Another Halloween Treat--This one's for lorrainemarker!
Title: The Persistence of Memory
Fandom: Torchwood (Series 1)
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Ianto, and Tosh; Jack/Ianto; Ianto/Lisa
Rating: R (language, sex, and drug abuse, in a way)
Summary: How Ianto got into the habit of keeping a journal. Also, my attempt at making his come-on to Jack into a clever Salvador Dali reference.
The Persistence of Memory
Ianto couldn’t bear remembering the day Lisa died. It was a week afterwards before he realized he didn’t have to.
Coffee wasn’t the only thing Ianto made for Torchwood. He was much better at mixing Retcon than Jack ever was. Then again, Jack had never even attempted precision. “I’m sure she didn’t do anything interesting in that extra day we wiped out, anyway.” Given enough information-gender, weight, age-Ianto could measure out forgetfulness in half-hour increments.
Supposedly, Jack was watching him like a hawk at work, since even being relegated to the crap jobs of weevil-cage-cleaning and archive-organizing meant he had higher security clearance than almost everyone in MI-5. Even so, Ianto easily smuggled out a baggie full of Retcon under his suit jacket. He almost wondered if Jack was letting him, hoping Ianto would overdose, or at least send himself into permanent oblivion. It would make things much tidier for Torchwood. Ianto always was one to clean up after himself.
That wasn’t the plan, though. When he got home, Ianto measured out one week’s worth of Retcon and mixed it with his hot cocoa. He found a pretty bound journal that Rhiannon had given him for his birthday a few years ago. He’d never gotten round to writing in it. He took out a pen and set about re-writing the past week.
Lisa is dead. Horrible electrical accident, killed the doctor as well. Nothing I could do. Everyone is angry at me for not telling them about Lisa, going it alone. Especially Jack.
Organized the first three rows of storage boxes in Room B of the Archives. Nothing of interest, except a box that emits paralyzing gas when opened-B-197a. Should probably wear a gas mask for sorting the rest of that row. Jack wants me to clean Myfanwy’s roost on Tuesday. Am tempted to tell him to shove it, but won’t.
Took Retcon to forget the last image of Lisa. She didn’t have a funeral, and as can be seen from the above recap of the week, it’s not like I’m losing much, anyway.
Ianto capped his pen, closed the journal, and drank the last of the cocoa. He placed the journal on his bed stand, put a post-it note saying “READ ME BEFORE WORK” on it, and went to bed.
~*~*~
The next day at work as he made coffee, Ianto wondered if he’d hoped getting the last image of Lisa out of his mind would lighten the feeling in his heart. It hadn’t, and not just because no one would look him in the eye.
He spent most of the day down in the Archives. He remembered a time when he loved this part of the job, examining and cataloguing the detritus of alien civilizations. Now, it was just all so much dusty rubbish.
Ianto thought for a long time after he got home that evening. When he decided there wasn’t anything about the day worth hanging on to, he took out his journal and his hot cocoa mug.
~*~*~
Ianto could tell by comparing his journal entries to the current day that things were getting back to normal. Tosh was the first to stop treating him like an untouchable. She tried to joke with him about his becoming the King of Post-It Notes. The Hub was full of them, reminders to himself of what he’d done and hadn’t done when it came to tasks too minor for him to record them all in his journal. Then Gwen pulled him aside down in the Weevil Den and tried to have a soulful conversation with him about love and loss, to which he nodded and hummed and mostly ignored. Owen actually thanked him for bringing him a cup of coffee in the afternoon.
He hesitated that night, but he still pulled out the journal and refilled his mug.
~*~*~
Somehow, Jack went straight from not speaking to Ianto to fucking him over his desk. Ianto was a little terrified at how rough and sure Jack was for a first time, but he came so hard he almost saw stars.
Jack noticed Ianto wince as he bent to pull up his pants, which were pooled around his ankles.
“Sorry about that,” Jack said, hitching his braces over his shoulders. “Should’ve known you’d still be sore from last time.”
When he made his cocoa that night, Ianto flipped through his entire journal. There was no mention of him and Jack having sex.
He wrote his entry for the day:
Files in D227x written in an undecipherable language-already asked Tosh to use translation program, unsuccessful. Did have a good conversation with her about rugby, though-oddly enough, she’s an All Blacks fan. Promised to go to new pub with Gwen and Owen tomorrow eve. Unusually high rift activity today, but nothing of note came through. Cleaned coffee maker.
~*~*~
Ianto couldn’t say it was pleasant to live like this, but it was easier, even with the necessity of going through a packet of post-its each day. He could face the day because he knew he’d be able to let go of whatever fresh horrors it brought, save for a few cold notes in a little book.
He had wild fantasies of brewing up a batch of Retcon-laced coffee so strong that none of them would be able to remember what Retcon was. He could never decide how far back he’d take everyone, though. He’d take Gwen back a few months, before Torchwood, but Owen and Tosh would lose years. He had no idea how far back he’d have to take Jack.
~*~*~
“Funny, how you never want to stay after we fuck,” Jack said as he hitched his braces over his shoulders and leaned against his now even messier desk. His smile was brilliant and cocky. “I always took you for a cuddler.”
The bottom dropped out of Ianto’s stomach. They’d done this before?
Ianto focused on re-buttoning his now-rumpled shirt. “Perhaps you guessed wrong, sir.”
“Would you please stop calling me ‘sir,’ at least when we’re alone and not roleplaying?” Jack whined. Ianto ignored him and carefully put his suit jacket back on. He was out of Retcon at home and had another packet in the interior pocket.
“Sorry, si-Jack,” Ianto said. “I didn’t think you were one to be offended by lack of post-coital cuddling.”
“I’m not,” Jack said, grin turning predatory. “My ego is a little bruised at how that means you’re not considering Round Two, though.”
Jack took hold of Ianto’s jacket lapels and kissed him hard. Ianto had just long enough to think shitshitshit before Jack pressed his knuckles to Ianto’s chest and felt the squish of the bag of Retcon.
Jack broke the kiss and raised an eyebrow.
“You got me, sir,” Ianto stammered. “Caught red-handed smuggling out coffee beans. I’m all out at home, and what with the hours here, I never have time to go to the market-”
But Jack was already flipping Ianto’s jacket back and pulling out the packet of Retcon. Ianto expected an angry outburst, but Jack just cocked his head to one side.
“Well, that explains why I had the niggling feeling I was fucking a virgin to anal sex tonight,” Jack said.
“Oh God,” Ianto groaned, hiding behind his hands.
“How long have you been taking it?”
“Daily, since Lisa died,” Ianto said, not taking his hands away from his face.
Jack half-laughed.
“What?” Ianto finally uncovered his eyes. “Considering what Torchwood does, what we see, wanting to forget isn’t exactly illogical.”
“No, it’s not,” Jack said, smiling and shaking his head. “Hell, everyone in Torchwood tries it eventually. It’s just that nobody’s ever pulled off serial Retcon amnesia for as long as you have without someone noticing. Is that why you’ve taken to decorating the Hub with a rainbow of post-it notes?”
That actually made Ianto feel a little proud. “You did hire me for my stellar organizational skills, sir.”
“I hired you because you held your own against a Weevil and a pterodactyl, and you have a nice ass.” Jack gave Ianto some breathing room, sitting down at his desk. “So if you haven’t remembered anything that we’ve done, anything that’s happened between us for months…why do you keep having sex with me?”
Ianto was surprised at the question. “Your mores don’t require any feeling beyond attraction to have sex with someone. Why wouldn’t I be doing the same?” He jutted his chin out defiantly.
“Because you’re you, Ianto.”
Ianto managed to hold Jack’s gaze for a long time. He couldn’t do it anymore when he spoke, though. “Because I wanted to feel something, even if it wouldn’t last. Everything else, it doesn’t hurt, but it feels so…empty.”
Ianto looked when he heard Jack get up from his chair. Jack walked to the safe, entered the combination, and rummaged around for about a minute. He pulled out a container no bigger than a ring box and placed it on his desk.
“What’s this?” Ianto asked.
“The Torchwood Retirement Package,” Jack said, sitting down again. “If you want, you can go back to the very beginning of Canary Wharf. We’ll make up some sort of back-story-you’ve been a John Doe in a coma for over a year, something like that. For all you’ll know, Lisa died at Torchwood One.”
Ianto weighed the little box in his hand. “Did you ever take Retcon like I-”
“Yes,” Jack said.
“If you were in my shoes, would you take this?” Ianto said.
“I’m not in your shoes.”
Ianto rolled his eyes.
“I’m not,” Jack said. He ran his hand over his face. “If only you could understand how-” Jack looked at him and sighed. “I’ve seen a lot of things I’d like to forget. But there are people that I wouldn’t want to give up. And as cheesy as I’m sure it sounds, one of them happens to be this crazy Welshman who waited outside the Hub with coffee every day for two weeks, and who had the guts to tell me where I could shove it when I got in the way of him misguidedly trying to protect someone he loved.”
“You’re right,” Ianto said. “That was extremely cheesy.”
Jack shrugged. “Sorry. I can’t un-cheese the truth. You can think about it, if you like. If you decide to take it, I’d prefer you do it here, so we can set you up with a proper back-story before you wake up.”
Ianto tossed Jack the box, and Jack caught it. “Of course. I expect a retirement party, at the very least.”
Jack gave him a lop-sided grin, and Ianto turned and left.
Jack called after him, “Just want you to know-you’re a really good lay, especially for a virgin!”
“How could I possibly give this up?” Ianto snarked under his breath.
~*~*~
Ianto sat up in bed and read his journal. He noticed that as the days progressed, his entries became less about practicalities. Tosh appeared in the journal the most, but Gwen and Owen made plenty of appearances, too. And finally, there were hints of Jack other than him giving Ianto orders. His writing didn’t stir up any memories-the Retcon had done its job well-but for the first time, he almost wished he knew how to read between those lines.
~*~*~
Ianto took Tosh out to lunch a few days later and told her everything, except the bit about him and Jack apparently fucking like bunnies in his office. He wasn’t brave enough to watch the surveillance videos of the last few months, but he did have the courage to ask Tosh to tell him what had really happened with Lisa. He knew she’d be the kindest. It was still awful.
He thought about it the rest of the day, whether even secondhand that was a memory he could stand keeping.
~*~*~
Jack hadn’t made any advances since the night he discovered the Retcon. Ianto wasn’t sure if it was due to chivalry or to Jack simply being too busy dealing with all the madness around Suzie’s return to go to the effort.
Ianto knew his pick-up line was beyond cheesy-really, there weren’t that many sexy things one can do with a stopwatch, though he had no doubt Jack knew all of them.
“You seemed surprised when I propositioned you,” Ianto said when Jack shut the door to his office behind them.
Jack was already stripping. “After the way things started between us, I didn’t figure I’d be seeing you this way again.”
“Apparently, I’m so attracted to you that I have fallen into bed with you for the first time-how many times?”
“Six,” Jack said. “Though we only managed to make it to a bed twice.”
“Six. What’s one more, then?” Ianto snorted and dropped his pants. “This is so strange, I don’t even have time to think about how I always assumed I was straight.”
Ianto was a little surprised that Jack wasn’t all over him, tearing his clothes off. He only remembered one of the six times before this, but Jack had been quite…demonstrative and eager then.
“I’m not trying to rush your decision,” Jack said slowly, “but I’d like to know if this is a last fling before you…go, or if this is the start of…something.”
Ianto sighed. “Besides my sister, the people here are all that I have left. As much as I’d like to forget some of the things I’ve seen, I don’t think I want to lose everything I have left.”
“You could start over with a clean slate,” Jack said, though Ianto could tell he was hoping he wouldn’t take the offer.
He kissed Jack. “Clean slates are overrated.”
Fandom: Torchwood (Series 1)
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Ianto, and Tosh; Jack/Ianto; Ianto/Lisa
Rating: R (language, sex, and drug abuse, in a way)
Summary: How Ianto got into the habit of keeping a journal. Also, my attempt at making his come-on to Jack into a clever Salvador Dali reference.
The Persistence of Memory
Ianto couldn’t bear remembering the day Lisa died. It was a week afterwards before he realized he didn’t have to.
Coffee wasn’t the only thing Ianto made for Torchwood. He was much better at mixing Retcon than Jack ever was. Then again, Jack had never even attempted precision. “I’m sure she didn’t do anything interesting in that extra day we wiped out, anyway.” Given enough information-gender, weight, age-Ianto could measure out forgetfulness in half-hour increments.
Supposedly, Jack was watching him like a hawk at work, since even being relegated to the crap jobs of weevil-cage-cleaning and archive-organizing meant he had higher security clearance than almost everyone in MI-5. Even so, Ianto easily smuggled out a baggie full of Retcon under his suit jacket. He almost wondered if Jack was letting him, hoping Ianto would overdose, or at least send himself into permanent oblivion. It would make things much tidier for Torchwood. Ianto always was one to clean up after himself.
That wasn’t the plan, though. When he got home, Ianto measured out one week’s worth of Retcon and mixed it with his hot cocoa. He found a pretty bound journal that Rhiannon had given him for his birthday a few years ago. He’d never gotten round to writing in it. He took out a pen and set about re-writing the past week.
Lisa is dead. Horrible electrical accident, killed the doctor as well. Nothing I could do. Everyone is angry at me for not telling them about Lisa, going it alone. Especially Jack.
Organized the first three rows of storage boxes in Room B of the Archives. Nothing of interest, except a box that emits paralyzing gas when opened-B-197a. Should probably wear a gas mask for sorting the rest of that row. Jack wants me to clean Myfanwy’s roost on Tuesday. Am tempted to tell him to shove it, but won’t.
Took Retcon to forget the last image of Lisa. She didn’t have a funeral, and as can be seen from the above recap of the week, it’s not like I’m losing much, anyway.
Ianto capped his pen, closed the journal, and drank the last of the cocoa. He placed the journal on his bed stand, put a post-it note saying “READ ME BEFORE WORK” on it, and went to bed.
~*~*~
The next day at work as he made coffee, Ianto wondered if he’d hoped getting the last image of Lisa out of his mind would lighten the feeling in his heart. It hadn’t, and not just because no one would look him in the eye.
He spent most of the day down in the Archives. He remembered a time when he loved this part of the job, examining and cataloguing the detritus of alien civilizations. Now, it was just all so much dusty rubbish.
Ianto thought for a long time after he got home that evening. When he decided there wasn’t anything about the day worth hanging on to, he took out his journal and his hot cocoa mug.
~*~*~
Ianto could tell by comparing his journal entries to the current day that things were getting back to normal. Tosh was the first to stop treating him like an untouchable. She tried to joke with him about his becoming the King of Post-It Notes. The Hub was full of them, reminders to himself of what he’d done and hadn’t done when it came to tasks too minor for him to record them all in his journal. Then Gwen pulled him aside down in the Weevil Den and tried to have a soulful conversation with him about love and loss, to which he nodded and hummed and mostly ignored. Owen actually thanked him for bringing him a cup of coffee in the afternoon.
He hesitated that night, but he still pulled out the journal and refilled his mug.
~*~*~
Somehow, Jack went straight from not speaking to Ianto to fucking him over his desk. Ianto was a little terrified at how rough and sure Jack was for a first time, but he came so hard he almost saw stars.
Jack noticed Ianto wince as he bent to pull up his pants, which were pooled around his ankles.
“Sorry about that,” Jack said, hitching his braces over his shoulders. “Should’ve known you’d still be sore from last time.”
When he made his cocoa that night, Ianto flipped through his entire journal. There was no mention of him and Jack having sex.
He wrote his entry for the day:
Files in D227x written in an undecipherable language-already asked Tosh to use translation program, unsuccessful. Did have a good conversation with her about rugby, though-oddly enough, she’s an All Blacks fan. Promised to go to new pub with Gwen and Owen tomorrow eve. Unusually high rift activity today, but nothing of note came through. Cleaned coffee maker.
~*~*~
Ianto couldn’t say it was pleasant to live like this, but it was easier, even with the necessity of going through a packet of post-its each day. He could face the day because he knew he’d be able to let go of whatever fresh horrors it brought, save for a few cold notes in a little book.
He had wild fantasies of brewing up a batch of Retcon-laced coffee so strong that none of them would be able to remember what Retcon was. He could never decide how far back he’d take everyone, though. He’d take Gwen back a few months, before Torchwood, but Owen and Tosh would lose years. He had no idea how far back he’d have to take Jack.
~*~*~
“Funny, how you never want to stay after we fuck,” Jack said as he hitched his braces over his shoulders and leaned against his now even messier desk. His smile was brilliant and cocky. “I always took you for a cuddler.”
The bottom dropped out of Ianto’s stomach. They’d done this before?
Ianto focused on re-buttoning his now-rumpled shirt. “Perhaps you guessed wrong, sir.”
“Would you please stop calling me ‘sir,’ at least when we’re alone and not roleplaying?” Jack whined. Ianto ignored him and carefully put his suit jacket back on. He was out of Retcon at home and had another packet in the interior pocket.
“Sorry, si-Jack,” Ianto said. “I didn’t think you were one to be offended by lack of post-coital cuddling.”
“I’m not,” Jack said, grin turning predatory. “My ego is a little bruised at how that means you’re not considering Round Two, though.”
Jack took hold of Ianto’s jacket lapels and kissed him hard. Ianto had just long enough to think shitshitshit before Jack pressed his knuckles to Ianto’s chest and felt the squish of the bag of Retcon.
Jack broke the kiss and raised an eyebrow.
“You got me, sir,” Ianto stammered. “Caught red-handed smuggling out coffee beans. I’m all out at home, and what with the hours here, I never have time to go to the market-”
But Jack was already flipping Ianto’s jacket back and pulling out the packet of Retcon. Ianto expected an angry outburst, but Jack just cocked his head to one side.
“Well, that explains why I had the niggling feeling I was fucking a virgin to anal sex tonight,” Jack said.
“Oh God,” Ianto groaned, hiding behind his hands.
“How long have you been taking it?”
“Daily, since Lisa died,” Ianto said, not taking his hands away from his face.
Jack half-laughed.
“What?” Ianto finally uncovered his eyes. “Considering what Torchwood does, what we see, wanting to forget isn’t exactly illogical.”
“No, it’s not,” Jack said, smiling and shaking his head. “Hell, everyone in Torchwood tries it eventually. It’s just that nobody’s ever pulled off serial Retcon amnesia for as long as you have without someone noticing. Is that why you’ve taken to decorating the Hub with a rainbow of post-it notes?”
That actually made Ianto feel a little proud. “You did hire me for my stellar organizational skills, sir.”
“I hired you because you held your own against a Weevil and a pterodactyl, and you have a nice ass.” Jack gave Ianto some breathing room, sitting down at his desk. “So if you haven’t remembered anything that we’ve done, anything that’s happened between us for months…why do you keep having sex with me?”
Ianto was surprised at the question. “Your mores don’t require any feeling beyond attraction to have sex with someone. Why wouldn’t I be doing the same?” He jutted his chin out defiantly.
“Because you’re you, Ianto.”
Ianto managed to hold Jack’s gaze for a long time. He couldn’t do it anymore when he spoke, though. “Because I wanted to feel something, even if it wouldn’t last. Everything else, it doesn’t hurt, but it feels so…empty.”
Ianto looked when he heard Jack get up from his chair. Jack walked to the safe, entered the combination, and rummaged around for about a minute. He pulled out a container no bigger than a ring box and placed it on his desk.
“What’s this?” Ianto asked.
“The Torchwood Retirement Package,” Jack said, sitting down again. “If you want, you can go back to the very beginning of Canary Wharf. We’ll make up some sort of back-story-you’ve been a John Doe in a coma for over a year, something like that. For all you’ll know, Lisa died at Torchwood One.”
Ianto weighed the little box in his hand. “Did you ever take Retcon like I-”
“Yes,” Jack said.
“If you were in my shoes, would you take this?” Ianto said.
“I’m not in your shoes.”
Ianto rolled his eyes.
“I’m not,” Jack said. He ran his hand over his face. “If only you could understand how-” Jack looked at him and sighed. “I’ve seen a lot of things I’d like to forget. But there are people that I wouldn’t want to give up. And as cheesy as I’m sure it sounds, one of them happens to be this crazy Welshman who waited outside the Hub with coffee every day for two weeks, and who had the guts to tell me where I could shove it when I got in the way of him misguidedly trying to protect someone he loved.”
“You’re right,” Ianto said. “That was extremely cheesy.”
Jack shrugged. “Sorry. I can’t un-cheese the truth. You can think about it, if you like. If you decide to take it, I’d prefer you do it here, so we can set you up with a proper back-story before you wake up.”
Ianto tossed Jack the box, and Jack caught it. “Of course. I expect a retirement party, at the very least.”
Jack gave him a lop-sided grin, and Ianto turned and left.
Jack called after him, “Just want you to know-you’re a really good lay, especially for a virgin!”
“How could I possibly give this up?” Ianto snarked under his breath.
~*~*~
Ianto sat up in bed and read his journal. He noticed that as the days progressed, his entries became less about practicalities. Tosh appeared in the journal the most, but Gwen and Owen made plenty of appearances, too. And finally, there were hints of Jack other than him giving Ianto orders. His writing didn’t stir up any memories-the Retcon had done its job well-but for the first time, he almost wished he knew how to read between those lines.
~*~*~
Ianto took Tosh out to lunch a few days later and told her everything, except the bit about him and Jack apparently fucking like bunnies in his office. He wasn’t brave enough to watch the surveillance videos of the last few months, but he did have the courage to ask Tosh to tell him what had really happened with Lisa. He knew she’d be the kindest. It was still awful.
He thought about it the rest of the day, whether even secondhand that was a memory he could stand keeping.
~*~*~
Jack hadn’t made any advances since the night he discovered the Retcon. Ianto wasn’t sure if it was due to chivalry or to Jack simply being too busy dealing with all the madness around Suzie’s return to go to the effort.
Ianto knew his pick-up line was beyond cheesy-really, there weren’t that many sexy things one can do with a stopwatch, though he had no doubt Jack knew all of them.
“You seemed surprised when I propositioned you,” Ianto said when Jack shut the door to his office behind them.
Jack was already stripping. “After the way things started between us, I didn’t figure I’d be seeing you this way again.”
“Apparently, I’m so attracted to you that I have fallen into bed with you for the first time-how many times?”
“Six,” Jack said. “Though we only managed to make it to a bed twice.”
“Six. What’s one more, then?” Ianto snorted and dropped his pants. “This is so strange, I don’t even have time to think about how I always assumed I was straight.”
Ianto was a little surprised that Jack wasn’t all over him, tearing his clothes off. He only remembered one of the six times before this, but Jack had been quite…demonstrative and eager then.
“I’m not trying to rush your decision,” Jack said slowly, “but I’d like to know if this is a last fling before you…go, or if this is the start of…something.”
Ianto sighed. “Besides my sister, the people here are all that I have left. As much as I’d like to forget some of the things I’ve seen, I don’t think I want to lose everything I have left.”
“You could start over with a clean slate,” Jack said, though Ianto could tell he was hoping he wouldn’t take the offer.
He kissed Jack. “Clean slates are overrated.”