Time of Dying -7/? - Lying My Way From You
Title: Time Of Dying- 7/?
Rating: 15 ish.
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack
Pairings: Ianto/Owen, Jack/Ianto
Series: Chapter Seven of “Lying My Way From You”.
Spoilers: If you haven’t seen “Reset” this is really going to spoil it for you.
Summary: Ianto has a bad feeling about the Pharm mission, but will it warrant anything? Especially when he is forced to watch Owen pay the ultimate sacrifice…
Disclaimer: Regrettably I own nothing, none of the characters, zip. Wish I did though.
Author’s Notes: Ok…so if the title and the summary haven’t given it away yet, we have severe angst approaching, so in advance I am issuing a tissue warning. So yes, you have been warned, and I cannot be billed for the excessive use of Kleenex during this chapter. :P Of course, I have to say thank you to my ownto beta thehubsitter , for her usual awesomeness even when she does not admit to it. And to you readers too, because without you writing this would not be as much of a pleasure. :)
Chapter One: It's Beginning To Get To Me
Chapter Two: Oblivious
Chapter Three: The Edge's Start To Blur
Chapter Four: Every You, Every Me
Chapter Five: Easier To Lie
Chapter Six: Uneasy Constants
Well, this series could only ever be dedicated to my Ownto girliesnaddypants and thehubsitter . Why? Well they are just very supportive, hilarious and down right fabulous if you ask me. I couldn’t ask for better writing buddies.
Now, let’s not be stupid, okay?
“Do you really have to look at her like that?” Ianto sighed as he placed Owen’s coffee down by the autopsy table. He leant over, reaching for the medic’s discarded white coat and folding it automatically.
“Sorry?”
“Martha.” Ianto shook his head, still focussing on the white coat. “You’ve been flirting with her from the second she got here.”
“Ianto…I’m sorry, but you appear to be mistaking flirting with working.” The medic rolled his eyes, nudging the drawer of surgical equipment shut with his hip.
“With you it’s generally the same thing.”
“Are we actually discussing this? Seriously?” Owen smirked. “Do I need to sit down?”
“You can wipe that look off your face for a start.” Ianto rolled his eyes, placing Owen’s coat down onto the autopsy slab before leaning against it himself and looking back to the medic. “I’m not messing around here Owen.”
“Alright…though I still don’t quite see your problem.”
“See what I mean about you being oblivious! How can you not notice?”
“Quite easily it seems.” Owen sighed, twirling his pen round in his hand as he watched Ianto. “But in fairness Yan, you notice everything. I hardly stand a chance compared to you do I?”
“It’s not about that.” Ianto paused. “Maybe you don’t realise you’re doing it. But every word you say to her seems to be as much a flirty innuendo as you can manage. And believe me…I know what those are like.”
“It’s not intentional, I promise you.”
“It isn’t?”
“Course not.” Owen took a step forward, reaching out and stroking a quick hand down Ianto’s cheek. It wasn’t a large or dramatic action, but Ianto knew its significance. They had been together for nearly two and a half months and yet they would still not advertise their affections publicly around the Hub. “You’re the one I go home with right?”
“But she’s very beautiful.”
“Looked in the mirror recently?” Owen laughed as he watched Ianto’s cheeks flow crimson. “Seriously Ianto, I’m not looking for anyone else. Alright?”
“Alright.”
“And I can stop the flirting, if you want.”
“No, no…maybe you’re right. Maybe I am being over-sensitive.” Ianto smiled weakly. “I should be used to it right?”
“Not in the slightest.” Owen nodded softly. “The way you and I got together…well it was hardly conventional was it? You’re allowed to be a little insecure.”
“But I don’t mean to be.”
“I know.” The medic grinned. “I’m not complaining, it shows I mean something.” He nudged Ianto softly, before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Ianto’s lips.
“That much wasn’t already obvious?”
“Yeah…but doesn’t mean I don’t like evidence of it once in a while.”
“I feel so used.” Ianto laughed. “You better make it up to me.”
“Tonight Yan.” Owen smirked, backing away and picking up his clipboard. He tapped at the paper on it with his pen. “You and me tonight, we’ll forget Torchwood, forget Jack, forget this Pharm. We’ll just be for a bit yeah?”
“Yeah. I like the sound of that.” Ianto smiled quickly, before returning to his archives. He liked the idea of being able to forget about work, needles and apparent assassinations. To just spend a night with Owen, alone, with them just celebrating being alive. That was all he really wanted.
We’re both rational men, scientists.
Ianto Jones had always been trusting of scientists. He had always admired their intellect, had always admired how they seemed almost other worldly in their knowledge compared to him. Sure, he could recite almost the whole of the Hub’s history by heart, but he always attributed that down to his superior memory and interest rather than his intellect. Maybe it was what had started his feelings for Owen, that slight aspect of awe that he felt whenever he saw how quickly and analytically Owen could look at a body or a medical report. Or maybe it was just because Owen seemed so unattainable, and so Ianto sub-consciously thought he might be safe investing his emotions in him. After all, he could never be hurt by someone who barely even noticed his presence.
How wrong Ianto had been.
Either way, there was something about this Aaron Copley that Ianto didn’t trust. He was as prestigious as a scientist could get, and yet somewhere deep amongst profiling him Ianto had discovered an almost profound sense of distaste for the man. His public image seemed more than satisfactory, the perfect clean exterior of a well established researcher firmly in place. But at the same time, Aaron Copley seemed too clean, too honest to be true. Just like with all the other Pharm images Ianto found himself suddenly feeling inexplicably wary and nervous when he even looked at them. There was a bad feeling growing in the very bottom of Ianto’s stomach, and yet he could not for the life of him work out why.
“Have you briefed Martha Ianto?” Jack was in front of his eyes in seconds, expectant and impatient - the only way he ever was with Ianto right then.
“Yes. Her briefing, her fake ID, I’ve issued it all.”
“Good work.” Jack nodded quickly. “If she has any problems she’s to come straight to me, ok?”
“Understood.” Ianto forced a weak smile, watching as Jack began to step away from him. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he was suddenly stepping after him, his voice leaving his lips suddenly. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t....I don’t like this.”
“What’s not to like? We have a job to do, Ianto.”
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Martha will be fine. She’s been through worse than this. Believe me.” Jack swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t send her into something I didn’t think she was capable of.”
“But still…the Pharm are too organised. I just think that-”
“You think what?” Jack spun round fully, taking a step closer to Ianto so that they were face to face. “You’re right…the Pharm is organised, and that makes them dangerous. But if we don’t find out more about them then more people are going to die. We can’t waste time, Ianto, not with their lives at risk.”
“I’m sorry Jack…I didn’t mean-”
“I know.” The captain nodded quickly. “I know. Go find Toshiko, let me know the second Martha gets inside the Pharm.”
Ianto replied with a soft nod, leaving Jack’s office as fast as possible. Jack was right, and most likely the strange feeling in Ianto’s stomach was nothing. He was being ridiculous, trying to stop an entire mission just because deep down something didn’t feel right to him. They always felt a little jumpy before a mission and before the adrenaline kicked in, and maybe he was just feeling that a little more strongly this time.
After all, what Jack had said was true. They did have a job to do, and Ianto couldn’t let how he was feeling distract him from that.
I know you don’t want to shoot.
As soon as the bullet found its mark in Owen’s chest, Ianto felt his heart stop for a mere second. Owen’s body fell backwards in slow motion, the pounding of blood in Ianto’s ears blocked out all other noise around him. He blinked hard, willing it all to have never happened, but when his eyes opened again all he could see was Owen lying there, practically obscured from view by the others. He took a heavy step forward, but his body refused to move further, his eyes refusing to acknowledge the deep blur of scarlet that was eking out onto Owen’s shirt. The shirt he remembered ironing that morning, never to know that just over 12 hours later it would be steeped in his lover’s blood.
He was silently praying as he watched Martha try to help Owen, his hands bunched into such tight fists that he could feel his nails biting into his palms, trickles of his own warm blood running down his fingers. His lips were moving on their own, repeatedly mouthing a voiceless plea. He felt so useless, so desperate to be at Owen’s side. And yet the crowd of his colleagues and the lead feeling in his limbs stopped him from being able to move any closer.
He saw Martha withdraw from Owen’s body, and he knew that it was over. He could feel tears well and surge within him, although his face was so numbed by shock that he was unable to let them fall. They were instead frozen there, caged in his eyes, sending his world further and further out of focus. He could hear Toshiko crying, Gwen’s sobs accompanying her whilst Jack comforted Martha. And yet Ianto stayed distanced from them all, alone. He stood above them, a solemn statue, his eyes fixed upon the horizon. He didn’t dare look down, didn’t dare take in his lover’s dead features for the first time. Because then, then Owen would be dead. In his heart. His smile, his touch, and his kiss that Ianto all loved so much lost forever.
And Ianto couldn’t do that. He couldn’t even mourn Owen like the others, because it hurt him too much to even think for a mere second, that he might have lost Owen Harper for good.
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It was a still night in Cardiff. There was no breeze and no clouds, the dark navy sky paused for what might appear an eternity. The moon hung effortlessly in amongst the dark canvas, surrounded by glimmering specks of light from far away stars. Beneath the moon’s light, the water of the bay shimmered, soft waves rising and falling like a form of immortal breath. It was not the night that Owen Harper was supposed to die upon. That night should have been stormy and troubled; the tide should have been thrashing against the bay as if demanding for his life to return to his body. There should have been rain lashing against the buildings, the wind aiding in its quest to highlight the sheer waste of what had happened. But instead, the calm night had merely accepted Ianto’s loss without question.
The body lay motionless in the autopsy bay, peaceful after such a violent death. Ianto wished that he could pretend that Owen was sleeping, although he knew in his heart that he would never see Owen sleep again. He hated that feeling the most. The realisation that seemed to come with his every thought of Owen. It was all over, and he could never experience any aspect of Owen ever again. Like Lisa all over again, Ianto was facing a new life without the love he so depended upon. And he wasn’t even sure if he could do it all over again.
“I need to clean him.” Martha said slowly, glancing at Owen, her eyes quickly raking across his bloodied shirt and chest. “Before I can do the autopsy.”
“Do you….do you need help?” Gwen managed to speak out next, although her eyes clearly showed that in reality she would not be able to help in the slightest. Her arm was tightly around Toshiko’s shoulders, her manner compassionate as always.
“No…I don’t think that’s fair on you. On any of you.” Martha gave them all a very weak smile. “I should do it. It’s my job.”
“No.” From behind them all, Ianto’s voice sounded out, hard, steady and yet without any emotion. His eyes met Martha’s decisively. “I should do it.”
“Ianto…I can’t-”
“You can.” He replied bluntly. “I want to do it.” This time Ianto tore his eyes from Martha’s, instead choosing to look at Jack, pausing as he looked deep into his eyes before continuing. “Let me do this. Please.”
“Jack I don’t think that this-”
“No.” Jack shook his head slowly. “Let him do this Martha.” He nodded softly to Ianto before glancing around to the rest of the team. “Alone.”
“But-”
“That’s an order.” Solemnly, Jack guided them all up the steps of the autopsy bay, waiting until they had all left before standing beside Ianto. He kept his back to him but instead lifted his right arm, his hand resting on Ianto’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry Ianto. I’m so sorry.”
Once he was alone, Ianto took a tentative step forward, his shaking hands reaching out to unbutton Owen’s shirt before pushing the damp fabric away from his body. The sight of the wound repulsed him, the thick stagnant smell of iron felt almost toxic in his nostrils, yet Ianto carried on regardless. He returned to Owen with a cloth and a bowl of warm water, and slowly but surely he began to dab at his bare skin, cleaning away the layer of scarlet to reveal the tender pale pink beneath. He swallowed hard, trying to push aside memories from the night before. The night where they had been so exhausted that they both crawled into bed and Ianto had laid down with his head pressed firmly against Owen’s chest. He’d fallen asleep to the dull rhythm of Owen’s heartbeat as a distant lullaby, the steady pace as comforting as it was constant. And yet now, now that heartbeat had stopped. Silenced by one bullet. One bullet and one brief moment in time which had finished everything so quickly.
Ianto’s whole body was aching, shaking, every fibre feeling as if it was racked with pain. His eyes were closing again, his eyelids shut firmly as if to block out all light whilst his mouth opened in a silent scream. He could no longer control his arms, his reddened hands dropping to his sides limply, unable to carry on their simple task. When Ianto’s eyes opened again this time, the tears frozen inside them were suddenly set loose, pouring from his eyes as water cascades from a waterfall. He was no longer silent as a soft howl left his lips, his breathing erratic as he attempted to suck in air in between sobs. His legs felt weak, his knees buckling as he reached out, one hand steadying himself on the autopsy table whilst the other fought and fumbled to find Owen’s hand. When he found it he gripped it tight, clung to the cold fingers desperately, his thumb running across the now icy skin. Bile was sitting thick at the back of his throat, a bitter taste swelling within his mouth, sickening him to the core. And yet Ianto no longer cared. He no longer had anything to care about at that moment. Owen had been ripped from him so selfishly and he hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye or tell him one last time that he loved him. He couldn’t even do that then, as he stood hunched over the body of a man who had been so alive to him barely an hour ago. All he could do was let go, and mourn the loss that tore into his heart so deeply.
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In his office, an immortal man was mourning the loss of his friend. It was a pain that he was so used to feeling, and yet a pain that still felt fresh every time it struck him.
Jack had his hand splayed out across the CCTV image of Ianto in the autopsy bay, although he didn’t know what good he was trying to accomplish by doing so. Not for the first time in his life he felt so helpless, so isolated. He wanted more than anything to go and comfort Ianto, to go and help him through the extent of grief that the rest of the team still had no idea he was feeling. To them Ianto Jones had but lost a friend, but to Jack Ianto had lost so much more than that.
A tear slipping down his own cheek, Jack bit his lip, switching off the CCTV in a decisive motion. It suddenly felt so wrong to be watching Ianto grieve privately, however distressed he might be. No matter how hard it felt, he would have to let Ianto mourn alone, let him say goodbye to Owen in his own time and in his own way. It was all he could do. After all, Ianto may have stopped loving him but deep down Jack Harkness still knew that Ianto meant more to him than any other.
Jack’s eyes fell to his desk, scanning across it idly as he wiped the tears from his face. It was only then that his eyes met with an object that struck a deep chord within his mind. A tarot card, given to him by that girl all those years ago when he had first joined Torchwood. Suddenly the grief in Jack’s thoughts was replaced by thoughts of a different nature, thoughts of another glove, another way. Before he knew it Jack was searching desperately for any information he could on his computer. If this was the only thing he could do for Ianto, for them all, then he was going to do it without a second thought.
After all, Jack would never be able to give Ianto Owen back. But maybe, just maybe he might be able to give him the chance to say his last goodbyes…
*Is hiding from the angst* Ok, so what do we think? I have descended into angst I know, but I would still love to know your views. But thank you so much for reading this far!
Just Being Me a.k.a Siany
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Click here for chapter 8, "All We Are".
Rating: 15 ish.
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack
Pairings: Ianto/Owen, Jack/Ianto
Series: Chapter Seven of “Lying My Way From You”.
Spoilers: If you haven’t seen “Reset” this is really going to spoil it for you.
Summary: Ianto has a bad feeling about the Pharm mission, but will it warrant anything? Especially when he is forced to watch Owen pay the ultimate sacrifice…
Disclaimer: Regrettably I own nothing, none of the characters, zip. Wish I did though.
Author’s Notes: Ok…so if the title and the summary haven’t given it away yet, we have severe angst approaching, so in advance I am issuing a tissue warning. So yes, you have been warned, and I cannot be billed for the excessive use of Kleenex during this chapter. :P Of course, I have to say thank you to my ownto beta thehubsitter , for her usual awesomeness even when she does not admit to it. And to you readers too, because without you writing this would not be as much of a pleasure. :)
Chapter One: It's Beginning To Get To Me
Chapter Two: Oblivious
Chapter Three: The Edge's Start To Blur
Chapter Four: Every You, Every Me
Chapter Five: Easier To Lie
Chapter Six: Uneasy Constants
Well, this series could only ever be dedicated to my Ownto girliesnaddypants and thehubsitter . Why? Well they are just very supportive, hilarious and down right fabulous if you ask me. I couldn’t ask for better writing buddies.
Now, let’s not be stupid, okay?
“Do you really have to look at her like that?” Ianto sighed as he placed Owen’s coffee down by the autopsy table. He leant over, reaching for the medic’s discarded white coat and folding it automatically.
“Sorry?”
“Martha.” Ianto shook his head, still focussing on the white coat. “You’ve been flirting with her from the second she got here.”
“Ianto…I’m sorry, but you appear to be mistaking flirting with working.” The medic rolled his eyes, nudging the drawer of surgical equipment shut with his hip.
“With you it’s generally the same thing.”
“Are we actually discussing this? Seriously?” Owen smirked. “Do I need to sit down?”
“You can wipe that look off your face for a start.” Ianto rolled his eyes, placing Owen’s coat down onto the autopsy slab before leaning against it himself and looking back to the medic. “I’m not messing around here Owen.”
“Alright…though I still don’t quite see your problem.”
“See what I mean about you being oblivious! How can you not notice?”
“Quite easily it seems.” Owen sighed, twirling his pen round in his hand as he watched Ianto. “But in fairness Yan, you notice everything. I hardly stand a chance compared to you do I?”
“It’s not about that.” Ianto paused. “Maybe you don’t realise you’re doing it. But every word you say to her seems to be as much a flirty innuendo as you can manage. And believe me…I know what those are like.”
“It’s not intentional, I promise you.”
“It isn’t?”
“Course not.” Owen took a step forward, reaching out and stroking a quick hand down Ianto’s cheek. It wasn’t a large or dramatic action, but Ianto knew its significance. They had been together for nearly two and a half months and yet they would still not advertise their affections publicly around the Hub. “You’re the one I go home with right?”
“But she’s very beautiful.”
“Looked in the mirror recently?” Owen laughed as he watched Ianto’s cheeks flow crimson. “Seriously Ianto, I’m not looking for anyone else. Alright?”
“Alright.”
“And I can stop the flirting, if you want.”
“No, no…maybe you’re right. Maybe I am being over-sensitive.” Ianto smiled weakly. “I should be used to it right?”
“Not in the slightest.” Owen nodded softly. “The way you and I got together…well it was hardly conventional was it? You’re allowed to be a little insecure.”
“But I don’t mean to be.”
“I know.” The medic grinned. “I’m not complaining, it shows I mean something.” He nudged Ianto softly, before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Ianto’s lips.
“That much wasn’t already obvious?”
“Yeah…but doesn’t mean I don’t like evidence of it once in a while.”
“I feel so used.” Ianto laughed. “You better make it up to me.”
“Tonight Yan.” Owen smirked, backing away and picking up his clipboard. He tapped at the paper on it with his pen. “You and me tonight, we’ll forget Torchwood, forget Jack, forget this Pharm. We’ll just be for a bit yeah?”
“Yeah. I like the sound of that.” Ianto smiled quickly, before returning to his archives. He liked the idea of being able to forget about work, needles and apparent assassinations. To just spend a night with Owen, alone, with them just celebrating being alive. That was all he really wanted.
We’re both rational men, scientists.
Ianto Jones had always been trusting of scientists. He had always admired their intellect, had always admired how they seemed almost other worldly in their knowledge compared to him. Sure, he could recite almost the whole of the Hub’s history by heart, but he always attributed that down to his superior memory and interest rather than his intellect. Maybe it was what had started his feelings for Owen, that slight aspect of awe that he felt whenever he saw how quickly and analytically Owen could look at a body or a medical report. Or maybe it was just because Owen seemed so unattainable, and so Ianto sub-consciously thought he might be safe investing his emotions in him. After all, he could never be hurt by someone who barely even noticed his presence.
How wrong Ianto had been.
Either way, there was something about this Aaron Copley that Ianto didn’t trust. He was as prestigious as a scientist could get, and yet somewhere deep amongst profiling him Ianto had discovered an almost profound sense of distaste for the man. His public image seemed more than satisfactory, the perfect clean exterior of a well established researcher firmly in place. But at the same time, Aaron Copley seemed too clean, too honest to be true. Just like with all the other Pharm images Ianto found himself suddenly feeling inexplicably wary and nervous when he even looked at them. There was a bad feeling growing in the very bottom of Ianto’s stomach, and yet he could not for the life of him work out why.
“Have you briefed Martha Ianto?” Jack was in front of his eyes in seconds, expectant and impatient - the only way he ever was with Ianto right then.
“Yes. Her briefing, her fake ID, I’ve issued it all.”
“Good work.” Jack nodded quickly. “If she has any problems she’s to come straight to me, ok?”
“Understood.” Ianto forced a weak smile, watching as Jack began to step away from him. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he was suddenly stepping after him, his voice leaving his lips suddenly. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t....I don’t like this.”
“What’s not to like? We have a job to do, Ianto.”
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Martha will be fine. She’s been through worse than this. Believe me.” Jack swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t send her into something I didn’t think she was capable of.”
“But still…the Pharm are too organised. I just think that-”
“You think what?” Jack spun round fully, taking a step closer to Ianto so that they were face to face. “You’re right…the Pharm is organised, and that makes them dangerous. But if we don’t find out more about them then more people are going to die. We can’t waste time, Ianto, not with their lives at risk.”
“I’m sorry Jack…I didn’t mean-”
“I know.” The captain nodded quickly. “I know. Go find Toshiko, let me know the second Martha gets inside the Pharm.”
Ianto replied with a soft nod, leaving Jack’s office as fast as possible. Jack was right, and most likely the strange feeling in Ianto’s stomach was nothing. He was being ridiculous, trying to stop an entire mission just because deep down something didn’t feel right to him. They always felt a little jumpy before a mission and before the adrenaline kicked in, and maybe he was just feeling that a little more strongly this time.
After all, what Jack had said was true. They did have a job to do, and Ianto couldn’t let how he was feeling distract him from that.
I know you don’t want to shoot.
As soon as the bullet found its mark in Owen’s chest, Ianto felt his heart stop for a mere second. Owen’s body fell backwards in slow motion, the pounding of blood in Ianto’s ears blocked out all other noise around him. He blinked hard, willing it all to have never happened, but when his eyes opened again all he could see was Owen lying there, practically obscured from view by the others. He took a heavy step forward, but his body refused to move further, his eyes refusing to acknowledge the deep blur of scarlet that was eking out onto Owen’s shirt. The shirt he remembered ironing that morning, never to know that just over 12 hours later it would be steeped in his lover’s blood.
He was silently praying as he watched Martha try to help Owen, his hands bunched into such tight fists that he could feel his nails biting into his palms, trickles of his own warm blood running down his fingers. His lips were moving on their own, repeatedly mouthing a voiceless plea. He felt so useless, so desperate to be at Owen’s side. And yet the crowd of his colleagues and the lead feeling in his limbs stopped him from being able to move any closer.
He saw Martha withdraw from Owen’s body, and he knew that it was over. He could feel tears well and surge within him, although his face was so numbed by shock that he was unable to let them fall. They were instead frozen there, caged in his eyes, sending his world further and further out of focus. He could hear Toshiko crying, Gwen’s sobs accompanying her whilst Jack comforted Martha. And yet Ianto stayed distanced from them all, alone. He stood above them, a solemn statue, his eyes fixed upon the horizon. He didn’t dare look down, didn’t dare take in his lover’s dead features for the first time. Because then, then Owen would be dead. In his heart. His smile, his touch, and his kiss that Ianto all loved so much lost forever.
And Ianto couldn’t do that. He couldn’t even mourn Owen like the others, because it hurt him too much to even think for a mere second, that he might have lost Owen Harper for good.
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It was a still night in Cardiff. There was no breeze and no clouds, the dark navy sky paused for what might appear an eternity. The moon hung effortlessly in amongst the dark canvas, surrounded by glimmering specks of light from far away stars. Beneath the moon’s light, the water of the bay shimmered, soft waves rising and falling like a form of immortal breath. It was not the night that Owen Harper was supposed to die upon. That night should have been stormy and troubled; the tide should have been thrashing against the bay as if demanding for his life to return to his body. There should have been rain lashing against the buildings, the wind aiding in its quest to highlight the sheer waste of what had happened. But instead, the calm night had merely accepted Ianto’s loss without question.
The body lay motionless in the autopsy bay, peaceful after such a violent death. Ianto wished that he could pretend that Owen was sleeping, although he knew in his heart that he would never see Owen sleep again. He hated that feeling the most. The realisation that seemed to come with his every thought of Owen. It was all over, and he could never experience any aspect of Owen ever again. Like Lisa all over again, Ianto was facing a new life without the love he so depended upon. And he wasn’t even sure if he could do it all over again.
“I need to clean him.” Martha said slowly, glancing at Owen, her eyes quickly raking across his bloodied shirt and chest. “Before I can do the autopsy.”
“Do you….do you need help?” Gwen managed to speak out next, although her eyes clearly showed that in reality she would not be able to help in the slightest. Her arm was tightly around Toshiko’s shoulders, her manner compassionate as always.
“No…I don’t think that’s fair on you. On any of you.” Martha gave them all a very weak smile. “I should do it. It’s my job.”
“No.” From behind them all, Ianto’s voice sounded out, hard, steady and yet without any emotion. His eyes met Martha’s decisively. “I should do it.”
“Ianto…I can’t-”
“You can.” He replied bluntly. “I want to do it.” This time Ianto tore his eyes from Martha’s, instead choosing to look at Jack, pausing as he looked deep into his eyes before continuing. “Let me do this. Please.”
“Jack I don’t think that this-”
“No.” Jack shook his head slowly. “Let him do this Martha.” He nodded softly to Ianto before glancing around to the rest of the team. “Alone.”
“But-”
“That’s an order.” Solemnly, Jack guided them all up the steps of the autopsy bay, waiting until they had all left before standing beside Ianto. He kept his back to him but instead lifted his right arm, his hand resting on Ianto’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry Ianto. I’m so sorry.”
Once he was alone, Ianto took a tentative step forward, his shaking hands reaching out to unbutton Owen’s shirt before pushing the damp fabric away from his body. The sight of the wound repulsed him, the thick stagnant smell of iron felt almost toxic in his nostrils, yet Ianto carried on regardless. He returned to Owen with a cloth and a bowl of warm water, and slowly but surely he began to dab at his bare skin, cleaning away the layer of scarlet to reveal the tender pale pink beneath. He swallowed hard, trying to push aside memories from the night before. The night where they had been so exhausted that they both crawled into bed and Ianto had laid down with his head pressed firmly against Owen’s chest. He’d fallen asleep to the dull rhythm of Owen’s heartbeat as a distant lullaby, the steady pace as comforting as it was constant. And yet now, now that heartbeat had stopped. Silenced by one bullet. One bullet and one brief moment in time which had finished everything so quickly.
Ianto’s whole body was aching, shaking, every fibre feeling as if it was racked with pain. His eyes were closing again, his eyelids shut firmly as if to block out all light whilst his mouth opened in a silent scream. He could no longer control his arms, his reddened hands dropping to his sides limply, unable to carry on their simple task. When Ianto’s eyes opened again this time, the tears frozen inside them were suddenly set loose, pouring from his eyes as water cascades from a waterfall. He was no longer silent as a soft howl left his lips, his breathing erratic as he attempted to suck in air in between sobs. His legs felt weak, his knees buckling as he reached out, one hand steadying himself on the autopsy table whilst the other fought and fumbled to find Owen’s hand. When he found it he gripped it tight, clung to the cold fingers desperately, his thumb running across the now icy skin. Bile was sitting thick at the back of his throat, a bitter taste swelling within his mouth, sickening him to the core. And yet Ianto no longer cared. He no longer had anything to care about at that moment. Owen had been ripped from him so selfishly and he hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye or tell him one last time that he loved him. He couldn’t even do that then, as he stood hunched over the body of a man who had been so alive to him barely an hour ago. All he could do was let go, and mourn the loss that tore into his heart so deeply.
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In his office, an immortal man was mourning the loss of his friend. It was a pain that he was so used to feeling, and yet a pain that still felt fresh every time it struck him.
Jack had his hand splayed out across the CCTV image of Ianto in the autopsy bay, although he didn’t know what good he was trying to accomplish by doing so. Not for the first time in his life he felt so helpless, so isolated. He wanted more than anything to go and comfort Ianto, to go and help him through the extent of grief that the rest of the team still had no idea he was feeling. To them Ianto Jones had but lost a friend, but to Jack Ianto had lost so much more than that.
A tear slipping down his own cheek, Jack bit his lip, switching off the CCTV in a decisive motion. It suddenly felt so wrong to be watching Ianto grieve privately, however distressed he might be. No matter how hard it felt, he would have to let Ianto mourn alone, let him say goodbye to Owen in his own time and in his own way. It was all he could do. After all, Ianto may have stopped loving him but deep down Jack Harkness still knew that Ianto meant more to him than any other.
Jack’s eyes fell to his desk, scanning across it idly as he wiped the tears from his face. It was only then that his eyes met with an object that struck a deep chord within his mind. A tarot card, given to him by that girl all those years ago when he had first joined Torchwood. Suddenly the grief in Jack’s thoughts was replaced by thoughts of a different nature, thoughts of another glove, another way. Before he knew it Jack was searching desperately for any information he could on his computer. If this was the only thing he could do for Ianto, for them all, then he was going to do it without a second thought.
After all, Jack would never be able to give Ianto Owen back. But maybe, just maybe he might be able to give him the chance to say his last goodbyes…
*Is hiding from the angst* Ok, so what do we think? I have descended into angst I know, but I would still love to know your views. But thank you so much for reading this far!
Just Being Me a.k.a Siany
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Click here for chapter 8, "All We Are".