Chapter 2 - Rabbit Heart and Heartbreak Warfare

...

a/n So, here's the deal: This is going to be a bit discombobulated. Namely, I'm just going by what songs I want, and when that seems to work throughout the evening. Also, if anyone has a request for a song, go ahead and let me know.

...

It was Tosh who had seen the fliers up on the wall. "Ianto Jones and the Faithful Crows - Weekly Performance on Sundays Past 7 p.m. - Come Early, Seats Limited". To say the techie was surprised would be an understatement. In fact, she wouldn't have believed it was their Ianto, except there was a picture on the paper, and it was clearly of Torchwood 3's Teaboy.

Taking one of the papers, she had folded it up, an idea forming slowly. When she had arrived at the hub, she carefully watched and waited until Ianto had headed down into the Archives for a few hours, and Jack was busy doing something in his office. Then she'd slowly moved from person to person, showing each of those remaining the flier and suggesting they go see the performance.

Owen had been all for confronting Ianto about it, right then and there. And John had been on the same page, enjoying every opportunity he was given to tease "Eye-Candy". (He especially had a fondness for this, since it riled Jack so much.)

But the women had argued and won that it could be like a covert mission - to see if they could sneak in and watch, without getting caught in turn. When Owen had scoffed at that, mentioning that it shouldn't be all that hard to sneak around under Ianto's nose, it was Martha who had jumped in and asked how blind the other doctor was that he couldn't see how, time and again, Ianto was shown to know far more than they expected. Trying to pull anything over on their suited companion would be a feat, in and of itself.

In the end, it was agreed that they wouldn't say anything to Yan (or Jack for that matter, since he wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping the other man as soon as he heard, thus giving away the game).

...

Sunday night finally came around, and the universe smiled on them, the Rift having been quiet all day. Gwen made a quick run home to grab Rhys, while the others secretly kept their eyes on Ianto. When he finally slipped out the door, early, at 6:00 p.m., they all shared a knowing look, and then finished up, gathering on the Plas before heading over to the pub.

They'd assumed the silly "seats limited" bit was just a sales pitch. Then they had arrived, and realized the place was packed nearly to capacity. And from the way most of those they scooted and shoved past were talking, Ianto and his band were the draw.

It was only a few minutes after they'd crammed into a booth, close enough to see the stage but also far enough that they wouldn't be seen in turn, that whistles and cheers erupted all around them. Peering toward the front, they saw five men climb onto the stage, setting up instruments and adjusting microphone stands and amp levels. The one who pulled up a stool right at the front had a guitar in hand, strap strung over his shoulder. And their mouths all dropped.

This was not the Ianto they were used to, all prim and proper, sharply creased suits, polite to a fault and blending seamlessly into the background. Now he wore a button-up t-shirt, opened low enough in the front to give a peak of chest hair and smooth skin. Around his throat was a pooka shell necklace, and he wore leather band on one wrist. His jeans were dark and fitted, and the cuffs fell over a pair of black sneakers. His hair was even a bit of a sexy mess, as though he had only just rolled out of bed.

It was reminiscent of how he had been dressed for the fateful trip to the Brecon Beacons countryside. The largest difference was simply that, at the time, seeing him like that was awkward and uncomfortable ("like a hooker in a nun's outfit" Owen had angrily muttered when they'd been setting up camp). Now, the clothes made sense, they seemed comfortable and familiar, and the team members were reminded of the truth - that Ianto was the youngest member of Torchwood 3, for all he subtly kept the Hub running.

"Hullo, everyone. I'm Ianto and these are the Faithful Crows. And in response to someone's question last week, no, I did not come up with the name. These idiots backing me up insisted on me being the headliner. Dunno why, but I couldn't argue, they have to put up with me critiquing their performances.

"Now, let's get started, shall we?"

...

Almost an hour after they had arrived, there was a short pause as the band took a quick break. When they got reseated, Yan smiled out at the audience.

"Alright, folks, it's time for something we do every week. You may have noticed that, with every drink you bought, you also got a slip of paper. For those who are new, you write down the title or a few prominent lyrics of a song that you don't think I, or the members of the band, might know. By now, Gary should have collected all of those and stuffed them into that giant beer tankard he bought in Germany a few years back, and I'll be pulling out five. If none of us up here know the song well enough to perform it, we'll pay for your next round of drinks.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

The owner of the pub came up to the stage and held out the enormous container stuffed full of papers. Ianto leaned forward and pulled out five, then opened the first and let out a laugh.

Speaking into the mike again, he winked at the audience. "Nice try-" He checked the paper again. "Jacob, whoever you may be. Unfortunately for you, Florence and the Machine are my niece's new favorite thing. I think I'm the only one who knows any of their songs though." He turned back to the band, and they all shook their heads that they didn't have a clue what or who he was talking about. A sigh, and the Welshman turned back to the front. "It seems you all get the treat of hearing an acoustic cover of Florence and the Machine's song Rabbit Heart, in a way you've never heard before and most likely never will again."

A deep breath in, and then those skilled fingers started across the strings again.

"The looking glass, so shiny and new. How quickly the glamor fades. I start spinning, slipping out of time. Was that the wrong pill to take?"

None of the team ever really listened to popular music - there just wasn't time. Because of this, there was not one of them familiar with the song.

They'd no idea what the original sounded like, but Ianto's cover was haunting.

"You made a deal and now it seems you have to offer up. But will it ever be enough? Raise it up, raise it up! It's not enough. Raise it up, raise it up."

It was the chorus that had them all unconsciously moving closer to one another, searching for comforting warmth to combat the chills down their spines.

"Here I am, a rabbit-hearted child, frozen in the lights. It seems I've made the final sacrifice. We raise it up, this offering. We raise it up.

"This is a gift that comes with a price. Who is the lamb, and who is the knife? Midas is king, and he holds me so tight and turns me to gold in the sunlight."

Toshiko's mind was always twelve steps ahead and running. But, for once, she found herself stuck on a single image. It was a picture she had seen in a children's book, many years ago, of the mythical King Midas hugging his daughter and unknowingly causing her to change from a human into a priceless statue. Now, overlaid on that was a new picture: The moment after Abbadon, when Jack had finally woken, come out and grabbed Ianto, giving him a hard kiss.

"I look around but I can't find you. Raise it up! If only I could see your face. Raise it up! I start rushing towards the skyline. Raise it up! I wish that I could just be brave."

Oh, but he was brave! The next memory to surface was Ianto, tied up, beaten, threatened, rushing headlong to ram into a cannibal and yelling for Tosh to run. She had barely caught a glimpse of the terror on the Welshman's face. Yet, despite that fear, he had done everything he could to help her escape - all the while knowing that that would make his captors ever angrier.

"I must become a lion-hearted child, ready for a fight - before I make the final sacrifice. We raise it up, this offering. We raise it up.

"This is a gift, it comes with a price. Who is the lamb, and who is the knife? Midas is king, and he holds me so tight and turns me to gold in the sunlight.

"And in the spring I shed me skin, and it blows away with the changing wind. The waters turn from blue to red, as towards the sky I offer it."

How many times had Ianto jumped in front of a team member or civilian to take a blow? How often did he go home injured, downplaying the pain, convincing them all that he was fine? How was it that, every day, he could be at the Hub before anyone, cleaning up and making coffee, being sweet and kind, sharp and witty, polite and humble, flirtatious and intriguing? He became whatever they needed.

Did any of them really know Ianto Jones? Yes. The core of who he was didn't change. The overpowering, almost blind love he held for those he cared about was always there. It was what convinced him a half-converted Lisa could be saved, what drove him back to Torchwood to protect her even after Canary Whaf, and what allowed him to forgive Jack for treating him like background, then an "easy shag".

"This is a gift, it comes with a price. Who is the lamb, and who is the knife? Midas is king, and he holds me so tight and turns me to gold in the sunlight."

Love was how Ianto remembered Tosh preferred hot chocolate with cinnamon to coffee on her bad days. Love was why Ianto would snap back when Owen acted combative and needed a fight. Love was when Ianto would leave early one evening every other week to go pub-hopping with Rhys and argue about football. Love was how Ianto remembered Gwen's favorite flowers on her birthday. Love was the kindness Ianto always showed to Janet, and why Myfanwy would see Ianto coming to feed her and treat him like a favored hatchling. Love was when he smiled welcomingly at Martha and made sure her favorite biscuits were always available. Love was even how he greeted John each morning with a sharp murmur of, "You're still here?" and a wink.

"This is a gift, it comes with a price. Who is the lamb, and who is the knife? Midas is king, and he holds me so tight and turns me to gold in the sunlight. This is a gift."

Despite the applause and whoops at the song's end, the techie couldn't force her mind away from the returning images, now meshed together.

It was Jack, face bright, a crown on his head and kissing Ianto, who was changing, a golden color extending over his skin and clothes as he became a lovely, but lifeless, statue.

...

With the next slip of paper Ianto unfolded, he let out a sigh that was both fond and annoyed. "Natasha," he started, looking straight at a sexy, blonde, college-age woman in a dark red halter dress who sat right in front of the stage. "You know we know this one. We played it two weeks ago."

The girl simply grinned brilliantly. "Well, I wanna hear it again. So, how 'bout you prove you still remember it," she challenged.

A huff, then a smile were sent her way. "You know, you're never to win a round if you keep putting down songs you've already heard us perform."

She pouted, then exclaimed, "Well, if you would up the stakes, like I suggested, I'd try for real!"

"We've been over this Natasha - Neither of our boyfriends would be pleased with you and I having a shag."

The team finally noticed the muscular brunet at Natasha's side when he slung an arm over her shoulders and growled, "Too right." then the angry glare changed abruptly into a teasing wink. "Although, I wouldn't say no to you and Nat if I could get in on the action as well, mate."

Ianto rolled his eyes, and mockingly whined, "Gareth, why can't we toss them out?"

The pub owner didn't even turn around when he yelled back, "Best customs, Yan! Come for you, stay for the booze."

With a laugh, the Welshman turned back to the mike. "Alright then. In that case, the next song's dedicated to Natasha and Roy, the nicest couple of stalkers I've ever dealt with."

The first few chords seemed to echo through the air, and the song was strangely hopeful, though the words seemed more of a surrender.

"Lightning strikes inside my chest to keep me up at night. Dream of ways to make you understand my pain."

Owen hated himself in that moment. If anyone should understand Ianto - understand having the person you planned to spend the rest of your life with die, while you tried desperately and uselessly to save them, or having your lover abandon you because there was something or someone else they wanted more - it should be Owen.

Only, instead of trying to help Ianto, who really seemed very young right now, but whose eyes and voice were far too old, he had beaten down on him. The Teaboy was an easy person to throw harsh words at, and when he fought back, it was more about the fight itself, rather than cutting down his opponent. Owen knew that, should Yan ever turn the argument against Owen, in truth, the doctor would end up a furious, bawling mess without a thing to say in his own defense.

And that had never happened. For all the times Owen said something that cause Ianto to flinch, never once had the boy fired back in equal measure.

"Clouds of sulfur in the air, bombs are falling everywhere. It's heartbreak warfare. Once you want it to being, no one really ever wins in heartbreak warfare."

That was reality - there was no winner when you fought with shards of your own pain. They'd both been losing in love for so long, and instead of teaming up and bolstering one another, Owen had continually struck out at the man who could be his greatest ally.

"If you want more love, why don't you say so? If you want more love, why don't you say so?"

Because he was embarrassed and ashamed. He didn't need love, only quick shags here and there. Just a chance to get off.

But even more, Owen couldn't let himself fall in love again. That way lay only pain. It hurt too much to be worth it. Or, at least, that's what he had convinced himself - that when you made yourself that vulnerable, it was all too easy to be wounded.

"Drop his name. Push it in and twist the knife again. Watch my face as I pretend to feel no pain.

"Clouds of sulfur in the air, bombs are falling everywhere. It's heartbreak warfare. Once you want it to begin, no one really ever wins in heartbreak warfare.

"If you want more love, why don't you say so? If you want more love, why don't you say so? Just say so."

The guitar solo that followed should have just been noise. Instead, it was pain and aches and broken hopes and wishful dreams all vibrating in the notes.

"How come the only way to know how high you get me is to see how far I fall?"

When it came to the Teaboy, Owen pushed and pushed and pushed, trying to bring him down, trying to cause him doubt and fear, trying to make him feel as unloved and worthless as Owen. Was that really the only way he knew how to cope? By working to make those around him as miserable as he was?

"God only knows how much I'd love you if you let me, but I can't break through it all. It's a heartbreak.

"I don't care if we don't sleep at all tonight, let's just fix this whole thing now. I swear to God we're gonna get it right if you lay your weapon down. Red wine and ambient, you're talking shit again. It's heartbreak warfare. Good to know it's all a game. Disappointment has a name - it's heartbreak warfare."

This song had not been for Owen, or aimed at him in any way. That didn't mean he wouldn't take the message to heart. It would be hard, he knew that, to catch himself. To watch his tongue, and keep the snark from being hurtful. But Owen would try. Because, after all, if he was the best person to understand Ianto, that meant the same was true the other way round. And to have someone to talk to, someone who understood… To have a friend again…

Natasha and Roy, along with the rest of the pub, were hooting and laughing and clapping.

Owen sat quietly, wrapped in his thoughts, and made the decision.

A friend.

It would be worth it.

.

…

.

a/n2 This one was a bit longer 'cause fanfiction(dot)net was acting up, so we'll see if document upload manager is working yet. We'll see.