Yesterday Is But Today's Memory - 11/19+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 Eleven
“Well isn’t this a touching little scene?”
Ignoring the mocking tone in John’s words, Jack and Ianto didn’t jump apart at his appearance. If anything, Jack held Ianto even tighter, attempting to soothe the nervous tremor he could feel beginning to work its way through the younger man’s body.
He swept his hand across Ianto’s back and pressed a kiss to his forehead; Ianto took a deep breath against his chest and the barely perceptible shaking ceased as Ianto centred himself.
Ianto pulled back just enough to turn his head to face John Hart. “Is that it?” he asked steadily, unwrapping one arm from Jack’s waist to gesture at the folder.
John nodded but didn’t move to hand it over.
With one final squeeze, Ianto extricated himself gently from Jack’s embrace and took a step towards John, his hand held out expectantly.
John hesitated before giving it to him. “Before you read it,” he started, “I just want to remind you that you were the one who wanted it. I take no responsibility for the contents.”
Ianto paled but grasped the folder anyway.
“You read it?” Jack asked, resting a warm hand on the small of Ianto’s back as he came to stand beside him.
“Some of it,” John answered, looking at Jack. “I read what I had to. Enough to be absolutely certain that this is the information about Eye…anto.”
Ianto was still holding the closed folder in a death grip, his knuckles growing white. He stared at the unmarked cover unseeingly, his teeth worrying his top lip nervously.
Jack swivelled to face him, running the backs of his fingers down his jaw line. “Ianto?”
Ianto looked up and blinked at him, his grip on the folder not loosening one bit. Jack could see that the combination of having the information literally in hand and John’s comments had brought all the fear and worry back into Ianto’s eyes.
He turned his hand around to cup Ianto’s cheek. “Remember what I said,” he intoned warmly. “Whatever is in this folder, I’m here for you. We can face anything together, anything.”
Ianto nodded shakily, his face still pale but with an air of resolute determination coming over it. “I can do this,” he said slowly, with only the faintest hint of a wobble in his voice.
“I know you can.” Jack’s lips quirked into an affectionate half-smile. “The only question really is where you want to do it. Conference room? My office? The sofa?”
“Sofa,” Ianto said quickly. “I want… I need…” He swallowed the rest of his sentence awkwardly, but Jack got the gist of what he was asking for and nodded.
“Sofa it is then.”
They both looked around to look at John, who was watching them with a faint air of amusement. “Are you…?” Jack started.
“Oh no, I’m staying,” John interjected. “I want to see this.”
Jack frowned at him as the gleeful words did nothing to settle the butterflies in his stomach; the butterflies he suspected were nothing compared to Ianto’s.
John stole Owen’s chair from his desk to lounge on while Jack and Ianto settled on the sofa with the folder, Jack’s arm wrapped snugly around Ianto’s waist to provide the physical support Ianto had been unable to make himself actually ask for.
Ianto held the folder on his lap and took a deep breath before flipping it open.
There was a stack of papers inside, held in place by a small clip at the fold of the folder. On the inside of the front cover was a small transparent pocket; inside the pocket was something that, to Ianto, looked very much like an SD memory card.
Avoiding looking at the papers for just a little longer, he carefully removed it from the pocket and held it up. Up close, it looked even more like a contemporary memory card.
“It’s a data chip,” John Hart supplied from a few feet away. “All the information in the paperwork will be duplicated on there, and there is probably video footage of any interviews they did with you, too.” He nodded at Jack. “Both of our wriststraps have the capability to play it in projection, if you want.”
Ianto shook his head absently, his brain fixating on anything but the actual contents of the chip for now. “If all the data is on the chip, why store it in a folder with all of it in hard copy?”
“Never underestimate the hard copy, Ianto,” Jack said beside him. “Even in the future, having it down on paper is still preferred.” He smiled wryly. “It never runs out of battery, for one thing.”
A small smile bloomed on Ianto’s lips, and he set his shoulders resolutely, replacing the data chip and picking up the top sheet from the folder.
He skimmed briefly over the writing on the page and handed it to Jack. “I don’t understand a word of this.”
Jack read it over quickly. “Yeah, you wouldn’t. It’s in… well, I don’t think the language was actually ever really used outside the Agency. They hoped it would catch on, become a universal language, but it never did. All Agents could speak it, but only because learning was compulsory on joining.”
Ianto nodded. “So what does it say then?”
Ianto held the paper so Jack could point to the words on the page as he translated. “Name of victim: unknown. Date of… rescue is as close as I can translate that. Earth date 22nd July 5067. Race: Colonies Human. Age: Unknown; estimated at approximated 9.75 Earth years.”
He paused, checking to see how Ianto was coping so far.
He looked a little startled, but not overwhelmed. “So that would mean I was born in… what… about 5057?” he said in a stunned voice.
Jack nodded and squeezed him slightly. “On a colony planet, they reckoned. Not so different from me, really. Only a few years younger, actually.”
Ianto nodded, oddly comforted by the thought that even thousands of years from his birthplace, he’d ended up with someone so close in Jack.
Jack turned his attention back to the page and went to the next line. “Description: see attached photo.”
He flipped through a few more papers in the folder and produced a small glossy photograph. He looked at it for a few seconds and then his stomach dropped into his shoes.
“Oh no. It can’t be. No, no, no, no, no.”
Chapter Twelve
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 Eleven
“Well isn’t this a touching little scene?”
Ignoring the mocking tone in John’s words, Jack and Ianto didn’t jump apart at his appearance. If anything, Jack held Ianto even tighter, attempting to soothe the nervous tremor he could feel beginning to work its way through the younger man’s body.
He swept his hand across Ianto’s back and pressed a kiss to his forehead; Ianto took a deep breath against his chest and the barely perceptible shaking ceased as Ianto centred himself.
Ianto pulled back just enough to turn his head to face John Hart. “Is that it?” he asked steadily, unwrapping one arm from Jack’s waist to gesture at the folder.
John nodded but didn’t move to hand it over.
With one final squeeze, Ianto extricated himself gently from Jack’s embrace and took a step towards John, his hand held out expectantly.
John hesitated before giving it to him. “Before you read it,” he started, “I just want to remind you that you were the one who wanted it. I take no responsibility for the contents.”
Ianto paled but grasped the folder anyway.
“You read it?” Jack asked, resting a warm hand on the small of Ianto’s back as he came to stand beside him.
“Some of it,” John answered, looking at Jack. “I read what I had to. Enough to be absolutely certain that this is the information about Eye…anto.”
Ianto was still holding the closed folder in a death grip, his knuckles growing white. He stared at the unmarked cover unseeingly, his teeth worrying his top lip nervously.
Jack swivelled to face him, running the backs of his fingers down his jaw line. “Ianto?”
Ianto looked up and blinked at him, his grip on the folder not loosening one bit. Jack could see that the combination of having the information literally in hand and John’s comments had brought all the fear and worry back into Ianto’s eyes.
He turned his hand around to cup Ianto’s cheek. “Remember what I said,” he intoned warmly. “Whatever is in this folder, I’m here for you. We can face anything together, anything.”
Ianto nodded shakily, his face still pale but with an air of resolute determination coming over it. “I can do this,” he said slowly, with only the faintest hint of a wobble in his voice.
“I know you can.” Jack’s lips quirked into an affectionate half-smile. “The only question really is where you want to do it. Conference room? My office? The sofa?”
“Sofa,” Ianto said quickly. “I want… I need…” He swallowed the rest of his sentence awkwardly, but Jack got the gist of what he was asking for and nodded.
“Sofa it is then.”
They both looked around to look at John, who was watching them with a faint air of amusement. “Are you…?” Jack started.
“Oh no, I’m staying,” John interjected. “I want to see this.”
Jack frowned at him as the gleeful words did nothing to settle the butterflies in his stomach; the butterflies he suspected were nothing compared to Ianto’s.
John stole Owen’s chair from his desk to lounge on while Jack and Ianto settled on the sofa with the folder, Jack’s arm wrapped snugly around Ianto’s waist to provide the physical support Ianto had been unable to make himself actually ask for.
Ianto held the folder on his lap and took a deep breath before flipping it open.
There was a stack of papers inside, held in place by a small clip at the fold of the folder. On the inside of the front cover was a small transparent pocket; inside the pocket was something that, to Ianto, looked very much like an SD memory card.
Avoiding looking at the papers for just a little longer, he carefully removed it from the pocket and held it up. Up close, it looked even more like a contemporary memory card.
“It’s a data chip,” John Hart supplied from a few feet away. “All the information in the paperwork will be duplicated on there, and there is probably video footage of any interviews they did with you, too.” He nodded at Jack. “Both of our wriststraps have the capability to play it in projection, if you want.”
Ianto shook his head absently, his brain fixating on anything but the actual contents of the chip for now. “If all the data is on the chip, why store it in a folder with all of it in hard copy?”
“Never underestimate the hard copy, Ianto,” Jack said beside him. “Even in the future, having it down on paper is still preferred.” He smiled wryly. “It never runs out of battery, for one thing.”
A small smile bloomed on Ianto’s lips, and he set his shoulders resolutely, replacing the data chip and picking up the top sheet from the folder.
He skimmed briefly over the writing on the page and handed it to Jack. “I don’t understand a word of this.”
Jack read it over quickly. “Yeah, you wouldn’t. It’s in… well, I don’t think the language was actually ever really used outside the Agency. They hoped it would catch on, become a universal language, but it never did. All Agents could speak it, but only because learning was compulsory on joining.”
Ianto nodded. “So what does it say then?”
Ianto held the paper so Jack could point to the words on the page as he translated. “Name of victim: unknown. Date of… rescue is as close as I can translate that. Earth date 22nd July 5067. Race: Colonies Human. Age: Unknown; estimated at approximated 9.75 Earth years.”
He paused, checking to see how Ianto was coping so far.
He looked a little startled, but not overwhelmed. “So that would mean I was born in… what… about 5057?” he said in a stunned voice.
Jack nodded and squeezed him slightly. “On a colony planet, they reckoned. Not so different from me, really. Only a few years younger, actually.”
Ianto nodded, oddly comforted by the thought that even thousands of years from his birthplace, he’d ended up with someone so close in Jack.
Jack turned his attention back to the page and went to the next line. “Description: see attached photo.”
He flipped through a few more papers in the folder and produced a small glossy photograph. He looked at it for a few seconds and then his stomach dropped into his shoes.
“Oh no. It can’t be. No, no, no, no, no.”
Chapter Twelve
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts