A/N: This is a small oneshot. Extremely small. Ianto-centric, pre-Cyberwoman. Pretty angsty, for me. I'm not sure if it's very good, but I thought that it might be worth posting here. I've written a lot of TW fanfic after COE, which I view as a travesty and completely un-canon. Save Ianto Jones, people! How could they kill my woobie? On that note, this is dedicated to anyone who loves Ianto. Even if you don't love how I portray him here. Enjoy.
Keeping Secrets
He found it almost too easy to lie to him, sometimes.
The lie was in the brushing of his hand across broad shoulders; in lingering touches to his hands as he handed him a coffee cup; in the slow, sweet quirk of his lips that he knew drove him crazy.
The lie was easy. The lie was almost perfect. Much better than the truth.
The truth was the body in the basement; the electric hum of the converter unit; the fluttering eyelids of the girl he (once) loved (?). It was in every cheating glance and every muttered excuse and every beat of his heart.
He slowly, sweetly quirked his lips; he brushed his hand across broad shoulders, and let his hands touch the Captain's, letting them linger as he glanced into piercing blue eyes and tried to pretend every beat of his heart didn't echo Li-sa, Li-sa, Li-sa…
The façade was slipping, slowly. The lie and the truth were blending into one – he loves her, but he loves him.
He withdrew his hands; removed the smirk from his lips, and brushed his hand across those broad shoulders for what he told himself would be the. last. time. He tried not to wince.
He left the conference room, using the excuse of body disposal to see her. Soon she would be better. Soon she would be his Lisa again.
Soon the lies and the truths would be separate; orderly, like him. He straightens his tie, brushes imaginary lint off of his suit jacket, and turns to face her.
His truth.