"Ianto…" Jack began, hesitantly.
"Yes Jack?" I replied, so many of our conversations seemed to start in a similar manner.
Jack had stayed over at my apartment last night and we had been lying in my bed, snuggling up beneath the duvet, basking in the glorious few minutes between waking up and getting up. It's funny really I'd never really pictured Jack as the snuggling type before… it's not that he's changed a lot since he came back to us, more that he isn't afraid to relax a little more now.
"If I asked you to do something for me, would you?" He said, sounding surprisingly more serious that when he usually puts forward a question like that.
"Well, I wouldn't be able to make any promises, but for you I would most certainly try to do whatever on earth you are talking about." I replied
He seemed a little apprehensive as he went to speak, he went to open his mouth and let out a sigh rather than words. I braced myself for a serious chat. Whatever it was that was bothering him, it was evidently important and hard for him to express, so I continued to lie there patiently. I tried not to tense as I felt him shift away from me slightly, but I certainly felt myself relax as I realised it was only so he could grasp my hand in his and bring it up, out from under the covers. He appeared to be examining the faint, red, traces of rope burn that were almost gone, one week on from my hostage situation. After shutting his eyes for a minute, he re-opened them as he began to speak again:
"Would you consider leaving Torchwood, and getting a normal, safe job?" He questioned, with pain flaring in his eyes.
I answered in the only way possible, "No."
He sighed, again, in response. "I thought so" He finished with a small shadow of his Harkness grin gracing his mouth, the pain still flourishing in his eyes.
"Jack, it's just, well I couldn't ever leave even if I wanted to. I've seen too much, Torchwood has pulled me, and the others too, into its depths and I don't think any one of us could ever turn away from that. No matter how much I would want to do it for you." I replied, returning with an equally small smile.
We sat in a strange, if not uncomfortable, silence for several minutes.
"Why?" I asked him, softly, hoping that he didn't turn around and tell me that actually this wasn't an affectionate act of protection but in reality it was his way of letting me down gently with regards to my capabilities as a Torchwood employee. The majority of my mind knew that it mustn't be that, but there was a small, dwindling doubt that needed extinguishing.
"I think you know why" He said, as he placed a delicate kiss against the healing marks on my wrist. The doubt was suitably gone, in one gestured he managed to convey everything he had said to me the night after the incident, about how he couldn't stand to lose me. We both know that it's inevitable though, there's a reason that Torchwood does not bother with pension plans; but even if I didn't stay at Torchwood, how can I make a promise to try and prolong my life when he'll only outlive my a thousand times over anyway?
I didn't quite know what to say back, neither of us had openly admitted that we, well he, would have to face it all one day, and I didn't feel like expressing it now. So I simply pulled him back into a warm embrace. It was 5.30 am, we still had 45 minutes to eat breakfast, shower, dress, and get to work before the others and we could easily afford to waste a further few minutes just dozing. We were still careful to try and arrive before everyone else made it in, five or so months ago, we might have done so in order to keep our relationship secret, but now it was more an act of professionalism – to not be seen arriving side by side with the boss. As I've said, I am past caring who knew what about Jack and I, and so is he.
That's it; I am never bringing my diary into work again. Never.
After everyone else had congregated in the hub, I set about fixing everyone's standard coffee requests – mocha for Gwen, cappuccinos for Toshiko and Owen, a standard black coffee for myself and an industrial strength cup for Jack. Immediately after delivering them to eagerly awaiting, and tired friends, Jack assigned Gwen and I to taking care of the rift activity predicted for half an hours' time. We just had the time to down our drinks and then we were off.
We came back, Ood in tow, about forty minutes later – this one had been particularly hard to catch, it seemed so unfriendly and restless when compared with the typical creature, maybe it has early stage red eye? Hopefully not. After completion of the appropriate paperwork, I was all set to write up a less formal account in my diary as I so often do after missions, but it seemed as if it's been stolen. As such, I'm currently scribbling this down in a random notebook with kittens on the front, that I found wedged behind the sofa whilst trying to recover my own.
My luck's finally caught up with me, I've made it through over a year without anyone having discovered it before, but clearly I shouldn't have been so foolish to think that anything can be kept private in the close confines of the hub. It can't have been Gwen, she was out with me the entire time, and I had it before we left… and Tosh would never take something that personal, besides she's pretty much my best friend, if there's something she wanted to know she would just ask. I bet it was bloody Owen, I bet he was snooping around my desk trying to find one of his medical reports that I was completing on his behalf and found it hidden in my bottom drawer. I can see him over at the autopsy bay, hunched over a book of some description, but I'm not close enough to make out what it is. He's laughing to himself though, bugger it must be my diary! I am literally cringing, sat here thinking of what he might be reading right now, and all the things I've written in there about Jack and…
Owen just stood up, book in hand, and came over to my desk to check up on the medical report I had just mentioned. I felt myself blushing and frowning slightly, at the thought of him coming over to gloat about his find. But whilst he made his way over, I got a good look at the illicit article I thought he was holding – 'A Clockwork Orange' read the title. I was pleasantly surprised by his taste in literature, but not enough so that I could stop worrying about my missing diary, maybe Owen doesn't have it after all?
Ok, Jack just walked in and gave me the strangest of looks, he somehow managed to cross affection and sadness and the struggle of trying not to laugh, all in the same glance.
Oh dear lord, he's got it, hasn't he? What am I going to do! Owen reading the things I've written about Jack, thought humiliating, would not have been the absolute end of the world… but Jack reading about Jack! If I thought I was blushing badly before, then I was wrong because right now I feel like I am burning up almost to the point of fainting. I am done for, literally. If he's read the part where… Oh gosh there are so many parts!
He is such a poser.
I wish that I could kiss Jack without it seeming weird.
I'm worried that I've fallen in love with him, and he'll never feel the same way back, and only ever see me as a 'part time shag'
I should hate him but I still can't bring myself to, because I love him.
I'd missed him to the point of heart break.
Loosely translated as: shit. If you'll pardon my French.
Something very strange is going on, something most peculiar indeed. We all woke up this afternoon (which was weird in itself, I never lie in, especially not until 3.00 pm) slumped in our chairs in the conference room, cricked necks all around. At first we made the logical assumption that we had simply all fallen asleep late last night, or rather early this morning, and that though the situation was a little unorthodox, there was no suggestion of third party involvement. But logical isn't always correct. Gwen noticed that Owen was wearing a pair of glasses, and yet he never wears glasses and none of us had put them on him as a joke or anything either.
We headed down to the main level of the hub and were immediately struck by the date, it was Thursday the 11th December, when we fell asleep (?) last night it was definitely Monday the 8th… how had we lost two days? We began searching around for other clues, which might have helped to tell us what the devil was going on here, and Tosh noticed that a large chunk of the CCTV footage had been wiped – 48 hours' worth to be precise. Jack went up to the office to see if there was any way of getting it back from the system recovery, whilst I went to check on the retcon store, it seemed a plausible explanation for why we had all mysteriously lost two days' worth of memory. Sure enough, 5 doses of retcon B had been taken out, enough to clear away the last 48 hours.
The signs were suggesting that it was us ourselves who had brought about this situation, so it was decide just to let things lie, if we had chosen to forget something it would have been for a good reason.
Things are getting even stranger, I just found a box of sandwiches in the fridge labelled 'to Tosh, Love Owen' how odd is that? Maybe this is all tied in with the flowers 'from Owen' that Toshiko received? I can't believe Owen was so insensitive with Tosh about the bouquet, I mean yes, ok they weren't from him but did he have to be quite so harsh. Jack and I shared a small, and disapproving glance as we watched him yet again ignore Tosh's feelings Perhaps in the last 48 hours something happened between the two of them, after all neither of them can understand what's going on.
It's nearly midnight and I finally have my diary back! I haven't had the chance to question Jack yet about how much exactly he read, or what he thought about it or anything, and I am not looking forward to that exchange when the time comes.
A good while after everybody else had left, I heard Jack call me up to his office. I stupidly assumed that it might have actually been for something work related, something to do with our missing memories. But no, it was to return said stolen diary.
I tried so hard not to blush as he said: "And for the record ... measuring tapes never lie." I definitely regret writing that down! I got the feeling that was inly just the beginning of the host of embarrassing references that are to come. I wish that I found it easier to get angry with him, because clearly he has invaded my privacy, but I just can't find it in me to get angry with Jack.
As I left his office, he asked me something which has been playing on my mind ever since.
"Who's Adam?" He questioned, lightly frowning. It was odd, when he mentioned this Adam it was sort of like one of those situations where you recognise the name but can't picture the face. Except it wasn't even that, seeing as I don't recognise the name all that much, but it sort of felt like I should know who he was if that makes any sense.
It was like torture leafing through the pages of my diary, cringing with each page turn at the things I know Jack had just read. I noticed as I was doing so, that two pages had been ripped out from the middle, right after my last entry about Gwen and her new 3 eyed puppy, Daisy. Or at least, this was what I thought was my last entry, if we had needed to get rid completely of all memory of something over the last 48 hours then we would have done it properly. I can't help being slightly bothered by the fact that whoever tore out the pages of my diary has left it in a right state. Seeing as I have no idea who, or what, he is let's blame Adam. Yea, it was all Adam's fault.