Title: Trust Me
Characters: Jack/Ianto, Tosh, Owen and Gwen briefly
Rating: R
Summary: “This,” Jack said, waving his free hand at the Hub. “It’s not real. None of it is. Someone’s expecting me to just wake up here and carry on as if nothing unusual’s happened, but I know.”
Warnings: Murder
A/N: Again, I forgot to add in that this was betaed by
_stolendreams_. Many thanks to her.
Ianto fell back on the bed, laughing breathlessly, and Jack planted his hands either side of his head, grinning down at him.
“You missed me, huh?” he said teasingly, running the backs of his fingers over Ianto’s cheek.
“You could say that,” Ianto laughed, stretching his hands out above his head, grinning wider as Jack paused, quite distracted by admiring Ianto’s body. “Looks like you missed me, too.”
“Damn right I did,” Jack admitted softly, leaning forward to kiss him. Tangling his legs with Ianto’s, he had one hand curling at Ianto’s waist and was well on his way towards spending some considerable amount of time showing Ianto just how much he’d missed him (for the second time since they’d woken up this morning) when something suddenly felt very wrong.
Breaking the kiss, pulling back suddenly, he blinked at Ianto, who murmured, “Don’t stop. Jack,” and then opened his eyes, asking, “Jack? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Jack whispered, frowning, then focused on Ianto again, and forced a smile, stroking Ianto’s cheek.
“When I got back,” he said, and Ianto smiled up at him, saying, “Yes?”
“Tell me what happened,” Jack said softly, and Ianto laughed, clearly confused.
“You were there,” he pointed out, and Jack kissed him briefly, then murmured, “Tell me anyway.”
Ianto folded his arms behind his head, and said, “You came down on the lift just like you always used to, and you came swaggering over to me by the couch, and you grinned your grin and said, ‘Miss me?’ And I punched you.”
Jack couldn’t help a smile, and Ianto held his gaze, then said, “And then I knelt down beside you and I kissed you. You didn’t let me go for quite a while.”
“Mm,” Jack said, trailing his fingers down to Ianto’s neck. “Good for me.”
He spread his fingers, curling his hand around Ianto’s throat, thumb stroking just under his chin. Ianto wriggled uncomfortably, then pulled one arm from under his head to shove Jack’s hand away, saying, “Don’t. You know I don’t like that.”
Jack caught his wrist, pushing his arm up above his head and pinning it to the mattress firmly. Ianto tilted his head back to see above him, asking, “Where did the pillows go?”
“I think they’re on the floor,” Jack told him, bringing his other hand up Ianto’s chest, pausing at the base of his throat and making Ianto frown and pull his other hand free to stop him again.
“Don’t, Jack,” he said firmly, and Jack pinned his other arm up above his head as well, leaning in to kiss him for a few moments.
“Don’t you trust me?” he murmured when their lips parted, kissing his way along Ianto’s jaw and then down the side of his neck. Ianto smiled, tilting his head back to give Jack better access, and said softly, “You know I trust you. I just don’t like anyone having their hands around my throat. This I don’t mind.”
Jack grinned, licking Ianto’s neck for a moment, then nipped his skin gently and turned his head, spreading his jaws around Ianto’s throat and growling playfully. Ianto squirmed, laughing again and struggling to free his hands from Jack’s grip, gasping, “Stop it! Did you turn into a wild animal when I wasn’t looking?”
Jack closed his eyes, pulled back far enough to kiss Ianto’s throat again, and whispered, “I miss you.”
“What?” Ianto asked breathlessly, while Jack kissed the side of his neck again, lingering over his quickened pulse.
“Jack, what do you mean? Jack!”
Letting go of Ianto’s hands, Jack pulled away to look down at him, then ran one hand down to Ianto’s throat again. Before Ianto could push him away or tell him off again, Jack said suddenly, “I love you.”
Ianto froze, staring at him.
Jack hesitated, then said it again, softer, breathing, “I love you,” and cradling Ianto’s face in his hands.
“You mean that?” Ianto whispered, and swallowed hard. “Jack, do you mean that?”
“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered back.
Ianto reached up to take hold of his shoulders, saying, “What for? You’re not making any sense. What’s the matter, Ja- ck!”
And Jack tightened his hands around Ianto’s neck. Thumbs pressing in on Ianto’s windpipe, he only tightened his grip further when Ianto jerked beneath him, both hands scrabbling at Jack’s fingers, desperately trying to prise his hands away. Near silent, unable to get anything out except a cracked, choking gasp, Ianto kicked uselessly and tugged at Jack’s hands, eyes pleading.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said again, firmer this time. “But this is the only way. I don’t remember coming back, Ianto. I’m not back. Wherever I am, someone’s trying to make me feel safe and stop fighting them. I have to get out. You understand that, don’t you?”
Ianto had clawed Jack’s hands to shreds by now, blood trickling between his fingers and making him squeeze Ianto’s neck even harder, just to make sure his hands didn’t slip away. He winced at the desperation in Ianto’s eyes, and said softly, “Don’t fight me, Ianto, please. It won’t hurt for much longer.”
Ianto lashed out at his face, frantic, and Jack turned his head away, shaking him off and protecting his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, trying not to feel Ianto convulsing under him, hands pushing weakly at his chest or flailing out in agony, beyond his control.
When he felt Ianto sag back against the mattress, one leg still twitching, hands dropping to pull weakly at Jack’s fingers, he looked down, sighing, and said, “I’m so sorry.”
For a moment longer, Ianto’s expression was a heart-wrenching mixture of pain, betrayal, and utter disbelief, and then his hands slipped away from Jack’s, his eyes lost their focus, and he went limp.
Jack held on for a moment longer, then gently loosened his grip and pulled his hands away, staring at the blood and bruises decorating Ianto’s neck. He wiped his hands clean on the sheets, then tenderly closed Ianto’s still-pleading eyes, and sat back. He waited, head hanging, but nothing happened. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but nothing wasn’t it. There should have been some sudden escape.
Nervously, he clambered off the bed, breathing a little quicker, and looking down at his hands. He was sure he’d had no other choice. Absolutely positive. He wasn’t back, and he had to get out somehow - removing the things which made him feel safe and at home here should manage that.
So why wasn’t he gone?
He forced himself to stay calm, checked the time, and went to have a shower and get dressed.
It wasn’t long before Owen and Tosh arrived for the day, coming down on the invisible lift together, chatting easily and smiling at Jack when they saw him leaning against the wall by the weapons store.
“I don’t smell coffee,” Owen complained teasingly. “Where’s Ianto? Too shagged out to move?”
He smirked at Jack, and Tosh hit his shoulder, telling him off. Jack shook his head slowly, saying, “Not quite, no,” and took a step forward, pulling out his gun.
The others stopped suddenly, blinking at him, then Owen subtly moved in front of Tosh, saying quietly, “What are you doing, Jack?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jack asked, smiling sadly when Owen pushed Tosh backwards, back on to the lift. Sighing, he lowered the gun just long enough to flip open his wrist computer and lock down the lift, saying, “You have to appreciate I don’t really want to do this. But it’s the only way out.”
Owen, keeping his hands in clear sight to prove he wasn’t going to try anything stupid, asked warily, “The only way out of what?”
“This,” Jack said, waving his free hand at the Hub. “It’s not real. None of it is. Someone’s expecting me to just wake up here and carry on as if nothing unusual’s happened, but I know.”
He saw the way Owen’s gaze moved between him and the gun, and then Owen whispered, “You killed him. Jesus, you killed him,” and Tosh covered her mouth with one hand.
“Yeah,” Jack said flatly. “I did. All I need now is for Gwen to arrive, and I’ve got the complete set.”
“Why are you doing this?” Tosh wailed, and Jack favoured her with a soft smile.
“Because whoever’s keeping me captive tried to make me forget about the Doctor entirely, rather than giving me any false memories about how I got back.”
Owen stared at him in blank amazement, and said slowly, “You murdered Ianto because you can’t remember getting back here? You twat.”
Surprised, Jack frowned at him, and he shouted suddenly, “You got drunk! We left you with Ianto ‘cause otherwise you’d’ve been shagging on the floor and we’d’ve passed out before long. Christ, is it any wonder you can’t remember a thing?”
“I don’t get drunk,” Jack said softly. “Not anymore. Bad move.”
And he cocked the gun, aimed, and fired twice.
Cautious to the last, he edged over ready to fire again, but both Owen and Tosh were definitely dead. He glanced around on hearing the cog door opening, and straightened up again as Gwen walked in, already saying, “Am I early? I had to open up the Tourist Information Office myself…”
One more shot was all Jack needed.
:::::xxxxx:::::
Jack gasped and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling and taking a few moments to align his scattered thoughts again. He raised his head to look at his hands, fighting a shudder and confused by the fading sense of tightness around his wrists and a burning ache in his shoulders.
Ianto was still fast asleep, draped across his chest and breathing peacefully, and Jack curled an arm around his shoulders in relief, letting his head fall back onto the pillows as he tried to reassure himself that everything was alright. Just a dream. Just one hell of a bad dream.
Except he still couldn’t remember getting back from travelling with the Doctor. And he only remembered the travels in patches - talking to a pretty girl; sparks flying from disconnected cables; straining to keep a door closed; finding his old TARDIS key and handing it over… And then nothing.
But was that a dream as well? For a few moments back in the other dream, he’d wondered if he was going mad.
What if he already had?
Disturbed, he untangled himself from Ianto’s hold, and slipped out of bed, taking care to pull one of the pillows around to tuck under Ianto’s head as he went. Standing up straight, carpet itchy against the soles of his feet, he stretched and closed his eyes, considering.
After a moment longer, he went over to the chair his and Ianto’s clothes had been thrown at last night.
There was a rustle behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing Ianto propping himself up on one elbow, yawning and rubbing at his eyes, asking softly, “What is it?”
Jack turned back to the clothes without answering him, and Ianto yawned, “Jack? What’s -” and then stopped, blinking in surprise as Jack found his gun, checked it, then stood up and aimed it at Ianto.
“Jack?” Ianto asked nervously.
Jack just shook his head, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”