FanFic: To Feel.
Title: To Feel.
Rating: R
Summary: Ianto just wants to feel something again. (Post Cyberwoman Fic)
Beta: madtheo
Disclaimer: Ain't Mine.
Author's Notes: This is a very old fic I found deep within several folders. I think it was written for cs_whitewolf but not sure if I've posted this before. So apologies if you have already read this.
“I don’t want you anywhere near the Hub for the next few days. Consider this a formal suspension,” said Jack, coldly.
He watched as the man in front of him lowered his head even more. God, he’d been stupid; he should have noticed something was wrong with Ianto.
“Yes, sir.”
The monotone sound of Ianto’s voice made him sigh. God, how had it come to this? He watched as the Welshman left his office, watched as the others all moved out of his way. Oh yeah, he’d truly screwed up this time, not noticing Ianto’s pain and letting everyone, including himself, take the archivist for granted. Hopefully, a little time is all it would take to put things right again. But he didn’t think it was going to be that easy…..
***
After making sure the entire conversion unit was destroyed, he decided now was as good a time as any to visit Ianto. He had left the man alone for the last two days, but knew he could only put off talking to Ianto for so long.
Arriving at Ianto’s house, he noted it was dark, not even a low light on over the front entryway. Frowning, worry started to worm its way through the residual anger, and he found himself moving quickly toward the house.
He noticed that the front door hadn’t been locked as he entered the cold house and made his way down the hall. Pushing open the door to the living room, he stepped inside and stopped dead in his tracks. There, sat on an overly clean sofa, was Ianto with a bottle of some kind of wine and a small non-descript container with a few tablets spilling out of it. He immediately recognized the pills as retcon.
“Ianto!”
His call fell on deaf ears and fear made him act instinctively. Racing over to kneel in front of the distraught man, his hands gripped Ianto’s face, hoping to provoke some kind of reaction.
“Ianto, talk to me!” commanded Jack, lightly shaking the silent man.
Even after everything that had happened, he had not been planning on retconning the man. He knew that Ianto didn’t deserve his memories being taken from him. After all, he would have gone to great lengths to save someone he loved, as well.
“Leave,” whispered Ianto gruffly.
“I can’t do that.”
That got a reaction; an angry reaction, but at least it was a reaction. Jack got back to his feet when Ianto stood up, dislodging his hands.
“You can’t order me around here, sir. You don’t have any say over what I do, sir. So kindly leave my house, sir.”
The venom in Ianto’s voice actually made Jack want to take a step backwards. The cold fury he saw in the man’s eyes was almost a physical shout: Get Out! This is all your fault! This wasn’t exactly how he wanted things to go.
He held up his hands, “Okay, okay - you’re right. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.” He gestured to the small pill bottle. “How many have you taken?”
“Why do you care, sir?”
“Just be glad, at the moment I do. How many?” repeated Jack, somewhat testily.
“It doesn’t matter any more, sir.”
“God-dammit, Ianto, just tell me how many you’ve taken?”
“None! But that doesn’t mean I won’t after you’ve left, or when you’ve stopped pretending to care about my welfare!”
Jack didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew Ianto was hurting but he couldn’t believe that he was willing to throw the last 3 years of his life away over this. Taking a step forward, he reached out and touched Ianto’s arm, surprised when he felt the dried blood there. In all the time he’d worked with Ianto, he’d never known him to be anything but pristine. Searching for a wound and finding none, he realized that this must be Lisa’s blood; Ianto had yet to wash her away.
Frowning, he took his hand away, wondering what he was supposed to do to help the Welshman through this.
“Ianto…” trailed off Jack, not exactly sure what he was going to say.
“Just leave, please.” The younger’s man’s voice was cracked; broken.
He hesitated, wanting to help, but unsure where to begin. He stared at Ianto, willing the other man to look at him, talk to him, but the bereaved man wouldn’t lift his head. Sighing, the captain decided his best course of action was to probably leave. He turned away, hoping Ianto would call him back, let Jack help him; but nothing came. Scooping up the spilled pills, Jack let himself out of the house, determined to try again soon, when they weren’t so angry with each other.
**
Ianto watched Jack leave, angry, yet detached; a very odd combination, he thought. He flopped back down on the clean sofa, not caring if the flakes of dried blood coated the upholstery, and stared at the now empty bottle sitting on his coffee table. He presumed that Jack thought he had won by taking the retcon away. Imagine the captain’s surprise when he discovered that Ianto had been better prepared than that, that there were two more bottles of pills in the dresser of his top drawer, just in case. If the captain had paid better attention to the kind of man Ianto was, he would know there was always a back-up plan. If the captain had paid any kind of attention at all besides his usual flirting, things never would have gone this far……
It was true that he hadn’t taken any yet, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to forget who he was. To forget everything that made him Ianto Jones, to forget who Lisa had been. Plus he couldn’t reconcile it in his mind; was it really the right thing for him to do?
Leaning back against the sofa in a half slouch, he closed his eyes. He could still hear the gunshots; see Lisa and the pizza girl - what was her name? Emma? Annie? That was it. Annie. See them by the conversion unit, bloodied and wrong. See Jack and the team, weapons blazing, a flock of avenging angels. It was like he was watching it on replay, all the time. Sometimes the screaming inside his head quieted until all he could see were the images, like some sort of silent horror movie.
But eventually even the pictures stopped forming, and soon darkness over-took him, giving him some reprieve from the mess that currently seemed to be his life.
***
A few days later and he was standing in the shower, staring at the water swirling around the drain, the colour a light red. He felt as though he were outside his body, watching someone else. He brought up a hand and saw the water wash the last of the dried blood from his under fingernails, yet he didn’t feel it.
He finally had come to a decision and had not taken the retcon; he realized it wasn’t exactly the right thing to do. Jack had come back periodically and they had talked, shouted, even thrown the odd the punch, but things were sorted. He knew he wasn’t going to be totally comfortable for a while, but at least he didn’t feel the over powering anger at him any more.
Sighing, he leant his head against the tiled wall, closed his eyes and let the hot water run over him. He felt so tired, the nightmares had pretty much kept him awake constantly, but he knew in a twisted sort of way that he deserved them. This was his punishment, to remember it all in nightmares.
After a while he noticed that he wasn’t feeling the heat of the water anymore. He seemed to have stopped feeling anything: the cold tile, the slippery porcelain of the tub, the heat and steam of the shower. He was numb. Inside and out, he just felt numb. Opening his eyes, he reached over and turned the temperature of the shower up.
He watched as steam started to billow out the door and mist up the windows, and his arms and legs started to turn a red colour, this time not from the dried blood washing down the drain.
Yet he felt even colder and noticed that he’d started shivering, despite the plumes of steam shrouding him. Starting to panic slightly at the thought of not being able to feel anything again, he increased the temperature enough to make the water start shuddering and he could feel it hitting his head in bursts. He vaguely made out the over-head light flicker on, but he couldn’t seem to care.
But then he didn’t care. The light seemed to taunt him, suddenly seemed to be screaming in his head, screaming at the injustice of it all. He didn’t even realize that he had actually shouted out loud until a cold hand suddenly gripped his wrists.
“What the hell are you trying to do, Ianto?”
The voice sounded far off, and all he could do was blink stupidly at Jack. He must have blacked out, as the next thing he knew he was sat on the end of his bed wrapped in two overly large towels. He vaguely realized that it was one of the soft, cotton towels he and Lisa had bought together when they’d lived in London.
Looking up, he saw Jack pacing in front of him. He wondered what he’d done wrong; he couldn’t remember doing anything specific. He had kept his promise of not taking any retcon, so he really couldn’t think of what Jack would be so angry about.
“J-Jack,” said Ianto quietly.
He watched as Jack stopped his pacing and turned around to face him.
“What were you trying to do? Cook yourself?” Jack was shouting. “I thought you said you wouldn’t do anything stupid, Ianto! What were you thinking? If I hadn’t gotten you out, you would’ve ended up in the hospital with second degree burns!”
“I just…”
“Just what? Wanted to see how long it would take to literally have your skin peeling off?”
The tone in Jack’s voice, made him shrink back. So that was what Jack was mad at him for; because he’d tried to make himself feel something again, to make himself at least feel human again.
“No,” whispered Ianto.
“Then what, Ianto? Tell me?” Jack asked sighing. “You said we never took any notice of you, never listened. How can we listen when you won’t talk?”
“I just…I just had to feel again. To gain some sort of connection back,” choked out Ianto.
He lowered his head, worrying his bottom lip, trying to remain calm. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking. After so long of not feeling anything, suddenly all his emotions were overwhelming him.
“Oh, Ianto.”
He felt the bed dip and then a warm presence at his side, before a strong arm was wrapped around his shoulders. He didn’t resist the small tug and found himself resting against Jack’s side, taking some deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. Leaning into Jack shouldn’t have been as comfortable as this; he was meant to not like this man, right?
Mentally shaking his head, he decided he couldn’t think on that too much. The captain’s chest was comfortable and warm, and he found himself closing his eyes and letting out a quiet sigh. He hoped that everything would eventually turn out right, that everything would be back to normal…well, as normal as it could get at Torchwood.
He dimly felt Jack’s chest rumble and realized that he had been spoken to, and he looked up only to see Jack smiling at him.
“Sir?”
“Doesn’t matter, Ianto, it doesn’t matter. Just rest.”
Ianto nodded; he didn’t have any more strength left to do much else. Slowly he put his head back down; he’d look at why he felt so comfortable later on. Finally he began to feel something again, even if it did confuse him a little.
Rating: R
Summary: Ianto just wants to feel something again. (Post Cyberwoman Fic)
Beta: madtheo
Disclaimer: Ain't Mine.
Author's Notes: This is a very old fic I found deep within several folders. I think it was written for cs_whitewolf but not sure if I've posted this before. So apologies if you have already read this.
“I don’t want you anywhere near the Hub for the next few days. Consider this a formal suspension,” said Jack, coldly.
He watched as the man in front of him lowered his head even more. God, he’d been stupid; he should have noticed something was wrong with Ianto.
“Yes, sir.”
The monotone sound of Ianto’s voice made him sigh. God, how had it come to this? He watched as the Welshman left his office, watched as the others all moved out of his way. Oh yeah, he’d truly screwed up this time, not noticing Ianto’s pain and letting everyone, including himself, take the archivist for granted. Hopefully, a little time is all it would take to put things right again. But he didn’t think it was going to be that easy…..
***
After making sure the entire conversion unit was destroyed, he decided now was as good a time as any to visit Ianto. He had left the man alone for the last two days, but knew he could only put off talking to Ianto for so long.
Arriving at Ianto’s house, he noted it was dark, not even a low light on over the front entryway. Frowning, worry started to worm its way through the residual anger, and he found himself moving quickly toward the house.
He noticed that the front door hadn’t been locked as he entered the cold house and made his way down the hall. Pushing open the door to the living room, he stepped inside and stopped dead in his tracks. There, sat on an overly clean sofa, was Ianto with a bottle of some kind of wine and a small non-descript container with a few tablets spilling out of it. He immediately recognized the pills as retcon.
“Ianto!”
His call fell on deaf ears and fear made him act instinctively. Racing over to kneel in front of the distraught man, his hands gripped Ianto’s face, hoping to provoke some kind of reaction.
“Ianto, talk to me!” commanded Jack, lightly shaking the silent man.
Even after everything that had happened, he had not been planning on retconning the man. He knew that Ianto didn’t deserve his memories being taken from him. After all, he would have gone to great lengths to save someone he loved, as well.
“Leave,” whispered Ianto gruffly.
“I can’t do that.”
That got a reaction; an angry reaction, but at least it was a reaction. Jack got back to his feet when Ianto stood up, dislodging his hands.
“You can’t order me around here, sir. You don’t have any say over what I do, sir. So kindly leave my house, sir.”
The venom in Ianto’s voice actually made Jack want to take a step backwards. The cold fury he saw in the man’s eyes was almost a physical shout: Get Out! This is all your fault! This wasn’t exactly how he wanted things to go.
He held up his hands, “Okay, okay - you’re right. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.” He gestured to the small pill bottle. “How many have you taken?”
“Why do you care, sir?”
“Just be glad, at the moment I do. How many?” repeated Jack, somewhat testily.
“It doesn’t matter any more, sir.”
“God-dammit, Ianto, just tell me how many you’ve taken?”
“None! But that doesn’t mean I won’t after you’ve left, or when you’ve stopped pretending to care about my welfare!”
Jack didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew Ianto was hurting but he couldn’t believe that he was willing to throw the last 3 years of his life away over this. Taking a step forward, he reached out and touched Ianto’s arm, surprised when he felt the dried blood there. In all the time he’d worked with Ianto, he’d never known him to be anything but pristine. Searching for a wound and finding none, he realized that this must be Lisa’s blood; Ianto had yet to wash her away.
Frowning, he took his hand away, wondering what he was supposed to do to help the Welshman through this.
“Ianto…” trailed off Jack, not exactly sure what he was going to say.
“Just leave, please.” The younger’s man’s voice was cracked; broken.
He hesitated, wanting to help, but unsure where to begin. He stared at Ianto, willing the other man to look at him, talk to him, but the bereaved man wouldn’t lift his head. Sighing, the captain decided his best course of action was to probably leave. He turned away, hoping Ianto would call him back, let Jack help him; but nothing came. Scooping up the spilled pills, Jack let himself out of the house, determined to try again soon, when they weren’t so angry with each other.
**
Ianto watched Jack leave, angry, yet detached; a very odd combination, he thought. He flopped back down on the clean sofa, not caring if the flakes of dried blood coated the upholstery, and stared at the now empty bottle sitting on his coffee table. He presumed that Jack thought he had won by taking the retcon away. Imagine the captain’s surprise when he discovered that Ianto had been better prepared than that, that there were two more bottles of pills in the dresser of his top drawer, just in case. If the captain had paid better attention to the kind of man Ianto was, he would know there was always a back-up plan. If the captain had paid any kind of attention at all besides his usual flirting, things never would have gone this far……
It was true that he hadn’t taken any yet, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to forget who he was. To forget everything that made him Ianto Jones, to forget who Lisa had been. Plus he couldn’t reconcile it in his mind; was it really the right thing for him to do?
Leaning back against the sofa in a half slouch, he closed his eyes. He could still hear the gunshots; see Lisa and the pizza girl - what was her name? Emma? Annie? That was it. Annie. See them by the conversion unit, bloodied and wrong. See Jack and the team, weapons blazing, a flock of avenging angels. It was like he was watching it on replay, all the time. Sometimes the screaming inside his head quieted until all he could see were the images, like some sort of silent horror movie.
But eventually even the pictures stopped forming, and soon darkness over-took him, giving him some reprieve from the mess that currently seemed to be his life.
***
A few days later and he was standing in the shower, staring at the water swirling around the drain, the colour a light red. He felt as though he were outside his body, watching someone else. He brought up a hand and saw the water wash the last of the dried blood from his under fingernails, yet he didn’t feel it.
He finally had come to a decision and had not taken the retcon; he realized it wasn’t exactly the right thing to do. Jack had come back periodically and they had talked, shouted, even thrown the odd the punch, but things were sorted. He knew he wasn’t going to be totally comfortable for a while, but at least he didn’t feel the over powering anger at him any more.
Sighing, he leant his head against the tiled wall, closed his eyes and let the hot water run over him. He felt so tired, the nightmares had pretty much kept him awake constantly, but he knew in a twisted sort of way that he deserved them. This was his punishment, to remember it all in nightmares.
After a while he noticed that he wasn’t feeling the heat of the water anymore. He seemed to have stopped feeling anything: the cold tile, the slippery porcelain of the tub, the heat and steam of the shower. He was numb. Inside and out, he just felt numb. Opening his eyes, he reached over and turned the temperature of the shower up.
He watched as steam started to billow out the door and mist up the windows, and his arms and legs started to turn a red colour, this time not from the dried blood washing down the drain.
Yet he felt even colder and noticed that he’d started shivering, despite the plumes of steam shrouding him. Starting to panic slightly at the thought of not being able to feel anything again, he increased the temperature enough to make the water start shuddering and he could feel it hitting his head in bursts. He vaguely made out the over-head light flicker on, but he couldn’t seem to care.
But then he didn’t care. The light seemed to taunt him, suddenly seemed to be screaming in his head, screaming at the injustice of it all. He didn’t even realize that he had actually shouted out loud until a cold hand suddenly gripped his wrists.
“What the hell are you trying to do, Ianto?”
The voice sounded far off, and all he could do was blink stupidly at Jack. He must have blacked out, as the next thing he knew he was sat on the end of his bed wrapped in two overly large towels. He vaguely realized that it was one of the soft, cotton towels he and Lisa had bought together when they’d lived in London.
Looking up, he saw Jack pacing in front of him. He wondered what he’d done wrong; he couldn’t remember doing anything specific. He had kept his promise of not taking any retcon, so he really couldn’t think of what Jack would be so angry about.
“J-Jack,” said Ianto quietly.
He watched as Jack stopped his pacing and turned around to face him.
“What were you trying to do? Cook yourself?” Jack was shouting. “I thought you said you wouldn’t do anything stupid, Ianto! What were you thinking? If I hadn’t gotten you out, you would’ve ended up in the hospital with second degree burns!”
“I just…”
“Just what? Wanted to see how long it would take to literally have your skin peeling off?”
The tone in Jack’s voice, made him shrink back. So that was what Jack was mad at him for; because he’d tried to make himself feel something again, to make himself at least feel human again.
“No,” whispered Ianto.
“Then what, Ianto? Tell me?” Jack asked sighing. “You said we never took any notice of you, never listened. How can we listen when you won’t talk?”
“I just…I just had to feel again. To gain some sort of connection back,” choked out Ianto.
He lowered his head, worrying his bottom lip, trying to remain calm. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them shaking. After so long of not feeling anything, suddenly all his emotions were overwhelming him.
“Oh, Ianto.”
He felt the bed dip and then a warm presence at his side, before a strong arm was wrapped around his shoulders. He didn’t resist the small tug and found himself resting against Jack’s side, taking some deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. Leaning into Jack shouldn’t have been as comfortable as this; he was meant to not like this man, right?
Mentally shaking his head, he decided he couldn’t think on that too much. The captain’s chest was comfortable and warm, and he found himself closing his eyes and letting out a quiet sigh. He hoped that everything would eventually turn out right, that everything would be back to normal…well, as normal as it could get at Torchwood.
He dimly felt Jack’s chest rumble and realized that he had been spoken to, and he looked up only to see Jack smiling at him.
“Sir?”
“Doesn’t matter, Ianto, it doesn’t matter. Just rest.”
Ianto nodded; he didn’t have any more strength left to do much else. Slowly he put his head back down; he’d look at why he felt so comfortable later on. Finally he began to feel something again, even if it did confuse him a little.