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One of the first times they had used the alien Resurrection Glove to bring a dead man back to life for just a minute or two had been on a murder victim in a rain-lashed Cardiff back alley. And Jack had used those precious, stolen moments of life to ask the man what was it like? What was there? What was waiting in the darkness?

The answer, of course, was: you really, really don’t want to know.

And, gradually, Jack had come to realise that he genuinely didn’t want to know. Because whatever waited there, in that undiscovered country, should remain undiscovered. It was dark and endless and utterly unforgiving. And it scared him – because although he may never encounter it, he knew the people he loved more than anything else would. They always did.

Ianto would die. He would slip out of Jack’s arms forever one day – into the cold, black embrace of death, never to return.

And Gwen. When Jack closed his eyes he could picture her lying on a mortuary slab, white as plaster. Those big, beautiful eyes would never open again, never see him, never understand him.

"

—Torchwood novel - The Undertaker’s Gift (Trevor Baxendale)

"

Ianto appeared quietly at his side with a cup of coffee. Jack hadn’t even smelled it coming.

‘I’ve put the Blowfish back in his cell,’ Ianto said. ‘He’ll probably come round in a few minutes.’

‘Thanks.’ Jack looked at Ianto. ‘You look beat. Get some rest.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Don’t argue,’ Jack smiled. ‘I’m in charge. Get some rest and that’s an order.’

‘Aye aye, Captain.’ Ianto turned to leave again, paused, looked back. ‘I am all right, you know.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

But he wasn’t. Ianto looked pale and tired and there was still that sheen of sweat on his forehead. At other times Jack would have been mildly excited by that, but something was worrying him now. Ianto never sweated. At least, not without permission.

"

—Torchwood novel - The Undertaker’s Gift (Trevor Baxendale)

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Long before it was revealed that you were genetically “enhanced,” I recognized in you an intelligence, a capacity for understanding that I found lacking in other humans. As much as the subject irritates you, you have not been so much genetically enhanced as “arranged.”

The people who did this to you had specific reasons, which you have long since outgrown. And having assimilated these changes you’ve accommodated yourself to this “arrangement” according to the demands of your life. For me, this means that in a sense you are more Cardassian than human. Which is why I am able to share this document with you … and why I sat down to lunch with you in the first place.

Before you cringe with horror at the thought of being a Cardassian, let me give you an example. Human memory is selective and linear. Simply put, a human remembers the best of times in progressive order, beginning with earliest childhood. The rosy memories are only challenged by nightmares.

A Cardassian remembers everything on every level all the time. For us, past and present are not neatly separated. We live with everything in the moment—including the nightmares. And so do you.

To a human this would be chaotic, unbearable. For us it’s just the way it is.

"

—Elim Garak (Andrew J. Robinson), A Stitch In Time. (via bisclavretlupinmccall)

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Gwen thought for a moment. She wasn’t used to seeing Jack distraught. He was trying his best to hide it in that slightly cocky, slightly old-fashioned way of his, but she still felt her heart aching for him. Immortality had its price. ‘Maybe,’ she said carefully, ‘you just need a break.’

‘There aren’t any holidays in this job. You know that.’

‘Everyone needs some downtime.’

‘The Rift never takes a break. Right now it’s busier than ever. And, yes, we’ve got the Undertaker’s Gift to deal with on top of that – maybe. We can’t afford to stop. I can’t afford to stop.’

‘We managed without you for a while before.’

‘That was different. And there were more of you then.’ Jack turned and let his gaze rest on the back of Ianto’s head as he worked at his station. ‘I just can’t bear the thought of losing you. Either of you.’

"

—Torchwood novel - The Undertaker’s Gift (Trevor Baxendale)

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Jack noted the data scrolling across his computer and the pages and pages of information about the deranged women spread out across the table. He sighed, lamenting how much he missed his team, missed Owen and Tosh, missed the Hub and its battery of computers.

The kettle whistled on the counter behind him. He didn’t move, letting it build up its steam, missing Ianto most of all.

"

—Torchwood novel - Exodus Code (John and Carole E. Barrowman)

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I know that we have grown apart and that’s as it should be. We learn what we can from certain people, then we move on after we’ve taken what we need. When we learn nothing new about ourselves in a relationship that’s when the relationship is over. Or it’s over the moment when we’re afraid to learn something new about ourselves.

But what I have been learning about myself … whatever it was inside me that was sparked and challenged when I first met you … is deeply connected to this story. I’m an unfinished man, Doctor, like a suit of clothes hanging on a display rack waiting for the final touches that may never come; I need to tell this story to make a peace with those parts of me that were left unfinished. A healing.

Indulge me, if you will; I need you as a witness. A stitch in time… .

"

—Elim Garak (Andrew J. Robinson, A Stitch In Time). (via bisclavretlupinmccall)

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Ianto’s worst ever birthday party had included a food fight.

Watching drunken, rowing parents throw trifle at each other in a screaming fury while he gathered his friends to him, shielding as many as possible from being hit by a stray pickled onion. He never ever wanted to see that much mess covering so many people again.

"

—Torchwood novel - Risk Assessment (James Goss)

"After we stopped those alien parasites from infecting everyone, when everything turned out OK, how relieved we were – then we all went and got totally rat-arsed. You were dancing on a table, and Tosh was shoving fivers in your belt. Me and Owen said she was paying too much, that you’d do it for a drink and a wink, and I spilt my drink all down Gwen’s cleavage. Laughing, just laughing like we’d never laughed before, in case we’d never get another chance.’"

—Ianto Jones trying to bring back a catatonic Jack Harkness with memories in the short story “Virus”, in the Torchwood novel Consequences

"

They parked in the next-door bay, where a large metal egg lay on its side. Leaning against it were Gwen and a man in neatly old fashioned clothes. They were sharing a plate of sandwiches.

Gwen waved as they drew up.

Agnes rushed from the van, pecked Gwen quickly on the cheek, and then hugged George Herbert Sanderson tightly. Gwen ran over to Rhys and grabbed him before he even made it out of the van.

‘Aw,’ Jack smiled and turned to Ianto, but found him throwing up behind a sand dune. Jack went and patted him on the shoulder.

‘Never let me drink rum again,’ Ianto wailed.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Jack rubbed his hair, and then, cradling him in his arms, walked him back to the others. ‘This,’ he said to the beach in general, ‘is a great spot for a picnic. Let’s bunk off. It’s going to be a lovely day.’

And then it started to rain.

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—Torchwood novel - Risk Assessment (James Goss)

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Ianto came running up to him, and, making sure that Agnes wasn’t looking, hugged him. Jack, careless, seized his cheeks and kissed him. Ianto squirmed away uneasily. ‘Not on duty, Captain,’ he whispered.

‘Tut,’ said Jack fondly as Ianto straightened his tie.

"

—Torchwood novel - Risk Assessment (James Goss)