet away down the corridor. "Cause why would I talk to you? That's not what you were for."

Ianto hauled himself to his hands and knees, snarling, "No, of course not. How idiotic of me to think for one second that I was more than just a quick fuck for you."

"You weren't," Jack told him, looking him over with a scornful eye. "I mean, take a look at yourself one of these days. On a good day, even. You think you interest me? You think I give a damn what happens to you?"

"I know for a fact you don't," Ianto spat, one hand bunching into a fist as he glared at Jack. "Otherwise you'd still be here, wouldn't you?"

"Damn right," Jack said with a shrug, and stood up. "So go ahead. You stick around here and die. Nobody'll notice, after all. I've got better things to do. If I ever stop by the Hub again I'll spare you a moment's thought, assuming I remember you. It's a fifty-fifty chance."

He turned and started walking away, and Ianto threw his backpack at him, shouting, "I swear I'm going to kill you!"

Jack stepped aside as his bag skidded along the ground, and then he looked back at Ianto, shaking his head pityingly.

"Yeah, sure. You said that before. And what did you do? You ended up sleeping with me instead. Threats like that, Ianto? Just empty words coming from you. Grow up."

"I mean it," Ianto said hoarsely, and Jack laughed. He turned to face Ianto, spreading his arms mockingly.

"I'm right here. Come and get me."

Furiously, Ianto hauled himself to his feet and pulled his gun from the waistband of his trousers. He aimed shakily at Jack, but couldn't keep his hands steady, and with a cry of rage hurled the gun at Jack as well. Jack calmly moved