Fic: Vizzini's Rule (104/105)
Title: Vizzini's Rule, Chapter 104
Rating: R
Warnings: Not really, just general angst
Spoilers: Season One thru End of Days (1x13)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around! All ©’s to Chris Chibnall for dialogue and situations borrowed from End of Days - no infringement, only worship intended. Also a nod to Chris Carter for the line borrowed from The X-Files.
Summary: In which Ianto is still trying to come to grips with Jack’s death…
Notes: Sorry for the lateness - couldn’t get online until just now, i.e. around 10:00 my time (stupid ratzlefraztle internet “connection”). Many thanks as always to my magnificent beta
thrace_adams and without further ado, here is the penultimate chapter of Vizzini’s Rule! Hope you enjoy!
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter One Hundred and Four
The next morning Ianto woke up, carefully made Jack’s bed, showered and dressed in one of his spare suits. He checked the CCTV after climbing up to Jack’s office and saw Gwen, still standing vigil by Jack’s unmoving body. He sighed and went to make coffee. Unfortunately, his beloved coffee maker seemed to have been damaged by falling debris. He wasn’t sure if it was merely the water supply or the machinery itself that needed repair, he just knew it would take longer to fix than he was willing to wait for his morning caffeine. Sighing even more deeply, Ianto rummaged around in the cabinets until he found an old carafe with a cone filter. This will have to do, he thought.
When Tosh and Owen arrived, Ianto had already started cleaning up the damage around the Hub. The three of them spent the day putting things to rights, disposing of broken glass, reinforcing walls weakened by falling beams and bricks. Owen and Tosh each took turns trying to convince Gwen to leave Jack’s side with no success.
Ianto didn’t even try.
The next day was much the same. Ianto had snuck back into the Hub after Tosh and Owen left and spent the night grieving for Jack in private, his head buried in Jack’s pillow. He woke up, showered and dressed, made substandard coffee that required indecent amounts of cream and sugar to be drinkable and got to work. He encouraged the numbness that had set in when the others were around, cultivating its soothing detachment until he couldn’t feel a thing. Luckily, Owen was with him when he cut his arm on a jagged beam-edge and dragged him to the med bay to patch it up before it got too bad. Ianto hadn’t even noticed.
“Stupid blighter… gotta pay attention… could have bled to death or gotten lockjaw or - hey, when was your last tetanus shot? Hey! I’m talking to you, Ianto,” Owen said sharply.
Ianto shrugged.
Owen stared at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment. Ianto glanced at him and then looked away, his eyes catching the CCTV monitor that was tuned, as they all were, to the morgue feed. Owen followed his gaze and sighed. He slapped a sticking plaster to Ianto’s arm with more force than necessary, making Ianto grunt in pain.
“Remember that and be more careful,” he said. “Now get out of here.”
Ianto winced as he pulled his ruined shirt back on. “I’ll get started on the -”
“What did I just say?” Owen asked. “Go home.”
“Home? But -”
“It’s almost six, your shirt is a bloody mess and you’re exhausted. Go. Home. That’s an order.”
Ianto raised his chin defiantly. “You can’t -”
“Like hell I can’t,” Owen said. “Get out of here, Ianto. I’m going to go tell Gwen the same thing, but I doubt she’ll listen. I thought you had more sense.”
Ianto’s shoulders slumped and his eyes darted back to the monitor. He nodded and started to climb up the stairs, stopping when Owen spoke again.
“Why aren’t you down there?” he asked quietly.
“It’s not my place,” Ianto said, bowing his head.
Owen snorted. “More yours than hers it seems to me.”
Ianto turned and looked down at Owen. “I… I wouldn’t want to explain that to her, not right now.”
Owen made a face and nodded reluctantly. “True.” He walked to the sink and washed his hands. Grabbing a towel he turned to Ianto again. “But you haven’t tried to stop her either,” he observed. “Do you think she’s right? Do you believe he can still come back?”
“I want to believe,” Ianto whispered. He held Owen’s eyes for another long moment and then walked slowly up the stairs.
Tosh gave Ianto a ride home. He really wanted to get a run in, but his arm had started to throb and he didn’t think a three-mile run would do much to improve it. The ride was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
Ianto’s flat felt strange to him even though he’d only been gone a few days. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and then wandered aimlessly around wondering how long this feeling would last. It felt like nothing fit right, nothing smelled right or tasted right, everything was wrong somehow… without Jack, he admitted to himself. He took a swig from his bottle of beer and grimaced as he swallowed. He left it on the coffee table and headed for his bedroom. He undressed slowly, careful of his arm and then fell into bed. The last few sleepless nights finally caught up with him and Ianto slept without dreaming.
Ianto awoke in the dark, a few minutes before his alarm, panic flooding through him. He rolled over and pressed his face in the pillow, breathing deeply. No Jack, where is - and then he remembered. He was in his bed, not Jack’s. He fought the tears that were pressing at the back of his throat. This is what it will be like. No more Jack. Even in his bed, his scent will fade and then he’ll really be gone. Forever. He swallowed hard and forced himself to get up. He turned off his alarm and dragged his tired body to the shower. He turned the water on as hot as it would go, trying to wake himself up and clear thoughts of Jack from his mind. It didn’t help that everything he owned reminded him of his lover.
He washed his hair with shampoo that Jack liked. He toweled himself off while memories of Jack’s hands on his body tortured him. He dressed in a suit that Jack had once said made him look good enough to eat. He tied his tie with shaking hands, remembering a night when that tie had been looped around Jack’s wrist, securing him to the headboard while he lay beneath Ianto, stretched out and waiting…
Ianto slammed his closet door with a bang and stalked out to the kitchen. He called a taxi and made a cup of coffee while he waited, trying in vain to recapture the frozen numbness that had sheltered him at the Hub.
That day was much like the ones before. Tosh and Owen and Ianto cleaned up and repaired the Hub while Gwen waited by Jack’s body. Just after lunch, Ianto found Tosh standing at her workstation, staring at Gwen and Jack on the monitor. He stood beside her, watching as Gwen kept touching Jack’s body as she spoke to him, brushing her hands over his chest, through his hair, down his face. Ianto balled up his hands into fists, fighting the urge to run down the stairs and tear Gwen away from Jack.
“How long is she gonna do this?” Owen asked.
Ianto looked over at him. He wanted to agree, he wanted to suggest that they drag her home to Rhys by force if necessary and let him stay with Jack. Owen would understand that, he thought. But he just couldn’t bring himself to speak, as if somehow by stopping Gwen he’d truly abandon Jack to the darkness. His eyes fell and he looked back at the screen, hungry for the sight of his lover.
Owen and Tosh started yet another discussion on what to do about Gwen. Ianto excused himself and left them to it. What he had told Owen in the med bay was true, he wanted to believe that Gwen was right, he wanted to believe that Jack would come back to them, to him, but part of him just couldn’t see how it was possible. Gwen believes with all her heart, he thought morosely, that’s why she’s down there… I don’t deserve to be with him.
He found himself in Jack’s office, idly tidying up his desk as he always did. He sniffed, realizing that he was once again on the brink of tears. He straightened up and was about to leave when Jack’s coat caught his eye. Jack, he thought desperately. He walked around the desk and reached for the coat with a shaking hand. Jack… cariad, I’m sorry… He blinked back tears and lowered his face to the collar of Jack’s coat. Jack Jack Jack His mind was stuck on that one word, a needle caught in a groove, playing the same note over and over again. JackJackJack He buried his nose in wool softened by age and wear and let the scent of his lover comfort him as sorrow overwhelmed him.
How long Ianto stood there, sobbing quietly into Jack’s coat, he never knew. When he became aware of himself again, he knew he had to get out. Blindly, he hung Jack’s coat back on the hook and then bolted for the back entrance to his office. He ran quickly down the back stairs to the changing rooms and practically tore the door off his locker. He ripped off his suit, losing a few buttons along the way, and hurriedly pulled on his running trousers and a fleece hoodie. He tied his trainers on, fighting back the panic, only remembering at the last minute to grab his keys and wallet and zip them into one of his pockets.
He took the stairs out of the Hub, stopping at every landing to stretch and warm up a bit. Just when he was certain the walls of the stairwell were going to close in on him, he reached the Tourist Office and the open air.
Ianto ran flat out for several minutes, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the Hub and everyone in it. But then his left calf began to tighten, threatening to cramp if he didn’t slow down. He reluctantly obeyed his body’s commands and moderated his pace. He wiped furiously at his still streaming eyes and refocused all of his energy on the run.
It had been weeks since he’d had a good run and it took a little longer than usual to reach that point where it stopped feeling like work and started to feel like flying. His feet stopped slamming into the pavement and started to glide across it instead, his chest wasn’t tight any more and he could breathe again, it felt like all his muscles were lengthening, loosening until they were moving in perfect synchrony with one another. His mind went blissfully blank as he concentrated on the road - left or right was the most complicated decision he had to make for a while.
Eventually, he wound around through Cardiff and pointed his exhausted body home. He slowed to a walk about a mile from his flat and focused on his breathing. Once he was home, he showered and fell into bed, too tired to think, too tired to brood, too tired to do anything but sleep.
That night he dreamed of Jack.
When he woke, his pillow was wet with tears again. He sighed deeply as he shut off his alarm and got out of bed, prepared to face another day without Jack.
To be concluded in Chapter One Hundred and Five
Rating: R
Warnings: Not really, just general angst
Spoilers: Season One thru End of Days (1x13)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around! All ©’s to Chris Chibnall for dialogue and situations borrowed from End of Days - no infringement, only worship intended. Also a nod to Chris Carter for the line borrowed from The X-Files.
Summary: In which Ianto is still trying to come to grips with Jack’s death…
Notes: Sorry for the lateness - couldn’t get online until just now, i.e. around 10:00 my time (stupid ratzlefraztle internet “connection”). Many thanks as always to my magnificent beta
thrace_adams and without further ado, here is the penultimate chapter of Vizzini’s Rule! Hope you enjoy!
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter One Hundred and Four
The next morning Ianto woke up, carefully made Jack’s bed, showered and dressed in one of his spare suits. He checked the CCTV after climbing up to Jack’s office and saw Gwen, still standing vigil by Jack’s unmoving body. He sighed and went to make coffee. Unfortunately, his beloved coffee maker seemed to have been damaged by falling debris. He wasn’t sure if it was merely the water supply or the machinery itself that needed repair, he just knew it would take longer to fix than he was willing to wait for his morning caffeine. Sighing even more deeply, Ianto rummaged around in the cabinets until he found an old carafe with a cone filter. This will have to do, he thought.
When Tosh and Owen arrived, Ianto had already started cleaning up the damage around the Hub. The three of them spent the day putting things to rights, disposing of broken glass, reinforcing walls weakened by falling beams and bricks. Owen and Tosh each took turns trying to convince Gwen to leave Jack’s side with no success.
Ianto didn’t even try.
The next day was much the same. Ianto had snuck back into the Hub after Tosh and Owen left and spent the night grieving for Jack in private, his head buried in Jack’s pillow. He woke up, showered and dressed, made substandard coffee that required indecent amounts of cream and sugar to be drinkable and got to work. He encouraged the numbness that had set in when the others were around, cultivating its soothing detachment until he couldn’t feel a thing. Luckily, Owen was with him when he cut his arm on a jagged beam-edge and dragged him to the med bay to patch it up before it got too bad. Ianto hadn’t even noticed.
“Stupid blighter… gotta pay attention… could have bled to death or gotten lockjaw or - hey, when was your last tetanus shot? Hey! I’m talking to you, Ianto,” Owen said sharply.
Ianto shrugged.
Owen stared at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment. Ianto glanced at him and then looked away, his eyes catching the CCTV monitor that was tuned, as they all were, to the morgue feed. Owen followed his gaze and sighed. He slapped a sticking plaster to Ianto’s arm with more force than necessary, making Ianto grunt in pain.
“Remember that and be more careful,” he said. “Now get out of here.”
Ianto winced as he pulled his ruined shirt back on. “I’ll get started on the -”
“What did I just say?” Owen asked. “Go home.”
“Home? But -”
“It’s almost six, your shirt is a bloody mess and you’re exhausted. Go. Home. That’s an order.”
Ianto raised his chin defiantly. “You can’t -”
“Like hell I can’t,” Owen said. “Get out of here, Ianto. I’m going to go tell Gwen the same thing, but I doubt she’ll listen. I thought you had more sense.”
Ianto’s shoulders slumped and his eyes darted back to the monitor. He nodded and started to climb up the stairs, stopping when Owen spoke again.
“Why aren’t you down there?” he asked quietly.
“It’s not my place,” Ianto said, bowing his head.
Owen snorted. “More yours than hers it seems to me.”
Ianto turned and looked down at Owen. “I… I wouldn’t want to explain that to her, not right now.”
Owen made a face and nodded reluctantly. “True.” He walked to the sink and washed his hands. Grabbing a towel he turned to Ianto again. “But you haven’t tried to stop her either,” he observed. “Do you think she’s right? Do you believe he can still come back?”
“I want to believe,” Ianto whispered. He held Owen’s eyes for another long moment and then walked slowly up the stairs.
Tosh gave Ianto a ride home. He really wanted to get a run in, but his arm had started to throb and he didn’t think a three-mile run would do much to improve it. The ride was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
Ianto’s flat felt strange to him even though he’d only been gone a few days. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and then wandered aimlessly around wondering how long this feeling would last. It felt like nothing fit right, nothing smelled right or tasted right, everything was wrong somehow… without Jack, he admitted to himself. He took a swig from his bottle of beer and grimaced as he swallowed. He left it on the coffee table and headed for his bedroom. He undressed slowly, careful of his arm and then fell into bed. The last few sleepless nights finally caught up with him and Ianto slept without dreaming.
Ianto awoke in the dark, a few minutes before his alarm, panic flooding through him. He rolled over and pressed his face in the pillow, breathing deeply. No Jack, where is - and then he remembered. He was in his bed, not Jack’s. He fought the tears that were pressing at the back of his throat. This is what it will be like. No more Jack. Even in his bed, his scent will fade and then he’ll really be gone. Forever. He swallowed hard and forced himself to get up. He turned off his alarm and dragged his tired body to the shower. He turned the water on as hot as it would go, trying to wake himself up and clear thoughts of Jack from his mind. It didn’t help that everything he owned reminded him of his lover.
He washed his hair with shampoo that Jack liked. He toweled himself off while memories of Jack’s hands on his body tortured him. He dressed in a suit that Jack had once said made him look good enough to eat. He tied his tie with shaking hands, remembering a night when that tie had been looped around Jack’s wrist, securing him to the headboard while he lay beneath Ianto, stretched out and waiting…
Ianto slammed his closet door with a bang and stalked out to the kitchen. He called a taxi and made a cup of coffee while he waited, trying in vain to recapture the frozen numbness that had sheltered him at the Hub.
That day was much like the ones before. Tosh and Owen and Ianto cleaned up and repaired the Hub while Gwen waited by Jack’s body. Just after lunch, Ianto found Tosh standing at her workstation, staring at Gwen and Jack on the monitor. He stood beside her, watching as Gwen kept touching Jack’s body as she spoke to him, brushing her hands over his chest, through his hair, down his face. Ianto balled up his hands into fists, fighting the urge to run down the stairs and tear Gwen away from Jack.
“How long is she gonna do this?” Owen asked.
Ianto looked over at him. He wanted to agree, he wanted to suggest that they drag her home to Rhys by force if necessary and let him stay with Jack. Owen would understand that, he thought. But he just couldn’t bring himself to speak, as if somehow by stopping Gwen he’d truly abandon Jack to the darkness. His eyes fell and he looked back at the screen, hungry for the sight of his lover.
Owen and Tosh started yet another discussion on what to do about Gwen. Ianto excused himself and left them to it. What he had told Owen in the med bay was true, he wanted to believe that Gwen was right, he wanted to believe that Jack would come back to them, to him, but part of him just couldn’t see how it was possible. Gwen believes with all her heart, he thought morosely, that’s why she’s down there… I don’t deserve to be with him.
He found himself in Jack’s office, idly tidying up his desk as he always did. He sniffed, realizing that he was once again on the brink of tears. He straightened up and was about to leave when Jack’s coat caught his eye. Jack, he thought desperately. He walked around the desk and reached for the coat with a shaking hand. Jack… cariad, I’m sorry… He blinked back tears and lowered his face to the collar of Jack’s coat. Jack Jack Jack His mind was stuck on that one word, a needle caught in a groove, playing the same note over and over again. JackJackJack He buried his nose in wool softened by age and wear and let the scent of his lover comfort him as sorrow overwhelmed him.
How long Ianto stood there, sobbing quietly into Jack’s coat, he never knew. When he became aware of himself again, he knew he had to get out. Blindly, he hung Jack’s coat back on the hook and then bolted for the back entrance to his office. He ran quickly down the back stairs to the changing rooms and practically tore the door off his locker. He ripped off his suit, losing a few buttons along the way, and hurriedly pulled on his running trousers and a fleece hoodie. He tied his trainers on, fighting back the panic, only remembering at the last minute to grab his keys and wallet and zip them into one of his pockets.
He took the stairs out of the Hub, stopping at every landing to stretch and warm up a bit. Just when he was certain the walls of the stairwell were going to close in on him, he reached the Tourist Office and the open air.
Ianto ran flat out for several minutes, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the Hub and everyone in it. But then his left calf began to tighten, threatening to cramp if he didn’t slow down. He reluctantly obeyed his body’s commands and moderated his pace. He wiped furiously at his still streaming eyes and refocused all of his energy on the run.
It had been weeks since he’d had a good run and it took a little longer than usual to reach that point where it stopped feeling like work and started to feel like flying. His feet stopped slamming into the pavement and started to glide across it instead, his chest wasn’t tight any more and he could breathe again, it felt like all his muscles were lengthening, loosening until they were moving in perfect synchrony with one another. His mind went blissfully blank as he concentrated on the road - left or right was the most complicated decision he had to make for a while.
Eventually, he wound around through Cardiff and pointed his exhausted body home. He slowed to a walk about a mile from his flat and focused on his breathing. Once he was home, he showered and fell into bed, too tired to think, too tired to brood, too tired to do anything but sleep.
That night he dreamed of Jack.
When he woke, his pillow was wet with tears again. He sighed deeply as he shut off his alarm and got out of bed, prepared to face another day without Jack.
To be concluded in Chapter One Hundred and Five