I think I may have just about processed the enormity of what has happened now. It's been just over a week since that horrible evening. The team are still treating me just as nicely (bar Owen of course) as they did on that first day back and, really, just the same as before. I'm still putting on the brave front that I started with on that morning, before it had really hit me, I believe I have them convinced, well Owen, Tosh and Gwen at least. I'm fairly sure the Captain sees through it, but I think he's waiting for me to be ready to talk about it.
Every second of the day, I feel like I am being burnt from the inside out with the aching memory of what has happened, what I caused, how she died. At night, I fear sleep as I know it will bring with it only nightmares echoing past reality, I've woken up in fits of tears for the past three nights running. I can't believe she has gone, and the way that she went… it makes my heart ache just thinking about it. At work I am constantly reminding myself: just smile, act cheerful and keep occupied. I've found myself working even longer hours; it's easier to keep everything together when I know I have to for the sake of the others.
Amidst all of this unbearable grief and pain, the Captain has still been trying to take my mind off it all with the help of fieldwork and preparation. It's worked to an extent, although nowhere near as well as it worked during the Weevil hunt, before everything fell into place. Never the less, I did find tracking down a rogue Slitheen with Gwen and Tosh in the SUV to be enjoyable. But as regularly as a clock ticking, thoughts of Lisa and guilt crossed my mind every few minutes. He says that he's going to take me into the firing range for target practice tomorrow; The Captain believes that I need to get over my fear of guns. I'm glad he didn't remind me of the feeble threats I had made just eight nights ago.
It's late now, almost one thirty and I'm still at work- just. I don't think the Captain has been too pleased with me staying so late, he worries that I'm over doing things, but really the more time I spend here the better it is helping me to cope.
He told me I shouldn't be here, I replied: "Neither should you" Which was silly really, seeing as I knew he lived here.
Then ever so gently without speaking or making a joke, he came up behind me at my work station, and placed his hand on my shoulders and listened as I reported my findings on the unusual weather reports I had been noticing over the last couple of days. In those few minutes I felt more relaxed than I had in days, almost to the point of being able to blank out the horror a little and, for brief intervals, completely.
This morning Gwen and the Captain went to visit his good friend Estelle, he'd spoken of her before, an old flame of his Father's from the war he said, but the way he talked about her it was as if she was more than that to him. Either way, they came back to the conference room with the most peculiar talk of 'fairies', or at least what Estelle was calling fairies. Once again, in a plea for the Captain's laughter and approval I made a joke, one that went down a little more successfully than the 'Splott/Spoe' disaster:
"I blame it on magic mushrooms" or something to that likeness.
Naturally I spent the first five minutes of the meeting delivering the coffee, but after that it was down to business. He assigned Toshiko to devising a programme that tracks unusual weather patterns; I didn't mention that such information could be found by tuning into BBC one at the optimum time, whilst Owen Gwen and he went to Round Stone Woods on a fairy hunt. I stayed behind with Tosh to help her with the programme, and during this time received a call from Sergeant Easterbrook, notifying us of a more than unusual death that had occurred at the prison just a few hours ago. He described the Mark Goodson as half crazed, imagining flowers were choking him to death, that something was coming to get him. It sounded to me exactly like the sort of thing the Captain was saying earlier.
After returning from the woods, I alerted the Captain who went round straight away with the three others and indeed Mark had suffocated, flower petals still inside his mouth. Toshiko said that it was completely unlike anything she had seen before but that the Captain seemed to be familiar with this situation. It all seemed more than a little odd to me.
Poor Estelle. She called the Captain immediately after being attacked by the 'fairies', but we were still too late. By the time the team arrived they had caused her to drown through controlling the rain, I did get alarmed while they were out and Tosh's weather programme starting beeping like mad… but I never thought it might be due to anything like this. Whatever these creatures are, they certainly aren't the kind sprightful creatures one reads about in children's stories. The Captain was clearly upset; he even had a drink - something he never does. But he pushed past it, the way you need to in order to survive here.
Gwen's flat has been trashed, her belongings smashed to pieces, and branches and petals strewn across the mess. It had to be the 'fairies'. The Captain went over to meet her about forty minutes ago; she had a good rant at him, as was typical of Gwen when she was angry or upset. It's not really his fault though; it's not as if he set the 'fairies' on her home.
The Captain asked for a weather check, we were due 'long sunny spells' as might have been put by Michael Fish, but Tosh had been picking up gaols at the Coed y Garreg Primary School. The Captain reckoned this must be where the fairies' current chosen one was. The team went to check it out, the Captain asked if I would join them, but I reminded me of the task he had set me of researching recent unexplained deaths in Cardiff, so they went ahead without me.
To be honest, I didn't find a great deal in the Cardiff area, at least not ones with which we weren't already acquainted. It's really rather shocking, the volume of deaths Torchwood has covered up which have been unexplainable to the general public. I did however find an interesting case of some tourists from Cardiff who had gone camping in the Brecon Beacons (why on earth you would want to go camping, let alone camping in the Brecon Beacons is beyond me), both of whom never returned. I must check this out properly later.
They tracked Jasmine, the chosen one, down to her house; her Mother and stepfather were having an engagement party. I can't say that her Step Father Roy sounded like a particularly nice fellow, but still, to die the way he did, so brutally. These 'fairies' or whatever they truly are, really are evil. I feel sorriest for the Mother in all of this, not only has her fiancée been killed, but her daughter has gone, quite literally, away with the fairies. I don't blame the Captain for the choice he made, unlike the others. For starters I am in no position to criticise the actions of others after the decisions I have made. She actively wanted to go, and it saved these awful creatures from a mass retaliation, saved us from a battle against invisible beings that can control nature. In reality there was only really ever one choice.
The others went straight home after that, without many more words being said to the Captain. I went up and found him in his office, his head in his hands, fingers gripping tightly at his hair.
"You couldn't have done anything else, you made the right decision and after they've thought it over for a few hours, they'll see this too Sir" I said softly, but reassuringly.
"I know" He replied with a small, rather sorrowful smile by his standards. "It's just sometimes, being the one to call the shots it gets to me. And speaking of shots, I believe there is just enough time for some target practice, if you're still up for it?" He finished with a grin that was much more his signature style.
"Absolutely Sir" I replied and we headed down.
He went about it in pretty much the same fashion as he had with Gwen, which didn't surprise me too much, what did surprise me was how I have reacted to it. As I stood there, holding the gun in one hand, the Captain's hand resting on top, with his body pressed as closely to my back as I thought humanly possible, I felt alarmingly safe. I breathed in the strong scent of 51st Century pheromones, a smell I was becoming quite accustomed to, and we fired the gun together, a sensation seemed to spread from my fingertips all the way up my arm. The shot was a perfect bull's eye on the cardboard cut-out Weevil's chest.
He pulled away and smiled, "Ah you're a natural, it's a shame I was looking forward to spending a good few hours down here just you and me, alone just the way I like it" he said and winked.
I blushed the most I think I ever have in my whole life, given the close proximity we had just been standing in, and the thoughts that had just been racing through my mind as he made his comment.
He somehow seemed to recognise this, maybe my eyes gave it away, and so instead of further flirtation or laughter he simply said "Again?" with a devilish smile.
"Certainly Sir" I replied.
"Ianto can we PLEASE ditch the Sir, it makes me feel like you only see me as a boss and not a friend"
"Well Jack", I replied using his name for perhaps the first time ever, "You know I see you as more than just my boss, besides you know you love it really Sir" I finished.
What was I saying, I sounded like I was flirting back, maybe I was? He certainly seemed to think so, much to his amusement. I really feel like I don't know my own thoughts or feelings anymore. I still loved Lisa, as soon as I said what I did, my heart ached with guilt. I wasn't even sure why. I'm not attracted to him; I can't be, can I?