Time Will Say Nothing
Title: Time Will Say Nothing
Rating: G
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Words: 929
Summary: AU. You have to have read ceefax_the_sane's fic Partners and Parents in order to understand it. Birthday fic for kel_reiley
Author's Note: kel_reiley was talking on Twitter the other day about how ceefax_the_sane's brilliant kid!fic AU really needed a sequel, and I agreed, and so this was born as a present to her. It starts right where the original story leaves off. It doesn't have a conclusion to the previous fic, because that's definitely not my place, but it is a short little something that I thought might make her smile. There you go, Kel. Happy birthday!
The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
-W.H. Auden
--------------
Owen was easy to put to bed that night, tucked between the sheets with Leukocyte, the only stuffed ‘animal’ he would be caught dead with. He was still sleepy from the car ride; the heater, the hum of the engine, the silence. Gwen had stomped into the house without a word and barricaded her bedroom door. Neither Jack nor Ianto had attempted knocking. There was nothing to be said that could not be said in daylight, after a night’s worth of thought and tears.
Toshiko was more difficult. Jack sat by her bedside in her tiny spinning deskchair, leaning over his knees, his arms on her bedspread; a pattern of neurons, yellow and red against black, dendrites touching, shining softly in the sheath of light from the half-open door. He had his watch in his hands, thumb running over the clockface, and Toshiko held the metal band, fingers slipping between the links. Ianto leaned against the doorjamb, half in and half out of the room, listening to their soft voices as they seemed to speak in a language that he couldn’t understand. At least not from so far away.
He went to make tea.
The preparation was simpler. (Kettle, water, the click of the ‘on’ button.) It was mindless; a relief. (Two mugs from the cupboard.) Better than to stand, useless, in his younger stepdaughter’s doorway, ten feet from his elder stepdaughter’s doorway, where he knew she was crying; it was like a draft through the house, a thing that one could only feel, perhaps hear snatches of when listening closely. (Sugar in Jack’s. Milk in his.) It was much easier than worrying about what happened next. (The rumble of the boil, the click signaling it.) Worrying about what Jack would say, would do, after Tosh finally fell asleep to the sound of his voice.
Jack came into the kitchen when Ianto was pouring the water. The watch wasn’t with him, and Ianto imagined Toshiko curled in her bed, the thick band wrapped around her hands like an infinity symbol, the soft ticking a reassuring sound in her dreams. He held Jack’s cup out to him, and Jack nodded, taking it. “She fell asleep in the middle of my explanation of string theory.”
“What about Gwen?”
He looked over his shoulder, back at the hall, his face the same expressionless plane that it had been when he came in. “She’ll be fine,” he said. He gripped his mug in both hands and blew on it, sending ripples over the top. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“What are you going to say?”
Jack looked at him. Then he walked to the table and sank into a chair, sighing as he placed the mug down. “I don’t know.”
Ianto leaned back against the counter. Myfanwy leapt up from the linoleum and walked along the balance-beam edge in front of the sink. Ianto held out his fingers for her to butt her head against. “You’ll think of something.”
“I will.” He looked up from the tabletop. “Come here.”
Ianto did, leaving Myfanwy and his tea on the counter and crossing the room with a pace just a little too fast to be casual, a little too intent to be nonchalant. The second he was within arm’s reach, Jack pulled him into his lap, and Ianto’s fingers found the fine hairs at the back of his head and tangled there as their lips met. He felt Jack relax beneath him, Jack’s hand gripping loose at the fabric of his shirt. The kiss ended and he exhaled, leaning his forehead against Ianto’s lightly. He murmured, “I’m sorry,” his hand moving to lift Ianto’s, to bring his injured fingers up and press light kisses to the cuts, and Ianto blew a breath against Jack’s temple.
“It isn’t your fault,” he said.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”
Ianto ran his uninjured fingers through Jack’s hair. “She’s still your daughter.”
Jack sighed. “I know.”
They were quiet for a moment, breathing in the silence of the kitchen, the closeness of their bodies, the comfort of touch. Then, there was the sound of gentle lapping. Ianto’s head jerked up and he turned to look. “She’s drinking my tea.”
“It’s because you put milk in it,” Jack said, humor finally coloring his voice. Ianto looked back to catch the distracted upturn of his lips.
“It isn’t my fault you’re American and were raised without proper tea.”
“Even if I’d been born in Newport, I wouldn’t like milky tea.”
Ianto extricated himself from Jack’s arms and crossed back over the room, gently lifting Myfanwy and cradling her to his chest. He turned to see Jack standing, hands on his back as though he were an old man. “What, am I too heavy for you?”
Jack looked up and grinned. “Want me to carry you to the bedroom?”
Ianto sighed. “I’ll never be your bride, Jack.”
“Good,” Jack said, and padded across the floor. He slipped an arm around Ianto’s waist and rubbed a finger under Myfanwy’s chin. “Let’s go to bed.”
“We’ve still a lot to talk about.” Ianto leaned down and let Myfanwy slip to the floor.
“It can wait,” Jack said. “Everything can wait until the morning.”
Ianto gave Jack an appraising look; the lines through his brow, deeper now than they were this morning. The distance in his eyes, and the weariness, and the hurt. He sighed and took Jack’s hand. “It can wait,” he said, and led them down the darkened hall. The house sighed around them, then was still.
Rating: G
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Words: 929
Summary: AU. You have to have read ceefax_the_sane's fic Partners and Parents in order to understand it. Birthday fic for kel_reiley
Author's Note: kel_reiley was talking on Twitter the other day about how ceefax_the_sane's brilliant kid!fic AU really needed a sequel, and I agreed, and so this was born as a present to her. It starts right where the original story leaves off. It doesn't have a conclusion to the previous fic, because that's definitely not my place, but it is a short little something that I thought might make her smile. There you go, Kel. Happy birthday!
The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
-W.H. Auden
--------------
Owen was easy to put to bed that night, tucked between the sheets with Leukocyte, the only stuffed ‘animal’ he would be caught dead with. He was still sleepy from the car ride; the heater, the hum of the engine, the silence. Gwen had stomped into the house without a word and barricaded her bedroom door. Neither Jack nor Ianto had attempted knocking. There was nothing to be said that could not be said in daylight, after a night’s worth of thought and tears.
Toshiko was more difficult. Jack sat by her bedside in her tiny spinning deskchair, leaning over his knees, his arms on her bedspread; a pattern of neurons, yellow and red against black, dendrites touching, shining softly in the sheath of light from the half-open door. He had his watch in his hands, thumb running over the clockface, and Toshiko held the metal band, fingers slipping between the links. Ianto leaned against the doorjamb, half in and half out of the room, listening to their soft voices as they seemed to speak in a language that he couldn’t understand. At least not from so far away.
He went to make tea.
The preparation was simpler. (Kettle, water, the click of the ‘on’ button.) It was mindless; a relief. (Two mugs from the cupboard.) Better than to stand, useless, in his younger stepdaughter’s doorway, ten feet from his elder stepdaughter’s doorway, where he knew she was crying; it was like a draft through the house, a thing that one could only feel, perhaps hear snatches of when listening closely. (Sugar in Jack’s. Milk in his.) It was much easier than worrying about what happened next. (The rumble of the boil, the click signaling it.) Worrying about what Jack would say, would do, after Tosh finally fell asleep to the sound of his voice.
Jack came into the kitchen when Ianto was pouring the water. The watch wasn’t with him, and Ianto imagined Toshiko curled in her bed, the thick band wrapped around her hands like an infinity symbol, the soft ticking a reassuring sound in her dreams. He held Jack’s cup out to him, and Jack nodded, taking it. “She fell asleep in the middle of my explanation of string theory.”
“What about Gwen?”
He looked over his shoulder, back at the hall, his face the same expressionless plane that it had been when he came in. “She’ll be fine,” he said. He gripped his mug in both hands and blew on it, sending ripples over the top. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“What are you going to say?”
Jack looked at him. Then he walked to the table and sank into a chair, sighing as he placed the mug down. “I don’t know.”
Ianto leaned back against the counter. Myfanwy leapt up from the linoleum and walked along the balance-beam edge in front of the sink. Ianto held out his fingers for her to butt her head against. “You’ll think of something.”
“I will.” He looked up from the tabletop. “Come here.”
Ianto did, leaving Myfanwy and his tea on the counter and crossing the room with a pace just a little too fast to be casual, a little too intent to be nonchalant. The second he was within arm’s reach, Jack pulled him into his lap, and Ianto’s fingers found the fine hairs at the back of his head and tangled there as their lips met. He felt Jack relax beneath him, Jack’s hand gripping loose at the fabric of his shirt. The kiss ended and he exhaled, leaning his forehead against Ianto’s lightly. He murmured, “I’m sorry,” his hand moving to lift Ianto’s, to bring his injured fingers up and press light kisses to the cuts, and Ianto blew a breath against Jack’s temple.
“It isn’t your fault,” he said.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”
Ianto ran his uninjured fingers through Jack’s hair. “She’s still your daughter.”
Jack sighed. “I know.”
They were quiet for a moment, breathing in the silence of the kitchen, the closeness of their bodies, the comfort of touch. Then, there was the sound of gentle lapping. Ianto’s head jerked up and he turned to look. “She’s drinking my tea.”
“It’s because you put milk in it,” Jack said, humor finally coloring his voice. Ianto looked back to catch the distracted upturn of his lips.
“It isn’t my fault you’re American and were raised without proper tea.”
“Even if I’d been born in Newport, I wouldn’t like milky tea.”
Ianto extricated himself from Jack’s arms and crossed back over the room, gently lifting Myfanwy and cradling her to his chest. He turned to see Jack standing, hands on his back as though he were an old man. “What, am I too heavy for you?”
Jack looked up and grinned. “Want me to carry you to the bedroom?”
Ianto sighed. “I’ll never be your bride, Jack.”
“Good,” Jack said, and padded across the floor. He slipped an arm around Ianto’s waist and rubbed a finger under Myfanwy’s chin. “Let’s go to bed.”
“We’ve still a lot to talk about.” Ianto leaned down and let Myfanwy slip to the floor.
“It can wait,” Jack said. “Everything can wait until the morning.”
Ianto gave Jack an appraising look; the lines through his brow, deeper now than they were this morning. The distance in his eyes, and the weariness, and the hurt. He sighed and took Jack’s hand. “It can wait,” he said, and led them down the darkened hall. The house sighed around them, then was still.