A.N.: As always, all rights belong to RTD and the BBC. I own nothing, and I make no money. [Insert standard plea for reviews here]
Jack hated to admit it, but he wouldn't have been half so angry about Ianto's cyber-girlfriend if he hadn't felt so personally betrayed by the whole business. He hated to admit he felt that way, because he knew he didn't have any right to. Betrayed, yes, he had been, they all had been, and they all had the right to feel angry, but not on the deep, personal level Jack had taken it to. He would have liked to chalk it up to being betrayed as the leader, as the boss, as the soul reason Torchwood 3 existed and did any kind of good at all, but he couldn't. That had been how he'd felt after he'd found out about Suzie, and that had been different.
This was darker than that. This was deeper than that. This was the delicate kind of anger, the kind that left you a hairsbreadth away from doing something damning that you couldn't take back, that left you wound up tight and shrill, because once it's fragile, thin surface was cracked, you were left with the throbbing, deep-seated pain of having been deceived on an emotional level. It was the kind of anger you felt fiercely, and tried to hold onto because it was so much easier than what came next. It was the kind of anger that made you do the things you were the most ashamed of later.
Jack had liked Ianto, he honestly had. He'd let things go that he shouldn't have, that he wouldn't have, if he hadn't liked him so much. Worse, he'd thought Ianto liked him. Not tolerated him, wasn't enamoured with his mystery, didn't hate him for the loud and sometimes extremely thin disguise he always wore, but actually liked him for what he showed, and didn't worry about the rest. It was the way Ianto had always acted when they were alone. Unlike everybody else, including Gwen (who Jack would freely admit to being taken with), Ianto didn't ask too many questions, but he didn't put up with a lot of Jack's shit either. Sometimes, for a man in Jack's unique position, it was hard not to feel superior to everyone else; it was hard not to feel like some sort of God. Then, Ianto would roll his eyes, and tell him he was acting like a tit, and Jack would snap back to reality. Just because he was, so far, effectively immortal didn't mean he was any wiser than anyone else. Well, perhaps a little wiser, but no better, and certainly no less human. Ianto had the ability to make Jack feel human, that was the thing. When they were alone, Ianto had no trouble calling him out for his attitude, or disagreeing with his decisions, and he never seemed surprised or wary when Jack talked about life in the 17th centaury, or the technology of the 27th. Ianto was easy to talk to, he was easy to talk at, and Jack had assumed that Ianto liked him.
It never occurred to Jack that Ianto simply didn't care. Nor had it occurred to him that he really couldn't be said to care for Ianto, now that he thought about it. Jack had always been so wrapped up in his own problems, his life and his own stories, that he really hadn't bothered to find out anything about Ianto, past what was in the Torchwood files. He'd always used Ianto like he was a fact; something honest and reliable that would always be more than happy to do as Jack said, sort of like a pet. Like a dog with exceptional training, and an indifferent owner. Then, Jack had actually been surprised when his hand got bit. Still, even now, at least Ianto still had the ability to make him feel very foolish, and very human.
Jack sat at his desk, brooding about these things, and wondering what he was supposed to do next. Simply firing Ianto was out of the question, and the time for killing him had passed. If Jack wanted to be shut of him, he'd have to Retcon him, come up with a decent story to tell his family, if Ianto had any family, which Jack was ashamed to admit he didn't know. All in all, it seemed like a little too much work to cap a day like this, and it didn't really matter, because it wasn't going to happen. Ianto would be sticking around if he wanted to, and Jack knew it. They all did; it hadn't even been a question.
The only question now, then, was what Ianto would decide. If he wanted the Retcon, Jack would give it to him. If he wanted a fight, Jack would give him that, too. Either way, the night was over, people had died, the rest of the team had gone home, Ianto was still downstairs cleaning up the mess, and it was time for Jack to find him, and talk about what they were going to do about it. Jack slowly made his way downstairs, and followed the sound of water and clinking china that told him Ianto was doing the washing up. Jack paused at the kitchen doorway, and watched as Ianto methodically washed and dried mugs and plates.
He noticed how still Ianto was, besides the cleansing motions. He noticed how his hands didn't shake, and how even his breathing was. He noticed how pale Ianto had gone, besides the livid, angry wounds on his face and hands. For the first time, Jack was consciously glad that the Hub had no windows, because he didn't want to see how dead Ianto was sure to look in the cold morning light.
"Do you have any family?" Jack asked suddenly, and Ianto didn't even jump.
"A sister," he replied, in a dead voice, "her husband, and their kids. You won't have to tell them much. You could kill me, and you wouldn't have to tell them much. We aren't close."
"I'm not going to do anything to you," Jack said. "Why aren't you close?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because I never did," Jack said, and Ianto stopped still. For the first time, an expression flitted across his blank face, and Jack wasn't surprised to see it was anger.
"Don't start now. Just let me finish here, then you can do what you like."
"Ianto, we did what we had to do. Nobody wanted to hurt you-" Ianto turned his back to put the mugs on their shelf, and Jack grabbed his arm to spin him back around. The mug in his hand fell and shattered on the floor, the sound very loud, and the fragments between them.
"Ianto, I didn't… I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."
Ianto dropped his head a little, a gesture Jack recognised to mean Ianto was thinking about if he should say what was on his mind. Jack knew he would, because he usually did.
"I know," Ianto said, looking him dead in the eye, "but, it doesn't mean anything, Jack. I'm sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am, and you're sorry, and even Owen said he was sorry, but it's useless. It doesn't take it back; it can't make it better. People died tonight, because of me. I'm responsible for that. I know, and I'm sorry, but it doesn't mean anything."
"Yes, it does. To be able to feel that guilt, and to be forgiven… that is one of the most powerful things there is."
"Who told you that?" Ianto asked, his voice raising. "The Doctor?"
Jack let go of his wrist, and stepped back from him quickly. His confusion must have shown on his face, because Ianto laughed.
"Torchwood, Jack. I worked for Torchwood 1, haven't you ever thought of what that meant? Our primary target was the Doctor, and we knew you were a companion of his. They knew things about you that I'll admit I don't, but I know there's something. Some big secret that made them afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you, Jack, and I know you're sorry. But, don't be fooled. It's all worthless."
Jack didn't respond at first, and Ianto simply turned back to the dishes. Jack watched until he was finished, and then he put his hands on Ianto's shoulders. He squeezed them gently, but it didn't ease the tension there.
"Like so many other things," he said, also gently, "we'll have to disagree on that. For what it's worth, or for what it isn't, I am sorry. And I forgive you. Now, go home."
"What then?" Ianto asked.
"Then you take some time off. Breathe, talk to your sister, mourn for Lisa. Then you come back to work, 8 AM sharp a week from today, and that's an order. I was going to give you the choice, but I don't think I can."
"So, that's my punishment then?" Ianto said, almost laughingly. "Indentured servitude?"
"No. It's not a punishment, but I don't think you can be trusted to do what's best for yourself right now. I want you to give me a month after you come back, and if you still want to walk, then so be it. One month, and then you can go if you want to. Intact, with your memories, if you want to."
"You'll just let me go?"
"I don't want too," Jack said, and that was the truth. "But, I will. I guess I owe you that much."
Ianto dipped his head again, but this time he stayed silent. Jack could guess what he'd been thinking. He'd wanted to ask 'why?' and 'for what?' but he'd known he wouldn't get an answer. Jack himself didn't even know, except, maybe, he owed Ianto for making him feel human sometimes. Ianto stood still for another minute, and then he made ready to leave. Jack watched him until he got to the door, and then called him back.
"Ianto? You aren't going to do anything rash and stupid are you?'
Ianto turned and looked at him, then shook his head. "I won't. I promise. I owe you that much."
He was gone before Jack could reply, but that was okay. Jack believed him. Though he had no reason to, hell, he had every reason not to, Jack still trusted and believed him