Torchwood Fan-Fiction. Don't You Want To Share the Guilt?
I've always liked eating. Especially meat. The meat on Earth was some of the best I've ever tasted, though some of it tasted like chicken, most was very nice. I loved eating meat with Ianto. He always cooked it well and the company was good. He'd invited me round to have some the day after all the stuff with John. I should have been there. I should have left ten minutes ago. But I'm still sat here, staring at myself in the mirror, thinking.
There was an emotion inside me that didn't make an appearance often. My mouth was dry, my hands drumming against my thighs, my heard hammering against my chest. I was nervous. Something quite alien to me. I just couldn't bring myself to stand up and go to him. All the things that had happened, all the time I'd spent away from him. I know I should go and sort it out, talk to him about it, but I knew he'd end up knowing the truth, and that would hurt him, which, in turn, would hurt me. And I wouldn't know what to do. Hearts are things I can't fix. They're usually the things I break.
Next morning, I gather up the courage to go round to his house, after thinking about it for hours; something else I never normally do. I'm an impulse kind of guy. He opened the door after a painful and doubtful minute. His hair was dripping wet onto his shoulders, and a towel was held tightly around his waist. But I took no time to relish in the sight of his bare skin, for one look at his face detracted from it all. Instead of the usual, bright Ianto, there was a new one in his place. There were dark, puffy circles under his eyes, and his face was sallow. None of the usual light shone from his eyes. They were dull and gloomy.
He stood aside silently, and let me in. He closed the door after me and headed upstairs to the bathroom. I followed him, and saw he had his clothes hung up on the back of the door. He turned his back to me and removed his towel, carefully rubbing his body dry. Cautiously I slowed his hands and took the towel. He said nothing, letting me dry his wet skin and hair. He was a little more stubborn when it came to drying his arms. He appeared to hold them rigid for a second, then gave them up to me. On one I saw a long thin cut, bleeding lightly, next to five or six similar-looking pink lines. Wordlessly, I reached into the cupboard above the sink and found a box of plasters. I took one out and smoothed it gently onto Ianto's bleeding skin. I bent my head and kissed the spot lightly, and replaced the box of plasters.
I saw a plastic box of three razor blades balancing precariously on the edge of the sink. I put two and two together. It didn't take a genius. A deep breath.
"Ianto, have you…" I looked straight at his face, taking in the red-rimmed eyes and tight lips. I couldn't ask. It wouldn't have been right. I knew I should. I really, really should. But looking into his eyes, I knew the words would never come out.
"Have you been crying?" He turned to get his clothes from the back of the door. Long-sleeved shirt. Well, yes, of course.
"Shut up," Ianto mumbled, pulling on his clothes hastily, carefully pacing the hangers back on the door. I said nothing while he dressed, or while he lead me down the stairs. Or when he set about making coffee in the kitchen. Not even when he winced lightly when he caught his arm on the counter. I only uttered a word of thanks when he handed me my mug. It was killing me. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask, but I owed it to him, I owed it to Ianto to let him take his time and get his head sorted. I was lucky he'd even let me in.
He was about to go into the living room when I blurted out,
"Why don't we sit outside?" I don't know why I'd said it. Perhaps it was because I'd subconsciously seen how sunny it was outside. Perhaps it was just to break the silence. Ianto simply nodded and pulled a blanket from a cupboard. Worried about the grass stains, I guess. He took it outside and spread it on the grass. I sat down on one side and he sat on the other, as far from me as he could. He brought his knees to his chest, took a sip of coffee and put it down on the grass. He took a second to stroke the long grass, letting it pass through his fingers. He looked satisfied for a minute until I saw a single tear slide down his cheek. I couldn't bear it. I had to touch him.
I approached slowly, so no sudden contact would scare him. I put a hand on his shoulder and he turned towards me a little. I let out a little sigh of relief. I gently wiped away his tear with the tip of my finger and he leaned a little into me. I gave in and drew my arms around his, surprisingly limp, body, and held him tight. I felt his arm cling to my back. I inhaled his smell and I knew I was home. After everything I'd been through, I knew this was the place I'd longed to be. I'd felt an emptiness when I was with The Doctor, an emptiness I'd expected his presence to fill. But I knew now that the answer had been right in front of me all the time, dressed in a neat suit, smelling of coffee and something musky.
We stayed like that for a little while until we broke apart, seated much closer together this time.
"So," I said quietly, "Tell me what you've been doing."
"Oh, you know, catching rogue aliens, monitoring the rift, making coffee…" I smiled. He rubbed his injured arm. I took his hand and rolled his sleeve up lightly. He winced a little. I kissed each line, tracing them with my fingers, some almost healed, some visibly new.
"Did you do this?" I whispered. Ianto shifted uncomfortably. I took this as the closest to an answer I'd get.
"It looks painful." At this he took his arm from my hand and rolled his sleeve back.
"I'm fine, Jack." he said harshly, his voice breaking on my name, as if it were a word he'd forbidden himself to say.
"Why, Ianto?" I knew what the answer would be. I just needed it from him.
"Why do you think? You were gone and I didn't know where, you'd just disappeared as I'd got you back. I was worried all the time. It was so stressful, I needed a release and this was the form it took. Just to escape the loneliness, the darkness. It made me feel. Stopped it all enveloping me. It's round every corner. It's everywhere. It's in this garden now. Listen." He grabbed my arms tightly, eyes slightly unfocussed. "Can you hear it, Jack?" I bit back my fear and managed to force myself to breathe.
"Will I feel it, Jack? Will it hurt? More than these cuts? Because I don't know if I could take it Jack." Tears were streaming hot down my face just as they were down his.
"I don't know, Ianto. I really don't. But I'll be here to fight it. We'll fight it together. We'll fight the loneliness." I felt his grip on my arms relax, his face relax, his eyes relax. I kissed his cheeks where the tears had fallen once more.
"I'm never going to leave again. I promise." And I think I meant it. Really, really meant it. For once in my life I was telling the absolute truth. Ianto smiled weakly and pressed his warm lips to my own. I hadn't expected him to let me back into his life this quickly, but I wasn't complaining. I kissed him back, the kiss showing the longing, how much we'd missed each other. There was no passion. It was deeper than that. Not a want but a need.
Eventually we broke apart and lay in each others arms, ready to talk.
"Why didn't you turn up yesterday, Jack?" Ianto asked quietly. I knew it would have come at some point. I took a breath, wondering how to say this.
"Because…I think I was scared. Scared of what you might say, of what you might do, or the Ianto I would find in front of me. Because…" I'd run out of words, "I don't know. I can't explain." I looked hopefully at Ianto, hoping he'd understand what I was saying.
"You know, I don't know how more people haven't got mental health problems." He sighed. I was a little confused, to say the least.
"Why?" I asked, wanting him to explain.
"Well, thinking is one of the most stressful things I've ever come across, and not being able to articulate what I want to say drives me crazy. I understand why you can't explain it to me, Jack." I smiled in relief.
"Maybe I should read some more books, learn some new words…"
"My sister used to read the dictionary," He mused, "I'm going to start with that." He was opening up to me. It was wonderful. I grabbed the opportunity.
"What do you want to do, Ianto? What do you really want to do?" Ianto was silent for a few seconds, thinking about his answer. I watched his face intently.
"I want to travel, see everything. The pyramids, India, that race with the bicycles in France. I want to see a whale, proper Earth animals, not aliens. I want to see the Nile." I was with him up until the Nile part. I didn't like rivers much.
"Know what? I don't like rivers. They scare me. But I love swimming. I'm good at it, wouldn't you know? And when I swim, I count the laps and the lengths and the metres, and this helps me relax when I feel tense."
We spoke more, sharing facts and experiences. We found a lot out about each other.
"When I was younger, I saw a house burn down, and I walked past it every day for six years. It was all black and dangerous. I kind of liked it there. It was a part of me almost. I'd always wondered if squatters lived there. I'm still not sure to this day, but I know there were never any parties because it was a real shit-hole." I laughed. I couldn't help it.
"Is it still there?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"No. The council got round to tidying up the town then and they tore it down. I still walked past it every day, but there was a wall there with a few bits of crappy graffiti on it instead. I miss that house sometimes. It seems silly, but I really do…"
More time passed, more conversation. More facts and memories until-
"I feel so guilty for going Ianto. I know I should have stayed here with you and the team. I'm so sorry. I can never say how sorry I am. I hope you can learn to forgive me." There it was. I'd laid my heart on the table and left it to him. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.
"I could never push you away, Jack. Never. I missed you so much. But now you're back, and I'm better. And it'll get better. Share the guilt with me. It'll make it easier. Trust me with it. Tell me what happened. From the very beginning. I'll listen." I was ready. Ready to tell him about The Doctor and The Master and Martha. Everything. I knew he wouldn't judge, that he'd just listen. I kissed him softly, briefly on his tender lips.
"You sure you're ready for this?" I had to make sure. This was a heavy burden to carry.
"Always ready, me." He replied. I smiled and began unwinding the twisted paths of the past that never was.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading this. I really enjoyed writing it. I was listening to Don't You Want to Share the Guilt by Kate Nash and this popped into my head and wouldn't go away. Please review and tell me your opinions, even if you hated it. Thanks.