Rating: PG-13 (will eventually be NC-17)
Word count: ~ 2,200 (this part)
Warnings: Spoilers (minor) if you haven't seen Greeks Bearing Gifts (but you probably have, I'm assuming). A cliffhanger at the end, if you want to wait for the next chapter. (I'm inordinately fond of them, if you hadn't noticed.) And fluff. Gooey, gooey cuddle-fluff. You've been warned.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the creators, and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Why can't real life be as simple as LJ/FFnet? Why must I get a job and not write all day forever? Why must weddings be so complicated to plan? *iz ded* Sorry, okay, that's my whining out of the way. Now, enjoy the chapter! Hopefully it won't take me this long to get the next one finished and posted. ^.^"
(Lily, there's a line especially for you in here. I'm sorry, I'll have the real thing up soon!)
Chapter Ten
Somehow, waking up next to Jack is almost the most surprising part of this whole damned thing.
When he surfaces from sleep, the bedroom is dark. For a moment, Ianto just lies there, trying to get his bearings. He's on his stomach, one arm slung over Jack's waist, Jack's arm curled around his shoulder. His face is nestled into the curve of the Captain's arm, pressed against his chest, and the smell of 51st century pheromones is all but overwhelming, if in a good way. Jack is like a furnace against him, but it's pleasant after waking up cold and lonely so many, many mornings.
Ianto breathes out a sigh into Jack's skin, closes his eyes—so that he doesn't have to see what he's doing, so that he can't berate himself for this moment of…what? Weakness? Stupidity?—and then turns his head just enough to press a soft kiss to his shoulder.
Jack's breathing hitches slightly, and Ianto freezes, cursing himself for a fool, for letting his emotions run away with him. But before he can speak the apology that's weighing heavily on his tongue, Jack tightens his arm around him and pulls him up, draws him closer. The look in his eyes is a mix of surprise and want, and Ianto had never thought he'd see that look directed at him. Always before it had been turned on Gwen, a slightly guilty desire for love and craving for intimacy, more than physical lust.
As much as Jack is a tactile creature, he's also aloof. He gives little bits of personal knowledge, draws people ever so slightly into his confidence while remaining distant. It's a little like throwing out a scat few breadcrumbs for pigeons while holding the whole loaf tightly to his chest. But Ianto has seen it in Jack's eyes the loneliness that is just like Ianto's. He's never had an explanation for it, not until now.
Jack's obviously been immortal for a long while already. All this time, he's just been protecting himself.
Even so, now that Ianto considers it, Jack must be the bravest man Ianto has ever met. Who else could keep trying, keep gathering people close to him, even when he knew he would outlast them and be left alone? Ianto is already panicking about what he will say to Rhiannon, what lies he can possibly tell her when he no longer ages and never dies. He's already mourning her children, who he will someday see die, while he continues on forever.
How long has Jack been this way? How many people has he had to say goodbye to?
Can Ianto do the same?
Can he be that strong?
Jack kisses the top of his head, and rubs his cheek against Ianto's hair. "Shh," he says, as if he knows what Ianto is thinking—and maybe he does. "Don't worry about everything right now. Save some of that for the future."
Ianto's never been good at that. He's a worrier, for all that he plans for every eventuality. Keeping Lisa in the basement made him sick with nerves so many times, though thankfully—or perhaps not so thankfully—Jack wrote it off as a delayed reaction to Canary Wharf. But here, curled around Jack on his bed, he can let it go, if only for the moment.
"Sir," he answers, and to anyone else it would be noncommittal. Jack hears in it the promise to try, and grins. He's got a lovely grin, big and white and blinding, so overwhelmingly cheerful that Ianto can't help but smile back.
"Ooh, kinky," he says, laughter rumbling in his chest. "Calling me 'sir' in bed? I didn't know you were into that kind of thing, Mr. Jones."
There is, perhaps, only one fitting answer when Jack is like this. Ianto rolls his eyes, tucks himself a little closer, and replies with a deadpan, "Indeed, sir. Whips and chains excite me."
The curl of pleasure in his gut at hearing Jack's full-blown laughter can't be written off as anything other than what it is. Ianto smiles to himself, and doesn't try.
There's no discussion of their revelations to each other. There doesn't need to be, really. They have forever now, and if that isn't enough time, Ianto's not sure what it. He's always been patient, anyway. He can wait for more information. Mainframe has sent her message to the Doctor, a simple "come to these coordinates at once; survivor of Gallifrey," and it's doubtful that what is keeping Ianto from dying is the same thing keeping Jack from dying.
As much as things change, they also stay the same.
The others had seemed a little uncertain around him at first—Gwen wouldn't quite meet his eyes, Owen didn't snipe or call him tea boy, even Tosh watched him a little carefully—but they're past it now. It's just Torchwood, and Torchwood is always strange. Pterosaur in the loft? Fine. High-speed car chases in pursuit of low-flying spaceships in the Welsh countryside? Acceptable. Cotton candy-addicted aliens from Alpha Centauri taking over a traveling funfair? All in a day's work. Immortal butler-secretary-archivist-tea boy? Yawn.
(Well, perhaps Ianto is exaggerating a bit there. It wasn't quite a yawn, more of a hiccup, but they got over it eventually.)
In truth, Jack is the only one who's really changed.
He looks at Ianto differently now, more often—not the half-betrayed glances Ianto received after Lisa's death and discovery, but quiet, assessing, a little disbelieving and…almost happy. Ianto can't imagine what it must be like, to be alone for so long and then suddenly find someone else who will most likely live forever. Astonishing does not even begin to encompass it.
It's been three weeks since Ianto's encounter with the cannibals, and he's well and truly settled into the old rhythms of the Hub—the ones from before Lisa, though minus the sharp knot of guilt and horror writhing in his gut. And, in reality, nothing very significant has changed. Ianto is not a field agent, not trained as one, and spends the majority of his time sorting through and organizing old records in the vast and underappreciated Archives, which stretch all the way back to Torchwood's founding.
Ianto gets a bit of almost vindictive pleasure going through the last century of misfiling and putting it to rights. Especially the more recent things, which have Jack and Owen's grimy little fingerprints all over them—literally, in some places. Neither of them seems to grasp the concept of filing in the slightest, and the tenth time Ianto pulls a report on some alien whose species begins with a G out of the W section, he's going to go up and force both men to sing him the alphabet song until their ears bleed.
He'll be kind enough to tell Tosh to wear earplugs, because she at least makes an effort down here, but that's the extent of his mercy.
Mainframe sends /amusement/ to him through their link, and he smiles, letting it wrap around him. They're not always in contact, not always connected, but she's always close enough to touch, or to touch him in return. It's rather…nice, actually, like sitting with someone in a quiet room, not needing speech to know the other is there. Completely different than any other relationship he's ever had, but lovely nevertheless.
I FIND MYSELF RATHER FOND OF YOU AS WELL, IANTO JONES, Mainframe replies, and there's warmth in her voice even though there shouldn't be. But Ianto's long since stopped categorizing things as impossible or not where they relate to Mainframe. She's a whole host of contradictions, wrapped up in the biggest mystery Ianto has ever encountered.
After all, he's gotten enough information about Gallifrey and the Time Lords to know that they were incredibly powerful. And Mainframe is them, all of their knowledge and memories and predictions for the future written into code and downloaded into a host body. As long as even one Time Lord remains, one TARDIS still exists, Mainframe can sustain herself—and her host—indefinitely.
She doesn't, usually, but it seems that for Ianto she's made an exception.
(He's grateful to her for that, even if sometimes he thinks it might have been better had she found someone else. After all, he's hardly a singular person.)
A check of his watch tells him that it's time for the team's next hit of caffeine, so Ianto gathers up a few files he needs to enter into the computer and heads up from the depths of the S section. He's been spending the majority of his time in the Archives, and while there was once a time when none of the team would notice as long as they got their coffee on time, now Jack registers it. He even comments on it, tries to get Ianto to do more from his desk in the main area. Ianto feels a bit like a wild animal slowly being domesticated, one step at a time. It's…flattering, in a way, that Jack seems to think he needs to be handled with such care. Also ridiculous, because Ianto is hardly a fragile flower, but still flattering.
No one's ever done that for him before.
Perhaps it's understandable that he's distracted when he enters to main area of the Hub, juggling folders and files and one artifact that needs to be reclassified, but he doesn't notice Tosh's sudden tension. The tech is sitting at her desk, eyes fixed on the screen in front of her, but she notices when Ianto comes in, almost like she can sense his mind. Ianto notices that, and he blinks, turning his head to look at her. Their eyes meet, and—
WARNING
WARNING
WARNING
PSYCHIC ATTACK DETECTED
WARNING
MENTAL INTRUSION DETECTED
UNKNOWN ENTITY ATTEMPTING TO ACCESS HOST SYSTEM
FIREWALL BREACH DETECTED
EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN INITIATED
They all notice when Ianto collapses mid-step, papers tumbling from his arms as his legs fold beneath him. The lunar mine he's carrying clatters away, letting out a warning beep as Owen leaps to his feet and Gwen cries out.
Ianto doesn't see any of this.
He's unconscious before he even hits the ground.
*.~.*.~.*
EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN COMPLETE.
STRENGTHENING FIREWALLS…
CHECKING FOR DAMAGE…
REPAIRING CODE ANOMALIES…
COMPLETED.
WARNING: SYSTEM MALFUNCTION.
WARNING: ANOMALY DETECTED.
ANALYZING HOST SYSTEM…
COMPLETED.
CONCLUSION: INTEGRATION AT 100%
INTEGRATION COMPLETE.
ANALYZING…
COMPLETED.
CONCLUSION: OUTSIDE ATTACK TRIGGERED SELF-DEFENSE MEASURES; INTEGRATION SPEED INCREASED.
ANALYZING HOST SYSTEM…
COMPLETED.
CONCLUSION: HOST SYSTEM OPERATING WITHIN NORMAL LEVELS.
IANTO JONES, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?
IANTO JONES, CAN YOU HEAR ME?
Do you feel that, Mainframe?
ANALYZING QUERY…
FAILED.
ANALYZING ERROR…
COMPLETED.
CONCLUSION: INSUFFICIENT DATA.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IANTO JONES?
Everything, Mainframe. I can feel everything. All the systems you're using, all the programs you're running. All the knowledge you have. I can feel it all.
IANTO JONES, CONGRATULATIONS.
WE ARE ONE.
MY SYSTEMS ARE NOW YOURS.
YOU ARE MY HOST.
PRESERVATION STATUS: PERMANENT.
NOW WE HAVE FOREVER TO LEARN.