It feels good, sitting here in the dark after the day she's had. Nobody around. Nobody's thoughts in her head. Nobody looking at her with accusing eyes, demanding an apology for what she may or may not have heard. No disappointed looks from Jack – he tried to hide them, but she could tell.
Just silence, and darkness. And a warm blanket.
And an insistent knock on the door.
She finds herself sighing heavily, wondering who could be bothered to come all this way most likely just to remind her to keep her mouth shut about some thing or other. Owen already had a go at her before she left the Hub, but she wouldn't put it past him to come back for round two. For some reason, the fact that someone may have been peeking into his mind seems to really have upset him. Dr Harper is obviously keeping secrets from the world. Not that she didn't know that already.
"Go away." Barely a whisper, because she doesn't mean it. But she does. Or maybe not. The knocking on the door continues. If anything, it gets more insistent. It's definitely not Gwen – in her own words, Gwen draws the line at five minutes of rapping her knuckles at anybody's door, end of the world or not. Eventually she gets up from the sofa, blanket still wrapped around her, and pads to the door, brushing the tears away. With a deep breath, she opens it, steeling herself for another pouring of accusations.
She has to blink a few times before she believes her eyes. Ianto is standing outside, in the soft rain that has been falling for the last few hours, the collar of his coat turned up against the cold, a bottle of wine in one hand and a pack of microwave popcorn in the other. As if he had known that the one thing she eats when she's distressed or down is popcorn.
She stands there for a moment, not sure what to do. Ianto is the last person she expected to see here tonight.
"I thought you may want some company." Ianto raises the bottle and gives her a smile. It takes her a minute to reconcile that smile with the sadness she heard inside Ianto earlier. She wonders just how much of the almost-cheerful Ianto they see every day is facade, and how much is genuine recovery after the events of a few weeks ago. Eventually she takes a step back and waves her arm, inviting him in. Ianto walks past her, puts the supplies down on the counter and takes off his coat, hanging it carefully on one of the stools. "It wasn't an easy day."
She shakes her head. It wasn't, and the worst of it is that she really doesn't know what hurts more: the way Mary used her, what Jack did to Mary, what she overheard from everybody's thoughts, the way they reacted to it, knowing there is a hint of truth in Mary's words about how the people she works with – the people she would risk her life for – may not really care about her. Or simply the fact that she is alone again.
"Glasses?" She hadn't even noticed that Ianto is already pottering around in the kitchen, carefully opening cabinet doors as if he were afraid of breaking something, or coming across something he shouldn't see. She points to one of the cupboards; Ianto reaches into it and brings out two wine glasses. The soft humming of the microwave in the background is quickly followed by the smell of popcorn filling the room. "Come on, go take a seat." Ianto smiles again. Is it a real smile, or just a mask hiding the pain? "I'll bring this over."
Still a bit shocked, she grabs the bottle and the glasses and heads back to the sitting room. It feels odd, having Ianto trying to comfort her. She puts everything down on the coffee table and curls on the sofa again. But in a way, it's what he's been trying to do since all hell broke loose earlier. It was Ianto who insisted on interviewing her, which she was grateful for - the last thing she would have wanted was Owen and his tactlessness. It was Ianto who offered to take her home – an offer she politely declined. He has enough in his mind to be looking after anybody else.
"Bowls?" Ianto's voice from the kitchen shakes her out of her thoughts. It takes her a moment to remember where they are. She doesn't spend that much time here, really, with Torchwood being a full time job – full time as in twenty-four-seven, not as in nine-to-five with a lunch breach. Most of the time she has dinner at the Hub, when they are trying to get to the bottom of something, or just grabs something on the way back home.
"Third cupboard from the wall, under the counter." Most of the nights she actually gets home at a sensible time, some hell or another breaks loose around three in the morning. Mercifully Jack seems to deal with most of them without waking everybody up, unless absolutely necessary. It's always a small mercy to work for someone that understands that staff need to sleep, at some point or another.
A few moments later, Ianto walks into the room, a huge bowl of popcorn in his hands. He reaches for the light switch. She shakes her head, not really wanting to explain that she feels more comfortable in the dark right now. He nods and keeps walking. There's a smile on his face when he puts the bowl on her lap and sits down on the other end of the sofa.
She smiles back, not even sure how she manages. Not even sure what to do, how to behave. Is she supposed to just ignore what she heard only a few hours ago? Is she supposed to mention it? The taste of buttery popcorn explodes in her mouth, and only then does she realise she's just grabbed a few from the bowl. Ianto hands her a glass of wine.
"Thanks."
She moves the bowl closer to him, and for a while they just sit there, in the dark, eating popcorn and sipping wine. The silence feels good. There is barely a sliver of moonlight falling through the window, enough to make out outlines but not much more. The bowl slowly empties. So does the bottle. Her body slowly fills with the pleasant warmth of that point of drinking when the world feels like a better place, despite everything.
"Why are you here, Ianto?" His smile widens, as if he were surprised she doesn't know. "Why are you doing this?" She watches as Ianto slowly – and noisily – munches popcorn. "The others.. Owen hates me for what I did. Jack is disappointed. Gwen would blame me if she didn't feel guilty about..." She bites her lips, catching herself just in time. Ianto raises an eyebrow, and something tells him he knows what Gwen and Owen have been up to.
"You don't deserve all of that." Ianto reaches for his glass and finds it empty. So is the bottle. "I should have brought another one." She swallows, wondering if Ianto will ever give anyone a straight answer when it comes to something other than work. Always so quiet, always so reserved, always pretending nothing is wrong. Even when his world was falling to pieces.
There is a pause, silence hanging heavy between them. She puts the bowl on the table and hides under the blanket again. She feels like crying, not sure entirely why. She wants to scream. She wants the world to stop hurting. She wants everything to go back to normal, to pretend things never happened. Mary could have killed them all...
And then it hits her. Ianto has been here before. In this same situation. Ianto put the whole world in danger for the person he loved. Ianto understands. She doesn't have to explain anything to him. She takes a deep breath, relief washing over her. What she did may have been stupid, and she may have unknowingly risked people's lives. But she's not the first one to do something like that. And she won't be the last. She was just... being human. Loving. Living. Making mistakes. All the same thing.
"You've always been kind to me, Tosh." There's a hint of something she can't quite put her finger on. "You are always kind to others." Regret, but not quite. "You deserve a bit of kindness yourself." The pain of an open wound that feels like it'll never heal. "You even brought me coffee after..." She smiles a little.
"I'm sure you thought it was awful." She closes her eyes. "Nothing like that wonderful coffee you brew for us every day." He can hear Ianto chuckle, and despite what she heard in his thoughts, it sounds genuine. "I'm sure you didn't even drink it."
"I did." She feels tempted to believe him. It's only when a strong arm sneaks around her and settles on her that she notices she's moved around and is now curled against Ianto, head leaning on his chest, his arm over her shoulders. She tries to get away, to apologise, to run and hide, but Ianto holds her in place. "Shhhh. It's okay." She takes a deep breath.
Thoughts spin in her head. She rests a hand on Ianto's chest, the soft fabric of the tshirt cool under her fingers. Tshirt? Ianto? But the suits... She finds herself smiling. Suit of armour. Just like Jack's uniform, just like Owen's snark and rudeness. It feels good not to be alone, despite the fact that when she left the Hub all she wanted was to hide from the world.
A hand settles on her, all long fingers and surprisingly smooth skin. All heat and life and presence. A soft kiss on her head, and she almost freezes. She's scarily comfortable right now. There's something about Ianto, something calming, something that makes her feel... better.
"I'd tell you you'll feel better, eventually." Ianto's voice is barely a whisper in the dark. "But you already know that." A sigh. "And it doesn't help one bit." Fingers lock with hers. Her head is spinning, and she doubts it's just the wine.
"Do you?" Ianto shuffles under her a bit. She pulls the blanket around so it will cover him as well – it's turned into quite a chilly night. "Feel better, after...?" She can't bring herself to mention Lisa's name.
"Yes." A pause. "No." Another pause. "Some days." Ianto grabs her hand again, and for a moment she's not sure who's holding on to whom right now. "It comes and goes." He can feel Ianto swallow, as if trying to get rid of a knot in his throat. "I miss her. The real Lisa. Not the shadow she was when..."
She brings a finger to Ianto's lips, and he stops talking. The last thing she wants is to open wounds that may just be starting to heal. He places a kiss on her fingertips, making her shiver. She doesn't want to think about why.
"Jack doesn't exactly make it easier to sort all of this out." She raises an eyebrow, not sure what Ianto is referring to. "Not many people invite you to share their bed barely days after they've pointed a gun at you, but, then again, not many people are Jack Harkness." Jack? Jack and Ianto? Now there's a surprise. She can't help but almost giggle. "What?"
"Nothing." Ianto squeezes her hand. "I was just thinking it's funny how, pendant and all, there are still things I didn't find out." Another kiss on her head. "Maybe Owen would feel better if he knew that."
"I doubt anything short of a completely personality rewrite would make Owen feel better." A bit harsh, but not too far away from the truth, probably. Owen's too bitter, too angry. It wouldn't be easy to erase that. It wouldn't really be Owen if that changed.
"So, you and Jack?" It feels strange to be doing this. Cuddling up with Ianto. Slightly tipsy. Gossiping. Ianto lets out something that could be interpreted as a yes. "Sharing a bed?" Why on Earth is she asking? She knows better than to pry like this into other people's personal lives.
But that's exactly what she's been doing for the last two days. Prying. Spying. Not even giving them the option to tell her to stop asking. She shakes her head, knowing it'll be a long time before she can forgive herself for it.
"It's complicated, if you ask me." Ianto runs a hand through her hair, and she swallows. "Or not, if you ask him." Ianto snorts again. "It almost feels like, despite everything we've done, and said, and not done, and not said, we always end up reaching to each other."
She props herself on her elbow, looking up at Ianto, and there's another long moment of silence. A car drives through, casting moving lights into the room. She can see Ianto's smile, sad and hopeful at the same time, and she recognises it as the same one she sees in the mirror quite often. Maybe today Owen will notice. Maybe today someone will say 'thanks, Tosh, you have done a great job'. Maybe today she'll stop feeling like she's borrowing someone else's life. Maybe today...
She runs a finger along Ianto's jawline, shutting down any kind of rational thought about what she's doing and about to do. Ianto leans into the touch, that smile of his losing a bit of sadness for a second. He leans down, closer but not close enough. It's awkward in more ways than she can list. There's a spark of recognition, of familiarity, of something that shouldn't be happening but is, when they kiss. Soft and bitter-sweet and she's almost crying and doesn't even know why.
"You deserve so much, Tosh." Barely a whisper when they break for air. "So much more than what Torchwood can give you..." She swallows, tears rolling down her cheeks and she doesn't care, she's not ashamed of them. It hurts, it bloody hurts and she wishes it didn't, but sometimes the pain is the only thing that reminds her she is alive.
"We all do." She kisses him again. This time Ianto doesn't hold back. There's a hint of bite, a hint of wanting more and being afraid to ask. Fingertips trace her cheeks, drying away the tears. She can't shake the feeling that Ianto cares too much, that this job will end up eating at him until he can't bear it anymore.
She just hopes the morning won't be full of regrets.
She wakes up in bed, hiding under the duvet, and it takes her a minute to remember how she got there last night. The smell of coffee floats in the room, strong, bold and just the right side of bitter. She reaches to the other side of the bed and finds it empty. Not that she can blame Ianto for disappearing before she woke up.
"Rise and shine!" She looks out from under the duvet to find Ianto dressed in one of his immaculate suits, holding two mugs of coffee in his hands. "Hope you don't mind." She grabs one of the mugs and takes a sip. Mind? Starting the day with coffee like this?
"This is most definitely not my coffee." Ianto smiles, that smile that makes his look so much older than he really is. As if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he probably did, for quite a long time, while Lisa – what pretended to be Lisa – was still alive. "Where did it come from?
"I woke up early. Went home, changed, brought coffee." He gives her a guilty look. "I left your keys back on the side table, where I found them."
"I'll swap you keys for coffee like this any day." There's a moment of silence, nothing like the one they shared last night. As if the morning had brought back the ugliness of the world, the demands of Torchwood, and the conventions of society.
"I'll keep that in mind." He leans down and leaves a kiss on the top of her head, before heading for the door.
"Ianto!" He turns around and looks at her, all prim and proper in his three-piece, tie neatly in place. There's something she wants to say, but she can't find the words. "I'm glad you came."
"Any time you need a friend."
She listens as he walks away, steps echoing across the house. Listens as the door is closed carefully, rather than slammed as she does every morning.
Only when the silence settles does she realise the world does indeed look a little bit brighter this morning.