(no subject)
Title: You Need to Understand
Rating: Adult
Genre: JackxIanto, slash, hurt/comfort, slightly dark
Summary: Immediately following Countycide in Season 1, Jack teaches Ianto a terrible lesson about necessity and grief.
Driving back from that little shit-spot village, Jack kept adjusting his hands on the wheel, trying to work out the worry that still gnawed inside him. He'd thought they were dead. Those horrible minutes when he couldn't find anyone, he'd known his team had been taken.
When he caught that man, hearing his sickening confession, the terror of losing his team gripped Jack like a vice. If he had been too late, he was going to kill the whole damn village, burn everything.
He nearly had been too late. According to Gwen's brief report just before the police arrived, Ianto had been seconds from death. The sick slimy shit Gwen had stopped him from killing held up Ianto's head by the hair and talked about bleeding him. Jack wanted to tie that man up and torment him until real, pain-drenched madness crawled out of his eyes.
He had almost killed Ianto. Sweet, gentle Ianto - who loved a woman so much he'd been blind to the risk of ending the world to try to save her. Ianto, the sweet Welshman who shooed spiders out windows and loved hopelessly, but completely.
How was Ianto? That silly game of Gwen's made him realize just how long he'd let the man mourn his lost lover. He had hoped Ianto would have seen the truth by now; that her death at Torchwood Cardiff had been mercy itself. The real Liza, the woman he'd loved, had died on a cyberman table in Torchwood 1. Jack had tried to give him time and distance to accept that, but it was clear Ianto hadn't.
He glanced in the mirror, watching Ianto resting in the back. The wear of the night showed darkly on his young face. Bound, gagged, nearly killed, the image of Ianto on his knees in that place burned a pit in Jack's stomach. He’d shot knees and hips as a precaution, in case he needed to question the sick bastards to find his team. Now, having seen the bruises on Ianto and Tosh and smelled the stink of human bodies carved up as meat, he wished that at least a few of those shots had been more lethal.
Tosh moved around, putting a blanket over Ianto. He looked up, but didn't refuse as she tucked him into his seat like a child. Dark eyes met Jack's briefly in the mirror. He gave a little nod and focused back on the road, listening.
"You need anything Gwen?"
"I'm okay," Gwen answered, trying to smile. Her hand shook a little when she patted Tosh's arm. The gunshot wound was fine. She'd need antibiotics and rest, but she still looked shell-shocked. That man's sickness had gotten to her pushed her as none of the alien craziness could. Jack let her ask her questions for the same reason he'd sent Ianto back to finish Liza. They had to see the terrible truth of the world.
It wouldn't be a kindness to coddle them with the fantasy that everything could be okay in the end. Sometimes the worst depravity imaginable happened because people made bad choices and did nothing to stop it. They all had to understand that being Torchwood meant they didn't have the luxury of doing what was right; they had to do what was necessary.
Owen gave a quiet sigh, trying to get comfortable in his seat. He'd taken a few solid hits himself, but was none the worse for wear. A doctor to his core, Owen did his job, no matter how much he didn't want to - even if it meant taking care of those psychos, kept them alive until the police could come take them away.
No one spoke the whole ride back to Torchwood. Jack parked the car near the door and nodded to Owen. Silently, they divvied up their companions - Owen helped Gwen to her car, and Jack steadied Ianto, keeping an eye on Tosh as she walked to her own car.
He held the other man still when he started to head to his car. Tosh looked over at them, biting her lip. Clearly, she wanted to stay and help, but for the things Jack had to do, it had to be him and Ianto alone tonight. "Go home, Tosh. Everybody - take tomorrow. Rest." Jack swallowed. "Leave your phones on."
Quiet nods were his answer. Ianto took more of his own weight off Jack's arm, but Jack tightened his hold, mindful of the bruises. "You're staying at the Hub."
"I'm fine, sir," Ianto protested, holding himself stiffly in Jack's arms.
Whether it was pride because Jack was letting everyone else go and Ianto didn't want to be seen weak, or it was Ianto's lingering resentment for what happened to the cyberwoman, he sounded insulted at the suggestion.
'I'm not.' Jack almost told him. Instead, he turned, gripping the loose hooded jacket in tight fistfuls. "You have a concussion. You shouldn't be alone."
Ianto stared up at him, thinking. Jack wanted him - had since the gorgeous man dropped into his life, swinging at a Weevil, then stood infront of his car - fearless and lovely. He knew all that want was on his face now. Holding that in after nearly losing everyone was the kind of impossible Jack didn't try to fight.
"Yes, sir." Ianto looked him straight in the eye. A sharp drag of seriousness filled up their air between them like cannon smoke, but Ianto didn't turn away from it this time. "I've admin to do anyway."
Jack couldn't help the little smile that flashed on his face. Ianto's wit always seemed to knock the weight of the day off his shoulders. "How many forms do we have for countryside cannibal attacks?"
"Dozens, sir." Ianto answered with that little wisp of a smile that made Jack want to wrap his fist in one of those smart ties and kiss the breath out of him.
It was mindless work, taking Ianto inside, downstairs. He sat him on the low, cushioned bench by the wall and stood before him, catching the sharp chin in his hand. He hid the caress in the guise of checking Ianto's eyes. "I'll get you some tea."
"I can -” Ianto started to stand, but Jack put a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting.
"Not a request, Ianto. Sit, rest."
Ianto gave a small nod and sat back, resting his eyes again. He straightened when Jack returned with a steaming cup of tea. "How's your head?"
"A bit swimmy, sir," Ianto sipped his tea slowly as Jack sat beside him.
Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, Jack took a deep breath. "You still don't understand, do you?"
"Sir?"
Jack clenched and unclenched his jaw. He didn't want to do this. He hated doing this. Grief was a stab wound with the knife still in it, and someone had to pull this knife out so Ianto could heal. "Why I sent you back down to finish Liza."
Ianto shutdown. Something hard as granite shifted into his expression, and Jack ached to spare him learning this lesson. "I think I'll go home, sir."
Jack caught Ianto's arm, letting the tea slosh and the cup clatter on the floor. "Ianto!"
"You wanted me to see she wasn't human anymore! I get that, Jack." Ianto snarled, twisting to free his arm.
Jack could see all the cracks now, all the tiny places all over Ianto that were breaking apart. He pinned the smaller man to his chest, arms trapped. "I wanted you to see that sometimes you can't save them. Sometimes you have to let go."
Ianto squirmed, his face tight with grief and pain. "Stop!"
"I can't," Jack whispered with his face inches from Ianto's. He hurt and hated pushing now, but if he didn't - if Ianto didn't break tonight - the grief would leave him hollow and worse than gone. "She was dead. The body you brought here had a cyberman in it; it was a machine."
"It was her!" Ianto shouted, his face reddening with rage and the agony of grief. "She loved me!"
"She did, but that thing didn't know what love was. It was a robot reading her brain like a computer memory, but it wasn't her." Jack let Ianto push him away and stand up.
He followed, giving Ianto a pittance of the distance he wanted. "It was her, Jack! I looked in her eyes, I know it was Liza!"
"It wasn't, not anymore. Liza would have asked you to make it stop. She was Torchwood, and anyone in Torchwood rather died than risk spreading that plague again." Jack let Ianto turn away, staring at the water tower.
"Why are you doing this now?" Ianto begged, misery and pain filling up his voice.
Jack stepped close, sliding his arms up under Ianto's, holding him tight by his shoulders because his chest and stomach were too bruised to take the pressure of the tight embrace. "Because you saw those people. You saw what evil is last night."
"They made a choice!"
"And she couldn't. The cybermen took that from her. The thing we killed here was not Liza. It was the shell they left when they took her life." Jack put his face beside Ianto's, holding on when the other man tried to shrug him off. "You have to understand."
"She wasn't like them," Ianto protested, weaker now.
"No, she wouldn't have stopped at travelers and backpackers," Jack bit his tongue and took a breath. "You loved her, and part of love is letting go. I've done this Ianto. I've loved and held on, and clung to a person until there's nothing left." Jack thought of his Estelle, sweet, naive Estelle. She grew old and frail and died. He thought of holding her small body in his arms, then of the Doctor's hand - all that he had left - and understood why Ianto would say to hell with the world, 'let me save any part of them I can.' He could relate to that ache, but he also knew from hard won experience that sometimes you had to draw lines. "It will kill you if you let it. You'll still be here, walking, and talking and breathing, but you'll be dead inside."
"I am dead inside," Ianto whispered, trembling. His head fell forward, loose on his neck. "Everything in me died with her."
"No, it didn't." Jack squeezed him. "Those people have killed hundreds and that is nothing compared to what the cybermen do. You heard her in the end, after she killed that girl and put her brain a new body - she talked about upgrading you. To it, you were just a means to rebuilding. Do you understand?" Hating the necessity, Jack pressed his forehead to Ianto's shoulder to gather himself for it. “We don't have the comfort of always doing what it right, Ianto. Torchwood exists to do what is necessary for the survival of the world. Sometimes that means we have to make sacrifices. Sacrifices that no one should have to make, but we do."
Ianto turned his head, staring at Jack. Understanding began to show through like sunshine through rain clouds. Jack said a silent apology for taking the last bit innocence from the younger man. Then he broke Ianto Jones. "She died in London, Ianto. Liza, the woman you loved, never left Torchwood 1."
A harsh, horrible sob ripped out of Ianto. Animals made such a sound when dying in agonizing pain. Ianto mimicked such posture with his head thrown back his mouth open in a wide, screaming sob. Jack caught his weight as Ianto's legs gave out. He lowered them both slowly to the concrete floor, and followed as Ianto rocked and cried. "No! No!" Ianto whimpered. "I loved her!" He screamed, but it was a denial, a death throw of grieved love. "I love her!"
Jack kept silent, holding on, holding Ianto crushingly close. He turned his head, pressing his cheek to the side of Ianto's neck. After a while, the sobs quieted to terrible, choked tremors. Jack gently turned Ianto around, laying him in the cradle of his arms. "I'm coming apart."
"I'll hold you together," Jack whispered back stubbornly, brushing the last tear off Ianto's cheek. He let his hand slide down to Ianto's throat, an echo of the moment he'd kissed him to revive him just a few feet from where they were now.
In a sudden rush, Ianto lifted up, pressing their lips with a hunger bred from fear and grief and the desperate need to connect with another human being. The answering hunger that rose in Jack knocked him breathless. One moment, he was cradling Ianto, letting him get it all out; the next he was kissing Ianto mindlessly, deeply, like he'd burst if he stopped. Lifetimes of grief soaked out through his skin as if Ianto's pain were a magnet, drawing out all that poison from his heart.
Jack blinked, surprised when Ianto flipped them over and pinned him to the floor. He felt those smart, quick Welsh wholly, unexpected hands sliding down his chest and working his pants. Normally, not one to complain, Jack would have just let things happen, but this wouldn't help anyone. Ianto would resent him, and he'd resent himself - a little.
He craned his neck, tilting his head to force their kiss as deep as it could go at this angle. Gently, he caught Ianto's arms and pulled them up. Ianto twisted his wrists and pinned Jack's hands beside his head. The kiss broke and Ianto ducked away from Jack's eyes, panting harshly - each breath was tight and miserable.
There were about a thousand lines he could use just now, still held down by Ianto's hands, but he was a little off balance from the passionate assault.
Slowly, as each movement took all his strength and focus, Ianto let go his wrists one at a time and crawled off him to drop on the floor at his side, head turned away. Jack let him draw in on himself, but placed a hand gently on his back.
Ianto jerked like the contact burned, but Jack didn't relent. He rubbed a gentle circle, and scooted closer, to touch his lips to the back of one of Ianto's limp hands. Ianto turned his head, eyes bleary and wet. He sniffled once, staring where Jack kissed his hand, and then looked up at Jack with naked, hurting eyes. "Sir?"
Formality was always where Ianto hid from him. Jack kissed his hand again and pulled that hand under his cheek. He held it there as their breathing fell into sync. "I'm right here, Ianto. I'm always going to be Right. Here."
Ianto closed his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. Jack touched their lips again, lightly. "I need you, Ianto. You keep me here. You - the team - it keeps me grounded." He reached out, tracing his fingertips along Ianto's temple. "You keep me grounded."
Those soulful dark eyes opened with that old longing for purpose that ached deep in everyone Jack had ever met. "I'll make you a deal, Ianto." He let his lips curl into a little smile. "You be what I need; and I'll be what you need, but you have to trust me."
Jack touched their foreheads and closed his eyes for a second. "I know I don't talk about what I know and where I've been. I can't. A lot of it is horrible and I can't - I don't want to relive it. I don't want you - any of you - to know the things that I know. Things I would unknow if I could. I need you trust me that I will tell you what you have to know, what you need to know, when I can tell you. And I need to able to trust you to tell me what I need to know, when I need to know it."
"You would have killed her." Ianto whispered, his lip trembling.
"Yes," Jack answered harshly, honest. Ianto deserved as much truth as he could give him. "And now you UNDERSTAND why."
"Jack, I just wanted to save her."
He knew that; they all did. Jack slid his hand into Ianto's hair and curled his fingers there, touching his lips to Ianto's cheek beside his nose. "I know, and I adore you for it."
Ianto's lip twitched in a little smile of his own. It was weak and wet with tears, but lovely and welcome and real as no smile on that young face had been in weeks. "You're going to hurt. That's part of love, feeling the ache of it as you move on. I won't ask you to mourn her faster, but you don't have to be alone. You are not alone."
Tender and sweet, Ianto touched his lips to Jack's. They lay there for a while longer, just being close. After a few minutes, Ianto pushed up to his knees, winching.
Jack gave him some space, but stopped him from getting up all the way. "I'll clean up the mess. Just stay here."
Ianto nodded, sitting back to draw his knees up and hug them. He was quiet and sniffling, but the brittle bitterness wasn't lingering around his lips and in his eyes.
Helpless to fight it, Jack kept glancing over as he cleared away the spilled tea and chipped cup. Ianto looked so small, so young there. He half wished he had Ret-Con'd him back when they first met, but now he couldn't imagine a day at Torchwood Cardiff without Ianto's wit and charm and coffee. The thought made him chuckle.
Ianto looked up as he came back with his coat. He wrapped it around Ianto's shoulders like a blanket before pulling him to his feet. Ianto didn't protest. He followed Jack's lead to the small manhole in one of the Hub's recesses. Jack opened it, and Ianto hesitated on the ladder. He looked up when his shoulders slipped below the floor, and Jack knelt reaching down to touch his face. "Just trust me, Ianto."
Dark eyes searched his face for a long moment, then Ianto gave him one of his small, tight nods and finished going down. Jack followed quickly, closing the hatch behind them. He sat Ianto on the bed and knelt to help him out of his shoes.
They didn't speak as Jack helped him undress. Once he had Ianto under the covers, Jack lay down beside him and laid his hand on the blanket over Ianto's heart. Ianto looked down at his hand, then up at Jack with a confused frown.
He opened his mouth to speak, but his body language already made his discomfort clear. Jack hushed him with a soft smile. "Just sleep Ianto." He pressed his lips to Ianto's temple. "You need to sleep."
Ianto closed his eyes, letting out a long huff of breath. Jack touched their lips again, softly, before he began petting his hair. With half open eyes, Ianto reached up to touch his face. They stared at one another for a moment, and Jack turned to nuzzle Ianto's palm. He leaned forward and rested his chin on the pillow beside Ianto's temple, listening to his breath as it evened out into the deeper rhythm of sleep. Owen had told him it was okay for Ianto to sleep through the night; the concussion was mild enough, but Jack wouldn't sleep.
Instead, he kept watch over Ianto, trying to make up for tearing him down tonight, even if a big part of Jack was never going to be sorry.
Rating: Adult
Genre: JackxIanto, slash, hurt/comfort, slightly dark
Summary: Immediately following Countycide in Season 1, Jack teaches Ianto a terrible lesson about necessity and grief.
Driving back from that little shit-spot village, Jack kept adjusting his hands on the wheel, trying to work out the worry that still gnawed inside him. He'd thought they were dead. Those horrible minutes when he couldn't find anyone, he'd known his team had been taken.
When he caught that man, hearing his sickening confession, the terror of losing his team gripped Jack like a vice. If he had been too late, he was going to kill the whole damn village, burn everything.
He nearly had been too late. According to Gwen's brief report just before the police arrived, Ianto had been seconds from death. The sick slimy shit Gwen had stopped him from killing held up Ianto's head by the hair and talked about bleeding him. Jack wanted to tie that man up and torment him until real, pain-drenched madness crawled out of his eyes.
He had almost killed Ianto. Sweet, gentle Ianto - who loved a woman so much he'd been blind to the risk of ending the world to try to save her. Ianto, the sweet Welshman who shooed spiders out windows and loved hopelessly, but completely.
How was Ianto? That silly game of Gwen's made him realize just how long he'd let the man mourn his lost lover. He had hoped Ianto would have seen the truth by now; that her death at Torchwood Cardiff had been mercy itself. The real Liza, the woman he'd loved, had died on a cyberman table in Torchwood 1. Jack had tried to give him time and distance to accept that, but it was clear Ianto hadn't.
He glanced in the mirror, watching Ianto resting in the back. The wear of the night showed darkly on his young face. Bound, gagged, nearly killed, the image of Ianto on his knees in that place burned a pit in Jack's stomach. He’d shot knees and hips as a precaution, in case he needed to question the sick bastards to find his team. Now, having seen the bruises on Ianto and Tosh and smelled the stink of human bodies carved up as meat, he wished that at least a few of those shots had been more lethal.
Tosh moved around, putting a blanket over Ianto. He looked up, but didn't refuse as she tucked him into his seat like a child. Dark eyes met Jack's briefly in the mirror. He gave a little nod and focused back on the road, listening.
"You need anything Gwen?"
"I'm okay," Gwen answered, trying to smile. Her hand shook a little when she patted Tosh's arm. The gunshot wound was fine. She'd need antibiotics and rest, but she still looked shell-shocked. That man's sickness had gotten to her pushed her as none of the alien craziness could. Jack let her ask her questions for the same reason he'd sent Ianto back to finish Liza. They had to see the terrible truth of the world.
It wouldn't be a kindness to coddle them with the fantasy that everything could be okay in the end. Sometimes the worst depravity imaginable happened because people made bad choices and did nothing to stop it. They all had to understand that being Torchwood meant they didn't have the luxury of doing what was right; they had to do what was necessary.
Owen gave a quiet sigh, trying to get comfortable in his seat. He'd taken a few solid hits himself, but was none the worse for wear. A doctor to his core, Owen did his job, no matter how much he didn't want to - even if it meant taking care of those psychos, kept them alive until the police could come take them away.
No one spoke the whole ride back to Torchwood. Jack parked the car near the door and nodded to Owen. Silently, they divvied up their companions - Owen helped Gwen to her car, and Jack steadied Ianto, keeping an eye on Tosh as she walked to her own car.
He held the other man still when he started to head to his car. Tosh looked over at them, biting her lip. Clearly, she wanted to stay and help, but for the things Jack had to do, it had to be him and Ianto alone tonight. "Go home, Tosh. Everybody - take tomorrow. Rest." Jack swallowed. "Leave your phones on."
Quiet nods were his answer. Ianto took more of his own weight off Jack's arm, but Jack tightened his hold, mindful of the bruises. "You're staying at the Hub."
"I'm fine, sir," Ianto protested, holding himself stiffly in Jack's arms.
Whether it was pride because Jack was letting everyone else go and Ianto didn't want to be seen weak, or it was Ianto's lingering resentment for what happened to the cyberwoman, he sounded insulted at the suggestion.
'I'm not.' Jack almost told him. Instead, he turned, gripping the loose hooded jacket in tight fistfuls. "You have a concussion. You shouldn't be alone."
Ianto stared up at him, thinking. Jack wanted him - had since the gorgeous man dropped into his life, swinging at a Weevil, then stood infront of his car - fearless and lovely. He knew all that want was on his face now. Holding that in after nearly losing everyone was the kind of impossible Jack didn't try to fight.
"Yes, sir." Ianto looked him straight in the eye. A sharp drag of seriousness filled up their air between them like cannon smoke, but Ianto didn't turn away from it this time. "I've admin to do anyway."
Jack couldn't help the little smile that flashed on his face. Ianto's wit always seemed to knock the weight of the day off his shoulders. "How many forms do we have for countryside cannibal attacks?"
"Dozens, sir." Ianto answered with that little wisp of a smile that made Jack want to wrap his fist in one of those smart ties and kiss the breath out of him.
It was mindless work, taking Ianto inside, downstairs. He sat him on the low, cushioned bench by the wall and stood before him, catching the sharp chin in his hand. He hid the caress in the guise of checking Ianto's eyes. "I'll get you some tea."
"I can -” Ianto started to stand, but Jack put a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting.
"Not a request, Ianto. Sit, rest."
Ianto gave a small nod and sat back, resting his eyes again. He straightened when Jack returned with a steaming cup of tea. "How's your head?"
"A bit swimmy, sir," Ianto sipped his tea slowly as Jack sat beside him.
Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, Jack took a deep breath. "You still don't understand, do you?"
"Sir?"
Jack clenched and unclenched his jaw. He didn't want to do this. He hated doing this. Grief was a stab wound with the knife still in it, and someone had to pull this knife out so Ianto could heal. "Why I sent you back down to finish Liza."
Ianto shutdown. Something hard as granite shifted into his expression, and Jack ached to spare him learning this lesson. "I think I'll go home, sir."
Jack caught Ianto's arm, letting the tea slosh and the cup clatter on the floor. "Ianto!"
"You wanted me to see she wasn't human anymore! I get that, Jack." Ianto snarled, twisting to free his arm.
Jack could see all the cracks now, all the tiny places all over Ianto that were breaking apart. He pinned the smaller man to his chest, arms trapped. "I wanted you to see that sometimes you can't save them. Sometimes you have to let go."
Ianto squirmed, his face tight with grief and pain. "Stop!"
"I can't," Jack whispered with his face inches from Ianto's. He hurt and hated pushing now, but if he didn't - if Ianto didn't break tonight - the grief would leave him hollow and worse than gone. "She was dead. The body you brought here had a cyberman in it; it was a machine."
"It was her!" Ianto shouted, his face reddening with rage and the agony of grief. "She loved me!"
"She did, but that thing didn't know what love was. It was a robot reading her brain like a computer memory, but it wasn't her." Jack let Ianto push him away and stand up.
He followed, giving Ianto a pittance of the distance he wanted. "It was her, Jack! I looked in her eyes, I know it was Liza!"
"It wasn't, not anymore. Liza would have asked you to make it stop. She was Torchwood, and anyone in Torchwood rather died than risk spreading that plague again." Jack let Ianto turn away, staring at the water tower.
"Why are you doing this now?" Ianto begged, misery and pain filling up his voice.
Jack stepped close, sliding his arms up under Ianto's, holding him tight by his shoulders because his chest and stomach were too bruised to take the pressure of the tight embrace. "Because you saw those people. You saw what evil is last night."
"They made a choice!"
"And she couldn't. The cybermen took that from her. The thing we killed here was not Liza. It was the shell they left when they took her life." Jack put his face beside Ianto's, holding on when the other man tried to shrug him off. "You have to understand."
"She wasn't like them," Ianto protested, weaker now.
"No, she wouldn't have stopped at travelers and backpackers," Jack bit his tongue and took a breath. "You loved her, and part of love is letting go. I've done this Ianto. I've loved and held on, and clung to a person until there's nothing left." Jack thought of his Estelle, sweet, naive Estelle. She grew old and frail and died. He thought of holding her small body in his arms, then of the Doctor's hand - all that he had left - and understood why Ianto would say to hell with the world, 'let me save any part of them I can.' He could relate to that ache, but he also knew from hard won experience that sometimes you had to draw lines. "It will kill you if you let it. You'll still be here, walking, and talking and breathing, but you'll be dead inside."
"I am dead inside," Ianto whispered, trembling. His head fell forward, loose on his neck. "Everything in me died with her."
"No, it didn't." Jack squeezed him. "Those people have killed hundreds and that is nothing compared to what the cybermen do. You heard her in the end, after she killed that girl and put her brain a new body - she talked about upgrading you. To it, you were just a means to rebuilding. Do you understand?" Hating the necessity, Jack pressed his forehead to Ianto's shoulder to gather himself for it. “We don't have the comfort of always doing what it right, Ianto. Torchwood exists to do what is necessary for the survival of the world. Sometimes that means we have to make sacrifices. Sacrifices that no one should have to make, but we do."
Ianto turned his head, staring at Jack. Understanding began to show through like sunshine through rain clouds. Jack said a silent apology for taking the last bit innocence from the younger man. Then he broke Ianto Jones. "She died in London, Ianto. Liza, the woman you loved, never left Torchwood 1."
A harsh, horrible sob ripped out of Ianto. Animals made such a sound when dying in agonizing pain. Ianto mimicked such posture with his head thrown back his mouth open in a wide, screaming sob. Jack caught his weight as Ianto's legs gave out. He lowered them both slowly to the concrete floor, and followed as Ianto rocked and cried. "No! No!" Ianto whimpered. "I loved her!" He screamed, but it was a denial, a death throw of grieved love. "I love her!"
Jack kept silent, holding on, holding Ianto crushingly close. He turned his head, pressing his cheek to the side of Ianto's neck. After a while, the sobs quieted to terrible, choked tremors. Jack gently turned Ianto around, laying him in the cradle of his arms. "I'm coming apart."
"I'll hold you together," Jack whispered back stubbornly, brushing the last tear off Ianto's cheek. He let his hand slide down to Ianto's throat, an echo of the moment he'd kissed him to revive him just a few feet from where they were now.
In a sudden rush, Ianto lifted up, pressing their lips with a hunger bred from fear and grief and the desperate need to connect with another human being. The answering hunger that rose in Jack knocked him breathless. One moment, he was cradling Ianto, letting him get it all out; the next he was kissing Ianto mindlessly, deeply, like he'd burst if he stopped. Lifetimes of grief soaked out through his skin as if Ianto's pain were a magnet, drawing out all that poison from his heart.
Jack blinked, surprised when Ianto flipped them over and pinned him to the floor. He felt those smart, quick Welsh wholly, unexpected hands sliding down his chest and working his pants. Normally, not one to complain, Jack would have just let things happen, but this wouldn't help anyone. Ianto would resent him, and he'd resent himself - a little.
He craned his neck, tilting his head to force their kiss as deep as it could go at this angle. Gently, he caught Ianto's arms and pulled them up. Ianto twisted his wrists and pinned Jack's hands beside his head. The kiss broke and Ianto ducked away from Jack's eyes, panting harshly - each breath was tight and miserable.
There were about a thousand lines he could use just now, still held down by Ianto's hands, but he was a little off balance from the passionate assault.
Slowly, as each movement took all his strength and focus, Ianto let go his wrists one at a time and crawled off him to drop on the floor at his side, head turned away. Jack let him draw in on himself, but placed a hand gently on his back.
Ianto jerked like the contact burned, but Jack didn't relent. He rubbed a gentle circle, and scooted closer, to touch his lips to the back of one of Ianto's limp hands. Ianto turned his head, eyes bleary and wet. He sniffled once, staring where Jack kissed his hand, and then looked up at Jack with naked, hurting eyes. "Sir?"
Formality was always where Ianto hid from him. Jack kissed his hand again and pulled that hand under his cheek. He held it there as their breathing fell into sync. "I'm right here, Ianto. I'm always going to be Right. Here."
Ianto closed his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. Jack touched their lips again, lightly. "I need you, Ianto. You keep me here. You - the team - it keeps me grounded." He reached out, tracing his fingertips along Ianto's temple. "You keep me grounded."
Those soulful dark eyes opened with that old longing for purpose that ached deep in everyone Jack had ever met. "I'll make you a deal, Ianto." He let his lips curl into a little smile. "You be what I need; and I'll be what you need, but you have to trust me."
Jack touched their foreheads and closed his eyes for a second. "I know I don't talk about what I know and where I've been. I can't. A lot of it is horrible and I can't - I don't want to relive it. I don't want you - any of you - to know the things that I know. Things I would unknow if I could. I need you trust me that I will tell you what you have to know, what you need to know, when I can tell you. And I need to able to trust you to tell me what I need to know, when I need to know it."
"You would have killed her." Ianto whispered, his lip trembling.
"Yes," Jack answered harshly, honest. Ianto deserved as much truth as he could give him. "And now you UNDERSTAND why."
"Jack, I just wanted to save her."
He knew that; they all did. Jack slid his hand into Ianto's hair and curled his fingers there, touching his lips to Ianto's cheek beside his nose. "I know, and I adore you for it."
Ianto's lip twitched in a little smile of his own. It was weak and wet with tears, but lovely and welcome and real as no smile on that young face had been in weeks. "You're going to hurt. That's part of love, feeling the ache of it as you move on. I won't ask you to mourn her faster, but you don't have to be alone. You are not alone."
Tender and sweet, Ianto touched his lips to Jack's. They lay there for a while longer, just being close. After a few minutes, Ianto pushed up to his knees, winching.
Jack gave him some space, but stopped him from getting up all the way. "I'll clean up the mess. Just stay here."
Ianto nodded, sitting back to draw his knees up and hug them. He was quiet and sniffling, but the brittle bitterness wasn't lingering around his lips and in his eyes.
Helpless to fight it, Jack kept glancing over as he cleared away the spilled tea and chipped cup. Ianto looked so small, so young there. He half wished he had Ret-Con'd him back when they first met, but now he couldn't imagine a day at Torchwood Cardiff without Ianto's wit and charm and coffee. The thought made him chuckle.
Ianto looked up as he came back with his coat. He wrapped it around Ianto's shoulders like a blanket before pulling him to his feet. Ianto didn't protest. He followed Jack's lead to the small manhole in one of the Hub's recesses. Jack opened it, and Ianto hesitated on the ladder. He looked up when his shoulders slipped below the floor, and Jack knelt reaching down to touch his face. "Just trust me, Ianto."
Dark eyes searched his face for a long moment, then Ianto gave him one of his small, tight nods and finished going down. Jack followed quickly, closing the hatch behind them. He sat Ianto on the bed and knelt to help him out of his shoes.
They didn't speak as Jack helped him undress. Once he had Ianto under the covers, Jack lay down beside him and laid his hand on the blanket over Ianto's heart. Ianto looked down at his hand, then up at Jack with a confused frown.
He opened his mouth to speak, but his body language already made his discomfort clear. Jack hushed him with a soft smile. "Just sleep Ianto." He pressed his lips to Ianto's temple. "You need to sleep."
Ianto closed his eyes, letting out a long huff of breath. Jack touched their lips again, softly, before he began petting his hair. With half open eyes, Ianto reached up to touch his face. They stared at one another for a moment, and Jack turned to nuzzle Ianto's palm. He leaned forward and rested his chin on the pillow beside Ianto's temple, listening to his breath as it evened out into the deeper rhythm of sleep. Owen had told him it was okay for Ianto to sleep through the night; the concussion was mild enough, but Jack wouldn't sleep.
Instead, he kept watch over Ianto, trying to make up for tearing him down tonight, even if a big part of Jack was never going to be sorry.