For oncoming_storms: Things you don't talk about
1. "You never talk about your job!" Rhiannon exclaimed, frustrated, turning towards the sink so that Ianto couldn't see her face. "You don't talk about Lisa, not anymore, and then here you are, back in Cardiff, and I don't even find out for months." She breathes in, and he can hear the strain. "I don't understand, Ianto. What happened to you?"
"Nothing," he said, and even he could hear the lie--it was flimsy, because she was always the hardest to lie to, and he didn't want to lie at all.
Never again, he'd told himself, he'd promised himself... but then he'd walked right back to Torchwood.
2. "You have a sister?" Gwen asked, surprised and curious, and Ianto knew he had made a mistake. But the girl on the screen had looked so much like her, and for a moment all he could see was Rhiannon at fifteen, sneaking back into the house at night smelling like perfume and cheap booze. Lost in that moment, he'd smiled and started, When my sister--
Now, caught, he cleared his throat and nodded, because Gwen was Gwen and would never give up.
"Uh," he answered, "yeah, Rhiannon, she's married. Kids."
3. By the time he grabbed two glasses--mugs, really--for the wine she'd brought, Martha had already found the photograph. Not that it was hidden, really, but its presence slipped his mind.
"Lisa?" she asked, her voice hushed. He didn't answer; he only moved his head slightly, not even a nod, just a slight motion from side to side that in any other situation probably wouldn't have meant yes, that's her. "Jack told me about her," she went on, and though Ianto didn't stop her he already knew. Pterodactyl or no, Ianto had refused to tell Martha how he and Jack had met--he couldn't bear to hear the story, let alone to tell it.
Quietly, he offered a mug and steeled himself for questions.
4. Jack rested his hands beneath his head, one elbow hanging rather haphazardly off the side of the bed, and watched as Ianto dressed far slower than necessary. "You know, your father has the whole master tailor story," he mused suddenly, and Ianto's fingers slipped over the knot of his tie, "but that's it. You never talk about your mother."
Ianto sighed and assessed his image in the mirror. Crooked. "Neither do you," he said, far too gruffly, as he started over.
Then, for the moment, Jack was quiet.
"Nothing," he said, and even he could hear the lie--it was flimsy, because she was always the hardest to lie to, and he didn't want to lie at all.
Never again, he'd told himself, he'd promised himself... but then he'd walked right back to Torchwood.
2. "You have a sister?" Gwen asked, surprised and curious, and Ianto knew he had made a mistake. But the girl on the screen had looked so much like her, and for a moment all he could see was Rhiannon at fifteen, sneaking back into the house at night smelling like perfume and cheap booze. Lost in that moment, he'd smiled and started, When my sister--
Now, caught, he cleared his throat and nodded, because Gwen was Gwen and would never give up.
"Uh," he answered, "yeah, Rhiannon, she's married. Kids."
3. By the time he grabbed two glasses--mugs, really--for the wine she'd brought, Martha had already found the photograph. Not that it was hidden, really, but its presence slipped his mind.
"Lisa?" she asked, her voice hushed. He didn't answer; he only moved his head slightly, not even a nod, just a slight motion from side to side that in any other situation probably wouldn't have meant yes, that's her. "Jack told me about her," she went on, and though Ianto didn't stop her he already knew. Pterodactyl or no, Ianto had refused to tell Martha how he and Jack had met--he couldn't bear to hear the story, let alone to tell it.
Quietly, he offered a mug and steeled himself for questions.
4. Jack rested his hands beneath his head, one elbow hanging rather haphazardly off the side of the bed, and watched as Ianto dressed far slower than necessary. "You know, your father has the whole master tailor story," he mused suddenly, and Ianto's fingers slipped over the knot of his tie, "but that's it. You never talk about your mother."
Ianto sighed and assessed his image in the mirror. Crooked. "Neither do you," he said, far too gruffly, as he started over.
Then, for the moment, Jack was quiet.