Resonating Through Time -- And Bacon and Eggs For When You Wake Up
Title: And Bacon and Eggs For When You Wake Up
dwtwprompts prompt: Drunk
Date Written: 4/27/08
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 2,692
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Donna, Team Torchwood
Spoilers: Torchwood seasons 1 & 2, Doctor Who Seasons 01-04
Warnings: More angst, this time it's Jack's turn! And mentions character death
Author's Notes: Second part of chapter seven.
It has also come to my attention that the chapter system I have may potentially be confusing. Every whole number is a chapter. Some chapters have multiple parts, thus the .1
1/9: Salt and Pepper
2/9: That's the Thing About Gloves, Sir
3/9: Leading Back To Rome
4/9: It's So Nice To See That Insanity Translates
5/9: Cariad, Dwi'n Unig
6.1/9: I Can Resist Everything But Temptation
6.2/9: Are You Sure You Really Want To Do That?
7.1/9: Forty Two Ain't Gonna Work This Time
Jack, as a rule, did not indulge in drinking. He had before becoming a con man, of course: At the Academy, drinking out the week's lectures during breaks and turning up with a hangover the next class period. During his time at the Agency, coming back home after seeing such awful historical atrocities that brought back way too many bad memories.
After he'd left, when he started trying to con the Agency into doing what he wanted, he stopped the excess. A drunk con man was a stupid con man, and a stupid con man was usually a dead con man. Instead, he'd fake it, have one or two glasses then pretend he couldn't hold his liquor, or nurse his first glass all night as his mark got properly pissed, upset over his bad fortune.
"Simple enough, really. Buy some harmless piece of space junk. Let the nearest Time Agent track it back to Earth. Convince him it's valuable and name a price. When he's put fifty percent up front, Oops! German bomb falls on it, destroys it forever. He never gets to see what he's paid for. Never knows he's been had. I buy him a drink with his own money and we discuss dumb luck. The perfect self-cleaning con."
After he'd become immortal, when he was back in the late 1800s, he'd spent every bit of money he could find on alcohol. The buzzing, the sense of fluidity he got when he was drunk was wonderful. Time flew in a contented blur, days turning to weeks, then months, then years as he drank away the time until he could find the Doctor again.
The problem with being a drunk was that drunk Jack had no sense of restraint. Of course, sober Jack had no restraint either, but it was worse when he was pissed. He'd hit on anything that moved, either sexually or physically. He must have died a thousand times before Torchwood found him, the result of pub fights, or jealous lovers, and from hitting publicly on men. So uptight!
Then Torchwood blundered into his life in the form of Alice Guppy and Emily Holroyd. The Torchwood Lesbians, he'd called them. Never to their face, of course, because they had been scary and liked to come up with creative ways to kill him, to test the boundaries of his immortality.
The Jack Harkness who existed before he'd met the Doctor would have loved them.
Torchwood had given him a purpose. He knew the Enemy, the Doctor, so they wanted him. He wanted to change them, to show them that the Doctor was not the evil alien Queen Victoria had painted him as. So he stopped drinking all together, preferring water (it was easier to notice the look and taste of Retcon in water, anyway), and only having a drink after a particularly bad day.
Today was a bad day.
Donna and the Doctor watched the newly-forged immortal scrub the TARDIS' kitchen floors on his hands and knees, both of them with their arms crossed over their chests. "They're going to self-destruct," Donna said. "Ianto's been at this for days, and I haven't seen Jack for just as long."
"We shouldn't interfere," the Doctor replied seriously, looking down at the Welshman over the thick black rims of his glasses. "They need to solve this problem themselves." Then, after a heartbeat, he took a breath and added, "So I'll take Ianto then?"
"Sounds like a plan," Donna agreed, nodding.
The Doctor gave a nod as well, heading off towards the wardrobe room. He'd already had an idea in mind, but he was acting like he didn't want to meddle. Cheeky alien.
Donna tapped her chin, thinking about where she would find Jack. After she'd discovered Lance's betrayal, once she was back home and normal she'd gone and --
"Doctor," Donna called after the Time Lord. "Does the TARDIS have a pub?"
The TARDIS did not, in fact, have a pub. What it had was more like an Earth wine cellar, with bottles and bottles lining a long corridor-like room, the air a touch chilly against Donna's bare skin.
The Doctor was more of a connoisseur of alcohol than he was a consumer. Bottles and bottles lined the walls, most of them with a thick layer of dust over them. Ianto would have fun cleaning in here.
At the far end Donna could see a light, a lamp that was resting on a low table clicked on. A large chair squatted by the table, high back to Donna. Empty bottles were scattered across the floor. An arm hung off the side of the chair, and Donna recognized the leather strap thing that Jack always wore.
"Jack?" she called out, her footsteps echoing across the flagstone flooring. "Jack, are you all right?" she asked, putting a little more confidence in her voice as she approached him. Stepping carefully around empty bottles and puddles of strong-smelling drink, she made her way around to see Jack passed out in the chair. His left arm was dangling over the arm of the chair, the right cradling a half-full bottle in his lap, the picture of alcoholism.
"Jack," she repeated, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a firm shake.
The bottle slipped out of the Captain's grasp and fell to the floor. The glass didn't shatter, but dark amber liquid glugged out from the narrow neck opening across the dusty floor.
Ianto would not be pleased.
The redhead sighed. "Sorry 'bout this, mate," she told the unconscious captain before swinging her hand back to deliver a ringing smack straight across his face.
Jack awoke with a jerk, a hand going up to cover his reddening cheek as he blinked drunkenly up at her.
"Don'a," he greeted her.
"Stop all of this nonsense right this instant," she replied, shaking a finger at him as if he was a naughty child. "You're going to kill yourself."
The laugh the immortal gave was bitter. "Can' die," he replied with dark triumph, groping for another bottle.
Donna moved all the bottles from out of his reach. "Yeah, you can, idiot, it just doesn't stick with you!"
Ianto was kissing his forehead tenderly, his hands resting on Jack's shoulders carefully stroking, trying to soothe now-invisible wounds. "I'm fine, Yan," he said softly, wrapping his arms around Ianto's waist, holding him, feeling him breathe, feeling his heart beating against his chest.
"You died," came the soft reply.
"No."
"Yes, Jack." Ianto pulled away, looking down at his Captain, his lover. "You died. We shot you -- "
"Owen shot me."
"I didn't try to stop him!"
Jack pulled Ianto close again, rubbing his back in soothing circles. The younger man relaxed against his touch, relaxed into his arms and remained quiet, the two of them stealing a few moments of peace in the chaos that was still resulting from Abbadon's awakening.
Ianto's lips touched his forehead again, so feather soft Jack almost missed it. "We thought we'd lost you."
The Captain tilted his head up to kiss Ianto properly. "I'm not going anywhere."
Jack winced, covering his ears with his hands. "Can you not yell?"
"Oh, you want to hear me YELL!? You've done plenty to earn it!"
"I know, he hates me" Jack whimpered pitifully. Even drunk, he was trying that patented Harkness charm.
Donna was having none of it. "I'd hate you too! Honestly, and they say women are difficult." She put her hands on her hips, staring him down. "Just stop and think for one moment, Harkness: you two are soul mates, right?"
"Yes," he replied bitterly. Soul mates with a man who now wanted nothing to do with him.
"You can feel what he feels?"
"More or less."
"How do you think he's going to handle feeling you die like this?"
Jack had opened his mouth to reply when the meaning of her words actually penetrated through the inebriation. Ianto could potentially feel him die, feel the anguish and literal pain and --
It was a sobering concept.
"I think I'm going to be sick," he moaned, covering his mouth.
"Right then, off to the loo," Donna sighed, helping the Captain to his feet and staggering with him to the nearest bathroom.
He could hear singing. Familiar singing, the sounds that were still ringing in his ears every time he was thrown back into life, the same sound that he'd heard when Rose had given him the Curse of Immortality.
The singing of Time.
It wasn't really singing, Jack knew. It was energy, the emotions of the innumerable masses tangled into knots, translating into the easiest thing to project emotion from one being to another.
Song.
He could see everything: Rose's song, blinking out far too soon but leaving a lingering echo on another plane. The Doctor's theme coming to an end in fire and blood and honor the way he knew it had to. See Martha's melody influencing hundreds, thousands, millions, billions. See the team's, the little imperfections in pitch that made them resonate all the more beautifully.
See Ianto's song, the quiet, devoted accompaniment to his own brash song, winding through Time, together intertwined.
The sudden loss of the music, the quiet ringing in his ears was too much for him to bear.
He shut down.
Jack knew he was sobering up when his head began throbbing. He never had a head for Venetian whiskey to begin with, and three bottles had probably been a bit much.
He took a deep breath, and the sudden spinning made him close his eyes tight. His stomach lurched as his world continued to spin behind his eyes and he leaned over the toilet, moaning a little. Oh, he hadn't been this bad since the Academy had held their first (and last) Instructors Versus Students drinking contest.
He felt a soothing hand on his back and looked over, hoping to find Ianto. Instead, Donna was kneeling next to him, running a cool cloth over his face. "Want to rinse your mouth?"
He nodded, feeling pitiful and accepted the glass from Donna, taking a small sip. She watched as he swished the water about in his mouth and spit it out into the bowl.
"Thank you," he gasped, sitting back on his heels and handing the glass back.
"We Companions have to stick together, right?" Donna said in response, running the cloth around to the back of his neck.
Jack closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively. He took a few deep breaths and swallowed heavily twice, composing himself. His stomach was probably empty by now, and some water would probably do him good. First things first, though. "Donna? If you wanted me out of my shirt, you could have just asked."
The smack to the back of his head was completely unexpected, and hurt like a motherfucker. "OW!"
"You spilled all over, it reeked," she replied.
Jack held the back of his head, blinking tears of pain away. "You're... really good at this."
Donna shrugged. "Been through enough myself, I know what to do."
He nodded, leaning back to sit properly on the floor. He leaned his head against Donna's shoulder and whined a little.
"Feel bad?"
"Miserable," Jack replied.
"Good. You should see what poor Ianto's been doing."
"Cleaning." He looked up at her. "Right?"
"How'd you know?"
"I know everything about Ianto," he said simply.
"Oh yeah?" Donna smiled, putting an arm around his shoulders.
"Mmm. How he quirks his eyebrow when he's angry. How he gets this little smile when he's thinking those delightfully naughty thoughts of his. He sleeps on his side, snores a little bit, curls his hand up by his face a little." Jack smiled fondly. "He sings beautifully, talks in Welsh when he's mad and refuses to translate it for me, cares for Myfanwy -- "
"Who's Myfanwy?"
"Our pterodactyl."
"Your what?"
"Our pterodactyl," he repeated. "We kept her caged at Torchwood while you were there, she gets fussy around new people."
"O-kay."
"Why did he do that?" Jack asked suddenly, looking up at Donna. "Why'd he make himself immortal?"
"Did you not want that?"
"No!" He shook his head and moaned, putting a hand on his forehead. "I mean, I want him to stay with me, for as long as he wants, as long as he can."
"He can now," the redhead replied. "Is that so bad?"
"Yes! Being immortal, it's not what people think it means." He frowned a little. "I'm so tired. I was never this tired before."
"Yeah?"
"It wears on you. Seeing everyone you love, everything you know pass away. I don't want him to go through that." He looked up at her again. "He has nieces and nephews, did you know that? And oh, he loves them so much, loves them like they're his own."
"Ewythr Ianto!"
Ianto let out a laugh as three identical little boys burst into the Information Booth, latching themselves around the Welshman's waist. He knelt down and took all three into his arms, kissing each curly dark head.
Jack stood silently to the side, trying to hide the beaded curtain. He immediately knew they were his nephews, recognized them from the pictures he kept in his flat, but if he hadn't known any better he would have thought they were his sons. All three of them were little carbon copies of his Ianto.
If he and Lisa had ended up with children, they would have been just beautiful.
"You're early," he scolded, kissing one on the forehead and making him laugh. "Where's your Tad, hmn?"
One of them said something in Welsh and Ianto shook his head. The little boy looked over and noticed Jack.
"He's outside with Auntie Nonny and Mam," he repeated, smiling and giving Jack a little wave.
Jack stepped out from behind the curtain, smiling and waving back. "Hello there."
"Hi," three voices chorused.
Ianto laughed. "Jack, this is Tristan, Tudor and Arthur," he replied, touching each one's head in turn. Jack raised an eyebrow and Ianto got a little grin on his face. "My sister-in-law is into fairy tales," he explained with a smile. "Boys, this is Jack."
They looked at each other, giggling. Ianto laughed as well, playfully swatting at the back of their heads. "I need to lock up, go see your Tad. We'll be out in a moment."
The three boys hurried out the door, chatting to one another in Welsh. Ianto laughed and walked over to Jack, fixing the Captain's tie.
"Nonny?"
"Her full name's Rhiannon," Ianto replied, smoothing his hands over Jack's shirt. He paused with his hands over Jack's heart, gently tracing the outline of the Vidara necklace and smiling up at him. "Thank you."
"Your father personally requested I come over for dinner, he sent me a note and everything. How could I refuse?" He smiled and leaned in to steal a quick kiss. "Were they laughing at me?"
"Yes."
Jack groaned.
"You should have seen what they did to poor Lisa," he deadpanned. "At least they won't be asking you when they're getting a new playmate."
The Captain laughed as Ianto took his hand.
He was happy to see that Ianto could talk about Lisa without getting ghosts in his eyes.
"He has to watch them grow up, get old, and die, while he lives on. I don't... didn't want to put him through that," he said softly.
Donna nodded, squeezing his shoulders a little. "Yeah, but Jack, now he's got someone to help him through that." She smiled softly.
"I don't know if he'll want me."
"He will. You just need to talk to him, explain what you meant."
"What d'you mean?" he asked, frowning at her a little.
Donna rolled her eyes. Men. "Ianto thought you meant that you didn't want to stay with him."
"What? I didn't mean that!"
"I know that, he doesn't."
"I need to talk to him." He lurched to his feet before turning a vivid shade of green.
Donna wrinkled her nose as Jack bent over the toilet. "I think he'll appreciate the talk more when you're not throwing up all over his shiny shoes."
ETA: Chapter eight here
dwtwprompts prompt: Drunk
Date Written: 4/27/08
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 2,692
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Donna, Team Torchwood
Spoilers: Torchwood seasons 1 & 2, Doctor Who Seasons 01-04
Warnings: More angst, this time it's Jack's turn! And mentions character death
Author's Notes: Second part of chapter seven.
It has also come to my attention that the chapter system I have may potentially be confusing. Every whole number is a chapter. Some chapters have multiple parts, thus the .1
1/9: Salt and Pepper
2/9: That's the Thing About Gloves, Sir
3/9: Leading Back To Rome
4/9: It's So Nice To See That Insanity Translates
5/9: Cariad, Dwi'n Unig
6.1/9: I Can Resist Everything But Temptation
6.2/9: Are You Sure You Really Want To Do That?
7.1/9: Forty Two Ain't Gonna Work This Time
Jack, as a rule, did not indulge in drinking. He had before becoming a con man, of course: At the Academy, drinking out the week's lectures during breaks and turning up with a hangover the next class period. During his time at the Agency, coming back home after seeing such awful historical atrocities that brought back way too many bad memories.
After he'd left, when he started trying to con the Agency into doing what he wanted, he stopped the excess. A drunk con man was a stupid con man, and a stupid con man was usually a dead con man. Instead, he'd fake it, have one or two glasses then pretend he couldn't hold his liquor, or nurse his first glass all night as his mark got properly pissed, upset over his bad fortune.
"Simple enough, really. Buy some harmless piece of space junk. Let the nearest Time Agent track it back to Earth. Convince him it's valuable and name a price. When he's put fifty percent up front, Oops! German bomb falls on it, destroys it forever. He never gets to see what he's paid for. Never knows he's been had. I buy him a drink with his own money and we discuss dumb luck. The perfect self-cleaning con."
After he'd become immortal, when he was back in the late 1800s, he'd spent every bit of money he could find on alcohol. The buzzing, the sense of fluidity he got when he was drunk was wonderful. Time flew in a contented blur, days turning to weeks, then months, then years as he drank away the time until he could find the Doctor again.
The problem with being a drunk was that drunk Jack had no sense of restraint. Of course, sober Jack had no restraint either, but it was worse when he was pissed. He'd hit on anything that moved, either sexually or physically. He must have died a thousand times before Torchwood found him, the result of pub fights, or jealous lovers, and from hitting publicly on men. So uptight!
Then Torchwood blundered into his life in the form of Alice Guppy and Emily Holroyd. The Torchwood Lesbians, he'd called them. Never to their face, of course, because they had been scary and liked to come up with creative ways to kill him, to test the boundaries of his immortality.
The Jack Harkness who existed before he'd met the Doctor would have loved them.
Torchwood had given him a purpose. He knew the Enemy, the Doctor, so they wanted him. He wanted to change them, to show them that the Doctor was not the evil alien Queen Victoria had painted him as. So he stopped drinking all together, preferring water (it was easier to notice the look and taste of Retcon in water, anyway), and only having a drink after a particularly bad day.
Today was a bad day.
Donna and the Doctor watched the newly-forged immortal scrub the TARDIS' kitchen floors on his hands and knees, both of them with their arms crossed over their chests. "They're going to self-destruct," Donna said. "Ianto's been at this for days, and I haven't seen Jack for just as long."
"We shouldn't interfere," the Doctor replied seriously, looking down at the Welshman over the thick black rims of his glasses. "They need to solve this problem themselves." Then, after a heartbeat, he took a breath and added, "So I'll take Ianto then?"
"Sounds like a plan," Donna agreed, nodding.
The Doctor gave a nod as well, heading off towards the wardrobe room. He'd already had an idea in mind, but he was acting like he didn't want to meddle. Cheeky alien.
Donna tapped her chin, thinking about where she would find Jack. After she'd discovered Lance's betrayal, once she was back home and normal she'd gone and --
"Doctor," Donna called after the Time Lord. "Does the TARDIS have a pub?"
The TARDIS did not, in fact, have a pub. What it had was more like an Earth wine cellar, with bottles and bottles lining a long corridor-like room, the air a touch chilly against Donna's bare skin.
The Doctor was more of a connoisseur of alcohol than he was a consumer. Bottles and bottles lined the walls, most of them with a thick layer of dust over them. Ianto would have fun cleaning in here.
At the far end Donna could see a light, a lamp that was resting on a low table clicked on. A large chair squatted by the table, high back to Donna. Empty bottles were scattered across the floor. An arm hung off the side of the chair, and Donna recognized the leather strap thing that Jack always wore.
"Jack?" she called out, her footsteps echoing across the flagstone flooring. "Jack, are you all right?" she asked, putting a little more confidence in her voice as she approached him. Stepping carefully around empty bottles and puddles of strong-smelling drink, she made her way around to see Jack passed out in the chair. His left arm was dangling over the arm of the chair, the right cradling a half-full bottle in his lap, the picture of alcoholism.
"Jack," she repeated, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a firm shake.
The bottle slipped out of the Captain's grasp and fell to the floor. The glass didn't shatter, but dark amber liquid glugged out from the narrow neck opening across the dusty floor.
Ianto would not be pleased.
The redhead sighed. "Sorry 'bout this, mate," she told the unconscious captain before swinging her hand back to deliver a ringing smack straight across his face.
Jack awoke with a jerk, a hand going up to cover his reddening cheek as he blinked drunkenly up at her.
"Don'a," he greeted her.
"Stop all of this nonsense right this instant," she replied, shaking a finger at him as if he was a naughty child. "You're going to kill yourself."
The laugh the immortal gave was bitter. "Can' die," he replied with dark triumph, groping for another bottle.
Donna moved all the bottles from out of his reach. "Yeah, you can, idiot, it just doesn't stick with you!"
Ianto was kissing his forehead tenderly, his hands resting on Jack's shoulders carefully stroking, trying to soothe now-invisible wounds. "I'm fine, Yan," he said softly, wrapping his arms around Ianto's waist, holding him, feeling him breathe, feeling his heart beating against his chest.
"You died," came the soft reply.
"No."
"Yes, Jack." Ianto pulled away, looking down at his Captain, his lover. "You died. We shot you -- "
"Owen shot me."
"I didn't try to stop him!"
Jack pulled Ianto close again, rubbing his back in soothing circles. The younger man relaxed against his touch, relaxed into his arms and remained quiet, the two of them stealing a few moments of peace in the chaos that was still resulting from Abbadon's awakening.
Ianto's lips touched his forehead again, so feather soft Jack almost missed it. "We thought we'd lost you."
The Captain tilted his head up to kiss Ianto properly. "I'm not going anywhere."
Jack winced, covering his ears with his hands. "Can you not yell?"
"Oh, you want to hear me YELL!? You've done plenty to earn it!"
"I know, he hates me" Jack whimpered pitifully. Even drunk, he was trying that patented Harkness charm.
Donna was having none of it. "I'd hate you too! Honestly, and they say women are difficult." She put her hands on her hips, staring him down. "Just stop and think for one moment, Harkness: you two are soul mates, right?"
"Yes," he replied bitterly. Soul mates with a man who now wanted nothing to do with him.
"You can feel what he feels?"
"More or less."
"How do you think he's going to handle feeling you die like this?"
Jack had opened his mouth to reply when the meaning of her words actually penetrated through the inebriation. Ianto could potentially feel him die, feel the anguish and literal pain and --
It was a sobering concept.
"I think I'm going to be sick," he moaned, covering his mouth.
"Right then, off to the loo," Donna sighed, helping the Captain to his feet and staggering with him to the nearest bathroom.
He could hear singing. Familiar singing, the sounds that were still ringing in his ears every time he was thrown back into life, the same sound that he'd heard when Rose had given him the Curse of Immortality.
The singing of Time.
It wasn't really singing, Jack knew. It was energy, the emotions of the innumerable masses tangled into knots, translating into the easiest thing to project emotion from one being to another.
Song.
He could see everything: Rose's song, blinking out far too soon but leaving a lingering echo on another plane. The Doctor's theme coming to an end in fire and blood and honor the way he knew it had to. See Martha's melody influencing hundreds, thousands, millions, billions. See the team's, the little imperfections in pitch that made them resonate all the more beautifully.
See Ianto's song, the quiet, devoted accompaniment to his own brash song, winding through Time, together intertwined.
The sudden loss of the music, the quiet ringing in his ears was too much for him to bear.
He shut down.
Jack knew he was sobering up when his head began throbbing. He never had a head for Venetian whiskey to begin with, and three bottles had probably been a bit much.
He took a deep breath, and the sudden spinning made him close his eyes tight. His stomach lurched as his world continued to spin behind his eyes and he leaned over the toilet, moaning a little. Oh, he hadn't been this bad since the Academy had held their first (and last) Instructors Versus Students drinking contest.
He felt a soothing hand on his back and looked over, hoping to find Ianto. Instead, Donna was kneeling next to him, running a cool cloth over his face. "Want to rinse your mouth?"
He nodded, feeling pitiful and accepted the glass from Donna, taking a small sip. She watched as he swished the water about in his mouth and spit it out into the bowl.
"Thank you," he gasped, sitting back on his heels and handing the glass back.
"We Companions have to stick together, right?" Donna said in response, running the cloth around to the back of his neck.
Jack closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively. He took a few deep breaths and swallowed heavily twice, composing himself. His stomach was probably empty by now, and some water would probably do him good. First things first, though. "Donna? If you wanted me out of my shirt, you could have just asked."
The smack to the back of his head was completely unexpected, and hurt like a motherfucker. "OW!"
"You spilled all over, it reeked," she replied.
Jack held the back of his head, blinking tears of pain away. "You're... really good at this."
Donna shrugged. "Been through enough myself, I know what to do."
He nodded, leaning back to sit properly on the floor. He leaned his head against Donna's shoulder and whined a little.
"Feel bad?"
"Miserable," Jack replied.
"Good. You should see what poor Ianto's been doing."
"Cleaning." He looked up at her. "Right?"
"How'd you know?"
"I know everything about Ianto," he said simply.
"Oh yeah?" Donna smiled, putting an arm around his shoulders.
"Mmm. How he quirks his eyebrow when he's angry. How he gets this little smile when he's thinking those delightfully naughty thoughts of his. He sleeps on his side, snores a little bit, curls his hand up by his face a little." Jack smiled fondly. "He sings beautifully, talks in Welsh when he's mad and refuses to translate it for me, cares for Myfanwy -- "
"Who's Myfanwy?"
"Our pterodactyl."
"Your what?"
"Our pterodactyl," he repeated. "We kept her caged at Torchwood while you were there, she gets fussy around new people."
"O-kay."
"Why did he do that?" Jack asked suddenly, looking up at Donna. "Why'd he make himself immortal?"
"Did you not want that?"
"No!" He shook his head and moaned, putting a hand on his forehead. "I mean, I want him to stay with me, for as long as he wants, as long as he can."
"He can now," the redhead replied. "Is that so bad?"
"Yes! Being immortal, it's not what people think it means." He frowned a little. "I'm so tired. I was never this tired before."
"Yeah?"
"It wears on you. Seeing everyone you love, everything you know pass away. I don't want him to go through that." He looked up at her again. "He has nieces and nephews, did you know that? And oh, he loves them so much, loves them like they're his own."
"Ewythr Ianto!"
Ianto let out a laugh as three identical little boys burst into the Information Booth, latching themselves around the Welshman's waist. He knelt down and took all three into his arms, kissing each curly dark head.
Jack stood silently to the side, trying to hide the beaded curtain. He immediately knew they were his nephews, recognized them from the pictures he kept in his flat, but if he hadn't known any better he would have thought they were his sons. All three of them were little carbon copies of his Ianto.
If he and Lisa had ended up with children, they would have been just beautiful.
"You're early," he scolded, kissing one on the forehead and making him laugh. "Where's your Tad, hmn?"
One of them said something in Welsh and Ianto shook his head. The little boy looked over and noticed Jack.
"He's outside with Auntie Nonny and Mam," he repeated, smiling and giving Jack a little wave.
Jack stepped out from behind the curtain, smiling and waving back. "Hello there."
"Hi," three voices chorused.
Ianto laughed. "Jack, this is Tristan, Tudor and Arthur," he replied, touching each one's head in turn. Jack raised an eyebrow and Ianto got a little grin on his face. "My sister-in-law is into fairy tales," he explained with a smile. "Boys, this is Jack."
They looked at each other, giggling. Ianto laughed as well, playfully swatting at the back of their heads. "I need to lock up, go see your Tad. We'll be out in a moment."
The three boys hurried out the door, chatting to one another in Welsh. Ianto laughed and walked over to Jack, fixing the Captain's tie.
"Nonny?"
"Her full name's Rhiannon," Ianto replied, smoothing his hands over Jack's shirt. He paused with his hands over Jack's heart, gently tracing the outline of the Vidara necklace and smiling up at him. "Thank you."
"Your father personally requested I come over for dinner, he sent me a note and everything. How could I refuse?" He smiled and leaned in to steal a quick kiss. "Were they laughing at me?"
"Yes."
Jack groaned.
"You should have seen what they did to poor Lisa," he deadpanned. "At least they won't be asking you when they're getting a new playmate."
The Captain laughed as Ianto took his hand.
He was happy to see that Ianto could talk about Lisa without getting ghosts in his eyes.
"He has to watch them grow up, get old, and die, while he lives on. I don't... didn't want to put him through that," he said softly.
Donna nodded, squeezing his shoulders a little. "Yeah, but Jack, now he's got someone to help him through that." She smiled softly.
"I don't know if he'll want me."
"He will. You just need to talk to him, explain what you meant."
"What d'you mean?" he asked, frowning at her a little.
Donna rolled her eyes. Men. "Ianto thought you meant that you didn't want to stay with him."
"What? I didn't mean that!"
"I know that, he doesn't."
"I need to talk to him." He lurched to his feet before turning a vivid shade of green.
Donna wrinkled her nose as Jack bent over the toilet. "I think he'll appreciate the talk more when you're not throwing up all over his shiny shoes."
ETA: Chapter eight here