Yesterday Is But Today's Memory - 17/19+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 Seventeen
Sounds in the darkness. Noises he didn’t understand. Shuffling movements that he couldn’t quite follow.
Pain. Pain everywhere. Pain beyond anything else he could imagine. Excruciating fire ripping through every limb.
Something was being pushed through his skin - he couldn’t identify what, only that it was thick, blunt, hot and it hurt. It hurt and it didn’t stop and it was devastatingly familiar.
This wasn’t the first time he’d been subjected to this. It wouldn’t be the last. He wished he could escape, but had long ago given up any hope if it really happening.
He couldn’t even remember when it was that he last let himself indulge in a moment of optimism.
The pain was never-ending. The agonizing pain and the darkness. Endless.
Ianto gasped back to consciousness, a cold sweat dripping down his back as he sat up under the blanket on his couch. His breathing was coming in harsh pants, his chest heaving.
Instinctively, he looked for Jack’s comforting presence, his calming embrace, before remembering why he wasn’t there. Why Ianto was sleeping on his aged lumpy couch instead of his soft bed. The shivers that wracked his body grew stronger; a lump formed in his throat and he choked back a sob.
His fingers clenched around the thin blanket, wishing it was Jack’s arms and knowing it couldn’t be. A tear trailed defiantly down his cheek as he desperately tried to gain control of himself.
He cursed himself for allowing himself to become so dependent on Jack. He’d been dealing just fine with nightmares - even the horrific ones based on memory - on his own for years before Jack, but in the past months he’d become too used to him being there.
Too used to being able to wake up in the night and find a warm presence there, willing to listen if he needed to talk it out or just to hold him tight if he didn’t. Too used to being able to bury his face in a strong chest while he calmed down enough to sleep.
Too used to having someone there who was only too willing to give him a distraction when he couldn’t take his mind off the horrors his subconscious had brought up for long enough to drift off.
Not used to waking up alone and having to push the images to the back of his mind by himself.
He hadn’t expected the nightmare. The visions and flashes that had so haunted him for so many weeks had been quiet for the last three days, as if finally getting some real answers about his childhood had silenced them.
He’d wandered about his flat until the small hours of the morning, trying to clear his still racing mind, just as he’d done the previous three nights. Eventually, unlike the previous three nights, exhaustion had overtaken him.
Unable to face all the memories that assaulted him in his bedroom, he had quickly grabbed a blanket from the linen cupboard and collapsed onto the sofa, hoping that he might finally get a few hours of solid sleep.
He looked at the digital clock readout on the VCR. That had been just under an hour ago, but he knew the chances of him getting back to sleep again now were small to non-existent.
When the clock ticked over to 7am and he still wasn’t asleep, he gave up, got up and put on a clean suit. He tied his tie, and looked critically at his own reflection as he shaved. Four nights with less than an hour’s sleep between them were taking their toll on his appearance, and he knew the rest of the team had noticed. He suspected Jack had ‘had a word’, probably with Gwen, as none of them had approached him to push for information.
Jack was at his desk when he got to the Hub, looking just barely better than Ianto felt. He wanted to go to Jack, wanted to ask him how he was, wanted to get the comfort from him he was so dearly missing, wanted to give Jack the comfort he looked like he needed.
He didn’t. Steeling himself, and drawing on the very last of his energy reserves, he climbed to the coffee machine instead.
The Rift had the cheek to stay quiet for the fourth day in a row, and the team were sent home by six. Ianto slumped on his sofa, watching some mindless soap on the television and willing himself to fall asleep - he’d take the nightmares if it meant he got some rest.
He was still there, no closer to sleep, when his doorbell rang an hour later.
He wasn’t sure who he expected to be on the other side of the door when he opened it, but it certainly wasn’t Jack.
He froze in the doorway. “Hi.”
Jack’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Hi. Can… can I come in.”
Ianto nodded mutely and stepped to the side.
They stood in silence in Ianto’s living room for several minutes. Ianto was confused as to why Jack was even there.
“I… I just…” Jack took a breath and looked hard at Ianto. “Are you sleeping okay, Ianto?”
Ianto shrugged diffidently. “Not really.”
Jack nodded, smiling wryly. “Yeah. Me neither.” He looked at a point over Ianto’s shoulder for a second. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you these last days,” he murmured.
Ianto took an involuntary step closer, shaking his head. “I haven’t exactly been there for you either,” he said quietly.
“But I promised I’d be there for you, no matter what we discovered, and I haven’t been,” Jack insisted. “I left you on your own to deal with all this, and…”
“Not your fault,” Ianto said fiercely, fully meeting Jack’s eyes for the first time since they’d first come to suspect Ianto’s true identity. “You’ve had to deal with it on your own too.”
Jack’s eyes bored back into his, and despite everything that had happened in the last few days, Ianto drew comfort from the concern and affection still evident behind them.
Silence fell over them once more as they looked at each other.
Neither of them moved for several minutes as they just stared, both starved for any sort of connection after days of deprivation.
Then, before either of them could pause to consider what they were doing, they were in each other’s arms, lips locked in a frantic kiss.
Interlude
Or if you wish to skip the interlude:
Chapter Eighteen
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 Seventeen
Sounds in the darkness. Noises he didn’t understand. Shuffling movements that he couldn’t quite follow.
Pain. Pain everywhere. Pain beyond anything else he could imagine. Excruciating fire ripping through every limb.
Something was being pushed through his skin - he couldn’t identify what, only that it was thick, blunt, hot and it hurt. It hurt and it didn’t stop and it was devastatingly familiar.
This wasn’t the first time he’d been subjected to this. It wouldn’t be the last. He wished he could escape, but had long ago given up any hope if it really happening.
He couldn’t even remember when it was that he last let himself indulge in a moment of optimism.
The pain was never-ending. The agonizing pain and the darkness. Endless.
Ianto gasped back to consciousness, a cold sweat dripping down his back as he sat up under the blanket on his couch. His breathing was coming in harsh pants, his chest heaving.
Instinctively, he looked for Jack’s comforting presence, his calming embrace, before remembering why he wasn’t there. Why Ianto was sleeping on his aged lumpy couch instead of his soft bed. The shivers that wracked his body grew stronger; a lump formed in his throat and he choked back a sob.
His fingers clenched around the thin blanket, wishing it was Jack’s arms and knowing it couldn’t be. A tear trailed defiantly down his cheek as he desperately tried to gain control of himself.
He cursed himself for allowing himself to become so dependent on Jack. He’d been dealing just fine with nightmares - even the horrific ones based on memory - on his own for years before Jack, but in the past months he’d become too used to him being there.
Too used to being able to wake up in the night and find a warm presence there, willing to listen if he needed to talk it out or just to hold him tight if he didn’t. Too used to being able to bury his face in a strong chest while he calmed down enough to sleep.
Too used to having someone there who was only too willing to give him a distraction when he couldn’t take his mind off the horrors his subconscious had brought up for long enough to drift off.
Not used to waking up alone and having to push the images to the back of his mind by himself.
He hadn’t expected the nightmare. The visions and flashes that had so haunted him for so many weeks had been quiet for the last three days, as if finally getting some real answers about his childhood had silenced them.
He’d wandered about his flat until the small hours of the morning, trying to clear his still racing mind, just as he’d done the previous three nights. Eventually, unlike the previous three nights, exhaustion had overtaken him.
Unable to face all the memories that assaulted him in his bedroom, he had quickly grabbed a blanket from the linen cupboard and collapsed onto the sofa, hoping that he might finally get a few hours of solid sleep.
He looked at the digital clock readout on the VCR. That had been just under an hour ago, but he knew the chances of him getting back to sleep again now were small to non-existent.
When the clock ticked over to 7am and he still wasn’t asleep, he gave up, got up and put on a clean suit. He tied his tie, and looked critically at his own reflection as he shaved. Four nights with less than an hour’s sleep between them were taking their toll on his appearance, and he knew the rest of the team had noticed. He suspected Jack had ‘had a word’, probably with Gwen, as none of them had approached him to push for information.
Jack was at his desk when he got to the Hub, looking just barely better than Ianto felt. He wanted to go to Jack, wanted to ask him how he was, wanted to get the comfort from him he was so dearly missing, wanted to give Jack the comfort he looked like he needed.
He didn’t. Steeling himself, and drawing on the very last of his energy reserves, he climbed to the coffee machine instead.
The Rift had the cheek to stay quiet for the fourth day in a row, and the team were sent home by six. Ianto slumped on his sofa, watching some mindless soap on the television and willing himself to fall asleep - he’d take the nightmares if it meant he got some rest.
He was still there, no closer to sleep, when his doorbell rang an hour later.
He wasn’t sure who he expected to be on the other side of the door when he opened it, but it certainly wasn’t Jack.
He froze in the doorway. “Hi.”
Jack’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Hi. Can… can I come in.”
Ianto nodded mutely and stepped to the side.
They stood in silence in Ianto’s living room for several minutes. Ianto was confused as to why Jack was even there.
“I… I just…” Jack took a breath and looked hard at Ianto. “Are you sleeping okay, Ianto?”
Ianto shrugged diffidently. “Not really.”
Jack nodded, smiling wryly. “Yeah. Me neither.” He looked at a point over Ianto’s shoulder for a second. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you these last days,” he murmured.
Ianto took an involuntary step closer, shaking his head. “I haven’t exactly been there for you either,” he said quietly.
“But I promised I’d be there for you, no matter what we discovered, and I haven’t been,” Jack insisted. “I left you on your own to deal with all this, and…”
“Not your fault,” Ianto said fiercely, fully meeting Jack’s eyes for the first time since they’d first come to suspect Ianto’s true identity. “You’ve had to deal with it on your own too.”
Jack’s eyes bored back into his, and despite everything that had happened in the last few days, Ianto drew comfort from the concern and affection still evident behind them.
Silence fell over them once more as they looked at each other.
Neither of them moved for several minutes as they just stared, both starved for any sort of connection after days of deprivation.
Then, before either of them could pause to consider what they were doing, they were in each other’s arms, lips locked in a frantic kiss.
Interlude
Or if you wish to skip the interlude:
Chapter Eighteen
Comments and concrit welcomed - comments are love!! &hearts