Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. All rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I make no money.
"Jack?" Ianto said his quietly, hesitantly, almost as if he hoped he wouldn't be heard. It was the way Ianto always started conversations when he had a question or an observation that wasn't work related. Jack rolled over on his side and propped himself up on his elbow.
Ianto fidgeted under his gaze, fingers playing over the top of the grass they were lying on, and Jack wondered what was coming. It was rare for Ianto to ask things of him. He usually waited for Jack to tell him on his own, listening attentively and eagerly whenever a small piece of Jack was revealed, but never pressing for details. If patience was truly a virtue, then Ianto was one hell of a virtuous man. It was one of the things Jack liked most about him.
Still, sometimes, there were those questions that had to be asked, that must be answered. Those times were always awkward, and sometimes painful. Jack watched as Ianto squirmed, and he poked him gently, saying, "What is it? Come on, spit it out."
Patience was something Jack respected, because it was something he possessed little of himself. Ianto sighed and averted his eyes.
"Do you ever look at the stars, and think about…I don't know…what you could have out there? What you could have if you weren't here?"
Jack took a deep breath, and thought before answering. He knew Ianto wasn't looking for lip service, or sweet talk. When Ianto asked things like this, he wanted answers. He asked because he wanted to know, and Jack always tried to be honest.
The trouble with this question was that he didn't know the answer himself. They'd been out walking, just spending time outside of their lives, and they'd ended up in a park, quietly watching the stars. There wasn't much Jack wouldn't give for a little quiet in his life, and in his mind. Ianto was a reservoir of it. Sometimes, when they were together, Jack felt like he was drowning in it, and he didn't mind it at all.
Then, Ianto would speak, and, no matter how quietly he'd spoken, things would become deafening. It was mostly because Jack never expected the things Ianto asked of him, and he had to stop his mouth from telling the easy and natural lie, and actually think about the reality of the thing.
Jack knew he had a habit of speaking when he didn't have much to say, just as he knew that there were some things that made much better secrets than truths, but when it came to Ianto, Jack always tried. He didn't always succeed, but he tried.
"Sometimes," he said, slowly, "sometimes I look at the stars, and I think about everything I used to have, and all the lives I've lived, but I don't know if I really miss it. I miss some of the people I've known, but I… I know what's up there, and I know what's down here, and I don't really see much of a difference. I've never really thought about it. Why?"
"Oh, I dunno," Ianto said, turning over on his back, "it's just that, I know that there's other stuff out there, you know? Other planets, and people, and all the things I've seen, but it all looks so small from down here. Just these tiny little points of light… sometimes I imagine other people, out there, looking back at us and I think of how small we must look to them. I wonder how small we must look to anyone who's seen it all, you know?"
He said this lightly, but Jack knew what he meant.
"Nothing ever looks small to anyone who has ever seen how large it all is," he said, just as lightly. "Once you've been out there, you realise just how important every little thing is. Every person. Nothing is ever small again. Do you ever wish you could see it?" It was just as rare for him to ask questions as it was for Ianto, but Jack suspected that he had just as many as his partner.
"I suppose not," Ianto said, half-smiling. "Of all the worlds you could've ended up on, in all the times, and all the jobs you could have chosen, you ended up here, on the grass, with me." He pulled out a plug of the grass and let it slowly fall through his fingers.
"This," he said, sitting up, "feels very large to me. Every blade of it. Very large, and important, and real."
Ianto grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him up, so that they were sitting facing each other.
"And so does this," he continued, still holding Jack's hand. "I know where you've been, and what you've seen, and I don't really understand why, or how, or even who you really are, but I don't care. I look at you, and I see the whole universe in your eyes, and it scares me. I -"
Ianto cut himself off and dropped Jack's hand, shifting his gaze to the ground.
"Finish that sentence," Jack said, only not demanding it with his tone. His body was tight and aching with the need to know what was going to come after that 'I'. His mind was speeding, knowing that Ianto was the opposite of him in so many ways, that he could say so much with so few words, but also knowing that he rarely did.
When it came to this, to them, the quiet was deep and dark, and it was the one silence Jack couldn't bear. If it was to be broken, though, Jack knew it would have to be Ianto, because it could never be him.
"Nothing," Ianto said, dusting his hands, watching as the wind whipped stray blades of grass away from him. "Let's get back; it's late."
"Okay," Jack said, and Ianto must have heard an off note in his voice, because he paused halfway to standing, and then sat back on the ground. He looked at Jack and smiled.
"You're filled with so much time," he said. "I remember when you spoke of life as a straight line from birth to death, and I remember thinking that your line just keeps going, forever. That doesn't scare me, Jack. But all of that space… still, you could go anywhere, do anything, but you're here on the grass with me."
Ianto sighed, and kissed Jack then, putting everything he would never say into it, and Jack felt like he was drowning again, but he still didn't mind it.
"Let's go home," Ianto said, when they'd broken apart. "I think I've had enough of the stars."
"Me too," Jack replied, "definitely."
xxxXXXxxx
Later, as Jack was showering, it suddenly hit him that Ianto had referred to the hub as 'home', and he had no idea what that meant. It certainly hadn't ever felt like much of a home to Jack, but when Ianto was there, it was different. It felt warmer, and larger somehow, even though the gradual addition of most of Ianto's considerable wardrobe, and various other personal items, had filled Jack's small room to almost overflowing.
Now that he thought about it, there really wasn't any of Jack's personal space that didn't contain some bit of Ianto. Even in the shower, Ianto's shampoo and toothbrush had their place next to Jack's own. Ianto's clothes were not only in his closet, they'd usurped his closet, and Jack had even taken to wearing bits and pieces of Ianto's things, almost every day. He couldn't remember how long it had been like that, but it felt nice. It felt right, and that felt terrifying.
Thinking about what Ianto had asked of him, Jack realised that he wasn't sure if he could imagine standing on a world that didn't have Ianto in it. Even if he could, he didn't want to, just as he didn't want to imagine his room devoid of Ianto's presence.
'Home' had never meant much to Jack; he'd fled his so long ago, he couldn't remember what it had been like. He'd always been a travelling man, and when he'd loved (as he had so many people), it had always been large, but isolated and cold. That was the way it had to be, but not the way it was anymore. Ianto had slipped inside his walls; the guard at the watchtower had been caught off guard, probably because Jack was never expecting Ianto. Not the things he said, not the things he did, and certainly not the way he made Jack ache for him to speak.
The guard at the watchtower had been caught off-guard, and now Jack was drowning happily inside of Ianto's peace, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if he could go back and change it, there was no way he ever would, and that was the scariest part of all.
Jack turned the shower off, dried quickly, and tried not to think of any of it. When he got back to the room, and saw Ianto sleeping in what Jack would quite happily call 'their' bed, it didn't matter anyway. He slipped easily inside of Ianto's calm, and fell asleep without worrying about what tomorrow would bring.