A/N: Oh wow, it's been years since I've written a fanfiction. But what can I say? Ianto Jones has stolen my heart. Jack has too. They're just wonderful. So I've had a few little voices in my head nagging me to write something. I'm not sure how happy I am with this fic, but I have the feeling this won't be the last one so maybe I'll get it right next time. Anywho. I love the idea of a mentally unstable Ianto. Cause I'm mean like that. So I've always imagined him as the type who would have a metaphysical filing system within his mind. It went from there...
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
***
Ianto Jones was a man who appreciated a pattern. Routine was his stability. Order his friend. His little mundane life was first swept out of order the day Torchwood recruited him. To this day he wasn't entirely sure why they picked him. One day he had been working at a quaint little coffee shop the next one of his regulars was offering him a job at a secret alien chasing agency. He had spent an entire day wondering around in shock.
But then he did what he did best.
He stood back. Looked at the bigger picture and organized. The bright, amazing and terrifying new world he had just been shown was categorized and filed safely within his mind. If everything had a label suddenly it wasn't so big. If it was labeled it wasn't so scary. If he was the one to label it he was the one in control.
He accepted the job.
It wasn't so terrifying. Not now that he knew he didn't have to witness all the horror and wonderment the universe had to offer. Just file it all away in neat little manila envelopes with nice little labels. He found himself enjoying his work. It was like reading the most detailed science fiction novel in the world. Filled with heroes and villains, legends and myths, and technology so amazing it might as well be magic. And that was exactly what Ianto Jones convinced himself it all was.
Fiction.
It was the only way to cope. He soon discovered it was much easier to file away death certificates and forge fake ones for mourning families when all he saw was the paper. The words. Just pretend it was part of a great book and hide them behind those pretty, pretty labels.
Then he met Lisa. Sweet, wonderful, beautiful Lisa. Suddenly his pattern was gone, his once carefully planned out days were filled with impromptu dates and conversations that would last into odd hours of the morning. He had never fallen so hard.
But suddenly none of it was fiction anymore. Characters in his own little fantasy world became Lisa's friends and eventually they became Ianto's as well. Villains became real, with motives and reason. And suddenly death certificates were no longer the ends of a depressing chapter. They were real, all too real and every time he had to neatly filed another one away his heart clenched and his throat closed with unshed tears that the next one could be his beloved Lisa.
Slowly though he began to stand back. Look at the bigger picture and organize. Keep the bigger picture in mind. He had friends now, someone to love now but he still had a job to do. They all managed to work so close to death, and they were the ones who had to experience it first hand. So sure enough Ianto Jones adapted. New files were made, new categories sorted and new shiny labels were metaphysically printed and pressed against the filing cabinet of his mind.
Order returned, new patterns formed. Spontaneous outings turned into planned dates. Deaths were now handled late in the night, Lisa wrapped in his arms, hot tears on his cheek, but above all else he handled them. Sorted them. Efficiently grieved and moved on.
And he was happy.
Of course it didn't last. Canary Warf. Cybermen. Screams. Blood. Fear. Upgrade. Exterminate. Exterminate. Exterminate!
Stand back.
Look at the bigger picture.
Breath.
Organize.
Plan.
Save Lisa. Save Lisa. Save Lisa. Save Lisa.
A small part of him knew that it was impossible. That he had to grieve and move on. Like he always told himself he'd have to do one day. But that part had a hastily written blood soaked label slapped on it and was thrown into the darkest part of his mind and quickly locked away.
Couldn't listen to it. Not when he had a plan.
Torchwood Three. A small institute if you could even call it that. It was the annoyance of all the higher ups at One. And the infamous Jack Harkness, naturally Ianto had heard all the rumors about him. Maybe just maybe if the man had a new toy to distract him he could sneak her in. Save her.
How he got a half converted cyberwoman from London to Cardiff is a blur…Really it all is a blur. His files are missing. Labels sloppily written in his desperation. First meeting-Weevil. Greatcoat. Second-Likes Coffee. Third-wear suit. Smells fantastic. Pterodactyl. Hired. Return to the warehouse to cry over Lisa's body. Sneak her in.
Save her. Save her.
Eventually, like always, he stood back. Looked at the bigger picture, organized and acted perfectly. Blend in, be usefully, brush up against the Captain a second longer then needed. Make it a game. He soon had an entire cabinet filled with all of the things Harkness seemed to like. Suits. Being called Sir. Coffee was a given. Seemed to love the idea that he couldn't have Ianto. He craved for a challenge.
So he flirted just enough to keep the man's attention on him when he wanted it but could slip into the shadows whenever needed. They all trusted him. Didn't even have to think about him. Didn't have to see him.
Until he was discovered.
Then it's a blur again. Files are missing. Doesn't bother to label. Just remembers the pain, the loneliness, the anger. Fear. Will he wake up tomorrow somewhere far away with no memory? Retconned back to infancy? Would he even wake up at all? Would Harkness be the one to put a bullet in his head? Would Ianto do it himself?
No.
Lisa hated the idea of suicide. Thought it was a coward's way out.
Besides. He didn't deserve to go the easy way.
He remembers Jack visiting. Telling him that he understood, love makes you blind, crazy. That he expected him back at work in a few weeks. Then he swooped down to place a soft kiss on his lips and he was gone.
Standing back took longer then ever before. No matter how hard he tried the bigger picture couldn't come into focus. But he tried, he organized as best as he could and went back to work. Tosh was forgiving. Gwen cautious but understanding. Owen sarcastic, border line cruel, but that was just Owen.
Jack was…
Jack.
Ianto shamefully filed away their first bout of lust together. It was filled with anger, desperation, pain, bruising kisses, raw thrusting, awkward dressing, rushed leaving. Their second time wasn't much better. But it was oh so good. And their third, fourth, fifth. Soon Ianto Jones lost count how many times he lost himself in the enigma known as Jack Harkness.
And little by little Lisa was grieved and filed away and Jack was there, watching, waiting. Little by little his sanity returned. Little by little their kisses became gentler and the anger ebbed away. When Jack is sitting in his office lost, questioning if he did the right thing, handing a little girl over to those creatures, Ianto is there to comfort him.
Then there were cannibals and flesh and tenderizing. And his carefully built sanity snapped again.
This time though he had someone there to catch him. Help him shift through his battered files and put them back into place. With Jack there it wasn't so hard to step back. But no matter how hard he worked the bigger picture still had blurred edges where ever the Captain was concerned. He organized and organized but he couldn't find the right label to put his boss under.
"Ianto!" A familiar boyishly playful voice. "I need your expertise down in the archives!"
Well…Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
Fin.
Whelp, that headed in a different direction then I intended. Hmmm…If I ever actually have time to write another fic it will be a lot angstier…