Fic: Career Choices (9/10)
Title: Career Choices
Author: rev02a
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, violence, sexual commentary
Beta: comestodecember
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, past Jack/John, Owen/Tosh, Gwen/Rhys
A/N: AU. As we call this in the English teacher world: climax! Less sex, obviously, this way. Shame, that.
Summary: As John Hart’s music agent, Jack Harkness is slowly killing himself with work. A chance romance with a local café owner could be the spark he needs to take control of his life.
Part Eight
Jack and Ianto drug themselves from their warm bed into the freezing Cardiff predawn. The party the night before was well and truly forgotten after a long, sweaty sex session and a good night’s sleep.
Jack opened the driver’s door and handed Ianto the ice scraper.
“Oh thank you,” Ianto snarked, before moving around the front of the vehicle to scrape the windscreen.
Jack climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. The radio blared on and he moved quickly to snap it off. It was too early for that shit. He adjusted the heating vents to warm the iced windscreen before he grabbed his travel mug and took a long sip of coffee.
Mornings like this were the hardest, Ianto assured him. There was something perverse about going to work when it was so dark and cold. They deserved some sort of award for their sacrifice.
Their flat was housed in a very affluent building called SkyPoint. The flats all offered views and the feeling of grandeur that Ianto still seemed uncomfortable with. Besides that, he seemed very nervous about the lift there for some reason.
The building had underground parking with numbered spaces. Jack’s new black SUV took up far too much space, but since Ianto was without a vehicle, it wasn’t too much of a problem. The car park was empty of people most mornings. Sometimes the couple ran into a street sweeper or a fellow tenant stumbling home from a late night, but more often than not, it was just them.
That’s why when Jack heard an engine revving; he set his coffee aside and looked around. Ianto was walking around the back of the SUV to scrape the back window before moving onto his side of the windscreen. The engine revving abruptly stopped and then there was the squeal of tyres.
An instructor in the RAF told Jack that his combat training would never leave him. He just needed to remain open to the input he was receiving.
The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood on end. He jumped out of the car and ran around the back. A red sports car was barreling toward Ianto. Ianto, half asleep, bounced to keep himself warm as he scraped. Jack threw himself at Ianto and the two men rolled across the cold concrete. Jack covered Ianto protectively with his body.
The red car screeched and plowed into the SUV with a sickening crunch. Jack jumped up grabbing Ianto and shoving him behind him.
“Get behind the pillar!” he yelled, and pushed Ianto toward the concrete support beam.
The red sports car backed up and rammed into another parked car as it did so. Jack ran forward trying to see the driver, but the sports car sped out the other direction. Jack chased it, but gave it up as a bad job.
He jogged back to Ianto, grateful for those days of training with Gwen. Ianto was on his mobile, apparently speaking to the police. Jack reached into the SUV and turned off the engine.
“I guess we’ll be a little delayed with the coffee beans this morning,” he mused.
After their reports were given, Jack excused himself to run up to the flat. Ianto was signing off for the tow truck to take the SUV; Jack was certain that would keep him busy. Jack entered his office and opened his desk drawer. He lifted the false bottom and stared at the contents. He wanted to pretend that today was coincidence, but he didn’t believe in them. John had done this, either himself or paid someone to assist him.
Jack reached into the drawer and retrieved his grandfather’s World War I Webley Revolver. He’d had his own service revolver back during his RAF days, but the military didn’t give away weapons anymore. Jack loaded the gun carefully and checked the safety before retrieving his shoulder holster from the drawer.
He slid the gun and holster under his light jacket, and then put his greatcoat back on. Jack rubbed his hand through his hair. John wouldn’t really kill Ianto, would he?
Memories flooded him suddenly. That stripper-that poor girl-strangled to death. John had sworn he was too stoned to remember, but Jack knew the other man. John said he didn’t remember the incident, but his eyes had glimmered. He had known what he was doing.
If Jack had told anyone what he knew in his gut, then Ianto wouldn’t be in danger now. He closed his eyes in regret. The trial that had been dismissed for jury tampering had been just another failure. He should have taken Ianto to France or Australia. No, no place on this planet was safe with John.
His mobile buzzed and Jack jumped. He forced himself to take a deep breath before reading the text.
The taxi is here. Should I go on without you?
no!
Jack ran to the lift in a near panic. Ianto was waiting for him in the taxi. He smiled sweetly and pulled Jack closer on the seat.
“I’m freezing,” he laughed, and burrowed into Jack’s arms.
The drive to the café was quick, and, thankfully, warm. Jack stood guard, looking over the darkened Plass as Ianto paid the driver. Any noise, any movement caused Jack to reach for his gun. Ianto stared at his worriedly as he unlocked the shop.
“Jack?” he asked, concerned. “Are you all right?”
Jack opened the door and shooed Ianto into the café. The lights came on slowly. Jack was tense until he could see everything in the room.
Ianto laid his hand on Jack’s arm. Jack nearly jumped again. Ianto looked worried.
“Do you want to go home? You’re really shaken up; I’ll be fine here-“
“No,” Jack replied adamantly, “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Ianto touched Jack’s cheek and then helped him out of his greatcoat. “Let’s go make breakfast.”
The morning bustle helped ease Jack’s nerves. Even still, he knew that Ianto had made out the shape of the gun under his jacket. He cursed Ianto’s observant nature. With Aaron and Harriet there, however, Ianto didn’t bring it up. It was probably for the best.
The bell above the door offered a cheery ding at about nine that morning. The morning’s heavy rush had died down, but there was still a queue and people sitting in the café. The room smelled of baked goods and coffee.
And then people began to scream.
John Hart stood at the door with a large gun in his hand. “Jack!” he yelled.
Jack ran from the table he was serving toward the front of the café. Aaron had forced some customers behind the sofa, and Harriet was crawling behind the counter into the roasting room, already on her mobile with the police.
Ianto, however, was next to the door. He still had a loaded tray in his hands. The two women he was delivering the coffee and breakfast to sobbed in fear.
Jack slowed and held Ianto’s eye. He tried to will Ianto to hide. John sneered once he saw Jack’s gaze. He grabbed Ianto and shoved the muzzle of the gun against Ianto’s temple.
“Maybe now you’ll want to spend time with me!” John walked Ianto forward. The mugs on the tray trembled. Ianto didn’t break eye contact with Jack as he was mouthing the same phrase again and again.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Jack said, raising his hands. “Please let him go.”
John waved the gun as if he were gesturing. “This is all some sort of joke-like a cosmic joke! We’re just here, Jack. We’re here to live and fuck and make music. But you don’t want that anymore, and I just don’t get why.”
Ianto was watching the gun. Jack began to silently plead with Ianto to stay still. Ianto had other ideas. John waved the gun to the ceiling and Ianto slammed the tray into John’s gut. Hot coffee and dishes spilled all over the musician. Without waiting for the response, Ianto ran into Jack’s arms. Jack threw the two of them down behind the till counter. They were too far away to make it most of the way, however, and their lower bodies were in the walkway.
Ianto scrambled backward, walking like a crab, and tugging Jack by his arms. John raged and began to shoot. Glass in the bakery case exploded. Mugs broke and plates shattered. Customers cried out in terror. Then the firing stopped. Jack drew his gun and cocked it.
Ianto looked deathly pale once Jack turned the handle to Ianto.
“Just point and shoot,” he explained.
“Oi! Eye Candy! Come back out here and play!” John yelled, before releasing another volley of bullets.
Customers begged to be let go. Jack ignored them all. Ianto’s hands shook.
“I took a vow of ‘do no harm,’ Jack,” Ianto whispered.
Jack grit his teeth. “You have foresworn everything else to do with being a doctor!”
John came around the counter and pointed his weapon at the back of Jack’s head. Jack tucked his gun back into jacket and hoped that John hadn’t seen.
“Jackie! Stand up and let’s go! We’re going to Virgin Islands. You always said you wanted to go. We were going to go for our five year anniversary, remember?” John helped Jack up by pulling on his arm.
Jack came, slowly, not doubting that John would shoot. Then, once Jack was standing, John turned the gun back on Ianto.
“Bye, bye Eye Candy!”
John fired.
Jack’s bullet met John’s skull a millisecond later. John was dead before he hit the floor. It had taken skill to jump in front of John’s gun and shoot simultaneously. Jack slumped to the ground, holding his left shoulder as blood pumped out under his hand. He dropped his gun.
Ianto, however, sprang into action. He rushed to Jack, not as a panicking lover, but as a competent doctor. He pulled back the jacket and began to apply towels to the wound.
“Jack, I need you to lay down, please, and take deep breaths. Aaron! Get something to prop Jack’s legs up with. Harriet, call an ambulance.” Ianto gave orders with an even and commanding voice. He didn’t seem to notice that he was sitting in Jack and John’s blood.
Jack observed all this, trying to stay calm himself. Then he remembered Ianto, as a hostage, repeating words that he’d never said before.
“Ianto,” Jack whispered. Ianto continued to apply pressure. He smiled.
“You’re going to be fine, Jack. Just hang on for me, ok?”
“Ianto,” Jack repeated, “I need to tell you something.”
Someone brought Ianto a pair of scissors. Without permission, he cut through Jack’s holster and shirtsleeve.
“Ianto,” Jack said again, louder.
“I’m right here, Jack, I need you to stay calm.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you too, Ianto.”
Ianto smiled and kissed Jack’s forehead. “Good to know. Now, don’t pass out.”
Part Ten
Author: rev02a
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, violence, sexual commentary
Beta: comestodecember
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, past Jack/John, Owen/Tosh, Gwen/Rhys
A/N: AU. As we call this in the English teacher world: climax! Less sex, obviously, this way. Shame, that.
Summary: As John Hart’s music agent, Jack Harkness is slowly killing himself with work. A chance romance with a local café owner could be the spark he needs to take control of his life.
Part Eight
Jack and Ianto drug themselves from their warm bed into the freezing Cardiff predawn. The party the night before was well and truly forgotten after a long, sweaty sex session and a good night’s sleep.
Jack opened the driver’s door and handed Ianto the ice scraper.
“Oh thank you,” Ianto snarked, before moving around the front of the vehicle to scrape the windscreen.
Jack climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. The radio blared on and he moved quickly to snap it off. It was too early for that shit. He adjusted the heating vents to warm the iced windscreen before he grabbed his travel mug and took a long sip of coffee.
Mornings like this were the hardest, Ianto assured him. There was something perverse about going to work when it was so dark and cold. They deserved some sort of award for their sacrifice.
Their flat was housed in a very affluent building called SkyPoint. The flats all offered views and the feeling of grandeur that Ianto still seemed uncomfortable with. Besides that, he seemed very nervous about the lift there for some reason.
The building had underground parking with numbered spaces. Jack’s new black SUV took up far too much space, but since Ianto was without a vehicle, it wasn’t too much of a problem. The car park was empty of people most mornings. Sometimes the couple ran into a street sweeper or a fellow tenant stumbling home from a late night, but more often than not, it was just them.
That’s why when Jack heard an engine revving; he set his coffee aside and looked around. Ianto was walking around the back of the SUV to scrape the back window before moving onto his side of the windscreen. The engine revving abruptly stopped and then there was the squeal of tyres.
An instructor in the RAF told Jack that his combat training would never leave him. He just needed to remain open to the input he was receiving.
The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood on end. He jumped out of the car and ran around the back. A red sports car was barreling toward Ianto. Ianto, half asleep, bounced to keep himself warm as he scraped. Jack threw himself at Ianto and the two men rolled across the cold concrete. Jack covered Ianto protectively with his body.
The red car screeched and plowed into the SUV with a sickening crunch. Jack jumped up grabbing Ianto and shoving him behind him.
“Get behind the pillar!” he yelled, and pushed Ianto toward the concrete support beam.
The red sports car backed up and rammed into another parked car as it did so. Jack ran forward trying to see the driver, but the sports car sped out the other direction. Jack chased it, but gave it up as a bad job.
He jogged back to Ianto, grateful for those days of training with Gwen. Ianto was on his mobile, apparently speaking to the police. Jack reached into the SUV and turned off the engine.
“I guess we’ll be a little delayed with the coffee beans this morning,” he mused.
After their reports were given, Jack excused himself to run up to the flat. Ianto was signing off for the tow truck to take the SUV; Jack was certain that would keep him busy. Jack entered his office and opened his desk drawer. He lifted the false bottom and stared at the contents. He wanted to pretend that today was coincidence, but he didn’t believe in them. John had done this, either himself or paid someone to assist him.
Jack reached into the drawer and retrieved his grandfather’s World War I Webley Revolver. He’d had his own service revolver back during his RAF days, but the military didn’t give away weapons anymore. Jack loaded the gun carefully and checked the safety before retrieving his shoulder holster from the drawer.
He slid the gun and holster under his light jacket, and then put his greatcoat back on. Jack rubbed his hand through his hair. John wouldn’t really kill Ianto, would he?
Memories flooded him suddenly. That stripper-that poor girl-strangled to death. John had sworn he was too stoned to remember, but Jack knew the other man. John said he didn’t remember the incident, but his eyes had glimmered. He had known what he was doing.
If Jack had told anyone what he knew in his gut, then Ianto wouldn’t be in danger now. He closed his eyes in regret. The trial that had been dismissed for jury tampering had been just another failure. He should have taken Ianto to France or Australia. No, no place on this planet was safe with John.
His mobile buzzed and Jack jumped. He forced himself to take a deep breath before reading the text.
The taxi is here. Should I go on without you?
no!
Jack ran to the lift in a near panic. Ianto was waiting for him in the taxi. He smiled sweetly and pulled Jack closer on the seat.
“I’m freezing,” he laughed, and burrowed into Jack’s arms.
The drive to the café was quick, and, thankfully, warm. Jack stood guard, looking over the darkened Plass as Ianto paid the driver. Any noise, any movement caused Jack to reach for his gun. Ianto stared at his worriedly as he unlocked the shop.
“Jack?” he asked, concerned. “Are you all right?”
Jack opened the door and shooed Ianto into the café. The lights came on slowly. Jack was tense until he could see everything in the room.
Ianto laid his hand on Jack’s arm. Jack nearly jumped again. Ianto looked worried.
“Do you want to go home? You’re really shaken up; I’ll be fine here-“
“No,” Jack replied adamantly, “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Ianto touched Jack’s cheek and then helped him out of his greatcoat. “Let’s go make breakfast.”
The morning bustle helped ease Jack’s nerves. Even still, he knew that Ianto had made out the shape of the gun under his jacket. He cursed Ianto’s observant nature. With Aaron and Harriet there, however, Ianto didn’t bring it up. It was probably for the best.
The bell above the door offered a cheery ding at about nine that morning. The morning’s heavy rush had died down, but there was still a queue and people sitting in the café. The room smelled of baked goods and coffee.
And then people began to scream.
John Hart stood at the door with a large gun in his hand. “Jack!” he yelled.
Jack ran from the table he was serving toward the front of the café. Aaron had forced some customers behind the sofa, and Harriet was crawling behind the counter into the roasting room, already on her mobile with the police.
Ianto, however, was next to the door. He still had a loaded tray in his hands. The two women he was delivering the coffee and breakfast to sobbed in fear.
Jack slowed and held Ianto’s eye. He tried to will Ianto to hide. John sneered once he saw Jack’s gaze. He grabbed Ianto and shoved the muzzle of the gun against Ianto’s temple.
“Maybe now you’ll want to spend time with me!” John walked Ianto forward. The mugs on the tray trembled. Ianto didn’t break eye contact with Jack as he was mouthing the same phrase again and again.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Jack said, raising his hands. “Please let him go.”
John waved the gun as if he were gesturing. “This is all some sort of joke-like a cosmic joke! We’re just here, Jack. We’re here to live and fuck and make music. But you don’t want that anymore, and I just don’t get why.”
Ianto was watching the gun. Jack began to silently plead with Ianto to stay still. Ianto had other ideas. John waved the gun to the ceiling and Ianto slammed the tray into John’s gut. Hot coffee and dishes spilled all over the musician. Without waiting for the response, Ianto ran into Jack’s arms. Jack threw the two of them down behind the till counter. They were too far away to make it most of the way, however, and their lower bodies were in the walkway.
Ianto scrambled backward, walking like a crab, and tugging Jack by his arms. John raged and began to shoot. Glass in the bakery case exploded. Mugs broke and plates shattered. Customers cried out in terror. Then the firing stopped. Jack drew his gun and cocked it.
Ianto looked deathly pale once Jack turned the handle to Ianto.
“Just point and shoot,” he explained.
“Oi! Eye Candy! Come back out here and play!” John yelled, before releasing another volley of bullets.
Customers begged to be let go. Jack ignored them all. Ianto’s hands shook.
“I took a vow of ‘do no harm,’ Jack,” Ianto whispered.
Jack grit his teeth. “You have foresworn everything else to do with being a doctor!”
John came around the counter and pointed his weapon at the back of Jack’s head. Jack tucked his gun back into jacket and hoped that John hadn’t seen.
“Jackie! Stand up and let’s go! We’re going to Virgin Islands. You always said you wanted to go. We were going to go for our five year anniversary, remember?” John helped Jack up by pulling on his arm.
Jack came, slowly, not doubting that John would shoot. Then, once Jack was standing, John turned the gun back on Ianto.
“Bye, bye Eye Candy!”
John fired.
Jack’s bullet met John’s skull a millisecond later. John was dead before he hit the floor. It had taken skill to jump in front of John’s gun and shoot simultaneously. Jack slumped to the ground, holding his left shoulder as blood pumped out under his hand. He dropped his gun.
Ianto, however, sprang into action. He rushed to Jack, not as a panicking lover, but as a competent doctor. He pulled back the jacket and began to apply towels to the wound.
“Jack, I need you to lay down, please, and take deep breaths. Aaron! Get something to prop Jack’s legs up with. Harriet, call an ambulance.” Ianto gave orders with an even and commanding voice. He didn’t seem to notice that he was sitting in Jack and John’s blood.
Jack observed all this, trying to stay calm himself. Then he remembered Ianto, as a hostage, repeating words that he’d never said before.
“Ianto,” Jack whispered. Ianto continued to apply pressure. He smiled.
“You’re going to be fine, Jack. Just hang on for me, ok?”
“Ianto,” Jack repeated, “I need to tell you something.”
Someone brought Ianto a pair of scissors. Without permission, he cut through Jack’s holster and shirtsleeve.
“Ianto,” Jack said again, louder.
“I’m right here, Jack, I need you to stay calm.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you too, Ianto.”
Ianto smiled and kissed Jack’s forehead. “Good to know. Now, don’t pass out.”
Part Ten