They Come in Pairs - 12/?
Jack/Ianto (mentions of Jack/Rose/Doctor and Ianto/Lisa in this part)
NC-17
set between 1x08 and 1x13
One person has actually figured out where I'm going with this, and I'm torn between either pouting or asking said person to be my new bestest best friend. Seriously, I love you, pretty please tell me that you write fic and are as demented as I am.
Also, sorry about the wait, but... *insert dramatic drum roll here* This part has actually been beta-read! Yup, that's right, all mistakes can now be blamed entirely on Seize (how do I do that name linky thing?). And I think a red pen actually gave its life for the betterment of this chapter. It was totally brutal. I'm sick, I loved it. *buys an entire pack of red pens for Seize to bleed dry* Onward!
They Come in Pairs - 12
-----
The light was off in the empty autopsy bay now, the area a pool of darkness, and Jack turned away from the stairs leading down into its shadows. The sound of his boots echoed off the grating as he walked over to the computers. The rift had quieted, returning to a state of inactivity. But the energy still lingered, undetectable. Jack stood silently, feeling for some trace of it in the air.
Even Myfanwy was quiet; the only sound in the Hub was that of constantly dripping water. At times like these, when Jack couldn’t feel the rift, he wondered if the rent in space and time had settled so that Torchwood was at the eye of the storm, the ominous sleeping threat swirling around with them at the center.
A second set of footsteps caused him to turn. Ianto's approach did nothing to ease his troubled mood. He was carrying a single mug, apparently not planning on staying long enough to warrant his own cup. Jack frowned, needing to formulate some course of action.
As Ianto passed him the steaming coffee, Jack very carefully let it slip right as Ianto let go. He made sure to give it just enough spin to ensure the direction of the spill. As predicted, Ianto quickly leapt backwards with a hiss of surprised pain.
It had been cruel, but Jack needed to test a theory. Either he was going crazy and his splinter really had been a splinter, or he'd have a scalded leg in several minutes.
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you did that on purpose to get me out of my pants," Ianto halfheartedly joked. It fell flat, seeing as he'd broken things off with Jack less than half an hour ago. "I'm sorry, of course you didn't."
Jack didn't say anything, merely fetched him an icepack, feeling somewhat guilty. Not as guilty as he should feel, but if he were right, he'd be paying for that little stunt soon enough. He returned and handed the icepack to Ianto.
The somber mood that had settled over them prevailed. "I think I need a drink stronger than coffee," Jack finally said.
"I'm going to head home and turn in," Ianto said, ignoring him. He pressed the icepack against his thigh.
A glance at his watch showed that it was still fairly early in the afternoon, but Jack thought it felt later. "Get a drink with me."
Ianto sighed tiredly. "Jack..."
"Just a drink, we could both use one." He wasn't letting Ianto out of his sight - not yet. And it wasn't just the Weevil and the damned glove; it was also the little dead girl in cold storage. Alone didn't seem like a good plan right now. "It's been a long day... I don't want to spend the rest of it by myself."
Ianto nodded at that, discarded the icepack, and fetched his coat. He then left Jack waiting as he retrieved his spare one from the laundry room. He handed the extra coat to Jack when he returned. "It feels like rain."
-----
They didn't say two words to each other the entire trip to the bar, and the silence was fairly awkward. Between the bottle in Jack's desk drawer and the stash he was certain Owen kept in the fire safety cabinet, there was undoubtedly enough alcohol in the Hub to have gotten both himself and Ianto suitably plastered. The atmosphere inside the Hub had felt oppressive even to Jack, however, so the change of scenery couldn't hurt.
Jack's leg had started to hurt something fierce about halfway to their destination, made worse by his not being able to do anything about it. He glanced over at Ianto. "How's the burn?"
Ianto looked puzzled for a moment, seemingly already having forgotten about it now that his clothes were dry. "It wasn't that hot. Although the stain will likely be a nightmare to get out. I'll send you the bill." Jack didn't think the stain was even noticeable against the dark of the material. But staring at Ianto's thigh probably wasn't the wisest idea.
Jack looked away and fell quiet once more, fiddling with the zipper on his borrowed coat. He wanted to comment on how sexy the whole clothes sharing thing they were doing lately was, but he kept the thought to himself.
Ianto probably didn't find it amusing that Jack had managed to ruin two coats in the span of a single week. He *was* reckless. Reckless and stupid. His immortality had made him careless. That Weevil never would have gotten the jump on him back when he was a Time Agent. Mistakes like that didn't happen, not to him. Although they seemed to happen almost daily now. How many times had he gotten himself killed while working for Torchwood? He'd practically lost count. Versus how many times Owen, Toshiko, and Gwen had gotten themselves killed... Zero.
It was as though Jack had developed a death wish. Maybe he had.
Although if he counted honestly, Ianto's total stood at two now. Or would, had Jack not interfered. He'd let himself get thrown rather spectacularly across the Hub by Lisa - by the creature that had once been Lisa, Jack corrected himself - and landed face down in the water. When Jack had pulled him out, he hadn’t been breathing. He'd been in the middle of betraying Jack, and even then Jack hadn't been able to let him go. He'd breathed life back into him, and the embrace they’d shared had turned into a desperate and not-so-innocent kiss on Jack's part.
Perhaps he wasn't quite so willing to love someone he had to face the possibility of losing. Jack didn't like to lose. Unlike Ianto, he was the one who was destined to end up alone in the long run. He was the one who should have broken things off. But Ianto breaking it off with him - that was more ironic than Jack cared to admit. He probably would have laughed if he hadn’t been afraid of looking hysterical.
He'd need to get his other coat out of storage. He felt somewhat strange to be without it, despite the warmth Ianto's coat provided. He felt the same as he had when he’d arrived back on Earth after Satellite 5, not properly dressed without the TARDIS’s wardrobe. He'd had essentially nothing but the shirt on his back, and that was the first thing he'd gotten rid of. Time Agent training: blend in.
He wondered if his other coat was still somewhere in the TARDIS. Were Rose's clothes with it? Fuck - what if that was where the entire wardrobe came from, past loves and past lives?
He slid onto a stool at the bar and ordered drinks for both himself and Ianto. On the topic of not fitting in, Ianto's suit was drawing glances from the few people who also saw fit to be getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. Ianto had probably blamed the looks on the coffee stain and dismissed them.
But his suit was nothing compared to Rose with the Union flag strapped to her chest in the midst of a German air raid. That had been brilliant. And what had he called the Doctor? U-boat Captain. God, had they ever stood out. And Jack loved them for it.
Jack's military greatcoat was considered period now - vintage. It stood out. Jack didn't care. He was indeed out of place, out of his time. He was homesick.
"You're a thousand miles away," Ianto commented, studying Jack with something like concern in his expression.
That was fairly accurate. He felt like he'd left a part of himself behind back on Satellite 5, just like he'd left his coat inside the TARDIS. "And about 200,000 years."
Ianto took a slow sip of his drink, probably buying time while debating with himself which was worse: awkward silence or uncomfortable conversation. He hesitated before asking, "I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"
"I was thinking about the London Blitz," Jack confessed.
"You might want to buy a history book then. Your timing is a slight bit off."
Jack laughed. "Yeah."
They sat quietly for several minutes, Ianto not one to pry. Either that or he simply didn't care, tired of Jack's vague answers.
"Rose Tyler's t-shirt," Jack finally said. "I was remembering the shirt she was wearing when we met."
"Love at first sight?" The question sounded genuine.
"The shirt was absolutely terrible." Jack smiled fondly. It had been love at first sight, though he hadn’t realized it at the time. "I had her pegged as quite the mark."
"Oh?" Ianto sounded confused.
As long as Jack was being honest... "Thought she was going to be the easiest con I ever pulled."
Ianto raised his eyebrows incredulously, his disbelief obvious. "You tried to con her?"
This time it was Jack who paused to take several long swallows from his glass. "I was a different person back then. Angry and with one hell of a chip on my shoulder." Perhaps not so different. Somewhere along the line, without the companionship of Doctor and Rose, maybe he'd reverted back to the person he'd been before they'd rescued him. He'd been carefree with them, happy. Now, he was still trying to save the world, trying to play the hero not the con man, but even Ianto had commented that he'd seemed different all those years ago in Downing Street.
"Ended up almost wiping out the entire human race..." he continued. "Accidentally, of course, but it was still a careless mistake. Thought I was going to die putting it right." Back when dying had actually meant something.
Ianto had turned on his stool so that he was facing Jack now. "What happened?"
"They saved me." He sighed. They'd thought he’d been worth saving. Everybody had gotten to live. He wished there could be more days like that one. He wondered if he was still somebody worth saving. "Anyway, it was a fantastic shirt... Completely wrong, but fantastic."
"You miss her," Ianto stated simply.
Jack did. A lot more, recently, than he had in previous years. Since he'd gotten back into Rose's original timeline... since Canary Warf. "I miss them both."
"Both?"
"I'm not quite drunk enough for that conversation." The Doctor was still considered an enemy of Torchwood.
Ianto didn't comment, probably thinking Jack was sparing him from a kinky three-way sex story. Jack sighed. Oh, how he wished. Only way he'd ever wanted to come between the Doctor and Rose. Between them and between bed sheets, making love while surrounded by the pleasant hum of the TARDIS... That was stuff of long-remembered fantasies. Jack supposed that was actually a four-way fantasy, could still recall the Doctor scolding him more than once for flirting with his ship.
He'd wanted all of them. Wanted intimacy, whether sexual or not, but sex was what was familiar to Jack... Wanted belonging, love, something that felt right, safe. Something to believe in and somebody to believe in him. They'd felt like home. Then they'd left him behind.
He would always be left behind. Ianto had been right to end things, and Jack had been fooling himself.
Jack's cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He checked the ID as he answered. Speaking of doctors... "Owen."
"You haven't slipped into a coma yet then?"
"No."
"Any blurred or double vision?"
"No."
"Nausea?"
"No."
There was a pause. "Are you at a pub getting pissed?"
"No."
"If you were, would you tell me?"
"Of course." Jack took another sip of his drink. "Anything else?"
"If you do fall into a coma, call me."
Jack nodded. "Right. First thing I'll do."
With that, Owen hung up. Jack just stared at his phone for a moment before sticking it back in his pocket.
They finished their drinks in silence and Jack paid the tab. He tried to think up some excuse to get Ianto to stick around, just until Jack was sure he was okay, then they could go their separate ways, go back to being merely two people who worked together. He stood up and felt a little lightheaded. Seeing as he'd just recovered from massive blood loss, alcohol on an empty stomach probably hadn't been the best idea. He hadn't eaten anything since his dinner with Ianto. He placed his hand on the counter to steady himself. Maybe he could convince Ianto to keep their earlier lunch plans.
"Come home with me."
Jack turned to face Ianto, certain he hadn't heard him right. "What?"
Ianto seemed almost put out as he finally replied. "You just treated a head injury with alcohol. Owen thinks you should be under observation, and I'm not trusting you to be wakened every few hours by cell phone. You can stay with me. I'll make up the couch."
Never one to pass on sheer dumb luck, Jack agreed.
-----
Ianto's flat was nice but modest, perfectly clean, and fairly Spartan. Jack didn't wait to be told to make himself at home before he started looking around. Ianto being Ianto, Jack hadn't expected the place to be a mess, but there wasn't even a little clutter. No dirty dishes left in the sink, no socks to be quickly shoved under the couch while Jack was looking the other way... But it was the lack of small knickknacks and trinkets that Jack noticed the most. Surely he should have some accumulation of personal items? The flat was cozy enough, he supposed, but it didn't really feel lived-in.
Ianto was watching him as he shrugged out of his coat, and Jack wondered if he was having second thoughts about inviting Jack into his home.
Of course he was. Despite Jack's uncertainty as to whether their single date had technically qualified them as a couple to begin with, he still felt like Ianto's ex. There was no way that Ianto actually wanted him there. He merely felt responsible for keeping watch over him due to the earlier Weevil incident. Which, though Ianto couldn’t know it, was exactly Jack's reasoning as well.
Ianto set his keys on the counter and hung up his coat. Jack had tossed his borrowed coat over the back of the nearest chair. Ianto gathered it up and neatly hung it as well. Oh yeah, he was going to slowly drive Ianto crazy.
"There are takeout menus in the drawer," Ianto commented. "If you're hungry."
Jack nodded. "Chinese would be good." He left the ordering of the food to Ianto. It would probably take half an hour to be delivered. Jack flicked on the television and pretended to be interested in the rugby match that had just started.
-----
A muffled ringing caused Ianto to look up from the page of his book. "Jack, I think you left your phone in my coat."
The other man was fast asleep on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table beside an almost-empty carton of now-cold Kung Pow chicken. The TV was still on despite the fact that the game seemed to have ended. They'd argued briefly over which team would win, although clearly neither of them had been remotely interested. Ianto had gotten bored with it and started reading, and Jack had apparently dozed off.
Ianto got up from his chair, paused on his way past the coffee table to pick up Jack's soda can and place it on the coaster that was right beside it, then retrieved the coat he'd loaned Jack and fished the still ringing phone from its pocket.
Since Jack was soundly sleeping, Ianto answered it. "Hello?"
"I'm at the Hub. Where are you and where the bloody hell is my patient?" Owen demanded, then paused. "And what exactly are you doing with Jack's phone?"
Ianto rubbed tiredly at his eyes, switching the phone to his other ear and checking his watch. He probably needed to wake Jack, verify that his earlier blow to the head hadn't caused any lingering problems. That was the reason Jack was there, after all. "I'm at my flat. Jack's asleep."
"Oh dear lord," Owen groaned.
"Asleep on the couch," Ianto clarified, as if it was any of Owen's business.
"Right..." The word was deliberately drawn out.
Ianto rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you planned on stopping by the Hub, figured somebody should look after him. God knows he's incapable of taking care of himself... Any particular tests I should do when I wake him, or just the usual?" He'd taken the required basic medical training when he'd joined Torchwood One. Nobody worked for Torchwood in any position without knowing how to perform CPR and how to handle a sidearm. In hindsight, those skills being required for an archivist probably shouldn't have boded well when he'd decided to take the job.
Owen went over everything Ianto should be aware of, stating in no uncertain terms that if Jack showed any signs of experiencing nausea or problems with his vision, he wanted Ianto to call him back immediately.
After their short conversation, Ianto walked back across the room and watched Jack sleep for a moment. His clothing would be hopelessly wrinkled, and only one of his braces was still over his shoulder. He'd probably slid the other off to avoid having it irritate the Weevil scratch. Ianto smiled affectionately. It actually wasn't terrible, having his boss sprawled out on his couch, snoring almost imperceptibly. Ianto allowed him a few more seconds of peaceful slumber before flicking off the television and shoving Jack's boot-shod feet off his coffee table.
Jack woke with a start, quickly taking in his surroundings and glancing up at Ianto in confusion.
"Owen called. He says I need to make you pat your head and rub your stomach simultaneously while reciting the alphabet backwards and hopping on one foot."
"Owen's an ass." Jack shoved himself into a more upright position. "I fell asleep?"
"You did," Ianto confirmed.
That seemed to trouble Jack for some reason, and his eyes moved over Ianto, studying him. He sat up straighter and rubbed absently at his chest before coughing and clearing his throat. "That shouldn't have happened."
Ianto felt a twinge of worry begin to nag at him. He stooped down so that they were eye level with each other. "Jack, are you okay?"
"Are you?" Jack echoed.
He wasn't sure what Jack meant by that. Was he asking if Ianto was okay with having Jack staying at his flat? They hadn't actually discussed whether he was going to spend the night. Ianto wasn't letting himself consider how he really felt about that. Jack was injured and needed somebody keeping an eye on him, and Ianto refused to think about the situation beyond that. "You're the one who took a knock to the head," Ianto replied, dodging the question.
Jack let Ianto check him over without asking again.
-----
He shouldn't have fallen asleep. It wasn't only that Jack tended not to sleep much in general, but he'd been specifically keeping watch over Ianto to make sure he didn't start slowly bleeding to death. There was no way Jack should have dozed off. The fucking glove must have drained him more than he'd thought. Ianto could have been dying while he was asleep, and Jack was just damned lucky it hadn't happened.
He obediently put up with all of Ianto's concussion tests, minus the hopping recital of the alphabet, because frankly Owen was a dick and that was definitely not a valid check for symptoms of a head injury.
They concluded with Ianto perched on the edge of the coffee table, staring into Jack's eyes. Jack stared right back until Ianto noticed the intensity of the gaze that was fixed on him and turned away.
"There are bandages, in the other room," Ianto stammered, noticeably a bit flustered. "You should probably change the dressing on your shoulder."
Jack nodded and stood, stretching out a few kinks left from his uncomfortable napping position. He groaned slightly at the pain in his chest. "That Weevil should have gone on a diet. Feels like a pile of bricks landed on me."
"Do you want me to call Owen and see if you can take something stronger than aspirin?"
"No, I'm fine," Jack replied, smiling reassuringly at Ianto to alleviate the edge of worry that had been clear in the question. "Just a bit stiff. Will probably feel like crap in the morning."
Ianto was also standing now and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitating a moment before speaking. "If you're staying the night, I suppose it would poor manners for me to make you sleep on the couch, seeing as the I'm the one who dragged you here rather than volunteering to stay at the Hub."
"Oh yeah." Jack couldn't help but grin. Although he had no intentions of being quite so rude of a guest as to kick Ianto out of his own room. Especially considering that he didn't actually have a head injury. "I'm not opposed to sharing your bed, if you're offering."
"I wasn't." He gave Jack a disapproving look, knowing full well that Jack was aware that hadn't been what he'd meant. "And thank you for clearing up my guilt. Concussion or not, you're getting the couch. If you behave, I might give you a pillow and blanket."
Jack attempted to look suitably scolded and apologetic as he followed Ianto into the bedroom. The room was connected to a bathroom, which was undoubtedly where Ianto kept the bandages. He walked directly through and flipped on the light switch in the bathroom, beginning to pull medical supplies from the cabinet under the sink. Jack didn't follow.
The bed was twice the size of Jack's, and he sat down on the edge of it, running his hand across the comforter. It was either navy or a deep purple; the room was too dimly lit for Jack to tell. The only light sources were the streams coming in from the living room and the open bathroom door. The rest of the room was illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the lone window. The sun must have gone down while he'd been asleep. Jack gave his eyes a moment to adjust.
There were several cardboard boxes stacked on the floor of the open closet, sealed with packaging tape. He found it odd that Ianto hadn't bothered to finish unpacking yet after the move from London. He was about to comment, wondering if Ianto planned on moving to a different flat, and then he spotted the picture on the nightstand beside the bed. He slowly reached over and turned on the lamp before picking up the delicate frame and studying the image.
It was of Ianto and beautiful woman in a park, both smiling. Lisa. Jack realized all the unopened boxes were probably full of her things. Jack didn't recall ever seeing Ianto smile that openly. Was that what he'd looked like to Ianto, on the video footage of him with the Doctor and Rose? He traced his finger across the image, feeling a pang of remorse.
Ianto gently took the picture from his hands, and Jack suddenly felt like he'd intruded where he didn't belong. "You never talk about her."
Ianto's gaze didn't leave the picture. "To you and Tosh, Gwen, and Owen? I don't think that would go over very well." He opened the nightstand drawer and placed the picture carefully inside before sliding the drawer shut.
He was right. Ianto had kept her a secret for so long, and now he couldn't talk about her. Not to the people who were supposed to be his friends. Jack stood, absently noting that the bedspread was indeed blue. "I'm sorry."
"That's how we're all going to end up, isn't it?" Ianto asked quietly. "Lisa, Suzie... We're all going to eventually lose ourselves, we just don't know how or when."
Jack didn't know what to say to that.
"I sometimes wonder if I already have," Ianto finished.
Jack looked at him sharply. "You haven't lost yourself."
"Right. You and I are going to go out in a blaze of glory, saving the world from the monsters." He scoffed sadly. "If we don't become monsters ourselves first."
"I'm not going to let that happen," Jack swore firmly. Ianto wasn't like Suzie, and Jack would make damn sure he didn't end up like Lisa.
Ianto glanced up and looked at Jack. "Unless it happens to you first."
"It's not going to." Ianto had called him a monster when Jack had ordered him to kill Lisa; Jack swore then and there that he wasn't ever going to become the person Ianto’d believed he was that night. Jack cupped Ianto's face in his palm, kept him turned so that he had no choice but to look at Jack. "We're not going to end up like that. No blaze of glory, and no monsters, either. I promise you. We won't."
Ianto nodded against Jack's hand. The faithful acquiescence, the soft brush of Ianto’s skin against his own - it was too much to resist. Jack leaned in and kissed him.
There was the faintest return of pressure against his lips before Ianto quickly pulled back, pressing his hand against Jack's chest. "Don't."
His chest physically ached where Ianto was touching. "Why? You think cutting yourself off from emotions is going to keep you human?"
"If I do change, Jack, if something happens to me, you're the one I'm trusting to stop me."
Fuck. That sounded way too much like Ianto was relying on Jack to kill him. The statement both confused and deeply troubled him. What was it Ianto was so afraid was going to happen? "The Cybermen are gone,” he said, trying to placate Ianto’s fears.
"What about the next Cybermen, the next homicidally addictive glove?” Ianto glared at him. “Torchwood was founded because people were turning into bloody werewolves! There are decades of horror stories, Jack. We're hunting the scary things and they're hunting us."
Jack pulled Ianto close again, his mind racing. "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing is hunting us. And if something does happen, *if* it does, I'll be here to save you."
Ianto shoved away Jack's hand. "I won't be some dirty little secret locked away in a basement! I don't want to hurt anybody. Lisa would never have killed those people if I hadn't let her. That wasn't her. She wasn't that thing. She was so good, Jack. She wasn't..."
Ianto broke off with a sob and turned away from Jack. They'd all condemned him for hiding her. They hadn't known Lisa as anything but a monster. Ianto didn't only blame himself for failing to save her; he blamed himself for what she'd become. Because he'd loved her too much to stop her. Jack suddenly wasn't certain what this conversation had been about. Was Ianto worried about becoming a monster, or was he afraid Jack would become one and Ianto wouldn't be able to stop him? He'd said he couldn't handle Jack getting himself killed... or worse. "Ianto--"
"I don't want to talk about it," he said with his back still toward Jack. "The bandages are on the counter. I'll go put a spare blanket on the couch."
Ianto left the room and Jack decided to give him space. He walked into bathroom and yanked off his shirts. Ianto wasn't showing any signs that he was going to die tonight, so at least things couldn't possibly get any worse. Jack should probably replace the bandage on his shoulder and then leave, return to the Hub. If that wouldn't cause Ianto to feel even more guilty, thinking he'd forced Jack to go.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and stared in disbelief at the small red spot on his chest. He poked at the mark and winced in pain, then took as deep a breath as possible and started coughing. This was not happening. There was no way this could be happening again.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me..."
-----
TBC
And I believe that was the sound of another shoe dropping... *attempts to look innocent*
NC-17
set between 1x08 and 1x13
One person has actually figured out where I'm going with this, and I'm torn between either pouting or asking said person to be my new bestest best friend. Seriously, I love you, pretty please tell me that you write fic and are as demented as I am.
Also, sorry about the wait, but... *insert dramatic drum roll here* This part has actually been beta-read! Yup, that's right, all mistakes can now be blamed entirely on Seize (how do I do that name linky thing?). And I think a red pen actually gave its life for the betterment of this chapter. It was totally brutal. I'm sick, I loved it. *buys an entire pack of red pens for Seize to bleed dry* Onward!
They Come in Pairs - 12
-----
The light was off in the empty autopsy bay now, the area a pool of darkness, and Jack turned away from the stairs leading down into its shadows. The sound of his boots echoed off the grating as he walked over to the computers. The rift had quieted, returning to a state of inactivity. But the energy still lingered, undetectable. Jack stood silently, feeling for some trace of it in the air.
Even Myfanwy was quiet; the only sound in the Hub was that of constantly dripping water. At times like these, when Jack couldn’t feel the rift, he wondered if the rent in space and time had settled so that Torchwood was at the eye of the storm, the ominous sleeping threat swirling around with them at the center.
A second set of footsteps caused him to turn. Ianto's approach did nothing to ease his troubled mood. He was carrying a single mug, apparently not planning on staying long enough to warrant his own cup. Jack frowned, needing to formulate some course of action.
As Ianto passed him the steaming coffee, Jack very carefully let it slip right as Ianto let go. He made sure to give it just enough spin to ensure the direction of the spill. As predicted, Ianto quickly leapt backwards with a hiss of surprised pain.
It had been cruel, but Jack needed to test a theory. Either he was going crazy and his splinter really had been a splinter, or he'd have a scalded leg in several minutes.
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you did that on purpose to get me out of my pants," Ianto halfheartedly joked. It fell flat, seeing as he'd broken things off with Jack less than half an hour ago. "I'm sorry, of course you didn't."
Jack didn't say anything, merely fetched him an icepack, feeling somewhat guilty. Not as guilty as he should feel, but if he were right, he'd be paying for that little stunt soon enough. He returned and handed the icepack to Ianto.
The somber mood that had settled over them prevailed. "I think I need a drink stronger than coffee," Jack finally said.
"I'm going to head home and turn in," Ianto said, ignoring him. He pressed the icepack against his thigh.
A glance at his watch showed that it was still fairly early in the afternoon, but Jack thought it felt later. "Get a drink with me."
Ianto sighed tiredly. "Jack..."
"Just a drink, we could both use one." He wasn't letting Ianto out of his sight - not yet. And it wasn't just the Weevil and the damned glove; it was also the little dead girl in cold storage. Alone didn't seem like a good plan right now. "It's been a long day... I don't want to spend the rest of it by myself."
Ianto nodded at that, discarded the icepack, and fetched his coat. He then left Jack waiting as he retrieved his spare one from the laundry room. He handed the extra coat to Jack when he returned. "It feels like rain."
-----
They didn't say two words to each other the entire trip to the bar, and the silence was fairly awkward. Between the bottle in Jack's desk drawer and the stash he was certain Owen kept in the fire safety cabinet, there was undoubtedly enough alcohol in the Hub to have gotten both himself and Ianto suitably plastered. The atmosphere inside the Hub had felt oppressive even to Jack, however, so the change of scenery couldn't hurt.
Jack's leg had started to hurt something fierce about halfway to their destination, made worse by his not being able to do anything about it. He glanced over at Ianto. "How's the burn?"
Ianto looked puzzled for a moment, seemingly already having forgotten about it now that his clothes were dry. "It wasn't that hot. Although the stain will likely be a nightmare to get out. I'll send you the bill." Jack didn't think the stain was even noticeable against the dark of the material. But staring at Ianto's thigh probably wasn't the wisest idea.
Jack looked away and fell quiet once more, fiddling with the zipper on his borrowed coat. He wanted to comment on how sexy the whole clothes sharing thing they were doing lately was, but he kept the thought to himself.
Ianto probably didn't find it amusing that Jack had managed to ruin two coats in the span of a single week. He *was* reckless. Reckless and stupid. His immortality had made him careless. That Weevil never would have gotten the jump on him back when he was a Time Agent. Mistakes like that didn't happen, not to him. Although they seemed to happen almost daily now. How many times had he gotten himself killed while working for Torchwood? He'd practically lost count. Versus how many times Owen, Toshiko, and Gwen had gotten themselves killed... Zero.
It was as though Jack had developed a death wish. Maybe he had.
Although if he counted honestly, Ianto's total stood at two now. Or would, had Jack not interfered. He'd let himself get thrown rather spectacularly across the Hub by Lisa - by the creature that had once been Lisa, Jack corrected himself - and landed face down in the water. When Jack had pulled him out, he hadn’t been breathing. He'd been in the middle of betraying Jack, and even then Jack hadn't been able to let him go. He'd breathed life back into him, and the embrace they’d shared had turned into a desperate and not-so-innocent kiss on Jack's part.
Perhaps he wasn't quite so willing to love someone he had to face the possibility of losing. Jack didn't like to lose. Unlike Ianto, he was the one who was destined to end up alone in the long run. He was the one who should have broken things off. But Ianto breaking it off with him - that was more ironic than Jack cared to admit. He probably would have laughed if he hadn’t been afraid of looking hysterical.
He'd need to get his other coat out of storage. He felt somewhat strange to be without it, despite the warmth Ianto's coat provided. He felt the same as he had when he’d arrived back on Earth after Satellite 5, not properly dressed without the TARDIS’s wardrobe. He'd had essentially nothing but the shirt on his back, and that was the first thing he'd gotten rid of. Time Agent training: blend in.
He wondered if his other coat was still somewhere in the TARDIS. Were Rose's clothes with it? Fuck - what if that was where the entire wardrobe came from, past loves and past lives?
He slid onto a stool at the bar and ordered drinks for both himself and Ianto. On the topic of not fitting in, Ianto's suit was drawing glances from the few people who also saw fit to be getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. Ianto had probably blamed the looks on the coffee stain and dismissed them.
But his suit was nothing compared to Rose with the Union flag strapped to her chest in the midst of a German air raid. That had been brilliant. And what had he called the Doctor? U-boat Captain. God, had they ever stood out. And Jack loved them for it.
Jack's military greatcoat was considered period now - vintage. It stood out. Jack didn't care. He was indeed out of place, out of his time. He was homesick.
"You're a thousand miles away," Ianto commented, studying Jack with something like concern in his expression.
That was fairly accurate. He felt like he'd left a part of himself behind back on Satellite 5, just like he'd left his coat inside the TARDIS. "And about 200,000 years."
Ianto took a slow sip of his drink, probably buying time while debating with himself which was worse: awkward silence or uncomfortable conversation. He hesitated before asking, "I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"
"I was thinking about the London Blitz," Jack confessed.
"You might want to buy a history book then. Your timing is a slight bit off."
Jack laughed. "Yeah."
They sat quietly for several minutes, Ianto not one to pry. Either that or he simply didn't care, tired of Jack's vague answers.
"Rose Tyler's t-shirt," Jack finally said. "I was remembering the shirt she was wearing when we met."
"Love at first sight?" The question sounded genuine.
"The shirt was absolutely terrible." Jack smiled fondly. It had been love at first sight, though he hadn’t realized it at the time. "I had her pegged as quite the mark."
"Oh?" Ianto sounded confused.
As long as Jack was being honest... "Thought she was going to be the easiest con I ever pulled."
Ianto raised his eyebrows incredulously, his disbelief obvious. "You tried to con her?"
This time it was Jack who paused to take several long swallows from his glass. "I was a different person back then. Angry and with one hell of a chip on my shoulder." Perhaps not so different. Somewhere along the line, without the companionship of Doctor and Rose, maybe he'd reverted back to the person he'd been before they'd rescued him. He'd been carefree with them, happy. Now, he was still trying to save the world, trying to play the hero not the con man, but even Ianto had commented that he'd seemed different all those years ago in Downing Street.
"Ended up almost wiping out the entire human race..." he continued. "Accidentally, of course, but it was still a careless mistake. Thought I was going to die putting it right." Back when dying had actually meant something.
Ianto had turned on his stool so that he was facing Jack now. "What happened?"
"They saved me." He sighed. They'd thought he’d been worth saving. Everybody had gotten to live. He wished there could be more days like that one. He wondered if he was still somebody worth saving. "Anyway, it was a fantastic shirt... Completely wrong, but fantastic."
"You miss her," Ianto stated simply.
Jack did. A lot more, recently, than he had in previous years. Since he'd gotten back into Rose's original timeline... since Canary Warf. "I miss them both."
"Both?"
"I'm not quite drunk enough for that conversation." The Doctor was still considered an enemy of Torchwood.
Ianto didn't comment, probably thinking Jack was sparing him from a kinky three-way sex story. Jack sighed. Oh, how he wished. Only way he'd ever wanted to come between the Doctor and Rose. Between them and between bed sheets, making love while surrounded by the pleasant hum of the TARDIS... That was stuff of long-remembered fantasies. Jack supposed that was actually a four-way fantasy, could still recall the Doctor scolding him more than once for flirting with his ship.
He'd wanted all of them. Wanted intimacy, whether sexual or not, but sex was what was familiar to Jack... Wanted belonging, love, something that felt right, safe. Something to believe in and somebody to believe in him. They'd felt like home. Then they'd left him behind.
He would always be left behind. Ianto had been right to end things, and Jack had been fooling himself.
Jack's cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He checked the ID as he answered. Speaking of doctors... "Owen."
"You haven't slipped into a coma yet then?"
"No."
"Any blurred or double vision?"
"No."
"Nausea?"
"No."
There was a pause. "Are you at a pub getting pissed?"
"No."
"If you were, would you tell me?"
"Of course." Jack took another sip of his drink. "Anything else?"
"If you do fall into a coma, call me."
Jack nodded. "Right. First thing I'll do."
With that, Owen hung up. Jack just stared at his phone for a moment before sticking it back in his pocket.
They finished their drinks in silence and Jack paid the tab. He tried to think up some excuse to get Ianto to stick around, just until Jack was sure he was okay, then they could go their separate ways, go back to being merely two people who worked together. He stood up and felt a little lightheaded. Seeing as he'd just recovered from massive blood loss, alcohol on an empty stomach probably hadn't been the best idea. He hadn't eaten anything since his dinner with Ianto. He placed his hand on the counter to steady himself. Maybe he could convince Ianto to keep their earlier lunch plans.
"Come home with me."
Jack turned to face Ianto, certain he hadn't heard him right. "What?"
Ianto seemed almost put out as he finally replied. "You just treated a head injury with alcohol. Owen thinks you should be under observation, and I'm not trusting you to be wakened every few hours by cell phone. You can stay with me. I'll make up the couch."
Never one to pass on sheer dumb luck, Jack agreed.
-----
Ianto's flat was nice but modest, perfectly clean, and fairly Spartan. Jack didn't wait to be told to make himself at home before he started looking around. Ianto being Ianto, Jack hadn't expected the place to be a mess, but there wasn't even a little clutter. No dirty dishes left in the sink, no socks to be quickly shoved under the couch while Jack was looking the other way... But it was the lack of small knickknacks and trinkets that Jack noticed the most. Surely he should have some accumulation of personal items? The flat was cozy enough, he supposed, but it didn't really feel lived-in.
Ianto was watching him as he shrugged out of his coat, and Jack wondered if he was having second thoughts about inviting Jack into his home.
Of course he was. Despite Jack's uncertainty as to whether their single date had technically qualified them as a couple to begin with, he still felt like Ianto's ex. There was no way that Ianto actually wanted him there. He merely felt responsible for keeping watch over him due to the earlier Weevil incident. Which, though Ianto couldn’t know it, was exactly Jack's reasoning as well.
Ianto set his keys on the counter and hung up his coat. Jack had tossed his borrowed coat over the back of the nearest chair. Ianto gathered it up and neatly hung it as well. Oh yeah, he was going to slowly drive Ianto crazy.
"There are takeout menus in the drawer," Ianto commented. "If you're hungry."
Jack nodded. "Chinese would be good." He left the ordering of the food to Ianto. It would probably take half an hour to be delivered. Jack flicked on the television and pretended to be interested in the rugby match that had just started.
-----
A muffled ringing caused Ianto to look up from the page of his book. "Jack, I think you left your phone in my coat."
The other man was fast asleep on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table beside an almost-empty carton of now-cold Kung Pow chicken. The TV was still on despite the fact that the game seemed to have ended. They'd argued briefly over which team would win, although clearly neither of them had been remotely interested. Ianto had gotten bored with it and started reading, and Jack had apparently dozed off.
Ianto got up from his chair, paused on his way past the coffee table to pick up Jack's soda can and place it on the coaster that was right beside it, then retrieved the coat he'd loaned Jack and fished the still ringing phone from its pocket.
Since Jack was soundly sleeping, Ianto answered it. "Hello?"
"I'm at the Hub. Where are you and where the bloody hell is my patient?" Owen demanded, then paused. "And what exactly are you doing with Jack's phone?"
Ianto rubbed tiredly at his eyes, switching the phone to his other ear and checking his watch. He probably needed to wake Jack, verify that his earlier blow to the head hadn't caused any lingering problems. That was the reason Jack was there, after all. "I'm at my flat. Jack's asleep."
"Oh dear lord," Owen groaned.
"Asleep on the couch," Ianto clarified, as if it was any of Owen's business.
"Right..." The word was deliberately drawn out.
Ianto rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you planned on stopping by the Hub, figured somebody should look after him. God knows he's incapable of taking care of himself... Any particular tests I should do when I wake him, or just the usual?" He'd taken the required basic medical training when he'd joined Torchwood One. Nobody worked for Torchwood in any position without knowing how to perform CPR and how to handle a sidearm. In hindsight, those skills being required for an archivist probably shouldn't have boded well when he'd decided to take the job.
Owen went over everything Ianto should be aware of, stating in no uncertain terms that if Jack showed any signs of experiencing nausea or problems with his vision, he wanted Ianto to call him back immediately.
After their short conversation, Ianto walked back across the room and watched Jack sleep for a moment. His clothing would be hopelessly wrinkled, and only one of his braces was still over his shoulder. He'd probably slid the other off to avoid having it irritate the Weevil scratch. Ianto smiled affectionately. It actually wasn't terrible, having his boss sprawled out on his couch, snoring almost imperceptibly. Ianto allowed him a few more seconds of peaceful slumber before flicking off the television and shoving Jack's boot-shod feet off his coffee table.
Jack woke with a start, quickly taking in his surroundings and glancing up at Ianto in confusion.
"Owen called. He says I need to make you pat your head and rub your stomach simultaneously while reciting the alphabet backwards and hopping on one foot."
"Owen's an ass." Jack shoved himself into a more upright position. "I fell asleep?"
"You did," Ianto confirmed.
That seemed to trouble Jack for some reason, and his eyes moved over Ianto, studying him. He sat up straighter and rubbed absently at his chest before coughing and clearing his throat. "That shouldn't have happened."
Ianto felt a twinge of worry begin to nag at him. He stooped down so that they were eye level with each other. "Jack, are you okay?"
"Are you?" Jack echoed.
He wasn't sure what Jack meant by that. Was he asking if Ianto was okay with having Jack staying at his flat? They hadn't actually discussed whether he was going to spend the night. Ianto wasn't letting himself consider how he really felt about that. Jack was injured and needed somebody keeping an eye on him, and Ianto refused to think about the situation beyond that. "You're the one who took a knock to the head," Ianto replied, dodging the question.
Jack let Ianto check him over without asking again.
-----
He shouldn't have fallen asleep. It wasn't only that Jack tended not to sleep much in general, but he'd been specifically keeping watch over Ianto to make sure he didn't start slowly bleeding to death. There was no way Jack should have dozed off. The fucking glove must have drained him more than he'd thought. Ianto could have been dying while he was asleep, and Jack was just damned lucky it hadn't happened.
He obediently put up with all of Ianto's concussion tests, minus the hopping recital of the alphabet, because frankly Owen was a dick and that was definitely not a valid check for symptoms of a head injury.
They concluded with Ianto perched on the edge of the coffee table, staring into Jack's eyes. Jack stared right back until Ianto noticed the intensity of the gaze that was fixed on him and turned away.
"There are bandages, in the other room," Ianto stammered, noticeably a bit flustered. "You should probably change the dressing on your shoulder."
Jack nodded and stood, stretching out a few kinks left from his uncomfortable napping position. He groaned slightly at the pain in his chest. "That Weevil should have gone on a diet. Feels like a pile of bricks landed on me."
"Do you want me to call Owen and see if you can take something stronger than aspirin?"
"No, I'm fine," Jack replied, smiling reassuringly at Ianto to alleviate the edge of worry that had been clear in the question. "Just a bit stiff. Will probably feel like crap in the morning."
Ianto was also standing now and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitating a moment before speaking. "If you're staying the night, I suppose it would poor manners for me to make you sleep on the couch, seeing as the I'm the one who dragged you here rather than volunteering to stay at the Hub."
"Oh yeah." Jack couldn't help but grin. Although he had no intentions of being quite so rude of a guest as to kick Ianto out of his own room. Especially considering that he didn't actually have a head injury. "I'm not opposed to sharing your bed, if you're offering."
"I wasn't." He gave Jack a disapproving look, knowing full well that Jack was aware that hadn't been what he'd meant. "And thank you for clearing up my guilt. Concussion or not, you're getting the couch. If you behave, I might give you a pillow and blanket."
Jack attempted to look suitably scolded and apologetic as he followed Ianto into the bedroom. The room was connected to a bathroom, which was undoubtedly where Ianto kept the bandages. He walked directly through and flipped on the light switch in the bathroom, beginning to pull medical supplies from the cabinet under the sink. Jack didn't follow.
The bed was twice the size of Jack's, and he sat down on the edge of it, running his hand across the comforter. It was either navy or a deep purple; the room was too dimly lit for Jack to tell. The only light sources were the streams coming in from the living room and the open bathroom door. The rest of the room was illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the lone window. The sun must have gone down while he'd been asleep. Jack gave his eyes a moment to adjust.
There were several cardboard boxes stacked on the floor of the open closet, sealed with packaging tape. He found it odd that Ianto hadn't bothered to finish unpacking yet after the move from London. He was about to comment, wondering if Ianto planned on moving to a different flat, and then he spotted the picture on the nightstand beside the bed. He slowly reached over and turned on the lamp before picking up the delicate frame and studying the image.
It was of Ianto and beautiful woman in a park, both smiling. Lisa. Jack realized all the unopened boxes were probably full of her things. Jack didn't recall ever seeing Ianto smile that openly. Was that what he'd looked like to Ianto, on the video footage of him with the Doctor and Rose? He traced his finger across the image, feeling a pang of remorse.
Ianto gently took the picture from his hands, and Jack suddenly felt like he'd intruded where he didn't belong. "You never talk about her."
Ianto's gaze didn't leave the picture. "To you and Tosh, Gwen, and Owen? I don't think that would go over very well." He opened the nightstand drawer and placed the picture carefully inside before sliding the drawer shut.
He was right. Ianto had kept her a secret for so long, and now he couldn't talk about her. Not to the people who were supposed to be his friends. Jack stood, absently noting that the bedspread was indeed blue. "I'm sorry."
"That's how we're all going to end up, isn't it?" Ianto asked quietly. "Lisa, Suzie... We're all going to eventually lose ourselves, we just don't know how or when."
Jack didn't know what to say to that.
"I sometimes wonder if I already have," Ianto finished.
Jack looked at him sharply. "You haven't lost yourself."
"Right. You and I are going to go out in a blaze of glory, saving the world from the monsters." He scoffed sadly. "If we don't become monsters ourselves first."
"I'm not going to let that happen," Jack swore firmly. Ianto wasn't like Suzie, and Jack would make damn sure he didn't end up like Lisa.
Ianto glanced up and looked at Jack. "Unless it happens to you first."
"It's not going to." Ianto had called him a monster when Jack had ordered him to kill Lisa; Jack swore then and there that he wasn't ever going to become the person Ianto’d believed he was that night. Jack cupped Ianto's face in his palm, kept him turned so that he had no choice but to look at Jack. "We're not going to end up like that. No blaze of glory, and no monsters, either. I promise you. We won't."
Ianto nodded against Jack's hand. The faithful acquiescence, the soft brush of Ianto’s skin against his own - it was too much to resist. Jack leaned in and kissed him.
There was the faintest return of pressure against his lips before Ianto quickly pulled back, pressing his hand against Jack's chest. "Don't."
His chest physically ached where Ianto was touching. "Why? You think cutting yourself off from emotions is going to keep you human?"
"If I do change, Jack, if something happens to me, you're the one I'm trusting to stop me."
Fuck. That sounded way too much like Ianto was relying on Jack to kill him. The statement both confused and deeply troubled him. What was it Ianto was so afraid was going to happen? "The Cybermen are gone,” he said, trying to placate Ianto’s fears.
"What about the next Cybermen, the next homicidally addictive glove?” Ianto glared at him. “Torchwood was founded because people were turning into bloody werewolves! There are decades of horror stories, Jack. We're hunting the scary things and they're hunting us."
Jack pulled Ianto close again, his mind racing. "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing is hunting us. And if something does happen, *if* it does, I'll be here to save you."
Ianto shoved away Jack's hand. "I won't be some dirty little secret locked away in a basement! I don't want to hurt anybody. Lisa would never have killed those people if I hadn't let her. That wasn't her. She wasn't that thing. She was so good, Jack. She wasn't..."
Ianto broke off with a sob and turned away from Jack. They'd all condemned him for hiding her. They hadn't known Lisa as anything but a monster. Ianto didn't only blame himself for failing to save her; he blamed himself for what she'd become. Because he'd loved her too much to stop her. Jack suddenly wasn't certain what this conversation had been about. Was Ianto worried about becoming a monster, or was he afraid Jack would become one and Ianto wouldn't be able to stop him? He'd said he couldn't handle Jack getting himself killed... or worse. "Ianto--"
"I don't want to talk about it," he said with his back still toward Jack. "The bandages are on the counter. I'll go put a spare blanket on the couch."
Ianto left the room and Jack decided to give him space. He walked into bathroom and yanked off his shirts. Ianto wasn't showing any signs that he was going to die tonight, so at least things couldn't possibly get any worse. Jack should probably replace the bandage on his shoulder and then leave, return to the Hub. If that wouldn't cause Ianto to feel even more guilty, thinking he'd forced Jack to go.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and stared in disbelief at the small red spot on his chest. He poked at the mark and winced in pain, then took as deep a breath as possible and started coughing. This was not happening. There was no way this could be happening again.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me..."
-----
TBC
And I believe that was the sound of another shoe dropping... *attempts to look innocent*