Title: Wrath Served Ice Cold
Characters: Ianto with mentions of Jack, Lisa
Word Count: 830
Rating: pg
Summary: Ianto's wrath and how he deals with it.
Spoilers: Spoilers for Torchwood S1 Ep4, S1 Ep13, S2 Ep2.
Disclaimer: Torchwood doesn't belong to me but the BBC, I'm just borrowing.
Author's notes: Written for the tw_lucky_7 challenge involving the prompt wrath and the character Ianto.
They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but how true is that, what about the wrath of a man scorned. Women scorned are seen as devious and meticulous, but so too can men be, especially one with the mind of an archivist, they are after a breed of their own. They can be just as devious as any woman, and with the mind they possess, very meticulous and cunning, all aspects that partially made up his personality. Ianto Jones, teaboy to some, office boy to others, wasn't as calm and collected as he appeared, his suits hiding more than his body. He used his suits as a barrier to hide the anger he felt deep within him.
He hadn't always used his suits in such a way, back when he had worked for Torchwood One he only wore a suit because it was required, not for any other purpose, although he did feel better about himself when he was dressed sharply. After the fall of Canary Wharf his suits became something more, they became a defence mechanism, holding in all his anger, to keep himself safe and so he could focus on his task of helping Lisa. His anger was justified in a way, but he knew that if he let his anger out he would only manage to hurt himself, or destroy everything that he had built up about himself within Torchwood Three.
The anger he felt threatened to overwhelm him many a time, especially when he thought back to the battle, the anger he wanted to unleash bottled up, unable as he was to take it out on the sources of his ire. Yvonne Hartman and the rest of the Torchwood One managerial core were all deleted, exterminated or upgraded. The Cybermen and the Daleks from what he had learnt had all been banished into the space between the universes, the void as he had heard it referred to, others had referred to it as hell, something he wished upon both races everyday. The Doctor, he was angry at the man, alien, whatever, but he knew that he was unlikely to ever see the man, and he knew in his mind that there had been nothing that the alien could have done to stop the destruction any quicker than he had. And it wasn't as if the man had caused it.
The only focus of his ire that he could conceivably get to was Captain Jack Harkness, leader of Torchwood Three, the man who if he had thrown his weight around a bit harder may have been able to stop the madness started by the directors of Torchwood One. He knew that even though he had an excellent chance to get revenge on the Captain now that he worked for him that he couldn't. He had to think of Lisa, she was the reason he was still involved with Torchwood, and he couldn't do anything that may jeopardise helping her recover.
By the time he eventually got to release his wrath upon the other man he knew it was futile, Lisa was dead and so were two others, so after yelling and screaming at Jack with lots of name-calling he had used his suspension to calm down. He took the time to release his anger in focused ways, namely controlled demolition, stripping wallpaper and repainting his flat. It wasn't the strongest outing of anger, many people would find a punch bag, but after all the death he had witness in the last year or so he wanted to be involved in something that could be seen as the opposite of death, creation. Even if it did mean spending hours stripping wallpaper by hand, it did help him release some of the tension he had been carrying around with him.
The rest of his remaining anger, which wasn't much, was buried so deep within him, not making its presence known very often. Some of it did reappear when Jack hived off with the Doctor, but he made sure no-one could see his anger at the other man. A man who he'd overcome his anger towards only to fall for had ran off with a man he knew he could never compare to. When the other man came back he didn't let go of that small spark of anger, he held onto it, intending to use it in another way, he just had to wait for the opportunity to arise.
Walking towards Jack holding the aerial that he had masking taped to the wing mirror he realised that his opportunity had come and he hid his smirk. He had come to learn that lashing out in anger is not the way to go about things, instead it should be served cold. With the state of the wing mirror as his excuse he knew that he would enjoy serving the Captain his just deserts, a sex ban, after all he could hold out much longer than Jack could.