Chapter Thirty-Nine
I'm away this next week (or at least, my parents are and I'm staying with one of my mum's friends in the village; I'll get about an hour back home every evening, but only for music practice and homework…) so I don't think I'll be able to write anything new. Luckily, I've already written 40, 41 and 42, but they'll have to cover this next week. Sorry…
Disclaimer: Well… no. I don't own Torchwood. Not quite yet… ;-)
"You know something?" Jack asked casually, face pressed up against the glass window of the bus.
"What?" Ianto tried to ignore the marks on the window, failing spectacularly when he reached across and rubbed at it with a handkerchief.
"Stop fussing," Jack said, leaning back. "I need to sign your cast."
"What with?" Ianto asked. "'Captain Jack woz ere'?"
"No, though that does have possibilities," Jack said. "All of us ought to sign it. Like a good-luck charm."
"'A good-luck charm'?"
"Well, a 'Get better soon' sort of thing," Jack said, averting his eyes.
Ianto paused, not wanting to dampen the mood. "If that makes you happy."
Jack looked back at him, a slight frown creasing his matinee idol features. He opened his mouth to say something, then evidently thought better of it and closed it again.
"Do you need to check up with the others?" Ianto asked, changing the subject. "Let them know what we're doing?"
Jack put a hand in his pocket, then looked up sheepishly. "Oops?" he offered.
Ianto rolled his eyes. "You forgot your phone, didn't you?"
"Maybe."
Ianto shook his head. "You're hopeless." He pulled out his own phone. "Here, use mine – but don't use up all the credit. I don't want to have to top it up again."
Jack tried to convince himself that he had misinterpreted that last sentence, that Ianto had simply meant that he had only just topped it up, but he knew deep down that wasn't the case. "Thanks."
He quickly dialed Gwen's number, waiting impatiently for her to pick up.
"Jack?" she asked cautiously. "What is it?"
"Just thought that I'd let you know that Ianto and I are having a day out," Jack said. "We're going candle-making."
"'Candle-making'?" she sounded incredulous.
"It was either than or museums or the aquarium," Jack said, "and I've never been candle-making before."
"What time will you be back?"
"Ianto needs to be back at the hospital by three," he replied. In the seat beside him, Ianto rolled his eyes. "And then we were thinking of going to the open-air concert up at the castle."
"Mind if we tag along for that?"
"Sure." Jack glanced at Ianto, who was busy watching an old woman count the number of coppers in her purse. "It starts at seven."
"Castle Cornet?"
"Are there other castles on the island?" Jack raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Yeah, Mrs Applegate was telling us about them earlier."
"Sounds interesting," Jack said.
Gwen obviously missed the sarcasm in his voice. "Not really. I didn't listen to most of it."
The bus rounded a corner, sending Ianto sliding into Jack. "Sorry," he mouthed.
Jack gave him a smile. "I'm afraid I need to go now, Gwen," he said. "Ianto will kill me if I use up all his credit."
"Oh, okay," she sounded disappointed. "See you later, then."
"Bye." Jack terminated the call and handed it back to Ianto. "All sorted."
The bus slowed, and the copper-counting lady got off. Ianto watched her go with a puzzled frown. "I'm yet to understand why she brought ten pounds in one and two pence," he said.
Jack laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders, kissing him on the cheek. "Maybe she just likes being different," he suggested.
"But it's not very logical." Ianto unwrapped Jack's arm from around his shoulders. "Not on the bus, Jack."
"Why not?"
"It's embarrassing."
"Why is it embarrassing?"
Ianto's cheeks were pink. "It just is."
Jack sighed. "You haven't got anything to lose," he pointed out. "It's not like you're going to see these people again."
Ianto frowned, mulling it through in his mind. "You know, you might have a point there," he said finally.
"Does that mean I'm allowed to kiss you now?" Jack asked hopefully.
Ianto leaned over and captured his mouth in a long, searching kiss. Jack grunted with surprise, his hand coming up to cradle Ianto's face.
A deliberate cough from behind them caused Ianto to jump back, his cheeks flaming.
A mother of two was looking at them with a stern expression. "Please, boys. This is public transport."
"Mummy!" her daughter complained. "I don't want to go to Granny's. She smells funny."
Jack winked roguishly at her. "How can I help myself, ma'am, when I have this gorgeous man sitting next to me?"
Her expression softened somewhat. "Maybe sit at the back of the bus, next time," she suggested, handing her three-year-old daughter a pink stuffed rabbit. "Quiet, Lulu," she ordered.
"There won't be a next time," Ianto muttered.
Jack felt like he had been kicked in the gut as he realised the double meaning of Ianto's words.
Ianto saw his expression, and his expression saddened somewhat. He touched Jack's hand. "I didn't mean it like that."
"I know." Jack gave him a tight smile.
They were quiet for a few minutes, just watching the countryside travel by the window.
The elderly gentleman in the seat in front of them turned around, his thin face lined like old shoe-leather. "Didja 'ear about the bloke wot jumped off that cliff?" he asked.
Ianto and Jack both froze.
"The 'elicopter 'ad to go out, 'parently," the man continued, his rheumy eyes not picking up the tension between the two men.
"I know," Jack managed to say. "That was Ianto."
Ianto glared at Jack.
The man looked almost buoyant with delight. "Eh? Is that how you broke yer arm, mister…?"
"Jones. Ianto Jones." Ianto swallowed, trying to force down the urge to cry. Breaking down in tears on the bus wasn't the ideal way to convince Jack that he was fine.
"Oh, you poor lamb," the mother had overheard their conversation. "No wonder you look so pale. I trust you've been taking good care of him." She stared intently at Jack.
"Of course I have," Jack said, stung. "I'm his partner."
Ianto raised an eyebrow at the word, but didn't say anything.
"It's good t' see young people on 'oliday 'ere," the old man said. "We durn't see enough of 'em."
"It's a working holiday," Jack said.
"We're journalists," Ianto added. "For a holiday magazine."
"It's lovely here in the summer," the mother said proudly, "you might want to put that it."
"Will do," Ianto said.
"You ought to come back then, both of you," she continued, "I run the Old Vicarage B&B, so drop by if you need a place to stay."
The bus started to slow. Jack grabbed Ianto's good arm and flashed a brilliant smile at the mother and the old man. "This is our stop. Bye!"
He near dragged Ianto off the bus, his grip so tight that it was painful.
"Ow – Jack!" Ianto protested, trying to yank his shoulder free. "That hurt."
Jack let go instantly, his eyes worried. "Sorry," he apologized.
The bus rumbled away down the lane, puffing exhaust into the air around them.
"What is it?" Ianto asked, noting the tension of his face and shoulders.
"It's nothing." Jack gestured dismissively, turning sharply on his heel to head off down the road, where the sign for Guernsey Candles stuck out of the hedgerow.
"Jack—"
Ianto was interrupted by an abrupt, rough kiss. Jack forced his tongue into Ianto's mouth, demanding entry; his arms held Ianto tight against his body.
Jack pulled back, his eyes overbright. He looked as if he was about to break down in tears at any second. "God, Ianto," he choked, face distraught.
"Sssh…" Ianto reached out and held him in a comforting embrace, easing Jack's head down onto his shoulder. "It's okay, Jack."
"It's not," Jack said, his voice muffled. "You're not going to be here come the summer, and I can't—" He broke off, arms coming up around Ianto and holding him close, albeit far gentler than before. "You're dying and there's nothing I can do."
"You don't need to do anything," Ianto said softly, stroking Jack's hair with his good hand.
"But what sort of person am I if I can't even save you?"
"You're a hero, Jack," Ianto said, "but even heroes can't save everyone."
"Why do I have to be a hero?" Jack asked plaintively. "I don't want to be a hero. I want to be Jack, who doesn't have to worry about anything more than whether he turned off the radio when he left the house this morning."
Ianto stroked Jack's hair reassuringly, ignoring the fact that he was going to have a damp patch on his shoulder.
"I just want to be normal," Jack finished, his voice thick with tears.
"Normal is overrated, let me tell you," Ianto said, which earned a wet chuckle from Jack.
"Not from where I'm standing."
"What, at the side of a road in Guernsey?"
Jack lifted his head, his eyes red and puffy. He smiled, in spite of his tears. "That's my Ianto," he said affectionately.
Ianto gently kissed away the tears rolling down his cheeks, savouring the salty flavour on his lips. "Puffy eyes aren't a good look, you know."
"No," Jack agreed, brushing a gentle kiss over Ianto's lips. "Thankyou."
"For telling you that tearful isn't good?"
"You know what I meant." Jack drew back and scrubbed the back of his hand across his face. "Look at me, acting like this."
Ianto smiled. "Come on, I hear candles calling."
"Oh? What are they saying?" Jack took Ianto's slim hand in his as they started down the lane.
"'Get a move on and stop sniffling'," Ianto teased.
"I do not sniffle," Jack countered.
"You do," Ianto said.
"Do not!"
"Like you don't snore." Ianto gave Jack an amused look.
"But I don't snore," Jack said. "I've never heard myself snoring, therefore I don't snore."
"You have some interesting reasoning there, Jack," Ianto informed him as they crossed the gravel drive to the low-slung barn.
"It's Harkness-reasoning," Jack told him haughtily, opening the door for him.
"Thanks," Ianto said, automatically.
Jack entered and stood behind him, hands on Ianto's waist. "Ready to make some candles, Mr Jones?" he breathed huskily in Ianto's ear.
Ianto rolled his eyes. "You promised to behave, Jack."
"I am behaving!" Jack protested, not removing his hands.
"Hands."
Jack sulkily put his hands in his pocket as an elderly man in a plum turtle-neck sweater came through another door.
"Good morning," Ianto said politely. "We're here to make some candles."
"You're in luck that it's quiet today, then," the man said, pushing his owl-glasses further up his nose. "We had masses of people in here yesterday."
"That's nice," Ianto said. "Good business, then?"
"Very good," the man agreed. His sharp eyes clearly noted the way Jack was standing closely behind Ianto, and Ianto's arm in its sling. "Are you both planning to make candles?"
"We thought we would, yes," Jack said.
"Is there a problem?" Ianto asked.
"You might have a bit of trouble with that arm, is what I'm thinking," the candle-maker said with a frown. "I can get my niece to help you, if you want— Roberta!"
A slim girl with dusky features poked her head around the beaded curtain at the end of the room. "Yes, Uncle?"
"I can help Ianto," Jack said, resting his hand on Ianto's shoulder in a possessive gesture.
The candle-maker shot them an amused glance. "Roberta, are the tanks heated?"
"Nearly," came the response. "The blue's taking a while, though."
"But useable?"
"Yes." Roberta flashed a coy smile Ianto's way, ignoring the way Jack was glowering at her. She smoothed down her white apron. "Will you be needing help, sir?" she asked hopefully.
"Jack'll help me, but thanks all the same," Ianto said, as polite as ever. He smiled at her, trying not to laugh at the amused expression on her uncle's face. He could only guess what Jack's face must be like.
"Oh, if you're sure," she said, covering her disappointment well. "I'll just get you both aprons." She disappeared into the back room again, the pink beaded curtain swaying behind her.
"Have you made candles before?" the candle-maker asked.
"No," Jack said. "Never really thought of it before."
"I watched a documentary on it once," Ianto said. "It looked fascinating."
The old man's weathered face cracked into a warm smile. "It is, believe me. It's a shame that it's a dying art, though." He chuckled. "A bit like me, I guess."
Ianto felt Jack tense at his back, so he slipped his good arm around Jack's waist in a comforting gesture. "Does it take long?"
"Forty minutes, if you're quick," the candle-maker said, dipping his head like a chicken as he considered.
Roberta came back through the curtain, aprons in hand. Her smile stuttered a little when she saw Ianto with his arm around Jack's waist. "Here's the aprons, sirs," she said, handing them to Jack. "I'll be out the back if you want any help."
Another long chapter – hope you liked it! Remember the equation…
REVIEWS = HAPPY WRITER = PRODUCTION WRITER = MORE, LONGER CHAPTERS, FASTER
;-)
Oh, oh – who's watching JB's new show tonight? Guess what? I AM!! :-P