Author's Notes: My sincerest thanks as always to Prothrombintime. And thank you again to everyone who has supported this story. Angst ahead!
Chapter Fifty-Four
March 12th, 2008
Ianto searched both his desk and the kitchen area thoroughly for a second time, swearing profusely under his breath when his search failed to yield a result. He leaned back against the counter where the coffee machine resided and retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. Dialling the last of the three new mobile phone numbers he'd added to his contact list, he waited impatiently for an answer. "Damn it," he muttered when it finally rang out and diverted to voice mail.
Sighing heavily, he pushed himself back to his feet and made his way to Jack's office. He'd hastily completed everything requiring his attention for the day, and all he'd wanted was to escape from the Hub and get away from Jack. He needed time to think and try to settle his raging thoughts. Of course, as was usually the case, fate – and Torchwood – had conspired against him.
Jack looked up from his desk as Ianto reached the threshold of the office. His expression was wary, his jaw tense, as if he was bracing himself for round two of their earlier, heated confrontation. "What is it, Ianto?" he asked, snapping the words out impatiently.
"My car keys are missing," Ianto replied evenly and without preamble. "John was at my desk earlier looking for a bus timetable. I tried his mobile but I can't get hold of him."
Jack frowned and turned to his computer, tapping at the keyboard insistently. Ianto edged closer and peered over his shoulder, watching as Jack brought up the current location of his car. "He's gone home," Jack murmured as they both stared at the blinking, stationary red dot hovering over a residential street in Grangetown, and Ianto felt a knot of anxiety twist unpleasantly in his stomach.
Jack jumped from his chair, grabbing his keys from the desk as he reached for his greatcoat. Ianto stepped back and out of the way, but made no attempt to assist him. He knew it was a childishly passive aggressive act that was beneath him, but he was still too hurt to particularly care.
Jack gave him a sharp look, then sighed and roughly pulled on his coat. He paused as he reached the doorway, looking back. "Are you okay to get home? I don't know how long I'll be."
"I'm fine, Jack," Ianto replied, his tone more brusque than he'd intended. He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll wait here. Go."
Jack looked at him with a deep frown for a brief, tense moment, then turned away and sprinted from the Hub in a flurry of coattails, every bit the dashing hero, as always. Ianto sighed wearily and scrubbed his hand over his face. He considered making some coffee, then rejected the idea and reached for Jack's best Scotch instead. Pouring a generous amount into one of Jack's cut crystal glasses, he slumped down into Jack's chair and sipped distractedly at the dark liquid, his thoughts beginning to drift.
The light aeroplane 'Sky Gipsy' had come through the Rift four days earlier, bringing with it three people displaced from 1953, the pilot Diane Holmes, and two passengers, Emma Cowell and John Ellis. The team had since been working to integrate the latest victims of the Rift into the present day world, the process, predictably, not being an easy one. The trio had been confused and distraught at the beginning, not believing they'd been transported over fifty years into the future.
Ianto felt a deep sympathy for them, and he'd tried to imagine how he would feel if he was suddenly whisked fifty years forward, losing everything he held dear. Emma, the younger at only eighteen seemed to be adapting the easiest, responding to the modern world with almost childlike wonder. Gwen had been helping her, and from what Ianto could tell, the former detective was doing an excellent job. Tosh and Owen had been helping Diane, and Ianto had noticed that the pilot was more than a little smitten with their technical genius. Toshiko, however, seemed utterly oblivious, her affections never wavering from Owen. Meanwhile, Owen seemed quite amused that his girlfriend had captured another woman's attention. Diane was certainly attractive and only slightly older than the pair, and Ianto suspected that Owen had been entertaining some rather lurid fantasies.
John, being the oldest, was clearly struggling the most out of the three refugees. Jack had befriended the man, and had been trying to help him assimilate into his new reality, encouraging him to build a new life for himself. The man's plight had seemed to resonate deeply with the Captain, and just like Jack, John Ellis was trapped in a time in which he didn't belong. Although Ianto certainly didn't begrudge Jack spending time with John, or anyone else for that matter, Jack had been distant and out of sorts since the Sky Gipsy's arrival. He'd been worried that Jack was starting to withdraw and pull away again, whether he realised he was doing it or not.
However, after the incident several hours earlier, he'd realised that his concern, while justified, had been somewhat misdirected. It had been a trying few days, and he'd been tasked with ferrying the newcomers around and helping them to acclimate with modern day-to-day life, including setting them up with new ID's, advising them on managing money, teaching them to use their new mobile phones, and taking them on a trip to the supermarket, which had severely tested his patience. He didn't mind doing his bit to help, but he'd started to feel more like Torchwood's token errand boy rather than Jack's trusted second-in-command, and Jack apparently had been too pre-occupied to notice his frustration.
After finally having the opportunity to spend a few blissfully quiet and interruption-free hours in the archives, he'd returned upstairs and headed for the coffee machine. The Hub had been deserted except for Jack and John, who had been sitting in Jack's office, talking in quiet, insistent tones. Gwen had taken Emma shopping, while Tosh and Owen had taken Diane to the airfield to check on her plane. He'd prepared three cups of coffee, placed two of them on a tray, then headed silently towards Jack's office. Just as he'd been about to announce his arrival, he'd unintentionally caught a fragment of the conversation between the two men.
"Who are you?" John asked, his voice becoming wary and suspicious.
"A man, like you," Jack replied, with a heavy air of defeat. "Out of his time, alone, and scared."
John frowned, then looked at Jack intently. "How do you cope?"
An unreadable expression passed over Jack's face, hardening his features. "It's just bearable. It has to be. I don't have a choice."
Reeling as if he been punched viciously in the stomach, Ianto had almost dropped the tray he'd been carrying, only barely recovering at the last possible moment.
The clatter had alerted the two men to his presence, and Jack had looked up sharply, his features immediately taking on a distressed expression, a response to the pained look that Ianto knew must have been written all over his face.
Not wanting to confront Jack in front of John, he'd made a hasty retreat back to the archives, ignoring Jack as he called after him. John already had a low enough opinion of him, having walked in on them in the kitchen the day before. Jack had been agitated, and in an impulsive moment, Ianto had pulled him into his arms and kissed him tenderly. He'd turned to find John Ellis staring at them, his mouth hanging open, looking visibly shocked and disgusted.
Jack had eventually found him in the depths of the archives an hour later, and a regrettable encounter had predictably ensued. Ianto pressed his eyes closed, his mind betraying him as it replayed the memory in painful detail.
"Ianto, there you are. Listen, about what you heard earlier..."
Ianto spun around to face him. "Whatever feeble excuse you have, Jack, I don't want to hear it."
"Please, Ianto, I didn't mean what I said to sound the way it did." Jack reached forward to grasp Ianto's shoulder, but Ianto stepped back. "It's not what you think. You need to understand that I..."
"Yes, well... clearly I don't understand," Ianto retorted coldly, more hurt than he was willing to admit. "I thought you were happy with me. I was misguided enough to think I was actually making a difference. I thought I did more than make your life 'just bearable'." He narrowed his eyes. "And you're not alone, Jack. I'm right here in case you hadn't noticed."
"I know, and you do make a difference, Ianto," Jack said insistently. "More than you'll ever know."
Ianto snorted with undisguised contempt. "But not enough. That's the problem, isn't it? I can never be enough for you. I give you everything, Jack. You have all of me. But it will never be enough."
"It's not a question of not being enough," Jack argued, anger seeping into his voice. "We've talked about this before. You don't understand what it's like for me. You can't."
"And that's my fault, is it?" Ianto demanded furiously. "How can I understand, Jack? How can anyone?"
"Ianto..."
"Just leave me alone." Ianto turned away, tears prickling at his eyes. He was damned if he'd let Jack see him in such a pitiable condition. "Go back to your new best friend and leave me the hell alone."
He hadn't turned around again until the sound of Jack's retreating footsteps had finally faded.
He tossed back a mouthful of the Scotch, once more blinking away the tears that were threatening to fall. He'd let his hurt and anger get the better of him, and he regretted his harsh words. He knew how deeply Jack suffered, but to hear Jack say what he'd said, and to a virtual stranger, had felt like a knife to his heart. He wondered if he'd deluded himself all this time about his significance in Jack's life. Perhaps, no matter how hard he tried, he could never be enough for someone like Jack. Maybe no one could, at least not in the long run.
It had been six months since he and Jack had reconciled their differences and resumed their relationship. He'd finally returned to work a month later, confined to light duties initially, but as he continued his physical therapy he'd regained his mobility, and by Christmas he'd almost fully recovered. The nightmares still flared up on occasion, but Jack was almost always there to sooth away the worst of his distress.
Christmas and the New Year had come and gone without any major crises. He and Jack had divided their time between the apartment and the Hub, allowing the others to have some time off. They'd occupied themselves with films, games, and sex, indulging in some festive cheer with some nice food and wine. Jack had finally gotten his wish of seeing Ianto get impressively drunk, and he'd teased him mercilessly afterwards, telling him in great detail how affectionate and effusive he'd become while intoxicated. Ianto had subsequently vowed never to get drunk in Jack's presence again. Although, he had to admit that Jack's hangover cures were rather innovative, even bordering on the avant-garde.
Downing the rest of his drink, he stood up and retrieved his diary from his desk, then returned to Jack's office. He studied the screen for a moment, noting the SUV was now at the same location as his car, the two dots blinking side-by-side on the map overlay. Hoping Jack had reached John in time, he extracted his pen from his jacket and turned his attention to his diary.
It was over two hours later when the blinking dot representing the SUV began to move again, indicating its return to the Hub. He immediately feared the worst as the tracker on his own car remained stationary. He may not have particularly liked John Ellis, but he didn't wish the man harm. With a sigh, he closed his diary and distractedly pushed it aside, mentally trying to prepare himself for Jack's return.
It was only a short while later when the cogwheel door rolled open and Jack appeared, making his way with slow, weary footsteps across the Hub and to the office. Standing in the doorway, his features were ashen, his eyes dull, and the acrid smell of carbon monoxide filled the air.
Without thinking, Ianto stood up and stepped forward, removing Jack's coat and tossing it over the nearest chair before pulling Jack into a tight embrace. Jack was tense and unresponsive in his arms. "John's dead," he murmured hoarsely. "I held his hand as I watched him die."
Awkwardly, Ianto pulled away, shaking his head sadly as Jack remained standing before him, looking lost and defeated. "I'm sorry about your car," he said after a moment, his stony expression becoming apologetic. "I'll buy you a new one. Anything you want."
"I don't care about my bloody car, Jack," Ianto retorted in frustration, stepping away and moving to the other side of the room. He was incensed that Jack thought he could just buy himself back into his good graces. "You died with him, didn't you?" he asked sharply, already knowing the answer.
"Yes," Jack replied quietly. "I couldn't let him do it alone."
Ianto turned away and closed his eyes. Jack had died too many times in the line of duty recently, and the old fear that one day Jack might not come back had never left him, despite the Doctor's explanation that Jack was a fixed point in time and would exist forever. He hated that Jack was so cavalier about dying, almost seeming to welcome the escape, no matter how fleeting it was. He wondered if Jack still secretly hoped that one of his deaths would finally stick. The thought made him sick to his stomach.
"So, that's four times in barely a week," he murmured, his voice sounding distant and devoid of emotion. "Must be a new record." He turned and looked at Jack, his heart feeling tight and heavy in his chest. "You envy him, don't you? You wish you could have gone with him."
He only just managed to stop himself from bitterly adding, 'And you'd leave me behind without a moment's hesitation.' It was a selfish thought and one he wasn't particularly proud of, but it hurt to think that Jack might abandon him if given half a chance. After all, he'd tried to do that not so long ago.
Jack sighed heavily. "Ianto, please, can we not do this right now."
Ianto watched as Jack moved over to the desk and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He downed it in one go, then refilled the glass. Ianto stifled a weary sigh. "Do you want help with John's body?" he finally asked, straightening his shoulders and adopting his professional demeanour.
Jack shook his head and swallowed half the contents of his refill. "No, I'll take care of it. You should go home, get some rest." He emptied the glass and put it down on the desk. "Do you mind taking a taxi?" he asked, not meeting Ianto's eyes as he slumped down into his chair.
"I'll walk." Ianto quickly made his way to the door, relieved that Jack didn't want him to stay. They were both too emotionally raw and needed some space from one another. He paused indecisively at the threshold. "Will I see you later?" he asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to look back over his shoulder.
"Yeah," he heard Jack reply, after a moment of heavy silence. "Yeah, you will. Don't wait up for me though."
###
It was a little after three in the morning when Ianto heard Jack enter the apartment. He'd been dozing restlessly since he'd finally climbed into bed just after midnight, and when he'd woken again half an hour earlier, the other side of the bed had still been empty. He'd turned onto his back and remained lying in the darkness, lost in his thoughts as he stared up at the ceiling.
He listened to Jack's unusually quiet movements as he used the bathroom, entered the bedroom, and slowly undressed. When Jack's shadowy form was standing by the side of the bed, clad only in his underwear, Ianto finally shifted his gaze to look at him. He pulled the bed covers back and Jack slipped in beside him.
Neither of them spoke, nor did they make any attempt to touch one another. Finally, Ianto broke the uncomfortable silence. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Jack replied in little more than a choked whisper. "At least I will be. Not like I have a choice."
Not sure what else to say, Ianto leaned in and gave Jack's lips a soft but chaste kiss. As hurt as he was, he knew Jack was suffering too, but it was as much comfort as he was willing to offer. "I'm sorry about John," he murmured.
He began to turn away, but Jack caught hold of his arm. Ianto turned back, peering at Jack's face in the darkness, only a couple of inches from his own.
"You're wrong, Ianto." Jack's voice was soft but insistent. "About not being enough for me. You've always been enough. You've always been everything I ever wanted."
Ianto nodded silently in reply, not trusting himself to speak. He turned onto his side, facing away from Jack, and closed his eyes. Jack pressed up against the length of his back, wrapping an arm around his waist, his lips brushing a gentle kiss against the nape of Ianto's neck.
For the first time in the years since he and Jack had begun their strange and unconventional relationship, Ianto wasn't sure if he actually believed the other man's words.
###
Ianto woke the following morning and was unsurprised to find that Jack had already left. Rubbing at his eyes, he cursed softly as he glanced at his bedside clock and found it was almost nine o'clock. Jack had obviously taken it upon himself to turn off the alarm. He snatched the folded note from where it was propped up on the table, his name written on the front in Jack's familiar, florid scrawl.
Ianto, I didn't want to wake you. Take the day off and get some rest. I'll organise a rental car for you today until we can buy you a new one. J.
With a heavy sigh, Ianto dragged himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Although he suspected Jack's apparent thoughtfulness was a less than subtle attempt to give them both some distance, he wasn't going to just mope around the apartment all day. Besides, Myfanwy had seemed a bit lethargic for the last couple of days and he wanted to check on her. Owen had told him he was imagining things, but he couldn't help but worry.
He was making his way along Mermaid Quay forty-five minutes later, sipping distractedly from the travel mug he'd filled with coffee, the bag of jam donuts he'd just purchased clutched in his other hand. He hoped the pastries would help to mitigate Jack's annoyance from his unwelcome appearance at the Hub.
At the periphery of his vision a tall figure was sprinting across the Plass, coattails flaring dramatically in his wake. Ianto stared dumbstruck, his heart clenching in his chest as he spotted the familiar blue police box standing at the furthest end of the Plass. Jack was running frantically towards it.
"Oh, my God," he muttered, dropping both his coffee and the bag of donuts, and taking off in pursuit. "Jack!" he shouted. "JACK!"
Jack was evidently too far away to hear him. Ianto watched helplessly as Jack reached the TARDIS and threw himself at the exterior, clinging to the sides as a deep groan reverberated through the air and the time machine faded out of existence.
Ianto came to a halt, gasping for breath as he stared at the section of stone paving the TARDIS had occupied only moments earlier, a cold sense of despair washing over him.
Jack was gone.