Ianto Jones as Witnessed by a Distinguished Feline

by Gecko Osco

Moses had a good life. In fact, he was inclined to believe he had an exceptionally good life. And then he lost Estelle. Now he has Ianto, and he thinks maybe it was always meant to be. Janto main...others mentioned.

6. Part Six

Title: The Life and Times of Ianto Jones as Witnessed by a Distinguished Feline (6/12)
Pairing: Jack/Ianto main, but there's a whole lot of everything in the mix.
Rating: PG-13-R
Summary: Moses had a good life. In fact, he was inclined to believe he had an exceptionally good life. And then he lost Estelle. Now he has Ianto, and he thinks maybe it was always meant to be. Witness the life and loves of Ianto Jones through the eyes of one extremely observant feline.
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them...I cry a little on the inside typing those words.
Warnings/Spoilers: Oh...just about everything. Also, there is minor bashing...but it hardly counts, it's from a cat ^_^.
Authors notes: A different look into everyone's favorite Tea-boy, through a distinctly different pair of eyes. Reviews are adored and cherished and I would love to hear what everyone thinks! Sorry for the delay, I am now officially done with school forever, now enjoy this chapter!

Part Six: Interlude…or 3 Months wherein Moses Swore Vengeance against the Stomper

It was needless to say that Moses did not see much of his Ianto after the Dark Day (ominous, yes, but appropriate; it could not have been pleasant, even if he didn't remember it) and the Stomper's disgraceful leave-taking. Between the need for enforced loneliness and dealing with the fall-out of the Dark Day (it had been the 'Torchwood's' fault, big surprise that was), his Ianto was in and out constantly, looking quite terrible and tired. Moses did not fuss though, he understood that his Ianto had an important sort of responsibility, being a part of that "Torchwood' business and all. The metal cavern they worked in, and Moses had spent that brief moment of time (which we do not mention) within, had been horribly muddled and messed up and needed to be tidied in addition to their usual strange activities.

After a few days (and nights) of absence, his Ianto finally trudged through the door of the flat late one night with an air of permanence, looking completely haggard and dead on his feet. Moses had been napping across the top of the couch, stretched out lengthwise with his paws sticking straight out, eyes closed and purring softly. It was a nice position, but the only problem that if there was any sudden movement or noise, he was not in the best position to react. Luckily, his Ianto did not slam doors or walk around loudly (like a certain unmentionable Stomper), so Moses woke up at a sedate, calm rate, eyes blinking sleepily as they peered at his flat-mate. Moses arched up and yawned largely before hopping off, tail up in the air as his awareness came back to him. His Ianto did not falter on his path to the bedroom and Moses could hear the mattress and pillows give a resounding 'oomph' as he flopped down, suit and all.

Moses hopped up and meowed insistently (he may have had compassion for his Ianto, but damn it he wanted affection now) nudging the limp hand with his nose, licking the finger and nipping them when that got no response. He heard his Ianto groan in an exasperated manner and he saw a peek of an eye narrow at him from behind a bent up arm. Moses meowed again, supremely pleased with himself as he heard his Ianto sigh resignedly, but a hand began petting him. Moses purred deeply and arched down so that his head could be scratched by a few fingers that could barely find energy to lift off the comforter, his bum and tail high in the air (he really couldn't care if he looked ridiculous, if Humans could appreciate a good ear scratching like felines could, they'd understand the willingness to do whatever necessary to continue the scratching).

Eventually, his Ianto flipped around, blowing out air in a long, steady breath that seemed calming for him, almost as if he was readying for sleep save for his wide open eyes. Moses curled down into a loafing pose next to his Ianto's outstretched arm, content that his Ianto was once again sleeping in his bed (he could only imagine what the young Human had been doing for sleep in the metal Hub). He was ready though, ready for an out spilling of words and feelings his Ianto was undoubtedly storing inside. He squinted his green eyes halfway closed and looked at his rumpled Ianto, waiting and patient (he could be when the moment called for it…one just couldn't expect that patience all the time) for him to begin.

He knew it would take some time…abandonment was never a pleasant thing to go through or talk about.

"The coffee machine, the new one, came in today," his Ianto began. "Which, is a God-send really…Owen is bad enough when he has decent coffee; he's dreadful on Starbucks."

Moses purred in agreement (with Owen, the Man in White, being horrible, not really with the idea of coffee making him better).

His Ianto sucked in air between his teeth and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, face scrunched up as of in great pain. "But, there's still the issue of outfitting a new conference room, as the old one is a mess of glass and other various chemicals, fixing parts of Myfanwy's pen which is full of concrete, fixing the electrical wiring down in the cell rooms, and the ever popular task of dredging up the water-logged morgue…which smells as good as mildew and dead bodies can."

Moses nudged his Ianto in sympathy (because he knew that his Ianto would be stuck doing all of this…his curse of being a naturally tidy Human), inwardly cursing the other 'Torchwood' humans…well, except the Little Tosh who was quite wonderful enough to make up for her lack of tidiness.

"Not to mention that hostile aliens don't really give a shit whether or not Torchwood is understaffed and overwhelmed. And while Gwen and Owen are having a pissing contest in who is acting head, what do I get to do on my supposed day off?"

His Ianto trailed off for a moment, removing his hands from his eyes and then looking at Moses with a truly sad and tired grin. "WE get to go to Flat Holm, Moe, that's what. And then it's back to mucking about in the Hub waiting for a captain who isn't coming back for any of us."

Moses switched his cursing from the other Human Torchwood members to the Stomper; hating him for the sad eyes he caused his Ianto.

"You know, we checked surveillance, in case we could get a glimpse on what took him, and wouldn't you know, nothing took him. He left all on his own, running as fast as he could for a blue Police box. For his Doctor. I recognized that box; I've seen it in countless documents and slideshows in London…no winning against that."

And, curled up under his Ianto's arm, purring softly, listening to the echoing silence that followed, a silence choked with an unbearable hurt that refused to voice itself, Moses swore vengeance against the idiotic Stomper. And, if it took another one of his lives, he was going to see that vengeance met (preferably in a painful way, but Moses wasn't going to be picky; vengeance was vengeance).

**

Fast forward to a few weeks later, complete with numerous trips across the unpleasant body of water to the sick Humans and a fair number of new cuts and bruises popping up over his Ianto's skin, Moses found it hard to even think of the Stomper without homicidal thoughts entering his head. Yes, it would be hard to correct the situation should the Stomper show his mongrel face again (and Moses was fairly sure it would cost another of his Lives), and his Ianto might be most displeased, but Moses thought it would be worth it. Moses had never sired a litter of kittens, but he vaguely thought that if he had ever had such an opportunity he would have reacted in a similar manner.

Moses looked up at his very tired Ianto from the tile in the kitchen, huffing angrily to himself (and swearing continued vengeance on said Stomper for the umpteenth time) as he took in the pronounced darkness under his Ianto's eyes and the slumped stature. If there was ever a need for a visual definition of the term 'exhausted,' his Ianto could have served as the example, making Moses wince in sympathy at how much his Ianto had to be hurting. It couldn't have been easy trying to manage a relationship with an emotionally stunted Human who smelled funny, but Moses had seen his Ianto strive for it anyway, and had seen him happy for the chance. Moses could only imagine the disappointment and sadness his Ianto was feeling over what he knew the young Human viewed as his failure (even if such an idea was nonsense…if there was a failure to be had it most definitely didn't belong to his Ianto).

His Ianto sighed heavily and rested his weary forehead against his outstretched palms, arms bent at the elbow and serving as a prop to rest against, the elbows crumpling a variety of forms and papers under them. Moses sat up and meowed comfortingly, wishing that his Ianto would listen to the common sense he had so much of and just sleep (but that was too much to ask, so Moses didn't indulge such a worry when he had many others to choose from). "I know you want to be fed, Moe, but your food is fine…I'm not going to refill the bowl so you can have 'fresher' food, stubborn bugger."

Moses did not appreciate the slight against his nature (even if it was somewhat correct…the food just tasted better from the bag, not sitting in his dish for several days), but forgave his Ianto. He knew how much stress the young Human was under…he wouldn't add to it if he could help it.

There was a soft knock at the door, which startled both Moses and his Ianto, and with a weary exhale of breath, his Ianto rose and shuffled over to the door. Moses was not sure what had caused the shuffle instead of the graceful stride his Ianto usually had, but he was sure it had been large and vaguely strange (and most likely to do with that "Torchwood' business). His Ianto opened the door and Moses was much pleased to see the little Tosh come bustling through, carrying a few unpleasant things under her arm, but offering up a carton of what smelled like Indian as well (Moses had since become quite attuned to the variety of Human food that existed…his Estelle had been rather bland in what she ate in comparison to his Ianto). His Ianto helped take some of the unpleasant material (i.e. 'Torchwood' related rubbish) from the little Human and set it with the other papers on the table. Little Tosh noticed Moses without him having to meow, much to his delight, and gave him a nice scratch behind the ears and a gentle hello.

"Is this everything? I thought there'd be more…"

"Believe me, this is all we'll need. I have a tracker set up within the city's security system so that should any electrical interference pop up, the signal will automatically be scanned and analyzed, to see if it has anything to do with our little escapee Neef. If it does, I'll be able to get a lock on it and we should be able to track it down before it does too much damage to the citywide computer systems."

"Funny that something that small and fuzzy could be so destructive."

"It was rather cute, wasn't it? Like a furry little mouse."

"Chinchilla, I thought." Moses was warmed by the genuine smile that spread across his Ianto's face as the little Tosh knocked his shoulder and gave him a playful smile. It was nice to see his Ianto do something beyond pull at his hair and agonize over things he could not change.

Moses took a refreshing nap while his Ianto and the little Tosh did whatever they did to catch something they had lost (although Moses had his doubts over who actually lost the 'Neef'…whatever that was; he knew what a chinchilla was, but a Neef?). When he awoke some time later, feeling much more alert and pleasant (indeed he wasn't even cursing the Stomper, a rare feat for him nowadays), he saw that most of the food little Tosh had brought with her was devoured and the kitchen has transformed into a mess of wires and shining blue screens. He hoped off and sniffed around experimentally, not wanting to give the impression he was looking for mischief (in case little Tosh remembered the unfortunate cord chewing episode from the Time Not Mentioned).

"I think someone wants you attention," the little Tosh said. Her eyes crinkled in a smile as they flicked over Moses and then back to whatever she was typing so furiously over. And although he hadn't really been thinking about attention, now that it was mentioned, a nice pet or scratch did sound lovely.

"Doesn't he always?" His Ianto did not look up, which made Moses a little annoyed (which was usually the deciding factor for his burning determination to be annoying in retaliation), prompting his decision to hop up on the table, sit down on a pile of papers and meow in a defiant manner. Little Tosh giggled in her pleasant manner while his Ianto looked up with an arched brow and downturn quirk to his lips.

"Moses, get down." Moses decided to lie down and roll onto his back, tail swishing back and forth and creating a pleasant, rustling noise. He internally celebrated victory when he heard a resigned sigh and felt fingers stroke down his back. Little Tosh joined in soon after, scratching behind his ears, which prompted a rather loud bout of purring.

"He's very demanding, isn't he? Reminds me of—well, a variety of people I suppose; no one in specific."

"He's a cat; being demanding is as natural as breathing for him." Moses purred deeply at the smile his Ianto spared for him.

"I think he's good for you. Probably livens up the flat!"

"Livens is an understatement. The sides of my couch will never be the same."

And though Moses could see sadness in his Ianto's face, no doubt from the little Tosh's erroneous comment on who Moses reminded her of (it didn't take a scientist to figure she was referring to the Stomper…which Moses did NOT agree with, by the way), he felt his heart lighten because there was less. It was not gone completely, nor did Moses expect heartache of that sort to do so, but little Tosh had lessened it, brought a smile to his Ianto's face and brought food (which was good because Moses thought his Ianto was much too skinny for a Human). Moses closed his eyes and let them continue their 'neef-ing' business, a bit more content that his Ianto was, at least in the care of one decent Human.

**

"Owen, this isn't necessary, nor is it even wanted. I told you at the Hub I was fine and I meant it."

"Yeah, well, no offense mate, but I have a hard time believing that sentence when it's coming from your mouth. Now sit down and shut up while I figure out if you have a concussion. I didn't drive my arse all the way out after you for you to cock up now."

Moses started awake, because he knew that voice…still associated that voice with mocking, projectile green goo. He quickly fled his comfortable perch on the windowsill and darted under the couch (not out of fear, thank you, but self-preservation…the Man in White had proven himself hostile and temperamental). From under his hiding spot, Moses peeked out and saw his Ianto sat down at his kitchen table, a nasty looking bruise blooming on his temple, going up under his hair and looking mottled and quite painful. The Man in White (who wasn't wearing any white now, so Moses decided it would be confusing to keep referring to him as such), or Owen as he had been named by his Ianto, was prodding the area and shining a small light into his Ianto's face, a studious expression on his face.

"Well, your pupils are contracting per usual, but you've got light sensitivity and one ugly bruise to go with it. I'd say you're clear from the concussion, but you're going to have a knot the size of an egg tomorrow complete with a spectacular headache."

"Hm."

"Why thank you, Owen, for that thorough diagnosis; it's such a relief to know I can sleep and not risk slipping into a coma, mucking up our already fucked up team."

"I told you I was fine."

"I said you didn't have a concussion, you bloody idiot, I didn't say you were fine. A hit to the head like that…you're just lucky, mate, that the damn Weevil spray finally kicked in or else you'd be hamburger as well as having a headache!"

Moses crawled to the edge of under the couch, his nose peeking out as he stared at the arguing Humans (well, really Owen was the only one arguing; his Ianto was silent and staring past the Human doctor's shoulder). The doctor Human rubbed the bridge between his eyes and nose and let out a hiss of breath before looking archly at Moses' Ianto, a small trace of sympathy sneaking onto a face that wasn't accustomed to it. It was barely noticeable, so much that Moses doubted for a moment, with his superior senses, that it was there, but he found himself creeping out from his reconnaissance spot and back into the open.

"Listen, Tea-boy, you're not usually that sloppy. You should have noticed that Weevil and would have, had you not been working yourself to death. Exhausting yourself is not going to bring that bastard back, and it's only going to leave us more vulnerable. Next time, I might not be there to save your sorry hide, or the next hit you might not get up from."

"I don't need a lecture, Owen."

"No, what you need is sense beaten into your thick skull, but as you've already been hit hard enough today, I'm left doing this." Moses saw a small, honest smirk with nothing malicious within it spread across the doctor Human's face. It was strange looking, Moses thought, after seeing almost nothing but sarcasm (something felines were well-versed in) and nastiness from the Human, it was out of place to see anything resembling sympathy.

It was odd, but nice, Moses thought, and he found himself padding into the kitchen and sitting beside the table where his Ianto and Owen were. The two Human males looked at each other, neither saying anything more and neither backing down from the other's stare. It was some kind of showdown, Moses knew (although he thought it a bit silly…Humans needed to learn how to contest dominance properly…), but almost as abruptly as it had started, it ended with a small nod and smile from his Ianto and an echoing nod from the doctor Human.

"Thank you, Owen."

"Part of my job, Tea-boy. Well, nice to know we got all that sorted, now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a Pub that's been postponed long enough." Owen rose from his seat and made his way towards the door, pausing and turning back for a brief moment. "I'd ask if you wanted to come, but as your doctor I recommend not mixing alcohol with a head bump like that. Get some sleep, real sleep, and if you're in before me tomorrow, mate, I'll assign Gwen as your bed nurse."

Moses did not think such a threat was idle, so he shared a shudder with his Ianto, but he was happy at the smile still lingering on his Ianto's lips. Perhaps the doctor Human wasn't a complete prat and waste of space, as Moses had originally presumed (felines are renowned for their grudges…and throwing green slime at him for sport most certainly earned him one hell of a grudge). He purred and rubbed against his Ianto's leg, his hopes high that perhaps the Stomper's most grievous mistake and all the unneeded pain it had caused was perhaps, finally starting to ebb away.

**

Moses woke up one night and felt very disoriented. He knew that his Ianto was not there, that he was off traipsing in a range of mountains that were aptly named after felines (and Himalayans were such gorgeous felines, Moses thought) doing whatever it was he did for the 'Torchwood' business. He knew that he was in the same position he had fallen asleep in…but there was something wrong.

His dream had been very colorful, full of explosions, excitement, and portents of doom. And…it had not seemed like a dream. It had…well, Moses didn't quite know what it had been, but it was definitely NOT a dream.

His Ianto had been absent, but Moses remembered a quite bedraggled and pathetic looking Stomper (odd, because he could not remember a time when the Stomper looked unkempt…even after mating), dirty and full of sorrow. There had been some unsavory Humans surrounding him, one in particular looked a little to rat-like for Moses' tastes, and Moses had been under the couch. He had been terrified for some reason, much more so than with the Flying Creatures that had attacked his Estelle, and his eyes had met with the Stomper's, eyes that ordered Moses to stay put and not make a sound.

Moses had never been great with orders (sometimes a fatal flaw, if the odd dream was of any indication).

But…no. Moses yawned and laid his head back down, determined to not let whatever it was bother him. No doubt, it had to do with the funny 'Torchwood' and had probably been quite terrible, but everything seemed put right once more. Moses was not going to waste his worry on funny Other-Times and dirty, sad Stompers (he had vengeance to think about and could not be distracted by pity) that no longer mattered.

Taking a deep breath, he fell back asleep, this time having nothing but pleasant dreams about Himalayans and catnip.

**

His Ianto returned from the fishy trip as scheduled, much to Moses' delight, and life quickly resumed to the amended normalcy that had evolved as the Stomper's absence lengthened. His Ianto flitted in and out of the flat with an increase of purpose and decrease in the 'lost-ness' occupying his demeanor (a most grievous state of affairs, Moses thought), and Moses adjusted to not seeing his Ianto for days at a time. Little Tosh, the doctor Human, and even the nosy Gwen were frequent visitors, and Moses found that despite their business with the untrustworthy 'Torchwood,' (and past errors, such as flying goo and abandonment), he liked these Humans.

Not as much as his Ianto, of course, but well enough.

So, surrounded by such positive forces, goals and affection, it was only natural that Moses' thoughts concerning the Stomper diminished until they hid in the back of his mind. He knew that wasn't the case with his Ianto, but Moses knew enough about his clever Human to know that his thoughts were no longer circling and dangerous. And, while he had always known how strong and able his Ianto was, Moses could see that others could see it as well (oblivious Humans, always missing what was right in front of their inferior noses). It was all rather encouraging, Moses thought, a fortuitous bequeath of destiny really, and he couldn't have been happier that things had turned out as they did.

Then, after three months of waiting and fighting and cursing, the Stomper returned as mysteriously as he had departed. And Moses once again remembered his vengeance. Immortal (whatever that was) or not, the Stomper was going to rue the day he hurt Moses' Ianto…he was ready.

TBC…

**

I don't usually do end notes, but I wanted to let you all know that I'll be on a cruise for the next week, so I'm not ignoring any of your reviews, I just won't be able to respond them until I get back. I'm looking forward to reading them when I get back! Next time...season 2!

Osco