Yesterday Is But Today's Memory - 6/19+Interlude
Title: Yesterday Is But Today's Memory
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Takes place post 2x05 'Adam', but mentions briefly minor info from later s2 eps. AU
Summary: It wasn’t the lost days that were really giving Ianto Jones nightmares. It was the fact that ever since, he’d suddenly been having flashes from another period of his life he’d thought was lost forever - his first ten years.
Warning: Some chapters of this fic will contain material some may find offensive. To go into more detail would be spoilery for the plot, but DO NOT READ if you are easily offended.
Thanks to: My wonderful betas morbid_sparks, cazmalfoy and angelzbabe1989, who talked me into writing this, then held my hand while I worked through the plot and filled all its holes.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Six
“John Hart? Are you sure?” Jack asked quietly.
Ianto nodded in the dim light and sat up. “It was definitely him.” He caught Jack’s sceptical look. “I’m sure.”
“But… it doesn’t make any sense,” Jack said, sitting up too. “Why would John Hart be in your vision? In your past?”
“I don’t know.” Ianto shrugged. “I can’t even really say for sure that he was. Yes, I saw him in my dream, but unlike the creatures, John Hart is something that’s already there in my subconscious. Maybe my mind mixed things up. I know it wasn’t true with the other things, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t true here.”
“You think it’s possible?” Jack asked.
“It was a dream, Jack,” Ianto replied. “So yes, I think so. I hope so, really. I’m not sure what it would mean if it wasn’t.”
“You’re right,” Jack agreed. “It was probably just a dream. The subconscious does strange things to us when we’re asleep.”
He wrapped an arm back around Ianto. “Come on, you need a few more hours sleep.” He caught the uncertain look Ianto shot him. “I’ll be here if you have a nightmare vision, you know that.”
Ianto looked far from completely convinced, but let Jack coax him back down under the covers and into his arms. A few slow, soft and utterly distracting kisses later and he was peacefully slipping into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
There was a spate of Weevil attacks over the next few days, and since he hadn’t appeared in any more of the visions Ianto had experienced, John Hart was quickly forgotten and dismissed. They had much more important things to be concentrating on.
Even the frequency of the visions seemed to be decreasing, although they were more detailed every time. When nearly two days had gone by without him having a single flash or vision, Ianto began to wonder if whatever it was that had shaken loose in his head to give them to him in the first place had settled down again and that would be all he got.
He found that, as perturbing as the things he’d seen had been, he didn’t want them to stop. Not yet. Not now, before he had any actual answers. Before he even had any way of discovering any answers.
The lack of visions was disturbing him almost as much as the visions themselves had, at first.
Nearly another day had gone by before it hit him. He was cataloguing some old (but newly identified) artefacts in the archives when a flash came upon him so suddenly that he dropped the box of items he had been carrying down to the ‘Harmless - Leisure Items’ section. His whole body froze as his mind replayed the events from him childhood, in startling detail for the first time.
Screams echoed around him as a door opened and light shone into the small, dark hole he’d called home for - well, he didn’t know how long. If it wasn’t for the fuzzy lingering images of laughter on a beach, he’d have assumed he’d been here his whole life.
He cowered against the back wall. As much as he hated the lonely darkness of the tiny space, being taken out never led to anything good. Being taken out usually meant unspeakable torture and pain.
A figure stepped into the doorway, casting a tall shadow over him. He dared to look up, and was surprised to find that the outline was not that of one of the creatures.
If he was getting his hopes up, he’d even say it looked like another human.
Whatever or whoever it was took a step forward and made a noise. He didn’t recognise the noise, but understood that the man - for, as he grew closer, and was no longer blocking the light, it became apparent that it was a man - was trying to communicate with him.
He hadn’t truly communicated with anyone or anything in… so long. The creatures, however they spoke to one another, never spoke to their captives, and although he knew he wasn’t the only one - he had heard the screams, seen the rows of containment units alongside his own - he had never seen, let alone interacted with, another prisoner.
He let out an involuntary scream as the man descended on him, gathering him up in strong arms. He was carried out into the bright light, where all around him creatures were chained and restrained, and other captives were being brought out into the sunshine.
He found the courage to lift his head and look into the face of his rescuer…
…and he came back to himself with a jolt. Two things were plainly apparent.
One: he’d clearly been ‘out’ for some time, as Jack had been in his office and was now wrapped comfortingly around him.
And two: he’d been absolutely mistaken in his assumption that John Hart’s presence in his dream was the product of his mixed up subconscious.
Chapter Seven
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Takes place post 2x05 'Adam', but mentions briefly minor info from later s2 eps. AU
Summary: It wasn’t the lost days that were really giving Ianto Jones nightmares. It was the fact that ever since, he’d suddenly been having flashes from another period of his life he’d thought was lost forever - his first ten years.
Warning: Some chapters of this fic will contain material some may find offensive. To go into more detail would be spoilery for the plot, but DO NOT READ if you are easily offended.
Thanks to: My wonderful betas morbid_sparks, cazmalfoy and angelzbabe1989, who talked me into writing this, then held my hand while I worked through the plot and filled all its holes.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Six
“John Hart? Are you sure?” Jack asked quietly.
Ianto nodded in the dim light and sat up. “It was definitely him.” He caught Jack’s sceptical look. “I’m sure.”
“But… it doesn’t make any sense,” Jack said, sitting up too. “Why would John Hart be in your vision? In your past?”
“I don’t know.” Ianto shrugged. “I can’t even really say for sure that he was. Yes, I saw him in my dream, but unlike the creatures, John Hart is something that’s already there in my subconscious. Maybe my mind mixed things up. I know it wasn’t true with the other things, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t true here.”
“You think it’s possible?” Jack asked.
“It was a dream, Jack,” Ianto replied. “So yes, I think so. I hope so, really. I’m not sure what it would mean if it wasn’t.”
“You’re right,” Jack agreed. “It was probably just a dream. The subconscious does strange things to us when we’re asleep.”
He wrapped an arm back around Ianto. “Come on, you need a few more hours sleep.” He caught the uncertain look Ianto shot him. “I’ll be here if you have a nightmare vision, you know that.”
Ianto looked far from completely convinced, but let Jack coax him back down under the covers and into his arms. A few slow, soft and utterly distracting kisses later and he was peacefully slipping into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
There was a spate of Weevil attacks over the next few days, and since he hadn’t appeared in any more of the visions Ianto had experienced, John Hart was quickly forgotten and dismissed. They had much more important things to be concentrating on.
Even the frequency of the visions seemed to be decreasing, although they were more detailed every time. When nearly two days had gone by without him having a single flash or vision, Ianto began to wonder if whatever it was that had shaken loose in his head to give them to him in the first place had settled down again and that would be all he got.
He found that, as perturbing as the things he’d seen had been, he didn’t want them to stop. Not yet. Not now, before he had any actual answers. Before he even had any way of discovering any answers.
The lack of visions was disturbing him almost as much as the visions themselves had, at first.
Nearly another day had gone by before it hit him. He was cataloguing some old (but newly identified) artefacts in the archives when a flash came upon him so suddenly that he dropped the box of items he had been carrying down to the ‘Harmless - Leisure Items’ section. His whole body froze as his mind replayed the events from him childhood, in startling detail for the first time.
Screams echoed around him as a door opened and light shone into the small, dark hole he’d called home for - well, he didn’t know how long. If it wasn’t for the fuzzy lingering images of laughter on a beach, he’d have assumed he’d been here his whole life.
He cowered against the back wall. As much as he hated the lonely darkness of the tiny space, being taken out never led to anything good. Being taken out usually meant unspeakable torture and pain.
A figure stepped into the doorway, casting a tall shadow over him. He dared to look up, and was surprised to find that the outline was not that of one of the creatures.
If he was getting his hopes up, he’d even say it looked like another human.
Whatever or whoever it was took a step forward and made a noise. He didn’t recognise the noise, but understood that the man - for, as he grew closer, and was no longer blocking the light, it became apparent that it was a man - was trying to communicate with him.
He hadn’t truly communicated with anyone or anything in… so long. The creatures, however they spoke to one another, never spoke to their captives, and although he knew he wasn’t the only one - he had heard the screams, seen the rows of containment units alongside his own - he had never seen, let alone interacted with, another prisoner.
He let out an involuntary scream as the man descended on him, gathering him up in strong arms. He was carried out into the bright light, where all around him creatures were chained and restrained, and other captives were being brought out into the sunshine.
He found the courage to lift his head and look into the face of his rescuer…
…and he came back to himself with a jolt. Two things were plainly apparent.
One: he’d clearly been ‘out’ for some time, as Jack had been in his office and was now wrapped comfortingly around him.
And two: he’d been absolutely mistaken in his assumption that John Hart’s presence in his dream was the product of his mixed up subconscious.
Chapter Seven
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts