(Originally posted 21/4/17)

A/N "Shortly" – adverb – in a short time.

I need to remember that.

Chapter 23

Rhannu

To say that Captain Jack Harkness was having a pig of a day, was an understatement in the extreme. Revealing the tsunami that was his past was a bitter and lengthy process. He could still taste phlegm.

Usually when operating in ordinary, everyday Harkness mode, Jack would avoid emotional truths at all costs.

It was boringly complicated. It was too revealing. It came at a cost.

Always.

Today was living proof of that.

Beware the Ides of March

He should have known. He should have taken better care. Paid more attention. Of course everything is better in hindsight, even from a fifty-first century perspective.

It's not like Jack hadn't messed up before. He had. Plenty of times. In fact he'd run out of numbers, trying to keep track of the many Harkness hazards, that littered the universe. His usual response however was to charm his way out of the situation. Flash a smile, a dimple or two. Never under- estimate the power of direct (in)sincere eye contact.

Skin on skin was also another fail safe; and if all other options crashed and burned, there was always vapour.

Jack would simply disappear.

Leave town, city, country.

Planet.

The thing was, today was different. The trouble with today was that it rankled, it seared, it burned. It mattered.

Jack knew he had options, including the ultimate, deleting all the information from the twenty-first century hard drive. He could erase today's painful existence. Replace it with Skittles and rainbows. He could, he knew this but...

This involved Ianto. Ianto Jones.

His Ianto Jones.

This involved his heart(s). The unfamiliar cloak of integrity had settled across his shoulders and would not be shaken loose. Jack felt the need to do the right thing.

To re-dress the balance.

To make amends.

He knew he had to offer himself up on a platter and hope like mad that Ianto still wanted the delicacy on display.

He wasn't so sure that he did. This did not sit well with him.

Never one to turn contemplating his navel into an art form, Jack Harkness knew he had to crack on. He needed to find his man.

And fast.

-o-

Even though Jack Harkness had not known Ianto Jones for a great deal of time, he knew one thing about him, he was a homing pigeon.

In times of great stress and confusion, Ianto Jones was likely to plan his tailspin from home. Unwilling to be a great burden on the world, a certain Mr Jones was likely to plot point his every move from his homestead, to minimise his carbon footprint on the world. Jack Harkness sped away from his bunker, greatcoat parachuting behind him. He left his building and turned left, left and left again.

Towards his goal.

-OOO-

Pulling up outside Ianto's anxious townhouse, Captain Jack's sensors went into red alert. The dwelling was shimmering, and not in a good way. Every portal was open, practically crying out for a hero – a saviour to enter and rescue all those trapped inside. Without thought, Jack automatically threw a force field around the house that contained purified oxygen and health inducing minerals.

The walls looked in need of fortification.

Striding through the open door, the American made his way towards his Welshman. Taking the stairs two at a time, Jack arrived at the third floor in no time. He made his way along the landing, towards Ianto's bedroom.

This door was shut.

Remembering his manners, Captain Jack knocked, briefly but determinedly.

He didn't wait for an answer.

Upon entering the room, Jack was struck by two things. The smell and the sight of his crumpled lover.

"Ianto, no!"

Immediately Jack made a beeline for his love. Falling to his knees, beside the surprisingly cheerful bedspread. He checked to see if the Welshman was still breathing. He was, shallowly. He checked his pulse points. They only just thrummed. Jack scanned Ianto's body internally. Something was hampering his heartbeat. Something was pulling his pulse towards a flat line. Something that looked liked two semi-dissolved pills.

Jack had to do something to halt their siren-call.

He spotted a near full bottle of Chateauneuf Du Pape on the floor.

Better drunk than dead.

Tilting the patient's head upright, Doctor Harkness began to pour the rest of the contents of the bottle, down patient Jones' throat. This was not without difficulty.

Ianto's head lolled from side to side. He began to mumble and blow wine-bubbles. He even giggled at one point; but ultimately he remained unresponsive.

With the bottle drained, the Welshman sighed deeply and relaxed fully against the Aviator, a faint smile gracing his lips.

Climbing onto the bed fully (shoes still on), Jack Harkness wrapped his arms around his charge and prepared to outstare the danger.

-o-

"Ianto, we must stop meeting like this, standing on the precipice-staring out to sea. We've got to stop only connecting on the edge. I need you to have more faith in me.

I need you to have more faith in yourself.

If you could only see what I see. If you could only believe what I believe, then you would understand why I do what I do, for you.

I wanted to be your friend before I met you. People would whisper your name and smile knowingly, when I enquired about you. Mr Jones was spoken of with respect. There was a reverence there that I don't think you ever knew.

There was love.

I felt like a stalker, trying to learn your daily routine from afar. Always just missing a glimpse. Always arriving, just as the door shut. Always feeling lost, until I discovered your weak spot.

Coffee.

Break time offered me a break through.

I finally saw you and I fell.

I tried to remain professional, but I know I flirted outrageously. I had to get you to notice me. I needed to make this one-on-one, as soon as possible. Step forward our training session.

I don't know whether you were aware of this, but I made my den as small as could be, so that we were physically closer.

It worked in my favour.

When you pressed your body against mine, I sent a prayer to the Gods, in thanks.

You triggered my thirst.

(It's always the quiet ones.)

You doused me in pleasure – but it was all too brief. You ran

away.

I tried to track you down. Like a nomadic Bedouin I roamed the building trying to "bump" into you too. (You're swift, I'll give you that.) It took days.

Eventually I followed my nose. Followed the wisps of coffee aroma. You looked annoyed, but I overlooked that. I made you make a date for us, (sorry not a "date", you don't do dates.)

Our story had to begin.

I wonder if you heard my internal cheering – I wonder?

-o-

I was ready for our d..., ahead of time, but you were distracted, elsewhere. Had been for some time. Lost and alone.

Once your friend raised the alarm, (she's a keeper) there was no stopping me. I should have known, but it took me a while to key into you.

People joke that others only go to Splott to die, but you really did. Surrounded by your flammable friend, you almost reached your goal. If only I could turn this trip switch off.

When you spoke, I thought you were speaking to me. I missed bits; but then I realised that you were in your own little world.

Admonishing yourself.

(Letting the inside voices out.)

I stopped listening and started caring.

You were the lightest burden I've ever had to carry through time and space. Even with one foot in the then and the other in the now, you still had impeccable sartorial taste.

"I llike yyyour ccoat sir."

A weak smile crossed Ianto's lips. A sad smile crossed Jack's.

"I felt blessed to be able to take you home.

Home.

Had you ever said that word out loud and meant it? I suspect not. Appearances can be deceptive.

Sometimes not.

Your home at first sight seemed bleak.

Barren.

Bulimic.

As though all the goodness had been regurgitated and only repression and guilt remained.

I turned my eyes from your walls hostile stares. I tried to placate the stairs, (I won't be a stranger for long). I made my way to your room with the bed, and laid you down, with a promise that the wakeful windows would watch over you. It was the best I could do.

I took a crash course in patience – I had to.

I waited.

For you.

Sooner than I could ever have imagined, you re-appeared, to flirt with me? I wasn't entirely sure.

I played dumb, (it nearly killed me). I didn't want to scare you off. I felt this was your first forage into flirting and any sudden move on my part was likely to leave me with the image, of the back of your head for company.

I had to raise my head though when you played your trump card.

Coffee.

I'd have been a fool not to.

You were finally offering me a part of yourself.

Something you loved.

How could I resist?

"At last my lips get to touch something of yours Ianto." You blushed. Do you remember?

You're bold if you did but know it. You instigated our first deliberate touch. You parted me from my favourite pen and lovingly wiped my fingers free of filthy ink. (One of my hearts stopped then and there. Hope housed itself in the other two.)

I was still unsure, but keen.

-o-

They say curiosity killed the cat; well I never liked cats anyway. I had to find out if this spark was real or imagined. I gate crashed your home-again. After the initial shock, you proved to be quite hospitable, talkative almost; although I learnt more from your walls than from your mouth. (Everything is there to help you Ianto, you've just got to learn to trust.)

Confidences flowed between us. You showed me another piece of the puzzle that is Ianto Jones. I showed you my tattoo.

Impish Ianto and Innocent Ianto came out to play that night. While Innocent Ianto talked of cheese, Impish Ianto talked with his hands. One stroke led to another and after a quick tussle or two, I finally got see your bedroom whilst you were still conscious.

Another first.

I'll admit it; sometimes I'm too eager for my own good. I wanted more, but didn't think of the triggers it might cause you. My hands and lips and desires were too much for you.

You left my arms.

The building.

The time-zone.

You re-visited the original trauma and howled your protest. I could only hold you, soothe you and try and coax you back. I could only offer you now, was that enough? If I could protect you for all time I would. You know that don't you?

I tried to tempt you back. To offer you a safe harbour in your storm. I think I managed it. I thought I did. Then you upped and surprised me. Upped and gave yourself to me, I thought I'd broken through.

Maybe not.

I woke to whiplash. The emotional fallout was intense, but mercifully brief. You just needed reassurance.

I can do that.

-o-

I tried to offer you good times. Play times. Picnics and detours. I tried to shield you from my past. Reverting to old patterns, to stop the past from meeting my present (and my future?)

Old habits die hard.

A date was dropped.

I should've read more into that.

I thought I was doing better, introducing you to my good past, but I dropped that ball too. Got caught seemingly red-handed.

You bolted. I kicked myself. He allowed me to let you go. Unaware what was at stake. Sober, I could only brood in my den. Until the red alarm was raised. I see that now.

Okay Confession #1: I may or may not have looked into your personnel file. I may have made my way to your sister's house and visited with her awhile. I may have liked her immensely and saw the familial similarity there. Of course this is all circumstantial and wouldn't hold up in a court of law, ahem.

-o-

Not everyone is against you Ianto. In fact no one is. Case in point; my den. She actually likes you.

A lot.

She was the one that alerted me to your "predicament". Came at me from all angles, just to get her point across. I'm not gonna lie, all my hearts stopped. Your friend Ms Sato (at my office, out of hours) provided me with the details of your exact location.

I had to see you.

-o-

Confession #2: I swear I did this with your very best interests at heart. I needed to be closer.

To you.

At the hospital. I entered your coma. Your mind. Your psyche.

I needed answers.

Forgive me.

-o-

I didn't know what to expect. I could sense you, but not see you. Could almost taste you, but not feel you. You were everywhere and nowhere.

An enigma.

All I could do was to follow your instincts. Follow your path. Back to you.

Blind faith was my only guide. It led me to your family.

In your neglected gallery, I met them all. Your devoted mother. Your somewhat misguided father and cherub of a sister. I held your calm as the maelstrom of your childhood whirled around you.

I could only stand and stare.

You called out to me, called out to the burgeoning stars at one point, imploring me to wait for you.

Always Ianto. Always.

Even in this fragile state, you were unwilling to give up all your secrets. The final three self-portraits were too painful to be exposed, to an un-invited guest. You later painted these pictures with your words. Don't ever think that I wasn't grateful.

I was.

I am.

I was almost too heart-torn to go on; but you had. So I did.

Your mind is such a labyrinth Yan, the challenges I faced were tough, but everywhere I turned I found clues, help and guidance.

Thank you.

I'm a natural athlete; let's call a spade a spade, but to swim against the tide of your internalised, ever encroaching negativity was a tough call. I tried my best Ianto, please believe me. I tried to stem this mania at its source. Tried to leave behind blessings not bullets.

I don't know how successful I was.

Finally I caught up with you. Do you remember? You were marching towards that infernal light (I've always preferred the dark). Willing to walk away from those who love you.

Those who care.

Willing to just disappear without a trace.

I couldn't let that happen.

Not to you.

Not to us.

I should've been bolder. I pleaded with you not to go and leave us all.

I should've told you my truth.

I love you Ianto.

I loved you then.

I love you even more now.

Please come back to me."

-o-

Jack couldn't be absolutely sure, but he thought he felt Ianto stir. His patient momentarily rocked in hi s arms. One arm flung out, seemingly searching for something. Jack took this as a sign and pressed the underside of his right wrist to the underside of Ianto's left. Transferring his tattoo. Gazing down he read,

Jack dymuniad fy nghalon.

He could only hope that Ianto believed him. As he pulled away, to reposition his patient, he stared straight into Ianto Jones' open blue eyes.

-OOO-

A/N Jack dymuniad fy nghalon = Jack my heart's desire

Comments are always appreciated.