All We Are - 8/10 - Lying My Way From You
Title: All We Are- 8/10
Rating: 15 ish.
Characters: Ianto, Owen, Jack
Pairings: Ianto/Owen, Jack/Ianto
Series: Chapter Eight of “Lying My Way From You”.
Spoilers: If you haven’t seen “Reset” or the episodes after in series 2 this is really going to spoil it for you.
Summary: Jack plans to give Ianto the goodbye to Owen that he was robbed of, but when the consequences spin out of Torchwood’s control what will be Owen’s future? And what sacrifices will Owen and Ianto be forced to make because of them?
Disclaimer: Regrettably I own nothing, none of the characters, zip. Wish I did though.
Author’s Notes: Well I’m here, with ownto which has been pretty much all written courtesy of the long train journey to Edinburgh. Either way, the series is finally hurtling towards a conclusion, so much so that I finally know how many chapters there are going to be! Lol, as always I must thank the ever brilliant thehubsitter , because she is my undisputed ownto beta and queen. And of course, thank you for reading, I just hopes you all enjoy my offering! :D
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
Chapter Seven: Time Of Dying
Dedicated to THE ownto girls, thehubsitter and naddypants . Why? To list reasons would result in a dedication longer than this fic. They are just incredible, so so supportive and it just wouldn’t be writing without them there to entertain me. Thank you so much girls! :)
The silence that surrounded him was so imposing that it almost had its own heartbeat.
There was a tall, clear glass in his hands, but the water within it had been left untouched. And yet Ianto continued to cling to the glass, clasp it between his fingertips, knuckles white and nails pallid as his grip on the item grew in intensity. The White noise thundering through his ears, the absence of any life around him, the pain ripping through his soul, it was all causing his mind to reel back in horror within his skull. His thoughts were numbed, focused upon this single act, his hands shaking as he applied further pressure to the glass, as if channelling the very contempt and injustice that he felt for the world into that singular object. The cool water in the mug began to ripple more and more violently, waves of liquid rising and falling, small droplets splashing out onto his skin. And yet Ianto didn’t stop, couldn’t stop as the grip of his hands merely increased. Out into the deathly Hub around him a cracking sound rang out, course, uninvited, and yet even then Ianto did not stop. Only did the grip of his hands cease when the colourless glass between his fingertips shattered in a single action, water quickly spraying out across his hands and thighs. He felt no pain as the sharp shards of the glass shot out and pierced his skin, felt no chill as drips of liquid slipped from the fabric of his trousers to pool on the concrete floor at his feet. Pin pricks of blood soon grew into larger droplets, in seconds growing too large to sustain their globular shape as they began to run steady streams across the white pallor of his skin. As he watched the soft movement of his own blood, Ianto knew that he should have felt the intensifying burn and sting of pain, and yet all he did feel was a mere release…
Below him in the autopsy bay Owen was lying there, dead, and yet his features were still all too painfully familiar to Ianto. He had cleaned him like he had set out to do, determined to finish no matter the agony that dwelt on in his chest, but as soon as he was done he left the room with shaking hands and a trembling heart. He had collapsed down onto the sofa then and there, his legs feeling too weak to support his torso any further. Whilst the other’s had gathered around his body to watch the autopsy, Ianto had remained there, silent emotion wracking through him, his brain almost feeling as if it was convulsing with pain. His muscles shook, his lip quivered and yet no sound left his mouth for the whole time that he sat there. He vaguely remembered Jack handing the glass of water to him, before hearing his voice ring out as he called off the autopsy, the sound entering his ears muffled. He was instantly sickened by the news. This was no reprieve; Jack was merely prolonging the agony in Ianto’s chest further.
Ianto suddenly registered a face appearing in front of him and he jumped within his skin at the unexpected sight, his thoughts quickly shaken from the haze of his mind. He blinked back stale tears hopelessly, opening his mouth to speak as Toshiko knelt slowly in front of him. But there were no words with which to describe himself, with which to explain. So he stayed silent, watching as Tosh took his hands in hers carefully, elegant fingers removing each and every shard from under his skin. Her hands remained gentle as she reached down beside her to a small bowl of water, wringing out a cloth and then dabbing at his palms, wiping away each smear of blood meticulously. The warm water neither stung nor scalded him, and yet Ianto was surprised to actually feel Toshiko’s tender skin against his. When his eyes finally lifted to meet hers, Ianto saw something he never expected from the team that day, understanding.
He had been selfish in his grief, he was well aware of that. In his loss of Owen he had forgotten about Toshiko, about the feelings that she had harboured for the medic before he had even joined Torchwood Cardiff. Just because Owen has never openly returned her love, that never meant that what she felt for him was any different to Ianto. Similarly the agony that now coursed through his veins must have just as equally been pounding through her. Did her heart feel as heavy as his? Did she feel the same swell in her chest as the intricate muscle ripped in two like he did? And more importantly, if she did, then how could Toshiko hold all that emotion still beneath such a passive visage?
The answer, Ianto found was in her eyes. That one pure, crystalline second when his eyes met hers, Toshiko gave herself, her real self away. Willingly. And that was the greatest gift she could have given Ianto right then, however silent and fleeting it may have been. For, in that one moment of eternity, Toshiko had shown Ianto that he was no longer as alone as he had thought. Or at least not in his grief.
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“Ianto! Where’s Ianto?” Owen’s voice rang out loudly, shaking the silence around them all to the core. His arms were frantic, still grasping at Jack’s arm tightly. This disorientation in his eyes was enough to power straight through Ianto’s soul, even though Owen had been “resurrected” for all of 30 seconds according to his stopwatch. At first he was too frightened to step forward towards Owen, the medic’s body so unnatural and pale as it was forced into life in front of him. Ianto merely bit his lip, the point of the stop watch pushing into the flesh of his palm the tighter his fist became. “Where is he?! Did something happen to him? Ianto?”
“I’m here Owen…..” He was acting on impulse as he stepped forward, attempting to take Owen’s free hand into his own and squeeze it quickly. “I’m here.”
“I’m so sorry…I never meant…oh god…two minutes will never be enough! I….I don’t….I don’t want to say goodbye to you. I can’t.” Owen’s eyes looked at him intensely, barely blinking, as if he didn’t dare close them and miss a second of this new “life”.
“Then don’t say it.”
“But this is my chance…it’s why you brought me back. The end...Jesus…it really is. It’s over Yan…I’ll never see you again…I’ll never look at you like this again and there’s nothing I can fucking do!”
“Owen…please…stop.” Ianto could feel tears pricking in his eyes, the realisation still too fresh in his mind for Owen to vocalise it.
“But it’s true…we never had enough time and now we never will. I’ve ended it.”
“No-“
“I have…don’t pretend that I haven’t…”
“Owen…-”
“I…I love you Yan…please, if you’re going to forget everything else, remember that ok?”
“I’m not letting you go…” Tears were cascading down his face now, his grip so tight on the other man’s hand that his knuckles were white, the skin straining over them.
“Y-you don’t have a choice. Neither of us do.”
“I can’t do this again... Owen! No…please….don’t…..no!” It was hopeless but Ianto was pleading, desperately watching as Owen fell back against the table, his eyes closed. He didn’t know to whom or what he was praying to, only that he wanted more than anything for Owen to be back, for him to be alive and smile at him just once more. Beside him he vaguely heard Jack disconnect the glove from Owen’s head, his now freed hand coming to rest on Ianto’s shoulder, the familiar thumb stroking across the fabric of his shirt.
“He’s gone Ianto…I’m sorry.”
“He wouldn’t leave me…”
“Let him go...”
“No!” Ianto was sobbing louder now but he didn’t care, if his voice alone could bring Owen back then he was determined to try, to not let him go, just as he had said. “Owen!! Please….”
“………Yan? I’m really going to need that hand back…” And from somewhere, a voice from the empty silence that surrounded them managed to answer Ianto’s call…
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With a click of the stop watch, Ianto Jones world distorted from view once again. It hadn’t mattered back then, as he’d flung his arms around Owen’s still cold, yet living body, all that had mattered was that it was over. For reason’s he would never be able to understand, they had been given a reprieve, the man he loved was back with him.
And yet now, Ianto was close to losing him all over again.
“How can you do this?” He hissed into Owen’s neck, his arms wrapped tight around his waist, his hands locked together so decisively that Owen was unable to move within his grasp. “You said you didn’t want to do this. Said that you couldn’t leave me…”
“It’s not my choice Yan.” Owen shook his head quickly, his voice ringing out blankly in the board room around them. Slowly but surely he lifted his hands, pushing Ianto’s shoulders back gently so that he could look him in the eye. “You have to let me do this.”
“I can’t…I’ve lost you once…”
“Don’t you think I know that?!” Owen snapped, frustration so clearly clouding his eyes. He saw the emotion in Ianto’s eyes and immediately softened, sighing gently. “This thing inside me…if it gets loose, it’s going to kill Yan. But if we freeze my neuro pathways then-”
“Spare me the fucking science.” Ianto shook his head grimly. “I’ve already heard it.”
“Ok…but still Ianto, if I don’t do this, then people are going to die. Because of me. Because I wasn’t strong enough to save them.” He blinked hard, his voice shaking slightly. “I can’t let that happen. Being a doctor is the only thing I have left now...”
“You have me, isn’t that enough anymore?”
“Yan…that isn’t fair.” Owen sighed softly, not quite meeting his gaze. He paused for a second, visibly contemplating his words. “Touch me here.” He smiled weakly, indicating at his neck with his left hand.
“What?”
“Just do it.” The medic added a quick smile to his features before adding, “Please.” With a shaking hand Ianto reached out, tracing the soft skin at Owen’s throat with his right hand, his fingers ghosting across it in a swift, knowing motion. He paused and bit his lip, his eyes lifting to meet expectantly with Owen’s once again. “I can’t feel you Yan.” He swallowed hard more out of habit than necessity when he saw the realisation in Ianto’s eyes. The medic paused, he knew this would be a time when tears of regret might gather in his eyes, and yet none were there, his tear ducts forever cruelly silenced. He sighed again before speaking out, trying to keep his voice strong for them both. “I can barely remember how you feel. I want to be able to feel you there so much…but I can’t. There’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I’m sorry.” Owen nodded grimly. “But I’m dead Yan. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat and I can’t shag.” He watched as Ianto’s face reeled from his words before attempting to add a lighter tone to his voice. “And you of all people know that those are three of my favourite things.”
“But losing you…it almost killed me Owen, and I barely had to deal with it for a few hours.” He paused, his grip subconsciously tightening on Owen’s neck. “I don’t know if I can do it again.”
“You’ve already lost me. I’m barely here Ianto…not like I used to be.”
“But you’re still here.”
“Not for long.” The medic paused, leaning forward and pressing a fleeting kiss to Ianto’s lips, he couldn’t feel Ianto’s reaction, but in his mind he replayed every memory of kissing Ianto as he did so. In the following seconds, all of their relationship flashed before his eyes, from their first kiss the night Ianto stitched his leg to the hurried kiss they had shared in the bathroom before they left for the Pharm. In some ways remembering felt like masochism to Owen, as he was well aware that this would be the last time he would ever remember any of these memories. And yet, at the same time, it was comforting, heartening to know that at least the time he had given to Ianto meant something, that it hadn’t been wasted however short it might have been. As he pulled away Owen held Ianto’s face in his hands, forcing his watery eyes to look at him properly. “Just remember, all we were, all we are, it’s not all lost. When Katie died a little piece of what we had stayed with me. It’ll be the same for you.”
“Owen-”
“Please Ianto…” The medic quickly pressed a finger to Ianto’s lips to silence him. “I’m ready, I know I am. But I can’t go into this without you. I can’t do it alone.” He smiled weakly, moving his hand away. “I need to know you’re with me.”
“I am.” Was all that could leave Ianto’s mouth as he swallowed again, leaning forward and pressing an almost desperate kiss to Owen’s lips. For the last time he ran his hands through his hair, felt the soft curvature of his shoulder with a trailing hand, felt his familiar chest press against his own. Every second of the kiss was more of an analysis, a final frantic act for Ianto to take in everything about his lover and store it away in his mind, forever a memory. For Owen was right, and Ianto knew in his heart that he had to let him do this. In some ways it was an affirmation of his duty to Torchwood, that realisation that he would have to sacrifice what was most precious to him in order to save the lives of the people they had sworn to protect. And yet at the same time, that thought did nothing to console Ianto as he led Owen by the hand to the autopsy room. Owen himself might not have felt alive, but to Ianto, he looked and sounded just as alive as he had been the day before. It was murder in his eyes, an unnecessary removal of life. But then again, that was what Torchwood did best. It justified murder.
Little did either of them know that this was not the end that Ianto dreaded and Owen seemed to crave. It would be a long time until Owen was granted the release that he thought he needed, and at the very same time Ianto would be forced to lose his lover once again through no act of his own.
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He had seen it, death, stalking after them as they ran to the doors. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through his system was sickening, the mere presence of it sending his body into waves of nausea. All the blood was flowing into his legs, readying him to run again and yet at the same time making it feel almost impossible to think. He needed to get out, get them all out and so Ianto grappled for the device that Toshiko had pressed into his hand. 30 seconds and it could open any door; Ianto prayed they had that amount of time to spare.
He could hear Owen behind him, speaking to the poor boy they had found and trying to calm him down. As the device in his hand beeped at the lock Ianto tried to listen to Owen’s voice, in some ways trying to calm himself down. Not that the danger was particularly terrifying him, in some ways Ianto had given up fearing death himself when Lisa had died. But still…the fear of losing Owen, of how they would ever stop this deathly force and prevent it from killing for a thirteenth time, it was all enough to melt Ianto’s cool exterior into oblivion.
The door opened suddenly, and in a whirl of motion they were all dashing through it, Owen dragging the little boy after him and leaving him beside Ianto. For a split second Ianto thought that they had been lucky, that somehow they could lock the creature in the hospital until they learnt how to destroy it. For a brief moment he felt safe, the thudding in his chest softened slightly and he could finally think. It was then, at that very moment when Owen chose to begin to step back towards the doors to the hospital…
“Stop! Owen, I’m not leaving you to face that thing on your own.”
“I know what to do.”
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with!”
“Yan…” Before Ianto knew anything different Owen was reaching forwards, pulling him into an almost mind numbing kiss, one of his hands pressing tightly into Ianto’s back. When he backed away past the door his eyes met Ianto’s, a soft smile spread across his face as he lifted up the unlocking device to show him. “You are so going to hate me for this.”
Ianto screamed his name as Owen fought with the creature, his hands slammed so frantically and so hard against the glass that pins and needles began to tingle beneath his skin, slowly graduating up into his forearm. Beside him he could register the little boy doing the same, and they both called out in unison, as if their united voices might somehow save him from his fate. In many ways they were both crying out for the same thing, for the one man who had given them both a new sense of hope, no matter how fleeting or short lived it might have been. And yet at the same time they were both powerless, forced to watch on and merely hope against all hope that somehow he would emerge unscathed.
The fight was soon over, and as Owen left the hospital with Gwen and Jack, Ianto stood solemnly in the rain, his eyes fixed on his lover and no other. He uttered no words as Owen approached him, his eyes said it all. They spoke of all the pain, the anguish, the worry that the medic had forced upon him in those frenzied few moments. For the second time that night, Ianto’s eyes were flawless windows into his very soul.
“I’m not sorry Yan.” Owen said quickly, glancing around. “I couldn’t risk your life, even if you wanted to.”
“You’re selfish.” Ianto said quickly, his voice flat and void of any emotion. “You’re happy to risk yourself, because that way you don’t have to feel any of that pain that I will if you die. But you won’t risk me, because you daren’t risk that pain on yourself.”
“Ianto…”
“It’s the truth Owen. And if this is how it’s going to be…then I’m not sure I can do it anymore.” With those words Ianto was backing away into the night, running from Owen, running from all the emotions, pain and love that he embodied. Maybe he was running scared, but right then Ianto didn’t care. He just no longer wanted his world to hurt so much…
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It was late, and the rain was lashing against the glass of the window’s. The wind was whipping the trees and surrounding foliage up into a frenzy, causing them to swing back and forth, branches arching and thrashing until it looked as if they would snap into two. Cascades of water beat against the buildings, drumming out a constant rumble over the idle chatter of the TV set. The image on the screen flickered slightly, paused, the aerial under a fresh onslaught by the relentless storm that was raging outside. Ianto shuddered slightly in his seat, turning up the volume and reaching for his glass of whisky once again. He threw it back down his throat, enjoying the burn of the alcohol, willing it to make his very thoughts stop. He didn’t want to forget, he merely wanted to cease thinking, if for a little while. To be mindless of everything and more importantly everyone around him.
It was because of this state of mind that Ianto barely registered the knock at his door, which was then followed by a loud bang. At first he thought that it was just a heavier downpour clattering against his window panes, but then after a few moments reflection he realised that the noise was too soft, too shallow to be anything but another human being. So reluctantly he climbed out of his seat, heading into the hallway and instantly dreading who might be on the other side of his door. Part of him thought that it might be Jack, checking up on him, just like he did on those first night’s without Lisa. Another part of him thought that it might be Gwen or Tosh, maybe they had been sent by Jack in his stead. Ianto sighed hard as he reached to unlock the door, he didn’t want to face any of them that night.
When two familiar brown eyes stared back at him, Ianto felt his heart jump in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but was instead distracted by the figure in front of him, now soaked to the skin. Owen. The one man that Ianto hadn’t expected to see appear on his doorstep, and yet the only person he could even think of stomaching right then.
“My flat was too quiet.” The medic shrugged quickly, forcing a smile. “Can I come in?” Ianto nodded softly in reply, holding the door open for him and then locking it once he was inside. Owen kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it up by the door as Ianto slipped past him, heading into the living room and quickly hiding all trace of his glass of whisky in the kitchen. He stood expectantly, yet silent until Owen finally followed him into the living room.
“You need to dry off, you’ll catch your dea-” Ianto’s voice quickly tailed off as he realised the irrelevance of his own words.
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about getting your sofa wet.” Owen laughed quickly, his features awkward as he ran a hand through his damp hair.
“I’ll go fetch you a towel.” Ianto nodded quickly, turning his back as quickly as possible on the medic.
“Yan…wait.” Owen watched as Ianto’s form stopped in front of him, yet he didn’t turn around to face him. “You were right.”
“About what?”
“Me... What you said outside the hospital, it was all true. I am being selfish.” He paused, biting his lip and watching Ianto’s back intently. “Look at me, please.” Yet Ianto remained still, making no effort to face him. The medic sighed, stepping forwards and resting his hand on Ianto’s right shoulder. “I need you to look at me Yan.”
“I didn’t mean everything I said.” Ianto replied slowly, finally turning round to face him with saddened eyes. “I was scared, it was a gut reaction.”
“You were still right though, whether you think so or not.” Owen smiled weakly. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you Ianto, and I’m fucking terrified that I will. I want to protect you because you have so much more to lose than me and…well, I can’t imagine things without you. I don’t even want to.”
“I’ve seen life without you…when you died, that feeling of being alone. Of being helpless, of never being able to talk to you, hold you; kiss you…it felt like it was choking me.” Ianto bit his lip softly. “I’m just as terrified as you, maybe even more so, because for a few hours I lived in a world where I didn’t have you.”
“I’m sorry Yan…I’m so sorry.” Owen was pulling him into an embrace in seconds, his head resting on Ianto’s shoulder. He repeated the words like a mantra, over and over, as if every time they left his mouth they were righting all the wrongs of their lives.
“Shhh…you’re here now.” Ianto soothed, rubbing redundant circles on Owen’s back. “We can do this Owen...together.”
“But you said-”
“It’s my turn to be wrong.” The Welshman laughed softly. “I wasn’t thinking.”
"Are you sure?"
“Completely.” Ianto smiled weakly, pressing his face as close to Owen’s neck as he could reach, trying to breathe in the dull scent of his clothes as he did so. They stood there in silence, Ianto’s grip tightening on Owen’s body even though he knew that the medic could no longer feel it. As he intensified his grip, Ianto uttered a silent plea in his mind, closing his eyes tightly as a child does when they make their first birthday wish. Over and over the words spun on through his head, ringing out amongst all his memories and other thoughts. One simple request, and yet the one thing that he desired above all else. Please, just don’t leave me again….
There was more to say and yet right then both men were content for it to be left unsaid. Instead they made their way to bed and laid down together beneath the covers their limbs entangled tightly. That night there was no frantic sex, or no slow, soft love making to lull them on into sleep. They merely laid there, clutching each other and in some desperate way both separately praying that they might never have to let go again. And although Owen would not fall asleep, he remained by Ianto’s side, keeping a nocturnal vigil over his lover’s body. After all, if he was on this Earth now for one reason and one reason only, then watching over the man he loved seemed to be the greatest purpose of all…
Alrighty then, so once again I ask you for your thoughts (because I am pesky like that). So…what did we think? Are we still enjoying this pairing and where canon is cruelly taking it? As always I would love to read your thoughts, but you have read this far and so a huge thanks for that!!
Just Being Me a.k.a Siany
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