Fanfic - a clearer light [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]
Title: a clearer light
Rating(s): PG-13
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto
Summary: Five times Ianto almost tells Jack he loves him, and the one time he actually gets around to it.
Warning(s): Angst; Ianto!whump.
Author's Notes: Always wanted to write a 5+1 fic, so I asked my beta for a suggestion. She said, “I’ve got something sappy,” and offered me this. *points at summary*
Me being me, I took what should’ve been sappy and turned it into angst. Go me!
FYI, there’s a quietly positive ending after all the sad!Ianto. =D
a clearer light
In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth. - Mahatma Gandhi
one
The day after Jack murders Lisa, Ianto comes back into work.
Instinctively, he starts cataloguing what needs to be cleared away. Then he stops. There is no longer a place for him here, even if it is only as their janitor. He looks up, sees Jack and Gwen. Sees Jack nod to him.
Ianto is not sure what to make of it. He picks up a rubbish bag and begins to clear the nearest table. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack step away from Gwen, move towards the stairs and begin to descend. Ianto looks at the black bag he is holding, then puts it down.
“Ianto, my office,” Jack says. Ianto silently follows Jack, feeling Gwen and Toshiko and Owen watching him. He finds he does not care. It does not bother him what they must think of him, that they now must hate him. He has never had their regard in any case, and it is true that you cannot miss what you have never had.
He has never had Jack’s regard either. Ianto once wished that he did. Now, he is glad for having always been overlooked, because it means that he cannot hurt any more than he already does.
This man before him, more than anyone, has the power to hurt him. Ianto hopes that Jack does not realise this. He knows Jack will use it against him.
“Sit down,” Jack says. Ianto sits. Jack takes a seat behind the desk and folds his arms across his chest. “What should I do with you?” he asks.
Ianto remains silent, looking down at his knees. He has not spoken since yesterday, since he whispered his last apologies to Lisa. Jack had taken away the bodies. Ianto had scrubbed the blood away in silence.
Jack had told him to return the next morning. Ianto supposes he would have needed the time to cover his tracks. There is no quitting a Torchwood job.
“Nothing?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. “Not going to tell me why you deserve to live?”
Ianto keeps his eyes squarely on his knees. Today, he is wearing the suit that Lisa had hated. She had claimed it sat poorly on him, and made him look like he was going to a funeral.
Jack sighs explosively and leans forward, resting his arms on the desk. “If you’re not going to give me something to work with,” he says warningly, “I’ll just go with what I think is best.”
Still, Ianto does not respond.
“Look at me,” Jack says sharply. Ianto lifts his eyes in Jack’s direction. He does not meet Jack’s gaze.
There is a long silence.
“I’ve talked to the team,” Jack finally says. Ianto does not care. He only wishes that Jack would speed things up a little. But Jack has always had a cruel side, he knows that. And Jack knows that the anticipation is worse than the final blow.
“We’re going to give you another chance,” Jack says.
Ianto’s hearing goes out momentarily. So does his vision. When they return, the room is jolting violently in front of him, twirling and spinning in a crazy dance. Jack’s voice fades in and out - “foolish thing to do… fault your reasons… had talked to me before… more secrets and… no more chances after this.”
Ianto surreptitiously takes a deep breath, looking down at his knees again and willing the room to stop moving. He recalls suddenly, irrelevantly, that he has not eaten or drunk anything since yesterday afternoon. After this, he will have a glass of water, perhaps laced with a white pill full of forgetfulness.
“You’re on a month’s suspension,” Jack says briskly. “Pull yourself back together and then I’ll expect you back. You’ll be on probation after that, so behave.”
Ianto nods silently. Jack has chosen, for whatever reason, to give him another chance. Ianto thinks he might adore Jack a little, for that. He thinks he might hate him, too.
“Anything to say?” Jack asks.
This isn’t a second chance, Ianto doesn’t say. I love you enough to die for you but you or Lisa was not a choice I could make. Don’t torture me. Make good on what you said and execute me.
Ianto shakes his head. Jack looks frustrated but stands up and motions for Ianto to go ahead of him.
Ianto rises cautiously. His head spins a little, but he is able to maintain the fiction of well-being. Jack dogs his footsteps all the way down to the exit. The others are still watching.
“One month,” Jack says bluntly, holding out his hand. Ianto takes out his Torchwood pass and drops it in his hand without hesitation. It feels like he has let go of a ticking bomb.
Jack escorts Ianto out to his car. He suspects they will be tracking him to ensure he does not go anywhere untoward.
Ianto drives straight home. He has one glass of water. Then he sits on the bed and stares at nothing for a very long time.
two
There is a wonderful bruise blooming on his side, reaching all the way around his ribs in a mocking embrace.
When he breathes, he feels sharp pain flaring through his left side. He recognises the pain as exactly the kind he’d had back when he was fifteen and he’d - fallen - down the stairs. Two days after that, he had gone to the doctor, who had told him he’d fractured a rib.
Ianto touches his side carefully, when the pain is the greatest. He pushes past the swelling and small lacerations and finds that the bones of his ribs do not move. They are not broken, and so he settles into a somnolent state of being.
Things hurt less that way.
But sleeping is not a good idea, because he knows he has been struck about the head. He had lost consciousness at one point, coming around only after they took a moment’s break to round up the team. His head hurts and his vision is oddly murky and there is a persistent buzzing in his left ear. He thinks those may be symptoms of a concussion. Sleeping is not a good idea.
He replays the memory of Jack’s arrival, all triumph and thunder, the last-minute rescue, the hero riding in to save the day. He remembers being freed from his bonds, remembers wanting to hug Jack in thanks, say how grateful he is. He remembers the brief, one-armed hug Jack had given him and how Jack had turned to Gwen immediately after. He remembers swallowing the I thought I’d die before telling you I love you, remembers limping out after the others.
His ribs hurt. He touches them, palpitates the area where they hurt most. They do not move, and are clearly not broken. The pain informs him that there is at least a fracture. It is best, he thinks, to simply let it be and allow the bone to knit itself together in its own time. A doctor can do little for a fractured rib anyway. And the team has more pressing concerns than the well-being of the tea-boy.
The last time he’d felt this poorly had been when he’d fallen against the wall. Ianto touches his side. His ribs don’t feel broken. Like last time, it is only a fracture. Last time, he’d broken his nose, too. At least he’s been spared that this time. But he’d been struck about the head instead, and now it is hurting something awful. It probably isn’t a good idea to sleep, however attractive the idea looks now that the adrenaline has run its course. He might have a concussion. He cannot think clearly, but he might have a concussion.
Ianto leans his head against the wall. The bricks are cool but rough against his skin. A song floats into half-memory and he sings it in his mind, don’t try to reach me, I’m already dead, just give me a chance to hide away, and then without realising it a few words slip past his lips, and they think I fell down, and he stops, aghast at the hoarse croak of his voice.
His ribs hurt. He thinks they might be fractured. He looks over but Gwen is still getting medical treatment for her gunshot wound, which is clearly more important than his simple bruises. Toshiko is holding Gwen’s right hand, Jack her left. Owen is talking to one of the paramedics, and when he is done, he bustles over to talk to the other three.
Jack says something and smiles at Gwen, then brushes her hair away from her face.
Ianto looks away. His ribs hurt, and he badly wants to sleep.
three
Ianto is acutely aware that this is his third chance.
Twice now, he has betrayed Jack for Lisa. Jack has, against all odds, seemed to have chosen to forgive him once more.
I’m sorry, Ianto doesn’t say as he holds out his hand.
I’m so sick of being second-best, Ianto doesn’t say as Jack pulls him into a hug.
I hate knowing you don’t see me, Ianto doesn’t say as Jack kisses him in front of the team.
I love you, Ianto doesn’t say as Jack lets go.
Ianto offers to run out for drinks, later. While standing in line, he decides that perhaps it would be best to tell Jack, after all. Perhaps it would make him feel better to get it out in the open. Nothing will change, he knows that, but saying it will make it real and then he can start to get past it.
He will talk to Jack later, once the team has left. They will end, he knows it. But it’s preferable to endless limbo.
He returns to the Hub, the confession on the tip of his tongue.
four
Ianto has killed three girls.
They had barely been women. They had barely lived. Their necks had been slender and frail and fit in just one of his hands. He has such big hands. He’s never noticed before.
He has killed three girls and he does not know when the urge will take him again.
He does not want to, god, he does not want to. But he cannot stop the desire and it has taken him three times now and the fourth waits, watches, waits, watches and he cannot do this, he must stop it. He knows he cannot stop himself, and so he waits for the one person he knows will help, will lock him up and throw away the key.
Jack returns to the Hub, and Ianto tells him the truth.
Jack refuses to believe him. Ianto humours him with the lie-detector. He can feel the truth burning in his bones and the light on the lie-detector stays stubbornly green. The second one had fought, had struggled, had grabbed at his hands and tried to get away but he’d been too quick and had watched in pleasure as her eyes popped and her mouth soundlessly went oh, oh, oh and she had died.
Jack still refuses to believe that Ianto is a murderer. He finds the proof of it on their security cameras. Ianto cannot, at first, fathom what he is seeing. Then he realises that Jack’s faith in him has been vindicated.
It is a strangely liberating feeling, to be trusted and know that trust is well-placed.
Jack trusts him.
Jack trusts him, and Ianto has never felt more at ease with himself. “Thank you,” he tells Jack, and mouths, I love you, into his shoulder and Jack holds him so tight Ianto can feel his bones creaking but he doesn’t care because Jack trusts him and this is one memory he’ll always be able to hold on to, one which will always get him through anything.
five
Ianto does not want to accept that it has happened, but it has. And now the victims of the Night Travellers are all dead, all but one, and the world that that one has awoken to is not a world which Ianto wants to contemplate.
“We can’t save everyone, every time,” Jack tells him. Jack’s hand is moving slowly over Ianto’s hair, stroke, stroke, stroke, like Ianto’s a cat that needs to be put at ease.
Ianto curls up into a tighter ball.
Jack’s hand stills for a moment, and then slides down and Jack wraps his arm around Ianto’s waist and lifts and shifts and pulls until Ianto is finally repositioned to Jack’s liking, pressed against the bed with Jack’s weight warm and safe over him.
Jack returns his hand to Ianto’s hair, and begins to sing as he strokes it, when you’re lost, and you’re alone, and you can’t get back again, I will find you, darling, I’ll bring you home, and Ianto hears all the things Jack will never say in the song and in his voice and the way his words are slow and sad. And if you want to cry, I am here to dry your eyes, Jack sings.
Ianto is so full of hopelessness and despair at what has happened but also of love and contentment at being here with Jack and he wants so desperately to tell him that, tell him, I hate that we can do so little, I hate that we create a worse world for some people, I love that you’ll be here with me through it, I love you for staying and understanding, but he knows that he’s too muddled right now and nothing will make sense and so he lies there in silence instead and lets Jack sing him to sleep.
one
Ianto sits with Jack’s cold body and waits.
It is painful coming back, Jack has told him. It hurts worse than dying, and then there’s the disorientation, the not knowing what you’re coming back to or what’s happening or where you are.
Jack does not like to awaken in a different place from where he died.
So Ianto sits with him. The Weevil they’d been after is unconscious in the back of the SUV. Even if it comes around, it will not be able to escape the clamps Ianto has secured it in. There is time aplenty to wait.
Sitting there on the ground with a dead body is unnerving though, and so after a minute, Ianto begins to talk.
He tells Jack about the Weevil first, assures him that it is properly contained. It would be so much easier, he says, if we could send the Weevils back to wherever they’re from, instead of back to the sewers. As it is, we’re fighting a losing battle. We take a Weevil off the streets and put it back in the sewers and two weeks later it’s out again causing trouble. It’s never-ending. If only we could send them back home.
Do you suppose, Ianto adds after a moment, that they miss home? That they’re from somewhere in particular, that they have a memory of it? Maybe they come out in search of it. Maybe they come out of the sewers hoping, every time, that their surroundings will have changed and they will be back where they want to be.
Ianto sighs. I suppose home is a construct, he muses out loud. A place where we feel safe. I can’t imagine they feel safe here at all, with us always after them. Maybe all they want is to go home to a place where they won’t be hounded. I suppose we all want that. Need that. I have it, with you, you’re home because I love you and need you and you make me feel safe. But do they -
Jack gasps and flails and Ianto shuts up in favour of not getting belted across the face. It takes a moment for clarity to dawn in Jack’s eyes, and then he’s getting up, completely ignoring the fact that he has just been killed.
Ianto wonders what it takes for Jack to pretend he doesn’t hurt, and go on.
“You know,” Jack says in the SUV, as they wait at a red light. “I can feel it when I’m almost ready to come back.”
“Oh?” Ianto asks. Jack does not often talk about his dying, and Ianto wonders why he is bringing it up now.
“Yes,” Jack says. “There’s always a few seconds of - pretty bad pain - before I come back. But during that time, if I really try, I can hear what’s going on around me.”
“Oh,” Ianto says again, this time with no inflection whatsoever.
“It helps me figure out where I am,” Jack says. “It doesn’t always work, just sometimes. I guess it helps if it’s a voice I’m familiar with already. Helps me focus on that.” He glances at Ianto. The light turns green and Jack returns his attention to the road.
Ianto wonders what Jack has heard. He doesn’t know how to ask, and so he doesn’t.
“So thanks for talking,” Jack says. “I didn’t catch much, maybe just the last few words, but it helped knowing you were there and sounding un-panicked.”
“You’re welcome,” Ianto replies.
“You might be right,” Jack adds. “Maybe the Weevils just want to get home. I wish we could give them that, give them what we have. It’s a pity we can’t.”
Ianto nods after a moment. “It is,” he says, and they drive back to the Hub in silence.
~fin
CC?
Rating(s): PG-13
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto
Summary: Five times Ianto almost tells Jack he loves him, and the one time he actually gets around to it.
Warning(s): Angst; Ianto!whump.
Author's Notes: Always wanted to write a 5+1 fic, so I asked my beta for a suggestion. She said, “I’ve got something sappy,” and offered me this. *points at summary*
Me being me, I took what should’ve been sappy and turned it into angst. Go me!
FYI, there’s a quietly positive ending after all the sad!Ianto. =D
a clearer light
In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth. - Mahatma Gandhi
one
The day after Jack murders Lisa, Ianto comes back into work.
Instinctively, he starts cataloguing what needs to be cleared away. Then he stops. There is no longer a place for him here, even if it is only as their janitor. He looks up, sees Jack and Gwen. Sees Jack nod to him.
Ianto is not sure what to make of it. He picks up a rubbish bag and begins to clear the nearest table. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack step away from Gwen, move towards the stairs and begin to descend. Ianto looks at the black bag he is holding, then puts it down.
“Ianto, my office,” Jack says. Ianto silently follows Jack, feeling Gwen and Toshiko and Owen watching him. He finds he does not care. It does not bother him what they must think of him, that they now must hate him. He has never had their regard in any case, and it is true that you cannot miss what you have never had.
He has never had Jack’s regard either. Ianto once wished that he did. Now, he is glad for having always been overlooked, because it means that he cannot hurt any more than he already does.
This man before him, more than anyone, has the power to hurt him. Ianto hopes that Jack does not realise this. He knows Jack will use it against him.
“Sit down,” Jack says. Ianto sits. Jack takes a seat behind the desk and folds his arms across his chest. “What should I do with you?” he asks.
Ianto remains silent, looking down at his knees. He has not spoken since yesterday, since he whispered his last apologies to Lisa. Jack had taken away the bodies. Ianto had scrubbed the blood away in silence.
Jack had told him to return the next morning. Ianto supposes he would have needed the time to cover his tracks. There is no quitting a Torchwood job.
“Nothing?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. “Not going to tell me why you deserve to live?”
Ianto keeps his eyes squarely on his knees. Today, he is wearing the suit that Lisa had hated. She had claimed it sat poorly on him, and made him look like he was going to a funeral.
Jack sighs explosively and leans forward, resting his arms on the desk. “If you’re not going to give me something to work with,” he says warningly, “I’ll just go with what I think is best.”
Still, Ianto does not respond.
“Look at me,” Jack says sharply. Ianto lifts his eyes in Jack’s direction. He does not meet Jack’s gaze.
There is a long silence.
“I’ve talked to the team,” Jack finally says. Ianto does not care. He only wishes that Jack would speed things up a little. But Jack has always had a cruel side, he knows that. And Jack knows that the anticipation is worse than the final blow.
“We’re going to give you another chance,” Jack says.
Ianto’s hearing goes out momentarily. So does his vision. When they return, the room is jolting violently in front of him, twirling and spinning in a crazy dance. Jack’s voice fades in and out - “foolish thing to do… fault your reasons… had talked to me before… more secrets and… no more chances after this.”
Ianto surreptitiously takes a deep breath, looking down at his knees again and willing the room to stop moving. He recalls suddenly, irrelevantly, that he has not eaten or drunk anything since yesterday afternoon. After this, he will have a glass of water, perhaps laced with a white pill full of forgetfulness.
“You’re on a month’s suspension,” Jack says briskly. “Pull yourself back together and then I’ll expect you back. You’ll be on probation after that, so behave.”
Ianto nods silently. Jack has chosen, for whatever reason, to give him another chance. Ianto thinks he might adore Jack a little, for that. He thinks he might hate him, too.
“Anything to say?” Jack asks.
This isn’t a second chance, Ianto doesn’t say. I love you enough to die for you but you or Lisa was not a choice I could make. Don’t torture me. Make good on what you said and execute me.
Ianto shakes his head. Jack looks frustrated but stands up and motions for Ianto to go ahead of him.
Ianto rises cautiously. His head spins a little, but he is able to maintain the fiction of well-being. Jack dogs his footsteps all the way down to the exit. The others are still watching.
“One month,” Jack says bluntly, holding out his hand. Ianto takes out his Torchwood pass and drops it in his hand without hesitation. It feels like he has let go of a ticking bomb.
Jack escorts Ianto out to his car. He suspects they will be tracking him to ensure he does not go anywhere untoward.
Ianto drives straight home. He has one glass of water. Then he sits on the bed and stares at nothing for a very long time.
two
There is a wonderful bruise blooming on his side, reaching all the way around his ribs in a mocking embrace.
When he breathes, he feels sharp pain flaring through his left side. He recognises the pain as exactly the kind he’d had back when he was fifteen and he’d - fallen - down the stairs. Two days after that, he had gone to the doctor, who had told him he’d fractured a rib.
Ianto touches his side carefully, when the pain is the greatest. He pushes past the swelling and small lacerations and finds that the bones of his ribs do not move. They are not broken, and so he settles into a somnolent state of being.
Things hurt less that way.
But sleeping is not a good idea, because he knows he has been struck about the head. He had lost consciousness at one point, coming around only after they took a moment’s break to round up the team. His head hurts and his vision is oddly murky and there is a persistent buzzing in his left ear. He thinks those may be symptoms of a concussion. Sleeping is not a good idea.
He replays the memory of Jack’s arrival, all triumph and thunder, the last-minute rescue, the hero riding in to save the day. He remembers being freed from his bonds, remembers wanting to hug Jack in thanks, say how grateful he is. He remembers the brief, one-armed hug Jack had given him and how Jack had turned to Gwen immediately after. He remembers swallowing the I thought I’d die before telling you I love you, remembers limping out after the others.
His ribs hurt. He touches them, palpitates the area where they hurt most. They do not move, and are clearly not broken. The pain informs him that there is at least a fracture. It is best, he thinks, to simply let it be and allow the bone to knit itself together in its own time. A doctor can do little for a fractured rib anyway. And the team has more pressing concerns than the well-being of the tea-boy.
The last time he’d felt this poorly had been when he’d fallen against the wall. Ianto touches his side. His ribs don’t feel broken. Like last time, it is only a fracture. Last time, he’d broken his nose, too. At least he’s been spared that this time. But he’d been struck about the head instead, and now it is hurting something awful. It probably isn’t a good idea to sleep, however attractive the idea looks now that the adrenaline has run its course. He might have a concussion. He cannot think clearly, but he might have a concussion.
Ianto leans his head against the wall. The bricks are cool but rough against his skin. A song floats into half-memory and he sings it in his mind, don’t try to reach me, I’m already dead, just give me a chance to hide away, and then without realising it a few words slip past his lips, and they think I fell down, and he stops, aghast at the hoarse croak of his voice.
His ribs hurt. He thinks they might be fractured. He looks over but Gwen is still getting medical treatment for her gunshot wound, which is clearly more important than his simple bruises. Toshiko is holding Gwen’s right hand, Jack her left. Owen is talking to one of the paramedics, and when he is done, he bustles over to talk to the other three.
Jack says something and smiles at Gwen, then brushes her hair away from her face.
Ianto looks away. His ribs hurt, and he badly wants to sleep.
three
Ianto is acutely aware that this is his third chance.
Twice now, he has betrayed Jack for Lisa. Jack has, against all odds, seemed to have chosen to forgive him once more.
I’m sorry, Ianto doesn’t say as he holds out his hand.
I’m so sick of being second-best, Ianto doesn’t say as Jack pulls him into a hug.
I hate knowing you don’t see me, Ianto doesn’t say as Jack kisses him in front of the team.
I love you, Ianto doesn’t say as Jack lets go.
Ianto offers to run out for drinks, later. While standing in line, he decides that perhaps it would be best to tell Jack, after all. Perhaps it would make him feel better to get it out in the open. Nothing will change, he knows that, but saying it will make it real and then he can start to get past it.
He will talk to Jack later, once the team has left. They will end, he knows it. But it’s preferable to endless limbo.
He returns to the Hub, the confession on the tip of his tongue.
four
Ianto has killed three girls.
They had barely been women. They had barely lived. Their necks had been slender and frail and fit in just one of his hands. He has such big hands. He’s never noticed before.
He has killed three girls and he does not know when the urge will take him again.
He does not want to, god, he does not want to. But he cannot stop the desire and it has taken him three times now and the fourth waits, watches, waits, watches and he cannot do this, he must stop it. He knows he cannot stop himself, and so he waits for the one person he knows will help, will lock him up and throw away the key.
Jack returns to the Hub, and Ianto tells him the truth.
Jack refuses to believe him. Ianto humours him with the lie-detector. He can feel the truth burning in his bones and the light on the lie-detector stays stubbornly green. The second one had fought, had struggled, had grabbed at his hands and tried to get away but he’d been too quick and had watched in pleasure as her eyes popped and her mouth soundlessly went oh, oh, oh and she had died.
Jack still refuses to believe that Ianto is a murderer. He finds the proof of it on their security cameras. Ianto cannot, at first, fathom what he is seeing. Then he realises that Jack’s faith in him has been vindicated.
It is a strangely liberating feeling, to be trusted and know that trust is well-placed.
Jack trusts him.
Jack trusts him, and Ianto has never felt more at ease with himself. “Thank you,” he tells Jack, and mouths, I love you, into his shoulder and Jack holds him so tight Ianto can feel his bones creaking but he doesn’t care because Jack trusts him and this is one memory he’ll always be able to hold on to, one which will always get him through anything.
five
Ianto does not want to accept that it has happened, but it has. And now the victims of the Night Travellers are all dead, all but one, and the world that that one has awoken to is not a world which Ianto wants to contemplate.
“We can’t save everyone, every time,” Jack tells him. Jack’s hand is moving slowly over Ianto’s hair, stroke, stroke, stroke, like Ianto’s a cat that needs to be put at ease.
Ianto curls up into a tighter ball.
Jack’s hand stills for a moment, and then slides down and Jack wraps his arm around Ianto’s waist and lifts and shifts and pulls until Ianto is finally repositioned to Jack’s liking, pressed against the bed with Jack’s weight warm and safe over him.
Jack returns his hand to Ianto’s hair, and begins to sing as he strokes it, when you’re lost, and you’re alone, and you can’t get back again, I will find you, darling, I’ll bring you home, and Ianto hears all the things Jack will never say in the song and in his voice and the way his words are slow and sad. And if you want to cry, I am here to dry your eyes, Jack sings.
Ianto is so full of hopelessness and despair at what has happened but also of love and contentment at being here with Jack and he wants so desperately to tell him that, tell him, I hate that we can do so little, I hate that we create a worse world for some people, I love that you’ll be here with me through it, I love you for staying and understanding, but he knows that he’s too muddled right now and nothing will make sense and so he lies there in silence instead and lets Jack sing him to sleep.
one
Ianto sits with Jack’s cold body and waits.
It is painful coming back, Jack has told him. It hurts worse than dying, and then there’s the disorientation, the not knowing what you’re coming back to or what’s happening or where you are.
Jack does not like to awaken in a different place from where he died.
So Ianto sits with him. The Weevil they’d been after is unconscious in the back of the SUV. Even if it comes around, it will not be able to escape the clamps Ianto has secured it in. There is time aplenty to wait.
Sitting there on the ground with a dead body is unnerving though, and so after a minute, Ianto begins to talk.
He tells Jack about the Weevil first, assures him that it is properly contained. It would be so much easier, he says, if we could send the Weevils back to wherever they’re from, instead of back to the sewers. As it is, we’re fighting a losing battle. We take a Weevil off the streets and put it back in the sewers and two weeks later it’s out again causing trouble. It’s never-ending. If only we could send them back home.
Do you suppose, Ianto adds after a moment, that they miss home? That they’re from somewhere in particular, that they have a memory of it? Maybe they come out in search of it. Maybe they come out of the sewers hoping, every time, that their surroundings will have changed and they will be back where they want to be.
Ianto sighs. I suppose home is a construct, he muses out loud. A place where we feel safe. I can’t imagine they feel safe here at all, with us always after them. Maybe all they want is to go home to a place where they won’t be hounded. I suppose we all want that. Need that. I have it, with you, you’re home because I love you and need you and you make me feel safe. But do they -
Jack gasps and flails and Ianto shuts up in favour of not getting belted across the face. It takes a moment for clarity to dawn in Jack’s eyes, and then he’s getting up, completely ignoring the fact that he has just been killed.
Ianto wonders what it takes for Jack to pretend he doesn’t hurt, and go on.
“You know,” Jack says in the SUV, as they wait at a red light. “I can feel it when I’m almost ready to come back.”
“Oh?” Ianto asks. Jack does not often talk about his dying, and Ianto wonders why he is bringing it up now.
“Yes,” Jack says. “There’s always a few seconds of - pretty bad pain - before I come back. But during that time, if I really try, I can hear what’s going on around me.”
“Oh,” Ianto says again, this time with no inflection whatsoever.
“It helps me figure out where I am,” Jack says. “It doesn’t always work, just sometimes. I guess it helps if it’s a voice I’m familiar with already. Helps me focus on that.” He glances at Ianto. The light turns green and Jack returns his attention to the road.
Ianto wonders what Jack has heard. He doesn’t know how to ask, and so he doesn’t.
“So thanks for talking,” Jack says. “I didn’t catch much, maybe just the last few words, but it helped knowing you were there and sounding un-panicked.”
“You’re welcome,” Ianto replies.
“You might be right,” Jack adds. “Maybe the Weevils just want to get home. I wish we could give them that, give them what we have. It’s a pity we can’t.”
Ianto nods after a moment. “It is,” he says, and they drive back to the Hub in silence.
~fin
CC?