And So It Begins... Again: Part 3 (9/10)
Title: Part 3 - In Your Honour
Rating: 15 to NC17
* changes through the Part
Characters/Pairings: Team, Martha, Ten ; Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: S1, 2x01, Minor DW 3x12, 3x13
Warnings: Mild violence; M/M relations; ANGST
Summary: Jack's been around for a while and he's recognised some disturbing behaviour...
[ The 'And So It Begins... Again' Saga ]
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to Russel T. Davies, I sadly don't own them... All lyrics belong to Foo Fighters
Author's Note: Okay, so we're slowly closing in on this part, next chapter should be up next Friday, I think =] I hope you enjoy it! I'm working on several new stories still as well, but they may not appear til around easter maybe? I dunno, it completely depends on work and stuff.
Thanks for sticking around with this!
---
Chapter 9
“I wish I could take it away, And save you from yourself
You get so lost inside your head, Like no one else”
- Cold Day in the Sun, Foo Fighters
A week later, Jack could see marked improvements in the young man’s health. Granted, he wasn’t eating properly yet, but he’d gotten better. The dramatic changes in moods and emotions had settled back down to almost normal, and Jack had been able to leave him watching a film a few times to catch up on paper work for an hour or so for the previous few days.
He silently thanked the rift for having minimal activity over Ianto’s break as he stood staring out of the living room window.
Now, it was dark, almost midnight, and Jack was holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other in his pocket as he looked out over Cardiff. Ianto’s flat was situated just outside of the city centre, but it had a good view of it.
Sighing, he pulled his hand out and rubbed the back of his head, taking a sip of whiskey and savouring the burning sensation running down his throat. His eyes flickered towards the open bedroom door and his shoulders slumped a little.
Although Ianto’s waking time was normalising, he still slept badly - if at all. Jack had been cradling the young man to sleep until about half an hour before, when he’d finally drifted into the deeper, less troubled sleep that came after the nightmares.
Ianto didn’t wake up as often as he had before and on the occasions that he did, the fear died away a little faster. Jack had had to coax him into taking sleeping pills on a couple of nights, after particularly bad dreams, and he’d slept through to the next morning, thrashing a little at times, but generally in peace.
Jack was pleased with the healing process and the rate at which Ianto was recovering, but he still felt a deep nagging inside him.
A couple of times earlier on in the week, Ianto’s mood had spiked dramatically into an almost manic state of depression, but after disappearing to his bedroom for a while, he’d returned and apologised, his mood having levelled out. Jack didn’t question it at the time, but when Ianto was safely sleeping, Jack had time to think.
Currently, he was recalling a time in his past.
Back -or forwards- in the 51st century, he’d become a little dependant on a recreational drug that was yet to be created. He’d been on the downwards spiral when he was sent back in time and he ended up meeting the Doctor and Rose.
His last hit had left him in a good state to fight at the time, but just before he died, he felt the irritating buzz of a headache biting into the back of his mind and the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. His body was starting to panic at the lack of its drug.
He remembered thinking that at least if he died, the discomfort and the shakes that were quickly following, would die with him.
When he found himself dragged back into life by the possessed Rose, he was surprised to feel that his body no longer craved the substance. It appeared that when he came back, his body regenerated itself, back to the ideal health and status. He’d never touched the drug again - or any drug for that matter. He never wanted to be caught in the cycle he’d fallen into before the battle.
It was those sudden alterations in Ianto’s moods and the memory of the blood pouring from Ianto’s nose the week before that roused memories of his own reaction to the hits back when he’d been addicted. Of course, he wasn’t about to ask the young man whether he was using drugs, that wouldn’t sit well at all.
Yet he needed to know what was going on with Ianto before he let him come back to work.
Sighing heavily again and stepping away from the window, he shuffled over to his bag and delved inside for the scanner. He quietly made his way into the bedroom and stood next to the sleeping man, switching the scanner on and holding it close to Ianto’s chest.
It wasn’t picking up anything unusual, a little bit of alcohol from the drink he’d had before going to bed, but nothing illegal.
He switched the device off and took it back through to the living area, shoving it in his bag and tossing the bag back onto the table. He took up his glass from where he’d placed it on the window sill and drained it, gasping slightly as his mouth buzzed.
He rubbed his eyes and took the glass over to the kitchen counter where he left it on the side, next to the bottle, before moving back to the bedroom. He quietly slipped his suspenders from his shoulders, removed his shirt and trousers and slipped into bed, lying behind Ianto and wrapping an arm around Ianto’s waist as he felt the young man unconsciously nestled back into him.
Jack gently kissed Ianto’s exposed neck before resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.
*
It was an hour or so later when the body in his arms stirred and brought him out of the light doze that had captured him.
Ianto was moving in his sleep again, his breathing having increased already and a slight frown creasing his forehead. Jack groaned inwardly as he noticed the signs of Ianto’s inner turmoil. The thrashing and crying would start soon, the muttering in protest of whatever haunted him.
Jack just tightened his grip around the young man’s waist and gritted his teeth. He’d become more and more susceptible to crying when he witnessed Ianto falling prey to whatever night terror he was dealing with. It was a mixture of sympathy and anger at the helplessness he felt when he failed repeatedly to protect Ianto from what tormented him in his sleep.
He whispered gently in the young man’s ear and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the back of Ianto’s head, waiting for the disturbance to pass. Ianto squirmed violently, twisting round in Jack’s arms and gripping onto his t-shirt tightly, nuzzling his head under Jack’s chin, desperately seeking comfort. He was muttering again, but Jack didn’t catch any of what he was saying.
“Jack?!” He let out a sudden yell and Jack felt his body tense up. He knew then that Ianto had been forced awake and gently stroked his back with one hand and his hair with his other.
“It’s okay, I’m right here… It was just another nightmare.” He was relieved that the young man hadn’t started crying, taking it as a good sign, a sign that he had improved, even if it wasn’t much.
They lay there for a while, Ianto still gripping tightly to the front of Jack’s t-shirt, Jack still stroking his hair gently. Eventually, Jack felt Ianto’s heartbeat calm and his breathing equalise, returning to a normal rhythm.
“It wasn’t as bad tonight… It wasn’t as bad. I managed to get away tonight.” He sighed and shook his head a little. “I’m so tired, Jack. I just want this crap to go away.”
His words were frank, revealing just how shut down he was getting from this constant lack of proper sleep.
“I know, Ianto. There’s always the sleeping pills again.” He felt Ianto pull away and look him in the eye.
“I’m not going to rely on drugs to sleep every night. I won’t get over this at all if I don’t sort it out properly.” Jack nodded and kissed him gently on the forehead. He felt Ianto release his grip and move his arms around his waist, his legs linking around Jack’s to keep him close. “It’s like I can see the end now, I can see a way out… I just have to get there.”
At those words, Jack made up his mind on the decision he’d been thinking about for the entire weekend. He’d noticed a real improvement in Ianto, and if he got the answer he wanted to his next question, he would let Ianto come back to work in the next couple of days.
“Ianto… I need to ask you something, something you may not like.” He felt Ianto’s arms tense a little and stroked the young man’s hair gently again. “I need to know the complete truth.”
He felt Ianto nod against his neck, where Ianto had placed his forehead, and took a deep breath, silently praying that Ianto would understand why he was asking.
“Okay… I’m just going to go right on and ask you…” One more deep breath, and he took the plunge. “Ianto, have you been taking any drugs, aside from the sleeping pills, over the last few weeks?”
He didn’t feel any reaction at all from the young man. He was met with a stony silence that seemed to last for an age. Eventually though, just as his stomach began to dissolve in the acid formed from his thoughts, he felt Ianto pull himself from his arms and sit up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed so that he had his back to the older man.
The young man sighed heavily and buried his head in his hands before reaching towards the bedside table and pulling the top draw open slowly. Jack held his breath and watched as Ianto’s hand hovered for a moment above the contents before delving into the back of it and pulling an envelope out.
He slowly got to his feet and took Jack’s hand with his free one, pulling him into the living area and flicking the lights on. Both men blinked a little as they made their way over to the kitchen. Neither of them said anything as Ianto turned the kettle on, put the envelope down and pulled out two mugs, making them both a cup of coffee.
He sat down on one side of the breakfast bar style counter and Jack took his cue to sit down opposite, watching Ianto’s face closely as the young man studied the envelope between them.
“Open it.” It was a simple, whispered command that Jack obeyed hesitantly, almost dreading what he’d find inside. He gingerly tipped the envelope’s contents onto the counter and spread it out, taking in what he saw.
It was cocaine.
He picked up the now almost empty bag and looked at it for a moment before scanning the other objects. Inside, he felt his heart sink. He’d been so concerned with saving Ianto from alien threats and other-worldly harm that he’d forgotten all about the dangers of earth - the things on offer that would help him to forget the horrors he experienced in Torchwood.
“How many times?” He slipped into ‘Captain Harkness of Torchwood’ mode and looked at Ianto. The young man slowly met his eyes, noting the change in his lover’s demeanour, adopting his own guise of the administrator for Torchwood Cardiff.
“Eight. Four over the last couple of weeks, four just after Lisa and coming out of hospital, sir.” Jack studied his face, trying to find any signs of a lie. He was relieved to see nothing but honesty in Ianto’s eyes, but didn’t let it show. “There’s no excuse, I know. I did it to clear my head when nothing else worked. It stopped me from doing things I would regret, so I’m not sorry.”
He kept Jack’s stare furiously, his jaw set and tears starting to form in his eyes. Jack was aware of the young man’s fists clenching in front of him and he sighed inwardly. He wasn’t angry at Ianto, he couldn’t be. He knew why he’d done it, and he respected the amount of self control he’d displayed. One final question before he decided on Ianto’s future at the institute.
“Have you ever been high at-” Jack kept his gaze locked, but was cut short as Ianto replied.
“No.” The answer was short, sharp and to the point. To the exact point that Jack had needed to hear. After a few more moments, he nodded his head slowly and looked down at the small amount of white powder and the utensils.
He got up and fetched the metal wastepaper basket from next to the TV and returned, placing it on the counter and standing next to it. He pulled out the bag inside which collected the rubbish and dropped the items into it, one by one, flinging the mirror down so it shattered.
Finally, he dropped the envelope in and reached for the bottle of whiskey that he’d left on the counter earlier. He poured some in over the contents of the bin and looked back at Ianto, who’d watched the whole process with a look of determination on his face.
“Get some matches.” He said carefully, Ianto looking up and nodding before climbing off the stool and fetching the small box from one of the head height cupboards. When he returned, Jack pointed to the bin. “I want you to burn it all.”
Ianto nodded silently and pulled a match out, striking it against the rough side of the box and watching it burn momentarily. Then he dropped it into the metal bin and watched at the flames as they quickly burnt up the alcohol and then started to devour the rest of the items, leaving the razor and the shards of mirror blackened and sooty.
Once the fire died away and there was nothing but ash and smoke in the bin, Jack walked around and wrapped his arms around Ianto, holding him tightly.
After a moment or two, Ianto’s arms came around Jack’s waist and returned the embrace. They stood in silence, conveying a wide range of emotions through a simple touching of bodies. Finally though, Ianto pulled away and looked up at Jack, the tears that had formed in his eyes falling silently across his cheeks. He managed a small smile as he swallowed hard against the sobs that he could feel in his chest.
“Thank you.” He whispered, his voice harsh.
Jack just nodded and kissed his forehead again, granting him the clemency that Ianto needed, showing him that it was okay to have a weakness and that he was stronger than it by getting rid of it. Jack pulled him gently back through to the bedroom and lay him down, climbing behind him and covering them both up with the duvet.
Ianto twisted in his arms again and snaked a hand up around the back of Jack’s neck for comfort and Jack smiled ruefully. He wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist and held him close, letting the young man know he was safe. After a few long minutes, he felt Ianto’s body relax as he fell asleep, but this time, he didn’t follow. He just lay awake and watched over him.
Jack spent the rest of the night thinking.
He trusted Ianto when he said he’d never done drugs at work, and he trusted that Ianto wouldn’t turn to them again. He got the feeling that Ianto had using it purely because he had the drugs there. He felt a little saddened to think that he’d needed cocaine to clear his head, but he knew that there was no other way for him to do it, not with the after effects of John’s poison still working away at him.
However, Jack was surprised that Ianto had improved this much over such a short space of time. This time though, he knew it was genuine, not just forced for the sake of being out of the flat.
The two of them had gone out a few times; to the park, shopping, just for a walk - anything to get Ianto out and about, to keep his muscles working and to get him fresh air. The short trips had lifted his spirits and made him more accepting of being kept away from work. It seemed to have been calming him down and soothing the storm raging inside him.
He’d even started to compulsively clean the flat again, hitting Jack round the head a few times when he tramped mud across the lino in the kitchen. Jack had soon got back in the habit of removing his boots on entering and putting them on the stand behind the door.
They’d spent the days watching Ianto’s extensive DVD collection and the evenings enjoying each other in ways they never had before. The nights were bearable for them both, knowing that it would be better the next day, even if only a little. Slowly, the small steps forwards had added up to a noticeable difference.
Jack looked down at the sleeping man in his arms and noticed the vivid scars on Ianto’s wrists and realised that he must’ve been reliving the experience in his dreams, reliving all the horrifying moments in his past; seeing Jack fire bullets into Lisa, feeling the cannibal’s knife against his throat, thinking Jack was dead, only to find out he wasn’t and have him disappearing less than an hour later.
All the times that he’d felt alone in the world, the crushing weight of his grief and fear on his shoulders.
Of course, Jack didn’t know the full details, but he’d gathered enough of Ianto’s mutterings in his sleep to piece together a general picture of his thoughts over those events. It made him feel guilty and possessive, determined not to inflict any more sadness to his lover.
He thought about all the times he’d seen Ianto sink into the recesses of his mind at work, when he made coffee or was hidden down in the archives, all alone. Jack’s stomach twisted guiltily at the thought of Ianto seeing his memories repeated over and over, with no where to get away from them and no one to talk to.
The time when he would have needed him most was the time when Jack thought of him as nothing more than a passing shag, the cute guy at work who he had fun with at the end of a hard day.
He felt that determination again now. He didn’t know exactly what Ianto was thinking, and he didn’t want to, some things should remain private and personal, but he knew that he’d listen, should Ianto ever need to talk to him, to get things off his chest. He’d listen.
---
TBC - thank you all for your patience!
Chapter 10
Rating: 15 to NC17
* changes through the Part
Characters/Pairings: Team, Martha, Ten ; Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: S1, 2x01, Minor DW 3x12, 3x13
Warnings: Mild violence; M/M relations; ANGST
Summary: Jack's been around for a while and he's recognised some disturbing behaviour...
[ The 'And So It Begins... Again' Saga ]
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to Russel T. Davies, I sadly don't own them... All lyrics belong to Foo Fighters
Author's Note: Okay, so we're slowly closing in on this part, next chapter should be up next Friday, I think =] I hope you enjoy it! I'm working on several new stories still as well, but they may not appear til around easter maybe? I dunno, it completely depends on work and stuff.
Thanks for sticking around with this!
---
Chapter 9
“I wish I could take it away, And save you from yourself
You get so lost inside your head, Like no one else”
- Cold Day in the Sun, Foo Fighters
A week later, Jack could see marked improvements in the young man’s health. Granted, he wasn’t eating properly yet, but he’d gotten better. The dramatic changes in moods and emotions had settled back down to almost normal, and Jack had been able to leave him watching a film a few times to catch up on paper work for an hour or so for the previous few days.
He silently thanked the rift for having minimal activity over Ianto’s break as he stood staring out of the living room window.
Now, it was dark, almost midnight, and Jack was holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other in his pocket as he looked out over Cardiff. Ianto’s flat was situated just outside of the city centre, but it had a good view of it.
Sighing, he pulled his hand out and rubbed the back of his head, taking a sip of whiskey and savouring the burning sensation running down his throat. His eyes flickered towards the open bedroom door and his shoulders slumped a little.
Although Ianto’s waking time was normalising, he still slept badly - if at all. Jack had been cradling the young man to sleep until about half an hour before, when he’d finally drifted into the deeper, less troubled sleep that came after the nightmares.
Ianto didn’t wake up as often as he had before and on the occasions that he did, the fear died away a little faster. Jack had had to coax him into taking sleeping pills on a couple of nights, after particularly bad dreams, and he’d slept through to the next morning, thrashing a little at times, but generally in peace.
Jack was pleased with the healing process and the rate at which Ianto was recovering, but he still felt a deep nagging inside him.
A couple of times earlier on in the week, Ianto’s mood had spiked dramatically into an almost manic state of depression, but after disappearing to his bedroom for a while, he’d returned and apologised, his mood having levelled out. Jack didn’t question it at the time, but when Ianto was safely sleeping, Jack had time to think.
Currently, he was recalling a time in his past.
Back -or forwards- in the 51st century, he’d become a little dependant on a recreational drug that was yet to be created. He’d been on the downwards spiral when he was sent back in time and he ended up meeting the Doctor and Rose.
His last hit had left him in a good state to fight at the time, but just before he died, he felt the irritating buzz of a headache biting into the back of his mind and the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. His body was starting to panic at the lack of its drug.
He remembered thinking that at least if he died, the discomfort and the shakes that were quickly following, would die with him.
When he found himself dragged back into life by the possessed Rose, he was surprised to feel that his body no longer craved the substance. It appeared that when he came back, his body regenerated itself, back to the ideal health and status. He’d never touched the drug again - or any drug for that matter. He never wanted to be caught in the cycle he’d fallen into before the battle.
It was those sudden alterations in Ianto’s moods and the memory of the blood pouring from Ianto’s nose the week before that roused memories of his own reaction to the hits back when he’d been addicted. Of course, he wasn’t about to ask the young man whether he was using drugs, that wouldn’t sit well at all.
Yet he needed to know what was going on with Ianto before he let him come back to work.
Sighing heavily again and stepping away from the window, he shuffled over to his bag and delved inside for the scanner. He quietly made his way into the bedroom and stood next to the sleeping man, switching the scanner on and holding it close to Ianto’s chest.
It wasn’t picking up anything unusual, a little bit of alcohol from the drink he’d had before going to bed, but nothing illegal.
He switched the device off and took it back through to the living area, shoving it in his bag and tossing the bag back onto the table. He took up his glass from where he’d placed it on the window sill and drained it, gasping slightly as his mouth buzzed.
He rubbed his eyes and took the glass over to the kitchen counter where he left it on the side, next to the bottle, before moving back to the bedroom. He quietly slipped his suspenders from his shoulders, removed his shirt and trousers and slipped into bed, lying behind Ianto and wrapping an arm around Ianto’s waist as he felt the young man unconsciously nestled back into him.
Jack gently kissed Ianto’s exposed neck before resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.
*
It was an hour or so later when the body in his arms stirred and brought him out of the light doze that had captured him.
Ianto was moving in his sleep again, his breathing having increased already and a slight frown creasing his forehead. Jack groaned inwardly as he noticed the signs of Ianto’s inner turmoil. The thrashing and crying would start soon, the muttering in protest of whatever haunted him.
Jack just tightened his grip around the young man’s waist and gritted his teeth. He’d become more and more susceptible to crying when he witnessed Ianto falling prey to whatever night terror he was dealing with. It was a mixture of sympathy and anger at the helplessness he felt when he failed repeatedly to protect Ianto from what tormented him in his sleep.
He whispered gently in the young man’s ear and closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the back of Ianto’s head, waiting for the disturbance to pass. Ianto squirmed violently, twisting round in Jack’s arms and gripping onto his t-shirt tightly, nuzzling his head under Jack’s chin, desperately seeking comfort. He was muttering again, but Jack didn’t catch any of what he was saying.
“Jack?!” He let out a sudden yell and Jack felt his body tense up. He knew then that Ianto had been forced awake and gently stroked his back with one hand and his hair with his other.
“It’s okay, I’m right here… It was just another nightmare.” He was relieved that the young man hadn’t started crying, taking it as a good sign, a sign that he had improved, even if it wasn’t much.
They lay there for a while, Ianto still gripping tightly to the front of Jack’s t-shirt, Jack still stroking his hair gently. Eventually, Jack felt Ianto’s heartbeat calm and his breathing equalise, returning to a normal rhythm.
“It wasn’t as bad tonight… It wasn’t as bad. I managed to get away tonight.” He sighed and shook his head a little. “I’m so tired, Jack. I just want this crap to go away.”
His words were frank, revealing just how shut down he was getting from this constant lack of proper sleep.
“I know, Ianto. There’s always the sleeping pills again.” He felt Ianto pull away and look him in the eye.
“I’m not going to rely on drugs to sleep every night. I won’t get over this at all if I don’t sort it out properly.” Jack nodded and kissed him gently on the forehead. He felt Ianto release his grip and move his arms around his waist, his legs linking around Jack’s to keep him close. “It’s like I can see the end now, I can see a way out… I just have to get there.”
At those words, Jack made up his mind on the decision he’d been thinking about for the entire weekend. He’d noticed a real improvement in Ianto, and if he got the answer he wanted to his next question, he would let Ianto come back to work in the next couple of days.
“Ianto… I need to ask you something, something you may not like.” He felt Ianto’s arms tense a little and stroked the young man’s hair gently again. “I need to know the complete truth.”
He felt Ianto nod against his neck, where Ianto had placed his forehead, and took a deep breath, silently praying that Ianto would understand why he was asking.
“Okay… I’m just going to go right on and ask you…” One more deep breath, and he took the plunge. “Ianto, have you been taking any drugs, aside from the sleeping pills, over the last few weeks?”
He didn’t feel any reaction at all from the young man. He was met with a stony silence that seemed to last for an age. Eventually though, just as his stomach began to dissolve in the acid formed from his thoughts, he felt Ianto pull himself from his arms and sit up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed so that he had his back to the older man.
The young man sighed heavily and buried his head in his hands before reaching towards the bedside table and pulling the top draw open slowly. Jack held his breath and watched as Ianto’s hand hovered for a moment above the contents before delving into the back of it and pulling an envelope out.
He slowly got to his feet and took Jack’s hand with his free one, pulling him into the living area and flicking the lights on. Both men blinked a little as they made their way over to the kitchen. Neither of them said anything as Ianto turned the kettle on, put the envelope down and pulled out two mugs, making them both a cup of coffee.
He sat down on one side of the breakfast bar style counter and Jack took his cue to sit down opposite, watching Ianto’s face closely as the young man studied the envelope between them.
“Open it.” It was a simple, whispered command that Jack obeyed hesitantly, almost dreading what he’d find inside. He gingerly tipped the envelope’s contents onto the counter and spread it out, taking in what he saw.
It was cocaine.
He picked up the now almost empty bag and looked at it for a moment before scanning the other objects. Inside, he felt his heart sink. He’d been so concerned with saving Ianto from alien threats and other-worldly harm that he’d forgotten all about the dangers of earth - the things on offer that would help him to forget the horrors he experienced in Torchwood.
“How many times?” He slipped into ‘Captain Harkness of Torchwood’ mode and looked at Ianto. The young man slowly met his eyes, noting the change in his lover’s demeanour, adopting his own guise of the administrator for Torchwood Cardiff.
“Eight. Four over the last couple of weeks, four just after Lisa and coming out of hospital, sir.” Jack studied his face, trying to find any signs of a lie. He was relieved to see nothing but honesty in Ianto’s eyes, but didn’t let it show. “There’s no excuse, I know. I did it to clear my head when nothing else worked. It stopped me from doing things I would regret, so I’m not sorry.”
He kept Jack’s stare furiously, his jaw set and tears starting to form in his eyes. Jack was aware of the young man’s fists clenching in front of him and he sighed inwardly. He wasn’t angry at Ianto, he couldn’t be. He knew why he’d done it, and he respected the amount of self control he’d displayed. One final question before he decided on Ianto’s future at the institute.
“Have you ever been high at-” Jack kept his gaze locked, but was cut short as Ianto replied.
“No.” The answer was short, sharp and to the point. To the exact point that Jack had needed to hear. After a few more moments, he nodded his head slowly and looked down at the small amount of white powder and the utensils.
He got up and fetched the metal wastepaper basket from next to the TV and returned, placing it on the counter and standing next to it. He pulled out the bag inside which collected the rubbish and dropped the items into it, one by one, flinging the mirror down so it shattered.
Finally, he dropped the envelope in and reached for the bottle of whiskey that he’d left on the counter earlier. He poured some in over the contents of the bin and looked back at Ianto, who’d watched the whole process with a look of determination on his face.
“Get some matches.” He said carefully, Ianto looking up and nodding before climbing off the stool and fetching the small box from one of the head height cupboards. When he returned, Jack pointed to the bin. “I want you to burn it all.”
Ianto nodded silently and pulled a match out, striking it against the rough side of the box and watching it burn momentarily. Then he dropped it into the metal bin and watched at the flames as they quickly burnt up the alcohol and then started to devour the rest of the items, leaving the razor and the shards of mirror blackened and sooty.
Once the fire died away and there was nothing but ash and smoke in the bin, Jack walked around and wrapped his arms around Ianto, holding him tightly.
After a moment or two, Ianto’s arms came around Jack’s waist and returned the embrace. They stood in silence, conveying a wide range of emotions through a simple touching of bodies. Finally though, Ianto pulled away and looked up at Jack, the tears that had formed in his eyes falling silently across his cheeks. He managed a small smile as he swallowed hard against the sobs that he could feel in his chest.
“Thank you.” He whispered, his voice harsh.
Jack just nodded and kissed his forehead again, granting him the clemency that Ianto needed, showing him that it was okay to have a weakness and that he was stronger than it by getting rid of it. Jack pulled him gently back through to the bedroom and lay him down, climbing behind him and covering them both up with the duvet.
Ianto twisted in his arms again and snaked a hand up around the back of Jack’s neck for comfort and Jack smiled ruefully. He wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist and held him close, letting the young man know he was safe. After a few long minutes, he felt Ianto’s body relax as he fell asleep, but this time, he didn’t follow. He just lay awake and watched over him.
Jack spent the rest of the night thinking.
He trusted Ianto when he said he’d never done drugs at work, and he trusted that Ianto wouldn’t turn to them again. He got the feeling that Ianto had using it purely because he had the drugs there. He felt a little saddened to think that he’d needed cocaine to clear his head, but he knew that there was no other way for him to do it, not with the after effects of John’s poison still working away at him.
However, Jack was surprised that Ianto had improved this much over such a short space of time. This time though, he knew it was genuine, not just forced for the sake of being out of the flat.
The two of them had gone out a few times; to the park, shopping, just for a walk - anything to get Ianto out and about, to keep his muscles working and to get him fresh air. The short trips had lifted his spirits and made him more accepting of being kept away from work. It seemed to have been calming him down and soothing the storm raging inside him.
He’d even started to compulsively clean the flat again, hitting Jack round the head a few times when he tramped mud across the lino in the kitchen. Jack had soon got back in the habit of removing his boots on entering and putting them on the stand behind the door.
They’d spent the days watching Ianto’s extensive DVD collection and the evenings enjoying each other in ways they never had before. The nights were bearable for them both, knowing that it would be better the next day, even if only a little. Slowly, the small steps forwards had added up to a noticeable difference.
Jack looked down at the sleeping man in his arms and noticed the vivid scars on Ianto’s wrists and realised that he must’ve been reliving the experience in his dreams, reliving all the horrifying moments in his past; seeing Jack fire bullets into Lisa, feeling the cannibal’s knife against his throat, thinking Jack was dead, only to find out he wasn’t and have him disappearing less than an hour later.
All the times that he’d felt alone in the world, the crushing weight of his grief and fear on his shoulders.
Of course, Jack didn’t know the full details, but he’d gathered enough of Ianto’s mutterings in his sleep to piece together a general picture of his thoughts over those events. It made him feel guilty and possessive, determined not to inflict any more sadness to his lover.
He thought about all the times he’d seen Ianto sink into the recesses of his mind at work, when he made coffee or was hidden down in the archives, all alone. Jack’s stomach twisted guiltily at the thought of Ianto seeing his memories repeated over and over, with no where to get away from them and no one to talk to.
The time when he would have needed him most was the time when Jack thought of him as nothing more than a passing shag, the cute guy at work who he had fun with at the end of a hard day.
He felt that determination again now. He didn’t know exactly what Ianto was thinking, and he didn’t want to, some things should remain private and personal, but he knew that he’d listen, should Ianto ever need to talk to him, to get things off his chest. He’d listen.
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TBC - thank you all for your patience!
Chapter 10