Four
"Oh Ianto," said Gwen, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why didn't Jack tell us any of this? We could have helped you!"
Ianto shook his head. "No, you couldn't. I imagine you were all dealing with it yourselves, your own feelings about what had happened…what I'd done. I doubt any of you would have been able to look beyond that at the time."
"Jack did," she pointed out.
"Jack is…remarkably unique in that way," Ianto said quietly.
Gwen studied him, as if trying to puzzle out his enigmatic words. Before she could fire more questions at him, he offered more.
"Jack has an exceptional sense of understanding, considering his long life, and an almost endless capacity for forgiveness, given his own experiences."
She nodded, clearly still trying to understand, although considering how she professed herself so close to Jack, Ianto couldn't help but wonder why she was having such a hard time with it. Or maybe it was him, and not Jack, that she was struggling to figure out.
"How long were you there?" she asked.
"Most of my suspension," he said.
"You seemed better when you came back," she said, then backtracked. "At least, better than what you're describing."
He nodded. "I was. I still had a long way to go, but I felt ready. I wanted to move on from that part of my recovery."
"I always wondered how you were able to come back." She hesitated. "What happened at Flat Holm?"
"Quite a lot, actually," Ianto replied with a dry chuckle. "Sometimes it's hard to believe I was ever there. It didn't really hit me for a few days, to be honest."
"And when it did?" she asked.
"It was hard," he said, remembering his first real conversation with Jack…
Entering Ianto's room at dinnertime the next day, Jack found the man staring blankly at the ceiling, his face wet with tears. With his hands still restrained, he could not wipe them away, and he turned his face away from Jack, blinking rapidly. Jack set down the food he had brought, took a deep breath, and was about to speak when Ianto beat him to it.
"Come to watch the freak show?" he asked.
"What freak show?" Jack replied, confused. Ianto slowly rolled his head over, offering the same "Whatever" look he'd given Jack in the park when he'd been trying to get a job. Then it had been almost sexy; this time it cut, even with tired, red-rimmed eyes.
"Former Torchwood employee gone mad, restrained for his own safety, unable to feed or relieve himself." His eyes slipped closed. "Freak show on ward six."
"You're not a freak show," Jack replied as evenly as he could, though he was slightly horrified by Ianto's words. "And you're not on ward six."
Ianto raised an eyebrow, and Jack rolled his eyes. "And if you stopped attacking people, you'd be free to use the loo whenever you need. But if you insist on exercising that right hook of yours every time your arm is free, then you'll be looking at a catheter for doing your business."
Ianto narrowed his eyes. "You're bluffing."
"Not about this," Jack replied, holding his gaze. "You might not want to be here, hell you might not even want to be alive, but that doesn't give you the right to injure the people who work here. They have jobs to do, a responsibility to the patients here, and they can't do that when you hurt them."
Ianto stared at him, then nodded curtly. Jack released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He wasn't sure whether he could entirely trust Ianto given his state of mind, but it was a start, and Jack would take every small victory he could at the moment. It was a blatant manipulation of Ianto's sense of duty and guilt, but Jack had always done what he had to do, especially when it saved lives.
"Are you hungry?" he asked. He came over and released Ianto's right hand, tensing in case it lashed out at him. Ianto's wrist was red and bruised from struggling, and he flexed his fingers several times as he shook his head.
"I have food," Jack continued. "You should eat something. Have you had anything since you got here?"
"Not interested."
"Right," Jack murmured. "Can you at least try? I brought Italian—bread, pasta, meatballs."
"Not interested," Ianto repeated flatly.
"A drink, then," Jack insisted. "You need to stay hydrated, or they'll stick a needle in you."
"I don't need anything, sir," said Ianto. "I don't want anything. Why are you here?"
"I said I'd come back," Jack replied.
"To kill me?"
"To check on you."
Ianto took a breath, as if holding back his temper. "Don't bother, unless you've got that drug cocktail prepared."
Jack jumped up and started pacing, abruptly losing patience with Ianto's death wish. He wasn't sure he liked this flat, broken version of the man; the angry Ianto at least had spirit. "Why are you so determined to die?"
"It's what I deserve," Ianto replied dully.
"Why?"
Ianto ran his free hand through his dirty hair with a grimace. "Because I'm guilty."
"Of what?" Jack asked.
"Of murder!" he exclaimed. "Christ, Jack, you're not very good at playing dumb, you know."
"Who did you kill?" Jack wasn't sure what point he was trying to make, but he was determined to somehow talk to Ianto about what had happened at the Hub. Why it wasn't entirely his fault, and why he didn't deserve to die because of it.
"I…" He trailed off, eyes closed. "I let her kill them, the doctor and the pizza girl. Annie. God, Annie…"
"Were you there when she killed the doctor?" asked Jack. He was surprised at how normal his voice sounded, how calm he felt. At the time, he'd been furious; it was remarkable what a few days could do for his temper as well as his perspective.
"No," Ianto said, shaking his head. "I left them downstairs when the team came back. She tried…god, she tried to convert him." His eyes met Jack's, bright and broken. "He was trying to help her."
"She wasn't herself, Ianto," Jack said as gently as he could. "She—"
"No!" Ianto said forcefully. "She was…she was fine until he came. Until he poked and prodded her. And even then, the look on her face when she could stand up and breathe on her own…she was so happy to be free."
"Then I'd guess it was something to do with releasing her from the life support system that triggered the conversion to continue." Jack knew about Cybermen, but not everything, and very little about partial conversions. Either releasing Lisa from the support unit had completed her mental conversion, or she had been manipulating Ianto to her own endgame for some time. Jack knew which scenario he preferred, and decided not to even mention the other one to Ianto.
They were silent for a long while, the conversation derailed. Jack had many more questions, but sensed that asking them at that moment could be more damaging, and that Ianto needed to feel safe before he answered them.
"What happens now?" Ianto finally asked.
"I'd suggest eating something, then getting some sleep since you look like you've been awake for days," said Jack. He ignored Ianto's withering stare and continued. "Then you get up and you start to live again. Step by step, day by day. You remember her, the woman she was before Canary Wharf, and you mourn her, but your life goes on."
"That's a crap plan," Ianto replied, sounding casual and conversational. "Because I don't want to eat something, Jack. I don't want to sleep. I definitely don't want to wake up, mourn her, and move on. I want the fucking nightmare that has been my life for the last three months to end!" He was breathing heavily by the end, clearly emotional once more.
Jack stared at the floor. He understood—god, he understood. The intense desire to end it all, to escape the pain and the guilt and the never-ending feeling of hopelessness. He'd spent years losing himself to drugs, to alcohol, to sex, always trying to escape the darkness and despair within him. He'd killed himself several times for brief periods of respite and relief, yet he always came back, forced to carry on because he couldn't seem to stay dead.
Was that why Jack was pushing Ianto now? Was he forcing Ianto to carry on because Jack had no choice and Ianto did? Jack tried to tell himself that wasn't the case, but it wasn't very convincing. It was probably one of many reasons why Jack would not give up on the man in spite of what he had done. In the end, Ianto was worth saving. Ianto deserved it more than Jack ever had.
"I think you should talk to someone," Jack said. "Dr. Howell will be back tomorrow, you should talk to him."
Ianto shook his head. "I don't need a psychiatrist."
"It's not a bad thing," Jack insisted, leaning forward. "It's his job to help people, like a mechanic fixes cars, or a doctor cures his patients."
"I'm not a car," Ianto snapped. "You can't take me apart, clean out the dirt and grime, and put me back together again."
"Why not?" asked Jack.
"I don't need it," Ianto replied flatly.
"But you do," Jack insisted, taking a chance on pushing the other man through his denial. "You need to face what happened, to process it, and deal with it. Ianto, I've seen this before, in war. Post-traumatic stress is not something to be taken lightly. It's serious."
Ianto gazed at him in wide-eyed skepticism. "I'm not suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, Jack. I lost my girlfriend."
"I'm not a doctor, but I think you could be. You didn't just lose your girlfriend, she was killed. You went through something horrific at Canary Wharf, Ianto. I wasn't there, but I saw the aftermath. I can only imagine what you experienced, and I can't even begin to think how you survived, how you stayed strong enough get her out and keep her alive. And then to come here and get a job and keep trying to save her, only to lose her in the end. Jesus, Ianto. You might have put the entire world at risk, but that's a hell of an accomplishment. You are strong—strong enough to get through this."
Ianto's jaw was so tight Jack thought the man's teeth might crack. But Ianto didn't say anything, so Jack continued. "I'm not saying I agree with what you did and how you did it, but I understand why. And more than that, I understand the pain and loss you're feeling now. I've been there, so many times. It does get better, but it takes time. You have to try. And I know you can."
"Why?" Ianto whispered, his voice thick with despair. "What's the point?"
"I can think of several," said Jack, hoping that he might somehow get through to Ianto, convince him to live. "For one, would she want you to fall apart now? You tried so hard to help her, did everything in your power to save her, but after all that you're going to give up on yourself? Would she really want that?"
Ianto's face flushed with anger. "Fuck you."
"Keep saying that and I might have to take you up on it," Jack replied, forcing the levity even though he didn't feel it. "Then there's you, what do you really want, deep down when you let yourself be honest? To die, or to accept what happened, move on from it, and live again? I know about living with the grief and guilt, Ianto. Believe me, I know."
"Then you know it's not so easy!" Ianto snapped. "People died because of me!"
"No, it's not easy. It's a burden you carry forever, but you can't let it destroy you. Not like this, not because of something you did out of love." Jack was surprised at the words coming out of this mouth, but found they were all true.
"I don't know how," Ianto whispered. Jack leaned forward.
"You make the burden lighter," he said. "You work for redemption. You give meaning and purpose to her death by making the world a better place. So that something like Canary Wharf doesn't happen again."
That got him. Ianto glanced up at him, stunned. "No," he said, shaking his head as if terrified of the very thought.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think I do this? Okay, so I like the danger and excitement, but I also do this to protect people. To protect the planet. London lost sight of that, but I can damn well do it here in Cardiff. And I could really use a man like you on my team."
"What?" asked Ianto, once again thrown for a loop. Jack kind of liked leaving him speechless. He stuttered a bit more. "You mean, to keep you caffeinated and from drowning in your own mess again."
Jack shook his head, hiding his frown. This was what would be most difficult, not only convincing Ianto to return, but that he mattered. Ianto had been exactly right when he'd snapped at Jack that he was the one to clean up their shit, no questions asked. Jack had been thinking about it constantly ever since. Yes, Ianto cleaned the Hub, kept it up and running. It was what he had offered in the warehouse where they had caught the dinosaur, and it was what he had done from the moment he'd stepped into the Hub. He had immediately started cleaning, organizing, and streamlining procedures at the Hub. He'd got the coffee maker working, taken it on himself to order food, reopened the tourist office, and started retooling the archive system.
Really, it was a wonder Ianto had been able to do so much with Lisa in the basement, demanding his constant care and attention.
Yet he had done it all without complaint and barely a comment otherwise. He'd occasionally let slip his dry sense of humor, but more often than not had appeared content to work in the background, toiling away without asking for acknowledgement or thanks. Ianto had let himself become invisible in order to hide his girlfriend, and they had accepted that. Which meant he had no idea how important he truly was, how much he did for them, and how much it helped. Jack wasn't sure he could convince Ianto of it, but he would try.
"No, I mean keep us organized. Keep us informed and on time. Keep us honest." Jack shook his head in amazement. "I don't know how you managed it. From the first week, you took control of everything that needed doing, everything we were terrible at, and you turned things around within a month and made it better. Yes, we might be addicted to coffee now, but you know more about running the Hub than any of the others, and it shows it everyone's work. In our work as a team. We are more effective because of you, Ianto. We are better because of what you do for Torchwood."
Ianto turned his head away, denying Jack's words. "You don't need me. There's a Starbucks around the corner."
"We need you, and I want you." Jack thought about how that sounded and decided to ignore it. They were talking about Torchwood and he was the leader, after all, so Ianto couldn't possibly read anything into it, no matter how Jack meant it.
When Ianto turned his head back, he was almost sneering, though Jack thought he saw uncertainty in the other man's eyes. "I don't believe you. Why won't you really kill me? Are you afraid?"
Jack laughed, a sharp bark that must have surprised Ianto because he jumped. "I've killed men before, Ianto. Many men. Never underestimate me when it comes to that."
"Only when it comes to hiding cyber conversion units in your basement?" Ianto asked. It was obvious he was goading Jack, and Jack had to admit, the comment made him angry. Not for the reasons Ianto would assume, however. It reminded him once more of how little effort he had made to see Ianto, to get to know Ianto after his initial introduction to the world of Torchwood Three. Jack had judged him surprisingly well adjusted after Canary Wharf and, given his sharp performance during his first few weeks, had quickly come to trust and depend on Ianto. In hindsight, it had been easier to dismiss any concerns about Ianto as a former employee of Torchwood One or a survivor of Canary Wharf than to actually deal with them. Jack had no love for London and hated how its hubris had destroyed so many lives. So it had been easier to move on and put it behind him.
Now, however, his own part in the tragedy was laid bare. In many ways, he had failed Ianto even more than Ianto had failed his girlfriend. At least Ianto had tried to save her; Jack had not bothered to see or talk to or get to know Ianto, which had made it that much easier for Ianto to hide Lisa beneath them for so long. Jack had failed him, and it was that reminder that angered him as much as the hidden unit itself.
He bit back his initial, hostile response, trying to think through his words. Deep breaths once again helped settle his mind before he replied. "I didn't see it because I didn't want to," Jack said. He avoided Ianto's piercing gaze and stared at a crack in the wall. "I had no reason to suspect anything, after all, and to be honest, I wanted to put everything about London and Canary Wharf behind, including you. I should have made sure you were all right, should have asked about it, about anything. But between your connection to London and your unique ability to work quietly behind the scenes, get the job done, and almost make yourself invisible, I didn't. It was easier that way. And I'm sorry."
His apology seemed to have completely defeated Ianto's angry outburst. He turned his head away from Jack, eyes closed, but Jack could see the man's chest rising and falling quickly, as if he were holding back strong emotion. After several minutes of silence, Jack took a breath to try again. He stood up and released Ianto's other hand from the restraints, hoping he was not making a terrible mistake.
"Will you eat something?" he asked softly. Ianto shook his head and did not look at him. "Will you think about what I said?" After a long moment of silence, Ianto nodded. The simple motion filled Jack with hope, that maybe, just maybe, they could pull through this. He turned to leave, dinner in hand. He'd probably leave it with Helen since he wasn't hungry anymore.
"Jack?" said Ianto as Jack turned to go. Surprised and ridiculously glad to hear his name in a way that was not filled with vitriolic hatred, Jack stopped and smiled, raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't think I can do this."
Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "You can."
"It doesn't matter," Ianto murmured. "Nothing matters."
"You matter, Ianto," Jack replied quietly. "More than anything right now. Which is why I'll be back tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Whatever it takes, until you believe me."
Ianto blew out a breath and settled back with his eyes closed, curling in on himself. Jack hoped the young man would sleep peacefully that night, though he doubted it. He thought about staying, but decided instead to return in the morning. It would be Saturday, and Owen was on call at the Hub while the girls took the day off.
Mind made up and spirit somewhat lighter with a dash of hope, Jack left the take away with Helen and returned to the mainland, ready to start over the next day.
