Notes: This is the second story in a series of character pieces, vignettes and small case fics about the time between Series 1 & Series 2.
Harkpad read through the original draft. I made a ton of changes afterward, so any mistakes in this are entirely my own.
Not even a week after Jack left all of them, Ianto got a letter. Well, an email. No one sent letters anymore, though Ianto wouldn't have been surprised if Jack still did.
It'd been a strange few days following Jack's unscheduled leave of absence. Things weren't getting better per se, Ianto doubted they'd ever really be as good as they were with Jack, but everything was changing. Gwen had implemented a training schedule her first day in charge that involved an hour of Ianto on the shooting range every time he worked. That same day, Owen took Ianto on a standard retrieval and had continued to drag Ianto on any errands out of the Hub. While the level of barbed comments had been reduced, his time out of the Hub was not Ianto's favorite part of the day. Owen he could take in small doses. Owen in the confines of the SUV for hours on end was a lot harder to handle with a pleasant smile.
At least Owen had stopped rubbing his shoulder whenever Ianto spoke. Much more of that and Ianto would've shot the other shoulder as well.
Ianto hadn't gotten anyone killed yet, though he hadn't actually had reason to pull a gun out either. Owen was slowly putting himself back together – he drank less and seemed to be throwing himself into his work (a coping mechanism Ianto related to all too well). Gwen actually had a leg up on Jack at the moment - she hadn't flounced out of any conference calls or meetings and left Ianto stammering to put things right. Tosh, well, she had more time for her projects, but whenever Ianto went out with Owen or Gwen her face would twist and sadden like she'd somehow failed him. Sooner or later, he and Tosh were going to have an awkward conversation about her not being responsible for Ianto's decisions.
They were finding their place in things again. Ianto knew he was witnessing was the rebuilding of broken relationships, and their first attempts at gluing pieces of a team together with the middle bit missing. It wasn't easy. There was still an uncomfortable aura of guilt and resentment that would just descend upon them at random moments. Despite it all though, they were managing to function and work together enough to keep it all going. They all had their part to do. Ianto, when he wasn't being pushed and prodded by his more vocal teammates, tried to keep the Hub functioning. It was, at least in his head, the part of his job description that bolded, underlined and in italics. Keep the Hub from falling around their ears. Make sure to keep the institute part of Torchwood functioning. He was glad to fill out a few forms to save the world. Who wouldn't be?
As it were, Ianto had had just sat down at Jack's computer to do payroll when the email had appeared with a near-taunting subject line.
For Ianto, in my absence.
From Jack Harkness's email account. Ianto sucked in a breath as an annoyingly persistent wiggle of hope squirmed through him. It dissipated almost immediately once he saw the date of the email. Three months ago. Jack Harkness, who yelled at his telephone when he couldn't figure out the call waiting, had sent him an email from the past. He sighed and clicked open the message.
Ianto,
If you're reading this, I guess that means I've had to leave. I hope I said goodbye. If I didn't… then I didn't. Sorry. I'm setting this up to send to you if that happens. You need to take care of Flat Holm for me. It's our personal project, and we can't trust it to UNIT or expect Glasgow to care. You will. You already do. They need for you to approve their funding requests, go out and visit with them, and do whatever it is they need. Use your discretion on whether to bring others in. The fewer people involved, the better.
I trust you with it. I know you'll do what's right.
- JH
So there it was. Ianto leaned back into the soft leather of Jack's chair, filled with Jack's burdens, and twitched as a headache began to slowly throb in his brain. He let his head roll back and stared at the computer monitor until the words went out of focus. Jack must've thought Ianto was daft. He knew Ianto would take care of Flat Holm (though, he had to admit that the facility had slipped his mind in all panic). No, Jack wasn't asking Ianto to take over anything Ianto wasn't already doing. That email had been the Jack Harkness method of saying, without ever explicitly saying it, that he expected Ianto to take up his project for him and keep it to himself. Jack expected that Jack's secret would become Ianto's too. As if it wasn't already. Ianto closed out of his inbox and slowly pushed himself out of Jack's chair. They'd agreed by consensus to leave Jack's office alone for now. No one wanted to be the one to dismantle all of his belongings. The only people that would ever need it currently were he or Gwen when they needed privacy to work. So far, he liked having it as an escape. Some place he could go, close his eyes, and feel like nothing had changed.
Ianto crept forward toward the glass that separated himself from the rest of the Hub. He looked out over the floor of the main level and just observed everyone working for a few minutes. Everyone was going about their tasks, oblivious to his eyes, and occasionally looking up to make a comment or ask a question of each other. Compared to three weeks ago, when no one spoke to anyone but Jack and the tension could be cut with a really dull knife, it was a miracle. It's amazing what nearly bringing about the end of times could do to one's work ethic.
The beginnings of banter were starting to develop between everyone. Gwen and Owen both seemed to flourish now that they had a goal. They were starting to focus more on building the team than the tattered remains of their affair. Tosh already seemed less guarded and smiled so much more. Now, if the ghost of Jack had his way, Ianto was going to start back at old habits, his and Jack's, of keeping secrets from the rest of them. Ianto closed the door to Jack's office, a sign requesting privacy, and headed back to the computer.
He entered one of Jack's private passwords (because of course Jack had multiple logins, passwords and places to hide information) and brought up the files regarding Flat Holm and the rift victims. He'd sat here before, four months ago, with Jack, looking at the same files too. It'd been after the Beacons. Ianto had been discouraged, battered and drifting back toward the same emptiness that had engulfed him after Lisa's death. It'd been agonizing. Every time he thought he made progress on himself, he'd then get slapped back ten steps.
Four months ago, Jack had stepped in to change that.
Sometimes, after the others had gone, Ianto would sit in the boardroom and just stare out at the expanse of the Hub. In nighttime mode, Ianto could trick himself into thinking everything was okay. Before Lisa had died for the final time, he'd grown used to slipping about the darkened nooks and corners of the Hub and of feeling like just another piece in what kept Torchwood running. It'd been one of the few peaceful parts of his life. Even now, when there was no need and very little opportunity to do so, he was compelled to slip back into the shadows and just breathe.
Sometimes, when the others were here, Ianto felt a tightening in his chest and a desperate need to hide. He'd gone from hiding for survival (and Lisa, always Lisa), to hiding to avoid the team's betrayed looks and anger and, now, after the Beacons, to avoid their pity. Even with disuse, Ianto found it remarkably easy to fade away from most of them. Gwen and Owen were far too obsessed with their poorly hidden affair to care about what anyone else was doing. Tosh, before Mary, had been too isolated in her own loneliness to even try to reach out to others. After, she was in shock and too raw from her own mistakes to care. Jack was the hardest to avoid, he always had been, but even more so now. Ianto had gotten used to feeling Jack watch him after Lisa. It had made him equal parts angry, uncomfortable and ashamed at first. But Jack was like a pebble in Ianto's shoe and, with time, he grew accustom to the discomfort.
If growing accustom to Jack's presence was like coping with a pebble, then learning how to handle Jack's active attention was like trying to avoid a landslide. He'd taken to just showing up at random points in Ianto's day, asking questions about what Ianto did, giving him new work and generally making a nuisance of himself. Ianto could tell by the glint in Jack's eye that it wasn't just a boss checking on a subordinate. No, Ianto had become A Project and Jack always needed one of those.
He'd seen it since his first week there. Jack would take a random piece of tech, sometimes broken and sometimes not, and repair or modify it until he had something new. No one ever knew what Jack's goal was with his little projects (or how a man who couldn't work a coffee machine could put together a sonic activity monitor) but he always had them. Ianto suspected that Gwen Cooper was one of Jack's projects as well. A near do-gooder who Jack thought he could modify into something great. Jack, Ianto thought in his more bitter moments, rarely saw people. He saw bits and pieces he could use.
And Ianto now had a part of Jack's attention that went beyond gazing at his arse in tailored trousers. To Jack, Ianto was a broken bauble he could turn into whatever he fancied. Jack wasn't subtle in his attentions, even if he was stealthy in other ways.
He approached Ianto after work on that night, silent as a cat, while Ianto drank a last cup of coffee and reveled in the silence around him. Jack eased into the chair next to him, coat off, top buttons on his shirt undone and braces missing. Ianto had seen it before. It was impossible to work late nights without running into Jack Harkness in various states of undress. Jack had been drinking from a bottle of water (he always drank so much water) when he had first sat down, and after taking his seat he'd started playing with the plastic container, rolling it between his hands.
"Doing okay, Ianto?" Jack asked with a sort of forced casualness that made Ianto flinch.
"Of course, just having a dose of caffeine for the trip home." He smiled, feeling the muscles stretching his face and how awkward just the motion was, and tapped the side of his mug to emphasize his statement. Jack eyebrows arched in disbelief and he shrugged. When it became clear Ianto wasn't going to add anything else, Jack decided to join in on Ianto's silent vigil of the Hub. They stayed quiet, and it almost felt natural, with Ianto sipping his coffee and Jack alternately staring down at the Rift Pool and Ianto's hands.
When Ianto had finished, and thought he'd escaped any further conversation, Jack spoke again. "You don't want to go back into the field, do you?"
Ianto was startled. He hadn't been expecting that. Maybe a little casual flirting, maybe a comment on some assignment for tomorrow, but not for Jack's sudden astute observation syndrome to kick in. "No, sir," he stammered. "I think we've shown that's not a wise decision."
"Are you even happy here?" Jack didn't look directly at Ianto as he spoke, choosing to play with his water bottle and watch the water swish inside the plastic instead. Strangely, Ianto found himself mesmerized by the motion as well.
Jack's ability to cut to the heart of a problem could never be underestimated. Ianto had had learned that after Lisa and the countless screaming matches that had followed. He should've known it before, but Jack had a presence about him that made it possible to forget some of his more dangerous traits. As it was, Ianto didn't know what to say to Jack's question. The automatic response was to assure Jack, his supervisor, that of course he was happy with his job. He knew the work he did was vital. He appreciated the offer, the second chance, to stay and it would be cruel to throw it back in Jack's face. Ianto nodded. "Everything's good with me."
Before Ianto could pull away, Jack reached over and tugged on Ianto's tie, straightening it, and forcing Ianto to look directly into his warm, friendly eyes. It was off-putting how extreme Jack's facial expressions could be. Jack could switch between them like it was nothing, and Ianto knew he was well aware of the trick. He'd seen Jack in murderous rage, directed at him and others, and in full charm mode within a matter of seconds.
The two barely looked like the same person.
"I asked if you were happy, Ianto Jones. You're supposed to talk to me now, remember?"
Ianto pushed Jack's lingering hand away and shrugged. If Jack wanted confessions, he could give him that. Every day Jack asked Ianto for little favors and concessions as part of rehabilitation back into the team. They were always personal: a question about Ianto's family, a favorite joke from childhood, a story of a time before Canary Wharf. An honest answer wasn't much more to give than what he already had. "Alright. Everything is fine but…I'm not very good at this," he admitted. "This job. I wish I could manage being the big hero like all of you but I can't. It's discouraging on the best days and debilitating on the worse ones." Ianto stared at Jack, eyes wide and challenging, almost daring Jack to look away after forcing him to talk.
"I think you manage just fine," Jack said softly after a moment. "You just need time."
"I feel like I don't do anything important," Ianto shook his head when Jack tried to speak. He stared down at his hand gripping the ceramic handle of his mug. "I know I do the things that need to be done, but it's not the same. I can't do field work, I don't have any special training… I'm just here. Filling the space. I didn't care before… well, before. But now, it's not easy to watch everyone else risking themselves and knowing, really, there could be someone better here."
Ianto didn't look up at Jack as he spoke. If he did, he wouldn't be able to finish, and it was so much easier to just let the words come out. His initial flush of annoyance had faded and left him embarrassed. It was difficult, admitting that he wasn't up to the job, and knowing how desperately he wanted to stay.
It was harder still, to finally glance up and see Jack eyeing him speculatively, as if he too was starting to doubt Ianto's measure. Finally, Jack slapped gently against the board room table. "I've got a plan," he said. "You want to do something important? Meet me here at around five. You're going to work on a special project with me."
Ianto looked at his watch, then at Jack. "It's already close to midnight."
"It's your choice. If you're here, I'll help you. If not…" Jack shrugged.
Another project.
Ianto showed up at five sharp, wearing his normal work attire and with no idea of what to expect. When he arrived, Jack was waiting for him in the garage with a heavy coat over one arm and a blinding smile across his face. He tossed the coat at Ianto and nodded in greeting. "I knew you'd be here. You'll need this. We're going on a field trip and it gets cold."
Ianto stared at the coat feeling wary and nervous. The last time Jack had promised him a field trip he'd ended up bloody, beaten and crying in Gwen's shirt. Before he had a chance to express his concern, Jack was there, slapping him on the back and asking if they could use his car to head down to the docks. Ianto was too caught up in it now to turn back; he knew that as he numbly handed his keys over to Jack and followed back toward his car.
It was a quick trip to the docks, and there they met a fairly shady looking grizzled man who was loading crates of supplies onto an equally as grizzled looking boat. Jack greeted the man warmly, and Ianto hung back. They were going to sea, Ianto noted as he shivered. It was going to be cold on the water, Jack had been right. He pulled on his thick new coat, thankful for something to block the chill in the air, boarded the ferry and went to stand next to Jack.
They took a very cold ferry ride to Flat Holm, and on the way Jack explained the need for it. It was a haven for people affected by the Rift, those who've been damaged or gone mad from what's spewed from it. The people Torchwood had failed to protect, he explained. Before Flat Holm, there had been nowhere for them. They'd been institutionalized in places that couldn't help, or imprisoned or dealt with as threats to the Empire.
Ianto shuddered and it wasn't because of the chilling wind cutting over the boat. The phrase "threat to the Empire" still caused his heart to beat faster and fear to clench his chest. He knew how Torchwood London dealt with threats to the empire. What he didn't know was how Jack had hid this from London, or him, for however long it'd been going on.
When they arrived on the island, Ianto observed how deserted the place really was. It was, from a practical standpoint, an ideal location to isolate people who posed a risk to the rest of Cardiff. Isolated, only accessible through one small and fenced off dock, and the rest of the island was nothing by rocky shores and jutting cliffs. Located near the inner areas, just out of sight from the shore, was a sprawling facility. It looked like a mixture of modern building and repurposed bunkers, and its dull exterior nearly faded into the gray weather. It looked part hospital, part prison. Ianto could make out, past a lighthouse that served as the tallest structure on the island, a small area that looked like it served as a garden in warmer weather. Maybe the place was cheerier in the summer. Hopefully, he thought as he followed Jack into the facility, it was cheerier in the summer.
Inside, Ianto could see it was a small hospital, with three wings, and just a handful of rooms in each wing. Jack toured him around like a proud parent. Ianto observed everything with large eyes and silence, though that didn't deter Jack as they walked through each wing. One wing was cheerful, brightly painted, and dealt with the calmer patients - or the ones "near the end" Jack had told him ominously. There several of the patients greeted Jack, and looked at Ianto with curious expressions. Jack took the time to stop and chat or introduce Ianto as his assistant to the various denizens of the island. There were a little over twenty patients currently, and almost as many doctors, nurses and orderlies employed by a dummy corporation owned by Torchwood. Ianto did his best to ask questions as the day went on – where did the doctors think these patients came from, did the staff live on the island, where did Jack funnel the money for funding – and the more Ianto asked, the happier Jack seemed.
The third wing, Jack hesitated to show him. They stood outside the locked corridor while an orderly fidgeted with a large set of keys. Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto's waist and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "These are the damaged ones," he said, and Ianto felt electricity course through his body as the warmth of Jack's breath brushed against his skin. "Our best staff works here, but…" His free hand raised and fell in a hopeless gesture and then he escorted Ianto inside.
It was the first part of the hospital that finally matched the prison-like exterior, and Ianto found himself naturally standing closer to Jack as they marched down the hall. It was gloomy, all of the lights, televisions and windows surrounded with bars and wiring. The wing was clean, but not well loved, and a feeling of dread seemed to just hang in the air. Ianto met none of the patients and only heard whispered stories from Jack about some of their conditions. The staff looked so frayed that all they could offer was a tired smile in Jack's direction and a nod of greeting to Ianto. Jack's previously happy demeanor melted away, he seemed miserable to be there, and looked at each door, with a sad attempt of a name card pinned to each one, with shadowed eyes.
They stayed only briefly. Once they were outside again, Ianto found himself exhaling in relief and Jack gave him a grim smile.
"I… know that isn't a good place. The people here though, this is the only place we can keep them. They're dangerous and hurt." Jack ran a hand through his hair and looked at Ianto helplessly. His face was open, earnest, without a hint of the gloss Jack's expressions usually held. "I know I'm not perfect, but I don't know what else to do with them. You can look at their files. If you want. Maybe you'll come up with a better solution…" Ianto didn't say anything, but reached forward and gave Jack's hand a squeeze. Jack's projects. After looking at Flat Holm, Ianto began to wonder if they were really about putting together bits and pieces. Maybe it was more about Jack hoping that, with enough effort, anything could be fixed.
After a long, exhausting day going through the hospital they returned to the Hub. The others had already gone, and Ianto wondered where Jack had told them they'd been all day. Did any of them even notice? He had a glass of scotch when Jack offered it and sat down across from Jack's desk while he was shown page after page of patient records, financials and budgets. Ianto was tired, emotionally drained and his entire body was starting to ache. He didn't want to leave though, not really, because there was a part of him that honestly thrilled to be shown any of this. Whether that was because it was a secret Jack trusted to him, or that it was a chance to help others, Ianto wasn't sure.
"This is what I want you to do, Ianto," Jack had said. "You want to feel important? Here's your chance. Help me with this. These people… they're victims of Torchwood. Like Lisa, like yourself, like so many others. I'm not going to make you go out in the field. But this, this kind of work requires just as much bravery. You understand that, don't you?"
Flat Holm was Jack's baby and by sharing it he gave Ianto a direction that the cannibals had ripped from him. It was privately funded, privately staffed, and a complete headache to keep under control. Jack had been enlisting the help of some of the nurses to handle the administration of the place, and the second Ianto took it over they'd sent him a gift basket. It'd been lovely, even if Jack had stolen most of the sweets from it.
Working with Jack more hadn't been as awful as Ianto had feared either. He stayed late a few nights of the week, ordering dinner for them both as they went over Ianto's work. Jack went from boss to comrade during those times. Ianto would remove his tie and jacket, and Jack would roll up his sleeves or strip down to his vest. It was a sign of mutual footing. Jack may have been in charge of Torchwood, but he made sure Ianto understood that Flat Holm was a separate thing entirely and it would be handled differently. Ianto discovered he didn't mind in the slightest. He found himself laughing more and Jack's bawdy stories and horrible jokes and, really, it felt good.
However, it was easy to see why Jack thought it needed bravery of a different sort. None of the stories there ended happily. Some just ended less sadly than others. Some just ended entirely (and that was, occasionally, the happiest ending possible). The day a survivor from Canary Wharf was brought in - retcon had failed repeatedly, the trauma had left her brittle, violent and quite mad - Ianto spent half that day smoking, trembling and staring out at sea. Jack had convinced UNIT to give her over and explained that Torchwood would take care of its own. Ianto had bitten back the angry, bitter part of him that wanted to scream "since when?" over and over.
He had stayed silent as he watched the staff settle in this broken, hollow shell of a person in a dimly lit room with peeling paint. It was choking, and it took every bit of strength in his body to not just down a bottle of retcon himself and settle into the room next door. He didn't. Instead, on the way back to the mainland, he asked Jack to come home with him, and Jack happily obliged.
In the end, it was probably just as self-destructive of a choice.
Ianto let out a frustrated groan as he scrolled through the various financial documents for the hospital. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd been played. Who better to appreciate a good con than another conman? Isn't that what Jack had said to him after Lisa? Jack hadn't gotten Ianto invested in those people for Ianto's benefit, but for his own. He'd always been planning on leaving them, at some time or another, and needed to know his little pet project would be looked after well. What better way than to rope Ianto, who enjoyed far more than he'd like to admit the specialness of being the only one Jack had told, into keeping it going for him?
No, maybe Jack wasn't that Machiavellian about it, but he'd obviously been thinking of this moment for the future. He'd always planned on leaving them. He wasn't apologetic about it. He didn't even come off as particularly regretful. What was the point of Jack trying to fix them, fix Ianto, if he hadn't even planned on being around to finish the job?
Ianto made up a quick to do list for the island and cursed that Jack had even needed reminding him following the chaos of Abaddon. Supplies needed reordered, staff needed paid. He needed to make a call to the head doctor, then to Helen the charge nurse. What little empty room Ianto had on his plate was now gone. Unless.
Why not tell the others? Jack didn't seem as if he intended on coming back. Why should Ianto carry this on his own? Because Jack wanted it? Bollocks to that. Jack didn't give a fuck to do anything more than send an email. This was just one more secret for Jack, one he wanted Ianto to keep going for whatever reason. Ianto's work, his personal life, and his own sense of wellbeing had become far too tied up in Jack's love of secrets and maybe, just maybe, it was time for that to stop.
If he told the others, Owen could meet with the doctors. He could come up with some alternate treatments and, hopefully, use some of this alien knowledge they were gathering for humanity for some actual humans. Tosh could work on improving some of the tech of the facility. Gwen could help Ianto with the day-to-day work with the patients - bringing them in, monitoring their progress and helping the staff. It'd take what would be a monumental task for Ianto and spread it around.
Then again, they were already carrying him. Could he really give them something else? Is that what Jack meant? Ianto was in the best position to keep an eye not only on Flat Holm, but the rest of the team? Not even a week in and they were already getting tired, pulled too thin making up for Jack's absence, and Ianto was going to add to it. He could see the inevitable exhaustion lurking behind each smile and the drawing around everyone's eyes.
Ianto was disrupted from his thoughts by a knock on the office door. He looked up, quickly hiding his work on Flat Holm, and motioned for Toshiko to come in.
Toshiko opened the door but lingered at the entrance. "Gwen and I are going out for drinks. Do you want to go?"
Ianto nodded. "Yeah, Owen's overnighting tonight, right? Let me finish up here and I'll be down."
"Oh," Tosh took a tentative step forward. "What are you working on?"
Before he could stop himself, Ianto put on his best empty smile and shrugged as casually as he could. "Just boring administrative work. Need to make sure we're not risking our lives for free."
Tosh's return grin, genuine and warm, was enough to send stabs of guilt into Ianto's gut. "Well, I'll leave you to it. See if you can't get us a raise or two!"
Once Tosh had gone, Ianto let out a long breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. He hadn't even hesitated to keep that from Tosh. It'd been second nature to cover up, deceive and smile about it.
Like a slap across the face, Ianto realized then that he was never going to tell the others. As much as he owed Gwen and Tosh and, for fucks sake even Owen, Ianto was Jack's. Jack knew it. Jack had taken Ianto's blind loyalty, and yes, Ianto's own love of secrets, and given it a focus - Jack. As much as the thought of Jack Harkness caused waves of anger and resentment to roll through Ianto, he couldn't fight against him. Not again.
Ianto owed Jack his life. His sense of purpose. If this is what Jack asked for in turn, he could do it.
It wasn't the worst secret he'd ever kept.