(Originally posted 27/04/13)
A/N This chapter is a little darker than most.
-OOO-
Ianto turned on his heel and walked away. He walked blindly without seeing. He walked without memory. He walked down all the corridors, across all the foyers, past all the laboratories to the outside.
He took the stairs up to the ground floor, in lieu of the lift.
He dropped the cashmere jumper in the bin by the revolving door, on his way out.
He was done.
Once outside the rain lashed down furiously against his forlorn figure; tattooing a damp heartbeat, on top of the stuttering real one, that was trying to beat below his clogged clothing.
Tears painted their way down his hot cheeks. Ianto was too upset to distinguish them from rain.
Upset - that was an understatement. He felt like his soul had just been shot.
He felt like a dead man walking.
Only the fear of disrupting social convention, of making a fuss in public, was holding him upright.
Manners maketh the man.
His father would have been proud.
Blinded by rainwater, or so he thought, Ianto made his way home. In lonely days of yore, he had actually counted how many steps it was from his workplace to his home; both the long and the short way.
Today he threw his OCD blueprint a curve ball; he passed by his two favourite shops. They stood side by side on the glassily smooth pavement.
Kaffeine -was a coffee bean emporium that had the ability to transport Ianto back to the womb, and The Wine Vault - well; it sold exactly what it said on the tin.
Ianto wavered between the two.
The strong pungent aroma of one battled with the crisp, clean barely audible clink of the other.
His throat went dry. His tongue offered an open invitation to both.
His feet pointed in different directions.
His brain did too.
He made a choice.
As much as he would love to curl up in the foetal position, for the rest of the day; the desire to be oblivious to his surroundings was stronger.
Ianto entered the building on his right.
"Hello good to see you again sir." The well-trained shop assistant greeted Ianto heartily. Commission was at stake.
Ianto nodded.
"Would you like your usual order? I can have it ready for you in 5 minutes."
Ianto nodded again.
As promised, within 5 minutes he was carrying a crate of Bordeaux away from the wine merchants, towards his home.
Ianto always bought in bulk. It was cheaper.
-OOO-
The next day dawned too soon and Ianto couldn't decide whether the smog that clung stubbornly to everything, was outside or inside his head.
No matter.
He was adept at navigating his home through screwed-up eyes, and his body parts were where he had left them.
He made his way to work.
-O-
Once there, Ianto was greeted by the worse thing possible.
Laughter.
He seemed to have just missed the punch line of the century, which was living up to its title as everybody and I mean everybody, was clutching their sides, gulping for air, trying not to show all of their fillings, to all of the world, all at once.
Ianto moved through the comedy club un-noticed.
Or so he thought.
-O-
From the semi-moment that the Welshman had entered the room all of Jack's sensors had informed him of his presence. His eyes had followed his hungrily. His head was full of questions. While his soul simply covered its bruise.
Jack would have to cast his mind back several centuries to recall, the last time he had been stood up.
Back then, it hadn't hurt nearly as much.
Strange.
Jack's attention was pulled immediately back to the present. He continued to smile congenially and bob his head. The new employee was proving to be a big hit. Joking aside he was tall, broad, booming and bold. He had stepped into his new shoes with ease and was well on his way, to making them feel like slippers.
Jack liked him.
The feeling was mutual.
Jack and his latest companion needed to make a move. The informal introductions were taking longer than expected and Jack had a full induction schedule to adhere to. Placing a hand between the huge shoulder-blades on offer, the American re-orientated his colleague towards the end of the room that contained Ianto.
Ianto saw them approach. He quickly tried to make an escape, only to find his path blocked by Tosh.
"Tow, do we have any of that green serum left or will I have to make a new batch?" These are the words she said. Ianto didn't hear them. His spirit was screaming in panic.
He felt like his future was on a countdown to oblivion.
3 2 1, and now they're here.
"Ianto" Jack forgot to include his best friend. "May I introduce you to the new Head of Security, Rhys Williams? Rhys, this is (my) Ianto Jones."
"Pleased to meet you." Rhys extended his disproportionately large hand.
Ianto looked down at it and couldn't help but image where it had been on Jack.
"Excuse me." The Welshman brushed aside Rhys' proffered hand and headed quickly to the Gents. He suddenly felt unwell. He really oughtn't to drink so much.
It was left to Tosh to pick up the fragments, of the shattered social niceties and make the new Head of Department feel welcome.
Jack's sensors tried to follow Ianto into the Gents, but he had locked the door.
-OOO-
Owen Harper had friends in low places. Even though he had risen to the ranks of respectable professionalism, his formative years spoke with a different accent. So did his childhood classmates.
He had kept in touch.
On a not-so-regular basis, backs were scratched.
Owen prided himself on being a thorough investigator. If stones needed to be upturned, then he would do it; and if he couldn't, then he knew a man who would.
Captain Jack Harkness was biggest stone he had ever had to look under. He was unsure what he would find there, but for Tosh he was prepared to face anything.
She was a very good friend, after all.
Investigation Day 4:
So far Owen's forage into the enigma that was Captain Jack had proved fruitless. There seemed to be no public records of him. He didn't appear to have a birth certificate or have any educational or medical history; here or abroad. He wasn't on the electoral register, and didn't seem to pay for any utilities.
He wasn't on Facebook either, which was odd.
It was as though he didn't exist.
Rather than spend any more time, bemoaning the fact that he appeared to be chasing Willow-the-Wisp, Owen decided to up the ante and bring in the stealth bombers.
A call was made.
A promise was secured.
A date was set.
Now all Owen had to do was contact his partner-in-crime and convey the stipulations.
Easily done?
-OOO-
Never had Jack Harkness enjoyed a first day more. The day had just flown by and he had achieved next to nothing on his to-do list. Showing Rhys Williams around had actually taken half the day. He had had a good word for everyone he met and they had replied in kind. This had naturally led to a lengthy liquid lunch, which had made the allocation of passwords, pin numbers and security badges a moot point by four-thirty.
A clear head was needed for this. There wasn't one between the two.
So before it was needed, a hair of the dog was taken at Jack's desk; and another.
The third hair had led to some joshing, which had led to some banter, which had led to some banter with horse-play, followed by horse-play and wrestling, wrestling with laughter.
It was at this point that Ianto had walked by Jack's always open door.
The point when Jack's hands were filled to capacity with Rhys' bulging biceps.
There was an awkward pause, before the patter of large feet became a roar.
"Ianto wait!"
Jack's bellow fell on deliberately deaf ears.
He went to go after him.
"Leave him." Now Rhys had hold of his arm. "Leave it."
Jack made a split second decision to obey.
He was sober now.
-O-
"Ianto wait!"
WAIT! You've got a bloody nerve Jack. I wish I couldn't hear you. I wish we didn't share the same language!
Ianto couldn't believe that he was experiencing a duplicate deja-vu scenario, so soon after Jack's last indiscretion.
The man has no manners.
Another reason for my father to hate him.
Ianto bumped into three of his colleagues on his flight from his superior. Each abrupt body to body contact, hammered home his obvious emotional pain, just that little bit more. Each injection of rejection wounded him as effectively as poison.
Knowing that he was incapable, the paving slabs carried him homeward with pinpoint precision.
Cardiff looks after its own.
Flustered beyond repair, Ianto fought to insert the right key in the right lock, in his defensive door. He practically fell through his portal.
His reflex let him down too. He ripped his jacket from his furious frame and aimed it at its usual hook.
He missed.
Lurching with intent, Ianto made his way to his kitchen. The answer to all his problems lay within.
He chose his best glassware, why shouldn't he treat himself? He chose the best vintage available. Ditto.
He picked up a knife, sometimes the synthetic labels could prove troublesome. He sashayed his way to-wards his lounge. The sofa was his.
It was as though someone had set him a challenge; Ianto couldn't open the bottle quickly enough.
A small measure soon became a large measure, soon became what the hell? The Welshman soon drained his glass and suggested and accepted a refill from himself.
One should never drink alone. I'm not Ianto thought, I'm here with my misery, we make good bed-fellows.
It was safe to say that Ianto had waved goodbye to Mr Rational, a while ago.
Within a tube minute, he was making his way back to his wine rack for another bottle. He chose the '06 that had been a good year - apparently.
Stepping around the synthetic spirals that now littered the lounge floor, Ianto perched on the strong end of his sofa to open his latest cache of relief-aid.
He stabbed at the seal of his new best friend. His knife was making no head-way. He twisted the serrated edge, to gain purchase.
The knife slipped.
It sliced his wrist.
Deeply.
Ianto should have watched with horror, as his blood bubbled up and over the new flap of skin created by said knife. He should have winced at the sharp pain that began to spread horizontally across his limb.
Instead he stared in fascination as the blood began to flow down his arm with grace, and drip elegantly off his elbow.
He decided to help.
He picked up the blade and began to slice at his forearm. He felt like a doctor, making his first incision during an operation. An operation that would bring respite from an excruciatingly painful problem. Being a junior doctor, he experimented with his style. He dug deep. He skimmed the surface too. He finally settled on a criss-cross pattern, which allowed him to make each tear twice.
He felt nothing but calm.
He was at peace.
It was as though a profound secret of the universe had just been revealed to him.
He felt honoured.
He eventually poured himself another drink. Extreme thirst had crept up on him. He marvelled at the similarities between what he was pouring into himself and what was seeping out of him.
Ruby richness all around.
Acknowledging that the devil is in the detail, Ianto went in search of a razor blade. He wanted to inscribe more intricate patterns that a steak knife just couldn't aspire to.
Finding three, Ianto set to work. He had the whole evening ahead of him and no palatable reason to stop.
He sat on the floor this time. His bloodied wineglass forgotten.
-OOO-
Jack Harkness was alone. He was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, wondering at just how quickly his perfect day had crumbled into dust.
He had dismissed Rhys Williams. It was the most responsible decision he had made all day; and yet he felt it wasn't enough.
Never mix business with pleasure.
Never mix business with pleasure.
This was his centuries-old mantra that he had ignored, yet again. It beggared belief that he could be so stupid - again.
He had tried to get hold of Ianto, but it was as though he had decided to slip off the planet.
Jack had checked this too, but all his sources told him Ianto was still earth-bound.
Drip.
Drip.
Jack felt something small but wet hit the crown of his head.
Drip.
He looked up. He couldn't see any obvious leak.
Drip.
This time Jack had reflexively moved backwards just as the newest droplet had descended.
Splash.
It had landed.
On his desk.
It looked like blood. Jack bent his head to inspect the spot closer.
He frowned, bemused.
-OOO-
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