Fic: Navy Blue with Cobalt Pinstripes (S2: Chap 3, SoI 18), Jack/Ianto
Chapter Title: Navy Blue with Cobalt Pinstripes (S2: Chap 3, SoI 18)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Once Jack, always Jack...
A/N: Happy holidays everyone celebrating Labo(u)r Day! Completely forgot about the holiday weekend! Ah, but isn't a time to celebrate working by not working delightful? Hopefully everyone spent it with a few adult beverages and good company ;) Coming next week: another doozy. *smirks and giggles*
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
Ianto had tried to stay awake on the way back to Avalon, he really had. He had things to organize, details to fine tune, and stories to maintain depending on who he was speaking to. Stephen was driving the SUV back -- Jean-Luc was asleep in the passenger seat, Rani, Tosh, and Akira were in the next row, and Ianto found himself with a bemused, half-naked, and injured Jack who acted as though he was merely tolerating the experience. Ianto didn't care, just sat next to him and tried not to touch. It wasn't his Jack in the rear seat with him, and until he had time to talk one-on-one with Jack, he knew better.
Didn't work, though, despite the speed with which his thoughts were spinning and the smell of Jack (not pleasant) increasing within the confines of the vehicle. He woke up when the SUV stopped and doors opened and shut, his head resting on Jack's shoulder. Everyone was out of the vehicle, Ianto noted while he straightened and rubbed sleep from his eyes, pretending not to see Jack's amused smirk. The smirk, while it came naturally, appeared so off on Jack's face, knowing as Ianto did that the same motivations behind it did not exist with this Jack. Or perhaps they did, but Ianto didn't hold for a second that it meant anything. Jack was attracted to everyone. In Jack's smirk, however, Ianto didn't miss the lines of fatigue and pain edging the swollen lips, or the bruise shadowing his jawline where shadows shouldn't live. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting; he'd been too busy thinking about destroying Torchwood Four and, his Jack or not, the man had still been chained to their walls for god knew how long.
Ianto got out of the vehicle first, waiting for Jack as he slid out on Ianto's side, despite an available door on Jack's. That was filed away as well, along with the scars, the cuts, the bruises. And as much as he knew it was inappropriate, Ianto noted the trim waist, the way the muscles in his shoulders twinged when he stepped out of the vehicle. The product of days with his arms stretched out and up, Ianto assumed, not missing the tremor in Jack's hand which he tried to mask with a careful stretch.
"Would you ..." Ianto beckoned Jack over as he spoke, making a show of leaning against the SUV despite feeling much stronger following his rest, "would you lend your assistance again? My legs are still shaky and that's a long walk," Ianto lied smoothly, leaning against Jack as much as Jack was leaning against him.
Ianto could distinctly remember the last time Jack had leaned on him. Strangely (or not so strangely), Jack felt the same.
Stephen caught up with them just inside Avalon's doors. He handed Ianto a rather large bottle of water; only then did Ianto realize just how thirsty he was. He drank while Stephen updated him. "Everyone's been assigned a room and bedded down for the night." Ianto didn't miss the glance at Jack; Stephen wanted to talk. Which was good, Ianto needed to speak with him as well.
Passing the bottle on to Jack, Ianto caught sight of Tosh and Akira standing in the hallway. He really needed Stephen to actually act as Mr. Black in front of them. "We need a cover story for tonight. Can you ask Tosh to work on that? I need a shower, as does Captain Stinky here." Stephen caught Ianto's eyes as they darted a look at Jack's torso, then up. Ianto's quarters, as they were, were located on the second floor. He had a private bathroom, as would the staff, and Jack did need medical attention.
Stephen nodded what Ianto hoped was his understanding with his answer and blithely ignored Jack's protests against Ianto's childish "stinky" comments. "I'll speak with her. You owe me a t-shirt, by the way." Stephen gestured at what Ianto knew, but refused to actually look at, was a rather large hole in the black cloth.
"Dock it from my check, Mr. Black," Ianto deadpanned and Stephen laughed while turning away to visit with Tosh and Akira.
Jack watched the exchange with narrowed eyes; what he was thinking Ianto hadn't the slightest, but he gestured up the stairs. "My room's up there. We can get cleaned up in there."
"Thought you weren't one of them?" Jack asked as together they managed to climb the stairs. Though, at this point, it was far more Ianto leading than Jack. Ianto didn't comment, and neither did Jack.
"I'm not." Ianto led the way to his modest quarters, nothing more than bare essentials and a bathroom, unlike Jean-Luc's room (second largest to the first master bedroom which had been converted to classrooms) which he had insisted be spacious with all the necessities. ("I need a room to relax in after a strenuous day. Besides, if you're not going to take the room, I want it. I'd hate for it to go to waste.")
Ianto hadn't argued.
He drew the bath, making the water hot but tolerable, and let the tub fill while he went back to the main bedroom. He must have surprised Jack, because just for a moment, Ianto saw a very lost Jack. The look vanished as soon as Jack noticed Ianto, though, the familiar smirk curving his lips as his hands settled on his hips. "So, Ianto. Or should I refer to you as Mr. Black? Because that man Stephen downstairs was definitely not Mr. Black."
Of course Jack wasn't stupid, even if he was different, Ianto reminded himself. He must have heard about Ms. White from the Avalon kids -- or the people from Torchwood Four -- and made the connection. "And what should I call you? Because your name is not Jack Harkness."
"Jack suits me, think I'll keep it. Captain Jack Harkness ... captain of what?"
Ianto refrained from commenting that he was captain of nothing as he'd chosen to leave, and was conscious of the glint in Jack's eye -- he had to remind himself -- this man was not Jack. For all Ianto knew, he was a dangerous man. Destroyed a kingdom. Not a good man. Instead, he pointed to the bathroom. "Go, get clean. We'll discuss names when you no longer smell of mildew." It was more than just mildew, but as much as Ianto wanted to dislike the man for being both everything and nothing that he wanted, he couldn't bring himself to kick Jack's pride. He reeked of urine and vomit, sweat and blood. No need to shame the man for the past.
Thankfully, Jack didn't argue, just shrugged and stripped as he walked, gracing Ianto with a full view of his arse as he strutted confidently into the bathroom. Once Jack, always Jack, it appeared, even injured.
With a slight smile that Ianto couldn't help, he walked to the window, staring outside while Jack bathed. He heard the tub drain twice and refill, but he didn't move until he heard a knock at the door. Stephen, with a med kit and a change of clothes that Ianto assumed was for Jack; despite the thinner look, none of Ianto's trousers would fit Jack. They didn't speak, but Ianto understood Stephen's poignant look at the energy drinks and water he brought as well. Raising one in toast before Stephen left, Ianto drank one of the energy drinks (nasty, sickeningly sweet) before he deposited the clothing on the bed and ventured into the loo.
Jack's eyes were closed, his skin rosy where there were no cuts or damaged skin, the flannel thrown on the tub's edge. Ianto discarded Jack's trousers in the rubbish bin and carried it outside his bedroom to be thrown out later; no sense in keeping the smell in his room. Jack still appeared to be asleep when Ianto returned, and he sat on the toilet's lid, flipping through the kit to see what could be used on Jack's injuries before Rani had a chance to work her magic on him.
"Try anything, and I'll kill you before you can blink" came a sleepy voice from the bathtub.
Ianto bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, maintaining a polite, blank look he'd mastered while working in the Information Center. He slid his coat off, hanging it on a door hook before he walked round to the bathtub and grabbed the shower head from the wall. He'd seen Jack's shoulders spasm; they had to be hurting, making raising his arms next to impossible. "Of course you could," Ianto placated, turning on the water again, warming it before he directed it on Jack's scalp. "But then you'd have to deal with Jean-Luc and Stephen, and I doubt they'd be as willing to wash your hair."
"They'd take one look at me..." Jack's response trailed off into an appreciative moan which on any other occasion would have had Ianto hard and panting in seconds, and he had to note that if he ever saw his Jack again, to add "shampooing hair" to the list of things that make Jack moan. Ianto wondered if it was the hair; the mass was such an indicator of his mood that maybe it actually was sentient.
He spent far too much time working the soap down into the hair, massaging away the regret and confusion Ianto felt through some cathartic therapeutic offering. But Jack's sigh of contentment made him linger, touching longer than he ought. "Back," Ianto instructed softly, unwilling to shatter the blissful, relaxed look on Jack's face. Not Jack. Not his Jack, at any rate. It was like an echo, still similar from the initial shout, but softer, still reminiscent of the original but lacking the same qualities which made the original the force it had been. He touched Jack's chin lightly to get him to tilt his head and Jack complied, permitting Ianto to rinse away the suds and to comb through the snarls and tangles. His hair was longer, long enough that time and violence had locked the strands tighter than the buckles that had restrained him to the walls. But they unknotted under Ianto's care, fingers running smoothly through clean strands.
"Joining me?" Ianto had seen that look in the Captain's eye before (pupils blown, eyes almost black), heard that tone in his voice, and sure enough (though how was one of those Jack-mysteries Ianto would never understand), Jack's cock rested against his stomach, hard and looking every much the same as Ianto remembered.
"Don't flatter yourself." The moment broken, Ianto stepped away from the tub, shaking the water from his arms and pulling the t-shirt (hole, the size of three fingers, he noted before he could stop himself). He gestured for Jack to step out of the tub, waiting impatiently with a towel. He almost offered a helping hand to Jack as the other man struggled to stand after he'd pulled the drain, but refrained.
Fuck, Jack was a handsome man. Even bruised he exuded an appeal Ianto found hard to resist.
"Come on, we were lovers." Jack sidled up to Ianto, but his words left Ianto cold, any desire he may have felt evaporating quickly to mingle with the steam, strangling within the humid air.
"No, we never were." Ianto ignored Jack and stripped out of his leather trousers and briefs, eager to wash away the night and start fresh with a significant lack of blood-crusted skin. He threw shut the curtain and turned on the water, sending it shooting through the shower head with more force than he had with Jack's shampooing.
"You fucked, then. But you never got what you really wanted."
Ianto could hear Jack clearly, could even hear him wanking, though his movements through clear plastic curtain confirmed what Ianto thought he'd heard. Once Jack, always Jack. No qualms, and definitely less reserved than his counterpart. Ianto stepped out from under the water, soap in his hair, and peeked around the curtain. Sure enough, Jack leaned against the counter, erection in hand, lazily wanking but steadily increasing the pace. Ianto watched for a moment with deliberate casual disinterest, then shrugged. "You're going to hurt yourself doing that."
Jack ignored him, putting on a show worthy of any porn Ianto had seen before Ianto turned away and stepped back under the spray, smirking when he heard Jack's yelp when he came.
Those shoulder muscles were a bitch, especially when one forgot they had been recently abused.
Ianto finished his shower and stepped out to an empty loo. He buffed dry his hair, then knotted the towel around his waist before grabbing the kit, grimacing when he found a single red rose petal resting on top. He found Jack in the main bedroom, clothed in the jeans Stephen had brought. He'd yet to put on a shirt; Ianto didn't figure he wanted to test those back muscles again so quickly.
"What happened?"
Jack's question at first confused Ianto and made him seriously concerned for the state of Jack's mental health, but he realized Jack was asking not about what happened at Torchwood Four, but rather what happened between he and Jack. The other Jack. Ianto's Jack. "You left." Ianto began applying an antibiotic cream to the shallow cuts, most of the injuries appearing superficial (yet painful, Ianto imagined) and nothing required stitches. The bruising would fade, but either Rani had just healed him or Geoffrey had been taking his time.
That thought left Ianto with a rather unpleasant taste, considering that Rani had healed him before.
How long had Jack been with them?
"I must have made a good impression. The one, Tosh, looked ready to pounce on me. Cute girl, bet she's feisty."
Ianto tuned out the tale of Jack and his encounter with the feisty twins from the planet Qzectyl, not particularly caring about Jack's escapades but at the same time relieved for the shield it put between them. He dabbed the last of the cuts with the antibiotic and stepped away, having touched Jack more than he wished. "Her name is Toshiko Sato, technology expert. The medic is Owen Harper and Gwen Cooper is a former constable and our link between the police and Torchwood. They are all part of your team at Torchwood Three in Cardiff."
"And what does that make you, Mr. Black?"
With a barely suppressed scowl, Ianto tossed a bottle of water at Jack who barely brought his hands up in time to catch it. "Only the Queen, Stephen, and Jean-Luc know that information. Otherwise, I'm simply Ianto Jones, tea boy for Torchwood Three."
Jack apparently swallowed a gulp of water wrong, coughing and sputtering while Ianto watched, arms crossed, until he could again speak. "You're the tea boy?"
"So I've been called." Not that Ianto had been operating under that title for some time, nor that he really cared about the name. Oddly it had turned more into a joke between he and Owen than an insult. They had such an odd relationship, he and Owen. Reminded him of the dynamics between he and Elaine growing up.
"Why are you telling me this? I apparently left and if I left, it was for good reason."
Ianto wondered if this Jack had ever met the Doctor. He had to be younger, or Ianto supposed he could be from an alternate world. He'd read the theory, time diverting from each choice, innumerable paths and possibilities existing in simultaneous realities. Would explain why Ianto's Jack hadn't appeared to know details about Ianto - different realities, different times. Somewhere, his Jack and this one's paths diverged.
Possibly.
He wondered what the worlds looked like when he hadn't made the choice to become Mr. Black. Would Stephen had filled in? Would Torchwood Four have been found?
Would those eggs have hatched, down in the darkened pits of Torchwood Four?
"They need you back. And Kramer warned that something is coming. They can't have their attention focused on you when they need to be protecting Britain from whatever is coming."
"And what about you? You don't need me back?" Jack stalked towards him, obviously keying in to the fact that Ianto had failed to include himself with the team. He smelled faintly of medicine, but in general, Jack still smelled the way Ianto remembered him.
God, if he survived whatever was coming, Jack was going to be the death of him.
"I need the team to function as they had, not what they've become. They need Jack back." Ianto stepped away from Jack, digging through the kit and finding a packet of pain relievers. He threw them at Jack and headed to his wardrobe, finding the spare suit he kept at Avalon. Navy blue with a cobalt pinstripe, cobalt shirt and a silk tie to match. He had worn this suit when Jack had kissed him in front of the team -- one reason why it had been banished to Avalon. He dressed while he spoke, "and not just any Jack. They need Jack their leader."
"You want me to keep pretending." Ianto's hands stilled on the buttons of his shirt, remembering what it had felt like to hear Jack speak those words. Ridiculous, unimportant. It was nothing they had ever had and he hadn't wanted it until this Jack had pretended.
Tiny lie, but Ianto was good at those when it came to himself.
"Funny as it might sound, but I see no point in sticking around to find out whatever crackpot-Kramer was talking about."
"No?" He'd quickly buttoned the remaining few buttons and began tucking his shirt into his trousers. Ianto needed the suit, as much as he hated being in this particular one. His suits were as much comforting as they were a professional reminder; in them, he could remember that this Jack wasn't his. If any Jack ever was. "You sacrificed yourself to protect the children of Avalon. You'd leave them to whatever terror loomed? Then what was the point, I ask, in allowing yourself to be chained and beaten for them? Unless you enjoyed the abuse. Was that it, Jack? Did you do it for enjoyment?"
Ianto looked up from buckling his belt in time to catch Jack's face pale and harden, the casual ease (and attempted seduction) he'd been treating Ianto with gone. This was the man Ianto's Jack had spoken about, the one who'd destroyed a kingdom.
He could believe it.
A caged animal, backed into a corner, Jack reacted as Ianto assumed he would (but perhaps not to the severity) by racing across the room, hand on Ianto's throat as he was slammed against the wall behind him. Weak as Jack was, Ianto could nearly see the adrenaline racing down his arms, fueling the fingertips that dug into the sides of his neck, pinching the carotid and crushing down on his trachea.
Ianto calmly blinked.
With a curse, Jack held him a moment longer, then loosened his grip. Spots danced in Ianto's eyes but he remained standing, if not a little light-headed and gasping for air.
"You know nothing about me."
Rubbing his neck, Ianto straightened, smoothing his shirt as he watched Jack pace in front of him. "Quite the contrary. You won't leave, you know their faces, their names. You won't go, not while knowingly leaving the children in danger and especially not without what I am willing to offer you."
His words stopped Jack, if only for a moment, before Jack grinned, edging close enough to run a finger down the straight lines of Ianto's shirt to cup Ianto's cock through the cloth of his trousers.
It took a moment, a long moment, for Ianto to register his offense. "I am no whore," he growled, pushing Jack's hand away, refusing to blush in shame from his body's reaction.
Jack just laughed. His Jack had never laughed at him before. Never in mockery. God, it hurt. "It's sex. What, Mr. Black wouldn't do whatever's necessary to protect Britain? You want me, I enjoy an attractive man in suit or leather, why waste good time not fucking while we face threat and try to save the world?"
"Six months," Ianto spoke after taking a moment to collect himself. "Stay for six months resuming your role as leader of Torchwood Three. You can tell them whatever story you want to explain your departure, I really don't care. If the threat Kramer mentioned still hasn't arrived in six months time, I will conclude our bargain and give what I promised."
"And if you don't?"
"Deliver? Then I will most likely be dead. I will make arrangements to ensure our deal is not broken."
Jack studied him for a time; Ianto remained as determined and calm as he could. He'd withstood greater pressure; he'd hid a Cyberwoman in the basement of the Hub.
"If I do it, I do it for the kids, not for your team and certainly not because I give one damn about you, your country, or your agenda as Mr. Black." At Ianto's nod, Jack continued. "What could you possibly offer me? I can go anywhere, pick up what trinkets you might have at Torchwood for fractions of their value to you."
Ianto smiled then, knowing he had won this match and proceeded to lie through his teeth.
"Immortality."
***
There had been disbelief following Ianto's offer, but he couldn't have chosen a better (and more substantiated) offer. Six months down the road and it might be a different story, but until then, he had Jack's promise to remain and step in where the former Jack had left, so long as Ianto's claims checked out.
They would. The entire team had seen Jack return from the dead twice.
He was also going to keep pretending, while under strict orders not to shag the team or reveal what he knew of Avalon to anyone outside of who was present that night, otherwise the bargain was broken. Ianto knew he wouldn't break their deal. His father had said it himself, the younger Jack had quested for immortality.
And then Jack had somehow found it.
Ianto supposed one had to be careful what one wished for -- Jack hadn't appeared happy with the life of an immortal, even tempting fate by taking his own life. For all the times Ianto had nearly died (or died; he was like a fucking cat, for goodness sakes. How many times could he come that close and Death's final hand?), that did not lessen the importance of life. He knew there were choices that one made, and life was one of them. But at the same time, working for Torchwood, where he spent every moment on duty fighting for the lives of an entire nation, he couldn't understand intentionally ceasing it, not without cause. Although he supposed everyone had a cause, even if he didn't personally agree. It was hard to stomach, though, and just something he and Jack would never agree on simply because he couldn't understand.
If Jack gained that from his other life, far out in time and heavens, well, that dimmed a bit of the space exploration curiosity.
He'd left Jack in his bedroom to get some sleep, walking the halls of the new Avalon searching for Stephen. It didn't take him long; after a day like they had, Stephen would either in the gym or pouring over files. Ianto tried the gym first, grinning at the small victory when he located Stephen there, burning excess energy on a practice dummy. He watched for a while, impressed as he always was by Stephen's physical skill -- almost wishing he'd paid better attention as a youth -- then interrupted. "Not bad for a man your age."
Stephen laughed as he rounded on the dummy one last time, then joined Ianto, collecting his towel and water bottle as he walked. "Careful, boy. I'll have to remind you that with age comes wisdom, and with wisdom comes the ability to defeat any boastful tongue."
Ianto grinned and followed Stephen to the small locker room with their typical banter, but didn't follow him into the showers; odd how his day had turned into following men around bathrooms. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer to know. "Are all the students taken accounted for?"
"Yes. Nobody seemed to have taken any real injury, though some blood samples were drawn," Stephen spoke over the sounds of the shower. "The graduates and Guardian-protected as well. The teachers were all accounted for, with the exception of one."
"Killed at Avalon?"
"No."
Ianto blinked in surprise as Stephen stepped out of the showers, toweling off.
"Tiffany Woodbridge. Taught most of the early Science classes."
"Right, I remember her, faintly. She came just two years back, replaced Ms. Hatfield when she retired." Ianto waited for Stephen to dress before they began their walk to the offices of Mr. Black. "Fuck, she wasn't still in ... "
"No, no. She's still alive, as far as Lana was aware. Her biological parents never married. She grew up with her mother, Elise Standley, who married a man named Peter Woodbridge."
Frowning, Ianto started up a pot of coffee; no office complete without one, really. The fact that it was his personal office, technically, and there was a coffee machine three doors down in the teacher's lounge was beside the point. "That's in her background file."
"Her biological father is apparently Michael Hallings."
Ianto dropped the mug he was holding. "Shite!" The broken ceramic mug forgotten, Ianto stared at Stephen. There was no way he would have missed the name of Torchwood Four's leader in their exhaustive search through personnel records. "How the hell was that missed?"
"I don't know. It shouldn't have been. From what I gathered, Tiffany bragged about the relationship with her father to some of the kids while they were being held, but didn't elaborate. Ianto, what happened in there? And what's Tiffany involved in?"
"The fuck I care about Tiffany," Ianto swore, picking up the shattered pieces of the ceramic mug and throwing them into the rubbish bin. She had betrayed Avalon and Torchwood; she had betrayed Ms. White. He felt no sympathy for whatever the girl had gotten herself involved in.
Actually, he found himself almost disappointed she hadn't been in the building when Jean-Luc destroyed it.
No, no. That wasn't right. He wasn't one of them.
"One of Torchwood Four's scientists, Joseph Kramer, ranted about something coming -- that they were already here." Ianto waited for a moment in front of the coffee machine as it brewed, but then gave up and began pacing, too impatient and anxious to remain still. "Then there was a room. You should have seen it -- no, you should be glad you didn't see it. Giant eggs bigger than a football, about fifty of them, all in a temperature-controlled room. And there were jars ... with ... creatures. Wings, claws, like nothing I've ever seen. At first, I thought Torchwood Four was running experiments, twisting genetics like Nazi scientists. Fuck, they were alive, all of them."
"The eggs?"
"The creatures too. One blinked at me and I swore it...I know the feeling of Jean-Luc trying to creep into my mind. This felt...it was evil. I don't know what it was, but my reaction is not because it's alien, I deal with alien all the time. This was...it wasn't good." Ianto stopped, flustered and at a loss for how to continue. He poured two mugs of coffee, noting he'd have to replace the one he'd broken, before sitting down with Stephen on the couches that filled the room. Office, yes. But with their duplicity, Ianto had made sure there were no hierarchical points in the room -- chairs and couches faced each other, no grand throne-like chair Ms. White had been so fond of; even the office table was round. A person walking into the room would never be confused if they found Stephen sitting where Ianto ought, or vice versa.
"You showed Jean-Luc what you saw and felt."
Ianto nodded at Stephen's presumption, then sipped his coffee, resting his head on the back of the couch.
"Your method of drawing him out was quite resourceful. Always knew he was just blocking his gifts."
"It was a gamble, but as I lacked any C4, that was my only option." Ianto tapped his mug, then continued, "They weren't studying those creatures, they were housing them. With the time delay from the outside, they could bring in eggs time after time, collecting them until it was time."
"Wouldn't you want a fully raised army if you were going to make a run on Britain?" Stephen stood and grabbed the coffee pot from the warmer, topping off Ianto's mug and refilling his own.
"Sure, if you needed to breed an army to fight." Ianto scowled into his mug. He hadn't worked out yet why they had taken the Avalon kids, but he had worked out this. "There's something coming. The fight is coming. But Kramer said they were already here. Those eggs, they were to populate once the fighting was done."
"Instant generations, spit out faster than humans could recover from the death toll. Wouldn't even need to bring creatures capable of reproduction with the warriors or stores of eggs. Hell, it wouldn't matter if the warriors all died." Ianto raised his mug in mock-toast for Stephen's reasoning. His line of thought could be wrong, he could have read the situation entirely wrong and the destruction of Torchwood Four was unnecessary, but Ianto knew, he knew what he'd felt when that thing had blinked at him. "Shite, if you're right, then there are breeders out there. We don't know what they look like, save they come from an egg."
"Yes, we do." Stephen straightened immediately and Ianto cursed his inattention months back. He hadn't thought it real at the time. "A pale dragon was reported in the Brecon Beacons months ago, I filed the report, but marked it unworthy of further investigation. Fits what I saw in that room."
"A...what? Dragons are a myth."
"And I thought it was just a bird. Another reason not to breed the army here -- we'd notice their eating habits. Eggs and what, larva? They can be stored."
Stephen's mouth opened and closed a number of times. Ianto could tell he wanted to argue but opted against it. Instead, he chose an avenue that caught Ianto off guard. "Don't blame yourself for missing this, Ianto."
Ianto pondered Stephen's statement, and decided that yes, there was guilt. But at least Torchwood Four was destroyed and the mistake nullified. At least to the best of his knowledge. For all he knew, there could be other incubators like Torchwood Four. He wondered if Tosh could run a scan on the area, searching for a change in typical time patterns. It might be wise. "It's my responsibility, Stephen."
Silence stretched between the former mentor and pupil, an uneasy silence that Ianto found as unpleasant as soured milk, but that wasn't to be helped. He had nothing more to say, and it was high time he owned the situation. Despite the Oxford branch's disappearance long before he ever stepped in, Torchwood was under his governance. And this...fuck. How does one prepare for this? How was he supposed to make sure everyone was ready for whatever was coming? How was he supposed to prepare for fucking alien dragons?
"The 21st century is when it all changes, and you've got to be ready."
Ianto felt sick. He didn't believe in a god, per se, but he offered a plea to any deity listening. Don't let this be the change. Please don't let an alien victory be the change. Or at least let me be dead when it happens.
"What can I do to help?"
Glancing up, Ianto saw Stephen leaning forward, elbows on his knees and his coffee mug clenched tight within his hands. Ianto set his own down, rubbing a hand over his face. He felt like shite. "I think we should drop the charade. Jack's returned, Torchwood Three can manage without me. I didn't want to let them go before, but now...I should be here."
"No."
Startled, Ianto looked up into the equally determined face of Stephen. If Ianto wasn't mistaken, there was more white hair in his beard. Not that Ianto counted hairs, but Stephen had aged during Avalon's disappearance, if not by years then by stress. "What do you mean, no?"
"They murdered your mother and they had no qualms killing you despite not knowing who you were. If there's something coming...we can't risk them destabilizing our alien defenses."
It took less than a breath for Ianto to realize what Stephen was saying. "No! I will not have you become a target in my stead. Absolutely not."
"If it's as serious as you think, then yes, it is necessary. You can't--"
Ianto jumped to his feet, grasping desperately for reasons and logic as he vehemently denied what Stephen said. He was too emotionally connected, he knew he was. Distance had fled once Jack had returned; he still hadn't even had time to really deal with that. But now Stephen...no. It wasn't going to happen. "Yes, I can. I'll ask for your resignation--"
Stephen stood as well, his voice rising to match Ianto's, which had steadily gained in tone and volume. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not leaving my post. If we're attacked, odds are they'd come after me, I could create a diversion, giving you a chance to--"
Temper completely flayed, Ianto heard himself more than he was conscious of himself bellowing, "I'm not having you die for me!"
"It's my bloody choice!"
Turns out, Ianto absently noted, that Stephen could yell as well.
A throat clearing behind them had both Ianto and Stephen turning from their nose-to-nose stubborn glare, neither wanting to back down without a fight, and Ianto was determined to win. He was surprised to find Jack standing in front of the closed door. He was wearing the white button-down shirt Ianto had worn the previous day. He was thinner than Ianto's Jack, yes, but the shirt was still tight across the chest and shoulders; probably hadn't wanted to pull a shirt over his head and found the only other option.
Ianto didn't think he'd ever found himself more attracted to the man. Wearing his shirt should not be so...endearing? Erotic. Possessive.
"I have to side with Stephen on this. If there's a threat coming, keeping an element of surprise will help our cause, not to mention maintaining leadership."
Stephen's brow arched and Ianto shrugged, knowing the question. "He figured it out." He rounded on Jack once more, still unwilling to lose this battle. "Your opinion doesn't matter in this."
"No?" Jack smirked and somehow, Ianto knew he'd lost. "As leader of Torchwood Three, I'm pulling on my years of expertise, which as you know, are far greater than yours due to my inability to depart from this mortal coil." When Stephen didn't bat an eye, Jack's grin grew even larger. "My opinion counts, especially as the team would fall apart without our dear Ianto. We need you there, Stephen can pretend to be Mr. Black and we'll get ready for whatever Kramer thought was coming."
Not endearing. How could this Jack ever be endearing? Ianto could feel his teeth grinding against each other, not missing Jack's stress on "pretend" and wondering just what the hell the man was up to. He was being blackmailed -- not that he hadn't used a bit of emotional blackmail on Jack earlier but this...he'd feel better about it if he knew what Jack stood to gain.
He was almost in control of himself again, almost had a response, when Jack tacked on an insincere and for every intent seductive purr, "Sir."
Ianto's mind whited out for a moment, torn between fury and memories, fond memories, his Jack insisting Ianto call him Jack, not sir. The night Jack had invited him to dinner, Ianto hadn't called him "sir" since, except in jest. That night had been...it had been a good night. A really good night.
Focus returned, and Ianto relaxed as he felt his control slipping quickly into place. Distance was easy around this Jack, walls rebuilt and the mask he'd hid behind when he'd first arrived at Torchwood Three replaced. He could deal with this Jack and whatever was motivating him. He'd dealt with far worse. Including alien invasion threat. At least this time they had forewarning; he refused to become Yvonne, head in the sand and arse in the air. They would be ready to fight against whatever came.
Stephen hadn't missed the tension, eyes darting back and forth between Ianto and Jack. Ianto wasn't going to dissuade him from the notion that it was due to the reveal of Mr. Black, if that was the conclusion Stephen had drawn. Given no alternative, Ianto backed down. "Fine, I'll defer to both of you. But Captain Harkness," Ianto found it remarkably easy to separate Jack and Captain Harkness; after all, he had loads of practice with his mother, "pull that again and immortality or not, I will make you disappear."
The air shimmered outside the window, giving Ianto a welcome distraction from the slightly wary Jack. "Jean-Luc's awake. Go ahead and plot your next attempt to undermine me, I welcome your failure."
Ianto stormed out of the room, not missing Stephen's "what the hell happened between you two?" directed at Jack before he shut the door with enough force for emphasis.
Separation would be easy.
Mourn the one, hate the other.
Jack had taught him well.
***
Their return to the Hub was just as Ianto had assumed it would be, though Tosh was a bit confused when Ianto had insisted Jack ride with her. Ianto had needed the time to himself. He had spoken with Jean-Luc after leaving Mr. Black's offices, apologized for causing his friend pain but not for the outcome. Jean-Luc had apologized the same and Ianto felt moderately better; their past was the past and neither refused forgiveness. Ianto felt better, knowing he still had one person he could depend on, though he could tell Jean-Luc was hurt when he refused to allow Jean-Luc "in" to see what was bothering him. They'd had no secrets, for a long time. Now...there were just some secrets which shouldn't burden his friend. If Jean-Luc knew of the earlier conversation with Stephen...actually, Ianto wasn't sure how he would respond. He knew for certain he did not want to hear Jean-Luc swearing upon his life to protect Ianto. Those words would haunt him despite the general understanding that Ianto would gladly give his life for his friend, and he knew Jean-Luc felt the same. But that was the love of friendship. He didn't want to add the taint of duty, not to their friendship. Ianto valued it far too much.
So he hurt Jean-Luc, just a little. Maybe after the threat came and went, he could show Jean-Luc why he had blocked his friend out. But until then, Ianto's barriers were firmly in place and it'd take Jean-Luc the mental equivalent of a nuclear blast to bring them down (or the pin-point focus of Jean-Luc's full power, but Ianto rather hoped that would never happen again).
Gwen had squealed when he, Tosh, and Jack arrived back at the Hub. She'd slapped Jack, then hugged him until Jack had pried himself away with multiple promises never to leave again. Owen was a bit more reserved, giving Ianto the once-over and noting his reaction (blank, impassive, arms crossed, and watching the team greet not-Jack with open arms) before shaking Jack's hand, calling him a wanker and a git but welcome back. Tosh stood next to Gwen, the two of them clutching each other's hands in joy and excitement, matching silly grins plastered to their faces as they listened to Jack lie about his tales of daring and heroics during his absence.
The broad smile never left Jack's face. Ianto only assumed the adoring fans thing was something he enjoyed and cultivated.
Fuck, maybe that's why Jack left in the first place.
A dysfunctional family, headed by a father-figure one couldn't (shouldn't) trust farther than they could throw him but blinded by the charm and charisma oozing from every pore into a state of deluded family unity. The children would all defer to the father, believing him infallible and wise -- but he was no more wise and infallible than the children were innocent and naive. But they needed the father, craved the stability and support he'd provide. And the stability and support were desperately needed, Ianto wasn't fool enough to think it wasn't, and he wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could provide it. Something was coming, and they were far from prepared.
But with Jack, maybe they could hold together long enough to emerge victorious.
Ianto turned away from the scene to put on a pot of coffee.
Next Chapter
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Once Jack, always Jack...
A/N: Happy holidays everyone celebrating Labo(u)r Day! Completely forgot about the holiday weekend! Ah, but isn't a time to celebrate working by not working delightful? Hopefully everyone spent it with a few adult beverages and good company ;) Coming next week: another doozy. *smirks and giggles*
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
Ianto had tried to stay awake on the way back to Avalon, he really had. He had things to organize, details to fine tune, and stories to maintain depending on who he was speaking to. Stephen was driving the SUV back -- Jean-Luc was asleep in the passenger seat, Rani, Tosh, and Akira were in the next row, and Ianto found himself with a bemused, half-naked, and injured Jack who acted as though he was merely tolerating the experience. Ianto didn't care, just sat next to him and tried not to touch. It wasn't his Jack in the rear seat with him, and until he had time to talk one-on-one with Jack, he knew better.
Didn't work, though, despite the speed with which his thoughts were spinning and the smell of Jack (not pleasant) increasing within the confines of the vehicle. He woke up when the SUV stopped and doors opened and shut, his head resting on Jack's shoulder. Everyone was out of the vehicle, Ianto noted while he straightened and rubbed sleep from his eyes, pretending not to see Jack's amused smirk. The smirk, while it came naturally, appeared so off on Jack's face, knowing as Ianto did that the same motivations behind it did not exist with this Jack. Or perhaps they did, but Ianto didn't hold for a second that it meant anything. Jack was attracted to everyone. In Jack's smirk, however, Ianto didn't miss the lines of fatigue and pain edging the swollen lips, or the bruise shadowing his jawline where shadows shouldn't live. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting; he'd been too busy thinking about destroying Torchwood Four and, his Jack or not, the man had still been chained to their walls for god knew how long.
Ianto got out of the vehicle first, waiting for Jack as he slid out on Ianto's side, despite an available door on Jack's. That was filed away as well, along with the scars, the cuts, the bruises. And as much as he knew it was inappropriate, Ianto noted the trim waist, the way the muscles in his shoulders twinged when he stepped out of the vehicle. The product of days with his arms stretched out and up, Ianto assumed, not missing the tremor in Jack's hand which he tried to mask with a careful stretch.
"Would you ..." Ianto beckoned Jack over as he spoke, making a show of leaning against the SUV despite feeling much stronger following his rest, "would you lend your assistance again? My legs are still shaky and that's a long walk," Ianto lied smoothly, leaning against Jack as much as Jack was leaning against him.
Ianto could distinctly remember the last time Jack had leaned on him. Strangely (or not so strangely), Jack felt the same.
Stephen caught up with them just inside Avalon's doors. He handed Ianto a rather large bottle of water; only then did Ianto realize just how thirsty he was. He drank while Stephen updated him. "Everyone's been assigned a room and bedded down for the night." Ianto didn't miss the glance at Jack; Stephen wanted to talk. Which was good, Ianto needed to speak with him as well.
Passing the bottle on to Jack, Ianto caught sight of Tosh and Akira standing in the hallway. He really needed Stephen to actually act as Mr. Black in front of them. "We need a cover story for tonight. Can you ask Tosh to work on that? I need a shower, as does Captain Stinky here." Stephen caught Ianto's eyes as they darted a look at Jack's torso, then up. Ianto's quarters, as they were, were located on the second floor. He had a private bathroom, as would the staff, and Jack did need medical attention.
Stephen nodded what Ianto hoped was his understanding with his answer and blithely ignored Jack's protests against Ianto's childish "stinky" comments. "I'll speak with her. You owe me a t-shirt, by the way." Stephen gestured at what Ianto knew, but refused to actually look at, was a rather large hole in the black cloth.
"Dock it from my check, Mr. Black," Ianto deadpanned and Stephen laughed while turning away to visit with Tosh and Akira.
Jack watched the exchange with narrowed eyes; what he was thinking Ianto hadn't the slightest, but he gestured up the stairs. "My room's up there. We can get cleaned up in there."
"Thought you weren't one of them?" Jack asked as together they managed to climb the stairs. Though, at this point, it was far more Ianto leading than Jack. Ianto didn't comment, and neither did Jack.
"I'm not." Ianto led the way to his modest quarters, nothing more than bare essentials and a bathroom, unlike Jean-Luc's room (second largest to the first master bedroom which had been converted to classrooms) which he had insisted be spacious with all the necessities. ("I need a room to relax in after a strenuous day. Besides, if you're not going to take the room, I want it. I'd hate for it to go to waste.")
Ianto hadn't argued.
He drew the bath, making the water hot but tolerable, and let the tub fill while he went back to the main bedroom. He must have surprised Jack, because just for a moment, Ianto saw a very lost Jack. The look vanished as soon as Jack noticed Ianto, though, the familiar smirk curving his lips as his hands settled on his hips. "So, Ianto. Or should I refer to you as Mr. Black? Because that man Stephen downstairs was definitely not Mr. Black."
Of course Jack wasn't stupid, even if he was different, Ianto reminded himself. He must have heard about Ms. White from the Avalon kids -- or the people from Torchwood Four -- and made the connection. "And what should I call you? Because your name is not Jack Harkness."
"Jack suits me, think I'll keep it. Captain Jack Harkness ... captain of what?"
Ianto refrained from commenting that he was captain of nothing as he'd chosen to leave, and was conscious of the glint in Jack's eye -- he had to remind himself -- this man was not Jack. For all Ianto knew, he was a dangerous man. Destroyed a kingdom. Not a good man. Instead, he pointed to the bathroom. "Go, get clean. We'll discuss names when you no longer smell of mildew." It was more than just mildew, but as much as Ianto wanted to dislike the man for being both everything and nothing that he wanted, he couldn't bring himself to kick Jack's pride. He reeked of urine and vomit, sweat and blood. No need to shame the man for the past.
Thankfully, Jack didn't argue, just shrugged and stripped as he walked, gracing Ianto with a full view of his arse as he strutted confidently into the bathroom. Once Jack, always Jack, it appeared, even injured.
With a slight smile that Ianto couldn't help, he walked to the window, staring outside while Jack bathed. He heard the tub drain twice and refill, but he didn't move until he heard a knock at the door. Stephen, with a med kit and a change of clothes that Ianto assumed was for Jack; despite the thinner look, none of Ianto's trousers would fit Jack. They didn't speak, but Ianto understood Stephen's poignant look at the energy drinks and water he brought as well. Raising one in toast before Stephen left, Ianto drank one of the energy drinks (nasty, sickeningly sweet) before he deposited the clothing on the bed and ventured into the loo.
Jack's eyes were closed, his skin rosy where there were no cuts or damaged skin, the flannel thrown on the tub's edge. Ianto discarded Jack's trousers in the rubbish bin and carried it outside his bedroom to be thrown out later; no sense in keeping the smell in his room. Jack still appeared to be asleep when Ianto returned, and he sat on the toilet's lid, flipping through the kit to see what could be used on Jack's injuries before Rani had a chance to work her magic on him.
"Try anything, and I'll kill you before you can blink" came a sleepy voice from the bathtub.
Ianto bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, maintaining a polite, blank look he'd mastered while working in the Information Center. He slid his coat off, hanging it on a door hook before he walked round to the bathtub and grabbed the shower head from the wall. He'd seen Jack's shoulders spasm; they had to be hurting, making raising his arms next to impossible. "Of course you could," Ianto placated, turning on the water again, warming it before he directed it on Jack's scalp. "But then you'd have to deal with Jean-Luc and Stephen, and I doubt they'd be as willing to wash your hair."
"They'd take one look at me..." Jack's response trailed off into an appreciative moan which on any other occasion would have had Ianto hard and panting in seconds, and he had to note that if he ever saw his Jack again, to add "shampooing hair" to the list of things that make Jack moan. Ianto wondered if it was the hair; the mass was such an indicator of his mood that maybe it actually was sentient.
He spent far too much time working the soap down into the hair, massaging away the regret and confusion Ianto felt through some cathartic therapeutic offering. But Jack's sigh of contentment made him linger, touching longer than he ought. "Back," Ianto instructed softly, unwilling to shatter the blissful, relaxed look on Jack's face. Not Jack. Not his Jack, at any rate. It was like an echo, still similar from the initial shout, but softer, still reminiscent of the original but lacking the same qualities which made the original the force it had been. He touched Jack's chin lightly to get him to tilt his head and Jack complied, permitting Ianto to rinse away the suds and to comb through the snarls and tangles. His hair was longer, long enough that time and violence had locked the strands tighter than the buckles that had restrained him to the walls. But they unknotted under Ianto's care, fingers running smoothly through clean strands.
"Joining me?" Ianto had seen that look in the Captain's eye before (pupils blown, eyes almost black), heard that tone in his voice, and sure enough (though how was one of those Jack-mysteries Ianto would never understand), Jack's cock rested against his stomach, hard and looking every much the same as Ianto remembered.
"Don't flatter yourself." The moment broken, Ianto stepped away from the tub, shaking the water from his arms and pulling the t-shirt (hole, the size of three fingers, he noted before he could stop himself). He gestured for Jack to step out of the tub, waiting impatiently with a towel. He almost offered a helping hand to Jack as the other man struggled to stand after he'd pulled the drain, but refrained.
Fuck, Jack was a handsome man. Even bruised he exuded an appeal Ianto found hard to resist.
"Come on, we were lovers." Jack sidled up to Ianto, but his words left Ianto cold, any desire he may have felt evaporating quickly to mingle with the steam, strangling within the humid air.
"No, we never were." Ianto ignored Jack and stripped out of his leather trousers and briefs, eager to wash away the night and start fresh with a significant lack of blood-crusted skin. He threw shut the curtain and turned on the water, sending it shooting through the shower head with more force than he had with Jack's shampooing.
"You fucked, then. But you never got what you really wanted."
Ianto could hear Jack clearly, could even hear him wanking, though his movements through clear plastic curtain confirmed what Ianto thought he'd heard. Once Jack, always Jack. No qualms, and definitely less reserved than his counterpart. Ianto stepped out from under the water, soap in his hair, and peeked around the curtain. Sure enough, Jack leaned against the counter, erection in hand, lazily wanking but steadily increasing the pace. Ianto watched for a moment with deliberate casual disinterest, then shrugged. "You're going to hurt yourself doing that."
Jack ignored him, putting on a show worthy of any porn Ianto had seen before Ianto turned away and stepped back under the spray, smirking when he heard Jack's yelp when he came.
Those shoulder muscles were a bitch, especially when one forgot they had been recently abused.
Ianto finished his shower and stepped out to an empty loo. He buffed dry his hair, then knotted the towel around his waist before grabbing the kit, grimacing when he found a single red rose petal resting on top. He found Jack in the main bedroom, clothed in the jeans Stephen had brought. He'd yet to put on a shirt; Ianto didn't figure he wanted to test those back muscles again so quickly.
"What happened?"
Jack's question at first confused Ianto and made him seriously concerned for the state of Jack's mental health, but he realized Jack was asking not about what happened at Torchwood Four, but rather what happened between he and Jack. The other Jack. Ianto's Jack. "You left." Ianto began applying an antibiotic cream to the shallow cuts, most of the injuries appearing superficial (yet painful, Ianto imagined) and nothing required stitches. The bruising would fade, but either Rani had just healed him or Geoffrey had been taking his time.
That thought left Ianto with a rather unpleasant taste, considering that Rani had healed him before.
How long had Jack been with them?
"I must have made a good impression. The one, Tosh, looked ready to pounce on me. Cute girl, bet she's feisty."
Ianto tuned out the tale of Jack and his encounter with the feisty twins from the planet Qzectyl, not particularly caring about Jack's escapades but at the same time relieved for the shield it put between them. He dabbed the last of the cuts with the antibiotic and stepped away, having touched Jack more than he wished. "Her name is Toshiko Sato, technology expert. The medic is Owen Harper and Gwen Cooper is a former constable and our link between the police and Torchwood. They are all part of your team at Torchwood Three in Cardiff."
"And what does that make you, Mr. Black?"
With a barely suppressed scowl, Ianto tossed a bottle of water at Jack who barely brought his hands up in time to catch it. "Only the Queen, Stephen, and Jean-Luc know that information. Otherwise, I'm simply Ianto Jones, tea boy for Torchwood Three."
Jack apparently swallowed a gulp of water wrong, coughing and sputtering while Ianto watched, arms crossed, until he could again speak. "You're the tea boy?"
"So I've been called." Not that Ianto had been operating under that title for some time, nor that he really cared about the name. Oddly it had turned more into a joke between he and Owen than an insult. They had such an odd relationship, he and Owen. Reminded him of the dynamics between he and Elaine growing up.
"Why are you telling me this? I apparently left and if I left, it was for good reason."
Ianto wondered if this Jack had ever met the Doctor. He had to be younger, or Ianto supposed he could be from an alternate world. He'd read the theory, time diverting from each choice, innumerable paths and possibilities existing in simultaneous realities. Would explain why Ianto's Jack hadn't appeared to know details about Ianto - different realities, different times. Somewhere, his Jack and this one's paths diverged.
Possibly.
He wondered what the worlds looked like when he hadn't made the choice to become Mr. Black. Would Stephen had filled in? Would Torchwood Four have been found?
Would those eggs have hatched, down in the darkened pits of Torchwood Four?
"They need you back. And Kramer warned that something is coming. They can't have their attention focused on you when they need to be protecting Britain from whatever is coming."
"And what about you? You don't need me back?" Jack stalked towards him, obviously keying in to the fact that Ianto had failed to include himself with the team. He smelled faintly of medicine, but in general, Jack still smelled the way Ianto remembered him.
God, if he survived whatever was coming, Jack was going to be the death of him.
"I need the team to function as they had, not what they've become. They need Jack back." Ianto stepped away from Jack, digging through the kit and finding a packet of pain relievers. He threw them at Jack and headed to his wardrobe, finding the spare suit he kept at Avalon. Navy blue with a cobalt pinstripe, cobalt shirt and a silk tie to match. He had worn this suit when Jack had kissed him in front of the team -- one reason why it had been banished to Avalon. He dressed while he spoke, "and not just any Jack. They need Jack their leader."
"You want me to keep pretending." Ianto's hands stilled on the buttons of his shirt, remembering what it had felt like to hear Jack speak those words. Ridiculous, unimportant. It was nothing they had ever had and he hadn't wanted it until this Jack had pretended.
Tiny lie, but Ianto was good at those when it came to himself.
"Funny as it might sound, but I see no point in sticking around to find out whatever crackpot-Kramer was talking about."
"No?" He'd quickly buttoned the remaining few buttons and began tucking his shirt into his trousers. Ianto needed the suit, as much as he hated being in this particular one. His suits were as much comforting as they were a professional reminder; in them, he could remember that this Jack wasn't his. If any Jack ever was. "You sacrificed yourself to protect the children of Avalon. You'd leave them to whatever terror loomed? Then what was the point, I ask, in allowing yourself to be chained and beaten for them? Unless you enjoyed the abuse. Was that it, Jack? Did you do it for enjoyment?"
Ianto looked up from buckling his belt in time to catch Jack's face pale and harden, the casual ease (and attempted seduction) he'd been treating Ianto with gone. This was the man Ianto's Jack had spoken about, the one who'd destroyed a kingdom.
He could believe it.
A caged animal, backed into a corner, Jack reacted as Ianto assumed he would (but perhaps not to the severity) by racing across the room, hand on Ianto's throat as he was slammed against the wall behind him. Weak as Jack was, Ianto could nearly see the adrenaline racing down his arms, fueling the fingertips that dug into the sides of his neck, pinching the carotid and crushing down on his trachea.
Ianto calmly blinked.
With a curse, Jack held him a moment longer, then loosened his grip. Spots danced in Ianto's eyes but he remained standing, if not a little light-headed and gasping for air.
"You know nothing about me."
Rubbing his neck, Ianto straightened, smoothing his shirt as he watched Jack pace in front of him. "Quite the contrary. You won't leave, you know their faces, their names. You won't go, not while knowingly leaving the children in danger and especially not without what I am willing to offer you."
His words stopped Jack, if only for a moment, before Jack grinned, edging close enough to run a finger down the straight lines of Ianto's shirt to cup Ianto's cock through the cloth of his trousers.
It took a moment, a long moment, for Ianto to register his offense. "I am no whore," he growled, pushing Jack's hand away, refusing to blush in shame from his body's reaction.
Jack just laughed. His Jack had never laughed at him before. Never in mockery. God, it hurt. "It's sex. What, Mr. Black wouldn't do whatever's necessary to protect Britain? You want me, I enjoy an attractive man in suit or leather, why waste good time not fucking while we face threat and try to save the world?"
"Six months," Ianto spoke after taking a moment to collect himself. "Stay for six months resuming your role as leader of Torchwood Three. You can tell them whatever story you want to explain your departure, I really don't care. If the threat Kramer mentioned still hasn't arrived in six months time, I will conclude our bargain and give what I promised."
"And if you don't?"
"Deliver? Then I will most likely be dead. I will make arrangements to ensure our deal is not broken."
Jack studied him for a time; Ianto remained as determined and calm as he could. He'd withstood greater pressure; he'd hid a Cyberwoman in the basement of the Hub.
"If I do it, I do it for the kids, not for your team and certainly not because I give one damn about you, your country, or your agenda as Mr. Black." At Ianto's nod, Jack continued. "What could you possibly offer me? I can go anywhere, pick up what trinkets you might have at Torchwood for fractions of their value to you."
Ianto smiled then, knowing he had won this match and proceeded to lie through his teeth.
"Immortality."
***
There had been disbelief following Ianto's offer, but he couldn't have chosen a better (and more substantiated) offer. Six months down the road and it might be a different story, but until then, he had Jack's promise to remain and step in where the former Jack had left, so long as Ianto's claims checked out.
They would. The entire team had seen Jack return from the dead twice.
He was also going to keep pretending, while under strict orders not to shag the team or reveal what he knew of Avalon to anyone outside of who was present that night, otherwise the bargain was broken. Ianto knew he wouldn't break their deal. His father had said it himself, the younger Jack had quested for immortality.
And then Jack had somehow found it.
Ianto supposed one had to be careful what one wished for -- Jack hadn't appeared happy with the life of an immortal, even tempting fate by taking his own life. For all the times Ianto had nearly died (or died; he was like a fucking cat, for goodness sakes. How many times could he come that close and Death's final hand?), that did not lessen the importance of life. He knew there were choices that one made, and life was one of them. But at the same time, working for Torchwood, where he spent every moment on duty fighting for the lives of an entire nation, he couldn't understand intentionally ceasing it, not without cause. Although he supposed everyone had a cause, even if he didn't personally agree. It was hard to stomach, though, and just something he and Jack would never agree on simply because he couldn't understand.
If Jack gained that from his other life, far out in time and heavens, well, that dimmed a bit of the space exploration curiosity.
He'd left Jack in his bedroom to get some sleep, walking the halls of the new Avalon searching for Stephen. It didn't take him long; after a day like they had, Stephen would either in the gym or pouring over files. Ianto tried the gym first, grinning at the small victory when he located Stephen there, burning excess energy on a practice dummy. He watched for a while, impressed as he always was by Stephen's physical skill -- almost wishing he'd paid better attention as a youth -- then interrupted. "Not bad for a man your age."
Stephen laughed as he rounded on the dummy one last time, then joined Ianto, collecting his towel and water bottle as he walked. "Careful, boy. I'll have to remind you that with age comes wisdom, and with wisdom comes the ability to defeat any boastful tongue."
Ianto grinned and followed Stephen to the small locker room with their typical banter, but didn't follow him into the showers; odd how his day had turned into following men around bathrooms. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer to know. "Are all the students taken accounted for?"
"Yes. Nobody seemed to have taken any real injury, though some blood samples were drawn," Stephen spoke over the sounds of the shower. "The graduates and Guardian-protected as well. The teachers were all accounted for, with the exception of one."
"Killed at Avalon?"
"No."
Ianto blinked in surprise as Stephen stepped out of the showers, toweling off.
"Tiffany Woodbridge. Taught most of the early Science classes."
"Right, I remember her, faintly. She came just two years back, replaced Ms. Hatfield when she retired." Ianto waited for Stephen to dress before they began their walk to the offices of Mr. Black. "Fuck, she wasn't still in ... "
"No, no. She's still alive, as far as Lana was aware. Her biological parents never married. She grew up with her mother, Elise Standley, who married a man named Peter Woodbridge."
Frowning, Ianto started up a pot of coffee; no office complete without one, really. The fact that it was his personal office, technically, and there was a coffee machine three doors down in the teacher's lounge was beside the point. "That's in her background file."
"Her biological father is apparently Michael Hallings."
Ianto dropped the mug he was holding. "Shite!" The broken ceramic mug forgotten, Ianto stared at Stephen. There was no way he would have missed the name of Torchwood Four's leader in their exhaustive search through personnel records. "How the hell was that missed?"
"I don't know. It shouldn't have been. From what I gathered, Tiffany bragged about the relationship with her father to some of the kids while they were being held, but didn't elaborate. Ianto, what happened in there? And what's Tiffany involved in?"
"The fuck I care about Tiffany," Ianto swore, picking up the shattered pieces of the ceramic mug and throwing them into the rubbish bin. She had betrayed Avalon and Torchwood; she had betrayed Ms. White. He felt no sympathy for whatever the girl had gotten herself involved in.
Actually, he found himself almost disappointed she hadn't been in the building when Jean-Luc destroyed it.
No, no. That wasn't right. He wasn't one of them.
"One of Torchwood Four's scientists, Joseph Kramer, ranted about something coming -- that they were already here." Ianto waited for a moment in front of the coffee machine as it brewed, but then gave up and began pacing, too impatient and anxious to remain still. "Then there was a room. You should have seen it -- no, you should be glad you didn't see it. Giant eggs bigger than a football, about fifty of them, all in a temperature-controlled room. And there were jars ... with ... creatures. Wings, claws, like nothing I've ever seen. At first, I thought Torchwood Four was running experiments, twisting genetics like Nazi scientists. Fuck, they were alive, all of them."
"The eggs?"
"The creatures too. One blinked at me and I swore it...I know the feeling of Jean-Luc trying to creep into my mind. This felt...it was evil. I don't know what it was, but my reaction is not because it's alien, I deal with alien all the time. This was...it wasn't good." Ianto stopped, flustered and at a loss for how to continue. He poured two mugs of coffee, noting he'd have to replace the one he'd broken, before sitting down with Stephen on the couches that filled the room. Office, yes. But with their duplicity, Ianto had made sure there were no hierarchical points in the room -- chairs and couches faced each other, no grand throne-like chair Ms. White had been so fond of; even the office table was round. A person walking into the room would never be confused if they found Stephen sitting where Ianto ought, or vice versa.
"You showed Jean-Luc what you saw and felt."
Ianto nodded at Stephen's presumption, then sipped his coffee, resting his head on the back of the couch.
"Your method of drawing him out was quite resourceful. Always knew he was just blocking his gifts."
"It was a gamble, but as I lacked any C4, that was my only option." Ianto tapped his mug, then continued, "They weren't studying those creatures, they were housing them. With the time delay from the outside, they could bring in eggs time after time, collecting them until it was time."
"Wouldn't you want a fully raised army if you were going to make a run on Britain?" Stephen stood and grabbed the coffee pot from the warmer, topping off Ianto's mug and refilling his own.
"Sure, if you needed to breed an army to fight." Ianto scowled into his mug. He hadn't worked out yet why they had taken the Avalon kids, but he had worked out this. "There's something coming. The fight is coming. But Kramer said they were already here. Those eggs, they were to populate once the fighting was done."
"Instant generations, spit out faster than humans could recover from the death toll. Wouldn't even need to bring creatures capable of reproduction with the warriors or stores of eggs. Hell, it wouldn't matter if the warriors all died." Ianto raised his mug in mock-toast for Stephen's reasoning. His line of thought could be wrong, he could have read the situation entirely wrong and the destruction of Torchwood Four was unnecessary, but Ianto knew, he knew what he'd felt when that thing had blinked at him. "Shite, if you're right, then there are breeders out there. We don't know what they look like, save they come from an egg."
"Yes, we do." Stephen straightened immediately and Ianto cursed his inattention months back. He hadn't thought it real at the time. "A pale dragon was reported in the Brecon Beacons months ago, I filed the report, but marked it unworthy of further investigation. Fits what I saw in that room."
"A...what? Dragons are a myth."
"And I thought it was just a bird. Another reason not to breed the army here -- we'd notice their eating habits. Eggs and what, larva? They can be stored."
Stephen's mouth opened and closed a number of times. Ianto could tell he wanted to argue but opted against it. Instead, he chose an avenue that caught Ianto off guard. "Don't blame yourself for missing this, Ianto."
Ianto pondered Stephen's statement, and decided that yes, there was guilt. But at least Torchwood Four was destroyed and the mistake nullified. At least to the best of his knowledge. For all he knew, there could be other incubators like Torchwood Four. He wondered if Tosh could run a scan on the area, searching for a change in typical time patterns. It might be wise. "It's my responsibility, Stephen."
Silence stretched between the former mentor and pupil, an uneasy silence that Ianto found as unpleasant as soured milk, but that wasn't to be helped. He had nothing more to say, and it was high time he owned the situation. Despite the Oxford branch's disappearance long before he ever stepped in, Torchwood was under his governance. And this...fuck. How does one prepare for this? How was he supposed to make sure everyone was ready for whatever was coming? How was he supposed to prepare for fucking alien dragons?
"The 21st century is when it all changes, and you've got to be ready."
Ianto felt sick. He didn't believe in a god, per se, but he offered a plea to any deity listening. Don't let this be the change. Please don't let an alien victory be the change. Or at least let me be dead when it happens.
"What can I do to help?"
Glancing up, Ianto saw Stephen leaning forward, elbows on his knees and his coffee mug clenched tight within his hands. Ianto set his own down, rubbing a hand over his face. He felt like shite. "I think we should drop the charade. Jack's returned, Torchwood Three can manage without me. I didn't want to let them go before, but now...I should be here."
"No."
Startled, Ianto looked up into the equally determined face of Stephen. If Ianto wasn't mistaken, there was more white hair in his beard. Not that Ianto counted hairs, but Stephen had aged during Avalon's disappearance, if not by years then by stress. "What do you mean, no?"
"They murdered your mother and they had no qualms killing you despite not knowing who you were. If there's something coming...we can't risk them destabilizing our alien defenses."
It took less than a breath for Ianto to realize what Stephen was saying. "No! I will not have you become a target in my stead. Absolutely not."
"If it's as serious as you think, then yes, it is necessary. You can't--"
Ianto jumped to his feet, grasping desperately for reasons and logic as he vehemently denied what Stephen said. He was too emotionally connected, he knew he was. Distance had fled once Jack had returned; he still hadn't even had time to really deal with that. But now Stephen...no. It wasn't going to happen. "Yes, I can. I'll ask for your resignation--"
Stephen stood as well, his voice rising to match Ianto's, which had steadily gained in tone and volume. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not leaving my post. If we're attacked, odds are they'd come after me, I could create a diversion, giving you a chance to--"
Temper completely flayed, Ianto heard himself more than he was conscious of himself bellowing, "I'm not having you die for me!"
"It's my bloody choice!"
Turns out, Ianto absently noted, that Stephen could yell as well.
A throat clearing behind them had both Ianto and Stephen turning from their nose-to-nose stubborn glare, neither wanting to back down without a fight, and Ianto was determined to win. He was surprised to find Jack standing in front of the closed door. He was wearing the white button-down shirt Ianto had worn the previous day. He was thinner than Ianto's Jack, yes, but the shirt was still tight across the chest and shoulders; probably hadn't wanted to pull a shirt over his head and found the only other option.
Ianto didn't think he'd ever found himself more attracted to the man. Wearing his shirt should not be so...endearing? Erotic. Possessive.
"I have to side with Stephen on this. If there's a threat coming, keeping an element of surprise will help our cause, not to mention maintaining leadership."
Stephen's brow arched and Ianto shrugged, knowing the question. "He figured it out." He rounded on Jack once more, still unwilling to lose this battle. "Your opinion doesn't matter in this."
"No?" Jack smirked and somehow, Ianto knew he'd lost. "As leader of Torchwood Three, I'm pulling on my years of expertise, which as you know, are far greater than yours due to my inability to depart from this mortal coil." When Stephen didn't bat an eye, Jack's grin grew even larger. "My opinion counts, especially as the team would fall apart without our dear Ianto. We need you there, Stephen can pretend to be Mr. Black and we'll get ready for whatever Kramer thought was coming."
Not endearing. How could this Jack ever be endearing? Ianto could feel his teeth grinding against each other, not missing Jack's stress on "pretend" and wondering just what the hell the man was up to. He was being blackmailed -- not that he hadn't used a bit of emotional blackmail on Jack earlier but this...he'd feel better about it if he knew what Jack stood to gain.
He was almost in control of himself again, almost had a response, when Jack tacked on an insincere and for every intent seductive purr, "Sir."
Ianto's mind whited out for a moment, torn between fury and memories, fond memories, his Jack insisting Ianto call him Jack, not sir. The night Jack had invited him to dinner, Ianto hadn't called him "sir" since, except in jest. That night had been...it had been a good night. A really good night.
Focus returned, and Ianto relaxed as he felt his control slipping quickly into place. Distance was easy around this Jack, walls rebuilt and the mask he'd hid behind when he'd first arrived at Torchwood Three replaced. He could deal with this Jack and whatever was motivating him. He'd dealt with far worse. Including alien invasion threat. At least this time they had forewarning; he refused to become Yvonne, head in the sand and arse in the air. They would be ready to fight against whatever came.
Stephen hadn't missed the tension, eyes darting back and forth between Ianto and Jack. Ianto wasn't going to dissuade him from the notion that it was due to the reveal of Mr. Black, if that was the conclusion Stephen had drawn. Given no alternative, Ianto backed down. "Fine, I'll defer to both of you. But Captain Harkness," Ianto found it remarkably easy to separate Jack and Captain Harkness; after all, he had loads of practice with his mother, "pull that again and immortality or not, I will make you disappear."
The air shimmered outside the window, giving Ianto a welcome distraction from the slightly wary Jack. "Jean-Luc's awake. Go ahead and plot your next attempt to undermine me, I welcome your failure."
Ianto stormed out of the room, not missing Stephen's "what the hell happened between you two?" directed at Jack before he shut the door with enough force for emphasis.
Separation would be easy.
Mourn the one, hate the other.
Jack had taught him well.
***
Their return to the Hub was just as Ianto had assumed it would be, though Tosh was a bit confused when Ianto had insisted Jack ride with her. Ianto had needed the time to himself. He had spoken with Jean-Luc after leaving Mr. Black's offices, apologized for causing his friend pain but not for the outcome. Jean-Luc had apologized the same and Ianto felt moderately better; their past was the past and neither refused forgiveness. Ianto felt better, knowing he still had one person he could depend on, though he could tell Jean-Luc was hurt when he refused to allow Jean-Luc "in" to see what was bothering him. They'd had no secrets, for a long time. Now...there were just some secrets which shouldn't burden his friend. If Jean-Luc knew of the earlier conversation with Stephen...actually, Ianto wasn't sure how he would respond. He knew for certain he did not want to hear Jean-Luc swearing upon his life to protect Ianto. Those words would haunt him despite the general understanding that Ianto would gladly give his life for his friend, and he knew Jean-Luc felt the same. But that was the love of friendship. He didn't want to add the taint of duty, not to their friendship. Ianto valued it far too much.
So he hurt Jean-Luc, just a little. Maybe after the threat came and went, he could show Jean-Luc why he had blocked his friend out. But until then, Ianto's barriers were firmly in place and it'd take Jean-Luc the mental equivalent of a nuclear blast to bring them down (or the pin-point focus of Jean-Luc's full power, but Ianto rather hoped that would never happen again).
Gwen had squealed when he, Tosh, and Jack arrived back at the Hub. She'd slapped Jack, then hugged him until Jack had pried himself away with multiple promises never to leave again. Owen was a bit more reserved, giving Ianto the once-over and noting his reaction (blank, impassive, arms crossed, and watching the team greet not-Jack with open arms) before shaking Jack's hand, calling him a wanker and a git but welcome back. Tosh stood next to Gwen, the two of them clutching each other's hands in joy and excitement, matching silly grins plastered to their faces as they listened to Jack lie about his tales of daring and heroics during his absence.
The broad smile never left Jack's face. Ianto only assumed the adoring fans thing was something he enjoyed and cultivated.
Fuck, maybe that's why Jack left in the first place.
A dysfunctional family, headed by a father-figure one couldn't (shouldn't) trust farther than they could throw him but blinded by the charm and charisma oozing from every pore into a state of deluded family unity. The children would all defer to the father, believing him infallible and wise -- but he was no more wise and infallible than the children were innocent and naive. But they needed the father, craved the stability and support he'd provide. And the stability and support were desperately needed, Ianto wasn't fool enough to think it wasn't, and he wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could provide it. Something was coming, and they were far from prepared.
But with Jack, maybe they could hold together long enough to emerge victorious.
Ianto turned away from the scene to put on a pot of coffee.
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