Fic: The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand (5/7)
Title: The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand (5/7)
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17 (very light NC-17)
Summary: Following the fall of Torchwood One, Jack Harkness went to ask Torchwood Three for a job. He didn’t expect to fall a little bit in love with its director, the practical and ever-calm Ianto Jones. He also probably didn’t expect that Ianto Jones would end up holding the answers to his most precious secret.
Disclaimer: TW & Co. does not belong to me.
The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand
5. Ianto
Ianto wakes up around three in the morning. He and Jack are-rather unpleasantly-stuck together with dried semen and sweat, and Jack has fallen asleep on top of him. Of course. As if Jack Harkness would fall asleep in any other position than the one that most effectively trapped his lover into staying the night. Controlling bastard.
Ianto has, of course, spent nights trapped under sleeping lovers before. He’s completely prepared to lay there and mentally go through the paperwork that would be required for dealing with the sex-alien fiasco, but then the picture on Jack’s bedside table, right next to where he’d tossed his wrist strap before crawling into bed with Jack, catches his eye.
It’s two small boys at the seaside, probably ten and seven, both curly-haired, grinning, and baring their skinny little chests for the world to see. The older one can’t be anyone but Jack, which means that the younger one is-
Ianto tears his eyes away.
Takes a calming breath. Starts with a list of forms he’ll need to pull for himself.
Jack takes in a deep breath that mirrors the one Ianto just took, and sleepily nuzzles Ianto’s shoulder.
The picture is less than a foot from Ianto’s head.
He pulls himself together again, trying to focus on the list of forms, but-but-
*
Jack arrives at the Hub around six-thirty in the morning, looking like he’d rolled out of bed, thrown on whatever clothes were nearest, and then proceeded to break several speed limits in an attempt to get to the Hub as soon as possible.
“Hey!” Jack says, bouncing into Ianto’s office.
Ianto looks up from the stack of forms he’s been steadily working through, and hopes that there is not a facial counterpart to the feeling of his stomach dropping to his knees.
“Hello, Jack,” Ianto says calmly.
“Hey,” Jack says again. He glances around. “You, uh… Well I woke up, and you were-” He stops himself, and the restless energy suddenly begins to look a little forced. “I was, um, worried. You know. Thought there might have been an emergency at the Hub or something, but, ah… I see there’s not, so…”
Fuck.
“I wanted to get a head start on this paperwork,” Ianto says, because it springs to mind first.
“Oh,” says Jack, staring at said pile. “Yeah, paperwork. Important stuff.”
Ianto nods, offering a weak smile. “Very. Uh, important.”
“Right,” Jack says, no longer looking Ianto in the eye. “Probably couldn’t wait, huh?”
“I just-” Ianto starts, but when Jack’s head jerks up and he sees the hopeful look on Jack’s face, he just… can’t.
“Yeah?” Jack asks.
“Wanted to… get a head start,” Ianto finishes lamely. “You know.”
“Oh,” says Jack, again. He looks away. “Yeah. I know.”
“You could get started on your report,” Ianto offers, then kicks himself when he sees Jack blanche at the idea of detailing what had undoubtedly some of the worst days of his life. “Or-you know, you take the day off. It’s been a rough few days for you, you should go home and deal with everything that’s happened.”
He grabs his pen and goes back to the form determinedly, waiting for Jack to leave, but Jack doesn’t.
“Do you know how I deal?” Jack asks.
“You have sex, Jack,” Ianto replies evenly.
“Yes,” Jack says, and Ianto looks up in mild surprise. “I have sex. I’m not ashamed of it. Sex grounds me. It forces me to live in the present, in my own body, and it forces me to connect with other human beings. I deal using sex. I want to know-how does Ianto Jones deal?”
Ianto is actually, momentarily, dumbfounded by the question.
“You shove it behind that mask of indifference,” Jack informs him, before Ianto can actually answer. “You don’t deal, do you? You just compartmentalize and suppress it until you can forget about it. That’s why you don’t seem to care-that’s why Owen called you The Robot.”
Robot.
“This may have been new and traumatic for you, Jack,” Ianto says coldly, every muscle in his body suddenly tense, “but do not make the mistake of thinking that watching you dying in agony was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s not on my top ten list, or even my top fifty. I have been more than considerate of your inexperience-”
“My inexperience?” Jack interrupts incredulously. “My inexperience? You-I can’t believe you, I can’t fucking-you absolute bastard, you bastard, what the hell right do you have-”
“My point is that you have no right to judge me when you don’t know the first thing about me,” Ianto interrupts, with forced calm.
“Oh, and who does?” Jack demands. “Because as far as I can tell, you’ve got no one. No friends. No family. Just your stupid, fucking team, and apparently we’re too inexperienced for the likes of Ianto Jones.”
“Go home, Jack.”
“You’re alone,” Jack sneers. “You’re completely and totally alone. There’s not a single person in this whole goddamn universe that loves you, is there? How’s that feel?”
It feels like a blade of ice right into Ianto’s heart, because Jack is right.
“I am alone,” Ianto agrees quietly. “I’ve been alone for a very long time, and in all likelihood I will continue to be alone for a very long time. It’s the way I’m meant to be.”
“Don’t give that emo shit-”’
“Go home, Jack,” Ianto say again, but this time it’s heavy with resignation. “Go home and find someone else to love, because you’re wasting your time with somebody like me.”
“You’re pathetic,” Jack hisses. “I hope you know that. The only reason you’re alone is because you want to be. You’re secretive and cold, and downright cruel anytime someone gets too close. You make it impossible to get to know you, and then you’re too cowardly to admit that it’s all your own doing. And I don’t have time for that kind of bullshit. So fuck you, Ianto. Fuck you.”
And with that, Jack Harkness marches out of the room, leaving Ianto trembling in his wake. Hot tears sting Ianto’s eyes, but whether they’re from fury or hurt, he doesn’t know.
Jack just-doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know.
*
“I’m not sure what they are,” Tosh says two days later, typing away at her keyboard. “I-I’ve never seen them before. The database isn’t getting anything from an image match, though with the quality of the footage that’s not surprising…”
“Just sort of sitting there,” Owen observes from behind Tosh. “Looks like they might be talking or something.”
Ianto finally makes his way over to Tosh’s computer terminal.
Jack sidesteps to the left, away from him, as Ianto comes to a stop.
Ianto refrains from rolling his eyes-but then he catches sight of the video footage on the screen, and all thoughts of eye-rolling fly from his mind. He nearly drops the mug of coffee in his hand.
“Ianto?” Tosh asks concernedly, twisting around in her seat. “Do you recognize it?”
“They’re known as the Tri’ir,” Ianto says, his voice forcibly calmly. “And we need kill them as soon as possible.”
There’s a moment of surprised silence.
Ianto straightens and sets his mug of coffee on the desk. “I want everyone armed from the armory, not just your usual gun. Owen, do you know where the sensory deprivation muffs are?”
Owen blinks. “Don’t tell me we’re going to go slaughter aliens in bloody earmuffs.”
“Shooting range earmuffs aren’t going to be enough,” Ianto replies. “Track them down, make sure everyone has a pair that won’t fall off. Keep your comm in your pocket, only use it if we separate. And when you put it on, be absolutely certain that you’re far away enough from the Tri’ir that you won’t hear any noises they make.”
“What happens if you hear them?” Gwen asked, looking slightly panicked.
“The sound waves resonate inside your brain and destabilize the cellular membranes of your neurons to the point where your entire brain becomes scrambled mush.”
Gwen goes pale.
“They destroy whole planets with about two dozen of them,” Ianto continues, making his way over to the armory to punch the access code. “Right now there’s only three, but we need to get there and kill them before they report back that Earth seems like a lovely place for their next conquest.”
He catches Gwen’s uncertain look out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t bother with it. He finishes punching in the code and pushes down on the handle, then lets the door swing open.
“Buck up, Cooper,” Jack says with vicious glee as he walks past her into the armory. “This is what Torchwood’s all about-killing ugly motherfuckers who threaten planet Earth.”
"Well, I certainly don’t think you need to be so excited about it,” Gwen replies crossly, following him in.
“These are the best kind of calls,” Jack says, seizing a large blaster off the wall. “No mucking about with diplomacy, wondering if the aliens are secretly trying to kill us, talking, negotiating, threatening, blah blah bah… Give me a gun and an alien I can just shoot on sight, any day.”
Gwen glares at him and goes about following Tosh, who is examining the array of smaller blasters and compact particle guns they have.
Ianto sighs internally and goes to select his own weapons.
He’d hired Gwen because she’d shown good investigative skills and persistence, and he needed someone other than Tosh and himself with a half-decent work ethic, but mostly because Jack had thought she was attractive. Gwen was supposed to have been the distraction, something for Jack to play with so that he’d leave Ianto alone.
The plan has backfired spectacularly when, two weeks into Gwen’s employment, it’s turned out that Jack can’t stand her. Also, she was the one who released the alien gas, which had infected Jack, which led to him comforting Jack, which had led to the one thing Ianto had hired Gwen Cooper to avoid.
Ianto can’t tell if Jack is being extra vicious because he’s annoyed with Gwen (as he frequently is, whenever she starts to get compassionate about anything other than humans), or because he’s still smarting from his confrontation with Ianto two days ago (also a strong possibility, considering Jack still won’t look him in the eye), or a combination of both.
There’s a part of him that irrationally hopes that Jack and Gwen’s relationship will become one of those fire-ice relationships, where they one day discover that instead of hating each other they’re actually desperately in love. Gwen and Jack are both entirely too repulsed by each other for that to ever happen, but Ianto still hopes.
Anything to get Jack away from him.
*
Just as Ianto finishes off a Tri’ir with a rather nasty spilling of its innards out onto the pavement, he feels a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he sees an earmuff-ed Owen, who immediately jerks his head to the side in a way to indicate that Ianto should look at-
Jack. Who is letting out an unheard battle cry, blasting into a dying Tri’ir with obvious relish. His entire face is alight with an unholy fervor, and the shots are largely unnecessary. The Tri’ir is barely twitching, at this point.
Owen raises his eyebrows pointedly.
He’s coping, Ianto mouths.
Owen shoots a doubtful look at Jack, and then twirls a finger by his ear and mouths, He’s done his bloody nut.
Ianto shakes his head, watching as Jack fires one last round into the Tri’ir, and then pauses, looks at the dead body, and kicks it with his boot.
This is how Jack Harkness copes. It’s a fine tightrope to walk, but Ianto will let him walk it as far as he possible can, because the alternative is to push Jack off entirely, and he isn’t sure he wants to see to a Jack Harkness without the coping mechanisms that he’s been using since he was eleven. He doesn’t know if Jack would survive it.
*
Then, Gwen has to go and press buttons.
She and Jack still aren’t sleeping together. As much as Ianto appreciates her compassion for aliens, which is refreshing in the face of Jack’s hatred of anything not native to Earth, he’s beginning to rethink ‘curiosity’ as a trait to look for when hiring.
“Why would you push the button?” Ianto asks.
“I-I don’t know,” Gwen says, tearful, still off-balance from her ordeal. “It was just-it was like I had to press it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t seem to do anything right, what with this, and my cock-up with the sex alien that nearly got Jack killed.”
Ianto sighs and writes it off as another ‘cock-up’, resulting from Gwen’s endless curiosity and naivety. He gives Gwen a lecture about alien technology and how she could have very well blown up the entirety of Wales with the press of a button, tells her to think before she acts next time, and then settles down with his team to work out who this mystery boy is.
When, shortly thereafter, Owen (Owen who knows better, who was involved in the clean-up of Canary Wharf, who’d held a dying Amanda in his arms when her gun had jammed on a Weevil outing last year and told her that he did believe in heaven) presses the button, Ianto becomes more than suspicious.
“It was like I had to press it,” Owen mutters, not looking at Ianto. “Just-dunno. I had to know.”
Ianto locks it, and its counterpart they find later, in the secure archives.
It doesn’t do any good, though, because in the end Owen tracks down Ed Morgan and nearly kills him. Ianto’s about two seconds away from shooting Owen to disable him when Gwen magically talks him down.
“You were going to shoot me, weren’t you?” Owen demands.
Ianto shrugs one shoulder.
“You’re as bad as Jack,” Owen says. “Bloody shoot one of your own-”
And then Gwen screams, and Ed Morgan’s impaled himself on the knife she’d just gotten from Owen. Ed Morgan quickly dies, leaving a stricken Gwen and a perversely satisfied Owen.
Ianto’s still reflecting on the fact that Gwen talked Owen down, whereas he was ready to shoot him. Owen. His own team member.
Perhaps, he thinks an hour later as he watches Gwen cry quietly into the mug of tea Ianto’s made her, Gwen is going to bring about a few changes to the team. Perhaps her compassion will do them some good.
*
Jack takes up a secret side-project. But his paperwork is timely, and Gwen spends hours of downtime leafing through magazines, Owen playing computer games and trolling self-help forums on the internet, and Tosh doing strange technical things Ianto doesn’t understand, but are probably the beginnings of her world domination. So Ianto allows it.
Jack studies Rift readings from twenty years ago. He pulls up Torchwood reports, police files and archived CCTV data. He uses the aging program they have on the computer, and runs image searches. He requests access to data from Torchwood Two.
Then, three weeks in, he tries to hack Ianto’s secure files.
“Ianto?” Jack asks with a cheerfulness that doesn’t reach his eyes. The edges of his grin aren’t as wide as they’d normally be, and there’s no hiding the dark bags under his eyes that have been gradually coming into existence over the last few weeks.
Ianto gestures. “Have a seat.”
“What’s up?” Jack asks, sitting down across from him.
The lack of the follow-up salacious come on is what reminds Ianto that he and Jack still aren’t on great terms, that Ianto had screwed up last month, and that this meeting isn’t going to help anything but he’s holding it anyway. He’s the boss. He has to.
“You tried to hack into my secure files, last night,” Ianto says, without preamble.
Jack blanches for the briefest second, but then he pastes on a sheepish look. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I got your ID number mixed up with Owen’s, I was just looking for his porn stash. I’ve heard it’s quite extensive.”
“Those files are secure for a reason, Jack,” Ianto says, ignoring Jack’s explanation. “There are things in there that could endanger the safety of the human race, of the existence of this very planet, if they got out. Moreover, I don’t appreciate you sneaking around behind my back. I don’t abide by the ‘forgiveness before permission’ policy.”
Jack looks deeply uncomfortable. “Right. But, like I said, I was just looking for Owen’s porn stash, so… you know.”
“Why are you here, Jack?” Ianto asks.
“You called me in he-” Jack stops at Ianto’s look. He sighs, and gives Ianto a somewhat annoyed look of his own. “I’ve already told you. Twice. Possibly thrice. Is this something that you ask everyone on routine basis? Because this would be a really great way to incite identity crises, if you’re looking to make someone quit.”
The hopeful look in his eye means that he’s thinking about Gwen, who Ianto will most certainly not be firing.
“I ask because you have yet to tell me the truth,” Ianto replies.
Jack lets out a sudden, bitter laugh. “Oh, I owe you the truth, do I?”
“Jack, I allow you hold the future of the planet in your hands every day,” Ianto replies. “I think, in return, the truth is a small price to ask.”
“I put my life in your hands every day,” Jack shoots back, “but I still don’t know why you look like you’re twenty-five but you’ve been running this place for the last eight years, or why there’s no record of a Ianto Jones working for Torchwood prior to 2000?”
“That, Jack, is a personal matter which is of no concern to Torchwood or to you,” Ianto snaps.
“And so are my reasons for staying with Torchwood,” Jack replies angrily.
“Jack,” Ianto says in a pained voice, wishing Jack would trust him enough to tell him, and hating that he can’t give Jack a reason to do so. “Please. Just tell me.”
“It’s none of your business,” Jack says curtly. He pushes his chair back, and looks at Ianto expectantly. “If that’s all?”
Ianto holds in a sigh. “Yes. That’s all. Please don’t try to hack my files again, Jack. You won’t get in, and I will know.”
“For the last time, it was an accident,” Jack says testily, and he stands and stalks out of the room, then stomps down the stairs to the Hub main.
Ianto lets the sigh come out now, long and slow, and sits back in his chair. He brings his hands up to rub at his temples.
He knows this can’t go on much longer, but he can’t bring himself to pull everything crashing down just yet.
*
Owen shows up in his doorway. In typical Owen fashion, he doesn’t wait for an invitation, just comes in and stands in front of Ianto’s desk, arms folded over his chest.
Ianto waits, eyebrows raised.
“Not that I actually care,” Owen says, “but Harkness has been looking increasingly worse over the past two weeks. Do I need to give him a lecture on the values of a healthy diet and regular sleep cycle?”
“He’s coping,” Ianto says.
“Coping from what?” Owen demands. “It’s been a month since he almost died of that sex alien gas thing. It’s a little late to be coping.”
Ianto shrugs. He could remind Owen that Jack is one of the thirty-one survivors of Canary Wharf, and that after living through something like that, people don’t just bounce back. Sometimes, it takes a while. Sometimes, people get reminded and they have to deal with it all over again. Sometimes, the way people deal with things doesn’t make sense.
However, he knows that that isn’t why Jack is running himself ragged, so he doesn’t say that.
Instead he tells Owen that he’s welcome to give Jack a physical and a lecture, and sends him on his way.
*
Ianto watches Owen threaten to give Jack a physical and a lecture. Jack responds with a leer and an innuendo. Owen throws up his hands in disgust and gives up.
*
Ianto wakes up to find a rose petal in the bottom of his empty coffee mug.
“-no, God no, please, not him-”
He throws up in the sink, cleans it up with shaking hands, and then pitches the entire pot of his special brew.
*
The following day a pedophile named Goodson winds up dead in a Cardiff PD cell, his throat stuffed with wet lumps of rose petals.
“We’ll take it from here,” Ianto tells Detective Swanson, clenching and unclenching his left hand behind the body, where no one can see it. “Thanks.”
Swanson gives him a nod and turns on her heel. Ianto waits until the sound of her heels clicking in the hallway mostly fades, and then stands and turns to face his team. He is very carefully composed, and when he speaks, he makes sure his voice is even.
“There’s nothing we can do for this man,” Ianto tells them. “The creatures that did this are-their power is limitless. They control the elements without effort, and they abide by no law or conscience. We’ll take his body back and use it as stock.”
“You mean to say that there’s something out there killing people at random, and we’re not to do anything about it?” Gwen demands.
“Involving ourselves further would be to sign our own death warrants, Gwen,” Ianto says.
“What about UNIT?” Jack asks. “We can’t just allow some creatures to go around murdering people. That’s the point of Torchwood!”
“In case you lot forgot,” Owen puts in, “this bloke here’s a pedophile. No one’s exactly mourning his loss.”
Gwen and Jack have twin expressions of indignation on their faces.
“The case is closed,” Ianto says with finality. “Now start prepping the body for transport.”
*
That night, Tosh notices strange weather patterns-it appears to be raining on one woman’s house, and her house alone. A quick search reveals that she’s Estelle Cole, and elderly fairy enthusiast, and Ianto is unsurprised to find her dead in her garden by the time they arrive.
Gwen immediately rounds on Ianto.
“It’s the same as that man earlier today, isn’t it?” she demands furiously. “You said they control the elements, and now they’ve gone and killed some poor innocent old woman. What the hell are these things?”
Ianto sighs. “They’re fairies. Not like the fairies you’ve seen on the telly, or read about in books-these fairies are dangerous. They’re as old as the earth, part of it, even, and they love nothing more than chaos and death. It amuses them.”
“What do you mean, they’re part of the earth?” Jack asks, looking startled by this idea. “They’re not-how do we know they’re not aliens?”
“It doesn’t matter what they are,” Ianto says flatly, “because we’re not getting involved. There’s literally nothing we can do to stop them if they decide to target us-which they will, the moment we start investigating-and I won’t have us all dying needlessly.”
“But can’t we-”
“No!”
Even Jack looks startled at Ianto’s tone.
Ianto takes a deep breath, and slowly releases it.
“No,” he says again, this time calmer. “No, we cannot. Now leave it.”
*
She clutches her throat, eyes popping, nothing more than a croak emerging from her throat.
“Anwyn!” he screams, but he can’t help her, he can’t fight against the wind, he can only press his fingers into his son’s struggling body, a terrible wind pulling tears from his eyes and shrieking giggles in his ear. “No, God no, please, not him-”
Something builds in his throat, and he can’t breathe.
“No, no, no,” he wants to keep screaming, but he can’t, because he has no breath and his limbs are losing strength fast and the world is going dark.
-his son struggles harder, his small, bony body sharp against his-
-she has crumpled to the ground, her petticoat fluffing up around her body and he can’t see her face-
-the world grows darker-
His son slips out of his grasp and runs, runs into the trees, laughing and skipping, and he’s sinking to the ground, losing his vision, dying, and he’s lost his wife and he’s lost his son and he can’t breathe and-
His phone rings.
Ianto bolts upright in bed, breathing hard, and scrambles to find the phone before his mind can process the dream, can even think about it, and he answers breathlessly.
“Hello?”
“Ianto, thank god, you’ve got to come, it’s the fairies-”
“Gwen?” Ianto demands. “What-fairies?”
“There’s petals, Ianto! Petals all over my apartment! Jack and I were investigating them last night, just a little, but-”
“You were what?” Ianto practically thunders.
“I know, I’m really sorry,” Gwen says desperately, sounding close to tears. “We shouldn’t have, you told us not to. Please, Ianto, you have to tell me what to do!”
Ianto takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His hands are trembling.
Not his team. Not Gwen, not Jack.
But what can he do against them?
“I’m on my way over right now,” Ianto tells her. “Have you been in contact with Jack?”
“No,” Gwen says. “Oh, god, do you think they were at his place, too?”
“Probably,” Ianto says. He’s changing his clothes with one hand, mind already spinning as it tries to come up with something, anything that would save Gwen and Jack if the fairies have decided to make them their next victims. He’s coming up blank. “Gwen, I’ll be there as soon as I can, and I’ll call Jack on my way. Just-just hang in there.”
*
Ianto learns that Jack actually hasn’t gone home yet, and had gone directly from investigating with Gwen to a fuck-buddy’s for “some really athletic sex-seriously, my quads are killing me right now”. Ianto tells him get his arse to the Hub, now, and then goes to pick up Gwen.
“Gwen says you were doing research on the fairies last night,” Ianto tells them, once they’re all at the Hub and sitting in his office.
Jack glances at Gwen. “You told him?” he hisses.
“I was scared!” Gwen snaps. “They were in my apartment!”
Jack turns away, disgust on his face. Whatever temporary alliance they’d managed last night, it’s clearly been broken.
“Look, it’s not important,” Gwen says impatiently. “Ianto, look, Jack and I think that the fairies are here to collect their Chosen One-a child that they chose, protect, and then lure away. The children are never seen again.”
Ianto feels ice creeping through his veins, and he has to fight very, very hard to keep breathing.
Gwen leans forward earnestly. “We need to figure out which child it is they want, and stop them.”
Ianto can’t help the hollow, bitter laugh that escapes. “Stop them?”
“Something!” Gwen says helplessly. “We can’t just sit back and do nothing!”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Ianto replies.
“It’s a child, Ianto,” Jack says suddenly, leaning forward, desperation tingeing his voice. “A child with a family, friends, a whole life ahead of it.”
“No,” says Ianto, who can barely breathe. “No, and that’s the end of it. Disobey me again and you’re both suspended. Go home.”
They leave.
Ianto prays that this will be the end of it, but he has a sneaking suspicion that it isn’t.
Part 6
Author: methylethyl
Rating: NC-17 (very light NC-17)
Summary: Following the fall of Torchwood One, Jack Harkness went to ask Torchwood Three for a job. He didn’t expect to fall a little bit in love with its director, the practical and ever-calm Ianto Jones. He also probably didn’t expect that Ianto Jones would end up holding the answers to his most precious secret.
Disclaimer: TW & Co. does not belong to me.
The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand
5. Ianto
Ianto wakes up around three in the morning. He and Jack are-rather unpleasantly-stuck together with dried semen and sweat, and Jack has fallen asleep on top of him. Of course. As if Jack Harkness would fall asleep in any other position than the one that most effectively trapped his lover into staying the night. Controlling bastard.
Ianto has, of course, spent nights trapped under sleeping lovers before. He’s completely prepared to lay there and mentally go through the paperwork that would be required for dealing with the sex-alien fiasco, but then the picture on Jack’s bedside table, right next to where he’d tossed his wrist strap before crawling into bed with Jack, catches his eye.
It’s two small boys at the seaside, probably ten and seven, both curly-haired, grinning, and baring their skinny little chests for the world to see. The older one can’t be anyone but Jack, which means that the younger one is-
Ianto tears his eyes away.
Takes a calming breath. Starts with a list of forms he’ll need to pull for himself.
Jack takes in a deep breath that mirrors the one Ianto just took, and sleepily nuzzles Ianto’s shoulder.
The picture is less than a foot from Ianto’s head.
He pulls himself together again, trying to focus on the list of forms, but-but-
*
Jack arrives at the Hub around six-thirty in the morning, looking like he’d rolled out of bed, thrown on whatever clothes were nearest, and then proceeded to break several speed limits in an attempt to get to the Hub as soon as possible.
“Hey!” Jack says, bouncing into Ianto’s office.
Ianto looks up from the stack of forms he’s been steadily working through, and hopes that there is not a facial counterpart to the feeling of his stomach dropping to his knees.
“Hello, Jack,” Ianto says calmly.
“Hey,” Jack says again. He glances around. “You, uh… Well I woke up, and you were-” He stops himself, and the restless energy suddenly begins to look a little forced. “I was, um, worried. You know. Thought there might have been an emergency at the Hub or something, but, ah… I see there’s not, so…”
Fuck.
“I wanted to get a head start on this paperwork,” Ianto says, because it springs to mind first.
“Oh,” says Jack, staring at said pile. “Yeah, paperwork. Important stuff.”
Ianto nods, offering a weak smile. “Very. Uh, important.”
“Right,” Jack says, no longer looking Ianto in the eye. “Probably couldn’t wait, huh?”
“I just-” Ianto starts, but when Jack’s head jerks up and he sees the hopeful look on Jack’s face, he just… can’t.
“Yeah?” Jack asks.
“Wanted to… get a head start,” Ianto finishes lamely. “You know.”
“Oh,” says Jack, again. He looks away. “Yeah. I know.”
“You could get started on your report,” Ianto offers, then kicks himself when he sees Jack blanche at the idea of detailing what had undoubtedly some of the worst days of his life. “Or-you know, you take the day off. It’s been a rough few days for you, you should go home and deal with everything that’s happened.”
He grabs his pen and goes back to the form determinedly, waiting for Jack to leave, but Jack doesn’t.
“Do you know how I deal?” Jack asks.
“You have sex, Jack,” Ianto replies evenly.
“Yes,” Jack says, and Ianto looks up in mild surprise. “I have sex. I’m not ashamed of it. Sex grounds me. It forces me to live in the present, in my own body, and it forces me to connect with other human beings. I deal using sex. I want to know-how does Ianto Jones deal?”
Ianto is actually, momentarily, dumbfounded by the question.
“You shove it behind that mask of indifference,” Jack informs him, before Ianto can actually answer. “You don’t deal, do you? You just compartmentalize and suppress it until you can forget about it. That’s why you don’t seem to care-that’s why Owen called you The Robot.”
Robot.
“This may have been new and traumatic for you, Jack,” Ianto says coldly, every muscle in his body suddenly tense, “but do not make the mistake of thinking that watching you dying in agony was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s not on my top ten list, or even my top fifty. I have been more than considerate of your inexperience-”
“My inexperience?” Jack interrupts incredulously. “My inexperience? You-I can’t believe you, I can’t fucking-you absolute bastard, you bastard, what the hell right do you have-”
“My point is that you have no right to judge me when you don’t know the first thing about me,” Ianto interrupts, with forced calm.
“Oh, and who does?” Jack demands. “Because as far as I can tell, you’ve got no one. No friends. No family. Just your stupid, fucking team, and apparently we’re too inexperienced for the likes of Ianto Jones.”
“Go home, Jack.”
“You’re alone,” Jack sneers. “You’re completely and totally alone. There’s not a single person in this whole goddamn universe that loves you, is there? How’s that feel?”
It feels like a blade of ice right into Ianto’s heart, because Jack is right.
“I am alone,” Ianto agrees quietly. “I’ve been alone for a very long time, and in all likelihood I will continue to be alone for a very long time. It’s the way I’m meant to be.”
“Don’t give that emo shit-”’
“Go home, Jack,” Ianto say again, but this time it’s heavy with resignation. “Go home and find someone else to love, because you’re wasting your time with somebody like me.”
“You’re pathetic,” Jack hisses. “I hope you know that. The only reason you’re alone is because you want to be. You’re secretive and cold, and downright cruel anytime someone gets too close. You make it impossible to get to know you, and then you’re too cowardly to admit that it’s all your own doing. And I don’t have time for that kind of bullshit. So fuck you, Ianto. Fuck you.”
And with that, Jack Harkness marches out of the room, leaving Ianto trembling in his wake. Hot tears sting Ianto’s eyes, but whether they’re from fury or hurt, he doesn’t know.
Jack just-doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know.
*
“I’m not sure what they are,” Tosh says two days later, typing away at her keyboard. “I-I’ve never seen them before. The database isn’t getting anything from an image match, though with the quality of the footage that’s not surprising…”
“Just sort of sitting there,” Owen observes from behind Tosh. “Looks like they might be talking or something.”
Ianto finally makes his way over to Tosh’s computer terminal.
Jack sidesteps to the left, away from him, as Ianto comes to a stop.
Ianto refrains from rolling his eyes-but then he catches sight of the video footage on the screen, and all thoughts of eye-rolling fly from his mind. He nearly drops the mug of coffee in his hand.
“Ianto?” Tosh asks concernedly, twisting around in her seat. “Do you recognize it?”
“They’re known as the Tri’ir,” Ianto says, his voice forcibly calmly. “And we need kill them as soon as possible.”
There’s a moment of surprised silence.
Ianto straightens and sets his mug of coffee on the desk. “I want everyone armed from the armory, not just your usual gun. Owen, do you know where the sensory deprivation muffs are?”
Owen blinks. “Don’t tell me we’re going to go slaughter aliens in bloody earmuffs.”
“Shooting range earmuffs aren’t going to be enough,” Ianto replies. “Track them down, make sure everyone has a pair that won’t fall off. Keep your comm in your pocket, only use it if we separate. And when you put it on, be absolutely certain that you’re far away enough from the Tri’ir that you won’t hear any noises they make.”
“What happens if you hear them?” Gwen asked, looking slightly panicked.
“The sound waves resonate inside your brain and destabilize the cellular membranes of your neurons to the point where your entire brain becomes scrambled mush.”
Gwen goes pale.
“They destroy whole planets with about two dozen of them,” Ianto continues, making his way over to the armory to punch the access code. “Right now there’s only three, but we need to get there and kill them before they report back that Earth seems like a lovely place for their next conquest.”
He catches Gwen’s uncertain look out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t bother with it. He finishes punching in the code and pushes down on the handle, then lets the door swing open.
“Buck up, Cooper,” Jack says with vicious glee as he walks past her into the armory. “This is what Torchwood’s all about-killing ugly motherfuckers who threaten planet Earth.”
"Well, I certainly don’t think you need to be so excited about it,” Gwen replies crossly, following him in.
“These are the best kind of calls,” Jack says, seizing a large blaster off the wall. “No mucking about with diplomacy, wondering if the aliens are secretly trying to kill us, talking, negotiating, threatening, blah blah bah… Give me a gun and an alien I can just shoot on sight, any day.”
Gwen glares at him and goes about following Tosh, who is examining the array of smaller blasters and compact particle guns they have.
Ianto sighs internally and goes to select his own weapons.
He’d hired Gwen because she’d shown good investigative skills and persistence, and he needed someone other than Tosh and himself with a half-decent work ethic, but mostly because Jack had thought she was attractive. Gwen was supposed to have been the distraction, something for Jack to play with so that he’d leave Ianto alone.
The plan has backfired spectacularly when, two weeks into Gwen’s employment, it’s turned out that Jack can’t stand her. Also, she was the one who released the alien gas, which had infected Jack, which led to him comforting Jack, which had led to the one thing Ianto had hired Gwen Cooper to avoid.
Ianto can’t tell if Jack is being extra vicious because he’s annoyed with Gwen (as he frequently is, whenever she starts to get compassionate about anything other than humans), or because he’s still smarting from his confrontation with Ianto two days ago (also a strong possibility, considering Jack still won’t look him in the eye), or a combination of both.
There’s a part of him that irrationally hopes that Jack and Gwen’s relationship will become one of those fire-ice relationships, where they one day discover that instead of hating each other they’re actually desperately in love. Gwen and Jack are both entirely too repulsed by each other for that to ever happen, but Ianto still hopes.
Anything to get Jack away from him.
*
Just as Ianto finishes off a Tri’ir with a rather nasty spilling of its innards out onto the pavement, he feels a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he sees an earmuff-ed Owen, who immediately jerks his head to the side in a way to indicate that Ianto should look at-
Jack. Who is letting out an unheard battle cry, blasting into a dying Tri’ir with obvious relish. His entire face is alight with an unholy fervor, and the shots are largely unnecessary. The Tri’ir is barely twitching, at this point.
Owen raises his eyebrows pointedly.
He’s coping, Ianto mouths.
Owen shoots a doubtful look at Jack, and then twirls a finger by his ear and mouths, He’s done his bloody nut.
Ianto shakes his head, watching as Jack fires one last round into the Tri’ir, and then pauses, looks at the dead body, and kicks it with his boot.
This is how Jack Harkness copes. It’s a fine tightrope to walk, but Ianto will let him walk it as far as he possible can, because the alternative is to push Jack off entirely, and he isn’t sure he wants to see to a Jack Harkness without the coping mechanisms that he’s been using since he was eleven. He doesn’t know if Jack would survive it.
*
Then, Gwen has to go and press buttons.
She and Jack still aren’t sleeping together. As much as Ianto appreciates her compassion for aliens, which is refreshing in the face of Jack’s hatred of anything not native to Earth, he’s beginning to rethink ‘curiosity’ as a trait to look for when hiring.
“Why would you push the button?” Ianto asks.
“I-I don’t know,” Gwen says, tearful, still off-balance from her ordeal. “It was just-it was like I had to press it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t seem to do anything right, what with this, and my cock-up with the sex alien that nearly got Jack killed.”
Ianto sighs and writes it off as another ‘cock-up’, resulting from Gwen’s endless curiosity and naivety. He gives Gwen a lecture about alien technology and how she could have very well blown up the entirety of Wales with the press of a button, tells her to think before she acts next time, and then settles down with his team to work out who this mystery boy is.
When, shortly thereafter, Owen (Owen who knows better, who was involved in the clean-up of Canary Wharf, who’d held a dying Amanda in his arms when her gun had jammed on a Weevil outing last year and told her that he did believe in heaven) presses the button, Ianto becomes more than suspicious.
“It was like I had to press it,” Owen mutters, not looking at Ianto. “Just-dunno. I had to know.”
Ianto locks it, and its counterpart they find later, in the secure archives.
It doesn’t do any good, though, because in the end Owen tracks down Ed Morgan and nearly kills him. Ianto’s about two seconds away from shooting Owen to disable him when Gwen magically talks him down.
“You were going to shoot me, weren’t you?” Owen demands.
Ianto shrugs one shoulder.
“You’re as bad as Jack,” Owen says. “Bloody shoot one of your own-”
And then Gwen screams, and Ed Morgan’s impaled himself on the knife she’d just gotten from Owen. Ed Morgan quickly dies, leaving a stricken Gwen and a perversely satisfied Owen.
Ianto’s still reflecting on the fact that Gwen talked Owen down, whereas he was ready to shoot him. Owen. His own team member.
Perhaps, he thinks an hour later as he watches Gwen cry quietly into the mug of tea Ianto’s made her, Gwen is going to bring about a few changes to the team. Perhaps her compassion will do them some good.
*
Jack takes up a secret side-project. But his paperwork is timely, and Gwen spends hours of downtime leafing through magazines, Owen playing computer games and trolling self-help forums on the internet, and Tosh doing strange technical things Ianto doesn’t understand, but are probably the beginnings of her world domination. So Ianto allows it.
Jack studies Rift readings from twenty years ago. He pulls up Torchwood reports, police files and archived CCTV data. He uses the aging program they have on the computer, and runs image searches. He requests access to data from Torchwood Two.
Then, three weeks in, he tries to hack Ianto’s secure files.
“Ianto?” Jack asks with a cheerfulness that doesn’t reach his eyes. The edges of his grin aren’t as wide as they’d normally be, and there’s no hiding the dark bags under his eyes that have been gradually coming into existence over the last few weeks.
Ianto gestures. “Have a seat.”
“What’s up?” Jack asks, sitting down across from him.
The lack of the follow-up salacious come on is what reminds Ianto that he and Jack still aren’t on great terms, that Ianto had screwed up last month, and that this meeting isn’t going to help anything but he’s holding it anyway. He’s the boss. He has to.
“You tried to hack into my secure files, last night,” Ianto says, without preamble.
Jack blanches for the briefest second, but then he pastes on a sheepish look. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I got your ID number mixed up with Owen’s, I was just looking for his porn stash. I’ve heard it’s quite extensive.”
“Those files are secure for a reason, Jack,” Ianto says, ignoring Jack’s explanation. “There are things in there that could endanger the safety of the human race, of the existence of this very planet, if they got out. Moreover, I don’t appreciate you sneaking around behind my back. I don’t abide by the ‘forgiveness before permission’ policy.”
Jack looks deeply uncomfortable. “Right. But, like I said, I was just looking for Owen’s porn stash, so… you know.”
“Why are you here, Jack?” Ianto asks.
“You called me in he-” Jack stops at Ianto’s look. He sighs, and gives Ianto a somewhat annoyed look of his own. “I’ve already told you. Twice. Possibly thrice. Is this something that you ask everyone on routine basis? Because this would be a really great way to incite identity crises, if you’re looking to make someone quit.”
The hopeful look in his eye means that he’s thinking about Gwen, who Ianto will most certainly not be firing.
“I ask because you have yet to tell me the truth,” Ianto replies.
Jack lets out a sudden, bitter laugh. “Oh, I owe you the truth, do I?”
“Jack, I allow you hold the future of the planet in your hands every day,” Ianto replies. “I think, in return, the truth is a small price to ask.”
“I put my life in your hands every day,” Jack shoots back, “but I still don’t know why you look like you’re twenty-five but you’ve been running this place for the last eight years, or why there’s no record of a Ianto Jones working for Torchwood prior to 2000?”
“That, Jack, is a personal matter which is of no concern to Torchwood or to you,” Ianto snaps.
“And so are my reasons for staying with Torchwood,” Jack replies angrily.
“Jack,” Ianto says in a pained voice, wishing Jack would trust him enough to tell him, and hating that he can’t give Jack a reason to do so. “Please. Just tell me.”
“It’s none of your business,” Jack says curtly. He pushes his chair back, and looks at Ianto expectantly. “If that’s all?”
Ianto holds in a sigh. “Yes. That’s all. Please don’t try to hack my files again, Jack. You won’t get in, and I will know.”
“For the last time, it was an accident,” Jack says testily, and he stands and stalks out of the room, then stomps down the stairs to the Hub main.
Ianto lets the sigh come out now, long and slow, and sits back in his chair. He brings his hands up to rub at his temples.
He knows this can’t go on much longer, but he can’t bring himself to pull everything crashing down just yet.
*
Owen shows up in his doorway. In typical Owen fashion, he doesn’t wait for an invitation, just comes in and stands in front of Ianto’s desk, arms folded over his chest.
Ianto waits, eyebrows raised.
“Not that I actually care,” Owen says, “but Harkness has been looking increasingly worse over the past two weeks. Do I need to give him a lecture on the values of a healthy diet and regular sleep cycle?”
“He’s coping,” Ianto says.
“Coping from what?” Owen demands. “It’s been a month since he almost died of that sex alien gas thing. It’s a little late to be coping.”
Ianto shrugs. He could remind Owen that Jack is one of the thirty-one survivors of Canary Wharf, and that after living through something like that, people don’t just bounce back. Sometimes, it takes a while. Sometimes, people get reminded and they have to deal with it all over again. Sometimes, the way people deal with things doesn’t make sense.
However, he knows that that isn’t why Jack is running himself ragged, so he doesn’t say that.
Instead he tells Owen that he’s welcome to give Jack a physical and a lecture, and sends him on his way.
*
Ianto watches Owen threaten to give Jack a physical and a lecture. Jack responds with a leer and an innuendo. Owen throws up his hands in disgust and gives up.
*
Ianto wakes up to find a rose petal in the bottom of his empty coffee mug.
“-no, God no, please, not him-”
He throws up in the sink, cleans it up with shaking hands, and then pitches the entire pot of his special brew.
*
The following day a pedophile named Goodson winds up dead in a Cardiff PD cell, his throat stuffed with wet lumps of rose petals.
“We’ll take it from here,” Ianto tells Detective Swanson, clenching and unclenching his left hand behind the body, where no one can see it. “Thanks.”
Swanson gives him a nod and turns on her heel. Ianto waits until the sound of her heels clicking in the hallway mostly fades, and then stands and turns to face his team. He is very carefully composed, and when he speaks, he makes sure his voice is even.
“There’s nothing we can do for this man,” Ianto tells them. “The creatures that did this are-their power is limitless. They control the elements without effort, and they abide by no law or conscience. We’ll take his body back and use it as stock.”
“You mean to say that there’s something out there killing people at random, and we’re not to do anything about it?” Gwen demands.
“Involving ourselves further would be to sign our own death warrants, Gwen,” Ianto says.
“What about UNIT?” Jack asks. “We can’t just allow some creatures to go around murdering people. That’s the point of Torchwood!”
“In case you lot forgot,” Owen puts in, “this bloke here’s a pedophile. No one’s exactly mourning his loss.”
Gwen and Jack have twin expressions of indignation on their faces.
“The case is closed,” Ianto says with finality. “Now start prepping the body for transport.”
*
That night, Tosh notices strange weather patterns-it appears to be raining on one woman’s house, and her house alone. A quick search reveals that she’s Estelle Cole, and elderly fairy enthusiast, and Ianto is unsurprised to find her dead in her garden by the time they arrive.
Gwen immediately rounds on Ianto.
“It’s the same as that man earlier today, isn’t it?” she demands furiously. “You said they control the elements, and now they’ve gone and killed some poor innocent old woman. What the hell are these things?”
Ianto sighs. “They’re fairies. Not like the fairies you’ve seen on the telly, or read about in books-these fairies are dangerous. They’re as old as the earth, part of it, even, and they love nothing more than chaos and death. It amuses them.”
“What do you mean, they’re part of the earth?” Jack asks, looking startled by this idea. “They’re not-how do we know they’re not aliens?”
“It doesn’t matter what they are,” Ianto says flatly, “because we’re not getting involved. There’s literally nothing we can do to stop them if they decide to target us-which they will, the moment we start investigating-and I won’t have us all dying needlessly.”
“But can’t we-”
“No!”
Even Jack looks startled at Ianto’s tone.
Ianto takes a deep breath, and slowly releases it.
“No,” he says again, this time calmer. “No, we cannot. Now leave it.”
*
She clutches her throat, eyes popping, nothing more than a croak emerging from her throat.
“Anwyn!” he screams, but he can’t help her, he can’t fight against the wind, he can only press his fingers into his son’s struggling body, a terrible wind pulling tears from his eyes and shrieking giggles in his ear. “No, God no, please, not him-”
Something builds in his throat, and he can’t breathe.
“No, no, no,” he wants to keep screaming, but he can’t, because he has no breath and his limbs are losing strength fast and the world is going dark.
-his son struggles harder, his small, bony body sharp against his-
-she has crumpled to the ground, her petticoat fluffing up around her body and he can’t see her face-
-the world grows darker-
His son slips out of his grasp and runs, runs into the trees, laughing and skipping, and he’s sinking to the ground, losing his vision, dying, and he’s lost his wife and he’s lost his son and he can’t breathe and-
His phone rings.
Ianto bolts upright in bed, breathing hard, and scrambles to find the phone before his mind can process the dream, can even think about it, and he answers breathlessly.
“Hello?”
“Ianto, thank god, you’ve got to come, it’s the fairies-”
“Gwen?” Ianto demands. “What-fairies?”
“There’s petals, Ianto! Petals all over my apartment! Jack and I were investigating them last night, just a little, but-”
“You were what?” Ianto practically thunders.
“I know, I’m really sorry,” Gwen says desperately, sounding close to tears. “We shouldn’t have, you told us not to. Please, Ianto, you have to tell me what to do!”
Ianto takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His hands are trembling.
Not his team. Not Gwen, not Jack.
But what can he do against them?
“I’m on my way over right now,” Ianto tells her. “Have you been in contact with Jack?”
“No,” Gwen says. “Oh, god, do you think they were at his place, too?”
“Probably,” Ianto says. He’s changing his clothes with one hand, mind already spinning as it tries to come up with something, anything that would save Gwen and Jack if the fairies have decided to make them their next victims. He’s coming up blank. “Gwen, I’ll be there as soon as I can, and I’ll call Jack on my way. Just-just hang in there.”
*
Ianto learns that Jack actually hasn’t gone home yet, and had gone directly from investigating with Gwen to a fuck-buddy’s for “some really athletic sex-seriously, my quads are killing me right now”. Ianto tells him get his arse to the Hub, now, and then goes to pick up Gwen.
“Gwen says you were doing research on the fairies last night,” Ianto tells them, once they’re all at the Hub and sitting in his office.
Jack glances at Gwen. “You told him?” he hisses.
“I was scared!” Gwen snaps. “They were in my apartment!”
Jack turns away, disgust on his face. Whatever temporary alliance they’d managed last night, it’s clearly been broken.
“Look, it’s not important,” Gwen says impatiently. “Ianto, look, Jack and I think that the fairies are here to collect their Chosen One-a child that they chose, protect, and then lure away. The children are never seen again.”
Ianto feels ice creeping through his veins, and he has to fight very, very hard to keep breathing.
Gwen leans forward earnestly. “We need to figure out which child it is they want, and stop them.”
Ianto can’t help the hollow, bitter laugh that escapes. “Stop them?”
“Something!” Gwen says helplessly. “We can’t just sit back and do nothing!”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Ianto replies.
“It’s a child, Ianto,” Jack says suddenly, leaning forward, desperation tingeing his voice. “A child with a family, friends, a whole life ahead of it.”
“No,” says Ianto, who can barely breathe. “No, and that’s the end of it. Disobey me again and you’re both suspended. Go home.”
They leave.
Ianto prays that this will be the end of it, but he has a sneaking suspicion that it isn’t.
Part 6