IV.
Ianto was angry. He felt like he had a right to be angry, even though no great wrong had been done him, and he hadn't experienced the loss that Jack obviously felt so keenly. Yes, John Ellis had stolen his car and then committed suicide in it, but he hadn't done it to hurt Ianto. It was Jack whom he was upset with. Jack, who had clearly risked his life to help John. Jack, who was pale and red-eyed and suffering. Jack, who had offered little explanation, who had waved him home with nothing but the promise of a new car in the morning.
He didn't want a new car. He wanted answers. What had really happened, and why had it hit Jack so hard? Jack was not talking, however, and Ianto had little choice but to leave. How he'd get home, he wasn't sure. Probably call a cab. Even more annoyed, he grabbed his coat and took out his phone to call for a ride. Before dialing, he glanced one last time at Jack's office, but Jack had retreated to his bunker. A single lamp was on, casting its shadows on the walls, highlighting the grey RAF cap still hanging in its place of pride on the wall.
As he gazed at the cap, things started to make a hazy sort of sense: Jack's intense interest in John's well-being; his feelings of loss and failure over John's suicide; his sense of timelessness, from the cap to the coat to the braces, not to mention the things he said, whether in jest or in passing. It was a thought Ianto had considered before, but had passed over, explaining away Jack's quirks as part of the man and his image, but nothing more. Nothing significant.
Now Ianto saw things differently. Adding additional pieces to the puzzle presented a new picture. Was Jack from another time, like John Ellis? Taken from his own time to end up in Cardiff? It seemed impossible, but explained so much. What had Sherlock Holmes once told John Watson? Something about the impossible being possible when there were no other explanations left.
Of course, it was possible that Jack looked at John as a father figure and felt the loss as that of a family member. That Jack's interest in history was down to a grandfather who'd served, like Ianto. That Jack carefully crafted his words to present the image he wanted the world to see. But then how did he know so much about space, about alien technology? Why did he claim to own a sixty-year old custom made hat and carry an equally outdated Webley?
Ianto was staring at the hat, his mind racing, when suddenly Jack appeared in the window of his office, dressed in a white shirt and trousers, and frowning when he saw Ianto still in the Hub, jacket in his hands. Ianto swore under his breath, caught out staring at the hat again.
Jack glanced behind him, saw the hat, and grinned, though it was clearly forced. He stepped out of the office and cocked his head. "Still stuck on that hat, I see."
"Not really," Ianto offered as casually as he could. "Just thinking about what it means."
"How so?" Jack asked. He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe, trying to look relaxed but instead appearing wary. Ianto pulled on his coat, taking the time to gather his thoughts, buttoning it slowly as if using the garment to protect himself. He finally looked up and met Jack's gaze.
"You're like him, aren't you?" Ianto asked without preamble. "Out of your time."
Jack froze, eyes wide, and the silence stretched between them, confirming Ianto's suspicion. And he found that now that he knew, it didn't bother him as much as he thought it might. All he felt was a strange sense of relief, that so many things made sense, that he finally knew something real about Jack. He also felt a deep sadness; he couldn't relate, but he could imagine how hard it was for Jack to be out of his time after watching John Ellis struggle.
"I think we've all wondered," Ianto continued. "But never really thought it was possible. Just put everything down to you being uniquely you. But the coat, the hat, the braces...the gun, all the stories…now it makes sense. You're from another time. Are you from the past, then? From back then?" He nodded toward Jack's office and the World War II cap hanging on the wall.
Jack was staring at him, a mixture of fear and anger and what looked like relief on his face. He shook his head, but didn't say anything. Ianto sighed.
"Right. Still keeping secrets. Well, you should know I won't say anything, won't tell the others. But if you—"
"I'm from the future," Jack interrupted abruptly. "Pretty far in the future."
"Oh." Now it was Ianto's turn to be struck speechless. "I see. Wow. You're from the future. Of course you are."
"Really?" asked Jack, a confused look coloring his face.
"Well, it certainly explains how you know so much about all the things we see and do around here," Ianto replied. "But not the coat and…and all the other stuff." He motioned at Jack in a vague way.
Jack nodded slowly. "I've traveled a lot through time. I liked the forties, hence the coat and all the other stuff."
"So…" Ianto hesitated. He knew that at any moment Jack would stop talking, refuse to say anything else. It was inevitable. But he chanced another question. "How did you end up here? 21st century Cardiff of all places?"
Jack eyed him warily and looked down at the floor. "It's a long story, and I can't tell you everything," he started, and held up a hand when Ianto opened his mouth. "Because I don't know all of it myself, but also because of timelines. Think about it. I'm from the future. I have to be careful very about what I say and do so I don't change the future I came from."
"Right." Ianto swallowed his disappointment because it made sense. He'd assumed Jack was from the past and could share more, but he understood the implications of being from the future. In some ways it made Jack's situation even more difficult than the travelers from the Sky Gypsy. Jack didn't have to adjust to confusing new technology, strange new societal norms; Jack had to work with old unfamiliar technology, primitive customs and norms, and all the while keeping quiet about the advances he knew would happen one day.
"I don't even know what to say," Ianto said. "But I understand a lot more about you…and about John Ellis now."
Jack looked surprised and nodded. "It's hard, knowing I couldn't help him adjust."
"How did you adjust?" Ianto asked before he could help it, then backtracked. "Never mind, that's none of my business. You did what you could, Jack. It's not your fault he couldn't adapt."
Jack was still watching him a bit warily. "Maybe, but it doesn't make it any easier."
"It's never easy losing people," Ianto replied softly.
"I've lost people who haven't even been born yet," Jack murmured, his eyes gone distant. Ianto looked away, unable to bear the sadness and loss in Jack's face. To his surprise, it was Jack who spoke next.
"I'm sorry about your car," he said.
"It's not your fault," said Ianto. "Christmas present to myself, I suppose."
Jack's eyes went wide for a moment, then he hung his head and laughed through his nose. "I almost forgot it was Christmas. Happy Christmas."
Ianto nodded. "You too." He forced himself to meet Jack's gaze. "Will you be all right?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," Jack said, but he sounded weary. "Always am."
"If you need anything," Ianto started, but Jack shook his head.
"No, go home. It's a holiday. You should sleep. Or celebrate. I'll be fine."
"Jack." He waited until Jack looked at him. "Call me if you need anything, all right?"
Jack nodded. He looked so lonely, Ianto considered asking if Jack wanted him to stay, or if he wanted to come back to Ianto's flat. But he also needed time to process everything that had happened that night, and he wondered if Jack needed the same, suspected he did.
"You could come by the flat tomorrow, if you're not too busy," he said, the words tripping inelegantly from his mouth on impulse. "For dinner, as long as you don't mind something mind-numbingly simple like pasta with red sauce."
Jack's face transformed, and he nodded with a huge smile. "I'd like that," he said, his voice genuine and warm. "Thank you."
"Right," said Ianto, trying not to act as flustered as he felt by Jack's quick and unexpected acceptance. "Then say late afternoon, maybe 5? Rift willing?"
"Rift willing," Jack repeated. "I'll be there. Should I bring the hat?" he teased, apparently unable to resist. Ianto granted him an eye roll and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.
"No, but a bottle of wine might be nice," he replied, surprised at his boldness. Jack gave him a small salute.
"I'll bring two. See you tomorrow, Ianto."
Ianto nodded. "Good night, Jack."
He turned and left, calling for a cab in the lift. As he waited outside the tourist office, he realized he was looking forward to the next day. He'd see his mum and sister in the morning, find an open shop where he could pick up some groceries, and throw together some sort of pasta dish. It wasn't the most traditional of Welsh Christmas meals, but he wasn't the best cook, having had little experience beyond the basics and one or two dishes he'd learned from his mum and Lisa.
But then again, Jack wasn't the most traditional of…well, anything. Guest, boss, lover. He was a time-traveler from the future, enamored of the 1940s. And he was coming over for Christmas dinner. There was little doubt in Ianto's mind that they'd end up in bed, but he hoped that for a while at least, Jack was a little less lonely in this time.
Author's note:
I try to write things that are possible within the context of the show and the characters as I see them from what the show presented us. Do I think something like this really happened, that Ianto figured out some of these things about Jack and that Jack actually admitted to them? Wishful thinking, perhaps. But I'd like to believe there were moments like these when Jack and Ianto connected through more than sex, especially during that first season. I hope you enjoyed this moment.
