Guilt - 16/70ish
Title: Guilt
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Torchwood is not mine. No matter how much I sometimes wish it was.
Spoilers: Better say everything through s2, just to be sure. Begins pre-S1.
Summary: Ianto is nervous as they wait on Lisa's results... is he right to be?
Thanks to: My beta cazmalfoy for all her wonderful work, and my cheerleaders angelzbabe1989 and piper08 for putting up with me when I whine about being stuck.
Author's Note: Sorry this is later than usual, but I just didn't get around to LJ at all today until now.
Also, HUGE thanks to whoever it was that nominated Brokeback Manor for an award at Children of Time! My sister and I are both amazed :)
Any and all comments and concrit welcomed! (Even just one word... please???)
Fic starts here
All previous chapters
Chapter Sixteen
Ianto shuffled the mugs around on the counter once more as he waited for the coffee machine to finish. He hadn’t been able to sit or stand still all day - and he knew that more caffeine probably wasn’t the answer, but preparing it gave his hands something to do. He wasn’t generally given to fidgeting but, he rationalised, these were far from general circumstances.
They had sent Oelmue out to face the world a few days before, armed with his translator (which Tosh had thoroughly scanned to ensure it really was just a translator - it wasn’t that they didn’t want to trust Oelmue, but it never hurt to be sure), the pile of induction leaflets and the instruction to contact them immediately if he needed help.
Even barring any emergencies, he would have a regular check-in meeting with one of the team for the duration of his stay on Earth, which Ianto recognised sadly would almost certainly be the remainder of his life. It made him feel rather like a parole officer, but he knew it was the best of the possible alternatives - at least he had a chance at some sort of a life, even if he was out of his time and on an alien planet.
Oelmue’s departure, and the Rift’s return to relative quiet, meant that Owen, Tosh and Ianto could return to their previous activities, and it was this that had Ianto so worked up.
Tosh had completed her visualisation program early that morning and Owen had promised to have at least his initial analysis of the scan, along with the results of the blood tests, by late afternoon.
Ianto had been studiously avoiding both the autopsy bay and Owen all day, leaving him mugs of coffee on his desk before beating a hasty retreat. If asked, he couldn’t have said definitively if he was dreading or anticipating the results of these tests.
Either they would give them something to work with, solid ways to help Lisa, or they would tell them there was nothing to be done. Ianto wasn’t sure he was ready to find out which.
Jack had, thankfully, clearly noticed his nerves surfacing at Owen’s announcement that morning and had found any number of small mindless jobs for Ianto to occupy himself with that day. On another day, he might have protested at the busy-work, but with his mind busy running in circles, he was grateful for the simple tasks.
The coffee machine clicked slightly, alerting Ianto to the fact that it was ready. With hands that remained steady only through sheer determination, he filled the waiting mugs, preparing each drink just the way the recipient liked it, and picked up the tray to deliver the team their ninth (or was that tenth) coffees of the day.
He approached Owen’s desk, ready to set down the mug, call to Owen that it was there, and flee, as before. The plan was somewhat ruined by Owen’s sudden appearance at his side just as he was placing the doctor’s coffee on the desk.
He spun away from the desk, hot coffee sloshing slightly over the edges of the remaining mugs on his tray. A nervous shiver passed through his body, and he took an involuntarily step backwards in a physical manifest of his subconscious desire to hide from the truths he sensed would be imminently divulged.
A glance at Owen’s face confirmed his suspicions; the doctor’s expression was serious and Ianto thought he detected the faintest hint of sympathy lurking behind his eyes.
The tests were complete, the results were in, and it was time to face the future.
Chapter Seventeen
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Ianto/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Torchwood is not mine. No matter how much I sometimes wish it was.
Spoilers: Better say everything through s2, just to be sure. Begins pre-S1.
Summary: Ianto is nervous as they wait on Lisa's results... is he right to be?
Thanks to: My beta cazmalfoy for all her wonderful work, and my cheerleaders angelzbabe1989 and piper08 for putting up with me when I whine about being stuck.
Author's Note: Sorry this is later than usual, but I just didn't get around to LJ at all today until now.
Also, HUGE thanks to whoever it was that nominated Brokeback Manor for an award at Children of Time! My sister and I are both amazed :)
Any and all comments and concrit welcomed! (Even just one word... please???)
Fic starts here
All previous chapters
Chapter Sixteen
Ianto shuffled the mugs around on the counter once more as he waited for the coffee machine to finish. He hadn’t been able to sit or stand still all day - and he knew that more caffeine probably wasn’t the answer, but preparing it gave his hands something to do. He wasn’t generally given to fidgeting but, he rationalised, these were far from general circumstances.
They had sent Oelmue out to face the world a few days before, armed with his translator (which Tosh had thoroughly scanned to ensure it really was just a translator - it wasn’t that they didn’t want to trust Oelmue, but it never hurt to be sure), the pile of induction leaflets and the instruction to contact them immediately if he needed help.
Even barring any emergencies, he would have a regular check-in meeting with one of the team for the duration of his stay on Earth, which Ianto recognised sadly would almost certainly be the remainder of his life. It made him feel rather like a parole officer, but he knew it was the best of the possible alternatives - at least he had a chance at some sort of a life, even if he was out of his time and on an alien planet.
Oelmue’s departure, and the Rift’s return to relative quiet, meant that Owen, Tosh and Ianto could return to their previous activities, and it was this that had Ianto so worked up.
Tosh had completed her visualisation program early that morning and Owen had promised to have at least his initial analysis of the scan, along with the results of the blood tests, by late afternoon.
Ianto had been studiously avoiding both the autopsy bay and Owen all day, leaving him mugs of coffee on his desk before beating a hasty retreat. If asked, he couldn’t have said definitively if he was dreading or anticipating the results of these tests.
Either they would give them something to work with, solid ways to help Lisa, or they would tell them there was nothing to be done. Ianto wasn’t sure he was ready to find out which.
Jack had, thankfully, clearly noticed his nerves surfacing at Owen’s announcement that morning and had found any number of small mindless jobs for Ianto to occupy himself with that day. On another day, he might have protested at the busy-work, but with his mind busy running in circles, he was grateful for the simple tasks.
The coffee machine clicked slightly, alerting Ianto to the fact that it was ready. With hands that remained steady only through sheer determination, he filled the waiting mugs, preparing each drink just the way the recipient liked it, and picked up the tray to deliver the team their ninth (or was that tenth) coffees of the day.
He approached Owen’s desk, ready to set down the mug, call to Owen that it was there, and flee, as before. The plan was somewhat ruined by Owen’s sudden appearance at his side just as he was placing the doctor’s coffee on the desk.
He spun away from the desk, hot coffee sloshing slightly over the edges of the remaining mugs on his tray. A nervous shiver passed through his body, and he took an involuntarily step backwards in a physical manifest of his subconscious desire to hide from the truths he sensed would be imminently divulged.
A glance at Owen’s face confirmed his suspicions; the doctor’s expression was serious and Ianto thought he detected the faintest hint of sympathy lurking behind his eyes.
The tests were complete, the results were in, and it was time to face the future.
Chapter Seventeen