A Matter of Time (20/20)
Rating: R
Summary: In which there are heartfelt reunions. Of a sort.
A/N: And, finally (!) chapter 20, all 7000 words of it. Please note the BIG FAT NOTE: This is not the last part. There is an epilogue. Do not kill me at the end of this - assuming everything goes fine, it should be up tomorrow (it's already written, just not betaed.) The absolutely amazing cover-art ( click for bigger) is by madeira, the fabulous beta-work is by thaddeusfavour, and the much-needed kick in the pants is thanks to antelope_writes.
Previous chapters here.
~
“If you don’t go back,” Jack said, smiling, “you’ll deny me knowing you then. I want to be able to love you in the twenty-first century.”
“And if I do go back, I deny you getting to love me now, don’t I?” Ianto said with a wry smile back.
Jack laughed. “I always said immortality was a win-lose situation,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to go back, Ianto. Besides, I’m not the man you fell in love with.”
~
“Cardiff, Wales, at your gloomy, damp, rift-loving service,” Jack announced as the TARDIS jerked to a stop. “Seventeen degrees and cloudy with a sixty percent chance of showers.” He strolled over to the door, yanked it open, and jumped outside.
And then jumped back in. “Whoa. Make that a hundred percent.” He shook the water from his hair and grinned at Ianto. “I hope you have an umbrella.”
Ianto snorted and spread his arms, leaning back on the console. “And where do you think I would have hidden that? Don’t,” he said warningly at the glint in Jack’s eye. “All I have left is my wallet. I don’t even have my keys,” he said with a put-on whine. He’d been able to fit his wallet in his pocket, but his ring of keys had been deemed ‘too jingly’ by several parties and had been left behind on the now-obliterated Evening Star.
“Then I’ll find you one,” Jack said agreeably, crossing the floor of the TARDIS towards one of the doors at the back where Ianto knew he had some rather extensive closets - the jeans and t-shirt he was currently sporting were from there. He hadn’t been able to find a suit that fit. And wasn’t yellow, which really wasn’t his colour.
As Jack passed him, Ianto reached out and caught him by the elbow.
“I don’t need an umbrella,” he said quietly, pulling Jack in front of him. “I can wait out the worst of it.”
“It’s Wales,” Jack pointed out doubtfully. “There’s never any best of it.” But he let Ianto reel him in, and slid his hands around Ianto’s ribs until his fingers traced the line of his spine.
Ianto, settled back against the console as he was, had to reach up and wrap a hand around Jack’s neck to bring him down into a kiss, but Jack followed willingly, hands gripping tighter and hips resting against Ianto’s. The kiss lasted what felt a lifetime for Ianto, and he relaxed into it, enjoying the familiar taste and pressure. Jack leaned back a little, fingers clenching compulsively, twisting the fabric of Ianto’s t-shirt. Ianto started to grin and say something when he finally processed the look on Jack’s face.
“Jack?” he said, uncertain, taking in the harshly etched sorrow across his features, and what was a definite glimmer of moisture in the corners of his eyes.
“Shit,” Jack said in a choked laugh, bringing up a hand and wiping at his eyes. “You’re gorgeous, I - shit. I swore I wouldn’t do this.”
“Wouldn’t do what?” Ianto asked cautiously, hands rubbing steady circles on Jack’s shoulders.
“Think about this too much.” Jack shut his eyes fiercely for a moment, and then opened them again, as if Ianto might be gone when he looked again. “Guilt-trip you.”
“I…” Ianto trailed off, feeling a little lost. “I thought you didn’t - I don’t know, I thought you’d moved on. Learned to move on.”
“I’m not made of stone,” Jack rebuked, pulling Ianto to his feet and wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him tight. “This is still the last time I’m going to see you, ever. It’s not exactly fun.” Ianto could feel him shaking his head, chin rubbing against his shoulder. “I was trying not to influence you. Shitty job of it.”
“Yeah, well,” Ianto said awkwardly, dropping a kiss against Jack’s neck and breathing in the scent of him. “I’ve already made up my mind, right? No harm in it.”
Jack made a muffled sound into his shoulder and squeezed tight for a moment, before pulling back and taking Ianto in, as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory. He placed a feather-light kiss to Ianto’s brow, and then cheek, and nose, and chin, and finally his lips. “You’re gorgeous. And forget what I said before, I’m going to miss you horribly.”
Ianto hesitated for the barest moment, and then spun them around, pressing Jack back against the console and slipping a thigh between his. He kissed him fiercely and slipped his hands under his shirt. “Five more minutes then?”
Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as Ianto pressed against him, but when he opened them they’d cleared a little, and he laughed as he gripped Ianto’s arse. “Yeah, alright. Five more minutes.”
~
Walking away from the TARDIS was probably one of the hardest things Ianto had ever had to do. Keeping up a mental chant of don’t look back, don’t look back, Ianto hurried through the rain - now a light drizzle - across the Plass. Jack had parked to the far side of it, up against one of the warehouses, and it wasn’t more than a five-minute walk from there to the Tourist Office. The outer door was unlocked, and Ianto let himself in, pulling the door tight behind him and shaking the water out of his hair.
The room smelled of familiarity, and Ianto took a deep breath, taking in everything and wondering if anyone was watching the CCTV installed in the corner of the room. Jack had said a week, but there wasn’t any way to be sure, except… He stepped around behind the counter, and as he’d suspected there was a pile of newspapers against the wall, unopened. He scooped them up and started checking the dates - sure enough, the latest one was for seven days after the day he disappeared.
There was a creak, and the hidden door swung open. Ianto froze, watching as Gwen came through and headed straight for the exit. She was halfway out the door before he managed a cough.
“God!” she yelped, jumping and flattening herself against the wall, hand at her hip where Ianto could see very clearly she was not wearing a weapon. Her eyes went wide, and after a tense moment, she sagged against the wall.
“You bastard,” she breathed, and then threw herself around the counter to wrap him in a hug, muttering what seemed to be a combination of insults and endearments as she tried to squeeze the life out of him.
“Sorry, sorry,” Ianto murmured, hugging her back until she seemed ready to let go. She backed up a little and looked him in the face, expression a combination of relief and anger. “Sorry,” he repeated. “It’s been a week, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “Where the hell have you been? And how did you get back? Jack said - ” and here she cut herself off, hand flying to her Bluetooth. “Does Jack know you’re back?”
“No,” he said, watching her uneasily. “I just got back.”
“Right. Jack?” There was a pause, and Ianto could almost hear Jack’s voice, though it was probably wishful thinking on his part. “Ianto’s back. Yeah. Yeah, I know, I just came up to the Tourist - he was just here. No, he’s fine. He says he just got back.”
Ianto shifted uncomfortably, trying to imagine what Jack’s response would be. There were procedures for this sort of thing - Torchwood had procedures for everything imaginable, including alien abduction or unexplained disappearances - but Jack was notorious for not following procedure, so it was anyone’s guess what he’d do.
“Sure, I can do that. How long will you be? Yeah, the one by the bay, Ianto’s favourite. Tosh can handle that. Okay, see you then.”
She dropped her hand and gave Ianto a friendly smile. “How about we go get a cuppa, and you can tell me where you’ve been, yeah?”
“He doesn’t want me in the Hub, does he?” Ianto asked wryly, reaching for his mack, which was, unsurprisingly, hanging on the coat hook where he’d left it. Gwen bit her lip and looked worried, but Ianto just came round the desk and offered her an arm. “It’s fine, I know it’s procedure. Who’s he out with? How long’s he going to be?”
She shot him a grateful look and took his arm. “He and Owen are at a hospital - odd attacks going around.”
“Weevil?”
“No, more like bee stings, only the effects are strange. But they should be back in half an hour or so. We’ll get some coffee, which is what I was going out for, anyway.”
“And Tosh?” Ianto asked.
“She’s in the Hub. Oh! Should I tell her you’re back?” Gwen said, reaching for her earpiece, but Ianto shook his head.
“More fun as a surprise. Besides, Jack will want to make sure I’m not an alien first.” It was a joke, but it fell flat as Gwen gave him a startled look. So Jack had mentioned that part to her. “It’s all right, it’s procedure. I’d probably berate him if he decided not to follow it.”
“Well, you sound like you,” she announced brightly. “Should I ask you some questions only you would know the answer to?”
“Like what?” Ianto asked. Might as well humour her.
“Like… what do we all take in our coffee?” He looked over at her, and she was grinning. Teasing him, then, which was good. He didn’t really have any way to prove he was Ianto Jones, except for his wallet in his pocket and his DNA and his memories, but a good enough impersonator could handle that, he was sure.
But he could try to convince Gwen. So he launched into a detailed description of the team’s beverage and eating habits, complete with scorn for Owen’s diet and sly comments on Gwen’s own sweet tooth. Jack would ask him the real questions, the ones about what he’d said to him after Lisa, or the ones about what was kept in room 107 of the secure archives.
They were enjoying the last of their drinks - Gwen’s a vanilla latte, Ianto his first cappuccino in two months - when the door swung open, and Jack stepped through. Ianto’s stomach flipped, but he didn’t move, just nodded towards him. He looked - glorious, really, Ianto thought without embarrassment. Not too young, not too old, and if Ianto let himself get any more poetic he’d end up as Goldilocks.
Jack strolled over, grabbing a free chair and swinging it around to take a seat at the little table. Gwen was tearing her napkin into tiny white squares, but she smiled broadly.
“Ianto, this is Jack,” she said in a teasing voice. “Jack, Ianto. At least, I’m pretty certain.”
“Good,” Jack said, giving Gwen an unreadable look. “I can take it from here, Gwen. I’ll see you back at the Hub.”
“But - ”
“Please.”
Gwen frowned, but stood up and collected her rubbish and dishes. “Call me if you need anything.” She leaned over and gave Ianto a peck on the cheek. “Glad you’re back, love. I can’t wait to hear where you’ve been.”
Jack and Ianto waited in silence as Gwen left the coffee shop, and when Jack didn’t open the conversation, Ianto looked up at him.
“So…” he started awkwardly. For some reason, he had no idea what to say. Two months ago - a week ago - he hardly knew this man. Now he knew him so much better, except he didn’t know what to say.
“Password to the secure archives,” Jack said flatly.
“6A9FL025,” Ianto reeled off.
“Tosh’s favourite biscuits.”
“Gingersnaps.”
“Number of people we’ve retconned.”
“As of a week ago? Two thousand, two hundred and thirty-one.”
“Number of times you’ve replaced a button on my coat.”
Ianto narrowed his eyes. “Jack, I rather doubt you have any idea.”
A grin ghosted Jack’s lips for the first time. “True,” he admitted, and stood up. Ianto leaned back as he came over beside him, and suddenly Jack’s hand was on his chin and Jack’s tongue was in his mouth. Ianto made a soft sound of surprise, but kissed back. When Jack pulled away, Ianto struggled to keep from following him, from standing up and sliding his hands under his coat. Jack sat down and tilted his head, considering.
“Cappuccino?” he asked vaguely. “But otherwise you. If you’re a plant, you’re a damn good one. Don’t do anything to make me suspicious in the next couple of weeks, and we should be fine.”
“You might have to do a more thorough taste-test,” Ianto deadpanned, leaning back in his chair, more than a little relieved he’d passed Jack’s test.
“I might,” Jack said with a cheeky grin, but after a moment it wavered and disappeared, and he leaned across the table to speak in urgent tones. “Ianto - how the hell did you get back? How long have you been gone? When and where did you go?”
Ianto glanced around, lifting a hand to rub at his mouth wearily. “It’s a bit of a tale. And it’ll be easier to tell after you get this.” He stood up and reached into his pocket, wiggling a bit to get the little case out from them.
“Nice jeans,” Jack observed. “And not what you left in. What’s this?”
Ianto had placed the little black case on the table between them and taken his seat again.
“Open it,” he said. Kethan - Jack - had known what it was on sight. Presumably, so would Jack.
Jack glanced at him, and then slid the case closer, easily popping the latch. The glimmering little disk shone in the lights of the coffee shop, and Ianto could see the tension form in Jack’s shoulders.
“Is this…?” he said hoarsely, trailing off.
“Yep,” Ianto said, leaning back in the chair. “Yours. I do believe you’re missing them.”
Jack looked up sharply. “How long were you gone for?” he demanded.
“Just two months,” Ianto assured him. “But there should be about two years on there.”
Jack nodded, the lines around his mouth still tense. “How did you get them? Do you know what they are?”
“Your memories. The ones the Time Agency took from you. I got them - well, how I got them is on there. It’s too complicated to explain everything. Can you, I don’t know, read them? Put them back in?”
“I can,” Jack said, staring down at the little box. He shut it with a snap and slipped it into an inside pocket. “I’ll have to wait, though. Still have work to do today. Ianto, when - ”
“Please,” Ianto said, standing. “Don’t ask, yet. It’d take forever to explain, and if you ask me after it will be a lot easier. You won’t have so many questions.”
Jack didn’t move, just looked at him with a frown, as if he was deciding whether or not to press for more. Ianto waited patiently until Jack nodded and stood, putting a hand on the small of Ianto’s back and guiding him to the door. “Right then. Work first, explanations later. Have I ever told you you’re a very mysterious man, Ianto Jones?”
“That would be Jones, Ianto Jones,” Ianto said with a smile he didn’t quite feel. This was it? He’d been missing for a week, and Jack just asks him for a few codes, kisses him to taste him, and goes back to work? It was… anticlimactic.
They made their way back to the Tourist Office in silence - Jack probably wondering what exactly was in that chip, and Ianto starting to wonder if he’d made the right decision.
He was about to press the button to open the entrance to the stairs when Jack reached out and grabbed his fist, fingers looping around to ensnare him. Ianto looked down, and then up, meeting Jack’s eyes in confusion.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Jack said, voice pitched low but not at all seductive. Ianto shivered at it - so much and yet so little, and was that really all Jack could give him? I’m glad you’re back? Ianto nodded stiffly, trying to extract his wrist, but Jack just gripped tighter, thumb pressing into the sharp point of his wrist bone.
“I thought - well,” Jack started, and then stopped. He flashed Ianto a self-deprecating grin. “Never mind what I thought. See me in my office, after, if nothing’s gone to hell?”
“Yeah, sure,” Ianto said, and he could see the skeptical look that didn’t quite make Jack’s face. For all they were together, at work and in the Hub, Ianto never failed to address Jack professionally, though the ‘sir’ was designated for more formal moments. Ianto flushed - weeks spent with a Jack he didn’t address as his superior had clearly changed his viewpoint. “Of course,” he added, lamely, pulling away entirely and opening the secret door. “I’ll make a tour of the hub, and see what you’ve done to the archives in my absence, shall I? Unless you had anything else that needed attending to right away?”
“No, that sounds fine,” Jack said, backing up to let Ianto pass, an unreadable expression on his face. “We’ve got this one almost wrapped up. It’d be more work to fill you in at this point.”
“I’ll talk to you later, then,” Ianto said, managing a smile before slipping into the stairwell and down to the hub, feeling somewhat like a fleeing rabbit, more than a little guilty, and entirely cowardly. But until Jack got his memories back, what was there to say?
Except - the question gave Ianto pause, for some reason, and as he greeted Tosh, who greeted him with tears and a ferocious hug that belied her small stature, and started cleaning up the disaster zone that was the autopsy bay, it distracted him. As he sorted through the archives, moving Tosh’s piles of trinkets, Gwen’s reports and Owen’s cryogenically preserved alien body parts to their appropriate storage facilities, it followed him. Because once Jack knew - once Jack and Kethan merged into one person again - nothing would be the same.
~
If the Tourist Office had smelled familiar, it was nothing to the warm, woody smell of Jack’s office. The antique furniture and the oil lamps Jack kept and lit - for what Ianto could only presume were nostalgic reasons - kept the concrete, muddy smell of the rest of the hub out of the cave-like space that was Jack’s office. Ianto trailed a finger along the dust that had accumulated on the unused corner of the desk, and followed the edge to the twisted, spongy mass of coral on other side. It looked unassuming, harmless - almost childlike, though Ianto couldn’t say why. He wasn’t one to anthropomorphize technology.
“You cause a lot of trouble when you grow up,” he whispered to it, stroking one arm of it lightly. “Think I should get rid of you now?”
Ianto frowned, pulling his hand back as an uneasy, skittish feeling ran through him. He looked around the office, starting when he noticed Jack standing in the doorway, hands in pockets.
“Talking to yourself, are you?” Jack said by way of hello, not moving into the room until Ianto smiled and backed away from his desk, pulling up one of the wooden chairs to the desk and taking a seat. Jack came around and sat in his own chair, leaning back and giving Ianto a look of consideration. “Find everything okay?”
“If by ‘okay’ you mean ‘a wreck’, then yes,” Ianto replied snappily, punctuating the sentence with a roll of his eyes. Jack smiled back, looking pleased at the typical response, but it felt like a costume. He’d always been playing a role, but it was no longer satisfying, as if knowing who Jack was made him wonder who he was, as well.
“I’m sure you’ll straighten it out in no time,” Jack said, and then shifted from relaxed to urgent as he slid reached into a pocket and drew out the memory case. “Now, about this,” he waved it once through the air and then deposited it on the desk between them, “are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me before I restore the memories?”
Ianto shook his head. “No. Nothing about what’s on there. I did…” he faltered, losing his courage. “No. Like I said, it’ll be easier after.”
“I’ll bet,” said Jack, giving him a quizzical glance. “You said you were gone two months?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” The accompanying scrutinizing look made Ianto clear his throat. “All right. But I want you in early, tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll have things to discuss.”
“Of course,” Ianto said, refraining from pointing out that he was always in early, because, well, maybe he wouldn’t be, now. What had changed? What hadn’t?
He stood up, feeling a little awkward and brushing imaginary dust off his trousers. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked, and then waved at the case. “I’m guessing that’s not a pleasant process, regaining all those memories at once.”
Jack snorted. “No. It’s not. But that’s fine, it wouldn’t be pleasant for you to watch.”
“I don’t mind. I’ve seen - ” you in worse shape. “I’ve been through worse.”
Jack waved him off. “Nah, go home, make sure your flat’s in one piece.”
“Right.”
Ianto didn’t move. Jack raised an eyebrow.
“What made you decide to come back?”
“Pardon?” Jack look puzzled. “Didn’t you just come back, or am I in some weird alternate universe?”
“No,” Ianto said with a laugh. “At least, I hope not. No, I meant, back in May, after you were with the Doctor. Why’d you choose to come back here instead of stay out there?”
“I told you,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair with calm confidence. “I came back for you guys - for Torchwood. Why? Is that why you came back?”
Ianto frowned, recalling a slightly different conversation upon Jack’s return, but nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said, drumming his fingers on the desktop, and then stopping abruptly. “No. No, I didn’t come back for Torchwood.”
“No?”
“No. I had… I had a better offer.”
“Are you asking for a pay raise?” Jack asked with a grin.
Ianto let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head. “Although, if you insist…”
“Well, if you are in financial need, just put in a request for the overtime you never track. I’ll put it through.”
“Right, thanks.”
“But…” Jack said pointedly. “Not what you meant. You were thinking of not coming back?”
“I - no. Not really, just…” Ianto sighed and pulled his hand into his lap. “I met people, where I was. They became important to me. Leaving them was hard, but in the end there never was any question about it.”
“Can’t leave Torchwood, huh?”
“Of course I could,” Ianto said, setting his hands flat on the desk and meeting Jack’s eyes. “I couldn’t leave you.”
Ianto watched Jack’s response with bated breath. Jack, on the other hand, took a deep breath and smiled, standing up with a stretch and coming around to perch on the desk in front of Ianto.
“So, tell me,” he said, leaning in as if he were sharing a secret. “Is it my skill as a leader or a lover that you couldn’t leave behind?”
It was, really, classic Jack. Take something heartfelt and real, and mix in bravado and seduction to turn it into something cheap. Three months ago, Ianto would have fallen for it, snapped back ‘neither’ and tossed out an insult, and then blown Jack off. Jack, pouting, would have groveled and pawed at him until Ianto, revved up and willing, let Jack lead him down to his bed.
Not anymore. Ianto pushed back his chair and started for the door.
“Whoa,” Jack said, jumping up and heading him off. “Where are you going?”
Ianto pushed Jack’s hands off him, shaking his head. “I’m not going to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Tell you my honest-to-god feelings just to have you blow them off,” Ianto replied flatly.
“Hey, hey,” Jack said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to blow you off. Look, just sit down, tell me what’s up, okay?” He went over to couch and sat down, patting the empty space beside him.
Ianto bit his lip, considering, and then came round to sit tentatively beside Jack.
“So. You, ah, ‘came back for me’ as it were?” Jack said with a self-deprecating half-smile.
“Yes. Only I can actually say it to your face.”
The smile left Jack’s face, and he sat up a little straighter. “Okay, now that’s unnecessary. What in god’s name have I done to piss you off so much?”
“I - ” Ianto cut himself off, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Jack had done plenty, except… could he really blame Jack for being caught off guard? Jack was missing so many pieces of the puzzle he’d probably throw it out as a lost cause if Ianto wasn’t careful. Reorganizing, and calming his annoyance, Ianto tried again.
“After Lisa died,” he started slowly, ignoring Jack’s twitch at his side, “I didn’t have anything left. I’d put everything I had into her survival, and all of a sudden that was gone. I’m a… an obsessive person. I’ll admit that,” he sent Jack a sideways smile. “Going from an all-consuming existence to an empty one was probably even harder than losing Lisa herself. Except, I didn’t have to. You threw me a lifeline - my job. Torchwood. It wasn’t what I wanted, but considering I couldn’t have that anymore, it was the next best thing. You have no idea how grateful I was.” Ianto bent his head, looking down at his folded hands.
“Maybe it was because of that, or maybe I’m just telling a story and I was really screwed the moment I met you, but somewhere along the line I’ve gone from being grateful you didn’t shoot me in the basement to in love with you.”
He paused for a moment to take a breath, seeing if Jack would say anything. He didn’t, so Ianto pushed on.
“It’s not the healthiest of things, I know. I think it happening that way messed me up for a while, made me think I had to earn your respect not only as your employee, but as your lover, and those lines got blurred. But I’ve had two months to think about it, and I’ve un-blurred them a little.”
“You’re my boss. You always will be my boss - and I am, as ever, indebted to you for my job. But just my job.”
“Ianto,” Jack interrupted. “I thought I made it clear that I’d never expect your professional obligations to me to slip over into the bedroom.”
“I know,” Ianto said with a nod. “It wasn’t the obligations - it was the attitude. On the clock, you say jump, I ask how high. Privately? Maybe not so much orders, but I didn’t want to rock the boat. To ask for more than was my due, which wasn’t much, given my past actions.”
“I don’t get it,” Jack said flatly, leaning against the armrest to look more directly at Ianto.
“This. Us. It’s all me giving, and you taking. Your needs, not mine. I spent so much time serving you I forgot to ask for anything back.”
“So, what, you want to be on top more?” Jack joked.
Ianto rolled his eyes. “Do you really think that’s what I mean?”
The straightforward question seemed to take Jack by surprise, and he furrowed his brow.
“I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t already know. The fact is - I am your boss. Whatever we like to pretend, this relationship isn’t based on anything equitable. Forget job titles - I’m talking age and experience, here.” He slapped a hand to his chest, resting it across his collarbone, and leaned in a little. “I’m not relationship material, Ianto. I’m an old bastard who’s seen too many things and been screwed over too many times to be a good partner, a good lover.”
“Right,” Ianto said, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. It was a little like déjà vu - he’d heard this before, from the same mouth, but it felt like (was, really) eons ago.
Jack reached out and squeezed Ianto’s shoulder with his hand, rubbing the muscles with his thumb.
“I’d say - go out there, find somebody else. Someone young and available, who you can marry and have a life with. Except, god knows that’s near impossible in this job.” He squeezed a little harder, holding still. “I’m here for you, Ianto. I probably always will be, whether that’s in a professional category or not, but I’ll understand if you want to find someone else.”
Ianto shut his eyes, trying to ward off the urge to grab Jack by the collar, and shake him, and yell ‘you just don’t get it, do you?’ It wasn’t easy. All he wanted was a ‘you do matter to me’, or an ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t really been available to you’, and instead he got the ‘maybe you should see someone else’?
“I don’t want anyone else,” Ianto said tightly, pulling out from under Jack’s grasp and tugging his shirt down as he stood. “I want something of you.”
Jack leaned back against the couch, arms outstretched along the back of it.
“You have me.”
“No, I don’t. Not when I have to resort to secret files to learn anything about you. Not when I don’t know your birthday. Not when I don’t know anything, anything about your past.”
Jack threw out his hands, exasperated. “You don’t want to know those things, Ianto! None of it’s relevant. It’s the past, dry and boring and nothing to do with me, now.”
“So tell me,” Ianto cried, fisting his hands by his side. “If it’s so unimportant, tell me about it!”
“No!” Jack yelled, standing up suddenly. Ianto stepped back, his own expression mirroring Jack’s startled one. “I mean…” Jack took a breath, putting his hands on his hips and giving Ianto a pleading look. “See what I mean? I can’t be what it is you want me to be. Get over it, or find someone who can, alright?”
Ianto folded his arms across his chest and looked away, worrying the soft skin under his arms with the sharp lines of his thumbnails.
“Hey,” Jack said more quietly after a moment, stepping into Ianto’s space and cupping his jaw. “We don’t have to decide anything tonight. You just got back - I’m sure you’re tired, and I have some memories to get back. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Dinner, maybe?”
“Maybe,” Ianto relented, pulling away. Tomorrow would be more than another day. It’d be another lifetime. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He hated himself for doing it, but halfway out the door Ianto paused and turned back. “If you need anything, with the memories. Please call.”
Jack nodded solemnly. “I will.”
“Good.”
~
His flat was mostly untouched, except for a pile of bills and newspapers stacked neatly on the kitchen counter, and a thin film of dust that spoke of a weeks worth of disuse. The garbage had been emptied, so after cracking the windows and sorting the post into ‘junk’, ‘must pay tomorrow’, and ‘don’t have to but will pay tomorrow anyway’, Ianto made a cup of chamomile tea and collapsed with the newspapers. A week’s worth of rabid dog sightings and other mysterious news reports would keep him busy for tonight and much of tomorrow.
He’d made it halfway through Tuesday when his eyes started drooping and he had to give in to biology, putting the mug in the sink and changing into his pyjamas. His own bed was both a welcome familiarity and depressingly empty after two months of Kethan’s body constantly taking up his space. Ianto would gladly put up with elbows in his ribs if he could just have him back.
~
He’d been dreaming that the Star had been taken over by weevils, and that Owen and Zoanne had somehow taken control of the ship by force, tying the rest of the crew up in the medbay. Shifting against the covers, he took in the bright squares of yellow from the streetlights outside, and was confused as to why he was awake. It couldn’t have been morning yet.
The knock that echoed softly from the main room of his flat answered his question, and Ianto rolled quickly out of bed, checking the clock and tightening the drawstring on his trousers as he padded across the living room to the front door, pulling it open with some reservation.
Jack was on the other side, unsurprisingly. Only the other tenants in the building had keys to the front door, and none of them were likely to knock at 3:10 in the morning. Ianto didn’t have any time to consider much beyond this, since Jack wasted no time in sweeping in past him and pushing him up against the wall, shutting the door with one hand as the other took the back of Ianto’s neck and pulled him into a kiss that had Ianto scrabbling at the wall for support.
Jack’s hands were everywhere, running over his body and under his shirt, skimming hardening nipples and squeezing down his arms, as if Jack were trying to make sure he was all there. Ianto submitted to the search without complaint, trying to tamp down on the easy excitement that was building up as Jack kissed down his neck, until thumbs slipped into his trousers and made to pull them down.
“Jack,” he gasped in protest, finding Jack’s shoulders with his hands and pushing back warningly. “Please don’t.”
“I just need to see,” Jack said, voice rough and eyes desperate. He slid his hand down Ianto’s flannel-clad leg, stopping over his thigh, squeezing rhythmically.
Ianto got it, and nodded warily, pressing his hands back against the wall and letting Jack undo the knot of his trousers and pull them down, following to his knees. Ianto drew in a breath and watched as Jack trailed his fingertips through the rough hair on his thigh, stopping midway to thumb the pale pink circle that marked him.
“It’s healed fine,” Ianto managed.
Jack nodded wordlessly, leaning in to press his lips to the scar and then rest his cheek against it, hot breath sending tingles up Ianto’s spine until he pushed gently at Jack’s jaw, urging him back so he could reach down and pull up his trousers.
“You okay?” he asked.
Jack stayed knelt on the floor, bringing his hands up and burying his face into them so that Ianto had to ask again to hear his reply.
“I didn’t know if you’d survived.”
“What?” Ianto said, confused. “Zoanne fixed this fine.”
Jack shook his head. “Not that,” he insisted. “After - the station.”
“Zeta-Oh?”
“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “I thought… I thought it wasn’t enough. Adias - John - ” he broke off for a hysterical giggle, wiping at his eyes, “that bastard blew up the base anyway. I didn’t know if you’d gotten away.” He fumbled in a pocket for a handkerchief, rubbing at his face before pushing himself to his feet. “Not that I remembered for long.”
Ianto looked at him for a long moment, taking in the paleness of his lips, the sheen of sweat along his brow, and the shake of his hands as he tried to fold the handkerchief back into his pocket. Ianto plucked it from his grasp and moved past him into the kitchen.
“You look awful. Take a shower. Should you eat?”
“Probably.”
“I’ll make something up. There are clean towels on the door.” Jack gave him a skeptical look. “You’ll feel better. I’ll be right here.”
Jack nodded, compliant, and disappeared into the toilet. Ianto took a moment to drop his head against the kitchen counter and will his entirely ill timed erection away, before straightening and opening the fridge. Two eggs for Jack, and on reflection, another for himself, and a tomato from the produce bin would do for something to keep Jack from falling over.
By the time Jack came out of the toilet, bare-footed and down a few layers to his t-shirt and trousers, Ianto was adding the toast to the plates of eggs and sliced tomato.
“Water?”
“Please.”
Jack took a seat across from the kitchen at one of the barstools, and Ianto slid his plate and glass over to him, arranging himself opposite Jack, who dug in like a man possessed - which really, wasn’t that far from how Jack normally ate. Ianto slid his egg onto his toast and added a bit of the tomato, cutting it into pieces to eat neatly with his knife and fork, waiting for Jack to start speaking.
The first thing was predictable, and easily the most painful.
“Ashild?”
Ianto looked down at his plate, shaking his head.
“Right.” Jack moved the remaining slice of tomato around his plate with a finger. “And Brenneth too. Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Jack replied miserably. “Damnit, this sucks. I never really got to process Ashild, but with Brenneth, it’s like the same thing all over again. All the shit that comes with it, I have to do it again.”
Ianto swallowed, remembering how broken Kethan - Jack - was after Brenneth was killed, and how much he needed Ianto then. Part of Ianto wanted to do the same thing, leave the dishes and pull Jack into his bedroom, but it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be.
“I always wondered what happened to them,” Jack went on, voice pitched low, as if he were talking mostly to himself. “I never could find them again, it was so strange. Like the Star had disappeared from existence.”
“She did,” Ianto said. “She was caught in the blast. But the crew, most of the crew, they’re fine. Just a decade forward in time from where they left.”
Jack nodded absently. “Makes sense.”
“It was your idea,” Ianto said, managing a smile.
Jack frowned, pushing his empty plate to the side and leaning forward urgently. “The other me - how old was I?”
Ianto hesitated.
“Please,” Jack begged. “I don’t need an exact number, just - ”
“Three thousand. Or so. Older.”
Jack froze. Ianto’s gut twisted as he watched Jack process, and fail to process, and try again, and then give up, flying off the chair and back into the toilet. Ianto followed, flicking on the light switch as he stepped in to see Jack hunched over, retching the contents of the late-night meal into the toilet bowl.
Ianto ran a glass of water and then sat awkwardly on the edge of the tub, reaching out to stroke at Jack’s damp hair until he sat up, and then offering the glass warily.
“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly, watching as Jack gargled and spat, and then pulled the handle. “I didn’t think.”
“I asked,” Jack rasped, sitting back against the counter, eyes shut. “My fault.”
“It’s not that bad,” Ianto tried, his words sounding lame even to his own words. “You’re already a hundred and seventy-five.”
“I’d ask how you knew that, but I guess I know, huh?” Jack said with a weak laugh. Ianto waited quietly, listening to Jack’s heavy breathing.
“I thought… he said it was forever. I didn’t want to believe him. I ignored it, and most of the time? The only way I get through every day without going absolutely fucking insane is to believe he was lying. That maybe next time I die, it’ll stick.” He opened his eyes to meet Ianto’s. “I can’t do another three-thousand years of this, Ianto. I can’t.”
“Then don’t do it like this,” Ianto replied. “Embrace it. Stop being so afraid.”
“I can’t,” Jack whispered.
“You’re just saying that,” Ianto said sharply. “It’s just what you’ve always said, isn’t it? It’s why you said ‘no’, yesterday. It’s why I had to find out your name by going back - forward - and meeting you. It’s why when I say ‘I love you’, you flinch.”
Jack shut his eyes.
“See?” Ianto said, voice softening as he touched Jack’s cheek gently. “The world’s not going to disappear if you shut your eyes. You can’t stop yourself from existing. Stop trying anyway.”
Jack turned away from Ianto’s touch, bringing up a hand to rub at his mouth. “Ianto, Do you have any idea how many people have fallen in love with me?”
“No.”
Jack looked back at Ianto. “How many of them do you think are alive today?”
Ianto said nothing.
“I’m never going to be what you want, Ianto,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t be - I can’t be the Rhys to your Gwen. Or vice versa, or whatever. I can’t love you back because I can’t risk it. I can’t handle it.”
“I don’t want a Rhys,” Ianto said, pulling back a little. “I want you. And you can handle it, if you try.”
“I thought you were gone.”
“What?”
“Last week. When you disappeared,” Jack explained. “I assumed you weren’t ever coming back. And you know what? I handled it. It sucked, believe me when I tell you it sucked, but I handled it, because…”
“Because you’d never let me be that important.”
Jack didn’t dispute it.
Ianto swallowed, and then pulled back, standing up and wiping off his hands on his trousers.
“All right. If that’s what you want.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking unhappily down at Jack until he made a decision. “You can sleep on the couch, if you want.”
He was at his bedroom door before Jack caught up with him, wrapping a hand around his wrist and pulling up flush against him, mouth at his ear. “Ianto, no. I do want you. I need - right now, can’t we…”
Ianto shook him off. “Don’t make me say no to you,” he pleaded, hand on the doorframe.
There was a moment of silence, and then Jack sighed and stepped back. “I’ll go back to the Hub.”
“You can have the couch.”
“No, it’d be better if I went.”
Jack collected his boots and clothes, and Ianto just stood and watched until he slipped out the door, shutting it softly behind him. Ianto raised a hand to his mouth, touching his lips, wishing that Kethan had never shown him what he was missing, and that the Jack of the future had never told him to ask for it.
~
Read the Epilogue.