Sleeping Beauty - Jack/Ianto
"How long's he going to be down there?" Owen says, chewing on a biro and staring at the screen, where Ianto has spent the past three days walking up and down the room, circling Jack's body, sitting next to him and speaking so quietly the cameras can't pick up his words.
"I don't know," Tosh answers, sighing.
"Maybe I should go down there?" They both look at Gwen, shake their heads and mentally roll their eyes. She should learn to let things be, sometimes.
"No, Gwen. I think he wants to be alone." Tosh says gently, laying a hand on her friend's shoulder. "He'll come back eventually. When he's ready."
She's going to aruge, he knows, so Owen spins around and walks out of the Hub. He doesn't want to be the one responsible for holding her back, changing her mind and calming her down.
"You're a bastard, Jack Harkness." Ianto mutters, only half meaning it. "Fucking bastard." He sighs and leans his head down to rest on Jack's icecolddeadfordays arm. "Why can't you be a coward?" Not couldn't, not past-tense, Jack's just waiting, he'll come back, he always does. If he came back when Ianto wanted him dead, he'll come back now Ianto would do anything just to have him back for five more minutes. Although, maybe this is... Someone's perverse way of being nice to him. If he gets Jack back, he has to start this again, all the tears and grieving. He'd have five more minutes of memories to torment himself with. Five more minutes of waiting for "I love you, Ianto," and not hearing it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack's there, grinning, saying "Besides, what can you do that's fun in five minutes?"
He stands up, needing more coffee, and something to do with his hands to stop fidgeting. He knows it's not healthy to spend this much time with your dead... whatever he was to Ianto. It's hard to put lables on a relationship, when only one of you calls it a relationship, and the other calls it a way to pass the time. He bends down to brush his lips across Jack's - "Don't leave me," - and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he can feel a tear track a warm path down his cheek, and he watches it land on Jack's throat. "Please." He straightens up and turns, walking, half-running a few feet so that he won't stop, sit down, and stay a few hours more, when he hears:
"Thank you."
"I don't know," Tosh answers, sighing.
"Maybe I should go down there?" They both look at Gwen, shake their heads and mentally roll their eyes. She should learn to let things be, sometimes.
"No, Gwen. I think he wants to be alone." Tosh says gently, laying a hand on her friend's shoulder. "He'll come back eventually. When he's ready."
She's going to aruge, he knows, so Owen spins around and walks out of the Hub. He doesn't want to be the one responsible for holding her back, changing her mind and calming her down.
"You're a bastard, Jack Harkness." Ianto mutters, only half meaning it. "Fucking bastard." He sighs and leans his head down to rest on Jack's icecolddeadfordays arm. "Why can't you be a coward?" Not couldn't, not past-tense, Jack's just waiting, he'll come back, he always does. If he came back when Ianto wanted him dead, he'll come back now Ianto would do anything just to have him back for five more minutes. Although, maybe this is... Someone's perverse way of being nice to him. If he gets Jack back, he has to start this again, all the tears and grieving. He'd have five more minutes of memories to torment himself with. Five more minutes of waiting for "I love you, Ianto," and not hearing it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack's there, grinning, saying "Besides, what can you do that's fun in five minutes?"
He stands up, needing more coffee, and something to do with his hands to stop fidgeting. He knows it's not healthy to spend this much time with your dead... whatever he was to Ianto. It's hard to put lables on a relationship, when only one of you calls it a relationship, and the other calls it a way to pass the time. He bends down to brush his lips across Jack's - "Don't leave me," - and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he can feel a tear track a warm path down his cheek, and he watches it land on Jack's throat. "Please." He straightens up and turns, walking, half-running a few feet so that he won't stop, sit down, and stay a few hours more, when he hears:
"Thank you."