What patience it would take to mend that shattered mind
An idea taken from a line in my story "Why we did it". I also don't think the relationship between Owen and Ianto was fully explained. Set during after End of Days between Season One and Two. This story follows Owen and Ianto during this time from Ianto's perspective.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or any of its characters. Just throw them into a room together sometimes to see what they do.
Day One
"Ianto wait."
I'm not waiting, not anymore. I'm out of here, out of the Hub, through the tourist office and out of their sorry lives. There's no one left to stop me, no one left to wipe my mind if I go, no threat of familial retribution.
I walk swiftly across the Plass, head down, my coat wrapped tightly around my body against the winter chill. I've put up with a lot of crap but I didn't expect that, and not like that, not after….
I also don't expect an arm to reach out from nowhere and pull me from my stride. "Wha?" But I should have known, the bloody invisible lift. It takes a moment for their face to resolve through the perception filter, but it has to be Gwen. It's not.
"Ianto, mate, stop." He's face is hazy, but I think he looks worried, like he cares.
"Don't Ianto mate me, let me go." I pull my arm roughly from his and keep walking.
He lets go but starts walking beside me. With my longer legs he has to jog a bit to match my stride. Despite myself I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. I slow a little and we fall into step.
After a few minutes Owen asks, "So where are we going?"
I look down at him, "We aren't going anywhere, I am going wherever the hell I feel like."
"Pub?" he asks.
"No," I say. Owen's solution might be the pub, I'd prefer to walk.
He shrugs his shoulder and continues to walk beside me. I turn off down along Lloyd George Avenue, at this time of day the sound of traffic should stop him trying to make conversation.
After a bit I turn to him, "Why are you following me Owen?"
I stare at him, daring him to say the name that shatters inside me. He starts to open his mouth to reply but he must catch my look and closes it again. But after a bit he speaks, so faint I almost don't catch it over the roar of the traffic, "He might come back."
I slow my steps and look at Owen properly. His face is slightly crumpled and he looks small. I mean he is small, but he's always had that terrifying presence of a short man. And then it starts to sink in; he wasn't following me for me, it wasn't any consideration of my feelings. He wants me to reassure him, he is looking to me to tell him everything is going to be okay.
Why should I? Why should he even care? He shot Jack; three bullets, I counted. I'm the one who… Black eyes look up into mine.
"He'll be back," I lie, "Just like Gwen said, when his Doctor fixes him."
"Pub?" Owen repeats and some of that shrunken look has gone.
"Pub," I agree and turn back towards the bay.
I've got no right to be angry, I betrayed Jack too.