Ianto had always preferred to be in the background. He was no Captain Jack Harkness, always dashing around, saving the day, centre of attention. Nor was he an Owen Harper – a man who was known for his constant sarcasm in any and all situations. He couldn't much relate to Gwen either. The former police officer was so all or nothing, she was constantly jumping in with both feet – never holding back. He did however have some likeness to Tosh. Both so quiet and so professional. But he had none of that want to be noticed, as Tosh did. He did not need someone to show him he was appreciated and loved. He was happy just being himself. On his own. A blurred piece of background only noticeable if you looked closer, if you strained to see.
It helped in some ways, going unnoticed. People never bothered you. If you were upset, or angry people still passed you by. No one stopped to ask that annoying question 'Are you okay?'. As if the answer wasn't evident anyway. People only ever asked that question when the answer was written all over your face. 'No. I am not okay. Now piss off.' But Ianto never had to deal with telling people to leave him alone. They did anyway. So on days like today, the anniversary, he got pretty much what he wanted. Time alone. To grieve. He didn't want or need a shoulder to cry on – or words of supposed comfort from people who would never – could never – understand.
And that was a fact. They didn't understand. To them Lisa had been a monster. Nothing more. Nothing less. And in the end maybe they were right. In those last few months of her short life maybe she was a monster. Maybe. But before that – before Canary Warf, before the Cybermen and the Daleks and all that – she wasn't a monster. She was Lisa. And she was so amazing. So beautiful.
It was hard, going about his day to day life with the memory of her absolute beauty. Some moments passed where he felt that forgetting would be easier. That it would be better to lose those precious memories, the feel of her silky skin, the sparkle of her hazel eyes. These little details which never quite left him, haunting him in the back of his mind, becoming overpowering in those lapses of concentration, so few and far between. A constant reminder. A painful reminder.
And this day, this place; it made it so much worse.
The Torchwood hub, where she had spent her last months. Where she was alone, confined. Trapped in a metal cage that had become part her own flesh and blood, had even invaded her mind. Invading her thoughts and corrupting her mind until she wasn't Lisa anymore. That was how she had spent her last few months, trapped, in this place. He had so many memories of her and this place. And so many memories of this day.
The anniversaries colliding. One so happy. One so sad.
Their first date, three years ago today.
Her last breath, one month ago today.
The day and the place together were powerful. Every moment a new rush of emotions flooded though him, thickly intertwined with memories of days gone, filled with sights and smells, wondrous feelings and plans for a future that would never come.
And yet, as each new emotion overcame him, still no one noticed. He prided himself on not showing his pain. On not wearing his heart on his sleeve – his emotions were his own. He would grieve on his own. He didn't want or need a shoulder to cry on. Not that anyone had a tendency to offer him one. People tended to simply pass him by – as if he was nothing but a shadow.
And he liked it that way.
Deciding that he needed something to do to keep himself from thinking too much, Ianto picked up a cloth and some spray. Cleaning. Not exactly challenging, but, perhaps mildly distracting.
After half and hour of spraying, scrubbing, wiping and disinfecting, Ianto decided that cleaning was not nearly distracting enough. His mind continued to wander, sifting through gut-wrenching memories that sent spasms of loneliness through his entire being.
Lisa had been such a huge part of his life. Such a large piece of his heart had been roped off for her and her alone. If his life had been a novel, she would have been one of the most prominent characters. If his life had been a photo, she would've been vibrantly portrayed, boldly standing centre front.
Actually, he supposed, if his life was a photograph, he doubted that he would be in it much at all.
Torchwood would be in the foreground. Such a large and almost imposing part of his life – it dictated everything he did, when he did it, and how he did it. Lisa, he supposed as he began to make the team's coffee, would be the focal point. Front and centre. She was one of the most, no, the most, important thing to him. Even after she was gone.
And he himself would not be in it at all. Even if he was he'd be barely noticeable – just a fuzzy bit of background, out of focus, almost out of sight.
Ianto began to dish out the coffees. He noted – with just a touch a bitterness – that these people were more a part of his life than he himself. He was unnoticeable, unimportant, almost invisible.
He gave Gwen her coffee with a small, forced smile and headed for Jack's office. The Captain looked up as Ianto placed the mug on his desk. The forced smile was in place again as the teaboy headed for the door.
"Ianto, wait." Jack called, causing Ianto to stop and turn. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Fine." Jack looked at him, entirely unconvinced, but he let it slide anyway.
"Okay, sure. Never mind. Anyway, I need you to sign this thing for me."
Ianto moved to accept the folder in Jack's hand, but the moment he opened it he wished he'd just walked away.
It was her. It was all her. Pictures, statements from the team, a hub plan indicating the exact place that she spent those last months, data records of any changes in the power supply since her passing, CCTV copies of her wild rampage. Everything.
"It's been one month." Jack said as Ianto stared at the file in shock "I need you to sign off that there's been no change since then."
Ianto looked up to see the pen Jack was offering. It was too much. Not today. Not here. He couldn't do it.
Within moments the Welshman had crumpled and was sobbing uncontrollably, all the torment, the pain and the grief, flooding through him in waves of desperation. And even as he cried the pain continued to grow, never ceasing, never stopping. The wet tears reminded him of her flowing blood. His broken sobs became her screams of rage and pain. Everything was falling, crashing. He felt empty and hopeless. There was nothing. Nothing else except this hollow silence.
And then warm, strong arms were wrapping around him. He was being crushed to a chest that smelt vaguely of chocolate, coffee and old, worn books.
Jack rocked him, back and forward, his soft voice whispered words of comfort more reassuring than Ianto could've ever imagined.
And in that moment, as Jack's soothing voice calmed his ragged breathing, Ianto realised something. Sometimes, just sometimes, it was nice to be noticed. To be more than the background, to be a focal point. Sometimes it was nice to be in the foreground, to be a part of your photo.
If life were a photograph.
Dedication: This is dedicated to one of the sweetest men on earth, a self confessed six foot seven rodent. He recently went through a bad time concerning the loss of one of his family members. He was so upset, and it inspired me to write this. He knows who he is, and I hope that he's feeling better. You've just got to remember she loved you, and she would be so proud of you.
Disclaimer: I don't own.
A/N: I've always wondered what was going on inside Ianto's head after Lisa died. Especially because he just went right back to work and acted as if nothing happened, and I just wanted to explore that. No one can keep their feelings inside them forever, no one can be constantly bottled up, and I wanted to see Ianto really show how much he cared for her and how much it hurts him that she's gone. As I said before, this is inspired by and dedicated to a man who has lost someone, and this is also dedicated to anyone else who has lost someone they loved, because we all need to just cry sometimes.s