The first time Jack broached the topic of Torchwood, it was well into the third week of Ianto's suspension. There had been no time limit named when Jack had handed out the punishment, and they had steered clear of it during these visits. For his part, Ianto still barely believed he wouldn't be forced to forget it all, so he didn't ask. That wasn't part of the pattern they had developed, anyway. They didn't begin with questions.
He wasn't sure what made Jack start filling him in on the developments he was missing at the Hub. But he listened as Jack told him about the latest interesting Rift flotsam, the team's antics, and their most recent investigation.
"So Toshiko reckons they're just lost, but we can't get it across that they're a few planets off," the Captain said as Ianto handed him a cup of coffee. Jack grinned at him and took a long drink. "Ah, now that I have missed. Tosh tried her hand at making coffee and we had to evacuate the Hub."
Ianto raised an eyebrow, wondering as always how much of Jack's retelling was embellished. "I hope the poor machine remains undamaged," was all he said.
"Oh, it's fine," Jack snorted. "Poor machine indeed. I think the vindictive little bastard is pining for you just as much as Myfanwy."
Ianto couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him. Jack smiled back at him, a flicker of something hopeful in his blue eyes.
"That dinosaur is the most underused and spoiled guard dog in the world," Ianto muttered into his coffee. "And the machine is not at all difficult." He knew he'd read something about the alien tourists Jack couldn't give directions to at the moment. T'caerrans… he was sure there was a good-sized file on them in the Archives. Might have some previous studies on their language… Ianto reached for something to write on, thinking Toshiko could pull the file without too much trouble if he wrote the number and location down for her.
Meanwhile, Jack arched his eyebrows in disbelief. "One of the most brilliant technical geniuses in the universe isn't able to work it, Ianto. It's weird." He gazed at Ianto over the top of his own mug for a moment. "You should teach her how it does work sometime. I caught her glaring at it the other day like it was a personal vendetta."
Ianto's hand paused in reaching toward a pen. He was aware of Jack watching him closely, and controlled his features as he printed the file name carefully on a sticky-note.
"You should tell Tosh to look up this file," he murmured. "Past encounters with the T'caerran species, it may help her with her translations and communicating with them."
"Thanks," Jack responded, folding the note carefully and squirreling it away in a pocket. Ianto tried not to eye him doubtfully, thinking of all the spare change and bits of paper the cleaners had handed him out of Jack's pockets before. "How do you remember all of that?" the Captain asked him curiously.
Ianto sighed internally, and gave a small shrug. "Eidetic memory," he muttered, adding to himself that obviously Jack didn't have it, or he'd recall that little fact from pulling Ianto's Torchwood One file.
Jack's eyebrows went up. "I should've guessed. That's pretty impressive. Has it always been like that?"
Ianto gave a small shrug. "Yes. Not always a good thing, but yes. Reason Torchwood One recruited me for the archiving team, I think." He tapped one finger idly against the side of his empty coffee mug.
Jack leaned forward on his elbows. "Did you change your personnel file? Because with everything that you've done for our archives with, what, six months, it seems crazy that you were a junior researcher for two years in London."
"Are you knocking my old job, sir?" Ianto quirked a small smile at him. "I didn't change my file. I was working under the Head Archivist, scheduled to take on the job when he retired." Geoffrey Miller had been a brilliant man, a former professor, and patient with anyone who wanted to learn. He'd taken Ianto under his wing and encouraged him to read everything he could lay hands on, not just the investigations and filing he was assigned to. Two years hadn't been nearly enough to make a dent in the vast collection of knowledge Torchwood One had had filed neatly away. He'd been strangely thrilled at the prospect of having his whole life to devote to such a project. But it was all lost now.
"I'm sorry." Ianto looked up at Jack, and realized that he'd voiced his last thought aloud. Jack's stormy blue eyes held his gaze with Jack's unique intensity. "I don't think I said it before," the Captain added quietly. "But everything you've been through…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "And I've done nothing to make it right. Sometimes I think I'm only capable of finding broken people, and incapable of fixing them no matter how much I intended to." He sighed again, looking back up at Ianto with an exhaustion in his eyes that had nothing to do with how little the man seemed to sleep. "But I am sorry, Ianto." His hand, lying on the counter between their cups, moved to brush the back of Ianto's.
Without thinking, Ianto jerked away. Jack immediately sat back, eyes surprised and wary.
"Sorry," Ianto muttered. He should put his hands back on the table, reassure his boss that he was fine and continue listening. Wasn't that their new game? They talked about whatever they wanted, beginning out of the blue, without segue or introduction. One of them would simply start to talk, and one of them would listen. They had both revealed more tiny pieces of their lives in three weeks' worth of visits than they had during six months' worth of working together. There was no real rhyme or reason to it, no puzzle they were putting together. They still didn't know each other. Ianto had doubted not a few times whether they ever really could know each other.
So why should Jack know that he wasn't fine? If Ianto simply put his hands back on the table, the incident need never have happened. They could forget the whole thing. He could forget the way his skin felt like he'd brushed an open flame instead of another human being.
Right?
Jack was still staring at him. Ianto picked up his empty cup and took it to the sink.
"No, I apologize," Jack said slowly, watching him closely. Ianto refused to look at him, even when he heard the soft scrape of chair legs sliding back. Jack's voice came from behind him when he said, "Ianto… when was the last time someone touched you… kindly?"
Ianto focused on his hands, soap and hot water and the washcloth. "Not sure what you mean, sir."
"You know full well," Jack muttered.
Ianto ignored him.
"Ianto, look at me."
Well, damn.
Ianto set aside his props and faced Jack squarely. The Captain stood less than an arm's length away, his hand raised in a gesture that might be used to calm a startled animal. Ianto raised an eyebrow; but as Jack's eyes probed his and his hand moved slowly towards him, Ianto snapped out, "Don't."
Jack paused — then he let his hand drop.
AN: Sorry this took so long to post. I had a tough time deciding between two very different versions of this section — let me know what you think of this, if I made the right choice. Possibly just one more to go in this little series. Thanks a million to everybody who reviewed, even if you were anonymous.
Also: as a reviewer pointed out to me, the ending of this conversation makes a little more sense alongside another story of mine; the connection was clearer in my head, so sorry for any confusion. There's another one-shot titled "His Decisions" which delves a little deeper into this idea.
Funny thing, writing this as "Cause everyone's forgiven now" plays on the radio… (For anyone who's interested, it was completely unintended, but the song is "Better Days" by the Goo Goo Dolls, who, despite the name, are fantastic. The song doesn't have anything to do with the creation this fic, but it does sound good, and if nothing else here's your daily musical coincidence and randomness.)
