My pain, My life, My diary.
Rating: M
Spoilers: Cyberwoman
Parings: Jack/Ianto eventually
Chapter: 1/?
After
seeing how painful the Lisa experience was for Ianto, Jack buys him a
diary. But Ianto doesn't write about Lisa, he writes about his
childhood.
BASED ON A TRUE STORY
This is my letter to a world,
Who never cared for me.
Through past and present,
In my search for mortality.
-
Ianto wandered aimlessly around the Hub. Picking up rubbish and throwing it into the plastic bag in his hand.
He can feel Gwen and Jack's gaze on him. He knows they're talking about him.
He looks up and Jack nods at him. Ianto returns the gesture then gets back to work.
Gwen comes down from the Boardroom and with a warm but wary smile at Ianto she sits down at her workstation.
Ianto finished picking up rubbish and got onto making coffee. He picked up the tray of steaming mugs and slowly made his way around the Hub, dropping of coffees on the way.
He placed one on Owen's desk and received a cautious half smile.
"Thanks", Owen said gruffly, "Teaboy", he added, just to show he hadn't lost his mean side.
Next stop was Tosh's desk.
He put the coffee down and Tosh smiled sympathetically yet hesitantly at him, "Thank you, Yan".
She caught his hand and squeezed it gently in hers.
He smiled fakely and moved on.
He placed the mug on Gwen's desk and she jumped slightly.
"Oh Ianto", she breathed, "I didn't see you".
"Coffee?", he asked stoutly.
"Please'", she nodded thankfully.
He handed her the mug and she took a deep breath of the smell but seem to hover over it cautiously.
"It's not poisoned", he snapped.
Gwen's eyes widened, "I know".
She took a deep sip and smiled trustingly up at him.
Ianto smiled tightly back and turned to go.
"Ianto?", she called softly.
He turned slightly.
"I'm sorry", she murmured.
Ianto managed a small true smile, "I know. You didn't pull the trigger, I saw".
He turned to go again.
"Ianto?", Gwen whispered, "Jack didn't either".
Ianto stopped in thought.
"He didn't pull the trigger either", she added.
"Thank you", he murmured before moving away.
Last stop was Jack's office.
He knocked lightly on the open door.
"Sir?"
Jack looked up and smiled, "Come in, Ianto".
His voice was warm and genuine and Ianto relaxed unwillingly.
"Coffee?", he asked stiffly.
"Thank you, Ianto", he smiled again.
Ianto nodded and turned to go.
"Ianto?", Jack called him back, "Are you OK?".
"Fine, sir", he replied, his lips in a thin line.
Jack frowned slightly, "Whatever you say".
Ianto left Jack's office quickly. Walking up the stairs towards the coffee machine he dropped the now empty tray off and turned to go downstairs to the Archives.
A small brown package sitting by the sink stopped him.
It was wrapped neatly and had his name written in the large cursive that Ianto recognised as Jacks.
He picked it up cautiously and opened it carefully, not sure what to except.
Inside the wrapper sat a small leather bound book. A small note was stuck on the outside.
Ianto,
This book is for you to write down what you can't say.
Don't thank me,
Jack
Ianto frowned and scrunched up the note in his hand.
Where did Jack get off giving him a therapy book?
He let the book drop carelessly to the counter and walked off to do some filing in the Archives.
Two hours later Ianto came up the stairs in time to see everyone laughing and talking loudly as they grabbed their coats.
"Let's try the Thistle and Leek", Owen suggested.
Everyone agreed and moved towards the door. Jack was the last to go and seemed to hover at the door. He turned and his watchful eyes scanned the Hub.
His gaze fell on Ianto and he smiled warmly, gesturing at the door with his head in a silent invitation.
Ianto shook his head and moved out of Jack's sight.
Moments later he heard the door roll shut and regret flooded him.
He wandered around the hub, picking up empty coffee cups and took them up to the small kitchenette.
He dumped them in the sink and ran the water. He washed the furiously, his anger releasing slowly.
He picked up a tea towel and began to wipe the wet mugs. He went to pick up another cup but it slipped from his fingers and smashed onto the floor.
Sighing, Ianto got a broom and began to sweep up the shards of porcelain.
As he did this something dropped to the floor. Ianto bent down and put his finger in the clear liquid, rubbing it between his fingers.
Another fell and another, it was then that Ianto realised he was crying.
Standing, he angrily swiped at the tears but there was no stopping them.
He gave up wiping them away and gave up on the washing up.
He wandered over to the coffee machine, deciding he needed and extra strong one.
As he made the coffee his gaze fell on Jack's present. The small book seemed to call him.
He picked it up with shaking hands and opened it slowly. A lined page stood in front of him. Ianto ran his fingers down the page; he could just imagine the words that should be written there.
Ianto grabbed a pen and walked to the Boardroom. Flicking the lights on he sat down in Jack's usual seat, so he would have a view of the door and he would know when the team came back.
He opened the book and the pen in his hand floated just above the page.
Ianto put the tip of the pen to the page and began to write. It was fluid and Ianto barely recognised his own writing.
I can't believe I'm writing in a diary. Well, I guess it's all Jack's fault; he bought the damn thing.
I don't even know why I'm writing in this. It seems like such a cliché. But here I am, writing in this stupid thing.
Ianto bit his lip as the pen stopped moving.
The teams gone out and once again they didn't invite me. They don't even think about me. I can see in their eyes the distrust, the hesitation.
And I don't blame them, hiding Lisa in the Archives was the stupidest thing I could've done.
I knew all along she wasn't human, that she never would be. But she was the only one who accepted me, the only one I trusted. And for that I blame my father.
Ianto dropped the pen as if it burnt him. He'd written it, he stared at the page. Yes, he'd written that name; father.
Ianto hadn't thought about his father in years. It was something he always wanted to forget.
A strange tingle ran through him and he picked up the pen once more.
I guess it all comes down to my father. Because of him I never trusted anyone, I didn't know how.
When I was young people used to say I was always a lot more mature then the other children. And I guess they were right.
Lisa used to call me an old soul and I guess in a way I am.
I've seen a lot more then anyone else has and all before I was 15.
I never really got a childhood. I grew up too fast and it wasn't my decision.
I can't ever remember being happy.
You know how children have this way they see the world? Happy, all the good things and no disappointments.
Well my father made that quickly disappear.
All I've ever seen is hurt, disappointments and pain.
And it's all his fault.
Ianto stopped writing, he just froze. He was writing things he didn't even know was inside of him.
He flipped to the inside of the front cover and let the pen drift quickly over the page in large cursive.
Your sin caused my pain.
Your sin caused my death.