Fic: Photographs and Memories (Jack/Ianto)

Oct 16, 2009 14:10

Title: Photographs and Memories
Author: traciaknows
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: If I owed them instead of RTD and the BBC, they would have been treated better (and the fans would have been a lot happier).
Word count: 2,017
Author’s note: This work would not have been possible without the dedication and support of my super beta: ginzai, who tolerates Torchwood because I love it so. Thank you for everything, especially, the Boston Creams.
Summary: A sequel to Leave the Light On, Jack continues to struggle with his missing memories.



Ianto Jones’ mother had believed that the early bird got the worm, however, Ianto had never been fond of birds, or worms, for that matter. He actually wasn’t a fan of early, either.

So when he felt Jack slide away from him and leave the bed that they shared in the small private quarters under Jack’s office, he tried to keep his grumblings about being awake to himself. Ianto slowly pushed up on his elbows just enough to be able to peek an eye out of the dark cavern that his face and arm had made in his pillow so he could see where Jack was headed this time.

Jack stood in the brightly lit room in front of the mural of poster boards tacked into the thin corkboard that Ianto had covered the far wall with several weeks before. Jack’s frustration over not being able to remember parts of his own history had lead to the mural and being a visual person, it seemed to help give him focus.

It had been difficult for Jack to finally let Ianto know how burnt out and traumatized he actually was from the numerous events Grey had set into motion. It was a slow process, but it one that Jack was finally sharing. Ianto felt that they were on a more even playing field now, and moving back towards the relationship that they had been building before Grey’s actions.

Not that Jack wasn’t still moody and occasionally difficult. He still disappeared for hours, refusing to say where he had been when he returned. Ianto didn’t like not knowing where Jack was during those hours, but that issue wasn’t a hill he wanted to metaphorically die on at the moment, so he chose other areas to focus on. Jack’s obsessive need for lighting at all times was something else that they were working on and Ianto considered it a small victory that they were down to four lamps in the sleeping area instead of seven.

He watched as Jack grabbed a marker from the small table near him and moved to write a message next to a photo in the section of mural that contained information about his first few decades in Torchwood. This surprised Ianto as before he had fallen asleep, Jack had been stuck on a small section where he had written the names Lucy and Ally. He didn’t have dates for those names, but returned to them numerous times since he had written them earlier that week. Ianto had run preliminary searches on the names but had come up with nothing so far. He had hoped that Jack would remember more for him to go on.

Ianto glanced at Jack’s block lettering that covered the poster boards with notes of other recovered memories and particular incidents that he thought that he might have been part of. Arrows, notes, photographs, and the occasional sketch also littered the mural to the point where Ianto had added additional poster boards underneath and had drawn an elaborate color coded timeline from the events that he was able to decipher from the posters above. Colored lines tracked Jack’s life from before he became immortal and after, then more specifically, his travels as a Time Agent, his time being a Companion to The Doctor, and his time with Torchwood. Ianto tried not to think about how the timeline included dates from the prehistoric area, to the beginning of the fifty-first century, a five-year time loop, and a year that Jack told him that The Doctor had erased. It made his head hurt.

From the bed, Ianto could see that Jack’s focus was now on the printout of one of the photographs that he had kept in a box in his desk. Ianto had scanned and printed each one of the photos after Jack had rediscovered them shortly after they had dealt with Gray. The archivist in him also had demanded that he upload the images onto Jack’s personal computer with duplicates also downloaded to his wrist strap so he could keep them with him long after the photos eventually fell apart or rotted.

He hadn’t told Jack that he had added to the file additional photographs of himself, Tosh, Owen, Gwen, and other Torchwood operatives that Jack had been close to with captions of their names, the dates they were part of Torchwood, and something Ianto knew about each of them from personal experience or from what he had gathered from the archives. Wanting Jack to have good things to remember, he had kept the messages short and kind, especially for Tosh and Owen.

Ianto had placed an additional picture of himself and Jack too. In the picture, they were seated, Jack turned in a way that while the viewer could see him mostly in profile they could tell he was laughing. Ianto faced outward, his suit jacket off, tie loosened but waistcoat still buttoned, leaning forward, his face turned toward Jack, amusement on his face clear. It was intimate and candid, a rare moment of pure fun caught when Tosh had snapped the picture just days before she had died. After adding information about himself, Ianto had put a caption simply stating that he loved Jack, even when he wasn’t funny. It was soppy and possibly over the top, but Ianto didn’t think that Jack would mind.

Ianto understood the likelihood of Jack having memory issues again was very high. The two thousand years buried under Cardiff and the subsequent memory loss proved that to him. It broke him a little to know that someday Jack would forget him through no fault of his own, but from time robbing his memories. He ached for Jack and the grief that he knew that Jack would have to face again, maybe not today, but someday soon, when he couldn’t remember the people he currently cared about.

He breathed out and shook his head to clear it. Heartache was part of loving Jack Harkness. It was a bittersweet existence, but one he wouldn’t give up for anything. Here and now, Jones, he thought, here and now.

Squinting because of the brightness of the room, Ianto moved off the bed to and went to Jack, wrapping his arms around Jack’s middle. Since they were close in height, Ianto rested his chin on Jack’s shoulder. Jack leaned back into him and sighed.

“Did you remember something?” Ianto asked, his vowels thicker from being tired.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, pointing to the note he had made next to a wedding photograph of Jack and a young woman named Emily Allen. Jack had written several other notes about his life with Emily, who he preferred to call Emma, and Ianto had added what facts he could from information that he had found in Jack’s Torchwood records and through census documents and old newspapers. What he had found was incredibly sketchy.

Ianto peered over to see an arrow pointed toward Emily and Jack’s block lettering stating: ALLERGIC TO DOGS.

Ianto chuckled, but didn’t say anything, knowing that Jack would when he was ready. This was their established process. Ianto had theorized that specific facts and random bits of information about the people Jack cared about might lead to him remembering other details. Sometimes they got lucky and one small memory would sometimes lead to several other pieces to the puzzle.

“I brought home a puppy,” Jack began slowly, “I felt bad that I was always away on Torchwood business. I wanted something there with her to keep her company. I put a bow on it… maybe blue, or green… She was so sweet about it, I had no idea she was allergic. She didn’t tell me. I would come home and her eyes would be watery, and she would say that they were tears of joy because she was so glad to see me. When I finally figured it out I felt like such an ass.”

“Emma was sweet about everything,” Jack continued, “After all the ugliness of Torchwood, it was so good to having something that wasn’t tainted by it. It was easy just to pretend, to let her think that I was just a regular guy… to get lost in that even if it was just for a little while.”

“Did she ever know about Torchwood?” Ianto asked, absently starting to move a palm across Jack’s torso, knowing that the touch would comfort both of them.

“No. At first I kept it from her to keep her safe, but then it was because I just didn’t want her to know. I wanted something… ordinary. I liked being normal.”

“Jack, you are normal- but that doesn’t mean you can’t be special.”

Jack moved out of Ianto’s arms and moved away, his face thoughtful and sad, “I should have been honest with her about who and what I was… What I am.”

Moving back to sit on the bed, Ianto cocked his head to look at Jack, “What do you think would have happened if you had told her everything?”

“I don’t know… She probably would have run for the hills. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. I’ve done such terrible things.” Jack came over to Ianto and tilled his head to look down at him. Ianto gave him a soft smile.

“I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. I think she would have loved you no matter what.”

“It’s the jaw line,” Jack said automatically with a quick mirthless laugh, “Everyone falls for the jaw line.”

“It is certainly one of the perks of the ‘I Heart Captain Jack Harkness’ Club,” Ianto quipped, reaching up and letting his fingers skim along the jaw in question, “but I think it’s more than that.”

“Emma loved what she thought I was,” Jack paused his pacing to look at Ianto, “It wasn’t real- the same with Estelle all those years later. I was never totally honest with them.”

“What is real Jack? You loved them, and they loved you. The rest is just details. Now come back to bed. You need to rest so you can have your wicked way with me at a later, and less un-godly, hour,” Ianto gave him a cheeky, if tired, smile as he climbed back into his side of their bed. He laid down on his stomach, turning his face so it was propped up on his arm instead of the still intended pillow so he could continue to look at Jack.

Jack sighed again before joining him. He rolled to his side curling against Ianto, shielding him some from the brightness of the bedroom lighting. He moved his fingers softly over Ianto’s ear, brushing into the hair just beyond it.

“I haven’t always been totally honest with you either, Ianto,” Jack said quietly.

“I could say the same to you, Jack. Pot, kettle, and all that… But I hope that’s changing now,” With a sigh, Ianto sat up enough so he could kiss Jack gently and then moved back, “I know who you are at the core, so did they.”

Ianto’s eyes began to drift closed as he savored the sensation of Jack continued to brush his fingers through his hair. He opened them again when Jack said, “I’m starting to remember other things… Things I’m not proud of.”

Ianto heard the self-loathing in Jack’s voice and hated it as much as the distant look he had in his eyes. “They’re details Jack. They won’t change how I feel about you. Nothing could do that. There may be things in your past that I don’t agree with, but I wasn’t there. I’m not going to judge you.” Ianto moved up again to kiss Jack once more, this time putting more passion into it, as if to force Jack into making this moment a memory.

When they pulled apart, Jack blinked and then smiled. Ianto saw that his eyes were clearer, “So there’s an ‘I Heart Captain Jack Harkness’ Club huh?” Jack said slyly, “Do you have a secret decoder ring?”

Ianto gave him a sleepy grin, “Nah… But the secret handshake is pretty cool.”

fic, proverbs verse, jack/ianto

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