That's Why
Title: That's Why
Author: Timelordshines
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Rating: 15
Words: 1279
Spoilers: S1E1
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD and the BBC - I’m just borrowing them.
Written for love_bingo prompt "You're the first, the last, my everything"
Authors Note: Thanks to badly_knitted for the beta
Jack stalks down the darkened alley, his weevil spray held out in front of him.
He hears the low growl just a fraction too late. He whips his head around just as the weevil steps out of the doorway. Jack sees the moon-light glinting off its teeth and smells its fetid breath. He raises his hand to protect himself, a hopelessly inadequate barrier as the weevil’s momentum carries it forward, barrelling into Jack. They both fall to the floor, rolling over and over. Jack loses his weevil spray somewhere along the line. His survival instincts kick in and he strikes out at the weevil, trying to keep it away from him as he struggles to pull his Webley from its holster. But in his distraction reaching for the gun, the weevil sees its chance. It lunges for him and sinks its teeth into his neck, ripping at his flesh.
Searing white hot agony burns through him as Jack continues to fight. He needs to disable the weevil; Ianto is merely yards away down the next side street. Who knows how many more weevils are out there? Jack needs to even the odds a little.
Time seems to slow for Jack as he becomes aware of his shoulder and chest becoming warm, damp and sticky as his blood flows. His limbs are lead weights as he tries to raise them, still desperately clawing at his assailant. The hot lava of pain running through his veins makes it impossible to see, his vision whiting out. All he can hear is the thumping of his own heart, weakening now, and the gnashing of weevil teeth and the sickening sound of tearing flesh. He can smell the sewer stink of the weevil, and permeating through that the coppery stench of blood.
He tries desperately to keep fighting, his mind searching for something, anything, to hold on to. He settles on the image of Ianto, grinning at the joke Jack told as they separated for the hunt. But then Ianto’s grin morphs into shock, horror, pain as in Jack’s mind’s eye Ianto is attacked by the weevil’s mate in the next street.
With superhuman effort, Jack pushes his weevil away and pulls out his Webley, just as the alleyway erupts to the sound of gunfire. Three echoing pops from a Torchwood standard issue weapon and the weevil falls to the ground.
Jack barely manages to open his eyes, before Ianto is there, kneeling on the ground in the filthy alleyway, ruining his Armani suit. He pulls Jack to him, cradling his head on his lap, hands fluttering frantically over Jack’s face and hair, tears falling unchecked onto Jack’s own cheeks.
Jack tries to speak, but can’t make a sound. His lips move, forming the words “sorry” and “wait”. Jack tries to fight the darkness. His sluggish thoughts are filled with Ianto. He needs him to know it will be ok.
** **
It was dark. Time lost all meaning. Jack had no idea if he had been there seconds or days. Wherever there was. There was nothing beyond the darkness. He couldn’t see. There was no sound, no smell, nothing to touch, no taste. He didn’t even seem to have a physical presence as such, wherever he was.
He lifted his hand in front of his face, but couldn’t see it. He stamped his foot - it made no sound. He touched where he knew his face to be, but could feel nothing. Jack didn’t know why he went through this ritual every time. It never changed.
He wasn’t there. He just simply was.
But there was something there. Something in the darkness. Something just beyond his perception, he could sense it.
And it was getting closer.
Just then, Jack felt himself being pushed through the darkness as if it was rejecting him, throwing him out. He rationalised it as feeling like the darkness was the gatekeeper to the next plane. It had tasted him, sampled what he had to offer and decided he was wrong. He wasn’t meant to die and move on. It always threw him out, vomited him back into the world. No matter how many times and ways he had tried to die in the early years of his immortality, it never let him through.
****
Jack gasps in a breath through his newly repaired trachea. His body knitting itself back together hurts worse than the weevil tearing it apart. He didn’t scream though, not that he could have done - he doesn’t yet have the necessary vocal chords. He clutches at the arms holding him, and sees Ianto’s tear reddened eyes widen in shock, and all colour drain from his face.
As soon as Jack is able to make sound, he rasps the word that echoes the first thought he had on waking, “Ianto”.
Ianto holds him tighter and whispers something that Jack can’t hear past the rushing of blood in his ears and the thump of his newly started heart.
Jack grits his teeth against the pain, tears leaking from his eyes as he scrunches them closed. He knows from experience that the unbearably excruciating pain will only last a minute or two, before it subsides into something that can be managed with a handful of Owen’s best pills, that Jack never goes anywhere without. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t want to scare Ianto any more than necessary.
When he opens his eyes again, the Welshman is looking down at him, regarding him with a curious expression. “I am so sorry,” Jack says, struggling to sit up and reaching into his coat pocket for his pain killers. “I should have told you. I just never knew how. You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”
“It’s ok.” Ianto says with a thoughtful expression, “it explains a lot actually!” he chuckled, and if the sound is slightly hysterical, then both men choose to ignore it. It’s not every day you watch your boss/friend/lover die and then come back to life.
“Are you ok?” Ianto asks, reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of Jack’s face.
“I will be.” Jack replies, reaching up and taking Ianto’s hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. “Give me an hour or two and I’ll be good as new.”
“So what happened?”
“A long time ago I died and was brought back to life. Ever since then I can’t stay dead.”
“How many times?”
“Too many.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Gwen saw me get shot. But it’s not something I go around telling people. And most people who witness it run from me as if I was the devil incarnate. I normally retcon them. Not that anyone would believe them if they said anything.”
Jack looks down at the ground, “you didn’t run. Even before you had time to think about what was happening and process the shock. You were obviously terrified, but you still held me and tried to comfort me. Why?”
“Because you were in pain,” he says simply, “You had been brought back to me. I didn’t understand it, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Jack looks up at the young man’s earnest expression and speaks in a small voice, “Nobody’s ever held me like that before.”
Ianto takes Jack’s hand in his, “I’ll never let you wake up alone. Whenever possible I will always be here to hold you.”
Jack leans over and kisses him, hard.
That there, that's it. That's why Ianto Jones was the last thing Jack thought of as he died, the first thing he thought of when he woke.
That's why Ianto is his everything.
Author: Timelordshines
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Rating: 15
Words: 1279
Spoilers: S1E1
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD and the BBC - I’m just borrowing them.
Written for love_bingo prompt "You're the first, the last, my everything"
Authors Note: Thanks to badly_knitted for the beta
Jack stalks down the darkened alley, his weevil spray held out in front of him.
He hears the low growl just a fraction too late. He whips his head around just as the weevil steps out of the doorway. Jack sees the moon-light glinting off its teeth and smells its fetid breath. He raises his hand to protect himself, a hopelessly inadequate barrier as the weevil’s momentum carries it forward, barrelling into Jack. They both fall to the floor, rolling over and over. Jack loses his weevil spray somewhere along the line. His survival instincts kick in and he strikes out at the weevil, trying to keep it away from him as he struggles to pull his Webley from its holster. But in his distraction reaching for the gun, the weevil sees its chance. It lunges for him and sinks its teeth into his neck, ripping at his flesh.
Searing white hot agony burns through him as Jack continues to fight. He needs to disable the weevil; Ianto is merely yards away down the next side street. Who knows how many more weevils are out there? Jack needs to even the odds a little.
Time seems to slow for Jack as he becomes aware of his shoulder and chest becoming warm, damp and sticky as his blood flows. His limbs are lead weights as he tries to raise them, still desperately clawing at his assailant. The hot lava of pain running through his veins makes it impossible to see, his vision whiting out. All he can hear is the thumping of his own heart, weakening now, and the gnashing of weevil teeth and the sickening sound of tearing flesh. He can smell the sewer stink of the weevil, and permeating through that the coppery stench of blood.
He tries desperately to keep fighting, his mind searching for something, anything, to hold on to. He settles on the image of Ianto, grinning at the joke Jack told as they separated for the hunt. But then Ianto’s grin morphs into shock, horror, pain as in Jack’s mind’s eye Ianto is attacked by the weevil’s mate in the next street.
With superhuman effort, Jack pushes his weevil away and pulls out his Webley, just as the alleyway erupts to the sound of gunfire. Three echoing pops from a Torchwood standard issue weapon and the weevil falls to the ground.
Jack barely manages to open his eyes, before Ianto is there, kneeling on the ground in the filthy alleyway, ruining his Armani suit. He pulls Jack to him, cradling his head on his lap, hands fluttering frantically over Jack’s face and hair, tears falling unchecked onto Jack’s own cheeks.
Jack tries to speak, but can’t make a sound. His lips move, forming the words “sorry” and “wait”. Jack tries to fight the darkness. His sluggish thoughts are filled with Ianto. He needs him to know it will be ok.
** **
It was dark. Time lost all meaning. Jack had no idea if he had been there seconds or days. Wherever there was. There was nothing beyond the darkness. He couldn’t see. There was no sound, no smell, nothing to touch, no taste. He didn’t even seem to have a physical presence as such, wherever he was.
He lifted his hand in front of his face, but couldn’t see it. He stamped his foot - it made no sound. He touched where he knew his face to be, but could feel nothing. Jack didn’t know why he went through this ritual every time. It never changed.
He wasn’t there. He just simply was.
But there was something there. Something in the darkness. Something just beyond his perception, he could sense it.
And it was getting closer.
Just then, Jack felt himself being pushed through the darkness as if it was rejecting him, throwing him out. He rationalised it as feeling like the darkness was the gatekeeper to the next plane. It had tasted him, sampled what he had to offer and decided he was wrong. He wasn’t meant to die and move on. It always threw him out, vomited him back into the world. No matter how many times and ways he had tried to die in the early years of his immortality, it never let him through.
****
Jack gasps in a breath through his newly repaired trachea. His body knitting itself back together hurts worse than the weevil tearing it apart. He didn’t scream though, not that he could have done - he doesn’t yet have the necessary vocal chords. He clutches at the arms holding him, and sees Ianto’s tear reddened eyes widen in shock, and all colour drain from his face.
As soon as Jack is able to make sound, he rasps the word that echoes the first thought he had on waking, “Ianto”.
Ianto holds him tighter and whispers something that Jack can’t hear past the rushing of blood in his ears and the thump of his newly started heart.
Jack grits his teeth against the pain, tears leaking from his eyes as he scrunches them closed. He knows from experience that the unbearably excruciating pain will only last a minute or two, before it subsides into something that can be managed with a handful of Owen’s best pills, that Jack never goes anywhere without. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t want to scare Ianto any more than necessary.
When he opens his eyes again, the Welshman is looking down at him, regarding him with a curious expression. “I am so sorry,” Jack says, struggling to sit up and reaching into his coat pocket for his pain killers. “I should have told you. I just never knew how. You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”
“It’s ok.” Ianto says with a thoughtful expression, “it explains a lot actually!” he chuckled, and if the sound is slightly hysterical, then both men choose to ignore it. It’s not every day you watch your boss/friend/lover die and then come back to life.
“Are you ok?” Ianto asks, reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of Jack’s face.
“I will be.” Jack replies, reaching up and taking Ianto’s hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. “Give me an hour or two and I’ll be good as new.”
“So what happened?”
“A long time ago I died and was brought back to life. Ever since then I can’t stay dead.”
“How many times?”
“Too many.”
“Does anyone know?”
“Gwen saw me get shot. But it’s not something I go around telling people. And most people who witness it run from me as if I was the devil incarnate. I normally retcon them. Not that anyone would believe them if they said anything.”
Jack looks down at the ground, “you didn’t run. Even before you had time to think about what was happening and process the shock. You were obviously terrified, but you still held me and tried to comfort me. Why?”
“Because you were in pain,” he says simply, “You had been brought back to me. I didn’t understand it, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Jack looks up at the young man’s earnest expression and speaks in a small voice, “Nobody’s ever held me like that before.”
Ianto takes Jack’s hand in his, “I’ll never let you wake up alone. Whenever possible I will always be here to hold you.”
Jack leans over and kisses him, hard.
That there, that's it. That's why Ianto Jones was the last thing Jack thought of as he died, the first thing he thought of when he woke.
That's why Ianto is his everything.