Fic: Clinging to the Edge of Reality (1/1)
Title: Clinging to the Edge of Reality
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: Teen
Characters: Jack/Ianto, Alice, Rhiannon,
Word Count: ~ 2,000
Prompt: You for a_to_z_prompts
Spoilers: Set in-between Series 2 and Children of Earth with allusions to both series.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood.
Authors Notes: Happy birthday to et_muse and lonelyangel_x! I have no idea where this came from but I hope you guys like it anyway.
Summary: In the middle of the battle between light and dark, family and work, past and not so distant future, there is always Ianto.
Clinging to the Edge of Reality
They are literally in the middle of nowhere, a place with no name because there is nothing there. They are standing on something- concrete? Wood maybe?- but whether the ground stretches out into the endless darkness or if they are floating, hovering along an unknown route, he doesn’t know.
He can feel something tugging at him, the combating forces trying to pull him forwards, backwards and side-to-side all at the same time. Since the turn of the millennium Jack has felt stretched too thin, trying to help and protect too many people with not enough resources, but since the death of Tosh and Owen he feels almost at breaking point. One more hit and he’ll shatter.
Three spotlights shine in the darkness, one in front of him and one to each side. There is nothing but darkness behind him- darkness and voices. Whispers of people he knew once, people he loved, people who died because they dared to love him in return. There are other voices as well, taunting him and teasing him, reminding him of deeds long past that he has no desire to remember.
He keeps his back to the darkness, making sure he is an unmovable barrier between it and Ianto.
There is no light where they are standing but, somehow, though it does not light the way between themselves and their sources, the spotlights are more than enough to illuminate the features Jack knows almost as well as he knows his own. He runs his hands up Ianto’s arms, enjoying the feeling of silk beneath his fingers.
This is his favourite suit- the one Ianto always pairs with that red shirt and with the faint red stripes running through it, unnoticeable unless you are standing directly in-front of or behind Ianto. This is the suit that Jack takes pleasure in removing slowly, as opposed to ripping it off the young man in a fit of lust, desperation and passion. He enjoys stripping away each layer one by one, removing the armour and the facade Ianto hides behind as he does so until he is left with just Ianto.
Where the suit jacket is that goes with the trousers and still-fastened waistcoat Jack doesn’t know, nor does he care at this moment in time.
He leans forward to kiss Ianto, the soft, gentle kiss quickly becoming deeper and more passionate. He pulls away when he feels somebody scrutinising him. He is fine with exhibitionism- he has revelled in the daring streak Ianto shows on occasion- but the attention is making him uncomfortable for reasons he cannot fathom.
Jack rests his head against Ianto’s, tilting his own to the left slightly so he can see their observer. Alice is standing in the centre of one of the spotlights, Steven’s hand tightly clutched in her own. A wave of guilt crashes over him as she glares, coldness in her eyes. He loves her and Steven and it’s not that she doesn’t trust him that hurts, it’s the fact that she is right too. Tosh, Owen, Suzie, Estelle- the list of people he loves (and will love for all eternity) but are dead because of him is endless.
He starts to move towards Alice without realising it, wanting to tell her false promises that they both know he will never be able to keep. He halts when he realises Ianto is cupping his face, pulling his gaze away from Alice and tethering him to this spot in the middle of nowhere. Alice shouts at him, her voice echoing as though they are in a giant cavern. Ianto responds to each shout and jibe, soothing Alice’s shouts of ‘You were never there,’ ‘I don’t trust you,’ and ‘You’re dangerous, Dad,’ with soft caresses and kisses.
“You’re Torchwood. What you do is important,” Ianto whispers between kisses. Jack murmurs an agreement before kissing Ianto again, enjoying the kiss on its own merits and not as a prelude to sex as most of their kisses are. They share more of these kisses now than they ever have, but work and time is always against them and they have come to cherish and capitalise on any free moment they have.
This time it is Ianto who pulls away from the kiss, resting his head comfortably on Jack’s shoulder, but his eyes keep darting towards Jack’s right-hand side. Jack knows the three faces from pictures on Ianto’s mantle-piece -his niece, nephew and a sister with whom Ianto has only a few things in common but whom he would tear the world apart for if she asked him to. Jack knows Rhiannon’s voice although he cannot hear what she is saying.
‘You’re avoiding me again.’ ‘Just wanted to let you know David got onto the football team. Give me a ring so I know you’re not dead, yeah?’ ‘It’s Mica’s birthday next week, though I know you’re not going to make it. You never make it.’ Jack’s brain uses those messages he has heard on Ianto’s answering machine to fill in the sounds he can see Rhiannon’s lips making but only Ianto can hear.
Jack wraps his arms around Ianto’s waist, pulling Ianto close against his chest, refusing to let him go. Perhaps it makes him selfish that he wants to keep Ianto to himself for just a bit longer but he can’t bring himself to feel guilty about this. There will be plenty of time for him to feel guilty when Ianto is dead, something they both know will be sooner rather than later. A fact both of them know with utter certainty but never air.
Ianto tears his gaze away from his family with obvious difficulty, screwing his eyes closed and burying his face into the join where Jack’s neck meets his shoulder, wrapping his arms tight around Jack’s middle. Ianto’s breath is hot and jagged and Jack can feel each inhale and exhale as though Ianto’s lips are pressing against his bare skin instead of his favourite blue shirt and white t-shirt combo.
There are things Ianto hasn’t told him about his family- Jack knows it by the way Ianto changes the subject whenever his childhood is brought up and the way Ianto stares determinedly at the wall when trying to placate Rhiannon over the phone. He is curious, but the way Ianto always clings that little bit tighter during the night after a phone call with Rhiannon, plus the finger and teeth marks that litter Jack’s skin after Ianto returns from one of his rare visits to see his family, always stop Jack from asking questions Ianto obviously doesn’t want to answer.
The breathing against his neck has evened out now, but still Ianto keeps his head buried and his gaze away from his family.
Jack moves his hand so it is running through Ianto’s hair and he bends his head to kiss Ianto’s temple. Watery-blue eyes look back up at him as Ianto moves his head so it is now resting against Jack’s forehead, mirroring their stance from earlier.
It’s hard, and the constant pulling and tugging is nothing short of exhausting, but Jack knows it is worth it. That Ianto is worth it.
The lights on either side diminish slightly, though whether this is due to their own power weakening or the light directly behind Ianto growing steadily stronger Jack does not know.
He has deliberately not looked into that light, knowing that once he does there is no going back. He knows they will be pulled in eventually, but he wants this moment to last just a little bit longer.
Nobody escapes from Torchwood.
They are like opposite poles of a magnet, themselves and Torchwood, inexplicably drawn together and inseparable without a great deal of force. Torchwood is who they are and it is visible in every aspect of their lives- from the secrets they tell to those they love to the pain in both their eyes that can never be erased.
Jack tugs Ianto towards him again, locking his arms tight around Ianto’s waist and refusing to let go. He will never let go, not willingly.
It’s getting harder to resist now, the constant pulling gaining strength with each tug. Jack leans forward to kiss Ianto once more, knowing this is his best chance of winning, but still the tugging gets stronger.
“We can’t fight the inevitable,” Ianto whispers, his eyes closed and his breath ghosting against Jack’s face. Jack snaps his eyes open and stares down at Ianto’s resigned face, his arms still locked around Ianto’s back.
Before Jack can comprehend this, the ground beneath their feet vanishes and everything around them tilts. He can see Rhiannon shouting and screaming, reaching out for them but unable to penetrate the barrier of light surrounding her. Jack knows Alice is doing the same behind him. He can’t see her but her screams of ‘Dad!’ merge with their echoes, causing a never-ending loop.
The blackness is now above their heads, out of reach and unable to help or hinder them in any way. They tumble over each other, neither releasing their vice-like grips as they hurtle downwards.
He can see faces in the light.
Alice Guppy with that sadistic grin of hers.
Alex with blood pouring from the gap where the top of his head should be.
Tosh, Owen and Gwen all pushing upwards, but it is unclear to Jack if they are trying to push themselves closer or Jack and Ianto away from Torchwood, trying to give them just a second longer.
Jack forces his attention away from all the faces he can see rushing towards them, ghosts of the long dead and recently deceased flying past as they fall into the never-ending light.
“It’ll be okay,” Ianto says softly, though Jack can still hear the words over the sound of air rushing past them before pressing his lips to Jack’s once more. Jack clings to Ianto tightly, refusing to break the kiss even as he feels Ianto vanish from his embrace.
Jack blinks several times before he realises that the all-consuming light has vanished and he is in fact staring at the bedside table on his side of the bed. He turns over, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding when he sees Ianto’s still sleeping form lying next to him.
The dream is already slipping away from him so that all he remembers is fragments- light and darkness, whispers and shouts of loved ones and, above all else, Ianto. Jack moves closer to Ianto, stretching out his arm and tracing patterns in the air above Ianto’s bare back before finally reaching out to gently touch. Ianto’s skin is cool where it is uncovered by their light, summer quilt.
Jack keeps his touches light, running his fingers up along Ianto’s shoulders and then over the back of his neck. Ianto snuffles slightly in his sleep but doesn’t wake. Jack moves closer again so that his head is now resting on the edge of Ianto’s pillow. Slowly, he moves his arm from Ianto’s neck, down his back and over his waist so it is resting on Ianto’s stomach under the quilt.
Ianto stirs when Jack kisses his shoulder and moves so his entire body is pressed against Ianto’s, but still he doesn’t wake fully. Still more than half-asleep, Ianto keeps his eyes shut as he fumbles for Jack’s hand before entwining their fingers and pulling Jack’s arm tighter around his waist, bringing their joined hands to rest against his heart.
Jack smiles and kisses Ianto’s shoulder again before falling asleep once more.
He doesn’t remember the dream in the morning.
Like it? Love it? Loathe it? Let me know :c)
My Torchwood master-list can be found here.
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: Teen
Characters: Jack/Ianto, Alice, Rhiannon,
Word Count: ~ 2,000
Prompt: You for a_to_z_prompts
Spoilers: Set in-between Series 2 and Children of Earth with allusions to both series.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood.
Authors Notes: Happy birthday to et_muse and lonelyangel_x! I have no idea where this came from but I hope you guys like it anyway.
Summary: In the middle of the battle between light and dark, family and work, past and not so distant future, there is always Ianto.
Clinging to the Edge of Reality
They are literally in the middle of nowhere, a place with no name because there is nothing there. They are standing on something- concrete? Wood maybe?- but whether the ground stretches out into the endless darkness or if they are floating, hovering along an unknown route, he doesn’t know.
He can feel something tugging at him, the combating forces trying to pull him forwards, backwards and side-to-side all at the same time. Since the turn of the millennium Jack has felt stretched too thin, trying to help and protect too many people with not enough resources, but since the death of Tosh and Owen he feels almost at breaking point. One more hit and he’ll shatter.
Three spotlights shine in the darkness, one in front of him and one to each side. There is nothing but darkness behind him- darkness and voices. Whispers of people he knew once, people he loved, people who died because they dared to love him in return. There are other voices as well, taunting him and teasing him, reminding him of deeds long past that he has no desire to remember.
He keeps his back to the darkness, making sure he is an unmovable barrier between it and Ianto.
There is no light where they are standing but, somehow, though it does not light the way between themselves and their sources, the spotlights are more than enough to illuminate the features Jack knows almost as well as he knows his own. He runs his hands up Ianto’s arms, enjoying the feeling of silk beneath his fingers.
This is his favourite suit- the one Ianto always pairs with that red shirt and with the faint red stripes running through it, unnoticeable unless you are standing directly in-front of or behind Ianto. This is the suit that Jack takes pleasure in removing slowly, as opposed to ripping it off the young man in a fit of lust, desperation and passion. He enjoys stripping away each layer one by one, removing the armour and the facade Ianto hides behind as he does so until he is left with just Ianto.
Where the suit jacket is that goes with the trousers and still-fastened waistcoat Jack doesn’t know, nor does he care at this moment in time.
He leans forward to kiss Ianto, the soft, gentle kiss quickly becoming deeper and more passionate. He pulls away when he feels somebody scrutinising him. He is fine with exhibitionism- he has revelled in the daring streak Ianto shows on occasion- but the attention is making him uncomfortable for reasons he cannot fathom.
Jack rests his head against Ianto’s, tilting his own to the left slightly so he can see their observer. Alice is standing in the centre of one of the spotlights, Steven’s hand tightly clutched in her own. A wave of guilt crashes over him as she glares, coldness in her eyes. He loves her and Steven and it’s not that she doesn’t trust him that hurts, it’s the fact that she is right too. Tosh, Owen, Suzie, Estelle- the list of people he loves (and will love for all eternity) but are dead because of him is endless.
He starts to move towards Alice without realising it, wanting to tell her false promises that they both know he will never be able to keep. He halts when he realises Ianto is cupping his face, pulling his gaze away from Alice and tethering him to this spot in the middle of nowhere. Alice shouts at him, her voice echoing as though they are in a giant cavern. Ianto responds to each shout and jibe, soothing Alice’s shouts of ‘You were never there,’ ‘I don’t trust you,’ and ‘You’re dangerous, Dad,’ with soft caresses and kisses.
“You’re Torchwood. What you do is important,” Ianto whispers between kisses. Jack murmurs an agreement before kissing Ianto again, enjoying the kiss on its own merits and not as a prelude to sex as most of their kisses are. They share more of these kisses now than they ever have, but work and time is always against them and they have come to cherish and capitalise on any free moment they have.
This time it is Ianto who pulls away from the kiss, resting his head comfortably on Jack’s shoulder, but his eyes keep darting towards Jack’s right-hand side. Jack knows the three faces from pictures on Ianto’s mantle-piece -his niece, nephew and a sister with whom Ianto has only a few things in common but whom he would tear the world apart for if she asked him to. Jack knows Rhiannon’s voice although he cannot hear what she is saying.
‘You’re avoiding me again.’ ‘Just wanted to let you know David got onto the football team. Give me a ring so I know you’re not dead, yeah?’ ‘It’s Mica’s birthday next week, though I know you’re not going to make it. You never make it.’ Jack’s brain uses those messages he has heard on Ianto’s answering machine to fill in the sounds he can see Rhiannon’s lips making but only Ianto can hear.
Jack wraps his arms around Ianto’s waist, pulling Ianto close against his chest, refusing to let him go. Perhaps it makes him selfish that he wants to keep Ianto to himself for just a bit longer but he can’t bring himself to feel guilty about this. There will be plenty of time for him to feel guilty when Ianto is dead, something they both know will be sooner rather than later. A fact both of them know with utter certainty but never air.
Ianto tears his gaze away from his family with obvious difficulty, screwing his eyes closed and burying his face into the join where Jack’s neck meets his shoulder, wrapping his arms tight around Jack’s middle. Ianto’s breath is hot and jagged and Jack can feel each inhale and exhale as though Ianto’s lips are pressing against his bare skin instead of his favourite blue shirt and white t-shirt combo.
There are things Ianto hasn’t told him about his family- Jack knows it by the way Ianto changes the subject whenever his childhood is brought up and the way Ianto stares determinedly at the wall when trying to placate Rhiannon over the phone. He is curious, but the way Ianto always clings that little bit tighter during the night after a phone call with Rhiannon, plus the finger and teeth marks that litter Jack’s skin after Ianto returns from one of his rare visits to see his family, always stop Jack from asking questions Ianto obviously doesn’t want to answer.
The breathing against his neck has evened out now, but still Ianto keeps his head buried and his gaze away from his family.
Jack moves his hand so it is running through Ianto’s hair and he bends his head to kiss Ianto’s temple. Watery-blue eyes look back up at him as Ianto moves his head so it is now resting against Jack’s forehead, mirroring their stance from earlier.
It’s hard, and the constant pulling and tugging is nothing short of exhausting, but Jack knows it is worth it. That Ianto is worth it.
The lights on either side diminish slightly, though whether this is due to their own power weakening or the light directly behind Ianto growing steadily stronger Jack does not know.
He has deliberately not looked into that light, knowing that once he does there is no going back. He knows they will be pulled in eventually, but he wants this moment to last just a little bit longer.
Nobody escapes from Torchwood.
They are like opposite poles of a magnet, themselves and Torchwood, inexplicably drawn together and inseparable without a great deal of force. Torchwood is who they are and it is visible in every aspect of their lives- from the secrets they tell to those they love to the pain in both their eyes that can never be erased.
Jack tugs Ianto towards him again, locking his arms tight around Ianto’s waist and refusing to let go. He will never let go, not willingly.
It’s getting harder to resist now, the constant pulling gaining strength with each tug. Jack leans forward to kiss Ianto once more, knowing this is his best chance of winning, but still the tugging gets stronger.
“We can’t fight the inevitable,” Ianto whispers, his eyes closed and his breath ghosting against Jack’s face. Jack snaps his eyes open and stares down at Ianto’s resigned face, his arms still locked around Ianto’s back.
Before Jack can comprehend this, the ground beneath their feet vanishes and everything around them tilts. He can see Rhiannon shouting and screaming, reaching out for them but unable to penetrate the barrier of light surrounding her. Jack knows Alice is doing the same behind him. He can’t see her but her screams of ‘Dad!’ merge with their echoes, causing a never-ending loop.
The blackness is now above their heads, out of reach and unable to help or hinder them in any way. They tumble over each other, neither releasing their vice-like grips as they hurtle downwards.
He can see faces in the light.
Alice Guppy with that sadistic grin of hers.
Alex with blood pouring from the gap where the top of his head should be.
Tosh, Owen and Gwen all pushing upwards, but it is unclear to Jack if they are trying to push themselves closer or Jack and Ianto away from Torchwood, trying to give them just a second longer.
Jack forces his attention away from all the faces he can see rushing towards them, ghosts of the long dead and recently deceased flying past as they fall into the never-ending light.
“It’ll be okay,” Ianto says softly, though Jack can still hear the words over the sound of air rushing past them before pressing his lips to Jack’s once more. Jack clings to Ianto tightly, refusing to break the kiss even as he feels Ianto vanish from his embrace.
Jack blinks several times before he realises that the all-consuming light has vanished and he is in fact staring at the bedside table on his side of the bed. He turns over, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding when he sees Ianto’s still sleeping form lying next to him.
The dream is already slipping away from him so that all he remembers is fragments- light and darkness, whispers and shouts of loved ones and, above all else, Ianto. Jack moves closer to Ianto, stretching out his arm and tracing patterns in the air above Ianto’s bare back before finally reaching out to gently touch. Ianto’s skin is cool where it is uncovered by their light, summer quilt.
Jack keeps his touches light, running his fingers up along Ianto’s shoulders and then over the back of his neck. Ianto snuffles slightly in his sleep but doesn’t wake. Jack moves closer again so that his head is now resting on the edge of Ianto’s pillow. Slowly, he moves his arm from Ianto’s neck, down his back and over his waist so it is resting on Ianto’s stomach under the quilt.
Ianto stirs when Jack kisses his shoulder and moves so his entire body is pressed against Ianto’s, but still he doesn’t wake fully. Still more than half-asleep, Ianto keeps his eyes shut as he fumbles for Jack’s hand before entwining their fingers and pulling Jack’s arm tighter around his waist, bringing their joined hands to rest against his heart.
Jack smiles and kisses Ianto’s shoulder again before falling asleep once more.
He doesn’t remember the dream in the morning.
Like it? Love it? Loathe it? Let me know :c)
My Torchwood master-list can be found here.