So... Thank you to deetatarant and Audeamus for their kind reviews. As promised this is the second chapter and I still own nothing but Webb and the plot.
Hope you enjoy (if you do... review?)
Chapter Two
The waiter was efficient, clearing Ianto's plate and cutlery without disturbing the flow of conversation; nothing more than pebble in the stream. A few moments later he returned, a steaming white dish held in cloth covered hands. It didn't really look like much, a faintly mauve coloured creamy rice dish, that looked almost dirty when compared to the crisp white of the china and the vibrant green of the sprig of rosemary garnish; but the aroma wafting up with the heat was divine. Ianto couldn't help but lean in and take a deep lungful of the scent, warm and woodsy.
"It smells wonderful," Webb sighed.
Looking up from his position over his bowl, Ianto caught the hungry gleam in Webb's eyes. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be to want to taste food that smelled so beautiful, but knowing the taste was probably overwhelming. Hesitantly, guiltily, Ianto picked up his fork and gently scooped up some of the delicate dish.
The flavour was exquisite. It was deceptive, no harsh flavours or tang smacking the taste-buds. Instead it was gentle and soft. Thick and slightly creamy, the risotto rested comfortably on his tongue; teasing his taste buds with full earthy tones and flavours and something that tasted almost wild. Untamed. Rich and cloying it reminded him of Jack; exotic but so very familiar and safe.
But it wasn't strong. There was no harsh salt or rich garlic and pepper to assail the taste-buds.
Hesitantly he scooped up another forkful, cupping his palm under it, he leaned across the table and offered it to the vampire.
"It's not strong." He smiled. "And besides, you did order it."
Webb laughed. "That I did." He looked at Ianto, the heart-rending wary, lonely, look in his eyes, and the proffered fork. "Well, how can refuse such an offer?" He smirked and then swooped down on the fork.
Ianto watched anxiously as the vampire rolled the food round his mouth, eyes closed and a concentrated frown on his face. A blissful expression suddenly rose up, like sun coming out from behind the clouds, and Webb's eyes fluttered open.
"Truly divine." He grinned wolfishly at Ianto, "I have wonderful taste."
Ianto raised an eyebrow, but couldn't help the small twitch of a smile on his lips. He pushed the dish into the centre of the table, knocking the candle off to the side. "Please, help yourself."
Webb rolled his eyes, "Oh, but this is going straight to my hips."
Ianto shook his head, "Are all immortals vain?"
"Only the good looking ones."
Mock glaring, Ianto jabbed a fork in Webb's direction. "Eat."
Between them, they polished off the risotto much faster than Ianto had managed the bruschetta. Ianto was glad of the help with the meal. The dish wasn't overly large but it was rich and filling, resting warm and heavy in his belly. The perfect meal for a cold autumn night, and it left him feeling sated and happy. In fact, for the first time in months, Ianto felt perfectly content.
And he'd found it in talking to a stranger (albeit a dangerous one) on a lonely night.
Sometimes they all needed to talk to someone outside of Torchwood. Ianto had never tried it but suddenly he could understand why Gwen had turned to Owen (as strange as it had been at the time) and Suzie sought out Pilgrim. The freedom that came from just talking, and not all of it about aliens or tears in Time and Space was awesome. Ianto hadn't spoken really to anyone outside of Torchwood for nearly four years. He'd left university and his life and walked straight into the maelstrom of Torchwood. And only now was he realising what he had lost.
However, one thing had been ticking at the back of his mind for some time now, filtering its way through like his morning coffee did in the percolator. Finally, he found a way to voice it.
"You aren't gods though. How do you choose who lives and who dies? Who walks away and who becomes a vampire?"
"An excellent question my young friend." Webb stretched and leaned back into his seat, leaving his fork balanced on the edge of the dish. "You are correct, we are no gods. Nor do we pretend to be. We are governed by laws and rules just like any other living thing. Those we kill or leave to live, well we can tell – if it's their time. If the line of their life isn't at an end, we have no right, no power to sever it. If it is, then we are simply nature's heralds."
"That's it? It's up to Fate?" Ianto asked, incredulously.
"I wouldn't call it Fate, but if it makes the idea more palatable for you then by all means."
Wide eyed, Ianto shook his head. "And what about those you turn?"
"Ah, well that is different. You see, not everyone has what it takes to be a vampire."
"How so?"
The vampire leaned forwards, arms crossed and resting on the table, and Ianto unconsciously mirrored his actions.
"Quite simply, as all human beings are physically the same, allowing for some margin of error here and there, the real differences, the important ones lie up here." He tapped his forehead with a long finger.
"The brain?"
"No, the mind." Webb took a sip of water. "The mind is a powerful tool Ianto. It can be our best friend or worst enemy. You see it all the time in those suffering from some mental affliction. Physically they are fine, but the mind is sick and it inflicts its pestilence upon their entire existence. It doesn't matter what you say or do, once the mind warps, it takes more than pretty words and rest to coax it back."
"So I'm aware." He knew all to well how sick the mind could become.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to bring up bad memories. You loved her dearly."
"She was my mother and she is not relevant to this conversation."
Webb raised an eyebrow and inclined his head, "As you wish."
There was an awkward silence, almost as heavy and oppressive as the one that had begun their evening. For a few moments, neither moved nor spoke. Ianto lost to the past and the memories of his mother in that place. Webb, staring idly at the flame of the candle, almost burned out now, but the light was still strong. In his hand, he nursed his water as if it were the finest cognac.
"You were saying?" Ianto asked, voice slightly choked, but being forced into normal neutrality.
"Ah, yes. Well, really, it all boils down to the simply premise that some minds are capable of withstanding the pressure of time. They are strong, they thrive in gathering information. They can exist alone. They don't need constant companionship to ease the way."
"Oh… Jack…" Ianto's voice was soft, barely audible, and so very mournful. He'd never thought, never imagined that immortality would damage his lover. Jack was a literal 'Jack-in-the-Box", bouncing back from anything. The harder he was hit, like a yo-yo being thrown to the full extent of its cord, the longer it took to come back. But he always came back.
But what if, every time he went away, disappeared for those agonising few seconds, he left a little piece behind? What if every time someone he loved was lost, or left, what if that stole another little piece of Jack? What if eventually, thousands of years in the future there was nothing left of the man Ianto knew but skin and bone and flesh and an eternally beating heart. All that mind, that wonderful character and spirit gone, left behind in the dark that Jack and Suzie claimed as all there was after death.
Softly, almost timidly, Webb's concerned voice, dulcet and sweet, broke through Ianto's melancholy. "Jack?"
"My… well, I suppose, the easiest way to describe him would be my boss."
The vampire narrowed his eyes at Ianto. He could obviously tell that there was more to the relationship than merely that of employer/employee. It was there in the hesitance and heartbreak that shadowed his words. "He is more to you than that."
Ianto winced. He didn't want to talk about Jack: because everything in his life eventually came back to Jack screwing Harkness. His job, his home, his friends; all of them were tainted by Jack. The only thing that was sacrosanct from the time-travelling captain was his parents; and only then because they were dead. "Yes… no… It's complicated," he hedged.
"I have time."
Ianto growled, quietly, but still well within the hearing of the vampire, who chuckled, enjoying the rare show of passion from his reticent companion. Ianto shot him a black look, which merely caused Webb to smile. Glaring harder, Ianto tried, by the weight of his stare alone, to dissuade the other man from continuing with his line of questioning. Webb simply met the look with a passive one of his own. Equal weights, but for Ianto it was like pushing against quicksand. With a huff of air and slump of shoulders, Ianto rolled his eyes and admitted defeat.
"So does he," he sighed. Reaching over the table he grasped his wine glass and took a deep swig. If he was going to delve into the quagmire of his so-called relationship with Jack he was going to do so with some Dutch courage behind him. "That's the problem. He's immortal."
Webb's eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath the shaggy fronds of his fringe. Leaning forward he hissed, "A vampire?"
Ianto shook his head, small smug smile at Webb's show of character. He'd begun to think of the vampire as nothing more than a placid doll, merely going through the motions and not experiencing anything. "No. He can't die. Something happened and no matter what you do, Jack doesn't stay dead. You could shoot him, stab him, crush him, push him, hang, drown, smother or starve him and he just keeps coming back." As Ianto recounted the ways in which he knew, from the Archives, Jack had died, he found his tone turning bitter and mocking.
He didn't want to feel like that about Jack.
"Why is this a problem?" Webb's fine face was crumpled into a confused frown and Ianto was suddenly struck by the fact that the man must have been only his age, maybe Owen's at a push, when he was killed.
"It's not; not for me. It's comforting, knowing that he can't be taken from me too. Well, not like that at least."
He'd lost so many: his grandparents, Mam then Tad following her a few years later, then Lisa and all that he'd known at Torchwood One. All he had left was Torchwood Three and Ianto hated the knowledge that one day, tomorrow perhaps, Gwen, Owen and Tosh would be taken from him too. Stolen in the night by gunshot, Weevil or something else, something from beyond, and he'd never see them again. Jack was a safety blanket in that world, one he could hold until it was time for him to let go.
"Death hasn't been kind to you." Webb observed; a measure of empathy, not pity, in his words.
"Is death ever kind?" Ianto questioned, honestly surprised that Death could ever be considered magnanimous.
"It can be. For some it's a release."
Ianto disagreed. "Not for those left behind."
"Ah, but what about those whom death frees? The wives of dangerous men? The children of abusive parents? The subjects of a tyrant? I am sure they would disagree with you."
"Perhaps." Ianto took another draught of his wine.
Webb waved his hands and grinned. "But we are not here to argue the philosophies of death and man. We are here to discuss other things. Jack for one."
"Yes." Ianto nodded. "From what you say, all I can imagine is that Jack is one of those who aren't meant for immortality. He was meant to live and die. He wasn't built to last, and ironically, it's killing him."
"I imagine it would," Webb commented with a sorrowful calm. "That is the reason why a man unsuited to immortality is never offered it. They crumble to dust or madness and they would take us with them."
"But people know of vampires already."
"They know of aliens too. It doesn't mean that they believe." Webb pointed out with a wry smile, idly unfolding the napkin in the place setting before him
"Some do," Ianto said, Eugene Jones and his Eye immediately springing to mind.
"True." He nodded, eyes focused on the napkin he was folding. "And are they welcomed in society?"
Point. No, people like Eugene were not welcomed. They were tolerated at best. At worst they were mocked and persecuted and pushed so far they ran out in front of cars.
Webb looked up suddenly, napkin forgotten and speared Ianto with his expression. Ianto knew, purely from the feverish light in Webb's eyes and his zealous visage, that what he was about to hear was some kind of universal truth. A secret known only to those who had the time to observe it come to pass.
"Most humans are meant simply to be bright sparks illuminating the paths of time. Torches that light the way to Immortality, that flame and burn so fiercely before fading away. Some are lucky, burning so fast and so potent that they echo through time, their light reaching into the farthest and blackest points. Remembered for their brilliance or their violence they carry on, like light from the furthest star, reaching out to humans long after they are gone." Webb's voice was soft and sibilant, so aged. Wise. And it carried Ianto away.
"But, if you take a mind not meant for the paths of time, and trap it in an immortal shell, denying it the respite of death, the mind withers faster than the body. And all you are left with is a body housing a sick and twisted mind."
Ianto felt sick. Is that what Jack would become? After eternities on earth and wherever else he ended up, would he be nothing more than a shell of madness?
"Humans, normal ones, are social creatures," Webb's voice turned cold. Harsh, desperate even. "They thrive in packs or pairs, no matter how much they claim to enjoy their space, they crave the companionship and comfort that another of their kind offers. And that isn't how immortality works. Immortality is a journey you take alone."
"But then… surely Jack would crave love and companionship? If human minds aren't meant to be alone, why does he push me away?" Ianto all but begged the being across from him. Desperate for some words that would comfort and enlighten him.
"Because," the vampire intoned softly, sweetly, "Along with the ability to survive alone, comes the ability to love and let go. Humans cling equally to the grief love brings as well as the euphoria. They see both sides. Vampires, we naturally filter out the bad after a time." He smiled and shook his head, disturbing the morose air that had settled over them. "We aren't heartless, just built to survive."
Ianto could understand that. After Lisa, immediately after her death, when the weight of Torchwood One fell on him like stone and crushed him under its grief, Ianto thought he'd never survive. That he'd never breathe again. Not two months later though, the pain had dulled and when he thought of Lisa all he had seen were brilliant smiles, Sunday morning newspapers in bed and endless re-runs of Friends. He'd almost forgotten the metal shell she became.
"I imagine your friend doesn't allow anyone close because he has to lose them. And once they are gone, all he has is the grief. I can't imagine how difficult that must be."
Neither could Ianto.
"He lied then." Ianto's voice was quiet, and not a little hurt. He stirred his coffee, twice clockwise, once anticlockwise, then back to the clockwise.
"Excuse me?"
Webb too had a cup of coffee, but his was just for the aroma, not the taste. Ianto had ordered it, citing the vampire's admission of loving the smell. He reasoned that he loved the taste and was quite capable of drinking more than one cup before heading into the night.
"Oh, sorry," the young human replied, as if just realising that he'd spoken out loud. "I was just thinking about what you said. About love and immortality."
"Yes?"
"You were being truthful I take it." Ianto tapped his spoon on the rim of the cup before laying it on his saucer.
"I have no reason to lie to you. Tonight, all your questions I will answer to the best of my ability. It is the only way this will work."
Ianto sighed, "Then, as far as I can tell, Jack must have lied to me."
"How so?"
"You have to understand, Jack's not from here."
"He's not Welsh?"
Ianto laughed, long and deep. "Most definitely not! I don't even think he can say Cymru without getting it wrong, and he's been here for over a century!"
"Appalling."
"I quite agree."
"Well, I haven't been here quite as long, only a few years, but I at least I can say noswaithdda and hwyl. And I believe I know what Hen WladfyNhadauand dwi'ndygarudi and cariad mean."
The phrases made Ianto smile. "I think that you have the important ones down then. And it's more than Jack."
"So, he was the American then? The one talking to you before you left?"
Ianto nodded, a little unnerved that Webb had been following him for so long. "He's not from America though; I don't even think he's from Earth to be honest."
"An alien?"
"Not according to him. He claims he's human, but he's from another time."
"The future I imagine."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well," Webb leaned back into his chair. His posture was verging on a slouch, but much more refined and careless and nowhere near as vulgar. "As a creature from a different time myself, I can only imagine that he could fit in well if he were moving backwards rather than forwards. Its easy if you move as time does, but being from another time and ending up here, well, I can only imagine that being from the future would allow you to cope better than being from the past."
Ianto nodded, accepting the flawless logic of Webb's argument. "Jack's from the 51st century, although, I don't know where and I don't even have a real when. Just the 51st century, a hundred years and unknown miles."
"I see. So, why did he lie?"
"Once, not long after we had started our – thing – we, well the team at least, were discussing love and sex and it was a quiet day and Gwen, she's the ex-police woman."
"I remember."
"Sorry."
"No, you're being considerate."
"Thank you. Anyway, Gwen was questioning how Jack and Owen could be so casual about sex. How they could divorce themselves from the emotion of it. I agreed with her to be honest, but that's beside the point. Owen was using medicine to support his argument, talking about the physiological benefits of sex. Jack though, Jack was different."
"He hurt you." Webb could hear the pain in Ianto's voice. Pain he was desperately trying to hide.
"I let him. I knew, even before I came to Cardiff, that Jack had a reputation but I still let him in." Ianto was furious, at himself, at Jack, but mostly at himself. His words weren't his usual soft spoken and sexy Welsh vowels. They were harsh and angry and he was practically spitting. "He claims that where he's from, that distant 51st century, that sex and love are different to how they are now. That they mean less. That you can love more than one person at a time, sleep with more than one person at a time, that monogamy and jealousy are non-existent or at least very rare and that everyone is ok with it."
"And you don't believe it?"
Ianto shook his head, shoulders slumped in despair. He could feel tears misting in his eyes and scrubbed his face. "I don't know. I hope… I hope it's not true because despite what Jack says, it must be a very lonely way to be. Knowing that you aren't loved above all others by someone."
"And now you wonder whether it's the immortality and loneliness that has influenced your friend."
"Wouldn't you? Surely it's easier to admit that monogamy isn't practised where you come from than that you are afraid to love because you will be left behind."
"Maybe your friend is telling the truth."
Ianto smirked. "Devil's advocate? Isn't that a little clichéd for a vampire?"
Webb smiled. "Perhaps. But that doesn't change my point. Perhaps Jack is telling the truth."
"I can't believe that." Ianto was forceful, his head was shaking and his jaw set.
"Why not?"
"It simply isn't logical."
"How so." Webb was implacably calm. It reminded him of Tosh, logical and straightforward, even in a crisis.
Ianto paused and stared into the dark depths of his coffee. When he spoke, it was as if he was following his train of thought, feeling his way along, word by word, thought by thought. "Humans, modern man at least, have only been around for what a hundred thousand years? Yet in many ways, our primitive emotions are still very much intact. We fear the dark and wild animals because at one point in our history they were deadly to us. Wolves haven't been in Britain for hundreds of years and yet the tale of Little Red Riding Hood can still scare a child witless. We haven't evolved mentally for millennia. We're not afraid of cars or guns or aeroplanes so much as we are of heights and pain and small spaces. And I can't believe, the genetic memory that makes love and monogamy so precious now, will have changed in three thousand years. Can you?"
Webb seemed to weigh his thoughts carefully. "You are right. I have seen many ages of man pass during my life time and essentially, humans have changed very little. Your fears and emotions are the same as they were when I was human. I remember the rage of jealousy all too well," his smile was fond, "but your reasoning has two flaws as far as I can see."
"Really."
"I'm afraid so."
Webb reached for his coffee and inhaled deeply, drinking in the rich, full scent. Ianto watched him, eyes narrowing and his mouth tightening as he realised that the vampire wasn't about to extrapolate on his thought.
"Are you going to enlighten me?"
"I wouldn't want to shatter your righteous indignation."
Ianto wanted to growl, or maybe throw something, at the lofty expression on Webb's face. Instead he decided to put him straight. Admit what he was feeling and hope it was convincing.
"It's not righteous indignation, nowhere near. It's… shame I suppose. Of myself, of Jack, of the human race. Of what we become."
"If you say so."
"I do. What are the flaws?"
"They're simple really. The first is that humans are not alone. Not in the universe, not even on this planet. I can't imagine that for the next three thousand years, if we can master time travel, we don't communicate with other races."
"Cross breeding?" That thought hadn't occurred to Ianto. It should have, they were after all living in an age where genetics were the final frontier and DNA was a scientist's playground.
"To an extent. Perhaps, your Jack, and the people he knew, the humans he knew, aren't pure Homo Sapiens as you are. Perhaps, even with all my differences, I am more similar to you than he is. Perhaps it is the alien in the human race that changes their outlooks."
Ianto took a moment to digest this. "And the other?"
"Random mutation."
Ianto frowned. "I don't follow."
Webb was silent for a moment, his face pursed in contemplation.
"Queen Victoria was the daughter of two normal healthy people. Yet, we know that she infected every royal house of Europe with haemophilia. Now, either her father wasn't in fact her father or she suffered a one in a million mutation. It can happen. It does happen. Children with extra limbs or reversed organs are born every day. There are even reports of cats with wings simply because of nuclear radiation. In three thousand years can't you imagine that there might be some small tweaks that shift the human race exponentially?"
And he could. He could see how humans going into space, colonising other planets, living off alien food, all of it, could combine to change what humans were. He felt like a child. It was a logical, rational argument, the type that he was paid and trained to come up with. Yet he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to.
"I think, perhaps, I was too caught up in my own thoughts and feelings to consider a logical argument," he admitted, a flush of embarrassment in his voice.
Webb smiled indulgently. "Ah, but you are only human Ianto, and very much in love."