Fic: Holding on
Another fic from the backlog. Enjoy.
Title: Holding on
Rating: Mild
Spoilers: Up to and including ep 8, plus speculation and net spoilers up to the end of the series.
Pairing: Ianto/Jack
Summary: Speculative. Aftermath of ep 13.
Jack woke up on the sofa in Torchwood's tearoom. The first things he noticed were that he was wearing his coat- that was a positive, yes, he could definitely deal with that- and the second was the silence. He couldn't say why that bothered him. The hub was quiet all the time, but now it seemed like a sucking silence, a sudden absence of noise. Then he remembered the sound and the fury of the rift opening up.
Time agency training. What a good idea. Still, if everything had gone according to plan, he should have been sucked into the inter-spatial void. Jack's mind was a little fuzzy around the edges, but he was pretty sure this was his own furniture. It lacked the essential ice cold vacuum-y properties of the void, and made up the difference in reassuringly upholstered cushions.
At some point he should probably get up and figure out what the hell had actually happened. He was comfortable, though, right here, and felt reluctant to move into the more uncertain territory. The floor might not be as solid as the sofa. But finding the others was gradually becoming more of s concern. He'd told them- ordered them- to stay clear, and given them jobs to do so that they actually would. But none of the Torchwood 3 crew were big on obedience. Requests sometimes worked, orders just... bounced off as if he was throwing popcorn at them. Ianto would neatly pick the popcorn up off the floor, but he wouldn't do as he was told unless he wanted to.
There was a thought. Ianto, Jack thought, still woolly-headed. What about Ianto? He let the train of thought go where it would, and put his feet on the carpet, which stayed where it was supposed to be like a good and proper floor. Where was he? Ianto. Big hands, that man. Big strong hands. Rougher than they should be, and warm. Callouses on the inside of the first joint of the thumb. Ianto's fingers wrapped around his wrist, not letting go, and a sensation of unbearable cold everywhere but there.
Jack got up, suddenly. His earpiece was gone, probably lost in the rift, and his phone wasn't in his pocket. The first place to check was the basement, but caution was the better part of valour, so he checked the CCTV rather than go down there. Aside from scattered debris, it was quiet and still. There was no gaping time maelstrom, anyway. Which was also a positive.
A couple more seconds and he found the others in the autopsy room. All three of them, in a tight cluster, no-one lying down or gushing blood. Yet more good signs. The day was improving. Not that it would be hard. As he moved around, Jack's clarity improved quickly.
He pushed open the door to the autopsy room, and all three of them looked up. Ianto smiled faintly in that way he had, the one Jack could never tell whether it was happy or sad. He looked exhausted and grey around the lips. Somewhere along the line he'd lost his jacket. What Jack had taken for Ianto's comforting arm around Gwen on the CCTV was closer to Gwen holding Ianto up in a sitting position. He was sitting on the end of the autopsy table, leaning on her shoulder.
For Gwen's part, her eyes were red but she was calm and in control. In true Gwen fashion, more inclined to be comforting others than dealing with her own horror, and she'd washed the blood off. Anyone who cared to look might have seen her holding on to her colleague a little tighter than necessary, but she was calm. Ianto's broad hand rested on her shoulder, white against black, and as Jack came in one of hers reached up to hold it. She'd painted her nails the colour of apples to go with her green canvas shoes.
Tosh's smile was quicker and cooler, more a flash of acknowledgement. She was tired and worn and it showed, but still sharply focussed. Which meant something was still wrong. Whatever it was, she was holding Ianto's right forearm in both hands, gently and carefully horizontal, as if it were a fragile new piece of alien tech.
Owen barely even nodded, which was fine, because he was working, standing behind Ianto and cutting the shirt away from the collar to the point of his shoulder. There was no blood Jack could see, but he felt a cold splintering stab of fear anyway.
'Ianto?'
'It's fine, Sir. Captain. I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks.'
'That's good, 'cause it looks disgusting' Owen remarked casually as he peeled the flaps of fabric back.
'At this point, professionalism would be nice, Owen' said Ianto tightly. He was in pain. That much was clear.
'Then it's Doctor Harper to you, mate.'
Jack moved over, craning to see Ianto between Tosh and Owen.
'What're you...' He saw the bone on Ianto's upper arm poking up under the skin where there should have been a clean, smooth shoulder joint. There was a lump the size of Tosh's fist and deep potholes in the surface around it. 'Whoa. Dislocated shoulder.'
It wasn't a question. The lines looked all wrong, and Owen was right. There was something about the familiar shape of a body so brutally rearranged that was sickening.
'Yeah. I reckon the elbow went too, but popped back in on its own. I'm not looking forward to this' Owen added, placing his hands in deliberate positions on Ianto's upper arm. 'Listen Ianto, you're going to have to relax. You're a big bastard, and if you fight me this is going to hurt a lot more. I want to do this first time, because the first time is doing to hurt like a screaming bitch from hell, and you're not gonna want a second one, right?'
'Again, with the unhelpful comments. Doctor Harper.'
'You think I'm annoying now. You're going to want to punch me in a minute. I'd take it as a sign of gratitude for quality medical care if you didn't. Or nut me. I like my nose the way it is. And if you're going to puke, do it one someone else.'
Jack hesitated. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gwen looking at him. Without sJack aying anything, she made an offer for his sake.
'Wait a minute' she said, gently moving out from under Ianto. 'Jack, you're stronger than me.'
He didn't thank her out loud either, but he nodded and knew that was enough as he took her place against Ianto. Jack felt cold sweat through his shirt, and the weight of him, and made a mental note to be really nice to Gwen tomorrow. He got as much of his body against Ianto as he could, burying his face in dark hair that had started to curl as the gel wore off, just like always. Usually Jack loved that.
'Ready, Ianto?' Owen asked. 'Take a deep breath.'
Ianto said nothing, but he did as Owen said and Jack felt him go limp. He was always good at self control. Jack thought of stopwatches. Some things didn't change.
There was snap that Jack felt in the pit of his stomach. Ianto gasped and would have fallen if he hadn't been held. Quickly and efficiently, Owen took the arm from Tosh, holding it on either side of the elbow.
'Alright, Ianto. Want to be sick? I wouldn't blame you, I bloody do.' He folded the arm across Ianto's chest. 'Wherever it's most comfortable. Say when and I'll strap it there.'
When he tried to speak, Ianto coughed instead, but Owen got the message and stopped anyway. Tosh and Jack together held Ianto's arm while he eased it into a cloth sling. Gwen was saying something soft in stumbling Welsh and rubbing Ianto's back.
'I thought I told you to stay by your station, Ianto.' Jack said, still into the man's hair. He could remember now, the hard look in Ianto's eyes as he looked down at Jack and refused to give up. He remembered feeling the jolt, dropping an inch or two, and thinking Ianto was going to lose his grip on whatever the hell he was holding and tumble into the rift after him. That must have been the shoulder popping out. To be loved that much..., Jack thought.
'In case a tourist needed a map, Sir? I'm sure I don't recall hearing such a stupid order.'
'The hell you don't. And you wouldn't be so cheeky if the rift had widened an extra millimetre. I would have lived, Ianto. You wouldn't. Next time you let go.'
Ianto lifted his head and looked Jack in the eye.
'I've never been good at letting people go.'
+
Epilogue
Jack itched to be sipping a cup of coffee. He almost raised an empty hand to his mouth, it was so deeply ingrained as a reflex when standing around and talking. With Gwen, he watched Tosh and Owen apply two PhDs of technical expertise to the coffee machine. It blinked its little red light stubbornly and refused to co-operative. Owen poked the milk-frother and the whole thing made a noise like a lawnmower. Both he and Tosh jump backwards.
'Shall I nip up to the cafe, Jack?' Gwen said quietly, not wanting to disturb the show.
'Nah. It's too much fun to watch the mighty analytical power of Torchwood over there. Besides, Ianto gets upset if you bring outside coffee in. Don't think you can hide the evidence, either. I made that mistake once before. Ianto will find out.'
'How is he?'
'Staying in bed today if I have to tie him to it, but he was sleeping when I left. Of his own free will.'
'And how are you?'
'Honestly, I kinda like it. Not that he's in pain- not that at all. But I'm not allowed to take care of Ianto very often. Usually I have to fuck him past the point of exhaustion, and that can take all night. I'm pretty fit, but-'
Gwen blinked, and blushed. Jack laughed.
'Sorry. Too much information?'
'Just a little.' Gwen wished she had a coffee, something to hold and use to cover her embarrassment.
'Anyway. I like fluffing his pillows and making him comfortable. It makes me feel like I'm interacting with the world, y'know?' Like I'm alive, Jack added in the privacy of his own mind.
'I know.' Gwen thought of Owen, and how alive it made her feel to connect with him on levels that she normally wouldn't touch.
'I'm thinking of trying some good-old 21st century jealousy next' Jack said cheerfully. 'If I'm gonna be over-protective, and I am, what the hey. I might as well go the whole way and not let anyone else near him. It's primitive, but it might be fun.'
'If you try that, you'll be on the receiving end of a primitive 21st century spanking. In the unlikely event that the sheer hypocrisy doesn't make your head implode, Captain.'
Jack spun around and kissed Ianto quickly on the lips in one smooth movement. He avoided the arm in the sling and wondered where the hell Ianto had found a clean shirt.
'You're supposed to be resting.'
'It's difficult to sleep when one's coffee machine is in such pain. Owen, what are you doing with that? Step away from the bench and no-one has to get hurt. Don't think I can't still take you, injured or not.'
'In your dreams, mate. And be my guest. Bloody thing's busted anyway.'
Ianto groaned, his face a mask of pure pain.
'What have you done? You need to grind the beans before you put them- oh dear god. Dim gwerth rhech dafad.'
'Do I want to know what that meant?' Owen asked Gwen.
'Probably best not.'
An hour later, Ianto sat on the couch and drank tea, picking at the remains of a carton of honey soy vegetable noodles. In true Ianto fashion, he was using chopsticks with his left hand and impressive determination.
'You're allowed to use a fork just sometimes, Ianto' Jack said from the doorway, coffee in hand.
'Standards, Sir.'
'I was thinking about that.'
Hearing the grin in his voice, Ianto turned around and raised an eyebrow.
'You need a bath.'
'I've no doubt. Thankyou for pointing that out.'
'Oooo, rhyming again. Ianto Jones, you know how to make a man horny.'
'I wasn't aware you needed help.' Ianto smiled. He still looked tired, but better than before.
'Wait a couple of hours. I'll take the afternoon off and give you a helping hand.'
'That isn't necessary, Jack.'
'No. But I'll have you more or less at my mercy, and opportunities like that I will not pass up. I don't care if the Zooboloranians are marching down the Vale of Glamorgan.'
'Zooboloranians?'
'Okay, I made that up. But wait for me.'
Title: Holding on
Rating: Mild
Spoilers: Up to and including ep 8, plus speculation and net spoilers up to the end of the series.
Pairing: Ianto/Jack
Summary: Speculative. Aftermath of ep 13.
Jack woke up on the sofa in Torchwood's tearoom. The first things he noticed were that he was wearing his coat- that was a positive, yes, he could definitely deal with that- and the second was the silence. He couldn't say why that bothered him. The hub was quiet all the time, but now it seemed like a sucking silence, a sudden absence of noise. Then he remembered the sound and the fury of the rift opening up.
Time agency training. What a good idea. Still, if everything had gone according to plan, he should have been sucked into the inter-spatial void. Jack's mind was a little fuzzy around the edges, but he was pretty sure this was his own furniture. It lacked the essential ice cold vacuum-y properties of the void, and made up the difference in reassuringly upholstered cushions.
At some point he should probably get up and figure out what the hell had actually happened. He was comfortable, though, right here, and felt reluctant to move into the more uncertain territory. The floor might not be as solid as the sofa. But finding the others was gradually becoming more of s concern. He'd told them- ordered them- to stay clear, and given them jobs to do so that they actually would. But none of the Torchwood 3 crew were big on obedience. Requests sometimes worked, orders just... bounced off as if he was throwing popcorn at them. Ianto would neatly pick the popcorn up off the floor, but he wouldn't do as he was told unless he wanted to.
There was a thought. Ianto, Jack thought, still woolly-headed. What about Ianto? He let the train of thought go where it would, and put his feet on the carpet, which stayed where it was supposed to be like a good and proper floor. Where was he? Ianto. Big hands, that man. Big strong hands. Rougher than they should be, and warm. Callouses on the inside of the first joint of the thumb. Ianto's fingers wrapped around his wrist, not letting go, and a sensation of unbearable cold everywhere but there.
Jack got up, suddenly. His earpiece was gone, probably lost in the rift, and his phone wasn't in his pocket. The first place to check was the basement, but caution was the better part of valour, so he checked the CCTV rather than go down there. Aside from scattered debris, it was quiet and still. There was no gaping time maelstrom, anyway. Which was also a positive.
A couple more seconds and he found the others in the autopsy room. All three of them, in a tight cluster, no-one lying down or gushing blood. Yet more good signs. The day was improving. Not that it would be hard. As he moved around, Jack's clarity improved quickly.
He pushed open the door to the autopsy room, and all three of them looked up. Ianto smiled faintly in that way he had, the one Jack could never tell whether it was happy or sad. He looked exhausted and grey around the lips. Somewhere along the line he'd lost his jacket. What Jack had taken for Ianto's comforting arm around Gwen on the CCTV was closer to Gwen holding Ianto up in a sitting position. He was sitting on the end of the autopsy table, leaning on her shoulder.
For Gwen's part, her eyes were red but she was calm and in control. In true Gwen fashion, more inclined to be comforting others than dealing with her own horror, and she'd washed the blood off. Anyone who cared to look might have seen her holding on to her colleague a little tighter than necessary, but she was calm. Ianto's broad hand rested on her shoulder, white against black, and as Jack came in one of hers reached up to hold it. She'd painted her nails the colour of apples to go with her green canvas shoes.
Tosh's smile was quicker and cooler, more a flash of acknowledgement. She was tired and worn and it showed, but still sharply focussed. Which meant something was still wrong. Whatever it was, she was holding Ianto's right forearm in both hands, gently and carefully horizontal, as if it were a fragile new piece of alien tech.
Owen barely even nodded, which was fine, because he was working, standing behind Ianto and cutting the shirt away from the collar to the point of his shoulder. There was no blood Jack could see, but he felt a cold splintering stab of fear anyway.
'Ianto?'
'It's fine, Sir. Captain. I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks.'
'That's good, 'cause it looks disgusting' Owen remarked casually as he peeled the flaps of fabric back.
'At this point, professionalism would be nice, Owen' said Ianto tightly. He was in pain. That much was clear.
'Then it's Doctor Harper to you, mate.'
Jack moved over, craning to see Ianto between Tosh and Owen.
'What're you...' He saw the bone on Ianto's upper arm poking up under the skin where there should have been a clean, smooth shoulder joint. There was a lump the size of Tosh's fist and deep potholes in the surface around it. 'Whoa. Dislocated shoulder.'
It wasn't a question. The lines looked all wrong, and Owen was right. There was something about the familiar shape of a body so brutally rearranged that was sickening.
'Yeah. I reckon the elbow went too, but popped back in on its own. I'm not looking forward to this' Owen added, placing his hands in deliberate positions on Ianto's upper arm. 'Listen Ianto, you're going to have to relax. You're a big bastard, and if you fight me this is going to hurt a lot more. I want to do this first time, because the first time is doing to hurt like a screaming bitch from hell, and you're not gonna want a second one, right?'
'Again, with the unhelpful comments. Doctor Harper.'
'You think I'm annoying now. You're going to want to punch me in a minute. I'd take it as a sign of gratitude for quality medical care if you didn't. Or nut me. I like my nose the way it is. And if you're going to puke, do it one someone else.'
Jack hesitated. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gwen looking at him. Without sJack aying anything, she made an offer for his sake.
'Wait a minute' she said, gently moving out from under Ianto. 'Jack, you're stronger than me.'
He didn't thank her out loud either, but he nodded and knew that was enough as he took her place against Ianto. Jack felt cold sweat through his shirt, and the weight of him, and made a mental note to be really nice to Gwen tomorrow. He got as much of his body against Ianto as he could, burying his face in dark hair that had started to curl as the gel wore off, just like always. Usually Jack loved that.
'Ready, Ianto?' Owen asked. 'Take a deep breath.'
Ianto said nothing, but he did as Owen said and Jack felt him go limp. He was always good at self control. Jack thought of stopwatches. Some things didn't change.
There was snap that Jack felt in the pit of his stomach. Ianto gasped and would have fallen if he hadn't been held. Quickly and efficiently, Owen took the arm from Tosh, holding it on either side of the elbow.
'Alright, Ianto. Want to be sick? I wouldn't blame you, I bloody do.' He folded the arm across Ianto's chest. 'Wherever it's most comfortable. Say when and I'll strap it there.'
When he tried to speak, Ianto coughed instead, but Owen got the message and stopped anyway. Tosh and Jack together held Ianto's arm while he eased it into a cloth sling. Gwen was saying something soft in stumbling Welsh and rubbing Ianto's back.
'I thought I told you to stay by your station, Ianto.' Jack said, still into the man's hair. He could remember now, the hard look in Ianto's eyes as he looked down at Jack and refused to give up. He remembered feeling the jolt, dropping an inch or two, and thinking Ianto was going to lose his grip on whatever the hell he was holding and tumble into the rift after him. That must have been the shoulder popping out. To be loved that much..., Jack thought.
'In case a tourist needed a map, Sir? I'm sure I don't recall hearing such a stupid order.'
'The hell you don't. And you wouldn't be so cheeky if the rift had widened an extra millimetre. I would have lived, Ianto. You wouldn't. Next time you let go.'
Ianto lifted his head and looked Jack in the eye.
'I've never been good at letting people go.'
+
Epilogue
Jack itched to be sipping a cup of coffee. He almost raised an empty hand to his mouth, it was so deeply ingrained as a reflex when standing around and talking. With Gwen, he watched Tosh and Owen apply two PhDs of technical expertise to the coffee machine. It blinked its little red light stubbornly and refused to co-operative. Owen poked the milk-frother and the whole thing made a noise like a lawnmower. Both he and Tosh jump backwards.
'Shall I nip up to the cafe, Jack?' Gwen said quietly, not wanting to disturb the show.
'Nah. It's too much fun to watch the mighty analytical power of Torchwood over there. Besides, Ianto gets upset if you bring outside coffee in. Don't think you can hide the evidence, either. I made that mistake once before. Ianto will find out.'
'How is he?'
'Staying in bed today if I have to tie him to it, but he was sleeping when I left. Of his own free will.'
'And how are you?'
'Honestly, I kinda like it. Not that he's in pain- not that at all. But I'm not allowed to take care of Ianto very often. Usually I have to fuck him past the point of exhaustion, and that can take all night. I'm pretty fit, but-'
Gwen blinked, and blushed. Jack laughed.
'Sorry. Too much information?'
'Just a little.' Gwen wished she had a coffee, something to hold and use to cover her embarrassment.
'Anyway. I like fluffing his pillows and making him comfortable. It makes me feel like I'm interacting with the world, y'know?' Like I'm alive, Jack added in the privacy of his own mind.
'I know.' Gwen thought of Owen, and how alive it made her feel to connect with him on levels that she normally wouldn't touch.
'I'm thinking of trying some good-old 21st century jealousy next' Jack said cheerfully. 'If I'm gonna be over-protective, and I am, what the hey. I might as well go the whole way and not let anyone else near him. It's primitive, but it might be fun.'
'If you try that, you'll be on the receiving end of a primitive 21st century spanking. In the unlikely event that the sheer hypocrisy doesn't make your head implode, Captain.'
Jack spun around and kissed Ianto quickly on the lips in one smooth movement. He avoided the arm in the sling and wondered where the hell Ianto had found a clean shirt.
'You're supposed to be resting.'
'It's difficult to sleep when one's coffee machine is in such pain. Owen, what are you doing with that? Step away from the bench and no-one has to get hurt. Don't think I can't still take you, injured or not.'
'In your dreams, mate. And be my guest. Bloody thing's busted anyway.'
Ianto groaned, his face a mask of pure pain.
'What have you done? You need to grind the beans before you put them- oh dear god. Dim gwerth rhech dafad.'
'Do I want to know what that meant?' Owen asked Gwen.
'Probably best not.'
An hour later, Ianto sat on the couch and drank tea, picking at the remains of a carton of honey soy vegetable noodles. In true Ianto fashion, he was using chopsticks with his left hand and impressive determination.
'You're allowed to use a fork just sometimes, Ianto' Jack said from the doorway, coffee in hand.
'Standards, Sir.'
'I was thinking about that.'
Hearing the grin in his voice, Ianto turned around and raised an eyebrow.
'You need a bath.'
'I've no doubt. Thankyou for pointing that out.'
'Oooo, rhyming again. Ianto Jones, you know how to make a man horny.'
'I wasn't aware you needed help.' Ianto smiled. He still looked tired, but better than before.
'Wait a couple of hours. I'll take the afternoon off and give you a helping hand.'
'That isn't necessary, Jack.'
'No. But I'll have you more or less at my mercy, and opportunities like that I will not pass up. I don't care if the Zooboloranians are marching down the Vale of Glamorgan.'
'Zooboloranians?'
'Okay, I made that up. But wait for me.'