Fic: In Bits and Pieces 4a
main index
part 3b
- Hardware: the parts of a computer that can be kicked.
- Jeff Pesis
Jack stands in the middle of the hub, hands on hips. Watching. Gwen is on the phone liaising with various organizations involved in rebuilding the city. He’s promised to discuss her… rather morbid request later. But not too much later. Not too late. He really wishes his friends would stop reminding him how fragile they are. He really wishes he could just hand the reins over and give up all the responsibility. But he’s not sure he could do that. Not yet. Not when they need him. Not when he still needs them.
The rift alarm must have shorted out when the computers went down. Ianto’s been trying to hook it back up, but the mainframe keeps blocking him. Jack had already taken a crack at it and it had electrocuted him. He thinks it did it on purpose. After cleaning himself up, again, and tossing his burnt clothes into a bin bag, he’d found Ianto under Tosh’s desk, muttering a string of swear words to himself, including a few that were even new to Jack. He’d tried to offer help, but Ianto had barely acknowledged him, brushing him off with a grunt and something that sounded suspiciously like, “Be nice if you could manage not to get yourself killed for at least a few hours at a time.”
He peers over Ianto’s shoulder for the fourth or fifth time. “Haven’t you got that running yet?”
“You know, I’d work faster if you weren’t hovering over me, breathing down my neck.” Sitting on the floor, surrounded by wires, Ianto runs his finger down a page, eyes narrowed at the tiny print. Toshiko’s re-boot program and instructions won’t load, either. It’s a good thing that Ianto likes to make hard copies of everything. “I’m trying my best, Jack, but this isn’t my area of expertise. You know that Tosh always-” He stops suddenly, lips pressed into a thin line and fists clenched. “Fuck.” Ianto throws his tools down on the ground and storms away toward the steps to the basement.
Startled by the outburst, Gwen looks up from her own work. She starts to follow him, but Jack stops her with a hand on her arm. “Let him go,” he says, soft but firm.
“He doesn’t have to do this alone, Jack. We can’t just-”
“Leave him be, Gwen. He won’t appreciate it right now if you go down there and coddle him. Give him space to let it out in private. I’ll take care of him later.”
“But-” She turns to him and he shakes his head at her.
“He likes to do this on his own.”
“Alright,” she huffs in exasperation. Her hands drop to her sides and she walks away, back to her station.
Glancing in her direction only once or twice, Jack stares at the empty doorway.
---
Ianto flips the switch by the door and the single, swinging bulb illuminates the dank and crowded little room. He picks up where he left off last time he was down here; third cabinet from the right, fourth drawer down. He’s been working here for nearly two years and in all that time he still hasn’t finished reorganizing all the files. To be fair, every time he gets to the point of ‘almost there, not much more to go’ something major happens and when he gets back around to it someone has come down to mess it all up again.
Ianto supposes, since it was usually Owen, that won’t be happening anymore. Perhaps he’ll actually finish this before he dies. He wipes his sleeve across his eyes and stifles a sob. Two years ago, Ianto Jones hadn’t even known Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper. One year ago, he’d never have thought he’d miss them so much.
- Take away everything that feels fine. Catch a shape in the circles of my mind. Make me feel like I belong to you. Make me feel it, even if it ain't true.
- Mazzy Star, I’ve Been Let Down
It’s easy with Suzie; she hardly notices his presence. She seems to keep herself distant from everyone, except maybe Jack, and that suits Ianto just fine. He finds her slightly creepy on the best of days.
Owen is rather hit or miss on a day to day basis. He’s almost always surly and he likes to lord his position over Ianto as often as possible, but some days Owen simply ignores him. If Owen had been a customer in one of the many pubs or coffee houses that Ianto had worked in over the years, he might be tempted to spit in Owen’s drink. But Ianto’s not that petty. And he really doesn’t care that much. Owen can think he’s better than Ianto. It won’t matter soon enough, anyway. She’ll be better and they can leave.
Toshiko is far too nice for her own good and Ianto finds himself drawn to her. She includes him. She asks his opinion as if it really matters. She tries to explain her work to him and he sort of understands but when he gets lost, she doesn’t seem to notice and that’s alright, too. She doesn’t ask about his personal life and doesn’t talk about hers, either. It’s still just work.
Jack is the hardest of them all. He is always everywhere at once. He talks and touches and laughs like he is everyone’s best friend. He treats them all with an ease and grace that is so practiced it’s hard to see the invisible line he’s drawn around himself. There is a wall between Jack and the rest of the world. Ianto has learned from this.
They are not his friends. They can’t be.
“Good morning, Toshiko.” Ianto sets her mug of hot coffee down on the desk, far away from all the equipment.
“Oh, thank you, Ianto.” She smiles up at him, taking a sip and closing her eyes.
She looks… different this morning. Her hair is pulled back into a sophisticated twist, leaving a thin, dark tendril hanging down in front. She is wearing a crimson blouse over a black camisole, visible due to the open top two buttons. It’s a much more… daring look than Toshiko usually goes for at work. Or outside of it, as far as Ianto knows.
Perhaps it was a gift. Did she spend the holidays with family? She hadn’t been at the hub on Christmas day. No one had. Ianto had had to sneak in just to be with Lisa after Jack had disappeared off to wherever it is Jack goes. The others had all left early the day before, off to celebrate together or with friends, perhaps. Ianto is glad they hadn’t asked him to go. He’s been here nearly three months now and they still never ask him. It would have been awkward, anyway. Even though the conversation would have been welcome. Lisa is always in so much pain, he hates to even wake her up. She asks him how much longer, crying, and he can hardly bear it, just sitting with her.
Busily tidying up, distracting himself, Ianto asks, “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
Toshiko hums pleasantly, smiling. “Oh, yes. It was… very nice, actually. What about you?”
“Fine, thank you. Do you have New Year’s plans?”
Toshiko shrugs, biting her lip in a cute, almost bashful way. “I’m not sure, yet. Maybe. You?”
“Oh, I think just a quiet night in,” he tells her, looking away as the door rolls open, expecting, half-hoping, it to be Jack. He can slip into conversation so easily with Jack and actually let his mind rest.
Owen staggers in wearing his leather coat and dark glasses. It’s a wonder he doesn’t walk right into the wall as he grumbles past them.
“Good morning, Owen,” Toshiko says, brightly, rising from her seat.
Owen groans, “Dial it down a bit, Tosh. My head is killing me.”
“I’ve got some painkillers-”
“Nah, it’s OK.” Owen waves her off and turns to Ianto. “Coffee’d be good, though,” he mumbles, before disappearing down to the autopsy bay.
Suzie appears almost out of nowhere, calling out, “Has anyone seen Jack?”
Startled, Ianto nearly jumps. He hadn’t known she was here and wonders where exactly she’d just come from. Straightening his tie, reflexively, Ianto tells her, “He went out early this morning, but didn’t say where he was going or when he’d be back. I can probably reach him on his comm if it’s important.”
“No, that’s fine, it can wait.” Suzie walks past him to her work area, with a brief glance at the autopsy bay.
Ianto assumes that she and Owen are on another off-patch of their on-off thing, only evidenced by the fact that the two have stopped disappearing on mysterious errands at the same time. He turns toward the kitchen to make Owen’s coffee and probably one for Suzie, as well. Stopping, he turns back to Toshiko to ask, “Would you like anything else?”
“Hmm?” she replies, distractedly, staring off toward the autopsy bay. She snaps back, eyes to Ianto. “No. Ianto? What’s your New Year’s resolution?”
“I…” he stumbles. The same promise he’s been making to himself and Lisa every day for the last five and a half months. “I don’t know. Haven’t given it much thought. What about you?”
She shrugs, turning away. “I might skip that little tradition. I don’t think it’s a good way to start a new year by breaking a promise to yourself.”
- All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.
- Havelock Ellis
As the hub door rolls open, Ianto brusquely disentangles himself from Jack. Hastily buttoning his waistcoat, he hurries down the steps to the kitchen, ignoring Jack’s laughter. Ianto stops short at the sight before him.
A loud whistle echoes off the walls and Jack comes bounding down the steps. He reaches an arm out and says, “Miss Toshiko Sato, you look absolutely stunning this morning. May I?”
Blushing a light shade of pink, Tosh accepts Jack’s hand and allows herself to be pulled in and twirled around in the small space. Jack flips his wrist strap open, taps a few buttons and the hub is filled with music, something slow and sensual. He spins her out and she drops her handbag on a chair before whirling back into him. Jack presses her close, moving to the music, resting his cheek atop her hair. Ianto leans against the wall and watches their graceful dance culminate with the swelling music in a fast dip. Tosh laughs, her hair sweeping back and nearly brushing the floor. Ianto applauds as Jack swings her back up and together they take a bow.
“Oi! What’s going on in here?” Owen slips in through the door, letting it roll shut behind him. He stomps up the few steps to where the rest of them are standing.
The music changes to another song and Jack holds a hand out to him. “Care to dance, Owen?”
“Shove off,” Owen grumbles, pushing his way past Jack. His eyes follow Toshiko, still laughing as she fixes her hair.
Jack takes her hand again, grinning. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”
“I’ve got work to do,” she says, playfully pushing at his shoulder.
“M’lady is not dressed for slaving away at her computer,” Jack proclaims, clasping her hand to his chest and placing his other hand on her hip. “We’re good. We should go on tour.”
“You can put on quite a show,” Ianto says, smiling at them.
Toshiko raises her eyebrows at him, a wicked smirk on her face. “Speaking of putting on a show…” Abruptly, Jack spins her, twirling her out toward Ianto. “Jack!”
“I believe my good man Ianto can take it from here,” Jack says, sending him a wink before turning and walking into his office.
Ianto offers his hand and a smile. “Coffee?”
Taking his hand, she says, “Of course.” They walk past Owen, ignoring his eye roll, but Ianto doesn’t miss the way he watches Toshiko as they pass by. In the kitchen, she hands Ianto each mug as he makes the coffee. She touches a blue crystal vase, filled to the brim with coffee beans. “What’s this?”
Glancing at her, Ianto quickly looks away. “Jack’s idea of a joke, I think.”
She hmm’s, nodding. “Because you don’t like flowers.” Clearing her throat, she looks up at him timidly, contrasting with the air of confidence she’d walked in with. “I… I hadn’t realized that you and Jack were… well… again.” She blushes deeper. “Your shirt is untucked and you’ve both been very lax about cleaning up the CCTV footage the last couple of weeks.”
“I…uh…” Ianto stutters, his blush matching hers as he quickly tucks his shirttail back in and readjusts his waistcoat. He keeps his eyes down, focused on his hands, steadying. “It’s all… sort of new,” he says finally, quietly, glancing up at her. “He’s different.”
Tosh leans back against the worktop, resting on her elbow. “I’ve noticed.” She nudges him, slightly. “You’re looking happy, too. It’s good to see.”
His face burns, but his smile widens. Handing Tosh her fresh cup, he says, “You’re looking rather gorgeous yourself, today. Special occasion?”
“Yeah.” She squares her shoulders and stands up straight. “I’ve decided that life is to be lived.” Shrugging, she looks down at her feet, hair falling across her face. “It sounds trite-”
“No, not at all.” Ianto reaches up and tucks that lock of hair behind her ear.
“He saw something in me, Ianto. I want to live up to that.”
“You do. Tommy knew you were amazing.” He bends down to whisper in her ear, “A certain other person needs to work for it.”
- No. Men should die for lies. But the truth is too precious to die for.
- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods
Confused, Ianto follows Owen down to the med bay. Gwen is still on her honeymoon and Tosh has gone home. Jack is in his office, being Jack. Ianto stops short when Owen unbuttons his shirt, letting it slip from his shoulders, and hops up onto the table. “What-”
“Thought that spackle idea was pretty good.” Owen points to a box on the counter behind Ianto and asks, “D’you think you could?”
“Um…” Ianto opens up the box and peers inside. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“It’s just… here.” Owen takes the box and shows Ianto how to use the materials inside. “I just want it patched up. It doesn’t have to be perfect just… flexible. I’m sick of having a hole in my chest.” Owen pokes at the hole, disgustedly, and mutters, “It’s been there too long.”
Ianto avoids his eyes, picking up the kit, and says, “Plus, it’s kind of gross to look at.” Trying not to think too hard about what he’s doing, Ianto works at sealing up and disguising the gunshot wound on Owen’s chest. He applies the color with a soft paintbrush, wondering if it tickles, but, of course, it doesn’t, because Owen can’t feel anything anymore. A troubled, choked laugh escapes him and he tries to cover it with a cough.
“What’s funny?” Owen glowers down at him.
Shaking his head, because he can’t go there with Owen sitting here dead and half naked, Ianto says, “You spent all that time patching us back together, now it’s your turn.”
“And you’re loving it.”
Ianto pauses, paintbrush poised in midair. He blinks and finally looks up. “Owen. You’re dead. Why do you think I’d be happy about it? Would you have been happy if I’d been killed?”
Owen shifts, swinging one foot out by Ianto’s side. “No. And not chiefly because Jack would be a total pain to live with if that happened.”
They share a brief flicker of a smile. Ianto goes back to work blending the color in. He says, in his most detached voice, “You’d think Jack would be used to this by now. Losing people.”
“Maybe you never really get used to it.” Owen sounds so tired and there’s a long moment of silence that follows.
With a last few brushstrokes, Ianto finishes and leans back. “Think I’m done here.” He screws his face up in scrutiny. “No one would ever mistake me for an artist.” Owen lifts a hand up to inspect it, but Ianto slaps his hand away. “Let it dry, first.” He starts to pack away the kit and hears Owen pulling his shirt back on. Without turning to face him, Ianto clears his throat and says, very quietly, “He shouldn’t have done what he did, but I am glad you’re back, Owen.”
A moment passes and when Ianto glances back, Owen is grinning at him. “Careful. You keep being nice to me and Jack’s going to start thinking the wrong thing here.”
“Clearly, you don’t know Jack very well. If he thought we were shagging, he’d just ask to join in.”
“We could do it just to screw with him.” Owen smirks and Ianto shakes his head. “And I don’t think that’s true.”
“Oh, come on, Owen, you know how he is.”
“Yeah. I don’t really.” Owen slides off the table, but doesn’t move to leave. “I think I spent too much of my time here being angry with him for one thing or another to ever really get to know him.”
Meeting Owen’s eyes, Ianto murmurs, “I noticed.”
Owen looks away, fingering the frayed edge of his sleeve. “Why weren’t you ever angry with him?”
“I was. I tried. He seemed to prefer that I direct all my anger toward him rather than turn it all on myself.” With a sigh, Ianto drops his gaze to the floor, finishing quietly, “I think that’s when I realized that he gladly takes the blame even when it’s not his fault.”
“I’m glad I’m not… gone. But don’t let him do this to anyone else.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ve already had the talk. He’s not allowed to resurrect anyone else.” Ianto flashes a brief grin. “Except himself, of course.”
“Well, then I guess you’d better explain to him the finer points of your filing system before you go, so he doesn’t bring you back for some admin.”
Looking him in the eye again, Ianto quietly asks, “You know that isn’t why he did it, right?”
Owen shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Easier to deal with, though.”
With a shake of his head and a twitch of his lips, Ianto walks over toward the steps. “Oh, you’re such a man, Owen, and now you really can’t cry.”
Owen remains planted at the base of the stairs, a troubled frown on his face. He lightly touches Ianto’s sleeve. “When I’m… you know, whatever. When this energy stops… energizing me… Could you make sure she still gets my monthly check? Can’t give it to her all at once, but take it from what I have and make sure she still gets it.”
Owen peers closely at him waiting for…
… his pint from the bartender, he says, “Yeah, you say you don’t care, but you do. I can tell. She’s your mum, whether she’s there or not. Trust me, I know.” Owen pats him on the back and Ianto nods in…
… understanding. Ianto says, “Sure.” He can’t help the slow grin or the little laugh that escape him. “Of all the things we could have bonded over - girlfriends taken by aliens, lovers vanishing into the ether - and you choose shitty relationships with absentee mothers.”
- Everything’s fine today; that is our illusion.
- Voltaire
Losing himself in the calming monotony of filing, Ianto lets his mind go blank, relaxing into routine and attributing his occasional sniffle to dust and nothing more.
He knows that Jack, maybe Gwen, too, will be watching via the CCTV. If one of them decides to come down here after him, he almost hopes it’s Gwen. She’s easier. He can let her give him a hug, smile and say he’ll be OK and that will be that. She’ll think she’s helped and he won’t have to deal with it. For now.
If it’s Jack… Jack will make him face it. Jack won’t let him hold it in. He’ll break down, if it’s Jack. He doesn’t want that now. Not yet. It’s not time. Of course, Jack may not come. He’s not always overly perceptive when it comes to these things.
Gwen doesn’t give up easily only temporarily, to regroup, then coming back even stronger. From the first day, he’d admired that about her. Her tenacity and the way she lets herself care so openly - almost selfless to the point of self-destruction at times. She sort of reminds him of Mari Pritchard. When his father became ill, Mari was one person he could count on. Before Ianto had left school altogether, Mari used to let him copy her homework, because he’d been up too late the night before to get it finished. Or she’d bring him food, knowing that he hadn’t the time or energy to cook. She’d sat with him in hospital waiting rooms and distracted him with stupid jokes, keeping his mind occupied, never letting him sink too low into despair. He must have been incredibly thick back then never to realize - not until much later, when he’d wanted nothing more to do with Cardiff or anyone in it - that she’d been in love with him.
Ianto smiles, thinking about her. They’d lost touch after he’d gone and he never knew what became of her. One more person, one more memory tinged with sadness. If Gwen comes down, maybe he’ll tell her about Mari, the one person he’d left first.
- All alone, whether you like it or not, alone is something you’ll be quite a lot.
- Dr. Seuss
“Alright, all answers in the hat, please!” Gwen passes the… well, it’s a helmet from an old suit of armor that had come through the rift about fifty years ago. It had still had a head inside of it at the time. It’s clean now, Ianto has made sure of that. Everyone tosses in their folded or, in Owen’s case, balled up pieces of paper. Gwen raises it high above her head, grinning like a mad lunatic.
Of course, they’ve all been drinking. After the good days, they’ve allowed themselves a little celebration. They do this after the bad days, too, but call it something else and it lacks games. Since Jack’s disappearance, there have been fewer good days.
Owen belches loudly and reaches for another beer. “Hurry up and pick it already.”
“No.” Gwen holds the helmet away from them, even though no one had tried to grab it. “We made that rule. Everyone says their guess aloud and if you guess the one I pick, then you win.”
“Oh, right, right.” Owen nods, slouching down into the couch cushions. “What do we win again?”
“Um…” Gwen screws her face up. “I’ll… um… I’ll do your reports for a week.”
“That’s not really a prize,” Owen says, flapping his hand at her. “You or Ianto usually end up doing them anyway.”
“Fine. Then…” Gwen’s eyes roll upward to the ceiling; her foot taps without rhythm. “Um, I won’t bitch about you not doing your reports for a week, Owen. Whatever. Everyone give your guess. Today’s question is: What planet is Jack actually from? Tosh?”
“Um… Earth.”
“Oh, you’re so boring, Tosh.” Owen nudges her knee with his.
She shrugs. “It’s what I believe to be true.”
“It doesn’t have to be true,” he slurs. “Just has to pick it out of the hat. You put Earth in there, didn’t you?” He shakes his head. “Well, I pick U-”
“Uranus,” they all say in unison, laughing. Tosh says, “You’re so predictable.”
“Ianto?” Gwen looks at him.
He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Raxicoricofallipatorius.”
“Now you’re just making words up!”
“No, it’s real,” Tosh defends him. “It’s in the database, anyway. Gwen, your turn.”
“Oh, um. I… Jupiter? What? It’s the biggest planet in the solar system, isn’t it?”
Owen snorts. “Is Jack a size queen?” He looks over at Ianto, who resolutely avoids his gaze.
“Alright, alright. I’m picking!” Gwen gives the helmet a good shake above her head, reaches in and plucks out a bit of paper. “OK. The winner is… I can’t read this.”
Ianto leans forward to peer at the piece of paper. “It’s your handwriting.”
“Is it? I can’t remember what I wrote. Another one!” She tosses the paper aside and picks another. “OK, the real winner is… Earth! Tosh wins.”
Owen whines, “Tosh always wins.”
She tucks her hair back behind her ear. “What’s my prize, then?”
“What would you like?” Gwen sets the helmet down onto the coffee table. It rolls off with a loud clang. “Jack used to let us all have a prize.”
“Yeah, except Ianto used to get his in private.” Owen smirks, drunkenly, and everyone else stops and stares down at the floor.
“I think we could all use some coffee before we go home for the night.” Ianto stands, brushes off his spotless trousers, and walks away toward the kitchen.
Behind him he hears Gwen’s voice, “Why do you always have to be such a prick, Owen?” and her clomping footsteps, slowing to a stop. He doesn’t need to turn to know the look on her face. “Alright, love?”
“Fine.” He does turn to give her a reassuring smile. “Over the past year and a half I have learned to mostly ignore him. Especially when he’s drunk. He won’t even remember this when he’s hung-over tomorrow.”
“Ianto-”
“You should give Rhys a call.” He gently touches her hand, the ring on her finger. “Let him know you’ll be home soon.”
- Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are.
- Dinah Maria Mulock
Flipping the pages, Ianto tries to find the entry that Jack must have read. There will be words about reading someone’s private journal later. He reaches the end, the last entry in the book, and frowns.
It is marked as yesterday’s date, part of the mysterious missing two days, and the only words written, in his own looping scrawl, are: Do not try to remember. For everyone’s safety, it is best left forgotten.
From the binding it is evident that a page has been torn out. Ianto runs his finger over the ragged edge, a fuzzy sort of tingling in the back of his mind. He shivers, like a ghost has passed over him. He glances around the hub. Toshiko is working at her desk, the flowers pushed to one side. Owen is down in the autopsy bay, clinking noises echoing off the walls. Gwen is out, trying to reassure Rhys. Whatever had happened, he’d been affected, too.
Jack is at his desk in his office, seemingly working on his reports. Quickly, Ianto snaps his diary shut and tucks it under his arm. He makes his way over to the office and pops his head round the door.
“I didn’t read it.” Jack looks up, catching Ianto by surprise. “Not all of it. I just happened to glance at that one page, OK?”
A small smile tugs at Ianto’s lips. He steps up to Jack’s desk and lays his diary down, open to the final entry, and points to the words. “I think we did it to ourselves. For a reason.”
“Yeah.” Jack places his hand over Ianto’s, lightly tapping his fingers. “I know. I found a similar note to myself just this morning. I left a message for Gwen on her phone and I told Tosh to stop investigating it.” He looks up into Ianto’s eyes. “Someone should probably let Owen know.”
“I’ll leave that to you.” Ianto’s lips curl, slightly, but something tugs at his mind. Eyes darting away, he says, “Um… I have to… I’m going out to run some errands.” He starts to move away, but turns back. “Need anything?”
Jack shakes his head, a bemused look on his face.
---
Ianto squints against the sun. For some reason, he feels it should be raining. Shivering in his coat, although it is a warm summer day, he looks up into the bright, blue sky and back down at the cold, gray stone. “Did you follow me?”
Stepping up beside him, Jack clasps his hands behind his back. “No.” Ianto glances over, arching one eyebrow and Jack shrugs. “I saw you walking. I saw you carrying flowers. Was kinda hoping they were for me.”
“You know my feelings on flowers, Jack. They’re dead. They remind me of funerals.”
“And so here we are.” Of course, Jack knows to whom this grave belongs. A fake grave for the poor pizza girl who’d been ‘hit by a car on her way home from a delivery’ one night. “Ianto…”
“I just felt this… overwhelming guilt all of a sudden. I don’t know why or where it came from. Just something in the back of my mind. It’s awful, because I’ve barely thought about it in months. I didn’t know what else to do. This isn’t much.” He bends down and places the bouquet against the stone. The grass is too long and needs to be trimmed.
“Ianto, this isn’t-”
“Yes, it is. It’s my fault she’s dead, Jack. My actions caused it. It’s as good as if I’d-” he cuts off, abruptly. His hands are shaking. “I’m responsible.”
“No.” Jack gently puts a hand on Ianto’s shoulder, giving him plenty of opportunity to accept or reject the touch. When he does nothing, Jack moves forward and wraps his arms around Ianto from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “It’s not all on you. Blame me.”
“Tried that, remember. Didn’t last long.” Ianto remains unmoving and unmoved. He stares straight ahead. “I feel bad about this. Just let me feel bad. It is my fault.”
“OK. So what do you want me to do? You want me to punish you? Lock you in a cell?”
Ianto shivers again, violently, as the tingle in the back of his mind intensifies. Jack’s arms tighten around him. He swallows, turns his head to the side, and says, “Not particularly, no.” He rubs his nose against Jack’s jaw, squeezing his eyes shut tight and forcing his breathing under control.
“You want me to spank you?”
“Stop being perverted in a cemetery.” He turns his body so that he can wrap his arms around Jack’s waist and press his face into the warm neck. Breathing deeply.
Jack rubs his back, soothingly. “Come on,” he breathes into Ianto’s ear. Breaking away, he trails his hand down Ianto’s arm before lacing their fingers together.
Looking up into his eyes, Ianto sighs, “Thank you.”
“Come on,” Jack says again and tugs him by the hand. “I’ll buy you an ice cream.”
Leaning into Jack’s side, Ianto lets out a small laugh. “If you really want me to send you flowers, I will. I know you’d like that.”
“Ha! You did read my log.”
“It’s not as if you keep it private. For about three months you were accidentally emailing it to everyone until Tosh fixed it for you.”
“Maybe I was doing it on purpose to see if everyone was paying attention.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ianto absently nods his head, the coarse fabric of Jack’s coat scratchy against his cheek.
Jack lifts his arm and wraps it around Ianto’s shoulders, steering them out of the cemetery. “Not flowers, no. Chocolates are good. Oh! How about one of those singing telegrams? Do they still do those?”
“I don’t know. I can get you a stripper-gram. Your choice: Male or female?”
“Ooh! Surprise me.”
- Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.
- Gloria Naylor
Ianto must have found another blind spot; Jack can’t locate him on the CCTV in the archives. He doesn’t stop looking, though. Gwen keeps glaring at him. Fortunately, she’s actually too busy with other work to start meddling. Unfortunately, that means she can’t start meddling. She can’t march in here and demand that Jack go do something and he almost wishes she would, because at the moment he’s not sure what to do.
Everything always has to be so complicated. Jack can’t simply put himself in Ianto’s place and think about what he would want his… someone to do. The last few months would have been too much for anyone to be able to handle. Add that to everything else that Ianto’s been through these last few years. And the few years before that. And the few years before that.
Jack has met a lot of people in his time and he’s seen a lot of loss. It still doesn’t seem fair for Ianto, for someone so young. And Jack can’t fix it for him.
Ah, there he is. Ianto appears on the screen, walking from one side of the room to the other. His dark suit is mottled gray on the monitor. He looks completely absorbed in his task, but Jack knows that his mind is miles away. He brings his fingers up to trace the image on his screen, wishing he could reach out and…
…pull Ianto closer, swaying to the music. Jack breathes in the scent of his hair. Ianto’s head comes to rest against his and Ianto whispers, “I’ve been trying so hard never to think about it that it snuck up on me. Two years last week since the tower burned and here I am now, dancing at a wedding.” He doesn’t need to explain more. Hard to imagine your life after the world ends. Jack asks, “What do you need?” and Ianto answers, “Just to be on my own tonight. After we’ve finished here. I’ll come to you tomorrow.” He kisses Jack’s neck and lets him lead, surrendering all control just for the moment. Jack can…
… hold him up. But he doesn’t go down to the archives. To Ianto. He’ll wait for Ianto to come to him. It’s usually best.
- Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
- Anthony Brandt
Ianto is on the couch in the hub with his eyes closed. He must hear Jack approaching, because he turns before Jack can say anything. Ianto’s lips curve in an almost-smile. “Really not helpful with your spooky ‘they could still be out there’ speech.”
Jack shrugs, taking slow steps until he can sit on the couch next to him. He raises a hand and brushes Ianto’s cheek. “Are you OK?”
“I’m a bit… I dunno. Tired.” Ianto’s shoulders lift just slightly in an approximation of a shrug. He keeps his eyes downcast, watching his hands sit idly in his lap. “The Electro was one of the best memories I had of my father and now it’s sort of… tainted.” He turns his eyes to Jack and he looks so young. Jack sometimes forgets. “When I left this city after my dad died, I thought… I didn’t think I’d ever want to come back. It just felt like everywhere I looked it was… it hurt, you know?”
“Yeah,” Jack’s voice cracks, so he repeats, “yes, I know what you mean.” His hand, resting lightly on Ianto’s shoulder, slides around and Jack lets his fingers play with the fine hairs at the nape of Ianto’s neck.
“That woman, she said they touched me. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, Ianto. You don’t have to let it mean anything.”
“I wish we could have made it better. Done something. That boy… he lost his whole family.” Ianto leans, just a little, into Jack’s side, until Jack’s arm around him pulls him closer. Ianto lets his head rest on Jack’s shoulder and says, softly, “He’s all on his own now.”
Smoothing Ianto’s hair down, Jack says, “Gwen’s already been in contact with social services to track down any relatives. Don’t worry, Ianto. He’ll be alright.” He places a tiny kiss on Ianto’s temple. “You’re not all on your own.”
“Mm,” Ianto grunts into Jack’s shirt, “I’m dating a circus freak. My mother would be so proud.”
Chuckling, Jack runs his fingers through Ianto’s hair. “You know, if you could tell her, I bet she would be.” Ianto grabs Jack’s fingers when he starts tickling his ear. Quietly, Jack asks, “She was there for a few years, wasn’t she?”
Ianto nods his head against Jack’s shoulder, but he covers Jack’s mouth with a hand before he can speak again.
Pushing Ianto’s hand away, Jack decides to change the subject. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“How come you asked Gwen and Owen to go to the cinema with you?”
“Oh.” Ianto sits up straight, but doesn’t move away completely. “I didn’t. Gwen saw me reading the ad and asked about it. Owen overheard and, since he has no life anymore…” He stumbles, stops, looks sheepishly at Jack. “You know what I mean. He decided to tag along.” Ianto shrugs, averting his eyes.
“Oh, right.” Jack idly runs his fingers along the back of Ianto’s shoulders. “So… why didn’t you ask me? I’d have gone with you.”
Ianto looks surprised, flustered. “I… um,” he stutters and scratches behind his left ear. “I wasn’t sure you’d be interested. It sounded a bit childish, I guess.”
“That’s perfect!” Jack grins, spreading his arms wide. “You guys are always calling me childish.” Ianto laughs and Jack places his arm around his shoulders again. “Besides, we’ve still not managed the movie thing, yet.”
“I think I’m a bit over the cinema at the moment.”
“Oh, c’mon. We’ll go to one of those new, gaudy places that you can’t stand and have no memories associated with, get a giant tub of popcorn and we can sit all the way in the back.” Jack leers, raising his eyebrows. “You know, with those big, comfy seats and the armrests that lift up.”
Ianto laughs, shoving at Jack’s arm. “Oh? And how do you know about armrests that lift out of the way?”
“Gwen. She told me that when she was still in school she went on a date and let a boy-”
“Yes, don’t need to hear that, thanks.” Ianto places a hand on Jack’s chest, pushing him into the couch cushions. “And I think she told me that story once before. She’s not your innocent little Gwen Cooper, is she?”
“I never thought of her like that. Well, OK, maybe I did.” Jack willingly lies back, letting Ianto settle on top of him. “So, is it a date then?”
“Yeah,” Ianto whispers, smiling down at him. “But only if I get to see you in your circus outfit.” Grinning, Ianto’s eyes glint with mischief. “Be more fun if you were some sort of contortionist, I think.”
“Ianto Jones, you are positively wicked sometimes.”
- Come let us take our fill of love until the morning; let us solace ourselves with love.
- Proverbs 7:18
Logging out, Jack sets his computer to hibernate. He stretches his arms high above his head, working the kinks out of his back. A dark shape out in the hub catches his eye and he tenses.
One security breach per day is enough. Standing, Jack reaches for his gun, creeps toward the door and peers out.
Ianto moves from Owen’s station to Gwen’s with a bin bag in hand. Jack relaxes, holstering his gun. He watches for a while as Ianto stoops to pick rubbish off the floor. He leans against the doorframe, thinking about recent events.
“You didn’t tell me what you wanted those coordinates for.” Ianto’s voice in the stillness of the hub startles Jack.
Raising his chin, Jack takes a couple steps down into the hub. “Would you still have given me the correct ones if I had?”
“Yes.” Ianto stops, turns and looks up, right into Jack’s eyes. “She would have killed Tosh. She really would have, I believe that.” He starts to reach for an empty take-away container, but stops, dropping the bag to the floor. “Is it always like this? Life in Torchwood?” Ianto’s voice is small and far away. When he turns his face to Jack again, he looks so very young and so very old all at once. “Or maybe it’s just life in general. Sooner or later, you still lose everything.”
“Ianto…”
“She told you, didn’t she? Told you what she heard. She told me, too.” Ianto quickly resumes his work, grabbing the containers in his fist and tossing them into the bag, roughly. “It came as a bit of a shock to hear what was, apparently, going on in my own head. You know, actually it was a bit of a relief to know there was anything at all. For a while I felt as if I was really dead. Just… nothing.” He slams the bag down and picks up an empty coffee mug, clenching it in a shaking fist.
Jack’s almost sure that ceramic mug would have shattered in Ianto’s grip had he not gotten there in time to pry it from white-knuckled fingers. He brings his hands up to Ianto’s shoulders, gently bringing him closer. “Ianto-”
“Even after those people nearly killed me,” Ianto whispers into Jack’s chest, voice low and gravelly. “I didn’t… I couldn’t feel anything. When I close my eyes I’m still not sure what will come. Metal and machines and knives and slabs of meat. I have this one dream of Lisa carving me open and serving my heart on a platter.” He grasps Jack by the braces. “But it’s all so far away. It was better being numb and now it’s just… there and I don’t want to…” He slides his hand up Jack’s chest to his neck, fingers clutching and pulling his hair.
Surprised by the sudden movement, Jack doesn’t realize they are kissing until Ianto breaks away. “Ianto…”
“Shut up, Jack. Just make me feel something else. Just make me feel… something.”
“Are you-”
“No talking.”
And it’s clear that Ianto has no clue what he’s doing. It’s something new, different from what they were doing before. He’s much more demanding, insistent. He stays quiet, mostly, but he allows Jack to hold him afterward. He doesn’t want to talk, but he keeps coming back, continues to seek Jack out. For this. Each time Ianto comes to him, Jack knows he should stop it, should tell him no, to find something else, someone else. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He can do nothing, but be here.
He never does get around to asking Ianto to dinner.
part 4b
originally posted: 07/01/08
part 3b
- Hardware: the parts of a computer that can be kicked.
- Jeff Pesis
Jack stands in the middle of the hub, hands on hips. Watching. Gwen is on the phone liaising with various organizations involved in rebuilding the city. He’s promised to discuss her… rather morbid request later. But not too much later. Not too late. He really wishes his friends would stop reminding him how fragile they are. He really wishes he could just hand the reins over and give up all the responsibility. But he’s not sure he could do that. Not yet. Not when they need him. Not when he still needs them.
The rift alarm must have shorted out when the computers went down. Ianto’s been trying to hook it back up, but the mainframe keeps blocking him. Jack had already taken a crack at it and it had electrocuted him. He thinks it did it on purpose. After cleaning himself up, again, and tossing his burnt clothes into a bin bag, he’d found Ianto under Tosh’s desk, muttering a string of swear words to himself, including a few that were even new to Jack. He’d tried to offer help, but Ianto had barely acknowledged him, brushing him off with a grunt and something that sounded suspiciously like, “Be nice if you could manage not to get yourself killed for at least a few hours at a time.”
He peers over Ianto’s shoulder for the fourth or fifth time. “Haven’t you got that running yet?”
“You know, I’d work faster if you weren’t hovering over me, breathing down my neck.” Sitting on the floor, surrounded by wires, Ianto runs his finger down a page, eyes narrowed at the tiny print. Toshiko’s re-boot program and instructions won’t load, either. It’s a good thing that Ianto likes to make hard copies of everything. “I’m trying my best, Jack, but this isn’t my area of expertise. You know that Tosh always-” He stops suddenly, lips pressed into a thin line and fists clenched. “Fuck.” Ianto throws his tools down on the ground and storms away toward the steps to the basement.
Startled by the outburst, Gwen looks up from her own work. She starts to follow him, but Jack stops her with a hand on her arm. “Let him go,” he says, soft but firm.
“He doesn’t have to do this alone, Jack. We can’t just-”
“Leave him be, Gwen. He won’t appreciate it right now if you go down there and coddle him. Give him space to let it out in private. I’ll take care of him later.”
“But-” She turns to him and he shakes his head at her.
“He likes to do this on his own.”
“Alright,” she huffs in exasperation. Her hands drop to her sides and she walks away, back to her station.
Glancing in her direction only once or twice, Jack stares at the empty doorway.
---
Ianto flips the switch by the door and the single, swinging bulb illuminates the dank and crowded little room. He picks up where he left off last time he was down here; third cabinet from the right, fourth drawer down. He’s been working here for nearly two years and in all that time he still hasn’t finished reorganizing all the files. To be fair, every time he gets to the point of ‘almost there, not much more to go’ something major happens and when he gets back around to it someone has come down to mess it all up again.
Ianto supposes, since it was usually Owen, that won’t be happening anymore. Perhaps he’ll actually finish this before he dies. He wipes his sleeve across his eyes and stifles a sob. Two years ago, Ianto Jones hadn’t even known Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper. One year ago, he’d never have thought he’d miss them so much.
- Take away everything that feels fine. Catch a shape in the circles of my mind. Make me feel like I belong to you. Make me feel it, even if it ain't true.
- Mazzy Star, I’ve Been Let Down
It’s easy with Suzie; she hardly notices his presence. She seems to keep herself distant from everyone, except maybe Jack, and that suits Ianto just fine. He finds her slightly creepy on the best of days.
Owen is rather hit or miss on a day to day basis. He’s almost always surly and he likes to lord his position over Ianto as often as possible, but some days Owen simply ignores him. If Owen had been a customer in one of the many pubs or coffee houses that Ianto had worked in over the years, he might be tempted to spit in Owen’s drink. But Ianto’s not that petty. And he really doesn’t care that much. Owen can think he’s better than Ianto. It won’t matter soon enough, anyway. She’ll be better and they can leave.
Toshiko is far too nice for her own good and Ianto finds himself drawn to her. She includes him. She asks his opinion as if it really matters. She tries to explain her work to him and he sort of understands but when he gets lost, she doesn’t seem to notice and that’s alright, too. She doesn’t ask about his personal life and doesn’t talk about hers, either. It’s still just work.
Jack is the hardest of them all. He is always everywhere at once. He talks and touches and laughs like he is everyone’s best friend. He treats them all with an ease and grace that is so practiced it’s hard to see the invisible line he’s drawn around himself. There is a wall between Jack and the rest of the world. Ianto has learned from this.
They are not his friends. They can’t be.
“Good morning, Toshiko.” Ianto sets her mug of hot coffee down on the desk, far away from all the equipment.
“Oh, thank you, Ianto.” She smiles up at him, taking a sip and closing her eyes.
She looks… different this morning. Her hair is pulled back into a sophisticated twist, leaving a thin, dark tendril hanging down in front. She is wearing a crimson blouse over a black camisole, visible due to the open top two buttons. It’s a much more… daring look than Toshiko usually goes for at work. Or outside of it, as far as Ianto knows.
Perhaps it was a gift. Did she spend the holidays with family? She hadn’t been at the hub on Christmas day. No one had. Ianto had had to sneak in just to be with Lisa after Jack had disappeared off to wherever it is Jack goes. The others had all left early the day before, off to celebrate together or with friends, perhaps. Ianto is glad they hadn’t asked him to go. He’s been here nearly three months now and they still never ask him. It would have been awkward, anyway. Even though the conversation would have been welcome. Lisa is always in so much pain, he hates to even wake her up. She asks him how much longer, crying, and he can hardly bear it, just sitting with her.
Busily tidying up, distracting himself, Ianto asks, “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
Toshiko hums pleasantly, smiling. “Oh, yes. It was… very nice, actually. What about you?”
“Fine, thank you. Do you have New Year’s plans?”
Toshiko shrugs, biting her lip in a cute, almost bashful way. “I’m not sure, yet. Maybe. You?”
“Oh, I think just a quiet night in,” he tells her, looking away as the door rolls open, expecting, half-hoping, it to be Jack. He can slip into conversation so easily with Jack and actually let his mind rest.
Owen staggers in wearing his leather coat and dark glasses. It’s a wonder he doesn’t walk right into the wall as he grumbles past them.
“Good morning, Owen,” Toshiko says, brightly, rising from her seat.
Owen groans, “Dial it down a bit, Tosh. My head is killing me.”
“I’ve got some painkillers-”
“Nah, it’s OK.” Owen waves her off and turns to Ianto. “Coffee’d be good, though,” he mumbles, before disappearing down to the autopsy bay.
Suzie appears almost out of nowhere, calling out, “Has anyone seen Jack?”
Startled, Ianto nearly jumps. He hadn’t known she was here and wonders where exactly she’d just come from. Straightening his tie, reflexively, Ianto tells her, “He went out early this morning, but didn’t say where he was going or when he’d be back. I can probably reach him on his comm if it’s important.”
“No, that’s fine, it can wait.” Suzie walks past him to her work area, with a brief glance at the autopsy bay.
Ianto assumes that she and Owen are on another off-patch of their on-off thing, only evidenced by the fact that the two have stopped disappearing on mysterious errands at the same time. He turns toward the kitchen to make Owen’s coffee and probably one for Suzie, as well. Stopping, he turns back to Toshiko to ask, “Would you like anything else?”
“Hmm?” she replies, distractedly, staring off toward the autopsy bay. She snaps back, eyes to Ianto. “No. Ianto? What’s your New Year’s resolution?”
“I…” he stumbles. The same promise he’s been making to himself and Lisa every day for the last five and a half months. “I don’t know. Haven’t given it much thought. What about you?”
She shrugs, turning away. “I might skip that little tradition. I don’t think it’s a good way to start a new year by breaking a promise to yourself.”
- All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.
- Havelock Ellis
As the hub door rolls open, Ianto brusquely disentangles himself from Jack. Hastily buttoning his waistcoat, he hurries down the steps to the kitchen, ignoring Jack’s laughter. Ianto stops short at the sight before him.
A loud whistle echoes off the walls and Jack comes bounding down the steps. He reaches an arm out and says, “Miss Toshiko Sato, you look absolutely stunning this morning. May I?”
Blushing a light shade of pink, Tosh accepts Jack’s hand and allows herself to be pulled in and twirled around in the small space. Jack flips his wrist strap open, taps a few buttons and the hub is filled with music, something slow and sensual. He spins her out and she drops her handbag on a chair before whirling back into him. Jack presses her close, moving to the music, resting his cheek atop her hair. Ianto leans against the wall and watches their graceful dance culminate with the swelling music in a fast dip. Tosh laughs, her hair sweeping back and nearly brushing the floor. Ianto applauds as Jack swings her back up and together they take a bow.
“Oi! What’s going on in here?” Owen slips in through the door, letting it roll shut behind him. He stomps up the few steps to where the rest of them are standing.
The music changes to another song and Jack holds a hand out to him. “Care to dance, Owen?”
“Shove off,” Owen grumbles, pushing his way past Jack. His eyes follow Toshiko, still laughing as she fixes her hair.
Jack takes her hand again, grinning. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”
“I’ve got work to do,” she says, playfully pushing at his shoulder.
“M’lady is not dressed for slaving away at her computer,” Jack proclaims, clasping her hand to his chest and placing his other hand on her hip. “We’re good. We should go on tour.”
“You can put on quite a show,” Ianto says, smiling at them.
Toshiko raises her eyebrows at him, a wicked smirk on her face. “Speaking of putting on a show…” Abruptly, Jack spins her, twirling her out toward Ianto. “Jack!”
“I believe my good man Ianto can take it from here,” Jack says, sending him a wink before turning and walking into his office.
Ianto offers his hand and a smile. “Coffee?”
Taking his hand, she says, “Of course.” They walk past Owen, ignoring his eye roll, but Ianto doesn’t miss the way he watches Toshiko as they pass by. In the kitchen, she hands Ianto each mug as he makes the coffee. She touches a blue crystal vase, filled to the brim with coffee beans. “What’s this?”
Glancing at her, Ianto quickly looks away. “Jack’s idea of a joke, I think.”
She hmm’s, nodding. “Because you don’t like flowers.” Clearing her throat, she looks up at him timidly, contrasting with the air of confidence she’d walked in with. “I… I hadn’t realized that you and Jack were… well… again.” She blushes deeper. “Your shirt is untucked and you’ve both been very lax about cleaning up the CCTV footage the last couple of weeks.”
“I…uh…” Ianto stutters, his blush matching hers as he quickly tucks his shirttail back in and readjusts his waistcoat. He keeps his eyes down, focused on his hands, steadying. “It’s all… sort of new,” he says finally, quietly, glancing up at her. “He’s different.”
Tosh leans back against the worktop, resting on her elbow. “I’ve noticed.” She nudges him, slightly. “You’re looking happy, too. It’s good to see.”
His face burns, but his smile widens. Handing Tosh her fresh cup, he says, “You’re looking rather gorgeous yourself, today. Special occasion?”
“Yeah.” She squares her shoulders and stands up straight. “I’ve decided that life is to be lived.” Shrugging, she looks down at her feet, hair falling across her face. “It sounds trite-”
“No, not at all.” Ianto reaches up and tucks that lock of hair behind her ear.
“He saw something in me, Ianto. I want to live up to that.”
“You do. Tommy knew you were amazing.” He bends down to whisper in her ear, “A certain other person needs to work for it.”
- No. Men should die for lies. But the truth is too precious to die for.
- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods
Confused, Ianto follows Owen down to the med bay. Gwen is still on her honeymoon and Tosh has gone home. Jack is in his office, being Jack. Ianto stops short when Owen unbuttons his shirt, letting it slip from his shoulders, and hops up onto the table. “What-”
“Thought that spackle idea was pretty good.” Owen points to a box on the counter behind Ianto and asks, “D’you think you could?”
“Um…” Ianto opens up the box and peers inside. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“It’s just… here.” Owen takes the box and shows Ianto how to use the materials inside. “I just want it patched up. It doesn’t have to be perfect just… flexible. I’m sick of having a hole in my chest.” Owen pokes at the hole, disgustedly, and mutters, “It’s been there too long.”
Ianto avoids his eyes, picking up the kit, and says, “Plus, it’s kind of gross to look at.” Trying not to think too hard about what he’s doing, Ianto works at sealing up and disguising the gunshot wound on Owen’s chest. He applies the color with a soft paintbrush, wondering if it tickles, but, of course, it doesn’t, because Owen can’t feel anything anymore. A troubled, choked laugh escapes him and he tries to cover it with a cough.
“What’s funny?” Owen glowers down at him.
Shaking his head, because he can’t go there with Owen sitting here dead and half naked, Ianto says, “You spent all that time patching us back together, now it’s your turn.”
“And you’re loving it.”
Ianto pauses, paintbrush poised in midair. He blinks and finally looks up. “Owen. You’re dead. Why do you think I’d be happy about it? Would you have been happy if I’d been killed?”
Owen shifts, swinging one foot out by Ianto’s side. “No. And not chiefly because Jack would be a total pain to live with if that happened.”
They share a brief flicker of a smile. Ianto goes back to work blending the color in. He says, in his most detached voice, “You’d think Jack would be used to this by now. Losing people.”
“Maybe you never really get used to it.” Owen sounds so tired and there’s a long moment of silence that follows.
With a last few brushstrokes, Ianto finishes and leans back. “Think I’m done here.” He screws his face up in scrutiny. “No one would ever mistake me for an artist.” Owen lifts a hand up to inspect it, but Ianto slaps his hand away. “Let it dry, first.” He starts to pack away the kit and hears Owen pulling his shirt back on. Without turning to face him, Ianto clears his throat and says, very quietly, “He shouldn’t have done what he did, but I am glad you’re back, Owen.”
A moment passes and when Ianto glances back, Owen is grinning at him. “Careful. You keep being nice to me and Jack’s going to start thinking the wrong thing here.”
“Clearly, you don’t know Jack very well. If he thought we were shagging, he’d just ask to join in.”
“We could do it just to screw with him.” Owen smirks and Ianto shakes his head. “And I don’t think that’s true.”
“Oh, come on, Owen, you know how he is.”
“Yeah. I don’t really.” Owen slides off the table, but doesn’t move to leave. “I think I spent too much of my time here being angry with him for one thing or another to ever really get to know him.”
Meeting Owen’s eyes, Ianto murmurs, “I noticed.”
Owen looks away, fingering the frayed edge of his sleeve. “Why weren’t you ever angry with him?”
“I was. I tried. He seemed to prefer that I direct all my anger toward him rather than turn it all on myself.” With a sigh, Ianto drops his gaze to the floor, finishing quietly, “I think that’s when I realized that he gladly takes the blame even when it’s not his fault.”
“I’m glad I’m not… gone. But don’t let him do this to anyone else.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ve already had the talk. He’s not allowed to resurrect anyone else.” Ianto flashes a brief grin. “Except himself, of course.”
“Well, then I guess you’d better explain to him the finer points of your filing system before you go, so he doesn’t bring you back for some admin.”
Looking him in the eye again, Ianto quietly asks, “You know that isn’t why he did it, right?”
Owen shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Easier to deal with, though.”
With a shake of his head and a twitch of his lips, Ianto walks over toward the steps. “Oh, you’re such a man, Owen, and now you really can’t cry.”
Owen remains planted at the base of the stairs, a troubled frown on his face. He lightly touches Ianto’s sleeve. “When I’m… you know, whatever. When this energy stops… energizing me… Could you make sure she still gets my monthly check? Can’t give it to her all at once, but take it from what I have and make sure she still gets it.”
Owen peers closely at him waiting for…
… his pint from the bartender, he says, “Yeah, you say you don’t care, but you do. I can tell. She’s your mum, whether she’s there or not. Trust me, I know.” Owen pats him on the back and Ianto nods in…
… understanding. Ianto says, “Sure.” He can’t help the slow grin or the little laugh that escape him. “Of all the things we could have bonded over - girlfriends taken by aliens, lovers vanishing into the ether - and you choose shitty relationships with absentee mothers.”
- Everything’s fine today; that is our illusion.
- Voltaire
Losing himself in the calming monotony of filing, Ianto lets his mind go blank, relaxing into routine and attributing his occasional sniffle to dust and nothing more.
He knows that Jack, maybe Gwen, too, will be watching via the CCTV. If one of them decides to come down here after him, he almost hopes it’s Gwen. She’s easier. He can let her give him a hug, smile and say he’ll be OK and that will be that. She’ll think she’s helped and he won’t have to deal with it. For now.
If it’s Jack… Jack will make him face it. Jack won’t let him hold it in. He’ll break down, if it’s Jack. He doesn’t want that now. Not yet. It’s not time. Of course, Jack may not come. He’s not always overly perceptive when it comes to these things.
Gwen doesn’t give up easily only temporarily, to regroup, then coming back even stronger. From the first day, he’d admired that about her. Her tenacity and the way she lets herself care so openly - almost selfless to the point of self-destruction at times. She sort of reminds him of Mari Pritchard. When his father became ill, Mari was one person he could count on. Before Ianto had left school altogether, Mari used to let him copy her homework, because he’d been up too late the night before to get it finished. Or she’d bring him food, knowing that he hadn’t the time or energy to cook. She’d sat with him in hospital waiting rooms and distracted him with stupid jokes, keeping his mind occupied, never letting him sink too low into despair. He must have been incredibly thick back then never to realize - not until much later, when he’d wanted nothing more to do with Cardiff or anyone in it - that she’d been in love with him.
Ianto smiles, thinking about her. They’d lost touch after he’d gone and he never knew what became of her. One more person, one more memory tinged with sadness. If Gwen comes down, maybe he’ll tell her about Mari, the one person he’d left first.
- All alone, whether you like it or not, alone is something you’ll be quite a lot.
- Dr. Seuss
“Alright, all answers in the hat, please!” Gwen passes the… well, it’s a helmet from an old suit of armor that had come through the rift about fifty years ago. It had still had a head inside of it at the time. It’s clean now, Ianto has made sure of that. Everyone tosses in their folded or, in Owen’s case, balled up pieces of paper. Gwen raises it high above her head, grinning like a mad lunatic.
Of course, they’ve all been drinking. After the good days, they’ve allowed themselves a little celebration. They do this after the bad days, too, but call it something else and it lacks games. Since Jack’s disappearance, there have been fewer good days.
Owen belches loudly and reaches for another beer. “Hurry up and pick it already.”
“No.” Gwen holds the helmet away from them, even though no one had tried to grab it. “We made that rule. Everyone says their guess aloud and if you guess the one I pick, then you win.”
“Oh, right, right.” Owen nods, slouching down into the couch cushions. “What do we win again?”
“Um…” Gwen screws her face up. “I’ll… um… I’ll do your reports for a week.”
“That’s not really a prize,” Owen says, flapping his hand at her. “You or Ianto usually end up doing them anyway.”
“Fine. Then…” Gwen’s eyes roll upward to the ceiling; her foot taps without rhythm. “Um, I won’t bitch about you not doing your reports for a week, Owen. Whatever. Everyone give your guess. Today’s question is: What planet is Jack actually from? Tosh?”
“Um… Earth.”
“Oh, you’re so boring, Tosh.” Owen nudges her knee with his.
She shrugs. “It’s what I believe to be true.”
“It doesn’t have to be true,” he slurs. “Just has to pick it out of the hat. You put Earth in there, didn’t you?” He shakes his head. “Well, I pick U-”
“Uranus,” they all say in unison, laughing. Tosh says, “You’re so predictable.”
“Ianto?” Gwen looks at him.
He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Raxicoricofallipatorius.”
“Now you’re just making words up!”
“No, it’s real,” Tosh defends him. “It’s in the database, anyway. Gwen, your turn.”
“Oh, um. I… Jupiter? What? It’s the biggest planet in the solar system, isn’t it?”
Owen snorts. “Is Jack a size queen?” He looks over at Ianto, who resolutely avoids his gaze.
“Alright, alright. I’m picking!” Gwen gives the helmet a good shake above her head, reaches in and plucks out a bit of paper. “OK. The winner is… I can’t read this.”
Ianto leans forward to peer at the piece of paper. “It’s your handwriting.”
“Is it? I can’t remember what I wrote. Another one!” She tosses the paper aside and picks another. “OK, the real winner is… Earth! Tosh wins.”
Owen whines, “Tosh always wins.”
She tucks her hair back behind her ear. “What’s my prize, then?”
“What would you like?” Gwen sets the helmet down onto the coffee table. It rolls off with a loud clang. “Jack used to let us all have a prize.”
“Yeah, except Ianto used to get his in private.” Owen smirks, drunkenly, and everyone else stops and stares down at the floor.
“I think we could all use some coffee before we go home for the night.” Ianto stands, brushes off his spotless trousers, and walks away toward the kitchen.
Behind him he hears Gwen’s voice, “Why do you always have to be such a prick, Owen?” and her clomping footsteps, slowing to a stop. He doesn’t need to turn to know the look on her face. “Alright, love?”
“Fine.” He does turn to give her a reassuring smile. “Over the past year and a half I have learned to mostly ignore him. Especially when he’s drunk. He won’t even remember this when he’s hung-over tomorrow.”
“Ianto-”
“You should give Rhys a call.” He gently touches her hand, the ring on her finger. “Let him know you’ll be home soon.”
- Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are.
- Dinah Maria Mulock
Flipping the pages, Ianto tries to find the entry that Jack must have read. There will be words about reading someone’s private journal later. He reaches the end, the last entry in the book, and frowns.
It is marked as yesterday’s date, part of the mysterious missing two days, and the only words written, in his own looping scrawl, are: Do not try to remember. For everyone’s safety, it is best left forgotten.
From the binding it is evident that a page has been torn out. Ianto runs his finger over the ragged edge, a fuzzy sort of tingling in the back of his mind. He shivers, like a ghost has passed over him. He glances around the hub. Toshiko is working at her desk, the flowers pushed to one side. Owen is down in the autopsy bay, clinking noises echoing off the walls. Gwen is out, trying to reassure Rhys. Whatever had happened, he’d been affected, too.
Jack is at his desk in his office, seemingly working on his reports. Quickly, Ianto snaps his diary shut and tucks it under his arm. He makes his way over to the office and pops his head round the door.
“I didn’t read it.” Jack looks up, catching Ianto by surprise. “Not all of it. I just happened to glance at that one page, OK?”
A small smile tugs at Ianto’s lips. He steps up to Jack’s desk and lays his diary down, open to the final entry, and points to the words. “I think we did it to ourselves. For a reason.”
“Yeah.” Jack places his hand over Ianto’s, lightly tapping his fingers. “I know. I found a similar note to myself just this morning. I left a message for Gwen on her phone and I told Tosh to stop investigating it.” He looks up into Ianto’s eyes. “Someone should probably let Owen know.”
“I’ll leave that to you.” Ianto’s lips curl, slightly, but something tugs at his mind. Eyes darting away, he says, “Um… I have to… I’m going out to run some errands.” He starts to move away, but turns back. “Need anything?”
Jack shakes his head, a bemused look on his face.
---
Ianto squints against the sun. For some reason, he feels it should be raining. Shivering in his coat, although it is a warm summer day, he looks up into the bright, blue sky and back down at the cold, gray stone. “Did you follow me?”
Stepping up beside him, Jack clasps his hands behind his back. “No.” Ianto glances over, arching one eyebrow and Jack shrugs. “I saw you walking. I saw you carrying flowers. Was kinda hoping they were for me.”
“You know my feelings on flowers, Jack. They’re dead. They remind me of funerals.”
“And so here we are.” Of course, Jack knows to whom this grave belongs. A fake grave for the poor pizza girl who’d been ‘hit by a car on her way home from a delivery’ one night. “Ianto…”
“I just felt this… overwhelming guilt all of a sudden. I don’t know why or where it came from. Just something in the back of my mind. It’s awful, because I’ve barely thought about it in months. I didn’t know what else to do. This isn’t much.” He bends down and places the bouquet against the stone. The grass is too long and needs to be trimmed.
“Ianto, this isn’t-”
“Yes, it is. It’s my fault she’s dead, Jack. My actions caused it. It’s as good as if I’d-” he cuts off, abruptly. His hands are shaking. “I’m responsible.”
“No.” Jack gently puts a hand on Ianto’s shoulder, giving him plenty of opportunity to accept or reject the touch. When he does nothing, Jack moves forward and wraps his arms around Ianto from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “It’s not all on you. Blame me.”
“Tried that, remember. Didn’t last long.” Ianto remains unmoving and unmoved. He stares straight ahead. “I feel bad about this. Just let me feel bad. It is my fault.”
“OK. So what do you want me to do? You want me to punish you? Lock you in a cell?”
Ianto shivers again, violently, as the tingle in the back of his mind intensifies. Jack’s arms tighten around him. He swallows, turns his head to the side, and says, “Not particularly, no.” He rubs his nose against Jack’s jaw, squeezing his eyes shut tight and forcing his breathing under control.
“You want me to spank you?”
“Stop being perverted in a cemetery.” He turns his body so that he can wrap his arms around Jack’s waist and press his face into the warm neck. Breathing deeply.
Jack rubs his back, soothingly. “Come on,” he breathes into Ianto’s ear. Breaking away, he trails his hand down Ianto’s arm before lacing their fingers together.
Looking up into his eyes, Ianto sighs, “Thank you.”
“Come on,” Jack says again and tugs him by the hand. “I’ll buy you an ice cream.”
Leaning into Jack’s side, Ianto lets out a small laugh. “If you really want me to send you flowers, I will. I know you’d like that.”
“Ha! You did read my log.”
“It’s not as if you keep it private. For about three months you were accidentally emailing it to everyone until Tosh fixed it for you.”
“Maybe I was doing it on purpose to see if everyone was paying attention.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ianto absently nods his head, the coarse fabric of Jack’s coat scratchy against his cheek.
Jack lifts his arm and wraps it around Ianto’s shoulders, steering them out of the cemetery. “Not flowers, no. Chocolates are good. Oh! How about one of those singing telegrams? Do they still do those?”
“I don’t know. I can get you a stripper-gram. Your choice: Male or female?”
“Ooh! Surprise me.”
- Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.
- Gloria Naylor
Ianto must have found another blind spot; Jack can’t locate him on the CCTV in the archives. He doesn’t stop looking, though. Gwen keeps glaring at him. Fortunately, she’s actually too busy with other work to start meddling. Unfortunately, that means she can’t start meddling. She can’t march in here and demand that Jack go do something and he almost wishes she would, because at the moment he’s not sure what to do.
Everything always has to be so complicated. Jack can’t simply put himself in Ianto’s place and think about what he would want his… someone to do. The last few months would have been too much for anyone to be able to handle. Add that to everything else that Ianto’s been through these last few years. And the few years before that. And the few years before that.
Jack has met a lot of people in his time and he’s seen a lot of loss. It still doesn’t seem fair for Ianto, for someone so young. And Jack can’t fix it for him.
Ah, there he is. Ianto appears on the screen, walking from one side of the room to the other. His dark suit is mottled gray on the monitor. He looks completely absorbed in his task, but Jack knows that his mind is miles away. He brings his fingers up to trace the image on his screen, wishing he could reach out and…
…pull Ianto closer, swaying to the music. Jack breathes in the scent of his hair. Ianto’s head comes to rest against his and Ianto whispers, “I’ve been trying so hard never to think about it that it snuck up on me. Two years last week since the tower burned and here I am now, dancing at a wedding.” He doesn’t need to explain more. Hard to imagine your life after the world ends. Jack asks, “What do you need?” and Ianto answers, “Just to be on my own tonight. After we’ve finished here. I’ll come to you tomorrow.” He kisses Jack’s neck and lets him lead, surrendering all control just for the moment. Jack can…
… hold him up. But he doesn’t go down to the archives. To Ianto. He’ll wait for Ianto to come to him. It’s usually best.
- Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
- Anthony Brandt
Ianto is on the couch in the hub with his eyes closed. He must hear Jack approaching, because he turns before Jack can say anything. Ianto’s lips curve in an almost-smile. “Really not helpful with your spooky ‘they could still be out there’ speech.”
Jack shrugs, taking slow steps until he can sit on the couch next to him. He raises a hand and brushes Ianto’s cheek. “Are you OK?”
“I’m a bit… I dunno. Tired.” Ianto’s shoulders lift just slightly in an approximation of a shrug. He keeps his eyes downcast, watching his hands sit idly in his lap. “The Electro was one of the best memories I had of my father and now it’s sort of… tainted.” He turns his eyes to Jack and he looks so young. Jack sometimes forgets. “When I left this city after my dad died, I thought… I didn’t think I’d ever want to come back. It just felt like everywhere I looked it was… it hurt, you know?”
“Yeah,” Jack’s voice cracks, so he repeats, “yes, I know what you mean.” His hand, resting lightly on Ianto’s shoulder, slides around and Jack lets his fingers play with the fine hairs at the nape of Ianto’s neck.
“That woman, she said they touched me. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, Ianto. You don’t have to let it mean anything.”
“I wish we could have made it better. Done something. That boy… he lost his whole family.” Ianto leans, just a little, into Jack’s side, until Jack’s arm around him pulls him closer. Ianto lets his head rest on Jack’s shoulder and says, softly, “He’s all on his own now.”
Smoothing Ianto’s hair down, Jack says, “Gwen’s already been in contact with social services to track down any relatives. Don’t worry, Ianto. He’ll be alright.” He places a tiny kiss on Ianto’s temple. “You’re not all on your own.”
“Mm,” Ianto grunts into Jack’s shirt, “I’m dating a circus freak. My mother would be so proud.”
Chuckling, Jack runs his fingers through Ianto’s hair. “You know, if you could tell her, I bet she would be.” Ianto grabs Jack’s fingers when he starts tickling his ear. Quietly, Jack asks, “She was there for a few years, wasn’t she?”
Ianto nods his head against Jack’s shoulder, but he covers Jack’s mouth with a hand before he can speak again.
Pushing Ianto’s hand away, Jack decides to change the subject. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“How come you asked Gwen and Owen to go to the cinema with you?”
“Oh.” Ianto sits up straight, but doesn’t move away completely. “I didn’t. Gwen saw me reading the ad and asked about it. Owen overheard and, since he has no life anymore…” He stumbles, stops, looks sheepishly at Jack. “You know what I mean. He decided to tag along.” Ianto shrugs, averting his eyes.
“Oh, right.” Jack idly runs his fingers along the back of Ianto’s shoulders. “So… why didn’t you ask me? I’d have gone with you.”
Ianto looks surprised, flustered. “I… um,” he stutters and scratches behind his left ear. “I wasn’t sure you’d be interested. It sounded a bit childish, I guess.”
“That’s perfect!” Jack grins, spreading his arms wide. “You guys are always calling me childish.” Ianto laughs and Jack places his arm around his shoulders again. “Besides, we’ve still not managed the movie thing, yet.”
“I think I’m a bit over the cinema at the moment.”
“Oh, c’mon. We’ll go to one of those new, gaudy places that you can’t stand and have no memories associated with, get a giant tub of popcorn and we can sit all the way in the back.” Jack leers, raising his eyebrows. “You know, with those big, comfy seats and the armrests that lift up.”
Ianto laughs, shoving at Jack’s arm. “Oh? And how do you know about armrests that lift out of the way?”
“Gwen. She told me that when she was still in school she went on a date and let a boy-”
“Yes, don’t need to hear that, thanks.” Ianto places a hand on Jack’s chest, pushing him into the couch cushions. “And I think she told me that story once before. She’s not your innocent little Gwen Cooper, is she?”
“I never thought of her like that. Well, OK, maybe I did.” Jack willingly lies back, letting Ianto settle on top of him. “So, is it a date then?”
“Yeah,” Ianto whispers, smiling down at him. “But only if I get to see you in your circus outfit.” Grinning, Ianto’s eyes glint with mischief. “Be more fun if you were some sort of contortionist, I think.”
“Ianto Jones, you are positively wicked sometimes.”
- Come let us take our fill of love until the morning; let us solace ourselves with love.
- Proverbs 7:18
Logging out, Jack sets his computer to hibernate. He stretches his arms high above his head, working the kinks out of his back. A dark shape out in the hub catches his eye and he tenses.
One security breach per day is enough. Standing, Jack reaches for his gun, creeps toward the door and peers out.
Ianto moves from Owen’s station to Gwen’s with a bin bag in hand. Jack relaxes, holstering his gun. He watches for a while as Ianto stoops to pick rubbish off the floor. He leans against the doorframe, thinking about recent events.
“You didn’t tell me what you wanted those coordinates for.” Ianto’s voice in the stillness of the hub startles Jack.
Raising his chin, Jack takes a couple steps down into the hub. “Would you still have given me the correct ones if I had?”
“Yes.” Ianto stops, turns and looks up, right into Jack’s eyes. “She would have killed Tosh. She really would have, I believe that.” He starts to reach for an empty take-away container, but stops, dropping the bag to the floor. “Is it always like this? Life in Torchwood?” Ianto’s voice is small and far away. When he turns his face to Jack again, he looks so very young and so very old all at once. “Or maybe it’s just life in general. Sooner or later, you still lose everything.”
“Ianto…”
“She told you, didn’t she? Told you what she heard. She told me, too.” Ianto quickly resumes his work, grabbing the containers in his fist and tossing them into the bag, roughly. “It came as a bit of a shock to hear what was, apparently, going on in my own head. You know, actually it was a bit of a relief to know there was anything at all. For a while I felt as if I was really dead. Just… nothing.” He slams the bag down and picks up an empty coffee mug, clenching it in a shaking fist.
Jack’s almost sure that ceramic mug would have shattered in Ianto’s grip had he not gotten there in time to pry it from white-knuckled fingers. He brings his hands up to Ianto’s shoulders, gently bringing him closer. “Ianto-”
“Even after those people nearly killed me,” Ianto whispers into Jack’s chest, voice low and gravelly. “I didn’t… I couldn’t feel anything. When I close my eyes I’m still not sure what will come. Metal and machines and knives and slabs of meat. I have this one dream of Lisa carving me open and serving my heart on a platter.” He grasps Jack by the braces. “But it’s all so far away. It was better being numb and now it’s just… there and I don’t want to…” He slides his hand up Jack’s chest to his neck, fingers clutching and pulling his hair.
Surprised by the sudden movement, Jack doesn’t realize they are kissing until Ianto breaks away. “Ianto…”
“Shut up, Jack. Just make me feel something else. Just make me feel… something.”
“Are you-”
“No talking.”
And it’s clear that Ianto has no clue what he’s doing. It’s something new, different from what they were doing before. He’s much more demanding, insistent. He stays quiet, mostly, but he allows Jack to hold him afterward. He doesn’t want to talk, but he keeps coming back, continues to seek Jack out. For this. Each time Ianto comes to him, Jack knows he should stop it, should tell him no, to find something else, someone else. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He can do nothing, but be here.
He never does get around to asking Ianto to dinner.
part 4b
originally posted: 07/01/08