[Torchwood] "Wedding Favors Long Faded" (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for < lj user="love_bingo">'s "marriage". Implied Jack/Ianto, and past Jack/mystery woman in Edwardian wedding gown (as seen in the photograph at the end of "Something Borrowed").
Word Count: 1,058
Jack thought he was alone, as he sat in his office, poring over the photographs which he kept tucked away in a tin box, usually stowed in a drawer of the desk. But as he mused over one photograph in particular -- one which he had not thought about in years, not till Gwen's wedding preparations -- he heard a soft footstep and the gentle rumble of a throat clearing behind him.
He looked up and turned his chair toward the sound. Ianto stood peering at him from the doorway, eying the yellow-covered photograph in Jack's hand.
"You're up late," Jack noted.
"So late that it's early; I didn't see much point in going straight home," Ianto admitted.
"I was about to add, 'shouldn't you be home in bed asleep by now'?" Jack said with a lilt that suggested other reasons why the younger man ought to be in bed.
"Came around to file some papers," Ianto said. "Besides, you were here."
"I'm always here," Jack said. "Had a report to write up, got sidetracked, thinking of past weddings I'd been to." The wedding of one couple back in the 'teens, and he had been involved with both halves of the pair; his daughter Alice's wedding, when he had walked her down the aisle -- somewhat against his will, since he suspected her groom was hardly good enough for her, though Alice had at the time argued he was just being suspicious; sitting up the back of a church in Little Italy with a nervous young man by his side.
Ianto came to the side of the desk and taking Jack's hand in his, he turned it palm upward, turning the photograph up toward the lamp light, revealing the image. An Edwardian silver print, faded a bit, the edges of the paper gently frayed from handling: a tallish woman in a high-collared white gown, a cascade of lace falling over hair that was likely blonde, her lace mitted hand on the shoulder of the man seated on a wing chair beside her. Unmistakably, the man at her side was Jack, clad in a morning coat, looking into the camera with an awkward half-smile, hands on his knees, fingers splayed a bit. Not even trying to connect with the woman at his side: not a pretty woman, but what people called a handsome woman, and Jack seemed almost cowed in her presence.
"You... were married?" Ianto asked, looking his lover in the face.
"It didn't last," Jack said, turning the picture away, laying it on the desktop. "Wasn't the best match, but we loved each other as best we could. Verritty Newman: she was a secretary here back in the 'teens, just before the Great War. A lot of our male agents got called up to the front, so she got promoted to field agent: we worked together, she and I. She was a real proper woman for the time: could make a fabulous cup of tea, and she could shoot a Weevil through the eye. I got smitten with her, but there was one catch: she was Catholic and a really devout one -- kept holy water on her desk and a rosary in her cartridge box -- wouldn't take me as a dance partner without the ring and the vows. It was a crazy time: people were marrying on a whim if they weren't waiting for the war to end, so I went with the flow."
"You didn't look particularly happy with her," Ianto noted, looking from the photograph to Jack.
He breathed in and out audibly. "She tried to keep me on a short leash, and for a while, I went along with it: thought I could swing it, but I got restless. One night, we brought in a misplaced wandering minstrel from New Venus for questioning -- beautiful fella, next to him, I'd smell like a week old bin left in the sun. Vows or not, I didn't stand a chance: she caught me in the cell with him with my back against a wall. Verritty didn't flip her lid, but I wish she had: she forgave me, she said she got it that I'd lost my nerve, but afterward, I got this feeling she was watching my back, wondering if I'd slip again. Poisoned the air a bit: don't blame her for being suspicious, but it got to the point that I couldn't breathe. I kept my cool: I'd made a vow to her and I was going to keep it. Didn't want to tear apart the marriage, but damned if I didn't want to slip out quietly, and once I got out of earshot, run as far and as fast as I could till I ended up in Greenland or the mainland in the middle of the war."
"Couldn't you have had it annulled?" Ianto asked, concerned. Of course, it was all in the past, but it clearly pained him to hear about what had happened.
"Almost did, but then I got my chance: I got called up to the front, so we parted, almost in relief," Jack admitted. "She wrote me most every week, I wrote back. Absence started to make the heart grow fonder and we started talking about having a family when I got back.
"Wasn't meant to be: I came home and we settled back together like we'd never been separated by time or suspicion," he said. Then after a pause, he added, "I didn't know I was carrying the Spanish Flu, something I was immune to, but she wasn't. She took ill: I tried to nurse her back to health, but she didn't make it."
He fell silent, his gaze falling to the photograph. Ianto shuffled his feet a bit, his gaze on the floor. "I'm sorry... that must have been... devastating," he faltered.
"Water under the bridge," Jack said, trying to sound flippant and not quite succeeding. "Got a second chance, with Alice's mother, but we kept the relationship open."
"She understood what sort of man you are," Ianto said, more at ease.
"Doesn't rule out that I couldn't settle down again, with the right person," Jack said, looking up, finding Ianto's gaze with his.
"Is that... a proposal?" Ianto asked, awkwardly, a hint of pink showing in his cheeks.
"If you want it to be one..."
Word Count: 1,058
Jack thought he was alone, as he sat in his office, poring over the photographs which he kept tucked away in a tin box, usually stowed in a drawer of the desk. But as he mused over one photograph in particular -- one which he had not thought about in years, not till Gwen's wedding preparations -- he heard a soft footstep and the gentle rumble of a throat clearing behind him.
He looked up and turned his chair toward the sound. Ianto stood peering at him from the doorway, eying the yellow-covered photograph in Jack's hand.
"You're up late," Jack noted.
"So late that it's early; I didn't see much point in going straight home," Ianto admitted.
"I was about to add, 'shouldn't you be home in bed asleep by now'?" Jack said with a lilt that suggested other reasons why the younger man ought to be in bed.
"Came around to file some papers," Ianto said. "Besides, you were here."
"I'm always here," Jack said. "Had a report to write up, got sidetracked, thinking of past weddings I'd been to." The wedding of one couple back in the 'teens, and he had been involved with both halves of the pair; his daughter Alice's wedding, when he had walked her down the aisle -- somewhat against his will, since he suspected her groom was hardly good enough for her, though Alice had at the time argued he was just being suspicious; sitting up the back of a church in Little Italy with a nervous young man by his side.
Ianto came to the side of the desk and taking Jack's hand in his, he turned it palm upward, turning the photograph up toward the lamp light, revealing the image. An Edwardian silver print, faded a bit, the edges of the paper gently frayed from handling: a tallish woman in a high-collared white gown, a cascade of lace falling over hair that was likely blonde, her lace mitted hand on the shoulder of the man seated on a wing chair beside her. Unmistakably, the man at her side was Jack, clad in a morning coat, looking into the camera with an awkward half-smile, hands on his knees, fingers splayed a bit. Not even trying to connect with the woman at his side: not a pretty woman, but what people called a handsome woman, and Jack seemed almost cowed in her presence.
"You... were married?" Ianto asked, looking his lover in the face.
"It didn't last," Jack said, turning the picture away, laying it on the desktop. "Wasn't the best match, but we loved each other as best we could. Verritty Newman: she was a secretary here back in the 'teens, just before the Great War. A lot of our male agents got called up to the front, so she got promoted to field agent: we worked together, she and I. She was a real proper woman for the time: could make a fabulous cup of tea, and she could shoot a Weevil through the eye. I got smitten with her, but there was one catch: she was Catholic and a really devout one -- kept holy water on her desk and a rosary in her cartridge box -- wouldn't take me as a dance partner without the ring and the vows. It was a crazy time: people were marrying on a whim if they weren't waiting for the war to end, so I went with the flow."
"You didn't look particularly happy with her," Ianto noted, looking from the photograph to Jack.
He breathed in and out audibly. "She tried to keep me on a short leash, and for a while, I went along with it: thought I could swing it, but I got restless. One night, we brought in a misplaced wandering minstrel from New Venus for questioning -- beautiful fella, next to him, I'd smell like a week old bin left in the sun. Vows or not, I didn't stand a chance: she caught me in the cell with him with my back against a wall. Verritty didn't flip her lid, but I wish she had: she forgave me, she said she got it that I'd lost my nerve, but afterward, I got this feeling she was watching my back, wondering if I'd slip again. Poisoned the air a bit: don't blame her for being suspicious, but it got to the point that I couldn't breathe. I kept my cool: I'd made a vow to her and I was going to keep it. Didn't want to tear apart the marriage, but damned if I didn't want to slip out quietly, and once I got out of earshot, run as far and as fast as I could till I ended up in Greenland or the mainland in the middle of the war."
"Couldn't you have had it annulled?" Ianto asked, concerned. Of course, it was all in the past, but it clearly pained him to hear about what had happened.
"Almost did, but then I got my chance: I got called up to the front, so we parted, almost in relief," Jack admitted. "She wrote me most every week, I wrote back. Absence started to make the heart grow fonder and we started talking about having a family when I got back.
"Wasn't meant to be: I came home and we settled back together like we'd never been separated by time or suspicion," he said. Then after a pause, he added, "I didn't know I was carrying the Spanish Flu, something I was immune to, but she wasn't. She took ill: I tried to nurse her back to health, but she didn't make it."
He fell silent, his gaze falling to the photograph. Ianto shuffled his feet a bit, his gaze on the floor. "I'm sorry... that must have been... devastating," he faltered.
"Water under the bridge," Jack said, trying to sound flippant and not quite succeeding. "Got a second chance, with Alice's mother, but we kept the relationship open."
"She understood what sort of man you are," Ianto said, more at ease.
"Doesn't rule out that I couldn't settle down again, with the right person," Jack said, looking up, finding Ianto's gaze with his.
"Is that... a proposal?" Ianto asked, awkwardly, a hint of pink showing in his cheeks.
"If you want it to be one..."