4
Ianto was sitting in his favourite chair, watching his women fussing, then Sakura rose to head for the toilet and Toshiko slid an envelope under the book he was reading. He looked at it, then her and as Sakura returned he cleared his throat.
"So, Thursday is 'A' Day. I was thinking… chocolate cake?" he asked.
"Oh! Darling, yes. Why don't you call it your birthday" she scolded.
"Because it was not my birthday. It is now, only because it was the day you adopted me, and I was able to become a new person" Ianto grinned at her. "Tyrone likes to call it that too."
"Well, it is only a few days off your old birthday, still. You refuse to acknowledge that one too."
"Mamaw. That's enough" Ianto scolded softly "I am Ianto Jones now. I am your son. You adopted me, helping me change my name, change my life, and become free. You… locking the adoption process down and letting me not only choose my new name but my new life here… you know I love you but if you keep referring to the old life, the little boy who was so alone and broken…I shall get annoyed with you. I am Ianto Jones. Author. Painter and sometimes gardener, but I think my roses are not happy right now. Look… please Mamaw. Let's not do this like we do every year. I will celebrate my birthday on the day of my adoption as I was reborn. Same as Ty. I wish this entire thing about the Before would go away."
"Well… chocolate then" Toshiko said, rising to push her mother out the door "Goodbye brother, I will bring that book you asked for and the brushes next time."
"Thanks" Ianto saw them out, the woman who saved him and the sister that loved him more than the first one ever did.
Ianto then walked out to the back yard, then the far corner and stood staring at the silliest thing you might ever find in the garden. An Oscar. A small… gold… Oscar. It was the grave marker that he came out to when drunk to piss on.
David Loyd… was dead.
He had buried him in the backyard with all the pain and tears, as the storm raged around him as well as inside him, and the rain pelted down, the photos, the magazines and all the memorabilia and awards he could find. The hole bigger than expected and it had really felt like a grave.
Now the fear that some might try to resurrect him scared the bejesus out of him.
He never wanted that scared little victim to come back, being a survivor was the only way he could survive these days.
As Ianto Jones.
.
.
Dear David
You probably don't even remember me as I only came to the set a handful of times a week and most of our interactions were in the sound booth for the music side of things, but I remember you. You used to hide from Gwen and Suzie, their bullying making most of the talent nervy. You would try to find a darkroom or a corner behind props to make fun of anything that had happened. I was there. I would giggle at your uncanny impressions of Gwen, and Toshiko… the cute Japanese girl who would smack her face that time when Gwen asked you if you were a poof… I liked you. We were friends… of a fashion. I remember holding hands with you one time when we were alone. I felt a connection.
I am sorry for what happened, my grandfather was not a nice man and my mother was blinded by his wealth and dominance.
He is dead.
I am not sorry for that, and I admit that on the day of his funeral I went to visit him in is coffin and felt a strange satisfaction in the stillness of him. The sudden… smallness of him.
Mama insisted he be buried in the Whitfield Cemetery and she voiced her desire to be buried next to him. She will be. Daddy will be buried in the Harkness private Cemetery here on our land, so will I. If Gray is ever found out there in the wilderness, his remains will be placed with me and Daddy.
As to Grandfather… I will gladly enclose a map of where his grave is in case you ever want to piss on his grave. I did once and it felt strangely satisfying too.
Ianto stopped reading to chuckle softly, surprised at the alien sound as he spun to see who had made it, only to discover he was alone. God. Had he laughed? Had something finally cracked his defences? And it was Jack Harkness? To learn that he pissed on graves as well was a surprise, even if David's grave was a metaphoric one… he did like the thought of pissing on the old letch who stole his life.
Ianto decided to read the rest.
Thank you for your strength, for standing up for those too afraid and I am sorry it took this long for the others to come forward. For what it is worth, and I know it is not much… I always believed you to be my friend.
Be well.
Jack Harkness.
Huh.
.
.
"So how did you feel about that?"
Ianto looked impassively at his therapist, her face almost filling the screen of his laptop as he considered her question regarding Jack.
"I don't honestly know."
"Well… section it out into bite sized chunks" she advised.
"OK. First of all, I felt… annoyed. Like how dare he so openly defy the non-contact order. Then… then curious. You see, I've been dreaming about him."
"Oh?" her eyebrow rose "As in…"
"Memories. But… not. Things that didn't happen, things I daydreamed might happen as a grubby young pubescent teen, but we never really did. I am dreaming that we really did run away holding hands and hid. I dreamt that we spent a day in a meadow of wildflowers chasing butterflies. His laughter so… real." Ianto snorted at himself, the contempt in himself obvious as he added "So gay."
"And do you think you are?"
Ianto was surprised by the question and stared at her long and hard before answering "You know... I think... I am both. Lisa was a failed attempt at something and her dying in the car accident after only three dates made me feel in a fatalistic way like it was meant to be… I think I always wanted him. No one else ever made me... well... feel like that, never mind just… him. Only him. He's the only make that ever made he feel… silly."
"Well, that is a bit to unpack. And how do you feel about yourself being… bisexual?"
Ianto sat back and considered, his mind whirring as he went over what he really remembered, what he knew were just fanciful desires and the things he had been told happened that he did not remember.
"It's not men. It's him. And I think… it was always only him in my dreams, fantasies... memories of happiness. I think I am getting frustrated."
"Well, that's a start."