Fic: Sweet Things Changed to Bitterness, Bitter Things Turned into Joy
Modly Note: This is the last fic post for the summer round of thestopwatch. Thank you guys for all of your support! Further notes and information will be posted tomorrow, so stay tuned!
Title: Sweet Things Changed to Bitterness, Bitter Things Turned into Joy
Author Name: kauneinsuru
Recipient: EVERYONE!
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Jack/OC, a tiny bit of Gwen/Rhys (If you blink, you’ll miss it.)
Summary: When Torchwood Three follows a string of strange kidnappings to a telepathic alien, everything changes.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Any familiar characters or places do not belong to me. I am making no profit off of their use, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: AU
Word Count: Roughly 20,000
Author's Notes: Well, real life didn’t want this story to be written, the characters insisted on having their own way, and, for the most part, I was just along for the ride. I didn’t manage to incorproate everything from the prompt, but there is hurt and comfort, action and a little less adventure, and Ianto is the only one who can save himself in the end (Hopefully, that is close enough to strong!Ianto to keep you from being dissapointed.). Despite this not being exactly what you asked for, I hope that you enjoy it! Also, thanks to the mods for running a great exchange!
Betas: Thanks to Anonymous for making this beast so much better than it would otherwise have been!
A bump from his hip closed the tourist office door, and he balanced the morning coffee on one hand to lock it. The sign hanging in front of the window hadn’t been switched to open for over two months now. Two months, eleven days, and eight hours. The damage that Grey had caused had been monopolizing all of their time and energy, and only now was Cardiff beginning to resemble his dear home once again.
Outside, the sun had just risen in a partly cloudy sky, and the morning smelled of impending rain. It would be a relief when the humidity was cleared from the air, even if it was only for a little while.
Humidity seemed to make the headaches worse. Everything lately seemed to make the headaches worse.
“Jack?” Ianto followed the soft swearing in the direction of the Captain’s office, where Jack was half-buried beneath a pile of broken gadgets. While, for the most part, the structural integrity of the Hub had stayed sound, the damage to equipment had been extensive, and sorting Jack’s personal possessions had fallen to the bottom of the to-do list.
“Coffee, Jack. ” The pile shifted and a few pieces clattered down its side and across the floor.
“Ianto.” Jack’s smile was a little frayed along the edges. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.” Ianto set the coffee down on a clear space of floor-a safe distance from the pile-and went to retrieve the escapee pieces of junk.
“Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get a start on the archives.”
“Well,” Jack paused to sift through the pile again, apparently looking for something in particular that only he would recognize. “Don’t work yourself too hard.” Jack started to hum then. It was nothing that Ianto recognized-maybe some space ditty that wouldn’t be composed for thousands of years.
It was a clear dismissal.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” Jack just waved distractedly, and Ianto took one of the coffees with him on his way out. The other he left in the holder, just incase Jack surfaced from his thoughts long enough to notice it.
Jack’s humming followed him down the stairwell.
***
The main archive at Torchwood Three was still intact, but two auxiliary storage rooms had partially collapsed, and more than a few bookshelves had fallen or been broken.
Ianto finished sectioning off the storerooms with caution tape and took a break to finish his coffee. The tape was more of a reminder to himself than a warning to anyone else. Nobody else ever bothered to visit the archives.
The headache had gotten worse as he worked-growing into a pounding behind his eyeballs that made it painful to think. There were two pills in a small, plastic bag folded up in his breast pocket, and he washed them both down with the cooling coffee.
Two shelves had broken on A through B’s bookshelf, and the majority of its contents were spread out across the floor.
Ianto swallowed down a surge of frustration and anger, at Grey and John Hart for the destruction, and at Jack for not seeing any of it coming. That’s not fair. This isn’t Jack’s fault. Not really.
It had just been hard since Tosh and Owen’s deaths. Cardiff was in pieces; Torchwood Three was in pieces…they were in pieces. And all Ianto knew how to do to fix it was keep getting up and keep going to work. So far, it hadn’t been enough.
He had done a poor job of stirring his coffee, and ended up with a mouthful of sugar on the last sip. Buck up. It’s time to start sorting this mess.
Hopefully the painkillers would kick in soon. The headache was making it hard to think straight.
***
“Ianto. Ianto, are you…” That voice was familiar.
Ianto woke up with a start, slapping a hand over the one that was shaking his shoulder.
“Gwen?” he half-yawned. “I’m fine. I must have just nodded off.” His voice was scratchy and his eyelashes were stuck together with sleep; he let her go so that he could rub the corners of his eyes. At least the headache had retreated for now.
Gwen motioned for Ianto to shove over and stepped over the wall of folders he had built up around him. He squeezed over far enough for her to take a seat without either of them knocking anything over, and she did-leaning back against the wall.
“Jack sent me to check on you. He was worried when he didn’t see you at lunch.”
Ianto snorted, “He could have come down himself.”
Gwen knocked their shoulders together, telling him to behave. “Is everything alright with you two?”
“Of course.” Besides the fact that we haven’t had sex, we haven’t even kissed since the whole Grey fiasco. Gwen didn’t look very convinced.
He patted her hand, “Everything is fine, Gwen. Jack and I just need a little bit of time to work things through.”
They sat for awhile in companionable silence. “I thought you were going to be at the police station today?” Gwen had been spending most of her time there-helping to coordinate relief efforts. It was unusual to see her at the Hub during the day.
She smiled, “As Andy so succinctly put it, ‘Torchwood can go stick its bloody big nose in someone else’s business. We’ve things under control here. Go chase some aliens.’”
“So you came back to chase some aliens.”
“Yep. They didn’t need me there any longer. I was just holding on to something familiar.” She shrugged and hoisted herself up-taking a half-hearted swipe at the dust on her bum. She offered him a hand, and their eyes met.
“But, before any alien chasing, I think I’ll go heat up some of that left over pizza. Want a slice?
Ianto took a look around at what he had accomplished. The majority of A had been organized. It was a start. “Is there any Chinese left?”
“Prawn crackers and pork buns the last time I looked.”
It had been awhile since he’d last eaten…
“Alright.” Ianto took her hand and got up-his knees cracking ominously. Gwen raised an eyebrow at the sound, and he grinned sheepishly. “Maybe next time I should try napping in a bed.”
“I’m sure that Jack would be willing to share his.” She laughed at his blush and patted him on the shoulder as they carefully picked their way out of the archives.
***
Gwen ran across the string of odd kidnappings in one of her routine perusals of the police data base. There was nothing that she could see that linked the victims, but in every case an unusually pale, beautiful woman was mentioned.
In one case she was spotted lurking outside of the victim’s house the night before he disappeared.
In another, the victim, an orphan, had told her friends about seeing a pale, beautiful angel staring in through her bedroom window.
In the next, the victim had filed a complaint about a stalker with the same description.
The following case said that the victim was seen leaving his house, holding her hand.
There were eight cases in all, and each one mentioned her.
It was Jack that spotted the pattern and made the connection. Each of the victims had lost someone in their immediate family.
A wife.
Parents.
A child.
A mother.
Some of the losses had been recent, while others had happened years ago, but it was true for all of them. They had each lost a member of their family that they loved.
Gwen had no idea what Jack meant by a “Pict” until he brought out the Torchwood file.
Picts were a telepathic race that spent their entire life in family groups.
“When they are old enough to mate, they leave for short periods to do so, but neither the male nor the female ever actually lives outside of the family group that they grew up in for more than a few days, ” Jack expanded on the information in the file, and Gwen wasn’t sure that she wanted to know how he knew as much as he did.
After all, the picture in the file was an unusually pale and absolutely gorgeous woman. She watched Jack rub a thumb over it, streaking the glassy finish. You were so very beautiful. I’m sorry that I had to let you go.
The picture wasn’t very old.
“They’re usually very peaceful. This one must be young. She was probably separated from her family by the rift. She’s searching out humans that she can relate to, people that have also lost someone that they loved.”
“So you don’t think that she has hurt them?” Gwen found it hard to believe that an alien from another planet had kidnapped eight people, and Jack wasn’t worried at all.
“I doubt it, but this is still unusual behavior for a Pict. We should find her as soon as possible.” Jack almost sounded more worried about the alien than he did about her human captives.
***
Having a purpose brought life back into the Hub.
And, in the end, she was easy to find. In fact, she was so easy to find, that Jack wasn’t sure how the police had missed her as long as they had.
Jack leaned forward just far enough to see around the corner. There she was.
“Ianto? Gwen?” Ianto’s reply was a half-second behind Gwen’s-a stained “Yep.”-but Jack didn’t have time to investigate it. “Suspicions confirmed.”
The Pict was young, probably barely past mating age. Her hair was still cropped close in the style of Pictish children, and her figure lacked the curves of an older female.
The scrambler seemed to be working; she hadn’t noticed them yet.
“I’m going to engage her. I want you two to see to the captives.” Jack stepped into the room. The sun was setting, the last few orange streaks of light shining though the dirty windows of the warehouse, creating a myriad of tiny, sparkling motes of falling dust. Jack watched the dust float around her, the sunlight tint her skin-paler than any humans-and felt the first stirrings of desire. Picts were a beautiful race. The photo didn’t do them justice. He’d almost forgotten that.
“Hello.” He held his hands out to her-careful to keep his voice quiet and his thoughts quieter. Now that she was focused on his mind, the dampener that they were each using to mask their thoughts would not be of any use. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She met him halfway across the warehouse. Her skin was cool where she laid her hand against his cheek. The touch of her mind against his was almost pleasant…she was curious.
Jack met her eyes, and they were both beautiful and terrible, like sky before a summer storm. You’re broken. He swallowed down the sickly-sweet taste of bile.
She was mad.
He wasn’t strong enough to hear her. Not really. But he could feel the impressions she tried to share with him: her terror, so horrible he worked to keep his bowels from loosening, her loneliness-the sharp pain of separation from family, like her heart being torn from her breast-that had, over time, turned into the dull ache of being completely alone. He knew that sort of loneliness; he remembered what it felt like to wake up screaming only to suffocate once more. It had broken her mind.
She knew that too. She shared the dark pool of her thoughts: the moments of clarity sucked down into a swirling pool of deep water and the burning, aching drive to find family. It kept her heart beating, that ache. She couldn’t let it go, because then there would be nothing left. Nothing to help her hold on to her sense of self. The water would take her, drown her lovingly with the weight of her own mind.
All of this and more she shared willingly. Jack broke away from her gaze, retching.
“Jack!” He looked up to see Ianto running towards him, gun half-drawn. She followed his gaze.
***
Jack watched Ianto hit the floor clutching his head and screaming. In moments, he was on his feet, running-the Pict trailing closely behind him. Jack remembered those screams; he’d heard them during the wars. They were the sound of thresholds passed, the high, animalistic utterances wails that all creatures held in common.
They were the sort of screams that men didn’t recover from.
He felt the hysteria rise from his belly until it was choking him. Please, let him be alright.
His dash across the warehouse was outside of time. It took forever and no time at all. Everything was moving all wrong. Time was speeding up, and slowing down, and stopping…stopping stock still. His heart was beating a hole in his chest.
He slid awkwardly to the ground beside Ianto. The screams were trailing off into broken sobs, and Ianto was curled on his side, arms still wrapped around his head.
“Shush now. Everything is going to be okay.” Jack felt the rush of displaced air as the Pict came up beside him-gathering Ianto’s still shuddering body into his arms, he saw her reach out from the corner of his eye.
The sound of gunshots echoed in the warehouse. As if in a daze, he watched Gwen approach-gun still drawn. The alien was on the floor, keening. He leaned down to kiss Ianto’s hair. They were rocking back and forth, and a pool of blood like burnished gold spread out beneath them.
“Jack.” Gwen was squatting in front of him, tying to avoid the puddle of alien blood. Her voice was smooth and professional. “I need you with me.” She pressed two fingers under his chin and made him look up until their eyes met. “I can’t move Ianto without you. I need your help.”
Ianto was still shuddering sporadically in his arms, still making small, broken sounds.
Somehow Gwen managed to get them all up and moving-Ianto balanced awkwardly between them. They passed the Pict. Her dark, depthless eyes blinked, and her fingers twitched where they were pressed against her wounds. Jack could feel the throb of her pain; he bowed his head, ashamed.
It wasn’t her fault.
Jack could feel her eyes follow them as they made their way slowly towards the exit. He concentrated on putting one foot in font of the other, not looking up.
She didn’t deserve this. She was just lonely.
Jack felt his legs shake. The compassion, confusion, a pain so acute he couldn’t tell what hurt or why, it all washed over him like a huge, smothering wave.
And then there was nothing.
***
“Bollocks.” Gwen was able to guide their fall just enough so that none of them got seriously hurt, but they still crashed painfully into the tarmac.
Both Jack and Ianto were out cold for what appeared to be no apparent reason. The alien wasn’t even anywhere near Ianto when he fell.
“This isn’t good.” The SUV was so close. It stared at her tauntingly from the other side of the car park.
She tapped Jack lightly on the cheek. “Couldn’t wait till we got to the car to pass out, right Jack?” His head lolled on her shoulder as she lifted him into a sitting position and untangled the two of them.
Once disentangled, Ianto curled onto his side. That was good. Maybe she would be able to get him up and walking after all. Of course, he’d started crying again which probably wasn’t good. She’d call it an even trade for now.
Gwen knelt-letting Jack’s back rest against her chest as she slipped her arms under his armpits. Then she tried to stand. “Bloody hell, you’re heavy!”
She managed to half-crouch, half-stand and get him most of the way turned around, by which time her back felt strained and her arms were shaking. Ianto’s gulping sobs weren’t helping anything either.
She knelt again slowly, and gently laid Jack down. Alright now. I can do this. I just need to think.
She looked around. The car park outside the warehouse was still empty besides the SUV which continued to be just as far away as it was to start with.
The SUV! “I’m an idiot.” She didn’t know about Jack, but Ianto always kept spare keys in his trouser pocket. All she had to do was get those, and she could drive the car around to them instead of dragging them to the car.
She moved to crouch over Ianto and patted his thigh, hoping they were in the easy to reach pocket. And, suddenly found herself bum-first on the tarmac, breathless. Ianto was screaming and flailing now. That was unexpected. Gwen closed her eyes to focus on breathing and collect herself.
“It looks like I am going to need a wee bit of help here.” She dug her phone out of a pocket.
Speed dial one. Rhys Williams. He answered on the first ring, and Gwen felt some of the stress dissipate.
“Rhys, hunny, I’m afraid I’ve run into a bit of an emergency, and I could really use you.”
***
In the process of getting Jack and Ianto both to and into the car, they figured out that, for whatever reason, Ianto quieted down when he and Jack were touching. It was easy enough to accommodate in the car where Rhys just hoisted them in and let them sprawl as they would over the back seat.
It was slightly more difficult when they arrived at the Hub and needed to get the two out of the SUV and inside.
Ianto screamed himself hoarse between the garage and the entrance to the Hub. They were lucky that it was late, and everything seemed deserted.
Jack, on the other hand, seemed to be waking up.
They maneuvered Ianto onto the couch where he curled on his side and continued to cry, but, Jack, Rhys simply dumped in front of it-despite Gwen’s look of keen disapproval.
“What! I didn’t hurt him.” Too badly, that is.
“Rhys Williams, it’s a week on the couch for you.” Gwen sounded sincerely peeved.
Still, Rhys was pretty sure that the thump Captain Jack Harkness made hitting the floor was worth a week of sleeping on the couch. Gwen never held to her threats anyways. It would be two nights at the most.
Jack chose that moment to groan and open his eyes. “Rhys? Gwen? What is Rhys doing here?”
Rhys was shooed off to the kitchenette to scrounge up a mug of water and a bottle of aspirin, while Gwen did her best to explain what had happened in the warehouse.
“The family?” After the painkillers, Jack was starting to sound a little more like his normal self.
“I called 999. They were better equipped to help than I was. Plus, you and Ianto were my main concern.” Jack didn’t appear to be quite sure how he felt about that sentiment, but he acknowledged it with a nod and leaned back against the couch cushions.
“The alien?” Jack closed his eyes but continued to talk. “I thought that I remembered you shooting her.”
“Twice.” Gwen felt slightly uncomfortable about that. She didn’t like actually being called upon to use her gun, especially on something that didn’t overtly appear to be a threat.
Jack sighed, keeping his eyes closed and moving to massage his temples. “Explain the situation with Ianto to me, one more time, and then have Rhys get me the phone.” Rhys snorted at that.
“You don’t pay me, Jack.” Jack opened one eye and leered.
“I would you know. Pay, that is.” Rhys made a disgusted sound, and escaped in search of the telephone.
Gwen felt a headache coming on. She just hoped that one day her boss and her husband would grow up.
Currently, it seemed unlikely.
***
At some point, Ianto fell into a quieter sleep, and Jack made his phone calls. A lot of them.
He called Unit, requesting the loan of Martha Jones for an undetermined period of time. There was posturing, and blustering, and a long spiel about how important her job at Unit was, but eventually they gave in. There was little to gain from earning Torchwood Cardiff’s lasting enmity over a doctor, but potentially much to gain from a favor owed by Captain Jack Harkness.
She would be in Cardiff before the week was out.
It wasn’t good enough, but it would have to do.
He called Torchwood London, though it hurt his pride to do so, and requested that a tech be sent to Cardiff to replace Toshiko Sato. Torchwood Three could function with three employees, but, if Gwen’s observations about Ianto were correct, that would leave only one fully functional member of the team. He didn’t want Gwen to be left carrying such an overwhelming burden.
Maybe he would even gain a useful addition to his team from this.
He doubted it.
More practically, Jack hoped that Ianto would recover quickly so that they could send the former Torchwood One employee packing back to London.
He called the Cardiff police force, asking to speak with Andy, who he promised a tour of the Hub if he would go retrieve the alien’s body from the warehouse and help Gwen dispose of it.
He called the hospital to inquire after the kidnapping victims, and try to gauge how much retcon was going to be necessary.
He called Rhys, who was making out with Gwen in the kitchenette, to tell him to go order coffees from the Starbucks down the street. It was a good thing that Ianto was asleep for that.
Then he made the hardest call, the one that he had been partially dreading, partially anticipating from the moment that he suspected what was going on.
He called Glasgow.
“This better be important, or I’m going to hang up.” Jon answered crankily on the second ring.
“Jon, it’s me.” Jack was surprised by how good it felt to hear Jon’s voice. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and it had been years. He didn’t like the sound of the pause on the other end, though.
“Now I’m definitely going to hang up.” And he did.
It took Jack another half an hour of constant calling to get through again.
“What! Haven’t I made it abundantly clear that I don’t wish to speak with you?” Jack didn’t bother to point out that if Jon really hadn’t wanted to talk, he would have unplugged the phone.
“Shut your mouth, and listen to me for a moment. I need you help.”
***
Something’s missing. Something, something… it hurt. So badly. Everything hurt, and something was missing. Something important.
I need…I need… I need it! Where is it? I hurt. I hurt. I hurt. Why do I hurt. The something. I need it.
It will. It will…
Make the pain go away. Please.
Please, come back. I need you.
Where are you? I need you.
Why aren’t you here? I hurt. I hurt. I hurt.
Make it go away. Please, please make it go away.
I need you to make it go away.
Please take the pain away. Please.
I need you. I need you to be here. I need you to help me. I need you to take the pain away.
Where are you Jack? Why aren’t you here to help me, to help take the pain away? Where are you Jack?
JACK! WHERE ARE YOU! JACK! JACK! I need you.
Jack.
Jack.
Jack.
“Shush, I’m right here. I’m right here, Ianto. I’m not going anywhere.” Sleep now. I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.
Promise?
I promise.
***
When Jack finished his calls and leaned forward to rest his head on the coffee table, Ianto hurled into consciousness-disoriented and screaming both mentally and physically-almost immediately. It was enough to confirm his suspicions.
Jon would be pleased to know that he wasn’t making a hurried trip to Cardiff for nothing.
Jack was worried.
After Tosh and Owen’s deaths, he had thought that he was holding all of the pieces together convincingly, but here they were, slipping through his fingers. One botched up rescue attempt, and the situation had spiraled out of his control.
Ianto was going to be alright.
He refused to lose another member of his team.
“Jack?” Gwen sounded worried and looked tired enough to fall over. Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if Rhys’ arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her upright.
It had been a long night, so far, and the adrenaline was undoubtedly wearing off.
“There’s coffee.” Jack shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he was muddled from the events earlier, or speaking to Jon after so long. Maybe it was lack of caffeine.
Gwen set two of the cups down on the table and patted his hand. At least one of the three he could do something about.
“Everything is going to be just fine. We’ll get it sorted.” Jack smiled at her as best he was able, and waved them off.
“Take your wife home, and make her rest. She looks exhausted.” Rhys, as he’d expected, didn’t need to be told twice.
Jack took a sip of his coffee. It wasn’t nearly as good as what Ianto made.
“And Jack…” Gwen had stopped in the doorway. “Are you sure that you are okay?”
This time he really did smile at her. “I’m fine, Gwen. Now stop worrying.”
“Is Ianto going to be okay?” It was impossible not to let his smile slip slightly at that. “Of course he will be. I won’t let him be otherwise.”
She looked like she would say something else, but instead Rhys peaked his head back around the corner and interrupted her. “If you’re okay…” He paused and waved vaguely in their direction, leading Jack to assume that “you” was supposed to refer to both himself and Ianto. “You might want to consider a bath. You two stink.”
Gwen rolled her eyes and dragged her husband away-letting the door roll closed behind them.
Jack laughed. It was good advice. There was dried alien blood under his finger nails, and Rhys was right…they did stink.
***
It was easier to get Ianto into the showers than Jack expected. He wasn’t awake, but he wasn’t quite asleep either, and when Jack heaved him off the couch--one arm around his waist, the other holding Ianto’s arm in place where it was slung over a shoulder, they managed to stumble along well enough.
Once he had them both undressed and Ianto propped against a corner, Jack washed himself thoroughly-watching the golden blood swirl down the drain and trying not to think about where it came from.
Then he washed Ianto.
It was the most boring shower they had ever taken together.
And it was messy. Jack had thought that he was dirty, but it was nothing compared to the amount of blood on Ianto. By the time they were done, there were cloudy, goldish spots-where the dirty water had splashed and dried-all over the tile.
When Ianto woke up, he wasn’t going to be happy about that.
Jack hauled them up and stood under the spray for a few more minutes, just to make sure that they were completely rinsed. He didn’t relish the thought of a dead alien’s blood on his sheets.
His kinks did have limits.
Ianto was propped up against a corner again, this time on the locker room bench, so that Jack could towel them both off.
He was disappointed that Ianto didn’t react any more to the towel sliding over bare skin than he had to being washed. Jack had been hoping that the prospect of sex would be enough to bring Ianto back to awareness. Apparently not.
Somehow he managed to get them both down the ladder and into his bed without any grievous bodily harm befalling them. He wasn’t quite sure how, but, as soon as they tumbled onto the mattress, Jack realized that he didn’t care.
It was late, and he was unusually exhausted. Thinking could wait until the morning.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep, an arm still wrapped around Ianto.
***
Jack woke up with a stiff neck. Ianto had rolled over during the night-entangling their legs and trapping Jack’s arm under his chest. Jack tried to move his fingers; pins and needles shot up his arm.
The bed really wasn’t big enough for two grown men.
He could hear Gwen upstairs talking to someone.
He freed his arm and legs and kissed Ianto’s temple before getting up to dress quickly. By the time that he sat back down on the edge of the bed, silent tears were running down Ianto’s cheeks. Jack wiped them away with a thumb; he wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Gwen!” he yelled-hoping that if he could hear her, she could hear him.
Two people thumped up the causeway and into his office.
“Jack.” She sounded refreshed, if a little wary. “There’s someone here to see you. He says that his name is Dr. Jonathon Temple. He was waiting outside the tourist office when I got here.”
Shit. “Send him down, Gwen. He’s an old…” Jack paused, unsure of what exactly Jon was. “…friend.” Someone made what sounded like a sarcastic comment under their breath, then there was shuffling, and Jon’s expensive, Italian dress shoes appeared on the ladder.
Jon didn’t even wait to get to the bottom of the ladder to start glaring. His blond hair was longer than Jack remembered it-plastered down flat and tied back in a short pony tail. His eyes were the same though, still as grey as a cloudy sky minutes before a storm.
Unfortunately, while Jack had been sleeping, it seemed that it had been raining outside, and Jon was soaked. What looked like an expensive, cashmere sweater was stretched with the weight of the rain.
“I waited outside for three hours while you didn’t bother to answer your phone.” Judging by the angry set of Jon’s shoulders and the too-calm tone of his voice, “I didn’t hear it ring” was not an acceptable answer.
“I’m sorry?” That didn’t seem to be good enough either, but Jon did deign to knock dirty laundry off the chair, sit down, undo his hair tie, and start to comb his hair with his fingers. The glaring didn’t stop, but it softened a bit.
“Good.” Jon flinched when he hit what looked like a particularly nasty knot, and Jack was half-tempted to offer to go get a brush and do it for him. Which, he suspected, wasn’t a very good idea.
Something must have shown on Jack’s face, because Jon bared his teeth, daring Jack to come closer. Jack obeyed the warning and started to rub circles on Ianto’s bare shoulder.
Ostensibly distracted by the movement, Jon finally deigned to look at the sheet-covered lump in Jack’s bed.
It reminded them both of business.
“Alright, I got the barebones of the story on the phone. Now, I want to hear all of it. From the beginning.” The glaring had stopped, and Jon had the detached tone he used whenever he was working on a puzzle that he thought he already had the answer to. It reminded Jack of before.
For a moment, the pitter patter of water hitting the floor as Jon wrung out his sweater was the only sound in the room.
Then, Jack did as he was told. There was no point dwelling on the past. They had both moved on.
He looked down at Ianto and started the story.
***
The first time Ianto remembered waking, it was slowly-like kicking methodically to the surface after diving into a lake. Everything was murky. Nothing was quite right, distorted, not holding its shape. But, upon reaching the surface, the sun was shining. It burnt away all of his unease. He found himself feeling warm and languid.
Someone was holding his hand.
“Jack?” He tugged on their clasped hands, and Jack’s clothing rustled as he moved closer.
I’m glad you’re alright. Jack felt relieved. Ianto rubbed his thumb over the back of Jack’s hand, comforting. There was no need to get up. No need even to open his eyes. He knew where he was now: in Jack’s bed. The smell was familiar; he knew the sheets that were tucked up under his armpits, and for once Jack’s pillows almost felt comfortable.
“What happened?” Ianto only sounded half-interested even to himself, his voice scratchy with sleep. The warm, languid feeling was still there. It made him…horny. He wanted Jack naked and beside him in bed. He turned onto his back and stretched, still unwilling to let go of Jack’s hand.
I’m so relaxed. I can’t remember the last time that I felt this way. Every muscle was loose and fluid.
Ianto could smell the pheromones as Jack kissed his neck, the curve of his jaw, their lips met. Yes. This is better than talking.
The feeling was changing, growing more heated, more urgent. The bed squealed under their combined weight. Jack was still wearing entirely too much clothing. Ianto pressed his hips upwards anyways, enjoying the friction of the cotton sheets against his erection. “I’m very, very,” Jack was kissing down his neck, his chest, taking the sheet with him “very glad that you are okay.” He punctuated the last “very” with a nip to Ianto’s hipbone.
“Jack Harkness, what in God’s name do you think that you are doing?” That voice was unfamiliar. Ianto sat up shocked, grabbing for the sheet, tumbling Jack off the bed, and opening his eyes. There was only darkness.
Jack’s hand slipped out of his.
And then the voices came. There were so many of them. All different. All saying something. He wanted to stop listening, but he couldn’t. He could hear them all. They were competing for his attention. It hurt.
Ianto leaned over the side of the bed and threw up. Somewhere, a far away part of him hoped that it missed Jack.
***
He came back to his body with Jack behind him on the bed-rubbing the tense muscles of his back and murmuring in his ear about how everything was going to be alright. It didn’t feel like everything was going to be alright. It felt like his head was throbbing in time to his heart beat, and he’d heard voices he couldn’t possibly be able to hear-Gwen worrying about him, and Jack, and the stranger that Jack had welcomed into the Hub; “ Dr. Jonathon Temple… from Glasgow”, the stranger, was shocked by the strength of the bond and worried over the extent of the shock, and wanting rather badly to be home, far away from Jack Harkness. And, there were so, so many others. All of Cardiff, people doing everyday things, loving, and hating, and experiencing the myriad of emotions human being are capable of, he heard them all within the confines of his own mind.
“What’s wrong with me, Jack?” He felt Jack take a breath against his neck, his hands stilling in their massage, but the stranger cut in smoothly.
“I believe that I would be best-suited to explaining that. After all, that is why I’m here.” Ianto didn’t like his tone. He resented being treated like an inconvenience by someone that he didn’t even know, and whose help he definitely hadn’t asked for. Jack chuckled in his ear, and he felt a rush of fond amusement.
You’re cute when you’re disgruntled. He is right, though. Jack’s voice was intimate. Ianto had never heard Jack use that tone when they weren’t alone, and it put him more on edge. He moved so that he was sitting beside Jack instead of in front of him-one of Jack’s hand still clasping his shoulder and the length of their thighs touching through the sheet.
It makes me nervous not to be able to see… He felt bile rising to his throat and swallowed it down. He’d forgotten. The voices had seemed a more immediate concern. He opened his eyes again-reached a hand up to touch them, just to make sure. He felt the brush of eyelashes against his fingers, but he couldn’t see his hand. He couldn’t see anything. Everything was black. Jack, I can’t see.
Ianto took deep breaths to counter the panic. Jack’s closeness helped a little, not enough to dispel the feeling, but enough to help leash it.
“Why can’t I see?” Jack didn’t even attempt to answer this time.
“It’s called psychic shock. Usually psychic ability exhibits itself slowly during puberty, but occasionally, for whatever reason, it manifests itself all at once later. That’s what happened here. A part of your brain that previously lay dormant suddenly started working, and the shock of the transition caused another part to shut down. You’re lucky that all you lost is your sight.” Dr. Temple, if that was his name, had the slightly condescending tone of a lecturer, and it didn’t put Ianto in the mood to listen.
Psychic ability. Shock. Lucky. “Do I get a code name then? Spry, young Welshman, perhaps? Maker of bloody good coffee, orderer of pizza, defender of the human race against dust? Am I going to be recruited to attend a mutant school? Are you Professor X ?” Jack only half-managed to swallow a chuckle. It really wasn’t funny, but Jack’s grasp of “a time and a place” had never been very good.
“If you think that you can figure this out on your own, I’ll leave. The only reason that I am even here is because Jack called in a favor. I don’t want to be here any more than you apparently want me to be.” What Ianto wanted was to be able to see the other man’s face, the angry twist of his lips, his stance, the set of his shoulders. He wanted to see something.
Jack intervened.
“Jon, I think that it might be best if you went upstairs. Gwen will show you to your hotel; I’ve already booked you a room, and there’s a nice restaurant nearby by that I think you might like. Gwen should know where I’m talking about. It’s been a long day for all of us, and I can talk to Ianto about the basics.” Jon just snorted in reply. Ianto heard the scraping of a chair and the brush, tap of leather soles against the floor. “And Jon…”
There was a pause. “Yes?”
“Thank you.” Jack sounded sincere. There were other things in his voice as well.
Ianto was actually glad that he couldn’t see the look that passed between them. There was history there, between Jack and Dr. Jonathon Temple from Glasgow. And here I thought that this couldn’t get worse. Of course Jack has shagged the doctor.
The rattle of the ladder as Dr. Temple climbed up to the Hub proper was the only sound to break the following silence.
***
Jack watched Jon leave. He regretted it sometimes, the way that things had ended between them.
“How did you meet?” Ianto asked. He wasn’t pleased, but his voice didn’t sound jealous either. He was confused, frustrated, exhausted, and more than a little scared. Jack wasn’t sure he liked knowing another person so effortlessly.
“I met him in London. I was on loan to Torchwood One. He was a biologist working on his dissertation. His focus was on the brain; he thought that he had a way to cure Alzheimer’s. It was completely brilliant. But, the entire experiment was based on alien flora. He didn’t know it, at least not at the time; he’d gotten the flowers from a supplier in South America. I befriended him, and then I shut it down, destroyed his research, retconned the previous year of his life away. He broke through it. I don’t know what it was, an article, a comment by a friend; it could have been anything. After that, he tracked me down to Cardiff.” Jack tried not to think about the next part, about a soaked, angry Jon showing up at on his doorstep, about the way that they had channeled that anger into one night of brilliant coupling. Jack had slept deeply that night, for the first time in years, and when he’d woken, Jon was gone.
He knew that Ianto heard the pause, knew that he knew what wasn’t being said. “We met again, a few times over the years. I learned that Torchwood had recruited him for job in Glasgow. He was studying psychic abilities. Maybe, had things been different, there could have been something between us. As things stand, there is nothing for you to worry about. Jon and I both closed the door on that part of our lives long ago.” They had never mentioned the one night they’d spent together at any of their short, not very friendly meetings over the years. Jack had never found an appropriate opening to ask why Jon had left that morning, and Jon had never offered any excuse.
Ianto turned towards Jack’s voice as he talked; his pupils were dilated and occasionally they darted from side to side-never following anything that Jack could see.
“Why is he here?” That was an easier question to answer.
“To help.” Jack thought that much of this conversation would be easier if they were comfortable, so he grasped Ianto’s hand and laid down-tugging Ianto with him. When they were both comfortable and facing one another, Jack leaned in. Ianto turned away from the kiss, but he let Jack run his fingers through his hair. There were still a few gold-crusted clumps behind his ears where alien blood had dried in it.
I’m so confused, Jack. I don’t know what’s going on; I hear these voices, and I can’t even see. I’m scared. Jack wondered if Ianto even knew that he wasn’t speaking out loud.
I know. I am too. This time when Jack leaned down to kiss Ianto’s breast, where he could imagine the beating of a heart beneath his lips, Ianto allowed it. Talking could wait.
Jack kissed up Ianto’s neck to meet his lips. He had been so caught up in their lust earlier that he had forgotten about Jon. This time, they didn’t have to worry about being interrupted. The desire resurfaced, twice as strong for being shared.
Jack provided comfort the best way that he knew how-by making the world and all of its voices retreat, even if it was only for a little while…
Part Two
Title: Sweet Things Changed to Bitterness, Bitter Things Turned into Joy
Author Name: kauneinsuru
Recipient: EVERYONE!
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Jack/OC, a tiny bit of Gwen/Rhys (If you blink, you’ll miss it.)
Summary: When Torchwood Three follows a string of strange kidnappings to a telepathic alien, everything changes.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Any familiar characters or places do not belong to me. I am making no profit off of their use, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: AU
Word Count: Roughly 20,000
Author's Notes: Well, real life didn’t want this story to be written, the characters insisted on having their own way, and, for the most part, I was just along for the ride. I didn’t manage to incorproate everything from the prompt, but there is hurt and comfort, action and a little less adventure, and Ianto is the only one who can save himself in the end (Hopefully, that is close enough to strong!Ianto to keep you from being dissapointed.). Despite this not being exactly what you asked for, I hope that you enjoy it! Also, thanks to the mods for running a great exchange!
Betas: Thanks to Anonymous for making this beast so much better than it would otherwise have been!
A bump from his hip closed the tourist office door, and he balanced the morning coffee on one hand to lock it. The sign hanging in front of the window hadn’t been switched to open for over two months now. Two months, eleven days, and eight hours. The damage that Grey had caused had been monopolizing all of their time and energy, and only now was Cardiff beginning to resemble his dear home once again.
Outside, the sun had just risen in a partly cloudy sky, and the morning smelled of impending rain. It would be a relief when the humidity was cleared from the air, even if it was only for a little while.
Humidity seemed to make the headaches worse. Everything lately seemed to make the headaches worse.
“Jack?” Ianto followed the soft swearing in the direction of the Captain’s office, where Jack was half-buried beneath a pile of broken gadgets. While, for the most part, the structural integrity of the Hub had stayed sound, the damage to equipment had been extensive, and sorting Jack’s personal possessions had fallen to the bottom of the to-do list.
“Coffee, Jack. ” The pile shifted and a few pieces clattered down its side and across the floor.
“Ianto.” Jack’s smile was a little frayed along the edges. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.” Ianto set the coffee down on a clear space of floor-a safe distance from the pile-and went to retrieve the escapee pieces of junk.
“Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get a start on the archives.”
“Well,” Jack paused to sift through the pile again, apparently looking for something in particular that only he would recognize. “Don’t work yourself too hard.” Jack started to hum then. It was nothing that Ianto recognized-maybe some space ditty that wouldn’t be composed for thousands of years.
It was a clear dismissal.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” Jack just waved distractedly, and Ianto took one of the coffees with him on his way out. The other he left in the holder, just incase Jack surfaced from his thoughts long enough to notice it.
Jack’s humming followed him down the stairwell.
***
The main archive at Torchwood Three was still intact, but two auxiliary storage rooms had partially collapsed, and more than a few bookshelves had fallen or been broken.
Ianto finished sectioning off the storerooms with caution tape and took a break to finish his coffee. The tape was more of a reminder to himself than a warning to anyone else. Nobody else ever bothered to visit the archives.
The headache had gotten worse as he worked-growing into a pounding behind his eyeballs that made it painful to think. There were two pills in a small, plastic bag folded up in his breast pocket, and he washed them both down with the cooling coffee.
Two shelves had broken on A through B’s bookshelf, and the majority of its contents were spread out across the floor.
Ianto swallowed down a surge of frustration and anger, at Grey and John Hart for the destruction, and at Jack for not seeing any of it coming. That’s not fair. This isn’t Jack’s fault. Not really.
It had just been hard since Tosh and Owen’s deaths. Cardiff was in pieces; Torchwood Three was in pieces…they were in pieces. And all Ianto knew how to do to fix it was keep getting up and keep going to work. So far, it hadn’t been enough.
He had done a poor job of stirring his coffee, and ended up with a mouthful of sugar on the last sip. Buck up. It’s time to start sorting this mess.
Hopefully the painkillers would kick in soon. The headache was making it hard to think straight.
***
“Ianto. Ianto, are you…” That voice was familiar.
Ianto woke up with a start, slapping a hand over the one that was shaking his shoulder.
“Gwen?” he half-yawned. “I’m fine. I must have just nodded off.” His voice was scratchy and his eyelashes were stuck together with sleep; he let her go so that he could rub the corners of his eyes. At least the headache had retreated for now.
Gwen motioned for Ianto to shove over and stepped over the wall of folders he had built up around him. He squeezed over far enough for her to take a seat without either of them knocking anything over, and she did-leaning back against the wall.
“Jack sent me to check on you. He was worried when he didn’t see you at lunch.”
Ianto snorted, “He could have come down himself.”
Gwen knocked their shoulders together, telling him to behave. “Is everything alright with you two?”
“Of course.” Besides the fact that we haven’t had sex, we haven’t even kissed since the whole Grey fiasco. Gwen didn’t look very convinced.
He patted her hand, “Everything is fine, Gwen. Jack and I just need a little bit of time to work things through.”
They sat for awhile in companionable silence. “I thought you were going to be at the police station today?” Gwen had been spending most of her time there-helping to coordinate relief efforts. It was unusual to see her at the Hub during the day.
She smiled, “As Andy so succinctly put it, ‘Torchwood can go stick its bloody big nose in someone else’s business. We’ve things under control here. Go chase some aliens.’”
“So you came back to chase some aliens.”
“Yep. They didn’t need me there any longer. I was just holding on to something familiar.” She shrugged and hoisted herself up-taking a half-hearted swipe at the dust on her bum. She offered him a hand, and their eyes met.
“But, before any alien chasing, I think I’ll go heat up some of that left over pizza. Want a slice?
Ianto took a look around at what he had accomplished. The majority of A had been organized. It was a start. “Is there any Chinese left?”
“Prawn crackers and pork buns the last time I looked.”
It had been awhile since he’d last eaten…
“Alright.” Ianto took her hand and got up-his knees cracking ominously. Gwen raised an eyebrow at the sound, and he grinned sheepishly. “Maybe next time I should try napping in a bed.”
“I’m sure that Jack would be willing to share his.” She laughed at his blush and patted him on the shoulder as they carefully picked their way out of the archives.
***
Gwen ran across the string of odd kidnappings in one of her routine perusals of the police data base. There was nothing that she could see that linked the victims, but in every case an unusually pale, beautiful woman was mentioned.
In one case she was spotted lurking outside of the victim’s house the night before he disappeared.
In another, the victim, an orphan, had told her friends about seeing a pale, beautiful angel staring in through her bedroom window.
In the next, the victim had filed a complaint about a stalker with the same description.
The following case said that the victim was seen leaving his house, holding her hand.
There were eight cases in all, and each one mentioned her.
It was Jack that spotted the pattern and made the connection. Each of the victims had lost someone in their immediate family.
A wife.
Parents.
A child.
A mother.
Some of the losses had been recent, while others had happened years ago, but it was true for all of them. They had each lost a member of their family that they loved.
Gwen had no idea what Jack meant by a “Pict” until he brought out the Torchwood file.
Picts were a telepathic race that spent their entire life in family groups.
“When they are old enough to mate, they leave for short periods to do so, but neither the male nor the female ever actually lives outside of the family group that they grew up in for more than a few days, ” Jack expanded on the information in the file, and Gwen wasn’t sure that she wanted to know how he knew as much as he did.
After all, the picture in the file was an unusually pale and absolutely gorgeous woman. She watched Jack rub a thumb over it, streaking the glassy finish. You were so very beautiful. I’m sorry that I had to let you go.
The picture wasn’t very old.
“They’re usually very peaceful. This one must be young. She was probably separated from her family by the rift. She’s searching out humans that she can relate to, people that have also lost someone that they loved.”
“So you don’t think that she has hurt them?” Gwen found it hard to believe that an alien from another planet had kidnapped eight people, and Jack wasn’t worried at all.
“I doubt it, but this is still unusual behavior for a Pict. We should find her as soon as possible.” Jack almost sounded more worried about the alien than he did about her human captives.
***
Having a purpose brought life back into the Hub.
And, in the end, she was easy to find. In fact, she was so easy to find, that Jack wasn’t sure how the police had missed her as long as they had.
Jack leaned forward just far enough to see around the corner. There she was.
“Ianto? Gwen?” Ianto’s reply was a half-second behind Gwen’s-a stained “Yep.”-but Jack didn’t have time to investigate it. “Suspicions confirmed.”
The Pict was young, probably barely past mating age. Her hair was still cropped close in the style of Pictish children, and her figure lacked the curves of an older female.
The scrambler seemed to be working; she hadn’t noticed them yet.
“I’m going to engage her. I want you two to see to the captives.” Jack stepped into the room. The sun was setting, the last few orange streaks of light shining though the dirty windows of the warehouse, creating a myriad of tiny, sparkling motes of falling dust. Jack watched the dust float around her, the sunlight tint her skin-paler than any humans-and felt the first stirrings of desire. Picts were a beautiful race. The photo didn’t do them justice. He’d almost forgotten that.
“Hello.” He held his hands out to her-careful to keep his voice quiet and his thoughts quieter. Now that she was focused on his mind, the dampener that they were each using to mask their thoughts would not be of any use. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She met him halfway across the warehouse. Her skin was cool where she laid her hand against his cheek. The touch of her mind against his was almost pleasant…she was curious.
Jack met her eyes, and they were both beautiful and terrible, like sky before a summer storm. You’re broken. He swallowed down the sickly-sweet taste of bile.
She was mad.
He wasn’t strong enough to hear her. Not really. But he could feel the impressions she tried to share with him: her terror, so horrible he worked to keep his bowels from loosening, her loneliness-the sharp pain of separation from family, like her heart being torn from her breast-that had, over time, turned into the dull ache of being completely alone. He knew that sort of loneliness; he remembered what it felt like to wake up screaming only to suffocate once more. It had broken her mind.
She knew that too. She shared the dark pool of her thoughts: the moments of clarity sucked down into a swirling pool of deep water and the burning, aching drive to find family. It kept her heart beating, that ache. She couldn’t let it go, because then there would be nothing left. Nothing to help her hold on to her sense of self. The water would take her, drown her lovingly with the weight of her own mind.
All of this and more she shared willingly. Jack broke away from her gaze, retching.
“Jack!” He looked up to see Ianto running towards him, gun half-drawn. She followed his gaze.
***
Jack watched Ianto hit the floor clutching his head and screaming. In moments, he was on his feet, running-the Pict trailing closely behind him. Jack remembered those screams; he’d heard them during the wars. They were the sound of thresholds passed, the high, animalistic utterances wails that all creatures held in common.
They were the sort of screams that men didn’t recover from.
He felt the hysteria rise from his belly until it was choking him. Please, let him be alright.
His dash across the warehouse was outside of time. It took forever and no time at all. Everything was moving all wrong. Time was speeding up, and slowing down, and stopping…stopping stock still. His heart was beating a hole in his chest.
He slid awkwardly to the ground beside Ianto. The screams were trailing off into broken sobs, and Ianto was curled on his side, arms still wrapped around his head.
“Shush now. Everything is going to be okay.” Jack felt the rush of displaced air as the Pict came up beside him-gathering Ianto’s still shuddering body into his arms, he saw her reach out from the corner of his eye.
The sound of gunshots echoed in the warehouse. As if in a daze, he watched Gwen approach-gun still drawn. The alien was on the floor, keening. He leaned down to kiss Ianto’s hair. They were rocking back and forth, and a pool of blood like burnished gold spread out beneath them.
“Jack.” Gwen was squatting in front of him, tying to avoid the puddle of alien blood. Her voice was smooth and professional. “I need you with me.” She pressed two fingers under his chin and made him look up until their eyes met. “I can’t move Ianto without you. I need your help.”
Ianto was still shuddering sporadically in his arms, still making small, broken sounds.
Somehow Gwen managed to get them all up and moving-Ianto balanced awkwardly between them. They passed the Pict. Her dark, depthless eyes blinked, and her fingers twitched where they were pressed against her wounds. Jack could feel the throb of her pain; he bowed his head, ashamed.
It wasn’t her fault.
Jack could feel her eyes follow them as they made their way slowly towards the exit. He concentrated on putting one foot in font of the other, not looking up.
She didn’t deserve this. She was just lonely.
Jack felt his legs shake. The compassion, confusion, a pain so acute he couldn’t tell what hurt or why, it all washed over him like a huge, smothering wave.
And then there was nothing.
***
“Bollocks.” Gwen was able to guide their fall just enough so that none of them got seriously hurt, but they still crashed painfully into the tarmac.
Both Jack and Ianto were out cold for what appeared to be no apparent reason. The alien wasn’t even anywhere near Ianto when he fell.
“This isn’t good.” The SUV was so close. It stared at her tauntingly from the other side of the car park.
She tapped Jack lightly on the cheek. “Couldn’t wait till we got to the car to pass out, right Jack?” His head lolled on her shoulder as she lifted him into a sitting position and untangled the two of them.
Once disentangled, Ianto curled onto his side. That was good. Maybe she would be able to get him up and walking after all. Of course, he’d started crying again which probably wasn’t good. She’d call it an even trade for now.
Gwen knelt-letting Jack’s back rest against her chest as she slipped her arms under his armpits. Then she tried to stand. “Bloody hell, you’re heavy!”
She managed to half-crouch, half-stand and get him most of the way turned around, by which time her back felt strained and her arms were shaking. Ianto’s gulping sobs weren’t helping anything either.
She knelt again slowly, and gently laid Jack down. Alright now. I can do this. I just need to think.
She looked around. The car park outside the warehouse was still empty besides the SUV which continued to be just as far away as it was to start with.
The SUV! “I’m an idiot.” She didn’t know about Jack, but Ianto always kept spare keys in his trouser pocket. All she had to do was get those, and she could drive the car around to them instead of dragging them to the car.
She moved to crouch over Ianto and patted his thigh, hoping they were in the easy to reach pocket. And, suddenly found herself bum-first on the tarmac, breathless. Ianto was screaming and flailing now. That was unexpected. Gwen closed her eyes to focus on breathing and collect herself.
“It looks like I am going to need a wee bit of help here.” She dug her phone out of a pocket.
Speed dial one. Rhys Williams. He answered on the first ring, and Gwen felt some of the stress dissipate.
“Rhys, hunny, I’m afraid I’ve run into a bit of an emergency, and I could really use you.”
***
In the process of getting Jack and Ianto both to and into the car, they figured out that, for whatever reason, Ianto quieted down when he and Jack were touching. It was easy enough to accommodate in the car where Rhys just hoisted them in and let them sprawl as they would over the back seat.
It was slightly more difficult when they arrived at the Hub and needed to get the two out of the SUV and inside.
Ianto screamed himself hoarse between the garage and the entrance to the Hub. They were lucky that it was late, and everything seemed deserted.
Jack, on the other hand, seemed to be waking up.
They maneuvered Ianto onto the couch where he curled on his side and continued to cry, but, Jack, Rhys simply dumped in front of it-despite Gwen’s look of keen disapproval.
“What! I didn’t hurt him.” Too badly, that is.
“Rhys Williams, it’s a week on the couch for you.” Gwen sounded sincerely peeved.
Still, Rhys was pretty sure that the thump Captain Jack Harkness made hitting the floor was worth a week of sleeping on the couch. Gwen never held to her threats anyways. It would be two nights at the most.
Jack chose that moment to groan and open his eyes. “Rhys? Gwen? What is Rhys doing here?”
Rhys was shooed off to the kitchenette to scrounge up a mug of water and a bottle of aspirin, while Gwen did her best to explain what had happened in the warehouse.
“The family?” After the painkillers, Jack was starting to sound a little more like his normal self.
“I called 999. They were better equipped to help than I was. Plus, you and Ianto were my main concern.” Jack didn’t appear to be quite sure how he felt about that sentiment, but he acknowledged it with a nod and leaned back against the couch cushions.
“The alien?” Jack closed his eyes but continued to talk. “I thought that I remembered you shooting her.”
“Twice.” Gwen felt slightly uncomfortable about that. She didn’t like actually being called upon to use her gun, especially on something that didn’t overtly appear to be a threat.
Jack sighed, keeping his eyes closed and moving to massage his temples. “Explain the situation with Ianto to me, one more time, and then have Rhys get me the phone.” Rhys snorted at that.
“You don’t pay me, Jack.” Jack opened one eye and leered.
“I would you know. Pay, that is.” Rhys made a disgusted sound, and escaped in search of the telephone.
Gwen felt a headache coming on. She just hoped that one day her boss and her husband would grow up.
Currently, it seemed unlikely.
***
At some point, Ianto fell into a quieter sleep, and Jack made his phone calls. A lot of them.
He called Unit, requesting the loan of Martha Jones for an undetermined period of time. There was posturing, and blustering, and a long spiel about how important her job at Unit was, but eventually they gave in. There was little to gain from earning Torchwood Cardiff’s lasting enmity over a doctor, but potentially much to gain from a favor owed by Captain Jack Harkness.
She would be in Cardiff before the week was out.
It wasn’t good enough, but it would have to do.
He called Torchwood London, though it hurt his pride to do so, and requested that a tech be sent to Cardiff to replace Toshiko Sato. Torchwood Three could function with three employees, but, if Gwen’s observations about Ianto were correct, that would leave only one fully functional member of the team. He didn’t want Gwen to be left carrying such an overwhelming burden.
Maybe he would even gain a useful addition to his team from this.
He doubted it.
More practically, Jack hoped that Ianto would recover quickly so that they could send the former Torchwood One employee packing back to London.
He called the Cardiff police force, asking to speak with Andy, who he promised a tour of the Hub if he would go retrieve the alien’s body from the warehouse and help Gwen dispose of it.
He called the hospital to inquire after the kidnapping victims, and try to gauge how much retcon was going to be necessary.
He called Rhys, who was making out with Gwen in the kitchenette, to tell him to go order coffees from the Starbucks down the street. It was a good thing that Ianto was asleep for that.
Then he made the hardest call, the one that he had been partially dreading, partially anticipating from the moment that he suspected what was going on.
He called Glasgow.
“This better be important, or I’m going to hang up.” Jon answered crankily on the second ring.
“Jon, it’s me.” Jack was surprised by how good it felt to hear Jon’s voice. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and it had been years. He didn’t like the sound of the pause on the other end, though.
“Now I’m definitely going to hang up.” And he did.
It took Jack another half an hour of constant calling to get through again.
“What! Haven’t I made it abundantly clear that I don’t wish to speak with you?” Jack didn’t bother to point out that if Jon really hadn’t wanted to talk, he would have unplugged the phone.
“Shut your mouth, and listen to me for a moment. I need you help.”
***
Something’s missing. Something, something… it hurt. So badly. Everything hurt, and something was missing. Something important.
I need…I need… I need it! Where is it? I hurt. I hurt. I hurt. Why do I hurt. The something. I need it.
It will. It will…
Make the pain go away. Please.
Please, come back. I need you.
Where are you? I need you.
Why aren’t you here? I hurt. I hurt. I hurt.
Make it go away. Please, please make it go away.
I need you to make it go away.
Please take the pain away. Please.
I need you. I need you to be here. I need you to help me. I need you to take the pain away.
Where are you Jack? Why aren’t you here to help me, to help take the pain away? Where are you Jack?
JACK! WHERE ARE YOU! JACK! JACK! I need you.
Jack.
Jack.
Jack.
“Shush, I’m right here. I’m right here, Ianto. I’m not going anywhere.” Sleep now. I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.
Promise?
I promise.
***
When Jack finished his calls and leaned forward to rest his head on the coffee table, Ianto hurled into consciousness-disoriented and screaming both mentally and physically-almost immediately. It was enough to confirm his suspicions.
Jon would be pleased to know that he wasn’t making a hurried trip to Cardiff for nothing.
Jack was worried.
After Tosh and Owen’s deaths, he had thought that he was holding all of the pieces together convincingly, but here they were, slipping through his fingers. One botched up rescue attempt, and the situation had spiraled out of his control.
Ianto was going to be alright.
He refused to lose another member of his team.
“Jack?” Gwen sounded worried and looked tired enough to fall over. Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if Rhys’ arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her upright.
It had been a long night, so far, and the adrenaline was undoubtedly wearing off.
“There’s coffee.” Jack shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he was muddled from the events earlier, or speaking to Jon after so long. Maybe it was lack of caffeine.
Gwen set two of the cups down on the table and patted his hand. At least one of the three he could do something about.
“Everything is going to be just fine. We’ll get it sorted.” Jack smiled at her as best he was able, and waved them off.
“Take your wife home, and make her rest. She looks exhausted.” Rhys, as he’d expected, didn’t need to be told twice.
Jack took a sip of his coffee. It wasn’t nearly as good as what Ianto made.
“And Jack…” Gwen had stopped in the doorway. “Are you sure that you are okay?”
This time he really did smile at her. “I’m fine, Gwen. Now stop worrying.”
“Is Ianto going to be okay?” It was impossible not to let his smile slip slightly at that. “Of course he will be. I won’t let him be otherwise.”
She looked like she would say something else, but instead Rhys peaked his head back around the corner and interrupted her. “If you’re okay…” He paused and waved vaguely in their direction, leading Jack to assume that “you” was supposed to refer to both himself and Ianto. “You might want to consider a bath. You two stink.”
Gwen rolled her eyes and dragged her husband away-letting the door roll closed behind them.
Jack laughed. It was good advice. There was dried alien blood under his finger nails, and Rhys was right…they did stink.
***
It was easier to get Ianto into the showers than Jack expected. He wasn’t awake, but he wasn’t quite asleep either, and when Jack heaved him off the couch--one arm around his waist, the other holding Ianto’s arm in place where it was slung over a shoulder, they managed to stumble along well enough.
Once he had them both undressed and Ianto propped against a corner, Jack washed himself thoroughly-watching the golden blood swirl down the drain and trying not to think about where it came from.
Then he washed Ianto.
It was the most boring shower they had ever taken together.
And it was messy. Jack had thought that he was dirty, but it was nothing compared to the amount of blood on Ianto. By the time they were done, there were cloudy, goldish spots-where the dirty water had splashed and dried-all over the tile.
When Ianto woke up, he wasn’t going to be happy about that.
Jack hauled them up and stood under the spray for a few more minutes, just to make sure that they were completely rinsed. He didn’t relish the thought of a dead alien’s blood on his sheets.
His kinks did have limits.
Ianto was propped up against a corner again, this time on the locker room bench, so that Jack could towel them both off.
He was disappointed that Ianto didn’t react any more to the towel sliding over bare skin than he had to being washed. Jack had been hoping that the prospect of sex would be enough to bring Ianto back to awareness. Apparently not.
Somehow he managed to get them both down the ladder and into his bed without any grievous bodily harm befalling them. He wasn’t quite sure how, but, as soon as they tumbled onto the mattress, Jack realized that he didn’t care.
It was late, and he was unusually exhausted. Thinking could wait until the morning.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep, an arm still wrapped around Ianto.
***
Jack woke up with a stiff neck. Ianto had rolled over during the night-entangling their legs and trapping Jack’s arm under his chest. Jack tried to move his fingers; pins and needles shot up his arm.
The bed really wasn’t big enough for two grown men.
He could hear Gwen upstairs talking to someone.
He freed his arm and legs and kissed Ianto’s temple before getting up to dress quickly. By the time that he sat back down on the edge of the bed, silent tears were running down Ianto’s cheeks. Jack wiped them away with a thumb; he wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Gwen!” he yelled-hoping that if he could hear her, she could hear him.
Two people thumped up the causeway and into his office.
“Jack.” She sounded refreshed, if a little wary. “There’s someone here to see you. He says that his name is Dr. Jonathon Temple. He was waiting outside the tourist office when I got here.”
Shit. “Send him down, Gwen. He’s an old…” Jack paused, unsure of what exactly Jon was. “…friend.” Someone made what sounded like a sarcastic comment under their breath, then there was shuffling, and Jon’s expensive, Italian dress shoes appeared on the ladder.
Jon didn’t even wait to get to the bottom of the ladder to start glaring. His blond hair was longer than Jack remembered it-plastered down flat and tied back in a short pony tail. His eyes were the same though, still as grey as a cloudy sky minutes before a storm.
Unfortunately, while Jack had been sleeping, it seemed that it had been raining outside, and Jon was soaked. What looked like an expensive, cashmere sweater was stretched with the weight of the rain.
“I waited outside for three hours while you didn’t bother to answer your phone.” Judging by the angry set of Jon’s shoulders and the too-calm tone of his voice, “I didn’t hear it ring” was not an acceptable answer.
“I’m sorry?” That didn’t seem to be good enough either, but Jon did deign to knock dirty laundry off the chair, sit down, undo his hair tie, and start to comb his hair with his fingers. The glaring didn’t stop, but it softened a bit.
“Good.” Jon flinched when he hit what looked like a particularly nasty knot, and Jack was half-tempted to offer to go get a brush and do it for him. Which, he suspected, wasn’t a very good idea.
Something must have shown on Jack’s face, because Jon bared his teeth, daring Jack to come closer. Jack obeyed the warning and started to rub circles on Ianto’s bare shoulder.
Ostensibly distracted by the movement, Jon finally deigned to look at the sheet-covered lump in Jack’s bed.
It reminded them both of business.
“Alright, I got the barebones of the story on the phone. Now, I want to hear all of it. From the beginning.” The glaring had stopped, and Jon had the detached tone he used whenever he was working on a puzzle that he thought he already had the answer to. It reminded Jack of before.
For a moment, the pitter patter of water hitting the floor as Jon wrung out his sweater was the only sound in the room.
Then, Jack did as he was told. There was no point dwelling on the past. They had both moved on.
He looked down at Ianto and started the story.
***
The first time Ianto remembered waking, it was slowly-like kicking methodically to the surface after diving into a lake. Everything was murky. Nothing was quite right, distorted, not holding its shape. But, upon reaching the surface, the sun was shining. It burnt away all of his unease. He found himself feeling warm and languid.
Someone was holding his hand.
“Jack?” He tugged on their clasped hands, and Jack’s clothing rustled as he moved closer.
I’m glad you’re alright. Jack felt relieved. Ianto rubbed his thumb over the back of Jack’s hand, comforting. There was no need to get up. No need even to open his eyes. He knew where he was now: in Jack’s bed. The smell was familiar; he knew the sheets that were tucked up under his armpits, and for once Jack’s pillows almost felt comfortable.
“What happened?” Ianto only sounded half-interested even to himself, his voice scratchy with sleep. The warm, languid feeling was still there. It made him…horny. He wanted Jack naked and beside him in bed. He turned onto his back and stretched, still unwilling to let go of Jack’s hand.
I’m so relaxed. I can’t remember the last time that I felt this way. Every muscle was loose and fluid.
Ianto could smell the pheromones as Jack kissed his neck, the curve of his jaw, their lips met. Yes. This is better than talking.
The feeling was changing, growing more heated, more urgent. The bed squealed under their combined weight. Jack was still wearing entirely too much clothing. Ianto pressed his hips upwards anyways, enjoying the friction of the cotton sheets against his erection. “I’m very, very,” Jack was kissing down his neck, his chest, taking the sheet with him “very glad that you are okay.” He punctuated the last “very” with a nip to Ianto’s hipbone.
“Jack Harkness, what in God’s name do you think that you are doing?” That voice was unfamiliar. Ianto sat up shocked, grabbing for the sheet, tumbling Jack off the bed, and opening his eyes. There was only darkness.
Jack’s hand slipped out of his.
And then the voices came. There were so many of them. All different. All saying something. He wanted to stop listening, but he couldn’t. He could hear them all. They were competing for his attention. It hurt.
Ianto leaned over the side of the bed and threw up. Somewhere, a far away part of him hoped that it missed Jack.
***
He came back to his body with Jack behind him on the bed-rubbing the tense muscles of his back and murmuring in his ear about how everything was going to be alright. It didn’t feel like everything was going to be alright. It felt like his head was throbbing in time to his heart beat, and he’d heard voices he couldn’t possibly be able to hear-Gwen worrying about him, and Jack, and the stranger that Jack had welcomed into the Hub; “ Dr. Jonathon Temple… from Glasgow”, the stranger, was shocked by the strength of the bond and worried over the extent of the shock, and wanting rather badly to be home, far away from Jack Harkness. And, there were so, so many others. All of Cardiff, people doing everyday things, loving, and hating, and experiencing the myriad of emotions human being are capable of, he heard them all within the confines of his own mind.
“What’s wrong with me, Jack?” He felt Jack take a breath against his neck, his hands stilling in their massage, but the stranger cut in smoothly.
“I believe that I would be best-suited to explaining that. After all, that is why I’m here.” Ianto didn’t like his tone. He resented being treated like an inconvenience by someone that he didn’t even know, and whose help he definitely hadn’t asked for. Jack chuckled in his ear, and he felt a rush of fond amusement.
You’re cute when you’re disgruntled. He is right, though. Jack’s voice was intimate. Ianto had never heard Jack use that tone when they weren’t alone, and it put him more on edge. He moved so that he was sitting beside Jack instead of in front of him-one of Jack’s hand still clasping his shoulder and the length of their thighs touching through the sheet.
It makes me nervous not to be able to see… He felt bile rising to his throat and swallowed it down. He’d forgotten. The voices had seemed a more immediate concern. He opened his eyes again-reached a hand up to touch them, just to make sure. He felt the brush of eyelashes against his fingers, but he couldn’t see his hand. He couldn’t see anything. Everything was black. Jack, I can’t see.
Ianto took deep breaths to counter the panic. Jack’s closeness helped a little, not enough to dispel the feeling, but enough to help leash it.
“Why can’t I see?” Jack didn’t even attempt to answer this time.
“It’s called psychic shock. Usually psychic ability exhibits itself slowly during puberty, but occasionally, for whatever reason, it manifests itself all at once later. That’s what happened here. A part of your brain that previously lay dormant suddenly started working, and the shock of the transition caused another part to shut down. You’re lucky that all you lost is your sight.” Dr. Temple, if that was his name, had the slightly condescending tone of a lecturer, and it didn’t put Ianto in the mood to listen.
Psychic ability. Shock. Lucky. “Do I get a code name then? Spry, young Welshman, perhaps? Maker of bloody good coffee, orderer of pizza, defender of the human race against dust? Am I going to be recruited to attend a mutant school? Are you Professor X ?” Jack only half-managed to swallow a chuckle. It really wasn’t funny, but Jack’s grasp of “a time and a place” had never been very good.
“If you think that you can figure this out on your own, I’ll leave. The only reason that I am even here is because Jack called in a favor. I don’t want to be here any more than you apparently want me to be.” What Ianto wanted was to be able to see the other man’s face, the angry twist of his lips, his stance, the set of his shoulders. He wanted to see something.
Jack intervened.
“Jon, I think that it might be best if you went upstairs. Gwen will show you to your hotel; I’ve already booked you a room, and there’s a nice restaurant nearby by that I think you might like. Gwen should know where I’m talking about. It’s been a long day for all of us, and I can talk to Ianto about the basics.” Jon just snorted in reply. Ianto heard the scraping of a chair and the brush, tap of leather soles against the floor. “And Jon…”
There was a pause. “Yes?”
“Thank you.” Jack sounded sincere. There were other things in his voice as well.
Ianto was actually glad that he couldn’t see the look that passed between them. There was history there, between Jack and Dr. Jonathon Temple from Glasgow. And here I thought that this couldn’t get worse. Of course Jack has shagged the doctor.
The rattle of the ladder as Dr. Temple climbed up to the Hub proper was the only sound to break the following silence.
***
Jack watched Jon leave. He regretted it sometimes, the way that things had ended between them.
“How did you meet?” Ianto asked. He wasn’t pleased, but his voice didn’t sound jealous either. He was confused, frustrated, exhausted, and more than a little scared. Jack wasn’t sure he liked knowing another person so effortlessly.
“I met him in London. I was on loan to Torchwood One. He was a biologist working on his dissertation. His focus was on the brain; he thought that he had a way to cure Alzheimer’s. It was completely brilliant. But, the entire experiment was based on alien flora. He didn’t know it, at least not at the time; he’d gotten the flowers from a supplier in South America. I befriended him, and then I shut it down, destroyed his research, retconned the previous year of his life away. He broke through it. I don’t know what it was, an article, a comment by a friend; it could have been anything. After that, he tracked me down to Cardiff.” Jack tried not to think about the next part, about a soaked, angry Jon showing up at on his doorstep, about the way that they had channeled that anger into one night of brilliant coupling. Jack had slept deeply that night, for the first time in years, and when he’d woken, Jon was gone.
He knew that Ianto heard the pause, knew that he knew what wasn’t being said. “We met again, a few times over the years. I learned that Torchwood had recruited him for job in Glasgow. He was studying psychic abilities. Maybe, had things been different, there could have been something between us. As things stand, there is nothing for you to worry about. Jon and I both closed the door on that part of our lives long ago.” They had never mentioned the one night they’d spent together at any of their short, not very friendly meetings over the years. Jack had never found an appropriate opening to ask why Jon had left that morning, and Jon had never offered any excuse.
Ianto turned towards Jack’s voice as he talked; his pupils were dilated and occasionally they darted from side to side-never following anything that Jack could see.
“Why is he here?” That was an easier question to answer.
“To help.” Jack thought that much of this conversation would be easier if they were comfortable, so he grasped Ianto’s hand and laid down-tugging Ianto with him. When they were both comfortable and facing one another, Jack leaned in. Ianto turned away from the kiss, but he let Jack run his fingers through his hair. There were still a few gold-crusted clumps behind his ears where alien blood had dried in it.
I’m so confused, Jack. I don’t know what’s going on; I hear these voices, and I can’t even see. I’m scared. Jack wondered if Ianto even knew that he wasn’t speaking out loud.
I know. I am too. This time when Jack leaned down to kiss Ianto’s breast, where he could imagine the beating of a heart beneath his lips, Ianto allowed it. Talking could wait.
Jack kissed up Ianto’s neck to meet his lips. He had been so caught up in their lust earlier that he had forgotten about Jon. This time, they didn’t have to worry about being interrupted. The desire resurfaced, twice as strong for being shared.
Jack provided comfort the best way that he knew how-by making the world and all of its voices retreat, even if it was only for a little while…
Part Two