InsaneJournal

It should have been morning.  Or what passed for morning in their little glass cage.  It should have been sweet and slow and scented with that peculiar, fantastic spice that Jack oozed, especially when he was content.  

It wasn't.

It was coffee scented, which wasn't bad at least.  Coffee was a comforting scent to Ianto, one that served to oddly relax him.  When he came to himself, finally aware of his surroundings, he found himself standing in the middle of a hall, mug cradled between his palms and head tipped towards the ceiling as the unmistakable voice of Yvonne Hartman announced the end of a ghost shift.  Ianto was dressed well, if not smartly, in a sports coat, an oxford and blue jeans and there was friendly jostling around him, poking fun at him for simply standing there during the ghost shift and didn't he have things to be looking up in the archives?

The mug nearly dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers.  No.  No no no.  It couldn't be.  He was in London?!

Ianto set the mug down before he dropped it and fumbled about his person for the mobile phone he knew he had in his pocket somewhere.  When he found it, the date displayed on the phone's little screen made his stomach clench.  He knew this date.  He should, he drank himself stupid every year on this date.  It was the date his world ended.

But he was here and it hadn't happened yet.  It hadn't happened yet.  He could.. he .. what could he do?  He could save her, that's what he could do.  

Telling himself that Jack of all people'd understand, Ianto punched at buttons on the mobile until Lisa's name scrolled up and dialed.  The amused voice on the other end nearly made Ianto fall to his knees.  

"Ianto Jones, you're supposed to be working.  Or is it already time for our mid-morning quickie?"

"Lisa.  Oh, God, Lisa.  ...Lisa, we.. Where are you?  We've got to get out of here."

"I wasn't serious about the quickie."

"I know, Lisa, I know.  I just .. I," What, Jones, what?  Think quickly!  There wasn't much time!  "Come play hookie with me.  Please.  I love you.  Just you and me somewhere."

Lisa's laugh, bright as bubbles in the sun, popped through the tiny speaker and Ianto did drop to his knees then, overcome.  How long since he's heard that laugh?  No one seemed to notice him on the floor, aside from the occasional odd look cast his way.

"I can't, there's the next shift.  Tell you what, though, we'll go someplace fantastic for dinner, then go home and get drunk and we'll -- bugger, it's my boss.  I gotta go.  Love you, too, Ianto."

The line went dead.

Ianto clutched the phone to his chest and looked around, at placid, modern walls, and knew that they'd be burning within hours.  The dead would be piled up and shoved against their gleam, the paint would be spattered with blood.  Ianto knew he'd be gagging on the stink of burning flesh, running from relentless, pounding marching and tinny demands of death.  He'd be cringing from the whirl of saws and helpless, hopeless screams, the stink of ozone and the death of the entire tower.  Ianto knew he'd be screaming, too.  How many survived?  Twenty eight?  Out of over eight hundred?  Memories Ianto kept locked up and barred away came flooding back, drowning him in horrors that were yet to happen.  That would happen today.

Oh, holy God, please, no.

Ianto shook all over as he picked himself up, tears already falling as he ran unsteadily down the hall to find Lisa.  Confused colleagues scattered out of his erratic way.  Overhead, Yvonne announced the beginning of another ghost shift.  Ianto knew that this one would be the last.