Notes: This is just something that came to me this morning while I was listening to Radio 2, driving on the M62. A song called 'Walk Away' by Matt Munro came on and I thought it would make a great beginning and ending for a story so here's what came to mind. It's set after Cyberwoman, like many others.
Walk Away
'Walk away, Jack; I don't know why you're still here after what I've done.' Ianto sat on the sofa with his head in his hands, looking at the take away on the table in front of him.
'This is the tenth night in a row that you've appeared here, on the dot of seven, with a take away from a different place. We've had everything from pizza through Indian to Thai. I don't get it Jack; I really don't get it. Surely by now you should have either killed me or retconned me and yet here we are again. I assume you'll be staying as usual.'
Jack sat and looked at him. Truth was he had no idea what was going on here either. Every night he came to see Ianto. Every night he took care to find a different type of food, with vegetables. Every night he stayed until the early hours of the morning, to make sure that the young man got some sleep. And every time he came, his trusty Webley was in its holster and the retcon was in his wallet.
What was it about Ianto Jones that kept him coming? Jack smiled to himself at the innuendo. He knew that he fancied Ianto. He knew that Ianto didn't take his flirting seriously – well why should he? After all Jack flirted with everyone and everything, so Ianto didn't feel special when Jack said he looked good in a suit, or brushed his hand when he handed over the coffee, or pressed against him when he passed by. It was what Jack did to everyone, wasn't it?
'Come on Ianto get some plates and we'll eat this. Which Bond film are we watching tonight? I'm becoming quite the expert.'
This was something else that puzzled Ianto. How did the rest of the team feel about Jack spending night after night at his flat, after he'd endangered them all, keeping a Cyberwoman in the basement? Only once had Jack had to leave and then he came back at midnight, letting himself in; Jack had keys to all their homes, to be used in an emergency.
Ianto got the plates and they sat down and started eating. Ianto felt Jack's eyes watching him swallow every mouthful.
'It's 'Live and Let Die' tonight,' he said. 'The one with Jane Seymour and the Voodoo.'
'Oh good, I like that one,' Jack replied.
They sat in companionable silence during the film. Jack occasionally asked questions, allowing Ianto to show off his knowledge. Ianto thought that Jack was asking questions he already knew the answers to, as if he was trying to make him feel better, feel useful, feel important.
When the film ended they went through the ritual that had become standard over the last ten days, since Ianto's suspension. He would make cocoa for them both and Jack would put the pill on the table next to the cocoa. Every time Jack said it was a sleeping pill, prescribed by Owen, but every time Ianto had no idea if he was telling the truth. He knew that some morning he could wake up and he would have no recollection of the man next to him. He'd see that face in the street and it would mean nothing. He'd catch a glimpse of a great coated figure in the Plas and have no memory of the man inside it. He wouldn't remember those blue eyes that seemed to reflect the deepest ocean imaginable. If he heard that voice he'd think it was just another American tourist, with a thing about World War II. The man in front of him would mean nothing and somehow that thought scared him more than anything. Life without Torchwood was hard enough to contemplate but life without Jack Harkness. He shuddered and Jack saw it.
'Are you alright, Ianto? Do you want me to turn up the heating?' Jack asked.
'No, I'm fine, sorry just thinking, wondering about that pill. Every time I swallow one I imagine that when I wake up you'll be gone and over a year of my life will have disappeared.'
'If that's what you want, Ianto I can give you that pill. If you want to forget us, forget me, I can do that. You only have to ask.'
'I know, Jack. I know you could shoot me and cover it up as well. I know you have your Webley with you and sometimes I wish you just would, but there's some part of me that wants to go on, that can't let go.'
'It's just a sleeping pill, Ianto.'
Ianto reached over and took the pill and swallowed it down with a mouthful of cocoa. It took a while to work and sometimes Ianto fell asleep on the sofa but every morning he woke in his bed. He knew that Jack must have undressed him, touched him and looked at him. The thought gave him butterflies in the pit of his stomach but this was what puzzled him the most; he realised that he wanted Jack to have touched him. Sometimes when they were thigh to thigh on the sofa, he wanted to reach over and kiss those lips. When Jack held him during the nightmares, he wanted to pull back the duvet and ask him to get in; he somehow longed to feel Jack's flesh against his own.
This night he fell asleep where he sat. Jack sorted the rubbish and washed everything up. He looked down at the boy on the sofa; compared to Jack he wasn't much more than a boy after all. He sat down, placing Ianto's head in his lap. Later he'd pick him up and carry him to bed. Some nights he'd stand at the end of the bed looking at the beautiful body lying there in just white briefs. He'd feel those butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He'd feel what? Need? Want? Desire? Lust? All of the above? At times he'd let his thoughts wander and fill with all sorts of images of what they could do together. Was this why Ianto was still alive? Was this why he hadn't swopped the pill, as he'd intended, virtually every night he'd been there?
Jack stroked Ianto's hair as he lay asleep, wondering how he'd let this happen; how had he let this young man get under his skin? He knew one thing for certain; although he could, although he probably should, he knew he'd never be able to just leave and walk away.