Forgiven - 7/?
Amazingly enough, Jack was as good as his word. He didn’t ask Ianto about the Battle on the walk back. He didn’t ask while Ianto showered for thirty minutes and then changed. He didn’t ask when Ianto pulled back the covers and finally laid his head on the small pillow. Instead, he kept up a one-sided commentary on the guests at the reception. Ianto was too lost in his own head to add much to Jack’s observations, but Jack understood how comforting just hearing someone else’s voice could be. So he talked. If there was one thing Jack could do, it was talk. And that night, he outdid himself. Comment after comment on who slept with who and who had snogged in the loo and who had drank too much complimentary wine and made an offensive pass at an American CIA agent.
When Ianto lay down on the bed, warm and still slightly damp, Jack sat on his bed, his back against the headboard. Ianto lay on his side, his back to Jack, and Ianto’s slightly wet skin made his thin cotton shirt hug his side. Jack watched, fascinated, as Ianto’s muscles moved as the man tried to get comfortable. He was still too thin, far too thin, but was certainly looking better than he had before. Jack groaned inwardly as Ianto turned his head to look over at him. His face was lit by the moonlight from a small window above the bed, giving him an angelic aura.
“Jack?” he asked. Jack started, realizing that this was the first time Ianto had said anything since the alien hair-dryer comment nearly an hour ago.
“Yeah?”
“There are two tours tomorrow covering different sections of the grounds. But both cover the area near the safehouse. We should split up.”
Jack creased his forehead thoughtfully. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. What time do we have to be up?”
“7:30am, Sir. You should sleep.”
“Nah. I’ll just sit here and read. You sleep.”
“It’s not like we’re under attack, Sir. One of us doesn’t need to keep watch,” Ianto said, yawning.
“Trust me, Ianto, I’m fine. You sleep. I need you awake and alert tomorrow,” Jack answered softly, picking up a novel. Jack thanked his 51st century body for having better eyesight than most humans. He didn’t need much light; the moon was enough to read the pages. He quickly became engrossed in the treachery and love triangles, making up his own backstories for the novel’s characters. Around 4, he finally looked up from the book and glanced at Ianto. What he saw made him step closer.
The young man was curled in an impossibly tight ball under the covers. His eyes were squeezed shut, and moving quickly beneath his eyelids. There was a light sheen of sweat on his brow, and he was starting to shake. But he never made a sound. Not one noise, one plea, one cry. Nothing. If Jack hadn’t stepped closer, he’d never known Ianto was so tense. He reached out a hand to softly brush Ianto’s arm, but just as his fingers contacted with the shirt fabric, Ianto flinched violently, practically launching himself off the bed.
His eyes burst open and took in the strange room wildly before he remembered where he was. He uncurled his body, grimacing at how stiff his muscles had become, and recognized the signs of yet another nightmare. As the memories of the dream returned, he could feel his breath shallowing and his pulse quickening. He had to get out of the room. He had to go away, be alone, be somewhere he could do something, anything. He needed to get out. Damnit! He needed to get out! He needed to breathe! He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t…
He felt two hands on his arms, pulling him against something warm and soft. He felt a hand on his back. He felt one hand cover his nose and mouth and he couldn’t breathe! No, not now! He couldn’t breathe again, he had to get to get away, he had to fight! But he couldn’t fight, couldn’t break the hold and so he relented, allowing himself to be drawn closer to whatever it was that was trying to suffocate him, because maybe this time he wouldn’t survive, wouldn’t be the last one alive, wouldn’t be alone again and….Oh. His breathing was evening out. The black shapes that had danced in front of his eyes were disappearing. The hand had left his face. He still couldn’t move though, still couldn’t get away. Maybe whatever it was wanted him to struggle, to suffer? Then he felt one calloused finger tilting his head up and he saw, not the metal face of a cyberman, not the eyestalk of a dalek, not the wings of a faerie or the grin of a cannibal, but the blue eyes of Jack. It was Jack’s eyes, Jack’s mouth, Jack’s nose. Ianto looked down again. The softness was Jack’s shirt.
“Alright, Ianto?”
He tilted his head quickly to see Jack watching him with concern. Taking a shuddering breath, Ianto answered a bit too quickly. “Fine, Sir, of course. Thank you.”
Jack smirked. “Yeah. Right. I’ve seen nightmares Ianto, suffered ‘em myself. That was…something else. Something more. Try telling the truth now.”
“It’s nothing, Sir. Honest. I just need to get up and do something. I’ll take watch now if you like. You can sleep.”
“Ianto…” Jack began, sighing. “Look, I said I wouldn’t press and I won’t. You say ‘shut up’ and I shut up. Scout’s honor. But I heard you talking to Myfanwy. You said you go out for a walk most nights?” Ianto closed his eyes and nodded. “You go for walks because you wake up and….?”
“Can’t breathe. It’s the darkness, Sir, always the darkness.”
“The darkness?”
Ianto nodded, shuddering against Jack’s chest. He couldn’t figure out why, but just at that moment, he needed to lay his head on Jack’s shoulder. He just needed to. He was so tired, so very tired. Tomorrow he’s think about the consequences of his boss seeing him having a nightmare. Right now, he just wanted to be comforted. He hadn’t had comfort since…well…best not to dwell on that.
Jack sighed and ran a hand through Ianto’s soft hair. He felt the weight of Ianto’s head on his shoulder, and was surprised that he didn’t mind it there. Somehow, even though they were the same height, Ianto just seemed to fit. He just seemed to be molded to the crook of Jack’s neck. “Talk to me,” he begged softly, still running one hand through the young man’s hair and moving the other in small circles on his back. “The darkness?”
“It was dark.” Ianto couldn’t believe he said that. He’d never told anyone about the nightmares. Not even Lisa, and he’d spent most nights with her after the Battle. But then, you couldn’t really talk to her, could you? How could you complain to her? She was the injured one, the victim. Not you. You were just weak. Protect her. Don’t let her know. Don’t let her see. Just keep going, always going, never showing… Again, Ianto cursed that little voice in his head. Strange, though, that the voice sounded like Tad. Was it possible that Tad was in his head? It was Torchwood after all. Nothing was strictly impossible. Perhaps a telepathic alien had gotten to his tad before the cybermen and daleks and were keeping his brain alive? But no, he’d seen his tad on the floor, seen his eyes staring back. There was nothing there, nothing left. But what if there was? What if an alien had gotten his mind and was keeping his mind alive when his body was gone and Ianto had buried him and what if his tad was buried alive and..
“Ianto? Stay with me here,” Jack coaxed. He knew how one could get dragged back in, dragged down forever into the unending blackness. “It was dark?”
“And hot,” Ianto began. His voice was so quiet that, despite their closeness, Jack had to strain to hear. “There were fires, all around. You could hear the screaming, always screaming. The lights were out. All the power diverted to the…the…the rooms. But we had to get out. They had to be safe. It was my job. I was shift supervisor. My people, my job to protect them.” He faltered again.
“Your people?”
“Tom and Katie and Jenna and Sayed and Daffyd and Aoife. My people. My staff.”
“Your people in London.” It wasn’t a question.
Ianto nodded.
“You had to get them out?”
“It was dark. No power. Emergency generators diverted to the rooms too. We had to walk holding hands so we wouldn’t get lost. We’d trip over the bodies. I knew the way to the emergency South stairwell. Lisa and I….we’d skip out early for lunch sometimes. Snog and stuff. No one ever used the stairs. Tom and Daffyd and I pushed the door open. We couldn’t figure out why it wouldn’t go. Then we saw it. The hallway had a red emergency light. The only light the entire time. There were bodies. They’d piled the dead bodies, the deleted, on the landing. We couldn’t get the door open because they were there. We pushed and pushed and finally it moved and then we saw them. We heard them first. When we pushed….some of them fell. Down the stairs. We could hear them falling. But we had to get out. I had to get them out and the stairs were the only way. So I made them climb. Over the bodies. Katie…Katie couldn’t. She got sick, wouldn’t go. So I…I hit her. Punched her. Knocked her out. Made Daffyd carry her. She was so small, always the shortest one in pictures, and so light. And we walked down the stairs.”
Ianto took another deep breath and closed his eyes against Jack’s chest. “At every landing…they piled the bodies on every landing. We were twenty floors up. Had to climb down over twenty piles. Each time. On the second to last landing, we heard them coming. You could always hear them, their footsteps, so loud, always loud, always in my ears.” Ianto made to cover his ears to stop the noise, but Jack held his hands down, gently shushing him. Ianto hadn’t noticed that Jack had begun to rock them slightly, just enough to give comfort.
“We heard them and Katie woke up and she and Sayed started screaming and I had to…oh God, Daffyd and Tom had to cover their mouths so they’d shut up. They looked at me. What do we do? For the love of god, they’re coming! What the hell do we fucking do? Oh God Jack, I…I made them….I told them…..”
Jack just held him tighter, silently begging him not to stop.
“I threw Katie under two of the bodies. I made them hide. Made them hide under the bodies. Oh god I used the bodies as shields. Their eyes, Jack, the bodies, their eyes were open and staring and watching as we hid under them. And I thanked God for having them there because that meant we got to live and the others would be safe if they didn’t see us, if they thought we were dead too, and GOD! What type of person is grateful that their friends, that they died?! I was glad! God Jack, I was glad the bodies were there so the others would live!” At that, Ianto’s knees buckled, and it was only due to Jack that he didn’t collapse onto the floor. Jack bore his weight silently, edging him towards his bed, Ianto clinging to him with every step.
Jack laid Ianto on the bed and joined him. He cradled the man against his chest, stroking his hair and singing an old Boeshane lullaby. Slowly he felt Ianto’s tension lessen, his too-tight hold loosen and go slack.
“I’m sorry, Sir, that was unprofessional of me,” Ianto croaked.
Jack reached to the small bedside table to grab a bottle of water that Ianto had left there. “Don’t apologize, Ianto. I told you after the Beacons, just don’t. Not about this. Never about this.”
Ianto sipped from the bottle. Now that the adrenalin had worn off, he was growing sleepy. Strange how that never happened when he was home by himself. He could never calm himself after. He had to move, to walk. It didn’t matter where, but the movement burnt off the energy. But here, now, with Jack, he didn’t need to move. And even stranger, he found he didn’t want to.
When Ianto woke again to the sun shining through the window, he kept his eyes shut. He could feel himself pressed up against Jack’s chest, could feel Jack’s hand rubbing circles on his back, could hear Jack singing in something? A new language?
“I know you’re awake, you know. No use being lazy. We’ve got a big day ahead of us. Just image, an entire UN agency to fool. Shouldn’t be too hard, eh?”
Ianto opened his eyes and pulled away from Jack, mumbling his apologies. He didn’t see Jack’s eye’s roll, but he heard the exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Sir. I mean, for apologizing. I mean…”
Jack just chuckled. “Alright then?” he asked gently.
Ianto nodded, keeping his eyes down towards the bedcover.
“Why last night, Ianto?”
“Sir?” Ianto asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion. How is it that Jack doesn’t sleep all night but still looks fresh? And his hair! Damn sentient hair…
“The…thing…last night. What triggered it?”
Ianto sighed. He’d really have liked to keep that bit to himself, but then again, there was the self-promise of truthfulness. If Ianto was going to stop hiding and lying about things and become part of the team, he’d have to start small first. And if that meant he had to keep his promise to himself then…well…At least he hadn’t woken up hard. That would have just been embarrassing.
“The darkness, Sir. It…it reminds me…well. It reminds of what happened. You know. There.”
Now Jack was confused. “The darkness?”
“Yeah. Usually leave a light on or something at home, but that doesn’t help much. Sometimes, but then it’s still dark out anyway.”
“Ah. I see.” And Jack did. He understood. “Why didn’t you say something? We could have turned a light on.”
“And have my boss find out I’m afraid of the dark? That would have gone over well.”
“I wouldn’t have laughed, Ianto.”
“Yeah, you would. ’Cause I wouldn’t have told you why, and you would have laughed, and then I’d have to tell you why, and you’d feel bad and things’d be awkward, and they just stopped being awkward.”
Jack was quiet for a moment. “Can I ask a question?”
Ianto nodded miserably. “Might as well do.”
“I’ve seen my share of night terrors. But they all screamed and yelled. You didn’t make a sound. Why?”
“Learned mechanism, Sir. Couldn’t let Lisa find out, didn’t want her to worry. Besides, compared to her, what did I have to complain about?”
“You slept with Lisa after the conversion?”
“Near her. Had to, most nights anyway. Had to make sure the machinery didn’t fail and she wasn’t in pain. Had to keep her company, she was always so lonely.”
“How often do you have these….terror…things?”
“Mostly whenever I try to sleep. Sometimes if I take pills it helps, keeps them away for the night, but they have side effects. Rather stay up till I fall over, then take them once a week or so.”
Jack rubbed a hand over his face and looked back at his employee. The man had moved off the bed and over to the window, watching the clouds.
“Can we just leave it, Sir? It’s nearly time for the tours. Not much time left to get ready.”
Jack nodded his assent, happy to give the man the space he obviously needed. “Make sure to bring that portable scanner. I want as much info on their alarm and camera systems as we can get.” He stood up from the bed, arched his back to pop his spine, and began getting dressed. Ianto, ever polite, took his clothes into the bathroom to give his Captain some privacy. Just before he clicked the door shut, he turned back to Jack and said, quietly, “Thank you, Sir. I’ve never slept after one before.”
The tours were as uneventful as the reception had been. Not once were the guests allowed to visit any of the classified areas, not that Ianto expected it of course, but it still would have been nice. He was able to walk near the safehouse once though, and fingered the scanner in his coat pocket to study the systems. It was Parsons who pulled him back to the group and warned him not to stray off. UNIT and Torchwood didn’t get along, and Parsons would hate for someone to mistakenly think that Ianto was spying when he obviously wasn’t. Ianto wasn’t sure how to take that. Parsons’ hand stayed just a bit too long on Ianto’s arm, his eyes locked a bit too tight onto Ianto’s, and his voice a bit too evocative for just a friendly reminder. Ianto filed that information away under “Potentially Interesting and To Be Kept For Review When The Hub Is Quiet and No One Is Around.”
When Jack and Ianto finally met up again, it was for lunch with the guests and an afternoon spent listening to Colonel Mace drane on and on about the purpose and responsibility of UNIT.
“And as you all know, UNIT is the world’s premier organization dedicated to studying the extraterrestrial. We intend to further increase our scientific investigation into alien artifacts by….” And Ianto tuned out again. He made a great show of taking notes, but taking notes and thinking about completely different things was a talent of his. He’d learned it at his father’s knee in the tailor shop. His Tad’d be making small talk with the patrons and expected Ianto to be present and interested and learn the family trade. Ianto did as he was told, took down the measurements his father gave him, while all the time his mind was away on the rugby pitch, or on the way Sarah Hampson’s lips tasted behind the swings on the playground.
He turned when he felt a finger tap his shoulder. It was Parsons, motioning for him to follow the private outside. He turned to Jack, whispered that Parsons wanted a word, and joined the soldier in the cream-colored hallway (what is it with cream? Is there some sort of institutional paint supply store that only sells cream? What if there’s a run on cream paint? Then what would hospitals and police stations and UNIT use?) outside the briefing room.
Parsons looked an Ianto guiltily. He began whispering, so fast that Ianto had to listen carefully. “I know you were going over to the safehouse on purpose, Sir. And I know what’s in there. You won’t be able to get it out. It’s guarded day and night. Colonel Mace wants to use it. He’s pissed Torchwood had that weapon to stop the Sycorax. He wants something of his own.”
“Frank, I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
“You don’t get it, Sir! He can’t keep it, that thing, he can’t! No one should have it. It’s too dangerous!”
“Frank…”
“No, listen! I joined UNIT after Canary Warf to protect people from Torchwood’s stupidity. Now I see UNIT and Mace going the same way.”
“Frank, what are you saying?” Ianto leaned closed to the young soldier, concerned at the nervous but steeled look in his eyes.
“I can get you in. I’m on guard duty tonight. Rota’s changed because you’re all here and they had to bump me up. I can send a false feed to the cameras in the back and let you in through that door. But it has to be at midnight. That’s when the other guard always sneaks off for a smoke.”
Ianto began scanning the halls to see if this was a trap. He was worried at how open Frank was being with UNIT secrets. “Frank, listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about, ok?”
“No!” Frank whispered harshly. “I won’t let UNIT become like Torchwood, I won’t! You don’t have to believe me. But I’ll be there tonight at midnight. If you want the…you know…come to the back door then. I’ll have the cameras set up. I can get you ten minutes.” Frank saluted Ianto as a lieutenant walked past. “Sir, yes Sir. I’ll see to the Captain’s arrangements straight away.” He spun on his heel and quickly walked away.
Ianto was shocked. Shocked that Frank had known was he was up to, shocked that Frank had offered to help….shocked that he was still standing in the hallway, alone, staring at where Frank had been standing, his mouth catching flies. He closed his gaping mouth and reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.
When Ianto re-entered the briefing room, his eyes flew to Jack’s back. He could see Jack twitching in his seat, crossing his legs, flicking the cap on his pen, and generally being as obnoxious as a child. He swiftly walked over to Jack and placed a folded note on Jack’s lap. He sat in his chair next to Jack and watched him out of the corner of his eye as Jack read.
Message from Owen. Met with F., agreed to help Owen purchase the new equipment for Hub. Thinks it could come in handy with any unsuspecting visitors. From Tosh - cameras now working, but will be offline for maintenance at midnight. Won’t be able to tape G+O snogging.
It took Jack a fully thirty minutes to work out the confusing message. Thirty minutes spent figuring out what, exactly, Owen was purchasing, and who the hell ‘F’ was. Then he saw the ‘unsuspecting visitors’ line, and knew. Something had happened, probably with Frank. Something was going to happen, tonight, at midnight, that involved a pickup while cameras would be offline. He waited impatiently for the end of the meeting and decided that he and Ianto would skip the post-briefing coffee and head back to the room until dinner. He made his excuses, citing a small problem back in Cardiff, and, much to the self-satisfied smiles of UNIT personnel who were always more than happy for the Great Captain Harkness to have problems, pulled Ianto away for an in-depth discussion.
After using the wriststrap to once again disable any bugs, Jack sat Ianto down on the man’s bed and demanded an accounting of his meeting with Frank. Neither man felt fully comfortable with placing such trust in a man they had just met, but Jack decided to go along with it. Worst case scenario, the two were caught and would explain that Ianto had been feeling unwell and needed some air. Ianto was already a pretty good actor, and knew how to play sick. Not mention that he had taken the liberty of procuring some medical supplies, and figured that the aftereffects of quickly ingesting some Ipecac would be enough to convince anyone.
“You brought Ipecac?” Jack asked, his eyebrows nearly at his hairline.
Ianto nodded. “Best be prepared, Sir. One never knows what will happen.”
“But Ipecac? Seriously? Did you expect UNIT to poison us?! I wasn’t that bad to McCavanaugh and Mace!”
“Of course not, Sir, but Owen always keeps some in the med kit.”
“And you brought Owen’s med kit?”
“Of course, one of them. Along with the coffee supplies, some of your tapes I burned onto DVDs, and a portable DVD player. Like I said, Sir, best to be-“
“Prepared, yeah, got it. But you brought me DVDs and didn’t tell me?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you till the really boring lectures started tomorrow. You tend to get fidgety around 3. I kept the DVD player in my briefcase and was going to give you Casablanca and the earphones and have you sit in the back of the lecture room tomorrow. It’s also a laptop and has voice-activation typing; it’ll record the lecture while you watch the movie and stay out of everyone’s hair. If anyone asks, you’re taking notes.”
Jack stared at Ianto for a moment. “You got me Casablanca?”
“Your favorite,” Ianto said, nodding.
“How did you….No, wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
Ianto stood up. “We should be going, Sir. It’s just about time to eat. The others will be concerned if we’re not there.” He moved to the door, waiting for Jack to join him. Instead, Jack was watching him with an unfathomable look in his eye. Ianto squirmed under the attention, clearly uncomfortable, and Jack had to physically shake himself.
He stood up slowly, unhooking his legs from where they had been lying under him (he had sat crosslegged) and went to join Ianto. Ianto made to open the door, but before he could turn the handle, Jack covered his hand with one of his own. Ianto looked up at him curiously. “Thank you,” he said. Ianto couldn’t decipher the strange hoarseness in Jack’s voice and filed that away also under “Potentially Interesting and To Be Kept For Review When The Hub Is Quiet and No One Is Around”