Author's Notes: Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Thanks as always to the brilliant Prothrombintime for unwavering feedback and encouragement.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
April 10th, 2007
Ianto wearily followed Tosh and Owen through the cogwheel door and into the Hub, cringing when the door of Jack's office slammed shut with a reverberating bang. If he'd been more cogitative he might have been amazed the sound of shattering glass hadn't accompanied the understandable, yet somewhat childish and futile act. He suspected Jack would already be downing his first glass of Scotch, quite possibly making a start on his second.
He'd barely finished climbing the stairs to the main work area when Owen did an abrupt about-face and stepped back towards him, his eyes glaring with malevolent fury. Not having seen their medic quite so incensed before, Ianto almost took an involuntary step backwards, but he somehow managed to hold his ground, his lack of retreat more due to the heaviness of his tired limbs and the ache in his heart than any genuine sense of bravery. Meeting Owen's baleful gaze, he steeled himself for the tirade he was undoubtedly about to endure.
"You fucking bastard," Owen seethed, his face mere inches from Ianto's, and his body visibly trembling with impotent anger. "You just stood at his side and watched as those monsters took that little girl. Jesus, she was only eight years old. How the fuck could you do that? You're as bad as him. Actually, you're worse. At least we know Jack can be a cold, heartless bastard." He jabbed his index finger sharply against Ianto's chest. "I thought you were different." Stepping back, he shook his head, giving Ianto a look of scornful contempt. "Wouldn't be surprised to find a bloody dog collar underneath your perfect shirt and tie. Ianto Jones, faithful fucking lapdog of Jack Harkness."
"Owen!" Tosh was standing by her workstation and watching the altercation, her eyes wide with shock.
"That's enough, Owen," Ianto said firmly, forcing himself to remain calm. The man's words had hurt, but he knew Owen was in pain and needed a convenient target on which to unleash his anger. He knew how deeply it affected Owen to lose a life, and that for all his feigned indifference and acerbic demeanour, Owen was a compassionate man with a big heart. It just happened that he and Jack were easy targets.
"You know there was nothing we could have done," he continued, taking a deep breath. "If we'd tried to stop them from taking Jasmine, they would have killed all three of us in retribution for Jack's interference."
He paused, thinking sadly of Estelle Cole, another of Jack's ex-lovers, who he'd only met three days earlier. Estelle had been Jack's wartime sweetheart no less, and Jack had abandoned her so she'd never learn his secret. Jack had kept an eye on her over the years, eventually claiming to be the son of the man Estelle had once loved. An elderly woman in her late seventies, but still spirited and intelligent, her vicious murder at the hands of the creatures had been cruel and spiteful, and he knew Jack blamed himself for Estelle's untimely death.
Suppressing a wince from the dull ache that had settled across his shoulders, Ianto continued, "They wouldn't have stopped there either. Regardless, they still would have taken her. She was a chosen one. They wouldn't have stopped until they had her." The fact that Jasmine had desperately wanted to go with the creatures offered very little comfort.
He had to close his eyes for a moment, too many images assaulting his mind at once... Estelle's frail, rain-soaked body lying in her garden, Jack kneeling at her side, tears pouring down his face... the anguish on Lynn Pierce's face as her only child was taken from her, punching at Jack in futile despair before collapsing to the ground and sobbing brokenly... and lastly, a terrible, conjured image of what might have been – Jack, his face contorted in unspeakable pain, screaming to the heavens, their three lifeless bodies scattered at his feet, bright red rose petals peeking out from between their cold lips.
He knew losing them was Jack's worst nightmare. They'd been clearly warned about the consequences of interfering when Ianto had entered his apartment two days earlier to find every surface littered with rose petals, the apparent calling card of the malevolent creatures. The palpable look of fear and horror on Jack's face was etched irrevocably into his mind. Estelle had been another warning, a message to Jack that he'd lose everyone dear to him if he attempted to interfere with the creatures plans.
Jack had told him about how the creatures posing as benevolent fairies – or the Mara as Jack called them, describing them as creatures from the dawn of time – had killed the entire troop of soldiers under his command in 1909, on a train in Lahore, Pakistan. It had been retribution for the accidental death of a child, another chosen one, when the men had gotten drunk and driven through a village, running over the child and killing her. From the moment the odd weather patterns had begun to appear on the Hub's scanners, and it was clear the fairies had returned, Jack had known they would be powerless to stop them.
Shivering involuntarily, Ianto opened his eyes again, sparing Tosh a glance before turning his attention back to a belligerent looking Owen.
He stepped forward and rested his hand gently on the other man's shoulder. "I know you're upset, Owen. We are all. But this was a fight we could never win." Pausing, he sighed heavily. "You can't save everyone," he added in a gentler tone. "No matter how much you wish you could."
Owen continued to glare at him defiantly, looking as if he was about to unleash another diatribe. Then his shoulders slumped in what seemed to be defeat, his anger apparently quelled for the time being.
Ianto dropped his hand away and stepped back. "Take tomorrow off, both of you," he said quietly. "I'll call if anything comes up, but I think we should be clear for the next forty-eight hours." He looked at Tosh, who nodded in confirmation.
"Fine. I'm outta here. I need a drink." Owen pushed past Ianto, descending the steps and moving back towards the cogwheel door. "Coming, Tosh?"
Ianto didn't take offence by the lack of invitation to join them. Even in his distressed state, Owen knew that Ianto would never leave Jack alone.
Tosh began to follow Owen. "Ianto?" she asked, pausing hesitantly, a conflicted expression on her face.
"Go ahead. Have a drink for me too." Ianto gave her a small, weary smile. "We'll be fine here."
Tosh glanced towards Jack's office, then looked back at Ianto. It seemed like she was about to say something, but then thought better of it. "All right, but call me if you need anything?"
"I will. Thanks, Tosh." Ianto nodded his head towards the doorway. "Go on, be with Owen. Take care of him."
Tosh reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then followed after Owen, who was standing sullenly just beyond the open doorway.
Ianto watched sadly as they departed, suddenly feeling very alone. Owen would be all right, he assured himself. He had Tosh, and she'd help him work through his turmoil. It was Owen's way, to rail at the world when things were beyond his control. He'd be insufferable, surly and obnoxious for a few days, at least more so than usual, then he'd be back to normal again.
He was grateful they had each other, and although it was still new, he had high hopes for the unlikely pairing. Tosh was a calming, stabilising influence on Owen, and she was obviously besotted with the gruff medic, much to Ianto's surprise. He loved Owen like a brother – albeit a grumpy, over-protective, frequently infuriating one – but he couldn't imagine the man being easy to be in a relationship with. However, if anyone could handle Owen, it was surely the softly spoken, mild-mannered Toshiko, who, beyond her meek, non-threatening exterior, possessed a core of steel. Ianto loved her too.
Tosh and Owen had both had more than their fair share of romantic missteps since joining Torchwood, so he hoped it would be different this time. They both deserved to find happiness, although a part of him couldn't help thinking that two work-place romances within such a small, close-knit team was a recipe for disaster.
Along with Jack, Tosh and Owen were his family now. He tried not to think of Rhiannon, who he'd been estranged with since the John Hart incident and his supposed disappearance to Nepal. He missed his niece and nephew, but Rhiannon had never properly forgiven him, and in the end it was easier just to keep his distance. They'd never really gotten along at the best of times, and they'd grown even further apart when he'd moved to London and began working for Torchwood. That hadn't changed significantly on his return to Cardiff, and he'd become tired of living a lie. He sent cards and money to David and Mica for their birthdays and for Christmas, but that was the extent of his contact with his family. The last two Christmases he'd spent with Jack, and he was more than happy with that arrangement. Although Jack had cautiously suggested a few times that he should attempt to reconcile with Rhiannon, he'd thus far stubbornly refused.
Running his hand absent-mindedly through his hair, he made his way into the kitchen area, and in need of a distraction, he busied himself with making a cup of Jack's industrial-strength coffee. With the steaming mug in hand, he retreated to the furthest side of the Hub, not wanting Jack to think he was hovering nearby. As much as he wanted to comfort the other man, he knew Jack's moods well enough to understand when he needed to be on his own.
Eighteen months on from their official first date, they were still a couple – admittedly, a somewhat unconventional one – but a couple nonetheless. They'd had a few rough patches along the way, mostly when their working lives clashed with their private ones, but they continued to be happy together. He attributed their longevity in part to a mutual respect for each other's need for space on occasion. Besides, they were both strong-willed, fiercely independent men, who spent more time together than most couples, so a little breathing room now and then seemed both necessary and healthy. Although it wasn't in Ianto's nature to be demanding, he was certain a clingy, overbearing partner would be a sure fire way of sending Jack running for the hills. And while Jack could be quite clingy himself at times, especially after Ianto had been in danger, Ianto would never ask Jack for more than he was willing to give. When Jack was done punishing himself and ready for some companionship again, he'd seek him out.
He settled on the upper walkway, his legs dangling over the edge, and sipped distractedly at his coffee. Myfanwy swooped down from the upper reaches of the Hub's atrium and landed at his side, cawing softly as she sidled up against him.
Putting down his coffee mug on the metal grating beside him, he stroked her neck in the way she always seemed to like, distractedly wishing he'd thought to grab a bar of dark chocolate from his desk drawer.
"You know, sometimes I really hate this job," he muttered despondently.
###
After feeding Myfanwy and sharing a bar of dark chocolate with her for dessert, Ianto busied himself with some routine chores around the Hub to keep his mind occupied. He'd noted that Jack's office was empty, the man obviously having retreated to his bunker at some point, and he had yet to resurface.
Ianto slumped down onto the Hub's sofa, reclining his head as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, then closed his eyes. Knowing sleep would likely elude him for the next several days, he decided to at least rest his eyes while he waited for Jack to appear. He rolled his aching shoulders and tried to focus on his breathing, hoping in vain to release some of the tension that seemed to permeate every part of him.
He'd lost track of time when he heard the door of Jack's office swing open, followed by the approach of weary footsteps. Opening his eyes, he watched as Jack sat down heavily beside him, dishevelled and dressed only in his trousers and white undershirt.
Ianto's heart constricted at the sight of Jack's glazed and red-rimmed eyes, but he silently waited for the other man to say something. He'd become quite adept at dealing with Jack's many and varied moods, and he'd learned that when Jack was consumed by guilt and self-recrimination, the last thing he wanted was comfort or trite, hollow words.
Finally, Jack broke the heavy silence. "They think I'm a monster," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "A cold, heartless monster. Is that what you think too?"
"No, Jack," Ianto said firmly. He risked resting his hand gently on Jack's knee. "And neither do they. They're angry and upset, but they know we didn't have a choice." He rubbed Jack's knee soothingly. "You did what you had to do. We all know that."
Jack nodded absently. His posture remained tense, but he rested his hand over Ianto's, and Ianto didn't hesitate to grasp Jack's hand and lace their fingers together. "Owen gave you a hard time, didn't he?" Jack met his eyes for the first time since he'd sat down. "He can be a cruel bastard sometimes."
"Nothing I can't handle," Ianto assured him. "You know what he's like, he just needed to let off some steam. I sent them home and told them both to take the day off tomorrow."
Jack nodded distractedly again. "Good."
Ianto squeezed Jack's hand, and silence settled between them again. Jack seemed so lost and far away, just staring vacantly into space, and he wasn't sure what he could do or say that might help to ease the man's suffering. Surreptitiously keeping an eye on him, he simply continued to hold onto Jack's hand.
It hadn't been long ago, only just over three months, since Tosh and Owen had discovered Jack's secret under predictably stressful circumstances. They'd infiltrated a facility known as the Pharm, where aliens were being exploited in an attempt to develop new medicines for the treatment of various incurable diseases. A number of human test subjects had died in the process, alerting them to the Pharm's existence. Owen had gone undercover, posing as a potential patient. But the man running the facility, a Professor Aaron Copley, had discovered their subterfuge, and he'd killed Jack with a gunshot to the chest. When the enraged man had turned his gun towards Owen, Ianto hadn't hesitated to shoot Copley through the skull, killing him instantly. Owen and Tosh had been shocked and horrified when Jack had gasped back to life, clutching at Ianto, who had held Jack in his arms as he waited, trying his best to hold back his tears. It continued to be his greatest fear that Jack's ability to resurrect might run out one day.
Eventually, he broke the silence, his thoughts having drifted to another problem that required decisive intervention. "What are we going to do about D.S. Cooper?" he asked hesitantly, thinking about the female detective sergeant who had recently taken to stalking the Torchwood team.
Gwen Cooper had witnessed Jack dealing with a rogue Weevil at St. Helen's hospital a week and a half earlier. The tenacious Welshwoman had subsequently tracked Jack back to the Plass, eventually attempting to enter the Hub by posing as a pizza delivery person. They'd promptly dealt with her with the judicious use of a stun gun and retcon, but she'd been prowling around the Plass regularly since, staring curiously at the location of the invisible lift. Ianto had spotted her looking directly at the SUV as they'd sped off from the Hub earlier that day. It was only a matter of time before she became a problem again.
"I think we should hire her," he added, before Jack had responded.
That caught Jack's attention. He turned to face Ianto, his hand pulling away from Ianto's grasp as his mouth dropped open in obvious astonishment. "You've got to be kidding me."
"No, Jack. I'm not." Ianto held Jack's doubtful gaze determinedly. "Listen... she could be a valuable asset. She could be our police liaison – she has training, she's persistent... dogmatic. She has useful skills. Definitely a plus."
Jack frowned. "I don't like her. She's wilful, insubordinate, and stubborn."
"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Ianto retorted wryly, arching an eyebrow.
A flicker of warmth appeared in Jack's dull eyes. "You were different."
"Yeah, I suppose I was," Ianto agreed, deciding it would be wise not to point out that, unlike his own humble beginnings, Gwen Cooper wasn't ostensibly a Torchwood One spy. "Still, doesn't mean she couldn't be useful. How about a compromise? Three months trial period? Same as you gave me."
Jack continued to look doubtful. "You sure about this?"
"No, not entirely," Ianto admitted. "But I think it's worth a try. Besides, the alternative is a stronger dose of retcon and hope it sticks this time, or we keep monitoring her and make sure she doesn't talk. Neither are particularly good options."
Jack was silent, apparently mulling it over. "All right," he said eventually, but looking far from happy about it. "But she's your responsibility and if it all goes wrong, it will be your job to clean up the mess."
Ianto nodded. "Understood."
He didn't feel the need to disclose that one of the main reasons he wanted to hire Gwen Cooper was to provide Jack with a capable secondary field agent. Jack tended to continue doing much of their field work on his own, thus putting himself at greater risk than Ianto felt was strictly necessary. Unlike himself, Tosh and Owen, whose primary responsibilities were all within the confines of the Hub, Gwen's primary role would be investigations and field work. That was assuming Jack could tolerate working with her. He couldn't deny that the woman seemed somewhat opinionated and abrasive.
Jack slipped into silence again, and Ianto's thoughts wandered. "Estelle's funeral is on Friday morning," he said softly after several minutes. "I'd like to come with you, if that's all right. Pay my respects."
Jack nodded almost imperceptibly, then turned his head and looked directly into Ianto's eyes. "That's going to be you one day, Ianto." His voice broke, and he quickly looked away. "One day, sooner or later, I'll be attending your funeral."
"Not for a very long time I hope." Ianto sighed heavily. Sometimes when Jack looked at him, it felt like he was watching Ianto age before his very eyes – that Jack was already mourning his death. As ridiculous as it seemed given his youth, he knew that with Torchwood's mortality rate and the inevitability of Jack losing everyone he cared about, it was a real and unavoidable issue. It was also one which they were powerless to do anything about. Every day he grew a little older, while Jack remained exactly the same. "We make the most of the time we've got, Jack," he said determinedly. "That's the deal. It's all we can do."
"It's not enough," Jack mumbled, irritation creeping into his voice. "It's never enough." He turned to look at Ianto again. "It's not too late for you, Ianto. You've got your whole life ahead of you. You could do anything you want to do. You should leave all this." He waved vaguely out across the Hub. "Leave it all behind. You deserve so much more."
The unspoken meaning of Jack's words was all too clear. Ianto knew Jack was actually saying: "You deserve more than me." He grasped Jack's hand again, holding it firmly. "Jack, listen to me. I'm where I want to be. This is the life I want, here with you. Besides, the Doctor might turn up soon... he'll get you sorted." He refused to say the word 'fixed'. He could never think of Jack as wrong or broken.
Jack just shook his head miserably, his depressed mood apparently not allowing him to believe in the possibility. With each passing year it seemed that Jack's hope of finding the Doctor diminished, and sometimes Ianto wondered if Jack had resigned himself to his fate.
He decided to try a different tact. "I was thinking that tomorrow we could get out of the city for a few hours. Drive down to Porthcawl, take some lunch with us, go for a stroll along the beach?" he suggested, remembering how much Jack had enjoyed a visit to the beach on one of their rare days off together several months earlier. "Been a while since we've done anything like that."
"Yeah, sounds nice," Jack murmured non-committally.
"Okay," Ianto acknowledged, relieved that Jack hadn't outright rejected the idea. He glanced down at his watch and realised it was later than he'd thought. "Do you want to go home now?"
Jack finally met his eyes again. "Think I'll stay here tonight. But you should head home and get some rest."
"Oh." Ianto felt his heart sink, but he tried to hide his disappointment. "Um... all right."
He didn't like leaving Jack on his own in his current state, but if Jack wanted time to himself, he wouldn't object. However, it was rare for them to spend a night apart anymore, unless work intervened. Over time, more of Jack's clothing and other random possessions had crept into the apartment, and little by little, Ianto had come to think of the apartment as theirs rather than his. Of course, technically the apartment belonged to Jack, but Ianto continued to pay rent, despite Jack's objections. But those were just technicalities. What mattered was that it had become their home together, a little sanctuary of normality amidst the stress and chaos of their unconventional lives.
"That's okay, isn't it?" Jack asked, his tone lacking emotion.
"Yeah, of course it is," Ianto replied quickly. "Want me to get you some dinner before I go?"
Jack shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry."
"Right. Guess I'll be off then." Rising to his feet, Ianto leaned down and kissed Jack's forehead, receiving only a forced, wan smile in return. "Call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you in the morning."
He retrieved his belongings, and with a final worried glance over his shoulder at the bereaved man, he exited the Hub, knowing an anxious, sleepless night lay ahead.