Author's Note: This was salvaged and recycled from my Janto epic that never got finished. Some of the lovely people who reviewed "Squashing a Spinacktigen" said they were interested in reading more of my Janto, so I went back and got this. I've also decided to post the entire incomplete work on my Live Journal. If you want to read it, just follow the homepage link on my profile here and look under Janto epic in my tags. Enjoy!
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Ianto hurried back into his warehouse, closing the man door sharply behind him lest Captain Harkness follow him. After a heart pounding moment of silence, he realized no one was behind him, and Ianto sank down to the floor in relief. Through the teary haze in his eyes, he could just make out the lights of Lisa's life support system through the gloom of the deserted warehouse. The sight that was usually so disconcerting was strangely comforting to him now.
Some distant part of his brain told him he was probably in shock after his near death experience while catching a pterodactyl that had fallen through a Rift in space and time. The logic did nothing to comfort him. Shouldn't he be happy?
He'd gotten the job he wanted at Torchwood Three, giving him an all access pass to the extensive archive of alien technology and case files. He'd practically achieved his goal of finding a cure for Lisa. Ianto had even managed to gain some respect from Harkness, who had been so cold and cynical towards him during the weeks Ianto had brought him coffee. And yet, when told he had a job, Ianto found himself fighting back tears as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and practically ran from Harkness.
No, Ianto thought suddenly, it isn't shock or happiness. It's the chocolate. Of all the stupid things! A simple bar of dark chocolate had set him off. And he'd thought he'd worked past most of the crying jags and panic attacks after the Battle of Canary Wharf. Apparently, he'd been wrong. But of course, it wasn't merely a bar of chocolate. It had represented hope that Lisa would get better.
(A couple of days ago)
Ianto had been sitting on his folding camp chair, reading a book, when Lisa's weak calls had roused him. He'd rushed to her side, bending awkwardly over the bulky machinery to get in her line of sight. Her big, dark eyes were clear again, bright without the haze of pain that usually showed when she was awake.
"What is it, love?" Ianto asked, breathing an inward sigh of hope and relief that she wasn't in pain. He'd tried so hard to get the dosage and delivery system right.
Lisa smiled reassuringly up at him. "Nothing's wrong, Ianto. Stop worrying."
He snorted and smiled happily down at her. Today must be one of her lucid days then, when she was almost herself. Ianto didn't know if he loved or hated these days; they were so sweet yet torturous because of their glimpse at the way his life had been before Canary Wharf.
"Hey, you haven't kissed me good morning," Lisa reminded him softly. Ianto smiled weakly and bent to give her a gentle kiss. He didn't bother to tell her that it was nearly two o' clock in the afternoon. When he pulled back, Lisa was licking her lips and smiling up at him. "You taste like chocolate."
"I just had some vanilla mocha," Ianto explained, glancing towards his tiny kitchen area and empty coffee mug.
"Contaminating the purity of the coffee. I must have turned you to the dark side," Lisa teased. Then her happy expression turned wistful, and she said, "I'd really like some chocolate."
Clearing his throat, Ianto offered, "I could go get you some if you'd like?"
"Would you please?"
"Sure." Ianto smiled, the expression feeling just a tad forced. "I'll be right back."
He bent and kissed Lisa's cheek again then stepped down from his perch on the alien life support. He had just retrieved his wallet and turned towards the door when Lisa's voice stopped him.
"Chocolate, preferably dark," she called. Ianto turned back and saw her grinning. The first time he'd asked her about gifts, she'd told him the exact same thing. That had been what felt like a life time ago, but he still managed to smile back at her. He appreciated the attempt at normalcy.
With a brief wave of acknowledgement, Ianto left the warehouse. His smile fell as soon as the door shut behind him. He allowed himself a moment of grief then hurried off to the nearest store. He did not need to pinch the bridge of his nose to hold back tears. There was something in his eye.
When he returned thirty minutes later, Lisa was still awake and singing softly to herself. The sweet, out of tune sound echoed in the large, empty space, but it had Ianto truly smiling. Lisa had always liked to sing in the shower, in the car, while she cooked or did housework. She always had a radio or her iPod on so she could sing along with it, even if she could barely carry a tune.
Their argument about their taste in music was almost as old as their debate about coffee and whether or not it should have any other flavors added to it. Now, with Lisa unable to do it herself, Ianto would turn the radio on for her and leave it on to keep Lisa company while he went chasing after Harkness or Torchwood Three. It made him feel less guilty for leaving her so often.
Ianto hurried forward and stepped up beside her again. "You should have reminded me to turn the radio on for you," he complained. "I shouldn't have left you alone."
"Ianto, I'm fine," Lisa said, smiling sunnily at him. "I'm a big girl. I can manage a half hour of silence."
"Still..." Ianto looked down, trying not to stare at all the cable and wires keeping her alive. Uncomfortable silence reigned for a moment.
"Did you get the chocolate?" She asked suddenly.
"Oh, yeah. Here." Ianto fumbled in the small plastic sack the chocolate was in and got a bar out. "They didn't have anything too wonderful, so it's not very good. But I just got what they had and ‒ "
"Ianto, it's fine," Lisa assured him and rolled her eyes at his fussing. "Just hold it where I can reach it."
So he unwrapped the chocolate and held it up, right in front of her mouth. The conversion machinery kept Lisa completely immobile, locking around her head, arms and wrists. Ianto was careful not to shove the food at her, but it still took some adjustment until she could take a small bite that was really more of a nibble.
When the taste reached her tongue, Lisa gave a small moan of pleasure. Ianto could only guess that the dark, slightly bitter flavor was heavenly after nearly two months of little to no food. He waited breathlessly as Lisa let the chocolate melt on her tongue before trying to swallow. For a moment, it looked as though Lisa's upgraded body would accept the food then she retched and jerked painfully in her restraints. Ianto quickly got a napkin up to her mouth as she spat out the gooey mess, moaning again with the loss and pain.
He quickly got her cleaned up, wiping dribbles off her chin and the half helmet around her face. Then he took the chocolate away. Before he returned to her side, he upped her dosage of pain medication. Ianto told himself it was to help with the pain that she was no doubt feeling after their unsuccessful trial.
"You all right?" He asked, peering anxiously down at her.
Lisa's eyes were closed, and she answered without opening them. "I'm fine. I guess some of the medication is making me a bit nauseous. Maybe we can try again later."
"Of course," Ianto agreed, stroking her cheek softly. He stayed by her side until the increased pain medication lulled her to sleep.
(Present)
Ianto could barely admit it to himself, but he hadn't had much hope then that Lisa could actually eat the chocolate she craved. But he'd humored her in the hopes that it would raise her spirits. Now, after giving Lisa's dark chocolate to a dinosaur, Ianto felt like a piece of shit.
He couldn't explain why he felt like he had betrayed Lisa, even though he thought about it the whole time he undressed and got ready for bed. His whirling thoughts barely let him remember to set an alarm for the morning. It wouldn't do to be late on his first day. Despite, or perhaps because of, his crazy evening, Ianto lay awake in the dark for a long time before finally getting to sleep.
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Disclaimer: If you can recognize something, it's not mine. I don't own the characters, scenario, or idea of Torchwood; I just play with the pretty shinies. It's just for fun, and no money is being made.