Fic: To The Pain (33/41)
Title: To The Pain, Chapter 33
Rating: R
Warnings: None really, just don’t feel like changing the rating :)
Spoilers: Season One thru End of Days (1x13)
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around!
Summary: In which Ianto deals with the aftermath of his psychic connection with Jack…
Notes: Sequel to Vizzini’s Rule; previous chapters of To The Pain can be found here. Thanks to my wonderful (super awesome and super speedy!) beta
thrace_adams for all the support and putting up with my lastminuteness - any mistakes are mine!
To The Pain: Chapter Thirty-Three
Ianto awoke hours later to bright light filling his room and a dull pain thudding through his entire body. He opened his eyes with a groan. How can eyelids hurt this much? he wondered as he gauged the angle of the sun pouring in from his window. Little before noon, he decided and closed his eyes again. He pondered the possibility that he was misremembering the night before. Maybe we didn’t leave the pub after Tosh doused that guy after all. Maybe we stayed and got our arses handed to us by four rugby teams. It sure feels like it.
Ianto let his mind wander as he tried to ignore the pain throbbing through his body. He hoped Mark’s mum was better or at least that Mark had gotten there in time if the worst had happened. He shifted on the bed and groaned. Christ, what is wrong with me? I didn’t feel this bad after Jack saved me from the - Jack!
Ianto remembered.
He brought his hand to his mouth, disregarding the pain that shot up his arm as he ran his fingers over his lips. Jack. Ianto wondered again if he’d dreamed it all or if he’d finally been able to reach across the void to Jack. He played the scene in his head again and again: the metal hallway - a ship? a prison? Ianto still couldn’t tell - finding Jack and then seeing him murdered right before his eyes, touching Jack, holding him again after all this time, discovering that he wasn’t alone in his hallucination - vision? dream? - that Jack could hear him, could feel him too, and then that horrible moment when Jack just… faded away. A single tear escaped from Ianto’s closed eyes.
He rolled onto his side, ignoring protesting muscles until he could curl up, arms wrapped around himself. He wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t come with me, Ianto thought. He told me to stop trying to reach him so it must have been real because I would never think that, even in a dream, I’d never give up. Ianto felt his cheeks flush as his mind immediately strayed to Brendan. That wasn’t giving up, he argued with himself. If I’d given up I would have told Brendan to screw August, screw waiting, let’s be together now. But I didn’t. Ianto knew intellectually that he had nothing to be ashamed of about his time with Brendan but he also knew that, emotionally, he’d feel guilty about it for a long time.
Ianto turned his thoughts back to his Captain, wondering where he was, what was happening to him, how in the hell he’d ended up chained to a pipe, the plaything of the deranged and sadistic man in black.
He was still thinking about Jack when he finally relaxed enough to fall back asleep.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
This time when Ianto woke, the shadows in the room were starting to lengthen. He glanced over at the clock and was surprised by how late it was. He started his usual mumbling rant about pointless time changes when he realized that turning his head hadn’t hurt as much as earlier. He stretched cautiously, happy when he was able to move without pain, just the stiffness of tired muscles pushed past their limit. He lay there and thought about Jack’s request that he stop trying to contact him. Now that he’d seen Jack and talked to him, all Ianto wanted to do find him again. He was tempted to let himself slip into a trance and try right then…
But two things stopped him: the excruciating pain he’d been in earlier and the look on Jack’s face when he promised to return.
Ianto coaxed his weary body out of bed and into a hot shower where he let the water pound down on him while he came to grips with the magnitude of his vision. Jack is coming back. He promised. He promised to come back… to me. Me. A slow grin spread across Ianto’s face.
It stayed with him as he finished his shower and pulled on some warm clothes. He found himself in the kitchen, suddenly ravenous. For the first time in ages, when he opened the refrigerator it was fully stocked. Thanking The Powers That Be once again for his recent houseguests, Ianto made himself a fairly decent fry up - a couple of eggs, some sautéed potatoes with onions, a few sautéed mushrooms and a tomato he found lurking in the back of his fridge that was still good. He bemoaned the lack of bacon for a moment, but then his stomach heaved a little at the thought of meat and he dismissed the notion.
He settled in front of the telly with a big plate of food and a steaming mug of tea. He figured his all-day-sleep would keep him up all on its own, he didn’t want to add a pot of coffee to the mix. He found some shoot-em-up that was just starting and settled in for the night.
The next day, Ianto arrived at the Hub bright and early with that same grin on his face. It only took him a few moments inside to realize just how badly he’d been neglecting his duties while he dealt with Jack’s disappearance - the Tourist Office didn’t look that different from the day Jack had first brought him inside. He headed down to the Hub to make a pot of coffee, taking stock of everything that needed to be done along the way. By the time the scent of French Roast was wafting through the Hub, Ianto had his list written out and ready to go.
He spent the morning putting things to rights, checking items off his list, greeting the rest of the team as they filtered in. Everyone seemed in good spirits after a few days off. Tosh and Gwen each had a few additions to his list when he inquired if they needed anything. Ianto was surprised but gratified when he asked Owen the same thing and his gruff reply was, “You’ve enough to do, I can handle my stuff. Thanks, though.”
After a team lunch at the pub where Tosh regaled them with her tale of the drunken rugby player, Ianto found himself in the storeroom, checking on their supply of anti-weevil spray. He was trying to move a box on one of the upper shelves when his shoulder pulled and made him wince. He stepped back, regarding the box with a frown as he rubbed his shoulder. I should be able to move that, he thought. He hated to admit that Owen was right, but he did seem to be falling apart. Swearing once again that he would obey Jack’s wishes and cease his psychic experiments, he resolved to start using Jack’s weight room in addition to running. He needed to tone up, put back the muscle he’d lost over the last few stressful months. Hell, the last stressful year. He knew Jack had a fairly extensive set of free weights in a room down by the shooting range, he just needed to find it again. He’d only been inside once, shortly after he’d started at Torchwood Three.
Ianto smiled as he remembered walking in on Jack as he was sneaking around, looking for a room to hide Lisa. The Captain had been naked from the waist up, clad only in a pair of thin, gray jog shorts. When Ianto opened the door, he’d been doing curls with a barbell that looked like it might weigh as much as Ianto himself. Jack had been startled by the interruption, but kept lifting as he talked pleasantly with Ianto. To this day, Ianto couldn’t remember any of that conversation. All he could remember was a drop of sweat that caught his eye as it slid down the side of Jack’s face. He’d followed its path down his neck, over his chest, holding his breath as it caught for an instant on his left nipple before gaining momentum and slipping down over the chiseled abs that were flexing as Jack lifted the barbell over and over until it finally disappeared into the waistband of his shorts just above his…
Ianto shook his head and started fussing with the items on the shelf in front of him to stop that train of thought. Weights. Have to find those tomorrow. Better put it on the list.
He returned to the Hub a little while later to find Gwen camped out at Tosh’s workstation with an impressive stack of bridal magazines. Not wasting any time there, Ianto noted with a smile. Part of the team lunch at the pub had been an impromptu congratulations for Gwen. She had announced her engagement to Rhys at the morning meeting and it looked like she’d jumped right into planning the wedding. She was asking Tosh for advice on dresses and shoes and her opinion on tiaras versus veils as Ianto walked by. He chuckled as he hurried past them, blithely ignoring Tosh’s deer-in-the-headlights look. Gwen had no idea he was much more qualified to answer her questions, and Ianto was going to make damn sure she never found out.
He gave Owen the requisite slagging off for playing videogames at work as he passed behind his workstation on the way to Jack’s office, but Owen’s snarky retort didn’t have much bite. Ianto assumed he was concentrating on the game too hard to offer up his best material.
Ianto had just walked into the office when he heard a distinctive ring. It was the secure phone, tucked safely away in its locked cupboard. Ianto rushed to unlock the door and check the display. He was relieved to see it wasn’t Flat Holm. The number was one of the Whitehall extensions, but not one Ianto was familiar with. He took a deep breath and answered with confidence, “Torchwood Three, Jones speaking.”
“Jones Speaking? What an intriguing name. But you’re not on my list. I’m afraid I’m going to need your security visa, please.”
Ianto flushed and rattled off his five-number visa.
“Shame on you, Mr. Speaking,” the man’s voice said. “That visa belong to one… Eee-yan-toe Jones. My goodness, you Welsh do love your vowels.”
“Ianto Jones, sir. That’s me, erm, I’m him, he.” Ianto tugged self-consciously on his tie. He decided to start over. “This is Ianto Jones, to whom am I speaking, please?”
“Ah! I see, speaking. Not Speaking. Wonderful. This is Harold Saxon.”
Ianto straightened. “Mr. Saxon. And how can I help the Ministry of Defense today, sir?”
“So polite. That’s very nice to hear in this day and age.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto replied. He paused for a moment, listening as Saxon spoke again. That voice, I know that voice, it’s like… He couldn’t pin it down. It was right there, the recognition, hovering right before him. And just like that? It was gone. He felt oddly dizzy for a moment and then he forgot all about it.
“… and I’d love to talk to your noble leader about it,” Saxon was saying.
“I’m sorry,” Ianto said calmly. He’d been prepared for this call for months. “Jack is out in the field on a bit of a long term fact-gathering mission.”
“Really,” Saxon drawled.
“Yes, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Saxon sighed, sounding disappointed. Actually, Ianto thought it sounded more like he was pretending to be disappointed.
“No, Ianto Jones, nothing you can do for me. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have an idea when Captain Harkness will be back, do you?”
“I really couldn’t say, sir.”
“That saucy Jack. A law unto himself.”
Ianto shifted uncomfortably and murmured something noncommittal into the phone.
Saxon chuckled. “Well, I’ll just try back at a later date, then, Mr. Jones. You’ve been quite helpful. I look forward to meeting you in person someday.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Ianto said hurriedly. “I’ll be sure to tell Captain Harkness you rang.”
“You do that. Good-bye, Ianto Jones.”
“Good-bye, sir.”
Ianto ended the call and stared at the phone for a long minute. He wondered what Saxon had really wanted and why he needed to speak to Jack. He wondered…
And just like that he stopped wondering. He set the phone on its charger and locked the cupboard again, feeling oddly disconnected, like someone else was pulling his strings. By the time he’d pocketed the key, he’d forgotten about the phone call completely. He joined the others in the Hub and took pity on Tosh, settling in and asking Gwen if she’d decided on a theme for the wedding. Owen started hollering rude suggestions from his workstation and, with the exception of Jack’s absence, all seemed right in Ianto’s world for the first time in months.
TBC in Chapter Thirty-Four
Rating: R
Warnings: None really, just don’t feel like changing the rating :)
Spoilers: Season One thru End of Days (1x13)
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around!
Summary: In which Ianto deals with the aftermath of his psychic connection with Jack…
Notes: Sequel to Vizzini’s Rule; previous chapters of To The Pain can be found here. Thanks to my wonderful (super awesome and super speedy!) beta
thrace_adams for all the support and putting up with my lastminuteness - any mistakes are mine!
To The Pain: Chapter Thirty-Three
Ianto awoke hours later to bright light filling his room and a dull pain thudding through his entire body. He opened his eyes with a groan. How can eyelids hurt this much? he wondered as he gauged the angle of the sun pouring in from his window. Little before noon, he decided and closed his eyes again. He pondered the possibility that he was misremembering the night before. Maybe we didn’t leave the pub after Tosh doused that guy after all. Maybe we stayed and got our arses handed to us by four rugby teams. It sure feels like it.
Ianto let his mind wander as he tried to ignore the pain throbbing through his body. He hoped Mark’s mum was better or at least that Mark had gotten there in time if the worst had happened. He shifted on the bed and groaned. Christ, what is wrong with me? I didn’t feel this bad after Jack saved me from the - Jack!
Ianto remembered.
He brought his hand to his mouth, disregarding the pain that shot up his arm as he ran his fingers over his lips. Jack. Ianto wondered again if he’d dreamed it all or if he’d finally been able to reach across the void to Jack. He played the scene in his head again and again: the metal hallway - a ship? a prison? Ianto still couldn’t tell - finding Jack and then seeing him murdered right before his eyes, touching Jack, holding him again after all this time, discovering that he wasn’t alone in his hallucination - vision? dream? - that Jack could hear him, could feel him too, and then that horrible moment when Jack just… faded away. A single tear escaped from Ianto’s closed eyes.
He rolled onto his side, ignoring protesting muscles until he could curl up, arms wrapped around himself. He wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t come with me, Ianto thought. He told me to stop trying to reach him so it must have been real because I would never think that, even in a dream, I’d never give up. Ianto felt his cheeks flush as his mind immediately strayed to Brendan. That wasn’t giving up, he argued with himself. If I’d given up I would have told Brendan to screw August, screw waiting, let’s be together now. But I didn’t. Ianto knew intellectually that he had nothing to be ashamed of about his time with Brendan but he also knew that, emotionally, he’d feel guilty about it for a long time.
Ianto turned his thoughts back to his Captain, wondering where he was, what was happening to him, how in the hell he’d ended up chained to a pipe, the plaything of the deranged and sadistic man in black.
He was still thinking about Jack when he finally relaxed enough to fall back asleep.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
This time when Ianto woke, the shadows in the room were starting to lengthen. He glanced over at the clock and was surprised by how late it was. He started his usual mumbling rant about pointless time changes when he realized that turning his head hadn’t hurt as much as earlier. He stretched cautiously, happy when he was able to move without pain, just the stiffness of tired muscles pushed past their limit. He lay there and thought about Jack’s request that he stop trying to contact him. Now that he’d seen Jack and talked to him, all Ianto wanted to do find him again. He was tempted to let himself slip into a trance and try right then…
But two things stopped him: the excruciating pain he’d been in earlier and the look on Jack’s face when he promised to return.
Ianto coaxed his weary body out of bed and into a hot shower where he let the water pound down on him while he came to grips with the magnitude of his vision. Jack is coming back. He promised. He promised to come back… to me. Me. A slow grin spread across Ianto’s face.
It stayed with him as he finished his shower and pulled on some warm clothes. He found himself in the kitchen, suddenly ravenous. For the first time in ages, when he opened the refrigerator it was fully stocked. Thanking The Powers That Be once again for his recent houseguests, Ianto made himself a fairly decent fry up - a couple of eggs, some sautéed potatoes with onions, a few sautéed mushrooms and a tomato he found lurking in the back of his fridge that was still good. He bemoaned the lack of bacon for a moment, but then his stomach heaved a little at the thought of meat and he dismissed the notion.
He settled in front of the telly with a big plate of food and a steaming mug of tea. He figured his all-day-sleep would keep him up all on its own, he didn’t want to add a pot of coffee to the mix. He found some shoot-em-up that was just starting and settled in for the night.
The next day, Ianto arrived at the Hub bright and early with that same grin on his face. It only took him a few moments inside to realize just how badly he’d been neglecting his duties while he dealt with Jack’s disappearance - the Tourist Office didn’t look that different from the day Jack had first brought him inside. He headed down to the Hub to make a pot of coffee, taking stock of everything that needed to be done along the way. By the time the scent of French Roast was wafting through the Hub, Ianto had his list written out and ready to go.
He spent the morning putting things to rights, checking items off his list, greeting the rest of the team as they filtered in. Everyone seemed in good spirits after a few days off. Tosh and Gwen each had a few additions to his list when he inquired if they needed anything. Ianto was surprised but gratified when he asked Owen the same thing and his gruff reply was, “You’ve enough to do, I can handle my stuff. Thanks, though.”
After a team lunch at the pub where Tosh regaled them with her tale of the drunken rugby player, Ianto found himself in the storeroom, checking on their supply of anti-weevil spray. He was trying to move a box on one of the upper shelves when his shoulder pulled and made him wince. He stepped back, regarding the box with a frown as he rubbed his shoulder. I should be able to move that, he thought. He hated to admit that Owen was right, but he did seem to be falling apart. Swearing once again that he would obey Jack’s wishes and cease his psychic experiments, he resolved to start using Jack’s weight room in addition to running. He needed to tone up, put back the muscle he’d lost over the last few stressful months. Hell, the last stressful year. He knew Jack had a fairly extensive set of free weights in a room down by the shooting range, he just needed to find it again. He’d only been inside once, shortly after he’d started at Torchwood Three.
Ianto smiled as he remembered walking in on Jack as he was sneaking around, looking for a room to hide Lisa. The Captain had been naked from the waist up, clad only in a pair of thin, gray jog shorts. When Ianto opened the door, he’d been doing curls with a barbell that looked like it might weigh as much as Ianto himself. Jack had been startled by the interruption, but kept lifting as he talked pleasantly with Ianto. To this day, Ianto couldn’t remember any of that conversation. All he could remember was a drop of sweat that caught his eye as it slid down the side of Jack’s face. He’d followed its path down his neck, over his chest, holding his breath as it caught for an instant on his left nipple before gaining momentum and slipping down over the chiseled abs that were flexing as Jack lifted the barbell over and over until it finally disappeared into the waistband of his shorts just above his…
Ianto shook his head and started fussing with the items on the shelf in front of him to stop that train of thought. Weights. Have to find those tomorrow. Better put it on the list.
He returned to the Hub a little while later to find Gwen camped out at Tosh’s workstation with an impressive stack of bridal magazines. Not wasting any time there, Ianto noted with a smile. Part of the team lunch at the pub had been an impromptu congratulations for Gwen. She had announced her engagement to Rhys at the morning meeting and it looked like she’d jumped right into planning the wedding. She was asking Tosh for advice on dresses and shoes and her opinion on tiaras versus veils as Ianto walked by. He chuckled as he hurried past them, blithely ignoring Tosh’s deer-in-the-headlights look. Gwen had no idea he was much more qualified to answer her questions, and Ianto was going to make damn sure she never found out.
He gave Owen the requisite slagging off for playing videogames at work as he passed behind his workstation on the way to Jack’s office, but Owen’s snarky retort didn’t have much bite. Ianto assumed he was concentrating on the game too hard to offer up his best material.
Ianto had just walked into the office when he heard a distinctive ring. It was the secure phone, tucked safely away in its locked cupboard. Ianto rushed to unlock the door and check the display. He was relieved to see it wasn’t Flat Holm. The number was one of the Whitehall extensions, but not one Ianto was familiar with. He took a deep breath and answered with confidence, “Torchwood Three, Jones speaking.”
“Jones Speaking? What an intriguing name. But you’re not on my list. I’m afraid I’m going to need your security visa, please.”
Ianto flushed and rattled off his five-number visa.
“Shame on you, Mr. Speaking,” the man’s voice said. “That visa belong to one… Eee-yan-toe Jones. My goodness, you Welsh do love your vowels.”
“Ianto Jones, sir. That’s me, erm, I’m him, he.” Ianto tugged self-consciously on his tie. He decided to start over. “This is Ianto Jones, to whom am I speaking, please?”
“Ah! I see, speaking. Not Speaking. Wonderful. This is Harold Saxon.”
Ianto straightened. “Mr. Saxon. And how can I help the Ministry of Defense today, sir?”
“So polite. That’s very nice to hear in this day and age.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto replied. He paused for a moment, listening as Saxon spoke again. That voice, I know that voice, it’s like… He couldn’t pin it down. It was right there, the recognition, hovering right before him. And just like that? It was gone. He felt oddly dizzy for a moment and then he forgot all about it.
“… and I’d love to talk to your noble leader about it,” Saxon was saying.
“I’m sorry,” Ianto said calmly. He’d been prepared for this call for months. “Jack is out in the field on a bit of a long term fact-gathering mission.”
“Really,” Saxon drawled.
“Yes, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Saxon sighed, sounding disappointed. Actually, Ianto thought it sounded more like he was pretending to be disappointed.
“No, Ianto Jones, nothing you can do for me. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have an idea when Captain Harkness will be back, do you?”
“I really couldn’t say, sir.”
“That saucy Jack. A law unto himself.”
Ianto shifted uncomfortably and murmured something noncommittal into the phone.
Saxon chuckled. “Well, I’ll just try back at a later date, then, Mr. Jones. You’ve been quite helpful. I look forward to meeting you in person someday.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Ianto said hurriedly. “I’ll be sure to tell Captain Harkness you rang.”
“You do that. Good-bye, Ianto Jones.”
“Good-bye, sir.”
Ianto ended the call and stared at the phone for a long minute. He wondered what Saxon had really wanted and why he needed to speak to Jack. He wondered…
And just like that he stopped wondering. He set the phone on its charger and locked the cupboard again, feeling oddly disconnected, like someone else was pulling his strings. By the time he’d pocketed the key, he’d forgotten about the phone call completely. He joined the others in the Hub and took pity on Tosh, settling in and asking Gwen if she’d decided on a theme for the wedding. Owen started hollering rude suggestions from his workstation and, with the exception of Jack’s absence, all seemed right in Ianto’s world for the first time in months.
TBC in Chapter Thirty-Four