title: cognitive dissonance
author: medie
rating: PG13
pairing: Jack/Ianto
word count: 622
spoilers: 2.05. "Adam"
note: for outthere for my Valentine's Drabble Meme.
summary: Transplanted memories, glimpses of an alternate reality, perhaps an altered timeline. Torchwood tends to open up the potential a bit.

cognitive dissonance

He seizes awake.

Stiff-limbed with heart hammering in his chest, Ianto lies still. The room is dark and he knows, without looking, that dawn is still many hours away. He stares up at the ceiling and waits for the nightmare to fade. It will vanish quickly; the terrified screams echoing in his ears do not.

He takes one breath, another, and another still.

It's a woman. More than one, perhaps, he can never quite make out the face. Always crying, sometimes pleading, and utterly terrified.

Ianto rubs a hand against the sheets tangled round his legs. The clammy touch of a dead woman's hand, clawing for escape, still lingers. He'll feel it for days.

The death throes of a woman haunting his skin. Ianto clenches the hand into a fist, digging neatly-trimmed nails into his palm.

At his side, Jack stirs. Sitting up, he blinks owlishly at Ianto. "Again?" he asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Yes," says Ianto, nodding. "Again."

Jack sighs, sliding a hand across Ianto's belly. His touch raises goose flesh in its wake and Ianto shivers. "You've got to let it go, Ianto."

Ianto rolls his eyes. "As if I haven't been trying."

Jack grins. "Not hard enough."

"Nothing with you ever is."

The grin turns into laughter and Jack raises himself up, resting on one elbow. "Well, that's a new one for me," he says. "Can't say I've ever had a complaint about that before." He sobers, his smile fading into something almost tender. "Whatever it is, Ianto, you've got to find a way to put it behind you." He brushes fingertips along Ianto's cheek. "It'll eat you alive if you let it."

Ianto nods dutifully. "Yes – "

Jack presses one finger to his lips, stopping the 'sir' from crossing them. "Oh no you don't, Ianto Jones." He leans over, kissing Ianto's forehead. "There will be no conveniently placed 'sirs' derailing the conversation." He grins, lightning quick, as playful as ever. "We'll pick that up when we're done."

"Jack Harkness turning down a quick romp?" Ianto shakes his head. "Wonders never cease. Don't tell me you're still wrung out from earlier."

Jack leers. "Close, but not quite." He kisses him, drawing it out. Ianto follows when he pulls back, reluctant to return to the conversation. He's had more than enough of this. More than enough of the concerned looks and the late night talks. He just wants this done. Pity this is the one time Jack won't be put off. Bloody single-minded when he wants to be. "Whatever happened in those two days is gone. We'll never get it back." He kisses Ianto again. "From what we've seen here, I don't want you to get it back. I don't like to see what this is doing to you."

"Not that fond of it myself," Ianto sighs. "I see them dying Jack. Over and over again."

"We've looked, Ianto," Jack says. "I've looked. There's nothing. Nothing like it anywhere. You haven't killed anyone. It's just a nightmare."

"Just a nightmare," Ianto repeats. "I know that." He does; he knows. It's likely a nightmare. Which isn't to say it's not something else. Transplanted memories, glimpses of an alternate reality, perhaps an altered timeline. Torchwood tends to open up the potential a bit. "Just can't quite make myself believe."

Jack slides down, smiling confidently. "You will. It'll just take some time."

"And what am I to do in the meantime?" Ianto asks with the lift of a brow. "These late nights may take a toll on productivity."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Jack says. His hand on Ianto is playful, teasing him erect. "I think I've got it covered."

Ianto closes his eyes. It's enough. For now, it's enough.