Deviations from the Norm -- De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum Dicendum Est
Title: Deviations from the Norm
Chapter One: De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum Dicendum Est
dwtwprompts prompt: Death
Date Written: 5/3/08
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,292
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Team
Spoilers: Torchwood seasons 1 & 2, particularly past Day in the Death.
Warnings: character death, angst, sap, topless boys at the end
Author's Notes: Whoo-hoo, a new oneshot from my Resonating Through Time universe (and you all have totally4ryo to thank for that title!). However it's also a stand-alone. The title's from Latin, and means (roughly) "No one can speak ill of the dead".
Time was always in a weird flux depending on where you were when you viewed it, Jack theorized. There were times that went so slowly that it was pure agony to take another breath, to blink, to swallow.
This moment had gone by far too fast.
One moment the five of them were trying to subdue a victim, a poor human being overshadowed by a homicidal alien.
The next found Ianto Jones lying face down on the ground, his own blood beginning to stain the streets of Cardiff.
Jack was by his side in an instant, turning him over and cradling him close. Ianto's face was already far too pale, one hand covering the hole in his chest, red blood -- bright red, so bright, so oh God -- trickling between his fingers.
"It hurts," Ianto said, his face pinching in pain.
Jack touched his face. "Don't talk, Yan," he told him softly, giving him a little smile.
Ianto gave a little laugh, the end tapering off into a cough, spots of blood littering his tie. "Torchwood owes me a new suit," he wheezed as Owen knelt on his other side, opening the medical kit they kept in the boot of the SUV.
"I'll take you shopping myself," Jack replied, trying to ignore the look on Owen's face as the doctor pulled Ianto's hand away to get a better look at the wound.
"You can model them, and then afterwards we can have a little fun in the dressing room," he said, giving him a lecherous grin.
Ianto gave a tight smile. "I'm bleeding on you."
"I've had worse," Jack replied, taking Ianto's bloody hand in his own and squeezing it tight. "Owen?"
"The girls have the alien contained, they're loading it up right now," he said, not looking up from his work. Blood-stained pieces of gauze already littered the ground.
"S'it alive?" Ianto slurred, looking down at Owen. His lips were turning blue.
"Yeah, we just knocked it out," Owen said, reaching for some more gauze.
"Don'," Ianto said, taking a deep, shuddering breath, and they all could hear the wet wheezing sound. "I'm dyin'."
Owen's hands paused and he looked up at Jack uneasily before turning to Ianto. "What are you talking about? You're scheduled for sex in a dressing room with Jack."
Ianto just reached up to touch Jack's face. Jack nuzzled into the touch, both of them ignoring the way Ianto's blood smeared on Jack's face. "Cariad," the Welshman murmured softly.
Jack put his hand over Ianto's, holding it there. "Shhh, don't talk now," he replied.
"Tired, cariad," Ianto said softly, his breathing becoming shorter and more labored. "Love you, dw i'n dy garu di, love you so much," he gasped.
Jack closed his eyes, carefully brushing against Ianto's mind. He felt Ianto's pain from the wound, the confusion at the sudden feeling of peace, the quiet acceptance and the loud, desperate part that wanted to keep fighting against death. Just relax, Yan, I'll be right here, I promise.
He leaned down and kissed him softly, feeling Ianto's gentle response and pulled back, looking down at him. "I love you too, Ianto," he said softly. He was dimly aware that Gwen and Toshiko had returned and were watching, but he didn't care.
Ianto gave him a brilliant, tired smile. Wait for me, Jack, I'll be back, I'll be right back.
Jack smiled back and nodded, leaning down to kiss him softly again, feeling Ianto's breath leave the younger man's body.
Toshiko and Gwen were crying easily, tears streaming down their faces as they hugged one another. Owen envied them for their tears, although he'd never admit it; he and Ianto had found some sort of middle ground since he'd died; the snark was still there, of course, but it was a familiar throwback, each settled comfortably into their place.
Jack sat there and didn't cry, cradling his lover, just looking down at him, as if he was waiting for Ianto to open his eyes again.
Denial was a powerful thing.
"Jack," Owen said, reaching over to shake his Captain after a few moments. "Jack, we need to get back to the Hub," he said gently, expecting an argument from Jack.
Instead, surprisingly, Jack nodded.
The four of them carefully lifted Ianto's limp body and carried it to the SUV. The knocked out-out alien was still in the back, so they lifted Ianto into the backseat, Jack crawling in first and taking his lover's body, cradling him in his lap. Owen took the driver's seat since the girls were still crying and wouldn't have been able to drive, Toshiko sitting next to him.
Gwen reached out and touched Jack's shoulder in sympathy, opening her mouth to say something but deciding against it, just letting her hand rest against Jack's back. She and Ianto hadn't gotten along as well as they had before they'd left with the Doctor, but they had come to a quiet understanding, and she was genuinely sorry at his death. He really would be missed by all of them.
Toshiko sat in the front seat, crying in her quiet, uncontrollable way. She and Ianto had been close since his first day, the older woman seeing him as a little brother. They'd gone out together after hours, especially after that whole Mary episode, going to a pub for a drink or two or going back to each other's flats and cooking. He'd taught her bits of Welsh, expanding her repertoire beyond place names and simple phrases; in return she'd helped him with his Japanese pronunciations.
About halfway back to the Hub, Owen reached over and took her hand, letting her grab at him. While he couldn't truly feel it anymore, he liked the contact.
They carefully pulled Ianto's body out of the Hub, Owen and Jack moving him carefully to the medical bay while the girls put the overshadowed human down in the cells by Janet. When they came upstairs, they found Jack sitting on the autopsy table, still cradling Ianto's head in his hands. Owen gave them a desperate look for help.
Gwen cleared her throat. She knew Jack needed time to grieve, like she had when Bilis killed Rhys, but holding a dead man like that just wasn't healthy. "Jack, how about we go get some tea or something?" she tried gently, touching his shoulder.
"You go," Jack said, waving a hand as if she was distracting him.
"Jack, Ianto -- Ianto's dead, Jack," she told him carefully.
He looked up at her as if she was stupid. "I know. And I'll be with you in a bit."
"I think we should maybe go now." She stepped to one side, taking Jack's gaze with her. Behind his back, Owen reached for a vial of liquid sedative and a hypodermic needle. Toshiko was fighting back tears again as she covered her mouth, afraid of the scene unfolding before them.
"I'll be with you in a moment," he repeated before looking down at Ianto. He gave a soft smile, shifting a little and touching his cheek. "He's coming back."
"Jack, Ianto's gone," Gwen told him gently, touching his shoulder. "The Gloves are gone, he can't come back."
Then Ianto Jones gasped back into life, his body spasming against the autopsy table as he grabbed at Jack.
He was coming back, his Ianto was coming back. He could hear the quiet singing in the back of his mind, through their bond. He pulled him closer, touching Ianto's cheek.
"He's coming back," he said softly, almost to himself. He hadn't realized that he'd spoken aloud until Gwen touched his shoulder. "Jack, Ianto's gone. The Gloves are gone, he can't come back."
As if summoned by her words, Ianto gasped back to life, clinging to Jack's greatcoat, crying out in pain. Jack smiled, wrapping his arms around Ianto tighter, reassuring him, soothing him; the wound was gone, the pain was passing even as he took another breath, just breathe, relax, calm down. Everything was fine.
Ianto's breathing evened out, the lines of traumatic pain easing off of Ianto's beautiful, healthy, alive face. "Does it hurt this much every time?" he asked, his lovely accent heavier.
"More or less," Jack replied, leaning over to kiss him softly. Ianto kissed him back, touching his cheek softly as they kissed.
Toshiko threw herself onto Ianto as soon as they broke apart, tears of relief pouring down her face as she spoke to Ianto in rapid-fire Japanese. Ianto pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair gently as he replied to her in kind, his tone gentle and soothing. Owen looked on in a mixture of disbelief and, yes, jealousy.
Gwen face showed only one emotion: Confusion.
Jack gave her a guilty smile. "Ianto and I are gonna get cleaned up. Sedate our guest for the night. Conference room in twenty, I promise we'll explain it all."
"I have a bad feeling about this," Jack confided to Ianto as they got ready to leave. The others had already headed down to the garage, and Jack and Ianto were packing up the additional weapons they might (but hopefully wouldn't) need.
"You always say that," Ianto replied smoothly, snapping the cases shut.
"Well, something is to be said about tradition," Jack said, giving a small smile at Ianto.
"Of course sir," Ianto teased, taking Jack's greatcoat from its peg. Jack turned his back obediently and let Ianto slide the wool coat over his shoulders, closing his eyes as his young lover ran his hands over Jack's shoulders, smoothing the wrinkles.
He turned and took Ianto into his arms suddenly, kissing him. "Be careful."
"I will," Ianto replied with a smile. "But I'll come back."
"I know, but you can get hurt." Jack touched his face softly, running his hand down Ianto's neck to touch the pulse thrumming at the base of that lovely neck.
"I haven't died yet," Ianto reminded him. "Four months since I became immortal and counting."
"Let's try to keep it that way?"
"I'll do my best," the Welshman promised, leaning in to kiss him firmly.
Nineteen minutes later, showered and changed into one of Jack's outfits, Ianto brought four mugs of coffee up to the conference room. The others looked up as he set their mugs in front of them (Owen didn't get one, of course, and he still looked put out over it) before setting the bottle of brandy he'd also carried up right in the middle of the table, within everyone's reach. "I felt it was appropriate, but I didn't want to assume," he said quietly when Jack raised an eyebrow.
Tosh snagged the bottle first, pouring a healthy measure into her cup before sliding it across to Gwen, who did the same.
"So what happened?" Tosh asked first, looking up at Ianto. She was looking at him critically, studying him to see what had changed in him.
"The TARDIS happened," Jack replied simply.
A desperate alien was a dangerous alien.
A desperate alien didn't care about humans, just itself. It didn't care about others around it, or its host, past the fact that it would keep it a live just a bit longer.
The frightened, confused host was a liability. There was always a fifty-fifty chance the host would die, and that was in the best of situations.
The maths of Torchwood were hard and fast and often cruel.
Take, for instance, the gun. Primitive to be certain when compared to alien warfare technology, but still adding up to the same sum: death.
The desperate alien overshadowing the poor, confused human host was swinging the weapon around wildly, a crazed look on its host face. They all ducked away reflexively every time the barrel swung around towards them.
"We're with Torchwood," Gwen was trying reasoning on the alien, trying to calm it down. "We can help you, I promise."
The alien regarded Gwen's words for a moment, the gun lowering in its hesitation. Gwen saw her opening and lunged, trying to disarm it.
Ianto knew, he knew what was going to happen as soon as he saw her move. Gwen was too far away to properly disarm the alien, it had time to raise its host's arm again, to take aim.
He was closest, and reacted instinctively, lunging to push Gwen out of the way.
The bullet entered his chest, shattering a rib as it spun on it's trajectory, Ianto's body only slowing its motion.
Getting shot fucking hurt
"The Heart of the TARDIS is Time itself," Ianto explained quietly. "She opened herself up to me, and... Gifted me with immortality. It's similar to what happened with Jack, except there wasn't a human conduit for the Time Vortex this time."
The team nodded, only partly understanding. The TARDIS was still a magical thing to all of them, even to the two that had traveled in her; it was easier to label her as magic, something undefinable, unmeasurable.
"So... Torchwood Three has two immortals and a zombie on its payroll," Owen said. "Girls, your outlook is getting grimmer by the moment."
Ianto dozed off and on that night. Jack said it was normal, that coming back was taxing. They still had their oh-so-fragile human bodies, it took a lot out of them to come back the way they did.
Sleep was a little terrifying that night. He could see why Jack hated it; the quiet, the stillness, was a lot like death. Even to the immortals, those champions of Death, it was still frightening.
He awoke every time that night to Jack's warm mouth kissing the spot the bullet had torn into his skin. It didn't hurt anymore, but Jack's kisses soothed away the invisible pain, touch by soft touch.
ETA: Chapter two here
Chapter One: De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum Dicendum Est
dwtwprompts prompt: Death
Date Written: 5/3/08
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,292
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Team
Spoilers: Torchwood seasons 1 & 2, particularly past Day in the Death.
Warnings: character death, angst, sap, topless boys at the end
Author's Notes: Whoo-hoo, a new oneshot from my Resonating Through Time universe (and you all have totally4ryo to thank for that title!). However it's also a stand-alone. The title's from Latin, and means (roughly) "No one can speak ill of the dead".
Time was always in a weird flux depending on where you were when you viewed it, Jack theorized. There were times that went so slowly that it was pure agony to take another breath, to blink, to swallow.
This moment had gone by far too fast.
One moment the five of them were trying to subdue a victim, a poor human being overshadowed by a homicidal alien.
The next found Ianto Jones lying face down on the ground, his own blood beginning to stain the streets of Cardiff.
Jack was by his side in an instant, turning him over and cradling him close. Ianto's face was already far too pale, one hand covering the hole in his chest, red blood -- bright red, so bright, so oh God -- trickling between his fingers.
"It hurts," Ianto said, his face pinching in pain.
Jack touched his face. "Don't talk, Yan," he told him softly, giving him a little smile.
Ianto gave a little laugh, the end tapering off into a cough, spots of blood littering his tie. "Torchwood owes me a new suit," he wheezed as Owen knelt on his other side, opening the medical kit they kept in the boot of the SUV.
"I'll take you shopping myself," Jack replied, trying to ignore the look on Owen's face as the doctor pulled Ianto's hand away to get a better look at the wound.
"You can model them, and then afterwards we can have a little fun in the dressing room," he said, giving him a lecherous grin.
Ianto gave a tight smile. "I'm bleeding on you."
"I've had worse," Jack replied, taking Ianto's bloody hand in his own and squeezing it tight. "Owen?"
"The girls have the alien contained, they're loading it up right now," he said, not looking up from his work. Blood-stained pieces of gauze already littered the ground.
"S'it alive?" Ianto slurred, looking down at Owen. His lips were turning blue.
"Yeah, we just knocked it out," Owen said, reaching for some more gauze.
"Don'," Ianto said, taking a deep, shuddering breath, and they all could hear the wet wheezing sound. "I'm dyin'."
Owen's hands paused and he looked up at Jack uneasily before turning to Ianto. "What are you talking about? You're scheduled for sex in a dressing room with Jack."
Ianto just reached up to touch Jack's face. Jack nuzzled into the touch, both of them ignoring the way Ianto's blood smeared on Jack's face. "Cariad," the Welshman murmured softly.
Jack put his hand over Ianto's, holding it there. "Shhh, don't talk now," he replied.
"Tired, cariad," Ianto said softly, his breathing becoming shorter and more labored. "Love you, dw i'n dy garu di, love you so much," he gasped.
Jack closed his eyes, carefully brushing against Ianto's mind. He felt Ianto's pain from the wound, the confusion at the sudden feeling of peace, the quiet acceptance and the loud, desperate part that wanted to keep fighting against death. Just relax, Yan, I'll be right here, I promise.
He leaned down and kissed him softly, feeling Ianto's gentle response and pulled back, looking down at him. "I love you too, Ianto," he said softly. He was dimly aware that Gwen and Toshiko had returned and were watching, but he didn't care.
Ianto gave him a brilliant, tired smile. Wait for me, Jack, I'll be back, I'll be right back.
Jack smiled back and nodded, leaning down to kiss him softly again, feeling Ianto's breath leave the younger man's body.
Toshiko and Gwen were crying easily, tears streaming down their faces as they hugged one another. Owen envied them for their tears, although he'd never admit it; he and Ianto had found some sort of middle ground since he'd died; the snark was still there, of course, but it was a familiar throwback, each settled comfortably into their place.
Jack sat there and didn't cry, cradling his lover, just looking down at him, as if he was waiting for Ianto to open his eyes again.
Denial was a powerful thing.
"Jack," Owen said, reaching over to shake his Captain after a few moments. "Jack, we need to get back to the Hub," he said gently, expecting an argument from Jack.
Instead, surprisingly, Jack nodded.
The four of them carefully lifted Ianto's limp body and carried it to the SUV. The knocked out-out alien was still in the back, so they lifted Ianto into the backseat, Jack crawling in first and taking his lover's body, cradling him in his lap. Owen took the driver's seat since the girls were still crying and wouldn't have been able to drive, Toshiko sitting next to him.
Gwen reached out and touched Jack's shoulder in sympathy, opening her mouth to say something but deciding against it, just letting her hand rest against Jack's back. She and Ianto hadn't gotten along as well as they had before they'd left with the Doctor, but they had come to a quiet understanding, and she was genuinely sorry at his death. He really would be missed by all of them.
Toshiko sat in the front seat, crying in her quiet, uncontrollable way. She and Ianto had been close since his first day, the older woman seeing him as a little brother. They'd gone out together after hours, especially after that whole Mary episode, going to a pub for a drink or two or going back to each other's flats and cooking. He'd taught her bits of Welsh, expanding her repertoire beyond place names and simple phrases; in return she'd helped him with his Japanese pronunciations.
About halfway back to the Hub, Owen reached over and took her hand, letting her grab at him. While he couldn't truly feel it anymore, he liked the contact.
They carefully pulled Ianto's body out of the Hub, Owen and Jack moving him carefully to the medical bay while the girls put the overshadowed human down in the cells by Janet. When they came upstairs, they found Jack sitting on the autopsy table, still cradling Ianto's head in his hands. Owen gave them a desperate look for help.
Gwen cleared her throat. She knew Jack needed time to grieve, like she had when Bilis killed Rhys, but holding a dead man like that just wasn't healthy. "Jack, how about we go get some tea or something?" she tried gently, touching his shoulder.
"You go," Jack said, waving a hand as if she was distracting him.
"Jack, Ianto -- Ianto's dead, Jack," she told him carefully.
He looked up at her as if she was stupid. "I know. And I'll be with you in a bit."
"I think we should maybe go now." She stepped to one side, taking Jack's gaze with her. Behind his back, Owen reached for a vial of liquid sedative and a hypodermic needle. Toshiko was fighting back tears again as she covered her mouth, afraid of the scene unfolding before them.
"I'll be with you in a moment," he repeated before looking down at Ianto. He gave a soft smile, shifting a little and touching his cheek. "He's coming back."
"Jack, Ianto's gone," Gwen told him gently, touching his shoulder. "The Gloves are gone, he can't come back."
Then Ianto Jones gasped back into life, his body spasming against the autopsy table as he grabbed at Jack.
He was coming back, his Ianto was coming back. He could hear the quiet singing in the back of his mind, through their bond. He pulled him closer, touching Ianto's cheek.
"He's coming back," he said softly, almost to himself. He hadn't realized that he'd spoken aloud until Gwen touched his shoulder. "Jack, Ianto's gone. The Gloves are gone, he can't come back."
As if summoned by her words, Ianto gasped back to life, clinging to Jack's greatcoat, crying out in pain. Jack smiled, wrapping his arms around Ianto tighter, reassuring him, soothing him; the wound was gone, the pain was passing even as he took another breath, just breathe, relax, calm down. Everything was fine.
Ianto's breathing evened out, the lines of traumatic pain easing off of Ianto's beautiful, healthy, alive face. "Does it hurt this much every time?" he asked, his lovely accent heavier.
"More or less," Jack replied, leaning over to kiss him softly. Ianto kissed him back, touching his cheek softly as they kissed.
Toshiko threw herself onto Ianto as soon as they broke apart, tears of relief pouring down her face as she spoke to Ianto in rapid-fire Japanese. Ianto pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair gently as he replied to her in kind, his tone gentle and soothing. Owen looked on in a mixture of disbelief and, yes, jealousy.
Gwen face showed only one emotion: Confusion.
Jack gave her a guilty smile. "Ianto and I are gonna get cleaned up. Sedate our guest for the night. Conference room in twenty, I promise we'll explain it all."
"I have a bad feeling about this," Jack confided to Ianto as they got ready to leave. The others had already headed down to the garage, and Jack and Ianto were packing up the additional weapons they might (but hopefully wouldn't) need.
"You always say that," Ianto replied smoothly, snapping the cases shut.
"Well, something is to be said about tradition," Jack said, giving a small smile at Ianto.
"Of course sir," Ianto teased, taking Jack's greatcoat from its peg. Jack turned his back obediently and let Ianto slide the wool coat over his shoulders, closing his eyes as his young lover ran his hands over Jack's shoulders, smoothing the wrinkles.
He turned and took Ianto into his arms suddenly, kissing him. "Be careful."
"I will," Ianto replied with a smile. "But I'll come back."
"I know, but you can get hurt." Jack touched his face softly, running his hand down Ianto's neck to touch the pulse thrumming at the base of that lovely neck.
"I haven't died yet," Ianto reminded him. "Four months since I became immortal and counting."
"Let's try to keep it that way?"
"I'll do my best," the Welshman promised, leaning in to kiss him firmly.
Nineteen minutes later, showered and changed into one of Jack's outfits, Ianto brought four mugs of coffee up to the conference room. The others looked up as he set their mugs in front of them (Owen didn't get one, of course, and he still looked put out over it) before setting the bottle of brandy he'd also carried up right in the middle of the table, within everyone's reach. "I felt it was appropriate, but I didn't want to assume," he said quietly when Jack raised an eyebrow.
Tosh snagged the bottle first, pouring a healthy measure into her cup before sliding it across to Gwen, who did the same.
"So what happened?" Tosh asked first, looking up at Ianto. She was looking at him critically, studying him to see what had changed in him.
"The TARDIS happened," Jack replied simply.
A desperate alien was a dangerous alien.
A desperate alien didn't care about humans, just itself. It didn't care about others around it, or its host, past the fact that it would keep it a live just a bit longer.
The frightened, confused host was a liability. There was always a fifty-fifty chance the host would die, and that was in the best of situations.
The maths of Torchwood were hard and fast and often cruel.
Take, for instance, the gun. Primitive to be certain when compared to alien warfare technology, but still adding up to the same sum: death.
The desperate alien overshadowing the poor, confused human host was swinging the weapon around wildly, a crazed look on its host face. They all ducked away reflexively every time the barrel swung around towards them.
"We're with Torchwood," Gwen was trying reasoning on the alien, trying to calm it down. "We can help you, I promise."
The alien regarded Gwen's words for a moment, the gun lowering in its hesitation. Gwen saw her opening and lunged, trying to disarm it.
Ianto knew, he knew what was going to happen as soon as he saw her move. Gwen was too far away to properly disarm the alien, it had time to raise its host's arm again, to take aim.
He was closest, and reacted instinctively, lunging to push Gwen out of the way.
The bullet entered his chest, shattering a rib as it spun on it's trajectory, Ianto's body only slowing its motion.
Getting shot fucking hurt
"The Heart of the TARDIS is Time itself," Ianto explained quietly. "She opened herself up to me, and... Gifted me with immortality. It's similar to what happened with Jack, except there wasn't a human conduit for the Time Vortex this time."
The team nodded, only partly understanding. The TARDIS was still a magical thing to all of them, even to the two that had traveled in her; it was easier to label her as magic, something undefinable, unmeasurable.
"So... Torchwood Three has two immortals and a zombie on its payroll," Owen said. "Girls, your outlook is getting grimmer by the moment."
Ianto dozed off and on that night. Jack said it was normal, that coming back was taxing. They still had their oh-so-fragile human bodies, it took a lot out of them to come back the way they did.
Sleep was a little terrifying that night. He could see why Jack hated it; the quiet, the stillness, was a lot like death. Even to the immortals, those champions of Death, it was still frightening.
He awoke every time that night to Jack's warm mouth kissing the spot the bullet had torn into his skin. It didn't hurt anymore, but Jack's kisses soothed away the invisible pain, touch by soft touch.
ETA: Chapter two here