21. Lemonade

It was too cold to sit outside under the pergola where he'd first met and spoken to Christina, but there were several private sitting rooms scattered throughout the old building, and the nurse directed Ianto to one of these. He paced somewhat nervously across the worn carpet, not sure why he was there, not sure if he should be there, but he felt he owed it to her. To let her know that some small good had come of the entire mess.

"Mr. Jones!" she exclaimed in her paper thin voice as the nurse wheeled her into the room. "How kind of you to come see me again." She held out her hand, and Ianto pressed her cold fingers between his own with a warm smile.

"I enjoyed our last meeting," he said. "I hope you don't mind my coming by again. I don't mean to intrude on your afternoon."

"It's no intrusion whatsoever," she said. Glancing up at the nurse, she nodded. "Thank you, Gladys. I don't suppose I could trouble you for some lemonade? Two glasses?"

The middle-aged nurse smiled and patted Christina on the shoulder. "Of course, love. I'll be back in a few minutes, right after I check in on George. You enjoy your visit."

Christina motioned at a chair, and Ianto sat down across from her, finding himself unexpectedly tongue-tied now that he was there. To his surprise, she spoke first.

"You've more shadows about you, Mr. Jones," she said, sounding sad. "Did something happen? Is that why you've come?"

He shook his head. "How did you know? That they touched me, the first time we were here?"

"I told you," she said. "I can sense it. I could feel from the moment I met the Ghostmaker as a child that he was all wrong.

"But how?" Ianto insisted. He wasn't sure why he was hung up on the issue, wasn't sure it was important, only it was. For her, and now, for him.

Christina did not reply right away, but studied him so closely that Ianto almost started to twitch from the attention. Finally, she nodded. "They say the eyes are the window into the soul, you know."

"And can you see into a person's soul?" he asked.

"I can," she said with utmost certainty. "It's how I knew the Ghostmaker was wrong. I looked into his eyes, and he had no soul."

Her voice had dropped to a childlike whisper, and Ianto shivered even though he was inside.

"And what do you see in my eyes?" he asked, half wanting the answer and half fearing it. She reached out for his hand.

"I can see the shadows in your eyes," she said. "I can see your strength and courage, but I also see pain and suffering and sadness. You've had a difficult life, have you not, Mr. Jones?"

He nodded wordlessly, and she continued. "You've lost people, like I have. To senseless evil, whether from this world or another. It leaves shadows on the soul, in your eyes."

The nurse arrived then and left them with two glasses of cool lemonade, which Christina accepted with a gracious smile. She took a sip and hummed happily. It was freshly made, and when he commented on it, she nodded.

"Indeed it is. The only way to enjoy lemonade! I made it myself for years, but these old hands can't squeeze the lemons anymore. Gladys is kind enough to make me a glass or two on special occasions." Before Ianto could protest, she held up her other hand. "And yes, Mr. Jones, this is a special occasion. I don't have many visitors, especially now. So tell me your news. I know you have some reason for coming to see an old woman."

He took another sip of the strong yet delicious drink and set it down. "We stopped them, the Ghostmaker and his followers. At least, for now."

"Oh." She went pale and her hand started shaking, and Ianto grabbed her glass before she dropped it. "Oh my, that is good news. Please tell me what happened. You've more shadows than last time, yet you tell me they're gone?"

"They stole more breaths," Ianto told her. "But we were able to get the flask, the silver flask you told us about, and save one person, a young boy. He's going to be all right."

There were tears in her eyes as Ianto continued. "The boy is with extended family now. We destroyed them all, though there may be other ways for them to return, and the flask is safe and secured. As far as we know, they're gone."

"But he touched you again, didn't he?" asked Christina. She patted his knee. "It's painful, I know. It marks you forever with the shadows."

"You are a remarkable woman," Ianto said, and he meant it.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she replied with a light laugh. "If I was so remarkable, I might not have spent my entire life in this place."

"Perhaps that's why you're here," Ianto told her. "Because you're so remarkable. I wish the world had seen it, had believed you."

A look of deep sadness passed across her face, and Ianto almost wished he could take back his words, but she must have seen his expression, because she shook her head. "I've no regrets, Mr. Jones. You believed me. You and your Captain Harkness."

"We tend to see a number of..." He tried to think of the right word, probably failed. "Unbelievable things in our line of work. Things that seem impossible, that sometimes shouldn't even exist."

"Thank you for protecting us from them," she said, and once again he laughed out loud.

"How do you know that's my job?" he asked.

"Strength and courage," she replied firmly. "I see it in your eyes. It's obvious, really, just as it was with Captain Harkness."

Ianto hesitated, opened his mouth to ask, then stopped. It was none of his business, and he didn't need the answer. He knew enough about Jack to understand her enigmatic comments about him when they'd visited, and exploring it could make things worse.

"You want to ask me about him," she said. She motioned for her lemonade, and Ianto handed it to her with a sheepish smile.

"You said something when we were here, about how he doesn't belong. That he's from nowhere." He finished his own drink and shrugged. "I suppose I was wondering what you meant by it."

"I didn't mean to hurt him, or you," she said after a moment. "Only I see things, and sometimes I can't help but mention them, without thinking of how it might affect others."

"Oh," said Ianto, searching for a response. "It's not that I was offended, or hurt. I understand why you might think that, but Jack…" He sighed. "I don't know how he took it, to be honest."

"He was startled," she replied. "And disappointed, I think. He's trying so hard to belong, and I think more than anywhere, or anytime, he's made a life for himself here and now."

"How could you possible know that?" Ianto murmured, then held up his hand before she could answer. "I know, I know—it's in his eyes."

"He'd much older than he looks, isn't he?" she asked, and Ianto nodded slowly. "His eyes were filled with deep shadows—so much pain and suffering. And yet also so much light, so much life. He's a study in contradictions really—great strength and yet so fragile beneath it all, so much darkness within him and yet so much love." She paused and looked him straight in the eye. "You are aware of the way he looks at you, are you not, Mr. Jones?"

Ianto could not have been more shocked and stuttered over a flustered answer. "He's my boss, and I'm general support for—"

"No, no," she said, sounding petulant and cross. "Not like that. You are much more than that." He didn't answer—what could he say? Admit to this kind old woman, who was still mostly a stranger, that he and Jack were lovers? He didn't want to give her a heart attack, after all.

"He looks to you for strength and support, yes," she said. "But he looks at you with much more. He cares about you a great deal, Mr. Jones. Take care with your heart—and his."

Ianto stared at her for so long she finally sighed and looked away. "I've gone and spoiled things, haven't I?" she said softly, sounding small and lost. "Spoken without thought and—"

"No!" he exclaimed, reaching for her hand and holding it tight. "You surprised me, that's all. You've spoiled nothing, I promise."

"So you'll come see me again, sometime?" she asked, her voice tremulous. "Because it is so very nice to have a young visitor again. I feel you have a great many stories to tell, and I would dearly like to hear them."

"If you'll tell me some of your own," said Ianto.

"I think I might," she said, smiling broadly. "Because I know you won't think me mad!"

"You may think I'm the mad one!" Ianto laughed. "The things I have seen…"

"This world is but a canvas to our imagination," she murmured. He recognized it a quotation of some sort, and a true one at that.

"I should get back to work," he said after a moment. "Perhaps I might come back in few weeks?"

"I would like that very much," she replied.

"Then it's a date," he said, standing up and moving behind her chair. "May I drive you home?"

She laughed and directed him back to her room, where he made sure she was settled before turning to leave. She reached out with a hand before he left.

"Tell me again that they're gone, Mr. Jones," she whispered, sounding tired and scared. He grasped her hand and leaned close, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek.

"They're gone," he told her. "And we're watching now. We believe you, and we'll stop them again if we have to. Every time."

"Thank you, Ianto," she said, her eyes slipping closed. "Thank you."

He left with one last farewell, checking out at the front desk and walking slowly across the grounds back to his car. He thought he'd come to Providence Park to offer Christina some measure of peace, but found that she'd given it to him instead. Though he was still upset about the boy and worried about the future, he felt reassured by her gratitude and confidence. If the Ghostmaker did indeed ever return, they would stop them. Torchwood was ready.

Author's Note:
The Cocktail Hour story for 'Something Borrowed' is a separate story entitled 'Cocktail Hour - Champagne'. It was far too long to include here! I hope you enjoyed Christina and Ianto's lemonade conversation. Thank you for reading!