Author's Note: Dedicated to the usual people and a couple of new ones. To Lizzy, for being glompalicious, to Harrie, for being a fantastic cheerleader, to Nem and Ysaedda, for whom I am apparently doing something right, and to everyone who's reading this story, I lvoe you all.
Also, NaNoWriMo approaches. If you don't know what it is, it's an international community who attempt to write 50000 words in 30 days. If you've never tried, I would encourage you to do so. If you already do it, come find me in the Torchwood thread in Fans and Critics, LiquidLash and I appear to be holding court, and someone should probably stop us before it descends.
Onwards!
Ianto stretched languidly and turned his face to the side, frowning with drowzy confusion at the empty bed beside him. He reached out to feel how warm the sheets were still, then rolled over to wrap the quilt tighter around himself, flinging one arm out across the bed and clutching at the duvet with the other. The sounds of morning drifted around him; there were children yelling in the street outside, cars idled in the stationery traffic and a few hardy birds chirped close to the window. He enjoyed the warm cocoon and the chance to totally relax, maybe for the last time in a long while; he was comfortable, warm, and safe, Jack was close and wouldn't let him sleep in longer than he ought to. The image of the perfect Saturday morning improved even further at the smell of bacon when the door was pushed open.
"Hey," Jack greeted the pile of duvet that was, presumably, his partner. "I brought breakfast."
The pile shifted and Ianto emerged, blinking blearily at him, running a hand through his hair and smiling warmly. "Good morning yourself," he shifted around so that Jack could sit on the bed next to him again and place the tray across their laps. "Wow, this is amazing."
"You only love me for my cooking," Jack admonished him with a chuckle, leaning in for a kiss. The two plates on the tray were piled high with the full breakfast works; bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, toast, fried bread, baked beans, fried tomatoes, mushrooms and potatoes, black pudding and hash browns with two glasses and a carton of orange juice. Ianto's mouth watered and his arteries complained at the sight of it.
He accepted a knife and fork from Jack and leaned back against the pillows. "You know that's not true," he smiled. "Although it is a definite advantage."
Jack chuckled and they settled down to eat in silence, with Ianto still under the duvet and Jack on top of it in just a pair of jogging bottoms. The food was excellent and, they had learned from experience, the best start to a day at Torchwood (unless they had an alert in the morning that required a lot of running). When they finally finished, Jack took the tray and set it aside on the floor, tugged on the duvet to steal it back from Ianto and pulled Ianto into his arms to lie sprawled on his chest in their usual positions. He played with Ianto's hair idly and rubbed a gentle hand over his shoulders. Ianto sighed against his skin and curled his hand around Jack's shoulder loosely, clinging on unconsciously. Jack sniffed and he raised his head to look at him, saddened and shocked to see that Jack was crying. He reached out and thumbed under Jack's eye, smiling sadly as tears welled in his own eyes and Jack caught his hand, pressing it to his lips. "I don't want to go," he confided in a whisper. "And I hate feeling like I don't have a choice."
"I know," Jack smiled, even though he was crying even more now. "Duty."
Ianto bit his lip and nodded, then pushed himself up so that he could reach to kiss Jack. The tension broke as they clutched at each other, rolling to the side so that they could face each other more easily, arms and legs wrapping around each other as they strove to get even closer. Jack moaned Ianto's name as he trailed kisses down his throat and thrust against him, clinging and stroking at hot, slick skin. They tumbled together and tangled themselves in the covers, kicking the quilt away and off the edge of the bed without breaking apart. Time and care were suspended as they sought the physical and emotional closeness that they would soon be denied. Their pace was slow, and it scorched their souls with its intensity, branding the memory on their minds and hearts for, in Jack's case, eternity.
Finally, they fell against each other, just holding on, breathing slowing and sweat and semen drying on their skin. Ianto's head rested on Jack's upper arm and his hand was, as usual, flat on Jack's cheat, whilst one of Jack's hands curled around his shoulder and the other rested on his hip. Ianto had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily, so Jack ran a a finger down his nose. "Are you OK?" he asked in concern.
"Yeah," Ianto sighed, tilting his head up and opening his eyes to meet Jack's, smiling softly. "Never better."
Jack smiled down at him in response and kissed his temple, settling back, reassured. They lay there for a while longer, one or the other shifting occasionally, either Ianto's hand brushing across Jack's chest, or Jack's rubbing a light circle on Ianto's hip, but largely they were content to relish the moments. When Jack finally moved, shifting so that he was sitting up, they both recognised that the moment had ended. "That tasted like goodbye," Ianto told him, watching through his lashes as Jack's controlled poise sagged.
"I know," he sighed and reached out to run the backs of his fingers across Ianto's cheek, memorising as much as he could the sight of Ianto like that, cheeks still flushed, lips swollen, hair messed and curling slightly longer than Ianto could usually cope with. He was kneeling up and leaning forwards towards Jack, and it was easy to reach out and pull him into his arms, hold him close and never let him go; but he didn't.
Ianto was the one to reach out instead, catching Jack's hand as it retreated and lacing their fongers together, shifting closer. "I'll be back."
"I know you will," he smiled, fighting back the whispering voice that told him that nothing was certain, that Ianto could get on the train at five o'clock the next morning and never make it to London even. Instead, he squeezed Ianto's hand and let it go, forcing a smile and getting out of bed to get dressed. Behind him, Ianto stayed where he was for a while before doing the same at the other wardrobe, so Jack was fully dressed by the time he turned back to see Ianto facing away from him but watching him in the mirror as he did his tie. Jack smiled more genuinely and crossed the room to stand behind him, reaching around to take the ends of the tie from him to fasten it. "You'll be back," Jack told him in a whisper against his cheek. "But until you are, I'll miss you."
Ianto turned his head to kiss him gently and leaned their cheeks together, not saying a word. It didn't need saying.
"Okay, kids," Jack let Ianto take his coat and shoved his hands in his pockets, wandering in to the breakfast happening around the couch. "What have we got today, Tosh?"
She looked startled to be asked, and frowned. "That spaceship, Jack. You said you wanted us to go over it today."
He nodded and quirked a self-deprecating smile. "So I did, sorry Tosh, I've had other things on my mind."
She ducked her head to hide her face behind her hair. "Sorry, Jack, I should have thought..."
He waved it aside and smiled sadly across at Ianto, at the coffee machine "Not to worry, Tosh, contrary to popular belief, I can think of more than one thing at once, generally." The silence that descended as people sought for something to say became oppressive quickly, and Jack broke it by clapping loudly and pushing his chair back so that he could stand up. "Tosh, can you have the files up on the projector in the boardroom in fifteen, please? Everyone meet up there in twenty."
Jack and Ianto were the first there, setting out the coffees for everyone between them. Ianto was quiet, as he always was, but even the normality of it didn't reassure Jack. He wanted to hear him chunnering to himself like he would in the kitchen at home, when stripped of his Torchwood responsibilities and the danger of Owen overhearing him, humming Cwm Rhondda under his breath and berating Jack for putting the spoons away in the wrong drawer (Jack hadn't pointed out that it was, technically, his flat. It had always been and would always be Ianto's flat). But Ianto stayed silent and Jack itched to fill the space between them. "Do you need anything else, Jack?" Ianto's question took him by surprise and he frowned in confusion until Ianto explained, "for the briefing?"
"Oh, no," he answered, checking and then shaking his head. "No, I think that's everything."
Ianto chuckled and rested a hand on his arm for the briefest moment, squeezing before he let go. "You haven't a clue, really, have you?"
He chuckled and sigh and shook his head. "Not really, but I can't think of anything else we could need?" He phrased it as a question, but Ianto shook his head and sat down, picking his own mug up and taking a sip. Jack did the same next to him and stretched his legs out so that they went under Ianto's chair. The rest of the team arrived as he searched for something else to say, and he smiled winningly at Tosh. "All yours, Toshiko."
She startled and her mug slipped in her grasp, but she rallied and glared at him as she stood up. "A little warning would have been nice," she grumbled. "Right, the ship crash landed near Barry about two months ago. The crew of five were killed in the crash and we've not managed to get in touch with their government yet."
"Technically, we have," Ianto told them, "But if you think the bureaucracy's bad in London, we have nothing on the Spatial Drakes. They have a planet-wide anarchy, driven by universal paperwork."
"Yeah, well I'll remember not to go there on holiday," Owen interrupted. "Spaceship, Tosh?"
She nodded her thanks to him and mock-glared at Ianto for a moment, then smiled and brought up he schematics of the ship. "It's a long-range, sub-orbital patroller, designed initially for trips to nearby uninhabited planets to search for resources, but upgraded to this model to form the forefront of their fleet, so that they could travel to other inhabited worlds with a diplomatic delegation to set up trade links.
"As it stands, however, we only know the basics of the ship, mainly what we've gathered from liaisons with the Shadow Proclamation," they all smirked, every one of them had had some dealings with the intergalactic policing organisation. "We're currently in discussions to return the ship to the Spatial Drakes, but that's been held up for about six months until ships have done the right trips to get a team of their pilots and engineers back here to remove it. Until then, we have a chance to study the ship and, hopefully, recreate some of its technologies." She looked to Jack for confirmation and he nodded his proud approval over his clasped hands. "So," she brought up a more detailed plan of the ship, mainly for something to do. "The plan for today is a full scan, take it apart and put it back together. We want to know every detail of it. And remember, we have to learn most of the technologies as we go along, so every single action needs to be recorded."
They sounded their understanding and Jack stood up. "Okay, Jacqui and Martin, what are you like with a spanner?"
Martin tried to wipe a smudge of oil off his nose, but just ended up spreading it further. "Camera please, Jacs."
She passed it to him with a tissue. "Try using that, it's less dirty than your hands," on the other side of her, Ianto and Jack sniggered and she swatted at them.
He thanked her and took a photo of the section under the panel he'd just removed. "I think I've got some sort of emergency fuel controls here, Jack," he called. "Jacs, can you make anything of these symbols?"
She leaned closer and felt Jack crowd behind her, wiping his hands on a rag like Martin was. She pulled out the scanning device and ran it over the top line of symbols, watching as the programme slotted them into place. "Got it," she read through them and smiled. "You know the messages you get on the back of buses, 'in case of emergency, pull lever'? Well it's one of those basically, but for three different fuels."
"Good work," Jack, with a smudge down either cheek from when he'd pinched Ianto's bum in passing and Ianto had got his own back, crouched down next to him. "Let's drain these, then, if we haven't already?"
Ianto leaned on the ship so that it rocked slightly and they heard at least one of the fuels sloshing around. "Not drained."
Jack straightened up and brushed himself off, looking around. "Okay, I want you all out of the way, just in case this doesn't go according to plan," he glared at Ianto. "Especially you. Now, bucket..."
Ianto passed him one and leaned in to kiss his cheek as everyone else made the room secure, taking anything they could out of it. "Be careful," he admonished him, squeezing his fingers before turning and gathering together the last few bits and pieces and calling over his shoulder, "I don't want to have to clear that mess up and tell them that we blew up their ship, not when they're halfway here."
He chuckled and crouched down next to the panel, reading the instructions carefully – telling Jacqui that it was written in Universal Standard, a language he was fluent in, wasn't going to help her (although Tosh or Ianto would have recognised the language instantly and asked him to read it for them) – and wiped his hands off once more before reaching to untwist the cap on the first fuel filler. It was simple, and not remotely dangerous, but it was the sort of work that was best carried out alone, because of the way it reached deep into your being and straightened everything out for you, often with an unconscious hummed accompaniment. It was wired into the human consciousness, and probably always would be, the act of organising one's thoughts by organising something else; when he needed to think things through, Ianto filed, reorganising entire rooms as a physical metaphor of his thoughts. Similarly, Jack did things with wrenches. Flat pack furniture, car engines, bicycles, spaceships or boilers, anything that he could take apart and put back together again was fair game (except the coffee machine, and he was even allowed to take that apart and clean it thoroughly at least every couple of months).
He wasn't really watching as he removed filler caps, turned knobs and checked switches; all the while his mind turned. 'He's leaving,' he told himself, 'he's leaving, and there's nothing I can do about it. By this time tomorrow, he'll be gone. I need to get some more flat-pack, is there anything we need? Can I persuade him to stay? No, he has a job, and he has to do it; for him, for the world, for us. We have to get through this, we will. Where's that spanner?' He reached for it and tightened the bearings around the second release knob, then turned the knob again and watched as the second fuel filled the second bucket, standing stiffly to dispose of the first fuel safely. This brought him into direct sight from one of the CCTV cameras and he winked at it, blowing a kiss as soon as his hands were free. By this time, the second fuel had slowed to a dribble, and he went back to the ship to rock it slightly to get as much out as he could. The final fuel was solid, so he disposed of the one he's just drained first, then pulled on a pair of protective gloves before opening the cover to remove it. As with the others, it was nearly finished, and the whole process had taken him only a few minutes. He was running the crystals through a filtration solution when the door opened and Ianto slipped in, closing the door gently and pointedly behind him.
"Is it safe?" he asked, amusement adding an extra lilt to his accent.
Jack smiled, but didn't look up. "Yeah, fun bit's over, no chance of explosions now."
"Good to know," Ianto didn't advance further than the first workbench, shoved against the wall, giving Jack his space. "Are we okay?"
He could dodge it, pretend that he thought Ianto was still talking about the ship, but... "Yeah, we're okay," he looked up now and smiled. "It'll take some getting used to, some creative juggling, some adapting," he shrugged and turned to the sink to wash his hands. "It's what we're good at, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Ianto's footsteps rang out and echoed until he stood behind Jack. Jack didn't look up, so all he saw was Ianto's arms as he lifted the filtration solution and carried it to a safer corner of the workroom. "I'll let the others know, we should get on with the interior."
"Okay," he hesitated, and Ianto had nearly got to the door before he straightened up. "Ianto?" he turned back with his hand on the door handle and looked at him quizically. "We'll be okay?"
It was Ianto's turn to smile, tight but confident. "We'll be okay."
It was quarter to five in the morning as they stepped onto Cardiff Central platform, bundled up against the night's cold. The full team had had a meal out at one of the restaurants on Mermaid Quay, then a late night in the Hub, spent playing cards and talking. Gwen had gone home first, back to Rhys and her stability, then Tosh and finally Owen, drifting back to their empty flats. Finally, Jacqui and Martin having retired before even Gwen, Jack and Ianto had been alone in the Hub and it had been too much. By mutual, unspoken agreement, they had set off walking, heading for the Barrage in silence to watch the moonlight on the water, then back around the Bay and up Lloyd George Avenue to catch Ianto's train.
The silence hung heavy in the air on the empty platform in the pre-dawn darkness. Around them, their city slept on, waiting for the sun to rise (albeit hidden by the clouds drizzling on Jack and Ianto) and bring the new day with it, hopefully a relaxing Saturday. Jack thought of everyone out there, everyone they fought to keep safe, and wished he were back in bed with Ianto wrapped in his arms, not standing on a platform, waiting to say goodbye again. Ianto held his arms out and Jack stepped into them, wrapping his arms around Ianto as Ianto held him close. "I'm going to miss you."
"Good," Ianto told him in a slightly strained voice. "I don't want to be the only one."
He chuckled and squeezed, then pulled back to run a hand down the side of Ianto's face, bringing him closer for a gentle kiss. "Keep in touch."
Ianto laughed, the strain showing even more now as it rode the tears. "Jack, I'm not going incommunicado again. I'll talk to you every day."
"Promise?"
"I promise," he confirmed, sealing it with a kiss. "I will miss you dreadfully."
"You'll be back," Jack told them both. "And then I'm never going to let you go again."
"I will hold you to that, Harkness," Ianto told him with a smile, not letting go himself, even as the announcement came, in Welsh, that the train was approaching. "And, I expect your report this afternoon to be as professional as ever."
"I'm not sure I'll manage that," Jack pouted."
"Jack, I'm not having phone sex with you on a recorded line. You'll just have to wait until I get home and call you to tell you how my day at work was."
Jack grinned and kissed him again, running hands through this hair and cradling his head. When he pulled back, Ianto's eyes were closed and his lips were parted, a smile dancing on them. "Your train's here."
"I know," he sighed, leaning their foreheads together, then kissing Jack once more and stepping back. "I'd better go." He didn't have much luggage, most of what he had brought was either in the wash now, or back in the wardrobe in the flat.
Jack nodded and put his hands in the pockets of his greatcoat to walk with Ianto to the door of the train. He caught his hand and pulled him back to get one final kiss, then let him get on and followed his progress to his seat, blowing another kiss through the window. Ianto laughed and mimed catching it, then blew one back. The doors closed and the train pulled away, leaving Jack behind to watch it leave. The last thing he was of Ianto was him with his left hand pressed against the glass, with the ring clearly visible on it, and Jack blamed the moistness in his eyes and on his face on the rain.