One-shot: Easier
Title: Easier
Author: lookninjas
Characters: Ianto, Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers for: "Sleeper"
Summary: Sometimes you have to let them go.
Written for the Gwen/Ianto friendship challenge, because I love those crazy Welsh kids. seize approves this fic.
She'd no idea how long she'd been sat there, curled up next to Beth's sprawled body, watching blood pool on the metal grating, turning dark and sticky. She couldn't quite get used to that, how sticky blood was as it dried, the way it felt on her fingers. Maybe she'd never really get used to it. She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. She brushed her fingers over Beth's so-human hand, felt how cold the skin was. They always got cold so quickly.
"It would have worked," Gwen murmured, thinking of cold, of cryogenics. "We could have stopped it. Why wouldn't you let us try?"
Then Jack was there, his hand on her shoulder, and Ianto behind him, coming up to take her arm and bundle her away to the kitchenette. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea," he murmured in her ear as they left Jack behind with the body. The body, Gwen thought again, and shivered. She was cold, and Beth was cold, and Jack was like ice sometimes, but it was always warm in the kitchenette with Ianto.
He deposited her in one of the squeaky, vinyl-topped chairs, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment before he turned away to the stove, to set the kettle boiling. There was something comforting just in watching him move, his back to her as he measured leaves for the teapot, pulled down the blue mug with rainbows on, the one that was hers and hers alone, added milk and two lumps of sugar. He'd never asked how she took her tea, and she'd never told him; he just knew. It was just his way.
Neither of them said anything as he prepared the tea, put biscuits on a plate, poured himself a cup of strong black coffee. This, too, was part of the routine -- sometimes Gwen was desperate to talk, and every so often Ianto had a few words of his own to offer, but usually they just sat there, and it was enough. Anyway, Gwen was tired of talking, tired of begging and pleading when it all fell on deaf ears. All she wanted now was to just settle in and let herself be soothed by the steam rising from her mug and the warmth of Ianto's knee brushing hers under the table. All she wanted was silence.
Then he spoke.
"When Lisa..."
Gwen nearly dropped her mug in surprise, her eyes lifting to Ianto's face. It wasn't just that he was speaking; he was speaking about Lisa, and they'd never done that. In fact, she couldn't think of the last time he'd spoken of Lisa with anyone. But there he was, staring at the formica tabletop, his fingers tracing the faint gold patterns, his brow furrowed as he searched for words. "It was after Canary Wharf," he said, and his voice was so quiet that Gwen had to lean forward to hear. "I'd just managed to scavenge up some morphine for her -- she was in so much pain from the conversion, all the time, so I went back and... Anyway, I'd found some morphine, and I was giving her some, just enough to dull the pain. I had three little vials, you see, but I was trying to stretch them out, make them last. And she opened her eyes, and looked at me, and told me that I'd better just give her all the morphine at once, save us both a world of trouble."
He swallowed hard. Gwen couldn't move. She knew, somehow, that this was something Ianto had never told anyone, not even Jack. "I didn't, of course," Ianto continued. His eyes met hers; tears were threatening to spill, but his gaze never wavered. "I thought... all this alien tech, and we were constantly finding more. Maybe it would take a month or maybe even a year, but we'd find something, we'd fix it. I couldn't let her give up. I couldn't... I couldn't let her go."
Hearing Ianto echo her words to Beth, Gwen found herself shivering again. Her hands closed around her mug of tea, and she shut her eyes, willing the warmth into her bones. But Ianto's voice continued, inexorable. "Jack said, once, that Lisa died the moment she went into the conversion unit. It's not true. When she asked me to kill her, that was Lisa speaking. But I couldn't do it. And she couldn't... She couldn't force my hand, the way Beth did. She couldn't stand up; she couldn't even breathe without the machines, so how could she... And I kept her alive, and she lost herself, slowly, knowing that she was being turned into a weapon, a monster, with no way of stopping it." His voice cracked. "And I could have stopped it, but I didn't. I didn't. I..."
He fell silent.
Gwen looked up, finally, and saw him crying. She was crying too, although she wasn't really sure who she was crying for. Instinctively, she reached up, cupped his cheek in her hand. He leaned into her touch, let her brush a tear away with her thumb. Then he caught her hand in both his, squeezing gently. "Sometimes we have to let them go, Gwen. Not just for the sake of the world, but for them. To stop them suffering any more than they have to. Sometimes it's kindest that way."
Remember how guilty you felt, Beth had said. But the guilt Ianto felt now, had been feeling for God knows how long, was so much worse than anything Gwen could imagine. And there wasn't anything she could say that would comfort him. So she didn't even try; she just rested her free hand over his and let the warmth and silence take care of them both.
Author: lookninjas
Characters: Ianto, Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers for: "Sleeper"
Summary: Sometimes you have to let them go.
Written for the Gwen/Ianto friendship challenge, because I love those crazy Welsh kids. seize approves this fic.
She'd no idea how long she'd been sat there, curled up next to Beth's sprawled body, watching blood pool on the metal grating, turning dark and sticky. She couldn't quite get used to that, how sticky blood was as it dried, the way it felt on her fingers. Maybe she'd never really get used to it. She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. She brushed her fingers over Beth's so-human hand, felt how cold the skin was. They always got cold so quickly.
"It would have worked," Gwen murmured, thinking of cold, of cryogenics. "We could have stopped it. Why wouldn't you let us try?"
Then Jack was there, his hand on her shoulder, and Ianto behind him, coming up to take her arm and bundle her away to the kitchenette. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea," he murmured in her ear as they left Jack behind with the body. The body, Gwen thought again, and shivered. She was cold, and Beth was cold, and Jack was like ice sometimes, but it was always warm in the kitchenette with Ianto.
He deposited her in one of the squeaky, vinyl-topped chairs, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment before he turned away to the stove, to set the kettle boiling. There was something comforting just in watching him move, his back to her as he measured leaves for the teapot, pulled down the blue mug with rainbows on, the one that was hers and hers alone, added milk and two lumps of sugar. He'd never asked how she took her tea, and she'd never told him; he just knew. It was just his way.
Neither of them said anything as he prepared the tea, put biscuits on a plate, poured himself a cup of strong black coffee. This, too, was part of the routine -- sometimes Gwen was desperate to talk, and every so often Ianto had a few words of his own to offer, but usually they just sat there, and it was enough. Anyway, Gwen was tired of talking, tired of begging and pleading when it all fell on deaf ears. All she wanted now was to just settle in and let herself be soothed by the steam rising from her mug and the warmth of Ianto's knee brushing hers under the table. All she wanted was silence.
Then he spoke.
"When Lisa..."
Gwen nearly dropped her mug in surprise, her eyes lifting to Ianto's face. It wasn't just that he was speaking; he was speaking about Lisa, and they'd never done that. In fact, she couldn't think of the last time he'd spoken of Lisa with anyone. But there he was, staring at the formica tabletop, his fingers tracing the faint gold patterns, his brow furrowed as he searched for words. "It was after Canary Wharf," he said, and his voice was so quiet that Gwen had to lean forward to hear. "I'd just managed to scavenge up some morphine for her -- she was in so much pain from the conversion, all the time, so I went back and... Anyway, I'd found some morphine, and I was giving her some, just enough to dull the pain. I had three little vials, you see, but I was trying to stretch them out, make them last. And she opened her eyes, and looked at me, and told me that I'd better just give her all the morphine at once, save us both a world of trouble."
He swallowed hard. Gwen couldn't move. She knew, somehow, that this was something Ianto had never told anyone, not even Jack. "I didn't, of course," Ianto continued. His eyes met hers; tears were threatening to spill, but his gaze never wavered. "I thought... all this alien tech, and we were constantly finding more. Maybe it would take a month or maybe even a year, but we'd find something, we'd fix it. I couldn't let her give up. I couldn't... I couldn't let her go."
Hearing Ianto echo her words to Beth, Gwen found herself shivering again. Her hands closed around her mug of tea, and she shut her eyes, willing the warmth into her bones. But Ianto's voice continued, inexorable. "Jack said, once, that Lisa died the moment she went into the conversion unit. It's not true. When she asked me to kill her, that was Lisa speaking. But I couldn't do it. And she couldn't... She couldn't force my hand, the way Beth did. She couldn't stand up; she couldn't even breathe without the machines, so how could she... And I kept her alive, and she lost herself, slowly, knowing that she was being turned into a weapon, a monster, with no way of stopping it." His voice cracked. "And I could have stopped it, but I didn't. I didn't. I..."
He fell silent.
Gwen looked up, finally, and saw him crying. She was crying too, although she wasn't really sure who she was crying for. Instinctively, she reached up, cupped his cheek in her hand. He leaned into her touch, let her brush a tear away with her thumb. Then he caught her hand in both his, squeezing gently. "Sometimes we have to let them go, Gwen. Not just for the sake of the world, but for them. To stop them suffering any more than they have to. Sometimes it's kindest that way."
Remember how guilty you felt, Beth had said. But the guilt Ianto felt now, had been feeling for God knows how long, was so much worse than anything Gwen could imagine. And there wasn't anything she could say that would comfort him. So she didn't even try; she just rested her free hand over his and let the warmth and silence take care of them both.