I stayed at work yesterday to finish up the program I had created to synthesize the weather patterns I was tracking. Jack appeared as I had finished up and was running the scans: confirming my belief that he actually lives in that submarine hatch we used the few times we had made it to a bed. He rested his hand on my shoulder as he peered at my computer screen. It was the first time he had touched me without disgust or malice since the incident. Suffice to say, I was startled.
It turns out the weather patterns I had researched were caused by "Mara" which is to say, colloquially: Evil bad-ass fairies. Jack is terrified of them. I can tell. So few things frighten Jack that the fact these creatures have shaken him up so much...well suffice to say I'm a bit afraid as well. I asked him why they scare him so much and he looked at me, his eyes darkening with the horrors he must have seen in his long life, and he said to me: "I can't fight them Ianto. Even Daleks can be killed with the right weapons, but against these creatures...I'm useless. I can't protect any of you."
Jack Would have noble fears. Not like me.
Ianto Jones.
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When the team came back none of them were talking to Jack. None of them understand the nature of the burden of sacrifice. Not like I do. Jack was moping in his office so I brought him my special coffee blend in a blue-white striped mug I bought on a whim at the shop when restocking on coffee. This time he drank it and allowed me to sit on the edge of his desk while he told me bits and pieces of half-remembered stories.
Ianto Jones.
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Jack had me dig up camping supplies out of the basement today. He followed me around like an excited puppy while I loaded various gear into the SUV. He frowned when I packed four sleeping rolls into the trunk and, along with a lavish wink, he said something along the lines of: "You're coming too Ianto: or were you hoping to share my bed roll."
I should be glad that Jack is flirting again, it's a sign of normality returning, but I can't help but focus on the fact that I really don't want to go. However, instead of protesting, my traitorous mouth smiled at said: "That would be harassment, sir." Then I packed another sleeping roll.
I hate camping. Lisa and I used to go camping together all the time, because she loved it or maybe she knew that they were the only trips I could afford to take her. we were saving up for a new flat. I don't want Torchwood to pervert that memory for me, not that it hasn't already. It's not my place to protest my orders though, I lost that right. So, I dug out an old windbreaker from the basement along with a pair of work boots.
Rift Activity: Tosh discovered an increase of missing persons in the Breacon Beacons – rift expanding? – Jack seems to have decided that this was an ample opportunity for "team bonding" hence the camping.
Ianto Jones.
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I knew that I shouldn't have gone. Though, at least my first mission went better than Gwen's did (at least when measured by number of deaths). I've decided it is not fair: I did nothing wrong, sacrificed myself to help save Tosh, and almost got eaten by cannibals. Gwen let a sex alien loose, was relatively useless, and she got a snog out of it. Though I guess we all found out on this trip that snogging is Gwen's thing…
I'm being rude again, and I would like to attribute that to blood loss, but I was being rude before that. I was being rude and snippy all day. Jack gave me a pissy look earlier because I said that Lisa was my last snog, but I stand by it. The pressing my lips against his and him not responding does not count as a snog.
That perhaps, was not the most significant event since my last entry: Tosh and I were captured (by cannibals) held prisoner (by cannibals), and I head-butted a large man (who was a cannibal) to help Tosh escape. While she was gone I was severely beaten with a wooden bat (by a cannibal). Then Jack showed up and saved the day (by killing the cannibals). I suppose I'm not ready to process any of that yet, which is why Jack's pissy look came first in my account of the events.
Gwen (who somehow managed to get shot by an adolescent) and Owen and Jack rode in the ambulance back. Tosh and I took the SUV to check out the lunch van we had stopped at the day before (and gotten meat pies at). It was abandoned so Tosh and I took a sample. She laughed and told me: "I told you not to eat the meat pies." I wondered if I would get sick. Instead, I stumbled to the side and almost passed out. Tosh forced me into the passenger side of the van and called Owen on the comms.
Owen was furious: he hadn't seemed to realize I had lost so much blood and blamed me for saying I was okay to finish the mission. He was busy paying more attention to Gwen. It is okay: people usually pay more attention to Gwen (she's much louder than I am).
Jack just showed up at my door. He's knocking quite loudly. Maybe I should answer
Ianto Jones.
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I didn't end up answering the door when Jack knocked so he unlocked my door with his wriststrap. I was sitting on the edge of my bed (my flat not being large enough for a sofa) and had just dumped my diary on the side table. He sank down beside me without a word so that our thighs were pressed together from waist to knee and he grasped my hang tightly in his larger one.
After a moment he turned to look at me, his eyes burning into every inch of skin as he checked over my injuries. I tried not to flinch as he ran the soft pad of his thumb over the gash on my throat
"I'm having flashbacks to when we first met all of a sudden. Except it was the other way around." I told him, my voice shaking a bit as I met his gaze.
"Except you're still bleeding." His voice was cracked and his eyes were moist. After a long pause he continued, "If I had been even a second later you would have died."
He looked down at our tightly twined hands, but I pulled his face back up towards mine and pressed our foreheads together. As I looked into his eyes I forgot that he had gone with Gwen and not me, I forgot that he hadn't even asked if I was okay, and I forgot that I inteded on yelling at him upon our next encounter. Instead, I kissed him softly.
We ended up fucking hard and fast on the bed, rutting wildly agaisnt each other, reminding each other that I was alive. We fucked so hard that we both passed out on the bed afterwards. He was still there when the stifling heat of our naked bodies woke me in the middle of the night, but he was gone by the time my alarm beeped in the morning.
Ianto Jones
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