Fic: Black and White (S2: Chap 7, SoI 22), Jack/Ianto
Chapter Title: Black and White (S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 1)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
A/N: This is done a bit differently. This is part 1 of ... oh, I dunno, 2? I've got this 'chapter' nearly complete, it's at nearly 22,000 words. Yes, you heard me right. But there is a theme, subtle (or not so subtle that if you look at it in it's entirity and figure it out, cookie for you! At any rate, I'm posting part 1 tonight, and I'll wrap 2 of the remaining sections tomorrow and post part 2 prolly tomorrow night (and maybe 3, depending on how fickle LJ is on length and hey, it's like bonus 2 chapters in one week!).
Seriously, this chapter is as long as my Big Bang entry will be. *headdesks* But it was important this all stayed together! Cause, I am a whore for running themes ;) Next chapter will more than likely be the same way.
2.5 chapters left!!!
And, while you're at it, I know some (lots) of you are HP fans. When you're done here, skip on over to Architects of Memory. It's nearly completed, basically on the same posting timeline as me *g* (two chapters left!) and written by my utterly fabulous beta lilithilien. It's an absolutely amazing twisted plotty epic Harry/Draco post-battle tale that if I wrote HP, I could only be so lucky to write as well as she does with the characters and storylines. So, here's to pimping her fic! Go read and lavish praise! Because it much deserves it.
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
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
Black and White (S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 1)
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
The brief disorientation passed and Ianto found himself in his kitchen, Colonel John Sheppard smirking beside him less than an arm's reach away. Ianto gestured towards the sitting room where he knew a bottle of Scotch and some glasses could be found. "There is something to be said for instantaneous travel."
Sheppard chuckled as he trailed behind Ianto, drawling in the speech pattern Ianto had yet to identify. "Should have seen the naked grey aliens who invented the tech."
Ianto raised an eyebrow as he poured two glasses. Not that he didn't believe Sheppard, the man had battle cruisers after all, but he really didn't know how to respond to naked grey aliens. He blamed the past thirty-nine hours for his lapse in retort.
Fuck, yesterday morning seemed a lifetime ago.
"To victory." Ianto raised his glass in toast after handing one to Sheppard. Victory. And what her cost. Avalon. The thought of the school made his stomach twist and knot something painful, each breath pressing against a building, oppressing mass of guilt. Reports had spread quickly across the news -- hundreds of people of all ages collapsing in the streets, at their jobs, in churches and villages. People in hospitals treating the injured, people the injured themselves. People driving cars and riding bicycles, stopping on the roadways. People in governments, friends and foe. Far more people than had ever visited or been protected by Avalon. Far more by a magnitude of ten.
It seemed while Avalon's power grew, the meld drew the gifted out like a magnet, attracting the unknown and the unaware, requesting their presence in the fight, building strength. 'Like those fractal things,' Lana had said, miming the swirl effect as the force of Avalon gathered force. 'A hurricane. Spinning faster and faster and picking up more and more. Some had no clue they possessed gifts.'
They did now, Ianto noted. Reports from the globe over as loved ones and strangers panicked, so many unresponsive, so many questions, so many demands for answers.
Ianto had none.
Twenty-four had died; mostly the elderly who simply weren't up to the massive strain put on their bodies (though Ianto questioned a few reports). And slowly, most were waking from their unconscious state. It had begun as a trickle, a few students of Avalon crawling from their beds to check on their friends. Owen, being infinitely more understanding than Ianto would have ever given him credit for, didn't nag once to get into their separate beds. Maybe it was shock, maybe Owen really did have a heart. Ianto had smiled when he caught Owen tucking a blanket over the shoulders of two kids (Marion Raspun and Willie Parker); the glare Owen had shot him was worth the effort.
That was the first and last time Ianto stepped foot in the residential wing.
Neither Owen, Tosh, or Ianto left Avalon while the world was uncertain of the fate of the gifted. Jack and Sheppard took care of the media, informing the public and what to do for the immediate future. Gwen and Rhys had left to work with police, fire, and military forces to start clean-up. Ianto had retreated. He knew there was no better word for that. While Tosh and Owen looked after the gifted, Ianto quietly snuck away to the courtyard. He knew it was wrong, he should be helping somehow, sitting with the kids, but he couldn't look at their closed eyes and relaxed faces, couldn't see the occasional dried blood from the bitten lip or the gauze-wrapped hands covering red crescents in their palms from fingernails when the fight had grown.
And most of all, he couldn't go to one room. Couldn't even look at the door, despite the disappointed looks Tosh gave him.
So he hid out in the courtyard, just thirteen hours after the initial dragons had been spotted above Cardiff and hell had rained from the skies.
Hid and breathed the fresh air of the free.
Hid and suffered the guilt at what freedom had cost.
He made phone calls, hundreds of them to all the government leaders and civilian "Torchwood" groups around the world and to parents of the kids of Avalon. Called and called until his voice crackled with fatigue. Called despite half the numbers failing to connect. Called despite dead silence.
Called despite the wish to pretend that, just for a moment, he could sit down and pretend all was back to how it had been, obscurity and secrecy and shadows.
"No. To Mr. Black, for saving us all."
Ianto flinched in surprise, nearly dropping his glass as Sheppard's voice drew him from his thoughts. The mere notion that he should be thanked was repulsive, tasting of the most foul. People had died because of his choices. But before Ianto could repudiate the toast, Sheppard had clinked their glasses together and waited expectantly, his glass raised to his lips.
In defeat, Ianto drank, silently toasting luck.
"It was the right call, Ianto."
Grimacing, Ianto hesitated a moment before throwing the glass back, exhaling as the alcohol burned down into the knots of his gut. Lubricant, the knots unwinding as his body bled tension and seeped into the floor, forever polluting the grounds but he felt better for it. He poured another, topping Sheppard's sip. He almost spoke, then snorted in derision at himself and the protests on his tongue. They sounded weak even to him. It was battle; people die in battle. He knew that. Wishing otherwise would fail to honor the sacrifice of the fallen. Logically, he understood it.
But there was nothing logical about how he felt. He didn't think there ever would be.
The world had shifted overnight and shrieked the chaos he felt, an echo of logic and confusion. Everyone knew. Before, they had denied; they had ignored and made excuses. Now, everyone knew. It screamed across the headlines and dominated the airwaves. People were asking questions and they demanded answers. Or salvation; Ianto wasn't sure which had the greatest global reach. And in the panic of alien invasion and the victory of Avalon, the world's unified perception of themselves as sole inhabitants of the solar system, galaxy, or universe shifted, causing a shite-storm among the religious, the alien believers and those who never really thought of it. This was Copernicus and Galileo. This was the discovery the earth was round.
Life existed beyond Earth.
Pods falling from the sky to release alien dragons intent on world domination were hard to ignore, no matter how much the human mind wished to cling to tradition.
He couldn't understand the feeling; Ianto had known of the existence of aliens all his life. But he could sympathize with the fear of chaos, and Torchwood was doing their best to allay those fears. As were Sheppard and his crew, the thirteen governments in the nations united against the alien threat, and the families and students of Avalon.
The world population was having a harder time accepting Avalon than the existence of aliens, Ianto discovered, having turned on the telly a moment to find out what Jack and Sheppard were saying to the media. The Vice President of the United States, Raymonn Fillmore, joined the education of the public; Ianto had been surprised to learn Mr. Fillmore had collapsed during a meeting in Washington, D.C., a symptom difficult to mask as the world's gifted fell like dominoes scattered and thrown -- he hadn't been a student of Avalon, but he had known of his gifts.
His voice helped; as did Avalon's victory. It wasn't enough; but it was a start.
Everything had changed, now they just needed time.
"What're your plans from here?" Ianto finally asked, clumsily changing the subject like a blind dragon in Splott. It wasn't missed by Sheppard.
"Dragon hide." Ianto frowned in confusion, waiting for Sheppard to clarify. "All the cool superheros have uniforms. Mine's going to be dragon hide."
Sheppard spoke with such childish glee that Ianto couldn't but grin in response. He reminded Ianto a bit of his nephews, how their eyes would just light up when they got a new toy. "Spandex and cape, big 'S' on your chest?" Ianto asked innocently,
"I was thinking more Batman. With a dragon hide eye patch. And no ears."
"Dragon slayer, circa 21st century," Ianto eyed the last of his Scotch and swirled it once before drinking the remains of the glass. "The public will love you for it. Their own hero. You might even get an action figure."
"I think Mr. Black deserves an action figure too."
"Stephen's welcome to the action figure. He might even like it." Ianto tucked the bottle of scotch into the cabinet, deliberately misinterpreting Sheppard's not-so-subtle statement. He'd made mistakes; they didn't make action figures for mistakes. No matter the success, there were always options.
"Ianto ... "
He looked down in surprise when arms grabbed his shoulders, spinning him about. Sheppard's face had lost all sense of the earlier joviality, all previous lackadaisical lounge replaced by an intensity which made Ianto shirk, just a little. This was the Sheppard who had lost a city. This was the Sheppard who had commanded the military in that city.
"I killed my commanding officer in mercy and I woke the worst threat a galaxy has ever known." Sheppard gave a quick shake to Ianto's shoulders as though he were physically trying to impress his point upon Ianto. "I understand guilt. Don't let it consume you."
Ianto could scarcely breathe, unsure of what he'd say even if could say anything. What Sheppard said, it touched too close, way too close to the hidden corners Ianto tried to deny and push away. There was a victory but it had cost so much. Too much. If he wasn't responsible; if the guilt wasn't resting upon his shoulders, who would be to blame?
Jack and he had once had a conversation, long, long ago. Ianto had called Jack a monster.
Ianto had allowed kids to fight. Ianto had allowed Jean-Luc to fight.
Who was the monster now?
As though reading his thoughts, Sheppard's eye narrowed and Ianto found himself being pulled forward roughly, throwing him off balance and almost tumbling against Sheppard's chest. Sheppard's chest. Surrounded by arms of no intent of letting go while a stubbled cheek grazed against his. Their lips met, warmth spreading slowly through all places, no matter how small, where he touched Sheppard. The kiss wasn't fire, not like he'd known with Jack, but it was calming, reassuring, a summer's day spent at his father's, walking the pastures as the sun warmed and baked his skin on the rare occasion the sun showed her face.
Ianto didn't know how long it lasted, time was truly forgotten as guilt was banished by slow heat wrapping around him like his favorite blanket. Sheppard finally broke away with a soft chuckle, rubbing a finger over Ianto's lips. "Rodney's going to be jealous."
With a rueful smile, knowing full-well his own thoughts rested with someone else as well, Ianto tried to filter through the ones of Sheppard's team he had met and who could be Rodney. "Should I be concerned for my well-being?"
Sheppard's laugh reminded Ianto of a dog barking, but he wasn't going to comment.
"No. Unless he and Jack team-up and then we have something to be concerned about."
"Oh, Jack isn't-" Ianto started, changing his mind at the last moment. "He wouldn't be-"
"Jealous?" Sheppard arched his brow, smirking in disbelief. "He may have changed, Ianto, but I know men like him. I am men like him. He's still very much in love with you."
Ianto was fairly certain his jaw was dragging on the floor in shock as Sheppard stepped away, start/stopping a protest with every breath. Sheppard just grinned, tapping his earpiece to connect with his ship.
"Catch yourself a shower and get that arm of yours looked at. I'll send you my full report; I overheard you asking the Japanese director for one. And Ianto?"
With a nod, Ianto motioned for Sheppard to continue, not like at the present moment Ianto seemed to be able to stop the man from talking and he was still too busy trying to compute the fact that he thought Jack loved ... no, it was ridiculous. Sheppard didn't know Jack, not like Ianto knew him. What was more unnerving, however, was Sheppard himself; he was treating Ianto with far more respect than Ianto believed he deserved, and almost like-
"You're a good man. It was an honor to serve with you."
Like the man treated him as an equal.
Ianto returned the sentiments and watched as the shape of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard wavered, then flashed out in the blink of an eye, leaving Ianto as speechless in the solitude of his flat as he had before Sheppard had left.
Love indeed.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
"You should have seen Owen about this."
"Mmhmm." Ianto absently agreed with Tosh, relatively glad he'd taken Sheppard's advice and showered first (and grabbed a quick bit of sleep, what he could) since she had ordered him to remove his shirt the moment she saw him, though he really didn't intend to see Owen about the injury to his arm. They still disagreed (almost violently at one point) on whether it had been wise to involve the kids, if Jean-Luc couldn't have managed it with the adults...a useless, pointless argument to Ianto. And he wasn't going to hold it again.
There was no way he could take back that decision even if he wanted to.
But he'd be damned if he had to constantly defend it to anyone other than himself.
Instead, he turned up the volume on the telly, listening to Stephen's prepared speech to the media. They'd talked about what he should say, how he would present Avalon as Mr. Black. It was Stephen's first outing since he had woken, the first time anyone had 'seen' Avalon.
The world waited to see the man behind the scenes.
"We gather here today on the most auspicious of occasions."
Ianto spared a moment to glance down at his arm, the long scrapes and cuts from the dragon scales exposed once Tosh had removed the hastily applied field dressings. He had others -- bumps, scrapes, bruises -- but that was by far the worst.
He was at least conscious.
"A day in which I have the honor to present two of Britain's most cherished and prized operations, Torchwood and Avalon. But I stand here not to talk about aliens, I think we've had enough of aliens to last a lifetime," Stephen paused and scattered laughter filled the room, "but to talk about people among us, people with marvelous gifts. Some are no older than five, others older than even me," he paused again as more laughter, warmer this time sounded in the room, "but every one of the gifted are as human as you and I, as our neighbors and relatives, and as the people we stand next to on the street."
It was hardly a better alternative than Owen, seeking out Tosh, but Sheppard had been right, in both the need for a shower and addressing his injuries. He'd gladly suffer Tosh's ministrations, drawing quick stitches over the few areas she didn't think would seal properly on their own and clucking her tongue every time she removed more dirt and ash from the areas, than to deal with Owen. But it was still Tosh, and she knew he was avoiding, and Ianto knew the recriminations were laying on the tip of her tongue; she was just too polite to speak them.
"Freaks! You're all freaks! Unnaturals and creations of the devil! You're damned, you're all damned and you'll pay for what you've done to them! They were coming to save us! Save us from the freaks! You're unnatural! Unnatural!"
Ianto's attention immediately snapped to the telly, his arm jerking out of Tosh's hands to adjust the volume again, louder this time, but she didn't make one word of complaint. She was as attuned as he was to the screen.
This was not in the plans.
There was a commotion, shouts trying to be overheard over the woman's shrill cries and the reporters were all trying to cover what was happening for each of their viewers and readers. Ianto's stomach sank as he realized who the woman was, Tiffany Woodbridge, the plant at Avalon, and why her words sounded so familiar.
Ianto had forgotten of the human army, Torchwood Four and their recruits. The aliens had touched far more than just that fight for the earth, in some respect, they were still here.
"Silence! Please."
The crowd quieted at Stephen's words, the cries quieting as Tiffany was escorted out of the hall the press conference was occurring in. Ianto had no idea what Stephen would say, what he would do. This was the kind of thing they had been hoping to avoid, that through education and calm discussion they could end any doubt regarding Avalon.
They'd forgotten about those loyal to the aliens.
"Tiffany's right, in some respect." Stephen began, looking calmly out over the crowd. "The gifted, they're different. -We- are different." A few startled gasps echoed about the hall, but Stephen continued. "But no more different than one with blue eyes from those with green. Or blond hair instead of black. As far as our research can tell, it is an inherited genetic trait which can skip generations, like twins."
"This Tiffany, she said the aliens were coming to save us. Is this true?" A reporter asked.
"These aliens wanted nothing more than to enslave our world. Before their arrival, they sent two to breed a whole new generation of dragons. They also recruited to their cause. These recruits kidnapped the gifted, both children and adults, killing their family, friends, Avalon Guardians and innocents who happened to be witnesses. They killed so that what happened, the fight of Avalon against the dragons, could not occur. It wasn't protection that drove them to lock the gifted in cells in a hidden base; no one harms children for protection. Fear did. Fear of a fight. They wanted Earth and would stop at nothing to get it, even turning human against human."
For once, Ianto was relieved Stephen had demanded he be the face of Mr. Black. Stephen had far more grace at public speaking than Ianto did. The reporters all shouted to be heard again, finally Stephen picked one out of the crowd.
"You said 'we.' You're saying you're gifted as well, Mr. Black?"
Ianto snorted -- god, that'd be the only time the answer would be yes -- and Tosh gave him a look before resuming stitching the wound on his arm, one eye on the telly, one eye on what she was doing.
Stephen hesitated before answering. "I am, to a small degree." The reporters demanded an example, to show them something as a demonstration of Avalon. As the noise and demands grew, Stephen looked about and grabbed a pen from the podium, holding it flat on his palm so the reporters could see, before raising the pen until it hovered -- more danced as it spun and twirled -- in front of his face. He caught it back in his hand, and smiled to the public. "That's about all I can do, no fancy flinging bodies across the room or reading everything within another's mind like you might see in the movies." The crowd chuckled, albeit it a bit nervously. "Those that can, we've all been trained in ethics, in what is considered proper use and improper use. That is one reason Avalon exists, to educate in control and use. There are varying degrees of power, some with less and many others with a great deal more than I, but we do not abuse our gifts. There is one in particular, one whose gifts far exceed any other at Avalon, and he-"
The telly flicked off, dimming to a blank screen as Ianto stared at it, his finger still on the power button.
"Ianto-" Tosh's voice was scolding, and Ianto wondered when she'd turned into his surrogate mother. She didn't continue though, she watched him for a moment before turning back to the stitches.
Ianto stared at his arm as she worked, watched as she spread antibiotic gel on the scratches which didn't merit stitches. He couldn't understand it; why she was doing it, helping him. And Stephen had spoken yet another reminder of all the reasons why she should have turned Ianto away. He was responsible, for the threat to her niece and the threat to ... he was responsible. "Do you blame me?" Ianto finally asked while she poked and prodded other injuries, the bruising still sensitive enough to make him wince.
"No." Tosh motioned for him to stand and she tested the bruising on his ribs, feeling for any broken bones. "And neither would he," she added rather pointedly.
He didn't have the chance. Comas would do that.
She had Ianto spin, keeping a careful eye on the bruises and multitude of scratches and scrapes dotting his body. Poking a few more (painful, in the very least), she pointed back to his stool where Ianto sat and attempted to redress in the button-down he'd worn knowing it might have to come off.
To his embarrassment, Tosh helped him slip his arm back into the sleeve. "You should go see him, I can go with you."
Ianto believed he could now list that among the most embarrassing moments, even if it had never happened, nor would it ever. He crossed his arms, cringing when he bumped the work Tosh had just performed to repair the injury, and crossed them the other way so he wouldn't risk tearing stitches. He wasn't going to answer, was just going to wait for her to leave. Didn't she understand? He'd almost killed her boyfriend. Still might, since no one knew why he wouldn't wake up. To actually step foot in that ... no. Absolutely not. "I can't," Ianto said instead, surprising himself with his answer. It wasn't what he'd exactly meant to say, but maybe he was more tired and less guarded than he typically was.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd really slept.
"You're not to blame, Ianto. He loves you very much and he wouldn't want you burdened by guilt for a choice he and the rest of Avalon made. Might have been your decision to approve it, but they would have fought, with or without your permission. They couldn't have allowed Earth to fall if it was within their power, much as you did everything within yours to protect it."
Something in the way she had worded things caused Ianto to look up, certain she knew. She knew. Not that he'd been the best at hiding, not during the fight against the dragons, but ... shite. No one was supposed to know, especially not anyone in Torchwood Three. Except for Jack, but Jack seemed to be the exception to most rules. But Tosh ... Ianto supposed he should have figured that Tosh would figure it out. Fuck, he was shite at this whole secret identity business. He should have just come out after the fight and admit he was Mr. Black instead of continuing the charade with Stephen.
"We follow you, Ianto. We trust your decisions," Tosh continued, looking quite pleased with herself for having figured it out, Ianto assumed, while still maintaining that honest earnestness that Ianto admired. "Even when you doubt yourself, we never do."
In his daze, he couldn't find the words to respond.
Tosh seemed to recognize his speechlessness and smiled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before handing him a week's supply of antibiotics.
Some things never changed.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto picked up his mobile, surprised it still worked following all the communications which had passed through its electronics and plastic, and dialed the number of a person he was actually looking forward to speaking with.
One positive conversation, out of how many thousands of others?
"Ianto! Oi, you lot, hush! It's Ianto Jones!"
Ianto winced and held his phone away from his ear as the last part, not directed at him, he knew, was yelled into the receiver. "Sophia. You have kids?"
Laughter sounded the same, even digitized, and Ianto couldn't help but smile in return. "Yes, luv. Nineteen other adults who have acted like nothing but children since we became survivors squared. You need to get yourself to London and celebrate with us. Wouldn't mind waking up next to you in the morning instead of Nigel. He's right scary in the light of day, sober, much less first face ya see when the light's just a bit off and your head's pounding like a twenty-tonne dragon loose in your skull."
"A frightening thought." Ianto had seen what a twenty-tonne dragon loose in Splott could do. "I don't suppose I could convince everyone to quit drinking long enough to re-establish Torchwood London, could I?"
Silence dropped and for a moment, Ianto feared that perhaps it was too soon, too early to ask the question. But if not for the survivors joining the fight against the dragons in London and quite literally turning the tide, London would have suffered far more casualties and damage than the seventy-eight civilian lives lost on the ground. And Ianto had thought, from earlier conversations, that this would be something they would have wanted, were almost waiting for. But now, maybe it was too soon. He should have waited.
"Are you having me on?"
"Mr. Black's orders. Rebuild Torchwood London." Ianto spoke, wishing now he'd waited a few weeks. Maybe months. "I couldn't think of a better group to lead the effort."
"Oh."
Ianto could hear Sophia's choked breath on the other end, kicking himself now that he'd made her cry when she had been celebrating the victory with the others. He glanced at his watch; half two in the afternoon might have been a little early for celebrating, but he'd not scold anyone for it, much less the survivors of Canary Wharf. An odd bond, but palpable nonetheless, joined them all. And now he'd made Sophia cry.
"Bless you, Ianto." Blinking in surprise, Ianto had just a moment to remove the phone from his ear before he could hear, even at a distance, her calling to the others. "We're back! Torchwood London's back!"
Cheers exploded on the other line, Ianto was sure they were partially fueled by alcohol but no less deafening for a mere twenty people.
Maybe it hadn't been wrong not to wait.
"You'll come back and help, won't you, luv? You're part of us. Weren't for you, we'd not have had a chance against the dragons over London and there wouldn't be a London to protect with Torchwood. Oh, and Bertie, Bertie Finnegan, wants to know if she can be head of Archives and Josh wants to know if you'll bring Jack when you do visit."
Ianto smiled, still hearing the animated conversations in the background, of plans and processes and who to put in charge of what and what areas were best to provide the most centralized protection for London when the building itself was rebuilt. Everyone had ideas, everyone had their own specialty.
Survivors squared, Sophia had called them. London couldn't have better.
"Of course," Ianto agreed, not caring what he'd agreed to. He'd bring Jack dressed in tights if they wanted. Best not to offer, though, they'd probably demand he arrive in nothing. Realizing he was making assumptions that by all rights were his decisions to make, but Sophia wasn't aware, Ianto quickly added, "depending on Mr. Black, but of course."
The vibrant voices from London continued their loud celebration, toasts and dedications made at such levels Ianto could hear them word for word. Sophia continued her exuberant play-by-play and Ianto just listened because listening was so much better than going back to his duty.
Although, he reminded himself, listening was part of his duty.
Torchwood London was back.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto could see the dragon approaching, but there was not a damned thing he could do about it. His bullets were spent, wasted against the hard battle armor of the dragon's scales. Aside from physically throwing himself at the dragon, he had nothing. Nothing at all. And behind him, Torchwood stood, frantically trying to gather enough parts to make something, anything that might damage the dragon before it attacked.
What a feeble line of defense they were, the last line of defense for country and earth. Jean-Luc stood behind them with Stephen, just a yard away, working to destroy the aliens but the one dragon was coming. It had a bellow of fire. Ianto had counted down the minutes since its last sweep of flame they'd narrowly dodged.
God, they were going to burn.
He saw a rocket launcher on the ground, just a little distance away. Hoping it was loaded, he made a dash for it; the dragon was so close he could smell the reeking hide drenched in sulfur. Sulfur.
Ianto stood with the launcher in hand, empty as he'd feared it would be. Jack was shouting, yelling at the others but Ianto couldn't hear over the beat of the wings, the roar of the wind as it rushed past his ears.
No.
"No!" Ianto shouted, trying to distract the dragon, draw its attention away from the others, but it as too late as an arc of fire poured forth from the beast's polished metal mouth, igniting the air and raining down upon Torchwood and Avalon.
It burned, burned so hot Ianto could feel the heat where he stood watching helplessly as the team screamed amidst the flames and all crumpled to the ground in clouds of ash. Jack took the longest to fall, burning slower than the rest as though the dragon had planned it just to torment Ianto, to make him watch while Jack's skin blackened and bubbled, his screams shattering the night. Finally, they stopped, Jack stopped, blame and pain the last light in his eyes before the body sank to the earth while the sounds of metal clanked around him and the dragon turned towards him with its yawning, gaping mouth filled with sharp steel teeth rowed like a shark-
"Ianto."
This was it, Earth would fall. Avalon was gone, Ianto didn't think they could have survived the destruction of their focus. Torchwood was gone. He'd killed them all. He should have sent them elsewhere, less unprotected, not an open field. He should have sent Jean-Luc back to Avalon where they'd have been more defensible. A metal hand grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place as the dragon approached, teeth gnashing and clawed forearms slashing at the air-
"Ianto!"
Ianto registered his name, someone was saying it and he knew, rationally, that he had been dreaming but the touch on his shoulder was real and still all he could see was the dragon approaching while he was being held. Real or illusion, he pulled away from it as hard and fast as he could. Something fell, he heard the sounds of metal falling, and he spun about, trying to identify the source but tripped on his own two feet, stumbling forward until hands braced him and he got to focus on the lips saying his name.
Jack.
His heart still pounding in his ears, arms shaking from the rush of waking, Ianto gulped air faster than he ought to but his lungs were pleading for it. He turned his head and saw Tosh, but didn't see anyone else and for the life of him, he couldn't think of where they were or would be. "Gwen?"
"Checking out an alien sighting in Penarth with the new husband. Remember?" Jack spoke slowly, letting the information sink into Ianto's brain, which was still moving sluggishly with sleep and exhaustion. He faintly remembered Gwen's wedding just days ago. On schedule, despite the attacks. That had to be something, even if he'd nearly slept through the ceremony. He could have slept for months at this point. Continuing, Jack nodded towards the figure hovering a step away. "Tosh and I just got back from one at the Llanishen Gold Course and you were meeting up with us here. Avalon's safe, Owen's still there keeping an eye on everyone. Can I let go now or you still planning on becoming acquainted with the floor?"
Despite knowing that he had only been dreaming and the fact that it wasn't the first time he'd had such dreams (seemed every time he tried to close his eyes, it was all he could see, even after nearly two weeks), the relief at hearing of everyone's safety made Ianto's knees weak and for a moment, he had the fleeting thought that the floor might make good bedfellows. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Jack, squeezing until the man laughed a bit breathlessly at Ianto's exuberance.
"Must have been one hell of a nightmare."
"You have no idea," Ianto mumbled into Jack's shoulder, hating himself for admitting any weakness, but too relieved that they were (Jack was) alive to care. Even with the images rattling around his head, certain fodder for additional and more graphic dreams, Ianto could have fallen asleep again just like this, standing upright with Jack's hands rubbing circles on his back, but fates worked contrary to his wishes as he heard faint voices approaching from above, confusing him for a moment before realizing Gwen and Rhys must have taken the lift at the Plas into the Hub.
"I'll take care of him. You want to brief Gwen and Rhys on what we saw?"
Tosh must have given some affirmative because Ianto felt himself being led away from the desks (a chair, the chair he was sitting in, that must have been the metal falling) and towards Jack's office. Jack laughed as he helped Ianto down the ladder, an action completely unnecessary because the couch would have been an easier and less problematic location for him to sleep but Jack would have none of it.
Jack's bedroom.
Ianto would have blushed, remembering the last time he was down here with Jack (the other Jack), but this Jack was still that Jack, even if he looked a bit different and didn't know quite as much. Ianto knew every inch of this man's body and had mapped exactly where and when a response would occur. An unfair advantage, to be sure, but it kept Ianto at ease as Jack removed first his shoes, then his clothes. All of them, Ianto noticed as he was tucked under the covers of Jack's bed.
Of course Jack would use the opportunity to look, and look he did if Ianto correctly read the smirk on Jack's face.
What surprised Ianto, however, was when Jack turned to leave. Ianto was tucked into Jack's bed, naked, and this Jack was leaving like he hadn't made passing comments and innuendo at his suits just like the old Jack, much less have Ianto's unclothed body to comment on or leer at.
"Jack?"
The man in question turned around at the sound of Ianto's voice, rattling deeper with exhaustion than Ianto was used to hearing from himself, just having barely made it back to the ladder. He'd not stopped in thirteen days, running here and there, doing this and that and monitoring the world's reaction to both the gifted and the alien. Ianto would have blamed arousal instead, but he was so tired he didn't think he could think a dirty thought, much less get hard and have a wank on Jack's bed.
Maybe one dirty thought. Wanking on Jack's bed was a nice, dirty thought, even without the actual wanking.
Unsurprisingly, all Ianto could think about was what Sheppard had said before he'd left.
"Jack still loves you."
When Jack was close enough, inching closer and closer with every moment of silence, Ianto grabbed a handful of his braces and shirt and pulled, tugging Jack down until he hovered just close enough to Ianto that all he had to do to finish was raise his head. He kissed Jack, this Jack, his Jack, kissed him like he had wanted to out on that air field, kissed him like he remembered them kissing and kissing as he'd never imagined.
God, this was Jack.
He was an idiot.
Ianto pulled at Jack's shirt until he was lying flush with Ianto; clutched the back of his head until Ianto was certain he wasn't moving, knotted his fingers in Jack's hair (longer, longer than the earlier Jack's) until he knew that Jack would swallow his whimpers. For that could be the only explanation for the sound in the room, desperate cries trailing from tongue to tongue, passing over lips, god, this was his Jack even if he wasn't.
When Jack toppled on top of him, Ianto knew that it didn't matter.
"Who am I?"
Blinking in confusion, the foreign words flitting across his mind in some semblance of order, Ianto stared at Jack, Jack's lips, wondering why they were so far away when they were much better suited to crushing his.
Ianto felt Jack's hands push his shoulders, focusing his attention as they sunk into the mattress, Jack repeating his question, enunciating every word. "Who am I?"
Explanations filtered across Ianto's mind, from drugs to concussion to alien spores. Amnesia? Retcon? Ianto tried to think of the appropriate thing to say, to do, but Jack was straddling his hips, fingers digging into his shoulders and he couldn't think much beyond JackJackJackJack. It superseded all other thought, even his bone-weariness. He could forget all that, temporarily, Jack was on top of him. Jack was touching him. Jack was-
Oh.
"Jack." Ianto spoke the name but it cracked in the middle. He tried again when Jack didn't move. "Jack." He lightly traced the scar above Jack's eye, the one he'd received in the past few months of capturing aliens with Torchwood. It did matter, and Ianto knew who was pinning him to the mattress. This Jack scarred. This Jack told Sheppard to protect him at all costs. This Jack watched over him, since that day on the roof of the Millennium Centre, always making sure he or Stephen or Jean-Luc was with Ianto while the threat of dragons loomed over their heads, even when Ianto despised the feeling of being watched over. This Jack kissed him in the Hub before they'd left to fight the invading aliens.
This Jack had stayed.
"Why?" Ianto asked, confused on that one point. It made no sense. Ianto had been expecting it for months, had been expecting it since he'd found Jack chained to the wall, had expected it since the fight against the dragons began. "Why didn't you leave?"
"I couldn't." Ianto didn't think he'd ever seen such an open, unguarded look on Jack's face before. It was almost painful to see, for all its honesty. "I had to prove I wasn't him. I don't know who I become, or who I was to you, but whatever reason it was, it wasn't worth it. You are worth staying for."
Ianto wasn't quite sure he'd heard Jack correctly, he knew he wasn't functioning at full capacity and needed a few days sleep to catch up to just 'tired', but he was fairly certain Jack had ... but he wouldn't, would he?
He would. "I love you, Ianto." Even if Jack hadn't meant it at the time, had only been speaking what he'd thought Ianto needed/wanted to hear, the words echoed across Ianto's mind, speaking what Jack hadn't said now but Ianto could feel.
Lacking any better response, Ianto pushed up off the bed, sitting up to cling full-bodied to Jack, ignoring the other man's rough clothes in favor of his heat and skin. Cause touch he did, cradling Jack's jaw as they kissed, more than kissed, shared air, shared life, shared everything Ianto couldn't say in response but felt all the same. His fingers slipped over the buttons on Jack's shirt, pulling and tugging because he needed to touch skin; he needed to touch Jack when he'd pretended this Jack wasn't his for so long.
Because this was Jack.
This was Jack.
Somehow he removed Jack's shirts; Ianto didn't quite remember the act but the next thing he knew he was touching skin, Jack's skin, Jack's imperfectly perfect skin. Jack was chuckling at his frantic pace, but he didn't care, not really. He'd been so long without, been so long with the teases and the innuendo and for all appearances Jack but he'd fought against it, it hadn't been right, it hadn't been proper, this wasn't his Jack ... but it was. It was Jack and while it shamed Ianto to admit it; this Jack wanted him. He wanted Ianto enough to stay.
And that meant something. Enough. Enough to make the touching and kissing right when everything around him was wrong.
Between one breath and the next, Ianto found himself laying back on the bed, sleep furthest from his mind as Jack sprawled on top him. The weight was familiar; comfortable, like Ianto hadn't spent months apart and maybe it was a little different, Jack a little lighter, less muscled, but Ianto knew the scent. He knew the touch and the feel and he knew that cock pressing into his hip while Jack discovered all the places that made Ianto moan.
Jack refused to allow Ianto to reciprocate, slapping his hands away when Ianto moved to run finger-light touches over Jack's sides, back, anywhere and everywhere he could touch. Jack didn't want it and while Ianto hoped only for this time, he could understand why.
For Jack, this was new. Ianto was new. He didn't want to compete with himself or Ianto's knowledge of him.
It's what Ianto would do, if it were him.
He'd make Jack forget there was ever another Ianto.
A giant yawn distracted Ianto from the nip of Jack's teeth along his collarbone, at first he thought he'd managed to stifle it and hide it from Jack, but the man's shaking shoulders proved otherwise.
"You should sleep," Jack grinned as his hands ignored his statement as they continued to move over Ianto's body.
Of course, Ianto should sleep. But he also felt Jack's cock like a brand on his stomach, burning a line to his navel and Ianto decided there were other, more important things he should be doing at the moment. "Later." His own voice sounded as though it were being run over sand, tumbling waters spinning and swirling with every stone. Later he could sleep, right now, he had Jack here. In bed. Naked and hard and Ianto wasn't going to deny he wasn't desperate for Jack's touch.
Jack's silence lasted for a long moment; Ianto finally opened his eyes and saw a scowl on Jack's face, not directed at him, but down ... Ianto's body? He watched as Jack bent and he felt the nudge of Jack's nose against his cock, a quick swipe of the tongue. "This isn't me, right?"
"Jaaack." Ianto drew Jack's name out into at least three syllables as he threw his arm over his face. Not in embarrassment. No, actually, embarrassment, but not severe. He wasn't bothered (yet) by the fact he was no more hard than the pillow he was laying on, because he understood.
He hadn't wanked for months after Torchwood One.
But Ianto supposed he'd be as insecure as Jack if the tables were turned. At least it wasn't permanent. He hoped. Opting for humor rather than anything he could have said which would have revealed far too much, Ianto spoke with his arm still providing the sand in which to bury his head. "Hurry up and fuck me before I fall asleep."
Jack's bark of laughter was surprisingly close, and when Ianto finally opened his eyes (after Jack pried his arm off his face; maybe a bit more than a little embarrassed), Jack's lips were so close Ianto could feel the words breathed towards Ianto, tickling his nose. "You're quite the romantic. Just...this isn't ...?"
Ianto thrust his hips up, not quite sure where or how high Jack's body straddled his but colliding with Jack's cock all the same. He rather hoped he got his point across. "No, it's not you," came his weary response, "and if it happens again and I've not been run ragged by attacking aliens and the outing of Torchwood and Avalon, then I'll panic, question my manhood and blame a medical condition."
"We can sleep, I'll wake you up if you start having a nightmare..."
"No." Ianto finally looked at Jack, really looked at him. This was Jack. Jack. The one he'd grieved, the one he'd mourned, the one he'd broken a vase in his sitting room in anger over; this was Jack, even if it wasn't. Ianto had spent months denying, months pushing him away because he wasn't his Jack. He was different, he was younger, he was mortal. His Jack was better and this one was less because of it.
But, Ianto loved Jack.
Both of them were Jack. The spirit, the courage, the loyalty and intelligence, self-sacrificing and kindness (least of all, attractiveness) had no more changed with the Jacks than had Ianto through the past few years. He was still Ianto, even if his title had changed. Jack was still Jack, even if his age had changed.
God, he loved the man.
"Jack," Ianto spread his hands over Jack's jaws and cheeks, holding his face firmly within his grasp because Ianto would be damned if he said this and Jack wasn't paying attention. "I need you." Fuck, but he needed Jack. Jack. This one, the other, both of them. Ianto didn't know what he'd have done without Jack's steady support over the months or during the defense of Cardiff. He needed Jack.
Ianto watched as the eyes boring into his exploded into black, Jack's pupils dilating so quickly if Ianto had blinked he'd have missed the impact of his words. They weren't any declarations of love, but Ianto did not need, not usually. Tosh had said it once before, he didn't ask for help.
He needed Jack.
There was no warning, no hint; Jack swept down upon him faster than Ianto could react, not that he'd offer a token of protest. Lips mashed against his, savage and desperate before softening into molten heat Ianto felt to his toes, the tense planes of his body relaxing into the mattress until it felt like Jack's body covered his and all around him.
Relaxed so much he yawned into the kiss, much to Jack's amusement.
"You're sleeping," Jack laughed against Ianto's collarbone, soft kisses peppering Ianto's skin as he shifted the intensity to a slow burn. "I'm not fucking someone who's not an active participant."
"Oh, you've self-control now?" With a grin that seemed as slow as syrup over ice, Ianto curled into Jack as the other man shifted and maneuvered his way onto the small bed to lay beside Ianto. This was right. Nothing else mattered. Ianto might kick himself later for decisions made on a sleep-addled brain but this felt right.
"I exemplify self-control."
Jack's smirk faltered as Ianto arched an eyebrow in doubt and reached between them to rest his hand on Jack's erection, setting off a series of cascading tremors just under Jack's skin that was fire and need all rolled into one. A firm hand grabbed Ianto's wrist and forcibly moved it to his chest, reaffirming Ianto's doubt.
"So much self-control I'm at least going to wait till after you fall asleep to rub off on your thigh."
"S'more like it." When it involved sex, Ianto wondered if Jack had ever possessed self-control, in this form or the other. Or maybe it was a cultural thing, from whenever and wherever he was from. Or maybe Jack had just seen so much death that he wasted no time delaying sex. Or maybe he just was a man with a healthy admiration for sex. Not that Ianto blamed him, sex was fantastic, especially when-
God, he really must be tired. His thoughts hadn't spun so much on nothing since his youth spent daydreaming on his favorite rock.
"Jack," Ianto asked with hesitation stretching out the name, truly hoping his earlier thoughts hadn't been voiced but most certainly wanting this question vocalized and knowing on any other occasion, the filter between his brain and his mouth would be intact and fully functional. "How old are you?"
For a moment, Ianto almost believed that Jack had actually fallen asleep. Or maybe Ianto had, and he was merely dreaming, self-aware in the dream state like he had never felt before. In fact, given his state of exhaustion there was a chance that this was all a figment of his imagination, lost in the bouts of insanity and hallucinations accompanying sleep deprivation. The odds increased as time passed, though Ianto hardly had the mind to bother with the calculations of change and probability.
But then a hushed voice answered his question, quietly falling between the crests of breath and exhale, "Thirty-five."
"Younger, then," Ianto decided, having received the answer to a long-plaguing question. Not that he knew the other Jack's age; but he was older, immortal or not. But the answer left him more confused, and definitely not something that his drowsy mind could comprehend. "But then, why did you pretend that you didn't know me? Why did you leave?"
"Sleep, Ianto," Jack whispered, his arms tightening around Ianto until Ianto was almost certain Jack's goal was to deprive him of oxygen to get him to sleep. And he let his mind drift, floating on tendrils of thread and thought, hearing and replaying in his mind, "I love you, Ianto", until he could almost believe it was true and even monsters had hope.
Next Part (2 of 3)
psst....don't forget! go to Architects of Memory. *g* and enjoy lots!
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
A/N: This is done a bit differently. This is part 1 of ... oh, I dunno, 2? I've got this 'chapter' nearly complete, it's at nearly 22,000 words. Yes, you heard me right. But there is a theme, subtle (or not so subtle that if you look at it in it's entirity and figure it out, cookie for you! At any rate, I'm posting part 1 tonight, and I'll wrap 2 of the remaining sections tomorrow and post part 2 prolly tomorrow night (and maybe 3, depending on how fickle LJ is on length and hey, it's like bonus 2 chapters in one week!).
Seriously, this chapter is as long as my Big Bang entry will be. *headdesks* But it was important this all stayed together! Cause, I am a whore for running themes ;) Next chapter will more than likely be the same way.
2.5 chapters left!!!
And, while you're at it, I know some (lots) of you are HP fans. When you're done here, skip on over to Architects of Memory. It's nearly completed, basically on the same posting timeline as me *g* (two chapters left!) and written by my utterly fabulous beta lilithilien. It's an absolutely amazing twisted plotty epic Harry/Draco post-battle tale that if I wrote HP, I could only be so lucky to write as well as she does with the characters and storylines. So, here's to pimping her fic! Go read and lavish praise! Because it much deserves it.
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
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
Black and White (S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 1)
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
The brief disorientation passed and Ianto found himself in his kitchen, Colonel John Sheppard smirking beside him less than an arm's reach away. Ianto gestured towards the sitting room where he knew a bottle of Scotch and some glasses could be found. "There is something to be said for instantaneous travel."
Sheppard chuckled as he trailed behind Ianto, drawling in the speech pattern Ianto had yet to identify. "Should have seen the naked grey aliens who invented the tech."
Ianto raised an eyebrow as he poured two glasses. Not that he didn't believe Sheppard, the man had battle cruisers after all, but he really didn't know how to respond to naked grey aliens. He blamed the past thirty-nine hours for his lapse in retort.
Fuck, yesterday morning seemed a lifetime ago.
"To victory." Ianto raised his glass in toast after handing one to Sheppard. Victory. And what her cost. Avalon. The thought of the school made his stomach twist and knot something painful, each breath pressing against a building, oppressing mass of guilt. Reports had spread quickly across the news -- hundreds of people of all ages collapsing in the streets, at their jobs, in churches and villages. People in hospitals treating the injured, people the injured themselves. People driving cars and riding bicycles, stopping on the roadways. People in governments, friends and foe. Far more people than had ever visited or been protected by Avalon. Far more by a magnitude of ten.
It seemed while Avalon's power grew, the meld drew the gifted out like a magnet, attracting the unknown and the unaware, requesting their presence in the fight, building strength. 'Like those fractal things,' Lana had said, miming the swirl effect as the force of Avalon gathered force. 'A hurricane. Spinning faster and faster and picking up more and more. Some had no clue they possessed gifts.'
They did now, Ianto noted. Reports from the globe over as loved ones and strangers panicked, so many unresponsive, so many questions, so many demands for answers.
Ianto had none.
Twenty-four had died; mostly the elderly who simply weren't up to the massive strain put on their bodies (though Ianto questioned a few reports). And slowly, most were waking from their unconscious state. It had begun as a trickle, a few students of Avalon crawling from their beds to check on their friends. Owen, being infinitely more understanding than Ianto would have ever given him credit for, didn't nag once to get into their separate beds. Maybe it was shock, maybe Owen really did have a heart. Ianto had smiled when he caught Owen tucking a blanket over the shoulders of two kids (Marion Raspun and Willie Parker); the glare Owen had shot him was worth the effort.
That was the first and last time Ianto stepped foot in the residential wing.
Neither Owen, Tosh, or Ianto left Avalon while the world was uncertain of the fate of the gifted. Jack and Sheppard took care of the media, informing the public and what to do for the immediate future. Gwen and Rhys had left to work with police, fire, and military forces to start clean-up. Ianto had retreated. He knew there was no better word for that. While Tosh and Owen looked after the gifted, Ianto quietly snuck away to the courtyard. He knew it was wrong, he should be helping somehow, sitting with the kids, but he couldn't look at their closed eyes and relaxed faces, couldn't see the occasional dried blood from the bitten lip or the gauze-wrapped hands covering red crescents in their palms from fingernails when the fight had grown.
And most of all, he couldn't go to one room. Couldn't even look at the door, despite the disappointed looks Tosh gave him.
So he hid out in the courtyard, just thirteen hours after the initial dragons had been spotted above Cardiff and hell had rained from the skies.
Hid and breathed the fresh air of the free.
Hid and suffered the guilt at what freedom had cost.
He made phone calls, hundreds of them to all the government leaders and civilian "Torchwood" groups around the world and to parents of the kids of Avalon. Called and called until his voice crackled with fatigue. Called despite half the numbers failing to connect. Called despite dead silence.
Called despite the wish to pretend that, just for a moment, he could sit down and pretend all was back to how it had been, obscurity and secrecy and shadows.
"No. To Mr. Black, for saving us all."
Ianto flinched in surprise, nearly dropping his glass as Sheppard's voice drew him from his thoughts. The mere notion that he should be thanked was repulsive, tasting of the most foul. People had died because of his choices. But before Ianto could repudiate the toast, Sheppard had clinked their glasses together and waited expectantly, his glass raised to his lips.
In defeat, Ianto drank, silently toasting luck.
"It was the right call, Ianto."
Grimacing, Ianto hesitated a moment before throwing the glass back, exhaling as the alcohol burned down into the knots of his gut. Lubricant, the knots unwinding as his body bled tension and seeped into the floor, forever polluting the grounds but he felt better for it. He poured another, topping Sheppard's sip. He almost spoke, then snorted in derision at himself and the protests on his tongue. They sounded weak even to him. It was battle; people die in battle. He knew that. Wishing otherwise would fail to honor the sacrifice of the fallen. Logically, he understood it.
But there was nothing logical about how he felt. He didn't think there ever would be.
The world had shifted overnight and shrieked the chaos he felt, an echo of logic and confusion. Everyone knew. Before, they had denied; they had ignored and made excuses. Now, everyone knew. It screamed across the headlines and dominated the airwaves. People were asking questions and they demanded answers. Or salvation; Ianto wasn't sure which had the greatest global reach. And in the panic of alien invasion and the victory of Avalon, the world's unified perception of themselves as sole inhabitants of the solar system, galaxy, or universe shifted, causing a shite-storm among the religious, the alien believers and those who never really thought of it. This was Copernicus and Galileo. This was the discovery the earth was round.
Life existed beyond Earth.
Pods falling from the sky to release alien dragons intent on world domination were hard to ignore, no matter how much the human mind wished to cling to tradition.
He couldn't understand the feeling; Ianto had known of the existence of aliens all his life. But he could sympathize with the fear of chaos, and Torchwood was doing their best to allay those fears. As were Sheppard and his crew, the thirteen governments in the nations united against the alien threat, and the families and students of Avalon.
The world population was having a harder time accepting Avalon than the existence of aliens, Ianto discovered, having turned on the telly a moment to find out what Jack and Sheppard were saying to the media. The Vice President of the United States, Raymonn Fillmore, joined the education of the public; Ianto had been surprised to learn Mr. Fillmore had collapsed during a meeting in Washington, D.C., a symptom difficult to mask as the world's gifted fell like dominoes scattered and thrown -- he hadn't been a student of Avalon, but he had known of his gifts.
His voice helped; as did Avalon's victory. It wasn't enough; but it was a start.
Everything had changed, now they just needed time.
"What're your plans from here?" Ianto finally asked, clumsily changing the subject like a blind dragon in Splott. It wasn't missed by Sheppard.
"Dragon hide." Ianto frowned in confusion, waiting for Sheppard to clarify. "All the cool superheros have uniforms. Mine's going to be dragon hide."
Sheppard spoke with such childish glee that Ianto couldn't but grin in response. He reminded Ianto a bit of his nephews, how their eyes would just light up when they got a new toy. "Spandex and cape, big 'S' on your chest?" Ianto asked innocently,
"I was thinking more Batman. With a dragon hide eye patch. And no ears."
"Dragon slayer, circa 21st century," Ianto eyed the last of his Scotch and swirled it once before drinking the remains of the glass. "The public will love you for it. Their own hero. You might even get an action figure."
"I think Mr. Black deserves an action figure too."
"Stephen's welcome to the action figure. He might even like it." Ianto tucked the bottle of scotch into the cabinet, deliberately misinterpreting Sheppard's not-so-subtle statement. He'd made mistakes; they didn't make action figures for mistakes. No matter the success, there were always options.
"Ianto ... "
He looked down in surprise when arms grabbed his shoulders, spinning him about. Sheppard's face had lost all sense of the earlier joviality, all previous lackadaisical lounge replaced by an intensity which made Ianto shirk, just a little. This was the Sheppard who had lost a city. This was the Sheppard who had commanded the military in that city.
"I killed my commanding officer in mercy and I woke the worst threat a galaxy has ever known." Sheppard gave a quick shake to Ianto's shoulders as though he were physically trying to impress his point upon Ianto. "I understand guilt. Don't let it consume you."
Ianto could scarcely breathe, unsure of what he'd say even if could say anything. What Sheppard said, it touched too close, way too close to the hidden corners Ianto tried to deny and push away. There was a victory but it had cost so much. Too much. If he wasn't responsible; if the guilt wasn't resting upon his shoulders, who would be to blame?
Jack and he had once had a conversation, long, long ago. Ianto had called Jack a monster.
Ianto had allowed kids to fight. Ianto had allowed Jean-Luc to fight.
Who was the monster now?
As though reading his thoughts, Sheppard's eye narrowed and Ianto found himself being pulled forward roughly, throwing him off balance and almost tumbling against Sheppard's chest. Sheppard's chest. Surrounded by arms of no intent of letting go while a stubbled cheek grazed against his. Their lips met, warmth spreading slowly through all places, no matter how small, where he touched Sheppard. The kiss wasn't fire, not like he'd known with Jack, but it was calming, reassuring, a summer's day spent at his father's, walking the pastures as the sun warmed and baked his skin on the rare occasion the sun showed her face.
Ianto didn't know how long it lasted, time was truly forgotten as guilt was banished by slow heat wrapping around him like his favorite blanket. Sheppard finally broke away with a soft chuckle, rubbing a finger over Ianto's lips. "Rodney's going to be jealous."
With a rueful smile, knowing full-well his own thoughts rested with someone else as well, Ianto tried to filter through the ones of Sheppard's team he had met and who could be Rodney. "Should I be concerned for my well-being?"
Sheppard's laugh reminded Ianto of a dog barking, but he wasn't going to comment.
"No. Unless he and Jack team-up and then we have something to be concerned about."
"Oh, Jack isn't-" Ianto started, changing his mind at the last moment. "He wouldn't be-"
"Jealous?" Sheppard arched his brow, smirking in disbelief. "He may have changed, Ianto, but I know men like him. I am men like him. He's still very much in love with you."
Ianto was fairly certain his jaw was dragging on the floor in shock as Sheppard stepped away, start/stopping a protest with every breath. Sheppard just grinned, tapping his earpiece to connect with his ship.
"Catch yourself a shower and get that arm of yours looked at. I'll send you my full report; I overheard you asking the Japanese director for one. And Ianto?"
With a nod, Ianto motioned for Sheppard to continue, not like at the present moment Ianto seemed to be able to stop the man from talking and he was still too busy trying to compute the fact that he thought Jack loved ... no, it was ridiculous. Sheppard didn't know Jack, not like Ianto knew him. What was more unnerving, however, was Sheppard himself; he was treating Ianto with far more respect than Ianto believed he deserved, and almost like-
"You're a good man. It was an honor to serve with you."
Like the man treated him as an equal.
Ianto returned the sentiments and watched as the shape of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard wavered, then flashed out in the blink of an eye, leaving Ianto as speechless in the solitude of his flat as he had before Sheppard had left.
Love indeed.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
"You should have seen Owen about this."
"Mmhmm." Ianto absently agreed with Tosh, relatively glad he'd taken Sheppard's advice and showered first (and grabbed a quick bit of sleep, what he could) since she had ordered him to remove his shirt the moment she saw him, though he really didn't intend to see Owen about the injury to his arm. They still disagreed (almost violently at one point) on whether it had been wise to involve the kids, if Jean-Luc couldn't have managed it with the adults...a useless, pointless argument to Ianto. And he wasn't going to hold it again.
There was no way he could take back that decision even if he wanted to.
But he'd be damned if he had to constantly defend it to anyone other than himself.
Instead, he turned up the volume on the telly, listening to Stephen's prepared speech to the media. They'd talked about what he should say, how he would present Avalon as Mr. Black. It was Stephen's first outing since he had woken, the first time anyone had 'seen' Avalon.
The world waited to see the man behind the scenes.
"We gather here today on the most auspicious of occasions."
Ianto spared a moment to glance down at his arm, the long scrapes and cuts from the dragon scales exposed once Tosh had removed the hastily applied field dressings. He had others -- bumps, scrapes, bruises -- but that was by far the worst.
He was at least conscious.
"A day in which I have the honor to present two of Britain's most cherished and prized operations, Torchwood and Avalon. But I stand here not to talk about aliens, I think we've had enough of aliens to last a lifetime," Stephen paused and scattered laughter filled the room, "but to talk about people among us, people with marvelous gifts. Some are no older than five, others older than even me," he paused again as more laughter, warmer this time sounded in the room, "but every one of the gifted are as human as you and I, as our neighbors and relatives, and as the people we stand next to on the street."
It was hardly a better alternative than Owen, seeking out Tosh, but Sheppard had been right, in both the need for a shower and addressing his injuries. He'd gladly suffer Tosh's ministrations, drawing quick stitches over the few areas she didn't think would seal properly on their own and clucking her tongue every time she removed more dirt and ash from the areas, than to deal with Owen. But it was still Tosh, and she knew he was avoiding, and Ianto knew the recriminations were laying on the tip of her tongue; she was just too polite to speak them.
"Freaks! You're all freaks! Unnaturals and creations of the devil! You're damned, you're all damned and you'll pay for what you've done to them! They were coming to save us! Save us from the freaks! You're unnatural! Unnatural!"
Ianto's attention immediately snapped to the telly, his arm jerking out of Tosh's hands to adjust the volume again, louder this time, but she didn't make one word of complaint. She was as attuned as he was to the screen.
This was not in the plans.
There was a commotion, shouts trying to be overheard over the woman's shrill cries and the reporters were all trying to cover what was happening for each of their viewers and readers. Ianto's stomach sank as he realized who the woman was, Tiffany Woodbridge, the plant at Avalon, and why her words sounded so familiar.
Ianto had forgotten of the human army, Torchwood Four and their recruits. The aliens had touched far more than just that fight for the earth, in some respect, they were still here.
"Silence! Please."
The crowd quieted at Stephen's words, the cries quieting as Tiffany was escorted out of the hall the press conference was occurring in. Ianto had no idea what Stephen would say, what he would do. This was the kind of thing they had been hoping to avoid, that through education and calm discussion they could end any doubt regarding Avalon.
They'd forgotten about those loyal to the aliens.
"Tiffany's right, in some respect." Stephen began, looking calmly out over the crowd. "The gifted, they're different. -We- are different." A few startled gasps echoed about the hall, but Stephen continued. "But no more different than one with blue eyes from those with green. Or blond hair instead of black. As far as our research can tell, it is an inherited genetic trait which can skip generations, like twins."
"This Tiffany, she said the aliens were coming to save us. Is this true?" A reporter asked.
"These aliens wanted nothing more than to enslave our world. Before their arrival, they sent two to breed a whole new generation of dragons. They also recruited to their cause. These recruits kidnapped the gifted, both children and adults, killing their family, friends, Avalon Guardians and innocents who happened to be witnesses. They killed so that what happened, the fight of Avalon against the dragons, could not occur. It wasn't protection that drove them to lock the gifted in cells in a hidden base; no one harms children for protection. Fear did. Fear of a fight. They wanted Earth and would stop at nothing to get it, even turning human against human."
For once, Ianto was relieved Stephen had demanded he be the face of Mr. Black. Stephen had far more grace at public speaking than Ianto did. The reporters all shouted to be heard again, finally Stephen picked one out of the crowd.
"You said 'we.' You're saying you're gifted as well, Mr. Black?"
Ianto snorted -- god, that'd be the only time the answer would be yes -- and Tosh gave him a look before resuming stitching the wound on his arm, one eye on the telly, one eye on what she was doing.
Stephen hesitated before answering. "I am, to a small degree." The reporters demanded an example, to show them something as a demonstration of Avalon. As the noise and demands grew, Stephen looked about and grabbed a pen from the podium, holding it flat on his palm so the reporters could see, before raising the pen until it hovered -- more danced as it spun and twirled -- in front of his face. He caught it back in his hand, and smiled to the public. "That's about all I can do, no fancy flinging bodies across the room or reading everything within another's mind like you might see in the movies." The crowd chuckled, albeit it a bit nervously. "Those that can, we've all been trained in ethics, in what is considered proper use and improper use. That is one reason Avalon exists, to educate in control and use. There are varying degrees of power, some with less and many others with a great deal more than I, but we do not abuse our gifts. There is one in particular, one whose gifts far exceed any other at Avalon, and he-"
The telly flicked off, dimming to a blank screen as Ianto stared at it, his finger still on the power button.
"Ianto-" Tosh's voice was scolding, and Ianto wondered when she'd turned into his surrogate mother. She didn't continue though, she watched him for a moment before turning back to the stitches.
Ianto stared at his arm as she worked, watched as she spread antibiotic gel on the scratches which didn't merit stitches. He couldn't understand it; why she was doing it, helping him. And Stephen had spoken yet another reminder of all the reasons why she should have turned Ianto away. He was responsible, for the threat to her niece and the threat to ... he was responsible. "Do you blame me?" Ianto finally asked while she poked and prodded other injuries, the bruising still sensitive enough to make him wince.
"No." Tosh motioned for him to stand and she tested the bruising on his ribs, feeling for any broken bones. "And neither would he," she added rather pointedly.
He didn't have the chance. Comas would do that.
She had Ianto spin, keeping a careful eye on the bruises and multitude of scratches and scrapes dotting his body. Poking a few more (painful, in the very least), she pointed back to his stool where Ianto sat and attempted to redress in the button-down he'd worn knowing it might have to come off.
To his embarrassment, Tosh helped him slip his arm back into the sleeve. "You should go see him, I can go with you."
Ianto believed he could now list that among the most embarrassing moments, even if it had never happened, nor would it ever. He crossed his arms, cringing when he bumped the work Tosh had just performed to repair the injury, and crossed them the other way so he wouldn't risk tearing stitches. He wasn't going to answer, was just going to wait for her to leave. Didn't she understand? He'd almost killed her boyfriend. Still might, since no one knew why he wouldn't wake up. To actually step foot in that ... no. Absolutely not. "I can't," Ianto said instead, surprising himself with his answer. It wasn't what he'd exactly meant to say, but maybe he was more tired and less guarded than he typically was.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd really slept.
"You're not to blame, Ianto. He loves you very much and he wouldn't want you burdened by guilt for a choice he and the rest of Avalon made. Might have been your decision to approve it, but they would have fought, with or without your permission. They couldn't have allowed Earth to fall if it was within their power, much as you did everything within yours to protect it."
Something in the way she had worded things caused Ianto to look up, certain she knew. She knew. Not that he'd been the best at hiding, not during the fight against the dragons, but ... shite. No one was supposed to know, especially not anyone in Torchwood Three. Except for Jack, but Jack seemed to be the exception to most rules. But Tosh ... Ianto supposed he should have figured that Tosh would figure it out. Fuck, he was shite at this whole secret identity business. He should have just come out after the fight and admit he was Mr. Black instead of continuing the charade with Stephen.
"We follow you, Ianto. We trust your decisions," Tosh continued, looking quite pleased with herself for having figured it out, Ianto assumed, while still maintaining that honest earnestness that Ianto admired. "Even when you doubt yourself, we never do."
In his daze, he couldn't find the words to respond.
Tosh seemed to recognize his speechlessness and smiled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before handing him a week's supply of antibiotics.
Some things never changed.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto picked up his mobile, surprised it still worked following all the communications which had passed through its electronics and plastic, and dialed the number of a person he was actually looking forward to speaking with.
One positive conversation, out of how many thousands of others?
"Ianto! Oi, you lot, hush! It's Ianto Jones!"
Ianto winced and held his phone away from his ear as the last part, not directed at him, he knew, was yelled into the receiver. "Sophia. You have kids?"
Laughter sounded the same, even digitized, and Ianto couldn't help but smile in return. "Yes, luv. Nineteen other adults who have acted like nothing but children since we became survivors squared. You need to get yourself to London and celebrate with us. Wouldn't mind waking up next to you in the morning instead of Nigel. He's right scary in the light of day, sober, much less first face ya see when the light's just a bit off and your head's pounding like a twenty-tonne dragon loose in your skull."
"A frightening thought." Ianto had seen what a twenty-tonne dragon loose in Splott could do. "I don't suppose I could convince everyone to quit drinking long enough to re-establish Torchwood London, could I?"
Silence dropped and for a moment, Ianto feared that perhaps it was too soon, too early to ask the question. But if not for the survivors joining the fight against the dragons in London and quite literally turning the tide, London would have suffered far more casualties and damage than the seventy-eight civilian lives lost on the ground. And Ianto had thought, from earlier conversations, that this would be something they would have wanted, were almost waiting for. But now, maybe it was too soon. He should have waited.
"Are you having me on?"
"Mr. Black's orders. Rebuild Torchwood London." Ianto spoke, wishing now he'd waited a few weeks. Maybe months. "I couldn't think of a better group to lead the effort."
"Oh."
Ianto could hear Sophia's choked breath on the other end, kicking himself now that he'd made her cry when she had been celebrating the victory with the others. He glanced at his watch; half two in the afternoon might have been a little early for celebrating, but he'd not scold anyone for it, much less the survivors of Canary Wharf. An odd bond, but palpable nonetheless, joined them all. And now he'd made Sophia cry.
"Bless you, Ianto." Blinking in surprise, Ianto had just a moment to remove the phone from his ear before he could hear, even at a distance, her calling to the others. "We're back! Torchwood London's back!"
Cheers exploded on the other line, Ianto was sure they were partially fueled by alcohol but no less deafening for a mere twenty people.
Maybe it hadn't been wrong not to wait.
"You'll come back and help, won't you, luv? You're part of us. Weren't for you, we'd not have had a chance against the dragons over London and there wouldn't be a London to protect with Torchwood. Oh, and Bertie, Bertie Finnegan, wants to know if she can be head of Archives and Josh wants to know if you'll bring Jack when you do visit."
Ianto smiled, still hearing the animated conversations in the background, of plans and processes and who to put in charge of what and what areas were best to provide the most centralized protection for London when the building itself was rebuilt. Everyone had ideas, everyone had their own specialty.
Survivors squared, Sophia had called them. London couldn't have better.
"Of course," Ianto agreed, not caring what he'd agreed to. He'd bring Jack dressed in tights if they wanted. Best not to offer, though, they'd probably demand he arrive in nothing. Realizing he was making assumptions that by all rights were his decisions to make, but Sophia wasn't aware, Ianto quickly added, "depending on Mr. Black, but of course."
The vibrant voices from London continued their loud celebration, toasts and dedications made at such levels Ianto could hear them word for word. Sophia continued her exuberant play-by-play and Ianto just listened because listening was so much better than going back to his duty.
Although, he reminded himself, listening was part of his duty.
Torchwood London was back.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto could see the dragon approaching, but there was not a damned thing he could do about it. His bullets were spent, wasted against the hard battle armor of the dragon's scales. Aside from physically throwing himself at the dragon, he had nothing. Nothing at all. And behind him, Torchwood stood, frantically trying to gather enough parts to make something, anything that might damage the dragon before it attacked.
What a feeble line of defense they were, the last line of defense for country and earth. Jean-Luc stood behind them with Stephen, just a yard away, working to destroy the aliens but the one dragon was coming. It had a bellow of fire. Ianto had counted down the minutes since its last sweep of flame they'd narrowly dodged.
God, they were going to burn.
He saw a rocket launcher on the ground, just a little distance away. Hoping it was loaded, he made a dash for it; the dragon was so close he could smell the reeking hide drenched in sulfur. Sulfur.
Ianto stood with the launcher in hand, empty as he'd feared it would be. Jack was shouting, yelling at the others but Ianto couldn't hear over the beat of the wings, the roar of the wind as it rushed past his ears.
No.
"No!" Ianto shouted, trying to distract the dragon, draw its attention away from the others, but it as too late as an arc of fire poured forth from the beast's polished metal mouth, igniting the air and raining down upon Torchwood and Avalon.
It burned, burned so hot Ianto could feel the heat where he stood watching helplessly as the team screamed amidst the flames and all crumpled to the ground in clouds of ash. Jack took the longest to fall, burning slower than the rest as though the dragon had planned it just to torment Ianto, to make him watch while Jack's skin blackened and bubbled, his screams shattering the night. Finally, they stopped, Jack stopped, blame and pain the last light in his eyes before the body sank to the earth while the sounds of metal clanked around him and the dragon turned towards him with its yawning, gaping mouth filled with sharp steel teeth rowed like a shark-
"Ianto."
This was it, Earth would fall. Avalon was gone, Ianto didn't think they could have survived the destruction of their focus. Torchwood was gone. He'd killed them all. He should have sent them elsewhere, less unprotected, not an open field. He should have sent Jean-Luc back to Avalon where they'd have been more defensible. A metal hand grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place as the dragon approached, teeth gnashing and clawed forearms slashing at the air-
"Ianto!"
Ianto registered his name, someone was saying it and he knew, rationally, that he had been dreaming but the touch on his shoulder was real and still all he could see was the dragon approaching while he was being held. Real or illusion, he pulled away from it as hard and fast as he could. Something fell, he heard the sounds of metal falling, and he spun about, trying to identify the source but tripped on his own two feet, stumbling forward until hands braced him and he got to focus on the lips saying his name.
Jack.
His heart still pounding in his ears, arms shaking from the rush of waking, Ianto gulped air faster than he ought to but his lungs were pleading for it. He turned his head and saw Tosh, but didn't see anyone else and for the life of him, he couldn't think of where they were or would be. "Gwen?"
"Checking out an alien sighting in Penarth with the new husband. Remember?" Jack spoke slowly, letting the information sink into Ianto's brain, which was still moving sluggishly with sleep and exhaustion. He faintly remembered Gwen's wedding just days ago. On schedule, despite the attacks. That had to be something, even if he'd nearly slept through the ceremony. He could have slept for months at this point. Continuing, Jack nodded towards the figure hovering a step away. "Tosh and I just got back from one at the Llanishen Gold Course and you were meeting up with us here. Avalon's safe, Owen's still there keeping an eye on everyone. Can I let go now or you still planning on becoming acquainted with the floor?"
Despite knowing that he had only been dreaming and the fact that it wasn't the first time he'd had such dreams (seemed every time he tried to close his eyes, it was all he could see, even after nearly two weeks), the relief at hearing of everyone's safety made Ianto's knees weak and for a moment, he had the fleeting thought that the floor might make good bedfellows. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Jack, squeezing until the man laughed a bit breathlessly at Ianto's exuberance.
"Must have been one hell of a nightmare."
"You have no idea," Ianto mumbled into Jack's shoulder, hating himself for admitting any weakness, but too relieved that they were (Jack was) alive to care. Even with the images rattling around his head, certain fodder for additional and more graphic dreams, Ianto could have fallen asleep again just like this, standing upright with Jack's hands rubbing circles on his back, but fates worked contrary to his wishes as he heard faint voices approaching from above, confusing him for a moment before realizing Gwen and Rhys must have taken the lift at the Plas into the Hub.
"I'll take care of him. You want to brief Gwen and Rhys on what we saw?"
Tosh must have given some affirmative because Ianto felt himself being led away from the desks (a chair, the chair he was sitting in, that must have been the metal falling) and towards Jack's office. Jack laughed as he helped Ianto down the ladder, an action completely unnecessary because the couch would have been an easier and less problematic location for him to sleep but Jack would have none of it.
Jack's bedroom.
Ianto would have blushed, remembering the last time he was down here with Jack (the other Jack), but this Jack was still that Jack, even if he looked a bit different and didn't know quite as much. Ianto knew every inch of this man's body and had mapped exactly where and when a response would occur. An unfair advantage, to be sure, but it kept Ianto at ease as Jack removed first his shoes, then his clothes. All of them, Ianto noticed as he was tucked under the covers of Jack's bed.
Of course Jack would use the opportunity to look, and look he did if Ianto correctly read the smirk on Jack's face.
What surprised Ianto, however, was when Jack turned to leave. Ianto was tucked into Jack's bed, naked, and this Jack was leaving like he hadn't made passing comments and innuendo at his suits just like the old Jack, much less have Ianto's unclothed body to comment on or leer at.
"Jack?"
The man in question turned around at the sound of Ianto's voice, rattling deeper with exhaustion than Ianto was used to hearing from himself, just having barely made it back to the ladder. He'd not stopped in thirteen days, running here and there, doing this and that and monitoring the world's reaction to both the gifted and the alien. Ianto would have blamed arousal instead, but he was so tired he didn't think he could think a dirty thought, much less get hard and have a wank on Jack's bed.
Maybe one dirty thought. Wanking on Jack's bed was a nice, dirty thought, even without the actual wanking.
Unsurprisingly, all Ianto could think about was what Sheppard had said before he'd left.
"Jack still loves you."
When Jack was close enough, inching closer and closer with every moment of silence, Ianto grabbed a handful of his braces and shirt and pulled, tugging Jack down until he hovered just close enough to Ianto that all he had to do to finish was raise his head. He kissed Jack, this Jack, his Jack, kissed him like he had wanted to out on that air field, kissed him like he remembered them kissing and kissing as he'd never imagined.
God, this was Jack.
He was an idiot.
Ianto pulled at Jack's shirt until he was lying flush with Ianto; clutched the back of his head until Ianto was certain he wasn't moving, knotted his fingers in Jack's hair (longer, longer than the earlier Jack's) until he knew that Jack would swallow his whimpers. For that could be the only explanation for the sound in the room, desperate cries trailing from tongue to tongue, passing over lips, god, this was his Jack even if he wasn't.
When Jack toppled on top of him, Ianto knew that it didn't matter.
"Who am I?"
Blinking in confusion, the foreign words flitting across his mind in some semblance of order, Ianto stared at Jack, Jack's lips, wondering why they were so far away when they were much better suited to crushing his.
Ianto felt Jack's hands push his shoulders, focusing his attention as they sunk into the mattress, Jack repeating his question, enunciating every word. "Who am I?"
Explanations filtered across Ianto's mind, from drugs to concussion to alien spores. Amnesia? Retcon? Ianto tried to think of the appropriate thing to say, to do, but Jack was straddling his hips, fingers digging into his shoulders and he couldn't think much beyond JackJackJackJack. It superseded all other thought, even his bone-weariness. He could forget all that, temporarily, Jack was on top of him. Jack was touching him. Jack was-
Oh.
"Jack." Ianto spoke the name but it cracked in the middle. He tried again when Jack didn't move. "Jack." He lightly traced the scar above Jack's eye, the one he'd received in the past few months of capturing aliens with Torchwood. It did matter, and Ianto knew who was pinning him to the mattress. This Jack scarred. This Jack told Sheppard to protect him at all costs. This Jack watched over him, since that day on the roof of the Millennium Centre, always making sure he or Stephen or Jean-Luc was with Ianto while the threat of dragons loomed over their heads, even when Ianto despised the feeling of being watched over. This Jack kissed him in the Hub before they'd left to fight the invading aliens.
This Jack had stayed.
"Why?" Ianto asked, confused on that one point. It made no sense. Ianto had been expecting it for months, had been expecting it since he'd found Jack chained to the wall, had expected it since the fight against the dragons began. "Why didn't you leave?"
"I couldn't." Ianto didn't think he'd ever seen such an open, unguarded look on Jack's face before. It was almost painful to see, for all its honesty. "I had to prove I wasn't him. I don't know who I become, or who I was to you, but whatever reason it was, it wasn't worth it. You are worth staying for."
Ianto wasn't quite sure he'd heard Jack correctly, he knew he wasn't functioning at full capacity and needed a few days sleep to catch up to just 'tired', but he was fairly certain Jack had ... but he wouldn't, would he?
He would. "I love you, Ianto." Even if Jack hadn't meant it at the time, had only been speaking what he'd thought Ianto needed/wanted to hear, the words echoed across Ianto's mind, speaking what Jack hadn't said now but Ianto could feel.
Lacking any better response, Ianto pushed up off the bed, sitting up to cling full-bodied to Jack, ignoring the other man's rough clothes in favor of his heat and skin. Cause touch he did, cradling Jack's jaw as they kissed, more than kissed, shared air, shared life, shared everything Ianto couldn't say in response but felt all the same. His fingers slipped over the buttons on Jack's shirt, pulling and tugging because he needed to touch skin; he needed to touch Jack when he'd pretended this Jack wasn't his for so long.
Because this was Jack.
This was Jack.
Somehow he removed Jack's shirts; Ianto didn't quite remember the act but the next thing he knew he was touching skin, Jack's skin, Jack's imperfectly perfect skin. Jack was chuckling at his frantic pace, but he didn't care, not really. He'd been so long without, been so long with the teases and the innuendo and for all appearances Jack but he'd fought against it, it hadn't been right, it hadn't been proper, this wasn't his Jack ... but it was. It was Jack and while it shamed Ianto to admit it; this Jack wanted him. He wanted Ianto enough to stay.
And that meant something. Enough. Enough to make the touching and kissing right when everything around him was wrong.
Between one breath and the next, Ianto found himself laying back on the bed, sleep furthest from his mind as Jack sprawled on top him. The weight was familiar; comfortable, like Ianto hadn't spent months apart and maybe it was a little different, Jack a little lighter, less muscled, but Ianto knew the scent. He knew the touch and the feel and he knew that cock pressing into his hip while Jack discovered all the places that made Ianto moan.
Jack refused to allow Ianto to reciprocate, slapping his hands away when Ianto moved to run finger-light touches over Jack's sides, back, anywhere and everywhere he could touch. Jack didn't want it and while Ianto hoped only for this time, he could understand why.
For Jack, this was new. Ianto was new. He didn't want to compete with himself or Ianto's knowledge of him.
It's what Ianto would do, if it were him.
He'd make Jack forget there was ever another Ianto.
A giant yawn distracted Ianto from the nip of Jack's teeth along his collarbone, at first he thought he'd managed to stifle it and hide it from Jack, but the man's shaking shoulders proved otherwise.
"You should sleep," Jack grinned as his hands ignored his statement as they continued to move over Ianto's body.
Of course, Ianto should sleep. But he also felt Jack's cock like a brand on his stomach, burning a line to his navel and Ianto decided there were other, more important things he should be doing at the moment. "Later." His own voice sounded as though it were being run over sand, tumbling waters spinning and swirling with every stone. Later he could sleep, right now, he had Jack here. In bed. Naked and hard and Ianto wasn't going to deny he wasn't desperate for Jack's touch.
Jack's silence lasted for a long moment; Ianto finally opened his eyes and saw a scowl on Jack's face, not directed at him, but down ... Ianto's body? He watched as Jack bent and he felt the nudge of Jack's nose against his cock, a quick swipe of the tongue. "This isn't me, right?"
"Jaaack." Ianto drew Jack's name out into at least three syllables as he threw his arm over his face. Not in embarrassment. No, actually, embarrassment, but not severe. He wasn't bothered (yet) by the fact he was no more hard than the pillow he was laying on, because he understood.
He hadn't wanked for months after Torchwood One.
But Ianto supposed he'd be as insecure as Jack if the tables were turned. At least it wasn't permanent. He hoped. Opting for humor rather than anything he could have said which would have revealed far too much, Ianto spoke with his arm still providing the sand in which to bury his head. "Hurry up and fuck me before I fall asleep."
Jack's bark of laughter was surprisingly close, and when Ianto finally opened his eyes (after Jack pried his arm off his face; maybe a bit more than a little embarrassed), Jack's lips were so close Ianto could feel the words breathed towards Ianto, tickling his nose. "You're quite the romantic. Just...this isn't ...?"
Ianto thrust his hips up, not quite sure where or how high Jack's body straddled his but colliding with Jack's cock all the same. He rather hoped he got his point across. "No, it's not you," came his weary response, "and if it happens again and I've not been run ragged by attacking aliens and the outing of Torchwood and Avalon, then I'll panic, question my manhood and blame a medical condition."
"We can sleep, I'll wake you up if you start having a nightmare..."
"No." Ianto finally looked at Jack, really looked at him. This was Jack. Jack. The one he'd grieved, the one he'd mourned, the one he'd broken a vase in his sitting room in anger over; this was Jack, even if it wasn't. Ianto had spent months denying, months pushing him away because he wasn't his Jack. He was different, he was younger, he was mortal. His Jack was better and this one was less because of it.
But, Ianto loved Jack.
Both of them were Jack. The spirit, the courage, the loyalty and intelligence, self-sacrificing and kindness (least of all, attractiveness) had no more changed with the Jacks than had Ianto through the past few years. He was still Ianto, even if his title had changed. Jack was still Jack, even if his age had changed.
God, he loved the man.
"Jack," Ianto spread his hands over Jack's jaws and cheeks, holding his face firmly within his grasp because Ianto would be damned if he said this and Jack wasn't paying attention. "I need you." Fuck, but he needed Jack. Jack. This one, the other, both of them. Ianto didn't know what he'd have done without Jack's steady support over the months or during the defense of Cardiff. He needed Jack.
Ianto watched as the eyes boring into his exploded into black, Jack's pupils dilating so quickly if Ianto had blinked he'd have missed the impact of his words. They weren't any declarations of love, but Ianto did not need, not usually. Tosh had said it once before, he didn't ask for help.
He needed Jack.
There was no warning, no hint; Jack swept down upon him faster than Ianto could react, not that he'd offer a token of protest. Lips mashed against his, savage and desperate before softening into molten heat Ianto felt to his toes, the tense planes of his body relaxing into the mattress until it felt like Jack's body covered his and all around him.
Relaxed so much he yawned into the kiss, much to Jack's amusement.
"You're sleeping," Jack laughed against Ianto's collarbone, soft kisses peppering Ianto's skin as he shifted the intensity to a slow burn. "I'm not fucking someone who's not an active participant."
"Oh, you've self-control now?" With a grin that seemed as slow as syrup over ice, Ianto curled into Jack as the other man shifted and maneuvered his way onto the small bed to lay beside Ianto. This was right. Nothing else mattered. Ianto might kick himself later for decisions made on a sleep-addled brain but this felt right.
"I exemplify self-control."
Jack's smirk faltered as Ianto arched an eyebrow in doubt and reached between them to rest his hand on Jack's erection, setting off a series of cascading tremors just under Jack's skin that was fire and need all rolled into one. A firm hand grabbed Ianto's wrist and forcibly moved it to his chest, reaffirming Ianto's doubt.
"So much self-control I'm at least going to wait till after you fall asleep to rub off on your thigh."
"S'more like it." When it involved sex, Ianto wondered if Jack had ever possessed self-control, in this form or the other. Or maybe it was a cultural thing, from whenever and wherever he was from. Or maybe Jack had just seen so much death that he wasted no time delaying sex. Or maybe he just was a man with a healthy admiration for sex. Not that Ianto blamed him, sex was fantastic, especially when-
God, he really must be tired. His thoughts hadn't spun so much on nothing since his youth spent daydreaming on his favorite rock.
"Jack," Ianto asked with hesitation stretching out the name, truly hoping his earlier thoughts hadn't been voiced but most certainly wanting this question vocalized and knowing on any other occasion, the filter between his brain and his mouth would be intact and fully functional. "How old are you?"
For a moment, Ianto almost believed that Jack had actually fallen asleep. Or maybe Ianto had, and he was merely dreaming, self-aware in the dream state like he had never felt before. In fact, given his state of exhaustion there was a chance that this was all a figment of his imagination, lost in the bouts of insanity and hallucinations accompanying sleep deprivation. The odds increased as time passed, though Ianto hardly had the mind to bother with the calculations of change and probability.
But then a hushed voice answered his question, quietly falling between the crests of breath and exhale, "Thirty-five."
"Younger, then," Ianto decided, having received the answer to a long-plaguing question. Not that he knew the other Jack's age; but he was older, immortal or not. But the answer left him more confused, and definitely not something that his drowsy mind could comprehend. "But then, why did you pretend that you didn't know me? Why did you leave?"
"Sleep, Ianto," Jack whispered, his arms tightening around Ianto until Ianto was almost certain Jack's goal was to deprive him of oxygen to get him to sleep. And he let his mind drift, floating on tendrils of thread and thought, hearing and replaying in his mind, "I love you, Ianto", until he could almost believe it was true and even monsters had hope.
Next Part (2 of 3)
psst....don't forget! go to Architects of Memory. *g* and enjoy lots!