when you roll the dice (1/1)
title: when you roll the dice
rating: pg
pairing: jack/ianto
spoilers: post-'journey's end'.
disclaimer: rtd and the beeb own pretty much everyone. i'll have to check, but they might even own me.
writer's note: also for the horizonssing day six challenge. feedback welcome.
summary: jack is fulfilling a promise.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.
- Alexander Pope
Forget it; there's nothing to lose
but my mind and all the things I wanted.
- Breaking Benjamin, “Forget It”
Some days, Jack wants to forget more than anything.
When everything he's ever done launches a full-frontal assault on his consciousness, when all of his sins and his regrets decide it's time to haunt him because he's gotten too used to things going well, he just wants to take a not-quite-deadly dose of RetCon and see how long it takes his body to recover, how long it takes him to remember everything. Just one day would be enough - one day of nothingness, one day of being carted around by Ianto, having things explained to him as they go, one day of being actually normal, capable of loving his partner and being loved in return. All the lies he told, all the people he killed, all the blood on his hands, gone for just one day.
He wonders, on his way home to Cardiff, if someone explained to Rose why he came back, if someone told her anything about him. They seemed to take each other for granted in the midst of it all, and though he got a little bit of a smile when she saw him, and there might have been a hug when they landed, her eyes were all for the Doctor, and Jack didn't blame her. Not then, and not now. He just can't help but feel - he spent so many years waiting for them, does he not get just a little bit of an “I missed you, let's catch up?”
Jack sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, all too aware that he should be focusing on other things. There are transfer papers to draw up, phone calls to make, angry UNIT heads to placate. He could be doing any number of these things as the train makes its way towards Cardiff, but instead he chooses to stare through the window and mope, wondering about the Doctor, wondering about Rose, wondering how on earth he's going to explain what happened on that blasted ship to Ianto, much less Gwen. Ianto, at least, knows pieces of Jack's origin, whispers of the Gamestation told in the dark, and Jack can't forget that his taciturn, obsessive-compulsive young Archivist has seen them in person, in real life and blinding green. But the face of Davros, creator of the Daleks? The unique and still brilliantly painful feeling of being exterminated for the second time? Even the good things - Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler, Sarah Jane. DoctorDonna, or was that DonnaDoctor? It is for these reasons, these unexplainable reasons, that he just wants to forget it all.
Trees fly past him, as if he is not moving, always standing still. A moment fixed in time, isn't that what the Doctor called him? Destined to keep record as everything passes behind him. Kept alive despite the fact that he has little left to live for. Jack is the Keeper, the Face of Boe, the Captain, and sometimes - sometimes he just wants to be Jack. Not a Companion, not a leader. Just a man who's been far away from home for a little too long, and who is ready to sit down with a cup of coffee and talk about nothing. Ready to pretend he's forgotten, at least for a little while. Jack leans his head against the window and lets the nothingness fill his head.
Ianto has only been waiting for two hours when the train pulls in and Jack gets off, his shoulders sagging. Ianto thinks it's a little funny and a little sad that Jack doesn't even look, just heads for the taxi service as if he doesn't have anyone to get him, head swinging from side to side, checking for threats, until he finally nearly trips over Ianto's feet. Ianto grins and catches him, but his smile fades when he sees the exhaustion in Jack's eyes, the loss hidden there.
“Hey,” he says softly, and it's only then that Jack recognizes him for who he is and all but collapses into his arms. Ianto gives a gentle laugh and embraces back, surprised himself by just how glad he is to have Jack home. “Come on, into the car with you, I have a thermos of coffee waiting and the Pyrovillian warmer around it, so let's get you tucked in and then I'll take you straight home.” Jack perks up a little bit.
“Home?” Ianto smiles.
“Gwen doesn't know you're back yet. She's sitting in the Hub, told me to have a night in. I just didn't tell her I'd be having it with you.” Jack smiles and lets Ianto guide him to the car, for once just a travelling man, on his way home.
rating: pg
pairing: jack/ianto
spoilers: post-'journey's end'.
disclaimer: rtd and the beeb own pretty much everyone. i'll have to check, but they might even own me.
writer's note: also for the horizonssing day six challenge. feedback welcome.
summary: jack is fulfilling a promise.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.
- Alexander Pope
Forget it; there's nothing to lose
but my mind and all the things I wanted.
- Breaking Benjamin, “Forget It”
Some days, Jack wants to forget more than anything.
When everything he's ever done launches a full-frontal assault on his consciousness, when all of his sins and his regrets decide it's time to haunt him because he's gotten too used to things going well, he just wants to take a not-quite-deadly dose of RetCon and see how long it takes his body to recover, how long it takes him to remember everything. Just one day would be enough - one day of nothingness, one day of being carted around by Ianto, having things explained to him as they go, one day of being actually normal, capable of loving his partner and being loved in return. All the lies he told, all the people he killed, all the blood on his hands, gone for just one day.
He wonders, on his way home to Cardiff, if someone explained to Rose why he came back, if someone told her anything about him. They seemed to take each other for granted in the midst of it all, and though he got a little bit of a smile when she saw him, and there might have been a hug when they landed, her eyes were all for the Doctor, and Jack didn't blame her. Not then, and not now. He just can't help but feel - he spent so many years waiting for them, does he not get just a little bit of an “I missed you, let's catch up?”
Jack sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, all too aware that he should be focusing on other things. There are transfer papers to draw up, phone calls to make, angry UNIT heads to placate. He could be doing any number of these things as the train makes its way towards Cardiff, but instead he chooses to stare through the window and mope, wondering about the Doctor, wondering about Rose, wondering how on earth he's going to explain what happened on that blasted ship to Ianto, much less Gwen. Ianto, at least, knows pieces of Jack's origin, whispers of the Gamestation told in the dark, and Jack can't forget that his taciturn, obsessive-compulsive young Archivist has seen them in person, in real life and blinding green. But the face of Davros, creator of the Daleks? The unique and still brilliantly painful feeling of being exterminated for the second time? Even the good things - Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler, Sarah Jane. DoctorDonna, or was that DonnaDoctor? It is for these reasons, these unexplainable reasons, that he just wants to forget it all.
Trees fly past him, as if he is not moving, always standing still. A moment fixed in time, isn't that what the Doctor called him? Destined to keep record as everything passes behind him. Kept alive despite the fact that he has little left to live for. Jack is the Keeper, the Face of Boe, the Captain, and sometimes - sometimes he just wants to be Jack. Not a Companion, not a leader. Just a man who's been far away from home for a little too long, and who is ready to sit down with a cup of coffee and talk about nothing. Ready to pretend he's forgotten, at least for a little while. Jack leans his head against the window and lets the nothingness fill his head.
Ianto has only been waiting for two hours when the train pulls in and Jack gets off, his shoulders sagging. Ianto thinks it's a little funny and a little sad that Jack doesn't even look, just heads for the taxi service as if he doesn't have anyone to get him, head swinging from side to side, checking for threats, until he finally nearly trips over Ianto's feet. Ianto grins and catches him, but his smile fades when he sees the exhaustion in Jack's eyes, the loss hidden there.
“Hey,” he says softly, and it's only then that Jack recognizes him for who he is and all but collapses into his arms. Ianto gives a gentle laugh and embraces back, surprised himself by just how glad he is to have Jack home. “Come on, into the car with you, I have a thermos of coffee waiting and the Pyrovillian warmer around it, so let's get you tucked in and then I'll take you straight home.” Jack perks up a little bit.
“Home?” Ianto smiles.
“Gwen doesn't know you're back yet. She's sitting in the Hub, told me to have a night in. I just didn't tell her I'd be having it with you.” Jack smiles and lets Ianto guide him to the car, for once just a travelling man, on his way home.