The third of April. Ten days. He's missing ten days. He's lost days, here and there, but always with some reasonable explanation (usually retcon or aliens). Never so many at once.
"Are, ha--" Hey. Ianto jerks and pulls away, kicking at the sand, and pushes himself to his feet, clutching at his arm like he's been burnt. "Don't do that." Bad TARDIS. He laughs once, quickly, nervously, and takes a few steps away to create the illusion of distance. "This is a dream, isn't it?" Okay, well, yeah. "This isn't real. You're not... you."
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"Are, ha--" Hey. Ianto jerks and pulls away, kicking at the sand, and pushes himself to his feet, clutching at his arm like he's been burnt. "Don't do that." Bad TARDIS. He laughs once, quickly, nervously, and takes a few steps away to create the illusion of distance. "This is a dream, isn't it?" Okay, well, yeah. "This isn't real. You're not... you."