prompt: #24 'space' - AN EMPTY SURPRISE (1/3)
Title: AN EMPTY SURPRISE
Author: butterflycell
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, mentions: Owen, Tosh
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Genre: ANGST
Rating: FRT
Prompt: '#24 - space' @ story_lottery
Summary: Things have been bad for a while and they've only been getting worse. They've stopped talking completely for months and when Jack breaks the news that he's leaving, that he needs space, Ianto can't help but wonder whether it's the end...
Spoilers: None
Warning(s): Very, very, very AU (non-Torchwood world and timeline)
Word Count: 3,388
Disclaimer: I don't own them, property of RTD and the BBC - but I'd like Ianto now they're bored of him... and a dragon
A/N: This is the first part of three, each using a different prompt from the table. Any feedback or comments would be very much appreciated! Please enjoy =]
---
**I was listening to 'Late for the Sky' by Jackson Browne a few nights ago and this came unbidden into my head (I will admit that some of the inspiration came from ER season 9 when John goes off at Luca's advice). The three parts are based loosely around the lyrics. It was initially alot longer, but then I relaised that I could elaborate on each section and chop it in two and it would take up an extra prompt. Immediately after that, a third section to the story came to my head and hoovered up another prompt and rounded off the storyarc perfectly.
I'm really nervous about releasing this to the public, but in the hopes that I'm moving past my writer's block, there's nothing more I can do but ask for comments and con-crit!.
Parts 2 and 3 will be posted on Saturday and Sunday =]
---
AN EMPTY SURPRISE
They’d been living around each other for months now, simply existing in the same space - two asteroids orbiting the same sun but never meeting. Life was a cold, lonely existence, with nothing but apprehension and anxiety brewing in the void between them.
It had happened before, but never this badly and never for this long. Ianto felt hollow every morning, waking up early and leaving the bedroom before the man sleeping next to him had a chance to. He’d shower and get ready for work, down a cup of coffee and be out of the flat before Jack was awake.
He would head up out of their basement flat and leave the building before most sensible people were awake and he’d be on a half empty bus heading into the city centre before the school rush. He’d get to his desk well before eight in the morning and he’d work through ‘til six, not caring that he wasn’t being paid for his overtime. The great thing about being a curator was no-one expected you to work normal hours.
He never failed to marvel at just how easy it was to bypass someone you shared a home with in London. It seemed that there was always some way to avoid being at home.
He’d eat his lunch at his desk - something he would pick up on the way into work - and he’d have at least five coffees across the day, drawing out the last one to postpone leaving. When he finally went, instead of getting the bus all the way home, he’d get off a few stops early and stop at the shop to get enough food to fill the fridge for a few days.
More often than not, he would grab a take-out as well before he headed back to the empty flat. Jack would’ve left for his shift at the hospital at around six. There was no chance that they’d cross paths. He would put the food away, have his dinner and leave Jack’s in the microwave for him to heat up when he got in.
He’d kill a couple of hours watching television, do a little more work, maybe read, then go to bed.
He’d lie awake, trying to ignore the emptiness inside him and pretend he didn’t hear Jack getting home in at around four and the sound of the microwave going, accompanied by the low whisperings of the television as he ate.
*
Once upon a time, he’d loved Jack more than anything else. They’d met in a coffee house four and a half years ago. Jack had been a pound short and Ianto had thrown it his way and they’d grabbed a table and ended up talking. They were an unlikely duo, a museum curator-cum-archivist and a paediatric consultant, but somehow they just seemed to work.
They were living together a little less than a year later and things had been going so well. Jack had met Ianto’s parents on several occasions over the year that followed and they eventually decided to make it official, signing into a civil partnership two and a half years after they’d met. It had been a small ceremony, nothing more than signing the register with their two closest friends as their witnesses. From there, it was a bit of a blur.
Some where along the line, things had gone wrong.
Ianto had spent many a night trying to work out what had happened at first, when the grief and the heartache had still gripped him in an iron fist. Jack had started spending more time at work at first, then moved all his shifts to nights and weekends. The physical contact was the first to go and when the conversation fizzled out, it seemed to be the beginning of the end. For nearly five months now, the tension had been at breaking point, as if they could pretend it wasn’t happening if they didn’t say it out loud.
There was no more closeness, no more laughter. Their flat was filled with awkward silences and averted eyes, hollow and uninviting, even though it should’ve been their home.
*
Ianto turned his key in the lock and shouldered the door open, transferring some of the carrier bags back into his right hand after he pocketed his keys. He knocked the door shut behind him with his hip and put the bags down as he shirked his coat off to hang up.
“Let me help with those.” The voice was unexpected. Ianto looked up to see Jack emerging from the study. Once he saw his face, he couldn’t help but stare. He’d not looked at Jack for months and the spell that had kept his eyes away seemed to have been broken. He’d not heard his voice for a lot longer and combined with the shock of seeing him home, Ianto felt a sudden, throbbing hurt in his chest.
Without waiting for an answer, Jack leaned forwards and grabbed the bags, Ianto shying away from him unconsciously. The American still hadn’t looked at him, still hadn’t made eye contact. Ianto stood still for a long moment, waiting for Jack to move through to the kitchen.
Whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good, Ianto knew that much. The metallic taste of adrenaline in the back of his mouth and the uncomfortable pounding of his heart in his throat attested to that. Still, he couldn’t hide forever - maybe it was just time to face the music. Finally, he toed his shoes off and followed Jack through.
“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.” Jack’s voice was still a shock, as much as his words, and Ianto couldn’t help but swallow instinctively, unable to say anything as he digested what Jack had said. It seemed he’d been right. The silence stretched out between them as Jack methodically worked his way through the shopping. When Ianto didn’t respond, he carried on, eyes still fixed on the bags on the counter. “Médecins Sans Frontières needed volunteers and Owen suggested I give it a go. He’s been volunteering for years.”
“Just like that then?” Ianto’s voice came out as barely more than a whisper and Jack looked up, finally meeting his eyes.
Ianto was hit by a hollow, empty surprise as he looked hard at Jack. His eyes were dark and hollow, devoid of the mischievousness and mirth that had made him so full of life. It was like Ianto was looking at a complete stranger and he’d never even noticed the change. He suddenly felt more alone than ever.
“It’s been brewing for a while, don’t even try to deny it.” Jack’s voice was full of bitterness and anger and Ianto couldn’t quite breathe. He simply turned around and headed through to the bedroom, sitting on the bed and rubbing his eyes hard.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay in that flat any longer, not when it felt so horribly alien to him at that moment. He needed somewhere familiar and a friendly face with a shoulder to lean on. Once upon a time, that had been Jack, but not anymore. His heart beat painfully once more to have that time back, to know what went wrong, to be the person Jack wanted to be with again.
Without a second thought, he got up and pulled his overnight bag from the top of the wardrobe, filling it with a few changes of clothes and some books, little things he wanted to keep with him. He was just about to get his things from the bathroom when he looked up to see Jack in the doorway. He froze, words bubbling up in his throat.
“It was always so easy, wasn’t it? Maybe it was too easy, despite everything we’ve shared and said to each other.” Ianto glared down at his bag, clenching his jaw slightly as he forced himself not to cry. “What happened?”
“I could tell you all sorts of things, but they wouldn’t mean anything anymore.” Jack’s voice held a note of sorrow in it and Ianto forced himself not to look at him. All the emotions were flooding back to him and he had no idea what he should be feeling. “Somewhere along the road, we vanished and I don’t know where that was or how it happened. I could say that this will all work itself out and things will be fine again, but I can’t with any huge amount of certainty and I don’t want to lie to you.”
A long, painful silence stretched between them as the sudden gravity of the conversation hit them both, Ianto trying to swallow back the nausea rising in his chest. Were they really discussing what Ianto thought they were? Was this really the beginning of the end for them?
“Do you still love me?” His voice shook and he could barely keep himself composed. To his slight satisfaction, he heard Jack suck a gentle breath in and felt eyes fixed firmly on his face. “Because I look at you and I can hardly see the man I fell in love with. I want him back.”
Ianto tugged the zip across on his bag in a sudden fit of resolve and slung it across his shoulders. He couldn’t stand to wait for Jack’s answer, he just needed to get out of there. He grabbed his toothbrush and deodorant from the bathroom and shoved them into the outside pocket as he headed straight to the door and wriggled his feet back into his shoes. He was just about to grab his coat when he felt an achingly familiar hand grip his arm and turn him round.
Before he could say anything, soft, warm lips pressed to his in a kiss that shattered his already bruised heart, Jack’s taste and scent weaving around him and choking him like a fog. His eyes slid closed and the kiss went on, igniting all the lust and longing that Ianto had been missing for the past few months. He just wanted his lover back.
The thought jerked him from the embrace he was falling into and he broke away from Jack with a deep breath, looking to the side as he brushed away the tear that had slid across his cheek without his knowledge.
Without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the flat, Jack standing in the corridor with his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor, the numbness that had consumed him for the past half a year creeping back across him and smothering him.
*
Ianto had fled to the house of his closest friend, Toshiko Sato, and stayed in her spare room, calling himself off sick from work. He couldn’t face any reminders of what his life had become.
He’d spent so many nights lying awake or pacing his room, unable to pretend anymore that his relationship with Jack was going to be fine. He’d left and Ianto didn’t even know where he’d gone or for how long. Each time he closed his eyes and tried to rest, his was flooded with thoughts of facing a life alone. No matter how bad things had become, he knew he wasn’t ready to say ‘goodbye’ to Jack.
Tosh had been incredibly generous, giving him a shoulder to finally cry months of repressed pain and fear on and a helping hand when he could barely pull himself out of bed in the morning. She’d stayed up into the early hours of the mornings talking to him and keeping him company and not once did she complain about his reluctance to do anything. She kept the fridge fully stocked and left him meals and sandwiches when she left for work every morning.
Eventually though, two weeks after he’d arrived, he knew he had to go back and face his life again.
*
Jack sat in his tent in the Kisangani refugee camp and stared at the wall opposite him. The night was hot and muggy and he’d long since learned to live with his shirt sticking to his back and chest but it was his hair lying irritatingly on his forehead that he couldn’t deal with. He was planning to shave it off next time they went to town for supplies.
Now though, his mind was completely distracted as he looked down at the photograph he was holding. He’d taken it from the flat before he’d left, nearly two weeks earlier. It showed Ianto and himself dressed up at a Halloween party a few years before, completely engrossed in each other, Jack playing an RAF captain from the second world war with Ianto immaculately dressed as James Bond. He rubbed his ring finger distractedly, missing the weight and security of the metal band he’d left behind.
He couldn’t help but wonder what it had been that had brought them together. They’d been polar opposites in their tastes and interests, but it had worked. It had been so good for so long - Jack had never been as happy with someone for as long as he’d been with the younger man. He loved him, he knew he did, but he couldn’t find out where that part of him had hidden itself.
He supposed it had been buried by the monotony of his life, the hospital getting more and more tedious as his time there had gone on. It was all so bloody political these days and he’d fought against the changes in the regime at first. The hospital was being ruled by a business man only out to make money. Eventually though, he’d buckled under the force of the authority and allowed himself to be moulded to the way things were going to be.
The first thing he’d done was change to night shifts and weekends because that was where he was least likely to get a visit from management. It had drained his stamina and charisma slyly and without his knowledge. He didn’t realise he’d been pulling away from his lover until it was too late. Physical contact and conversation had stopped and the closest they got to each other was lying a foot apart for a few hours in the early morning between him coming to bed and Ianto getting up for work.
He remembered now that Ianto had tried at first, he’d put in all the extra effort to reconnect only for Jack to brush him off with shrugs and false words, no matter how unconscious it had been. They’d drifted apart and he’d not even noticed - he’d been too wrapped up in self-pity.
He hated it and he hated himself for letting it happen. Ianto was right - he wasn’t the man he’d been all those years ago. He’d got lost somewhere and he owed it to both of them to make things better.
Owen had suggested Médecins Sans Frontières months before, just as he was leaving for a stint himself and the moment Jack realised he needed to repair things with Ianto, he knew he had to go. The volunteer work would take him so far from his comfort zone and the monotony of his life that he’d force himself to straighten things out. If he was managing to help people in the process, so much the better.
He felt it was a good sign that, two weeks in, he was already missing Ianto.
He tucked the photo safely into his bag and looked up as Owen appeared at the door of his tent, holding a bottle of beer out to him.
*
Ianto,
I’m volunteering for 9 months in Kisangani (DR of Congo). As I said, they needed volunteers and I needed to get away to work this out. I need some space so that I can get back the man you fell in love with - I want to be him again, so badly.
In answer to your question; yes, I do still love you. I should’ve been turning to you instead of shutting you out and for some reason I didn’t. I promise you though, I still love you. Completely.
I won’t explain things like this, but I promise we’ll talk things through when I get back. I’ve emailed you my contact details and the times of my flights in case you’re interested and in the hope that you’ll be there to meet me when I come home.
I know I’ve hurt you, but please give me a chance to make things right.
With all my heart,
Jack
p.s. Keep this safe for me, I can’t stand the thought of losing it while I’m away.
Ianto read the note for the hundredth time. He’d come home from Tosh’s to find it lying on the counter by his coffee machine, Jack’s ‘wedding’ ring lying on top of it.
It had been two months since Jack had left now, but Ianto still read the note every day. He’d threaded Jack’s ring onto a chain which he now wore on a daily basis, if only to keep it close to him for the illusion of it being a piece of Jack.
Since he’d found that note, things had begun to change around him. The flat felt warmer and more welcoming with each day that passed and the hollowness of apprehension as he woke each morning was fading - only to be replaced by a growing stab of fear for Jack’s safety.
His morning routine was no longer rushed; he woke up a little later and checked the news feeds on the television and his laptop before grabbing a shower and enjoying a cup of coffee. He kept to his real work times and no longer drew out the commute home.
As he passed the five month mark without Jack, he knew, somehow, that things between them had a chance again, that the small bud of hope in his chest should be nurtured and encouraged. Now, instead of opening his front door to a flat filled with silence and tension, it was simply worry for Jack’s well being and missing his presence that greeted Ianto.
*
Jack scrubbed at his arms and hands, the blood turning the dirty water a brick red as it flowed from his skin into the sink. He ran the bristles of the scrubbing brush across his fingers and under his nails, determined to clean the gore and grime from them even if only for a short time. No matter what he did, he’d be covered in blood again within minutes of waking up.
There’d been an attack on a village not far from the camp and Jack had been dragged from his bed to treat a series of women and girls who’d been viciously raped and stabbed. He’d only just stopped throwing up and the screams and crying still echoed violently in his ears.
He’d dealt with the same situation before, but seeing what other human beings were capable of never ceased to turn his stomach.
He dropped the brush in the sink and shut the water off, grabbing a towel and turning around to head through the ward back to his tent. As he passed the beds, he checked on each of his patients and the nurses holding fort until the sun came up.
He stopped for a moment longer at the bed of a little girl, no more than seven or eight, who’d lost her leg that morning. She’d been caught by a roadside bomb and her mother had run her to the clinic as the nearest medical facility. They’d done their best, but they’d been forced to amputate and now they could only hope and pray that the medication would work.
With a sigh, he carried on out and left the building, moving lethargically through the camp to his tent. It may have been horrific and traumatising here, but Jack was finally living again. He had a purpose and a meaning that made him feel whole again, made him want to stand up and fight for everything he held close to his heart.
Every shift he’d worked back in England, he’d been drifting through, setting up drips and signing off on orders, completing pile of paperwork after pile of paperwork until he was being bound and strangled by the red tape. He lay back on his cot and pulled the mosquito net around him, settling back and letting his thoughts drift to Ianto. He only had another month left to go.
*
Ianto’s nights had begun to stretch out again. It was so similar to before, yet it couldn’t have been more different. Time had warped again and the months had more or less blurred together. Apprehension was beginning to take hold of him and he was forcing himself to keep busy, adopting extra hours at work again and dragging out his journey home.
The flat was so empty and grey without Jack there, much like it had been before - but still, the hope stayed resolutely in Ianto’s chest. He only had to wait another week and Jack would be home.
---
TBC in 'Late for the Sky'
A/N 2: for anyone who doesn't know, 'Médecins Sans Frontières' is a charity that sends doctors, nurses and medics out to places across the world to do charity work in mostly 3rd world countries such as those in Africa and India.
Author: butterflycell
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, mentions: Owen, Tosh
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Genre: ANGST
Rating: FRT
Prompt: '#24 - space' @ story_lottery
Summary: Things have been bad for a while and they've only been getting worse. They've stopped talking completely for months and when Jack breaks the news that he's leaving, that he needs space, Ianto can't help but wonder whether it's the end...
Spoilers: None
Warning(s): Very, very, very AU (non-Torchwood world and timeline)
Word Count: 3,388
Disclaimer: I don't own them, property of RTD and the BBC - but I'd like Ianto now they're bored of him... and a dragon
A/N: This is the first part of three, each using a different prompt from the table. Any feedback or comments would be very much appreciated! Please enjoy =]
---
**I was listening to 'Late for the Sky' by Jackson Browne a few nights ago and this came unbidden into my head (I will admit that some of the inspiration came from ER season 9 when John goes off at Luca's advice). The three parts are based loosely around the lyrics. It was initially alot longer, but then I relaised that I could elaborate on each section and chop it in two and it would take up an extra prompt. Immediately after that, a third section to the story came to my head and hoovered up another prompt and rounded off the storyarc perfectly.
I'm really nervous about releasing this to the public, but in the hopes that I'm moving past my writer's block, there's nothing more I can do but ask for comments and con-crit!.
Parts 2 and 3 will be posted on Saturday and Sunday =]
---
AN EMPTY SURPRISE
They’d been living around each other for months now, simply existing in the same space - two asteroids orbiting the same sun but never meeting. Life was a cold, lonely existence, with nothing but apprehension and anxiety brewing in the void between them.
It had happened before, but never this badly and never for this long. Ianto felt hollow every morning, waking up early and leaving the bedroom before the man sleeping next to him had a chance to. He’d shower and get ready for work, down a cup of coffee and be out of the flat before Jack was awake.
He would head up out of their basement flat and leave the building before most sensible people were awake and he’d be on a half empty bus heading into the city centre before the school rush. He’d get to his desk well before eight in the morning and he’d work through ‘til six, not caring that he wasn’t being paid for his overtime. The great thing about being a curator was no-one expected you to work normal hours.
He never failed to marvel at just how easy it was to bypass someone you shared a home with in London. It seemed that there was always some way to avoid being at home.
He’d eat his lunch at his desk - something he would pick up on the way into work - and he’d have at least five coffees across the day, drawing out the last one to postpone leaving. When he finally went, instead of getting the bus all the way home, he’d get off a few stops early and stop at the shop to get enough food to fill the fridge for a few days.
More often than not, he would grab a take-out as well before he headed back to the empty flat. Jack would’ve left for his shift at the hospital at around six. There was no chance that they’d cross paths. He would put the food away, have his dinner and leave Jack’s in the microwave for him to heat up when he got in.
He’d kill a couple of hours watching television, do a little more work, maybe read, then go to bed.
He’d lie awake, trying to ignore the emptiness inside him and pretend he didn’t hear Jack getting home in at around four and the sound of the microwave going, accompanied by the low whisperings of the television as he ate.
*
Once upon a time, he’d loved Jack more than anything else. They’d met in a coffee house four and a half years ago. Jack had been a pound short and Ianto had thrown it his way and they’d grabbed a table and ended up talking. They were an unlikely duo, a museum curator-cum-archivist and a paediatric consultant, but somehow they just seemed to work.
They were living together a little less than a year later and things had been going so well. Jack had met Ianto’s parents on several occasions over the year that followed and they eventually decided to make it official, signing into a civil partnership two and a half years after they’d met. It had been a small ceremony, nothing more than signing the register with their two closest friends as their witnesses. From there, it was a bit of a blur.
Some where along the line, things had gone wrong.
Ianto had spent many a night trying to work out what had happened at first, when the grief and the heartache had still gripped him in an iron fist. Jack had started spending more time at work at first, then moved all his shifts to nights and weekends. The physical contact was the first to go and when the conversation fizzled out, it seemed to be the beginning of the end. For nearly five months now, the tension had been at breaking point, as if they could pretend it wasn’t happening if they didn’t say it out loud.
There was no more closeness, no more laughter. Their flat was filled with awkward silences and averted eyes, hollow and uninviting, even though it should’ve been their home.
*
Ianto turned his key in the lock and shouldered the door open, transferring some of the carrier bags back into his right hand after he pocketed his keys. He knocked the door shut behind him with his hip and put the bags down as he shirked his coat off to hang up.
“Let me help with those.” The voice was unexpected. Ianto looked up to see Jack emerging from the study. Once he saw his face, he couldn’t help but stare. He’d not looked at Jack for months and the spell that had kept his eyes away seemed to have been broken. He’d not heard his voice for a lot longer and combined with the shock of seeing him home, Ianto felt a sudden, throbbing hurt in his chest.
Without waiting for an answer, Jack leaned forwards and grabbed the bags, Ianto shying away from him unconsciously. The American still hadn’t looked at him, still hadn’t made eye contact. Ianto stood still for a long moment, waiting for Jack to move through to the kitchen.
Whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good, Ianto knew that much. The metallic taste of adrenaline in the back of his mouth and the uncomfortable pounding of his heart in his throat attested to that. Still, he couldn’t hide forever - maybe it was just time to face the music. Finally, he toed his shoes off and followed Jack through.
“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.” Jack’s voice was still a shock, as much as his words, and Ianto couldn’t help but swallow instinctively, unable to say anything as he digested what Jack had said. It seemed he’d been right. The silence stretched out between them as Jack methodically worked his way through the shopping. When Ianto didn’t respond, he carried on, eyes still fixed on the bags on the counter. “Médecins Sans Frontières needed volunteers and Owen suggested I give it a go. He’s been volunteering for years.”
“Just like that then?” Ianto’s voice came out as barely more than a whisper and Jack looked up, finally meeting his eyes.
Ianto was hit by a hollow, empty surprise as he looked hard at Jack. His eyes were dark and hollow, devoid of the mischievousness and mirth that had made him so full of life. It was like Ianto was looking at a complete stranger and he’d never even noticed the change. He suddenly felt more alone than ever.
“It’s been brewing for a while, don’t even try to deny it.” Jack’s voice was full of bitterness and anger and Ianto couldn’t quite breathe. He simply turned around and headed through to the bedroom, sitting on the bed and rubbing his eyes hard.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay in that flat any longer, not when it felt so horribly alien to him at that moment. He needed somewhere familiar and a friendly face with a shoulder to lean on. Once upon a time, that had been Jack, but not anymore. His heart beat painfully once more to have that time back, to know what went wrong, to be the person Jack wanted to be with again.
Without a second thought, he got up and pulled his overnight bag from the top of the wardrobe, filling it with a few changes of clothes and some books, little things he wanted to keep with him. He was just about to get his things from the bathroom when he looked up to see Jack in the doorway. He froze, words bubbling up in his throat.
“It was always so easy, wasn’t it? Maybe it was too easy, despite everything we’ve shared and said to each other.” Ianto glared down at his bag, clenching his jaw slightly as he forced himself not to cry. “What happened?”
“I could tell you all sorts of things, but they wouldn’t mean anything anymore.” Jack’s voice held a note of sorrow in it and Ianto forced himself not to look at him. All the emotions were flooding back to him and he had no idea what he should be feeling. “Somewhere along the road, we vanished and I don’t know where that was or how it happened. I could say that this will all work itself out and things will be fine again, but I can’t with any huge amount of certainty and I don’t want to lie to you.”
A long, painful silence stretched between them as the sudden gravity of the conversation hit them both, Ianto trying to swallow back the nausea rising in his chest. Were they really discussing what Ianto thought they were? Was this really the beginning of the end for them?
“Do you still love me?” His voice shook and he could barely keep himself composed. To his slight satisfaction, he heard Jack suck a gentle breath in and felt eyes fixed firmly on his face. “Because I look at you and I can hardly see the man I fell in love with. I want him back.”
Ianto tugged the zip across on his bag in a sudden fit of resolve and slung it across his shoulders. He couldn’t stand to wait for Jack’s answer, he just needed to get out of there. He grabbed his toothbrush and deodorant from the bathroom and shoved them into the outside pocket as he headed straight to the door and wriggled his feet back into his shoes. He was just about to grab his coat when he felt an achingly familiar hand grip his arm and turn him round.
Before he could say anything, soft, warm lips pressed to his in a kiss that shattered his already bruised heart, Jack’s taste and scent weaving around him and choking him like a fog. His eyes slid closed and the kiss went on, igniting all the lust and longing that Ianto had been missing for the past few months. He just wanted his lover back.
The thought jerked him from the embrace he was falling into and he broke away from Jack with a deep breath, looking to the side as he brushed away the tear that had slid across his cheek without his knowledge.
Without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the flat, Jack standing in the corridor with his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor, the numbness that had consumed him for the past half a year creeping back across him and smothering him.
*
Ianto had fled to the house of his closest friend, Toshiko Sato, and stayed in her spare room, calling himself off sick from work. He couldn’t face any reminders of what his life had become.
He’d spent so many nights lying awake or pacing his room, unable to pretend anymore that his relationship with Jack was going to be fine. He’d left and Ianto didn’t even know where he’d gone or for how long. Each time he closed his eyes and tried to rest, his was flooded with thoughts of facing a life alone. No matter how bad things had become, he knew he wasn’t ready to say ‘goodbye’ to Jack.
Tosh had been incredibly generous, giving him a shoulder to finally cry months of repressed pain and fear on and a helping hand when he could barely pull himself out of bed in the morning. She’d stayed up into the early hours of the mornings talking to him and keeping him company and not once did she complain about his reluctance to do anything. She kept the fridge fully stocked and left him meals and sandwiches when she left for work every morning.
Eventually though, two weeks after he’d arrived, he knew he had to go back and face his life again.
*
Jack sat in his tent in the Kisangani refugee camp and stared at the wall opposite him. The night was hot and muggy and he’d long since learned to live with his shirt sticking to his back and chest but it was his hair lying irritatingly on his forehead that he couldn’t deal with. He was planning to shave it off next time they went to town for supplies.
Now though, his mind was completely distracted as he looked down at the photograph he was holding. He’d taken it from the flat before he’d left, nearly two weeks earlier. It showed Ianto and himself dressed up at a Halloween party a few years before, completely engrossed in each other, Jack playing an RAF captain from the second world war with Ianto immaculately dressed as James Bond. He rubbed his ring finger distractedly, missing the weight and security of the metal band he’d left behind.
He couldn’t help but wonder what it had been that had brought them together. They’d been polar opposites in their tastes and interests, but it had worked. It had been so good for so long - Jack had never been as happy with someone for as long as he’d been with the younger man. He loved him, he knew he did, but he couldn’t find out where that part of him had hidden itself.
He supposed it had been buried by the monotony of his life, the hospital getting more and more tedious as his time there had gone on. It was all so bloody political these days and he’d fought against the changes in the regime at first. The hospital was being ruled by a business man only out to make money. Eventually though, he’d buckled under the force of the authority and allowed himself to be moulded to the way things were going to be.
The first thing he’d done was change to night shifts and weekends because that was where he was least likely to get a visit from management. It had drained his stamina and charisma slyly and without his knowledge. He didn’t realise he’d been pulling away from his lover until it was too late. Physical contact and conversation had stopped and the closest they got to each other was lying a foot apart for a few hours in the early morning between him coming to bed and Ianto getting up for work.
He remembered now that Ianto had tried at first, he’d put in all the extra effort to reconnect only for Jack to brush him off with shrugs and false words, no matter how unconscious it had been. They’d drifted apart and he’d not even noticed - he’d been too wrapped up in self-pity.
He hated it and he hated himself for letting it happen. Ianto was right - he wasn’t the man he’d been all those years ago. He’d got lost somewhere and he owed it to both of them to make things better.
Owen had suggested Médecins Sans Frontières months before, just as he was leaving for a stint himself and the moment Jack realised he needed to repair things with Ianto, he knew he had to go. The volunteer work would take him so far from his comfort zone and the monotony of his life that he’d force himself to straighten things out. If he was managing to help people in the process, so much the better.
He felt it was a good sign that, two weeks in, he was already missing Ianto.
He tucked the photo safely into his bag and looked up as Owen appeared at the door of his tent, holding a bottle of beer out to him.
*
Ianto,
I’m volunteering for 9 months in Kisangani (DR of Congo). As I said, they needed volunteers and I needed to get away to work this out. I need some space so that I can get back the man you fell in love with - I want to be him again, so badly.
In answer to your question; yes, I do still love you. I should’ve been turning to you instead of shutting you out and for some reason I didn’t. I promise you though, I still love you. Completely.
I won’t explain things like this, but I promise we’ll talk things through when I get back. I’ve emailed you my contact details and the times of my flights in case you’re interested and in the hope that you’ll be there to meet me when I come home.
I know I’ve hurt you, but please give me a chance to make things right.
With all my heart,
Jack
p.s. Keep this safe for me, I can’t stand the thought of losing it while I’m away.
Ianto read the note for the hundredth time. He’d come home from Tosh’s to find it lying on the counter by his coffee machine, Jack’s ‘wedding’ ring lying on top of it.
It had been two months since Jack had left now, but Ianto still read the note every day. He’d threaded Jack’s ring onto a chain which he now wore on a daily basis, if only to keep it close to him for the illusion of it being a piece of Jack.
Since he’d found that note, things had begun to change around him. The flat felt warmer and more welcoming with each day that passed and the hollowness of apprehension as he woke each morning was fading - only to be replaced by a growing stab of fear for Jack’s safety.
His morning routine was no longer rushed; he woke up a little later and checked the news feeds on the television and his laptop before grabbing a shower and enjoying a cup of coffee. He kept to his real work times and no longer drew out the commute home.
As he passed the five month mark without Jack, he knew, somehow, that things between them had a chance again, that the small bud of hope in his chest should be nurtured and encouraged. Now, instead of opening his front door to a flat filled with silence and tension, it was simply worry for Jack’s well being and missing his presence that greeted Ianto.
*
Jack scrubbed at his arms and hands, the blood turning the dirty water a brick red as it flowed from his skin into the sink. He ran the bristles of the scrubbing brush across his fingers and under his nails, determined to clean the gore and grime from them even if only for a short time. No matter what he did, he’d be covered in blood again within minutes of waking up.
There’d been an attack on a village not far from the camp and Jack had been dragged from his bed to treat a series of women and girls who’d been viciously raped and stabbed. He’d only just stopped throwing up and the screams and crying still echoed violently in his ears.
He’d dealt with the same situation before, but seeing what other human beings were capable of never ceased to turn his stomach.
He dropped the brush in the sink and shut the water off, grabbing a towel and turning around to head through the ward back to his tent. As he passed the beds, he checked on each of his patients and the nurses holding fort until the sun came up.
He stopped for a moment longer at the bed of a little girl, no more than seven or eight, who’d lost her leg that morning. She’d been caught by a roadside bomb and her mother had run her to the clinic as the nearest medical facility. They’d done their best, but they’d been forced to amputate and now they could only hope and pray that the medication would work.
With a sigh, he carried on out and left the building, moving lethargically through the camp to his tent. It may have been horrific and traumatising here, but Jack was finally living again. He had a purpose and a meaning that made him feel whole again, made him want to stand up and fight for everything he held close to his heart.
Every shift he’d worked back in England, he’d been drifting through, setting up drips and signing off on orders, completing pile of paperwork after pile of paperwork until he was being bound and strangled by the red tape. He lay back on his cot and pulled the mosquito net around him, settling back and letting his thoughts drift to Ianto. He only had another month left to go.
*
Ianto’s nights had begun to stretch out again. It was so similar to before, yet it couldn’t have been more different. Time had warped again and the months had more or less blurred together. Apprehension was beginning to take hold of him and he was forcing himself to keep busy, adopting extra hours at work again and dragging out his journey home.
The flat was so empty and grey without Jack there, much like it had been before - but still, the hope stayed resolutely in Ianto’s chest. He only had to wait another week and Jack would be home.
---
TBC in 'Late for the Sky'
A/N 2: for anyone who doesn't know, 'Médecins Sans Frontières' is a charity that sends doctors, nurses and medics out to places across the world to do charity work in mostly 3rd world countries such as those in Africa and India.