Fanfic - Rarely Pure, Never Simple [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for CoE Day Four [and Five, if you read a little into the conversation...].
Notes: Virgin foray into Torchwood ficdom, and it would have to be a CoE-related fic.
When I requested happy!fic ideas, pinkalarmclock suggested: "I have actually fancied some afterlife-y thing, with Ianto meeting Owen, Tosh, Lisa, Myfanwy...could be quite funny in the right hands!"
Mine are obviously not the right hands. I'm sorry. It started out cracky and then morphed into something else altogether [angst, dammit!]. I'm uploading another fic right after this one that might make it all better, if that helps?
Randomly - music I'm listening to now is very appropriate. And John Barrowman evidently thinks so too.
Rarely Pure, Never Simple
The truth is rarely pure, and never simple. - Oscar Wilde
Ianto closed his eyes on the sight of Jack’s anguished face, and opened them to the sight of a very large, very hard beak.
All things considered, he believed he was perfectly justified in shrieking and batting an enthusiastic Myfanwy away from certain parts of his anatomy he’d prefer remained intact. Owen’s amused, slightly vindictive laughter was uncalled for, really.
“We were wondering when you’d show up,” Tosh said.
“Stop that,” Ianto said firmly. Myfanwy backed off just long enough for him to get to his feet so she could bowl him over again. Resigned to the inevitable, he petted her beak and looked around.
As far as he could tell, there was pure blackness all around them. Tosh and Owen were sitting a safe distance away from the excited pteranodon… if “sitting” was the right term for it. They were both perched on nothing, after all. A faint glow seemed to light them from within, their skin taking on a luminescent quality that was both entrancing and deeply disturbing. A quick look at Myfanwy confirmed that her leathery skin was glimmering in a similar manner. He didn’t particularly want to inspect his own body, but he was fairly sure he was also doing an imitation of a light-bulb.
“So what’s going on back there, tea-boy?” Owen asked, stretching out casually.
“I take it the dead aren’t omniscient then,” Ianto replied dryly, wondering all the while how he was supposed to explain the state of the world to Tosh and Owen. The same world they’d given their lives for, and it was going to hell in a hand-basket.
Fortunately, he was saved from having to respond by a bright light flashing into being right next to him. Myfanwy squawked in indignation and bounded away. Ianto was scrambling forward before he’d even realised what he was doing, and by the time the light faded to a dim glow, he was holding Jack’s limp body in his arms.
“He never wakes up, Ianto,” Tosh said gently. “We’ve seen him a few times, and he never wakes him, no matter what we do.”
“Just disappears after a while,” Owen added, and Ianto wondered if death did something to you, made you change (stupid question, of course it did, from not-dead to dead, alive to not-alive), because the quality of their voices was so strange. Then Jack gasped and shuddered up against Ianto’s chest, eyes flying open, and Tosh emitted a startled shriek and Owen unleashed a string of inventive oaths and Ianto was too busy feeling relieved to think about anything else.
“Hi,” Ianto said, and that was all he could get out because Jack’s mouth was on his and this didn’t feel like death, death couldn’t possibly feel this good, so hot, so alive. But then it was over and Ianto drew back a little. Or tried to, because Jack followed his movements and refused to let go.
“Jack,” Ianto said insistently. “Jack, what’s happening?”
“Fuck,” Owen repeated continuously in the background, in lieu of saying anything constructive.
“Don’t make me go back,” Jack breathed into Ianto’s neck. “God, please, Yan, let me stay here for once.”
“I can’t do that, cariad,” Ianto whispered back. “I don’t have the power to.”
Myfanwy returned, butting her head inquisitively at Ianto’s shoulder. He couldn’t bear to look up at her. They’d lost so much already, and now Jack would have to go back and face everything else he would eventually lose.
“Jack - Jack,” Ianto said, tugging insistently at Jack’s lapel. The greatcoat had followed him into death, loyal as ever, and Ianto found his fingers twisting tightly around the familiar material.
“I break everything I touch,” Jack said, and in the next moment found his ears ringing.
“Paying attention now?” Ianto asked archly, trying not to feel guilty at the surprised look on Jack’s face. Jack was finally with him though, he could see that, and so he pressed a brief, apologetic kiss to the same spot he’d just slapped.
“You have to go back,” he murmured. “Gwen’s going to need your help stopping the four-five-six. You can’t give up now, cariad. There’s still the world to save.”
“What’s the point?” Jack asked with such vitriol that Ianto was momentarily taken aback. “Without you, what’s the point?”
“What was the point of my death?” Ianto asked dryly. “At least take out the bastards that killed me, please.”
Jack choked out a short, sharp laugh. “Okay,” he said, pressing back up against Ianto. “Whatever it takes. They’ll die.”
A short, sharp frisson of fear ran down Ianto’s spine. He ignored it, because what else could he do? “Rhiannon and her kids. Make sure they’re safe for me, Jack, please.” He felt the nod against his chest, but Jack didn’t respond verbally, and he knew, he knew that Jack was running out of time.
Lightly, lovingly, he peppered every inch of Jack he could reach with kisses, brief, teasing touches, as if they had forever left with each other. He kept it up until Jack disappeared, slowly fading into nothing. It felt an awful lot like death instead of life.
Tosh came over to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. She didn’t say anything, which was probably for the best, because Ianto suspected he might start bawling if he opened his mouth. Some time - he didn’t know how long - passed in silence.
“I’m going to ask again now,” Owen said eventually, and Ianto braced himself for the question. “What the hell is going on down there?”
And, with Myfanwy curled up a few steps away like an oversized dog, Owen’s eyes boring into his bowed head and Tosh’s arm warm and comforting around him, Ianto began to explain.
~fin
C&C?
Have I depressed you? This fic might make it better. Or not. Depends on your tastes, really. Check the rating!
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for CoE Day Four [and Five, if you read a little into the conversation...].
Notes: Virgin foray into Torchwood ficdom, and it would have to be a CoE-related fic.
When I requested happy!fic ideas, pinkalarmclock suggested: "I have actually fancied some afterlife-y thing, with Ianto meeting Owen, Tosh, Lisa, Myfanwy...could be quite funny in the right hands!"
Mine are obviously not the right hands. I'm sorry. It started out cracky and then morphed into something else altogether [angst, dammit!]. I'm uploading another fic right after this one that might make it all better, if that helps?
Randomly - music I'm listening to now is very appropriate. And John Barrowman evidently thinks so too.
Rarely Pure, Never Simple
The truth is rarely pure, and never simple. - Oscar Wilde
Ianto closed his eyes on the sight of Jack’s anguished face, and opened them to the sight of a very large, very hard beak.
All things considered, he believed he was perfectly justified in shrieking and batting an enthusiastic Myfanwy away from certain parts of his anatomy he’d prefer remained intact. Owen’s amused, slightly vindictive laughter was uncalled for, really.
“We were wondering when you’d show up,” Tosh said.
“Stop that,” Ianto said firmly. Myfanwy backed off just long enough for him to get to his feet so she could bowl him over again. Resigned to the inevitable, he petted her beak and looked around.
As far as he could tell, there was pure blackness all around them. Tosh and Owen were sitting a safe distance away from the excited pteranodon… if “sitting” was the right term for it. They were both perched on nothing, after all. A faint glow seemed to light them from within, their skin taking on a luminescent quality that was both entrancing and deeply disturbing. A quick look at Myfanwy confirmed that her leathery skin was glimmering in a similar manner. He didn’t particularly want to inspect his own body, but he was fairly sure he was also doing an imitation of a light-bulb.
“So what’s going on back there, tea-boy?” Owen asked, stretching out casually.
“I take it the dead aren’t omniscient then,” Ianto replied dryly, wondering all the while how he was supposed to explain the state of the world to Tosh and Owen. The same world they’d given their lives for, and it was going to hell in a hand-basket.
Fortunately, he was saved from having to respond by a bright light flashing into being right next to him. Myfanwy squawked in indignation and bounded away. Ianto was scrambling forward before he’d even realised what he was doing, and by the time the light faded to a dim glow, he was holding Jack’s limp body in his arms.
“He never wakes up, Ianto,” Tosh said gently. “We’ve seen him a few times, and he never wakes him, no matter what we do.”
“Just disappears after a while,” Owen added, and Ianto wondered if death did something to you, made you change (stupid question, of course it did, from not-dead to dead, alive to not-alive), because the quality of their voices was so strange. Then Jack gasped and shuddered up against Ianto’s chest, eyes flying open, and Tosh emitted a startled shriek and Owen unleashed a string of inventive oaths and Ianto was too busy feeling relieved to think about anything else.
“Hi,” Ianto said, and that was all he could get out because Jack’s mouth was on his and this didn’t feel like death, death couldn’t possibly feel this good, so hot, so alive. But then it was over and Ianto drew back a little. Or tried to, because Jack followed his movements and refused to let go.
“Jack,” Ianto said insistently. “Jack, what’s happening?”
“Fuck,” Owen repeated continuously in the background, in lieu of saying anything constructive.
“Don’t make me go back,” Jack breathed into Ianto’s neck. “God, please, Yan, let me stay here for once.”
“I can’t do that, cariad,” Ianto whispered back. “I don’t have the power to.”
Myfanwy returned, butting her head inquisitively at Ianto’s shoulder. He couldn’t bear to look up at her. They’d lost so much already, and now Jack would have to go back and face everything else he would eventually lose.
“Jack - Jack,” Ianto said, tugging insistently at Jack’s lapel. The greatcoat had followed him into death, loyal as ever, and Ianto found his fingers twisting tightly around the familiar material.
“I break everything I touch,” Jack said, and in the next moment found his ears ringing.
“Paying attention now?” Ianto asked archly, trying not to feel guilty at the surprised look on Jack’s face. Jack was finally with him though, he could see that, and so he pressed a brief, apologetic kiss to the same spot he’d just slapped.
“You have to go back,” he murmured. “Gwen’s going to need your help stopping the four-five-six. You can’t give up now, cariad. There’s still the world to save.”
“What’s the point?” Jack asked with such vitriol that Ianto was momentarily taken aback. “Without you, what’s the point?”
“What was the point of my death?” Ianto asked dryly. “At least take out the bastards that killed me, please.”
Jack choked out a short, sharp laugh. “Okay,” he said, pressing back up against Ianto. “Whatever it takes. They’ll die.”
A short, sharp frisson of fear ran down Ianto’s spine. He ignored it, because what else could he do? “Rhiannon and her kids. Make sure they’re safe for me, Jack, please.” He felt the nod against his chest, but Jack didn’t respond verbally, and he knew, he knew that Jack was running out of time.
Lightly, lovingly, he peppered every inch of Jack he could reach with kisses, brief, teasing touches, as if they had forever left with each other. He kept it up until Jack disappeared, slowly fading into nothing. It felt an awful lot like death instead of life.
Tosh came over to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. She didn’t say anything, which was probably for the best, because Ianto suspected he might start bawling if he opened his mouth. Some time - he didn’t know how long - passed in silence.
“I’m going to ask again now,” Owen said eventually, and Ianto braced himself for the question. “What the hell is going on down there?”
And, with Myfanwy curled up a few steps away like an oversized dog, Owen’s eyes boring into his bowed head and Tosh’s arm warm and comforting around him, Ianto began to explain.
~fin
C&C?
Have I depressed you? This fic might make it better. Or not. Depends on your tastes, really. Check the rating!