Providence Park. Ianto hadn't been there since he was 16 back when his mother died... well... Ianto shook his head and continued writing on the bag. He just needed to get the flask filed then he could forget about the whole thing, forget about the brief visit to Providence Park.
"Those reels of film in Jonathan's work room?" Jack asked breaking Ianto's train of thought.
"I took them out, destroyed them." Ianto wrote the last word on the bag and stood up straight. "Let's hope that an end... to it."
Jack looked worried and began talking about film hidden in other places and the Night Travelers possibly still being out there. Ianto had to agree it was a disturbing thought. Yet his mind wasn't preoccupied with thoughts of ghostly circus performers just then.
Ianto smiled tightly at Jack then turned and left the office. Walking into the hub, Ianto sat down on the couch in front of an array of papers on the table. Forms to be filled out and names to write down, events to catalog but it was all blurring before Ianto's eyes. All he kept seeing was his mother.
Four years old.
Ianto's mother is pacing around the kitchen, biting at her finger nails, her arms wrapped tight around her. It's sometime late at night, Ianto doesn't know when.
"Can't you turn it off?" She looks side long at Ianto. "It's just so loud and I can't sleep. Just where is it? Turn it off."
She picks up objects in the kitchen, a bowl, the toaster, a spoon, searching their edges. Ianto wants to ask her what she means but he can't speak. He feels afraid and does not know why. Why should he suddenly feel afraid of his mother?
"Where is it? It must be in here, it wasn't in my room, it must be here."
"Iris?" Ianto turns to see his father standing behind him in his pajamas. "What are you doing? It's 3 in the morning."
She stops and looks at him. She throws her arms in the air and points at him.
"You. Can't you turn it off? The buzzing, it's just... just unbearable. I mean just turn it off!"
He looks around the room then back at Ianto's mother, confused.
"There is no buzzing, Iris."
Ianto's father looks quickly down at him and pats Ianto comfortingly on the head.
"Yes there is!" She suddenly screams and Ianto jumps back slightly. "Just turn it off! It is bloody pounding into my skull and it's drilling and driving and turn it off, off, off!"
Eight years old.
Ianto plays in the floor in the other room. Well, he is supposed to be playing at least but he's not. He is sitting with his toys still in front of him, listening. His parents and a doctor are in the other room. They don't want him to hear, mustn't upset their son. It's adult talk but Ianto knows what they mean when they say that. Usually it means its something bad they want to shield him from. But he lives with her, how can they shield the bad times by not talking about it in a room with him?
"Schizophrenia.... drugs that can... it's not perfect.... come to see you...."
He can't hear everything they are saying but he can hear his mother crying and he gets the picture.
Ten years old.
Ianto's mother is sitting at the round dinning room table. It's covered with newspapers and magazines from all over the house. His mother has a pair of scissors in her hand and is cutting one of them. It's not the first one. There are scraps of newspaper all around her chair on the floor. Ianto notices that to her left is a lit candle in a large bowl. There is gray ash all around the base of the candle stick.
Ianto walks over slowly being sure to keep most of the table between them.
"Mother, what are you doing?"
She looks up and smiles warmly at him. "I am just doing some pruning dear, pruning the house, pruning the reading material, pruning it out."
She cuts a small square out of the newspaper in her hand and places it above the flame. The paper ignites, flutters up into the air, and falls back down as ash into the bowl. Ianto almost turns around and doesn't ask anymore but there is fire and scissors involved.
"Um... pruning what?"
Tilting her head to the side she sighs at him and waves her hand over the mess on the table.
"Well, Ianto dear, you can see right here. It has to be kept in check, obviously or they will come out and hurt us and we don't want that. I must protect my family from them."
Ianto inches a little closer to see what exactly she is cutting.
"The H's. The big, small, bold H's. H's mean hurt and harm and horrible and they must be removed or they will come out. They move too; the H's try to move and fool you but I'll get them all don't worry."
Ianto looks at all the paper around her chair, more stuffed into a trashcan in the corner, piles with holes in them under the table. He looks at her feverish cutting, notices a few cuts on her palms. He contemplates trying to take the scissors from her but doesn't much want his own hands getting cut in the process.
"Mother, how long have you been... uh... pruning?"
"I believe I started at 5:00 this morning but I may be wrong."
Thirteen years old.
"I won't tolerate this! You are both against me! You are trying to drive me out. You both hate me! You hate me! You're doing this because you hate me! You want me to die!"
She heaves a pot at Ianto's head and he has to dive behind the couch to avoid it.
"Iris, stop it!" His father yells trying to get close to her.
Ianto sits up gritting his teeth. She keeps saying they've moved all the furniture around, changed everything in the house. Ianto knows everything is the same and no matter what he says she doesn't listen, doesn't believe him. She just screams.
"Mam." Ianto stands up and inches slowly toward her. "It's all the same. Nothing has moved. We don't hate you."
She stands rigid looking back and forth between the two of them getting closer to her. Ianto can see her arms shaking and there are tear stains all over her face. Ianto reaches her first and slowly takes her hand.
"Mother, it's fine, it's-"
"NO!" She screams pulling her hand away and slapping his face, pushing him back so he trips and falls onto the carpet. "No! You're both lying! You've moved the rooms, taken my keys, you're kept that buzzing going all the time; you're going to force me out of the house onto the streets!"
Ianto's father grabs his mother's flailing arms, tries to hold her fast. Ianto's face stings where she hit him and his ankle hurts from twisting when he fell. She hasn't been this bad in awhile.
"Get off of me, you bastard!" She screams at his father.
"Iris, please stop. You didn't take your medicine, it's all right!"
"No! You're both going to smother me, to kill me, to drive me away. You hate me! You hate me!"
Ianto feels like he wants to run out of the house. His body feels poised for flight watching his parents struggle but he can't move, he can't even get up.
Fourteen Years old.
There are three men from the hospital. One is carrying his mother's two bags, the other two are carrying his mother pumped full of drugs which make her quiet and slack. His father is standing close beside them biting his thumb nail.
"Are you sure this is right? She'll get better there, won't she?" He asks the man with the bags.
Ianto stares at his feet. His teeth are so tight together it feels like they might just shatter in his mouth.
Fifteen Years old.
They are at the hospital visiting on a Sunday. Ianto's father talks about what's been going on at home. He talks about his sister and her husband's trip to Scotland. He talks and talks while Ianto is silent. He can't stop staring at his mother because she is pacing across the floor. Her hair is tied up tight on the top of her head and she is pacing back and forth. She is muttering.
"The nurses are going to.... they are, they are, I know it. They are going to kill... they are just as bad..."
Ianto's father keeps talking normally over his mother's muttering and Ianto just wants to stand up and scream. He wants to scream as loudly and as insanely as she always did. He wants to tell his father to stop it, to look at her, just look! He wants to scream.
Sixteen Years Old.
They are at the hospital. They are at the hospital for the last time.
His mother is hanging from the-
"Ianto?"
Ianto shook in surprise, his eyes snapping open. It was dark in the hub and he was lying on this back on he couch. When had he fallen asleep? Jack was sitting on the edge of the couch looking down at him, his hand touching the side of Ianto's face. He looked curious and the slightest bit alarmed.
Ianto cleared his throat and took Jack's hand from the side of his face.
"What is it?"
Jack smiled. "Your head was just thrashing around a little as you slept and I thought... well I didn't know."
Sitting up, Ianto smiled a little. The images of his past began to fade, falling back from his conscious thoughts, screams turning to whispers. He looked at Jack, focusing on the older man's face; Jack, alive and sitting beside him.
"I'm fine, just.... dreaming."
Jack stared back him with that searching look he often gave when he knew there was more to what someone was saying. Ianto looked back and offered no further explanation. Then Jack's face broke into a smile and he kissed Ianto quickly on the lips.
"You're beautiful when you sleep."
Ianto laughed. "What? Mouth open and snoring?"
"You don't snore," Jack replied kissing Ianto on the lips again.
"I know." Ianto grinned.
Jack kissed Ianto once more then stood up still holding Ianto's hand. "Come on."
Ianto smiled and stood up too. He let the memories fall back. No more screaming, no more cups all in a line on the front porch or holey newspapers or Providence Park. Gripping onto Jack's hand a little tighter Ianto followed Jack away from the memories.