Disclaimer: Still don't own Torchwood. It's really depressing.
*.*.*
I. Was. Livid.
I made allowances for him. I let him live, let him keep his memories when I should have shot him for treason.
"Love covers a multitude of sins," I'd said. "You didn't mean to get anyone killed. It manipulated you."
He fooled me. Again.
I should've just killed him.
But, oh no, that would make sense. It was what I was supposed to do, what was in that goddamn employee handbook.
Instead, I took one look at his young, tear-stained face and caved. I wanted to prove I wasn't the monster he said I was.
So, I was fooled. Again.
Well, Ianto Jones. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I'm going to put a bullet in your brain.
He had one rule during this suspension. One rule. Stay put. Don't leave the flat unless it's authorized.
Well, there I stood in his flat, alone. And it was definitely not authorized.
I wanted, so badly, to just trash the place, but everything was still packed. My mind was racing with the possibilities. He'd been in Cardiff for months—why would his shit be packed if he wasn't going to skip out. He was going to skip off, probably to give the fucking Cybermen another foothold with which to destroy humanity.
I waited, angry and bitter, until I heard the keys rattling in the door. When Ianto stepped in, looking exhausted, I raised my Webley until the barrel touched his temple.
He didn't even flinch, the smug bastard.
"Do you reckon there'll ever be a time that you don't point a gun at me?" he asked.
"Probably around the time you can be trusted to follow my orders."
He shrugged—all the casualness in the world—and took off his coat. He hung it up and slid around me, completely ignoring the loaded weapon trained at his skull.
"Fair enough. What are you doing here?"
After the sobbing mess he was last time I saw him, this cavalier attitude was doing nothing but setting my blood to boil. He'd been caught out and he must have had some inkling that I was about to execute him, but there he was, making tea as if this was the most normal of social calls.
"My job. I'm checking up on you, making sure you were following the terms of your suspension."
He said nothing, just fussed with a couple of chipped mugs.
"Lo and behold, you weren't. I'm only going to ask once, Jones. Do you have another Cyberman out there?"
Ianto chuckled and shook his head. "You think I managed to get not one, but two victims—with their conversion units and all—under not only UNIT's nose, but yours and then, inexplicably, kept them in different locations?"
His condescending tone was what finally made me snap. It took just three strides to reach him. I pinned him against his counter and wrapped my fingers around his throat. I couldn't remember at time that I wanted to choke the life out of someone more than right then. "You tell me where you were, right now, or I will put a bullet between your eyes."
"Get on with it, then." Still too fucking calm. "You'll be doing me a favour."
I shoved him away, disgusted, and ran a hand though my hair. "I am so sick of your secrets, Ianto. I've done everything I could to forgive you, but you can't even follow simple instructions. How am I supposed to trust you?"
Finally, finally that seemed to get through to him. He sighed.
"My sister and her family were in an accident. Johnny—my brother-in-law—and the kids are alright, but they didn't know if she was going to make it. I've been in St. David's for the last 36 hours. I'm sure they have CCTV."
And, just like that, I felt like an asshole.
"Why didn't you call?"
He rolled his eyes—such a classic Ianto move that it made something flutter in my stomach—and scoffed. "I was preoccupied, sir. You know, with all of the tubes coming out of my sister. I know this is difficult for you to believe, Captain, but not everything revolves around you."
Well. That's me told.
*.*.*
A/N: The word was "accusation." But really, I just wanted Jack to be pissed off. The title comes from a Who quote. ("Anger is always the shortest distance to a mistake.") St. David's hospital is in Cardiff.
Thanks for reading!