Torchwood fic - Shell-shocked
2300 words, English, canon pairings, pg-13, after s2e01 (Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang).
Summary: "And that leaves him with no-one. He can’t expect his team to respect him and follow him while showing them how broken he is - and it wouldn’t be fair to any of them to burden them with that year. It’s better like this. "
“Jack. He looked desperate to stay...” Gwen’s voice trails off. She was paralyzed, Owen was shot, Jack was killed, yet she still felt compassion for John Hart. They are in the car, and she has shotgun while Owen and Tosh and Ianto are trying to sleep on the backseat.
The Captain’s face is hard, uninviting. There won’t be any answers tonight, neither about his still unexplained trip, nor about his old friend. But Gwen can’t give up that simply. She recognized the look in Hart’s eyes, those broken puppy eyes that spoke only to Jack. “Isn’t he more dangerous when you can’t keep an eye on him?” she asks, trying for rationale instead of feelings. “You said you’re the only one who could control Hart.”
Jack glances at her, angry at being questioned, and maybe a little startled at her refusal to let things lie. “Am I my brother’s keeper then?” he misquotes and turns back to the road. “I thought you’d… Never mind that. I don’t want to deal with any sociopaths right now.” Jack’s voice is hard and he stays silent during the rest of the way. Gwen admits defeat - for now.
When she asks about Gray it gets her a shrug and a meaningless lie and she knows better than to push Jack. Who knows what would make him go away again? She doesn’t dare to risk it.
*
Toshiko is curious as hell. Jack can see it in her eyes, the way she tries to make a timeline for his missing months (a year for him but that’s not something he’s willing to share), the long glances from under her eyelashes. He asks her into his office which is untouched fortunately and smiles at her when she closes the door.
“You could ask,” he offers because Tosh is the one who would never do it.
There is a quick smile on her face similar to the one whenever she cracks some code. “How did you control Hart?” she asks and Jack blinks in astonish. That wasn’t the question he was prepared for. It actually feels good to be surprised; reminds him that he is still human.
“With sex, obviously. But why?”
“Just... That’s odd. I thought he was like James Bond without the morale,” she says. Not answering him but looking curious. There is a subtle manipulation there in her tone of voice but Jack is too tired to care about it and he actually likes Toshiko.
He nods, “He is. But he’s genetically coded to be a Beta.”
The idea seems to fascinate her and Jack covers his weariness with a smile. “Anything else, Tosh?” It’s a dismissing and she recognizes it because there is nothing else.
*
Owen is the next one to poke his head into the office. He looks like himself only without the all-consuming anger and self-hatred. “Jack, can we talk?”
The Captain frowns and motions to the chair in front of his desk. He didn’t sleep in days, and dying and reviving does nothing to make him less tired. “What about, Owen?”
“Well. I know this is none of my business but you look like crap.” Trust doctor Harper to get to the point. “However, in my professional opinion you’re suffering from PTSD.”
Jack feels his smile becoming thinner; akin to the one he used when - after the paradox was unraveled - UNIT came and tried to order him around. “Yes,” he says and it’s half-agreement, half-warning.
Owen nods at him and the nervousness slips away from his frame as he hides behind the mask of the healer. “I suppose you’d rather I left you alone but I can’t do that. I don’t know what caused it but I can make some guesses…”
“Don’t,” Jack stops him with a lifted hand. “I won’t talk to you, or any of you. Was there anything else?”
“Actually, yes.” Owen only takes a hint when it suits him. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’re doing this or else you wouldn’t be able to hide this so well-.”
“Not well enough,” Jack interrupts him but Owen isn’t deterred.
“So, back in the day, before Torchwood, what did you do about PTSD? Are there some cure-all pills? Or did you speak to somebody you trusted?”
“This is enough,” Jack says, ignoring all the questions. He feels the anger threatening to boil over and Owen doesn’t exactly deserve to be its target. He doesn’t look up but barks, “Out!”
Owen stands up, jumpier than the order warrants (but then, for him it was only a few months ago when he shot Jack and there was no actual retribution yet). He closes the door quietly behind himself, leaving Jack in peace.
He goes down to his room but it is too small and he carves the luxury of a four-poster. Maybe, just maybe, he could sleep one hour without nightmares in a proper bed.
*
On the way to Ianto’s flat Jack has time to ponder about Owen’s words. Unfortunately the future has no cure-all pills and the only person he would trust to talk about his plight is one whom he could never approach about this. Martha Jones has more than enough memories and nightmares of her own without adding in Jack’s account of the year that never was.
The Doctor would be another one who could understand but Jack can’t reach him and he doesn’t want to talk to the Time Lord. He is still simmering with rage every damn time when he thinks about the Master’s death. Forgiveness, love, and acceptance - all three were offered to the Master and none for Jack. It makes him want to break something, some days the Doctor’s nose, on others his own fist. Even now, he can’t understand the alien and he thinks he never will. After all, the Doctor never had the habit of explaining anything if he could help it.
And that leaves him with no-one. He can’t expect his team to respect him and follow him while showing them how broken he is - and it wouldn’t be fair to any of them to burden them with that year. It’s better like this.
Ianto opens his door in sleep pants and yawning, and Jack has the grace to apologize for the late hour. “Coffee, sir?” is all Ianto asks and Jack can’t help but laugh as he shakes his head. He is here for the company, and Ianto nods, accepting the explanation without asking for more.
Jack is in control in the bed, just like out of it; and it leaves them both tired and satisfied. It’s good, just what he needed or so Jack thinks. Ianto caresses his back, mapping his muscles and Jack lets his guard down, trying to fall asleep.
When dawn approaches he isn’t surprised to wake from a nightmare but Ianto doesn’t appreciate the bruises his too tight grip left during the night. Jack apologizes before leaving for the Hub but Ianto is asleep before he locks the entrance door behind himself.
*
They are conspiring against him but that is alright as long as they actually do their jobs. The weevils are quiet but the Rift is active, giving them more than enough work for a fortnight. So far he deflected Gwen’s subtle and less subtle inquires about his months of AWOL; Owen scowls at him whenever he gives an order and doesn’t talk about PTSD or talking which could mean his doctor had learnt some self-preservation but Jack suspects it’s just being annoyed at being ignored. Ianto kept the coffee coming and they developed a sort-of routine during the nights Jack needed sleep and someone to hold him. And Toshiko was reading everything she could about gene modification; even though the first human trials were still centuries away.
“You said Hart was a Beta. Like in wolf communities, right?” she asks during a slow afternoon. She brings cookies so Jack decides to nod as a reply. His mouth is full. “Does that make you an Alpha?”
“No, it makes me perfect.” Jack laughs and points at his own eyes. “These are human eyes. My genetic material is the result of natural selection and evolution and whatever. My parents didn’t tamper with any of it pre-birth.” That is, of course, only a half-truth. All the tampering was done a few generations before Jack’s time. Toshiko seems satisfied with this and leaves him to his paperwork (which he doesn’t do) with the rest of the cookies. All in all, it’s a good day.
There is an e-mail from Tosh during the night about Beta’s needing their Alphas and how it would make perfect sense to get ready for Hart’s return in the near future and make some precautions. Jack frowns at it; he really wants to stop thinking about his old partner and old life. His stint with the Doctor made him realize: letting go of the past is necessary if he wants to avoid being hurt; and really. Hart cannot offer him anything, not any more. Jack is old, older than he wants to admit, and he didn’t only survive the last one and a half centuries: he lived them.
His reply to Tosh is a bit short and suggests her to drop the topic; or at least let Jack out of the research. She is subdued the next day and Jack brings her chocolate to make her smile. They don’t bring up Hart again.
*
Jack woke from another nightmare and Ianto looks sad and hurt that his Captain won’t talk to him. “Is it because we’re just mere 21st century humans?” Ianto snaps and Jack looks startled at the accusation. “Or are you just a paranoid bastard who can’t trust anybody?”
The curse startles a laugh out of Jack, old defense mechanism to charm and smile whenever he feels insecure. He is still shaken from the dream which wouldn’t make any sense without context. So he can’t talk. “Ianto, please. I am a paranoid bastard,” he says and the light tone barely hides the steel of the words, “but I did trust some people from this and the previous century, too.”
Ianto gets up from the bed and leaves for the kitchen even though it’s barely dawn. Jack swears under his breath and gathers his pants and shirt before following the Welshman.
“Look. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…”
“But you can’t trust me? Is that it, sir?” The coffee machine is working and Ianto gives it his full attention.
Jack grimaces and touches Ianto’s shoulder. When it doesn’t get shaken off he steps a bit closer. “It’s not personal, Ianto. If I tell you anything you’d want to know the rest of it. That, I’m not prepared to ever tell. I wouldn’t tell it to anybody, not even Rose.”
“Rose?” Ianto isn’t the jealous type but Jack still winces at the slip. It’s just, when they first travelled together, almost two centuries ago, she was the one who offered solace from the nightmares “Who is she?”
“Rose Tyler. She was at Canary Wharf.” That is true and Ianto would find out this time tomorrow even without help. He considers telling more. About her laugh, the bottle blonde hair and too much mascara, her compassion and how she started to heal the Doctor. But he doesn’t. It’s not his tale to tell and Ianto doesn’t exactly need this information. It’s not a life or dead situation; it’s not a threat to humanity.
Ianto nods and pours two cups of coffee. “Tell me something. Anything! I’m tired of being a convenient warm body.”
Jack accepts the mug and burns his mouth with the first sip. “The sex isn’t good enough?” he jokes but it falls flat.
“I’d much rather be your friend, Jack.” Ianto is exceptional at looking hoping, disappointed and disapproving at once. “I think, the others share this, too.”
Jack considers him for a small eternity. Minutes later he nods and looks away. After all, he told some of it to Gwen already. She was careful with his secrets, knowing without being told to not share any of them. “I was away for a whole year. During that time I died hundreds of times; was tortured mentally, physically and emotionally, realized that the person whom I love is incapable of reciprocating it and oh, don’t let me forget, I watched all of you die in some creative ways.” His voice is flat, emotionless and Jack hopes Ianto won’t ask. It’s more than enough to watch it during the few hours he manages to sleep.“So, yes. I am shell-shocked or suffering from PTSD or whatever is its name. Also, I am now considering retconing you.”
If the brust of honesty surprises Ianto, he doesn’t show it. “I would rather you didn’t. And thank you, sir.” His smile is sweet enough to make Jack lean forward for a small kiss. “More coffee?”
And Jack has to kiss him again, deeper and more meaningful; saying thanks without words. Because this? This was why he loved - loves - Ianto Jones; why the thought of coming back to this backwater little century was not maddening but relishing; why he chose to stay despite the Doctor’s offer. Caressing Ianto’s face he pulls back and smiles, not-falsely and Ianto offers a hesitant smile back. “You’re a wonder, Ianto Jones. And I cherish thee.” The confession shocks Ianto but Jack doesn’t leave him time to recover. “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”
Ianto does as he is told and helps Jack into his greatcoat without being prompted. It’s pre-dawn and Jack drives them to Cardiff’s castle; the best spot to watch the sunrise. He hugs Ianto close, offering him shelter from the cold and it is the best morning Jack had in years.
~end~
Summary: "And that leaves him with no-one. He can’t expect his team to respect him and follow him while showing them how broken he is - and it wouldn’t be fair to any of them to burden them with that year. It’s better like this. "
“Jack. He looked desperate to stay...” Gwen’s voice trails off. She was paralyzed, Owen was shot, Jack was killed, yet she still felt compassion for John Hart. They are in the car, and she has shotgun while Owen and Tosh and Ianto are trying to sleep on the backseat.
The Captain’s face is hard, uninviting. There won’t be any answers tonight, neither about his still unexplained trip, nor about his old friend. But Gwen can’t give up that simply. She recognized the look in Hart’s eyes, those broken puppy eyes that spoke only to Jack. “Isn’t he more dangerous when you can’t keep an eye on him?” she asks, trying for rationale instead of feelings. “You said you’re the only one who could control Hart.”
Jack glances at her, angry at being questioned, and maybe a little startled at her refusal to let things lie. “Am I my brother’s keeper then?” he misquotes and turns back to the road. “I thought you’d… Never mind that. I don’t want to deal with any sociopaths right now.” Jack’s voice is hard and he stays silent during the rest of the way. Gwen admits defeat - for now.
When she asks about Gray it gets her a shrug and a meaningless lie and she knows better than to push Jack. Who knows what would make him go away again? She doesn’t dare to risk it.
*
Toshiko is curious as hell. Jack can see it in her eyes, the way she tries to make a timeline for his missing months (a year for him but that’s not something he’s willing to share), the long glances from under her eyelashes. He asks her into his office which is untouched fortunately and smiles at her when she closes the door.
“You could ask,” he offers because Tosh is the one who would never do it.
There is a quick smile on her face similar to the one whenever she cracks some code. “How did you control Hart?” she asks and Jack blinks in astonish. That wasn’t the question he was prepared for. It actually feels good to be surprised; reminds him that he is still human.
“With sex, obviously. But why?”
“Just... That’s odd. I thought he was like James Bond without the morale,” she says. Not answering him but looking curious. There is a subtle manipulation there in her tone of voice but Jack is too tired to care about it and he actually likes Toshiko.
He nods, “He is. But he’s genetically coded to be a Beta.”
The idea seems to fascinate her and Jack covers his weariness with a smile. “Anything else, Tosh?” It’s a dismissing and she recognizes it because there is nothing else.
*
Owen is the next one to poke his head into the office. He looks like himself only without the all-consuming anger and self-hatred. “Jack, can we talk?”
The Captain frowns and motions to the chair in front of his desk. He didn’t sleep in days, and dying and reviving does nothing to make him less tired. “What about, Owen?”
“Well. I know this is none of my business but you look like crap.” Trust doctor Harper to get to the point. “However, in my professional opinion you’re suffering from PTSD.”
Jack feels his smile becoming thinner; akin to the one he used when - after the paradox was unraveled - UNIT came and tried to order him around. “Yes,” he says and it’s half-agreement, half-warning.
Owen nods at him and the nervousness slips away from his frame as he hides behind the mask of the healer. “I suppose you’d rather I left you alone but I can’t do that. I don’t know what caused it but I can make some guesses…”
“Don’t,” Jack stops him with a lifted hand. “I won’t talk to you, or any of you. Was there anything else?”
“Actually, yes.” Owen only takes a hint when it suits him. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’re doing this or else you wouldn’t be able to hide this so well-.”
“Not well enough,” Jack interrupts him but Owen isn’t deterred.
“So, back in the day, before Torchwood, what did you do about PTSD? Are there some cure-all pills? Or did you speak to somebody you trusted?”
“This is enough,” Jack says, ignoring all the questions. He feels the anger threatening to boil over and Owen doesn’t exactly deserve to be its target. He doesn’t look up but barks, “Out!”
Owen stands up, jumpier than the order warrants (but then, for him it was only a few months ago when he shot Jack and there was no actual retribution yet). He closes the door quietly behind himself, leaving Jack in peace.
He goes down to his room but it is too small and he carves the luxury of a four-poster. Maybe, just maybe, he could sleep one hour without nightmares in a proper bed.
*
On the way to Ianto’s flat Jack has time to ponder about Owen’s words. Unfortunately the future has no cure-all pills and the only person he would trust to talk about his plight is one whom he could never approach about this. Martha Jones has more than enough memories and nightmares of her own without adding in Jack’s account of the year that never was.
The Doctor would be another one who could understand but Jack can’t reach him and he doesn’t want to talk to the Time Lord. He is still simmering with rage every damn time when he thinks about the Master’s death. Forgiveness, love, and acceptance - all three were offered to the Master and none for Jack. It makes him want to break something, some days the Doctor’s nose, on others his own fist. Even now, he can’t understand the alien and he thinks he never will. After all, the Doctor never had the habit of explaining anything if he could help it.
And that leaves him with no-one. He can’t expect his team to respect him and follow him while showing them how broken he is - and it wouldn’t be fair to any of them to burden them with that year. It’s better like this.
Ianto opens his door in sleep pants and yawning, and Jack has the grace to apologize for the late hour. “Coffee, sir?” is all Ianto asks and Jack can’t help but laugh as he shakes his head. He is here for the company, and Ianto nods, accepting the explanation without asking for more.
Jack is in control in the bed, just like out of it; and it leaves them both tired and satisfied. It’s good, just what he needed or so Jack thinks. Ianto caresses his back, mapping his muscles and Jack lets his guard down, trying to fall asleep.
When dawn approaches he isn’t surprised to wake from a nightmare but Ianto doesn’t appreciate the bruises his too tight grip left during the night. Jack apologizes before leaving for the Hub but Ianto is asleep before he locks the entrance door behind himself.
*
They are conspiring against him but that is alright as long as they actually do their jobs. The weevils are quiet but the Rift is active, giving them more than enough work for a fortnight. So far he deflected Gwen’s subtle and less subtle inquires about his months of AWOL; Owen scowls at him whenever he gives an order and doesn’t talk about PTSD or talking which could mean his doctor had learnt some self-preservation but Jack suspects it’s just being annoyed at being ignored. Ianto kept the coffee coming and they developed a sort-of routine during the nights Jack needed sleep and someone to hold him. And Toshiko was reading everything she could about gene modification; even though the first human trials were still centuries away.
“You said Hart was a Beta. Like in wolf communities, right?” she asks during a slow afternoon. She brings cookies so Jack decides to nod as a reply. His mouth is full. “Does that make you an Alpha?”
“No, it makes me perfect.” Jack laughs and points at his own eyes. “These are human eyes. My genetic material is the result of natural selection and evolution and whatever. My parents didn’t tamper with any of it pre-birth.” That is, of course, only a half-truth. All the tampering was done a few generations before Jack’s time. Toshiko seems satisfied with this and leaves him to his paperwork (which he doesn’t do) with the rest of the cookies. All in all, it’s a good day.
There is an e-mail from Tosh during the night about Beta’s needing their Alphas and how it would make perfect sense to get ready for Hart’s return in the near future and make some precautions. Jack frowns at it; he really wants to stop thinking about his old partner and old life. His stint with the Doctor made him realize: letting go of the past is necessary if he wants to avoid being hurt; and really. Hart cannot offer him anything, not any more. Jack is old, older than he wants to admit, and he didn’t only survive the last one and a half centuries: he lived them.
His reply to Tosh is a bit short and suggests her to drop the topic; or at least let Jack out of the research. She is subdued the next day and Jack brings her chocolate to make her smile. They don’t bring up Hart again.
*
Jack woke from another nightmare and Ianto looks sad and hurt that his Captain won’t talk to him. “Is it because we’re just mere 21st century humans?” Ianto snaps and Jack looks startled at the accusation. “Or are you just a paranoid bastard who can’t trust anybody?”
The curse startles a laugh out of Jack, old defense mechanism to charm and smile whenever he feels insecure. He is still shaken from the dream which wouldn’t make any sense without context. So he can’t talk. “Ianto, please. I am a paranoid bastard,” he says and the light tone barely hides the steel of the words, “but I did trust some people from this and the previous century, too.”
Ianto gets up from the bed and leaves for the kitchen even though it’s barely dawn. Jack swears under his breath and gathers his pants and shirt before following the Welshman.
“Look. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…”
“But you can’t trust me? Is that it, sir?” The coffee machine is working and Ianto gives it his full attention.
Jack grimaces and touches Ianto’s shoulder. When it doesn’t get shaken off he steps a bit closer. “It’s not personal, Ianto. If I tell you anything you’d want to know the rest of it. That, I’m not prepared to ever tell. I wouldn’t tell it to anybody, not even Rose.”
“Rose?” Ianto isn’t the jealous type but Jack still winces at the slip. It’s just, when they first travelled together, almost two centuries ago, she was the one who offered solace from the nightmares “Who is she?”
“Rose Tyler. She was at Canary Wharf.” That is true and Ianto would find out this time tomorrow even without help. He considers telling more. About her laugh, the bottle blonde hair and too much mascara, her compassion and how she started to heal the Doctor. But he doesn’t. It’s not his tale to tell and Ianto doesn’t exactly need this information. It’s not a life or dead situation; it’s not a threat to humanity.
Ianto nods and pours two cups of coffee. “Tell me something. Anything! I’m tired of being a convenient warm body.”
Jack accepts the mug and burns his mouth with the first sip. “The sex isn’t good enough?” he jokes but it falls flat.
“I’d much rather be your friend, Jack.” Ianto is exceptional at looking hoping, disappointed and disapproving at once. “I think, the others share this, too.”
Jack considers him for a small eternity. Minutes later he nods and looks away. After all, he told some of it to Gwen already. She was careful with his secrets, knowing without being told to not share any of them. “I was away for a whole year. During that time I died hundreds of times; was tortured mentally, physically and emotionally, realized that the person whom I love is incapable of reciprocating it and oh, don’t let me forget, I watched all of you die in some creative ways.” His voice is flat, emotionless and Jack hopes Ianto won’t ask. It’s more than enough to watch it during the few hours he manages to sleep.“So, yes. I am shell-shocked or suffering from PTSD or whatever is its name. Also, I am now considering retconing you.”
If the brust of honesty surprises Ianto, he doesn’t show it. “I would rather you didn’t. And thank you, sir.” His smile is sweet enough to make Jack lean forward for a small kiss. “More coffee?”
And Jack has to kiss him again, deeper and more meaningful; saying thanks without words. Because this? This was why he loved - loves - Ianto Jones; why the thought of coming back to this backwater little century was not maddening but relishing; why he chose to stay despite the Doctor’s offer. Caressing Ianto’s face he pulls back and smiles, not-falsely and Ianto offers a hesitant smile back. “You’re a wonder, Ianto Jones. And I cherish thee.” The confession shocks Ianto but Jack doesn’t leave him time to recover. “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”
Ianto does as he is told and helps Jack into his greatcoat without being prompted. It’s pre-dawn and Jack drives them to Cardiff’s castle; the best spot to watch the sunrise. He hugs Ianto close, offering him shelter from the cold and it is the best morning Jack had in years.
~end~