Turning Point - 54/64
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 beta cazmalfoy, angelzbabe1989 for idea bouncing, and morbid_sparks for cheerleading even when she doesn'tdidn't know what happens.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Fifty-Four
Ianto kept himself occupied doing a final sweep of the workstations and autopsy bay for any empty mugs or snack wrappers for several minutes after the others left, not wanting to make Jack feel he was crowding or pushing him.
When he ran out of displacement activities, he slowly approached the door to Jack’s office, knocking softly on the open frame. Jack looked up from staring at his desk, his eyes glassy.
Ianto leaned against the doorframe. “Do you need… is there anything I can do?” he asked softly. “Or do you just want me to go home?”
Jack didn’t answer, and Ianto started to turn to leave; perhaps Owen had been right, and Jack really would be better dealing with this alone.
“No, stay,” Jack said hoarsely just as he turned his back fully on him. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I could definitely use the company.”
Ianto turned back and nodded. “Coffee?”
Jack shook his head. “Not tonight.” He spun on his office chair, pushing back to open a low cupboard door behind and to the side of his desk, pulling out a decanter and two glass tumblers. Standing up, he gestured back out of the door with the decanter.
Ianto stood back, letting Jack pass him to put the glasses and the decanter down on the coffee table before following him in sinking onto the sofa.
He sat in silence as Jack poured two generous measures into the glasses, waiting to see if Jack would talk on his own.
Jack took a sip of the brandy, bright eyes staring into nothingness over Ianto’s shoulder. “Oh, Estelle,” he whispered.
Ianto picked up his own glass, swirling the liquid around the sides of the glass while he considered his next words. “You were in love with her, weren’t you?” he eventually said quietly, gently. “I mean, I know there was no way it was your dad.”
Jack nodded, a tear finally slipping free and trickling down his cheek. “I once made a vow to her that we’d be together until we died,” he whispered brokenly. “I knew even then that it was impossible, but that didn’t stop me wanting it so badly.” Another tear broke free, leaving a damp trail across Jack’s face.
Ianto shuffled a little closer, resisting the sudden temptation he had to reach out and wipe the tears away with the tips of his fingers. “I…” He stopped, not really having a clue what he could say, what he could do to help. He wondered if Jack had felt like this all the times he’d come to Ianto’s aid over the last months. If he had, he’d covered well; he always seemed to know what to say.
“Tell me about her,” Ianto said suddenly, recalling the night before, how recounting the early days, the happy days, with Lisa had helped. “What she was like when you knew her, before? How did you meet?”
Jack’s face lightened a little, a nostalgic smile curving his lips even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was in London, back in the country on leave. A few weeks before Christmas, at the Astoria ballroom.” A true light sparkled in his eyes and Ianto could tell he was immersed in the memory.
“I saw her across the floor. She was seventeen years old and she was beautiful. I loved her practically at first sight.” He sighed, his focus coming back to Ianto. “But it was wartime. Nothing lasted. Promises were broken, including mine.”
“But you found her again,” Ianto prompted.
Jack nodded. “Just as soon as enough time had passed that it wouldn’t seem suspicious. And even though I abandoned her, she didn’t bear me - or my father, as she thought - any ill will. She just…” He blew out a breath. “She shouldn’t have had to die like that. Not Estelle.”
Ianto nodded, thinking sadly of the sweet woman he’d met that afternoon. “No one should.”
“No. I knew they could be vicious, I’ve seen it before, but this…”
Ianto blinked. While Jack had been able to tell them a lot about these creatures earlier, he hadn’t imagined - wouldn’t have wished to imagine - that it was through past experience with them. “You’ve seen it before?” he asked before he could help himself.
Jack nodded. “A long time ago. A very long time ago.” He sighed. “I was on a troop train in Lahore, in charge of a unit of fifteen men. We were all dog tired, but the men were having a good time anyway. I think that was what really set them off…”
“What happened?”
“We went into a tunnel.” Jack shook his head. “There was a fluttering noise in the dark; I just thought a bird had got in through a window or something. And then we came out of the tunnel.”
Ianto swallowed hard; this didn’t sound like it was going anywhere good.
“All of my men were dead. Petals in their mouths, like Mark Goodson, suffocated.”
“Why? What had they done that…?”
“A couple of them had been out and got drunk a few days previously. Got behind the wheel of a truck to drive back to the village, ran over a kid.”
His sudden stare burned right into Ianto. “The child was a Chosen One. I told you today, they protect their own. At any cost.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
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 beta cazmalfoy, angelzbabe1989 for idea bouncing, and morbid_sparks for cheerleading even when she doesn'tdidn't know what happens.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Fifty-Four
Ianto kept himself occupied doing a final sweep of the workstations and autopsy bay for any empty mugs or snack wrappers for several minutes after the others left, not wanting to make Jack feel he was crowding or pushing him.
When he ran out of displacement activities, he slowly approached the door to Jack’s office, knocking softly on the open frame. Jack looked up from staring at his desk, his eyes glassy.
Ianto leaned against the doorframe. “Do you need… is there anything I can do?” he asked softly. “Or do you just want me to go home?”
Jack didn’t answer, and Ianto started to turn to leave; perhaps Owen had been right, and Jack really would be better dealing with this alone.
“No, stay,” Jack said hoarsely just as he turned his back fully on him. “I…” He cleared his throat. “I could definitely use the company.”
Ianto turned back and nodded. “Coffee?”
Jack shook his head. “Not tonight.” He spun on his office chair, pushing back to open a low cupboard door behind and to the side of his desk, pulling out a decanter and two glass tumblers. Standing up, he gestured back out of the door with the decanter.
Ianto stood back, letting Jack pass him to put the glasses and the decanter down on the coffee table before following him in sinking onto the sofa.
He sat in silence as Jack poured two generous measures into the glasses, waiting to see if Jack would talk on his own.
Jack took a sip of the brandy, bright eyes staring into nothingness over Ianto’s shoulder. “Oh, Estelle,” he whispered.
Ianto picked up his own glass, swirling the liquid around the sides of the glass while he considered his next words. “You were in love with her, weren’t you?” he eventually said quietly, gently. “I mean, I know there was no way it was your dad.”
Jack nodded, a tear finally slipping free and trickling down his cheek. “I once made a vow to her that we’d be together until we died,” he whispered brokenly. “I knew even then that it was impossible, but that didn’t stop me wanting it so badly.” Another tear broke free, leaving a damp trail across Jack’s face.
Ianto shuffled a little closer, resisting the sudden temptation he had to reach out and wipe the tears away with the tips of his fingers. “I…” He stopped, not really having a clue what he could say, what he could do to help. He wondered if Jack had felt like this all the times he’d come to Ianto’s aid over the last months. If he had, he’d covered well; he always seemed to know what to say.
“Tell me about her,” Ianto said suddenly, recalling the night before, how recounting the early days, the happy days, with Lisa had helped. “What she was like when you knew her, before? How did you meet?”
Jack’s face lightened a little, a nostalgic smile curving his lips even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was in London, back in the country on leave. A few weeks before Christmas, at the Astoria ballroom.” A true light sparkled in his eyes and Ianto could tell he was immersed in the memory.
“I saw her across the floor. She was seventeen years old and she was beautiful. I loved her practically at first sight.” He sighed, his focus coming back to Ianto. “But it was wartime. Nothing lasted. Promises were broken, including mine.”
“But you found her again,” Ianto prompted.
Jack nodded. “Just as soon as enough time had passed that it wouldn’t seem suspicious. And even though I abandoned her, she didn’t bear me - or my father, as she thought - any ill will. She just…” He blew out a breath. “She shouldn’t have had to die like that. Not Estelle.”
Ianto nodded, thinking sadly of the sweet woman he’d met that afternoon. “No one should.”
“No. I knew they could be vicious, I’ve seen it before, but this…”
Ianto blinked. While Jack had been able to tell them a lot about these creatures earlier, he hadn’t imagined - wouldn’t have wished to imagine - that it was through past experience with them. “You’ve seen it before?” he asked before he could help himself.
Jack nodded. “A long time ago. A very long time ago.” He sighed. “I was on a troop train in Lahore, in charge of a unit of fifteen men. We were all dog tired, but the men were having a good time anyway. I think that was what really set them off…”
“What happened?”
“We went into a tunnel.” Jack shook his head. “There was a fluttering noise in the dark; I just thought a bird had got in through a window or something. And then we came out of the tunnel.”
Ianto swallowed hard; this didn’t sound like it was going anywhere good.
“All of my men were dead. Petals in their mouths, like Mark Goodson, suffocated.”
“Why? What had they done that…?”
“A couple of them had been out and got drunk a few days previously. Got behind the wheel of a truck to drive back to the village, ran over a kid.”
His sudden stare burned right into Ianto. “The child was a Chosen One. I told you today, they protect their own. At any cost.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Comments and concrit are loved!