ficlet: A Labyrinth of Broken Dreams PG 1/1
Ianto wakes alone, his questing hand touching nothing but cold sheets and... he turns his head to look at what his seeking fingers have touched and finds an envelope beside him on the pillow, addressed to him in Jack’s sprawling writing. He lets his fingers rest on it, like he would on Jack’s skin, and closes his eyes, remembering.
“I can’t, Ianto.”
“I need you to, Jack. I don't know who you are...”
“I know. I just... I’m sorry...”
He feels the sting of unshed tears in his eyes, and rubs at them with grim determination; his eyes slowly clear. Heaving himself up into a more upright position, he glares at the envelope laying there, both innocent and accusing, until he can see the writing on it even with his eyes closed. He reaches out to pick it up, his hands shaking, unsure he’s ready for what is inside but unable to resist its lure. With trembling fingers he opens it, carefully drawing out the slip of paper as a key tumbles out to land on the dent in the pillow in front of him. The note on the paper is terse; just a door number in the lower archives and what looks to be a password. He picks up the key, weighs it in his hand; despite its looks it does not feel like an ordinary key. He places it back down gently, next to the now-blank piece of paper, before scrambling off the bed and getting dressed.
The door is featureless and smooth, but there is a keypad on the wall. Silently thanking his near-eidetic memory, Ianto begins to tap in the code from the piece of paper, holding his breath as he carefully presses the enter button. For a moment nothing happens, then there is a faint screech of metal on metal and a keyhole slowly appears on the door as its camouflaging plate draws back. Both the key and the lock begin to glow faintly as he brings them into close proximity; Ianto’s breath catches in his throat, but he doesn’t stop until the key slides home into the lock, not even when his hands start shaking again. Heart in his mouth, he turns the key. He feels as much as hears the electronic hum, followed closely by a resounding *clunk* and the door yields to his tentative push as he removes the key. As he crosses the threshold, the lights flicker into life and he stares around himself. It appears to be an archive like any other, though it’s a strange progression of old to new; handwritten labels on cabinets, printed labels on computer storage boxes. He turns around, slowly, trying to take it all in; each label, each file, each box bears the same 2 words: Jack Harkness. Ianto is almost dizzy from holding his breath, and he gasps as a solitary tear trickles down his cheek. He stares at the key in his hand with a smile; not exactly the key to Jack Harkness’s heart, but it’s close enough, and more than he ever thought he would have.
I now have wonderful artwork for this, courtesy of thefannishwaldo which I'm putting at the end cos it's kind of spoiler-y.
“I can’t, Ianto.”
“I need you to, Jack. I don't know who you are...”
“I know. I just... I’m sorry...”
He feels the sting of unshed tears in his eyes, and rubs at them with grim determination; his eyes slowly clear. Heaving himself up into a more upright position, he glares at the envelope laying there, both innocent and accusing, until he can see the writing on it even with his eyes closed. He reaches out to pick it up, his hands shaking, unsure he’s ready for what is inside but unable to resist its lure. With trembling fingers he opens it, carefully drawing out the slip of paper as a key tumbles out to land on the dent in the pillow in front of him. The note on the paper is terse; just a door number in the lower archives and what looks to be a password. He picks up the key, weighs it in his hand; despite its looks it does not feel like an ordinary key. He places it back down gently, next to the now-blank piece of paper, before scrambling off the bed and getting dressed.
The door is featureless and smooth, but there is a keypad on the wall. Silently thanking his near-eidetic memory, Ianto begins to tap in the code from the piece of paper, holding his breath as he carefully presses the enter button. For a moment nothing happens, then there is a faint screech of metal on metal and a keyhole slowly appears on the door as its camouflaging plate draws back. Both the key and the lock begin to glow faintly as he brings them into close proximity; Ianto’s breath catches in his throat, but he doesn’t stop until the key slides home into the lock, not even when his hands start shaking again. Heart in his mouth, he turns the key. He feels as much as hears the electronic hum, followed closely by a resounding *clunk* and the door yields to his tentative push as he removes the key. As he crosses the threshold, the lights flicker into life and he stares around himself. It appears to be an archive like any other, though it’s a strange progression of old to new; handwritten labels on cabinets, printed labels on computer storage boxes. He turns around, slowly, trying to take it all in; each label, each file, each box bears the same 2 words: Jack Harkness. Ianto is almost dizzy from holding his breath, and he gasps as a solitary tear trickles down his cheek. He stares at the key in his hand with a smile; not exactly the key to Jack Harkness’s heart, but it’s close enough, and more than he ever thought he would have.
I now have wonderful artwork for this, courtesy of thefannishwaldo which I'm putting at the end cos it's kind of spoiler-y.