Just Another Word (Part 11)
Rating: PG-13 (will eventually be NC-17)
Word count: ~ 2,300 (this part)
Warnings: Spoilers (minor) if you haven’t seen Greeks Bearing Gifts (but you probably have). Blatant slash. (Question: can it be called slash if it’s canon?) Boys kissing (each other). Yay!
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the creators, and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Oh, Jack-IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU. Why can't I write you in character?!?! /end mini-breakdown episode. (And I think Ianto is getting annoyed with me knocking him out so often. Um…oops? ^.^”) Anyway! Sorry again for the delay, but I'm upending my life at the moment and work is nuts and my family is nuts and staying with me, and I'm getting married in 38 days. For the love of little green apples, why did I agree to help with the wedding plans again?
(One more note: because I'm a Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs freak, I assigned one of their scents to Jack as his 51st century pheromones. Other BPAL fans will most likely know it. If you do, I grant you triple-chocolate fudge marshmallow cookies, you are so awesome.)
Chapter Eleven
“This has gotten old,” Ianto mutters, resurfacing from unconsciousness-though not unawareness-to find the others hovering worriedly over him. Tosh, in particular, looks like she’s about to cry, twisting the cord of the necklace she’d been wearing this morning around her hands.
She’s not wearing it anymore. Ianto takes one look at it and knows why.
Arcateenian telepathic enhancement pendant, style consistent with those produced before the regime change almost two hundred years ago, but well used and clearly cared for-therefore it has often been in use.
Conclusion: there is an Arcateenian nearby.
None of the registered Arcateenians living within Europe have been allowed to keep such devices.
Conclusion: an unknown Arcateenian must have given theirs to Tosh.
Possible reasons:
- A gift-possible, but not likely. Tosh shows signs of distress; she was likely not fully warned about the pendant’s capabilities.
- An announcement of the alien’s presence-unlikely. Tosh has not reported anything, and such a revelation would prompt a report that I would have to sign off on.
- An attempt to infiltrate Torchwood-most likely. Will operate under this assumption.
The process takes less than a second. Ianto blinks and knows everything about the regime changes on Arcateen V, knows the names of all political prisoners listed as exiled or imprisoned-because of the time period, that’s the most likely explanation-and can call up images of all of them and the odds of their being the pendant’s original owner.
For the first time, it doesn’t leave him with a residual ache in his head.
For the first time, it’s not so much accessing Mainframe as being Mainframe, and that fact is so far beyond terrifying that it’s actually a bit…exhilarating.
And…
“My files,” he mourns as he sits up. “Did they get picked up? Did Owen touch them? If he did, they're lost.”
“Oi!” the doctor snaps, waving a clipboard threateningly. “Careful, tea boy, or I’ll use these fainting spells you keep having as an excuse to run all those tests I'm interested in.”
Ianto narrows his eyes at Owen, already reaching for his shirt and waistcoat, which someone was kind enough to remove without cutting either off. “Decaf,” he says pointedly, and then turns to look at Tosh. “That,” he says firmly, pointing at the pendant, “is very dangerous, as is the alien who owns it. Where did you get it?”
All eyes turn to the tech, who goes even paler under the scrutiny. But she doesn’t object or resist, just meekly offers the necklace by its cord.
“Mary said she was a Scavenger,” Tosh offers weakly. “I just…wanted to try it.”
There’s a look on Jack's face that Ianto can't read at all. It’s a little surprising, for all that he normally can't read the Captain very well; he knows Jack well enough to at least get a hint, except for when he doesn’t know him at all. His eyes are on the pendant that now rests on Ianto’s palm, obviously aware of what it is, aware of what it means.
He looks up and meets Ianto’s eyes.
Neither of them looks away.
“Go home, all of you,” Jack orders, gaze unwavering. “Tosh, take a gun with you and don’t hesitate to use it; whoever gave you this, they're not human, and they're probably dangerous. Owen, Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His tone leaves no room at all for argument, not that any of them will offer it. Ianto breaks their stare to watch the other three gather their things and hurry for the doors. He wonders if Tosh will tell them what the pendant does, or if she’ll keep the secret of what she heard in the name of preserving the team’s current comparative harmony.
Wonders if she knows now that Owen and Gwen are sleeping together. That Owen is more out of reach than ever.
A hand settling on the nape of his neck draws him out of his melancholic contemplation, and he turns back to meet Jack's questioning eyes.
“All right?” the Captain asks carefully, fingertips skating over Ianto’s skin in as unconscious gesture of comfort.
Ianto smiles in return, daring to slide his hand over Jack's and twine their fingers together. “Of course,” he responds. “It was just a reboot. Mainframe felt Tosh trying to read my thoughts and reacted badly.”
Jack's mouth tightens a little, and he turns towards the cog door. “Tosh,” he repeats grimly. “I think I should have seen this coming.”
It’s obvious the Captain blames himself-not that Ianto had any doubt he would; that’s simply how Jack is. But truly, this cannot be his fault in any way, and Ianto tugs on their joined hands to regain his attention. “Stop it. She didn’t understand what she was doing. Alien technology is kept inside the Hub for a reason, like with the glove. It’s harder for them to understand that all technology like that is dangerous in its own way.”
“My fault,” Jack says with a sad smile. “I should have told them better. But there's no harm done this time. Tosh will recover, and-”
“-We’ll find the Arcateenian and make sure there's no longer a threat,” Ianto finishes firmly, sliding off the table and quickly pulling on his clothes. “I’ve pulled up several possible identities. Factoring in the skeleton we found yesterday, where Tosh most likely met this ‘Mary’, I’ll run a database search of Arcateenian prisoners transported within four systems roughly two hundred years ago.”
The grimness vanishes from Jack's eyes in a sudden flicker as he grins and steps closer. “You know, that’s incredibly sexy,” he murmurs, voice dropping almost to a purr as his hands settle on Ianto’s waist.
Ianto arches an eyebrow at the Captain as he finishes buttoning his waistcoat. “You find efficiency sexy, Captain?” he drawls, injecting the faintest strain of incredulity into his voice. “Then you must be utterly undone by my work in the Archives.” He pauses, titling his head to one side and fixing Jack with a sharp look. “In fact, that would explain much of why you seem unable to remember in which direction the alphabet runs, sir.”
Jack laughs (Ianto will deny to his dying breath that such a reaction was the reason for his chastisement) and leans forward to kiss Ianto’s forehead. It’s not gentle, like the last time, but fond and warm and a little messy. Ianto likes it all the more for that. “Oh, Yan,” he says in affectionate amusement. “Please, never change.”
“Sir,” Ianto answers primly, but he’s smiling too, no matter how he tries to resist.
The touches linger for one more moment before they separate, each going to play his own part.
*.~.*.~.*
They don’t involve the others in the affair with Mary, and it’s solved relatively quickly. She tries to kill them when they confront her, but then Ianto had expected that, and Jack is quick enough to put her down before she can touch them. He’s the leader of a Torchwood branch for a reason, after all; he wouldn’t have held his position, even with the other Head’s death, if Torchwood One hadn’t thought he could shoot first and question after. Jack tries to give aliens a chance, always, but sometimes it’s just not an option. And an alien using a member of his team as a way to get into Torchwood? That’s almost guaranteed to have him leading gun-first.
Mainframe is with Ianto ever moment, part of him. The piece of his brain she had occupied before is no longer simply a separate section, but part of the whole and indistinguishable from the rest. They work together, like one, processing statistics and analyzing CCTV footage and tracking Mary through the streets of Cardiff once she flees Tosh's house, where they confront her. The integration is flawless, Mainframe’s actions flowing smoothly into Ianto’s reactions and vice versa. There’s so much to her that they’ve never even tried to understand, that even the techs at Torchwood Tower could never uncover for all their mental linking. And now Ianto knows it all, can feel it and use it and understand it regardless of the fact that it should be incomprehensible to a normal human brain.
Oh, he thinks, as Jack lowers his Webly, face a dark mask, and the Arcateenian falls. Integration and 100%. I understand now. This is what it is to be your host.
indeed, ianto jones. Mainframe sounds content. knowledge is a dangerous force. the more i gain, the more i use, the more powerful i-and my host-grow.
“Ianto?” Jack draws his attention back to the living world, where everything is fading from binary coding back to a more normal form of vision. Ianto blinks away the last few lines of numbers and looks up to see the Captain holding out his hand with a tired smile.
Ianto takes it with a weary half-grimace of his own, and lets Jack twine their fingers together. He doesn’t resist when the other man draws him away from the body, but leans into the Captain’s warmth with a sigh.
“All right?” Jack asks, and there's no much concern in the tone-for Ianto, a traitor-that Ianto wants to weep.
“Yes,” he manages, through a suddenly tight throat. “I'm fine. Thank you, sir.”
Jack wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him closer anyway, burying his face in Ianto’s shoulder. “Really got to break you of that habit, calling me that,” he says into Ianto’s suit jacket. “It’s distracting.”
Ianto stares down at the back of his head for a moment, and knows this is where things change. Everything up to this point can be written off, they can both pretend that it was just the actions of friends comforting each other in a stressful time and go no further. But this, now…
This is the ledge Ianto has been teetering on ever since he met Captain Jack Harkness, since that tumble across the floor that left Ianto breathless in a way Lisa never had. He can fall forward, tip over into the unknown and give in, or he can back away and return to the safe waters they’ve been navigating for months now.
For all that he’s incredibly sensible, Ianto has always been led first and foremost by his heart.
He takes that final step forward, and leans down to kiss the bared nape of Jack's neck.
There's no half-asleep daze to blame this time, no traumatic revelations to shake apart his world. Just Jack and his warmth and his damned 51st century pheromones that smell like amber, sandalwood, black patchouli, and cinnamon.
It’s enough.
It’s more than enough.
It’s Jack.
Jack, who lifts his head, seizes Ianto’s face between his hands, and kisses him as though they're sharing air to live, as though they're lovers long separated and finally reunited. And the most terrifying thing? That’s what it feels like-like they know each other, like they’ve been anticipating and waiting for this moment for years. Ianto can taste Jack, even before their mouths open and their tongues touch, and it’s achingly familiar. He tastes of spice and citrus, grapefruit and currant and cinnamon and clove, like the pheromones invading all of Ianto’s senses, and he kisses like Ianto is the only person in the world right now.
Sweet. That’s the only word Ianto can think of to describe this. Sweetly burning, like a revelation, a light in the darkness. Jack pulls him close, urges him to tip his head, and devours. His tongue flutters across Ianto’s, teasing and tasting, even as his lips move softly, tenderly. Ianto has never kissed someone his own height before, and it’s a strange relief not to have to bend and twist his frame. Their bodies are perfectly aligned, and the press of flesh, even covered with layers of cloth, is enough to set Ianto’s head to spinning and weaken his knees.
Jack kisses like a god, and Ianto can only be his disciple, can’t want for anything else as long as Jack keeps doing just that.
For a moment, just a moment when their lips mouths bodies beings are aligned, Ianto can't think of this, even an eternity of it, as a bad thing.
He is Jack's, wholly and utterly, and is glad of it.