Fanfic - A Hat to Cover Your Heart [Torchwood: Ianto]
Title: A Hat to Cover Your Heart
Rating(s): PG-13
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Ianto-centric; mentions of Ianto/Lisa and Jack/Ianto pre-slash
Summary: Some things are said; some aren’t. There’s always fallout.
Author's Notes: Sequel to Something You Play . A help_japan fic, written for space_monkey52; she wanted to see the aftermath of the events of Something You Play.
A Hat to Cover Your Heart
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
- Anne Sexton, “Courage”
Unsurprisingly, the first one to approach him is Gwen.
After Lisa, she’d been told the truth of what had happened at Canary Wharf. No one had gone into detail though, for they’d all wished to spare her the knowledge of what could have happened to her. And there was no point in it, of course, after it had all ended for everyone save Ianto. They’d tried forgetting, all of them, and after a few weeks, the only reminders left had been the lingering distrust towards Ianto.
But now, with his pain and inability to cope laid bare to the team, with enough time and space from her near-death, Ianto knows that Gwen won’t let this go. She’ll go to Jack for information about the Cybermen and Daleks, to Owen for the medical reports on the survivors and the dead, to Toshiko for the footage and piecemeal reconstructions. She’ll come to Ianto to learn what it was like to be there.
He’s spent so long trying to forget. He doesn’t think he’s capable of dredging it up, just to satisfy her curiosity, her need to explain what had driven him to nearly end the world.
But then, she’d nearly died for his deeds. She could so easily have gone the way of Lisa, of Tanizaki and Annie. For that alone, doesn’t he owe her some semblance of an explanation?
The problem is that he’s tried, and the words won’t come. And so, when Gwen finally comes to him, he finds himself mute.
“Coffee?” she asks, holding out a Starbucks cup. “Sorry. Didn’t want to chance the machine, that’s your domain.”
“It’s fine,” he says automatically, accepting the cup. A sniff and a cautious sip reveal that it’s a latte. It’s not quite to his usual taste, but it’s good enough for him. “Thanks.”
“Are you doing all right?” Gwen asks.
“Well as can be,” Ianto says. There’s an awkward silence. Ianto wants to say something, to help Gwen out, but he’s at a loss as to how to salvage this situation.
“That alien the other day,” Gwen finally says. “It didn’t leave any lasting effects?”
“I don’t think so,” Ianto says. “Owen said I should be fine, at any rate.”
“Good,” Gwen says, then laughs a little. “Can you imagine what a tip this place would be without you?”
There’s still a little bitterness in him, yes, but it’s been long enough for Ianto to smile at the joke. “It would be terrible,” he agrees, and tilts his head towards the rest of the team. “I don’t know how they get dressed in the mornings, sometimes.”
Gwen gives him a guilty look. “Am I as bad as them?” she asks. “I was thinking about it, and - and we do really take you for granted, don’t we?”
“I think,” Ianto says carefully, “that we all have certain strengths. I’m honestly happier working in the background, rather than - say, out on the field like you lot.”
“But being in the background makes it easier to be forgotten,” Gwen pushes. “And that’s still not right.”
Ianto takes a sip of coffee to avoid answering.
“I’m not doing this right,” Gwen says in frustration, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pry into your life, Ianto, I just - I just want you to know, okay? That it’s okay to expect us to acknowledge you. That’s what we should be doing, that’s what’s right. And I’m sorry it took something like - you know - and that alien, to show me I was being an insensitive prat.”
Ianto opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn’t know what exactly he’d expected from Gwen, but this isn’t something he’d ever envisioned her saying.
Gwen is looking at him with a terribly awkward expression on her face. “Um,” she says. “Yeah. I guess I should, uh, get back to work now.”
“Thank you,” Ianto manages to say.
That does the trick, and her face lightens. “You’re welcome,” she says, getting to her feet. “And I really am sorry.”
She doesn’t mean just for being self-centred, Ianto can hear that in her voice. And really, he doesn’t even blame her for that. He’d been guilty of exactly the same, after all, when he’d lied his way into Torchwood Three, just to try and save Lisa, and betray them.
Ianto finishes his coffee slowly. It’s really pretty good.
“I didn’t understand what I heard,” Toshiko tells him.
“What?” Ianto says.
“The necklace,” Toshiko says, and Ianto tries very hard not to run away.
They hadn’t spoken of what she may or may not have heard in his head, that day. He doesn’t want to think of it.
“It wasn’t anything specific,” she says now. “You were in pain. It scared me, a little. It scares me even more that I don’t know what to do for you.”
“Nothing,” Ianto says. “You’re not obliged to do anything.”
“No, I’m not,” Toshiko says. “Friendship isn’t an obligation.”
“Oh,” Ianto says.
“But I’ve been a pretty poor friend till now, I reckon,” Toshiko says wryly. “I don’t know if you’ll let me, but I hoped we could start over.”
Ianto considers it. A fresh slate does sound appealing. If only it was possible to start over from everything he’d done wrong, go back and correct all the stupid mistakes he’d made. It didn’t even have to be that far back in time; what he most wanted to undo was his decision to bring Lisa’s half-converted body to Cardiff. If he hadn’t done that, he’d likely be living on his own now, trying to remember what a normal life entailed. Despite what he’d seen, he’d have been more at peace with himself than he was now. He’d have been living quietly and - and unaware, unaware of what he was capable of. The horrors, yes, but also the strength.
“I don’t think we need to,” Ianto says at last, refocusing on Toshiko. “Not on your part, anyway. There’s nothing I think I need to wipe clean, to -” He hesitates, because it sounds juvenile, but then continues. “To become friends with you.”
Toshiko smiles, a little hesitantly. “Nothing at all?”
Ianto suspects she’s thinking of the necklace, and before that, of the cannibals and how poorly she’d handled Ianto’s fear. But then, he was the one who’d insisted on inspecting the refrigerator, who’d deliberately picked at Toshiko’s fears because he couldn’t bear to be the only one panicking.
“Nothing I can think of,” he tells her. “It - it might not be the same for you.”
“I don’t think so,” Toshiko says thoughtfully. She gives him a shy smile. “Do you want some help with the paperwork, later? I can at least log it, if you tell me what to do.”
Ianto’s lips quirk a little. This might just be the first time any of the team’s volunteered to do paperwork. “That would be nice,” he says, and watches as she nods and leaves.
At least Owen, if no one else, hasn’t really changed his behaviour towards Ianto. The only thing to note is that he’s eased up on the biting remarks about Lisa, and Ianto can’t help but be thankful for that, no matter the cause. Otherwise, Owen is the same as ever, caustic aloofness and all.
But then one day, when the others are busy and no one’s paying attention, Owen says, “Does she have a grave?”
Ianto carefully sets Owen’s coffee on the table, then puts the tray down before his shaking hands can betray him.
“No,” he says. He considers saying more, but stays silent instead. The rest of the story doesn’t really matter. It never has. Except, he thinks, when it does. He thinks of Gwen and Toshiko.
“Build her something,” Owen says. “Anything, to give you something to talk to instead of air. Even a photo, but it’s better if you make something yourself.”
Ianto focuses on breathing evenly. “I’ll try it,” he says. Then he picks up the tray and leaves the medical bay before Owen can respond.
He can feel Owen’s eyes on his back.
What truly surprises Ianto is that Jack hasn’t said anything to him.
Ianto keeps waiting, expecting another difficult conversation to round off the lot with. But it seems Jack’s determined to confound him even in this. If anything, he’s just a little more openly appreciative of the work Ianto does. Sometimes, he watches as Ianto moves around the Hub. Once, Ianto had thought his gaze to be distrustful. Now, he’s not so certain.
And through it all, Jack doesn’t say anything to him.
So one evening, when the others have left and Ianto’s cleaning up and Jack comes to him, Ianto thinks - finally. It’s a relief, in a way. He doesn’t know what Jack will say to him. This conversation could go one of many ways. He knows that Jack’s good with words. If Jack chose, he’d be able to destroy Ianto. It’s that possibility which scares Ianto, makes him turn to Jack with clammy hands and dry mouth.
“Going home soon?” Jack asks.
“Once I’m done with this,” Ianto says. “It’s not much more.”
“Okay,” Jack says, and then sits down at Toshiko’s desk and watches Ianto expectantly. Ianto wonders if he’s meant to say something. Instead, he finishes cleaning up, and brings the rubbish bags over to the lift. He’ll bring them up to the Tourist Information Centre on his way out, and put them out in the morning.
He retires to the pantry to wash his hands. He expects to be followed, but he still flinches when Jack puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Still don’t like that, huh?” Jack asks, not removing his hand.
Ianto scrubs a little harder.
“You’re very tense,” Jack says suddenly. Ianto chances a look back, and sees a frown on Jack’s face. Jack squeezes his shoulder gently, and Ianto can’t help the shudder that runs through his body. Part of it is pain. The other part, he doesn’t want to inspect too closely.
“Should go get a massage,” Jack comments. His other hand comes up to rest on Ianto’s shoulder, and he presses hard into knotted muscles. Ianto’s hands jerk involuntarily, and he splashes water across the sink. Breathing through the pain, he turns the water off, and reaches for a towel.
Jack gets there before him, grabbing the towel while pushing on Ianto’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Then his hands are on Ianto’s, patting them dry with the towel. Even after they’re completely dry, Jack doesn’t let go, turning Ianto’s hands over and tracing the lines on the palms, inspecting them as if they’d tell him something about Ianto.
Ianto thinks that he should probably rescue his extremities, but he can’t bring himself to move.
Jack tugs at Ianto’s thumb, rubbing the base and then pulling down the length. He repeats the process with the next finger and Ianto realises, to his amazement, that he’s getting a massage. From Jack. In the middle of the pantry. In the Hub. Jack leisurely works his way through each finger, ignoring the bewildered look on Ianto’s face.
It’s been a very long time since Ianto’s been touched like this. Without expectation, without fear. He’s relaxing, almost against his will. He still can’t fathom what Jack’s up to, but this - this is nice. He’s missed being touched without pain.
“Sir?” Ianto finally asks, hesitantly. Then he winces as Jack presses on the side of his palm. That had hurt. He hadn’t realised his palms were tender there.
“Back hurting?” Jack asks.
“Um,” Ianto says. Now that he thinks about it, yes. “A little.”
“I can tell,” Jack says, continuing to massage the sides of Ianto’s hands. “It’ll get better.”
Ianto stares at Jack’s bowed head, willing him to look up so Ianto can figure out what the hell is going on. He doesn’t, but he does pause to lift Ianto’s right hand and place a light kiss on the palm. Then he resumes the massage.
Ianto watches him with something approaching awe. This man will never cease to surprise him.
“I think,” Ianto says cautiously. “I think it really will.”
~fin
Rating(s): PG-13
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Ianto-centric; mentions of Ianto/Lisa and Jack/Ianto pre-slash
Summary: Some things are said; some aren’t. There’s always fallout.
Author's Notes: Sequel to Something You Play . A help_japan fic, written for space_monkey52; she wanted to see the aftermath of the events of Something You Play.
A Hat to Cover Your Heart
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
- Anne Sexton, “Courage”
Unsurprisingly, the first one to approach him is Gwen.
After Lisa, she’d been told the truth of what had happened at Canary Wharf. No one had gone into detail though, for they’d all wished to spare her the knowledge of what could have happened to her. And there was no point in it, of course, after it had all ended for everyone save Ianto. They’d tried forgetting, all of them, and after a few weeks, the only reminders left had been the lingering distrust towards Ianto.
But now, with his pain and inability to cope laid bare to the team, with enough time and space from her near-death, Ianto knows that Gwen won’t let this go. She’ll go to Jack for information about the Cybermen and Daleks, to Owen for the medical reports on the survivors and the dead, to Toshiko for the footage and piecemeal reconstructions. She’ll come to Ianto to learn what it was like to be there.
He’s spent so long trying to forget. He doesn’t think he’s capable of dredging it up, just to satisfy her curiosity, her need to explain what had driven him to nearly end the world.
But then, she’d nearly died for his deeds. She could so easily have gone the way of Lisa, of Tanizaki and Annie. For that alone, doesn’t he owe her some semblance of an explanation?
The problem is that he’s tried, and the words won’t come. And so, when Gwen finally comes to him, he finds himself mute.
“Coffee?” she asks, holding out a Starbucks cup. “Sorry. Didn’t want to chance the machine, that’s your domain.”
“It’s fine,” he says automatically, accepting the cup. A sniff and a cautious sip reveal that it’s a latte. It’s not quite to his usual taste, but it’s good enough for him. “Thanks.”
“Are you doing all right?” Gwen asks.
“Well as can be,” Ianto says. There’s an awkward silence. Ianto wants to say something, to help Gwen out, but he’s at a loss as to how to salvage this situation.
“That alien the other day,” Gwen finally says. “It didn’t leave any lasting effects?”
“I don’t think so,” Ianto says. “Owen said I should be fine, at any rate.”
“Good,” Gwen says, then laughs a little. “Can you imagine what a tip this place would be without you?”
There’s still a little bitterness in him, yes, but it’s been long enough for Ianto to smile at the joke. “It would be terrible,” he agrees, and tilts his head towards the rest of the team. “I don’t know how they get dressed in the mornings, sometimes.”
Gwen gives him a guilty look. “Am I as bad as them?” she asks. “I was thinking about it, and - and we do really take you for granted, don’t we?”
“I think,” Ianto says carefully, “that we all have certain strengths. I’m honestly happier working in the background, rather than - say, out on the field like you lot.”
“But being in the background makes it easier to be forgotten,” Gwen pushes. “And that’s still not right.”
Ianto takes a sip of coffee to avoid answering.
“I’m not doing this right,” Gwen says in frustration, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pry into your life, Ianto, I just - I just want you to know, okay? That it’s okay to expect us to acknowledge you. That’s what we should be doing, that’s what’s right. And I’m sorry it took something like - you know - and that alien, to show me I was being an insensitive prat.”
Ianto opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn’t know what exactly he’d expected from Gwen, but this isn’t something he’d ever envisioned her saying.
Gwen is looking at him with a terribly awkward expression on her face. “Um,” she says. “Yeah. I guess I should, uh, get back to work now.”
“Thank you,” Ianto manages to say.
That does the trick, and her face lightens. “You’re welcome,” she says, getting to her feet. “And I really am sorry.”
She doesn’t mean just for being self-centred, Ianto can hear that in her voice. And really, he doesn’t even blame her for that. He’d been guilty of exactly the same, after all, when he’d lied his way into Torchwood Three, just to try and save Lisa, and betray them.
Ianto finishes his coffee slowly. It’s really pretty good.
“I didn’t understand what I heard,” Toshiko tells him.
“What?” Ianto says.
“The necklace,” Toshiko says, and Ianto tries very hard not to run away.
They hadn’t spoken of what she may or may not have heard in his head, that day. He doesn’t want to think of it.
“It wasn’t anything specific,” she says now. “You were in pain. It scared me, a little. It scares me even more that I don’t know what to do for you.”
“Nothing,” Ianto says. “You’re not obliged to do anything.”
“No, I’m not,” Toshiko says. “Friendship isn’t an obligation.”
“Oh,” Ianto says.
“But I’ve been a pretty poor friend till now, I reckon,” Toshiko says wryly. “I don’t know if you’ll let me, but I hoped we could start over.”
Ianto considers it. A fresh slate does sound appealing. If only it was possible to start over from everything he’d done wrong, go back and correct all the stupid mistakes he’d made. It didn’t even have to be that far back in time; what he most wanted to undo was his decision to bring Lisa’s half-converted body to Cardiff. If he hadn’t done that, he’d likely be living on his own now, trying to remember what a normal life entailed. Despite what he’d seen, he’d have been more at peace with himself than he was now. He’d have been living quietly and - and unaware, unaware of what he was capable of. The horrors, yes, but also the strength.
“I don’t think we need to,” Ianto says at last, refocusing on Toshiko. “Not on your part, anyway. There’s nothing I think I need to wipe clean, to -” He hesitates, because it sounds juvenile, but then continues. “To become friends with you.”
Toshiko smiles, a little hesitantly. “Nothing at all?”
Ianto suspects she’s thinking of the necklace, and before that, of the cannibals and how poorly she’d handled Ianto’s fear. But then, he was the one who’d insisted on inspecting the refrigerator, who’d deliberately picked at Toshiko’s fears because he couldn’t bear to be the only one panicking.
“Nothing I can think of,” he tells her. “It - it might not be the same for you.”
“I don’t think so,” Toshiko says thoughtfully. She gives him a shy smile. “Do you want some help with the paperwork, later? I can at least log it, if you tell me what to do.”
Ianto’s lips quirk a little. This might just be the first time any of the team’s volunteered to do paperwork. “That would be nice,” he says, and watches as she nods and leaves.
At least Owen, if no one else, hasn’t really changed his behaviour towards Ianto. The only thing to note is that he’s eased up on the biting remarks about Lisa, and Ianto can’t help but be thankful for that, no matter the cause. Otherwise, Owen is the same as ever, caustic aloofness and all.
But then one day, when the others are busy and no one’s paying attention, Owen says, “Does she have a grave?”
Ianto carefully sets Owen’s coffee on the table, then puts the tray down before his shaking hands can betray him.
“No,” he says. He considers saying more, but stays silent instead. The rest of the story doesn’t really matter. It never has. Except, he thinks, when it does. He thinks of Gwen and Toshiko.
“Build her something,” Owen says. “Anything, to give you something to talk to instead of air. Even a photo, but it’s better if you make something yourself.”
Ianto focuses on breathing evenly. “I’ll try it,” he says. Then he picks up the tray and leaves the medical bay before Owen can respond.
He can feel Owen’s eyes on his back.
What truly surprises Ianto is that Jack hasn’t said anything to him.
Ianto keeps waiting, expecting another difficult conversation to round off the lot with. But it seems Jack’s determined to confound him even in this. If anything, he’s just a little more openly appreciative of the work Ianto does. Sometimes, he watches as Ianto moves around the Hub. Once, Ianto had thought his gaze to be distrustful. Now, he’s not so certain.
And through it all, Jack doesn’t say anything to him.
So one evening, when the others have left and Ianto’s cleaning up and Jack comes to him, Ianto thinks - finally. It’s a relief, in a way. He doesn’t know what Jack will say to him. This conversation could go one of many ways. He knows that Jack’s good with words. If Jack chose, he’d be able to destroy Ianto. It’s that possibility which scares Ianto, makes him turn to Jack with clammy hands and dry mouth.
“Going home soon?” Jack asks.
“Once I’m done with this,” Ianto says. “It’s not much more.”
“Okay,” Jack says, and then sits down at Toshiko’s desk and watches Ianto expectantly. Ianto wonders if he’s meant to say something. Instead, he finishes cleaning up, and brings the rubbish bags over to the lift. He’ll bring them up to the Tourist Information Centre on his way out, and put them out in the morning.
He retires to the pantry to wash his hands. He expects to be followed, but he still flinches when Jack puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Still don’t like that, huh?” Jack asks, not removing his hand.
Ianto scrubs a little harder.
“You’re very tense,” Jack says suddenly. Ianto chances a look back, and sees a frown on Jack’s face. Jack squeezes his shoulder gently, and Ianto can’t help the shudder that runs through his body. Part of it is pain. The other part, he doesn’t want to inspect too closely.
“Should go get a massage,” Jack comments. His other hand comes up to rest on Ianto’s shoulder, and he presses hard into knotted muscles. Ianto’s hands jerk involuntarily, and he splashes water across the sink. Breathing through the pain, he turns the water off, and reaches for a towel.
Jack gets there before him, grabbing the towel while pushing on Ianto’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Then his hands are on Ianto’s, patting them dry with the towel. Even after they’re completely dry, Jack doesn’t let go, turning Ianto’s hands over and tracing the lines on the palms, inspecting them as if they’d tell him something about Ianto.
Ianto thinks that he should probably rescue his extremities, but he can’t bring himself to move.
Jack tugs at Ianto’s thumb, rubbing the base and then pulling down the length. He repeats the process with the next finger and Ianto realises, to his amazement, that he’s getting a massage. From Jack. In the middle of the pantry. In the Hub. Jack leisurely works his way through each finger, ignoring the bewildered look on Ianto’s face.
It’s been a very long time since Ianto’s been touched like this. Without expectation, without fear. He’s relaxing, almost against his will. He still can’t fathom what Jack’s up to, but this - this is nice. He’s missed being touched without pain.
“Sir?” Ianto finally asks, hesitantly. Then he winces as Jack presses on the side of his palm. That had hurt. He hadn’t realised his palms were tender there.
“Back hurting?” Jack asks.
“Um,” Ianto says. Now that he thinks about it, yes. “A little.”
“I can tell,” Jack says, continuing to massage the sides of Ianto’s hands. “It’ll get better.”
Ianto stares at Jack’s bowed head, willing him to look up so Ianto can figure out what the hell is going on. He doesn’t, but he does pause to lift Ianto’s right hand and place a light kiss on the palm. Then he resumes the massage.
Ianto watches him with something approaching awe. This man will never cease to surprise him.
“I think,” Ianto says cautiously. “I think it really will.”
~fin