Avise La Fin.

When Ianto awoke, it was to a smooth, cold surface pressing into the flesh of his cheek. For a moment, he did not open his eyes- he just lay there, relishing the feel of something hard, something real after so much time spent suspended in nothingness. He gently rubbed his outstretched fingers down the surface, probing it, testing it for inconsistencies. It almost felt as if he was lying on a large plane of glass. His blue eyes slowly fluttered open, rotating until he could just see the area he was lying on. It was jet black and shiny; almost lacquered in appearance. Slowly, he pushed himself upright, sitting cross-legged on the strange dark plain. As an unpleasant shock of cold shot up through his backside. He realised he was still naked.

Yeah, lot of nudity in this world, Ianto. I guess after you’re dead, you don’t really need to bother with clothes.

Ianto jumped as the cockney tones vibrated through his skull, alarmed by their familiarity.

“Owen?” he cried out, leaping to his feet. He frantically scanned the landscape, his hands automatically clasping together in front of his pelvis. However unnecessary clothes were to the dead, he still wished he had them. Facing an old colleague in the nude was certainly daunting. But no matter how far his eyes strained, he could see nothing but the glassy dark ground, stretching away into the distance.

Owen chuckled. Sorry, pal. I’m a bit more disembodied then you are. You know how talking to yourself is the first sign of madness? Well, you may as well be right off your nut, because I’m just a voice in your head.

“But you’re still real?” Ianto asked, still not quite daring to move his hands. After all, he had no idea if or how far Owen could see. “I’m not just making you up to cope with stress?”

[IbLike anyone could make something this amazing up, Owen snorted. No, Ianto, it’s really me. I’m just speaking directly into your brain. Handy, isn’t it? Better then mobiles and completely free. Jack should work on introducing it to the team.

“Where are you, then?”

Still in the dark, the young doctor replied bitterly. Ianto could too easily picture a scowl appearing on his usually sour features. This is like a holiday for me. Turns out that the living dead don’t get to go to heaven. Not like all them dogs. He laughed sardonically.

“… And… Tosh?” Ianto asked quietly. “Is she there too?”

There was a long pause.

I’m not sure… Owen said finally, each syllable filled with hesitation . But… I have a feeling she isn’t. I can’t explain it- not even if I had a bloody Oxford dictionary handy. I just know that wherever she is, it isn’t in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto answered stiffly. He was unsure of whether it was the right thing to say. Anything was better than being in the darkness… But he was willing to bet Owen would have bore it a lot better with Toshiko by his side.

It’s fine, Ianto, Owen sighed. No need to get your knickers in a twist- well, if you were wearing any, that is. I’m a bit relieved she isn’t here, actually. All that perfectly good sexual tension, wasted. I mean, spending eternity together staring at each other’s bits completely kills any chance of romance. Speaking of bits, stop trying to tuck your dick between your legs.

“I wasn’t!” Ianto protested. “Although, if I was, I might wonder why on Earth you feel the need to watch.”

Well, for one, this isn’t Earth, sunshine. And it’s not like there’s much else to do. You’re like my only television channel, Ianto. The naked Welshman channel. Doesn’t matter if I don’t like what I see- there’s fuck all else to watch.

“And coming up after the break, naked Welshman smashes head into bloody pulp as a side-effect of a particularly irritating case of schizophrenia,” Ianto muttered. He took a few steps forward, surveying the area, hoping to see a clothes rack suddenly pop up on the horizon. At this moment in time, he would have been happy to slum it in a threadbare pair of tracksuit pants and a stained undershirt. Though, a suit would still be best. A classic black pair of trousers and jacket, with a freshly starched pink shirt folded neatly on top. Oh, and of course, a nice tie and shoes to complete the ensemble. He found himself wishing they would just materialize in front of him as a benevolent gift from some otherworldly being. But it was too unlikely- even for a place that could only be described as a form of limbo.

Do us a favour and look behind you, Owen instructed, sounding bored.

Ianto spun around. To his delight, each article of clothing he had imagined was sitting on the ground, arranged in an orderly pile. He gingerly picked the items up, using them as a make-shift shield as he glanced around the plains.

“Er… Do you think you could possible turn off the telepathy for a minute?” he asked Owen, a heated blush spreading across his fair complexion.

All right, I’ll keep my eyes shut, Owen grumbled. Not as if there was anything I wanted to see, anyway, even though I might point out I was your doctor and trust me, you don't have anything I haven't seen before, except maybe a deficiency in size...

Ianto rolled his eyes and dressed hurriedly. In moments the Welshman was standing confidently and fully clothed, all buttoned up in his new suit. He lifted a pale hand to tug the knot of his tie away from his partially constricted throat. Smoothing down the front of his crisp black pants, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, revelling in the scent of fresh ironing and fabric softener. Putting on each piece of the suit was like strapping on plates of armour. His feeling of vulnerability decreased with each button, his sense of helplessness vanquished by shrugging on the suit jacket. The former “battle butler” was fully suited up, and ready for any conflict.

All done now, oh Prudish one? Owen asked. Ianto pressed his lips together, suppressing a satisfied grin. He nodded.

“All done. So, as you’ve been here longer, and, er, obviously know a bit more about this place then I do, would you care to tell me what I should do next?”

You got it spot on, Ianto, Owen replied. Believe it or not, I’m not just here to antagonise you, although that doesn’t mean I won’t be enjoying that advantage. I’m your guide to the underworld- trust me, if you’re dead for long enough, you find your way around pretty easily. ‘Course, there’s probably plenty of other undead ghoulies that know a lot more about this place then I do, but seeing as we used to be colleagues, they thought you’d appreciate having me around more than listening to some stranger.

“How… kind,” Ianto muttered. Obviously the higher-ups in the underworld had no idea of the utter lack of affection felt between him and his co-worker. “So, what am I supposed to do now, if you don’t mind?”

Well, now you’re dressed, you can start by walking as fast as you can straight in front of you. I hope those shoes are comfortable, Ianto. I have no clue when you’ll get there.

“Just where is ‘there’?”

I dunno- I’m not a bloody map. Just walk and you‘ll find it. Just trust me on this one- it‘s hard to believe, but I‘m not winding you up.

Ianto sighed, bending down and tugging his socks up so they sat firmly around his ankles. He wasn‘t sure if common ailments like blisters could occur after death, but he wasn’t keen to find out. He scanned the horizon, shading his eyes against the strange, bluish light that radiated across the sky. The almost crystalline, alien quality of the light reminded him of a picture he had seen, tucked away in a drawer of Jack’s desk. Depicted was the charismatic immortal himself, posing with an anorak-clad arm slung around a young female colleague’s shoulders. On their heads perched ridiculously furry hats, and above the glittering icy landscape stretched a collection of brilliant glowing stripes, colours ranging from aqua to the royalist of purples. It had been from a time, Jack explained later, when he had been sent to observe the Northern Lights in the late seventies. Apparently there were theories that it was another rift- stories of people disappearing into it, and others appearing in their place, more often than not accompanied by strangely intelligent animals.

The woman had been a Torchwood employee; one of the many that did not survive to collect their pension. In the picture, her smile was frozen for eternity, free from the knowledge that in one year, she would no longer be on the same plain of existence. The young employee that Jack did not refer to by name had died as a result of a botched hostage negotiation. According to Jack, when the meeting had started sliding down the slippery slope to hell, she just burst in, guns blazing, distracting the enemy so the hostages could make a break for it and died mere minutes later in a hail of bullets. Ianto couldn’t help but wonder if she had stayed in the darkness, or preceded Tosh into whatever else awaited the deceased.

In the back of his mind he could hear Owen mumbling in protest, stating that there were much more important things to be doing then staring at the sky and thinking about other ‘ghoulies‘. The Welshman began to briskly walk towards the horizon, his shiny leather shoes clacking against the glassy black surface. Soon a strange sense of urgency overcame the Welshman and he began to jog, eventually breaking into an all-out run. Before his death he would have been gasping and wheezing, sweat patches descending from his armpits to his belt. It was a requirement of field agents to maintain a certain standard of fitness, but Ianto had always been a poor runner. However, in this world, he possessed the lungs of an Olympiad.

He sped across the landscape, arms pumping, legs flying, the minimalist scenery turning into streaks of blue and black, he was a man on a mission, a superhero imitating a jet engine, spreading his arms now, wondering if the speed was enough to make him take off and soar, far up into the strange sky, above the glassy ground….

Stop! Owen shouted suddenly. His voice was pinched and anxious. Ianto- for fuck’s sake, stop!

Ianto skidded to a halt, eyes darting around the barren plain. There was no visible change to the landscape. Everything was still flat and barren. But the urgency in Owens’s call was undeniable.

“What’s wrong?” the Welshman asked, a chill running down the length of his spine. “I don’t see anything.”

Well, you aren’t really looking, are you? Owen murmured distantly. Try again, but really look this time.

“What do you mean by ‘really look’-”

Oh, don’t even ask, Ianto! Owen snapped testily. Just shut up and do it. This is serious.

Ianto slowly blinked and tried again, rubbing his knuckles briefly against his eyes. He wasn’t sure what Owen meant by really looking. Perhaps it was going under the surface, seeing past appearances. Not judging a book by its cover- God, he had been a victim of that so many times. He still remembered the days when he had been nothing more then a suit in the corner of Jack’s eye; a mannequin composed of shades of grey. Hence why he had been so adept at scurrying around Torchwood, unintentionally sabotaging it from within. Not that every member of the team hadn’t had a go at that during their employment. Owen chasing his lover, Tosh falling into bed with an enemy, Gwen and her irrational flares of conscience during crucial moments… Jack’s carelessness. The absence of death made him cocky and rash, often leading to painful reminders of the mortality of others. Such as Ianto himself. The young Welshman bowed his head, pinching his lip between his teeth. It was a mistake. He did not feel the need to blame Jack at all. And when he finally saw him again, there would be no resentment or anger, just the relief of having the only person that truly mattered back in his grasp…

There. On the ground. A cracked, jagged line of white light, travelling the length of the surface. As he stared at it, the edges began to crumble away, great lumps of black rock falling into a painfully bright abyss. He edged closer to the widening gap, peering into it warily. In one of the sides was a set of roughly-hewn steps. They almost looked like they had formed naturally out of the stone.

You’ve got to go down there, you know, Owen instructed, sounding uncharacteristically sombre. It’s where your first trial will be taking place.

“Will you be there?” Ianto asked hesitantly. Already his stomach was working itself into knots. As much as he would hate to admit it to the young doctor, he had no desire to face this alone. Even a useless voice in his head was worth some moral support. Perhaps remind him of why he was putting himself through this. He thought he had the will to go through with it, yes, but would it last when tested?

Yes, was Owen’s immediate answer. I’ll be with you in the first one. And the second- although in the second, I’m not allowed to say anything. Just have to watch. Kind of like voyeurism versus pornography. ‘Cept I’m not sick enough to beat off to your suffering, if that’s what you’re worried about…

“Didn’t even cross my mind, but thank you for that lovely image,” Ianto muttered, nervously loosening his tie. Gingerly, he took a step towards the crack. It was all too easy to imagine falling inside it and continuing to hurtle for all eternity. No wonder he was apprehensive, with thoughts like that crossing his mind.

Look, Ianto, if you just stand here like a muppet for the next thousand years, it’s all right with me, but it won’t get you back to Jack, Owen stated firmly. Go on. Hop in. What’s the worst that can happen? You’re already dead.

“There are things worse than death, Owen.”

Not from where I‘m standing, the doctor replied grimly. Do it. Do it for Jack. Do it for all us poor sods stuck down here. Do it for yourself, even. Just… stop pussy footing about and get your Welsh arse down there!.

And on that last crass note, Ianto closed his eyes, stepped forward and fell through the crack.

It was travelling, but not like travelling between the darkness and this realm. Ianto felt like he was being licked by tongues of cold flame. Each nerve pushed against his skin, eager to experience this new sensation. His skin turned into a carpet of bumps under his suit. The Welshman kept his eyes shut as the air whistled around his ears, buffeting the sides of his jacket. He didn’t know what was going on; only that some secret voice inside him was telling him it would be a very bad idea to o. Finally he hit the bottom with a hideous thud- the kind that knocked a person’s bones right out of their setting. For a moment he was sure he would gaze down to see both his ankles shattered, with shards of ivory sticking out the sides of his mangled flesh. But amazingly, he had landed completely unscathed.

“I suppose it’s a bit stupid, expecting to experience injury once you’re deceased,” he commented lightly, vaguely paranoid that Owen had broken his word and deserted him.

Well, in spirit form, yes. But if you remember, I was classified as the “walking deceased” for quite awhile and I’ll testament that we can experience injury. But of course, we don’t feel it and it doesn’t heal. Bad in the long run, but great if you get shot a couple of times.

“Ah,” Ianto muttered. Obviously death had done nothing to curb Owen’s know-it-all streak..

You can look now, all right? God, it isn’t half boring staring at the inside of your eyelids-

“Oh, shut up Owen,” Ianto muttered. His eyes were still tightly shut. “I’m having a very daunting day, and I think I’m entitled to a few moments of cowardice.”

Get on with it, you poncy Welsh git.

Owen’s utter lack of sympathy was astounding.

Ianto opened his eyes. For a moment, he was terrified that It had broken Its word- that he was back in the darkness once more. But in the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of flame spout from the ground. It danced and writhed, illuminating the Welshman’s surroundings. He was in an underground cave. The fire cast shadows onto the solid rock walls. Before Ianto’s eyes they melded together into gruesome, horrifying shapes. Distorted faces appeared in the rock, their gaping mouths screaming soundlessly. One of them even resembled Lisa… And another, he could have sworn was Toshiko…

Ianto shook his head, blinking rapidly before daring to take another look. The rock wall was just that- a rock wall, completely devoid of leering faces and any other type of frightening imagery. He breathed in deeply, for his heart was still fluttering nervously. It was like being a small child again, confronted with shadowy monsters every time the light was switched off. Although, since joining Torchwood, he knew the monsters were often much more than just shadows… God, he’d make a shitty parent, telling his kids something like that…

Head towards the fire, Owen instructed. His voice was uncharacteristically solemn, almost as if he held a reverence for this place. Ianto had never known Owen to be reverent of anything. Although, it was difficult to be reverent in their kind of work. He supposed one would simply go mad if every autopsy was conducted with dignity and reverence. Too much grief… Too little time to recover.

Like with Lisa. My Lisa.

You still think about her, then? Owen inquired, making no secret of his intrusion into Ianto’s thoughts. The Welshman grit his teeth, grinding them together in annoyance. He had never liked people prying into his life- not even now that he was dead. Though, he supposed Jack and Gwen would pick up on his little “inconsistencies”, now he was gone. He hoped that they didn’t think anything less of him for it.

“Yes, I do. What of it?” Ianto answered hotly. “I loved her. More than life itself, at one point.”

Calm down. I’m not being a prat, Owen said quickly. I didn’t mean to come across like that. I understand, Ianto. I’ve been there. I think about… well, I think about my wife every so often. She’s the one that got me into this bloody mess to start with, I suppose. He laughed hollowly. And Diane… I think about her too. I think about them both. That’s all you can really do here- think. But Tosh… Toshiko… she’s the one I think about the most. She’s the only one I tried to find.

“What about the others? Have you tried to find them?”

No… I got scared after Tosh, you see. Scared of being disappointed again. At least if I don’t go searching after them, I can pretend they’re around, because I don’t know if they definitely aren’t here. I hope you can make sense of that, Ianto, because it’s doing my bloody head in.

Ianto was silent. To search for Lisa had not even crossed his mind. Not once while floating through the darkness had he reached out for her. He supposed he was too used to her being an empty space. Something that just did not exist for him any more. A painful memory, at the most. Not like Jack. Jack, who was burnt into his mind like an afterimage of those dancing flames on his retinas. Jack, who was his whole reason for trying to get back.

Self-pity could wait. Right now he, Ianto Jones, had to prove himself, and that meant no room for counterproductive melancholy. The Welshman rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, unsuprised by the slick, cold sweat that had gathered there. Whatever was near that burst of flame… He would face it, for Jack. Carefully, he took a step forward, his keen gray-blue eyes fixed upon the fire. In the back of his mind, Owen whispered encouragements, urging the Welshman onto his destination.

After six more steps, he stood directly in front of the flame.

“Strange,” he muttered, stock-still as a spark leapt onto his shirt and singed his collar.

What’s strange?

“There’s no heat.”

There wasn’t. Not even a smidgen of warmth radiated off the fierce flames. Ianto dared to lift a hand and reached out, warily pushing his fingers into the heart of the fire. Nothing- only a tingling numbness, which made Ianto withdraw his fingers as hastily as he would if he had been burnt. Suddenly, the Welshman felt cold all over. The eeriness of the cave had tripled- his surroundings had melted and morphed, the walls running like wax and pooling around his feet… He lifted his foot and was filled with revulsion. A black, gooey matter clung to the sole of his shoe, eager to suck it back down to the floor. A terrifying image flashed into his brain- of the black goo creeping up his legs and enveloping him into a slimy, suffocating embrace. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his nose. Every rational thought he possessed was screaming for him to run away, as fast as his legs would carry him.

Don’t run, Ianto! Owen shouted. Go into the fire! Into the fucking fire! It’s the only way!

Ianto’s legs were locked at the knee. He couldn’t bring himself to step forward.

GO! Stop standing there! Do you want it to swallow you, you stupid Welsh bastard? Just do it! Do it or say goodbye to ever seeing Jack again-“

“Jack,” Ianto whispered, teetering on the spot. He could feel the muck eating through his shoes. “Jack…” His eyes were glazed and flat, his mouth dry as he stumbled forward. “Jack…” his arms shot out in front of him as he tripped forward, tumbling head-first into the flames.

“JACK!”

Oh, you bloody fool, Owen muttered, knowing that Ianto had no hope of hearing him. You bloody brave fool…