Catching Up With The Sun Chapter 4
Word count: 1,900-ish in this chapter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Jack woke up slowly from sleeping for the first time in… he didn’t know exactly how long. And wasn’t it just wonderful to not know the time down to the second?
The surface beneath him was soft and comfortable, the blankets above him thick and warm. Jack didn’t know why he wasn’t waking up in a Torchwood cell, but he was grateful. Too exhausted to open his eyes, he slipped back into a dreamless sleep.
Some time later, he was woken again by a murmured conversation that was taking place not too far away.
“He should have woken up by now. I’m afraid it really hurt him.” Jack recognized Gwen’s voice, but not the deep, melodic tones that answered her.
“I read his file on the computers. It said he’s immortal.”
“But how did he even get inside? You didn’t let him in as well, did you? Ianto?”
Ianto didn’t answer, but now that Jack knew who he was he needed to wake up. He fought against the clutching dregs of sleep to open his eyes.
“Jack?” A warm hand slipped into his and he nearly gasped. It was the first time someone had touched his body in three decades, and the sensation was so much stronger than his faded memories.
“Ianto?” he whispered. His eyelids gave way at last and the first thing he saw was a pair of blue-gray eyes inspecting his face with concern. He tightened his fingers against the other man’s hand.
“Do I know you?” Ianto asked. His eyes locked onto Jack’s and his voice was hushed with some sort of reverence. His thumb stoked over the back of Jack’s hand in exactly the same way as it had always stroked over his metal casing.
“We’ve never met,” Jack answered. “But I’ve known you almost your entire life.”
Ianto stared at Jack in silence. “Gwen, could you pour Jack some of the soup from the pot on the stove? He must be hungry.”
Jack didn’t hear the woman’s departure, completely overcome by the hollow feeling in the middle of his body.
“Hungry,” he said wondrously. “I’m hungry. I’d forgotten what that felt like.”
“Jack, who are you?” Ianto insisted quietly. “I feel like I’ve known you forever, but…”
Jack had been thinking for years about what he’d say to Ianto if he was ever turned back into a human. “I want you to keep an open mind, all right?” he pleaded. “Remember, this is Torchwood.”
Ianto nodded.
“It was 1974. We were investigating a pattern of disappearances that went back to the early 40’s. We found the guy, he owned an antique shop in the city center called Lively Antiques. But instead of taking him in, he caught us. The team medic, the technician and I. Owen was turned into a teacup. Tosh was turned into a hat.”
Ianto looked horrified. “And what about-”
“Did you say a teacup?” Gwen interrupted from the doorway. Steam was rising from the large bowl she cradled in her hands, but her attention was locked on Jack. “And Lively Antiques? I bought a teacup from that shop. Rhys wanted his mother to think-”
“Porcelain, with black designs?” Jack struggled to sit up, but his muscles cramped. Instantly, Ianto was there to support him and help him settle against a few pillows.
“I thought it looked quaint,” Gwen answered, looking rather pale. “Are you telling me I’ve been drinking out of a person for two years?”
Jack couldn’t answer. Ianto said gently, “Gwen, do you think you could go home and fetch that teacup? And anything else you may have bought from that shop?”
The Welsh woman nodded, looking disoriented and disgusted, and set the soup on the bedside table before leaving.
Ianto turned back to Jack. “You said you and your friends were… turned into things. How did that happen?”
“I don’t know how he did it,” Jack admitted. “All I know is that we weren’t the first. None of us could speak, but we, all the supposed ‘antiques’ he was selling, we could sense each other. There must have been dozens of people in that shop, all being sold to the unsuspecting public as hats, rings, cutlery. One poor man was a welcome mat.” Jack shivered. “I can only imagine how horrible that must have been.”
“You mean, you could feel it?” Ianto said in a hushed voice. “Everything that happened to you as an object, you knew?”
“Yeah,” Jack whispered. “You could say I was one of the lucky ones. I never got hurt, like the pokers or the kitchen pans. But I…”
“What happened to you, Jack?” Ianto squeezed his hand. “What were you?”
Jack looked into Ianto’s blue-gray eyes, praying that the young man would believe him. “I was a pocket watch.”
The look of understanding that came over Ianto’s face was like a balm to Jack’s soul. “My pocket watch…” he murmured. “I think… I think, somehow, I knew,” he said slowly. “I took you with me everywhere… I think, I must have known you were in there.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve felt a connection to you since your third birthday party.”
“I remember that!” Ianto looked at him with surprise. “I remember- oh my God, Jack, I bit you!”
Jack laughed. He quickly started coughing, throat tired from his first conversation in thirty years, but he felt so light and free that it didn’t matter. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He coughed again, and by the end of the fit he could feel his eyes drooping again.
“You need to rest,” Ianto said, brushing the blankets smooth over Jack’s body. “You’ve been through a lot in the past few days!”
“I’m hungry,” Jack rasped.
“Of course,” Ianto nodded, frowning. He helped Jack hold the soup bowl and took it away when Jack drifted off to sleep.
When Jack woke again, the light from the window was gone. He figured he’d slept through the rest of the day. Measuring his weakness, Jack decided to try and walk. He made it almost to the living room before he slumped against a wall.
Ianto heard him falling and helped support him into the living room. Breathing hard with the exertion, Jack laid against the back of the couch while Ianto fussed over him with a blanket.
Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the young man. When Ianto finally sat beside him he noticed Jack’s wide-eyed stare. “What is it?”
“It wasn’t a dream?” Jack begged. “You’re alive?”
Ianto nodded immediately. “I’m fine,” he assured.
“But the Cyberman, it killed you.”
“I was just stunned,” Ianto swallowed. “We- Gwen and I- we don’t know why… we think it might have been Lisa.”
“She was dead, Ianto,” Jack said, apologetically but firmly. “I know you love her, but she was dead long before this happened.”
Ianto’s expression was strained. “I know,” he said finally. “Gwen told me what happened while I was unconscious. I know my Lisa wouldn’t have killed-” he paused for a calming breath. “I know she wouldn’t have done that. But there must have been some small part of her left, that could still see me, or else I wouldn’t be here.”
Jack thought it more likely that the Cyberman had been saving Ianto for conversion, but the pain and longing clearly shown on Ianto’s face told him that the young man was not ready to hear that.
They were silent for a moment, both pondering could-have-beens. Then Ianto spoke mutedly. “I suppose we should be grateful, though. I guess the electricity was enough to break whatever happened to you, small as you were.”
Jack shrugged, avoiding the subject. “Where’s Gwen?”
Ianto cleared his throat. “She’s at the Hub, taking care of the- the bodies. Plus, it’s not like the Rift stops just because Torchwood is dead.”
“Torchwood’s not dead,” Jack corrected with an ironic smile. “Torchwood never dies.”
“But it’s just me and Gwen now,” Ianto protested. “We can’t possibly do it by ourselves!”
“We’ll get Toshiko and Owen back,” Jack said forcefully. Then his voice softened. “And you have me now.” He felt Ianto still, and they stared at each other for a long moment.
“Jack, why are you so calm about all of this?” Ianto’s low voice rumbled. “What’s happened to you… how are you still even sane?”
“I had you,” Jack said softly. “From the moment you bit me, I could feel you. Even while I was trapped inside that box, I could sense you. Thirteen years, I was stuck in there, but you kept me sane, Ianto.”
“So…” Ianto shook his head as he considered it. “You know… everything about me?”
“I just know you.”
“What does that mean?” Ianto said sharply. “You could read my mind?”
“No!” said Jack quickly. “Not… really. I only heard your thoughts a few times. Mostly I just got emotions,” he finished weakly.
“Since I was three, that’s nearly twenty years,” Ianto muttered, eyes wide. He looked at Jack, aghast. “You’ve been in my head that whole time?”
Jack nodded, jaw clenched tight.
“The Battle of Canary Wharf? Whenever I slept with Lisa? When my father died?”
Jack could only keep nodding and watch Ianto grow paler and more appalled.
“I- I can’t believe this,” the Welshman rasped. “Is there nothing you don’t know?”
“I don’t know if you’ll forgive me,” Jack said honestly. “I’m so sorry, Ianto. I never wanted to do that to you, but it wasn’t something I could control.”
The silence stretched out as Ianto thought and Jack felt the seams of his world straining. Even though he’d never felt more anxious, his body was exhausted, and before too long he was drifting off to sleep again. Ianto noticed.
“We should get you back to bed.”
Jack tried to stand, but gasped and had to sit again. “My muscles are cramped,” he explained.
“I’ll help you.” Ianto supported him back to the bedroom, where he arranged the blankets around him again.
For the first time, Jack thought to look around the rooms. “We’re in your flat?”
“I… I wanted you close,” Ianto said softly. Jack was so tuned in to Ianto’s mind that he didn’t even need their connection to know how the younger man was feeling. As Ianto turned to leave, Jack caught his arm.
“Please, Ianto. I know you’re probably not comfortable with this- I mean, I‘ve been invading your privacy for your entire life-”
“No,” Ianto interrupted. “I… know you didn’t have a choice. I don’t blame you for that,” he said, meeting Jack’s eyes. A tense knot of fear relaxed in the captain’s mind.
“And… I think I could feel you, too,” continued Ianto. “When I was sad, it felt like someone was trying to cheer me up. When I was hurt, someone was angry on my behalf. It helped with the loneliness.”
“Can you stay here for a while?” Jack asked. “Just until I fall asleep. You always…”
“Sleep with you over my heart,” Ianto finished. “I never knew why I did that.”
Jack held his breath and tried not to look too pleading. He knew he shouldn’t ask this of Ianto, but he just needed to be close to the other man.
After a long minute of staring at Jack and thinking deeply, Ianto nodded. He drew up the blankets and slid into the bed. Jack shifted up so that his head was on Ianto’s chest, his ear directly above the calm pulsing of Ianto’s heart. He sighed in satisfaction, and felt Ianto’s hand tentatively stroking along his as he fell asleep.
Chapter 5
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Jack woke up slowly from sleeping for the first time in… he didn’t know exactly how long. And wasn’t it just wonderful to not know the time down to the second?
The surface beneath him was soft and comfortable, the blankets above him thick and warm. Jack didn’t know why he wasn’t waking up in a Torchwood cell, but he was grateful. Too exhausted to open his eyes, he slipped back into a dreamless sleep.
Some time later, he was woken again by a murmured conversation that was taking place not too far away.
“He should have woken up by now. I’m afraid it really hurt him.” Jack recognized Gwen’s voice, but not the deep, melodic tones that answered her.
“I read his file on the computers. It said he’s immortal.”
“But how did he even get inside? You didn’t let him in as well, did you? Ianto?”
Ianto didn’t answer, but now that Jack knew who he was he needed to wake up. He fought against the clutching dregs of sleep to open his eyes.
“Jack?” A warm hand slipped into his and he nearly gasped. It was the first time someone had touched his body in three decades, and the sensation was so much stronger than his faded memories.
“Ianto?” he whispered. His eyelids gave way at last and the first thing he saw was a pair of blue-gray eyes inspecting his face with concern. He tightened his fingers against the other man’s hand.
“Do I know you?” Ianto asked. His eyes locked onto Jack’s and his voice was hushed with some sort of reverence. His thumb stoked over the back of Jack’s hand in exactly the same way as it had always stroked over his metal casing.
“We’ve never met,” Jack answered. “But I’ve known you almost your entire life.”
Ianto stared at Jack in silence. “Gwen, could you pour Jack some of the soup from the pot on the stove? He must be hungry.”
Jack didn’t hear the woman’s departure, completely overcome by the hollow feeling in the middle of his body.
“Hungry,” he said wondrously. “I’m hungry. I’d forgotten what that felt like.”
“Jack, who are you?” Ianto insisted quietly. “I feel like I’ve known you forever, but…”
Jack had been thinking for years about what he’d say to Ianto if he was ever turned back into a human. “I want you to keep an open mind, all right?” he pleaded. “Remember, this is Torchwood.”
Ianto nodded.
“It was 1974. We were investigating a pattern of disappearances that went back to the early 40’s. We found the guy, he owned an antique shop in the city center called Lively Antiques. But instead of taking him in, he caught us. The team medic, the technician and I. Owen was turned into a teacup. Tosh was turned into a hat.”
Ianto looked horrified. “And what about-”
“Did you say a teacup?” Gwen interrupted from the doorway. Steam was rising from the large bowl she cradled in her hands, but her attention was locked on Jack. “And Lively Antiques? I bought a teacup from that shop. Rhys wanted his mother to think-”
“Porcelain, with black designs?” Jack struggled to sit up, but his muscles cramped. Instantly, Ianto was there to support him and help him settle against a few pillows.
“I thought it looked quaint,” Gwen answered, looking rather pale. “Are you telling me I’ve been drinking out of a person for two years?”
Jack couldn’t answer. Ianto said gently, “Gwen, do you think you could go home and fetch that teacup? And anything else you may have bought from that shop?”
The Welsh woman nodded, looking disoriented and disgusted, and set the soup on the bedside table before leaving.
Ianto turned back to Jack. “You said you and your friends were… turned into things. How did that happen?”
“I don’t know how he did it,” Jack admitted. “All I know is that we weren’t the first. None of us could speak, but we, all the supposed ‘antiques’ he was selling, we could sense each other. There must have been dozens of people in that shop, all being sold to the unsuspecting public as hats, rings, cutlery. One poor man was a welcome mat.” Jack shivered. “I can only imagine how horrible that must have been.”
“You mean, you could feel it?” Ianto said in a hushed voice. “Everything that happened to you as an object, you knew?”
“Yeah,” Jack whispered. “You could say I was one of the lucky ones. I never got hurt, like the pokers or the kitchen pans. But I…”
“What happened to you, Jack?” Ianto squeezed his hand. “What were you?”
Jack looked into Ianto’s blue-gray eyes, praying that the young man would believe him. “I was a pocket watch.”
The look of understanding that came over Ianto’s face was like a balm to Jack’s soul. “My pocket watch…” he murmured. “I think… I think, somehow, I knew,” he said slowly. “I took you with me everywhere… I think, I must have known you were in there.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve felt a connection to you since your third birthday party.”
“I remember that!” Ianto looked at him with surprise. “I remember- oh my God, Jack, I bit you!”
Jack laughed. He quickly started coughing, throat tired from his first conversation in thirty years, but he felt so light and free that it didn’t matter. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He coughed again, and by the end of the fit he could feel his eyes drooping again.
“You need to rest,” Ianto said, brushing the blankets smooth over Jack’s body. “You’ve been through a lot in the past few days!”
“I’m hungry,” Jack rasped.
“Of course,” Ianto nodded, frowning. He helped Jack hold the soup bowl and took it away when Jack drifted off to sleep.
When Jack woke again, the light from the window was gone. He figured he’d slept through the rest of the day. Measuring his weakness, Jack decided to try and walk. He made it almost to the living room before he slumped against a wall.
Ianto heard him falling and helped support him into the living room. Breathing hard with the exertion, Jack laid against the back of the couch while Ianto fussed over him with a blanket.
Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the young man. When Ianto finally sat beside him he noticed Jack’s wide-eyed stare. “What is it?”
“It wasn’t a dream?” Jack begged. “You’re alive?”
Ianto nodded immediately. “I’m fine,” he assured.
“But the Cyberman, it killed you.”
“I was just stunned,” Ianto swallowed. “We- Gwen and I- we don’t know why… we think it might have been Lisa.”
“She was dead, Ianto,” Jack said, apologetically but firmly. “I know you love her, but she was dead long before this happened.”
Ianto’s expression was strained. “I know,” he said finally. “Gwen told me what happened while I was unconscious. I know my Lisa wouldn’t have killed-” he paused for a calming breath. “I know she wouldn’t have done that. But there must have been some small part of her left, that could still see me, or else I wouldn’t be here.”
Jack thought it more likely that the Cyberman had been saving Ianto for conversion, but the pain and longing clearly shown on Ianto’s face told him that the young man was not ready to hear that.
They were silent for a moment, both pondering could-have-beens. Then Ianto spoke mutedly. “I suppose we should be grateful, though. I guess the electricity was enough to break whatever happened to you, small as you were.”
Jack shrugged, avoiding the subject. “Where’s Gwen?”
Ianto cleared his throat. “She’s at the Hub, taking care of the- the bodies. Plus, it’s not like the Rift stops just because Torchwood is dead.”
“Torchwood’s not dead,” Jack corrected with an ironic smile. “Torchwood never dies.”
“But it’s just me and Gwen now,” Ianto protested. “We can’t possibly do it by ourselves!”
“We’ll get Toshiko and Owen back,” Jack said forcefully. Then his voice softened. “And you have me now.” He felt Ianto still, and they stared at each other for a long moment.
“Jack, why are you so calm about all of this?” Ianto’s low voice rumbled. “What’s happened to you… how are you still even sane?”
“I had you,” Jack said softly. “From the moment you bit me, I could feel you. Even while I was trapped inside that box, I could sense you. Thirteen years, I was stuck in there, but you kept me sane, Ianto.”
“So…” Ianto shook his head as he considered it. “You know… everything about me?”
“I just know you.”
“What does that mean?” Ianto said sharply. “You could read my mind?”
“No!” said Jack quickly. “Not… really. I only heard your thoughts a few times. Mostly I just got emotions,” he finished weakly.
“Since I was three, that’s nearly twenty years,” Ianto muttered, eyes wide. He looked at Jack, aghast. “You’ve been in my head that whole time?”
Jack nodded, jaw clenched tight.
“The Battle of Canary Wharf? Whenever I slept with Lisa? When my father died?”
Jack could only keep nodding and watch Ianto grow paler and more appalled.
“I- I can’t believe this,” the Welshman rasped. “Is there nothing you don’t know?”
“I don’t know if you’ll forgive me,” Jack said honestly. “I’m so sorry, Ianto. I never wanted to do that to you, but it wasn’t something I could control.”
The silence stretched out as Ianto thought and Jack felt the seams of his world straining. Even though he’d never felt more anxious, his body was exhausted, and before too long he was drifting off to sleep again. Ianto noticed.
“We should get you back to bed.”
Jack tried to stand, but gasped and had to sit again. “My muscles are cramped,” he explained.
“I’ll help you.” Ianto supported him back to the bedroom, where he arranged the blankets around him again.
For the first time, Jack thought to look around the rooms. “We’re in your flat?”
“I… I wanted you close,” Ianto said softly. Jack was so tuned in to Ianto’s mind that he didn’t even need their connection to know how the younger man was feeling. As Ianto turned to leave, Jack caught his arm.
“Please, Ianto. I know you’re probably not comfortable with this- I mean, I‘ve been invading your privacy for your entire life-”
“No,” Ianto interrupted. “I… know you didn’t have a choice. I don’t blame you for that,” he said, meeting Jack’s eyes. A tense knot of fear relaxed in the captain’s mind.
“And… I think I could feel you, too,” continued Ianto. “When I was sad, it felt like someone was trying to cheer me up. When I was hurt, someone was angry on my behalf. It helped with the loneliness.”
“Can you stay here for a while?” Jack asked. “Just until I fall asleep. You always…”
“Sleep with you over my heart,” Ianto finished. “I never knew why I did that.”
Jack held his breath and tried not to look too pleading. He knew he shouldn’t ask this of Ianto, but he just needed to be close to the other man.
After a long minute of staring at Jack and thinking deeply, Ianto nodded. He drew up the blankets and slid into the bed. Jack shifted up so that his head was on Ianto’s chest, his ear directly above the calm pulsing of Ianto’s heart. He sighed in satisfaction, and felt Ianto’s hand tentatively stroking along his as he fell asleep.
Chapter 5