This is my first ever fanfic -so please be gentle! I actually stole the premise for this story from another story on FF (don't remember which now sorry) where the other story had taken a very different approach to what happened. The idea had stuck in my head that it could go differently, so eventually I figured I should just write it :)
I'll be posting every day (life permitting) til all nine chapters are up. Rated M for safety -there's a bit of self harm near the end, but nothing too serious (relatively speaking..). Also, I really struggled with picking the genres. Sorry if it ended up misleading.
Please, pretty please, review!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or concepts. BBC & RTD do. I do own this piece of text though. And I'm not making any money from it, obviously. Wish I could!
Owen stuck his head into the room where Ianto was working amongst shelves and boxes of paperwork.
"Any chance of a coffee, Teaboy?" Ianto nodded.
"Sure, give me five."
"Cheers, mate." Owen headed back to his desk. Ianto sighed, finished filing the folder in his hand, then left the archives and headed up to the kitchen. He made each person's coffee, then placed them carefully on the tray and headed down to the main hub to hand them out. Toshiko's workstation was closest, and she turned to smile as he approached.
"Thanks Ianto -oh." She grimaced as she looked at the tray, then gave him a sad smile. "Oh, Ianto."
Ianto looked down at the tray in confusion for a moment, then realised. He'd made five coffees again. His hands shook and he quickly put the tray down on the coffee table nearby. Tosh stepped over and pulled him into a hug. Owen glanced over but decided not to comment.
"It's been a whole month," Ianto said quietly. "I should be used to it by now."
"It's just habit," Tosh assured him. "It's not a big deal. Which one was his?" Ianto pointed it out. "OK, I'll get rid of this one while you hand the others out."
"Thanks Tosh," said Ianto gratefully. He appreciated her quiet approach -he didn't want to make a fuss, just get on with the job. He left her cup on her workstation, then handed one to Owen and headed over to Gwen's desk.
"Thanks Ianto," Gwen said cheerfully.
"You're welcome," he replied, giving his usual small smile. He turned back to the archives with his own coffee in hand.
"Ianto, while you're here.."
"Yes Gwen?" he said, turning back.
"Can you take these reports? They're all done, ready to be archived."
"Of course." Another little smile.
"Thanks hun."
Back amongst the shelves and boxes, Ianto put the new files down and slumped into his chair. Jack was gone, and he wasn't coming back. It had been a whole month, and there'd been no word from him. He'd left without saying goodbye, and hadn't contacted them since -so the logical conclusion was that he didn't want to have contact with them. He was gone, and that was it.
Ianto didn't want to believe it. He thought Jack had cared about him, or at least cared about his team, more than that. But the fact was, the team had mutinied against Jack and released Abaddon from his prison beneath the rift. Jack had had to sacrifice himself to end Abaddon's killing spree, and ended up dead for days. It was no surprise then, that when Jack's Doctor had appeared, Jack wouldn't think twice about leaving.
They knew Jack had gone with the Doctor. When he first disappeared, Tosh had quickly found the CCTV footage of Jack running out of the hub and across the Plass, and they'd seen him grab onto the strange blue box as it faded from sight. Tosh & Gwen had gone up there to run some tests, and there was indeed some strange signals left for them to pick up, but nothing helpful. More useful was the information found on the mainframe & in the archives: there's was lots on info on Torchwood's number one enemy, after all, and Ianto quickly identified the blue box as the TARDIS. That was when Gwen had remembered some comments Jack had made about finding 'the right kind of doctor', and the matter had seemed pretty self-explanatory after that. Jack had left voluntarily, and there was no reason to believe he'd return.
They'd all been a bit lost at first, but the rift didn't stop spitting things out and before long Gwen had taken charge. It made sense, after all, none of the other three wanted to lead anyway. They were still finding their feet, but they'd get there.
Except Ianto didn't think he could. He was trying, but every time he turned around he'd see something that reminded him of Jack, or he'd walk past the office and expect to see Jack at the desk, or he'd see something in the corner of his eye and think it was Jack. And he couldn't get used to only making four coffees. He felt like a fool; he knew Jack had never loved him the way he loved Jack, but he had been ok with that so long as he could have Jack around. But to go on like this, without Jack at all? Ianto was miserable.
Eventually, he made a decision. He couldn't go on like this forever, but couldn't see it getting any better. Torchwood without Jack wasn't ever going to be bearable. Better to leave it all behind. The others would never let him go though, so he'd have to do this carefully. And it would take time.
One month then. One month, to set it all up -and if Jack hadn't returned by then, or at least sent word, then Ianto would know for sure he wasn't coming back.
This was it then, Ianto thought. Two months, to the day, since Jack left. There had been no word from Jack, and all his preparations were in place. And he'd been right; it hadn't gotten any easier. He still missed Jack terribly, and spent most days hiding in the archives so the others wouldn't notice his moods. The rest of the team had fallen into a new pattern and seemed to be going alright. They would cope without him.
It was getting late. Ianto headed back out of the archives. Gwen and Owen had gone home, only Toshiko still sat at her computer.
"Ianto, still here?" she smiled as he came past collecting empty coffee cups.
"Yeah, I think I'm finished in the archives for today though. You heading off soon?"
"Just packing up now. Did you want to grab some dinner with me?"
"Nah, not tonight thanks. I'm going to finish tidying here and in the kitchen," he waved the dirty cups at her, "then I think I'll get an early night."
"Fair enough. Well, I've diverted all the alarms to Owen's phone since it's his night, so you only need to lock up on your way out. See you tomorrow."
"Bye Tosh." Ianto carefully kept his tone light, and headed into the kitchen. He washed up the cups from the day, and finished tidying as usual. Half an hour after Tosh left, he figured it was safe to assume no one would be ducking back into the hub for anything they'd forgotten.
Sitting down at Tosh's computer, he mentally ran through his checklist. He'd been able to do most of the preparations gradually over the last month, so there wasn't too much to do tonight. A few minutes later he was done. Then he went down to the autopsy bay, and rummaged til he found the right bag of pills. Taking some, he carefully put everything back, and stood in the middle of the hub for a moment, checking if he'd left any items behind. Oh well, what would it matter if he had? He wouldn't look for them again after tonight anyway. One last thing: change the CCTV records to show that he'd gone back to the archives after cleaning up, and remove the footage of himself at Tosh's desk and in the autopsy bay. Then, placing a note on Tosh's desk, he left the hub for the last time. It was hard, now that he had to do it, harder than he'd expected. He couldn't afford to dwell though. He went up through the tourist office, and only turned at the last moment, to wave sadly at the CCTV camera, with a little smile.
"Goodbye," he whispered, and left.
Ianto arrived at his new flat. It was in the outer suburbs of Cardiff, in an area which saw only occasional rift activity. Ianto wondered if it had been overkill; there were over a million people in the city, there were probably lots of people living closer to the Bay who didn't cross paths with Torchwood. Still, it didn't hurt.
Going inside, he put down his keys. He took the small amount of cash he was carrying out of his wallet, and transferred it to his new wallet. The new one already had his new drivers licence, bank cards and other items in his new name. Then he went to the bedroom. There was a black box on the bed, a bit bigger than a shoebox. He took the lid off. Inside were the last remaining items that would remind him of his time at Torchwood. A few photos, a few trinkets, a lovely thank-you email Tosh had once sent him. A copy of his Torchwood personnel file. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the stopwatch. He looked at it sadly, and memories rose up unbidden. Suddenly he was on the verge of tears again, and he shoved the thoughts away. This was why he was doing it. He couldn't go on like this, at risk of crying every time something reminded him of Jack. No, this was for the best, he told himself. He put the stopwatch in the box along with his old wallet, replaced the lid, and sealed it. After a moment, he grabbed some paper and a pen and stuck a note on top:
"Do not open until 2050, or unless terminally ill."
Forty years. He'd be 65 by then, too old for Torchwood to care about, and -if he should somehow get involved with Torchwood again -his death would not be the sad loss of a youth, but rather the more acceptable loss of a man in his later years. A man who'd lived a normal life, and hopefully achieved something with it. This way he would have a chance to remember these years, remember those he had loved and lost, without letting them dictate his future.
He sighed. He really didn't want to do this, but what choice was there? He had made his decision, and despite all his optimistic hopes and dreams, it was clear that this was still the only option. To stay was to condemn himself to misery. To do this, was to give himself a chance at a happy life.
He took the box and went to the linen cupboard, reached up to push it to the back of the topmost shelf, where it was out of sight. Then he placed other items in front of it. Closing the cupboard door, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, then went to sit in his cosy new lounge chair. He pulled the small pills from his pocket, and without hesitation, took them. After a few minutes he felt himself getting drowsy, and he relaxed as he went to sleep.
The man in the chair woke up. It was morning, and the light from the overcast day outside flooded the room. He rubbed his eyes and tried to think where he was. Looking about, he noticed a tape recorder on the small table beside his lounge chair, with a post-it note on top: 'If I don't remember what happened, press play'. He pressed play.
"Well, ok, ummm. My name is Tristyn Lewis, although I should hope I would remember that! Haha. Anyway, so, I got a bit of a bump on the head yesterday -nothing serious, the doctor says, but he warned there might be some memory loss. So he says I should make this recording, and talk about myself, so I remember. So where to start? Umm, I've just moved to Cardiff, from London. I figured there was no reason to be in London any more, since Lisa and I broke up so long ago, and I thought it was time for a change. So I start looking around for jobs, and didn't take me long to get one -head barista, at a gorgeous little coffee shop in Llanishen. So that's alright. Oh, I start there on Tuesday morning, hope I don't forget that! Haha, great way to start off the new job hey? Anyway, so I've up and moved back to Cardiff, found a great little flat not far from the new job..."
Ah, yes. It was all coming back now. Tristyn remembered each detail as he heard it. He relaxed as his recorded voice chattered on.
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