Cursed

“Susan doesn’t know what happened here tonight, other than that Gwen shot me,” Ianto said, looking thoughtful.  Everyone gathered around the sofa, either dragging chairs over or conjuring them.  “The only adjustment that needs to be made to her memory is her recollection of who was here, tonight.  It would make the most sense if she is the one to obliviate Luna, once that adjustment has been made.  Jack, I think Owen should do the autopsy, now.  The spell might make him too tired to do it afterwards, and the story will make more sense if he has already done it, when he wakes.”

“But we know what killed her,” Jack said, frowning.  Then he shook his head.  “No, you’re right.”  If the story was going to be that Gwen died when the alien left her to attack Jack, then, “SOP would be for Owen to do an autopsy.”  He looked at Owen and asked, “Are you alright to do this?  It wouldn’t be unreasonable for us to call Martha in to do the autopsy because it’s a member of our team.  And you can wake up, not having done it, but it will make sense to the story.”

Ianto was nodding his agreement.

“No, I’m fine to do it,” Owen sighed, appreciating their care but not wanting to draw this out.  “Don’t worry about it, mate.”  He rose from his seat and then looked to Susan.  “Care to observe a muggle autopsy?”

Susan blinked, then nodded and followed.

“So you seem to have figured out what the story needs to be,” Jack said, sitting back and pulling Ianto against him.  Ianto leaned his head wearily against Jack’s shoulder for a moment, then drew in a deep breath, groaning as his still-healing ribs protested.

“Gwen got you killed in the park by that weevil.  Owen and Tosh saw, so they restrained her and got you, her, and the Weevils back here.  I collapsed when you died and panicked when we both woke.  I got here just as you three did.  We figured out about the alien and took Gwen down to the room where I scored the hexagram into the floor and set up some simple wards.  I called Hermione – called, not texted, which should get around George’s text groups – and she came to help, leaving Ron asleep.  Gwen came to, clocked Hermione, shot me, and then the alien left her, killing her in the process.  But when it tried to jump into you, your defenses were too strong, and it died.  You and Hermione called Susan in, to help me.”

“I’ll set up a thirty second call in the system between your and Hermione’s phones about forty-five minutes ago,” Toshiko said, turning to her workstation.  Hermione surrendered the chair to her, and Ron conjured a soft, comfortable one for his wife to settle into.

Jack pulled out his phone and called Susan’s cell.  He’d been surprised to find that most witches and wizards who were Ianto’s age or younger had mobile phones, but it made sense.  Owls were all well and good, but some overpopulated areas made them impractical.  So after the war, as muggle-borns were once more accepted, so were some muggle technologies.

Down in the med-bay, Susan answered her phone, and Jack explained that she and Hermione would be the only ones to remember being in Cardiff, that night.  They spoke for as long as it made sense so the call time would match the amount of time that Jack would have spent asking her to come to Cardiff to treat Ianto.

“How do we explain the footage I have?” Tosh asked.

“I’m sorry you went to all that trouble, but I think it would be best to scrub that,” Jack said, and Ianto nodded his agreement.  “We have enough to know she was compromised in our narrative of the evening – your searches and my messages to Ianto, you and Owen seeing her get me mauled, her assaulting Hermione and shooting Ianto, and the entity jumping from her to try to come at me.”

“No problem,” Tosh nodded, understanding their reasoning.  “I’ll scrub all reference to it.  Oh!  Need to purge it from the scanner, as well…” she rushed off in search of the tech she had originally used to record what the pensieve had shown them.

“We can all do our reports while Owen does the autopsy,” Jack said.  “Ianto, I’ll help you with yours – no, don’t give me that look, typing with that shoulder wound would not be fun, believe me.”  He gave Ianto a stern look, and the younger man relented with a small smile twitching one corner of his mouth.  “I’ll do mine next, and then help Owen with his while he does the autopsy so once he’s done with that, we can inter Gwen and go home.”

“I’ll help Owen,” Tosh said, crossing back to her desk, scanner in hand.  She dropped it in its spot on her desk, having already wiped it while walking back from the SUV.  “My report shouldn’t take very long.”  She hesitated.  “Jack, what about Rhys?” she asked.

“Shit,” Jack ran a hand through his hair. 

“It can wait until morning,” Ianto said.  “He’s used to her not coming home some nights.  Give him a few more hours of not knowing, poor sod.”  He shook his head, knowing the pain of losing a fiancé.  But then he shook his head again, not wanting to think about Lisa, right now.

Jack leaned back and put his arm around Ianto again, then wrapped him in the other arm, the embrace full of understanding and sorrow.  After a moment’s comfort, Ianto leaned back again.  “He thinks she’s in special ops.  And that’s what most of Heddlu thinks, outside of Swanson and Davidson.”  He left off, not wanting to hear what Jack would decide.  Usually, for a death with outside connections, Jack would pull out all the stops, giving the dearly departed a heroic demise.  Ianto wasn’t certain he had the stomach for that, at the moment.

Jack looked at Ianto, not understanding the disgusted feeling oozing along their bond.  It was Toshiko who cleared that up for him.

“Jack,” she cut in hesitantly, “Usually the cover story has the operative reported as dying in the line of duty.”  She hesitated again.  “We…  We’re not thinking about giving her a hero’s death, are we?”  She stared down at her fingers, which were tangled together before her.  “I mean, I don’t want to ruin her memory for her friends or family, but…  She tried to kill Ianto.  Would have killed him, if help hadn’t arrived.”  In her experience, sucking chest wounds weren’t normally so easily dealt with.

“Hey,” Jack reached out and gave her joined hands a reassuring squeeze.  “I understand what you mean.”  He smiled when she looked up at him, surprised.  “We’ll call it an accident during a training exercise.”  He looked over at Ianto and smiled, feeling the younger man’s surprise and gratitude.

“Bunny,” Ianto turned to Luna, “You should rest while they’re doing the autopsy.  Ron can take George home and change his memories, and then go to take care of Harry and Nag.  He can come back here until we’re ready to do the rest,” he added, knowing Ron wouldn’t want to leave Hermione alone right now, even if her injuries had been healed.

Ianto stood and embraced Harry, Ginny, and George, thanking them for their help.  Harry and Ginny went home to wait for Ron, who then left with George.  Ianto headed to his desk, where Jack sat beside him and typed as Ianto dictated.  Soon enough, his report was done.  Jack signed off on it and Toshiko’s, which had also been done quickly, and he smiled fondly as Ianto made a file for the reports.

Next was his own, which Ianto proofed as he wrote it, so by the time he was done, all he had to do was print and sign it, as well.  By that time, Tosh had sent through Owen’s report, which Ianto proofed, printed, and had Jack sign.  The only thing left to do was add the autopsy report. 

Ianto left the file and decided he needed a few moments to himself.  Jack understood but asked him to stay on comms, so he grabbed his and headed to the locked down lab.  The containment box seemed to be moving about as the alien fought its confines, but the box was holding.  Ianto spared the alien an unkind thought before heading to the morgue.  Within a few minutes, Tosh arrived to help.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she said.

“It’s my job, and I can’t ask Jack to do it.  Not this,” he replied quietly.

“Then let me help.”

“You need to scrub the CCTV footage,” he pointed out.

“What do you take me for?” she asked haughtily, then smiled.  “I’ve got Mainframe taking the first pass.  I’ll go back and give it final once-over, in a bit.  But we’ll remember enough that we shouldn’t be going back to check anything.”

“Yes, but if you were to go back for any reason, it would need to hold up,” Ianto said.

“Agreed,” she nodded, then smiled.  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.  But Ianto, you were already exhausted, and then you overdid it with the magic.  And then you were shot.  You look dreadful.  Please, won’t you rest?”

Ianto sighed.  He didn’t want to ask Owen to do even more than he’d already done, but Tosh was right.  Ianto felt… not right, between the blood loss, the fatigue, and the emotional rollercoaster of the day.  He went to one of the side cabinets built discreetly into the wall and pulled out a gown and a body bag.

“Once Owen’s done with the autopsy, ask Susan if she will clean the body and help Owen get Gwen into the gown and the bag.  Then all that will be left will be to inter her,” he gestured to the drawer he had already prepared.  “I’ll head up and work on the paperwork, so Jack won’t have to.”

“You don’t need to protect him, Ianto.  I think you’ll find the bloom is well and truly off that rose, now,” Tosh said, her voice low and comforting.  “She tried to kill you.”

“But he’s still lost a team member tonight.  And in more than one way, he’s lost Gwen – both the operative and the idealistic image of an untainted heart…”

“That was always such bullshit,” Tosh said with unexpected venom.  And then she heard Owen snort and realized their comms were hot.  She would have felt badly about that, but maybe it would be good for Jack to hear some of this.

“I don’t disagree,” Ianto replied.  “But that’s what they did for one another – helped each other maintain certain illusions that maybe made the world a bit easier to live in.  For Gwen, Jack was the gallant hero that helped her ignore the disillusionment of real life, which was boring old Rhys, marriage, and babies.  She was locked in to a life she didn’t actually want but didn’t have the courage to leave, and Jack was her escape.”

Toshiko stared at him, surprised at the insight.  She hadn’t considered that.  “And for Jack?” she asked.

Ianto sighed.  “Gwen was that breath of fresh air – undamaged, untainted, idealistic.  None of the rest of us could ever be that for him.  Not anymore,” he looked down at the items in his hands and sighed.  “I haven’t been that since well before I turned sixteen,” he admitted.  “I could never give Jack hope.  Not like that.”

“Ianto,” Tosh reached out and grasped his forearm as she heard someone else on comms draw in a shocked breath.  “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” he asked, then shook his head.  “I suppose now we’ll start all over with the next shiny new thing that isn’t broken,” his own voice broke on the word.  “I suppose this will be my life, now.  Taking care of Jack as he becomes smitten and obsessed with one pretty new face after another as I look on, unable to break free and unwilling to abandon my lover, even if I’m the one left abandoned in the corner as each shiny new thing is discovered.”

He looked at Toshiko, and the pain in his eyes was nothing to do with his physical injuries. 

“Oh, gods, Tosh.  What have I done?”

***