A/N: Not mine. Especially not the bit at the beginning that I stole directly from Greeks Bearing Gifts.
*.*.*
Can't imagine a time when this isn't everything. Pain so constant, like my stomach's full of rats. Feels like this is all I am now. There isn't an inch of me that doesn't hurt.
He looked at Toshiko. "I'm about to brew some of Jack's industrial strength coffee. Would you like a cup?"
"I'm…fine. Thanks, Ianto."
He turned and busied himself with gathering used mugs.
After all of it…all the suffering. This is what's left. Pain and tidying. It's all I am anymore.
I'm the invisible man. What's worse, the invisible butler.
The only one who bothers to notice me at all is Jack.
Jack the monster.
Jack the killer.
He just wants to flirt, to get into my trousers.
Ianto worked on autopilot, dumping half-full coffees out into the sink in the Hub's kitchenette. He gave the cups a quick rinse—and washed his—before stating a fresh pot.
It's Jack's fault—all of it.
He could have worked to prevent the catastrophe at One. He's so bloody smug when he talks about how he knew those Ghost Shifts were trouble and how it's a shining example of why he's so chuffed to have broken off contact with Ms Hartman.
But did he raise a finger to prevent it? Oh, no. It's only 'Me and the Queen are bestest mates' when the lives of hundreds of people aren't on the line.
Like Lisa.
Another victim of Jack fucking Harkness.
He could have, at least, helped her. But no, it's all 'Execute her, Ianto.' and 'She's trying to take over the world, Ianto.'
Bastard.
All I want is for him to suffer. To pay for what he's done, what he's not done.
Who he's hurt.
It's the only thing that keeps me going. The only thing that breaks up this pain. That someday, somehow I will watch him suffer.
He delivered the drinks with his little silver tray. Gwen and Owen first—flirting shamelessly over a skeleton. Toshiko next—still tapping away at her laptop, but now with bloodshot eyes Ianto pretended not to see. She'd turned down his offer of a cup of coffee, yes, but if anyone looked to need one, it was Tosh.
Then Jack.
Jack had "cleared off" a worktable to tinker with a rusted bit of extraterrestrial junk. The once neatly stacked folders and the model of the molecular structure of a non-Earthly compound were in shambles on the floor.
I don't just want him to suffer. I want to make him suffer. I want to watch him cry, hear him plead for mercy and know that I caused it. Watch him bleed to death, maybe.
Or slip antifreeze into a drink.
Yes.
I'll put it in one of those awful blended iced coffees he's always banging on about. 'Starbucks sells them, Ianto! I don't see why you won't make them!'
I'll add syrups, like bloody Starbucks does, to explain away the sweetness. Coconut, maybe. With chocolate. Or hazelnut.
He'll die in agony. His kidneys will shut down. He'll go blind, paralyzed. And I'll just watch. Watch and laugh.
I have to wait, though, and I hate that. But they're all so suspicious of me now. If anything happened, I'd be the first suspect.
I need to make them trust me again. Enough that when Jack dies, they'll think 'Aliens' and not 'That damn Teaboy.'
At least until the autopsy.
More than enough time to slip away.
"I have your coffee, sir."
Jack put his screwdriver down and smiled brightly. "Ah, Ianto! You're a god amongst men. What would I ever do without you and your glorious coffee?"
Ianto smirked and, for good measure, gave him a wink.
*.*.*
A/N: The word was "nefarious."
I dunno if I like this one. It was more or less an experiment-slash-character study. It's been referenced several times that Ianto was meant to be a darker character than he wound up being, but that they moved it to the background in favor of sweet moments and sarcastic remarks, and that we were meant to see a sort of subtext.
So…yeah.