Smoke Rings
a/n: I was trying to find a way around a bit of writers block the other day, so I googled up some photos of Cardiff Bay, and since I've been thinking about and reading a lot of post Cyberwoman fics, somehow this turned into a bit right before the final scene with the nod. Also, with some chat about whether Ianto might smoke, I found that him having a bad habit might be a good thing for him from time to time. So here's a short but bittersweet little thing.
Ianto made his way across the pier in the early morning sunlight. He pulled his topcoat tighter around him and adjusted the strap of the messenger bag slung over his shoulder as the wind whipped off the bay. His mind was whirling with "what ifs" and he had gotten through the day so far mainly on habits formed long ago in another city altogether. Up before the alarm, bathe, shave, suit and tie, toast and tea. He felt no urge to impress, so the suit he'd selected was the first one his hand closed around in his wardrobe, an unremarkable gray. His tie was subtle tones of gray, and he had wrestled a white shirt from among the dry-cleaning he had finally had a chance to pick up. The newspaper on his doorstep had been dropped, unopened, into a trashcan on his way to his car.
The clock tower above him chimed the quarter hour, and Ianto stopped. He knew he had to turn the corner and walk across the Plass and down the steps to the tourist office. He also knew he had plenty of time. It was still early. There was now no longer any reason to slip quietly into the Hub with some excuse or another for his early arrival. He listened to the engrained admonishment he carried in his head, a legacy from his father. "Never keep 'em waitin' lad…" said the voice. He knew there were things to be done. But on this morning, he paused.
He crossed to the railing, and gazed out over the bay. There were a few fractious gulls fighting overhead and a pair of swans gliding across the water, stopping now and then to smooth feathers ruffled by the gusty morning breeze. At the touch of his hands on the slim, cold, round metal, he froze for just a moment and felt panic clawing at him, threatening to overwhelm, and he dug in his coat pockets and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Turning his back to the water, he hunched over so he could light his cigarette sheltered from the wind. After a few deep satisfying puffs he returned to watching the sunlight glint off the ripples of the water, resting his cloth covered elbows carefully on the railings.
He had nearly finished his first cigarette and was contemplating lighting another one when his phone rang. He dropped the cigarette, and crushed it with his shoe as he pulled out his phone. He didn't need to look at the caller ID. He simply answered it with a simple, "Yes Sir?" as he walked away from the sunlight and into the shadows.