[Fic] and we meet in the sky
Title: and we meet in the sky
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Gwen
Warnings/Spoilers: no real spoilers, set first between S1 and S2, and then later
Rating: PG
Genre: some angst, some fluff
Word Count: ~3,775
Summary: Jack’s gone, and Ianto looks to the stars for guidance.
Notes: This is for musicaluvr, who requested something based on the song Sun and Moon from the musical Miss Saigon, which is where the title and the lyrics throughout the fic come from. Basically, I think this became an exploration of Ianto coming to terms with his feelings for Jack, both in his absence at the end of S1, and after his return… with varying levels of angst and fluff. (musicaluvr, I really hope that this isn’t too terribly far off from what you’d imagined, and that you enjoy it. <3)
(x-posted to jackxianto, torch_wood)
I.
you are sunlight and I moon, sharing the sky
**
Ianto stares up into the blanket of cloud cover that is Cardiff’s night sky, and lets out a long breath.
He’s always been fond of stargazing--as much as the next person, anyway--but Cardiff’s city center isn’t exactly the best place for it, what with all those lights and the fog rolling off in off the bay all night, thick as soup.
(Just ‘soup’, not ‘pea soup’, because Ianto never really understood that reference--the fog wasn’t green--so it was just ‘soup’, no matter what his mam used to say.)
Roofs make him think of Jack though, and somehow with his eyes plastered on the sky up there, it almost makes him feel like there's still some connection between them, sometimes. He’s found himself coming up here all the time lately either way, stars or no stars, connection or complete radio silence.
It’s ridiculous too, of course. Jack could be anywhere, any galaxy, any sky. Anywhere.
He starts at a sound behind him, and his heart does a familiar leap, before he realizes that the sounds are far too light to belong to a man, much less a man who throws his weight around with every step like Jack sometimes seems to.
“Nice night,” Gwen says, her smile bright and friendly, and then adds. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to follow you.”
Ianto smiles. “Seems you managed pretty well anyway.”
“Sorry,” Gwen says again, a little sheepishly. She spreads her arms wide. “I needed some fresh air. Figured I’d see what you were up to.”
She walks over to Ianto, to where he's standing near the building's edge, and tilts her head up at the sky.
“Where do you think he is, Ianto?” she asks, her voice sad and almost hopeful at the same time.
They’ve all asked this same question a hundred times over the past few weeks and disappointingly, it's still valid.
“Do you think he’s okay?” she asks.
Ianto lets out a breath, and crosses his arms over his chest.
“I don’t know what I think anymore,” he says honestly. “I worry about him sometimes, but of course that doesn’t get me anywhere." He pauses and looks down at Gwen. "Except really, really pissed off.”
He laughs, a bit self-deprecating, but Gwen just gives him a sympathetic smile.
“That’s only natural,” she says quietly.
“Maybe.”
Gwen doesn’t say anything else, but after a minute, she sets her hand on Ianto’s shoulder, squeezing a little.
He lets the contact bleed through his jacket, straight through the layers of cotton, wondering why the gesture is such a comfort, despite everything. Maybe being understood isn’t as overrated as he always thought.
He covers her hand with his for a moment and stares up until the darkness. He can almost make out a few dull stars here and there, even though most everything is blanketed over by the clouds and the brightness of the city.
“You know, sometimes I think if I stare up there long enough, he’ll actually remember that we’re down here,” Ianto says, almost a question. “Of course, who knows what he's seeing, right? He could be anywhere. But I’d like to think it’s the same moon, the same sky. That we still share that, at least.”
His face warms a little when he realizes what he’s said. He’s never been all that good at opening up. Even with people he’d generally trust with his life, it seems.
“That’s probably the real reason I come up here,” he finishes quickly.
Gwen just nods, either not noticing, or choosing not to acknowledge his embarrassment.
“The stars are universal," she says, sounding pensive. "Wherever he is, he’s got to be seeing them, right?”
Ianto just nods, but honestly, he’s not convinced. Jack could be at the center of the sun, at the end of time, for all he knows. And nothing feels universal anymore.
“Well, maybe not the same ones, exactly,” Gwen clarifies. “But still.”
Ianto smiles. “It’s the thought that counts,” he says, but his eyes are clouding over anyway.
To be honest, even though he’s up here, where the connection with Jack is supposed to be strongest, he can feel his resolve fading every day, fraying around the edges, threatening to snap entirely if he's not careful.
He doesn’t think he wants to tell Gwen this though, doesn’t want to tell her that every day he feels a little more alone, that every day he realizes that he's asking himself if more than when, when he thinks about Jack's return.
Even if he knows she'll understand.
Because she'll understand, maybe.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit to feeling this way quite yet.
In the end he just forces a smile, links their arms together, and says, “Fancy a pint? Owen and Tosh can handle the hub for another hour or so..."
Gwen smiles, nodding in agreement, and Ianto thinks that the evening might not be a complete wash, after all.
II.
you are sunlight and I moon, midnight and high noon
**
Ianto used to think he and Jack were polar opposites, once.
Where Jack was bright and warm and alive, Ianto felt dark, cold, empty. Like some kind of walking Welsh cliché.
Or a shadow, maybe. Following Jack around, always intent to please, attuning himself to Jack's needs without question. Hoping that some of Jack’s life force might rub off on him and make him feel a little less like an empty skeleton if he stuck around long enough.
Get a few pints in him, and he started thinking that all he really wanted was for Jack to find his heart for him again, to dredge it up from wherever it’d been buried after Lisa. He didn't really care all that much about what Jack did with it once that happened, just that he wanted it to happen more than anything.
And then one night something changed, something clicked.
“Ianto, stay,” Jack had said, and there’d been no real reason to say no.
And so he’d climbed into Jack’s tiny bed downstairs in the hub, and for once, it didn’t feel like he was sleeping with his boss, and it didn’t remind him of the night Lisa died, when Jack had practically thrown him down the stairs, had practically ordered him into bed, and not for the usual reasons.
For once it felt okay. Right. His life, his heart, felt real again. Jack had found it, had fixed it. Had uncovered it from wherever it had been hidden since Canary Wharf, and maybe even before then too, if he was honest.
But now Jack is wrapped around his body like a second skin, so close he can hardly breathe, and Ianto can feel his heart pounding in his chest with purpose, and reason.
He’s here, Ianto thinks. Not because he just ended up here, or because there was nowhere else to go, but because he wants this.
He’s here because in the end, he knows that he and Jack really aren’t so different after all.
And it feels so good, Ianto thinks his chest might burst.
**
Ianto thinks about that night a lot these days. While he’s making coffee for Gwen and Tosh, or while he’s bickering with Owen over things neither of them can remember ten minutes later. While he’s forging Jack’s signature on reports, sealing them in envelopes, sending them off to UNIT. Pretending Jack’s not gone, pretending he’s coming back, that this is temporary because what isn’t, really, right?
He doesn't regret anything.
He'd made a decision that night, and of course it wasn’t just that one particular night, it was a series of nights, of days, of thoughts, of moments.
He’d made a decision that he was going to stop just going through the motions. That he was going to start living an actual life again. And he’d decided that he was all but handing that life over to Jack, to Torchwood.
And Ianto was fully aware of what that meant.
It probably should have been terrifying, but it wasn’t. It should have made him quit all of it right then and there, but it didn't.
If anything, it had been liberating.
He’d been prepared for this since his orientation at Torchwood One, of course. He'd made pledges, and oaths, sworn his life for the protection of the empire more times than he could count. He’d had the risks--all of them--detailed in black and white, right in front of him, and he’d signed on the dotted line.
But it's not the same as swearing his life for Jack. And it’s not just Jack, it’s everything Jack stands for, everything he's built here. Ianto knows it all inside and out, knows the history, has seen how Jack has transformed the institute over the years, and he believes in all of it.
He believes in himself, too, believes that he adds value to this place, to this organization, Jack or no Jack.
Though honestly, Ianto can’t help but think that if he is going to give up his life for Torchwood, he’d really rather do it while Jack is actually on the same planet.
And Ianto hates that in his absence, this is what keeps him going most of the time.
III.
you are here like a mystery, how in the light of one night did we come so far
**
And then Jack does finally come back, and Ianto swears he doesn’t sleep for a week.
It’s an exaggeration, but not a huge one.
He shouldn’t be able to see anything in the darkness, and he can’t, not really, but he can almost make out Jack’s features--his jaw, the line of his lips, pressed together firmly, as if he’s concentrating on being asleep, the curve of his shoulders under the covers.
Ianto stares at Jack as if somehow this body sleeping next to him will reveal what Jack clearly works so hard to hide all day long, behind tight smiles, and paperwork, and business-as-usual. As if it will all finally make sense to him if he just stares long enough.
But it never does.
Days, weeks, months later--Ianto still has no idea why Jack came back.
He won’t ask. He’s afraid to, and it makes him wonder if all that strength, all that independence, all that expert handling of Jack’s absence had just been an act. He’d imagined what he would say, how he would ask Jack, and how Jack would willingly divulge all the details a million times in his head, but when it comes down to it, he just can’t follow through.
And Ianto understands that it takes a lot for Jack to be this affected by something, and so he knows that whatever happened has got to be pretty serious. It scares him, and he’s worried, and he knows he should try to help, should at least try to do what he can, but honestly he just isn’t sure if he can be what Jack needs.
Or that Jack even wants him to try.
Somewhere in the back of his head too, is the fear that if Jack pushes him away now, he just might not be able find his way back. It’s selfish, and he knows it, but he really doesn’t know what else to do.
And so he just follows Jack’s lead, and lets it all go for a long, long time, until one day, after Tosh and Owen are gone, and it’s really just them, and Gwen, and the rift, and everything feels so desperate anyway, it just comes out.
**
It’s late (late verging on early, really) and he and Jack have been working all night cleaning up after a particularly nasty outbreak of weevils--in fact, Ianto’s just gotten a pretty nasty bump on his head thanks to one, when it'd thrown him against the pavement before he even knew what was coming.
His head had landed with a sickening thud against the ground, and maybe that’s what makes him do it, his head all jumbled and confused and throbbing behind his temples.
Jack has made him sit down in the back of the SUV, his legs hanging over the edge, the weevils tied up and thrown into the open space behind them. He presses his fingers to Ianto’s head methodically, feeling for blood, while Ianto just stares at him.
He stares at Jack's profile, his jaw line, his collar when he leans over to feel the back of his head. And then he just keeps staring, like he used to in the middle of the night sometimes, like he's trying to see through Jack’s eyes, into his head, into his insides, into his heart.
It's such a simple thing, but... Sometimes he feels like he's going on blind faith that all this time with Jack means anything at all, when really, he has no idea. Just like he has no idea how Jack’s heart can stop and then just start up again as if it's perfectly natural, time and time again. The whole thing strikes him as a little ridiculous, suddenly.
And then his eyes cloud over with tears before he has a chance to stop them.
Jack grabs his elbow, worried.
“I’m fine, Jack,” he says quickly. “My head is fine.”
Ianto doesn’t have the strength to shake him off, but his touch is making his chest ache. He feels damp, and cold--a little trapped, really.
“I have no idea what I’m doing here, sometimes, you know that?” he blurts out, giving Jack's hand a half-hearted push.
Jack stares at him for a moment, as if trying to work out what exactly Ianto’s referring to.
“Ianto, I’ve told you. I can get you out, no questions asked if that’s what you--”
“No--see, that’s just it. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I don’t want to stop. Crazy, right?”
There are three weevils in the back with them, and one of them shifts, dark hood sliding back and forth on its head as it writhes in its restraints, sedative not quite kicking in yet.
“And I know it's been months, but I still have no idea why you came back. Why you're down here instead of up there. I know what you told me, but… I just can’t work out how it makes any sense.”
“You thought I’d leave you here to deal with these guys on your own?” Jack gestures to the weevils with a quick sweep of his hand. “Fat chance.”
“Why not, Jack? What do you care? What’s stopping you from leaving again tomorrow? Tonight?" Ianto stares at him, searching his face for some kind of reaction, finding nothing. "You know, when it was all of us, with Tosh and Owen, we managed. But now? I don't know, Jack...”
Ianto closes his eyes. His head is still throbbing a little, but he’s not dizzy, and he doesn’t think he has a concussion, so he really isn’t sure why is it’s so hard to focus. He’s breaking all his rules here--he always swore he’d never pressure Jack, certainly not about what happened while he was gone. It’s been months now, anyway--he should be past this.
“There are things that happened to me, while I was gone, Ianto,” Jack says, startling Ianto out of his thoughts with the serious tone of his voice, and the fact that he’s staring at Ianto now, his eyes dark and questioning, as if he’s trying to figure out if Ianto really wants to hear this. “Things that made me realize what's important.”
"And what's that?" Ianto asks automatically, but his breath catches in his throat as Jack’s expression softens. He hasn’t seen Jack look at him like this in ages.
"This," Jack says, and touches his fingers to Ianto's cheek. "All of this."
And then Jack takes his hand in his, just turns it over in his lap, his palm warm as their fingers slot into place together, and they just sit there, breathing for a minute, and then another. And then Jack brushes their lips together tentatively, just a ghost of a touch, really, but it's like the universe has suddenly turned right side up again.
Maybe he’d had it wrong all along, Ianto thinks. He feels his face flush as Jack squeezes his hand. Because this, he thinks, if this is what Jack needs… He’s good at this, at being here.
And then his heart starts racing, as he sucks in a breath, all his feelings bubbling up to the surface at once. He squeezes his eyes shut, realizing that it's been a really, really long time since he’s allowed himself to feel this way. It’s not like there was ever any question. But he’d pushed it all away for a while, maybe, back to some corner of his head where it was safe to have feelings for a man who’d run off and left his entire team behind, a man who had died in his arms a dozen times, a man who’d never once told him the whole truth about anything.
Ianto is fairly certain that Jack will tell him the truth now though, if he asks.
“Tell me about it,” he says, halfway between a question and a request, his heart pounding in his chest. Because even after all this time, even with Jack looking at him like he’s the only person on the planet that he trusts, there’s still a part of him that’s terrified that if they talk about this, if they acknowledge it even for a second, Jack will up and disappear again, just like that.
But then Jack just starts talking, his voice urgent, words weighted with fear and relief, words that beg forgiveness, and understanding.
And there's nothing else to do but listen, so that's exactly what Ianto does.
IV.
made of sunlight, moonlight, I reach for you, and we meet in the sky
**
It’s morning before they finally make their way back to the hub. The dark blanket of clouds has faded away to reveal grey skies, and a tiny splash of light on the horizon.
They spend the drive in silence, no questions lingering in the air between them, for once.
Jack is driving with one hand, his other resting idly on Ianto’s leg, his eyes fixed on the road. There’s a calmness, a quietness that Ianto realizes he hasn’t really seen before in Jack’s expression. He squeezes Jack’s hand experimentally, and watches the corners of Jack’s lips twist up into a smile.
**
After they’ve safely gotten everyone into the cells, Jack follows Ianto outside, just on the other side of the tourist office door. They both stare out over the bay in silence. Ianto likes coming out here in the early morning, before the tourists and office workers start milling around, when it’s just a jogger here and there, women out walking their dogs. There’s a quality to the air, to the light that feels different than at any other point in the day.
“When you were gone,” Ianto starts, staring up in to the sky above the bay, “I used to go up on the roof over there and stare up at the stars. Gwen too, sometimes--even Tosh. We were all convinced that if we stared up there long enough, you’d come back.” He glances at Jack, and smirks a little. “Of course, I always knew you were up there saving the world from a madman who wanted to destroy the entire universe, and that you’d be back just as soon as it was sorted, but Tosh… She really needed some convincing.”
Jack laughs, and pulls Ianto into a loose hug.
“Thank you,” Jack says, his breath warm against Ianto’s ear. “For waiting. For giving me something to come back for.”
Ianto wraps his arms around Jack’s solid back, and smiles into the wool of his collar. “Anytime, Jack.”
“I do have one condition though,” Ianto says, nodding as an older couple passes in front of them, hands pressed palm to palm. They remind him of his grandparents when he was a kid. He turns to Jack, meeting his eyes. “Next time you’ll take me with you.”
Jack raises his eyebrows. “Sure, and leave Cardiff completely undefended from the rift?”
“Well, by that time we’ll have built the team back up,” Ianto says, a little loftily. “They’ll be on standby.” He shrugs. “We’ll both keep a bag packed. Let them all know that at any given time we may be called to action.”
Jack laughs.
“What? That’s how it goes, right?”
“Well, sure, except that he doesn’t exactly call…”
“Well, whatever. I just want…” Ianto pauses, staring up into the sky. “I want to be with you, next time.”
Jack’s face darkens a little. “I know being left behind isn’t the best feeling.”
Ianto stares at Jack. “The worst, really,” he says bluntly. “If you ask me.”
Jack is silent for a long moment, and then he grins.
“Okay, you’ve got a deal. Next time I’m set to face down a threat so huge that all of humanity is at stake, you’ll be standing right there next to me.” Jack winks. “My right hand man.”
And for the first time in a long time, the future feels a little hopeful, as bright as the stars in the sky, as bright as the sun and the moon and all of it.
“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” Ianto says with confidence, before Jack turns him in his arms and kisses him.
And really, Ianto thinks, his heart pounding in his chest as Jack parts his lips easily, it's about time.
***
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Gwen
Warnings/Spoilers: no real spoilers, set first between S1 and S2, and then later
Rating: PG
Genre: some angst, some fluff
Word Count: ~3,775
Summary: Jack’s gone, and Ianto looks to the stars for guidance.
Notes: This is for musicaluvr, who requested something based on the song Sun and Moon from the musical Miss Saigon, which is where the title and the lyrics throughout the fic come from. Basically, I think this became an exploration of Ianto coming to terms with his feelings for Jack, both in his absence at the end of S1, and after his return… with varying levels of angst and fluff. (musicaluvr, I really hope that this isn’t too terribly far off from what you’d imagined, and that you enjoy it. <3)
(x-posted to jackxianto, torch_wood)
I.
you are sunlight and I moon, sharing the sky
**
Ianto stares up into the blanket of cloud cover that is Cardiff’s night sky, and lets out a long breath.
He’s always been fond of stargazing--as much as the next person, anyway--but Cardiff’s city center isn’t exactly the best place for it, what with all those lights and the fog rolling off in off the bay all night, thick as soup.
(Just ‘soup’, not ‘pea soup’, because Ianto never really understood that reference--the fog wasn’t green--so it was just ‘soup’, no matter what his mam used to say.)
Roofs make him think of Jack though, and somehow with his eyes plastered on the sky up there, it almost makes him feel like there's still some connection between them, sometimes. He’s found himself coming up here all the time lately either way, stars or no stars, connection or complete radio silence.
It’s ridiculous too, of course. Jack could be anywhere, any galaxy, any sky. Anywhere.
He starts at a sound behind him, and his heart does a familiar leap, before he realizes that the sounds are far too light to belong to a man, much less a man who throws his weight around with every step like Jack sometimes seems to.
“Nice night,” Gwen says, her smile bright and friendly, and then adds. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to follow you.”
Ianto smiles. “Seems you managed pretty well anyway.”
“Sorry,” Gwen says again, a little sheepishly. She spreads her arms wide. “I needed some fresh air. Figured I’d see what you were up to.”
She walks over to Ianto, to where he's standing near the building's edge, and tilts her head up at the sky.
“Where do you think he is, Ianto?” she asks, her voice sad and almost hopeful at the same time.
They’ve all asked this same question a hundred times over the past few weeks and disappointingly, it's still valid.
“Do you think he’s okay?” she asks.
Ianto lets out a breath, and crosses his arms over his chest.
“I don’t know what I think anymore,” he says honestly. “I worry about him sometimes, but of course that doesn’t get me anywhere." He pauses and looks down at Gwen. "Except really, really pissed off.”
He laughs, a bit self-deprecating, but Gwen just gives him a sympathetic smile.
“That’s only natural,” she says quietly.
“Maybe.”
Gwen doesn’t say anything else, but after a minute, she sets her hand on Ianto’s shoulder, squeezing a little.
He lets the contact bleed through his jacket, straight through the layers of cotton, wondering why the gesture is such a comfort, despite everything. Maybe being understood isn’t as overrated as he always thought.
He covers her hand with his for a moment and stares up until the darkness. He can almost make out a few dull stars here and there, even though most everything is blanketed over by the clouds and the brightness of the city.
“You know, sometimes I think if I stare up there long enough, he’ll actually remember that we’re down here,” Ianto says, almost a question. “Of course, who knows what he's seeing, right? He could be anywhere. But I’d like to think it’s the same moon, the same sky. That we still share that, at least.”
His face warms a little when he realizes what he’s said. He’s never been all that good at opening up. Even with people he’d generally trust with his life, it seems.
“That’s probably the real reason I come up here,” he finishes quickly.
Gwen just nods, either not noticing, or choosing not to acknowledge his embarrassment.
“The stars are universal," she says, sounding pensive. "Wherever he is, he’s got to be seeing them, right?”
Ianto just nods, but honestly, he’s not convinced. Jack could be at the center of the sun, at the end of time, for all he knows. And nothing feels universal anymore.
“Well, maybe not the same ones, exactly,” Gwen clarifies. “But still.”
Ianto smiles. “It’s the thought that counts,” he says, but his eyes are clouding over anyway.
To be honest, even though he’s up here, where the connection with Jack is supposed to be strongest, he can feel his resolve fading every day, fraying around the edges, threatening to snap entirely if he's not careful.
He doesn’t think he wants to tell Gwen this though, doesn’t want to tell her that every day he feels a little more alone, that every day he realizes that he's asking himself if more than when, when he thinks about Jack's return.
Even if he knows she'll understand.
Because she'll understand, maybe.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit to feeling this way quite yet.
In the end he just forces a smile, links their arms together, and says, “Fancy a pint? Owen and Tosh can handle the hub for another hour or so..."
Gwen smiles, nodding in agreement, and Ianto thinks that the evening might not be a complete wash, after all.
II.
you are sunlight and I moon, midnight and high noon
**
Ianto used to think he and Jack were polar opposites, once.
Where Jack was bright and warm and alive, Ianto felt dark, cold, empty. Like some kind of walking Welsh cliché.
Or a shadow, maybe. Following Jack around, always intent to please, attuning himself to Jack's needs without question. Hoping that some of Jack’s life force might rub off on him and make him feel a little less like an empty skeleton if he stuck around long enough.
Get a few pints in him, and he started thinking that all he really wanted was for Jack to find his heart for him again, to dredge it up from wherever it’d been buried after Lisa. He didn't really care all that much about what Jack did with it once that happened, just that he wanted it to happen more than anything.
And then one night something changed, something clicked.
“Ianto, stay,” Jack had said, and there’d been no real reason to say no.
And so he’d climbed into Jack’s tiny bed downstairs in the hub, and for once, it didn’t feel like he was sleeping with his boss, and it didn’t remind him of the night Lisa died, when Jack had practically thrown him down the stairs, had practically ordered him into bed, and not for the usual reasons.
For once it felt okay. Right. His life, his heart, felt real again. Jack had found it, had fixed it. Had uncovered it from wherever it had been hidden since Canary Wharf, and maybe even before then too, if he was honest.
But now Jack is wrapped around his body like a second skin, so close he can hardly breathe, and Ianto can feel his heart pounding in his chest with purpose, and reason.
He’s here, Ianto thinks. Not because he just ended up here, or because there was nowhere else to go, but because he wants this.
He’s here because in the end, he knows that he and Jack really aren’t so different after all.
And it feels so good, Ianto thinks his chest might burst.
**
Ianto thinks about that night a lot these days. While he’s making coffee for Gwen and Tosh, or while he’s bickering with Owen over things neither of them can remember ten minutes later. While he’s forging Jack’s signature on reports, sealing them in envelopes, sending them off to UNIT. Pretending Jack’s not gone, pretending he’s coming back, that this is temporary because what isn’t, really, right?
He doesn't regret anything.
He'd made a decision that night, and of course it wasn’t just that one particular night, it was a series of nights, of days, of thoughts, of moments.
He’d made a decision that he was going to stop just going through the motions. That he was going to start living an actual life again. And he’d decided that he was all but handing that life over to Jack, to Torchwood.
And Ianto was fully aware of what that meant.
It probably should have been terrifying, but it wasn’t. It should have made him quit all of it right then and there, but it didn't.
If anything, it had been liberating.
He’d been prepared for this since his orientation at Torchwood One, of course. He'd made pledges, and oaths, sworn his life for the protection of the empire more times than he could count. He’d had the risks--all of them--detailed in black and white, right in front of him, and he’d signed on the dotted line.
But it's not the same as swearing his life for Jack. And it’s not just Jack, it’s everything Jack stands for, everything he's built here. Ianto knows it all inside and out, knows the history, has seen how Jack has transformed the institute over the years, and he believes in all of it.
He believes in himself, too, believes that he adds value to this place, to this organization, Jack or no Jack.
Though honestly, Ianto can’t help but think that if he is going to give up his life for Torchwood, he’d really rather do it while Jack is actually on the same planet.
And Ianto hates that in his absence, this is what keeps him going most of the time.
III.
you are here like a mystery, how in the light of one night did we come so far
**
And then Jack does finally come back, and Ianto swears he doesn’t sleep for a week.
It’s an exaggeration, but not a huge one.
He shouldn’t be able to see anything in the darkness, and he can’t, not really, but he can almost make out Jack’s features--his jaw, the line of his lips, pressed together firmly, as if he’s concentrating on being asleep, the curve of his shoulders under the covers.
Ianto stares at Jack as if somehow this body sleeping next to him will reveal what Jack clearly works so hard to hide all day long, behind tight smiles, and paperwork, and business-as-usual. As if it will all finally make sense to him if he just stares long enough.
But it never does.
Days, weeks, months later--Ianto still has no idea why Jack came back.
He won’t ask. He’s afraid to, and it makes him wonder if all that strength, all that independence, all that expert handling of Jack’s absence had just been an act. He’d imagined what he would say, how he would ask Jack, and how Jack would willingly divulge all the details a million times in his head, but when it comes down to it, he just can’t follow through.
And Ianto understands that it takes a lot for Jack to be this affected by something, and so he knows that whatever happened has got to be pretty serious. It scares him, and he’s worried, and he knows he should try to help, should at least try to do what he can, but honestly he just isn’t sure if he can be what Jack needs.
Or that Jack even wants him to try.
Somewhere in the back of his head too, is the fear that if Jack pushes him away now, he just might not be able find his way back. It’s selfish, and he knows it, but he really doesn’t know what else to do.
And so he just follows Jack’s lead, and lets it all go for a long, long time, until one day, after Tosh and Owen are gone, and it’s really just them, and Gwen, and the rift, and everything feels so desperate anyway, it just comes out.
**
It’s late (late verging on early, really) and he and Jack have been working all night cleaning up after a particularly nasty outbreak of weevils--in fact, Ianto’s just gotten a pretty nasty bump on his head thanks to one, when it'd thrown him against the pavement before he even knew what was coming.
His head had landed with a sickening thud against the ground, and maybe that’s what makes him do it, his head all jumbled and confused and throbbing behind his temples.
Jack has made him sit down in the back of the SUV, his legs hanging over the edge, the weevils tied up and thrown into the open space behind them. He presses his fingers to Ianto’s head methodically, feeling for blood, while Ianto just stares at him.
He stares at Jack's profile, his jaw line, his collar when he leans over to feel the back of his head. And then he just keeps staring, like he used to in the middle of the night sometimes, like he's trying to see through Jack’s eyes, into his head, into his insides, into his heart.
It's such a simple thing, but... Sometimes he feels like he's going on blind faith that all this time with Jack means anything at all, when really, he has no idea. Just like he has no idea how Jack’s heart can stop and then just start up again as if it's perfectly natural, time and time again. The whole thing strikes him as a little ridiculous, suddenly.
And then his eyes cloud over with tears before he has a chance to stop them.
Jack grabs his elbow, worried.
“I’m fine, Jack,” he says quickly. “My head is fine.”
Ianto doesn’t have the strength to shake him off, but his touch is making his chest ache. He feels damp, and cold--a little trapped, really.
“I have no idea what I’m doing here, sometimes, you know that?” he blurts out, giving Jack's hand a half-hearted push.
Jack stares at him for a moment, as if trying to work out what exactly Ianto’s referring to.
“Ianto, I’ve told you. I can get you out, no questions asked if that’s what you--”
“No--see, that’s just it. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I don’t want to stop. Crazy, right?”
There are three weevils in the back with them, and one of them shifts, dark hood sliding back and forth on its head as it writhes in its restraints, sedative not quite kicking in yet.
“And I know it's been months, but I still have no idea why you came back. Why you're down here instead of up there. I know what you told me, but… I just can’t work out how it makes any sense.”
“You thought I’d leave you here to deal with these guys on your own?” Jack gestures to the weevils with a quick sweep of his hand. “Fat chance.”
“Why not, Jack? What do you care? What’s stopping you from leaving again tomorrow? Tonight?" Ianto stares at him, searching his face for some kind of reaction, finding nothing. "You know, when it was all of us, with Tosh and Owen, we managed. But now? I don't know, Jack...”
Ianto closes his eyes. His head is still throbbing a little, but he’s not dizzy, and he doesn’t think he has a concussion, so he really isn’t sure why is it’s so hard to focus. He’s breaking all his rules here--he always swore he’d never pressure Jack, certainly not about what happened while he was gone. It’s been months now, anyway--he should be past this.
“There are things that happened to me, while I was gone, Ianto,” Jack says, startling Ianto out of his thoughts with the serious tone of his voice, and the fact that he’s staring at Ianto now, his eyes dark and questioning, as if he’s trying to figure out if Ianto really wants to hear this. “Things that made me realize what's important.”
"And what's that?" Ianto asks automatically, but his breath catches in his throat as Jack’s expression softens. He hasn’t seen Jack look at him like this in ages.
"This," Jack says, and touches his fingers to Ianto's cheek. "All of this."
And then Jack takes his hand in his, just turns it over in his lap, his palm warm as their fingers slot into place together, and they just sit there, breathing for a minute, and then another. And then Jack brushes their lips together tentatively, just a ghost of a touch, really, but it's like the universe has suddenly turned right side up again.
Maybe he’d had it wrong all along, Ianto thinks. He feels his face flush as Jack squeezes his hand. Because this, he thinks, if this is what Jack needs… He’s good at this, at being here.
And then his heart starts racing, as he sucks in a breath, all his feelings bubbling up to the surface at once. He squeezes his eyes shut, realizing that it's been a really, really long time since he’s allowed himself to feel this way. It’s not like there was ever any question. But he’d pushed it all away for a while, maybe, back to some corner of his head where it was safe to have feelings for a man who’d run off and left his entire team behind, a man who had died in his arms a dozen times, a man who’d never once told him the whole truth about anything.
Ianto is fairly certain that Jack will tell him the truth now though, if he asks.
“Tell me about it,” he says, halfway between a question and a request, his heart pounding in his chest. Because even after all this time, even with Jack looking at him like he’s the only person on the planet that he trusts, there’s still a part of him that’s terrified that if they talk about this, if they acknowledge it even for a second, Jack will up and disappear again, just like that.
But then Jack just starts talking, his voice urgent, words weighted with fear and relief, words that beg forgiveness, and understanding.
And there's nothing else to do but listen, so that's exactly what Ianto does.
IV.
made of sunlight, moonlight, I reach for you, and we meet in the sky
**
It’s morning before they finally make their way back to the hub. The dark blanket of clouds has faded away to reveal grey skies, and a tiny splash of light on the horizon.
They spend the drive in silence, no questions lingering in the air between them, for once.
Jack is driving with one hand, his other resting idly on Ianto’s leg, his eyes fixed on the road. There’s a calmness, a quietness that Ianto realizes he hasn’t really seen before in Jack’s expression. He squeezes Jack’s hand experimentally, and watches the corners of Jack’s lips twist up into a smile.
**
After they’ve safely gotten everyone into the cells, Jack follows Ianto outside, just on the other side of the tourist office door. They both stare out over the bay in silence. Ianto likes coming out here in the early morning, before the tourists and office workers start milling around, when it’s just a jogger here and there, women out walking their dogs. There’s a quality to the air, to the light that feels different than at any other point in the day.
“When you were gone,” Ianto starts, staring up in to the sky above the bay, “I used to go up on the roof over there and stare up at the stars. Gwen too, sometimes--even Tosh. We were all convinced that if we stared up there long enough, you’d come back.” He glances at Jack, and smirks a little. “Of course, I always knew you were up there saving the world from a madman who wanted to destroy the entire universe, and that you’d be back just as soon as it was sorted, but Tosh… She really needed some convincing.”
Jack laughs, and pulls Ianto into a loose hug.
“Thank you,” Jack says, his breath warm against Ianto’s ear. “For waiting. For giving me something to come back for.”
Ianto wraps his arms around Jack’s solid back, and smiles into the wool of his collar. “Anytime, Jack.”
“I do have one condition though,” Ianto says, nodding as an older couple passes in front of them, hands pressed palm to palm. They remind him of his grandparents when he was a kid. He turns to Jack, meeting his eyes. “Next time you’ll take me with you.”
Jack raises his eyebrows. “Sure, and leave Cardiff completely undefended from the rift?”
“Well, by that time we’ll have built the team back up,” Ianto says, a little loftily. “They’ll be on standby.” He shrugs. “We’ll both keep a bag packed. Let them all know that at any given time we may be called to action.”
Jack laughs.
“What? That’s how it goes, right?”
“Well, sure, except that he doesn’t exactly call…”
“Well, whatever. I just want…” Ianto pauses, staring up into the sky. “I want to be with you, next time.”
Jack’s face darkens a little. “I know being left behind isn’t the best feeling.”
Ianto stares at Jack. “The worst, really,” he says bluntly. “If you ask me.”
Jack is silent for a long moment, and then he grins.
“Okay, you’ve got a deal. Next time I’m set to face down a threat so huge that all of humanity is at stake, you’ll be standing right there next to me.” Jack winks. “My right hand man.”
And for the first time in a long time, the future feels a little hopeful, as bright as the stars in the sky, as bright as the sun and the moon and all of it.
“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” Ianto says with confidence, before Jack turns him in his arms and kisses him.
And really, Ianto thinks, his heart pounding in his chest as Jack parts his lips easily, it's about time.
***