Yesterday Is But Today's Memory - 3/19+Interlude
Title: Yesterday Is But Today's Memory
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Takes place post 2x05 'Adam', but mentions briefly minor info from later s2 eps. AU
Summary: It wasn’t the lost days that were really giving Ianto Jones nightmares. It was the fact that ever since, he’d suddenly been having flashes from another period of his life he’d thought was lost forever - his first ten years.
Warning: Some chapters of this fic will contain material some may find offensive. To go into more detail would be spoilery for the plot, but DO NOT READ if you are easily offended.
Thanks to: My wonderful betas morbid_sparks, cazmalfoy and angelzbabe1989, who talked me into writing this, then held my hand while I worked through the plot and filled all its holes.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Three
Ianto bolted upright in bed, dislodging Jack’s arm from around his waist as he dragged in deep shaky breaths. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face; Jack sat up next to him and wiped it away with a warm hand.
His arms came back around Ianto, and he pressed a tender kiss to Ianto’s damp shoulder. “Canary Wharf or cannibals?” he asked, naming the two most common causes of Ianto’s nightmares.
Ianto shook his head and tried to take a calming breath. “Neither,” he gasped. He curled into Jack’s embrace, drawing whatever comfort he could from the other man’s presence. Jack’s warm weight in bed beside him at night had yet to actually stop his once almost-nightly terrors, but he did help, and Ianto was grateful that Jack seemed so happy to doze next to him while he slept.
“It was… I… I don’t know,” he panted against Jack’s chest. “I think that maybe… maybe it was a memory.”
Jack rubbed a hand up and down his back and hummed encouragingly.
Ianto took a long breath in slowly through his nose, blowing out just as slowly as he forced himself to calm down. He closed his eyes and, concentrating on Jack’s heartbeat under his ear to centre himself, he let his mind drift back.
“It was dark,” he whispered after a few moments. “I was trapped in the dark. I don’t know how long I’d been there, but I know I was alone. And so scared.” He shuddered.
Jack’s arms tightened a little. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’re okay,” he whispered to the top of Ianto’s head. “I’m here for you.”
There didn’t seem to be any pattern or reason as to when the flashes would hit. He could be preparing coffee, filing, out doing field work or even, as he had discovered one unfortunately memorable time, in the throes of passion with Jack.
The sense of darkness was becoming a recurring theme. Darkness. Seclusion. And most of all, a gripping terror that had him breaking out in a cold sweat more than once.
As much as Ianto wanted to believe that all of the horrific flashes related to one relatively brief, but highly traumatic, incident, they were slowly becoming longer and more defined. And along with this came new feelings to join the fear - loneliness, desolation, hopelessness. Wherever he’d been held, whoever had kept him there, Ianto had the disturbing conviction that it had been a lengthy imprisonment.
Jack had become very reluctant to leave Ianto on his own for any extended period of time. If Ianto went back to his flat for the night, Jack would come too. He would make up excuses to come down and see Ianto in the archives whenever he spent a day down there. Ianto put up a token protest at the not-so-subtle coddling, but inside he was glad of it. He liked knowing that when he came back to himself, more often than not shaken and scared, Jack would be close by.
Most of the time, Ianto just wished the flashes would stop. He had survived this long without knowing anything of his early years, and if the terrible feelings he got from these bursts of memory were anything to go by, he would be better off not remembering.
But then, just occasionally, there would be a flash that didn’t leave him dry mouthed and shaking; a flash that gave him hope that not everything had been bad. A brief moment of brilliant sunshine, the sound of an ocean. Laughter, love, safety, comfort.
He came out of those flashes with a smile on his face. Jack would still sweep him up in his arms afterwards, and Ianto would savour the tender embrace, letting it help him hold onto the pleasant sensations from the memory for just a little bit longer.
He confessed the content of each and every one of those happy flashes to Jack in incredulous whispers late at night, trying to cement them in his mind. Trying to make himself believe that he had, as a child, been loved and cherished. Trying to make himself believe that the darkness wasn’t everything.
Chapter Four
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Takes place post 2x05 'Adam', but mentions briefly minor info from later s2 eps. AU
Summary: It wasn’t the lost days that were really giving Ianto Jones nightmares. It was the fact that ever since, he’d suddenly been having flashes from another period of his life he’d thought was lost forever - his first ten years.
Warning: Some chapters of this fic will contain material some may find offensive. To go into more detail would be spoilery for the plot, but DO NOT READ if you are easily offended.
Thanks to: My wonderful betas morbid_sparks, cazmalfoy and angelzbabe1989, who talked me into writing this, then held my hand while I worked through the plot and filled all its holes.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Three
Ianto bolted upright in bed, dislodging Jack’s arm from around his waist as he dragged in deep shaky breaths. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face; Jack sat up next to him and wiped it away with a warm hand.
His arms came back around Ianto, and he pressed a tender kiss to Ianto’s damp shoulder. “Canary Wharf or cannibals?” he asked, naming the two most common causes of Ianto’s nightmares.
Ianto shook his head and tried to take a calming breath. “Neither,” he gasped. He curled into Jack’s embrace, drawing whatever comfort he could from the other man’s presence. Jack’s warm weight in bed beside him at night had yet to actually stop his once almost-nightly terrors, but he did help, and Ianto was grateful that Jack seemed so happy to doze next to him while he slept.
“It was… I… I don’t know,” he panted against Jack’s chest. “I think that maybe… maybe it was a memory.”
Jack rubbed a hand up and down his back and hummed encouragingly.
Ianto took a long breath in slowly through his nose, blowing out just as slowly as he forced himself to calm down. He closed his eyes and, concentrating on Jack’s heartbeat under his ear to centre himself, he let his mind drift back.
“It was dark,” he whispered after a few moments. “I was trapped in the dark. I don’t know how long I’d been there, but I know I was alone. And so scared.” He shuddered.
Jack’s arms tightened a little. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’re okay,” he whispered to the top of Ianto’s head. “I’m here for you.”
There didn’t seem to be any pattern or reason as to when the flashes would hit. He could be preparing coffee, filing, out doing field work or even, as he had discovered one unfortunately memorable time, in the throes of passion with Jack.
The sense of darkness was becoming a recurring theme. Darkness. Seclusion. And most of all, a gripping terror that had him breaking out in a cold sweat more than once.
As much as Ianto wanted to believe that all of the horrific flashes related to one relatively brief, but highly traumatic, incident, they were slowly becoming longer and more defined. And along with this came new feelings to join the fear - loneliness, desolation, hopelessness. Wherever he’d been held, whoever had kept him there, Ianto had the disturbing conviction that it had been a lengthy imprisonment.
Jack had become very reluctant to leave Ianto on his own for any extended period of time. If Ianto went back to his flat for the night, Jack would come too. He would make up excuses to come down and see Ianto in the archives whenever he spent a day down there. Ianto put up a token protest at the not-so-subtle coddling, but inside he was glad of it. He liked knowing that when he came back to himself, more often than not shaken and scared, Jack would be close by.
Most of the time, Ianto just wished the flashes would stop. He had survived this long without knowing anything of his early years, and if the terrible feelings he got from these bursts of memory were anything to go by, he would be better off not remembering.
But then, just occasionally, there would be a flash that didn’t leave him dry mouthed and shaking; a flash that gave him hope that not everything had been bad. A brief moment of brilliant sunshine, the sound of an ocean. Laughter, love, safety, comfort.
He came out of those flashes with a smile on his face. Jack would still sweep him up in his arms afterwards, and Ianto would savour the tender embrace, letting it help him hold onto the pleasant sensations from the memory for just a little bit longer.
He confessed the content of each and every one of those happy flashes to Jack in incredulous whispers late at night, trying to cement them in his mind. Trying to make himself believe that he had, as a child, been loved and cherished. Trying to make himself believe that the darkness wasn’t everything.
Chapter Four
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts