Torchwood Fic: Time Enough, 11/13
Chapter Ten
He wouldn't cry. There was no time, no easily stolen moment, no chance to fall apart. He soldiered on, he did his job, and he did not cry.
Jack cried. Jack cried enough for all three of them, his fingers so often lifted to his cheeks to wipe away the trails of dampness that the gesture was becoming as ingrained as Jack's hands-in-his-pockets saunter. Brilliant blue eyes remained tinged with pink, long lashes spiked with salty water that Ianto wanted to kiss until they were dry and smooth again.
Gwen cried, too, little heaving sobs at odd moments, hands over her mouth and eyes tightly shut against tears that leaked out anyway. When Ianto witnessed those moments he was quick to turn away to give her privacy and dignity and the ability to pretend later that she was handling things. She went to Jack for solace that was desperately given and just as desperately returned, two dark heads bent together in sorrow. Ianto turned away from those moments as well, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness. If whispered words and gentle touches helped them to heal, then it was Ianto's duty to make sure they shared those moments uninterrupted. It was after those brief, painful interludes that Jack or Gwen or both would seek Ianto out and he knew they wanted him to be the link to normal, the every day, to sanity, and to break down would mean that he'd failed them.
The packing up of random belongings-trinkets and pins, reading glasses, a stethoscope and a tiny stuffed mouse-wasn't his job. It was his job to erase, close down, shut off, terminate. He did his job faultlessly, his mind already on the next task, the next item on the list, the next thing he could do right a world gone hopelessly wrong. And still, he did not cry.
The tears almost came in the aftermath of Tosh's farewell. Jack beside him with Gwen nestled beneath his arm, a strong hand falling on Ianto's shoulder giving the abused muscles there a gentle squeeze-that's when it all became far too real. He'd wanted to turn into Jack's arms, to bury his hot face against Jack's neck and howl out his grief. But Gwen was already there, sniffling and shaking, and Ianto ceded his place by walking away and allowing Jack to pull Gwen close, his tears soaking into her hair.
In those first few horrible days, a part of him wanted that release and he knew that Jack would welcome it from him, would hold him through the vicious storm that wanted to rage out of Ianto until he was empty. He was aware of Jack's eyes on him, following him helplessly, as if Jack was afraid to look anywhere else for fear that Ianto too would be taken. Ianto in turn kept eye contact to a minimum, fearing that once he was caught by what he knew sat rich and warm in Jack's eyes, that he'd be lost. And he just wasn't ready to be that lost again.
He had work to do.
And that work went on, for all of them. The Rift had no care for lost friends or the wounded city they'd left behind. Once the finality of Tosh and Owen being forever gone began to sink in, it was the work they'd dedicated their lives to that became the saviour of those that remained. That work came in myriad forms, but nothing turned out to be as pressing as the problem of the weevils.
As Cardiff began to recover, nests of weevils were being rooted out from some of the more damaged buildings. Jack stayed ahead of the demolitions by monitoring the city engineer's internal website, knowing that forcing the weevils into the open would be a bad thing for everyone. Once he knew that a likely site of weevil infestation was due to be torn town, the three of them went ahead of the construction workers to force the weevils down in to the sewers so that they could find a new nest. It was disgusting, dirty, hard work, but as Jack had pointed out, it was better than having them wandering the streets and chatting up the neighbours.
Herding weevils was one of several duties the team was dealing with, along with helping to a rebuild a city that had lost most of its leadership. Long days bled into long nights, but the activity masked the deep hurt that had settled within each of them. While Jack made sure that Gwen went home to Rhys at every opportunity, more often than not he and Ianto slept down in Jack's old room, tightly wrapped around each other and so exhausted that often they awoke in the same position they'd fallen asleep in.
But day by day, sometimes in the tiniest increments, it was getting better. Ianto had feared that the betrayal of Jack's brother on top of the loss of Tosh and Owen would be more than Jack could handle, but somehow Jack was fighting through his own pain as he continued to be the steadying rock that Ianto and Gwen needed. Only in the narrow bed they shared for brief periods beneath Jack's office was Ianto allowed to see a broken, grieving Jack Harkness, and in those bleak moments, as he cradled Jack in his arms, Ianto vowed to be whatever Jack needed him to be.
And he understood instinctively that a large part of that was a responsibility he dare not shirk-that of staying alive. Ianto suspected that Jack was only surviving because Gray and John hadn't taken away everything he loved, and one more loss would be one loss too many.
Then into the midst of their lives came unwelcome, outside intrusions that couldn't be ignored. Ianto knew that Jack had been fencing with UNIT in general and Darby Fitzhenry in particular, especially over the compromised nuclear facility. Things escalated considerably when Darby Fitzhenry's emailed summons to Gwen and Ianto arrived but they both copied Jack in on their terse refusals to meet with her. To their surprise, Jack had advised them otherwise, to hear what she had to say and to find out if she was a real threat. Torchwood Three was more vulnerable than ever and he needed to know what Darby was planning, if anything, to complete its destruction. Still Ianto had hesitated, the memory of his previous conversation with her dredging up painful memories, but the tired cant of Jack's shoulders as he'd asked them told Ianto more than words that Jack knew the cost of his request. After that, the decision was simple, a small sacrifice to give Jack some breathing room.
Gwen met with Fitzhenry first and reported back that it was only a fishing expedition. It was after Gwen had recounted the details of her meeting (ending with a disdainful remark regarding the abuse of innocent hair products) that Jack informed them of another building that needed a weevil evacuation. Jack was in a better mood after Gwen's report and sent her home for dinner with the order to meet up at midnight in front of the condemned house. He and Ianto shared a sandwich before Jack teased Ianto down into his old bed for a few stolen hours of indulgent love-making, something they were just starting to allow themselves to enjoy again. Afterwards, cooling bodies entwined and hands idly stroking flushed skin, they talked about trying to spend more time at home and what they wanted to do there. Both their house and Marcy's had sustained minor damage from the explosive concussion, but after ascertaining that neither she nor her children had been harmed, they hadn't had a moment to spare for personal considerations since that dark, terrible night.
The concept of weevil herding was simple, the implementation back-breaking, nasty work. The weevils congregated as close to the lowest exit as possible, tearing out any external plumbing in order to make a quick escape. Employing a newer, more potent version of the spray, the team used it like a liquid broom, sweeping it in front of them and driving the weevils down into the sewers. Once they were sure that the building was clean, they doused the walls and floors in more spray to keep the weevils from returning before the next days' demolition. Until the city planners ran out of buildings to tear down, it was the only way Torchwood could manage the weevil population. Neither an elegant nor particularly helpful solution, but with just the three of them, it was the best they could do.
This time it was an old house, vacated long before the attack on Cardiff and finally scheduled to be demolished so that low rent housing could be installed. Two stories of dry rot, broken glass and graffiti-stained walls, the house had been condemned for years and had every chance of coming down around their ears as they moved from room to room, ferreting out the weevils and sending them toward the kitchen, where the sink had been replaced by a gaping hole.
The operation was going smoothly and Ianto had hopes of convincing Jack to sleep at home that night, maybe even sharing a late breakfast before going back to the Hub. He and Jack had just finished spraying down one room on the second floor when a yelp from below and a movement caught out of the corner of his eye turned Ianto around, torch sweeping over corners thick with debris and dust. He felt more than saw Jack flash past him, a light grey blur in the cobalt shadows. A thick, scrabbling sound and the echo of weevil grunts turned him around again as he dropped the aerosol can and reached for the taser tucked into his shoulder holster.
"Gwen, okay?" Jack yelled.
"Yeah, okay." She sounded tense, her voice travelling up from the main floor. "But it came from up there-do you see any more?"
"Not here," he called back. "Ianto! You see anything?"
Ianto retrieved the aerosol can and aimed his beam around the room once more as he backed out toward the landing. There was an ominous creaking noise and he shined his torch at his feet, afraid he'd see the wooden floor beneath him splitting apart.
"Nothing here, either." He joined Jack on the landing as both of them looked over the rail, casting their lights down but away from Gwen's upturned face.
"Must've been a straggler," Jack decided. "Let's work our way back through the upper rooms, make sure we've got them all. Gwen, you stay by the front door and get ready. Ianto, you go left, I'll go right."
Ianto glanced down to give Gwen a reassuring smile. She started to return it but instead her eyes widened with horror as a loud crack followed by the distinctive scrabble of weevil feet on wood reached Ianto's ears. He pivoted, the light from his torch flashing across Jack's surprised face as a weevil barrelled into him, knocking him into the wall and sending his can flying. Jack bounced hard against the plaster and crashed to the floor as Ianto tried to get out of the way, hoping that the weevil would make a path down the stairs and toward the open kitchen drain. Instead, the weevil howled out a scream and lunged at Jack, its wide open maw revealing its serrated, deadly teeth. Jack was still slumped against the wall, the arm he threw up ineffectual as the weevil shoved it aside as it tried to get at Jack's throat.
Ianto let out a roar and advanced on the weevil, emptying the contents of the spray into its face to drive it backward and away from a still stunned Jack. The weevil ducked and cowered, its growls turning to painful whimpers as the spray leached into its eyes. Ianto managed to pin it to the base of the flimsy stair railing as the can sputtered and died in his hand. He threw it away and reached again for his taser, but the weevil was already on the move, rushing straight at Ianto with a rage-filled bellow.
The taser never cleared its holster. The weevil slammed past Ianto, knocking him against the railing that splintered outward, showering the floor below with shards of wood. Ianto fell to his knees when one of his feet slipped over the edge, then dropped onto his stomach to scramble back onto the landing as the wood beneath him began to give way. Jack crawled to his side and grabbed his arm to yank him onto solid ground as the weevil charged again, this time bearing one of the railing supports. Both Ianto and Jack were still low to the ground, Jack with his back turned to the weevil, his fingers wrapped around Ianto's wrist. Ianto cried out a warning and Jack twisted around, bringing up his own taser, but the weevil knocked it out of Jack's hand with one swing, the sound of cracking bones clearly heard beneath the weevil's howl and Jack's shout of pain. Jack pulled his shattered hand close to his chest and Ianto watched in horror as the weevil took aim with the support, the next blow lined up with Jack's bowed head.
Coherent thought ceased and instinct took over. Ianto threw himself at the weevil, tackling it away from Jack and rolling it with it until they came up hard against the wall, the wooden support flying out of the weevil's grasp. Beneath the ringing in his ears Ianto heard Jack's terrified yelling and Gwen's higher pitched cries, but he was too busy keeping the weevil's teeth from his neck. He knew that Jack and Gwen were coming to his aid and he concentrated on holding the weevil off just long enough for that help to arrive.
The weevil had another plan. Heaving foul, hot breath into Ianto's face, the weevil changed tactics, retracting its teeth and latching its claws onto Ianto's shielding arm. It gave it a hard yank and Ianto cried out as the barely healed muscles of his dislocated shoulder gave way with an agonising rip. White sparks shot up behind his eyes and the weevil, sensing the vulnerability of its prey, screamed its triumph and started shaking Ianto's body side to side like a dog with a new toy. The momentum was so strong that both Ianto and the weevil fell backwards into the stair railing, breaking through the ragged remnants and plummeting to the floor below.
Ianto landed on the weevil and bounced off directly onto his injured shoulder, the impact driving the air from his lungs in an excruciating explosion. Everything went hazy and grey, noises becoming muted as he struggled against losing conciousness. What little breath he could draw in was thick with dirt and he gave in to the need to cough, a movement that wrenched his abused shoulder muscles even further. Awash in pain, unable to draw a clear breath, it took Ianto a few seconds to process Jack's frantic voice in his ear and someone's hands flying over his body.
"...talk to me! Come on, Ianto, come on, damn it! Gwen?"
"Gone." Gwen's voice, breathless and strained. "It made it into the sewers. How is he?"
"He's fine," Ianto croaked. He blinked his eyes, sawdust drifting onto his cheeks as he tried to take inventory of the damage. Every part of his body hurt, but the area between his neck and hip felt as though it was being consumed by flames. He concentrated on breathing as Jack stroked his fingers lightly through Ianto's hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement.
"That's it, that's it, just take it easy, breathe slowly." Then, louder, "Get some water from the SUV."
Hearing Gwen's retreating footsteps, Ianto managed to wedge an elbow beneath his body and with Jack's help, made it into a sitting position. It was slow going, every muscle screaming in protest, but the damage to his re-injured shoulder made him bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. Upright turned out to be as disorienting as supine and Ianto swayed into Jack's arms, bowing his forehead to rest on Jack's shoulder.
"Ianto?" Jack whispered.
"Still here." Ianto managed his first normal inhalation, drinking in the scent of Jack beneath the filth that covered the thick wool coat. "Am I in one piece?"
"I don't know, you tell me. I didn't feel any broken bones but whenever you're ready, I need to check your eyes and then we need to get you out of here."
"That'll be in a day or two, I'm sure. Hope you're not in a rush."
"Don't." Jack's voice broke on the whispered word.
Ianto slowly, painfully lifted his head, ignoring the room as it whirled around him. "Don't what?"
Even in the gloom, Ianto could see the remnants of terror glistening in Jack's eyes. "Don't joke, okay? I'm not ready for that."
"Sorry." Ianto grimaced, trying to shift into a more comfortable position as Gwen rejoined them on the floor.
"Hold still. Gwen, I need light over here."
Jack carefully placed his palms on either side of Ianto's cheeks as Gwen picked up the torch and shone it down between them, careful to keep it directly out of their eyes. Blinking against the light and the clouds of dust still drifting through the room, Ianto struggled to meet Jack's worried gaze, his heart pounding as he waited for Jack's assessment. His head hurt-along with everything else-but there was no localised pain aside from the torn shoulder muscles.
"I can't see anything wrong," Jack muttered, "but I can't be sure."
Ianto swallowed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall again to Jack's shoulder and content to let Jack control the situation. It took him another series of shallow breaths to realise that Jack was trembling, yet when he spoke, his voice was steady and emotionless.
"Tell me where you're injured."
"Left shoulder, mostly." Ianto ran his tongue over his cracked lips. "Left wrist feels sprained, a few bruises here and there. Luckily, I had a weevil to break my fall." He wanted to add something irreverent to deflect the worry that flowed off Jack in waves, but held back. He knew there would be a reckoning for the last few minutes and he didn't want to make things worse. "Do you think that was the last of them?"
"Shh, don't worry." Gwen pressed a plastic bottle into Ianto's hand, then brushed a damp cloth along Ianto's neck. "You've got some nasty cuts, Ianto. You may need stitches."
"How about getting up? Can you walk?" Jack's questions were posed with brusque efficiency, but Ianto was not fooled. He knew they had to get out, so whether he was ready or not, he straightened out of Jack's arms. He took a sip from the bottle, gagging slightly as the water washed the blood off his mouth and down into his throat. He handed the bottle back to Gwen and gave Jack a tight-lipped smile.
"Let's get this over with."
"Okay. Gwen, I'm going to take his good side and get him to his feet. Stay with us and if we're okay, go get the SUV and pull it up as close to the door as you can. We'll get him home and assess the damage there."
"Right."
Jack shifted to a crouch, wrapping one hand around Ianto's right arm. The other he placed low on Ianto's hip and at Ianto's nod, they began the long trip upward. By the time Ianto was standing, blood and sweat were running in mixed rivulets down his cheeks and the pain radiating from the middle of his back weakened his knees to the point where he was clutching the lapels of Jack's coat to continue standing.
But at least he was standing.
"Ianto?"
Ianto raised his head, glad that the room was finally remaining in one place. Jack was supporting him and Gwen was close, her small hand resting lightly on his sleeve, and he just about to suggest that he was steady enough to walk out on his own when he was hit with a disconcerting wave of deja vu. Swallowing to ease some moisture into a throat suddenly gone thick with apprehension, Ianto struggled to pin down the uncomfortable sensation, its presence so strong he was afraid he was going to black out. And then-
Oh, God.
This was how it had started, all the pain and the hate and the death. Each of them in the same position, seeking only to make sure they all-all of them-had survived. Jack was still clutching his arm and Gwen was pressed close enough to his side that he could smell her shampoo, both intent on him, waiting for some signal that they could proceed.
The last time they'd stood like this, a hurting and frightened triumvirate, Owen and Tosh had still been alive and the horror of the coming days had yet to be revealed.
Ianto had to move before Jack or Gwen got caught up in the heartbreaking symmetry. He pushed off of Jack and staggered toward the door, ignoring Jack's barked orders to go slow and Gwen's scramble to keep up. He hadn't made it far when Jack was at his side, sliding his arm around Ianto's waist and halting his progress.
"Damn it, Ianto," he growled, "take it easy."
"I'm okay." Ianto pushed at Jack's arm. "I just need air."
"Right." Jack twisted his head to look behind him. "Gwen, the SUV. You're driving."
Gwen sped past them as Ianto leaned against the door frame for support.
"Shouldn't we make sure the house is clear?" He stole a look at Jack, who shook his head.
"I'll come back later. My guess is that this is a breeding ground, that's why it was defended so violently." He turned to Ianto, his expression darkening. "In the meantime, let's discuss you taking unnecessary risks."
"I didn't-"
Jack held up his hand. "You didn't mean to, I know. But you could've let that weevil take me out and make its way downstairs. Instead, you attacked it. Why?"
"Let it kill you for the sake of expediency?" Ianto shook his head. "It's not that easy, Jack."
"It is from where I'm standing."
"Yes, well," Ianto grimaced as he straightened from the wall, "you're not watching me die over and over, are you? You have no idea what that's like."
"No, I don't." Jack's mouth settled into a grim line as he wrapped an arm around Ianto's shoulder. He pressed a fierce kiss to Ianto's forehead before continuing, his voice trembling. "But let's be perfectly clear about something. You may have to watch me die, and that may be a really crappy thing to have to do, but you know I'll always come back. Since I can't say the same thing about you, I'd really appreciate it if you tried not to get yourself killed any time soon."
~~
"How are you feeling?"
Ianto cracked his eyes open and looked over at Gwen, who'd taken a seat beside him on the couch. She looked tired, her long hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail and all remnants of make-up long gone. But she managed a smile as she took Ianto's hand in hers, gently entwining their fingers. Ianto smiled back, a bare shift of his lips, before closing his eyes as he gave her hand a squeeze.
"Better," he answered truthfully. "The painkillers have kicked in, but I doubt I'll be moving from this position for some time."
"Jack's right, you should see a doctor."
Ianto rolled his head from side to side. "No doctors required. Just a good night's rest so I'm prepared for my meeting tomorrow."
Gwen's fingers tightened around his and he heard her take a sharp breath. "That's right, I'd forgotten. Maybe you should postpone it."
Ianto withdrew his hand and opened his eyes to stare up into the shadows. "No, I'd rather get it over with. No use putting it off, it'll only make her suspicious." He turned his gaze back to Gwen. "You should go home."
"Trying to get rid of me?" It was a tired attempt at teasing, and although Ianto appreciated the spirit behind it, on this night he couldn't respond in kind.
"Never," he murmured. Gwen bit her lip and looked down at her hands, but not before Ianto saw the hint of tears in her eyes.
He knew it wouldn't always be like this, that not every offhand remark would remind them of losses they had yet to truly absorb, but Ianto knew that tonight had been tough on them all. So tough that once Jack and Gwen had seen to Ianto's injuries and made him comfortable on the couch, Jack had disappeared, the tight set to his jaw telling Ianto everything he needed to know beyond Jack's muttered comment about making sure the abandoned house was weevil-free.
"Are you going to be all right until Jack gets back?"
"Of course," he answered, with just the right balance of amusement and impatience that he could see Gwen relax. She patted his thigh and got to her feet, stretching her arms over her head.
"Then I'm off for a bit." She glanced at her wristwatch and groaned. "Or maybe more than a bit. I'd no idea how late it was. Can I get you anything before I leave?"
Ianto shook his head and closed his eyes, listening as Gwen gathered her things and left. In truth, he thought he'd be glad of the quiet that would let him gather his thoughts, but as soon as he heard the last door close and lock behind Gwen, he began to shake.
Not now, he thought desperately. He swallowed and leaned forward, breathing through the discomfort as he attempted to maintain his composure. This was the first time he'd been alone in the Hub since it had all happened, and the unusual solitude coupled with the barely subdued pain were battering his hard-won defences.
He managed to get to his feet, a not inconsequential victory given the state of his abused muscles, and decided that some kind of productivity would divert his thoughts and drive away the dark clouds of grief that hovered on the edge of his conciousness. He'd gotten this far without giving in to an emotional outburst and he was determined to continue that trend until things were more settled and everyone had more time to heal.
His tie and jacket had long since been relegated to the dust bin, their damage from the weevil attack too much even for Ianto to overcome, leaving him in a relatively clean dress shirt. Looking around the Hub, he rolled up the unbuttoned cuffs as he began searching out and locating areas that needed addressing. He knew Jack would be back eventually, and his goal was to present him with a calm demeanour that would reassure Jack that Ianto was indeed okay.
It was the smallest thing that shattered his fragile equanimity and destroyed the illusion of control. Moving slowly and deliberately, he'd managed to gather up the plates and glasses that proliferated around the Hub and ferried them to the small kitchen. It would bother him not to wash them but his resources were quickly ebbing and the bed in Jack's old quarters was calling to him. Exhaustion coupled with the control he was exerting over his unruly emotions made him clumsy, and as he turned to exit the kitchen, he stumbled into the shelf used to hold the team's eclectic set of mugs. His reactions made sluggish by pain and painkillers, he watched in wide-eyed horror as the two cups he hadn't had the heart to pack up tottered precipitously before crashing onto the concrete floor and shattering into pieces.
Ianto stared at the destruction littering the floor, unable to grasp what had just happened. Leaving Tosh's delicate cup and Owen's more substantial coffee mug on the shelf hadn't been a concious decision on Ianto's part, just one of the many ways that each of the remaining Torchwood Three had found to keep their memories close.
Now one of his last links to his fallen friends had been destroyed by his own carelessness, and the realisation hit him hard. Heat flooded his cheeks as he stared down at the mess, unable to move either forward or back, stuck in a no man's land of paralysing, unexpected grief.
A soft sound brought Ianto's head up and he looked around, his sight blurry as his breath caught in his throat. He saw movement to his left and recognized Jack walking toward him, the expression on his face unreadable through the tears that filled his eyes.
"Ianto?" Jack's voice was gentle as he touched Ianto's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Ianto blinked at him, one tear escaping down his cheek. "They're broken, Jack."
"What's broken? Oh." The crunching sound beneath his boots seemed to answer Jack's question. "It's okay, Ianto, it's not-"
"They're broken and I can't fix them." Ianto dropped to his knees, ignoring the jolt of pain that sliced through his body as he began to sweep up the shards with his bare hands.
"Ianto! Wait, stop it, damn it!"
Jack's voice sounded very far away as Ianto tried to scrape the detritus into a neat pile. Jack fell to one knee beside Ianto, yanking his hands away from the sharp pieces of porcelain that had already pierced Ianto's palms and fingers. Ianto tried to pull away, mindlessly intent on his task, but Jack was just as determined to stop him. He threw his arms around Ianto's chest and hauled them both to their feet, ushering Ianto away from the mess and into his office.
By the time they'd stopped moving, Ianto was nearly doubled over, the pain in his back and shoulder nothing compared to the sorrow that was rising up to choke him. The storm that was far overdue was finally breaking inside Ianto and he had no choice but to surrender to it as its power swept through him on a tide of implacable grief. Like the night so long ago that had ended with Jack in his arms for the first time, they slid to the floor and held on to each other as Ianto's sorrow poured itself out in furious waves. He vaguely heard Jack crooning to him and he latched onto that soft, beloved voice as the only thing that could carry him back to sanity, acknowledging in the back of his grieving mind that Jack was there to guard his shattered heart and protect his wounded soul-just like he'd promised.
Next
Also available in its entirety here: Time Enough