It’s Not Like That…
Title: It’s Not Like That…
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: None/None
Summary: Jack needs him, he’s told Owen as much before, and the truth is he needs Jack too.
A/N: Written for mrs_cj_harkness who was feeling poorly (and very politely asked that I not kill Ianto this time please)
“It’s not like that, me and Jack.” But how can he explain it to Owen when if Owen, if any of them, understood; there most likely wouldn’t be a ‘him and Jack’ to explain. Jack needs him, he’s told Owen as much before, and the truth is he needs Jack too. They’re drawn together like magnets, opposites attracting, flip sides of the same lonely coin.
Jack longs for connection; it’s so obvious to Ianto that he’s constantly amazed to find that other people don’t see it. Jack spends every waking moment reaching out, he shines, he sparkles and they come flocking in like moths to a flame, but like the moths they seem blinded by his brilliance.
Jack is a fountain, loving indiscriminately, giving of himself to anyone who wanders close enough to catch the spray, and they take - as they would, he doesn’t, can’t blame them for taking something offered so freely - but they never think to give anything back. They try to tame him, keep him for themselves and blame him for their disappointment when they find that in order to do so they must destroy the very beauty that drew them in the first place. A fountain which does not leap and splash and turn with the wind is a poor and joyless thing.
But if Jack is a fountain, bountiful and unrestrained, Ianto is a well. Where Jack reaches, Ianto waits, his love free for the taking but it must be taken; sought after in a world where few are interested in seeking. Those who do come close, who take the time to reach for him, will not find him lacking - a well after all is dug deep - but so few ever look beyond the still, calm surface and the reflection of themselves they invariably find there; and without a current to stir the depths the water will stagnate and turn bitter.
And there it is, the well and the fountain, brought together they form a whole of sorts. The well providing constant replenishment for the fountain, giving freely what is needed and never asking for more than is gratefully received. The fountain stirring the still water of the well, returning what it takes imbued with sunlight and laughter, keeping it fresh and sweet to drink.
They need each other, he and Jack, and while the fit is sometimes far from perfect it is infinitely better than the aching loneliness they have both known. But he can’t explain that to Owen so he does the best he can. “It’s not like that, me and Jack.”
[fin]