Fic: Silver Sheen and Wire Coiled (S1: Chap 7, SoI 14), Jack/Ianto
Chapter Title: Silver Sheen and Wire Coiled (S1: Chap 7, SoI 14)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: And back home again...
A/N: This immediately follows events of S1: Chap 6, SoI 13.
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
S1: Chap 1
S1: Chap 2
S1: Chap 3
S1: Chap 4
S1: Chap 5
S1: Chap 6
Ianto woke slowly, a drift towards consciousness which carried him through tendrils of dream fog and hazy snippets of reality. He'd dreamt of explosions, of nightmarish vestiges of blood-lined paths where bullets had etched the names of their intended and blank faces tried to swallow him. Fire curled and beckoned, tempting entrance through a long tunnel straight down (or was it up?) where he could just make out Avalon on the other side, but hands held him, preventing him falling through, searing his skin and refusing to let him go. "I've got you. Won't let you go," was whispered along the smoke, a voice Ianto recognized. Jack. Ianto was aware that he was dreaming of Jack, but couldn't wake -- not that he tried too hard -- so he sat while Jack talked, while he moved the figures across the game board, one hand swiping down a castle while he talked. Talked of nothing, talked of everything. Lots didn't make sense, but Ianto knew that dreams generally don't. But given his father's far-spun tales, Ianto wasn't surprised when they combined within dream, Jack's voice and his father's stories, tales of a desert world, of schools and training and alien races, of loves, wars, and losses all singing with a desperate thirst born of hot suns and dried oceans. All this while sitting in a courtyard upon a blanket of rose petals while Avalon towered into the sky and burned around them.
The heat from Jack's body burnt warmer than the fires, grey ash dusting the blood red petals until mounds of snow blotted the still shape of a woman in white and Jack complained of the cold. He always felt cold, despite the fiery furnaces hell kept warm as the devil fought against an angel in sneakers, armed with a light saber which made sounds of buzzing, chiming, and squawking. Ianto heard words, his words, though they spilled out of his mouth in a disembodied voice, metallic and foreign. Alien. Painting themselves on the snow in code where letters were faces for all 796 characters. "How can sorrow rain, while the light shines?" Ianto painted in the snow, more and more faces, as Jack grew more confused. He didn't understand and as hard as Ianto tried, the more abstract the faces became. Curves sharpened until angles were no longer features but sleek metal and wire. "Avalon's gone but it isn't. Just have to find the right coil, find the right point. It is but it isn't, parallel yet same. It all comes back, Avalon will return, another coil, another loop. Which do you ride? Or am I alone until dawn never comes?" Ianto grew scared as he spoke, the faces chattering back about their lives, their details, all 796 characters so loud and deafening it was hard to hear Jack's response despite his lips pressed to Ianto's ear, "I'm with you, I am always with you, on every curve and coil."
The words ran like hot spring water over Ianto, melting the white snow and the faces, pouring together into a stream that raced to the heavens, washing away the clouds until nothing but the bright sun remained, wrapping her light around Ianto and Jack until the remains of Avalon no longer wept but sang, a beautiful phoenix song, harmonizing the discord until all vibrated in perfect melody.
It was beautiful.
And so Ianto woke, lured from his dreams wrapped in warmth as a quiet melodic hum hovered above his ear...the same from his dream. Jack was humming. That in and of itself was enough of a surprise to Ianto that he remained still, feigning sleep, basking in the otherworldly peace that filled the room. He recognized the tune, it was one of millions stored in the alien music device. He'd heard it once and thought it both tragic and hopeful, a serenade to the forgotten and the lost and a plea to the future for those who remain. Or so Ianto thought. Jack made it sound more lullaby -- a soothing, steady rock as the cadence swung to and fro, tempting him back towards sleep.
Ianto couldn't move, he didn't want to move.
He heard footsteps outside his door, but Ianto didn't open his eyes, didn't start as the door swung open to allow the person on the other side access to the room.
"Ian-"
Elaine's squeak nearly made Ianto laugh. His name stretched octaves in her surprise, but he remained still, relaxed, soaking in the heat from Jack's skin wrapped so tightly about him that the linens loosely covering them were hardly necessary. Ianto figured Elaine had just received an eyeful, though an eyeful of Jack wasn't really a bad thing from Ianto's point of view. He had a lovely body and Ianto enjoyed exploring it.
The humming stopped.
"Morning," Jack whispered. "Quiet, he's still asleep."
"Right. How is he?" Elaine's voice had dropped as well; Ianto could hear her venturing closer, apparently undaunted by catching her brother in bed with a partner. At least it hadn't been his nephews; Ianto didn't know if he could handle their activity and high voices this morning.
"Had a rough night, but he slept."
"He looks so much younger in his sleep. How long have you been together?"
Ianto was as curious as he imagined Elaine was for the answer to the question.
"Forever," Jack simply stated and Ianto wondered if it was honesty or if Jack was saying what he thought Elaine wanted to hear. Ianto would be hard-pressed to answer the question with any sort of specificity, but Jack made it sound like it had always been, from the moment they first met. Ianto almost felt guilty for listening in on their conversation now.
He felt delicate fingers brushing his hair, light enough not to wake him. He was certain it was Elaine. "I'm happy for him. He was so lost after Torchwood One."
"The Battle has been hard on all of you."
"Yes, well, I couldn't ask for a better brother." He heard his sister stand, denim brushing against itself sounding loud in the room. "Breakfast is on, just thought I'd tell him. You. Both of you."
"Thanks, we'll be down when he wakes up. He'll probably want an aspirin, if you have any."
"We do. I'll set it out for him. Oh, and Jack?"
Jack's body shifted. Elaine must be at the door and he needed a change in position to see her well. At least he was listening. Ianto typically did when she used that tone of voice, louder than a whisper now but still soft.
"I don't know if what my father said is true, but if it is, time won't stop me from finding you if you hurt my brother."
All Ianto could hear in the silence that followed was the beat of Jack's heart thumping against Ianto's back. If he didn't know any better, his sister's words made the steady tempo alter just slightly, and then resume. Then again, he'd be wary of his sister, too.
"I don't want to hurt him."
"See that you don't."
The door to his bedroom clicked shut; Ianto knew Elaine had left them to return to the breakfast downstairs. The smell of coffee wafted through the room, almost making his stomach growl at the olfactory memory. He fought to keep it silent by considering what his sister had said. Did his family believe him fragile? First his father, now his sister was stepping in to fight his battles. Jack was not a battle to be fought. Jack was the present; Ianto could never look forward. Once he did that, he knew he'd fall waste to longing for someone or something not meant to be his. He didn't know what he and Jack had, but Ianto knew better than to wish it more than what it was -- brief moments in his life where the world righted itself, and in those moments, he felt...valued, the center of space and time for Jack. Not to mention, the sex was really, really good. He'd take those moment, and he'd enjoy them in the time in which they happened. He expected nothing more; and he refused to want anything more.
Of course, he was rather good at lying.
But he still didn't need his family defending him. He wasn't fragile, nor did he need protection.
Jack's hold tightened for a moment as he settled back into the bed and Ianto took that opportunity to be disturbed from "sleep." "Mmm...Jack?" His voice was still gravely from sleep, all the better to authenticate, and he stretched and groaned as his body felt stiff and abused. Hadn't felt that way while he'd been motionless, only once he'd moved. At least he felt a bit less than death warmed over; he needed more sleep, but the idea of sleeping the day through was unacceptable. He had duties now. The children had to be found.
"Morning."
After a quick kiss (Ianto broke it off; he'd meant it when he'd said no sex in his childhood bed), Jack's eyes crinkled with a smile. Ianto wanted to hit him for looking so awake and chipper. He opted for pulling a pillow over his eyes, blocking the light streaming in through his window. The headache hadn't gone away, not really, although it did seem less of an insistent driving pain and more an apithetic throb, like it'd been hurting for so long it hardly had the energy to keep it up.
"Elaine dropped by earlier, said breakfast was ready if you wanted."
"Shower, then coffee." Ianto thought twice and pulled the pillow from his eyes, catching sight of the smirk on Jack's face and quickly amended his statement. "Separate showers. I have old photos of Kylie if you're in need of inspiration."
Jack's laughter shook the room, followed by a quick fight over who would shower first. It wasn't an order, but it was very nearly one when Jack demanded Ianto go first and soak under the hot water for a while to ease the stiffness in his muscles. Only Jack's threat that he'd use all the hot water if he went first inspired Ianto to move. Ianto gave him a look before he went out into the hall, a confused once over while Jack was distracted by the view outside his bedroom window. Jack's voice was roughened, but Ianto was fairly sure he hadn't slept. Or hadn't slept much. It made him wonder about his dream, and if anything more than just the music was reality versus subconscious.
And before he could think too much on that, Ianto turned and walked away.
***
After his shower (and yet another argument as to why there was to be no sex in his bedroom -- never mind the childhood, Ianto couldn't imagine the embarrassment if his nephews walked in), Ianto ventured downstairs while Jack took his turn. He felt moderately better after the shower, nothing a few aspirin from the bottle Elaine had set on the counter couldn't dim. Elaine, Stephen and Jean-Luc were sitting at the table, sipping coffee over plates of half-eaten waffles, watching as he shook out two, then another before throwing them back with a glass of water. Unnerving, and made Ianto feel extremely self-conscious. He was just glad he didn't choke on the pills while he swallowed.
"You should stay in bed today and recover."
Ianto didn't roll his eyes, but he came close as he poured a mug of coffee and joined the others at the table. Elaine must have made the coffee, it was nearly as good as his own (as it should be given his practice at Torchwood Three). "I'm fine, Stephen."
"What's wrong with Ianto?" Jean-Luc asked, becoming interested suddenly in Ianto's appearance. He still had no recollection of what had transpired at Avalon. The last thing he remembered was his breakfast the day prior. The doctor who had treated Jean-Luc had said this was possible, so Stephen and Ianto had agreed to keep the details of the attack on Avalon scant, including how Ianto knew to come from Cardiff. It was for the best, and maybe one day Jean-Luc would remember. The details of Ianto's well-being were not important, not in the scope of things, and they had far larger problems to deal with.
"Ianto's right here." Ianto couldn't blame Jean-Luc for asking; he'd always been a bit protective of Ianto once they'd become friends. Which was still something he was going to have to work through. He remembered Stephen's words yesterday, how at first Jean-Luc's "friendship" had been a ploy to get answers. Ianto wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that. True, they had become friends, and there wasn't any other he trusted as implicitly as Jean-Luc, but the memories felt a bit tainted now, misshapen, a small cancer that, unless removed, could consume and destroy all it touched. But another time, another place, another headache. "And nothing's wrong."
"And I don't believe you. What happened?"
"You nearly killed him."
All eyes turned torwards the stairs, where a casual Jack walked down the steps, hands stuffed in his pocket, looking as unruffled as ever. His hair was still damp and his clothes looked remarkably wrinkle-free, a feat Ianto wasn't sure how he accomplished. Casual yet...tense. Ianto could see it along the lines of Jack's shoulders, in the false smile curving his lips. Predatory, perhaps.
And suddenly, Ianto realized what was going on. Maybe not everything, but this was revenge. Or at least the continuation of petty bickering. Jean-Luc had watched over Ianto after Lisa...now Jack was doing the same. "Jack..." Ianto warned, but it was lost amidst Jean-Luc's protests.
"I would do no such thing!"
"But you did." Jack poured himself a cup of coffee as well and sat beside Ianto at the round kitchen table, leisurely stretching in the chair as he took a sip, speaking as casually as if he were reporting the weather. "Level four psychic trauma with disruption to the central nervous system and ancilliary functions including sense and mobility. You panicked and channeled everything in a focus directed at Ianto to alert him to the danger. You overloaded him and he nearly died on the Hub floor."
Jean-Luc looked wide-eyed at Stephen who nodded; Ianto felt a bit wide-eyed himself. When did Jack become the expert in Avalon matters?
Stephen continued slowly, as though reluctant to give any credence to what Jack had said. "I wasn't aware of that diagnosis, I don't think we've ever given it a name but I knew the symptoms. A few children were discovered after accidentally reacting in a similar fashion, though none of them had your gift."
"Fuck, Ianto, I'm so sorr--"
"You should be!" Jack's ire finally broke through the facade of calm. Ianto would have reacted but he was stilll trying to figure out how Jack knew. He wasn't connected to Avalon. Well, he hadn't been in the past. Perhaps in the future...and that line of thinking shifted Ianto's stability to a bucking suspension bridge unsettled by the wind. Ianto knew Jack wasn't from this time, he'd said as much, but he had never considered that he could be from a far distant future, maybe one where people like Jean-Luc lived openly and freely. God, maybe it was even common, common enough to have a diagnosis for related trauma. That would make sense, given his quote of the 21st century, but Ianto had never really factored in that he wasn't from the past. Was his father from the future? Is that why he reacted as he did to the news of Ms. White's death? How much of Ianto's life was playing out because he chose it to, and how much was manipulated into events already past for Jack who was now living his future in the past? It made Ianto's head hurt just thinking about that. "You had no control, and you almost killed one of my team."
Despite the tape and gauze and lack of any credible gift that would have threatened Jack, Jean-Luc still looked a force to be reckoned with when goaded to anger. His words were dangerous enough. "Would you have cared if you weren't shagging him? Seems you have a track record for destruction--"
"Enough!"
Jean-Luc and Jack had risen from their chairs but froze at the sound of Ianto's voice bellowing over their shouts. His palms stung from hitting the table as forcefully as he did, but it seemed the combination was enough to silence the two who Ianto understood might have his best interests in mind, albeit a really shoddy method of demonstration.
"Both of you, sit down and listen." He waited as they both complied, four sets of eyes now glued on him, though not without a few glares shared between Jack and Jean-Luc. Elaine had been silent through this whole discussion, but was listening as well. As she should; Ianto's anger was partially directed at her. "Yes, Jack and I are together, but it is my damned choice who I share a bed with. So respect my choice and intelligence and stay the hell out of my personal life no matter how good your intentions."
"You..." Ianto turned his attention on Jean-Luc, who actually looked a bit repentant for his words, "have no right to condemn Jack's past. We all do things we shouldn't, or do I need to remind you of your parents' killers?" Ah, so he had been right in his guess that Jean-Luc had hunted them down, judging by the pallor of his face. He knew his friend too well. Rounding on Jack, Ianto waved a finger at him, not caring for social niceties. At this point Ianto was questioning whether or not it was too early to start drinking, much less about politeness. "And you! It was a fucking accident. I'm alive, and thanks to the warning they're alive. It doesn't matter how it happened. What matters is that at least two hundred people are missing, we have no idea who has them or where they're located, and you're choosing to waste your breath arguing with each other. Fuck, my nephews act with more maturity."
Four pairs of eyes watched him in breathless silence. Ianto could feel the blood pounding in his ears but no one said a word. No one needed to; Ianto believed he'd said it all for them. Of course, he hardly ever lost his temper; he blamed the chaos of the week for losing it on two occasions. This time he meant everything he'd said. He moved away from the table and got a refill of coffee, just for something to do while the others stared. It made his skin crawl. He picked up a waffle as well (heart-shaped, a Scandanavian gift from their mother), still warm beneath a cheese cloth, and the serving vessel with syrup. Back at the table and ignoring the others, he concentrated on filling each divet to the brim with syrup, just like he'd done as a kid. His father had often made waffles -- Ianto now wondered if it was a connection to his mother -- and Ianto had gotten quite obsessive with making sure each depression was filled just right. If he was careful, he could split the cells and not have the syrup spill over. His sister always liked hers with preserves, but Ianto's sweet tooth loved the syrup and plus there was no challenge in eating them with preserves.
He took his first bite then realized no one was yet talking and all were watching. Jack was especially amused. "Are you going to threaten my waffle before I eat so it doesn't choke me?"
Jack started laughing first, then the others joined in, as though they were waiting for someone else to start so they'd take the blame. Ianto would feel offended, but laughter was far more welcome than fighting and open hostility, though he still had no idea what they were laughing at and he was rather irritated that laughter would follow his dressing down.
"Do you always eat your waffles so meticulously?"
Elaine answered Jack while Ianto swallowed his bite of syrup and a little bit of sweet bread. "You should see him with alphabet soup."
More laughter, real and full this time. The earlier tension was gone, Ianto could feel it slinking out of the room with its tail between its legs. Elaine could mock all she wanted, but he still remembered what she did with dolls at tea time. He was going to refer to Elaine's childhood and her dolls in retaliation as Jack stood, but was stopped by lips pressed against his, Jack's tongue tasting the sugary syrup still clinging to his lips. All the fire Ianto knew he was supposed to be feeling pool into other places was instead burning his cheeks, a blush he could feel from nose to ear and down to his toes as Jack kissed him at the table. In front of family and friend.
"I'm sorry." Jack's whisper was barely audible, but Ianto understood. Sorry for provoking Jean-Luc. Sorry for angering Ianto. And Jack should feel sorry, though Ianto wasn't one to hold a grudge. Especially not when someone kissed him like that. Even if it did feel like he was marking territory. Ianto didn't think he did jealousy, but around Jean-Luc, Jack seemed to change.
"Get your own waffle, I don't share." Ianto smiled and pushed Jack away, embarrassed enough by the display that he didn't want to further shame himself by doing something like coming in his pants at the dinner table. Jack did just that with a fairly evil grin as he spilled syrup all over his waffle with no care for precision. Would figure. Ianto wondered if there was research done on how one ate their waffles in regards to persona.
***
"I meant what I said in there. Torchwood will do whatever it can to help Avalon."
As they walked to Jack's vehicle, Ianto knew Jack was serious, and the Mr. Black in him appreciated it. He'd need Torchwood's resources since Avalon's had been destroyed, and an agreeable, willing Jack was much easier to work with than a stubborn, uncooperative Jack. "Stephen and Jean-Luc need to speak with Mr. Black, and they'll inform us what needs to be done."
Jack stopped and his eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Mr. Black?"
Ianto didn't hesitate as the truth, absent of a few minor details, slipped past his lips -- feeling guilty for manipulating Jack but at the same time, not wishing him to know who was Mr. Black. It would change everything too much and Ianto couldn't deal with that and everything else. "I reported Ms. White's death and the destruction of Avalon, I was told then of Mr. Black."
Jack's reaction was predictable, features softening into compassion. Ianto quickly changed the subject to a topic that had been chewing away at the back of his mind since the breakfast conversation, and certain to sour his stomach every time he thought about it. "Jack, I want to apologize for earlier, when I said we were together. It was the quickest way to explain things outside of repeating Jean-Luc's crude surmisal."
He was studied for a moment before he was finally asked, "So how would you define us?"
"I...don't know," was the best answer Ianto could think of, uncertain how to respond. While they certainly shagged as Jean-Luc had said, there were moments, more recently than before, when Ianto questioned the situation or Jack's actions. Some of it was simply confusing and contrary to what Ianto had believed. And yet, he knew Jack. Jack simply didn't have relationships, or anything remotely similar. Estelle had been an exception, but then Ianto believed the captain really had loved her, as much as he could.
"Then I think 'together' works just fine."
It took a moment for Ianto to recover, breath paused and jaw working to say anything remotely intelligent. Jack seemed pleased with himself, arms crossed, as he watched what Ianto figured was a comical expression dance across his face. Not the response he had been expecting, though not one he was particularly against. Jack just surprised him, that was all.
When he finally located his voice, Ianto changed the topic again, veering away from the confusion of trying to understand Jack and the unexplained. "A Torchwood bullet will show up during the investigation of a shooting at a hospital in London."
"Just one?"
Ianto nodded, remembering the single shot it had taken to bring down their attacker. Single shot. He had been taught well.
Jack seemed to hear his thoughts, tapping Ianto's chest as he stepped closer. "Frightening." Ianto knew what he was referring to; Ianto had never gone through any training with Jack or mentioned his proficiency with firearms. But Jack had never asked, so Ianto had never felt the need to share the information. Not really a secret; he would have answered truthfully if asked.
Before he could respond, Jack had him pressed against the SUV, lips doing their best to erase the memory that would haunt Ianto along with the thousands of others. "I'll take care of it," Jack panted once they parted, Ianto smiling despite being equally out of breath. It would be a long trip back to Cardiff for Jack, though Ianto had bets on how far from Broderick's home Jack would drive before he pulled over and took care of the erection pressing into Ianto's thigh. He might not even pull over, Ianto decided, deliberately moving his leg over Jack's groin, and the images of Jack wanking in the SUV as he drove flitted across his mind. Then he remembered who would have to clean the SUV before the team took it out again.
Semen was hard to remove from upholstery once it dried.
"Don't leave a mess," Ianto ordered as he pushed forward with his thigh, grinning at Jack's answering groan. Half a kilometer. At the most. "I'll be back to work tomorrow. Drive safe."
***
The moment Owen stepped into the Hub and saw Ianto straightening days worth of rubbish and tech, he dragged Ianto to the med bay, insisting on running a battery of tests before permitting Ianto to return to work. A stream of curses and lectures followed as he ran his tests. A slight sensitivity to light and residual headache were all that remained from Ianto's "migraine" which had prevented him from coming in to work. Or answering his mobile.
It almost seemed like Owen had been worried. He wasn't satisfied with the results, requesting Ianto submit to an MRI and CAT scan to eliminate the possibility of something more serious than a migraine as well as full labs and a stress test.
Ianto was so surprised that he actually agreed.
After Jack had left Broderick's home, Ianto, Jean-Luc, and Stephen had settled in for a long discussion, filling Ianto in on everything they knew about the disappearances. Which didn't tabulate to much. Stephen agreed without question to be the face and voice of Mr. Black, for which Ianto was vastly relieved. Jean-Luc argued against it, of course, on the basis that he thought Mr. Black needed a bit of sex appeal and youth.
Stephen had been appropriately offended.
Ianto knew Stephen would be calling that afternoon, requesting a conference. At precisely one in the afternoon, the phone ring and Ianto heard Jack call for Owen, Gwen, and Tosh to join him in the conference room. Ianto almost made it to the Hub doors -- he'd planned on waiting in the Information Center until their meeting was finished before he called Stephen to find out the details -- when Jack called him to join the meeting.
He paused, one hand on the massive rolling door's release button. He couldn't remember a time when he'd sat in on a meeting like this. Typically, if he attended it was to fetch coffee and maybe a snack. Perhaps that was all Jack wanted. He waited by the door, not sure if he was to sit or if he should have started coffee. Jack pointed to a chair and so Ianto sat, ignoring the curious faces all wondering why he was there which superceded the curious questions of why the meeting was being held at all.
Jack passed out several sheets of paper. Ianto quickly scanned them to see what they were as the captain began the meeting from his spot at the head of the table. Ianto tried to picture himself seated there and failed, miserably. He much preferred the nondescript chair in which he sat, quietly and assuredly, if not making every attempt to blend in with the wall. "Four days ago, Ms. White was killed at her offices in London."
Well, Jack wasn't going to hedge around the issue.
"But that's--" Tosh was flipping through the reports, avidly searching for something before she cut herself off, setting the report in front of her.
"That's what, Tosh?" Jack asked, if not a little perturbed by the interruption.
"Nothing. I was mistaken." Ianto didn't miss the inquisitive look she shot his way. Trust Tosh to connect his abrupt departure from the Hub and Ms. White's death. He supposed he should have been a bit more cautious when typing up the report, but he'd lied about so much else that lying about the date of her death just seemed...disrespectful.
Jack continued, "Mr. Black has assumed rolls and responsibilities as Secretary of Research and Resource Allocation."
As Jack spoke and Stephen introduced himself (Ianto didn't miss the subtle eyebrow raise by Jack; it hadn't taken long for Jack to figure out who was on the other end of the line), Ianto tuned out the prepared words of encouragement, thanks, and praise for their job performances. He instead made a list of numbers he wanted to phone in Germany, Japan, Russia, the United States, France, Egypt, and China. Those countries in particular had come up in his research with possible sites for Torchwood-like bases; two (the United States and Germany) were credible. The others he would have to contact to discover their credibility. Visiting was out of the question, unless Stephen had opportunity. But Ianto wanted to play things differently than Ms. White had. Less nationalist, though all research and tech found in Britain would stay with Torchwood, and more open to sharing information with the other countries. The globe was too divided; Ianto didn't know of a single number in Torchwood One's database he could have phoned to warn another nation of the alien threat in London and the collapse of its defenses. That had to change.
"What are your thoughts, Mr. Jones?"
With a start, Ianto rejoined the conversation. He wasn't entirely unaware of the conversation, he'd been keeping half an ear to it, but he was still startled to be called upon during the meeting by Mr. Black.
That hadn't been part of his plans.
"I would hesitate before making any definitive answers regarding Torchwood Four's whereabouts, sir. They've been missing for fifteen years and most who might have come into contact with them died during the Battle."
Gwen was flipping through the second report, puzzlement on her face which grew as Ianto spoke. "Sorry, Mr. Black, but I don't understand why we're looking for them now after they've been missing without a trace for fifteen years?"
"Ms. Cooper," Ianto could hear the disdain in Stephen's voice and he struggled to maintain a straight face. Stephen played his part well, and hid the real reason for the inquiry and research behind a good front. Ianto owed him more than just a salary increase. "I will ask myself the same question fifteen years from now if you were to disappear today. Would you insist I not look for you?"
Owen snickered at this; he and Gwen must have had a falling out. Or at least a cooling to their sordid little affair they had for a time. Not that Ianto minded if it was over; he'd no longer have to scrub the interior of the SUV for stains not of his making.
"We've lost some of our own and done nothing for the same period. It's time we resume the search. Mr. Jones, what do you know of Torchwood Four?"
Ianto fought to submerge the glare that threatened to escape his control and slam into the conference phone which the others would surely notice. Stephen was deviating from the plan again and he knew all this information. "It was built in 1982 just outside of Oxford. It was a sister of Torchwood One, functioning under similar structure and code. 198 employees from various parts of the country, some international. Whereas London's focus was primarily alien technology, Oxford concentrated on biology. Most tissue samples and, if captured, aliens went to the Oxford labs. It vanished ten years later, nothing but a large hole in the ground where the facility once stood. Torchwood One ran an investigation for one year, utilizing any applicable alien tech, but the results returned nothing. The whole place just ceased to exist."
"How did you come by this information? It's not in the reports from Captain Harkness."
He bit his cheek from answering how he wished to answer. Instead, Ianto calmly replied, "I read the report in London, sir."
"Of course. Tell me what you know of the individual who ran Torchwood Four."
Conscious that the others were staring at him, Ianto straightened, folding his hands in his lap while keeping his indifferent exterior. He couldn't even pretend to look through the reports for the infromation -- it wasn't in there. He couldn't hedge at the information, it was possible Stephen would quiz him further until Ianto revealed everything.
Stephen deserved a demotion for this. "Michael Hallings, born in York. Bioengineer for Torchwood One before transferring to Oxford when it first opened. Married to a Wendy Sheerling, they had one daughter, Cyndi, who was killed at the age of 10 by an alien believed to have originated in the Phi Cassiopeiae Cluster. His wife never recovered from the injuries she received in the attack, dying thirty days later, He had investments across the globe -- one Swiss bank account as well as multiple accounts in Oxford, London, and York. Inquiries determined legit business funding the accounts and they remained untouched after his disappearance. Money eventually transferred to a nephew, Simon Hallings, after Michael was declared dead by Torchwood in 1997."
"And what of his lead scientist?"
Two demotions, his salary cut in half. Ianto grew more uncomfortable talking as the others watched. Jack remained impassive, but one of Tosh's eyebrows threatened to merge with her hairline. Owen just looked impatient, like he wanted Ianto to quit talking so he could attend to other things like playing Space Invaders, and Gwen...well, he couldn't read Gwen. She was flipping through the reports.
Ianto began reciting what he knew. "Rachel Graves, born in London. Recruited by Torchwood for her expertise in genetics, transferred to Torchwood Four at Michael Halling's request. Unmarried, rumored to have had an affair with Omar Bradley, Genobotonist for Torchwood Four, married to Penelope Bradley, chemist at Torchwood One. Rachel was an avid collector of rare coins and paintings, estimated fortune of £2.4 million, mostly attributed to breakthroughs in medicine in the late 1970s. She--" Ianto paused midsentence, finally figuring out what Stephen was doing and disliking him even more for it. There was no reason for him to be quizzed on personnel. Not yet, at any rate. Not for an introductory meeting. And the information was all in the reports probably laid out in front of Stephen. "Are you testing me, sir?"
"Eidetic memory, Mr. Jones?"
Ianto heard Gwen whispering to Owen, questioning what it was. Tosh answered before Owen, her "photographic memory" probably carrying across the lines to an amused Stephen.
"I have a fair memory for detail, sir."
"How convenient for you." Stephen sounded entertained by the conversation; Ianto was growing more irate by the moment. This had not been in the plans and whatever Stephen's intent was, Ianto strongly disagreed with the line of questioning. He wished to blend in, not be called out in a meeting.
"A curse, sir." Ianto spoke stiffly, still maintaining his calm demeanor but seething on the inside, intentionally not thinking of just what his memory could do.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jones?"
"Recall is not limited to text, sir."
"Ah yes, London. My apologies, Mr. Jones."
Which incident in London Stephen was referring to, Ianto wasn't sure, but he could remember them both nearly side by side, burning buildings and walking among the dead, blood running red against the cloudy smoke. There were differences. Where silver sheen and coiled wire dominated one view, a white blouse was the focus of the other. The sounds were different, steady metallic rhythm in one, snap-crackling of wood burning in the other. Screams, begging for life and mercy in one panel, the silent dead in the other. Over and over, calling up from any point in time, a perfect recollection of the images of the event, if not necessarily the context. Which made it even worse, sometimes, pieces of photographs drifting forward, triggered by some sight, some sound, some question, and it might not even be related to Torchwood One or the Cybermen.
And he wondered why his dreams were so haunted.
"...Ianto, think you could write up what you remember about Torchwood Four? Tosh will need precise locations, size, whatever else to start running preliminary diagnostics."
Ianto nodded at Jack's request, not trusting his voice for the moment to give an unwavering response. That was an easy request; the reports were already finished. The meeting was dismissed, and before Jack could even hang up the phone Ianto gathered the papers and stormed (fled) out of the room, pausing only briefly to slam his hand on the trigger for the Hub door. Tosh called after him, but he really was in no mood to talk or answer questions she might have about any of the issues raised in the meeting. He stopped at the Information Desk, picking up his mobile and slipping into the CCTV dead space so no one could hear him.
There was just one ring before Elaine answered the phone. Ianto growled a name and the receiver switched hands.
"Ianto, I'm so--"
"If I didn't need you, I would sack you right now, friendship or no. What the hell were you doing?"
"Proving a point." Stephen didn't sound the least bit apologetic for his deviation from script. He might have been for the conversation to come back to London, but not for his actions. "You are undervalued by your coworkers. I've read the reports and heard the stories, Ianto."
"No. No more points. It's tricky enough as it is, I do not want unwanted attention drawn on me right now. Tosh is already suspicious."
"Smart girl."
Ianto eyed the door to the long hall leading to the lift down to the Hub. He didn't have long; he could hear voices approaching. "No more help, Stephen. Stick to what we'd planned."
He clicked his phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket, smiling his plastered-on polite smile as the door opened for Owen and Gwen.
"Ianto, are you okay? I've half a mind to go to...wherever he is and give him what for."
Ianto kept the polite smile, but he had to admire Gwen every now and then. For all her naivety, there was a certain amount of refreshment in her attitude.
"I'm quite well, Gwen, thanks for asking. Will you be needing the car?"
"No, Owen and I are on foot. Are you sure you're okay? You're looking a bit peaky."
"I'm fine. Enjoy yourselves." Ianto turned his attention to straightening perfectly straight brochures, not looking up until he heard the bell chime above the Information Center's door. He stumbled in shock when he saw Owen still standing near the desk, eyeing Ianto with the same clinical eye he'd used during the tests and while Ianto had been standing in front of that certain basement door.
Owen's eyes darted about, then he leaned in, blocking his head from the CCTV. "If you want, I've still got that lube..."
He wasn't sure which did it, the fact that Owen had kept that "lube," that Owen was brash enough to bring it up to Ianto, or that Owen was conspiring against Mr. Black. One of them, however, warmed Ianto's smile, turning it from plastic to real like Pinnochio in the fables, and Owen seemed almost surprised by it.
Truth be told, it surprised Ianto as well.
"That won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer."
"Right. If you change your mind, I've been using it to fix my furniture." And with that, Owen left, leaving a stunned Ianto behind who couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the day.
Lube indeed.
Next Chapter
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: And back home again...
A/N: This immediately follows events of S1: Chap 6, SoI 13.
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
S1: Chap 1
S1: Chap 2
S1: Chap 3
S1: Chap 4
S1: Chap 5
S1: Chap 6
Ianto woke slowly, a drift towards consciousness which carried him through tendrils of dream fog and hazy snippets of reality. He'd dreamt of explosions, of nightmarish vestiges of blood-lined paths where bullets had etched the names of their intended and blank faces tried to swallow him. Fire curled and beckoned, tempting entrance through a long tunnel straight down (or was it up?) where he could just make out Avalon on the other side, but hands held him, preventing him falling through, searing his skin and refusing to let him go. "I've got you. Won't let you go," was whispered along the smoke, a voice Ianto recognized. Jack. Ianto was aware that he was dreaming of Jack, but couldn't wake -- not that he tried too hard -- so he sat while Jack talked, while he moved the figures across the game board, one hand swiping down a castle while he talked. Talked of nothing, talked of everything. Lots didn't make sense, but Ianto knew that dreams generally don't. But given his father's far-spun tales, Ianto wasn't surprised when they combined within dream, Jack's voice and his father's stories, tales of a desert world, of schools and training and alien races, of loves, wars, and losses all singing with a desperate thirst born of hot suns and dried oceans. All this while sitting in a courtyard upon a blanket of rose petals while Avalon towered into the sky and burned around them.
The heat from Jack's body burnt warmer than the fires, grey ash dusting the blood red petals until mounds of snow blotted the still shape of a woman in white and Jack complained of the cold. He always felt cold, despite the fiery furnaces hell kept warm as the devil fought against an angel in sneakers, armed with a light saber which made sounds of buzzing, chiming, and squawking. Ianto heard words, his words, though they spilled out of his mouth in a disembodied voice, metallic and foreign. Alien. Painting themselves on the snow in code where letters were faces for all 796 characters. "How can sorrow rain, while the light shines?" Ianto painted in the snow, more and more faces, as Jack grew more confused. He didn't understand and as hard as Ianto tried, the more abstract the faces became. Curves sharpened until angles were no longer features but sleek metal and wire. "Avalon's gone but it isn't. Just have to find the right coil, find the right point. It is but it isn't, parallel yet same. It all comes back, Avalon will return, another coil, another loop. Which do you ride? Or am I alone until dawn never comes?" Ianto grew scared as he spoke, the faces chattering back about their lives, their details, all 796 characters so loud and deafening it was hard to hear Jack's response despite his lips pressed to Ianto's ear, "I'm with you, I am always with you, on every curve and coil."
The words ran like hot spring water over Ianto, melting the white snow and the faces, pouring together into a stream that raced to the heavens, washing away the clouds until nothing but the bright sun remained, wrapping her light around Ianto and Jack until the remains of Avalon no longer wept but sang, a beautiful phoenix song, harmonizing the discord until all vibrated in perfect melody.
It was beautiful.
And so Ianto woke, lured from his dreams wrapped in warmth as a quiet melodic hum hovered above his ear...the same from his dream. Jack was humming. That in and of itself was enough of a surprise to Ianto that he remained still, feigning sleep, basking in the otherworldly peace that filled the room. He recognized the tune, it was one of millions stored in the alien music device. He'd heard it once and thought it both tragic and hopeful, a serenade to the forgotten and the lost and a plea to the future for those who remain. Or so Ianto thought. Jack made it sound more lullaby -- a soothing, steady rock as the cadence swung to and fro, tempting him back towards sleep.
Ianto couldn't move, he didn't want to move.
He heard footsteps outside his door, but Ianto didn't open his eyes, didn't start as the door swung open to allow the person on the other side access to the room.
"Ian-"
Elaine's squeak nearly made Ianto laugh. His name stretched octaves in her surprise, but he remained still, relaxed, soaking in the heat from Jack's skin wrapped so tightly about him that the linens loosely covering them were hardly necessary. Ianto figured Elaine had just received an eyeful, though an eyeful of Jack wasn't really a bad thing from Ianto's point of view. He had a lovely body and Ianto enjoyed exploring it.
The humming stopped.
"Morning," Jack whispered. "Quiet, he's still asleep."
"Right. How is he?" Elaine's voice had dropped as well; Ianto could hear her venturing closer, apparently undaunted by catching her brother in bed with a partner. At least it hadn't been his nephews; Ianto didn't know if he could handle their activity and high voices this morning.
"Had a rough night, but he slept."
"He looks so much younger in his sleep. How long have you been together?"
Ianto was as curious as he imagined Elaine was for the answer to the question.
"Forever," Jack simply stated and Ianto wondered if it was honesty or if Jack was saying what he thought Elaine wanted to hear. Ianto would be hard-pressed to answer the question with any sort of specificity, but Jack made it sound like it had always been, from the moment they first met. Ianto almost felt guilty for listening in on their conversation now.
He felt delicate fingers brushing his hair, light enough not to wake him. He was certain it was Elaine. "I'm happy for him. He was so lost after Torchwood One."
"The Battle has been hard on all of you."
"Yes, well, I couldn't ask for a better brother." He heard his sister stand, denim brushing against itself sounding loud in the room. "Breakfast is on, just thought I'd tell him. You. Both of you."
"Thanks, we'll be down when he wakes up. He'll probably want an aspirin, if you have any."
"We do. I'll set it out for him. Oh, and Jack?"
Jack's body shifted. Elaine must be at the door and he needed a change in position to see her well. At least he was listening. Ianto typically did when she used that tone of voice, louder than a whisper now but still soft.
"I don't know if what my father said is true, but if it is, time won't stop me from finding you if you hurt my brother."
All Ianto could hear in the silence that followed was the beat of Jack's heart thumping against Ianto's back. If he didn't know any better, his sister's words made the steady tempo alter just slightly, and then resume. Then again, he'd be wary of his sister, too.
"I don't want to hurt him."
"See that you don't."
The door to his bedroom clicked shut; Ianto knew Elaine had left them to return to the breakfast downstairs. The smell of coffee wafted through the room, almost making his stomach growl at the olfactory memory. He fought to keep it silent by considering what his sister had said. Did his family believe him fragile? First his father, now his sister was stepping in to fight his battles. Jack was not a battle to be fought. Jack was the present; Ianto could never look forward. Once he did that, he knew he'd fall waste to longing for someone or something not meant to be his. He didn't know what he and Jack had, but Ianto knew better than to wish it more than what it was -- brief moments in his life where the world righted itself, and in those moments, he felt...valued, the center of space and time for Jack. Not to mention, the sex was really, really good. He'd take those moment, and he'd enjoy them in the time in which they happened. He expected nothing more; and he refused to want anything more.
Of course, he was rather good at lying.
But he still didn't need his family defending him. He wasn't fragile, nor did he need protection.
Jack's hold tightened for a moment as he settled back into the bed and Ianto took that opportunity to be disturbed from "sleep." "Mmm...Jack?" His voice was still gravely from sleep, all the better to authenticate, and he stretched and groaned as his body felt stiff and abused. Hadn't felt that way while he'd been motionless, only once he'd moved. At least he felt a bit less than death warmed over; he needed more sleep, but the idea of sleeping the day through was unacceptable. He had duties now. The children had to be found.
"Morning."
After a quick kiss (Ianto broke it off; he'd meant it when he'd said no sex in his childhood bed), Jack's eyes crinkled with a smile. Ianto wanted to hit him for looking so awake and chipper. He opted for pulling a pillow over his eyes, blocking the light streaming in through his window. The headache hadn't gone away, not really, although it did seem less of an insistent driving pain and more an apithetic throb, like it'd been hurting for so long it hardly had the energy to keep it up.
"Elaine dropped by earlier, said breakfast was ready if you wanted."
"Shower, then coffee." Ianto thought twice and pulled the pillow from his eyes, catching sight of the smirk on Jack's face and quickly amended his statement. "Separate showers. I have old photos of Kylie if you're in need of inspiration."
Jack's laughter shook the room, followed by a quick fight over who would shower first. It wasn't an order, but it was very nearly one when Jack demanded Ianto go first and soak under the hot water for a while to ease the stiffness in his muscles. Only Jack's threat that he'd use all the hot water if he went first inspired Ianto to move. Ianto gave him a look before he went out into the hall, a confused once over while Jack was distracted by the view outside his bedroom window. Jack's voice was roughened, but Ianto was fairly sure he hadn't slept. Or hadn't slept much. It made him wonder about his dream, and if anything more than just the music was reality versus subconscious.
And before he could think too much on that, Ianto turned and walked away.
***
After his shower (and yet another argument as to why there was to be no sex in his bedroom -- never mind the childhood, Ianto couldn't imagine the embarrassment if his nephews walked in), Ianto ventured downstairs while Jack took his turn. He felt moderately better after the shower, nothing a few aspirin from the bottle Elaine had set on the counter couldn't dim. Elaine, Stephen and Jean-Luc were sitting at the table, sipping coffee over plates of half-eaten waffles, watching as he shook out two, then another before throwing them back with a glass of water. Unnerving, and made Ianto feel extremely self-conscious. He was just glad he didn't choke on the pills while he swallowed.
"You should stay in bed today and recover."
Ianto didn't roll his eyes, but he came close as he poured a mug of coffee and joined the others at the table. Elaine must have made the coffee, it was nearly as good as his own (as it should be given his practice at Torchwood Three). "I'm fine, Stephen."
"What's wrong with Ianto?" Jean-Luc asked, becoming interested suddenly in Ianto's appearance. He still had no recollection of what had transpired at Avalon. The last thing he remembered was his breakfast the day prior. The doctor who had treated Jean-Luc had said this was possible, so Stephen and Ianto had agreed to keep the details of the attack on Avalon scant, including how Ianto knew to come from Cardiff. It was for the best, and maybe one day Jean-Luc would remember. The details of Ianto's well-being were not important, not in the scope of things, and they had far larger problems to deal with.
"Ianto's right here." Ianto couldn't blame Jean-Luc for asking; he'd always been a bit protective of Ianto once they'd become friends. Which was still something he was going to have to work through. He remembered Stephen's words yesterday, how at first Jean-Luc's "friendship" had been a ploy to get answers. Ianto wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that. True, they had become friends, and there wasn't any other he trusted as implicitly as Jean-Luc, but the memories felt a bit tainted now, misshapen, a small cancer that, unless removed, could consume and destroy all it touched. But another time, another place, another headache. "And nothing's wrong."
"And I don't believe you. What happened?"
"You nearly killed him."
All eyes turned torwards the stairs, where a casual Jack walked down the steps, hands stuffed in his pocket, looking as unruffled as ever. His hair was still damp and his clothes looked remarkably wrinkle-free, a feat Ianto wasn't sure how he accomplished. Casual yet...tense. Ianto could see it along the lines of Jack's shoulders, in the false smile curving his lips. Predatory, perhaps.
And suddenly, Ianto realized what was going on. Maybe not everything, but this was revenge. Or at least the continuation of petty bickering. Jean-Luc had watched over Ianto after Lisa...now Jack was doing the same. "Jack..." Ianto warned, but it was lost amidst Jean-Luc's protests.
"I would do no such thing!"
"But you did." Jack poured himself a cup of coffee as well and sat beside Ianto at the round kitchen table, leisurely stretching in the chair as he took a sip, speaking as casually as if he were reporting the weather. "Level four psychic trauma with disruption to the central nervous system and ancilliary functions including sense and mobility. You panicked and channeled everything in a focus directed at Ianto to alert him to the danger. You overloaded him and he nearly died on the Hub floor."
Jean-Luc looked wide-eyed at Stephen who nodded; Ianto felt a bit wide-eyed himself. When did Jack become the expert in Avalon matters?
Stephen continued slowly, as though reluctant to give any credence to what Jack had said. "I wasn't aware of that diagnosis, I don't think we've ever given it a name but I knew the symptoms. A few children were discovered after accidentally reacting in a similar fashion, though none of them had your gift."
"Fuck, Ianto, I'm so sorr--"
"You should be!" Jack's ire finally broke through the facade of calm. Ianto would have reacted but he was stilll trying to figure out how Jack knew. He wasn't connected to Avalon. Well, he hadn't been in the past. Perhaps in the future...and that line of thinking shifted Ianto's stability to a bucking suspension bridge unsettled by the wind. Ianto knew Jack wasn't from this time, he'd said as much, but he had never considered that he could be from a far distant future, maybe one where people like Jean-Luc lived openly and freely. God, maybe it was even common, common enough to have a diagnosis for related trauma. That would make sense, given his quote of the 21st century, but Ianto had never really factored in that he wasn't from the past. Was his father from the future? Is that why he reacted as he did to the news of Ms. White's death? How much of Ianto's life was playing out because he chose it to, and how much was manipulated into events already past for Jack who was now living his future in the past? It made Ianto's head hurt just thinking about that. "You had no control, and you almost killed one of my team."
Despite the tape and gauze and lack of any credible gift that would have threatened Jack, Jean-Luc still looked a force to be reckoned with when goaded to anger. His words were dangerous enough. "Would you have cared if you weren't shagging him? Seems you have a track record for destruction--"
"Enough!"
Jean-Luc and Jack had risen from their chairs but froze at the sound of Ianto's voice bellowing over their shouts. His palms stung from hitting the table as forcefully as he did, but it seemed the combination was enough to silence the two who Ianto understood might have his best interests in mind, albeit a really shoddy method of demonstration.
"Both of you, sit down and listen." He waited as they both complied, four sets of eyes now glued on him, though not without a few glares shared between Jack and Jean-Luc. Elaine had been silent through this whole discussion, but was listening as well. As she should; Ianto's anger was partially directed at her. "Yes, Jack and I are together, but it is my damned choice who I share a bed with. So respect my choice and intelligence and stay the hell out of my personal life no matter how good your intentions."
"You..." Ianto turned his attention on Jean-Luc, who actually looked a bit repentant for his words, "have no right to condemn Jack's past. We all do things we shouldn't, or do I need to remind you of your parents' killers?" Ah, so he had been right in his guess that Jean-Luc had hunted them down, judging by the pallor of his face. He knew his friend too well. Rounding on Jack, Ianto waved a finger at him, not caring for social niceties. At this point Ianto was questioning whether or not it was too early to start drinking, much less about politeness. "And you! It was a fucking accident. I'm alive, and thanks to the warning they're alive. It doesn't matter how it happened. What matters is that at least two hundred people are missing, we have no idea who has them or where they're located, and you're choosing to waste your breath arguing with each other. Fuck, my nephews act with more maturity."
Four pairs of eyes watched him in breathless silence. Ianto could feel the blood pounding in his ears but no one said a word. No one needed to; Ianto believed he'd said it all for them. Of course, he hardly ever lost his temper; he blamed the chaos of the week for losing it on two occasions. This time he meant everything he'd said. He moved away from the table and got a refill of coffee, just for something to do while the others stared. It made his skin crawl. He picked up a waffle as well (heart-shaped, a Scandanavian gift from their mother), still warm beneath a cheese cloth, and the serving vessel with syrup. Back at the table and ignoring the others, he concentrated on filling each divet to the brim with syrup, just like he'd done as a kid. His father had often made waffles -- Ianto now wondered if it was a connection to his mother -- and Ianto had gotten quite obsessive with making sure each depression was filled just right. If he was careful, he could split the cells and not have the syrup spill over. His sister always liked hers with preserves, but Ianto's sweet tooth loved the syrup and plus there was no challenge in eating them with preserves.
He took his first bite then realized no one was yet talking and all were watching. Jack was especially amused. "Are you going to threaten my waffle before I eat so it doesn't choke me?"
Jack started laughing first, then the others joined in, as though they were waiting for someone else to start so they'd take the blame. Ianto would feel offended, but laughter was far more welcome than fighting and open hostility, though he still had no idea what they were laughing at and he was rather irritated that laughter would follow his dressing down.
"Do you always eat your waffles so meticulously?"
Elaine answered Jack while Ianto swallowed his bite of syrup and a little bit of sweet bread. "You should see him with alphabet soup."
More laughter, real and full this time. The earlier tension was gone, Ianto could feel it slinking out of the room with its tail between its legs. Elaine could mock all she wanted, but he still remembered what she did with dolls at tea time. He was going to refer to Elaine's childhood and her dolls in retaliation as Jack stood, but was stopped by lips pressed against his, Jack's tongue tasting the sugary syrup still clinging to his lips. All the fire Ianto knew he was supposed to be feeling pool into other places was instead burning his cheeks, a blush he could feel from nose to ear and down to his toes as Jack kissed him at the table. In front of family and friend.
"I'm sorry." Jack's whisper was barely audible, but Ianto understood. Sorry for provoking Jean-Luc. Sorry for angering Ianto. And Jack should feel sorry, though Ianto wasn't one to hold a grudge. Especially not when someone kissed him like that. Even if it did feel like he was marking territory. Ianto didn't think he did jealousy, but around Jean-Luc, Jack seemed to change.
"Get your own waffle, I don't share." Ianto smiled and pushed Jack away, embarrassed enough by the display that he didn't want to further shame himself by doing something like coming in his pants at the dinner table. Jack did just that with a fairly evil grin as he spilled syrup all over his waffle with no care for precision. Would figure. Ianto wondered if there was research done on how one ate their waffles in regards to persona.
***
"I meant what I said in there. Torchwood will do whatever it can to help Avalon."
As they walked to Jack's vehicle, Ianto knew Jack was serious, and the Mr. Black in him appreciated it. He'd need Torchwood's resources since Avalon's had been destroyed, and an agreeable, willing Jack was much easier to work with than a stubborn, uncooperative Jack. "Stephen and Jean-Luc need to speak with Mr. Black, and they'll inform us what needs to be done."
Jack stopped and his eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Mr. Black?"
Ianto didn't hesitate as the truth, absent of a few minor details, slipped past his lips -- feeling guilty for manipulating Jack but at the same time, not wishing him to know who was Mr. Black. It would change everything too much and Ianto couldn't deal with that and everything else. "I reported Ms. White's death and the destruction of Avalon, I was told then of Mr. Black."
Jack's reaction was predictable, features softening into compassion. Ianto quickly changed the subject to a topic that had been chewing away at the back of his mind since the breakfast conversation, and certain to sour his stomach every time he thought about it. "Jack, I want to apologize for earlier, when I said we were together. It was the quickest way to explain things outside of repeating Jean-Luc's crude surmisal."
He was studied for a moment before he was finally asked, "So how would you define us?"
"I...don't know," was the best answer Ianto could think of, uncertain how to respond. While they certainly shagged as Jean-Luc had said, there were moments, more recently than before, when Ianto questioned the situation or Jack's actions. Some of it was simply confusing and contrary to what Ianto had believed. And yet, he knew Jack. Jack simply didn't have relationships, or anything remotely similar. Estelle had been an exception, but then Ianto believed the captain really had loved her, as much as he could.
"Then I think 'together' works just fine."
It took a moment for Ianto to recover, breath paused and jaw working to say anything remotely intelligent. Jack seemed pleased with himself, arms crossed, as he watched what Ianto figured was a comical expression dance across his face. Not the response he had been expecting, though not one he was particularly against. Jack just surprised him, that was all.
When he finally located his voice, Ianto changed the topic again, veering away from the confusion of trying to understand Jack and the unexplained. "A Torchwood bullet will show up during the investigation of a shooting at a hospital in London."
"Just one?"
Ianto nodded, remembering the single shot it had taken to bring down their attacker. Single shot. He had been taught well.
Jack seemed to hear his thoughts, tapping Ianto's chest as he stepped closer. "Frightening." Ianto knew what he was referring to; Ianto had never gone through any training with Jack or mentioned his proficiency with firearms. But Jack had never asked, so Ianto had never felt the need to share the information. Not really a secret; he would have answered truthfully if asked.
Before he could respond, Jack had him pressed against the SUV, lips doing their best to erase the memory that would haunt Ianto along with the thousands of others. "I'll take care of it," Jack panted once they parted, Ianto smiling despite being equally out of breath. It would be a long trip back to Cardiff for Jack, though Ianto had bets on how far from Broderick's home Jack would drive before he pulled over and took care of the erection pressing into Ianto's thigh. He might not even pull over, Ianto decided, deliberately moving his leg over Jack's groin, and the images of Jack wanking in the SUV as he drove flitted across his mind. Then he remembered who would have to clean the SUV before the team took it out again.
Semen was hard to remove from upholstery once it dried.
"Don't leave a mess," Ianto ordered as he pushed forward with his thigh, grinning at Jack's answering groan. Half a kilometer. At the most. "I'll be back to work tomorrow. Drive safe."
***
The moment Owen stepped into the Hub and saw Ianto straightening days worth of rubbish and tech, he dragged Ianto to the med bay, insisting on running a battery of tests before permitting Ianto to return to work. A stream of curses and lectures followed as he ran his tests. A slight sensitivity to light and residual headache were all that remained from Ianto's "migraine" which had prevented him from coming in to work. Or answering his mobile.
It almost seemed like Owen had been worried. He wasn't satisfied with the results, requesting Ianto submit to an MRI and CAT scan to eliminate the possibility of something more serious than a migraine as well as full labs and a stress test.
Ianto was so surprised that he actually agreed.
After Jack had left Broderick's home, Ianto, Jean-Luc, and Stephen had settled in for a long discussion, filling Ianto in on everything they knew about the disappearances. Which didn't tabulate to much. Stephen agreed without question to be the face and voice of Mr. Black, for which Ianto was vastly relieved. Jean-Luc argued against it, of course, on the basis that he thought Mr. Black needed a bit of sex appeal and youth.
Stephen had been appropriately offended.
Ianto knew Stephen would be calling that afternoon, requesting a conference. At precisely one in the afternoon, the phone ring and Ianto heard Jack call for Owen, Gwen, and Tosh to join him in the conference room. Ianto almost made it to the Hub doors -- he'd planned on waiting in the Information Center until their meeting was finished before he called Stephen to find out the details -- when Jack called him to join the meeting.
He paused, one hand on the massive rolling door's release button. He couldn't remember a time when he'd sat in on a meeting like this. Typically, if he attended it was to fetch coffee and maybe a snack. Perhaps that was all Jack wanted. He waited by the door, not sure if he was to sit or if he should have started coffee. Jack pointed to a chair and so Ianto sat, ignoring the curious faces all wondering why he was there which superceded the curious questions of why the meeting was being held at all.
Jack passed out several sheets of paper. Ianto quickly scanned them to see what they were as the captain began the meeting from his spot at the head of the table. Ianto tried to picture himself seated there and failed, miserably. He much preferred the nondescript chair in which he sat, quietly and assuredly, if not making every attempt to blend in with the wall. "Four days ago, Ms. White was killed at her offices in London."
Well, Jack wasn't going to hedge around the issue.
"But that's--" Tosh was flipping through the reports, avidly searching for something before she cut herself off, setting the report in front of her.
"That's what, Tosh?" Jack asked, if not a little perturbed by the interruption.
"Nothing. I was mistaken." Ianto didn't miss the inquisitive look she shot his way. Trust Tosh to connect his abrupt departure from the Hub and Ms. White's death. He supposed he should have been a bit more cautious when typing up the report, but he'd lied about so much else that lying about the date of her death just seemed...disrespectful.
Jack continued, "Mr. Black has assumed rolls and responsibilities as Secretary of Research and Resource Allocation."
As Jack spoke and Stephen introduced himself (Ianto didn't miss the subtle eyebrow raise by Jack; it hadn't taken long for Jack to figure out who was on the other end of the line), Ianto tuned out the prepared words of encouragement, thanks, and praise for their job performances. He instead made a list of numbers he wanted to phone in Germany, Japan, Russia, the United States, France, Egypt, and China. Those countries in particular had come up in his research with possible sites for Torchwood-like bases; two (the United States and Germany) were credible. The others he would have to contact to discover their credibility. Visiting was out of the question, unless Stephen had opportunity. But Ianto wanted to play things differently than Ms. White had. Less nationalist, though all research and tech found in Britain would stay with Torchwood, and more open to sharing information with the other countries. The globe was too divided; Ianto didn't know of a single number in Torchwood One's database he could have phoned to warn another nation of the alien threat in London and the collapse of its defenses. That had to change.
"What are your thoughts, Mr. Jones?"
With a start, Ianto rejoined the conversation. He wasn't entirely unaware of the conversation, he'd been keeping half an ear to it, but he was still startled to be called upon during the meeting by Mr. Black.
That hadn't been part of his plans.
"I would hesitate before making any definitive answers regarding Torchwood Four's whereabouts, sir. They've been missing for fifteen years and most who might have come into contact with them died during the Battle."
Gwen was flipping through the second report, puzzlement on her face which grew as Ianto spoke. "Sorry, Mr. Black, but I don't understand why we're looking for them now after they've been missing without a trace for fifteen years?"
"Ms. Cooper," Ianto could hear the disdain in Stephen's voice and he struggled to maintain a straight face. Stephen played his part well, and hid the real reason for the inquiry and research behind a good front. Ianto owed him more than just a salary increase. "I will ask myself the same question fifteen years from now if you were to disappear today. Would you insist I not look for you?"
Owen snickered at this; he and Gwen must have had a falling out. Or at least a cooling to their sordid little affair they had for a time. Not that Ianto minded if it was over; he'd no longer have to scrub the interior of the SUV for stains not of his making.
"We've lost some of our own and done nothing for the same period. It's time we resume the search. Mr. Jones, what do you know of Torchwood Four?"
Ianto fought to submerge the glare that threatened to escape his control and slam into the conference phone which the others would surely notice. Stephen was deviating from the plan again and he knew all this information. "It was built in 1982 just outside of Oxford. It was a sister of Torchwood One, functioning under similar structure and code. 198 employees from various parts of the country, some international. Whereas London's focus was primarily alien technology, Oxford concentrated on biology. Most tissue samples and, if captured, aliens went to the Oxford labs. It vanished ten years later, nothing but a large hole in the ground where the facility once stood. Torchwood One ran an investigation for one year, utilizing any applicable alien tech, but the results returned nothing. The whole place just ceased to exist."
"How did you come by this information? It's not in the reports from Captain Harkness."
He bit his cheek from answering how he wished to answer. Instead, Ianto calmly replied, "I read the report in London, sir."
"Of course. Tell me what you know of the individual who ran Torchwood Four."
Conscious that the others were staring at him, Ianto straightened, folding his hands in his lap while keeping his indifferent exterior. He couldn't even pretend to look through the reports for the infromation -- it wasn't in there. He couldn't hedge at the information, it was possible Stephen would quiz him further until Ianto revealed everything.
Stephen deserved a demotion for this. "Michael Hallings, born in York. Bioengineer for Torchwood One before transferring to Oxford when it first opened. Married to a Wendy Sheerling, they had one daughter, Cyndi, who was killed at the age of 10 by an alien believed to have originated in the Phi Cassiopeiae Cluster. His wife never recovered from the injuries she received in the attack, dying thirty days later, He had investments across the globe -- one Swiss bank account as well as multiple accounts in Oxford, London, and York. Inquiries determined legit business funding the accounts and they remained untouched after his disappearance. Money eventually transferred to a nephew, Simon Hallings, after Michael was declared dead by Torchwood in 1997."
"And what of his lead scientist?"
Two demotions, his salary cut in half. Ianto grew more uncomfortable talking as the others watched. Jack remained impassive, but one of Tosh's eyebrows threatened to merge with her hairline. Owen just looked impatient, like he wanted Ianto to quit talking so he could attend to other things like playing Space Invaders, and Gwen...well, he couldn't read Gwen. She was flipping through the reports.
Ianto began reciting what he knew. "Rachel Graves, born in London. Recruited by Torchwood for her expertise in genetics, transferred to Torchwood Four at Michael Halling's request. Unmarried, rumored to have had an affair with Omar Bradley, Genobotonist for Torchwood Four, married to Penelope Bradley, chemist at Torchwood One. Rachel was an avid collector of rare coins and paintings, estimated fortune of £2.4 million, mostly attributed to breakthroughs in medicine in the late 1970s. She--" Ianto paused midsentence, finally figuring out what Stephen was doing and disliking him even more for it. There was no reason for him to be quizzed on personnel. Not yet, at any rate. Not for an introductory meeting. And the information was all in the reports probably laid out in front of Stephen. "Are you testing me, sir?"
"Eidetic memory, Mr. Jones?"
Ianto heard Gwen whispering to Owen, questioning what it was. Tosh answered before Owen, her "photographic memory" probably carrying across the lines to an amused Stephen.
"I have a fair memory for detail, sir."
"How convenient for you." Stephen sounded entertained by the conversation; Ianto was growing more irate by the moment. This had not been in the plans and whatever Stephen's intent was, Ianto strongly disagreed with the line of questioning. He wished to blend in, not be called out in a meeting.
"A curse, sir." Ianto spoke stiffly, still maintaining his calm demeanor but seething on the inside, intentionally not thinking of just what his memory could do.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jones?"
"Recall is not limited to text, sir."
"Ah yes, London. My apologies, Mr. Jones."
Which incident in London Stephen was referring to, Ianto wasn't sure, but he could remember them both nearly side by side, burning buildings and walking among the dead, blood running red against the cloudy smoke. There were differences. Where silver sheen and coiled wire dominated one view, a white blouse was the focus of the other. The sounds were different, steady metallic rhythm in one, snap-crackling of wood burning in the other. Screams, begging for life and mercy in one panel, the silent dead in the other. Over and over, calling up from any point in time, a perfect recollection of the images of the event, if not necessarily the context. Which made it even worse, sometimes, pieces of photographs drifting forward, triggered by some sight, some sound, some question, and it might not even be related to Torchwood One or the Cybermen.
And he wondered why his dreams were so haunted.
"...Ianto, think you could write up what you remember about Torchwood Four? Tosh will need precise locations, size, whatever else to start running preliminary diagnostics."
Ianto nodded at Jack's request, not trusting his voice for the moment to give an unwavering response. That was an easy request; the reports were already finished. The meeting was dismissed, and before Jack could even hang up the phone Ianto gathered the papers and stormed (fled) out of the room, pausing only briefly to slam his hand on the trigger for the Hub door. Tosh called after him, but he really was in no mood to talk or answer questions she might have about any of the issues raised in the meeting. He stopped at the Information Desk, picking up his mobile and slipping into the CCTV dead space so no one could hear him.
There was just one ring before Elaine answered the phone. Ianto growled a name and the receiver switched hands.
"Ianto, I'm so--"
"If I didn't need you, I would sack you right now, friendship or no. What the hell were you doing?"
"Proving a point." Stephen didn't sound the least bit apologetic for his deviation from script. He might have been for the conversation to come back to London, but not for his actions. "You are undervalued by your coworkers. I've read the reports and heard the stories, Ianto."
"No. No more points. It's tricky enough as it is, I do not want unwanted attention drawn on me right now. Tosh is already suspicious."
"Smart girl."
Ianto eyed the door to the long hall leading to the lift down to the Hub. He didn't have long; he could hear voices approaching. "No more help, Stephen. Stick to what we'd planned."
He clicked his phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket, smiling his plastered-on polite smile as the door opened for Owen and Gwen.
"Ianto, are you okay? I've half a mind to go to...wherever he is and give him what for."
Ianto kept the polite smile, but he had to admire Gwen every now and then. For all her naivety, there was a certain amount of refreshment in her attitude.
"I'm quite well, Gwen, thanks for asking. Will you be needing the car?"
"No, Owen and I are on foot. Are you sure you're okay? You're looking a bit peaky."
"I'm fine. Enjoy yourselves." Ianto turned his attention to straightening perfectly straight brochures, not looking up until he heard the bell chime above the Information Center's door. He stumbled in shock when he saw Owen still standing near the desk, eyeing Ianto with the same clinical eye he'd used during the tests and while Ianto had been standing in front of that certain basement door.
Owen's eyes darted about, then he leaned in, blocking his head from the CCTV. "If you want, I've still got that lube..."
He wasn't sure which did it, the fact that Owen had kept that "lube," that Owen was brash enough to bring it up to Ianto, or that Owen was conspiring against Mr. Black. One of them, however, warmed Ianto's smile, turning it from plastic to real like Pinnochio in the fables, and Owen seemed almost surprised by it.
Truth be told, it surprised Ianto as well.
"That won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer."
"Right. If you change your mind, I've been using it to fix my furniture." And with that, Owen left, leaving a stunned Ianto behind who couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the day.
Lube indeed.
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