Fic: Breaking Void
Title: Breaking Void
Author: lefaym
Betas: Many thanks to lionessvalenti, who was also there when I needed someone to bound ideas of off, and to jo02 who helped give it that extra bit of necessary polish. (Also thanks to used_songs who offered suggestions on the opening paragraph.)
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing(s): Ianto/John
Summary: Ianto comes home to find an unwanted visitor.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: RTD and the BBC own Torchwood.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for Exit Wounds.
Word Count: Approx 2,200 words.
Breaking Void
Ianto drove home at two in the morning, still not certain that he’d done the right thing in leaving the Hub, but Jack had told him to go, and Ianto knew how it felt, the need to be alone with your grief. So he left, and tried to push everything down into the cavity where his stomach should be-his own loss, the constant chant of, Oh, god, not again, that ran through his mind, paralysing him at odd moments, the images of Tosh bleeding her life out on the floor, which sometimes became Lisa’s mangled corpse instead-he pushed it all away, for later.
He was so carefully banishing everything into the void inside of him that he barely even registered any shock when he arrived home and saw that his light was on, his door ajar. Looters. There had been reports of course, thugs taking advantage of the chaos, but Ianto hadn’t paid them much mind, especially not with... everything else. It didn’t matter. He could deal with it.
Ianto supposed that whoever had broken in would be long gone by now, but he readied his gun anyway, and nudged the door open with his shoulder. At first glance into the hall, nothing seemed to have been disturbed, but as he passed the kitchen, he saw that the freezer door was open, as were several of the cupboards, which were also splattered with some sort of red liquid-thankfully, not dark enough to be mistaken for blood-that seemed to have been sent through the blender, which stood dripping on the bench. Ianto tightened his grip on his gun, and crept through into the living room.
“I wondered how long it would take you to get home, honey,” an insolent voice greeted him as he entered the room. “I was beginning to think you didn’t love me anymore.” John Hart grinned up at Ianto as he reclined on the sofa, with what appeared to be a strawberry daiquiri in his left hand.
At the sight of him, something sharp and hot seared its way through Ianto’s body. “What are you doing here?” he managed.
“I’m having a drink, what does it look like?”
Ianto stepped forward, his gun trained on John’s forehead.
John laughed. “Oh, come on, gorgeous, we both know that you’re not going to shoot me.”
“Try me.”
“Try you? Believe me, I’d love to. But really, put that thing down. Or do you seriously expect me to believe that you’re going to return to that Hub of yours with yet another corpse for Jack to take care of?”
For the briefest moment, Ianto actually bared his teeth, but then he lowered his gun, and returned it to his holster. Control. He had to be in control. “What do you want?”
“I want lots of things. My weapons back, for starters. Did you know that Jack didn’t let me keep a single one?” John pouted.
“Good.”
“You people are so mean.”
“I think you should leave now.”
“Oh, do you really though?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” John stood up, leaving his daiquiri dripping on the coffee table. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
Ianto eyed John suspiciously as he slipped past and made his way towards the door. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” John replied. “Since you obviously aren’t willing to help me defuse that last bomb, the one that didn’t go off when it was supposed to, I guess I’ll just have to do it on my own. Or get out of the city. Yes, I think I’ll get out. Safer that way. It might be a dud, but then again, it could blow at any moment. Boom!” John mimed an explosion with his hands.
“Wait,” Ianto managed, from between clenched teeth. He covered the distance between them quickly, and raised his hand to the collar of John’s T-shirt, twisting it so that it constricted around his throat. “Where is it?”
“Ooh!” said John. “I love it when you get all mad like that.”
* * *
* * *
“You first,” Ianto said, gesturing towards the moonlit alleyway.
“How chivalrous. Jack’s taught you well, I see.”
Ianto placed his right hand on his gun, just in case. “Stop wasting time.”
“I never waste time,” John replied, turning into the alleyway. “Now where did I... yes. There.” He walked towards a line of bins, parked outside the back door of a Greek restaurant. Ianto wrinkled his nose as John opened one of the bins and began removing bags of pungent refuse.
“There she is!” John used both hands to lift up a shining metal object, shaped like a cross, with ends that tapered off, as though two rugby balls were intersecting each other at ninety-degree angles. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
It didn’t look like any bomb that Ianto had ever seen-certainly nothing like the bombs he’d seen in the warehouse, but then, he supposed it came from another time, and probably another planet. Tosh might have recognised-Ianto swallowed, and tried to push that thought away. Instead, he focused on his annoyance at John’s clear admiration for the insidious device. “Those things destroyed half the city. You destroyed-”
“Hold it a minute there, sweetcakes,” said John quickly, holding up one hand. “I’m concentrating. Now just let me-” John studied the device intently for a moment, carefully running his fingers over the patterns that lined its surface, until a small panel popped out. Whatever was inside seemed to emit a faint yellow light. “Oh baby, you are gorgeous.”
“Do you usually flirt with explosive devices?”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
“Just get on with it.”
“Okay, but I’ll need you to stand real close to me first.”
“Stop it.”
“No, seriously. This bomb was adapted from a Rixaldian thermo-transducer.”
“So?”
John sighed. “This planet really is primitive, isn’t it? Rixaldians have four arms, which means four sets of opposable digits. Believe me, they’re great in bed, but not so great if you’re trying to disable one of their devices on your own. So I need your cute little hands if I’m going to deactivate this thing.”
Ianto swallowed his retort and closed the distance between himself and John. “So-er-where do I...” Ianto gestured towards the bomb.
“Okay, I know this’ll be hard for you, but you’re going to have to trust me. Here-” John took one of Ianto’s hands, and placed it carefully along one end of the cross. “Now put your other hand on the other end, exactly the same.”
Several tense minutes followed, as John worked on the machinery inside the device, instructing Ianto to move his hands, to hold onto this or that section of the star-like object, to move wires, or punch in codes using symbols that Ianto had never seen before. Ianto still wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing-for all he knew, this was just another one of John’s schemes to kill them all-but he’d come this far, so he might as well see it through; there wasn’t much else that could be done now.
Finally, John appeared to relax. “Okay, honey-bun, I think we’ve done it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Would I do this if I wasn’t?” John pulled the device from Ianto’s hands and tossed it over his shoulder. There was a sharp Clang! as it hit the ground.
“You idiot,” said Ianto. For the second time that night, Ianto raised his hand to John’s throat, this time pushing him against the wall. “You could’ve-”
Ianto broke off abruptly as he found himself spun around, his back slamming against the wall as John’s hands pinned his shoulders to the rough bricks. “I could’ve left this thing to explode on its own,” John growled. “More mess for you, and Jack, and pretty little Gwen to clean up. More bodies to lie beside your friends.”
Ianto felt something break inside him then, and he clenched his jaw shut tightly, hoping, vainly, that John wouldn’t see the water in his eyes that was causing his vision to blur. He felt something brush across his cheek, and it took him a moment to realise that it was John’s fingertips.
“I’m not all bad, Ianto,” said John softly.
And then, suddenly, John was kissing him, hard, and to his surprise, Ianto found himself responding, fiercely, desperately. His loathing for the man welled up inside him, burned him, ate at him, but he kissed him anyway, because he couldn’t hold it back anymore, and this was easier, less embarrassing than breaking down. John’s breath was slightly stale and still tasted vaguely of strawberries, and his hands were warm on Ianto’s skin as they worked their way under his shirt. He felt John’s thigh press itself between his legs, and, oh, god, he was already hard; they both were. Ianto bucked forward mindlessly, pushing himself against John. His hands blindly sought out John’s belt-buckle, and John moved back slightly to allow him room, his hand running hotly across Ianto’s hip, over his holster. Ianto gasped, and-
Pain shot through him, as John’s knee collided sharply with his groin. He heard himself yell as he doubled up and fell to the ground. Ianto felt his eyes water again, ferociously this time, and through it all he was dimly aware of John standing over him, pointing Ianto’s own gun at him.
“I am mostly bad, though,” said John with a smirk.
Ianto tried to stand, but as he did so, the tip of John’s boot rose up to meet the side of his head. It wasn’t terribly hard, but in Ianto’s current state, it was enough to send him back to the ground with his head spinning.
“And much as I’m sorry to interrupt our little interlude,” John continued, “I really do need to get away with my new weapon. You know, once I’ve modified it with Rixaldian technology, it might actually be halfway decent.”
John bent down and picked up the defused bomb that he’d discarded earlier, tucking it into his waistband. “Thank you ever so much for your help with that, by the way.”
Ianto choked out something that sounded incomprehensible even to his own ears.
“What was that, darling?”
“Piss off,” Ianto managed, finally.
John sighed theatrically as he stood. “Nobody appreciates me. But, if you insist,” John blew Ianto a kiss, “catch you later, Eye-Candy.”
As John exited the alleyway, Ianto tried to stand for a second time, but somehow, he found himself emptying the contents of his stomach onto the paving stones beneath him instead. His eyes still watered, sweat beaded on his forehead, and for a moment it felt like he couldn’t breathe, as though there was no more room for air in his lungs.
He wiped desperately at the tears on his face, trying vainly to tell himself that it was just a physical reaction to the pain that still radiated from his groin and into his stomach, that he wasn’t really crying, but it was no use pretending anymore, because the sobs were tearing through his body now, each one searing as though it had been ripped from his guts, and he couldn’t stop them. He cried as he hadn’t done since he’d lost Lisa; Lisa whose bloody and broken face swam before his eyes now, and Tosh, so uncannily peaceful in Jack’s arms, and Owen, whose face Ianto could only imagine as death found him for a second time. He hadn’t even liked Owen much, but he wept for him anyway, and for Jack, who was going to lose everyone, and for Gwen, who hadn’t learned how to lose people yet, not really. And even though it was stupid and selfish he cried for himself too, because he was such an idiot to let John Hart fool him like that, and because he was lonely, and because, all of that aside, right now, it seemed like the only thing that he could do.
His tears ran out eventually, of course; they always did. And, as always, he picked himself up, and took himself home for a shower, for a few hours sleep, and a clean suit. He cleaned his kitchen, and the living room, removing every sign that John had ever been there; keeping it from Jack would be harder, but he would manage. He knew how to hide things from Jack, after all, even if it had been a long time since he’d done it.
* * *
* * *
Later, when he was back at the Hub, when he stood with Jack and Gwen at Toshiko’s workstation, Ianto thought that perhaps John had done him a favour, in that twisted way of his, because it was easier now, to push it all back down into the void, easy to let Jack’s hand rest on his shoulder, taking the weight of his grief, and of Gwen’s, but not feeling the whole of it. He let himself sink back against Jack’s arm, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to think of nothing.
Author: lefaym
Betas: Many thanks to lionessvalenti, who was also there when I needed someone to bound ideas of off, and to jo02 who helped give it that extra bit of necessary polish. (Also thanks to used_songs who offered suggestions on the opening paragraph.)
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing(s): Ianto/John
Summary: Ianto comes home to find an unwanted visitor.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: RTD and the BBC own Torchwood.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for Exit Wounds.
Word Count: Approx 2,200 words.
Breaking Void
Ianto drove home at two in the morning, still not certain that he’d done the right thing in leaving the Hub, but Jack had told him to go, and Ianto knew how it felt, the need to be alone with your grief. So he left, and tried to push everything down into the cavity where his stomach should be-his own loss, the constant chant of, Oh, god, not again, that ran through his mind, paralysing him at odd moments, the images of Tosh bleeding her life out on the floor, which sometimes became Lisa’s mangled corpse instead-he pushed it all away, for later.
He was so carefully banishing everything into the void inside of him that he barely even registered any shock when he arrived home and saw that his light was on, his door ajar. Looters. There had been reports of course, thugs taking advantage of the chaos, but Ianto hadn’t paid them much mind, especially not with... everything else. It didn’t matter. He could deal with it.
Ianto supposed that whoever had broken in would be long gone by now, but he readied his gun anyway, and nudged the door open with his shoulder. At first glance into the hall, nothing seemed to have been disturbed, but as he passed the kitchen, he saw that the freezer door was open, as were several of the cupboards, which were also splattered with some sort of red liquid-thankfully, not dark enough to be mistaken for blood-that seemed to have been sent through the blender, which stood dripping on the bench. Ianto tightened his grip on his gun, and crept through into the living room.
“I wondered how long it would take you to get home, honey,” an insolent voice greeted him as he entered the room. “I was beginning to think you didn’t love me anymore.” John Hart grinned up at Ianto as he reclined on the sofa, with what appeared to be a strawberry daiquiri in his left hand.
At the sight of him, something sharp and hot seared its way through Ianto’s body. “What are you doing here?” he managed.
“I’m having a drink, what does it look like?”
Ianto stepped forward, his gun trained on John’s forehead.
John laughed. “Oh, come on, gorgeous, we both know that you’re not going to shoot me.”
“Try me.”
“Try you? Believe me, I’d love to. But really, put that thing down. Or do you seriously expect me to believe that you’re going to return to that Hub of yours with yet another corpse for Jack to take care of?”
For the briefest moment, Ianto actually bared his teeth, but then he lowered his gun, and returned it to his holster. Control. He had to be in control. “What do you want?”
“I want lots of things. My weapons back, for starters. Did you know that Jack didn’t let me keep a single one?” John pouted.
“Good.”
“You people are so mean.”
“I think you should leave now.”
“Oh, do you really though?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” John stood up, leaving his daiquiri dripping on the coffee table. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
Ianto eyed John suspiciously as he slipped past and made his way towards the door. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving,” John replied. “Since you obviously aren’t willing to help me defuse that last bomb, the one that didn’t go off when it was supposed to, I guess I’ll just have to do it on my own. Or get out of the city. Yes, I think I’ll get out. Safer that way. It might be a dud, but then again, it could blow at any moment. Boom!” John mimed an explosion with his hands.
“Wait,” Ianto managed, from between clenched teeth. He covered the distance between them quickly, and raised his hand to the collar of John’s T-shirt, twisting it so that it constricted around his throat. “Where is it?”
“Ooh!” said John. “I love it when you get all mad like that.”
* * *
* * *
“You first,” Ianto said, gesturing towards the moonlit alleyway.
“How chivalrous. Jack’s taught you well, I see.”
Ianto placed his right hand on his gun, just in case. “Stop wasting time.”
“I never waste time,” John replied, turning into the alleyway. “Now where did I... yes. There.” He walked towards a line of bins, parked outside the back door of a Greek restaurant. Ianto wrinkled his nose as John opened one of the bins and began removing bags of pungent refuse.
“There she is!” John used both hands to lift up a shining metal object, shaped like a cross, with ends that tapered off, as though two rugby balls were intersecting each other at ninety-degree angles. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
It didn’t look like any bomb that Ianto had ever seen-certainly nothing like the bombs he’d seen in the warehouse, but then, he supposed it came from another time, and probably another planet. Tosh might have recognised-Ianto swallowed, and tried to push that thought away. Instead, he focused on his annoyance at John’s clear admiration for the insidious device. “Those things destroyed half the city. You destroyed-”
“Hold it a minute there, sweetcakes,” said John quickly, holding up one hand. “I’m concentrating. Now just let me-” John studied the device intently for a moment, carefully running his fingers over the patterns that lined its surface, until a small panel popped out. Whatever was inside seemed to emit a faint yellow light. “Oh baby, you are gorgeous.”
“Do you usually flirt with explosive devices?”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
“Just get on with it.”
“Okay, but I’ll need you to stand real close to me first.”
“Stop it.”
“No, seriously. This bomb was adapted from a Rixaldian thermo-transducer.”
“So?”
John sighed. “This planet really is primitive, isn’t it? Rixaldians have four arms, which means four sets of opposable digits. Believe me, they’re great in bed, but not so great if you’re trying to disable one of their devices on your own. So I need your cute little hands if I’m going to deactivate this thing.”
Ianto swallowed his retort and closed the distance between himself and John. “So-er-where do I...” Ianto gestured towards the bomb.
“Okay, I know this’ll be hard for you, but you’re going to have to trust me. Here-” John took one of Ianto’s hands, and placed it carefully along one end of the cross. “Now put your other hand on the other end, exactly the same.”
Several tense minutes followed, as John worked on the machinery inside the device, instructing Ianto to move his hands, to hold onto this or that section of the star-like object, to move wires, or punch in codes using symbols that Ianto had never seen before. Ianto still wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing-for all he knew, this was just another one of John’s schemes to kill them all-but he’d come this far, so he might as well see it through; there wasn’t much else that could be done now.
Finally, John appeared to relax. “Okay, honey-bun, I think we’ve done it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Would I do this if I wasn’t?” John pulled the device from Ianto’s hands and tossed it over his shoulder. There was a sharp Clang! as it hit the ground.
“You idiot,” said Ianto. For the second time that night, Ianto raised his hand to John’s throat, this time pushing him against the wall. “You could’ve-”
Ianto broke off abruptly as he found himself spun around, his back slamming against the wall as John’s hands pinned his shoulders to the rough bricks. “I could’ve left this thing to explode on its own,” John growled. “More mess for you, and Jack, and pretty little Gwen to clean up. More bodies to lie beside your friends.”
Ianto felt something break inside him then, and he clenched his jaw shut tightly, hoping, vainly, that John wouldn’t see the water in his eyes that was causing his vision to blur. He felt something brush across his cheek, and it took him a moment to realise that it was John’s fingertips.
“I’m not all bad, Ianto,” said John softly.
And then, suddenly, John was kissing him, hard, and to his surprise, Ianto found himself responding, fiercely, desperately. His loathing for the man welled up inside him, burned him, ate at him, but he kissed him anyway, because he couldn’t hold it back anymore, and this was easier, less embarrassing than breaking down. John’s breath was slightly stale and still tasted vaguely of strawberries, and his hands were warm on Ianto’s skin as they worked their way under his shirt. He felt John’s thigh press itself between his legs, and, oh, god, he was already hard; they both were. Ianto bucked forward mindlessly, pushing himself against John. His hands blindly sought out John’s belt-buckle, and John moved back slightly to allow him room, his hand running hotly across Ianto’s hip, over his holster. Ianto gasped, and-
Pain shot through him, as John’s knee collided sharply with his groin. He heard himself yell as he doubled up and fell to the ground. Ianto felt his eyes water again, ferociously this time, and through it all he was dimly aware of John standing over him, pointing Ianto’s own gun at him.
“I am mostly bad, though,” said John with a smirk.
Ianto tried to stand, but as he did so, the tip of John’s boot rose up to meet the side of his head. It wasn’t terribly hard, but in Ianto’s current state, it was enough to send him back to the ground with his head spinning.
“And much as I’m sorry to interrupt our little interlude,” John continued, “I really do need to get away with my new weapon. You know, once I’ve modified it with Rixaldian technology, it might actually be halfway decent.”
John bent down and picked up the defused bomb that he’d discarded earlier, tucking it into his waistband. “Thank you ever so much for your help with that, by the way.”
Ianto choked out something that sounded incomprehensible even to his own ears.
“What was that, darling?”
“Piss off,” Ianto managed, finally.
John sighed theatrically as he stood. “Nobody appreciates me. But, if you insist,” John blew Ianto a kiss, “catch you later, Eye-Candy.”
As John exited the alleyway, Ianto tried to stand for a second time, but somehow, he found himself emptying the contents of his stomach onto the paving stones beneath him instead. His eyes still watered, sweat beaded on his forehead, and for a moment it felt like he couldn’t breathe, as though there was no more room for air in his lungs.
He wiped desperately at the tears on his face, trying vainly to tell himself that it was just a physical reaction to the pain that still radiated from his groin and into his stomach, that he wasn’t really crying, but it was no use pretending anymore, because the sobs were tearing through his body now, each one searing as though it had been ripped from his guts, and he couldn’t stop them. He cried as he hadn’t done since he’d lost Lisa; Lisa whose bloody and broken face swam before his eyes now, and Tosh, so uncannily peaceful in Jack’s arms, and Owen, whose face Ianto could only imagine as death found him for a second time. He hadn’t even liked Owen much, but he wept for him anyway, and for Jack, who was going to lose everyone, and for Gwen, who hadn’t learned how to lose people yet, not really. And even though it was stupid and selfish he cried for himself too, because he was such an idiot to let John Hart fool him like that, and because he was lonely, and because, all of that aside, right now, it seemed like the only thing that he could do.
His tears ran out eventually, of course; they always did. And, as always, he picked himself up, and took himself home for a shower, for a few hours sleep, and a clean suit. He cleaned his kitchen, and the living room, removing every sign that John had ever been there; keeping it from Jack would be harder, but he would manage. He knew how to hide things from Jack, after all, even if it had been a long time since he’d done it.
* * *
* * *
Later, when he was back at the Hub, when he stood with Jack and Gwen at Toshiko’s workstation, Ianto thought that perhaps John had done him a favour, in that twisted way of his, because it was easier now, to push it all back down into the void, easy to let Jack’s hand rest on his shoulder, taking the weight of his grief, and of Gwen’s, but not feeling the whole of it. He let himself sink back against Jack’s arm, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to think of nothing.