Fic: The Time to Start Anew
Aug. 18th, 2009 12:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brutal_priestessTitle: The Time to Start Anew
disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD, not me. No copyright infringement intended.
rating: PG-13
pairing: JackxIanto
Warning: Angst, UST, hints of a platonic relationship (that will, of course, grow into something more), with a dash of atmospheric introspection.
summary: Jack takes care of Ianto in the wake of Lisa’s destruction, much to Ianto’s confusion.
spoilers: “Cyberwoman” and “Fragments”
a/n: Well, everyone’s got one, right? A post-”Cyberwoman” fic. This is the first story in a three fic story arc that will (hopefully) explain how they got past the events of “Cyberwoman” to that point of easy flirtation at the end of “They Keep Killing Suzie”. Though I will, no doubt, be treading familiar waters it is my hope that I offer up a new perspective or two.
“The Time to Start Anew”
It was a grisly sight, Ianto with a mop and bucket, cleaning up the blood of his girlfriend and that ill-fated delivery girl. To the untrained eye, Ianto appeared unmoved, but Jack could tell he was in shock. He knew it was cruel to make Ianto clean up the basement chamber in which Lisa had been killed, but it was better than being dead.
After they’d shot down “Lisa” when Ianto had wavered, Jack had ordered Gwen to take Ianto away from The Hub for a couple hours. In the meantime, Jack and Owen transferred the bodies to the morgue while Tosh falsified a missing person’s report for the pizza delivery girl. When Gwen brought Ianto back, Jack put him to work cleaning up the rest.
Gwen had, naturally, been horrified, but he’d held firm on his decision. It was Ianto’s punishment and light by official Torchwood protocol. Yet it was difficult to watch him work on the assigned task with his customary efficiency and diligence.
“When you’re done, you’ll come see me in my office,” Jack told him in a tone that t could in no way be interpreted as a mere suggestion. Ianto nodded briefly, the only indication that he’d heard him.
Alone in his office, Jack had a lot to consider. Has this been Ianto’s intent all along? Jack remembered too many nights spent with Ianto in this very office being kissed into a state of mind-bending arousal. He didn’t doubt that Ianto had enjoyed himself, but now he wondered just what his motivation had been.
Let it go, Jack thought as he shook his head. He of all people had no place to judge. How many times had Jack seduced and manipulated to get ahead or his way? He’d keep an eye on Ianto just in case, but he intended to allow him a clean slate to start over on. It was clear that Ianto enjoyed being part of Torchwood even if he didn’t always love his work.
Jack was pouring a couple glasses of scotch when Ianto joined him. As Ianto took the glass offered to him, Jack showed him a slim hardcopy file.
“Do you know what this is?” Jack asked him.
Ianto shook his head slowly, still mute. Jack sighed softly, frustrated by his silence. It was worrisome.
“It’s your personal file,” Jack explained. “I am willing to throw it out and start anew so long as you promise me one thing.”
Ianto just stared at him blandly. There was no life in his blue eyes. Jack wanted to shake him, kiss him, anything to bring him around.
“Goddammit, say something,” Jack grated angrily.
“Sorry,” Ianto whispered, flinching slightly.
“Okay, that’s a start,” Jack muttered. “I need you to focus, Ianto. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good, now I need you to promise me you’re not hiding anything else from me and that your loyalty is with Torchwood now.”
Ianto was quiet for a long time. The silence was maddening but it was eventually broken by Ianto choking back a harsh sob. “What choice do I have? Torchwood is all I have left.”
“And the rest?” Jack pressed.
Ianto dropped the glass of scotch as he sagged like a puppet cut from its strings. “Oh god, she hasn’t been my Lisa since I pulled her from the conversion chamber, has she?”
”I don’t know,” Jack replied sincerely, “but from what I saw I’d wager she was more machine than human. Her impulses were primarily that of a cyberman.”
Ianto began to sob, though no tears came. Huge, ragged gasps caused his entire body to convulse with the force of his sorrow. Jack tossed the file into the trash and went to him. He pulled Ianto into his arms and was surprised to feel Ianto clutch at him.
“Shh,” Jack murmured as he stroked the back of his head, “It’s over now. The only thing left for you to do is move forward.”
“I’m such a fool, Jack,” Ianto gasped harshly, “I knew better, but...I thought...since the conversion was only partial....”
“Don’t” Jack insisted, “I know you were trying to make things right.”
“For who? Me or her?”
Jack didn’t have an answer for him. Instead he pressed his lips against Ianto’s temple and felt him tremble. He wished that he were making Ianto shiver under completely different circumstances.
They stood together in their intimate embrace for what seemed like hours. Jack didn’t mind; it was the most physical contact they’d had in weeks. He’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to have Ianto’s body pressing so close to his.
“Go get your things sorted,” Jack whispered, “I’m taking you home.”
Ianto nodded as he pressed his face against the side of Jack’s neck. He inhaled deeply, shuddered, and then disengaged from their clutch.
After he left, Jack fished Ianto’s file from the trash. He opened the manila folder and longed for a paper shredder. Lacking such a machine, he began to tear the papers up my hand.
*~*~*~*~*
Ianto’s apartment was small and neat as a pin. Jack was surprised given the long hours Ianto spent at work. When did he find the time?
“I’m going to take a shower,” Ianto told him quietly.
“Don’t lock the door,” Jack replied.
“Excuse me?” Ianto asked with polite indignation.
Jack shed his great coat and hung it up on a coat rack near the front door. “Long time ago we had this girl named Penny working for us. Sweet kid, brilliant hacker, but far too young for field work. She was eighteen when she joined us and nineteen when she began going out on cases with the rest of the team.
“Anyway, a nasty rift spike sent the weevils loopy. In one day a pack of them slaughtered fifty civilians. Penny was with us while we investigated the damage and hunted them down. She’d been weevil hunting before but.... Well, you know how a group of them gets. It was a mess even before we had to deal with the paperwork to cover it all up.”
Ianto interrupted testily, “Is there a point to this, Sir? Preferably one that involves an explanation as to why I’m to keep my bathroom door unlocked.”
“My point is that Penny was in a sorry state when all was said and done. She couldn’t handle it. I was ordered to take her home and she went straight for a shower, too. Gentleman that I am, I let her have her privacy and put a kettle on. After forty minutes I started to worry, and when it got to be an hour without a peep from her, I broke the door down. I found Penny dead, suicide by laying her wrists open with a blade she’d removed from the safety razor she used to shave her legs.”
Ianto swallowed hard, but met Jack’s gaze defiantly, “I see, but if I wanted to kill myself do you think I’d be so covert about it? No Jack, I’d make you watch. I would have used the gun you ordered me to use on Lisa to off myself in front of all of you.”
Jack felt his stomach knot at the images Ianto had evoked. Too many members of Torchwood had ended their career with a self-inflicted fatality. Ianto was so much stronger than that....
“I glad that you didn’t,” Jack said quietly.
“Yes well, I’ve labored for so long to not become a cliché and didn’t really want to end my life so predictably,” Ianto remarked dryly.
Jack watched him stride to the bathroom, a bit puzzled over the comment as he was forcibly reminded that he didn’t know a whole lot about Ianto’s life. He did, however, notice that Ianto didn’t lock the bathroom door.
Eager to distract himself from errant thoughts of Ianto naked under the water’s spray, Jack perused Ianto’s cd collection. He recognized many of the artists by name, though not necessarily by the music they produced. Ianto appeared to form lasting relationships with prolific musicians. He carefully took David Bowie’s Low off the shelf, turned on the stereo, and loaded the cd into the player.
As the music filled the small living room, Jack went to the kitchen and rummaged around the cupboards for coffee. He found flavoured decaf in french vanilla and the filters easily enough. Jack hated decaf but he knew that Ianto often found the taste of coffee to be comforting. Right about now he needed all the comfort he could get.
While the coffee brewed, Jack poked around some more. He quickly discovered that Ianto liked old movies and older books. Yet there was a certain element of coldness to the flat. No dust, no stains, nothing but shining surfaces and neat, straight lines of alphabetized books, cds, and video disks. Even the furniture arrangement looked like something out of a magazine.
Jack sighed softly, feeling slightly uncomfortable and that was before the shower went off. His mind wandered. He imagined Ianto stepping out of the stall with water streaming off his nude body.... Jack quickly sat down at the kitchen table. His body had reacted far too eagerly and for a brief moment Jack indulged in fantasy. How he wanted things to be different. He could be toweling Ianto off right now or kissing him as they rubbed their clean, damp bodies together in anticipation of more, so much more.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he massaged his temple. He was emotionally exhausted but he couldn’t think about his bruised feelings while one of his own was so deeply traumatized. Jack sat and waited, willing away his vastly inappropriate thoughts.
After a long moment, Ianto padded on bare feet out of the bathroom. He was dressed for bed, wearing a white tee-shirt and dark blue pajama bottoms. His hair was damp and as he approached the table Jack could smell the clean, crisp perfumes of shampoo and soap coupled with the underlying scent of Ianto’s skin.
“Feeling any better?” Jack asked as tactfully as he could.
“Not really,” Ianto replied, “Why are you still here? I told you I wasn’t about to off myself.”
“Is it that hard for you to believe I care about your well-being?”
Ianto just shrugged and sat down at the table in the chair across from Jack.
”Now what?”
“Like I told you back at The Hub: You move on.”
“As if it’s such a simple task,” Ianto scoffed.
“It’s not, but remember you’re not the only one to lose a loved one. Take some kind of comfort that you’re not alone in your pain,” Jack told him quietly.
“What about you, Jack?” Ianto asked softly, “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”
“Many times,” Jack replied tightly, “It doesn’t get any easier, believe me.”
Ianto seemed to relax a bit or perhaps it was all just catching up to him. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and, were it not for the lost expression they held, he would have looked profoundly sensual. The coffee maker had long since stopped brewing and Jack got up in order to make Ianto a cup.
After he poured it, Jack realized that he had no idea how Ianto took his coffee. He began to ask him, but was gently interrupted.
“One sugar with milk,”
Jack opened the refrigerator and found it bare. “No milk.”
“I’ll take it black then.”
Jack put the cup in front of him and stroked a hand through Ianto’s hair. It was nearly dry and felt deliciously silky. Ianto sighed in a way that made Jack wonder if he were wishing things could be different as well.
“Would you like me to stay?” Jack murmured.
Ianto nodded wordlessly as he sipped his decaf. Jack smiled and squeezed his shoulder gently. Not wanting to bother Ianto with the triviality, he went to go find the linen closet.
*~*~*~*~*
Ianto woke up on the couch, scarcely remembering how he got there. He was covered up with a heavy quilt that might have been comforting the night before but was now hot and sweat-dampened. As he threw it off his body, the memories came to him an a rush.
He’d not slept well. Again and again he’d been jarred awake by vicious nightmares: The roar of gunshots from four different pistols, Lisa’s cruel mechanized voice perverting the definition of love, the icy press of Jack’s gun against his temple, or the reek of blood covering his hands. Around three in the morning, Ianto had crawled out of bed and found Jack sitting on his couch. He’d been reading Hemmingway and listening to Beethoven. Ianto had curled up next to him, taking comfort in the intoxicating scent of of his cologne (Ianto didn’t know what fifty-first century pheromones were and chose to believe the comment had been just another example of Jack’s strange sense of humour) and warmth of his body. Jack hadn’t said a thing, just wrapped a strong arm around Ianto’s shoulders and held him close. He’d fallen into a dreamless sleep within ten minutes, soothed by Jack’s heartbeat and Ludwig’s melancholy piano.
Ianto didn’t understand why Jack was being so kind to him, but he cherished it nonetheless. He should’ve been shot along with Lisa or fired and retcon-ed for his transgression, but he was far too knackered to dwell on the curiosity. Instead he got up and attended to the familiar task of making coffee, noticing that the digital clock on the coffee maker read 07:30. Normally he would have been at The Hub a half an hour ago, serving Jack the day’s first cup of coffee and feeding the pets.
The memory of Myfanwy attacking Lisa flared hot and painful. Well, she certainly wasn’t going hungry, was she?
“You’re up early,” The sound of Jack’s voice made him jump.
Ianto turned to see him striding across the living room, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. He quickly averted his eyes upon noticing that Jack was shirtless. Suddenly his heart was pounding and he felt strange, light-headed in the face of the desire that still lingered. Hadn’t that been why he’d become increasingly obsessed with saving Lisa, after all? With every embrace or voluptuous kiss, Ianto had fought a growing attachment that threatened to overshadow his devotion to her.
“Will I be required to come to work, Sir?” Ianto asked.
“No,” Jack replied, “I’m putting you on two weeks suspension with reduced pay. Unless there’s an emergency, I don’t expect to see you at headquarters. I’m also going to provide you with the number of a counselor who’s worked with various members of Torchwood and UNIT over the years. You won’t have to mince your words should you choose to speak with her.”
Ianto hid a grimace as he turned to remove two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee machine. He didn’t want to see a therapist. Ianto had dodged that bullet by effectively disappearing in the wake of the Battle of Canary Wharf. No one had missed the quiet young junior researcher with the challenge of cleaning up such a huge disaster. However, Ianto thought he might consider it, if only to get back into Jack’s good graces.
And maybe, maybe if the woman was good enough, it might actually help.
“Are you staying for coffee?” Ianto inquired.
“Yeah...if you don’t mind.”
Ianto turned to look at him. He was dressed once more, handsome as always even with towel mussed hair. Without the overwhelming mental albotross of Lisa weighing down his thoughts, he was unable to deny how attracted he was to the man standing before him. He wanted to go to him, kiss him, and allow Jack to drown him in pleasure. Yet Ianto didn’t need a therapist to tell him that it would just be a band-aid over the gaping wound of his loss. No, he didn’t want to use Jack anymore.
They shared coffee in a relatively comfortable silence and Ianto refused to let him leave without breakfast, knowing that Jack had a nasty habit to skip meals. He worried. fussed, wondered who would take over his domestic responsibilities.
“Relax, Ianto,” Jack soothed him as he buttered a piece of toast after salting his eggs. “It might be good if we went without your fine services for a little while. I’d wager if the rest of the team realizes just how much you’ve been spoiling them, they’ll be much more relieved than anxious upon your return.”
Ianto smiled faintly, “Perhaps you should come by my flat in the mornings. I could send you off with a thermos of coffee.”
Jack took a bite of egg-leaden toast and chewed thoughtfully. After swallowing, he nodded solemnly, “That’s not a bad idea.”
Ianto’s tiny smile lingered as their eyes met, and Jack boldly reached across the table. He squeezed Ianto’s hand fondly and heaved a rueful sigh. “You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you.”
Ianto frowned and eased his hand out of Jack’s grasp. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted as he felt his face heat up. “Gwen with keep you company, no doubt.”
Jack rolled his eyes, “No, Gwen will ask incessant questions that I’m not prepared to answer and wax poetic about all the strange things she’s seen. She won’t be able to replace you, believe me.”
Ianto got up quickly and fumbled in the cabinet for a thermos to put the rest of the coffee in. His hands were shaking as he considered how much of his day revolved around Torchwood and Jack. The concept of going even one day without researching some alien artifact or bringing Jack his coffee pained him more than he cared to admit.
“Jack...” He gasped raggedly.
Ianto heard the sound of a chair being pushed across the floor and the rustle of clothing with movement. Jack’s hands slid over his waist as he embraced him from behind.
“I could come see you after work,” Jack suggested softly.
Ianto found that he was choking back tears once more. “Why are you being so good to be?”
Jack turned him around gently so that they were face to face. “Everybody falls down,” Jack told him, “That doesn’t mean you deserve to be kicked while you’re down so low.”
That said, Jack lightly kissed his forehead, lingering sweetly, and Ianto felt an exquisite ache of longing. “I’ll call you this afternoon if it’s not busy. Get some rest, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Ianto murmured.
Jack left with thermos in hand, leaving Ianto trying to figure out how he would spend his day. He cleaned up the dishes and sat in the kitchen, feeling the silence of his flat like a living presence.
Ianto glanced at the clock on the coffee machine again. It read 08:40. Jack usually took lunch around one in the afternoon, noon if it was a slow day, and not at all in crisis mode. He hoped that the rift stayed relatively dormant in the coming weeks.
Finis.
disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD, not me. No copyright infringement intended.
rating: PG-13
pairing: JackxIanto
Warning: Angst, UST, hints of a platonic relationship (that will, of course, grow into something more), with a dash of atmospheric introspection.
summary: Jack takes care of Ianto in the wake of Lisa’s destruction, much to Ianto’s confusion.
spoilers: “Cyberwoman” and “Fragments”
a/n: Well, everyone’s got one, right? A post-”Cyberwoman” fic. This is the first story in a three fic story arc that will (hopefully) explain how they got past the events of “Cyberwoman” to that point of easy flirtation at the end of “They Keep Killing Suzie”. Though I will, no doubt, be treading familiar waters it is my hope that I offer up a new perspective or two.
“The Time to Start Anew”
It was a grisly sight, Ianto with a mop and bucket, cleaning up the blood of his girlfriend and that ill-fated delivery girl. To the untrained eye, Ianto appeared unmoved, but Jack could tell he was in shock. He knew it was cruel to make Ianto clean up the basement chamber in which Lisa had been killed, but it was better than being dead.
After they’d shot down “Lisa” when Ianto had wavered, Jack had ordered Gwen to take Ianto away from The Hub for a couple hours. In the meantime, Jack and Owen transferred the bodies to the morgue while Tosh falsified a missing person’s report for the pizza delivery girl. When Gwen brought Ianto back, Jack put him to work cleaning up the rest.
Gwen had, naturally, been horrified, but he’d held firm on his decision. It was Ianto’s punishment and light by official Torchwood protocol. Yet it was difficult to watch him work on the assigned task with his customary efficiency and diligence.
“When you’re done, you’ll come see me in my office,” Jack told him in a tone that t could in no way be interpreted as a mere suggestion. Ianto nodded briefly, the only indication that he’d heard him.
Alone in his office, Jack had a lot to consider. Has this been Ianto’s intent all along? Jack remembered too many nights spent with Ianto in this very office being kissed into a state of mind-bending arousal. He didn’t doubt that Ianto had enjoyed himself, but now he wondered just what his motivation had been.
Let it go, Jack thought as he shook his head. He of all people had no place to judge. How many times had Jack seduced and manipulated to get ahead or his way? He’d keep an eye on Ianto just in case, but he intended to allow him a clean slate to start over on. It was clear that Ianto enjoyed being part of Torchwood even if he didn’t always love his work.
Jack was pouring a couple glasses of scotch when Ianto joined him. As Ianto took the glass offered to him, Jack showed him a slim hardcopy file.
“Do you know what this is?” Jack asked him.
Ianto shook his head slowly, still mute. Jack sighed softly, frustrated by his silence. It was worrisome.
“It’s your personal file,” Jack explained. “I am willing to throw it out and start anew so long as you promise me one thing.”
Ianto just stared at him blandly. There was no life in his blue eyes. Jack wanted to shake him, kiss him, anything to bring him around.
“Goddammit, say something,” Jack grated angrily.
“Sorry,” Ianto whispered, flinching slightly.
“Okay, that’s a start,” Jack muttered. “I need you to focus, Ianto. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good, now I need you to promise me you’re not hiding anything else from me and that your loyalty is with Torchwood now.”
Ianto was quiet for a long time. The silence was maddening but it was eventually broken by Ianto choking back a harsh sob. “What choice do I have? Torchwood is all I have left.”
“And the rest?” Jack pressed.
Ianto dropped the glass of scotch as he sagged like a puppet cut from its strings. “Oh god, she hasn’t been my Lisa since I pulled her from the conversion chamber, has she?”
”I don’t know,” Jack replied sincerely, “but from what I saw I’d wager she was more machine than human. Her impulses were primarily that of a cyberman.”
Ianto began to sob, though no tears came. Huge, ragged gasps caused his entire body to convulse with the force of his sorrow. Jack tossed the file into the trash and went to him. He pulled Ianto into his arms and was surprised to feel Ianto clutch at him.
“Shh,” Jack murmured as he stroked the back of his head, “It’s over now. The only thing left for you to do is move forward.”
“I’m such a fool, Jack,” Ianto gasped harshly, “I knew better, but...I thought...since the conversion was only partial....”
“Don’t” Jack insisted, “I know you were trying to make things right.”
“For who? Me or her?”
Jack didn’t have an answer for him. Instead he pressed his lips against Ianto’s temple and felt him tremble. He wished that he were making Ianto shiver under completely different circumstances.
They stood together in their intimate embrace for what seemed like hours. Jack didn’t mind; it was the most physical contact they’d had in weeks. He’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to have Ianto’s body pressing so close to his.
“Go get your things sorted,” Jack whispered, “I’m taking you home.”
Ianto nodded as he pressed his face against the side of Jack’s neck. He inhaled deeply, shuddered, and then disengaged from their clutch.
After he left, Jack fished Ianto’s file from the trash. He opened the manila folder and longed for a paper shredder. Lacking such a machine, he began to tear the papers up my hand.
*~*~*~*~*
Ianto’s apartment was small and neat as a pin. Jack was surprised given the long hours Ianto spent at work. When did he find the time?
“I’m going to take a shower,” Ianto told him quietly.
“Don’t lock the door,” Jack replied.
“Excuse me?” Ianto asked with polite indignation.
Jack shed his great coat and hung it up on a coat rack near the front door. “Long time ago we had this girl named Penny working for us. Sweet kid, brilliant hacker, but far too young for field work. She was eighteen when she joined us and nineteen when she began going out on cases with the rest of the team.
“Anyway, a nasty rift spike sent the weevils loopy. In one day a pack of them slaughtered fifty civilians. Penny was with us while we investigated the damage and hunted them down. She’d been weevil hunting before but.... Well, you know how a group of them gets. It was a mess even before we had to deal with the paperwork to cover it all up.”
Ianto interrupted testily, “Is there a point to this, Sir? Preferably one that involves an explanation as to why I’m to keep my bathroom door unlocked.”
“My point is that Penny was in a sorry state when all was said and done. She couldn’t handle it. I was ordered to take her home and she went straight for a shower, too. Gentleman that I am, I let her have her privacy and put a kettle on. After forty minutes I started to worry, and when it got to be an hour without a peep from her, I broke the door down. I found Penny dead, suicide by laying her wrists open with a blade she’d removed from the safety razor she used to shave her legs.”
Ianto swallowed hard, but met Jack’s gaze defiantly, “I see, but if I wanted to kill myself do you think I’d be so covert about it? No Jack, I’d make you watch. I would have used the gun you ordered me to use on Lisa to off myself in front of all of you.”
Jack felt his stomach knot at the images Ianto had evoked. Too many members of Torchwood had ended their career with a self-inflicted fatality. Ianto was so much stronger than that....
“I glad that you didn’t,” Jack said quietly.
“Yes well, I’ve labored for so long to not become a cliché and didn’t really want to end my life so predictably,” Ianto remarked dryly.
Jack watched him stride to the bathroom, a bit puzzled over the comment as he was forcibly reminded that he didn’t know a whole lot about Ianto’s life. He did, however, notice that Ianto didn’t lock the bathroom door.
Eager to distract himself from errant thoughts of Ianto naked under the water’s spray, Jack perused Ianto’s cd collection. He recognized many of the artists by name, though not necessarily by the music they produced. Ianto appeared to form lasting relationships with prolific musicians. He carefully took David Bowie’s Low off the shelf, turned on the stereo, and loaded the cd into the player.
As the music filled the small living room, Jack went to the kitchen and rummaged around the cupboards for coffee. He found flavoured decaf in french vanilla and the filters easily enough. Jack hated decaf but he knew that Ianto often found the taste of coffee to be comforting. Right about now he needed all the comfort he could get.
While the coffee brewed, Jack poked around some more. He quickly discovered that Ianto liked old movies and older books. Yet there was a certain element of coldness to the flat. No dust, no stains, nothing but shining surfaces and neat, straight lines of alphabetized books, cds, and video disks. Even the furniture arrangement looked like something out of a magazine.
Jack sighed softly, feeling slightly uncomfortable and that was before the shower went off. His mind wandered. He imagined Ianto stepping out of the stall with water streaming off his nude body.... Jack quickly sat down at the kitchen table. His body had reacted far too eagerly and for a brief moment Jack indulged in fantasy. How he wanted things to be different. He could be toweling Ianto off right now or kissing him as they rubbed their clean, damp bodies together in anticipation of more, so much more.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he massaged his temple. He was emotionally exhausted but he couldn’t think about his bruised feelings while one of his own was so deeply traumatized. Jack sat and waited, willing away his vastly inappropriate thoughts.
After a long moment, Ianto padded on bare feet out of the bathroom. He was dressed for bed, wearing a white tee-shirt and dark blue pajama bottoms. His hair was damp and as he approached the table Jack could smell the clean, crisp perfumes of shampoo and soap coupled with the underlying scent of Ianto’s skin.
“Feeling any better?” Jack asked as tactfully as he could.
“Not really,” Ianto replied, “Why are you still here? I told you I wasn’t about to off myself.”
“Is it that hard for you to believe I care about your well-being?”
Ianto just shrugged and sat down at the table in the chair across from Jack.
”Now what?”
“Like I told you back at The Hub: You move on.”
“As if it’s such a simple task,” Ianto scoffed.
“It’s not, but remember you’re not the only one to lose a loved one. Take some kind of comfort that you’re not alone in your pain,” Jack told him quietly.
“What about you, Jack?” Ianto asked softly, “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”
“Many times,” Jack replied tightly, “It doesn’t get any easier, believe me.”
Ianto seemed to relax a bit or perhaps it was all just catching up to him. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and, were it not for the lost expression they held, he would have looked profoundly sensual. The coffee maker had long since stopped brewing and Jack got up in order to make Ianto a cup.
After he poured it, Jack realized that he had no idea how Ianto took his coffee. He began to ask him, but was gently interrupted.
“One sugar with milk,”
Jack opened the refrigerator and found it bare. “No milk.”
“I’ll take it black then.”
Jack put the cup in front of him and stroked a hand through Ianto’s hair. It was nearly dry and felt deliciously silky. Ianto sighed in a way that made Jack wonder if he were wishing things could be different as well.
“Would you like me to stay?” Jack murmured.
Ianto nodded wordlessly as he sipped his decaf. Jack smiled and squeezed his shoulder gently. Not wanting to bother Ianto with the triviality, he went to go find the linen closet.
*~*~*~*~*
Ianto woke up on the couch, scarcely remembering how he got there. He was covered up with a heavy quilt that might have been comforting the night before but was now hot and sweat-dampened. As he threw it off his body, the memories came to him an a rush.
He’d not slept well. Again and again he’d been jarred awake by vicious nightmares: The roar of gunshots from four different pistols, Lisa’s cruel mechanized voice perverting the definition of love, the icy press of Jack’s gun against his temple, or the reek of blood covering his hands. Around three in the morning, Ianto had crawled out of bed and found Jack sitting on his couch. He’d been reading Hemmingway and listening to Beethoven. Ianto had curled up next to him, taking comfort in the intoxicating scent of of his cologne (Ianto didn’t know what fifty-first century pheromones were and chose to believe the comment had been just another example of Jack’s strange sense of humour) and warmth of his body. Jack hadn’t said a thing, just wrapped a strong arm around Ianto’s shoulders and held him close. He’d fallen into a dreamless sleep within ten minutes, soothed by Jack’s heartbeat and Ludwig’s melancholy piano.
Ianto didn’t understand why Jack was being so kind to him, but he cherished it nonetheless. He should’ve been shot along with Lisa or fired and retcon-ed for his transgression, but he was far too knackered to dwell on the curiosity. Instead he got up and attended to the familiar task of making coffee, noticing that the digital clock on the coffee maker read 07:30. Normally he would have been at The Hub a half an hour ago, serving Jack the day’s first cup of coffee and feeding the pets.
The memory of Myfanwy attacking Lisa flared hot and painful. Well, she certainly wasn’t going hungry, was she?
“You’re up early,” The sound of Jack’s voice made him jump.
Ianto turned to see him striding across the living room, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. He quickly averted his eyes upon noticing that Jack was shirtless. Suddenly his heart was pounding and he felt strange, light-headed in the face of the desire that still lingered. Hadn’t that been why he’d become increasingly obsessed with saving Lisa, after all? With every embrace or voluptuous kiss, Ianto had fought a growing attachment that threatened to overshadow his devotion to her.
“Will I be required to come to work, Sir?” Ianto asked.
“No,” Jack replied, “I’m putting you on two weeks suspension with reduced pay. Unless there’s an emergency, I don’t expect to see you at headquarters. I’m also going to provide you with the number of a counselor who’s worked with various members of Torchwood and UNIT over the years. You won’t have to mince your words should you choose to speak with her.”
Ianto hid a grimace as he turned to remove two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee machine. He didn’t want to see a therapist. Ianto had dodged that bullet by effectively disappearing in the wake of the Battle of Canary Wharf. No one had missed the quiet young junior researcher with the challenge of cleaning up such a huge disaster. However, Ianto thought he might consider it, if only to get back into Jack’s good graces.
And maybe, maybe if the woman was good enough, it might actually help.
“Are you staying for coffee?” Ianto inquired.
“Yeah...if you don’t mind.”
Ianto turned to look at him. He was dressed once more, handsome as always even with towel mussed hair. Without the overwhelming mental albotross of Lisa weighing down his thoughts, he was unable to deny how attracted he was to the man standing before him. He wanted to go to him, kiss him, and allow Jack to drown him in pleasure. Yet Ianto didn’t need a therapist to tell him that it would just be a band-aid over the gaping wound of his loss. No, he didn’t want to use Jack anymore.
They shared coffee in a relatively comfortable silence and Ianto refused to let him leave without breakfast, knowing that Jack had a nasty habit to skip meals. He worried. fussed, wondered who would take over his domestic responsibilities.
“Relax, Ianto,” Jack soothed him as he buttered a piece of toast after salting his eggs. “It might be good if we went without your fine services for a little while. I’d wager if the rest of the team realizes just how much you’ve been spoiling them, they’ll be much more relieved than anxious upon your return.”
Ianto smiled faintly, “Perhaps you should come by my flat in the mornings. I could send you off with a thermos of coffee.”
Jack took a bite of egg-leaden toast and chewed thoughtfully. After swallowing, he nodded solemnly, “That’s not a bad idea.”
Ianto’s tiny smile lingered as their eyes met, and Jack boldly reached across the table. He squeezed Ianto’s hand fondly and heaved a rueful sigh. “You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you.”
Ianto frowned and eased his hand out of Jack’s grasp. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted as he felt his face heat up. “Gwen with keep you company, no doubt.”
Jack rolled his eyes, “No, Gwen will ask incessant questions that I’m not prepared to answer and wax poetic about all the strange things she’s seen. She won’t be able to replace you, believe me.”
Ianto got up quickly and fumbled in the cabinet for a thermos to put the rest of the coffee in. His hands were shaking as he considered how much of his day revolved around Torchwood and Jack. The concept of going even one day without researching some alien artifact or bringing Jack his coffee pained him more than he cared to admit.
“Jack...” He gasped raggedly.
Ianto heard the sound of a chair being pushed across the floor and the rustle of clothing with movement. Jack’s hands slid over his waist as he embraced him from behind.
“I could come see you after work,” Jack suggested softly.
Ianto found that he was choking back tears once more. “Why are you being so good to be?”
Jack turned him around gently so that they were face to face. “Everybody falls down,” Jack told him, “That doesn’t mean you deserve to be kicked while you’re down so low.”
That said, Jack lightly kissed his forehead, lingering sweetly, and Ianto felt an exquisite ache of longing. “I’ll call you this afternoon if it’s not busy. Get some rest, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Ianto murmured.
Jack left with thermos in hand, leaving Ianto trying to figure out how he would spend his day. He cleaned up the dishes and sat in the kitchen, feeling the silence of his flat like a living presence.
Ianto glanced at the clock on the coffee machine again. It read 08:40. Jack usually took lunch around one in the afternoon, noon if it was a slow day, and not at all in crisis mode. He hoped that the rift stayed relatively dormant in the coming weeks.
Finis.
