Fic: Going Off the Rails on a Crazy Train
TITLE: Going Off the Rails on a Crazy Train
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
RATING: R for language and themes
CHARACTERS: Jack, Ianto, Lisa
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood is property of the BBC.
SUMMARY: Jack had had his self-destructive bouts where he’d overdosed, tripped the rainbow one too many times and scared the **** out of equally high partners. He had more than one life though.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've just started watching the US version of Queer as Folk, so I suppose you could blame that for this fic. I suppose you could also blame my best friend who went to the Black Party the other weekend. If you don't know what the Black Party is ask your mother... or your gay next door neighbour! ;)
The music was loud in the club, beat pulsing and throbbing, bodies gyrating to the base line. If he had been paying attention he would have felt eyes roaming over every inch of his body as he weaved his way through the crowd of sweaty forms, high on whatever was hot that weekend. This was not his sort of place. Sure, Jack had been to clubs before, had picked up enough people in clubs to know how it worked - to know how to tease, how to dance, how to catch someone’s eye, how to fuck in the toilets underneath the blue glow of the neon lights. He knew the feel of leather chaps beneath sweaty palms, the feel of alcohol-intoxicated skin on skin. He’d lived that life in his long wait for the Doctor, had had his self-destructive bouts where he’d overdosed, tripped the rainbow one too many times and scared the shit out of equally high partners. He had more than one life though.
He moved past hot pants, Queens and Twinkies out for a good time and he wondered why here of all places a broken man had chosen to take his last stand. Was it to move as far away as possible from the memory of soft brown skin beneath his hands, tender lips against his stubbly cheek? Or was it just a drunken mistake; an act of desperation?
One song blurred into the next and a primal roar surged forth within the crowd, hands reaching up to the stars that they could see beyond the black ceiling. Jack heard feet stomping on metal platforms, bodies so close he was almost swaying with the music himself, as he steered his way towards the bathrooms. Multicoloured glow-sticks flashed before his field of vision, moving so fast they could cause a seizure. A man wolf-whistled after him but Jack didn’t notice as he pushed through the swing doors into the men’s. He pushed against cubical door after cubical door, each one containing more than one person. Some were pressed up against the partition, hands down each other’s pants, others leaning over the cistern, moans and the faint boom of the baseline filling the bathroom.
Jack found who he was looking for in the last cubical. And he wasn’t alone. Jack’s hands grabbed onto his arm, pulling him out of the cubical and bodily shoving him against the wall. He gave a titter of a laugh as he took in Jack, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, like he was a school-boy caught throwing bog roll at the bathroom ceiling.
“What do you want?” Ianto asked as he pulled himself up off the wall slightly, leering at Jack like he was his next victim. Jack took in his dishevelled appearance, apparently not shaved in days, eye still black and blue from where the Cybermen had thrown him. Jack watched Ianto lick his lips and Jack had to resist the urge to do the same, he could still taste Ianto on his own lips. The man Ianto had been in the cubical with came out behind Jack.
“We can share mate if that’s your problem,” the man offered making no move to do up his trousers. It was then that Jack noticed Ianto’s flies were also undone. Jack gave a growl in the back of his throat before he grabbed Ianto’s arm, pulling him out of the bathroom and back into the throng of bodies in the club. Ianto protested weakly, struggling against Jack’s hold briefly while he leered at all the men and women they passed, far too interested in everyone else to realise he was being steered out the club.
Jack pushed his way out through the fire exit, the door slamming open into the alley, bouncing off the wall before it shut over with a quiet clang. He let go of Ianto’s arm, pushing him away slightly in disgust. Ianto stumbled into a skip, staggering to find his feet before he lent against the metal bin, rolling round dozily to take Jack into his view.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jack barked at Ianto. Ianto focused lazily on Jack for a moment, his hand unconsciously moving down the front of his pants, which Jack valiantly ignored.
“Dancing,” Ianto answered noncommittally, swaying his hips in time to the baseline that was still creeping through the walls, a serene look of contentment on his face. Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, anger still boiling up inside him.
“Why’d we leave?” Ianto asked, as if suddenly realising he was no longer in the club. He pulled himself up off the skip and staggered towards the fire exit, pulling fruitlessly on the door.
“Hey!” Ianto protested as Jack pulled him away. Ianto swung round, sloppily hitting Jack on the side of the arm, Jack reaching out to restrain him as his fists started failing wildly in protest. A stray fist caught Jack in the jaw, startling him long enough that Ianto managed to wriggle free from his grasp.
Ianto didn’t get far though. He stumbled a few steps before dropping to all fours and retching onto the alley floor. Jack wiped the back of his hand across his newly bloody lip before going to Ianto, crouching down beside him where he was continuing to dry heave into what looked like an entirely liquid-based diet.
“Ianto, what have you taken?” Jack asked, concern piquing his voice now rather than the previous anger, as a hand started to rub circles on Ianto’s back. Ianto didn’t answer, just continued to cough into the ground, bile and vomit splattering the front of his t-shirt.
“Ianto, come on, I need to know what you’ve taken, besides alcohol,” Jack encouraged, steadying him as Ianto rocked back on his heels, wiping his hand across his face, only succeeding in smearing vomit up his cheek. Jack grimaced at the state Ianto was in, watching as Ianto’s blown pupils tried to focus on Jack.
Ianto lunged at Jack after a moment, his lips pressing against Jack’s, hard and strong but sloppy and Jack was too surprised to do anything at first but let him. He tasted of vomit and alcohol, and something else that Jack couldn’t identify. Eventually, Jack got a hold of his senses and pushed Ianto back off him, holding him at arm’s length.
“Fuck me,” Ianto whispered harshly, his eyes still trying to focus on Jack, swaying uncontrollably back and forth for a moment before he tried to move towards Jack again, this time his lips moving to whisper in Jack’s ear.
“Fuck me, if you won’t let me be fucked by anyone else,” Ianto slurred before biting down on Jack’s earlobe. Jack pushed him away again, pulling himself to his feet and dragging Ianto with him. Ianto stumbled into Jack, pushing them up against the wall before he sloppily started fumbling with Jack’s belt buckle.
“Ianto,” Jack started, one hand still gripping Ianto’s bicep while the other tried to push his hands away. It had no effect on the drugged up Welshman as he moved one of his hands down the front of Jack’s trousers.
“Ianto,” Jack insisted, pulling Ianto’s hands out of his trousers. Ianto continued, pressing his body up against Jack's, his mouth seeking out Jack’s again.
“Ianto!” Jack practically yelled, pushing hard on Ianto’s frame so the young man stumbled back into the middle of the alley, staggering about for a moment while he watched Jack, a hurt look flitting across his face.
“Fuck you, Harkness!” Ianto said, pointing a finger at Jack before turning and stumbling towards the entrance to the alley, heading back to the entrance of the club. Jack stayed a moment, back pressed up against the alley wall, belt and trousers undone and the bitter taste of bile on the tip of his tongue. He gathered himself after a moment, doing his trousers back up before jogging down the alley after Ianto. He found Ianto arguing with the bouncer, poking him in the chest and threatening him in Welsh.
“Come on, Ianto,” Jack encouraged, grabbing the man by the arm and tugging him away from the bouncer. “It’s time you went home.”
“Fuck off, Jack!” Ianto spat before he resumed his assault on the bouncer.
“You ought to listen to your boyfriend mate, go home. I ain’t letting you in the club,” the bouncer replied calmly.
“Fuck you too then!” Ianto shot at the bouncer, continuing to try to shrug off Jack’s attempts to pull him away.
“In your dreams sweetheart,” the bouncer said scathingly as Jack dragged a somewhat more cooperative Ianto towards the SUV he’d left parked down the street.
“Get in,” Jack said, lack of emotion in his voice as he opened the passenger door of the car, pushing Ianto tumbling inside. Jack made it down the length of Charles Street before his anger bubbled over.
“What the fuck were you thinking Ianto?” Jack asked, resolutely staring ahead at the road, because if he looked at Ianto right now he was sure he’d do something he’d regret.
“Or weren’t you thinking?” Jack asked rhetorically, feeling like a parent. “Just thought you’d go out and drink and take drugs and fuck yourself into an early grave?”
“What the fuck do you care?” Ianto spat back as Jack locked the doors in the SUV, suddenly afraid that Ianto would try and leap from the car, given the current state he was in.
“You shot my girlfriend, you killed her, you and your band of merry men,” Ianto continued, his dry wit coming to the forefront.
“She wasn’t your girlfriend anymore,” Jack ground out between gritted teeth. They’d already had this argument, this conversation, and Jack wasn’t in the mood to have it again, especially not with Ianto hopped up on alcohol and God knew what kinds of drugs.
“She was all I had left, all I-“ Ianto broke off, silence descending over them as the SUV engine roared into life again. Ianto broke it by slamming his fist on the dashboard and then kicking it with his boot for good measure.
“Fuck!” he swore loudly, and Jack was surprised by his outburst- he would expect this kind of reaction from Owen but not quiet reserved Ianto. But then, Jack had never really known Ianto, had he?
“I haven’t got anything now Jack, so what the fuck is the point?!” Ianto yelled, pulling his seatbelt from him sharply before pulling on the door handle, kicking the door when it refused to open.
“Hey!” Jack yelled as he tried to keep his eyes on the road in front of him, while trying to placate Ianto.
“Hey!” Jack called again, reaching out a hand to Ianto to try and settle him back in the seat while simultaneously trying to navigate the one-way system.
“Let me out!” Ianto yelled, battering relentlessly on the bulletproof glass of the SUV. His heavy-handed fists soon descended into pathetic knocks on the window.
“Just let me out of here,” Ianto whispered, tears in his eyes now before his head was dropping onto the dashboard. Jack frowned, looking over Ianto as he turned down the next street, heading back to Grangetown and Ianto’s flat. He waited for the next outburst, but all the fight seemed to have rushed out of Ianto, like the life. Jack watched him out of the corner of his eye but the rest of the car ride remained silent.
“Come on,” Jack said, not unkindly as he opened the passenger door. Ianto’s head lifted heavily to look at Jack through eyelashes thick with tears. There was nothing but resigned defeat in Ianto’s blown pupils as he flopped out the SUV, dragging his feet up the path to his front door.
Jack followed him inside without words, trailed him up the stairs to his bedroom and watched as he flopped face down on his bed, trousers still undone, vomit still down the front of his t-shirt, amphetamines still running rampant in his blood stream. Jack watched for a moment as Ianto’s breathing evened out, his head turned away from the bedroom door. Jack sighed forlornly before he pulled the bedroom door over and left Ianto to sleep it off. Sleep, sadly, wasn’t going to solve this.
Ianto came too later that day, his head spinning and not just from what he had digested the previous night. He regarded himself in the mirror with disgust, showering without bothering to shave or even dress afterwards, slouching down the stairs in a dressing gown and entering his kitchen. He stopped in his tracks as he found Jack stood in front of his kettle, arms folded over his chest. The previous night came rushing back to Ianto in all its glorified horror.
“Sit down,” Jack said softly before Ianto’s brain had a chance to form words, let alone deliver them to his mouth. He sat quietly at his kitchen table, looking at his hands rather than Jack, gratefully clasping shaking hands round the mug of tea Jack placed in front of him.
“How are you feeling?” Jack asked conversationally, like they were being civilised and having afternoon tea.
“Rough,” Ianto mumbled as he heard the chair opposite scrape back, allowing Jack to sit down. Ianto could feel the heat coming from Jack’s knees he was sitting so close. Ianto tucked his bare feet further under the chair.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Jack replied. “Although I don’t think you’re just referring to last night.”
Suddenly, Ianto looked up from his still shaking hands to regard Jack, Ianto’s face open for once, tears pricking in his eyes that he angrily wiped away. Jack held his gaze for a long moment but didn’t say anything.
“How did you find me?” Ianto asked eventually, trying to change the subject to anything but that.
“I followed you,” Jack answered matter-of-factly, picking up his own mug of tea and taking a gulp.
“Why?” Ianto asked, too numb to let the anger he knew he should feel rise up in him. “Because you were worried about whose life I would endanger?” Ianto asked indignantly.
“I was worried about you endangering your own life,” Jack answered truthfully, the look in his eye giving him away. Ianto was speechless, unable to swallow or form words. He watched numbly as Jack finished off the last of his tea before rising to his feet and depositing the cup in Ianto’s sink. Ianto moved his gaze back down to the cup of untouched tea in his unsteady hands as Jack pulled his coat from the back of the kitchen chair.
Ianto started as a photo was placed on the table in front of him. It was one of the ones he had torn up last night in a fit of drunken rage and blind hate for what Lisa had become. Lisa was smiling up at him from the photo that had been carefully taped back together.
“She was beautiful Ianto,” Jack said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let what she became taint that memory.”
Jack gave Ianto’s shoulder one last squeeze, turning out of the kitchen as tears welled in Ianto’s eyes again. Jack was at the front door when a hesitant voice called him back.
“Jack?” Ianto asked from where he was stood in his kitchen doorway, leaning on the frame for support. “What now?”
Jack turned back to face Ianto and his loaded question, but Jack didn’t have a simple answer.
“I think you need to take some time off work, then we’ll see how you go,” Jack said softly, watching as Ianto’s shoulder slumped, either in relief that he wasn’t about to be retconned or in defeat that Jack wasn’t going to give him the easy way out and have him shot for treason.
“I’m suspended then?” Ianto asked warily, not meeting Jack’s eye again.
“If you like.” Jack nodded. “Although I’d like to think of it more as compassionate leave. You need some time to get yourself together, to deal with Canary Wharf as well as Lisa,” Jack said softly, watching as Ianto nodded sadly, his head hanging low between his shoulders.
“You deceived me and the team Ianto, you’ve got a lot to make up for,” Jack told him calmly. “But then so do I.” Jack added and watched as Ianto gave him an unreadable look.
“I’ll bring dinner round later tonight,” Jack said as he turned to open the front door.
“What for?” Ianto asked in confusion.
“Because,” Jack answered, turning back to look at Ianto, a soft smile on his face before he was opening Ianto’s front door and closing it quietly behind him, leaving Ianto standing in his hallway. Ianto tried to finish Jack’s sentence, but everything he came up with sounded ridiculous to his ears. But Jack had saved him from himself last night, was giving him a second chance. So maybe it wasn’t quite as ridiculous as he thought.
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
RATING: R for language and themes
CHARACTERS: Jack, Ianto, Lisa
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood is property of the BBC.
SUMMARY: Jack had had his self-destructive bouts where he’d overdosed, tripped the rainbow one too many times and scared the **** out of equally high partners. He had more than one life though.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've just started watching the US version of Queer as Folk, so I suppose you could blame that for this fic. I suppose you could also blame my best friend who went to the Black Party the other weekend. If you don't know what the Black Party is ask your mother... or your gay next door neighbour! ;)
The music was loud in the club, beat pulsing and throbbing, bodies gyrating to the base line. If he had been paying attention he would have felt eyes roaming over every inch of his body as he weaved his way through the crowd of sweaty forms, high on whatever was hot that weekend. This was not his sort of place. Sure, Jack had been to clubs before, had picked up enough people in clubs to know how it worked - to know how to tease, how to dance, how to catch someone’s eye, how to fuck in the toilets underneath the blue glow of the neon lights. He knew the feel of leather chaps beneath sweaty palms, the feel of alcohol-intoxicated skin on skin. He’d lived that life in his long wait for the Doctor, had had his self-destructive bouts where he’d overdosed, tripped the rainbow one too many times and scared the shit out of equally high partners. He had more than one life though.
He moved past hot pants, Queens and Twinkies out for a good time and he wondered why here of all places a broken man had chosen to take his last stand. Was it to move as far away as possible from the memory of soft brown skin beneath his hands, tender lips against his stubbly cheek? Or was it just a drunken mistake; an act of desperation?
One song blurred into the next and a primal roar surged forth within the crowd, hands reaching up to the stars that they could see beyond the black ceiling. Jack heard feet stomping on metal platforms, bodies so close he was almost swaying with the music himself, as he steered his way towards the bathrooms. Multicoloured glow-sticks flashed before his field of vision, moving so fast they could cause a seizure. A man wolf-whistled after him but Jack didn’t notice as he pushed through the swing doors into the men’s. He pushed against cubical door after cubical door, each one containing more than one person. Some were pressed up against the partition, hands down each other’s pants, others leaning over the cistern, moans and the faint boom of the baseline filling the bathroom.
Jack found who he was looking for in the last cubical. And he wasn’t alone. Jack’s hands grabbed onto his arm, pulling him out of the cubical and bodily shoving him against the wall. He gave a titter of a laugh as he took in Jack, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, like he was a school-boy caught throwing bog roll at the bathroom ceiling.
“What do you want?” Ianto asked as he pulled himself up off the wall slightly, leering at Jack like he was his next victim. Jack took in his dishevelled appearance, apparently not shaved in days, eye still black and blue from where the Cybermen had thrown him. Jack watched Ianto lick his lips and Jack had to resist the urge to do the same, he could still taste Ianto on his own lips. The man Ianto had been in the cubical with came out behind Jack.
“We can share mate if that’s your problem,” the man offered making no move to do up his trousers. It was then that Jack noticed Ianto’s flies were also undone. Jack gave a growl in the back of his throat before he grabbed Ianto’s arm, pulling him out of the bathroom and back into the throng of bodies in the club. Ianto protested weakly, struggling against Jack’s hold briefly while he leered at all the men and women they passed, far too interested in everyone else to realise he was being steered out the club.
Jack pushed his way out through the fire exit, the door slamming open into the alley, bouncing off the wall before it shut over with a quiet clang. He let go of Ianto’s arm, pushing him away slightly in disgust. Ianto stumbled into a skip, staggering to find his feet before he lent against the metal bin, rolling round dozily to take Jack into his view.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jack barked at Ianto. Ianto focused lazily on Jack for a moment, his hand unconsciously moving down the front of his pants, which Jack valiantly ignored.
“Dancing,” Ianto answered noncommittally, swaying his hips in time to the baseline that was still creeping through the walls, a serene look of contentment on his face. Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, anger still boiling up inside him.
“Why’d we leave?” Ianto asked, as if suddenly realising he was no longer in the club. He pulled himself up off the skip and staggered towards the fire exit, pulling fruitlessly on the door.
“Hey!” Ianto protested as Jack pulled him away. Ianto swung round, sloppily hitting Jack on the side of the arm, Jack reaching out to restrain him as his fists started failing wildly in protest. A stray fist caught Jack in the jaw, startling him long enough that Ianto managed to wriggle free from his grasp.
Ianto didn’t get far though. He stumbled a few steps before dropping to all fours and retching onto the alley floor. Jack wiped the back of his hand across his newly bloody lip before going to Ianto, crouching down beside him where he was continuing to dry heave into what looked like an entirely liquid-based diet.
“Ianto, what have you taken?” Jack asked, concern piquing his voice now rather than the previous anger, as a hand started to rub circles on Ianto’s back. Ianto didn’t answer, just continued to cough into the ground, bile and vomit splattering the front of his t-shirt.
“Ianto, come on, I need to know what you’ve taken, besides alcohol,” Jack encouraged, steadying him as Ianto rocked back on his heels, wiping his hand across his face, only succeeding in smearing vomit up his cheek. Jack grimaced at the state Ianto was in, watching as Ianto’s blown pupils tried to focus on Jack.
Ianto lunged at Jack after a moment, his lips pressing against Jack’s, hard and strong but sloppy and Jack was too surprised to do anything at first but let him. He tasted of vomit and alcohol, and something else that Jack couldn’t identify. Eventually, Jack got a hold of his senses and pushed Ianto back off him, holding him at arm’s length.
“Fuck me,” Ianto whispered harshly, his eyes still trying to focus on Jack, swaying uncontrollably back and forth for a moment before he tried to move towards Jack again, this time his lips moving to whisper in Jack’s ear.
“Fuck me, if you won’t let me be fucked by anyone else,” Ianto slurred before biting down on Jack’s earlobe. Jack pushed him away again, pulling himself to his feet and dragging Ianto with him. Ianto stumbled into Jack, pushing them up against the wall before he sloppily started fumbling with Jack’s belt buckle.
“Ianto,” Jack started, one hand still gripping Ianto’s bicep while the other tried to push his hands away. It had no effect on the drugged up Welshman as he moved one of his hands down the front of Jack’s trousers.
“Ianto,” Jack insisted, pulling Ianto’s hands out of his trousers. Ianto continued, pressing his body up against Jack's, his mouth seeking out Jack’s again.
“Ianto!” Jack practically yelled, pushing hard on Ianto’s frame so the young man stumbled back into the middle of the alley, staggering about for a moment while he watched Jack, a hurt look flitting across his face.
“Fuck you, Harkness!” Ianto said, pointing a finger at Jack before turning and stumbling towards the entrance to the alley, heading back to the entrance of the club. Jack stayed a moment, back pressed up against the alley wall, belt and trousers undone and the bitter taste of bile on the tip of his tongue. He gathered himself after a moment, doing his trousers back up before jogging down the alley after Ianto. He found Ianto arguing with the bouncer, poking him in the chest and threatening him in Welsh.
“Come on, Ianto,” Jack encouraged, grabbing the man by the arm and tugging him away from the bouncer. “It’s time you went home.”
“Fuck off, Jack!” Ianto spat before he resumed his assault on the bouncer.
“You ought to listen to your boyfriend mate, go home. I ain’t letting you in the club,” the bouncer replied calmly.
“Fuck you too then!” Ianto shot at the bouncer, continuing to try to shrug off Jack’s attempts to pull him away.
“In your dreams sweetheart,” the bouncer said scathingly as Jack dragged a somewhat more cooperative Ianto towards the SUV he’d left parked down the street.
“Get in,” Jack said, lack of emotion in his voice as he opened the passenger door of the car, pushing Ianto tumbling inside. Jack made it down the length of Charles Street before his anger bubbled over.
“What the fuck were you thinking Ianto?” Jack asked, resolutely staring ahead at the road, because if he looked at Ianto right now he was sure he’d do something he’d regret.
“Or weren’t you thinking?” Jack asked rhetorically, feeling like a parent. “Just thought you’d go out and drink and take drugs and fuck yourself into an early grave?”
“What the fuck do you care?” Ianto spat back as Jack locked the doors in the SUV, suddenly afraid that Ianto would try and leap from the car, given the current state he was in.
“You shot my girlfriend, you killed her, you and your band of merry men,” Ianto continued, his dry wit coming to the forefront.
“She wasn’t your girlfriend anymore,” Jack ground out between gritted teeth. They’d already had this argument, this conversation, and Jack wasn’t in the mood to have it again, especially not with Ianto hopped up on alcohol and God knew what kinds of drugs.
“She was all I had left, all I-“ Ianto broke off, silence descending over them as the SUV engine roared into life again. Ianto broke it by slamming his fist on the dashboard and then kicking it with his boot for good measure.
“Fuck!” he swore loudly, and Jack was surprised by his outburst- he would expect this kind of reaction from Owen but not quiet reserved Ianto. But then, Jack had never really known Ianto, had he?
“I haven’t got anything now Jack, so what the fuck is the point?!” Ianto yelled, pulling his seatbelt from him sharply before pulling on the door handle, kicking the door when it refused to open.
“Hey!” Jack yelled as he tried to keep his eyes on the road in front of him, while trying to placate Ianto.
“Hey!” Jack called again, reaching out a hand to Ianto to try and settle him back in the seat while simultaneously trying to navigate the one-way system.
“Let me out!” Ianto yelled, battering relentlessly on the bulletproof glass of the SUV. His heavy-handed fists soon descended into pathetic knocks on the window.
“Just let me out of here,” Ianto whispered, tears in his eyes now before his head was dropping onto the dashboard. Jack frowned, looking over Ianto as he turned down the next street, heading back to Grangetown and Ianto’s flat. He waited for the next outburst, but all the fight seemed to have rushed out of Ianto, like the life. Jack watched him out of the corner of his eye but the rest of the car ride remained silent.
“Come on,” Jack said, not unkindly as he opened the passenger door. Ianto’s head lifted heavily to look at Jack through eyelashes thick with tears. There was nothing but resigned defeat in Ianto’s blown pupils as he flopped out the SUV, dragging his feet up the path to his front door.
Jack followed him inside without words, trailed him up the stairs to his bedroom and watched as he flopped face down on his bed, trousers still undone, vomit still down the front of his t-shirt, amphetamines still running rampant in his blood stream. Jack watched for a moment as Ianto’s breathing evened out, his head turned away from the bedroom door. Jack sighed forlornly before he pulled the bedroom door over and left Ianto to sleep it off. Sleep, sadly, wasn’t going to solve this.
Ianto came too later that day, his head spinning and not just from what he had digested the previous night. He regarded himself in the mirror with disgust, showering without bothering to shave or even dress afterwards, slouching down the stairs in a dressing gown and entering his kitchen. He stopped in his tracks as he found Jack stood in front of his kettle, arms folded over his chest. The previous night came rushing back to Ianto in all its glorified horror.
“Sit down,” Jack said softly before Ianto’s brain had a chance to form words, let alone deliver them to his mouth. He sat quietly at his kitchen table, looking at his hands rather than Jack, gratefully clasping shaking hands round the mug of tea Jack placed in front of him.
“How are you feeling?” Jack asked conversationally, like they were being civilised and having afternoon tea.
“Rough,” Ianto mumbled as he heard the chair opposite scrape back, allowing Jack to sit down. Ianto could feel the heat coming from Jack’s knees he was sitting so close. Ianto tucked his bare feet further under the chair.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Jack replied. “Although I don’t think you’re just referring to last night.”
Suddenly, Ianto looked up from his still shaking hands to regard Jack, Ianto’s face open for once, tears pricking in his eyes that he angrily wiped away. Jack held his gaze for a long moment but didn’t say anything.
“How did you find me?” Ianto asked eventually, trying to change the subject to anything but that.
“I followed you,” Jack answered matter-of-factly, picking up his own mug of tea and taking a gulp.
“Why?” Ianto asked, too numb to let the anger he knew he should feel rise up in him. “Because you were worried about whose life I would endanger?” Ianto asked indignantly.
“I was worried about you endangering your own life,” Jack answered truthfully, the look in his eye giving him away. Ianto was speechless, unable to swallow or form words. He watched numbly as Jack finished off the last of his tea before rising to his feet and depositing the cup in Ianto’s sink. Ianto moved his gaze back down to the cup of untouched tea in his unsteady hands as Jack pulled his coat from the back of the kitchen chair.
Ianto started as a photo was placed on the table in front of him. It was one of the ones he had torn up last night in a fit of drunken rage and blind hate for what Lisa had become. Lisa was smiling up at him from the photo that had been carefully taped back together.
“She was beautiful Ianto,” Jack said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let what she became taint that memory.”
Jack gave Ianto’s shoulder one last squeeze, turning out of the kitchen as tears welled in Ianto’s eyes again. Jack was at the front door when a hesitant voice called him back.
“Jack?” Ianto asked from where he was stood in his kitchen doorway, leaning on the frame for support. “What now?”
Jack turned back to face Ianto and his loaded question, but Jack didn’t have a simple answer.
“I think you need to take some time off work, then we’ll see how you go,” Jack said softly, watching as Ianto’s shoulder slumped, either in relief that he wasn’t about to be retconned or in defeat that Jack wasn’t going to give him the easy way out and have him shot for treason.
“I’m suspended then?” Ianto asked warily, not meeting Jack’s eye again.
“If you like.” Jack nodded. “Although I’d like to think of it more as compassionate leave. You need some time to get yourself together, to deal with Canary Wharf as well as Lisa,” Jack said softly, watching as Ianto nodded sadly, his head hanging low between his shoulders.
“You deceived me and the team Ianto, you’ve got a lot to make up for,” Jack told him calmly. “But then so do I.” Jack added and watched as Ianto gave him an unreadable look.
“I’ll bring dinner round later tonight,” Jack said as he turned to open the front door.
“What for?” Ianto asked in confusion.
“Because,” Jack answered, turning back to look at Ianto, a soft smile on his face before he was opening Ianto’s front door and closing it quietly behind him, leaving Ianto standing in his hallway. Ianto tried to finish Jack’s sentence, but everything he came up with sounded ridiculous to his ears. But Jack had saved him from himself last night, was giving him a second chance. So maybe it wasn’t quite as ridiculous as he thought.