Quelled or Quenched (5/?)
Title: Quelled or Quenched
Author: rev02a
Beta: comestodecember
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, language
Cast: Team, all canon parings, past Ianto/OC, Rhiannon & Co.
A/N: The title comes from the poem “Binsey Poplars” by Gerard Manley Hopkins. This is AU.
I apologize for the delay; it's all my fault!
Summary: Torchwood One’s mantra of “if it’s alien, it’s ours” may suit the dreams of rebuilding an empire, but does little for ethical concerns. In 1998, Captain Jack Harkness becomes aware of the imprisonment and experimentation on the Ambassador of the Forest of Cheem.
Back to Part Four
December 11, 2007
Jack was sure the Rift was building up to an explosion. Things had been relatively quiet.
With the lack of emergencies, Suzie and Owen had begun testing the limits of Retcon and, to their surprise, had learned that extreme doses led to homicidal inclinations and the ability to create subconscious suggestions. Toshiko was playing with old Rift monitor equipment to understand the upgrades made in the past. Gwen was researching a Dr. Tanizaki, who was quietly hunting for a partially converted Cybermen to use in experiments.
Jack, on the other hand, was going crazy.
Ianto and Rhiannon had made no attempts to contact him. Jack watched them via CCTV sometimes. He was pleased to see that Ianto purchased a box of Christmas crackers one day. Jack also began to watch Ianto’s library loans. His reading lingered on history, but focused more on social upheavals than wars. He had also begun to request A levels physics and maths books. Jack wondered if David was getting some side education from his uncle.
“Jack,” Tosh interrupted, from his office doorway. Jack minimized Ianto’s internet browsing history quickly, as if he had been caught looking at porn by his grandmother.
Tosh gave him a leveling look. “We’ve got a Rift spike. Something is coming in. Owen and Gwen have the coordinates.”
Jack jumped up and grabbed his greatcoat. “Suzie,” he called. She poked her head up from her makeshift headrest of her arms. “You planning to join us?”
Suzie looked a bit green. “Unless you want me to puke on the aliens, no.”
“Lay off the gin and tonic,” he advised. She groaned in agreement, before dropping her head back into her arms.
The Sky Gypsy took off in 1953 and landed in 2007. Their innocence and frustration at the world around them reminded Jack of the Jones siblings so much that it hurt. As Tosh and Suzie created new identities for the three people, Jack fingered the mobile sitting in his pocket.
He should call. He should apologize.
John looked so lost, and Jack couldn’t turn away from lost and broken things. Every day he spent with the time-displaced man, however, made him miss Ianto even more. That sarcasm, that laugh, that loyalty-Jack turned his mobile over and over again in his hand.
He should call.
He was slow to notice Owen’s apparent infatuation with Diane and Gwen’s pseudo-mothering of Emma-Louise. Ianto would have seen already. Ianto would have told him to interfere.
Then John killed himself, and Diane flew into the Rift, and Emma-Louise set off to London. And Jack considered placing a call to Ianto, but he shot himself in the head instead.
December 22, 2007
Jack’s mobile rang during Gwen’s debrief about the disappearance of technology from a UNIT convoy. She stopped midsentence as Jack turned his entire attention to the screen of the phone.
Hesitantly, he pressed the silence button. It was hard to look away from the screen of the mobile.
Moments later, a ding announced that he had a new voicemail.
The rest of the meeting was agonizingly slow. The hope of a possible call, a voicemail, from Ianto was the carrot before the mule cart. Unable to wait any longer, Jack cited his need for the loo and ran for the men’s room.
The door had just closed behind him when he started the message.
“Ugh, hello, it’s Ianto. I’m calling for Jack Harkness, not to be confused with anyone named Bruce. I understand there is a bit of mistaken identity between the two of them. Easy to confuse them, I’m assured. Both are tall, kind… and I’m very attracted to both of them.” There was a long pause. Jack held his breath. He liked where this was going already.
“This isn’t-well, shit. Jack. I don’t know much about these things, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to talk to you about this on a message. Call me.”
The message ended. Jack started at the phone in confusion. Surely there was more.
The door to the WC opened and Owen was framed by the light from the hall.
“Phone sex couldn’t wait?” he snapped.
Jack looked at Owen with a mix of annoyance and anger. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
Without any further explanation, he pushed past his medical officer and headed for the garage.
“Jack?” Gwen called when she saw him leaving. “What about this UNIT thing?”
Jack grinned. “Ask Suzie. She’s in charge.”
He knew the team was watching him leave with differing levels of disbelief, but he wasted no more time. He drove straight to Ianto’s flat.
Jack walked with purpose and knocked on the door to Ianto’s flat briskly. Ianto, never one to disappoint, opened the door with a confused look.
“Jack?”
Jack stepped forward, clasped Ianto’s chin in his hand, and kissed him. Ianto responded enthusiastically. The kiss was warm. It swept through Jack and he felt Ianto sigh. Ianto pulled Jack into his flat by the lapels on his coat.
They didn’t make it far. Ianto kicked the door shut and preceded to line kisses down Jack’s jaw. The telly inside the flat talked on, but neither man moved to deal with it.
“I’m an idiot,” Jack gasped out, between frantic kisses.
“Yes,” Ianto agreed, hands fighting to pull Jack’s coat off his shoulders. “I figured this out already.”
Jack laughed and traced the wood grain pattern on Ianto’s cheek with the tip of his tongue.
“I’ve never christened my flat,” Ianto commented, as Jack unbuttoned his shirt. “And I’ve never had sex in an entrance way before.”
“Oh, good,” Jack replied, tugging the shirt tails out of Ianto’s trousers, “let’s remedy that.”
So they did.
Later, stretched out on the cold entrance tiles, they lay side-by-side breathing heavily. Their clothes were rearranged, but still mostly intact. Ianto reached out and rested his palm flat across Jack’s heart.
“I don’t let people in often,” Jack warned, trying to explain his previous outburst. “I’m sorry.”
Ianto nodded and then climbed up on his knees. He tugged on his trousers and readjusted himself. Jack nodded toward Ianto’s hand.
“I could make some jokes about wood, you know,” he teased. Ianto rolled his eyes.
“Trust me, I’ve heard them. I need a glass of water.” Ianto made his way down the hall to the kitchen, staggering as if drunk. Jack followed, slowly.
He scratched at a drying patch of stickiness and wondered if he should shower or hope for another round. Before him, Ianto drained his glass, refilled it, and offered it to Jack. Jack grinned.
Then his mobile rang. Ianto and he looked at each other for a long time before Jack moved to answer the phone.
“Harkness,” he said gruffly. His eyes never left Ianto.
“Jack,” Suzie reported, “Gwen just called in; she chased a Weevil down-“
“What? Alone? Is she out of her mind?” Jack interrupted, angrily.
Suzie snorted, but continued to brief him. “Not just that, she left a date with Rhys the Boyfriend to do so. She swears that he didn’t see anything, but I think we should retcon him anyway.”
Jack nodded.
“Anyway, a van pulled up in a car park and forced the Weevil in.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “It was Weevil-napped?”
Suzie didn’t sound amused. “Apparently.”
Jack looked back up at Ianto. Leaves were uncurling in his hair. Jack smiled tenderly. Ianto ducked his head to hide his amused smile.
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” Jack informed his second-in-command, before snapping his phone shut.
He moved stealthily toward Ianto, never breaking stride or blinking. Ianto watched him with a fresh flush of arousal. Jack paused in front of the other man and let his eyes drift over his face. Ianto bit his lip.
“We should talk,” Jack offered, his voice low.
Ianto nodded and leaned forward to kiss Jack. “Yep.”
Jack licked Ianto’s lip. He could feel teeth marks. “And then we’ll celebrate Christmas.”
Ianto kissed Jack again, quickly. “No tree.”
“Of course,” Jack agreed. He straightened up and marched out to collect his coat.
Ianto watched him go.
December 24, 2007
Jack left Owen to brood in the hospital. He deserved a swift kick in the arse-getting into a cage with a Weevil! What was he thinking? Jack scrubbed his face with his hand.
He slowly reached for the key and turned it in the ignition. Without much thought, he headed for Ianto’s flat. Once there, he stood outside the door for a long time. He knocked softly. No one answered.
Frustrated, Jack knocked harder. Finally, when no answer came again, he fished out his key. He was surprised to find the flat, not only dark, but also empty. Jack stepped back into the hall and stood considering the door across the hall.
When Rhiannon answered his knock at her flat door, she didn’t seem surprised to see him at all.
“Jack,” she squealed, “you made it!”
He nodded, confused. “Is Ianto here?”
She hit him on the shoulder and led him into the house. “Of course! Get in here, silly, before Father Christmas arrives.”
Christmas at the Jones-Davies household was, apparently, an event like no other. There were only small presents piled on the center of the floor, but there certainly was food. Ianto and Rhiannon’s time in cooking class had taken a turn for the festive. Jack could smell mince pie and sprouts. No doubt there was a turkey or goose baking also.
David and Mica greeted him with cheers and hugs. Ianto approached him slowly and offered a chaste kiss. Jack was surprised, but not nearly as surprised as Rhia. She stared at the two men, shook her head, and then laughed brightly.
“C’mon, then,” she ordered, “let’s have Christmas.”
In some ways, the holiday reminded Jack of Christmases with his family in the late 1800’s. The children were stringing popcorn to wrap around the banister of the flat’s balcony while Ianto squinted at a recipe for eggnog. Rhia opened the door to the cooker to check the bird. Jack inhaled deeply as the aroma filled the kitchen.
“People actually drink this?” Ianto queried, disbelievingly. He held a whisk in one hand and stared down into the murky bowl of eggnog before him. A dollop of eggy milk slowly dripped off the whisk into the bowl with a plop. Ianto watched it fall before he glared back at the recipe.
Jack stuck a finger into the drink and sucked on the digit as a test. “Needs more nog.”
Ianto looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. “Did you even wash your hands?”
Mica’s childish voice piped up, “You should wash your hands in warm water, Uncle Jack. There are microbial germs and they can cause e coli.”
“Or salmonella!” David chimed in.
“So can egg nog,” Jack replied, teasingly.
Ianto looked from Jack to the bowl before grimacing. “Maybe I’ll just dump this then.”
Dinner was a festive event, complete with paper crowns and specially made place cards for assigned seats. Jack was mildly surprised to find that his own name was, not only premade in anticipation of his arrival, but at the head of the table.
The surprises didn’t end there, as the family proclaimed that Jack would be staying the night in order to wake up with them and see what Father Christmas brought. The children cheered with delight and raced each other down the hall to clean their teeth in time for bed.
“I haven’t got any gifts,” Jack whispered, frustrated. Christmas with children always equated gifts, what had he been thinking?
Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better run down to the shops, then hadn’t you?”
Jack stared at her in disbelief. Rhia gave him a look that clearly stated that she’d meant what she’d said. He swallowed, nervously.
“All right then,” he decided, suddenly coming up with an idea that didn’t involve picked over shop shelves, “grab your coat, Ianto Jones.”
Ianto looked surprised, but grinned at his sister and hurried after Jack. Jack bypassed the last-minute shoppers running into the few shops that boasted extra late hours. They slowed to let a group of people cross into a brightly lit church. Ianto didn’t question their arrival at Mermaid Quay or Jack’s reasons as he unlocked a TI booth. If he was interested in the Hub of Torchwood Three at all, Ianto didn’t show it. He actually didn’t seem surprised to have arrived there at all.
He followed Jack calmly as they trekked into the depths of the cave that was the Archives. Ianto picked items up from their haphazard piles with interest at Jack dug through boxes.
“I know what I’m looking for,” Jack insisted, as he rummaged through another collection of Rift junk.
“Of course,” Ianto agreed, but he sounded a little doubtful. “But will you find it before the New Year?”
Jack looked up quickly with a look of faux-annoyance. Ianto grinned cheekily. It took time, but soon Jack had collection a few items that he swore he’d been looking for. He ignored Ianto’s curiosity, but led him up into the main level of the Hub again.
Another stop in his office and then they were on their way. Ianto seemed to be at peace. He had a patient, happy smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, while the leaves at the base of his neck opened shyly into the cold night. Jack glanced at the road, but then turned his full attention back to the man in the passenger seat of the SUV.
Rhia looked haggard when they returned. “They wanted to wait up and see Father Christmas,” she explained. “And they wanted both of you to help tuck them in.”
Jack smiled indulgently. He remembered tucking in his multiple children over the years. Timothy’s trustful, sleepy smiles and Amanda’s protests against being tired met with Elizabeth and Lynn’s giggles as the bedroom door shut. He tried to vanish Colin’s late nights hidden under a blanket reading by torch or Jack Jr.’s insomnia before Christmas morning. Melissa-no, Alice’s demands for another glass of water and Michael’s recitation of Christmas carols as he drifted to sleep all mixed in together and left Jack’s heart aching.
He missed every one of them.
“Best go do that then,” he decided, lifting a metal tin from the pile of things he’d collect from Torchwood. “You two should join us for story time tonight.”
David and Mica were waiting expectantly when Jack led the other two trees into the room.
“I would like to tell you a story,” Jack began, sitting on the edge of Mica’s bed.
Rhia mirrored Jack on David’s bed and Ianto leaned on the doorframe and Jack reverently opened the lid to his memory tin.
“I don’t share this with many people, but you’re my family,” he began. He paused briefly to let Rhiannon’s gasp hang in the air. Ianto just smiled reassuringly at him. “And I’d like to show you all the families I’ve had before.”
As the stories and introductions went on, Mica fell asleep, followed by her brother. Rhia cried on multiple occasions as she read birth announcements clipped from the newspaper or touched death certificates. Ianto searched each face in every photograph, but Jack didn’t know what he was looking for.
Jack’s voice grew hoarse. He coughed politely into his fist and wondered, really, why he was telling them this. He had always confided in someone, but it was always a piece of him. Without meaning to, it appeared he was giving everything to Ianto Jones. Shocked by this, Jack looked up at Ianto in wonder, only to find that Ianto was already watching him.
“We do need some sleep,” Ianto decided. Rhiannon nodded. Slowly, the two siblings collected the pieces of Jack’s life and replaced them in his tin. Jack’s heart swelled at the tenderness they showed to his memories.
Rhiannon kissed Jack on the cheek and then repeated the action for her brother when they left her flat for the night.
“You’re coming in, right?” Ianto asked. He looked unsure, even with his hands braced on his hips.
Jack nodded and smiled as Ianto grabbed his hand. Ianto’s flat was dark, but Ianto led Jack through without any hesitation. When Ianto flicked on the bedside light, it seemed too bright.
“Am I being presumptuous?” Ianto asked, suddenly nervous. A leaf detached from his hair and floated down to the floor.
Jack tracked it with his eyes. “About me staying with you? No.”
A second leaf fell and joined the first. “You sure?”
“Yes, Ianto. Now stop it, you’re molting.”
Ianto laughed, still nervous, but less so. Jack leaned down and collected the two leaves. They were brittle, like leaves as autumn neared. He turned them over in his hand. Ianto shook his head, before collecting both leaves from Jack’s hand and tucking them into the pocket on Jack’s shirt.
“Sleep, Captain. The saplings will be awake in a few hours to open gifts,” Ianto asserted, as he divested himself of his shirt.
“Speaking of that, have you got any wrapping paper?” Jack asked, distractedly. His gaze lingered on Ianto’s lean frame. The wood grain pattern of his skin waved over his ribcage hypnotically. Jack considered biting it.
“By the couch,” Ianto answered, but his voice was gravelly with desire. Jack looked up and met Ianto’s eye. Ianto grinned hungrily as he undid his belt.
Jack stepped around the bed and grabbed Ianto for a hungry kiss. The presents could wait, Jack decided, as he wrestled Ianto onto the bed.
Later, sated and sleepy, Jack stumbled down the hall to wrap his selections. A 1950s cookbook that had fallen through the Rift for Rhiannon, a Bartikbu-a race obsessed with puzzles-- mathematics puzzle box that might help David better understand quad-liner theory (not that he’d learn it on Earth), and a Keiate memory device for Mica, which would allow her to hold onto those precious memories of her family with clarity.
Jack paused while wrapping a silver bracelet in dancing snowmen paper. It was thick and solid, a true Heert design, but light in a way Earth metal would never be. Jack hoped that Ianto would see its significance when it sat on his wrist next to Bruce’s wedding bracelet.
December 29, 2007
Gwen accused Jack of moving too fast with Ianto, not that she’d met the tree in order to found these opinions.
“I’m just worried, is all. You’re never here anymore. You seem lost in your own thoughts and you leave as early as the rest of us,” she commented, leaning on the edge of his desk. “And, well,” she paused to look down coyly, “I miss our talks. When it was just the two of us.”
Jack tapped his blotter with his fountain pen. For all her talk, the newly founded relationship with Ianto was fledgling at best. Mere days had passed since things had turned from friends-to people who were not speaking to one another- to lovers.
“I told you not to let it drift, Gwen,” he commented, standing from his chair and grabbing his coat. “I’m just taking my own advice for once.”
Gwen grabbed his arm as he headed for the door.
“But he’s an alien,” she protested.
Jack turned solemn, but commanding, “So am I.”
He fumed as he stalked to the SUV. Of course his team was angry. He could see it-Owen was drunk far more often than usual, Suzie was irritated about the change of command systems, and Tosh was drawing into herself more.
And, apparently, Gwen was jealous.
Jack slammed the door shut and started the engine without pausing to buckle his seatbelt. He grabbed his phone and speed dialed Ianto.
“Hey, Captain,” Ianto answered, sounding muted over the wind. Jack smiled at his lover’s pet name and imagined the tree standing in his greenhouse, unsuccessfully avoiding the wind, and smoking.
“Hey, gorgeous, I’m on my way over,” Jack said immediately, pulling into traffic.
“Sounds good,” Ianto agreed, his voice coming in clearer as he moved away from the balcony of his flat.
Jack prepared for idle chatter, the kind of idyllic nonsense that comes from living across the hallway from the niece and nephew that Ianto was helping raise. He should be fighting against this domesticity, really. It’s not fair to Ianto to set him up for another relationship; the Doctor could come at any time and Jack would have to go.
Jack ground his teeth. In the background, he could hear Ianto sliding the door to the balcony closed. Then, his phone beeped.
“Ianto, incoming call.”
Ianto hummed his agreement, without disappointment. “Enjoy Torchwood.”
On the other line, Suzie relayed reports of big band music echoing through a dilapidated building. It sounded harmless. And, yet, that niggling worry about playing happy family worried at Jack.
“Tell Tosh to grab her travel case,” he ordered, executing a perfect u-turn, “I’ll drop her at the train station after we check it out.”
Part Six
Author: rev02a
Beta: comestodecember
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, language
Cast: Team, all canon parings, past Ianto/OC, Rhiannon & Co.
A/N: The title comes from the poem “Binsey Poplars” by Gerard Manley Hopkins. This is AU.
I apologize for the delay; it's all my fault!
Summary: Torchwood One’s mantra of “if it’s alien, it’s ours” may suit the dreams of rebuilding an empire, but does little for ethical concerns. In 1998, Captain Jack Harkness becomes aware of the imprisonment and experimentation on the Ambassador of the Forest of Cheem.
Back to Part Four
December 11, 2007
Jack was sure the Rift was building up to an explosion. Things had been relatively quiet.
With the lack of emergencies, Suzie and Owen had begun testing the limits of Retcon and, to their surprise, had learned that extreme doses led to homicidal inclinations and the ability to create subconscious suggestions. Toshiko was playing with old Rift monitor equipment to understand the upgrades made in the past. Gwen was researching a Dr. Tanizaki, who was quietly hunting for a partially converted Cybermen to use in experiments.
Jack, on the other hand, was going crazy.
Ianto and Rhiannon had made no attempts to contact him. Jack watched them via CCTV sometimes. He was pleased to see that Ianto purchased a box of Christmas crackers one day. Jack also began to watch Ianto’s library loans. His reading lingered on history, but focused more on social upheavals than wars. He had also begun to request A levels physics and maths books. Jack wondered if David was getting some side education from his uncle.
“Jack,” Tosh interrupted, from his office doorway. Jack minimized Ianto’s internet browsing history quickly, as if he had been caught looking at porn by his grandmother.
Tosh gave him a leveling look. “We’ve got a Rift spike. Something is coming in. Owen and Gwen have the coordinates.”
Jack jumped up and grabbed his greatcoat. “Suzie,” he called. She poked her head up from her makeshift headrest of her arms. “You planning to join us?”
Suzie looked a bit green. “Unless you want me to puke on the aliens, no.”
“Lay off the gin and tonic,” he advised. She groaned in agreement, before dropping her head back into her arms.
The Sky Gypsy took off in 1953 and landed in 2007. Their innocence and frustration at the world around them reminded Jack of the Jones siblings so much that it hurt. As Tosh and Suzie created new identities for the three people, Jack fingered the mobile sitting in his pocket.
He should call. He should apologize.
John looked so lost, and Jack couldn’t turn away from lost and broken things. Every day he spent with the time-displaced man, however, made him miss Ianto even more. That sarcasm, that laugh, that loyalty-Jack turned his mobile over and over again in his hand.
He should call.
He was slow to notice Owen’s apparent infatuation with Diane and Gwen’s pseudo-mothering of Emma-Louise. Ianto would have seen already. Ianto would have told him to interfere.
Then John killed himself, and Diane flew into the Rift, and Emma-Louise set off to London. And Jack considered placing a call to Ianto, but he shot himself in the head instead.
December 22, 2007
Jack’s mobile rang during Gwen’s debrief about the disappearance of technology from a UNIT convoy. She stopped midsentence as Jack turned his entire attention to the screen of the phone.
Hesitantly, he pressed the silence button. It was hard to look away from the screen of the mobile.
Moments later, a ding announced that he had a new voicemail.
The rest of the meeting was agonizingly slow. The hope of a possible call, a voicemail, from Ianto was the carrot before the mule cart. Unable to wait any longer, Jack cited his need for the loo and ran for the men’s room.
The door had just closed behind him when he started the message.
“Ugh, hello, it’s Ianto. I’m calling for Jack Harkness, not to be confused with anyone named Bruce. I understand there is a bit of mistaken identity between the two of them. Easy to confuse them, I’m assured. Both are tall, kind… and I’m very attracted to both of them.” There was a long pause. Jack held his breath. He liked where this was going already.
“This isn’t-well, shit. Jack. I don’t know much about these things, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to talk to you about this on a message. Call me.”
The message ended. Jack started at the phone in confusion. Surely there was more.
The door to the WC opened and Owen was framed by the light from the hall.
“Phone sex couldn’t wait?” he snapped.
Jack looked at Owen with a mix of annoyance and anger. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
Without any further explanation, he pushed past his medical officer and headed for the garage.
“Jack?” Gwen called when she saw him leaving. “What about this UNIT thing?”
Jack grinned. “Ask Suzie. She’s in charge.”
He knew the team was watching him leave with differing levels of disbelief, but he wasted no more time. He drove straight to Ianto’s flat.
Jack walked with purpose and knocked on the door to Ianto’s flat briskly. Ianto, never one to disappoint, opened the door with a confused look.
“Jack?”
Jack stepped forward, clasped Ianto’s chin in his hand, and kissed him. Ianto responded enthusiastically. The kiss was warm. It swept through Jack and he felt Ianto sigh. Ianto pulled Jack into his flat by the lapels on his coat.
They didn’t make it far. Ianto kicked the door shut and preceded to line kisses down Jack’s jaw. The telly inside the flat talked on, but neither man moved to deal with it.
“I’m an idiot,” Jack gasped out, between frantic kisses.
“Yes,” Ianto agreed, hands fighting to pull Jack’s coat off his shoulders. “I figured this out already.”
Jack laughed and traced the wood grain pattern on Ianto’s cheek with the tip of his tongue.
“I’ve never christened my flat,” Ianto commented, as Jack unbuttoned his shirt. “And I’ve never had sex in an entrance way before.”
“Oh, good,” Jack replied, tugging the shirt tails out of Ianto’s trousers, “let’s remedy that.”
So they did.
Later, stretched out on the cold entrance tiles, they lay side-by-side breathing heavily. Their clothes were rearranged, but still mostly intact. Ianto reached out and rested his palm flat across Jack’s heart.
“I don’t let people in often,” Jack warned, trying to explain his previous outburst. “I’m sorry.”
Ianto nodded and then climbed up on his knees. He tugged on his trousers and readjusted himself. Jack nodded toward Ianto’s hand.
“I could make some jokes about wood, you know,” he teased. Ianto rolled his eyes.
“Trust me, I’ve heard them. I need a glass of water.” Ianto made his way down the hall to the kitchen, staggering as if drunk. Jack followed, slowly.
He scratched at a drying patch of stickiness and wondered if he should shower or hope for another round. Before him, Ianto drained his glass, refilled it, and offered it to Jack. Jack grinned.
Then his mobile rang. Ianto and he looked at each other for a long time before Jack moved to answer the phone.
“Harkness,” he said gruffly. His eyes never left Ianto.
“Jack,” Suzie reported, “Gwen just called in; she chased a Weevil down-“
“What? Alone? Is she out of her mind?” Jack interrupted, angrily.
Suzie snorted, but continued to brief him. “Not just that, she left a date with Rhys the Boyfriend to do so. She swears that he didn’t see anything, but I think we should retcon him anyway.”
Jack nodded.
“Anyway, a van pulled up in a car park and forced the Weevil in.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “It was Weevil-napped?”
Suzie didn’t sound amused. “Apparently.”
Jack looked back up at Ianto. Leaves were uncurling in his hair. Jack smiled tenderly. Ianto ducked his head to hide his amused smile.
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” Jack informed his second-in-command, before snapping his phone shut.
He moved stealthily toward Ianto, never breaking stride or blinking. Ianto watched him with a fresh flush of arousal. Jack paused in front of the other man and let his eyes drift over his face. Ianto bit his lip.
“We should talk,” Jack offered, his voice low.
Ianto nodded and leaned forward to kiss Jack. “Yep.”
Jack licked Ianto’s lip. He could feel teeth marks. “And then we’ll celebrate Christmas.”
Ianto kissed Jack again, quickly. “No tree.”
“Of course,” Jack agreed. He straightened up and marched out to collect his coat.
Ianto watched him go.
December 24, 2007
Jack left Owen to brood in the hospital. He deserved a swift kick in the arse-getting into a cage with a Weevil! What was he thinking? Jack scrubbed his face with his hand.
He slowly reached for the key and turned it in the ignition. Without much thought, he headed for Ianto’s flat. Once there, he stood outside the door for a long time. He knocked softly. No one answered.
Frustrated, Jack knocked harder. Finally, when no answer came again, he fished out his key. He was surprised to find the flat, not only dark, but also empty. Jack stepped back into the hall and stood considering the door across the hall.
When Rhiannon answered his knock at her flat door, she didn’t seem surprised to see him at all.
“Jack,” she squealed, “you made it!”
He nodded, confused. “Is Ianto here?”
She hit him on the shoulder and led him into the house. “Of course! Get in here, silly, before Father Christmas arrives.”
Christmas at the Jones-Davies household was, apparently, an event like no other. There were only small presents piled on the center of the floor, but there certainly was food. Ianto and Rhiannon’s time in cooking class had taken a turn for the festive. Jack could smell mince pie and sprouts. No doubt there was a turkey or goose baking also.
David and Mica greeted him with cheers and hugs. Ianto approached him slowly and offered a chaste kiss. Jack was surprised, but not nearly as surprised as Rhia. She stared at the two men, shook her head, and then laughed brightly.
“C’mon, then,” she ordered, “let’s have Christmas.”
In some ways, the holiday reminded Jack of Christmases with his family in the late 1800’s. The children were stringing popcorn to wrap around the banister of the flat’s balcony while Ianto squinted at a recipe for eggnog. Rhia opened the door to the cooker to check the bird. Jack inhaled deeply as the aroma filled the kitchen.
“People actually drink this?” Ianto queried, disbelievingly. He held a whisk in one hand and stared down into the murky bowl of eggnog before him. A dollop of eggy milk slowly dripped off the whisk into the bowl with a plop. Ianto watched it fall before he glared back at the recipe.
Jack stuck a finger into the drink and sucked on the digit as a test. “Needs more nog.”
Ianto looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. “Did you even wash your hands?”
Mica’s childish voice piped up, “You should wash your hands in warm water, Uncle Jack. There are microbial germs and they can cause e coli.”
“Or salmonella!” David chimed in.
“So can egg nog,” Jack replied, teasingly.
Ianto looked from Jack to the bowl before grimacing. “Maybe I’ll just dump this then.”
Dinner was a festive event, complete with paper crowns and specially made place cards for assigned seats. Jack was mildly surprised to find that his own name was, not only premade in anticipation of his arrival, but at the head of the table.
The surprises didn’t end there, as the family proclaimed that Jack would be staying the night in order to wake up with them and see what Father Christmas brought. The children cheered with delight and raced each other down the hall to clean their teeth in time for bed.
“I haven’t got any gifts,” Jack whispered, frustrated. Christmas with children always equated gifts, what had he been thinking?
Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better run down to the shops, then hadn’t you?”
Jack stared at her in disbelief. Rhia gave him a look that clearly stated that she’d meant what she’d said. He swallowed, nervously.
“All right then,” he decided, suddenly coming up with an idea that didn’t involve picked over shop shelves, “grab your coat, Ianto Jones.”
Ianto looked surprised, but grinned at his sister and hurried after Jack. Jack bypassed the last-minute shoppers running into the few shops that boasted extra late hours. They slowed to let a group of people cross into a brightly lit church. Ianto didn’t question their arrival at Mermaid Quay or Jack’s reasons as he unlocked a TI booth. If he was interested in the Hub of Torchwood Three at all, Ianto didn’t show it. He actually didn’t seem surprised to have arrived there at all.
He followed Jack calmly as they trekked into the depths of the cave that was the Archives. Ianto picked items up from their haphazard piles with interest at Jack dug through boxes.
“I know what I’m looking for,” Jack insisted, as he rummaged through another collection of Rift junk.
“Of course,” Ianto agreed, but he sounded a little doubtful. “But will you find it before the New Year?”
Jack looked up quickly with a look of faux-annoyance. Ianto grinned cheekily. It took time, but soon Jack had collection a few items that he swore he’d been looking for. He ignored Ianto’s curiosity, but led him up into the main level of the Hub again.
Another stop in his office and then they were on their way. Ianto seemed to be at peace. He had a patient, happy smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, while the leaves at the base of his neck opened shyly into the cold night. Jack glanced at the road, but then turned his full attention back to the man in the passenger seat of the SUV.
Rhia looked haggard when they returned. “They wanted to wait up and see Father Christmas,” she explained. “And they wanted both of you to help tuck them in.”
Jack smiled indulgently. He remembered tucking in his multiple children over the years. Timothy’s trustful, sleepy smiles and Amanda’s protests against being tired met with Elizabeth and Lynn’s giggles as the bedroom door shut. He tried to vanish Colin’s late nights hidden under a blanket reading by torch or Jack Jr.’s insomnia before Christmas morning. Melissa-no, Alice’s demands for another glass of water and Michael’s recitation of Christmas carols as he drifted to sleep all mixed in together and left Jack’s heart aching.
He missed every one of them.
“Best go do that then,” he decided, lifting a metal tin from the pile of things he’d collect from Torchwood. “You two should join us for story time tonight.”
David and Mica were waiting expectantly when Jack led the other two trees into the room.
“I would like to tell you a story,” Jack began, sitting on the edge of Mica’s bed.
Rhia mirrored Jack on David’s bed and Ianto leaned on the doorframe and Jack reverently opened the lid to his memory tin.
“I don’t share this with many people, but you’re my family,” he began. He paused briefly to let Rhiannon’s gasp hang in the air. Ianto just smiled reassuringly at him. “And I’d like to show you all the families I’ve had before.”
As the stories and introductions went on, Mica fell asleep, followed by her brother. Rhia cried on multiple occasions as she read birth announcements clipped from the newspaper or touched death certificates. Ianto searched each face in every photograph, but Jack didn’t know what he was looking for.
Jack’s voice grew hoarse. He coughed politely into his fist and wondered, really, why he was telling them this. He had always confided in someone, but it was always a piece of him. Without meaning to, it appeared he was giving everything to Ianto Jones. Shocked by this, Jack looked up at Ianto in wonder, only to find that Ianto was already watching him.
“We do need some sleep,” Ianto decided. Rhiannon nodded. Slowly, the two siblings collected the pieces of Jack’s life and replaced them in his tin. Jack’s heart swelled at the tenderness they showed to his memories.
Rhiannon kissed Jack on the cheek and then repeated the action for her brother when they left her flat for the night.
“You’re coming in, right?” Ianto asked. He looked unsure, even with his hands braced on his hips.
Jack nodded and smiled as Ianto grabbed his hand. Ianto’s flat was dark, but Ianto led Jack through without any hesitation. When Ianto flicked on the bedside light, it seemed too bright.
“Am I being presumptuous?” Ianto asked, suddenly nervous. A leaf detached from his hair and floated down to the floor.
Jack tracked it with his eyes. “About me staying with you? No.”
A second leaf fell and joined the first. “You sure?”
“Yes, Ianto. Now stop it, you’re molting.”
Ianto laughed, still nervous, but less so. Jack leaned down and collected the two leaves. They were brittle, like leaves as autumn neared. He turned them over in his hand. Ianto shook his head, before collecting both leaves from Jack’s hand and tucking them into the pocket on Jack’s shirt.
“Sleep, Captain. The saplings will be awake in a few hours to open gifts,” Ianto asserted, as he divested himself of his shirt.
“Speaking of that, have you got any wrapping paper?” Jack asked, distractedly. His gaze lingered on Ianto’s lean frame. The wood grain pattern of his skin waved over his ribcage hypnotically. Jack considered biting it.
“By the couch,” Ianto answered, but his voice was gravelly with desire. Jack looked up and met Ianto’s eye. Ianto grinned hungrily as he undid his belt.
Jack stepped around the bed and grabbed Ianto for a hungry kiss. The presents could wait, Jack decided, as he wrestled Ianto onto the bed.
Later, sated and sleepy, Jack stumbled down the hall to wrap his selections. A 1950s cookbook that had fallen through the Rift for Rhiannon, a Bartikbu-a race obsessed with puzzles-- mathematics puzzle box that might help David better understand quad-liner theory (not that he’d learn it on Earth), and a Keiate memory device for Mica, which would allow her to hold onto those precious memories of her family with clarity.
Jack paused while wrapping a silver bracelet in dancing snowmen paper. It was thick and solid, a true Heert design, but light in a way Earth metal would never be. Jack hoped that Ianto would see its significance when it sat on his wrist next to Bruce’s wedding bracelet.
December 29, 2007
Gwen accused Jack of moving too fast with Ianto, not that she’d met the tree in order to found these opinions.
“I’m just worried, is all. You’re never here anymore. You seem lost in your own thoughts and you leave as early as the rest of us,” she commented, leaning on the edge of his desk. “And, well,” she paused to look down coyly, “I miss our talks. When it was just the two of us.”
Jack tapped his blotter with his fountain pen. For all her talk, the newly founded relationship with Ianto was fledgling at best. Mere days had passed since things had turned from friends-to people who were not speaking to one another- to lovers.
“I told you not to let it drift, Gwen,” he commented, standing from his chair and grabbing his coat. “I’m just taking my own advice for once.”
Gwen grabbed his arm as he headed for the door.
“But he’s an alien,” she protested.
Jack turned solemn, but commanding, “So am I.”
He fumed as he stalked to the SUV. Of course his team was angry. He could see it-Owen was drunk far more often than usual, Suzie was irritated about the change of command systems, and Tosh was drawing into herself more.
And, apparently, Gwen was jealous.
Jack slammed the door shut and started the engine without pausing to buckle his seatbelt. He grabbed his phone and speed dialed Ianto.
“Hey, Captain,” Ianto answered, sounding muted over the wind. Jack smiled at his lover’s pet name and imagined the tree standing in his greenhouse, unsuccessfully avoiding the wind, and smoking.
“Hey, gorgeous, I’m on my way over,” Jack said immediately, pulling into traffic.
“Sounds good,” Ianto agreed, his voice coming in clearer as he moved away from the balcony of his flat.
Jack prepared for idle chatter, the kind of idyllic nonsense that comes from living across the hallway from the niece and nephew that Ianto was helping raise. He should be fighting against this domesticity, really. It’s not fair to Ianto to set him up for another relationship; the Doctor could come at any time and Jack would have to go.
Jack ground his teeth. In the background, he could hear Ianto sliding the door to the balcony closed. Then, his phone beeped.
“Ianto, incoming call.”
Ianto hummed his agreement, without disappointment. “Enjoy Torchwood.”
On the other line, Suzie relayed reports of big band music echoing through a dilapidated building. It sounded harmless. And, yet, that niggling worry about playing happy family worried at Jack.
“Tell Tosh to grab her travel case,” he ordered, executing a perfect u-turn, “I’ll drop her at the train station after we check it out.”
Part Six