Turning Point - 8/64
Title: Turning Point
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: budding Jack/Ianto, references to past Ianto/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Some information and events from s1,2. NONE for s3.
Summary: In the aftermath of Lisa's death, Ianto is struggling to cope - and new surprises don't help matters much. Can his friends on the team at Torchwood help him carry on?
Author's Note: Sequel to Guilt.
Thanks to: My lovely beta cazmalfoy, angelzbabe1989 for idea bouncing, and morbid_sparks for cheerleading even when she doesn't know what happens.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Eight
“Nothing,” Suzie called back, sounding frustrated. “I’m not finding any connection at all.”
Jack nodded absently and put Suzie’s research to the back of his mind as he leant over Tosh’s shoulder, reading a few words from the reports she was simultaneously reading and parsing for numerical data she could use in the computer program she was putting together.
Ianto appeared on Tosh’s other side a minute later, startling Jack just a little - he clearly hadn’t heard the younger man approach. He put two folders down on the edge of Tosh’s desk, one much thicker than the other.
“Either someone in 1972 was very organised, or they were trying to research a pattern into Weevil attacks,” Ianto said quietly. “They were still, as a group, filed completely randomly in the end. But, at least, as far as I can make out, every report from that year is in that folder.” He picked up the thinner folder. “Unless 1986 was a very Weevil-light year, I doubt this one has all the reports.”
“Thanks, Ianto, you’re doing fantastically well finding all this stuff,” Tosh smiled at him. “I’m slowly matching up all the digitised Rift recordings with dates, so hopefully we’ll be able to do something with the data soon.”
Jack flipped open the cover of the topmost folder, skimming over a couple of the first reports in it. The names of some familiar places around Cardiff jumped out at him; apparently, Weevil hotspots hadn’t changed much since 1986.
“Are you finished with that lot, then?” Ianto asked Tosh, gesturing towards a small stack of folders on the other side of her desk.
Tosh nodded, her eyes back on her computer screen. “Yep. You can take them.”
Jack blinked. “Take them where?”
Ianto shot him a look that was almost, but not quite, withering and condescending. There was still just a tinge too much of other emotions in his eyes to reach the full effect Jack knew from experience Ianto’s looks could have.
“Back to the archives,” he said flatly. “Where - well, for the moment I’m storing them in a file-box, just in case Tosh needs them again - but when the cabinets are fully sorted, they will - and this may come as a surprise to those of you who embraced the previous ‘filing system’ - be filed in the appropriate cabinet for their decade, under ‘W’ for ‘Weevils’.”
Jack tried to look chagrined - he really did - but he was finding it difficult to suppress the smile that wanted to break free. The smile that wanted to find its way to his face every time they got another little inkling that Ianto was beginning to heal, that the Ianto they’d come to know over the last few months was fighting his way back to them.
He thought he’d caught several glimpses of him the night before. The evening at Ianto’s flat hadn’t been entirely comfortable; Jack suspected that Ianto had thought for at least part of the time that he was only there to coddle him, not taking into account the fact that Jack thought of him as a friend.
Once the DVD had been put into the player, and they had slumped at opposite ends of the sofa to watch it, the tension began to release. Ianto had chosen a light-hearted comedy - not one that had originally belonged to Lisa, Jack noted - and Jack had surreptitiously watched Ianto almost more than he had the film. Ianto hadn’t quite laughed out loud, but there had been the hint of a chuckle, which was enough for Jack.
He held up his hands in exaggerated surrender. “Okay, okay, so my knowledge of the proper way to file things away is non-existent. We’ve been through this before. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”
Ianto picked up the pile of files and started back towards the archives. After a few steps, he turned back and a glimmer of a smile ghosted across his face. “No,” he agreed, “I don’t have to.”
Chapter Nine
Comments and concrit are loved!
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: budding Jack/Ianto, references to past Ianto/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Some information and events from s1,2. NONE for s3.
Summary: In the aftermath of Lisa's death, Ianto is struggling to cope - and new surprises don't help matters much. Can his friends on the team at Torchwood help him carry on?
Author's Note: Sequel to Guilt.
Thanks to: My lovely beta cazmalfoy, angelzbabe1989 for idea bouncing, and morbid_sparks for cheerleading even when she doesn't know what happens.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Eight
“Nothing,” Suzie called back, sounding frustrated. “I’m not finding any connection at all.”
Jack nodded absently and put Suzie’s research to the back of his mind as he leant over Tosh’s shoulder, reading a few words from the reports she was simultaneously reading and parsing for numerical data she could use in the computer program she was putting together.
Ianto appeared on Tosh’s other side a minute later, startling Jack just a little - he clearly hadn’t heard the younger man approach. He put two folders down on the edge of Tosh’s desk, one much thicker than the other.
“Either someone in 1972 was very organised, or they were trying to research a pattern into Weevil attacks,” Ianto said quietly. “They were still, as a group, filed completely randomly in the end. But, at least, as far as I can make out, every report from that year is in that folder.” He picked up the thinner folder. “Unless 1986 was a very Weevil-light year, I doubt this one has all the reports.”
“Thanks, Ianto, you’re doing fantastically well finding all this stuff,” Tosh smiled at him. “I’m slowly matching up all the digitised Rift recordings with dates, so hopefully we’ll be able to do something with the data soon.”
Jack flipped open the cover of the topmost folder, skimming over a couple of the first reports in it. The names of some familiar places around Cardiff jumped out at him; apparently, Weevil hotspots hadn’t changed much since 1986.
“Are you finished with that lot, then?” Ianto asked Tosh, gesturing towards a small stack of folders on the other side of her desk.
Tosh nodded, her eyes back on her computer screen. “Yep. You can take them.”
Jack blinked. “Take them where?”
Ianto shot him a look that was almost, but not quite, withering and condescending. There was still just a tinge too much of other emotions in his eyes to reach the full effect Jack knew from experience Ianto’s looks could have.
“Back to the archives,” he said flatly. “Where - well, for the moment I’m storing them in a file-box, just in case Tosh needs them again - but when the cabinets are fully sorted, they will - and this may come as a surprise to those of you who embraced the previous ‘filing system’ - be filed in the appropriate cabinet for their decade, under ‘W’ for ‘Weevils’.”
Jack tried to look chagrined - he really did - but he was finding it difficult to suppress the smile that wanted to break free. The smile that wanted to find its way to his face every time they got another little inkling that Ianto was beginning to heal, that the Ianto they’d come to know over the last few months was fighting his way back to them.
He thought he’d caught several glimpses of him the night before. The evening at Ianto’s flat hadn’t been entirely comfortable; Jack suspected that Ianto had thought for at least part of the time that he was only there to coddle him, not taking into account the fact that Jack thought of him as a friend.
Once the DVD had been put into the player, and they had slumped at opposite ends of the sofa to watch it, the tension began to release. Ianto had chosen a light-hearted comedy - not one that had originally belonged to Lisa, Jack noted - and Jack had surreptitiously watched Ianto almost more than he had the film. Ianto hadn’t quite laughed out loud, but there had been the hint of a chuckle, which was enough for Jack.
He held up his hands in exaggerated surrender. “Okay, okay, so my knowledge of the proper way to file things away is non-existent. We’ve been through this before. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”
Ianto picked up the pile of files and started back towards the archives. After a few steps, he turned back and a glimmer of a smile ghosted across his face. “No,” he agreed, “I don’t have to.”
Chapter Nine
Comments and concrit are loved!