fic: Walking On Thin Ice 1/5? PG-13 Torchwood/Highlander xover *wip*
Title: Walking on Thin Ice
Author: Aeron Lanart
Rating: PG-13 (some colourful language, bit of angst, and mention of a m/m/m relationship)
Warnings/Spoilers: Warnings; see rating. Spoilers; Season 1 Torchwood up to Out of Time
Summary: There are Issues that need to be dealt with...
Disclaimer: Aunty Beeb owns Torchwood, Panzer/Davis Productions own this concept of immortality, and Methos.
Siannon O'Niall however is mine.
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made
Written for my occhallenge table, which is here. Prompt: Winter.
A/N: I've been wanting to do an Out of Time related fic in my mystery_verse for a while. Here it is. Not finished yet, but I'm hoping that posting it will give it a kick in the pants. The chapters are going to be long ish, as the fic has 2 different stories running through it, side by side...
Part 1
~*~
Siannon was puttering about, not doing anything in particular apart from enjoying the lack of commitments she had for the holiday season. The school term had finished on a high note, the assistance of a certain friend of hers leaving a trail of broken hearts, male and female both, in his wake when he’d left. Methos would now be in Paris, enjoying the festivities with Duncan and Amanda; she’d been invited, but had declined even though it had been a while since she’d seen the other two. For some reason, she just hadn’t wanted to leave the country for mid-Winter celebrations this year, no matter what religion was the excuse, and she’d never been one to ignore her gut instincts. She’d kept vigil on the longest night alone, the only light kept burning being the candle in the old chapel that honoured the sanctity of Holy Ground in its unobtrusive niche, the closest thing that remained to an altar; then festooned the place with greenery on Christmas Eve, and lit the last of the 4 candles in the advent wreath before singing carols in the local church on Christmas Day. She breathed in peace, and wrapped tranquillity round her like a cloak; time enough to be worrying about the world next week when it would be all coursework and lesson plans and marking. Not for the first time since she’d taken her current job she wondered why she’d gone back into teaching, but she knew she would fall in love with it all over again the first time a pupil said thank you with the light of understanding dawning in their eyes. Some things didn’t change, and her need to teach was one of those; sometimes her need to heal outweighed that and she would strike off into medicine or nursing for a while, always gaining a reputation in being enthusiastic to share her knowledge. And always, always there was music; her first and greatest love, the constant in her life, the one thing that had been with her as long as she could remember, even before she’d become immortal. She wandered back into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, humming cheerful nonsense to herself as she dug the teapot out of its cupboard.
The strident ring of her phone broke into her idyll; her house phone rather than her mobile which puzzled her until she noticed the caller’s id. She picked up the phone, unable to fight a creeping sense of dread and berating herself for it; after all there was always the possibility that it might just be a social call.
“Ianto! Hi, how are you?”
“Hi Siannon. I’m... Ok.” Ianto’s voice sounded strained to her, even over the phone, and his hesitation started ringing alarm bells.
“What’s happened?” She asked.
“It’s... complicated, and I don’t think I could or should explain over the phone. Would you be able to come down to Cardiff? I think we could do with your help.”
“Of course I can. Is everyone alright?” Siannon was getting concerned now; to have Ianto ringing her for help meant that there was probably something way off kilter going on. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, as if Ianto was trying to decide how much to tell her, followed by a sigh.
“We’ve been better, but...”
“It’s too difficult to explain. I understand.” She at least thought she understood; it was always so much easier to explain things face to face. There was another sigh from Ianto, this one sounding more like one of relief.
“Thanks, Siannon.” There was another pause, and when Ianto spoke again he sounded so unsure that it nearly broke her heart. “I could... I could really do with a friend right now. That’s why I needed to speak to you.”
“It’s no problem, Ianto, truly.” She answered automatically, and then possibilities for why entered her head unbidden. “Oh Fuck. It’s not Jack is it? He hasn’t...”
“No! No. He is part of the problem, just not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Ah. I’ll be there soon as; by this evening the latest. And Ianto?”
“Yes?”
“Look after yourself, please. I’ll see you later.”
“See you.” The line went dead and she cradled the phone for a moment, trying to second guess herself about what might be the problem. She gave that up in favour of doing something about it, and began to gather a few things together in preparation for a short Winter trip to Cardiff, thanking all that was holy that the weather had been merely cold, rather than cold and wet. Rain in the valleys often meant snow on the fells which could sometimes cause problems getting down to the motorway, and she wanted to be heading south as soon as possible.
Siannon’s luck held and she reached the motorway without any unexpected delays. She made good time on the M6; for some reason people seemed to be avoiding it for a change and that was all to her benefit. Even breaking the speed limit as much as she dared, the journey seemed to be taking forever; her mind providing a litany of ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’ for every passing mile.
The light was fading as she finally reached Cardiff, the street lights bright in the increasing gloom. She found a space in the car park she usually used in Cardiff, and made her way straight for the Ianto’s tourist information office, texting as she walked to let him know she’d arrived. He met her on the boardwalk, hunched into his coat against the cold air. His face looked drawn, older than it should, and Siannon hurried to his side to fling her arms around him; if ever a person looked like they needed a hug, it was Ianto Jones. He returned the hug, and she buried her face into his shoulder, inhaling deeply; to her Ianto always smelled of Torchwood, of coffee and metal and water and time. She raised her head and kissed his cheek; he tightened his arms around her and then stepped back, still holding her shoulders loosely in his hands. She was pleased to see he now had a hint of a smile on his face, it erased some of the lines of care from it. He took a deep breath and squeezed her shoulders lightly.
“Thank you for getting here so quickly, Siannon, I really appreciate it.”
“I had to; I only would have worried about you if I hadn’t.” She smiled at him, and lightly punched him in the arm. “Besides, I had nothing better to do. You saved me from having to tidy up.”
“A fate worse than death from what Methos has told me about your place.”
“Ach, he’s a fine one to talk. Good job he’s still in Paris or I’d make him regret that.” She noticed the way Ianto’s smile wavered. “Oho, and that is part of the problem too, I take it.” Ianto nodded silently. Siannon linked her arm through his and gently guided him off the boardwalk. “Ok, lets get somewhere a little more comfortable and warm so you can tell me exactly what this problem is without us freezing to death. I know it’s complicated, but if you hadn’t noticed, time is one thing I’m not short of. Maybe I can help put things into perspective.”
“That was the general idea.”
“Then let’s get to it, Ianto.” They ended up in a pub that had booths as well as tables, which leant an air of privacy to the place. Ensconced in a booth, it was easy to forget that the place had plenty of other patrons and Siannon was at last able to focus properly on Ianto as they picked over a shared platter.
“Now you’re here, I’ve no idea where to start. Everything is just so mixed up I can barely make sense of it myself, never mind explain to someone else.” Ianto said, not meeting her eyes.
“How about at the beginning?” Siannon said carelessly.
“The beginning?”
“Yeah. You know, background information, that kind of thing. How the whole mess started would be useful. As would just what the ‘mess’ is.” Ianto briefly raised his head and met her eyes.
“You do have a point.” He observed. She watched gravely as Ianto pushed his plate away and sighed, though a smile did briefly light his face. “Good things first; I take you know about Jack and Methos and me?”
“I heard.” She couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “A little old bird told me.”
“And you don’t mind?” He asked cautiously.
“Mind? Why on earth should I mind if it makes you all happy? You are happy, aren’t you?”
“I’m a bit...jittery... about it still, I’ve never had that sort of relationship before; but yeah, I think happy kind of covers it.” Ianto’s smile widened as he paused for a moment, before dropping his eyes back to the table once more. “It’s just that I know you and Methos were...” Siannon interrupted with a short bark of laughter.
“Oh that! That was over hundreds of years ago. I love him dearly, but if you hadn’t noticed we drive each other spare. We’re more like a bad habit than anything else.” She chuckled a little, thinking of another immortal woman who tended to be described as a bad habit. “No, it’s time Methos had someone special in his life again; it’s been a while. And two of you just makes for twice the happiness.”
“And twice the heartache.” Ianto stared at the table, avoiding her eyes.
“Oh don’t be so pessimistic, Ianto Emrys Jones. Carpe Diem.”
“I suppose.” She watched as he carelessly shredded his paper napkin, making an unholy mess everywhere, the antithesis of the neat and controlled Ianto that was presented to the world in general. She laid a hand on his.
“Tell me what happened. It doesn’t have to make sense; just tell me.” He nodded, and gathered up all the bits of paper before compressing them into a ball and putting it aside.
“It started not long before Christmas. A plane came through the rift from 1953; with passengers...” Siannon listened carefully as Ianto told her about the 3 time-displaced people; Diane, Emma and John, and how they’d touched the lives of everyone at Torchwood but particularly Owen, Gwen and Jack. Her heart ached for all the Torchwood team, each being battered if not broken by the experience, and she wished there was something she could do to ease their pain. Then she mentally kicked herself; that was the whole point of having come to Cardiff, she *was* doing something. She found that she was gripping Ianto’s fingers where they lay on the table, and he was hanging onto hers just as hard. His were trembling as he stuttered to a halt in his narrative.
“And what about *you* Ianto? I can understand Owen being heartbroken and Jack feeling powerless, and angry about it; but you’re only just holding yourself together.” Ianto closed his eyes, but didn’t release her fingers.
“Just being the operative word. This, on top of everything else that has happened recently, has left me feeling so conflicted that I feel like I’m going to fly apart. It’s like having about 5 different people living in my skin, and just waiting for one of them to go absolutely stark raving mad and drag the rest of us down in the process. Jack and I... we need each other, and I need him to need me. Right now, he probably needs me more than he ever has done and I can’t bring myself to help him. I can’t. Not yet. I’m too angry, Siannon. He’s hurt, and grieving, but so am I; and to have to deal with his thoughtlessness rationally on top of all that is just too much. It’s far safer for me to keep out of his way, than to say something I’ll regret later. The last thing I want to do is damage what we have between us, because I’m not sure we’d ever manage to regain it if I did. We have too many reasons not to trust one another.” He gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them to scrub at his face.
“Did you think about contacting Methos?” She asked cautiously.
“Oh I thought all right, but I know who he’s with in Paris, and there’s no way *I* want to even indirectly upset any of them, or come to the attention of people I’d rather not have knowing about me. Besides, it’s not easy to just talk when he’s around; or not when all three of us are in the same room anyway. We get... distracted far too easily. And contrary to what some people might like to believe, sex doesn’t always solve all known problems...”
“It just delays having to deal with them... I know exactly what you mean.” Siannon watched as Ianto let his hands fall into his lap, close his eyes once more and let out a huge sigh.
“I thought you’d understand. Having said that, Jack *does* need Methos. I can’t deal with either of them right now; I wish I could, but...” He sighed and shook his head. “Without me there to complicate things, I think the old guy’s version of damage control would be the best thing for Jack and me both. Jack won’t ask for help though, he never does. So, what can I do about it?”
“Well for a start, you can stop feeling guilty about being annoyed with him. You’re human Ianto, with human frailties and feelings. Accept that you feel angry with him instead of trying to deny it, acknowledge that you have a real and valid reason to be, and if you can admit to yourself that maybe your rational judgement might be a little clouded where he is concerned then so much the better. I know I’m not Methos, but leave Jack and *his* pain to me, you concentrate on dealing with your own. Don’t go borrowing trouble, it’ll only sneak up and bite you on the bum when you’re least expecting it anyway.”
“That might be easier said than done.”
“I never said it was going to be easy. Life *isn’t* easy, and you know that. So does Jack. He just needs gently reminding that there is more to life than pain, not to mention a kick up the arse to make him realise that taking people for granted is not a good thing.”
“And how, if you don’t mind me asking, do you intend to accomplish that? Like you said, you’re not Methos; somehow I can’t see you tackling Jack in quite the same way...” Ianto couldn’t keep the puzzled expression off his face. Siannon waved a hand as she said blithely,
“Oh, I’ll just resort to the traditional Irish method.”
“Which is?”
“Throw enough alcohol at a problem until it seems less insurmountable.” She grinned as Ianto spluttered with laughter.
“If you hadn’t noticed, Jack doesn’t drink much, even when Methos is around.”
“Ah, but Methos isn’t Irish. We’re a very persuasive nation when one of our national pastimes is involved.” She let the grin fade. “Seriously, he probably needs to talk as much as you. Being plied with alcohol and a sympathetic ear will give him an excuse to let his tongue run away with him, and he knows I’m a safe person to talk to. I’m sure he’ll know exactly what I’m doing and why, he isn’t completely stupid after all, but I’m suspecting he won’t really care. Sometimes you need the truth that can only be found at the bottom of a bottle, though it’s not a comfortable place to be, and certainly not one that you should visit too often.”
“Sounds like you know it too well.”
“Perhaps. Can’t be helped, really; it’s just one of those things....” She took a deep breath, shaking her head to clear it of the memories that threatened to surface that she didn’t want to remember, and changed the subject. “So Ianto, what are *our* plans?” He met her eyes, and she realised that he was at least aware of some of the things in her life that had led her to seek truth or oblivion at the bottom of a bottle. To her utmost relief he seemed to understand her need to let them stay firmly in the past; he smiled slightly, and gave her the shadow of a nod as if he were conceding the point to her. He took a deep breath of his own.
“Plans, is it? Well for a start off, I’m not letting you drink me into a hangover. I really don’t need one of those at the moment, thank you. You can come shopping with me tomorrow instead, if you want.”
“Shopping?”
“I need a new car. I can’t even look at the Audi without feeling sick, never mind *driving* the damn thing. It’s been stuck in the Torchwood garage since... since...”
“John and Jack...” Siannon didn’t elaborate further, it was obvious how much the death of John Ellis had distressed Ianto; and there was no way *she* would want to drive around in a car that had been used in a suicide. She could only imagine what it must have been like for Ianto to have Jack return to the Hub smelling of exhaust fumes and death; no wonder he felt like he was falling apart.
“Do you blame me?” He whispered. She shook her head emphatically.
“Not in the slightest.” She smiled brightly then, trying to disperse the emotional miasma that had settled around them. “Right then, car shopping it is; I’ll enjoy that, especially if you ask for a few test drives...”
“I’ll be doing the driving.”
“Spoilsport.” She smiled at him. “Early start then?”
“Reasonably; I have the day off.”
“I’ll be your chauffeur, if you think you can stand it.” Siannon offered; Ianto snorted with laughter.
“Siannon, I’ve lived through both Jack and Owen’s driving. Nothing can compare to that. Sometimes I think Jack forgets he’s still earthbound the way he throws the SUV around.”
“It’s possible, I suppose. Which reminds me, if I’m going to implement phase one of my plan for Jack tonight, I’d better be going. Will you be alright?” Ianto nodded, a faint smile on his face.
“I’m a damn sight better than I was before you arrived. We’ll get through this sooner or later.”
“Sooner, if I have anything to do with it. Jack might have time to waste on the dead; you don’t. And the dead don’t care *what* you do; all the problems stem from us poor sods who are left behind. You’re right; we’ll get through this.” She stood up, fumbling in her bag for her purse. Ianto stopped her with an outstretched hand.
“You go; I’ll sort this out. If you can help Jack piece himself back together it’ll be worth more to me than I could ever hope to repay you.”
“I’ll do my best.” Her glance at Ianto was heartfelt; he gave her hand a quick squeeze in response.
“I know you will. You always do.” There was a pause as they both stood, silently meeting each other’s eyes over the table. She took a deep breath and nodded at Ianto.
“Tomorrow, Ianto.”
“Tomorrow.” He agreed.
Author: Aeron Lanart
Rating: PG-13 (some colourful language, bit of angst, and mention of a m/m/m relationship)
Warnings/Spoilers: Warnings; see rating. Spoilers; Season 1 Torchwood up to Out of Time
Summary: There are Issues that need to be dealt with...
Disclaimer: Aunty Beeb owns Torchwood, Panzer/Davis Productions own this concept of immortality, and Methos.
Siannon O'Niall however is mine.
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made
Written for my occhallenge table, which is here. Prompt: Winter.
A/N: I've been wanting to do an Out of Time related fic in my mystery_verse for a while. Here it is. Not finished yet, but I'm hoping that posting it will give it a kick in the pants. The chapters are going to be long ish, as the fic has 2 different stories running through it, side by side...
Part 1
~*~
Siannon was puttering about, not doing anything in particular apart from enjoying the lack of commitments she had for the holiday season. The school term had finished on a high note, the assistance of a certain friend of hers leaving a trail of broken hearts, male and female both, in his wake when he’d left. Methos would now be in Paris, enjoying the festivities with Duncan and Amanda; she’d been invited, but had declined even though it had been a while since she’d seen the other two. For some reason, she just hadn’t wanted to leave the country for mid-Winter celebrations this year, no matter what religion was the excuse, and she’d never been one to ignore her gut instincts. She’d kept vigil on the longest night alone, the only light kept burning being the candle in the old chapel that honoured the sanctity of Holy Ground in its unobtrusive niche, the closest thing that remained to an altar; then festooned the place with greenery on Christmas Eve, and lit the last of the 4 candles in the advent wreath before singing carols in the local church on Christmas Day. She breathed in peace, and wrapped tranquillity round her like a cloak; time enough to be worrying about the world next week when it would be all coursework and lesson plans and marking. Not for the first time since she’d taken her current job she wondered why she’d gone back into teaching, but she knew she would fall in love with it all over again the first time a pupil said thank you with the light of understanding dawning in their eyes. Some things didn’t change, and her need to teach was one of those; sometimes her need to heal outweighed that and she would strike off into medicine or nursing for a while, always gaining a reputation in being enthusiastic to share her knowledge. And always, always there was music; her first and greatest love, the constant in her life, the one thing that had been with her as long as she could remember, even before she’d become immortal. She wandered back into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, humming cheerful nonsense to herself as she dug the teapot out of its cupboard.
The strident ring of her phone broke into her idyll; her house phone rather than her mobile which puzzled her until she noticed the caller’s id. She picked up the phone, unable to fight a creeping sense of dread and berating herself for it; after all there was always the possibility that it might just be a social call.
“Ianto! Hi, how are you?”
“Hi Siannon. I’m... Ok.” Ianto’s voice sounded strained to her, even over the phone, and his hesitation started ringing alarm bells.
“What’s happened?” She asked.
“It’s... complicated, and I don’t think I could or should explain over the phone. Would you be able to come down to Cardiff? I think we could do with your help.”
“Of course I can. Is everyone alright?” Siannon was getting concerned now; to have Ianto ringing her for help meant that there was probably something way off kilter going on. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, as if Ianto was trying to decide how much to tell her, followed by a sigh.
“We’ve been better, but...”
“It’s too difficult to explain. I understand.” She at least thought she understood; it was always so much easier to explain things face to face. There was another sigh from Ianto, this one sounding more like one of relief.
“Thanks, Siannon.” There was another pause, and when Ianto spoke again he sounded so unsure that it nearly broke her heart. “I could... I could really do with a friend right now. That’s why I needed to speak to you.”
“It’s no problem, Ianto, truly.” She answered automatically, and then possibilities for why entered her head unbidden. “Oh Fuck. It’s not Jack is it? He hasn’t...”
“No! No. He is part of the problem, just not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Ah. I’ll be there soon as; by this evening the latest. And Ianto?”
“Yes?”
“Look after yourself, please. I’ll see you later.”
“See you.” The line went dead and she cradled the phone for a moment, trying to second guess herself about what might be the problem. She gave that up in favour of doing something about it, and began to gather a few things together in preparation for a short Winter trip to Cardiff, thanking all that was holy that the weather had been merely cold, rather than cold and wet. Rain in the valleys often meant snow on the fells which could sometimes cause problems getting down to the motorway, and she wanted to be heading south as soon as possible.
Siannon’s luck held and she reached the motorway without any unexpected delays. She made good time on the M6; for some reason people seemed to be avoiding it for a change and that was all to her benefit. Even breaking the speed limit as much as she dared, the journey seemed to be taking forever; her mind providing a litany of ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’ for every passing mile.
The light was fading as she finally reached Cardiff, the street lights bright in the increasing gloom. She found a space in the car park she usually used in Cardiff, and made her way straight for the Ianto’s tourist information office, texting as she walked to let him know she’d arrived. He met her on the boardwalk, hunched into his coat against the cold air. His face looked drawn, older than it should, and Siannon hurried to his side to fling her arms around him; if ever a person looked like they needed a hug, it was Ianto Jones. He returned the hug, and she buried her face into his shoulder, inhaling deeply; to her Ianto always smelled of Torchwood, of coffee and metal and water and time. She raised her head and kissed his cheek; he tightened his arms around her and then stepped back, still holding her shoulders loosely in his hands. She was pleased to see he now had a hint of a smile on his face, it erased some of the lines of care from it. He took a deep breath and squeezed her shoulders lightly.
“Thank you for getting here so quickly, Siannon, I really appreciate it.”
“I had to; I only would have worried about you if I hadn’t.” She smiled at him, and lightly punched him in the arm. “Besides, I had nothing better to do. You saved me from having to tidy up.”
“A fate worse than death from what Methos has told me about your place.”
“Ach, he’s a fine one to talk. Good job he’s still in Paris or I’d make him regret that.” She noticed the way Ianto’s smile wavered. “Oho, and that is part of the problem too, I take it.” Ianto nodded silently. Siannon linked her arm through his and gently guided him off the boardwalk. “Ok, lets get somewhere a little more comfortable and warm so you can tell me exactly what this problem is without us freezing to death. I know it’s complicated, but if you hadn’t noticed, time is one thing I’m not short of. Maybe I can help put things into perspective.”
“That was the general idea.”
“Then let’s get to it, Ianto.” They ended up in a pub that had booths as well as tables, which leant an air of privacy to the place. Ensconced in a booth, it was easy to forget that the place had plenty of other patrons and Siannon was at last able to focus properly on Ianto as they picked over a shared platter.
“Now you’re here, I’ve no idea where to start. Everything is just so mixed up I can barely make sense of it myself, never mind explain to someone else.” Ianto said, not meeting her eyes.
“How about at the beginning?” Siannon said carelessly.
“The beginning?”
“Yeah. You know, background information, that kind of thing. How the whole mess started would be useful. As would just what the ‘mess’ is.” Ianto briefly raised his head and met her eyes.
“You do have a point.” He observed. She watched gravely as Ianto pushed his plate away and sighed, though a smile did briefly light his face. “Good things first; I take you know about Jack and Methos and me?”
“I heard.” She couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “A little old bird told me.”
“And you don’t mind?” He asked cautiously.
“Mind? Why on earth should I mind if it makes you all happy? You are happy, aren’t you?”
“I’m a bit...jittery... about it still, I’ve never had that sort of relationship before; but yeah, I think happy kind of covers it.” Ianto’s smile widened as he paused for a moment, before dropping his eyes back to the table once more. “It’s just that I know you and Methos were...” Siannon interrupted with a short bark of laughter.
“Oh that! That was over hundreds of years ago. I love him dearly, but if you hadn’t noticed we drive each other spare. We’re more like a bad habit than anything else.” She chuckled a little, thinking of another immortal woman who tended to be described as a bad habit. “No, it’s time Methos had someone special in his life again; it’s been a while. And two of you just makes for twice the happiness.”
“And twice the heartache.” Ianto stared at the table, avoiding her eyes.
“Oh don’t be so pessimistic, Ianto Emrys Jones. Carpe Diem.”
“I suppose.” She watched as he carelessly shredded his paper napkin, making an unholy mess everywhere, the antithesis of the neat and controlled Ianto that was presented to the world in general. She laid a hand on his.
“Tell me what happened. It doesn’t have to make sense; just tell me.” He nodded, and gathered up all the bits of paper before compressing them into a ball and putting it aside.
“It started not long before Christmas. A plane came through the rift from 1953; with passengers...” Siannon listened carefully as Ianto told her about the 3 time-displaced people; Diane, Emma and John, and how they’d touched the lives of everyone at Torchwood but particularly Owen, Gwen and Jack. Her heart ached for all the Torchwood team, each being battered if not broken by the experience, and she wished there was something she could do to ease their pain. Then she mentally kicked herself; that was the whole point of having come to Cardiff, she *was* doing something. She found that she was gripping Ianto’s fingers where they lay on the table, and he was hanging onto hers just as hard. His were trembling as he stuttered to a halt in his narrative.
“And what about *you* Ianto? I can understand Owen being heartbroken and Jack feeling powerless, and angry about it; but you’re only just holding yourself together.” Ianto closed his eyes, but didn’t release her fingers.
“Just being the operative word. This, on top of everything else that has happened recently, has left me feeling so conflicted that I feel like I’m going to fly apart. It’s like having about 5 different people living in my skin, and just waiting for one of them to go absolutely stark raving mad and drag the rest of us down in the process. Jack and I... we need each other, and I need him to need me. Right now, he probably needs me more than he ever has done and I can’t bring myself to help him. I can’t. Not yet. I’m too angry, Siannon. He’s hurt, and grieving, but so am I; and to have to deal with his thoughtlessness rationally on top of all that is just too much. It’s far safer for me to keep out of his way, than to say something I’ll regret later. The last thing I want to do is damage what we have between us, because I’m not sure we’d ever manage to regain it if I did. We have too many reasons not to trust one another.” He gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them to scrub at his face.
“Did you think about contacting Methos?” She asked cautiously.
“Oh I thought all right, but I know who he’s with in Paris, and there’s no way *I* want to even indirectly upset any of them, or come to the attention of people I’d rather not have knowing about me. Besides, it’s not easy to just talk when he’s around; or not when all three of us are in the same room anyway. We get... distracted far too easily. And contrary to what some people might like to believe, sex doesn’t always solve all known problems...”
“It just delays having to deal with them... I know exactly what you mean.” Siannon watched as Ianto let his hands fall into his lap, close his eyes once more and let out a huge sigh.
“I thought you’d understand. Having said that, Jack *does* need Methos. I can’t deal with either of them right now; I wish I could, but...” He sighed and shook his head. “Without me there to complicate things, I think the old guy’s version of damage control would be the best thing for Jack and me both. Jack won’t ask for help though, he never does. So, what can I do about it?”
“Well for a start, you can stop feeling guilty about being annoyed with him. You’re human Ianto, with human frailties and feelings. Accept that you feel angry with him instead of trying to deny it, acknowledge that you have a real and valid reason to be, and if you can admit to yourself that maybe your rational judgement might be a little clouded where he is concerned then so much the better. I know I’m not Methos, but leave Jack and *his* pain to me, you concentrate on dealing with your own. Don’t go borrowing trouble, it’ll only sneak up and bite you on the bum when you’re least expecting it anyway.”
“That might be easier said than done.”
“I never said it was going to be easy. Life *isn’t* easy, and you know that. So does Jack. He just needs gently reminding that there is more to life than pain, not to mention a kick up the arse to make him realise that taking people for granted is not a good thing.”
“And how, if you don’t mind me asking, do you intend to accomplish that? Like you said, you’re not Methos; somehow I can’t see you tackling Jack in quite the same way...” Ianto couldn’t keep the puzzled expression off his face. Siannon waved a hand as she said blithely,
“Oh, I’ll just resort to the traditional Irish method.”
“Which is?”
“Throw enough alcohol at a problem until it seems less insurmountable.” She grinned as Ianto spluttered with laughter.
“If you hadn’t noticed, Jack doesn’t drink much, even when Methos is around.”
“Ah, but Methos isn’t Irish. We’re a very persuasive nation when one of our national pastimes is involved.” She let the grin fade. “Seriously, he probably needs to talk as much as you. Being plied with alcohol and a sympathetic ear will give him an excuse to let his tongue run away with him, and he knows I’m a safe person to talk to. I’m sure he’ll know exactly what I’m doing and why, he isn’t completely stupid after all, but I’m suspecting he won’t really care. Sometimes you need the truth that can only be found at the bottom of a bottle, though it’s not a comfortable place to be, and certainly not one that you should visit too often.”
“Sounds like you know it too well.”
“Perhaps. Can’t be helped, really; it’s just one of those things....” She took a deep breath, shaking her head to clear it of the memories that threatened to surface that she didn’t want to remember, and changed the subject. “So Ianto, what are *our* plans?” He met her eyes, and she realised that he was at least aware of some of the things in her life that had led her to seek truth or oblivion at the bottom of a bottle. To her utmost relief he seemed to understand her need to let them stay firmly in the past; he smiled slightly, and gave her the shadow of a nod as if he were conceding the point to her. He took a deep breath of his own.
“Plans, is it? Well for a start off, I’m not letting you drink me into a hangover. I really don’t need one of those at the moment, thank you. You can come shopping with me tomorrow instead, if you want.”
“Shopping?”
“I need a new car. I can’t even look at the Audi without feeling sick, never mind *driving* the damn thing. It’s been stuck in the Torchwood garage since... since...”
“John and Jack...” Siannon didn’t elaborate further, it was obvious how much the death of John Ellis had distressed Ianto; and there was no way *she* would want to drive around in a car that had been used in a suicide. She could only imagine what it must have been like for Ianto to have Jack return to the Hub smelling of exhaust fumes and death; no wonder he felt like he was falling apart.
“Do you blame me?” He whispered. She shook her head emphatically.
“Not in the slightest.” She smiled brightly then, trying to disperse the emotional miasma that had settled around them. “Right then, car shopping it is; I’ll enjoy that, especially if you ask for a few test drives...”
“I’ll be doing the driving.”
“Spoilsport.” She smiled at him. “Early start then?”
“Reasonably; I have the day off.”
“I’ll be your chauffeur, if you think you can stand it.” Siannon offered; Ianto snorted with laughter.
“Siannon, I’ve lived through both Jack and Owen’s driving. Nothing can compare to that. Sometimes I think Jack forgets he’s still earthbound the way he throws the SUV around.”
“It’s possible, I suppose. Which reminds me, if I’m going to implement phase one of my plan for Jack tonight, I’d better be going. Will you be alright?” Ianto nodded, a faint smile on his face.
“I’m a damn sight better than I was before you arrived. We’ll get through this sooner or later.”
“Sooner, if I have anything to do with it. Jack might have time to waste on the dead; you don’t. And the dead don’t care *what* you do; all the problems stem from us poor sods who are left behind. You’re right; we’ll get through this.” She stood up, fumbling in her bag for her purse. Ianto stopped her with an outstretched hand.
“You go; I’ll sort this out. If you can help Jack piece himself back together it’ll be worth more to me than I could ever hope to repay you.”
“I’ll do my best.” Her glance at Ianto was heartfelt; he gave her hand a quick squeeze in response.
“I know you will. You always do.” There was a pause as they both stood, silently meeting each other’s eyes over the table. She took a deep breath and nodded at Ianto.
“Tomorrow, Ianto.”
“Tomorrow.” He agreed.