Fic: Debts to be Paid in Full
Title: Debts to be Paid in Full
Rating: K+
Word count: ~6360
Beta'd by:
et_muse
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Tosh. Mention of Gwen and Owen, hints of Jack/Ianto.
Timeline/spoilers: Set post-‘Cyberwoman’, no spoilers for anything after that except Tosh’s back story from ‘Fragments’.
Summary: After the events of ‘Cyberwoman’, Tosh and Jack take care of Ianto.
Notes: Everyone has to have a fic set after ‘Cyberwoman’, don’t they?
“Ianto, you’ve given me the wrong directions,” said Toshiko gently. She stopped her car and peered out into the darkness, at the grimy industrial buildings and chain-link fences lit up by the headlights. “There aren’t any houses around here.”
Ianto glanced at her for only a moment, eyes dull and mouth thin. “No, this is it,” he said. “Thank you.” He opened the car door and unbuckled his belt, movements slow and stiff. Tosh winced when she saw the cuffs of his shirt stained with blood, the sway of his tie hindered by the dried gore, but then she unfastened her own belt and exited the car with him.
“Well, you can show me,” she said, lifting her chin in determination. “If you really do live here.”
Ianto gave her a look. “Yes, I’m sure the Captain ordered you to make sure I’m safely tucked up,” he said, voice rough but sarcasm clear.
“That’s not fair," said Tosh, shaking her head at him.
“Isn’t it?” Ianto didn’t wait for an answer, just buttoned his jacket and lifted from the car the plastic bag full of personal items that Jack had permitted him to collect, under guard, before sending him home for an undetermined length of time. He shut the car door and looked at Tosh over the roof of the car. “Well, if you insist on coming…”
“Which I do,” said Tosh.
“This way, then.”
Ianto led the way to a gate set into the chain-link fence, and entered a combination into the old keypad. The gate swung open with a click, and he held it open for Tosh silently - equally silent, she entered the dismal-looking lot, row upon row of storage lockers packed together in a forgotten part of Cardiff.
It would be forbidding and dull even in daylight, she suspected, and wondered what Ianto was doing here.
He led her along one row of locked doors - garages, really - and then turned left, pulling a bunch of keys from his plastic bag as he did.
"Ianto," said Tosh uneasily, but Ianto glanced at her and something in his expression made her bite back whatever she had been about to say. He went to a door and put the key in the lock; it stuck, and he jiggled it expertly before turning the handle.
"Home sweet home," he said, still sarcastic, and went in. Tosh followed after a moment, long enough to give Ianto time to drop his bag and rummage for a torch. "No light, I'm afraid," he said, swinging the beam of the torch around the locker. Tosh glimpsed a camp bed, a camping stove, and numerous boxes. "But I doubt you'll be staying," he added.
Tosh found words at last. "Ianto," she breathed. "You live here?" Ianto didn't answer, and Tosh acknowledged the redundancy of her question. "My God, why?"
"I'm broke," said Ianto, barely using the torch to cross the locker room. He hung his suit jacket on the corner of a stack of boxes. Tosh peered through the darkness to see him kick aside another box, this one open to reveal a collection of old, dog-eared books.
"But Torchwood pays -" she began, but Ianto whirled around and shone the torch in her eyes.
"Oh, and who do you think paid for Lisa?" he demanded savagely, glaring at her. A moment later he deflated, and the beam of light dropped. "Sorry," he muttered. "You don't deserve..."
Tosh was almost breathless with shock and horror. "You spent everything on her," she realised. "This...this was the only way you could live?"
"Couldn't afford anything more," said Ianto matter-of-factly. "I'll be in debt for a while." He paused, considering. "Well, unless Jack retcons me," he said then. "New life, new identity." To Tosh, standing in the doorway in distress, he sounded almost hopeful.
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't wish for that."
"I've nothing else left," Ianto said, and she watched as the torch was set down, beam shining upwards, so he could pull off his bloodied tie. "Tosh, I'm tired."
"I can't just leave you here," said Tosh, taking a step forwards, but Ianto flinched away and she stopped still.
"Go," he said harshly. "Just go, Tosh. I don't want your pity. Not tonight." He covered his face with his hands for a moment, and then resumed undressing, ignoring the way Tosh was staring at him, at the way the torchlight revealed dark bruises on his chest and abdomen. "Not tonight," he repeated. "Just let me be."
"I -" Tosh cut herself off with a sharp nod. "Alright," she agreed. "Tonight. But we've got to do something about this tomorrow, Ianto. You're going to get ill, living here."
"I've been here for four months," Ianto returned. "I've not got ill yet." He shook his head, light and shadows playing across his face. "Besides. You heard Jack."
Tosh pursed her lips and said nothing for a moment. Jack had ordered no contact, but that was before this had been revealed - and if Ianto thought she'd be doing anything other than going straight to Jack about his living conditions, he didn't know her very well.
"Alright," she said again. "Try to sleep, Ianto."
"Good night," said Ianto, and when the door closed behind her, Tosh heard the firm click of a lock. She stood for a moment, staring around at the storage lockers, at the place where people stored their belongings, and wondered how they hadn't known this before.
But then, she reminded herself, Ianto had been right. When had any of them ever asked about him? When Ianto had been brought into the Hub, none of them had really cared. Suzie was already wrapped up in that damn glove, Owen was caught up in his latest run of one-night-stands, and Toshiko herself -
Well, Tosh knew she had a tendency to focus on technology. Every now and then Jack prodded her about it a little, but he knew that a small part of her was still counting the days.
Tosh took a deep breath and returned to her car. No matter what had happened before, no matter how deeply betrayed they all felt by Ianto, this was a chance to start afresh. She would make sure Ianto had a chance.
* * *
"Did you check his place for weapons?" Jack asked, not looking up from his paperwork.
"He's not a suicide risk," Tosh snapped, slamming a hand down on his papers. Jack lifted an eyebrow and raised his head to watch her. She was pale and angry, her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. He rather thought she looked spectacularly beautiful, but pushed that thought aside. Not Toshiko - never Toshiko, so fragile and needy.
"So sure?" he queried.
"Do you know where he lives?" Tosh demanded, removing her hand but practically daring Jack to ignore her. "Do you?"
Jack shrugged. "Some flat in Roath, I think. That's what's on his records." He scowled. "More secrets? Dammit, I should just -"
"He lives in a storage locker, Jack."
Jack blinked, and stared, and opened his mouth to say something but found he actually had nothing to say.
"A storage locker," said Tosh, with a strange sort of satisfaction. "Out in Tremorfa. There's no light, no heat - he's cooking on a camping stove! Jack, we have to do something."
Jack leaned back in his chair and contemplated her. Tosh was still wearing the grimy clothes that she'd worn to start dismantling the conversion machine, was still pale from shock and tiredness, but he recognised the look on her face and the tilt of her chin. She was determined and angry and - crucially - very worried about Ianto.
He exhaled slowly before speaking. "Should we?" he asked her. "Should we help him? After what he's done here, tonight? To us?"
Tosh reacted predictably, rearing back and lifting her hand as if she wanted to slap him. She didn't, and Jack knew she never would strike him, no matter how much he provoked her, but her words were spoken in an icy tone that was almost as much of a blow.
“Jack, he’s one of us! And he’s right, when have we ever asked about him? He turned up here straight after the battle, and none of us even asked if he’d been injured! We never ask him along when we go for drinks, we never ask him to join in when we play basketball…” She took a deep breath and then looked him in the eye. “How is what he’s done any different to what I did, Jack?”
Jack sighed; he’d guessed she would bring up that comparison, but he didn’t like it.
“You didn’t endanger the team and the world,” he said quietly. “Ianto did.”
“For love,” Tosh snapped. “You saw him, Jack, he would have shot her if we hadn’t interfered. He was destroyed by seeing what she really was.”
“He should have seen it sooner!” Jack returned, feeling that raging anger bubbling up inside him again. He was angry at Ianto - angry and hurt, because he had trusted Ianto. He had really been starting to trust him, with more than just Torchwood. Jack liked to think that he and Ianto had been becoming friends. “He should have seen it sooner and told me,” he went on. “He put us all in danger because he refused to see the truth.”
Tosh pursed her lips and glowered down at him. “He loved her,” she insisted. “Since when was love a crime?”
Jack sighed again; it wasn’t, and he couldn’t fault Ianto for his motives, at least.
“A storage locker,” he said eventually. “Concrete, no lighting, no heating. No way to keep food.”
“That’s right,” said Tosh, and if there was a hint of triumph in her voice he pretended to ignore it. “He’s alone in the dark,” she added, as if to drive the point home. “His girlfriend’s dead and he’s alone in the dark.”
“Alright,” Jack muttered. “I get it.” He straightened and looked up at her. “Suggestions?”
Tosh sighed and sat down, practically sinking into the chair on the other side of his desk. “I think you should leave him alone tonight,” she advised. “He’s hurting, and we didn’t help that.”
“And tomorrow?”
“He said…” Tosh paused, thinking hard. “He said he didn’t have the money for anywhere better. Not even a bed-sit. He said everything went on Lisa. Did we - did Torchwood ever help him with relocation costs? Or give him any kind of…I don’t know, a bonus for surviving the battle?” She gave a short, rueful laugh.
“No,” Jack had to admit. “We didn’t do anything for the survivors.” He paused. “I didn’t do anything,” he corrected himself. “There were only twenty-seven of them, but I just washed my hands of them.”
“And then Ianto turned up,” said Tosh softly.
“Yeah,” Jack said, and he smiled a little now. “Ianto Jones. Cute suits, superb coffee, and a Pteranodon in tow. I guess I just ignored where he’d been working before.”
“We all did,” Tosh said with a sigh. “None of us ever asked him about before.” There was a moment’s silence, and the guilt started nibbling at Jack’s conscience even more. “Jack, he needs somewhere to live,” Tosh went on at last. “We need to find somewhere for him. Pay off his debts.”
Jack shook his head. “He’d see it as charity,” he said. “He’s proud. Too proud.” He winced slightly as another thought struck him. “Either that, or he’ll think I’m trying to keep him.”
Tosh’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock - or horror. “Jack, no. No! He wouldn’t - I mean, I know you flirt with him, but you flirt with everyone.”
“I do,” Jack nodded, looking away from her. “I flirt with everyone, and it doesn’t really mean anything, does it?” His tone was heavy, and made her look at him sharply.
“But it does,” she whispered. “You did mean it. That’s why you were so angry.”
Jack shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now,” he said briskly. “I set Myfanwy on his girlfriend. I ordered him to kill her. I pointed a gun at him and told him I’d shoot. So it doesn’t matter.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Right. You need to head home, Tosh. You need a hot bath and sleep. Come in first thing if you can, I’ll need to be out of the Hub in the morning.”
“What are you going to do?” Tosh wanted to know.
“I’m going house-hunting,” said Jack ruefully.
* * *
The door was open, and Jack could hear music playing inside the storage locker. He wondered for a moment how Ianto managed that, and then supposed that Ianto charged up an mp3 player or something during the days at the Hub.
He paused just before his shadow fell across the doorway, peering into the storage locker. Ianto was stretched out on a camp bed close to the door, dressed in pyjamas. His head was propped up by one hand and he was reading a book, and Jack judged that his eyes were probably straining from the poor light.
“You’ll end up needing glasses,” he said, and stepped into the locker. Ianto jolted, startled, and the book slipped off the bed and dropped to the floor with a gentle thump. Jack leaned over, picked up the book, and put it on the bed. “Tolkien, huh? Never got around to reading that.”
“I see Tosh told you,” said Ianto stiffly, swinging his legs around and sitting up.
“She did,” Jack nodded. “You know, I pictured a decent flat, a nice bedroom, maybe one of those flat screen televisions - I know you like your films. But this?” He shook his head, careful to keep sadness or condescension out of his expression. “Still, it’s cheap. And I guess that’s what you were going for, right?”
Ianto just looked up at him, hands resting lightly on his knees. He was silent and insolent and Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted to throttle him or kiss him.
“You’ll get sick,” he said at last. “Pneumonia or something.” He was trying to feign disinterest, but Ianto raised an eyebrow, quite clearly not buying it.
“I’ve been living here for four months,” he said. “I’m not sick yet.” He paused deliberately, and a moment too late for it to be sincere he added “Sir.”
“Four months.” Jack stared down at Ianto, at this young man who had lied to him both directly and indirectly, who had brought danger into his base, who had pointed a gun at him and hit him and knelt in the midst of blood and gore and metal and wept bitter tears for his lost love. “Four months,” he repeated. “So I guess you were somewhere else before I gave you the job. Some place with electricity?”
Ianto’s lips tightened and he lifted his chin slightly. “Did you want something?” he demanded, tone curt and abrupt. “Or were you just here to remind me of my mistakes?”
Part of Jack was pleased that at least Ianto realised he had made mistakes, but he knew better than to show it. Ianto was too fragile right now, too defensive and full of pain and anger for Jack to be able to show his approval.
“I’ve come to discuss terms,” he said instead, and Ianto looked startled for a moment. “Of your suspension,” Jack added, just to make sure Ianto understood.
“Suspension,” Ianto echoed incredulously.
“That’s right,” Jack nodded.
“Not Retcon,” said Ianto, and Jack shook his head. “Why?” he asked, eyes wide.
Jack knew he had to be careful how he chose his words, and how he spoke them, but he had been prepared for this question. He knew he’d be facing it from Owen, and possibly Gwen as well. Ianto wasn’t the only one who knew how Torchwood traditionally treated anyone who dared to betray them.
“Because you’re smart,” he said. “Because you’re capable. Because you conned me and I want you where I can see you.” He paused, looking straight at Ianto. “Because she doesn’t deserve to be forgotten,” he said softly, and Ianto flinched.
“You never even knew her,” he said, voice low and thick with bitterness. “Why would you care?”
“Maybe I don’t,” said Jack with a shrug. “Maybe I just want to see you suffer.” Ianto frowned faintly, and Jack had to shake his head. “I know you think I’m a monster,” he said, “but someday maybe you’ll thank me.”
“For what? For killing her? For letting me live?” Ianto spat, angry now. He rose, shoving Jack backwards. “That’s never going to happen. I meant it - you’re a monster.”
“If you say so,” said Jack, shrugging carelessly again. “C’mon, get dressed. We’re going out.”
“I don’t think so,” Ianto said, folding his arms. “If I’m on suspension I don’t have to do anything you say.”
Jack’s hand shot out and he grasped Ianto’s neck, squeezing a little, more as a threat than real physical violence. Ianto’s arms flew up as he struggled to get away, but Jack was strong and resolute.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t still put a bullet through your brain,” he hissed, lying through his teeth. “You’re on suspension, but if you put a toe out of line you’re gone. You hear me? You do what I say, when I say it.” He released Ianto, pushing him back onto the camp bed. Ianto lay sprawled there for a moment, panting, glaring up at him. “Get dressed,” he repeated.
Ianto looked as though he was going to make some reply; some curse was on his lips, ready to be thrown at Jack, but he remained silent. At last he nodded, eyes skittering away, and he moved from the camp bed. Jack watched as Ianto rummaged in a box, pulling out boxers and socks. Another box yielded jeans and a t-shirt, and Ianto dressed with quick, efficient movements.
When at last Ianto had pulled on a battered pair of trainers and zipped up a jacket, Jack stepped out of the storage locker and motioned for Ianto to follow him.
“Keys?” he asked, and Ianto produced a key ring, handing it over sullenly and watching as Jack locked the door and pocketed the keys. “Come on,” Jack directed then. “The car’s parked at the gate.” He waited until Ianto started walking, and followed barely two steps behind him.
Ianto wasn’t going to like what was going to happen this morning, but Jack knew Tosh had been right: they owed Ianto more than they had been giving him. Torchwood owed him. Jack owed him.
* * *
“Look around,” Jack invited, shrugging off his greatcoat and hanging it on the hook behind the front door. “It’s a bit impersonal, I know.”
Ianto looked at him, swept his gaze across the open-plan living space, and then looked back at him. He said nothing.
“Go on,” said Jack, trying not to be impatient. He knew Ianto didn’t trust him; he didn’t need to be reminded of it every moment. “Bedroom and bathroom are down the hall. The kitchen’s not huge, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“What is this place?” Ianto asked at last.
“It’s a flat,” said Jack cheerfully. “I got lucky, the previous owners died. Not so lucky for them, it was a random Weevil attack, but I was able to snap this up before it got on the market.” He looked around and couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. It was a good flat, light and airy, in a good area of Cardiff - not too far from the bay, Ianto would be able to walk to work, but far enough that he wouldn’t be on the tourist trail in the summer.
It had come furnished, but Jack figured Ianto hadn’t been able to keep any furniture from when he’d been living in London - and if anything wasn’t to Ianto’s taste, he could always go out and buy new stuff. Jack meant to make sure that Ianto’s bank account swelled rather dramatically in the near future.
“I can see it’s a flat,” said Ianto, breaking into his thoughts. “Why are we here?”
Jack looked at him for a moment, and then shrugged. Direct, he decided, was sometimes best.
“It’s for you,” he said. “I bought it for you.”
Ianto stared at him, blinked several times, and then he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Right,” he said. “I imagine it’s all bugged and I’ll be tracked, then.”
“What? No, not at all,” said Jack, startled. “It’s -” He cut himself off and sighed. “Ianto,” he said, “you betrayed me. You brought a threat into my base. You nearly caused the deaths of members of the team.” Ianto flinched away, but Jack stepped close and grasped his shoulders. “Ianto, look at me,” he ordered, and after a long moment Ianto obeyed. “You did all of that, Ianto. And you’re on suspension for four weeks. But you did it for a good reason.”
Ianto stifled a cry and broke away from him; Jack let him go, watched him lean against a wall and fold his arms, hunching over as if he could hide.
“I’ve done far worse for much less,” he said.
“I don’t care,” Ianto muttered. “I don’t care about anything you’ve done.”
“I know you don’t, right now. I’ve not exactly given you a reason to.” Jack approached him carefully, aware that Ianto was ready to fly at a moment’s notice. “Ianto…tell me about the battle.” Ianto flinched, but Jack persevered. “Tell me about what happened afterwards. How you were looked after. What medical attention you had. I checked six different hospitals in the vicinity of Canary Wharf, but I couldn’t find any admissions for you.”
“I wasn’t badly hurt,” Ianto said after a moment, still not looking at him. “I didn’t go to hospital. I had too much to do.”
“So nobody looked after you,” Jack deduced. “Nobody did more than just note down that you’d survived, did they?” Ianto shook his head, a quick jerk, and Jack sighed. “That’s what I’m trying to do here, Ianto,” he said gently. “I’m trying to look after you.”
“I don’t need looking after,” said Ianto, lifting his head to glare at Jack. “I’ve never -”
“I think you do,” Jack cut across him. “But I think you’ve forgotten that you’re entitled to help just as much as the next person.” He paused for a moment, and then reached out and brushed his fingers across Ianto’s cheek. Ianto flinched away, and Jack had to stifle his discontent. “Now,” he said, “let’s try that ‘I wasn’t badly hurt’ thing again, shall we? How were you injured? You didn’t get out of that battle unscathed.”
“I was alive, I could walk, I wasn’t covered in metal,” said Ianto, voice barely more than a whisper. “That counts as unscathed.” He shook his head, eyes wide. “Why do you care?” he demanded. “Why do you want to know?”
Jack looked at him for a moment, looked at the pale skin and the dark smudges beneath the red-rimmed eyes. He looked at the way the clothing hung from Ianto’s sparse frame, and he wondered how the suits had ever concealed the weight loss.
“I care,” he said at last. “I do care, Ianto.”
“You care so much you killed her.”
“I care enough to kill her,” said Jack, exasperated again. “She wasn’t your Lisa anymore, Ianto. Would the woman you loved ever have done what she did? She killed people. She tried to kill me, and Gwen, and she tried to kill you, Ianto. Would Lisa have done that?”
Ianto didn’t, or couldn’t, answer. He looked away from Jack, staring down at the floor, and Jack fought the urge to pull him into his arms and hold him close. He cared, but Ianto wouldn’t be able to see why or how, not when only yesterday Jack had shot the thing that had once been his girlfriend.
“The way I see it,” said Jack, “you and me, we owe each other.”
“What?” Ianto pushed past him, stepping away from the wall and swinging back around to face him. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Yeah, you do,” Jack said, shaking his head. “You owe me for bringing a Cyberman into my base. For everything that happened. For betraying my trust.” He took a step towards Ianto, and then another, crowding into Ianto’s space. “But I owe you, too.”
“You don’t -”
“I owe you,” Jack repeated. “You deserve better than Retcon or a bullet, Ianto Jones. You’re worth more than that.” He stepped back abruptly, leaving Ianto practically reeling. “Here’s your keys,” he said, handing over Ianto’s key ring with one additional key - that of the flat. “I’ll be coming by at nine every night, or calling if I can’t make it. If I can’t reach you, there’ll be trouble. Got that?”
“But - but I don’t understand,” whispered Ianto. “Why are you doing this?”
“Like I told you,” said Jack, shrugging into his greatcoat. “You deserve better.”
* * *
“Wow,” said Tosh with a low whistle. “This place is nice!” She turned around, a slow full circle, taking in the tasteful furniture, the large windows, and the kitchen separated from the living space by a high counter, almost a bar. There was a hallway leading off from next to the kitchen, and she presumed it led to a bathroom and bedroom. Jack had let her see the listing for the flat, but it was even nicer than she had expected.
“Yeah,” said Ianto, not looking up at her.
“Needs to be personalised, though,” she assessed. “Curtains, cushions…” She smiled at him. “A coffee machine, maybe?”
“If that’s a hint,” said Ianto, lifting a beer bottle to his mouth, “you’re out of luck. No coffee in the place.”
“And yet there’s alcohol,” she sighed. “Oh, Ianto.”
“Don’t,” he said quickly. “Don’t do that.” He drank a long swig of beer before adding, “I don’t need your pity.”
Tosh looked down at him for a long moment. Stretched out on the couch, surrounded by boxes, he looked miserable and pathetic. He hadn’t moved the boxes himself, she knew that much - Jack had asked her to organise moving Ianto’s possessions as a matter of urgency, and it had been a simple matter to hack into the system and bump the move up to top of the list.
Clearly he’d ventured out somewhere, unless the beer had been in the storage locker - which somehow she doubted. But coffee had evidently not been on his shopping list.
With a sigh she took off her coat, put her bag down on the coffee table, and went to check the fridge and cupboards. As she’d suspected there was beer, there was a packet of chocolate biscuits, and there was a small bottle of whiskey.
“Get your coat,” she ordered Ianto, returning to stand in front of him. “We’re going shopping.”
He stared up at her blankly. “It’s half seven,” he pointed out. “Shops are shut.”
“Late night shopping,” she said, shaking her head. “Come on, Ianto. You need food, and I can’t choose it for you. You also need something to occupy yourself with, while you’re off work.”
“I don’t -” Ianto cut himself off and put the beer bottle down. He very carefully didn’t look at her. “I need to be here at nine,” he said quietly. “Check-in.”
Toshiko gave a curt nod. “That’s fine,” she said. “We won’t take that long, and if we’re late I’ll take the responsibility.” She knew how deeply shaming it was to relate the terms of parole to someone else - and parole was what they were both on, she knew that. “Come on, Ianto,” she said. “Shoes. Coat. Rinse your mouth out.”
Ianto was slow to obey, but he sat up, swung his legs around and then stood. He drifted over to the kitchen sink, gulped water direct from the tap and cupped water in his hands to splash over his face. Tosh watched as he tied the laces of an old pair of trainers and thrust his arms through the sleeves of a jacket, and then she gave an approving nod.
“Got your keys?” she checked. “Don’t worry about your wallet, this is on me.”
“I can’t -”
“You can, and you will,” she said firmly. “I’m not buying your food every week, Ianto, but we can get enough to get you through the next few days.” Ianto looked at her, weary but stubborn, and she reached out to touch his arm gently. “Ianto, there’s no shame in this,” she told him. “I know I haven’t…well, I’ve been just as bad as everyone else. I haven’t asked about you. But could we start again, do you think?”
“Start again,” he repeated, voice dull. “What, you mean get to know each other? Be friends?” He spat out the word as if it was distasteful. “Tosh, I almost got you killed.”
Tosh looked at him for a long moment, and then she made a decision.
“I’m on a contract,” she said. “Five years for Torchwood, and then I’m free to go.” Ianto frowned at her, confused, and Tosh held her head high. “I was in a UNIT holding cell, Ianto. I betrayed state secrets because they took my mother hostage.”
He inhaled sharply and stretched a hand out as if to comfort her. “Tosh, I - I had no idea.”
“Of course not.” She tried to smile, but didn’t quite manage it. He needed to know he wasn’t the only one, but that didn’t make it easier to share. “Jack - Jack’s been very good. Nobody at Torchwood knows. There’s a file, but it’s deeply buried. I…I’m only supposed to have limited contact with my family, but Jack…he’s made sure I’ve seen them. My mother.”
“How - how long has it been?” Ianto asked, eyes wide as he stared at her.
“Three years, eight months and seventeen days,” said Tosh, and this time when Ianto reached out to her, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. “So you know,” she mumbled into his shoulder, “it’s different. It is different. But I understand why you had to try.”
He clung to her for long minutes, and then at last he let her go and took a deep, shaky breath.
“Right, then,” he said. “I, uh…late night shopping, was it?”
“Yes,” she said, giving him a brilliant smile. It wasn’t much, it was barely anything, but it was something. Yesterday she hadn’t thought Ianto would be able to come through this at all; even earlier, when she had arrived, she had had doubts. It wouldn’t be easy, but perhaps she could help. Perhaps Ianto could recover.
One of them had to, after all.
* * *
Jack was waiting when they got back, standing outside the flat with arms folded and a scowl on his face. The scowl faded when he realised Ianto was with Tosh, and that both of them were laden with plastic bags full of food.
“What’d you do, get one of everything?” he said, joking to cover his relief. “Key?” he asked then, and Ianto shoved two handfuls of bags at him to rummage in a pocket, eventually finding the key and opening the front door. “You’re late,” Jack added then.
“It’s my fault, Jack,” said Tosh quickly, brushing past him with a smile. “I took Ianto out for some food. Honestly, you men, you’d live off baked beans and beer forever if you could.”
“I had biscuits,” muttered Ianto, not quite looking at either of them. He took the bags back from Jack and went to the kitchen; Jack took off his coat and leaned against the counter, watching as Ianto started putting food away.
“Biscuits aren’t real food,” said Tosh, scolding him. She hopped up onto one of the high stools at the counter, squeezing Jack’s hand briefly. “Like I said, it was my fault.”
“That’s alright then,” said Jack. He wrapped an arm around her, hugging her tight. “But hey, there’s nothing wrong with baked beans.”
“Actually,” said Ianto, closing the fridge, “I hate baked beans.” He glanced over at Jack, at Tosh, and Jack wondered what it was that made him hesitate before continuing. “Lisa…Lisa liked beans with bacon for breakfast. We used to…we used to argue about it.” He looked away, moving to rummage through another bag.
Jack was silent for a moment, watching, allowing Ianto to recover his composure, and then he released Tosh and sat on another stool.
“I knew this guy once, insisted he had to have full English breakfast every day,” he said then. “Seriously, the works. Bacon, egg, sausage - everything. And he was a great cook.” He reached across the counter to a bag, poking through it until Ianto whisked it away with a glower. “Sorry,” he said, smiling. Ianto met his eyes, but only for a moment.
“What’ve you got there, Jack?” Tosh asked, and Jack remembered the papers folded into the pocket of his greatcoat.
“Right, yeah.” He retrieved the paperwork and put it down on the counter. “Deeds for the flat, in your name. Confirmation that the lease is expiring on the storage locker. Confirmation of a bank transfer into your account.”
Ianto had stopped putting food away and was staring at him. “But -”
Jack continued, ignoring the interruption. “Also confirmation of bank transfers into the accounts of the other twenty-six surviving members of Torchwood London, all identical to yours minus the cost of this flat.”
“Sir -”
“Ianto,” said Jack, looking straight at him. “I should have done this after the battle. It should have been the first thing I thought of, not scavenging the ruins. I should have thought about the people, and because I didn’t, yesterday happened.”
“No, I…” Ianto looked sick. “No. That wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t -”
“We’re both responsible,” Jack said flatly. “So. You like the flat?” Ianto nodded dumbly. “Like I said. It’s yours.”
“I don’t want - I don’t want charity,” said Ianto, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t want you to treat me like -”
“Like you were a victim of Torchwood’s superiority complex?” Jack interrupted. “Sorry, Ianto, you’re getting the same as everyone else. Only difference is I spent some of your compensation money to get you living somewhere other than a storage locker.”
“Ianto,” said Tosh quietly, “Jack bought me a flat. When he got me out.”
Jack couldn’t help being startled. “You told him?” he asked, looking from Ianto to Tosh. “Toshiko?”
“I told him,” said Tosh, smiling a little, and she looked at Ianto. “It’s not charity, Ianto. It truly isn’t. It’s just Jack. He’s too generous.” She glanced at Jack, and he was almost horrified to see tears in her eyes. “He forgives us too easily.”
“Not me,” Ianto whispered, and Jack returned his attention to the damaged young man. He was shaking his head, tears dripping messily down his cheeks. “What I did - what I did isn’t worth forgiving.”
“Ianto,” Jack sighed, but Ianto wasn’t finished.
“I never - I never meant to hurt any of you,” he said. “I was just trying to help her. I just needed Lisa back, that was all.”
“Ianto, she was dead from the moment they strapped her into the conversion machine,” Jack told him gently. “Maybe there was something left…maybe there was enough left for you to think it was her, but it wasn’t.” Tosh shook her head sharply in warning; Ianto wasn’t ready to hear that yet, and Jack agreed with a grimace. “But Ianto,” he went on, “we know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I know that.”
“I…” Ianto was shaking, looking more lost than ever, and Jack yielded to his impulse; he got off his stool, walked around the counter, and gathered Ianto into his arms. For a moment Ianto resisted, but then he made a muted sound, not quite a cry, and leaned against him.
“I know,” Jack murmured. “I know. You loved her, and right now you hate me, and none of this should have happened.” He rubbed a hand between Ianto’s shoulder blades, absently noting that there was far too little flesh on the young man. “You were right,” he said, “we never asked. We never looked past the clean floors and the coffee and takeout that appeared before we even knew we wanted it.” He looked over at Tosh, and knew he was seeing his own anguish mirrored in her face. “But that’s going to change,” he said, as much a promise to himself as to Ianto. “That’s going to change, Ianto. If you want to come back in four weeks, everything will change.”
“They won’t want me,” Ianto mumbled. “Gwen, and Owen…god, Owen. I can just imagine what he’ll say.”
“None of their business who I hire,” said Jack, and he pulled back just far enough to make Ianto look at him. They were practically of a height when Ianto didn’t slouch, and Jack couldn’t help but wonder how that would translate into a bed, or against a wall. He dismissed the thought; not Ianto, not now. Perhaps not ever, perhaps he had lost the chance.
“Ianto, I want you back,” he said. “You need time. We all need time, but you especially. So we’ll give it four weeks. You can settle in here, pay off your debts, work out what you want to do.”
“And then,” said Tosh, coming round to stand with them, “we can start again.”
“That’s right,” Jack nodded. “We start again.”
Ianto looked at them, at Tosh and at Jack, and he was so weary that Jack wanted to weep for him, to wrap him up and send him to bed for days. That was probably what Ianto needed - he probably needed to hibernate for a while, recover and process what had happened. Jack was determined that he should have the opportunity to do so, that his basic needs would be taken care of while he did and that he would have a friendly face waiting when he emerged.
“Alright,” said Ianto at last. “Alright.”
* * *
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