Torchwood Giftfic -- Choices: The Memory of Ianto
Title: Choices: The Memory of Ianto
Date Written: 1/17/09
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 1,404
Fandom: Torchwood, specifically gingerlr's Choices universe
Disclaimer: Property of their respective owners
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto (one-sided), Rhi, Mica, David
Spoilers: Up through Choices: Cyberwoman
Warnings: The two betas said they needed tissues, so... Tissue warning.
Author's Notes: Thanks to both totally4ryo and gingerlr for the beta, and to gingerlr for letting me play in her universe.
If you are not reading the Choices Universe, GO DO IT NOW. SERIOUSLY, PPL. I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm gingerlr's beta for the story. She does fantastic work, and I know you'll all love it as much as I do.
Jack took a deep breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat. He held it for a few moments before letting it out slowly, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
He was always so reluctant to go on these visits. Just like he was reluctant to go to Flat Holm. But they were both so important, so vital.
He looked both ways before crossing the quiet street out of habit. The wrought-iron gate easily opened underneath his hand, not even a squeak of rust. He paused again to look up at the lovely house; white and classic in a sort of quietly Welsh way, with two-storeys and a walled-in front garden. Toys littered the well-kept grass; baby dolls like he'd bought for his Alice when she was a child, and the more modern foam air guns that he still bought for Stephen. Three bikes lay haphazardly by the door, one little girl's, one little boy's and one adult.
Jack was just raising his hand to knock when the door swung open. Little Mica Evans smiled up at the captain before hugging him fondly around the middle.
"Hello, bug," he greeted, wrapping his arms around her as well. "Did you hear me coming?"
"You always come at teatime on Saturdays, Uncle Jack," the girl informed him, giving him a serious look that she must have inherited from the Jones side. "When you don't call ahead and cancel."
"I have to sometimes," he explained for what was probably the millionth time. "Work."
She sighed. "I know."
Jack chuckled and tapped her upturned nose with a long finger. "Where's your Mum?"
"In the kitchen, with David." She let him go, but slipped her tiny hand into one of his, leading the way.
Rhiannon Evans was, as Mica had said, in the expansive kitchen with her eldest child, David. The boy was sitting on a stool, reading what looked like a well-thumbed volume of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
"That's one of my favorites too," he informed the boy, ruffling his short, sandy-colored hair. David didn't even look up from his book, just offered a "'Lo" and a nod.
"It was mine too, when I was his age," Rhi said, wiping her hands on a dishrag and reaching up to give Jack a hug. "Just in time. Johnny's not here, so it's just us six."
"You know, you don't have to work at all anymore," Jack pointed out.
"I know, but Johnny doesn't want your charity," Rhi said, moving to set out biscuits and tea cakes on the table.
"It's not -- " Jack cut himself off and sighed. "I just -- "
"I know," Rhi said softly. "I'm sorry. It's just hard sometime, you know?"
"Yeah."
A picture hanging on the fridge caught his eye, and he reached over, sliding it out from underneath the cheap plastic magnet in the shape of the water tower. It was clearly a picture of Myfanwy, rendered in the childish crayon scrawl of a little kid. He remembers...?
"Active imagination he's got," Rhi said, smiling a little. "He calls her Fawny."
Jack smiled. "He liked to name things."
"Why don't you go get him?" she nudged him gently. "Go on. Shelly's up there with him."
The Captain hung the picture back up and headed towards the stairs up to the second story. He could hear quiet humming coming from upstairs, and he could probably guess which room they were coming from. Second on the left. He'd picked the house exclusively because of that room; corner room, lots and lots of windows.
He had spent too much of his time underground.
Shelly looked up and smiled when she saw Jack in the doorway, giving a little bit of a wave. A former hospice nurse, she was a middle-aged woman who could handle just about anything. She set her knitting aside and stood, crossing the door to whisper quietly to Jack. "He's a bit occupied at the moment," she said, nodding over at the figure sitting at the desk.
Ianto Jones was scribbling furiously with a color on a piece of paper, a look of intense concentration on his face. It was one Jack was familiar with; he'd seen it countless times when he'd been watching the young Welshman make coffee in the Hub.
"Ah, let him be," Jack replied just as quietly. "I'll bring him down when he's done."
The older nurse left the room and Jack walked across the floor, the thick plush carpet muffling his footfalls. Ianto, bent over his work, didn't even look up when Jack peered over his shoulder.
It was a picture of himself and Ianto -- he knew Ianto's drawing style well enough to recognize himself in the man in the blue coat -- and the unmistakable figure of a Dalek. Jack was standing between the picture of Ianto and the silvery armored alien, protecting him from the enemy.
Somewhere, deep down, Ianto remembered Torchwood, remembered him. Owen would figure out a way to bring their Ianto back to them.
To him.
"That's a very good picture, Ianto," Jack complimented, painting on a warm smile.
At the sound of his voice, Ianto whipped around, his face alight. "Jack!" The man -- the child -- Ianto rose to his feet and threw his arms around Jack's neck, hugging him just as tight as Mica had. Jack patted his back, holding him close for just a moment. It was wrong, he knew, especially with how Ianto was now, but it was hard to remind himself that the body of a man contained the consciousness of a child. "You're late!" the young man accused, pulling back and pouting.
Jack chuckled and patted his shoulder. "No, Ianto, you just lost track of the time. See?" He pulled one hand away and showed him his watch. "Three-thirty. And you know I would have called if I couldn't have come, or would have been late."
Ianto took Jack's arm and peered down at the dial face, tapping out the time with his fingers. Jack had been the one to teach him how to read an analog watch. He was very proud and oh so pleased with the fact that Ianto had taken to (remembered how to) counting out the time. It still took the young man a moment to suss it out, but once he did, a brilliant smile engulfed his face. "You're right. 'M sorry."
The Captain smiled and ruffled Ianto's dark hair, laughing when his fussy, uptight Ianto appeared in the form of a frown and a hand shooting up to fix the flyaways. "It's all right. We all make mistakes."
The melancholy left the young face, and Ianto turned back to his desk to grab at the paper. He pressed the colored wax-covered page into Jack's hand. "Here! I made this for you!"
"Oh, you shouldn't have," Jack cooed, looking down at the paper with a fond smile. "I'll put it with the others," he promised.
"In your office?" Ianto asked, excited.
"Oh yes. Gwen and Tosh and Owen are always jealous that I have pretty pictures and they don't." He carefully folded it and slipped it into the inside breast pocket of his greatcoat. "Maybe you could draw them something special so they'll be happy?"
Ianto nodded eagerly, taking one of Jack's hands in both of his. "After tea?"
"After tea," Jack agreed. "Shall we go down and see what Rhi made us?"
Another eager nod had the immortal laughing fondly, letting Ianto drag him about as much as he'd let Mica. When they reached the bottom stair, the Welshman turned and fixed him with a much more mature look than his psyche should have let him pull off. "Jack?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?" Jack asked, the term of endearment slipping out easily.
"Sometimes I wish I could remember you and the others," Ianto said seriously. "You all seem so sad sometimes. I just wish I could make you happy instead."
Jack smiled and leaned in to kiss his forehead. "You do make us happy, Ianto. Trust me."
Big baby blue eyes looked up at him, suspiciously wet. "D'you think I'll ever remember?"
"I don't know," he admitted. True tears started to well up in Ianto's eyes, and Jack pulled him into an embrace. "But it doesn't matter if you do or if you don't. I'll always be here for you. No matter what."
Date Written: 1/17/09
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 1,404
Fandom: Torchwood, specifically gingerlr's Choices universe
Disclaimer: Property of their respective owners
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto (one-sided), Rhi, Mica, David
Spoilers: Up through Choices: Cyberwoman
Warnings: The two betas said they needed tissues, so... Tissue warning.
Author's Notes: Thanks to both totally4ryo and gingerlr for the beta, and to gingerlr for letting me play in her universe.
If you are not reading the Choices Universe, GO DO IT NOW. SERIOUSLY, PPL. I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm gingerlr's beta for the story. She does fantastic work, and I know you'll all love it as much as I do.
Jack took a deep breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat. He held it for a few moments before letting it out slowly, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
He was always so reluctant to go on these visits. Just like he was reluctant to go to Flat Holm. But they were both so important, so vital.
He looked both ways before crossing the quiet street out of habit. The wrought-iron gate easily opened underneath his hand, not even a squeak of rust. He paused again to look up at the lovely house; white and classic in a sort of quietly Welsh way, with two-storeys and a walled-in front garden. Toys littered the well-kept grass; baby dolls like he'd bought for his Alice when she was a child, and the more modern foam air guns that he still bought for Stephen. Three bikes lay haphazardly by the door, one little girl's, one little boy's and one adult.
Jack was just raising his hand to knock when the door swung open. Little Mica Evans smiled up at the captain before hugging him fondly around the middle.
"Hello, bug," he greeted, wrapping his arms around her as well. "Did you hear me coming?"
"You always come at teatime on Saturdays, Uncle Jack," the girl informed him, giving him a serious look that she must have inherited from the Jones side. "When you don't call ahead and cancel."
"I have to sometimes," he explained for what was probably the millionth time. "Work."
She sighed. "I know."
Jack chuckled and tapped her upturned nose with a long finger. "Where's your Mum?"
"In the kitchen, with David." She let him go, but slipped her tiny hand into one of his, leading the way.
Rhiannon Evans was, as Mica had said, in the expansive kitchen with her eldest child, David. The boy was sitting on a stool, reading what looked like a well-thumbed volume of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
"That's one of my favorites too," he informed the boy, ruffling his short, sandy-colored hair. David didn't even look up from his book, just offered a "'Lo" and a nod.
"It was mine too, when I was his age," Rhi said, wiping her hands on a dishrag and reaching up to give Jack a hug. "Just in time. Johnny's not here, so it's just us six."
"You know, you don't have to work at all anymore," Jack pointed out.
"I know, but Johnny doesn't want your charity," Rhi said, moving to set out biscuits and tea cakes on the table.
"It's not -- " Jack cut himself off and sighed. "I just -- "
"I know," Rhi said softly. "I'm sorry. It's just hard sometime, you know?"
"Yeah."
A picture hanging on the fridge caught his eye, and he reached over, sliding it out from underneath the cheap plastic magnet in the shape of the water tower. It was clearly a picture of Myfanwy, rendered in the childish crayon scrawl of a little kid. He remembers...?
"Active imagination he's got," Rhi said, smiling a little. "He calls her Fawny."
Jack smiled. "He liked to name things."
"Why don't you go get him?" she nudged him gently. "Go on. Shelly's up there with him."
The Captain hung the picture back up and headed towards the stairs up to the second story. He could hear quiet humming coming from upstairs, and he could probably guess which room they were coming from. Second on the left. He'd picked the house exclusively because of that room; corner room, lots and lots of windows.
He had spent too much of his time underground.
Shelly looked up and smiled when she saw Jack in the doorway, giving a little bit of a wave. A former hospice nurse, she was a middle-aged woman who could handle just about anything. She set her knitting aside and stood, crossing the door to whisper quietly to Jack. "He's a bit occupied at the moment," she said, nodding over at the figure sitting at the desk.
Ianto Jones was scribbling furiously with a color on a piece of paper, a look of intense concentration on his face. It was one Jack was familiar with; he'd seen it countless times when he'd been watching the young Welshman make coffee in the Hub.
"Ah, let him be," Jack replied just as quietly. "I'll bring him down when he's done."
The older nurse left the room and Jack walked across the floor, the thick plush carpet muffling his footfalls. Ianto, bent over his work, didn't even look up when Jack peered over his shoulder.
It was a picture of himself and Ianto -- he knew Ianto's drawing style well enough to recognize himself in the man in the blue coat -- and the unmistakable figure of a Dalek. Jack was standing between the picture of Ianto and the silvery armored alien, protecting him from the enemy.
Somewhere, deep down, Ianto remembered Torchwood, remembered him. Owen would figure out a way to bring their Ianto back to them.
To him.
"That's a very good picture, Ianto," Jack complimented, painting on a warm smile.
At the sound of his voice, Ianto whipped around, his face alight. "Jack!" The man -- the child -- Ianto rose to his feet and threw his arms around Jack's neck, hugging him just as tight as Mica had. Jack patted his back, holding him close for just a moment. It was wrong, he knew, especially with how Ianto was now, but it was hard to remind himself that the body of a man contained the consciousness of a child. "You're late!" the young man accused, pulling back and pouting.
Jack chuckled and patted his shoulder. "No, Ianto, you just lost track of the time. See?" He pulled one hand away and showed him his watch. "Three-thirty. And you know I would have called if I couldn't have come, or would have been late."
Ianto took Jack's arm and peered down at the dial face, tapping out the time with his fingers. Jack had been the one to teach him how to read an analog watch. He was very proud and oh so pleased with the fact that Ianto had taken to (remembered how to) counting out the time. It still took the young man a moment to suss it out, but once he did, a brilliant smile engulfed his face. "You're right. 'M sorry."
The Captain smiled and ruffled Ianto's dark hair, laughing when his fussy, uptight Ianto appeared in the form of a frown and a hand shooting up to fix the flyaways. "It's all right. We all make mistakes."
The melancholy left the young face, and Ianto turned back to his desk to grab at the paper. He pressed the colored wax-covered page into Jack's hand. "Here! I made this for you!"
"Oh, you shouldn't have," Jack cooed, looking down at the paper with a fond smile. "I'll put it with the others," he promised.
"In your office?" Ianto asked, excited.
"Oh yes. Gwen and Tosh and Owen are always jealous that I have pretty pictures and they don't." He carefully folded it and slipped it into the inside breast pocket of his greatcoat. "Maybe you could draw them something special so they'll be happy?"
Ianto nodded eagerly, taking one of Jack's hands in both of his. "After tea?"
"After tea," Jack agreed. "Shall we go down and see what Rhi made us?"
Another eager nod had the immortal laughing fondly, letting Ianto drag him about as much as he'd let Mica. When they reached the bottom stair, the Welshman turned and fixed him with a much more mature look than his psyche should have let him pull off. "Jack?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?" Jack asked, the term of endearment slipping out easily.
"Sometimes I wish I could remember you and the others," Ianto said seriously. "You all seem so sad sometimes. I just wish I could make you happy instead."
Jack smiled and leaned in to kiss his forehead. "You do make us happy, Ianto. Trust me."
Big baby blue eyes looked up at him, suspiciously wet. "D'you think I'll ever remember?"
"I don't know," he admitted. True tears started to well up in Ianto's eyes, and Jack pulled him into an embrace. "But it doesn't matter if you do or if you don't. I'll always be here for you. No matter what."