Just something I decided to write as a kind of one-shot means to an end really.
Jack pauses, his syncopating heart beating wildly in his aching chest, his head pounding with anticipation at what he will find as soon as he steps inside. His pale hands shake so much that gripping the door handle is easier said than done, his white knuckles clench painfully as he orders his fingers to open the door.
He'd decided to take the tourist entrance before he'd even got back to Cardiff, it was politer, humbler and besides - the cog door entrance is no doubt blocked by the empty, lifeless shells of Daleks that still, despite their frozen forms, terrify him more than he will ever dare let the Doctor know.
He wonders vaguely if Ianto has the coffee made already, his numb mind throbs with all that has happened in the last hour or two. Daleks, the Emperor, two Doctors, Mickey Smith, Martha - brave Martha… Rose. Everything seems so dull and distant, pointless and pewter grey compared to the brightness of Torchwood, the warm glow of his loving, loyal team.
He takes the steps two at a time and pauses for a moment at the display of post cards that Ianto changes regularly on the rack. Funny, none of them mention the Rift… He neatens a stack depicting the Millennium Centre absently, subconsciously putting off the moment when he will be reunited with them, after leaving them again. Running out on them hastily in their hour of need, replacing his wonderful team mates for the Doctor. Again.
His nervous footsteps echo loudly around the empty room, which doesn't help the situation. Jack's heart races faster, if such a thing is possible. In fact, it death for him were possible, his heart would probably dive up his throat and collapse in a heap on the perfectly cleaned floor.
He drags his hand along the immaculate desk; peers at a small pile of notes. The Tourist Office only opens three days a week, and only then for three hours a day, but Ianto loves the quite break from Torchwood, where he has time to enjoy being human, something that Jack so often pushes aside.
He pushes through another door and treads down the empty, lonely stone corridor, his sharp breaths bounce off the walls: each faltering step takes him closer and closer to them.
He hears them before he can see them, their raised voices float towards him as he takes the lift downwards. At first he thinks that they're arguing, but he hears the loud humming sounds coming from the Rift Manipulator, and realises that their voices have to be raised to be heard above the din. The Manipulator is buzzing and groaning, protesting angrily at being forced to loop itself around the TARDIS. Jack laughs, imagining what Ianto might be saying.
He wishes he hadn't dawdled so much in the Tourist Office. He jarringly steps forward as the lift doors abidingly slide open. He stops, breathes in the smells of Torchwood, drinks in the warming scenes of disaster that are spread before him, exalts in the joy of seeing them alive, their backs to him as they hold either side of Jack's fallen desk and place it in the right direction on the littered floor. They can't hear him as they chatter happily, can't see him as they busy themselves retrieving papers and files from the floor, can't feel his simultaneous pain and relief as he watches them.
In that rare moment in which they are unaware of him, he notices things that he would not have before. Gwen is barefoot, her discarded boots lie on the floor with the heels snapped clean off. Her socks make hardly any noise at all as she bustles around Jack's office, commenting at the various degrees of disaster. Ianto has removed his jacket, has rolled up the shirt sleeves and his hair is coated with dust. As he tidies the office much more effectively than Gwen, he passes her small smiles of encouragement and understanding. Much has changed since Jack left.
He wonders whether to announce his presence, but can't bear to break the spell of deafness that has fallen upon him, silence that has overtaken him, can't bear to spoil the innocence of the scene. Instead he takes a few noiseless steps towards Gwen's desk and gently sits down, an unnoticed smile spreading widely across his face.
Ianto picks up Jack's broken coffee cup and speaks to Gwen. It must be a joke because she laughs, takes the fragments from Ianto and scoops them into the plastic bag that she holds, before saying something that makes Ianto laugh harder. They both sit on the empty desk with their backs to him, rearranging the scattered books on the precarious shelves.
He breaks the majestic silence by coughing quietly. Gwen, who is mid sentence, freezes dramatically. Ianto whips around to fix his blazing eyes on Jack.
In all fairness, it takes them no longer than four seconds to run from the office and pound to his side. Ianto, having the advantage of wearing shoes, reaches him first, and his embrace is heaven and home, a perfect reward for waiting, and Jack knows that he is truly safe and loved.
Gwen struggles at the stairs, cringing as her bare feet connect with a loose piece of rubble or a stray stapler, and she is too far away to reach Jack before his thundering heart explodes. So he runs to her, dislodging Ianto with a painful but necessary push, clambering over parts of collapsed walls and half of Ianto's desk. Her arms are outstretched as he lifts her from the bottom step and spins her in a tight hug. She is life and love and warmth after the coldness of that alien Dalek command ship and the complexities of the TARDIS. There is nothing complicated in this purely sweet moment, not when her hands are in his hair and her forehead is pressed against his, her startled eyes mirroring his own, anxiously hunting for injuries. Satisfied that he is unharmed, she kisses his forehead and laughs as he carries her effortlessly over to Ianto. He hates to break their close embrace, but Ianto is looking tense. As soon as Gwen stands on her own two feet, Jack flings his arms around the two of them, kisses the depths of their dark hair, and wishes, not for the first time, that mortals aren't so damn breakable, and that love isn't so damn unfair and cruel.
"Well?" Gwen murmurs into his shoulder. At his other side Ianto attempts to signal something to her, but her eyes are locked on Jack's, demanding the answers to questions that he doesn't want her to ask.
"You're not angry with me are you?" His hand loops around her wrist and pushes her away from him gently, so that he can stare into her flashing eyes and read the obscure emotions there. She is hurt, a momentary, fleeting emotion, and confused. But mostly she is scared, frightened that he will leave them again, perhaps never to return. After all, what truly holds Jack to Torchwood, when the Doctor can so easily take him away?
"Not angry," Ianto's muffled voice states coldly, and Gwen nods in confirmation. Jack smiles loosely and reinstates his embrace around her waist, locking the entire team to him in a glorious moment.
"Jack?" She murmurs again, and he realises that, if sleep exists for him, he is edging towards it.
"Yeah? I was basking…"
"I'm not angry. But… I don't understand… Why was it so easy for you to leave us - for your Doctor - again?"
He sighs heavily, so heavily that a few strands of their hair dance in the air, and closes his eyes. This next part will be difficult to explain to them, and he's been dreading it all day. "It wasn't," he can think of nothing to say but the truth, "believe me, it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Leaving you two - that was like ripping a part of my soul out - a huge part. But… I had to do it, had to see the Doctor - had to have answers. Like I said before, he belonged in my whole other life, my life before Torchwood, before you - both of you."
She nods slowly, her chin nestling his shoulder, and he yawns peacefully.
Ianto breaks the calm silence abruptly, "Those Daleks - you said that you'd seen them before. Where? And when?"
Jack sighs again, he doesn't want to talk about this. "Another time; another life. Somewhere deep in my past - or rather… my future. I don't know, that part confuses me. Time travel confuses me. But it doesn't matter, they're gone, destroyed, all thanks to the Doctor. Well, one of him… It doesn't matter, I'm back now."
Ianto pulls out of the embrace, backing away from Jack's shocked face, shrugging. Clearly it matters to Ianto, as he staggers over to the coffee machine that has, miraculously, escaped damage.
Gwen is much more forgiving, she smiles. "Did you really fly the planet back to the correct coordinates?"
"Yeah, brilliant, huh? Definitely something to tell the grandkids, as soon as I find someone willing to put up with me long enough to have grandkids."
"And your Doctor fixed things?"
"Everything."
"He's that good?"
"Yup. You didn't expect anything less, did you?"
"Well, I knew he'd have to be special to impress you, Captain Jack Harkness."
"Hey! I'm impressed by a lot of things, I'll have you know. Humans, for example."
"Oh yeah?" Gwen laughs, and Jack watches Ianto hunt for three unbroken cups, "any in particular?"
"Two. A brave and wonderful Welsh pair, so wonderful in fact that I thought of nothing but them whilst I was away. Daleks, time travel machines, Time Lords, planets out of kilter… They're not important. What's important is… You. Both of you, my team, my friends, my companions. I can never tell you how grateful I am to have you, how many times each day I thank whoever gave you both the stubbornness and the determination to follow me around. And I can never explain to you how sorry I am for leaving you again, exposing you to that risk. I'd never be able to forgive myself if anything had happened, death would be a reward, eternity would be too long and heartbreaking. And believe me - trust me - I'll never make that mistake again."
Gwen nods, rises her head to look at him. She has tears in her eyes, glistening tears that spill down to her trembling chin. Ianto is silent by the coffee machine, his back to the others.
"Ianto?" Jack wonders, hoping that his desperation for Ianto's forgiveness is conveyed in his words.
"We're out of coffee."
"What?"
"There's no coffee left so, um, I'll have to nip out to the shop."
"No," Jack raises his free arm, "Don't worry about it. I don't want coffee. All I ask is that you stay with me, here, tonight, both of you, in the Hub. Please." He backs away towards the couch in the corner, half-carrying Gwen with him, mutely pleading with Ianto to follow.
It takes him less than a second to join them on the couch and Jack wraps his free arm around him.
Without meeting his eyes, Ianto asks, "What's it like? Time travel?"
"A mess," Jack whispers cautiously, "confusing and complicated. But very rewarding. Unless you get yourself into a whopping great mess like the Doctor tends to do - but then it's just fun."
"Where's the Doctor now?"
"I don't know…" Jack says gently.
"Will he come back?"
"One day. When he's ready. Earth is his family, he's saved us so many times and we don't even know it."
"You know," Ianto snuggles against Jack's shoulder, "your Doctor's little stunt with the Rift kinda messed things up for us here. Meaning that we'll have to deal with all the Rift related fall-out. Meaning that Cardiff needs us."
"Not tonight," Jack shakes his head sadly, "not tonight it doesn't. Tonight we're only human."
"Sounds great," Ianto yawns heavily and buries his eyes in Jack's shirt. "But I think Gwen missed your speech."
Jack laughs as he realises that Ianto is right - again. Gwen is asleep, her hands cradling Jack's, her head on his chest. "Aww," Jack's voice is hardly audible, "that was a great speech as well. I'll just have to repeat it when she wakes up."
"Yeah, not too early though," Ianto warns quietly as he rests his head on the other side of Jack's chest, his forehead touching Gwen's and nudging gently against Jack's chin. His eyes close slowly, and his breathing gradually becomes deep and low as Jack watches on in wonder, taking in the beauty that is mortal sleep.
Since immortally had taken its hold over him, sleep has been unnecessary for Jack. More like a luxury than a need. Nonetheless, he wishes that he could join them, wishes that he too could forget the terror of today and become lost in dreams in which Torchwood suffers no heartbreak and danger.
He plants a kiss on each of their heads and closes his eyes. He feels their young hearts beating against his ancient, echoing chest, the majestic pulse of life, quick and fleeting, yet undeniably a sound of home. The single sound in the Hub is their deep breathing in unison, and he becomes hypnotised with the sound. In, out… In, out… In, out… In… Out… In…
There, the end. :) Reviews and comments, maybe? I don't know if I could maybe write more on this, depends on whether people actually like it or not.