Summary: Ianto and Jack trying to figure out where their relationship is going after Jack returns.
Characters: Captain Jack H, Ianto J, (slight mentions of the team and John H, but this is mostly about Jack and Ianto)
Pairing: Jack/Ianto implied
Rating: T
Spoiler: End of Days, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, reference to Doctor Who The Last of The Time Lords
Setting: Stuck in a hotel avoiding themselves and the time line.
Warnings: Mention of character death (Jack).
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or any of its characters or plot lines, nor do I receive money from stories.
A/N: Yes, I am guessing and making a creative decision that Jack was gone seven months. It's completely arbitrary. Thanks as always to my muse, my friend and my talented beta, triquetralin.
Changing the Default
It was a nice hotel, as hotels go; pretty posh in fact. The lobby was opulent but quiet, the staff tending to speak in hushed tones as they moved smoothly and silently across the thick carpet. The Torchwood team were checking in. Without luggage and looking a bit bedraggled, none of them thought they'd get a room, here of all places, but Captain Jack Harkness put on his most charming smile and strode confidently to the front desk.
It had been a most unusual day, with Jack showing up after vanishing months ago, coupled with the chaotic and destructive mayhem that was John Hart – a dangerous Time Agent and former partner of Jack's – dropping in. The team was reeling, with no time to make sense of Jack's return – especially since he was acting as mysterious as he had been before he left – and having to stay alive long enough to foil Hart's plans.
Realizing that John and Jack knew each other deepened the mystery. Had the Time Agent followed Jack back to Cardiff? Had they arrived together, despite appearances? Was this where Jack had been for the past seven months, travelling with John? Too many questions and, as always with their captain, not enough answers. As fast as the team discovered events of Jack's past through Hart's indiscreet, yet intentional, dropping of hints, Jack was just as quickly trying to bury the intriguing pieces of information.
A bomb thrown into the rift in space and time that ran through Cardiff had reset time back to the night before and so here they all were, checking into a hotel to avoid crossing their own time lines for day. The prospect of hiding out, with nothing to do – and a captain with a butt-load of mysteries and secrets that he was unwilling to share – didn't seem to the team to be anyone's idea of fun.
Ianto Jones sat in a wing-back chair, feeling tired and grubby, adrenalin quickly draining out of him. He had one hand still clutched around the antique stopwatch hidden in his trouser pocket, his thumb nervously clicking the button on and off. John Hart was gone. He kept repeating that to himself in time with the clicking. John Hart was gone – out of their lives and gone.
But he couldn't convince himself of it. The sandy-haired Time Agent's last words to Jack hinted there was more to come. Already Ianto's shoulders ached with tension, expecting the arrogant man to stride up behind him and to hear the sound of a gun cocking at the back of his head.
Leaning his head back, he forced his breath out slowly, eyes half-hooded watching the rest of the Torchwood team. Despite his exhaustion, he was amused to see how everyone else was reacting to the rich surroundings. Gwen Cooper was pacing, her eyes on Jack at the front desk. She feigned a relaxed casualness by trying to start up conversations with the staff as they passed. They would stop politely but find ways to disengage, just as politely, and carry on with their work as if she had been no more bother than a chair out of place.
Every time she looked at Jack, her expressions shifted, animated with the questions bubbling just under the surface like a pot of thick soup, blinking when a new question burbled and popped into her head.
Doctor Owen Harper was slumped in another luxurious chair next to Ianto, half skewed on his right hip, trying to not get blood, from the gunshot wound in his left hip, on the rich fabric. His face was blank, staring, too tired to think and in too much pain for conversation. He looked awkward and out of place, eyes flitting back and forth, watching uniformed bellhops and security guards as if waiting for them to challenge him sitting there.
Toshiko Sato hovered next to Owen's chair. Every twitch from Owen made her pause but she said nothing, just fingered the medical bag slung over her shoulder, waiting to be of some help. She was the only one avoiding and ignoring everyone else, focused only on Owen. Her hand rested on the tall back of the chair, thumb stroking the leather subconsciously.
Captain Jack finally strode across the lobby towards them with a triumphant smile and a fistful of room card keys. His greatcoat was carelessly half-slouched off his shoulders, and Ianto could see patches of sweat on his collar, but his expression was cheerful, even if it didn't reach his eyes.
"Here you go, kids," he said as he handed out the keys. "Torchwood is paying, so I suggest you take advantage of it."
Ianto pushed himself out of the chair, determined to hold off collapsing until he reached his room. Jack's fingers brushed his as he took the key and he felt a jolt. It was the first time they had touched since Jack showed up out of the blue a day ago. Was it only a day? His own questions stewed, but he saw the dark circles under Jack's eyes, and he bit his lip.
Comparing room numbers as they headed into the lift, everyone quickly noticed that they were all on separate floors.
"We should stick together," Gwen grumbled. "Owen's hurt ..."
"Don't use me as an excuse!" Owen snapped.
"It's all the hotel had," Jack cut off the argument with a gesture. "Odd rooms, all over. Deal with it."
Ianto found it curious how easily everyone quieted, slipping into old patterns, following Jack's orders with no further argument. Gwen had made a half-hearted attempt at staying in control when Jack had shown up yesterday, but Ianto could already see things shifting back into place.
The others exited the lift, one by one, with only Gwen shooting Jack and Ianto one last look before heading down the hallway.
When he and Jack got to the ninth floor, Ianto raised an eyebrow. "You did not put us in the same room, did you?"
Another small smile, holding even less energy than the previous one, slipped across Jack's lips before disappearing. "Two rooms with a connecting door. You have your side and I have mine," he said. When Ianto looked to argue, Jack held up his hand. "You don't have to come over. I just thought it would be nice. We could talk. I really do want us to start over and do things ... right."
Ianto sighed. "Jack, there's no right or wrong with us. We're both too different for that. Don't start trying to put us in some sort of box." He stopped at room 714, staring down at the card key. As tired as he was, he was reluctant to go in, to a silent and empty room.
Jack took a few steps further to room 712 next door. Swiping his key in the lock, he glanced across. "Come over. We'll discuss boxes."
"You're exhausted. I can see that."
"Come anyway." Jack pushed the door open and went in.
Ianto inserted the card into the lock and entered his room, leaning heavily on the door as it closed. The curtains were half open, letting in enough street light to give the room a silvery haze. It smelled fresh, of clean linen and washed carpet. He kicked off his shoes, then placed them neatly at the bottom of the closet just inside the door. Stripping off his socks as well, he dug his toes into the thick, cool carpet.
The lavatory was just to his left, across from the closet and beyond that, around the wall, was the rest of the room, one large bed with a generic but clean, new-looking duvet and two small bedside tables. A writing table and chair sat against the large window, and across from the bed was a dresser with a small TV sitting on it.
The bed looked inviting and he headed towards it.
A sharp click to his right startled him. He was still keyed up enough to be jumpy. He reached for his gun, tucked into his waistband, then saw the plain door on the right wall and he blushed, realizing it connected to Jack's room. Jack must have snicked the lock open. Sure enough, he could hear the captain moving in the room beyond, boots clunking, dropped on the floor. Ianto smiled. He could easily picture Jack, tossing clothes as he undressed, leaving things where they fell.
Words from the previous day flitted through Ianto's mind, Jack's voice so clear now.
"I came back for you," Jack had said, eyes lingering on Ianto before skittering to the rest of his team. "All of you."
The captain had disappeared without a word or a note. Ianto knew it was to find his "Doctor" and personally, secretly, he had hoped Jack would not return. The days before Jack left had been full of anguish and upheaval. Jack's leaving had been the fourth instance in a week where Ianto had lost him, thinking him gone forever. He felt cut and scarred, unable to understand each moment before another would leave him torn. Months later, he was finally getting used to the fact that maybe he was right, that he captain was gone for good, when Jack popped back, as sudden as a gunshot and just as traumatic, again.
Ianto wanted answers. He knew they all did, but the way to getting them was not by badgering Jack like Gwen would. It required listening to all the things that Jack never said.
He realized he was still standing by the door, hand clenched around his gun, ready to draw. He let his shoulders relax and pulled the weapon out, checked the safety and ejected the ammo clip before setting it down on the dresser beside the TV. Then, worried someone might see it, he tucked the gun and ammo into the top drawer.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it over a chair, slipped off his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. He wanted a shower and clean clothes. He wanted food. He wanted sleep.
He wanted Jack.
His thoughts had floated there as an obvious conclusion, but the image of Jack in his mind came so abruptly that Ianto stopped, his fingers still on the last button. He wanted Jack. He couldn't deny it.
Earlier, Jack had asked him out on a date, something bizarre and out of place for them. He'd sounded so unsure. Ianto hadn't wanted to seem like he had been waiting for Jack to come back, but everything was skewed so weirdly. Hearing Jack's voice again had been as much a shock as seeing him and all of Ianto's needs and desires jumbled in his head.
Then, seeing Jack with Captain John Hart, knowing they had a history together, Ianto felt his tenuous grasp slipping. He was tired of caring and losing him, tired of Jack making decisions that tore them apart. And so, just as bizarrely, Ianto had said yes to that offer of a date.
Maybe slowing down and starting over, dating as a "normal" couple, might be a good thing.
He swore under his breath. No. Dating was Jack's idea. Not his. What was normal about their relationship? What could be normal? Every part of their relationship – who they were, their beginnings, the struggles they had been through – were as far from normal as anything could possibly be.
Ianto paced, his disordered thoughts making him dizzy. This probably wasn't what Jack had meant when he suggested talking, but it sure was what Ianto needed to talk about. The captain couldn't just keep making decisions about their lives and expecting Ianto to fall in line. Full of determination he went to the connecting door and knocked.
"Come in," Jack's voice answered immediately. He had obviously been waiting.
Ianto entered.
Jack looked slightly more relaxed, shoes and socks off, braces hanging loose around his hips, stripped to his tee-shirt. It was a familiar sight and yet it filled Ianto with a sense of nostalgia. It had only been seven months but it felt longer.
"Hey," he said, suddenly tongue-tied.
Jack's room was a mirror image of Ianto's, same creamy carpet, same luxurious bed. Ianto's eyes flickered over it and then away. He didn't want to think of how much he wanted to be in bed with Jack. That was the simple answer to everything and he knew simple was no longer the right answer for them. He had changed enough in the past months to accept that.
Ianto turned to the dresser. There was a bowl of fruit sitting by the TV. His stomach grumbled and he picked up an apple, feeling relief for the temporary distraction.
"May I?" he asked.
"Sure."
Jack sat down at the foot of the bed, watching Ianto. The young man could feel his eyes on him. He had a feeling Jack was trying to memorize him and his movements, drinking him in. It made his back itch.
Ianto took a bite out of the apple. Turning, he offered another one to Jack, hand outstretched. The captain flinched violently at the gesture, falling off the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a thump. Ianto stood there stunned, frozen in place, the fruit dropping from his nerveless fingers.
"It's okay, just startled me is all." Jack started to get up, laughing deprecatingly, but Ianto could see him trembling. He bent to pick up the apple, but his hands shook so hard he dropped it twice.
Ianto stepped closer and Jack retreated, fear in his eyes, his calves hitting the bed as he stepped back. Ianto slipped his hands into Jack's, holding them steady. "Shh." he said, softly.
"I'm okay," Jack said, but his gaze was over Ianto's shoulder, neck muscles tense. Ianto took another step in, his body fitting neatly as his arms slipped around Jack's waist, holding him gently.
The trembling grew worse, thighs and back twitching like a fly-bitten horse. Ianto had no idea what to say to make it better. He just held him, feeling the sweat prickle on Jack's scalp and his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Jack finally said, voice ragged. "I needed to keep thinking of you!"
The word "needed" made the hairs on the back of Ianto's neck rise.
"How long were you gone?" He hadn't even been aware he was thinking that question, but time was not the linear thing to Torchwood that it was to the rest of the world.
"A year," Jack said.
Not long, Ianto thought.
"How many deaths?"
Jack's breath caught. "Hundreds. Too many to count."
Too long.
Ianto had spent the months thinking on death and Jack. He had only just discovered that Jack couldn't stay dead.
An alien force had resurrected him thousands of years in the future and, looking for the Doctor to fix him, Jack had bounced through time using only his Vortex Manipulator, to find him. It hadn't been an easy journey, taxing the Manipulator which broke, stranding him in Victorian era Cardiff, forcing him to wait out the passing of a hundred and fifty years.
The last week that Ianto had seen Jack, the captain had been lost in time, stuck in 1941. The risks of getting him back were phenomenal, causing damage to the rift. In the ensuing chaos, Owen had shot and killed Jack in front of them all. The horror of that moment still chilled Ianto, but the captain's gasping resurrection shocked him even more.
The second death seemed more permanent, the life sucked out of him by a demon, Abaddon, devourer of souls and bringer of death. Jack had laid three days in the morgue before he finally resurrected. The team felt whole again, was ready to heal and move on when Jack disappeared. That was seven months ago in Ianto's time line, a year to Jack.
It had taken weeks of frustrating conversations with Gwen, who had known of Jack's inability to stay dead, to process all the mayhem that had occurred in the space of those few days.
When Jack returned, a day ago, they knew he had found his Doctor but was unfixed, doomed to live and relive forever.
Jack coming back was more than just him wanting to be with his team again. Something fundamental had changed in him; Ianto could feel it, a loosening of bindings. Jack had seen his Doctor and had let go. But holding Jack, Ianto could feel there was still disappointment and pain coursing through him. He waited patiently for the shaking to subside, finally feeling Jack's arms wrap around him.
Jack's face was buried in Ianto's neck, breathing deep, inhaling the scent of him. At first he was tense, expecting Ianto to start asking more, probing to find out what happened to him, but as the time passed, he relaxed. Remembrances of Ianto's sure eyes, his silent knowledgeable smile, never demanding, darted through his mind. It had all flooded back when he first saw the young man again, but now it was building solidly inside him, that wall of comfort that Ianto represented – strong and steady.
Ianto slowly relaxed his grip and kissed Jack, almost chastely, on the edge of his mouth, then led him to the side of the bed.
"You need to sleep," Ianto said, drawing back the sheets.
Jack started to argue but his body disagreed. His limbs were heavy and his back ached, still bruised from when John Hart had pushed him off a building. He was not healing as fast or as completely as he had in the past. He needed peace, quiet, and rest, and he decided to give in.
His clothes were soiled, damp with sweat. Ianto took them all, raising an eyebrow until Jack completely stripped. Smirking, even though he had no energy for strenuous exercise, Jack enjoyed the feel of Ianto's gaze.
"I'll send our clothes down to be laundered." Ianto said.
Lying down, tucked under the sheets, Jack watched Ianto gather the clothes into the laundry bag and make the call to have them picked up. The young man went into the next room and came back a few minutes later, dressed in a hotel bathrobe with the bag much fuller.
"Spoilsport," Jack grinned.
He must have dozed off, thinking he was closing his eyes for just a moment, when he felt the bed shift. It was pitch dark but Ianto's body was a pale shadow climbing into the bed.
"Shh, sleep," Ianto murmured and spooned against Jack's body.
Jack realized with a shock that it was the first time they were sleeping together. His own bed in the Hub was too narrow for two bodies. He slept so infrequently that he usually left Ianto in it alone on the rare occasions that Ianto stayed.
He felt Ianto's measured breathing against his neck, warm and comforting. There was no awkward wriggling or settling – Ianto's body fit against his as if it belonged there. He could feel the young man's nudity but he was too exhausted for any reaction. He sighed, letting his cares go with one deep breath and drifted off again.
A hiss of sheets and cool air on his shoulder woke Ianto. He opened his eyes. The room was still dark. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, his torso pale in the dimness, barely moving as he breathed quietly. Ianto tucked his hand under his cheek, not wanting to spoil the peace and quiet, but Jack must have known he was awake. He twisted slightly, looking over his shoulder.
"Sorry for waking you."
"It's okay."
Jack turned away again.
"Jack?"
"Hm?"
"Why did you ask me out on a date?"
Jack was silent for so long Ianto wasn't sure he was going to get an answer. He reached out his hand but stopped short, afraid to interrupt the captain's thoughts.
"It was the only way I could tell you that you mean something to me." He gasped once, deep and ragged, his head bowed. "It's been over forty years since I loved someone. She also worked for Torchwood. She left and took our child with her."
"Why me? Why now?"
"You're not her." After a pause, he continued, "I realized that holding you at arm's length doesn't change the past and it won't stop ... my heart from breaking."
After a moment, Jack asked his own question. "Why did you say yes?"
"You've never asked me anything about us, what I want." Ianto surprised himself, the words coming out unbidden, but he knew they were the truth. "And I thought if I said yes, maybe you wouldn't leave again."
Jack finally turned, eyes tight with emotion. He slid beneath the covers, his long body fitting against Ianto's. "I won't. I'm home now."