Fic: A Time to Kill, and a Time to Heal
Title: A Time to Kill, and a Time to Heal
Author: remuslives23
Rating: PG15
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 1003
Summary: "He saw his fingers curling around the black grip of his gun, felt the shock of recoil reverberating up his arm, smelled the acrid scent of cordite before he heard the sickening thud of a body hitting rock." Ianto takes his first life.
Notes/Warnings: Title from the verse Ecclesiastes 3:3. lover100 prompt 086 - choices. Hurt/Comfort. I'm offering drabbles at help_haiti Lightning Round. $3 buys you a drabble with the pairings listed and I'll donate another $3 for each drabble I write. My thread is here or PM me.
Disclaimer: The Torchwood characters and universe belong to Russel T Davies, the BBC and affiliates. No money is made from this work of fan fiction, and no offense is intended. All characters are of age for sexual situations.
Ianto sank down to the floor, feeling the cold, slick tiles at his back, under his bare buttocks. He shivered as the chill seeped into his water-warmed skin, crept through his veins, infused his very marrow. He drew his battered knees to his chest, hugging them tight as he curled in on himself. His head dropped, resting on a forearm as he concentrated on just taking one breath after another. He could still taste grit in his mouth from the beach, could still feel sand between his fingers, his toes, scraping and scratching and burrowing like bugs crawling under his skin and he wanted to dig his nails into his flesh - digdigdig - and gouge them out.
He stared at his hands, not really seeing the dirt-encrusted nails, the rivulets of pink-tinted water that trailed in an erratic path down his arms. Instead, he saw his fingers curling around the black grip of his gun, felt the shock of recoil reverberating up his arm, smelled the acrid scent of cordite before he heard the sickening thud of a body hitting rock.
Ianto shuddered, the tremor starting his shoulders and stuttering all the way down to his toes. His stomach roiled once again and sour bile burned at the back of his throat, just as it had earlier when Owen, two fingers pressed to the possessed man's throat, looked up at Ianto and shook his head sadly. His chest was on fire and a voice in Ianto's head - which sounded extraordinarily like Jack - gave him a nudge, reminding him it was time to breathe now. He did; lungs expanding almost painfully as he sucked in a ragged breath, and then Jack... Jack was there - Ianto could smell him, could feel him.
Jack crouched in front of him, his big, gentle hands rubbing soothing circles over Ianto's shoulders. Ianto looked up, and Jack winced. Ianto didn't blame him; he must look a sight. He was cut and bruised - that... thing (not a man, not anymore) hadn't gone down without a fight - and Ianto didn't have the energy or inclination to raise his walls, his wards, tonight. All the choking guilt, the gut-tearing sorrow he was feeling would be etched across his face, as easy to read as a page of a book.
'You had no choice,' Jack said softly, thumbs stroking along the length of Ianto's clavicle.
'I know.'
'The alien had penetrated his mind. There was no other way...'
'I know.'
The soft susurrus sound of the shower filled the heavy silence and Ianto found himself staring at Jack's boots. They were wet, the brown leather darkening until it appeared black, and beads of water dripped from the ends of the laces. It struck Ianto as funny; Jack was fully clothed in the shower and Ianto was as naked as the day he was born. More naked if you included the fact that every single thing he was feeling was being laid bare in front of the man he was shagging, the man that he might well be in love with despite his best attempts to convince his heart otherwise. The last man he'd want to see him like this, yet the only man who had ever seen him at his most raw. A bubble of slightly hysterical laughter escaped his chapped lips. 'Complicated' really was too simple a word to describe his and Jack's relationship.
Jack's hands tightened when another burst of laughter (or were they sobs?) slipped from Ianto's lips. 'It's okay not to be okay, Ianto,' he murmured, sliding his hands down Ianto's arms to grip his biceps. 'You need time to heal, and no one is judging you for being up...'
'I know.'
The silence lingered for longer this time. Jack's hands were warm on his skin, but Ianto shivered intermittently as the spray of water cooled and the guilt and horror at taking a life - no matter how justified - grew. After one more powerful body-wracking shudder, Jack flipped the taps off then reached out and took Ianto's hands in his own, perhaps to pull him to his feet, perhaps to warm them, but Ianto clutched at him like he was drowning and Jack was his lifeline which, come to think of it, wasn't too far from the truth. The rising regret threatened to pull Ianto under, and Jack... warm and solid and forever... was the only thing anchoring Ianto, preventing him from sinking under the weight of his remorse.
Jack shifted out of his crouch, kneeling on the tile floor beside Ianto. He brushed a thumb back and forth over Ianto's injured knuckles before lowering his head and pressing his lips to the abrasions.
'I'm sorry you had to make that choice, Ianto,' he mumbled, lips grazing Ianto's skin, warming him, melting the cold numbness and dissolving the last fraying threads of Ianto's control.
'I know,' came the shaky reply and Ianto clenched his eyes shut tight as his composure wobbled dangerously under Jack's compassionate attentions.
Jack kissed Ianto chastely on the bridge of his nose, then, as Ianto began to shake uncontrollably, pressed his lips to each of Ianto's cheeks one after the other. When Jack brushed his lips lightly over Ianto's closed eyelids, Ianto let out shuddering sigh and dragged their joined hands to his mouth. Lips trembling, he laid desperate, open-mouthed kisses against the back of Jack's hand then held it firmly to his tightly clenched eyes.
'It hurts, Jack,' he whispered, barely able to understand his own words through his voice choked with pain and sorrow, but somehow, Jack understood.
He held Ianto's face with a softly curved hand then kissed him sweetly on the mouth. A sob caught in Ianto's throat and he buried his face in the crook of Jack's neck as the other man combed gentle fingers through his hair.
'I know, Ianto,' Jack said quietly as Ianto began to sob into his shoulder. 'I know.'
fin.
Author: remuslives23
Rating: PG15
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 1003
Summary: "He saw his fingers curling around the black grip of his gun, felt the shock of recoil reverberating up his arm, smelled the acrid scent of cordite before he heard the sickening thud of a body hitting rock." Ianto takes his first life.
Notes/Warnings: Title from the verse Ecclesiastes 3:3. lover100 prompt 086 - choices. Hurt/Comfort. I'm offering drabbles at help_haiti Lightning Round. $3 buys you a drabble with the pairings listed and I'll donate another $3 for each drabble I write. My thread is here or PM me.
Disclaimer: The Torchwood characters and universe belong to Russel T Davies, the BBC and affiliates. No money is made from this work of fan fiction, and no offense is intended. All characters are of age for sexual situations.
Ianto sank down to the floor, feeling the cold, slick tiles at his back, under his bare buttocks. He shivered as the chill seeped into his water-warmed skin, crept through his veins, infused his very marrow. He drew his battered knees to his chest, hugging them tight as he curled in on himself. His head dropped, resting on a forearm as he concentrated on just taking one breath after another. He could still taste grit in his mouth from the beach, could still feel sand between his fingers, his toes, scraping and scratching and burrowing like bugs crawling under his skin and he wanted to dig his nails into his flesh - digdigdig - and gouge them out.
He stared at his hands, not really seeing the dirt-encrusted nails, the rivulets of pink-tinted water that trailed in an erratic path down his arms. Instead, he saw his fingers curling around the black grip of his gun, felt the shock of recoil reverberating up his arm, smelled the acrid scent of cordite before he heard the sickening thud of a body hitting rock.
Ianto shuddered, the tremor starting his shoulders and stuttering all the way down to his toes. His stomach roiled once again and sour bile burned at the back of his throat, just as it had earlier when Owen, two fingers pressed to the possessed man's throat, looked up at Ianto and shook his head sadly. His chest was on fire and a voice in Ianto's head - which sounded extraordinarily like Jack - gave him a nudge, reminding him it was time to breathe now. He did; lungs expanding almost painfully as he sucked in a ragged breath, and then Jack... Jack was there - Ianto could smell him, could feel him.
Jack crouched in front of him, his big, gentle hands rubbing soothing circles over Ianto's shoulders. Ianto looked up, and Jack winced. Ianto didn't blame him; he must look a sight. He was cut and bruised - that... thing (not a man, not anymore) hadn't gone down without a fight - and Ianto didn't have the energy or inclination to raise his walls, his wards, tonight. All the choking guilt, the gut-tearing sorrow he was feeling would be etched across his face, as easy to read as a page of a book.
'You had no choice,' Jack said softly, thumbs stroking along the length of Ianto's clavicle.
'I know.'
'The alien had penetrated his mind. There was no other way...'
'I know.'
The soft susurrus sound of the shower filled the heavy silence and Ianto found himself staring at Jack's boots. They were wet, the brown leather darkening until it appeared black, and beads of water dripped from the ends of the laces. It struck Ianto as funny; Jack was fully clothed in the shower and Ianto was as naked as the day he was born. More naked if you included the fact that every single thing he was feeling was being laid bare in front of the man he was shagging, the man that he might well be in love with despite his best attempts to convince his heart otherwise. The last man he'd want to see him like this, yet the only man who had ever seen him at his most raw. A bubble of slightly hysterical laughter escaped his chapped lips. 'Complicated' really was too simple a word to describe his and Jack's relationship.
Jack's hands tightened when another burst of laughter (or were they sobs?) slipped from Ianto's lips. 'It's okay not to be okay, Ianto,' he murmured, sliding his hands down Ianto's arms to grip his biceps. 'You need time to heal, and no one is judging you for being up...'
'I know.'
The silence lingered for longer this time. Jack's hands were warm on his skin, but Ianto shivered intermittently as the spray of water cooled and the guilt and horror at taking a life - no matter how justified - grew. After one more powerful body-wracking shudder, Jack flipped the taps off then reached out and took Ianto's hands in his own, perhaps to pull him to his feet, perhaps to warm them, but Ianto clutched at him like he was drowning and Jack was his lifeline which, come to think of it, wasn't too far from the truth. The rising regret threatened to pull Ianto under, and Jack... warm and solid and forever... was the only thing anchoring Ianto, preventing him from sinking under the weight of his remorse.
Jack shifted out of his crouch, kneeling on the tile floor beside Ianto. He brushed a thumb back and forth over Ianto's injured knuckles before lowering his head and pressing his lips to the abrasions.
'I'm sorry you had to make that choice, Ianto,' he mumbled, lips grazing Ianto's skin, warming him, melting the cold numbness and dissolving the last fraying threads of Ianto's control.
'I know,' came the shaky reply and Ianto clenched his eyes shut tight as his composure wobbled dangerously under Jack's compassionate attentions.
Jack kissed Ianto chastely on the bridge of his nose, then, as Ianto began to shake uncontrollably, pressed his lips to each of Ianto's cheeks one after the other. When Jack brushed his lips lightly over Ianto's closed eyelids, Ianto let out shuddering sigh and dragged their joined hands to his mouth. Lips trembling, he laid desperate, open-mouthed kisses against the back of Jack's hand then held it firmly to his tightly clenched eyes.
'It hurts, Jack,' he whispered, barely able to understand his own words through his voice choked with pain and sorrow, but somehow, Jack understood.
He held Ianto's face with a softly curved hand then kissed him sweetly on the mouth. A sob caught in Ianto's throat and he buried his face in the crook of Jack's neck as the other man combed gentle fingers through his hair.
'I know, Ianto,' Jack said quietly as Ianto began to sob into his shoulder. 'I know.'
fin.