Born This Way - Chapter 24
Title: Born This Way 24
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, John, Gray, Owen, Toshiko/Tommy, Suzie, OCs
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Contains: Supernatural themes, character death, drug references, dub-con.
Summary: Sequel to Choices - Ianto Jones was born and raised in Hell, but he isn’t feeling as demonic as usual lately-thanks to Jack Harkness. But you can’t desert Hell without consequences and suddenly Ianto’s and Jack’s happily ever after may not be so happy.
Note: John’s back, Jack is heartbroken and some pretty big revelations are about to come out.
24
*~*
Angel’s Breath
*~*
Jack
I nearly hit three parked cars on my way out of the car park when I saw Ianto running after me. I raced out of there as fast as my car would take me. Ignoring my parents, I bolted through the family room and locked my bedroom door behind me when I got home. They’ve been knocking off and on for the last half hour, twice to tell me Ianto was here, but I can’t deal with them-or him-right now. I have to think.
I put on my headphones, click on my iPod to block them out, and curl up on my bed, trying to make sense of any of this. The image of Ianto with Elle plays on a loop in my head. I see it over and over, and each time, it feels like a little more of me dies.
He cheated on me. I thought that couldn’t happen. As long as I wanted him, he was supposed to want me back. That was what this stupid Sway thing was all about. It basically made me irresistible.
But my Sway is nothing. I know that now.
I close my eyes and press my face into the pillow. When I feel a hand in my hair, I’m not surprised. I knew it would only be a matter of time before Kate or someone picked my lock. But when I smell cool winter sunshine, my breath catches.
I sit up and fling myself into John’s arms.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I should have been here.”
His breath in my hair, the feel of his arms…God, I’ve missed him.
“You should have,” I say, and pull him tighter.
“This is my fault.”
I push back and look into those incredible, sad eyes.
And despite his summer snow and the calm it brings, anger flares in me. “Unless I’m mistaken and you were the one in bed with Elle, I can’t see how this is your fault.”
“As much as I hate to say it, this isn’t on Ianto. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
The hard ball of anger and betrayal in my chest threatens to dissolve into tears, but I won’t let myself cry. “Don’t defend him. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“You’re right, he doesn’t, and I’d love not to. But the sad truth is-this time, anyway-it really wasn’t his fault. He was tricked.”
I push him back hard. “I saw him, John! She wasn’t making him do anything.” A whimper leaves my chest as the picture materialises in my head again. His betrayal sits like a hot stone in my gut, burning a hole in me. I gave Ianto everything-my heart, my soul, my body. I loved him more than anything. If he loved me the way he should have, then whatever Elle did wouldn’t have mattered. The certainty that he had to want her, at least a little, cuts like a razor.
But I knew it all along, didn’t I? I knew true love didn’t exist. Like an idiot, I let myself believe, and this is what I get. A broken heart. Exactly what I deserve for being so stupid.
John shakes his head, his eyes a storm of conflict. “I’m so sorry.” He pulls me back to his shoulder and buries me in summer snow. “I’ve missed you so much,” he says into my hair.
I push back and smooth a hand over his face. I can’t believe he’s really here. He closes his eyes and I feel his moan reverberate in his chest as I press my hand to it. It’s a sound of pleasure, but also of pain.
“This is why I couldn’t stay.”
“You’re not leaving again.” I’m a little embarrassed by how desperate it sounds, but that’s pretty much how I feel.
His smile is shaky. “No. I let you down once. I won’t do it again. I promised that I’d always be here for you, and I will.”
His words are enough to unclench the knot in my stomach some. He strokes my back as, little by little, I let myself relax.
I gaze into those eyes, so deep and full of promises, and they take my breath away. God, he’s beautiful. I realise that I’ve moved closer, that our faces are just inches apart.
He cradles my cheek in his hand and traces the lines of my lips with his thumb. Then he closes his eyes. “Ah…If there was ever a mortal I’d give up my wings for…”
I try to ignore the wave of guilt, but I can’t. My Sway is completely useless for anything but messing with people. I pull a deep breath and shake my head. “You don’t really want me. It’s just my stupid Sway. It’s not your fault.”
He smiles, because there’s no lying to an angel. “But it is my fault. I can’t be trusted around you.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead. His cool winter sunshine envelops me, and my wounded heart pounds in my chest. I wrap my hands in his soft platinum hair and start to bring his face to mine, but just before our lips touch, I stop.
Guilt squeezes my heart into a painful knot when I realise what I’m doing. I want to lose myself in him-to make this all go away. Not ’cause I want John, but because I still want Ianto. The bleeding hole in my chest is killing me-pain so intense, it’s physical. I want it to stop. John can do that for me. But it’s not fair-or right.
We both jump at the knock on the door. I untangle myself from John and he stands and moves to the window, staring out at the swirling dusk.
“Jack?” Dad calls through the door. “Can I come in?”
I feel my cheeks flush, and I glance at John. “Um…maybe later, Dad.”
John turns from the window. “Let him in, Jack.”
“No!” I whisper.
He fixes me in a hard gaze. “You need to let him in.”
“Uh…just a second. Hold on,” I amend, questioning John with my eyes. Then I move to the door and unlock it.
The door swings open, and Dad stands there, angry creases between his brows. He looks first at me, then at John.
I expect him to go all crazy and ask how John got in, but instead, he just says, “What’s going on?”
My mouth reacts before my brain, and I start babbling. “Nothing, Dad. We were just-”
“It’s happening again,” John says, his voice soft. That stops me cold.
Dad’s face pales. “Gray…?”
John’s eyes are tortured as he regards my father. “He’s fallen, Daniel.”
In that instant, I realise Dad wasn’t talking to me. His eyes are fixed on John. And, where I thought anger was pinching his face, I see now that it’s really worry.
My head spins as I try to keep up. Why is John telling Dad about Gray? And since when is John on a first-name basis with my father? How do they know each other so well? John’s met Dad only once, a few months ago. It feels like I’ve missed something important.
Dad braces himself on the doorframe. John walks over and pulls him through the door with a hand on his shoulder, closing it behind him. “Just tell him. He needs to know.”
They share a concerned glance, and Dad looks back at me, his expression grave. “There’s something I need to show you,” he says, and starts unbuttoning his blue button-down shirt. He pulls it off, exposing a white V-neck undershirt.
Still in shock, I turn away as he starts to lift it over his head. “Dad. What are you doing?” My dad is very modest. I’ve never seen him without at least a T-shirt on. Even at the beach.
“I need you to see this, Jack…to understand.”
I turn back to him and lift my eyes. His back is to me, and I can’t hold back my gasp when I catch sight of it. It’s everything I can do not to raise my hand and touch the gnarled, white scars covering each shoulder blade.
“Oh my god! What happened?”
He glances over his shoulder, so I follow his gaze. John is near the window, but he’s not standing; he’s hovering.
His shirt is gone, and a pair of immense white wings have sprouted out of his back. He’s never shown me his wings before, and now I know why. They’re unbelievable. They’re feathered, but nothing like I would have pictured-nothing like those stupid paintings you see in churches and stuff. The feathers seem to be made of pure energy-white light.
In a trance, I walk over to John. I reach up to touch the edge of his wing, but he grasps my wrist and holds it. I see the struggle behind his eyes, but finally, he brings my hand to his face and kisses my palm. Then he lets go of me and nods. As my fingers brush over the feathers, I feel electricity sizzle over the surface of my skin. Instantly, all his knowledge, everything he’s seen, floods through me and everything goes black.
When I wake, I’m lying on my bed. John sits next to me, holding my hand. He’s in his old blue T-shirt again. My father paces behind him, shirt back on. I close my eyes and try to remember what happened just before I blacked out.
Dad…scars. John…wings.
My eyes spring wide and shoot to Dad as I sit up. “No!”
He looks a little sad. “Sorry, but yes.”
“You’re an angel?”
“No. But I once was.”
I glare at him. “What does that even mean-you once were?”
“I fell, Jack. A long time ago.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Oh my god.” Then something occurs to me and I look back at him. “Are you really my father?”
He smiles reassuringly. “Yes, I’m your father.”
I sit for a second, staring at nothing, and try to wrap my mind around that. The edges of my vision go fuzzy, then dark. When I realise I’m breathing too fast and my fingertips feel a little numb, I pull a deep breath, afraid I’ll pass out again. “So, what does that make me…? All of us?” It’s hard to get any air behind the words.
“Nephilim,” John interjects. “You and your sisters.”
My eyes shift to him. “I don’t get it.”
John squeezes my hand. “You’re only half human, Jack. All of you.”
“I still don’t get what that means.” I lean toward the edge of the bed, suddenly sure I’m going to be sick.
John’s hand glides over my back. “Nephilim are the children of fallen angels and their mortal partners. Your mother is mortal; your father, angel. Most Nephil are mortal, but they may inherit special gifts from their immortal parent-things like exceptional strength, clairvoyance, or other more esoteric skills.”
“Like Sway.” It’s not a question.
John nods slowly, his eyes watching me cautiously.
“What about my sisters?”
John laces his fingers into mine. “They’re all special in their own way.”
I think about Grace, the way she seems to see through me. “So, do they have guardian angels too?”
Dad shakes his head. “They’re not in need of them at the moment.”
I swing my legs around and sit on the edge of the bed, feeling cold dread creeping through my gut. “I don’t have one anymore either, do I?”
John gazes down at me, but doesn’t answer.
Tears sting my eyes. “It’s my fault. I wanted Gray to have a life.”
“It’s not your fault, Jack.” John’s eyes shift to Dad. “Gray is not the first angel to lose his wings to Lilith,” he says, his voice heavy.
“Lilith? You mean Elle?”
I look up at Dad and find a tear coursing down his cheek. “Dad?”
“I was like Gray,” he says.
“Like Gray,” I whisper mostly to myself. “You mean a guardian angel?”
He nods.
“What happened?”
“I let myself become…distracted.”
“By Elle,” I say, putting the pieces together. “What is she?”
Dad pulls my desk chair to the bed and sits in front of me, elbows on his knees. He hangs his head, as if it’s too heavy to hold up. “She’s the first woman-Adam’s first wife.”
“The Adam?”
He lifts his eyes to mine and nods. “Things didn’t go well with them, and she was banished from Eden.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish,” John says.
“So, she’s a demon?”
I keep thinking this has to be a joke, but John’s face is dead serious. “She’s a demon, but not.”
I just stare at him and shake my head, frustration boiling over, as I try to sort all this out.
“Technically, she’s still human,” he says, “but she’s descended to demon status.”
Dad takes my hand and blows out a sigh. “It’s a really long story, but suffice to say that Eve wasn’t the only one whom Satan got to. Lilith is, in essence, His queen-His Earthly consort. Basically, she’s the original succubus.”
When I speak, the frustration is clear in my words. “Then how come Gray didn’t know she was a demon? Angels are supposed to know that.”
“Her soul is human. She doesn’t appear any different to us than a mortal tagged for Hell would.” Dad shakes his head and drops his eyes. “When you brought her here…I just wasn’t thinking. I should have known.”
This still isn’t making sense. She was banished from Eden…. “But that was, like…forever ago. If she’s not really a demon, how is she still alive?”
Dad lifts his eyes to mine again. “Lucifer untethered her soul. She’s unbound-free to move between mortal hosts. She can possess anyone already tagged for Hell. She only needs to touch them to transfer.”
I press my face into my hand because I can’t look at John when I ask. “What does she want with Ianto?”
I hear John’s sigh, but I don’t look up. “I’m sure her goal is you. If she can strip away your support system, you’re vulnerable-an easier target.”
The vision of Ianto’s face…and Gray’s… They would have killed each other. “What’s going to happen to Gray?”
John sits on the bed next to me, and the pain in his voice is unmistakable. “He’s fallen. He no longer has a place in Heaven.” He stiffens slightly and adds, “It’s my fault. I put him in a position he wasn’t ready for. I guess I thought…I don’t know…” He leans close. “But the wings thing…it can happen to any of us.” His voice is low-just for me.
I look at Dad. “So, how can you be…here, I guess? How can you be my father? Isn’t that how Lucifer became the devil? The first fallen angel?”
“It is. But we all have choices.”
A flicker of hope lights the dark of my despair. “So Gray could be okay? Get his wings back?”
The sadness in John’s eyes as he answers snuffs out that hope. “There’s nothing that makes Lucifer happier than to collect fallen angels. He thinks of them as defectors-more valuable than Earthly souls.”
“When I fell,” Dad picks up, “I had a choice, as do we all, to join the Grigori and stay on Earth amongst mortals, nearly powerless, or to fall all the way to Hell. He lures us by offering us the ability to keep our power, to travel between planes-all of it.”
My mind is reeling and I can’t get a solid grip on my thoughts. I shake my head and pinch my face, trying to concentrate. “The Grigori?”
Dad blows out a sigh and stares into my eyes. “Not every angel that falls chooses evil. The Grigori are leagues of fallen angels who live on the mortal coil to watch and protect humanity. It’s our charge. Our penance and our redemption.” He looks away, at John. “And our only hope of earning our wings back.”
Something cold and dark snakes through my insides, making me shiver. “What do you think Gray will do?”
Dad shakes his head. “I don’t know, Jack. I suppose it depends on how angry he is. Being stripped of our wings…it feels like a betrayal. Most who lose their wings are not thinking clearly, obviously, or we wouldn’t be in that situation.”
“So he’s…gone. They did this to get to me.” I say, firming my responsibility for this in my own head.
John’s expression is wounded as he nods.
There’s no escaping it. I’m cursed. Everyone around me-everyone I care about-gets hurt.
And it’s never gonna end.
I feel like I’m suffocating. I stand from the bed and so does John. He starts to pull me into his arms, but I push him away. “I really need some time alone to think.”
He steps back and gazes down into my eyes. I can tell he’s trying to pull thoughts out of my head, and I’m too tired to care.
Finally, he nods. “I’ll be outside the door if you need me.” I hug Dad, then walk to the window and stare out at the branches of the oak tree, swaying in the beginnings of a swirling summer rain shower. I hear the door click shut behind me as I stand listening to the gusting wind shake the windowpane. After pushing the window open, I pull the screen out and lean on the sill, feeling the cool rain sting my cheeks. When I can breathe again, I wipe the rain from my face with my hand, pull myself back through the window, and turn, expecting to be alone in my room. But Grandpa leans against the wall near my door, squinting at me through troubled eyes.
I rush across the room.
He wraps me in a bear-hug. “Your Mum called me, told me what happened.” He shakes his head. “So, he turned out to be the devil after all.”
His voice vibrates through me as I melt into his chest, breathing in the sweet smell of pipe smoke that clings to him.
“I shoulda done something,” he says, smoothing my damp hair with a gentle hand. “I thought I saw myself in him, but I shoulda known.”
I can’t hold back the tears…for me, for Gray, for Owen. I don’t want any of them to be for Ianto, but they are. The tears stream down my face as the vision of Ianto and Elle comes back full force. My chest aches as the memory wraps itself around my heart and squeezes. I breathe against it. “I loved him, Grandpa.” It’s barely a whisper, like I can’t even admit it out loud.
“I know,” he says, his voice hitching. He draws me closer and holds me while I cry. When I’m done, I pull back from his shoulder and he wipes away my tears with his thumb, just like he used to do when I was little. “Get some sleep and we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”
At the mention of sleep, I realise I’m exhausted. “Okay.”
He looks at me a moment longer and I can see the pain in his eyes. “Gettin’ over a broken heart takes some time, but you’ll be fine, Jack. I promise.”
I nod as another tear slips down my face.
When he steps into the hall and closes the door, I change and get ready for bed. I climb under the sheets and am just dozing off when the first images of the nightmare startle me awake.
Owen.
In a matter of just a few minutes, I lost both Ianto and Gray. I’m not gonna lose Owen.
I reach for my phone and text Tommy. , is his simple reply.
My heavy heart aches. I clutch my phone to my chest and roll on my side.
And stare out the window.
And pray.
Because it’s all I can think to do.
I wake up gasping from the nightmare and feel strong arms squeeze me, pulling me tightly into a hard body at my back. “Ianto,” I whisper. But before I’ve finished, I know it’s not Ianto-’cause of the nightmare…And it’s not cinnamon that I smell. The scent that surrounds me, like a drifting cloud, is John’s summer snow.
Same as every other night for the last three weeks. “It’s okay, Jack. It’s me. I’m here.”
As usual, I feel the terror and panic start to evaporate, like fog in a stiff breeze, as I sink into John, but there’s nothing he can do about the hollow ache in my chest. “Thanks.”
He brushes the hair off my face with a finger and kisses my ear.
I roll onto my back and look up into his blue eyes, bright in the dark bedroom. “Is it ever gonna stop?”
“It’ll get easier.”
I let myself believe the lie, ’cause it can’t get much worse, and John doesn’t know he’s lying.
“I just feel like everything is going to crap. Owen’s with that demon. He won’t even talk to me. Gray’s gone. And Ianto…” I grimace, and a wounded groan erupts from somewhere deep inside me. God, it still hurts that the only thing I see when I think about him is Elle in his bed.
In the pale silver moonlight, I see John’s face pull into a frown. “I’m going to find her, Jack. I won’t let her hurt you again.”
I know by “her,” he means Lilith, and I hate that I hear guilt in his voice. What happened wasn’t his fault. But I don’t want to think about him right now. I stare up at the ceiling. “What can we do about Owen’s tag?”
“We’ll figure something out.”
I sink into him and let his peace wash over me, trying to turn off my mind. It’s always better in John’s arms, and the closer I get to him, the more I feel it-his peace and love. It’s like that’s what he’s made of. My heart rate picks up again as I remember kissing him-the only true peace I’ve ever known.
He stiffens in my arms and I realise that, once again, my thoughts have given me away.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe.” I spare him a weak smile.
“Jack, you know I’d do anything for you, but right now that ‘anything’ means that I need my wings. I’m useless to you without them.” He offers a sad smile. “But resisting your Sway is pretty damn hard…mostly because I don’t really want to.”
“So you want me to stop wanting you,” I finish for him.
He drops his head onto the pillow. “That would help.”
I push away from him. “Then maybe you shouldn’t spend so much time in my bed.”
He chuckles and the moonlight brushes his features, making him appear to glow. Or maybe he really is glowing. Who knows? “But I like it here.”
I can’t breathe as a sudden crushing wave of despair hits me at the thought of him leaving. “Good. Stay.”
“Always.” He places a finger on each of my eyelids and draws them closed. “Sleep,” he says. But even in the safety of his arms, it’s a long time before I can.