To Sooth Your Demons.
There would never be such a thing as an ordinary day at Torchwood, not as long as there were still aliens in the universe. There was always some threat to terminate or some piece of space junk to collect. That day had been no different.
It had started as a simple recovery mission. Go out to the abandoned house in Butetown, pick up whatever it is that had set off their Rift Monitor, come back and enjoy a nice Jubilee pizza.
Now they were trapped in the cellar with some insanely powerful alien. She vaguely reminded Jack of Mary, the alien who had seduced and used Toshiko to gain entry to the hub, except that this thing seemed to have telekinesis rather than a telepathic pendant.
She stood in the middle of the dingy room, auburn hair flying out around her, as if held by electricity. Her arms flung out in the crucifixion pose, white sparks jetting from her fingertips, ricocheting off the walls and picking up anything they could find. Jack's comm., Tosh's glasses, two chairs and a broken mirror were among the assorted items which orbited her body.
Owen and Gwen were in the corner, crouched down, Owen trying to shield Gwen from a flurry of glass shards, swarming around their bodies. Tosh stood behind the alien, keeping her gun trained on the back of its head. Jack had managed to get himself killed again, this time by a rogue bullet he had fired at the thing before he'd realised it could turn it 'round in the air and send it back to him. Ianto stood right in front of the alien woman, staring into her startling, black eyes.
"Do you see it, Ianto Jones?" she asked. The voice seeming to sound only in his head. He was amazed by its clarity, like crystal tinkling gently in the wind.
"See what?" he asked.
"Captain Jack Harkness," she told him.
The outside noises of the room grew silent, leaving only the sound of her voice. The light from her fingertips expanded in a blinding flash, like a solar flare. When it died down, the alien stood before him, a red haired woman in a simple white gown. She looked at him with her pretty hazel eyes.
"Your captain is dead," she told him.
This time, he saw her rosebud lips move as she spoke.
"He won't be dead for long," Ianto assured her.
Jack couldn't die. Any minute now he'd hear the immortal man's gasping first breath.
"But, look…" the alien gestured to Jack's lifeless body, splayed out on the floor. The others were huddled around him. Gwen was crying.
"It's been three hours, he's never been down this long before," he heard Owen saying to Tosh,
"He's not coming back this time. His Doctor must have found a way to cure him," she replied, wiping at a stray tear.
"No!" Ianto cried, "No, he comes back, he always comes back!"
The alien woman gave him a gentle sympathetic glance.
"Not this time, I'm sorry," she told him.
She turned her head to look at Jack. His coat was drenched in blood, his shirt torn away to reveal three deep wounds. The captain's throat was cut from ear to ear. His sparkling cobalt eyes were frozen in an expression of agony, the final signs of his life completely gone from them.
Ianto broke down, falling to his knees, sobbing brokenly. No, this couldn't be happening. Not to Jack, no, not like this. Jack couldn't… he couldn't be dead. Oh God, no. Please, not Jack.
"Who did this?" he demanded, furiously.
"You did," she replied.
"What's it doing to Ianto?" Tosh cried.
The young man was doubled over on his knees, the most heart-breaking sobs erupting from his lips.
"I don't know, but I don't like it," Jack replied.
Coming back had been a bitch this time; the bullet had lodged in the back of his skull because there hadn't been enough velocity to propel it straight through. He'd felt whatever force it was keeping him alive slowly pushing the slug through his head, trying to expel the non-organic matter from his body. It had been worse than getting shot in the first place.
Ianto let out a deep, choking sob, whispering Jack's name. He collapsed in a little heap on the floor, trembling and crying. It was too much for Jack. He couldn't bear seeing the young man like that. He lunged forwards, only to be knocked back by one of those lightening bolts coming from the alien's hands.
"What do you mean, I did it?" Ianto wailed, he raised his hands in silent entreaty to the woman.
Make this right again, tell me it was all a lie.
"Look at your hands, Ianto Jones," she told him.
He blinked trying to see through the tears. He looked down to see his hands, smeared with Jack's blood, a kitchen knife sitting in his lap. It, too, was stained with the blood of his dead captain.
"Oh, God. What did I do?"
He picked up the knife; it felt so right in his hand. As if he had used it a thousand times before.
"You slit his throat, and then you stabbed him in the chest," the alien woman told him.
She stepped forward, closing the gap between them and placed both her hands on Ianto's shoulders.
"He died quickly," she told him, "It shouldn't have been too painful."
"I killed Jack?" he asked quietly.
He looked up to meet her eyes. She shed a tear for him.
"Yes, I'm so sorry."
It couldn't be happening. Jack Harkness was immortal, Jack Harkness couldn't die. He was too strong to do something like that. Even if that Doctor had managed to take Jack's everlasting life, Jack would still come back. How could he be dead? The world didn't make sense with out him. Ianto's world stopped turning. He couldn't imagine a day without Jack's comforting presence, his smile, his laughter ringing out through the hub. There was nothing without Jack. No warmth, no happiness. Just an empty void where the captain used to be.
Ianto's bottom lip trembled; he felt the unmistakable pressure of tears building up in his eyes once more. Jack was dead. He let his head drop, the salted tears washing away all trace of his bloodstained crime. Now there was only the knowledge that he was the reason that astonishing man was no longer alive. And that was the hardest part. He could almost see the memories of it now, the feel of the knife's handle as it connected with Jack's flesh.
How could he go on like this? The pain of it was unbearable, and he knew it would only worsen with time. He would rather face death than a life without Jack.
The knife was still in his hand.
"That's right," the alien woman told him.
"What the Hell is he doing?" Jack barked, "And where the fuck did he get a knife?"
"My God, Jack, he's trying to kill himself!" Tosh gasped.
Jack could hardly believe his eyes. Seemingly from out of nowhere, Ianto had produced a large kitchen knife, and was aiming it over his wrist, drawing it over the flesh in a test cut. If he was left much longer, he'd end up slicing his veins open.
Jack went into a frenzy. He had to stop Ianto doing what he was about to do. He thought back to everything he knew about mind controllers. They used willpower to effect their surroundings, they had enhanced brainwaves, they could implant thoughts into the minds of others. God, Jack, think! Their powers could be blocked by concrete, steel, reflective surfaces…
Reflective surfaces!
He grabbed the mirror out of the air, holding it over his head. He aimed it directly at the alien and charged forwards. He snatched the knife from Ianto's hands and plunged it into the alien woman's stomach. Gravity came crashing back down, dropping the floating items to the floor with a loud clutter.
Jack threw himself at Ianto, pulling the young man into his arms. His gorgeous blue eyes looked straight through Jack, blindly, as if he were still trapped in whatever nightmare the alien bitch had subjected him to. He rocked them back and forth, whispering little words of comfort to Ianto, trying to rouse him from his stupor.
"It's not working," Jack hollered, "We need to find something to break its hold on her mind."
"Jack, she's still alive," Owen told him.
He was hunched over the alien's body, both hands pressed in its wound. It seemed to click in Jack's mind suddenly, what he had to do.
"Owen, move," Jack said, quietly.
At least this thing couldn't read his mind. It wouldn't be able to stop him.
"Jack, if I move my hand she'll bleed out," the team's doctor replied,
"Just move," he barked.
When Owen scrambled out of the way, Jack slid his gun out of its holster, aimed it at the alien's head, and shot three rounds right through its skull.
"Jack! You killed her?" Gwen asked, shocked.
Jack just ignored her; he was too busy with the man in his arms. The young Welshman's eyes fluttered closed, great, harrowing sobs shaking his chest.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Jack. It all seemed so wrong without you."
The captain's breath caught in his throat.
"Hey, Yan, what are you talking about? I'm right here," he told the young man, tenderly.
"No, you're not. You're dead, Jack, you're dead," Ianto sobbed.
"Sure, I got shot. But I can't die, Ianto, you know that. I'm right here."
Jack tightened his arms around Ianto, tucking the younger man's head under his chin.
"You weren't shot! I killed you. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I promise. I would never kill you; you're the only thing I have left to care about. After Lisa there was nothing, just the rats gnawing the pit of my stomach. Then… then you were just there. Just everywhere and you made it better. I'm empty without you, Jack."
Ianto collapsed against Jack's chest, exhausted after his admission.
Jack just cradled him in his arms, looking down in wonder at this complicated man. He would never have guessed any of that. Ianto cared about him. A little, soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
He needed to get Ianto back to the hub, maybe then he could start convincing the younger man that it had all been a cruel trick, played on him by a psychotic alien. After he had let him rest, of course.
Gwen was furious at him in the SUV; she ranted on and on about how they were supposed to help aliens, send them back through the Rift, safe and sound. They were not, she insisted, supposed to kill them.
"Gwen! That thing had a mind grip over Ianto, so strong it was going to make him kill himself. Excuse me if I put his life before the life of the thing that was trying to kill us!" he growled.
The woman shut up, promptly, looking across at the unconscious man, sleeping against Tosh's shoulder.
"Any of us would have done the same thing, if we were in your situation," Tosh told Jack, offering him one of her little wan smiles.
"Let's just get back to the hub, okay?" Jack said.
He'd had enough ethical discussion recently, he just wanted to take a shower, change his clothes, and figure out what to do for Ianto. Whenever the Welshman had been hurt before, Jack had known exactly what to do. Those had only been cuts and bruises, a few broken bones. He could kiss those better, imparting a little of that golden power on the young man.
But this went way beyond Ianto's body. This was soul-deep. He had lived in a nightmare, albeit briefly. Jack himself knew how hard it could be to distinguish reality from horror after an ordeal like that. He needed a plan, and he needed one soon.
He laid Ianto out, gently, on his bed, after stripping him of his waistcoat and tie. Taking his injured wrist into his hand, Jack carefully dressed the wound himself. He sighed with relief when he finally got to see that the cuts were only superficial, Owen had told him as much, but he guessed he just had to make sure.
He climbed into bed behind the younger man, not caring that Ianto would never have allowed that had he been awake. He wrapped his arms around the young man's waist, pulling him in close to his chest. He tried closing his eyes, meaning to drift off for a while, but sleep still refused to find him.
Jack dragged in a deep breath, idly realising, for the first time, that Ianto smelt like vanilla. He moved in closer, the tip of his nose almost touching the back of Ianto's neck, and inhaled deeply. There was something else there, not just vanilla, something strong and a little spicy. Jack assumed it was cologne. It was delectable.
He pressed his face to Ianto's flesh, drinking in the scent. The aroma coloured a vivid picture of the young man in Jack's mind, only serving to remind him, once again, that he almost lost this man today. He pressed his lips to the back of Ianto's neck, placing a small kiss there. Emotion tugged at him, and he couldn't help but draw a line of kisses over Ianto's neck and shoulders. Just tasting him, making sure he was really there. He slid his hand over the younger man's chest, feeling it rise and fall, evenly, as he breathed.
Jack thought about the fear that had overtaken his mind all that time ago, when they had been out in the Brecon Beacons. His heart had been near wrenched from his chest when he saw the state those sick bastards had left Ianto in. Bruised, beaten, trussed up like hunted prey. Jack had felt like he'd never breathe again. Then that night, he had laid the younger man out on his bed, stripped him of his shirt and tie, and gently kissed each one of his bruises. In retrospect, it was probably more for his own sake, but he had just been so desperate to make everything better for Ianto. It had helped them both. Then when Jack finally tilted Ianto's face up to meet his lips in a tender, passionate kiss, he felt the energy pouring out of him, into the younger man. Ianto was completely healed less than two days later.
Jack moved, so that he was propped up on one elbow, leaning slightly over Ianto's sleeping form. He looked down at the man's face, relaxed and completely innocent in the thick of sleep. He bent his head to lay a vulnerable kiss on the side of Ianto's neck.
"Stop doing this to me. I know you're not real," Ianto murmured, sleepily.
"I am real, I am here," Jack whispered, pressing his lips to Ianto's earlobe in between each word.
"I wish I could believe that, I saw you though, more dead than you've ever been. You couldn't have come back," the young man replied, raggedly.
"Look at me now, then. I'll prove to you that I'm not dead."
Jack turned him, gently in his arms, so that Ianto was facing him.
"You look so real," he said, reaching one hand out to touch the side of Jack's face.
"Hey, I am real," Jack laughed, "No plastic surgery here. This is just naturally pretty!"
"You even sound like him," Ianto said in wonderment,
"Like who, Yan?"
"Like Jack. You really are a very good hallucination," Ianto babbled, looking earnestly at Jack.
The fingers against Jack's face danced down his side to grasp his hand. Ianto looked down,
"Although I always thought you'd have a tattoo under your wrist-strap, if you ever took it off. I wonder why you don't have one now; you are a product of my imagination."
Jack looked at his wrist; he had forgotten to put his vortex manipulator back on after his shower. He wondered why Ianto thought he had a tattoo.
"I'm not a hallucination," Jack assured the younger man, "You're just in shock, that's all."
"I'm sorry, but you are," Ianto insisted,
"But I'm not. I'll prove it to you," Jack said, peering intently at Ianto.
"How…."
Ianto's words were cut off as the older man sealed his lips over Ianto's. He relaxed completely into the feel of Jack's mouth, parting his lips to let the captain deepen the kiss. It was just how he remembered, Jack's clever tongue stroking over his own, his lips sucking softly at Ianto's mouth. The older man tasted of brandy, as if he'd been drinking. That was odd; Ianto had never seen him take anything stronger than water. Could this really be his Jack?
He flipped Jack over onto his back, his tongue plundering the depths of Jack's mouth. His fingers found the hem of Jack's undershirt, wrenching it off him, ripping the white cotton in the process. His hands were everywhere, frantically feeling every last inch of skin on Jack's body.
"Oh God, this is your skin," he gasped, sucking little butterfly kisses all over Jack's chest.
He practically tore Jack's pants off, before moving down and running his hands up and down Jack's thighs, brushing over his shaft, his balls, clutching at his hips. He kissed Jack's navel, feeling the older man shudder beneath him.
"This is your body, it's real," he whispered, trying to bury his face in Jack's tight stomach.
The captain could feel the slight warm wetness of Ianto's tears pooling against his heated skin.
"And these are my hands…" he said, gently pushing Ianto's shoulders, so he could look into the younger man's eyes.
He thumbed away Ianto's tears.
"These are my lips…" he sat up, slightly so he could press his lips to Ianto's, kissing him tenderly.
"And these are my arms," he told Ianto, gathering him up in an embrace.
The Welshman tucked his face the crook of Jack's shoulder, mouthing his neck. The older man couldn't help but arch his back at the searing combination of Ianto's tongue, swirling against his skin, and his hot breath as it caressed his flesh.
"You taste the same," Ianto informed him, "Is it really you, Jack?"
"Yes, it's me, Yan. Did you really think I'd just up and leave you again?" Jack told him, softly.
"God, Jack, it was horrible. You were lying on the floor, dead. I'd killed you. She said… she said I'd cut your throat. Owen said you'd died, and Tosh… she… she thought that Doctor had stopped you being immortal. And it was my fault. I'd betrayed you, Jack, I'd killed you…"
"Shh, Yan, it's okay now. None of that was real. I did die, I got shot, but I came back. Not even The Doctor could stop me coming back. You didn't betray me, you did scare me though," Jack hushed him,
"Scared you?" Ianto asked, looking up at Jack in confusion.
"When I saw you on the floor, holding that knife over your wrist… I panicked. I thought I was going to lose you, Yan. And that thought terrified me. Of all the people I've lost, of all the times I've had to accept death… I just couldn't accept yours," Jack told him,
"You'll have to eventually," Ianto pointed out, sombrely.
"I know that. But as God as my witness, I won't let you die if there's anything I can do to stop it," Jack promised.
Ianto looked at him and he caught a rare glimpse of Jack's vulnerability. The deep-seated loneliness of the man. He sighed, softly and kissed him.
Jack felt bare, having admitted the depth of his fear. Even more so for pouring forth the vehemence of his feeling for the young man. It was now that Ianto would push him away. He understood it, but it always tore at his heart, each time they broke apart.
He knew Ianto struggled to accept their relationship. He would spend time with Jack, they would talk, kiss, fuck. But after all that, if anything lingered over them that seemed to resemble intimacy, Ianto would run a mile, having made his polite excuses. Of course Ianto thought this was wrong, Jack was his boss.
What's more, Jack was the man Ianto had once promised to watch suffer and die. The man who had emptied his gun in Ianto's last lover. Of course it was wrong, everything about it was wrong. But it felt so right, and he couldn't ignore that.
He felt his heart wrench when he heard Ianto sigh, and felt the younger man fasten his lips to Jack's. Jack let his hands wander, one resting on Ianto's cheek, the other coming up to tangle in his hair. They stayed locked in the kiss for a long moment, before a growing 'presence' caused them both to remember that Jack was completely naked. Ianto looked down at Jack's throbbing erection with hunger-filled eyes. Jack shifted the younger man's body so that he was directly on top of Jack. He ground his hips against Ianto's, revelling in the friction as their cocks brushed together.
All at once Ianto's desperate lust came rushing back to him, feeling Jack grinding into him. He thrust against the older man, rutting against him, drinking in the wanton moans pouring from Jack's lips. Keeping his stride, he shifted so he was straddling Jack's hips. He drew his hands over the captain's torso, slipping over his hot skin, creating goosebumps. He moved his hand lower and lower until…
Jack gasped, bucking up into Ianto's palm. The younger man grinned wickedly, using his thumb to rub the beads of precum over the head of Jack's cock.
The captain was quivering with want, the thick wool of Ianto's pants scratching his naked skin. He reached up and violently tore Ianto's shirt open, splaying his hands over the younger man's hot, sweaty chest. His head tipped back as he felt Jack's fingernails rake over his left nipple. He continued pumping Jack's cock, knowing exactly the right moments to squeeze or twist to turn the strong captain into a trembling, boneless wreck.
"God, Ianto… it's too much, I need…" he panted,
"Shh, I know. I need it too," Ianto told him, placing one finger over Jack's lips.
He got up and moved away from Jack, hearing the little mournful cry spill from the other man's mouth.
"I'll be back in a second," he purred, keeping his gaze locked on Jack's.
The captain lay back on the bed, panting for breath. The need for release was almost too much to bear, especially as his eyes took in the sight of Ianto, bare-chested, the scraps of his scarlet shirt clinging to his shoulders. In that moment, Jack was sure he had never seen anyone more sensual in his life. He watched as the younger man went into Jack's coat pocket and took out a little tube of lubricant, which he tossed onto the bed, beside Jack.
Then his long fingers ghosted, delicately over the button on his pants, twisting at it lightly before slipping it out of the buttonhole. He slowly, deliberately, ran the zipper down, holding Jack's gaze. He knew Jack was watching every move with the open thirst of a man who hasn't drank in days. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, pulling both them and his underwear down to his knees before delicately stepping out of them. Then he stalked back to the bed with all the grace of a starving predator.
Ianto straddled Jack's thighs, grinding against him. Loving the startled gasp his captain made, he lathered the older man's shaft in the cool, clear gel. Jack was beautiful, his dark hair mussed, his face flushed red with passion, his lips full and kiss-swollen, and those enigmatic blue eyes half-lidded and hungry. The young Welshman raised himself onto his knees, before impaling himself on Jack's cock with a hiss. The other man's eyes snapped open as his hands jumped up to grasp Ianto's hips.
"Oh, God, yes!" Jack near screamed as he was sheathed in the searing tightness of Ianto's body.
He thrust up to meet Ianto's sweet spot, sending the younger man's breath into a panted chorus of, "Jack, Jack, Jack," over and over again. Ianto moved, screwing himself onto Jack's shaft repeatedly, turning his hips in little circular motions.
"Oh fuck, yeah… do that again!" Jack growled, breathlessly.
He bucked, feeling his cock twitch inside Ianto. He was going wild with passion. His fingers dug into Ianto's hips as he lifted the man just a little and drove into his pliant body, fucking him desperately amidst his cries of…
"Harder, God, Jack, fuck me harder!"
He almost forgot to grab Ianto's cock and stroke it in time with his thrusts; he was so lost in the burning feelings coursing through his body. The sheer electricity running through his veins each time he moved. That glorious tightness building with each thrust.
All too soon he felt himself crashing over the edge, continuing to ram into Ianto until the last jolts of orgasm left him. Two strokes later and the younger man followed, spraying them both with pearlescent white fluid. He cried out, as he came, the words, "I love you!" before collapsing on Jack's chest.
Jack awoke, still exhausted, he must have passed out. He couldn't remember the last time he had lost consciousness after sex.
"Shit, that was amazing," he told Ianto, surprised at the huskiness of his own voice.
"Mm, yeah," Ianto mumbled, before falling back asleep, against Jack's chest.
The captain smiled softly, looking at the slightly ruffled, unimaginably cute man in his arms, revelling in the memory of their heated encounter just a few moments ago.
Wait…
What was it Ianto had said?
He had shouted something out, just before everything went black. He shook the young man awake, gently.
"Ianto… did you… did you say that you loved me?" Jack asked him, almost fearing the answer.
"Yep," Ianto yawned, "I love you."
Jack just looked at him, in awe, until Ianto felt the intensity of the other man's gaze.
"Jack?" he asked, waking up suddenly.
Jack replied by fastening his lips over Ianto's in the longest, most loving kiss he had ever experienced in all his years.
"I love you too," he told Ianto. He laid his hand gently on the younger man's cheek before pulling him into another, lingering kiss.
Fin.