15.1 Displaced
I am displaced
.
And she's my friend of all friends
She's still here when everyone's gone
.
I just know that no one
No one survives
They sit together in the living room of her new house.
Gwen is stretched out on the sofa, her shoes off and her toes curled around the edge of a coffee table Rhys has bought on sale. There's a glass in her hand, and the look in her eyes says she wishes it were something else--wine, something stronger still, anything, perhaps, that isn't bloody fizzy. But fizzy helps her nausea and she isn't going to do anything, ever, that would risk hurting the baby, and so fizzy it is.
Ianto sits on a ottoman whose pattern doesn't quite match the drapes, and sitting there he feels awkward, like he doesn't know where to put his knees. His down is down, and he watches his feet, the floor, her hand out of the corner of his eye, but not her face.
"I miss you," she whispers, and he sniffs, once, to keep himself under control.
"It's so hard," she goes on, "with Jack gone. And Torchwood... But no one understands. Not even Rhys, not really."
"I do," Ianto says.
"Some days, I feel like none of this is real. Like a... a dream, or hallucination, or--remember when Tosh found that globe and we spent two days thinking we were married?"
"How could I forget?" Ianto answers in a breath, and he allows himself one glance. One tiny, split-second glance at her. Her face is drawn, but that's it, otherwise everything is the same. "First time I'd seen Jack and Rhys work together."
She smiles-- but only briefly, watery-- and starts to say something else, but she's interrupted by footsteps on the stairs.
Rhys, wearing only boxers, peeks around the corner. As he leans his cheek against the door frame, Ianto suppresses a smile. "You two ever coming to bed?" Rhys asks, and Gwen laughs. She forces herself to laugh, Ianto knows, and he suspects Rhys knows, too.
She puts a hand over her belly, fingers closing over the curve that gets more pronounced every day, and looks up at him. "Depends. Think you can make room?"
"Oi!" Rhys calls, and he launches himself into the lounge with too much force, as though he's angry, but all once there he does is take her glass and set it down. "What's that supposed to mean, eh?"
"Come on," he says, then, as he helps her up, and there's something else there in his voice, something that makes Ianto breathe in and look away. "You need to sleep. You won't be making yourself sick, Gwen, not with my baby in there."
"I'm all right," she says, leaning into him, and it's pretty convincing for a lie. "Rhys, I'm all right." He presses a kiss to her hair, and she says, "Let's go."
As they leave, back to their bed and their life, Ianto sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"I miss you, too," he tells the empty room.
Ianto Jones
Torchwood
485 words
Please comment here.
.
And she's my friend of all friends
She's still here when everyone's gone
.
I just know that no one
No one survives
They sit together in the living room of her new house.
Gwen is stretched out on the sofa, her shoes off and her toes curled around the edge of a coffee table Rhys has bought on sale. There's a glass in her hand, and the look in her eyes says she wishes it were something else--wine, something stronger still, anything, perhaps, that isn't bloody fizzy. But fizzy helps her nausea and she isn't going to do anything, ever, that would risk hurting the baby, and so fizzy it is.
Ianto sits on a ottoman whose pattern doesn't quite match the drapes, and sitting there he feels awkward, like he doesn't know where to put his knees. His down is down, and he watches his feet, the floor, her hand out of the corner of his eye, but not her face.
"I miss you," she whispers, and he sniffs, once, to keep himself under control.
"It's so hard," she goes on, "with Jack gone. And Torchwood... But no one understands. Not even Rhys, not really."
"I do," Ianto says.
"Some days, I feel like none of this is real. Like a... a dream, or hallucination, or--remember when Tosh found that globe and we spent two days thinking we were married?"
"How could I forget?" Ianto answers in a breath, and he allows himself one glance. One tiny, split-second glance at her. Her face is drawn, but that's it, otherwise everything is the same. "First time I'd seen Jack and Rhys work together."
She smiles-- but only briefly, watery-- and starts to say something else, but she's interrupted by footsteps on the stairs.
Rhys, wearing only boxers, peeks around the corner. As he leans his cheek against the door frame, Ianto suppresses a smile. "You two ever coming to bed?" Rhys asks, and Gwen laughs. She forces herself to laugh, Ianto knows, and he suspects Rhys knows, too.
She puts a hand over her belly, fingers closing over the curve that gets more pronounced every day, and looks up at him. "Depends. Think you can make room?"
"Oi!" Rhys calls, and he launches himself into the lounge with too much force, as though he's angry, but all once there he does is take her glass and set it down. "What's that supposed to mean, eh?"
"Come on," he says, then, as he helps her up, and there's something else there in his voice, something that makes Ianto breathe in and look away. "You need to sleep. You won't be making yourself sick, Gwen, not with my baby in there."
"I'm all right," she says, leaning into him, and it's pretty convincing for a lie. "Rhys, I'm all right." He presses a kiss to her hair, and she says, "Let's go."
As they leave, back to their bed and their life, Ianto sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"I miss you, too," he tells the empty room.
Ianto Jones
Torchwood
485 words
Please comment here.