Title: Why You're Here

Characters: Jack, Ianto, and Gwen with mentions of others.

Teaser: Alien technology helps Jack relive his memories of Ianto, but there's an unforeseen complication. Can a memory live up to the real thing?

Chapters: 11

Disclaimer: Aside from the plot and a couple minor characters, none of this belongs to me. No profit is made. I just had an idea that needed to be shared.

Chapter 1

Jack Harkness knew small things could be dangerous. The two-inch metal device which shined as he held it between his forefinger and thumb was no exception. He had said as much to his new team when they'd found it being sold by the docks.

Tweezers and gloves had been used to take it from the clueless balding man trying to hock it for 70 quid. He'd grumbled about them confiscating his gold ticket item before Jack traded him a bottle of Scotch; retcon already dissolved in its amber liquid.

Two years ago, the memory chip-- as its previous owner had called it-- would have been locked up already. Ianto would have insisted upon it. The necessary files would have been filled out, signed, ready to be put away in their proper cabinet. He had always taken his position at Torchwood Three seriously despite it being a job basically created because he was desperate to rejoin the organization. The Welshman had never made that part obvious after his hiring; somehow he'd managed to make it seem like the team had always needed him.

That was part of the problem now.

Torchwood Four lacked that administrator who would have stressed that there wasn't anything else to learn from the chip and it should be locked up, per Jack's usual orders. It missed someone ready with a smile or a joke, gently encouraging others to move on.

They already knew what the chip could do; its abilities had been described in the sales pitch. "Relive memories like they're happening again. Ladies and gents, your mind tells it when to stop whether it's for five minutes or all night long. Sounds, smells, sights, all senses will make the past the present again. Simply put it on your temple and let your memory flow. It never fails. You never forget."

Measurements and tests had already been performed. It apparently worked as promised, no hidden dangers or problems. Somewhere on his desk there was a folder full of reports proving it. Everything had been done with the upmost safety, lest someone got lost in a memory if the pitch had been wrong. Gwen had made sure of it, all too aware of the dangers in their line of work.

She had headed up most of the research done on the chip. Jack let her take the lead a fair bit these days. He'd practically had to beg her to join the team again when he'd returned to Earth, having given up on escaping the ghosts that still haunted him. It had taken mentioning what Ianto would have wanted to persuade her to juggle motherhood with Torchwood.

Jack turned the device over again, looking at its slick body from all angles. Ianto would have wanted it locked away as it should have been, and its associated folder in his hands. He would have wanted Jack to forget about work in favour of a night of their choosing. The master coffee brewer would have wanted his boss to put the damn thing away, would have had little problem telling him just that.

Torchwood's leader could practically hear Ianto's quiet voice saying those words. Out of the corner of his eye, he could almost see his former love looking at him from other side of his desk.

That was the other part of the problem now.

Jack couldn't seem to forget Ianto. He'd promised to remember the man forever, but the reminders bombarded him. They lay in his coat, watches, coffee, fast foods, this office, aliens, the night sky—all traitors in Jack's search for peace. He'd started up the team again to pacify the angry Welshman in his nightmares who demanded he stop running and "stand up." All the hard work he'd put into rebuilding what had been blown apart nearly a year ago, and still he couldn't find peace. The hole inside was as big and deep as it had been when he'd buried Ianto. The emptiness still a constant pain that listening to a man long since deceased had failed to lessen.

Light glinted off the memory chip. Jack leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"As the saying goes, if you can't beat 'em…"

He barely felt the device attach itself to his temple when he placed it there. For once there was no pain, just a momentary feeling of weightlessness as he left the loneliness of reality and slipped into the comfort of memory.

Jack could feel the arms around him, just as strong as they had been before. The smell of Torchwood Three hung in the air, almost hidden by the familiar scent of a lost man now found. Jack's eyes were slits as he chanced a look at his surroundings. The scene reinforced what the rest of his senses were telling him. The Hub in the background was as real as ever, as real as the suited man pressing him close.

He shut his eyes again and savoured the feeling. There was warmth in the circle of limbs holding Jack tight. Their gentle pressure such a welcome relief he wished it would last longer despite knowing it wouldn't. That's not how Ianto's hugs worked, especially in this instance. These were the brief affairs, supposedly thrust upon Jack whether he wanted them or not because he had died again and Ianto thought he needed some comfort. The elder man had never encouraged them, but that had never been a deterrent and he'd secretly been grateful.

All too soon, Ianto was pulling away and Jack couldn't stop it. The memory could not be changed. He wished he'd thought of some other time, but this was a moment he'd missed more than he wanted to admit. This was something he'd been remembering too much lately and when presented with the opportunity to experience one moment over again with Ianto, it was this instance that had come to mind.

His partner was oblivious to Jack's thoughts; that wasn't the way the memory had played out. Instead he stepped back, his hands finding a place in his pants pockets and his face giving Jack the sheepish expression it usually donned after these hugs. It always seemed to say "well, there you go then" to Jack; he'd thought it was kind of endearing.

"Time to get back to work, Sir?"

The edges of the Hub began to blur behind them and then everything was fading to black. The switch from a bright memory replayed to the dark reality behind eyelids was quick but felt natural. He could hear Ianto's words to him echoing before he realized he was still in his chair in the new headquarters.

Jack opened his eyes, blinking a few times as they adjusted to the dimly lit office. Everything was as it had been. The folders on his desk still needed attention. The chip was still attached to his temple. Only now could he faintly feel it pricking his skin. The Hub was still quiet, relatively empty as usual. A quick look at his watch revealed time had passed in synch with the length of the memory. Yet it seemed so much was different now.

The pain he couldn't shake was lighter. The thought of Ianto as a man angry at Jack's actions was replaced by a man offering a comforting hug and warm smile. Jack grinned, feeling good for the first time in far too long.

"Looks like I finally did something right," he said to himself as he removed the device. What had to be done was obvious now. The others would wonder if they discovered the alien gizmo missing, probably launch into a lecture or two about what they thought their leader ought to do. Those were problems best avoided so Jack locked it up in the vault, already knowing he'd use it again. Its powers were too good to ignore and no harm had been done. Besides Ianto's dying wish was that Jack never forget him; the chip would guarantee that.

Turning back to look at his office, Jack's smile was still firmly in place. The room wasn't as dark as it had seemed before he'd made his decision. The files covering his desk really should have been put away already; there were other things to do after all. It'd been ages since he'd visited the Weevils in their holding cells and there were a few other gadgets in the Hub that had needed looking into.

Ianto had been right; it was time to get back to work.