Fic: Absence Makes The World Feel Colder
Title: Absence Makes The World Feel Colder
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Team.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1354
Spoilers: Set between End of Days and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Summary: With Jack gone, this winter has seemed so much colder, and even the approach of spring can’t seem to lift Ianto’s mood.
Written For: Weekend Challenge Prompt: Turn, Turn, Turn, using the quote: “Spring will come and so will happiness. Hold on. Life will get warmer.” - Anita Krizzan, plus Truth, Mood, & Departure at 1_million_words.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Winter, for Ianto, had never seemed so bleak and empty. Okay, maybe it had, right after losing Lisa. But at least then it had been tempered by the knowledge that the essence of the woman he’d loved so deeply had already been gone, months before the monster that had taken over her body had finally been executed.
The guilt and grief had weighed on him heavily, and he’d known he had to accept a share of responsibility for the deaths of Lisa’s two victims, but even so, there’d been some scope for leniency, due to PTSD from the events of Canary Wharf. It hadn’t absolved him, absolution wasn’t something he’d deserved, or could have accepted, but it had gone some way to explaining why he’d done what he had. He’d been so sure he could save her, restore her to the woman she’s been before, and caring for her had given him something to cling to, a reason to keep going. This time, though…
They’d betrayed Jack, not just him but the entire team. When they’d essentially mutinied in order to open the Rift, Ianto hadn’t simply stood back and let them, he’d helped them by giving them the access codes. He’d been instrumental in unleashing Abaddon on an unsuspecting world, and because of that, Jack had been left with no choice but to sacrifice his own life to undo the harm they’d caused.
No wonder Jack had left them after fixing the results of their stupidity. Despite forgiving them for their actions, it must have been difficult for him to even look at them without feeling anger and resentment. Forgiving was a whole lot easier than forgetting, and in all truth Ianto didn’t, couldn’t, blame him for taking off. Why would he want to stay among people who couldn’t be trusted to follow the most important instruction he’d ever given them, not to mess with the Rift? And yet…
He hadn’t left so much as a goodbye note, and even now, months later, they hadn’t heard a word from their missing leader. They had no way of knowing where he was, if he ever intended to come back, or even if he was alright.
The mood around the Hub since Jack’s sudden and unexpected departure hadn’t been good. Owen and Gwen were still arguing almost daily over which of them should be in charge, and having given up trying to mediate, Ianto and Tosh had both opted to simply keep their heads down, get on with their work, and leave the kids to sort themselves out. Ianto was growing accustomed to ignoring the pall of tension hanging over their workplace. Anytime it got too much to bear, he’d slip away to the archives, where it was peaceful and he could lose himself for a while in mundane tasks like catching up with the filing, or scanning older paperwork into the computer databases Tosh had set up.
Eleven weeks, that was how long Jack had been gone. Spring was right around the corner; the end of March was fast approaching, and soon it would be April, then Easter, and then what? The weather was gradually warming up, the snow, ice, and heavy frosts of winter giving way to blustery winds and rain. Trees were coming into blossom, flowers starting to bloom, but where the sight of the first daffodils buds bursting usually lifted his spirits and brought a smile to his lips, this year, the nodding yellow trumpets were completely failing to cheer him.
Gwen had brought in posies of daffodils for everyone on St. David’s Day, smiling brightly as she’d handed them out, and though Ianto had thanked her, before placing his in a vase up in the tourist office, the sight of the bright yellow flowers had only made his heart ache. How could time just keep right on marching forward when Jack, the man who had singlehandedly restored purpose to his life after Lisa, had abandoned them all, and might never return?
It wasn’t that Ianto couldn’t live without him; he knew he could, and would be fine, just as he was, eventually, after losing Lisa. But Jack’s absence seemed to have drained all the colour from his existence, and he didn’t know how, or even if, he could ever get that back. Jack was such a force of nature that without him, everything had lost its shine. The world he lived in seemed darker, colder, and life was now something to endure rather than revel in.
He still did his job as thoroughly and efficiently as he always had, but he no longer felt any sense of pride in keeping the Hub running smoothly. His days were an endless series of chores, which he never seemed able to complete, the list getting longer every day, and his nights were taken up with handling Rift alerts and getting too little sleep. Maybe that was the main problem: He was tired, rundown, overworked. General Support Officer, Archivist, Janitor, Handyman, Coffee Boy, Food Services, and now Field Agent. Maybe he should give himself a raise, or employ an assistant…
One day followed the previous one in an endless, monotonous stream, with none of the fun interludes he’d enjoyed when Jack was still present, And the nights, after the rest of the team went home and he was left alone in the vastness of the Hub, were painfully lonely. He knew he could go out in the evenings, take a remote Rift monitor, hit the pubs and clubs, interact with living, breathing people who weren’t part of a secret organisation that was, perhaps, less secret than it should have been, but he didn’t have the heart to. Or the energy, for that matter. He was getting little enough rest as it was. Every night he thought, ‘maybe tomorrow’, but then tomorrow arrived and… it just seemed like too much effort. He’d have to shower, change into something more suitable, trek to whatever pub or club he chose, mingle, try to make conversation… Why bother? What did he even have to talk about? Besides, he’d probably only wind up with a hangover, unless a Rift alert cut his evening short.
Some days it felt as through the only thing that was keeping him going was hope. Despite Jack’s absence, life hadn’t stopped; the seasons still turned, spring was coming, and whether or not Jack ever returned, surely things would get better. The chilly breezes would grow warmer, the sun would shine between showers, in time the longer, brighter days would surely improve his mood, and maybe he could find something approaching happiness again. All he had to do was wait, hold on, and try to be patient.
And then, if he and the team were lucky, Jack might finally come back to them, and the world would once again make sense, or as much sense as could ever be expected when it came to Torchwood.
With a dispirited sigh, Ianto made his last round of the Hub for the night, gathering empty plates and coffee cups for washing, emptying the rubbish bins, setting the various systems to night mode, and letting Myfanwy out for some exercise. He was just rolling up his sleeves to tackle the washing up when an alarm blared out and he gritted his teeth. Not a peep all day, and now it decided to wake up, when the others had already left for the night. Abandoning the dishes, he went to investigate and groaned.
Bloody Blowfish! If there had to be an alert interrupting his nightly chores, why couldn’t it be something he could handle by himself? Blowfish, those overdressed, drugged-up smartarses, were never a one-man job; he’d have to call the rest of the team in, and both Gwen and Owen were bound to be pissed off about that; they’d both had plans. No help for it though, they couldn’t leave a Blowfish rampaging through Cardiff in a stolen sports car. With a grim, unamused smile, Ianto pulled out his phone and texted the team, then went to fetch his gun.
Looked like he was in for another long night.
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Team.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1354
Spoilers: Set between End of Days and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Summary: With Jack gone, this winter has seemed so much colder, and even the approach of spring can’t seem to lift Ianto’s mood.
Written For: Weekend Challenge Prompt: Turn, Turn, Turn, using the quote: “Spring will come and so will happiness. Hold on. Life will get warmer.” - Anita Krizzan, plus Truth, Mood, & Departure at 1_million_words.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Winter, for Ianto, had never seemed so bleak and empty. Okay, maybe it had, right after losing Lisa. But at least then it had been tempered by the knowledge that the essence of the woman he’d loved so deeply had already been gone, months before the monster that had taken over her body had finally been executed.
The guilt and grief had weighed on him heavily, and he’d known he had to accept a share of responsibility for the deaths of Lisa’s two victims, but even so, there’d been some scope for leniency, due to PTSD from the events of Canary Wharf. It hadn’t absolved him, absolution wasn’t something he’d deserved, or could have accepted, but it had gone some way to explaining why he’d done what he had. He’d been so sure he could save her, restore her to the woman she’s been before, and caring for her had given him something to cling to, a reason to keep going. This time, though…
They’d betrayed Jack, not just him but the entire team. When they’d essentially mutinied in order to open the Rift, Ianto hadn’t simply stood back and let them, he’d helped them by giving them the access codes. He’d been instrumental in unleashing Abaddon on an unsuspecting world, and because of that, Jack had been left with no choice but to sacrifice his own life to undo the harm they’d caused.
No wonder Jack had left them after fixing the results of their stupidity. Despite forgiving them for their actions, it must have been difficult for him to even look at them without feeling anger and resentment. Forgiving was a whole lot easier than forgetting, and in all truth Ianto didn’t, couldn’t, blame him for taking off. Why would he want to stay among people who couldn’t be trusted to follow the most important instruction he’d ever given them, not to mess with the Rift? And yet…
He hadn’t left so much as a goodbye note, and even now, months later, they hadn’t heard a word from their missing leader. They had no way of knowing where he was, if he ever intended to come back, or even if he was alright.
The mood around the Hub since Jack’s sudden and unexpected departure hadn’t been good. Owen and Gwen were still arguing almost daily over which of them should be in charge, and having given up trying to mediate, Ianto and Tosh had both opted to simply keep their heads down, get on with their work, and leave the kids to sort themselves out. Ianto was growing accustomed to ignoring the pall of tension hanging over their workplace. Anytime it got too much to bear, he’d slip away to the archives, where it was peaceful and he could lose himself for a while in mundane tasks like catching up with the filing, or scanning older paperwork into the computer databases Tosh had set up.
Eleven weeks, that was how long Jack had been gone. Spring was right around the corner; the end of March was fast approaching, and soon it would be April, then Easter, and then what? The weather was gradually warming up, the snow, ice, and heavy frosts of winter giving way to blustery winds and rain. Trees were coming into blossom, flowers starting to bloom, but where the sight of the first daffodils buds bursting usually lifted his spirits and brought a smile to his lips, this year, the nodding yellow trumpets were completely failing to cheer him.
Gwen had brought in posies of daffodils for everyone on St. David’s Day, smiling brightly as she’d handed them out, and though Ianto had thanked her, before placing his in a vase up in the tourist office, the sight of the bright yellow flowers had only made his heart ache. How could time just keep right on marching forward when Jack, the man who had singlehandedly restored purpose to his life after Lisa, had abandoned them all, and might never return?
It wasn’t that Ianto couldn’t live without him; he knew he could, and would be fine, just as he was, eventually, after losing Lisa. But Jack’s absence seemed to have drained all the colour from his existence, and he didn’t know how, or even if, he could ever get that back. Jack was such a force of nature that without him, everything had lost its shine. The world he lived in seemed darker, colder, and life was now something to endure rather than revel in.
He still did his job as thoroughly and efficiently as he always had, but he no longer felt any sense of pride in keeping the Hub running smoothly. His days were an endless series of chores, which he never seemed able to complete, the list getting longer every day, and his nights were taken up with handling Rift alerts and getting too little sleep. Maybe that was the main problem: He was tired, rundown, overworked. General Support Officer, Archivist, Janitor, Handyman, Coffee Boy, Food Services, and now Field Agent. Maybe he should give himself a raise, or employ an assistant…
One day followed the previous one in an endless, monotonous stream, with none of the fun interludes he’d enjoyed when Jack was still present, And the nights, after the rest of the team went home and he was left alone in the vastness of the Hub, were painfully lonely. He knew he could go out in the evenings, take a remote Rift monitor, hit the pubs and clubs, interact with living, breathing people who weren’t part of a secret organisation that was, perhaps, less secret than it should have been, but he didn’t have the heart to. Or the energy, for that matter. He was getting little enough rest as it was. Every night he thought, ‘maybe tomorrow’, but then tomorrow arrived and… it just seemed like too much effort. He’d have to shower, change into something more suitable, trek to whatever pub or club he chose, mingle, try to make conversation… Why bother? What did he even have to talk about? Besides, he’d probably only wind up with a hangover, unless a Rift alert cut his evening short.
Some days it felt as through the only thing that was keeping him going was hope. Despite Jack’s absence, life hadn’t stopped; the seasons still turned, spring was coming, and whether or not Jack ever returned, surely things would get better. The chilly breezes would grow warmer, the sun would shine between showers, in time the longer, brighter days would surely improve his mood, and maybe he could find something approaching happiness again. All he had to do was wait, hold on, and try to be patient.
And then, if he and the team were lucky, Jack might finally come back to them, and the world would once again make sense, or as much sense as could ever be expected when it came to Torchwood.
With a dispirited sigh, Ianto made his last round of the Hub for the night, gathering empty plates and coffee cups for washing, emptying the rubbish bins, setting the various systems to night mode, and letting Myfanwy out for some exercise. He was just rolling up his sleeves to tackle the washing up when an alarm blared out and he gritted his teeth. Not a peep all day, and now it decided to wake up, when the others had already left for the night. Abandoning the dishes, he went to investigate and groaned.
Bloody Blowfish! If there had to be an alert interrupting his nightly chores, why couldn’t it be something he could handle by himself? Blowfish, those overdressed, drugged-up smartarses, were never a one-man job; he’d have to call the rest of the team in, and both Gwen and Owen were bound to be pissed off about that; they’d both had plans. No help for it though, they couldn’t leave a Blowfish rampaging through Cardiff in a stolen sports car. With a grim, unamused smile, Ianto pulled out his phone and texted the team, then went to fetch his gun.
Looked like he was in for another long night.
The End