FIC - In His Eyes- 1/1
Title: In His Eyes
Fandom: Torchwood, Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, the 10th Doctor, Jack/Ianto, Jack/Ten
Spoilers: Consider anything up through the end of TW S2 and DW S3 to be fair game.
Prompt: ‘Love Hurts’ for the tw_calender Valentines Day Challenge
Warnings: Implied M/M
Length: Roughly 1500, One-shot, Complete
Disclaimer: Torchwood and Doctor Who belong to RTD and the BBC, unfortunately. This is a work of fiction and lest we forget Fiction = False, Fake, Not Real (and any of those other handy dandy synonyms found in Webster’s big book.)
Beta: Thanks a ton to shayasar and luvinthe88and20 for the help! *hugs*
A/N: This is essentially the same story, told first by Jack and then by Ianto. And for those musical theatre aficionados out there, you will spy some familiar lyrics, as they were the basis for this whole story. Credit to Leslie Bricusse and Frank Wildhorn for those words.
(Jack’s POV)
Why can’t he love me? If a man with one heart can love someone as much as I love him, adore him, went to the end of the universe and back again for him, endured a year of torture for him…then why can’t a man with two hearts spare just a drop of emotion for me?
I think of him. How we were. Back before he changed- his voice, his clothing, his whole affect. Back before I died for the first time. Exterminated for him. My life for his in payment for saving me. For making me a better person.
When it was me, Rose, and him. Sometimes Mickey. Carefree and happy. Tinkering with the TARDIS, exploring new worlds. Finding my way in the universe as a changed man.
In his eyes I can see where my heart longs to be. Beyond the sorrow that I feel for all the missed years. All the time I spent waiting only to be pushed aside. Left behind again. Forgotten once more.
Sure, sure. He did ask me to go with him while we stood on the Plass with Martha, and I turned him down. I knew he wasn’t being sincere. That he still considered me wrong. Unnatural. An impossible thing.
One-sided relationships really hurt. They scald. They burn. It makes it hard to forgive, let alone forget.
If I am wise, I will just continue to walk away. Gladly. But sadly, it is hard to tuck away the memories of him. It’s been months now since the TARDIS disappeared from the Plass. Since the night John Hart returned to my life and was introduced to team Torchwood.
But since that time I have learned that love is worth forgiving for. Now, I realize. Everything worth living for is there in his eyes.
Brown eyes. Not the blue ones staring up at me, while the pert mouth below them works so diligently at its task.
My eyes close. If I keep them shut, I can imagine it is his mouth on me. His hands holding my hips in place. His soft brown hair that my fingers are carded through.
Not Ianto’s.
I like Ianto, I really do. We’ve come so far in a short time.
But he is not him. He never will be…he’s only just a substitute for the brightest star in the whole damn universe.
Some people might think I am using Ianto. Abusing him. Ianto knows better. He takes what he can get, seems happy with it in fact. And if I happen to scream out another’s name while in bed with my Welsh teammate, well, he understands.
Gwen, yes, over-bearing protective mother-like Gwen, believes that I have taken away Ianto’s free will. I haven’t. I don’t force Ianto into my bed. Never have.
There are times Ianto encourages me to be rough. Provokes me to the point where I am just shoving him down over my desk and taking out my frustrations. Quick, hard strokes before clothes are replaced in pristine order and it is business as usual. Paperwork signed. Calls made. Coffee drank. Routine.
Ianto never complains either on the nights I wake up screaming from the nightmares. From the times when I cannot control the rage on the cusp of awakening, fearing that it is the dead come back to haunt me. The Year That Never Was returned to claim me as victim. Black eyes, split lips and bruises given in the heat of frenzy can be explained away with ease. Rogue Weevils are no rarity in Cardiff.
Ianto is not the one who really suffers. Wounds like mine don’t heal. Centuries from now I will still bear the scars even though they are not visible.
The man who can never die hurts. And loves.
But I’m not the one who is loved in return.
(Ianto’s POV)
Why can’t he love me? If I can love someone as much as I love him, respect him, have shown my allegiance to him time and again, take care of him when there is no one else…then why can’t a man with a lifetime to spare show some real emotion for me?
I think of him. How we were. Back before he left- before his time on the Valiant and his year with the Doctor. Back when I just about died for him. Nearly eaten alive by cannibals. My life for his in payment for saving me. For making me a better man.
Even through the deepest betrayal. When I thought he would take my life, when I honestly for a moment wanted him to. He showed me a road that I never knew existed; a personal path that I could take that might bring about salvation.
In his blue eyes I can see where my heart wants, wishes itself to be. Beyond the sorrow that I feel for all the missed months after he left with no warning, no note. After we had all been disloyal and he’d given himself to save the world. All the time I spent waiting for him to wake up from Abaddon, waiting for him to return from wherever and whenever it had taken him…only to be pushed aside. Again. Forgotten once more.
Sure, sure. He did ask me to go on a date with him and I accepted. I knew however the day and time for that date would not be soon to come. Torchwood has a way of doing that to people.
Love hurts.
I should be smarter. I should have said no and just walked away. Willingly let him go. But sadly, he’s not the easiest man to forget. Pheromones aside. It’s been months now since the night he came back with a single bullet, a smirk and a desire to know if he was missed. Since John Hart. Since he told me about the reason he left, when he had looked straight at me and said he had come back for me.
My mind screamed at me not to trust it. The fact that he had quickly corrected himself and included all of us in his statement should have clued me in.
But since that time I have learned that his love is worth forgiving for. I understand. Everything worth living for is there in his eyes.
Blue eyes, staring down at me, while my mouth gives him what he wants.
His eyes close and I know that it isn’t my mouth that he imagines is on him. It isn’t my hands holding his hips in place. Not my soft brown hair that his fingers are winded through.
No, it’s the Doctor’s.
Jack likes me, he really does. We’ve come so far since a night in a darkened warehouse. Dinosaurs and chocolate.
But I am not him. I never will be…I’m only just a substitute for the man who can control time and the universe. My former enemy.
Certain people, who shall remain nameless, Gwen, are under the impression that Jack is only using me for his pleasure. Abusing his right as my Captain.
I know better. If the moments we spend alone together in his bed is all I can get, well, something is better than nothing. And if Jack happens to scream out another’s name while in my throes, I try to understand.
Gwen- I am not as innocent as I claim -Cooper, thinks that Jack forces me against my will. That’s not the case. I go willingly. I think I even did back when I was doing it as a distraction, to keep Jack occupied from encountering what I had tried so hard to hide.
On occasion, Jack needs me to let him be rough. He’ll say the cruelest things to me, berating me until I feel like a speck of dust, causing me to lash out at him. All of which will result with me being thrown to his desk, clothes barely removed, and Jack venting his irritation out with my body as his source of relief.
It’s not always like that. If it was, I never would have fallen in love.
And it is the love that keeps me hanging on through the broken bones and blood, the pain and misery afflicted on me by Jack when his thoughts of what the Doctor did to him come crashing down. I’m the one who suffers. I’m the one who hurts.
But I’m not the one who is loved in return.