Torchwood Fic: Time Enough, 12/13

[veronicaluv]

Chapter Eleven

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Jones. Please, have a seat."

Eyes on the scratched wooden surface of the table in front of him, Ianto sat down on the moulded plastic chair. A glass of water was directly in front of him but everything else-napkins, cutlery, plates-had all been removed.

"Ms. Fitzhenry."

Darby Fitzhenry folded her manicured fingers into a tidy knot and leaned toward Ianto, her expression carefully sympathetic.

"First of all, I want to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. The death of your comrades-"

"Yes, thank you, ma'am. Shall we proceed?"

Fitzhenry's eyes tracked a waiter as he passed their table before returning to Ianto. "Of course. As you may know, Captain Harkness has been surprisingly unforthcoming regarding recent events here in Cardiff. Beyond the barest details, he has refused to cooperate in any outside investigations, including those requested by UNIT."

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"Then you must know how irregular his actions are."

"At least as irregular as requesting an off-site meeting with Torchwood Three's remaining staff."

"Ah, so you know we've already met with Ms. Williams."

"Yes, I am aware of that as well."

"That is unfortunate. We had requested that she keep that meeting private until we'd had a chance to assess the situation. May I assume that Captain Harkness knows about these meetings as well?"

"You may."

Fitzhenry leaned back in her chair. "I had asked you not to reveal our previous phone conversation, Mr. Jones. And yet you did anyway. Why is that?"

"As I'm sure Gwen made perfectly clear in her interview, our loyalty to Captain Harkness hasn't changed, despite recent events."

"Ah, yes, recent events. The reports we received from all three of you were remarkably similar. If I were of a more suspicious nature, I'd think there was collusion involved."

"What you call collusion is merely transparency and validation."

"Very clever, Mr.-"

"Ma'am, is there a purpose to this interview?" Ianto shifted in his chair, the vicious ache in his left shoulder deepening. "I do have a lot of work waiting for me."

Fitzhenry's pale blue eyes flashed with annoyance and Ianto almost felt sorry for her. He'd assured Jack that he'd be polite and listen to what she had to say, but her clumsy dancing around the subject was irritating and he'd promised Jack they'd get to the clinic before it closed.

"The purpose," Fitzhenry gritted out, "is that I've been instructed to offer you a place in London. Considering the recent tragedies, I would think you'd be glad to leave Torchwood Three behind you. There are many opportunities there, ones you'll never see here in Cardiff."

"I see. After you've dosed me with rivenex, no doubt I'd be of some value to someone."

"That was a mistake. I offered it only out of compassion for your situation. But I assure you, the opportunities-"

"Why didn't you offer Gwen these same opportunities?"

Fitzhenry's glossy lips thinned in annoyance. "I am not at leisure to give you the details, but I can say that we have made arrangements for Ms. Williams to occupy a position with the Cardiff police department in their public affairs section. While we appreciate her service to Torchwood in the past, we really don't see her as someone who'd fit in at any of our other facilities."

"I see. And her reply?"

"Really isn't repeatable, but then I assume you knew that, too."

Ianto stifled a smile. He'd seen the glint of unholy battle in Gwen's eyes as she'd related her conversation with Fitzhenry and almost wished he'd been present to see the effect of her rather forceful rejection.

"I do. Let me tell you what else I know." Ianto used his right hand to slide the zip of his grey hoodie down a few inches, revealing more of the black tee shirt beneath. The air in the restaurant was steamy, the cloying scent of garlic and onions turning his stomach. "I also know that your star has been steadily falling and that your superiors are seeking to replace you. You have been reprimanded for using rivenex without proper clearance and for making deals that are later disavowed. Taking over Torchwood Three is the one thing that would save your career and the only way to accomplish that is to remove Jack Harkness. Would you care to comment on my accuracy?"

Fitzhenry's face was white except for two small spots of red in the middle of her cheeks. "You are insubordinate, Mr. Jones."

Ianto nodded. "My suggestion to you is that you give up your quest to take over Torchwood Three and find some other avenue for your ambitions. Should you choose to pursue your current course of action, I assure you, it will be met with profound resistance."

Fitzhenry stared at him, eyes narrowed. Ianto met her gaze calmly, making sure none of the exhaustion and pain that he felt was revealed in his face. He lifted the water glass to his lips, thought better of it and set it aside, uncomfortably reminded of the last conversation he'd had with Darby Fitzhenry. He would have preferred to have this one within the confines of the Hub as well, but Fitzhenry had insisted on neutral territory, which essentially meant out of Jack's influence.

"Is that a threat, Mr. Jones?"

"Not at all. I simply believe it is best to upfront about these things." He pressed back in the chair and winced, wishing this conversation was over.

"Are you in pain?"

"I pulled a muscle and I find these chairs uncomfortable."

"There are cuts and bruises on your face and hands as well. Did you suffer those in the attacks?"

"Those attacks were over two weeks ago, so obviously not."

"Then I'm sure that not having a doctor on site has been difficult. Finding a replacement for Dr. Harper will have to be a priority."

Hearing Fitzhenry mention Owen was gutting, but Ianto let none of his emotion show on his face. "You'll have to take up personnel issues with Jack." He glanced at his watch. "Is there anything else?"

Fitzhenry leaned forward, her eyes were wide, her demeanour calm, but Ianto could sense the desperation emanating from her. "You are making a grave mistake, Ianto. I urge you to reconsider my offer. Whatever it is that binds you to Captain Harkness, it will destroy you in the end."

That nearly made Ianto laugh. "Quite probably. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

Her hand shot out, small fingers wrapping around Ianto's wrist with surprising strength.

"You've changed since our last meeting, Mr. Jones."

"For the better, I hope."

"I'm not sure I would agree. I asked you this once before but now I'm more sure of it than ever. Are you sleeping with him?"

Ianto twisted his wrist out of her grasp and slowly got to his feet, the chair legs scraping the wood floor with a loud squeal. Ignoring the turning heads of the other diners, Ianto bent toward Fitzhenry, looking down at her without expression.

"That, ma'am, is none of your fucking business."

He pivoted toward the door, the rubber soles of his trainers squeaking with every step. Once outside in the early evening drizzle, he one-handedly pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, eyes scanning the street anxiously. He relaxed when a pair of familiar headlights snapped on half a block away and the SUV pulled away from the curb, rolling to a stop beside him. He opened the door and got in, a smothered grunt his only indication that his injured shoulder had gotten jostled.

The small sound was apparently enough for Jack and he pulled the SUV into traffic to the sound of blaring horns. Ianto got a glimpse of the grim, pale face before turning his eyes toward the wet city streets, weariness settling into every bone as he worked the hood back down around his neck. When Jack's hand found his and their fingers entwined, he allowed himself to sink into the soft leather as the rainswept air and Jack's solid presence beside him began to clear his head of the restaurant's overpowering scents and Fitzhenry's toxic attacks.

"I'm sorry we have to do this," Jack said softly.

"We don't have to." After the encounter with Darby Fitzhenry, the prospect of having an unknown doctor examine his shoulder seemed almost beyond his energy limit, but Jack had insisted. And Ianto had no strength to deny Jack anything these days-except the order to watch him die.

"Yes, we do."

Ianto was out of arguments. After he'd fallen into an exhausted slumber, drained from the torrent of released emotion and weary from his injuries, Jack had made the decision to see a doctor since Ianto had awakened almost too stiff to rise from the bed. He'd loosened up after a shower and breakfast, but Jack had been adamant, aided by Gwen's disarming reasoning that Jack would be easier to live with if Ianto just gave in.

They pulled up in front of the clinic, Jack leaving the SUV in the no parking zone despite Ianto's weak attempt to scold him. Although it was near closing time, the waiting room was more than half full as Jack shepherded Ianto through the crowd to the front desk, where a harried nurse handed over a clipboard and told them to take a seat.

Jack set the clipboard aside and leaned his elbows on the high counter, flashing her a bright, fake grin. "Sorry, we're in a bit of a hurry. We'll just take the next available doctor."

"Jack," Ianto began, but subsided when Jack pinned him with a frown. Ianto knew better than to argue with Jack in this mood, so he moved out of the way and let Jack take care of the situation. He tried to listen to the conversation but the noise level in the room was high, so he only caught a few phrases, one of which included Torchwood and seemed to be the magic word. Within seconds they were ushered into an examination room, Jack hovering close by and bluntly refusing to leave when asked.

They were left alone and Ianto slowly manoeuvred himself on to the padded table, trying not to flinch or make any sound that might alert Jack to how much he was hurting. Judging by Jack's clenched jaw, it was apparent he'd failed once more, so he closed his eyes as Jack unzipped the hoodie and lifted it away from his shoulders, his touch gentle as he took care not to stress the torn muscles in Ianto's back. Once the hoodie was removed, Jack sat down on the table next to Ianto on the side of his good shoulder, his arm curving around Ianto's hip as he kissed Ianto's temple.

"Almost done," he whispered.

Ianto leaned against Jack, eyes still closed. "I'm sorry-"

"Hey, we've been over this, right? So stop apologizing and figure out what you want for dinner."

"Not Chinese."

"Okay, that narrows it down to about twenty other ethnic cuisines within a mile."

Ianto's lips curved into a smile. "Lasagne. Wait, is Gwen joining us?"

"No, she's home with Rhys but I told her we'd call her when we're done. She said they were going to have their first movie night in weeks and she was going to let him choose."

Ianto heard the answer to the unspoken portion of his question. Since the night they'd lost Tosh and Owen, the three of them had hardly been apart, clinging to each other like abandoned orphans, taking comfort in each other's every breath with surreptitious glances and quick, centring touches. Even now, tired and sore and rattled from his verbal fencing with Fitzhenry, Ianto felt Gwen's absence like a part of him had gone numb, and he suppressed the instinct to call her just to hear her voice. To an outsider, Jack's reply sounded like normal conversation, but within it Ianto found so much more. He heard Jack's worry over letting Gwen out of his sight, even into the trusted arms of her husband. He heard his pride in her attempt to work some normalcy back into her life, something they'd all struggled with in the dark days since Jack's brother had torn their world apart. And most of all Ianto heard sorrow hidden in the casual words, sorrow that a date night with Rhys was a triumph over tragedy instead of an every day occurrence.

"Brave woman," Ianto said drily, "since I believe Rhys has a secret fetish for Rodgers and Hammerstein."

"Don't we all?"

"Good point. So, yes, lasagne. And sausage. Salad, too. Maybe chocolate cake."

Jack rubbed his chin against Ianto's good shoulder. "Do you really want all that?" he asked quietly.

"Not really," Ianto whispered. He opened his eyes to stare at the linoleum floor. "But I want to want it."

They fell silent, listening to the sounds of the busy clinic beyond the closed door as Jack raised his hand from Ianto's hip to his neck to begin a gentle massage.

"Tell me about Darby."

"She offered me a position in London."

"Sounds cosy. I'll bet she was pretty pissed when you said no."

"She's trying to destroy you. Why?" Jack shifted and Ianto could feel Jack's reluctance to confide in him. He reached over and took Jack's free hand in his. "She can't hurt us, Jack," he murmured. "Tell me."

Jack sighed. "After Canary Wharf fell, she was found to be derelict in her duty regarding certain security implementations she'd failed to initiate during the invasion, implementations that could've saved lives. It was the team I sent to secure the alien tech-Suzy and Owen-who discovered the protocol lapses and they reported them to me. I informed her superiors and she was reprimanded."

A wave of cold fury flooded Ianto's empty stomach, nauseating him. "Only reprimanded?" he choked.

"Darby's well connected but that was eventually beside the point. There was a huge vacuum in leadership after the attack so despite her failures, the details were sealed and she managed to keep her position."

Ianto stiffened, rotating painfully until he could see Jack's face. "That's why she wanted me out of Torchwood, isn't it. As one of the few survivors, she must have seen me as a threat."

Jack nodded. "Probably. Anyone associated with London was a liability. All she needed was an excuse." He paused before continuing. "It may be worth looking into the other survivors, see what's become of them."

Ianto suppressed a shiver as he looked down at their joined hands, his brief spurt of anger fading into weary acceptance. "It's ironic, actually. I was far too low in the food chain to even know her name. If she made mistakes at Canary Wharf, she was hardly the only one."

A muscle in Jack's jaw twitched. "Her mistake cost lives, Ianto. It could've cost you yours."

"But it didn't, and-" A muscle spasm caught Ianto by surprise and he hissed in pain, twisting his back against the onslaught. Jack muttered something and slid off the table, coming around behind Ianto and lightly running his palms over Ianto's back until he found the clenched muscle. With gentle fingers he began working the area, slowly coaxing the muscle to relax as Ianto concentrated on his breathing to control the pain.

He was lucky that torn muscles plus a few cuts and bruises were his only injuries. It hadn't been a well thought out plan, but in the split second he'd had before the weevil struck Jack down, Ianto found that he simply couldn't bear to watch Jack die, not if he could prevent it. Even without the unhealed wounds of Toshiko and Owen, Ianto had always known that he'd give his life to save another team mate, even if that team mate was immortal and shook off death like the rest of them shook off a paper cut. But he was also honest enough to admit that he hoped that day was a long way off.

"Where's that damn doctor?" Jack stalked to the door and flung it open, striding into the hallway and looking both ways before returning inside and kicking the door closed behind him. "Maybe we should go to A&E."

"No." Ianto arched his shoulder to ease the still rigid muscles."That'd be worse, I'm sure. We're fine where we are."

Jack eyed him with reluctant amusement as he went back to massaging Ianto's back. "We are, are we?

"Well," Ianto amended, "we're warm and dry, which is better than the way we've spent most of our nights lately."

As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. Jack's eyes clouded over and he bent his head to his task, fingers probing the tender area and working the knots. Ianto bit his lip against a sigh as he searched for a way to communicate to Jack that Ianto didn't blame him for any of it, not one thing. But Jack was too eager to listen to the demons that whispered in his ear, telling him it was all his fault, everything from Ianto's injury to the recent spate of bad weather to the faltering economy.

If Ianto's primary goal was to stay alive, his secondary and yet no less important task was to save Jack Harkness from the darkness that was all too ready to swallow him.

"I was thinking," he said slowly, "that once these scheduled demolitions are over, perhaps we could take a day or two and go up the coast."

Jack's fingers paused, then travelled down to the small of Ianto's back to begin rubbing there. "Yeah? You mean like a vacation?"

"Yup, something like that," Ianto replied, though he'd actually just thought it all up. "We could use Tosh's prediction programme to choose a time that looks fairly quiet."

"You would leave Gwen here all by herself?" Jack's tone had lightened and Ianto relaxed slightly.

"I don't see why not, if we're only a few hours away and we have the Rift activity locater with us. After all, the upside is that we'd in turn give her a few days off as well."

"I like it," Jack declared. "Fresh air, new scenery-" he nudged his nose between the collar of Ianto's tee shirt and his neck, blowing warm air onto Ianto's skin-"and privacy."

Ianto shivered at the muted desire in Jack's voice. He was about to respond when the door opened and the doctor entered, clipboard in hand.

"Right," she barked, "I've got a blank chart here and no time to play games." She glowered at Ianto and then at Jack. "Torchwood, eh? Fine, let's make this quick." She pointed a bony finger at Jack. "You. Leave."

Jack bristled. "Now, wait a minute, I'm-"

"Jack." Ianto shifted and bit his lip. "It's fine. Go call Gwen and tell her to come in late tomorrow."

Jack walked around the table, give the doctor one more glare before turning to Ianto. "Why does she get to come in late tomorrow?"

"It's only fair if we're going to be late, too."

"Oh," Jack breathed. A slow grin spread across his face. "I'll get right on that."

He gave them a cheeky salute and walked to the door but before the doctor could address Ianto, Jack had crossed back to the table, shouldering the doctor out of the way to cradle Ianto's face between his hands. Ianto began to speak but was prevented when his mouth was taken in a deeply intimate kiss that spoke of so much yearning that Ianto's head began to swim. This wasn't a casual caress or even a kiss of consolation to steady him for the doctor's examination. This was Jack promising and Ianto believing, and as they parted to the impatient sigh of the doctor, their gazes locked for a brief moment, connecting and confirming everything they'd become to each other.

"Now I'll make that call."

Jack left the room in a swirl of renewed Harkness energy, leaving Ianto to somehow find enough composure to explain how he'd re-injured a shoulder so recently dislocated without bringing alien bombs and foul-smelling weevils into the conversation.

~~

Some part of Ianto knew that the question was coming. He'd seen a shadow in Jack's eyes ever since the weevil attack two days earlier, a subtle difference that filled Ianto with unease. He knew that the subject of Ianto sacrificing himself-unnecessarily, in Jack's eyes-hadn't been laid to rest, even though things at Torchwood seemed to be getting more normal day by day.

It came without warning as Ianto was washing the dinner dishes and Jack was pretending to dry them. They'd been arguing amicably about what to get Gwen for her birthday, every one of Jack's slightly lewd suggestions met with a more reasonable alternative by Ianto. Easily the most relaxing evening they'd spent since Gray's attack, Ianto was enjoying the all too fleeting sensation of peace as he wiped down the counter, content for the moment to let Jack ignore his dish drying duty in favour of nuzzling Ianto's neck from behind.

"Are we done here?" Jack murmured against Ianto's cheek.

Ianto turned and draped the kitchen towel around Jack's neck. "I am. You, however, still have plates to dry."

Jack stuck out his lower lip, then laughed when Ianto raised an imperious eyebrow. "All right, slave driver. But first," he rested his hands on Ianto's hips as his expression sobered, "I need to ask you a question."

"Ask away," Ianto said lightly, even though his stomach tightened with apprehension at Jack's sudden change of mood.

Jack paused, his gaze on Ianto's mouth. "Would you leave Torchwood if I asked you to?"

"What?" Ianto rocked back on his heels, completely unprepared for Jack's request. "I don't understand."

Jack turned away, crossing the room and putting space between them. "Haven't you ever thought about a life beyond fighting aliens and keeping the world patched together with a ball of twine and and a wad of chewing gum?"

"Jack, I won't-"

"No, wait, before you answer, listen to me. Torchwood doesn't have to be your life. You could do anything, be anything you want." Jack spread his hands, blue eyes bright with emotion. "This can't be all there is for you, Ianto."

"I won't leave you," Ianto replied flatly.

"No, no," Jack stepped toward him and placed his hands on his shoulders. "I'm not talking about that." He gave Ianto a self-deprecating smile. "Hell, I'm not that noble. I just want you to know that if you wanted to out of Torchwood, it'd be okay with me."

Ianto swallowed, searching Jack's eyes. He knew this was a direct repercussion from his actions in the abandoned house, but he'd had no idea it would come out this way. To have Jack suggest that he leave Torchwood was an unexpected blow, considering this was ground they'd already covered.

"We've had this conversation," Ianto said. "My answer hasn't changed."

"But you're so-"

Ianto shrugged out of Jack's hold, choosing to take refuge in anger instead of the fear that Jack's suggestion had kicked up. "Don't remind me that I'm young or that I have my whole life ahead of me. Those platitudes are beneath you. I've made my choice and I'll thank you to respect it."

"It isn't a choice that can't be unmade," Jack pointed out.

Ianto pulled the towel off Jack's neck and tossed it aside. "Why do you want me to leave?"

Jack's eyes widened, then fluttered closed. Ianto waited, studying the features he knew better than his own. Jack was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, but there was so much more beneath the surface. Ianto knew he'd be happy to spend the rest of his days discovering everything about Jack Harkness, including the black shadows that lived around his bright edges. That was as much a choice as giving his life to Torchwood, however long-or short-that life proved to be.

Jack reopened his eyes and Ianto was surprised to see the heavy sadness they contained.

"I don't want you to leave," Jack said quietly. "I just want you safe. Why is that so wrong?"

Torn by the weary confusion in Jack's face, Ianto slipped his arms around Jack's waist and pulled him close.

"It doesn't work that way, Jack," he murmured. "Maybe it won't be true a day or a year or a decade from now, but Torchwood is my home. You are my home and being safe will never be a part of that. I can't promise to live beyond today any more than you can promise not to leave again. You know as well as I do that these choices are taken away from us."

Jack nodded, his hands sliding up and down Ianto's back. "I know. And most days, I get it. But watching you fight that weevil, trying to protect me, of all people-"

"Hey," Ianto soothed. "I don't intend on making a habit of wrestling weevils, if that's what you're concerned about. With so much to live for, I have no intention of dying any time soon."

Jack pulled back far enough to look into Ianto's eyes. "Then I guess I'll have to live with that," he said with a slight smile. Then a twinkle appeared in his eyes. "Are you sure fur covered handcuffs aren't an appropriate birthday gift?"

Ianto tilted his head, pretending to consider Jack's suggestion. "Let's save that one for their first anniversary and go with a gift card, shall we?" He stroked Jack's cheek and started to pull out of Jack's arms, but Jack tightened his hold.

"Kiss me, Ianto."

Ianto pressed his mouth to Jack's without hesitation, letting his tongue dip inside the welcoming heat to spar lazily with Jack's. They kissed for long, lush moments, enjoying the heat and closeness, giving and taking in equal measure, securing their hearts together once more.

Ianto finally broke the connexion, chuckling when Jack dropped his head to Ianto's uninjured shoulder with a groan of mock exhaustion.

"What was that about?" Ianto asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

He could feel Jack's smile against his neck and braced himself.

"Just making sure you'll still follow at least one of my orders."

Epilogue

Also available in its entirety here: Time Enough