Black and White (S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 3)
Chapter Title: Black and White (S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 3)
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: Part 3 of 3 due to size and LJ limits. Seriously. This chapter hit 27,000 words. I'm an idiot. Cookie to anyone who can pick out the all-encompassing themes tho ;)
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
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 1
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 2
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto woke to the smell of coffee so tantalizingly close he was fairly certain he'd fallen asleep on coffee beans. Through bleary eyes, he could just make out a mug floating in front of his face, slim fingers moving it around like the motion would inspire him to move.
It did, not that he'd admit it to his sister.
He sat up with a groan, his back stiff from the short night; a quick glance at his watch told him he'd been asleep for less than three hours. He took the proffered mug once he'd got himself settled on the couch; soon disrupted as Elaine curled up under the blanket next to him. Ianto took a sip, relieved his family knew how to brew a cup of coffee; he didn't fancy facing another coffee machine soon.
"Nearly scared me half to death when I found you here this morning. What time did you get in?"
Ianto grimaced as Elaine giggled and tried to push his hair, which must have been awful if she was even trying to fix it, back into place. Either she succeeded or she gave up because she stilled beside him. "Late. Early." Ianto took another sip of coffee, more a gulp which burned like alcohol without the fire down his throat.
"Dad took the boys to the store to keep it quiet a bit longer, otherwise it would have been even earlier. You should hear what the ladies down at the store say about you Torchwood lot." Elaine laughed and Ianto cringed at the thought of what gossiping women might be saying . He'd grown up listening to their chatter, and often none of it was kind. "They are positively entranced by that 'Captain Harkness' and Colonel Sheppard, though they think that one's using alien hair products. 'Course, old Mrs. Ellis swears her son Dewey is a member of Torchwood."
"Dewey Ellis?" Ianto frowned, thinking back to what he knew about the village gossip, "I thought he ran off with his girlfriend from Swansea because his mum hated the idea of him marrying a Catholic?"
"He did!" Elaine stole Ianto's coffee mug from him to take a sip before handing it back. "Has three kids now. Not that Mrs. Ellis will admit to 'em. He wouldn't work with Torchwood anyways, always drank more than he worked." They sat in silence for a while after that, Ianto drinking the rest of the coffee before setting the mug down on the end table.
Elaine broke the silence first. "I was so scared when your call came though." Ianto had included them on the emergency band just in case, he knew that was probably a violation in Torchwood code but he really couldn't be arsed about it. He'd figured Ms. White wouldn't have disagreed, had she been watching his every action. "It was Canary Wharf all over again. I was so scared I'd lose you, too."
"You didn't lose me." Ianto gave his sister a one-armed hug, holding her as she clung to him in quite a different fashion than Gwen had the night before. Where Gwen's had been fierce, Elaine's was desperate. Ianto couldn't blame her; the dragons had been terrifying and Elaine had two children to worry about and their family was so small. But the worst hadn't happened, Britain still stood as did his father's home and his family was safe. Secure. Whole.
Ianto didn't know where or when his father was from, but what family existed in this time still lived. And for all the destruction and horrors, losses and sacrifices, that was something. A small something in relative scope, but a small hope, a small smile of success.
He'd saved his family.
"I hate that you stay at that bloody place," Elaine mumbled into his sleeve. Ianto didn't look down when he felt her fingers knot into his wrinkled shirt at his chest, just covered her hand with his; he'd sat with Elaine enough in the past to have the art of sister-comfort down pat. "But it was easier knowing it was you who took mum's place and was out there protecting us."
He'd almost failed, in a spectacular sense, but he didn't tell his sister that. She didn't need to know how close they'd all come to falling. If it hadn't been for Avalon, if it hadn't been for Sheppard and Ronon, if it hadn't been for Jack and Owen and all the others, they most certainly would have failed.
"I made a promise to you after Gavin died, Ellie. I will do everything to protect our family." Ianto rested his chin on Elaine's head and pulled the blanket tighter around them. Even if it meant taking Ms. White's place. Family was important, and like Gwen had said, the team had become family as well. So many responsibilities, so many families. So much to protect. "Including running around Cardiff being chased by a dragon. The damned things looked like my birthday cake two years ago. I swear, you'd better put a kitten on my next cake. Big, fluffy harmless kitten. I don't care what the twin terrors say, no more kings and queens, no more dragons. Just a big, harmless kitten."
Elaine giggled like Ianto hoped, taking a shaky breath before loosening her grip on his hand. "Fluffy kitten. Got it. Any other requests, King Ianto?"
Ianto nudged his sister with his shoulder, silently chiding her for the nickname he really hoped she didn't start using in common practice. A giant yawn cracked his features; Ianto felt seventy for all he wasn't quite thirty. He'd believed that events had aged Stephen; he should probably assume they had aged him as well. Maybe it was just the let down from the intensity of war; after the Battle at Torchwood One, there hadn't been time to think or rest, he had simply moved on to the next stage in his plans. this time, however, the recovery period was inching along at an ever increasingly slow pace and dragging him unwilling along for the ride. What did he want most, next to his family?
"Yeah. How about a long sleep until the next emergency?"
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
It was hardly the next emergency that woke Ianto from his doze. He and Elaine hadn't moved until their father came up with Ianto's nephews, the three apparently having found a large quantity of sugar given the range of the twin's vocals. Elaine got up with an admonishment to their father and herded the twins outside to run off some of their seemingly unlimited energy. Ianto rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grinned at his father who held out a large travel mug of coffee from the store.
Must be a genetic thing to think that coffee was the answer for everything.
"Don't suppose this is just a visit."
Point to his father, but Ianto hadn't the faintest idea where to begin, much less how to start. He padded over to his father's pipe stand instead, picking it up as well as the tin of tobacco and silently handed it to Broderick before falling back onto the couch to curl back up in the blanket with his coffee. His father didn't ask questions, just started preparing the pipe while rambling about the day-to-days at the store.
"Grace Roberts, you remember her? Of course you do, you remember everything, don't you, dear boy. Your mother," Broderick waved the bell of the pipe at Ianto as he settled back into his chair, the rich, spicy smoke curling up with its calming caress. Ianto inhaled deep and sipped his coffee, the scents blending into an earthy scent of all things good as his father continued, "Your mother was the same way. Couldn't forget a face or a name. Not quite as good as you, but a mind like a steel trap."
She had no apparent problem forgetting her children or birthdays, but Ianto wasn't going to remind his father of this fact, not while he was smiling with fondness at the memories.
"Oh, to be sure, her work consumed her. But you two are far more alike than you might care to think."
Ianto knew his grimace had nothing to do with the temperature of the coffee, and he'd apologize to his father if he would have actually meant it. Broderick found it amusing all the same, laughing as he puffed on his pipe. The years and times, not even the death of his wife had ever seemed to dent the man's spirits and Ianto wished he took after his father more.
"She hated coffee, though. You got that from me." His father beamed with pride now and Ianto snorted as he took a sip of the perfect cup of coffee Broderick had brewed. Could have been worse, Ianto supposed. He could have inherited his father's sense of style instead. "The faeries too, it seems. Pesky little buggers, aren't they? Always meddling in something or another."
This time, Ianto choked on his drink rather than swallowing it properly, coughing and sputtering as he saw on the coffee table what his father was gesturing towards with his pipe. Two red rose petals in clear view, resting on the top of a book of Celtic myths and legends. Rather than the rage he had felt the day before, Ianto could only stare in stunned silence as he wiped coffee from his chin. His father didn't appear to either notice or care about Ianto's predicament, just continued on, puffing with a smile on his pipe.
"In fact, I remember the night of our wedding. Oh, but your mother looked beautiful that day. Carried my Viviene up to the bedroom, ran her right into the corner of the wall up at the top of the stairs but it didn't matter, we were laughing so. More nerves than naught, I think. I was so afraid of screwing up she'd leave me without a second thought." His father paused, and for that Ianto was glad, the images of his parents' wedding night was one he did not need etched into memory. There were just things he did not need to know about his parents, plenty he wished he did know, but their wedding night was not one of them.
Ianto squirmed on the couch as father continued, wondering if for once, the faeries couldn't play his way and just ... swallow him, the couch, the blanket and his coffee up in their timeless forest which had taken Jasmine. "Walked into the bedroom and had to blink to make sure I'd entered the right house. Bed was buried in rose petals, spilling off the bed and onto the floor, trailing to the door. Bless your mum, she thought I'd arranged it all. Didn't have the heart to tell her I had nothing to do with it. Made you that night, we did, right on top of those petals. Pesky little buggers that they are, but they can set a mood. Nine months later and you come around, all solemn and so rare with your smile. Thought for a while I'd done something wrong, should've told your mum the truth or knocked those petals to the floor 'cause they'd stolen your joy. But every now and then, sometimes with reason and sometimes just out of the blue, you'd laugh and it'd just light up the house. And now you've gone and saved the joy of the world. Guess your old man didn't do so wrong after all."
Wondering if it was too early to begin drinking something heavier than coffee, Ianto finally found his voice for the first time since his father arrived. "You know about the faeries? They're dangerous creatures."
"Dangerous? Oh, sure, they get a little carried away with their games sometimes, but I wouldn't call 'em dangerous. Quite beautiful when they want to be. Only explanation I have for my boy surviving that accursed battle at Canary Wharf when so many others didn't." The joviality drained from his father's voice as he remembered, as did Ianto, all that had been lost that day. Broderick had gained a full household following so many years of solitude after Ianto and Elaine had left for their careers.
"I survived because I had to." Ianto said carefully, avoiding all mentions of his true purpose in his will to live.
"Yes, yes. And I suppose you escaped carrying a partially converted Cyberman and a conversion unit all on your charm and wiles." Ianto gaped at his father who just winked and smiled. "You're smart, my boy, but even intellect and cunning didn't get most out of that building."
Unexpected shame burned his cheeks, threatening Ianto's loose control over his emotions as only his father could do. In retrospect, it hadn't been the wisest choice of actions and his rationale and logic questionable at best, but to have his father know that he had been so craftily duped by the Cyberman and to have made such an egregious error in judgement was humiliating. Instead of looking at Broderick, Ianto picked at a piece of fuzz still connected to the blanket, one of many spots on the blanket worn by time and love.
"Did mum know?" Ianto finally managed to ask, his voice hoarse and crackled with embarrassment and a lingering grief that he'd never been able to shake for the events of that final day; the trust which had been broken, the havoc he'd almost unleashed on the world once again, and the loss of a final piece of Torchwood One.
"I don't believe so; she never mentioned it. Ianto." Reluctantly (and feeling like he was again five years old), Ianto quit fidgeting with the blanket and looked his father in the eyes, holding his head high despite the heat in his ears and the flush in his face. "Everything happens for a purpose, even the most doubtful of choices. You acted out of desperation and loyalty and I can hardly find fault with that. After all, it led you to become the man you are today."
If Ianto had believed his face on fire before, that compared little to the stain of red flushing his cheeks now under his father's praise. Ianto began and stopped himself numerous times, not sure how to respond and feeling desperately inadequate and undeserving given the losses and destruction still collected during the fight against the dragons. Everything he could think of to say just sounded so ... trivial.
Finally, he realized what he could ask. "You seem to know everything-"
"Me? No, must've been your friend Jack who told me about Lisa."
Ianto didn't believe his father for a moment, given Broderick's knowledge of the faeries and of his wife's death, so Ianto continued. "Can you tell me ... what do you know ... I have ... my friend," Ianto fumbled around, trying to talk about precisely what he'd spent the past weeks avoiding talking about. He knew it was ridiculous, that he was handling this childishly, but thinking meant acknowledging and for his part, Ianto couldn't think about it, much less speak of it. He knew there must be a whole process of guilt in those self-help books, and at the present moment he probably fell into whatever step was labeled 'denial,' but he just couldn't for all that he should.
Broderick watched Ianto for what felt like hours, just silence stretching between the two of them after Ianto's voice trailed away. It was uncomfortable, having his father's focus solely directed at him, but Ianto remained still, knowing he had sounded as desperate as he felt for just a brief reassurance. His father had spoken of choices and purpose, and Ianto knew there must be a purpose in this. There had to be. There was an answering reply for every decision made, his father had said as much.
Ianto just simply could not see the purpose in his one choice, however.
"I think you already know the answer, Ianto. And how will you accept it if you can't even speak his name to recognize the life?"
Sullenly, Ianto nodded, knowing his father was right but at the same time, avoidance had worked so well for him. After all, he'd managed to deny Lisa's death for a good year before admitting the Cyberman portion had won long before she'd been killed by Torchwood Three.
"Go see him, it'll just get harder the longer you stay away."
"I will," Ianto promised; almost sounding convinced of his own words.
"Ianto Llacheu Jones..." Broderick warned, just as he had when Ianto was twelve and broken a window in the store next to his father's with a pellet from a mis-fired slingshot.
"Fine, fine. I will." And this time, he meant it.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
"Uncle Ianto!"
Only the twin warning cries alerted Ianto of the incoming child-sized missiles which struck and attached themselves to his legs. They'd grown like weeds since last he saw them, and they easily pulled him down to the grass, suit trousers be damned. Ianto laughed and rolled with them anyway, fending off their combined tickle attack, their four small hands much more effective than his two. But if their squeals and giggles were to go by, he was getting in a few solid tickles of his own.
Eventually, they tired out. Or rather, Uncle Ianto grew tired and Bryce and Gareth got bored with the tickling and opted to just sit on their conquest instead of attacking when Ianto failed to play along.
"Did you really fight a dragon?"
"Was it big?"
"Did it bite you?"
"Dragons don't bite, they blow fire out their noses."
"Nuh uh! Do not. They have fire in their stomachs. Don't they, Uncle Ianto?"
Ianto grinned at his nephews, looking up at them from his rather comfortable spot on the grass. How he wished he could be a kid again. "They were very big," he admitted carefully, not sure what Elaine had told the boys about the fight or what they might have seen on the news. "A lot of us fought the dragons, but they're all gone now."
His nephews' cheers made him grin all the more.
"Tell us about it!"
"Yeah, were you scared?"
"More scared than I've ever been." Ianto didn't have to lie or fib on that one as he slid the twins to his thighs so he could sit up. He wrapped them both in a big hug, feeling tiny hands grab his sides in return. "Was scared I'd never get to see you two again."
"We were scared too, but mommy was more scareder-"
"'Cause she was crying-"
"Uh huh, and so we told her that Uncle Ianto would protect us, just like you said."
Ianto felt his eyes well-up at their blind faith in him, so trusting that their uncle would watch out for them despite all his faults. Hell, they probably didn't even think he had faults. They were young yet, and far too new to the horrors of the world and how even those they put on pedestals would fall. Everything did, eventually. Ms. White and Avalon, Torchwood One and Yvonne. Even an alien attack was exciting. He wondered how long it would take for that illusion to fall and they discovered their uncle was just as human as they were and at some point, would fail them, too.
"I will always do what I can to protect my family."
"We know, Uncle Ianto. We told Kent," Ianto had to rack his brain to think of who that was, before he remembered Elaine mentioning something about the twins having a friend named Kent who'd stop by the store to play. His mother taught at a local school. According to Elaine, the mother was not looking forward to having the three troublemakers in school together. "We told him that our uncle fought the aliens-"
"And Kent wants you to be his uncle too cause he says the aliens might take him from his bed like they do on the telly so now he won't sleep."
"'Cause he doesn't have an uncle who fights aliens."
"Will you?"
"Will I what?" Ianto tried his best to follow Bryce's question, but he failed miserably, too keenly aware of the cold seeping in through his trousers from the ground and how even Torchwood Three's best dry cleaner probably wouldn't be able to get the stains out.
"Be Kent's uncle? He needs an uncle to protect him too."
"Tell you what." Ianto shifted a bit so that he could look at both Bryce and Gareth, who's concern for their friend was so plainly written on their faces. How odd was it to be having this conversation with his nephews, it certainly wasn't one he had dreamt of having in his lifetime and certainly not planned for. He'd planned for talks about the kids' father, about sex and wanking when the time came because imagining his mother talking to him about wanking nearly pushed Ianto over the edges of sanity every time he considered it, but never had he planned on how to address the twins' friends' real fear of aliens. "Why don't you tell Kent that all of Torchwood is working to protect his family, so he shouldn't be scared about being taken from his bed. Torchwood is watching out for every single one of your friends, too. But you two are under my special protection and always will be."
Amidst his nephews cheers, cheers that meant more than any from Avalon or complete strangers, Ianto hugged them just a little tighter.
"Uncle Ianto, you're squishing us."
With a snort of laughter, Ianto let them go, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and dragged back into the house where Elaine took one look at the grass stains on his shirt and trousers and mouthed an apology. Ianto just shrugged with a smile.
Suits could be laundered, but he wouldn't pass up a moment with his nephews for anything.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
After grabbing a change of clothes (stolen from Stephen's closet since he'd already used the spare suit he kept at Avalon), Ianto made his way down to his (Mr. Black's) office. He turned on the telly and poured a glass of Scotch kept secure in a vault behind a psi-proof lock, along with various official papers and documents curious children and adults should be kept away from.
As he sat at the round table, the furniture looking rather lonely with its twelve open spots, feet kicked up on the top and the chair tilted back at what was certainly a dangerous degree and watched, the reporting was about the celebrations still continuing across the globe, from India to Britain to South Africa, everyone was still enthralled by the notion of a narrow escape from an alien threat and the celebration of freedom and life. It had surprised Ianto at first; but then, he was viewing the situation as someone who had grown up with aliens. The attack had been nothing new or different, only the magnitude had changed. For everyone else, however, it was as though a new lease on existence had been felt and cherished by all, and the stores selling food and alcohol were profiting.
The first world-wide party, broadcast simultaneously on all stations had taken place only two days after the fight. And now, over five weeks later, spontaneous parties were happening for little or no reason, just an excuse to be with friends and family, Ianto theorized. From the way it sounded, New Orleans in the United States hadn't shut down yet, day or night, the party still continued.
Ianto pitied their livers. Fuck, it wouldn't be the dragons that killed off the population on earth, it'd be the alcohol pickling their insides.
But, at least the in-fighting among humans had momentarily ceased. The few nations who had sought to profit from the ordeal were quickly stomped out in a surprising union of spirit. But warring factions all had the same surprises, the same shock and questioning of values. In some areas, they'd dropped the animosity and fought side by side against the dragons. Hard to resume fighting against a supposed enemy who had risked their life to protect yours. If anything had come from the casualties of this attack, at least there was a temporary peace. The cynic in him said it wouldn't last, that humans were, by nature, a people who would not be satisfied with what they possessed but must continuously look for more, be it land or converts or rights or goods. But at least, for the moment, there was a relative peace among the celebrants.
With a grim smile, he raised his glass in toast to the telly on the far wall and drank, joining in as well he could from inside the offices of Avalon.
"Mr. Black, I need your sig-"
Ianto turned slowly in surprise, surprise switching into amusement as he caught Owen openly staring. Ianto supposed it was either the black leather pants, which Stephen considered 'denim' and about the only thing he owned (and an article of clothing Ianto had grown rather fond of in their recent escapades) or the black tee he had snitched from Stephen's wardrobe as well (minus the gaping bullet wound the previous tee he'd borrowed, Ianto had made sure to stock Stephen's wardrobe with his favorite shirts for damaging the one). Or quite possibly, it was being mistaken for "Mr. Black" which had caused Owen to pause so dramatically in his statement. Any of the three possibilities made Ianto smirk, and he raised a brow as Owen continued to stare, the gaze only broken once when his eyes darted to the vault, to the scotch, and back to Ianto again.
"Stephen's not here," Ianto drawled, stating the obvious as he swirled his scotch and turned back to the telly to see what else had happened in the world aside from parties and purported alien sightings.
"Bullocks. Sorry. Don't think I've seen you dress like a normal person before."
Ianto didn't even turn to respond, just continued watching the images on the screen. A ferry had capsized near Bergen, Norway. All passengers had been saved by a passing vessel. "Brecon Beacons, the night we all about became the main course. I wore denims." Ianto nudged the bottle of Scotch over to Owen after pouring a refill, the other man would have to fend for himself to find a glass. "My other clothes got dirty and rather than walking around naked, I borrowed some of Stephen's."
"Right. Want my advice? Buy a pair of pants from Stephen." As Ianto turned to confirm that it was indeed Owen who had stated this, the doctor began to stumble over himself. "Cos Jack would appreciate the look. Then again, he appreciates anything with a hole or at least a crevice to rub off in. Not that he would, 'cos you and he, ah, fuck." Ianto settled for snorting in amusement as Owen cut himself off by drinking his Scotch.
Ianto would have to thank Stephen doubly for the clothing and the entertainment.
"So, I've been thinking," Owen started, to which Ianto turned his head, mostly in surprise at confirmation that Owen indeed thought. The look Owen threw him confirmed that Owen had caught on to what Ianto's train of thought had been. Owen glared (which, oddly enough, had no discernible impact Ianto noted)before continuing. "Out there during the fight, you were comfortable giving orders and could chat in whatever fucking language you were talking in on your mobile like it was your native tongue. My friends Amberlynn and Mitch were medics at Torchwood One and never mentioned you in their stories, so you weren't a field agent. Makes me think you were being primed to take over Yvonne's spot."
Owen smirked with pride at his deduction while he awaited Ianto's answer.
Ianto's following snort caused it to crash almost immediately. "Not bloody likely."
"She didn't like your coffee?"
"No," Ianto refrained from rolling his eyes, but only barely. He knew what he was about to say was considered classified, it was all locked away under encryption and various other security measures, but Owen would understand. He'd lost in the Battle of Canary Wharf, just as Ianto had. Besides, Ianto reminded himself, he set the rules anyway. "She didn't like me disagreeing about the purpose of the ghost shifts. Put me on limited desk duty before the attack."
Owen scowled, like Ianto's statement didn't compute with the information he had gathered. "What the bloody hell was she thinking?"
"Unlimited power. Energy for all of Britain." Ianto shrugged, staring at his drink before sipping from the glass.
"No, that's not ... never mind." Owen pushed the bottle of Scotch back over to Ianto who wondered briefly why Owen had come in search of Mr. Black in the first place. Hopefully nothing to do with the children, not after sharing a drink or two with Ianto. "So what department were you in?"
Ianto debated for a moment between lying and telling the truth before he decided it just wasn't worth it to lie. "Intelligence."
Owen's reaction was similar to Jack when he had shared the information so long ago. surprise written across every feature as he coughed on his drink. Ianto really didn't know why it was so surprising; it wasn't like he tried to hide his knowledge of alien artifacts, research, or people.
Inside, there was a young boy who smiled with glee at the thought of one-upping Owen.
"So ah, not just a tea-boy then."
Ianto smirked. "Not exactly."
"Would explain why they never mentioned you; they always said you lot were a secretive bunch. And how you knew of that glue." Owen grimaced as sipped his drink, then waved the glass at Ianto after what must have been painful contemplation for Owen. "So, if you're all intelligent, why haven't you been in to see Jean-Luc yet? Avoiding my patient for some particular reason other than being a complete and utter twat?"
Or maybe not so painful. Owen occasionally did have a good grasp on Ianto and his habits. "I'm working up to it." Ianto raised his glass and drank the last of the scotch, feeling the warmth spread through him and give him courage he might not have had otherwise.
"You're a fucking idiot, ya know."
Yes, while, Ianto might be, but he wouldn't ever admit that to Owen.
"Your best friend, from what I hear, is lying up there in a coma and you haven't been to visit since we brought him in. I know you have a guilt complex longer than my prick, don't get me started on fighting the bloody dragon with a field knife to save Jack who is immortal in case you forgot, but this is going on ridiculous. You're being a shite friend and you're making Tosh worry." The last was said with a cross of his arms, Ianto watched as Owen sat back in his chair, rather pleased with himself for his scolding.
And the sorry thing was, Ianto knew he was right.
Except for maybe the prick thing. Ianto was fairly certain his guilt complex was much longer than Owen's prick.
"For whatever reason, Jean-Luc sought your permission for Avalon to join the fight. And it was the right bloody choice because they won where we would have utterly failed. So quit being an arse and get up there to see him. Would do you good instead of mucking about in the guilt you've drowned yourself in."
For lack of anything to say to defend himself, Ianto gathered the bottle of scotch and put it back in the safe, making sure the vault was sealed shut so none of the children could get in.
"And don't ever wear those pants to work; Jack will never get anything done!" Owen shouted after him as Ianto left the room.
Ianto smirked, fairly certain that Jack wouldn't be the only one not getting anything done if he wore these pants to work. He'd felt Owen's eyes follow him all the way out.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto nervously knocked on the door before he entered; he chided himself after he did it since he wasn't really expecting an answer, but maybe the situation had changed since Owen had checked in last and his friend would be awake and calling him a prat (or worse) for avoiding him.
His heart sank when he looked in and heard nothing but the steady rhythm of the heart monitor mixing with the utter stillness that was Jean-Luc.
Closing the door behind him (which really was just another opportunity to avoid looking at the bed), Ianto steadied himself before turning to walk towards the bed, hesitation and guilt dragging every step until he was barely moving. He made it, eventually, tugged by an invisible hand until his thighs were stopped in their forward progress by the bed. It startled Ianto, consciously he knew he was walking forward but he'd so successfully pushed aside the knowledge that he was moving towards Jean-Luc's bed that once he was there, it was as though he were magically moved and his feet had no part in the process.
There'd be no avoiding now.
Ianto sat heavily into the chair by the bed; uncomfortable and hard on his back; he couldn't imagine Tosh sitting in it for any length of time. But he knew she had. He knew a good many had, spending time each day with the most gifted of them all; the one who had saved the world.
And Ianto had put him there.
Guiltily, Ianto's eyes finally focused on the figure laying on the bed, white sheets (the black satin sheets Jean-Luc was so fond of, hedonist that he was, had been removed the moment Owen had moved his patient to his room for privacy) pulled up to his chest, the pure white bedding just contributing to the pallor of his skin.
Even Jean-Luc's freckles were pale.
Ianto didn't move, not for a very long time. He just stared at Jean-Luc, motionless save for the steady rise of his chest as he breathed. Ianto got lost in the action, counting the number of times the sheet rose and fell, pitching his own breath in tempo with Jean-Luc's. It was almost too slow for Ianto, but it was relaxing, hypnotic.
Calming.
The thought made Ianto laugh, the noise sounding harsh in the room. Or perhaps it wasn't the sound, just the tension strung tight within Ianto (and the alcohol he'd drank before venturing to the room) that made it sound so foreign to his ears.
Leave it to Jean-Luc, the man could be in a coma and still work to calm Ianto.
Ianto reached out, then jerked his hand back, irrationally scared to touch Jean-Luc because what if his friend's skin was cold, cold and fragile and still as death. He looked so pale, laying on the bed, Ianto hardly could believe life still flowed. But he knew it did, the Healers said Jean-Luc lived, as did Tosh and Owen. There was technically nothing wrong with Jean-Luc, not that the Healers could find and repair. One of them, Geppetto Russo (who the kids called Gipper for a reason Ianto couldn't quite understand), likened Jean-Luc to a spring which had sprung with such force and power, it'd stretched beyond its means. It might recoil and pull itself back together, or the spring may have been irreparably damaged, no one could tell.
And so Jean-Luc slept on, lost somewhere in that sprung mind.
And Ianto avoided.
After a second graceless jerk of his hand, Ianto steadied himself and touched Jean-Luc's hand, releasing a sigh of relief (not a sob) that the skin was still warm, the fingers movable if not limp, as Ianto curled his hand around Jean-Luc's.
There was still the chance. The Healers and Tosh and Owen hadn't given up hope yet for a full recovery. No one knew anything. No one had seen this in their lifetime, much less read about it in any text books.
But there was no guarantee he would ever wake up.
Ianto leaned forward on the chair, inching closer to the bed until he could rest his elbows on the mattress. He started once and had to clear his throat when his voice came out all cracked and unintelligible. Ianto's second try was much more successful, though the words sounded so much like they didn't belong. He didn't even know if there was any point to it, but once he started talking, he just couldn't stop.
"You'd love it, you know. You're a celebrity, the hero of the day. Fuck, people are praying for you." Ianto laughed at the ridiculousness of it at the same time as he wanted to weep for the public's sincerity and outpouring of concern. For all the people across the globe knew nothing of Avalon, once they did (for those who had gotten over their initial fears), it was like they'd always known of Avalon, and Avalon's losses and grief were their own. They'd set up memorials to the gifted who had died and money poured in for education, both in the public and private sectors, everyone wanting to contribute and be a part of this 'new' brand of talent, for generosity now, for profit later, Ianto assumed. Another thing for Mr. Black to manage, to make sure the gifted were not abused.
And the cards and gifts to the one who had yet to wake from the alien attack. Ianto shook his head as he looked about the room, flowers and plants dotted every surface like people knew Jean-Luc. Maybe some of them did. Ianto still wasn't certain how much information had passed between the minds of all who had merged to fight the invasion, but there was definitely a bond that had developed between them. All of them; the globe over. The Vice President of the United States had even made a trip to Avalon, visiting the kids and spending some time, privately, with Jean-Luc.
Jean-Luc would love it.
Except maybe for the praying bit.
"There are even people who are calling to write your bloody memoirs. Everyone wants to know Jean-Luc." This time, Ianto couldn't quite conceal the choked sob, reassured that no one was in the room to hear it anyway except for Jean-Luc who would mock him endlessly if he had heard it. Ianto almost wished he had. He'd accept the mocking gladly.
Instead, there was just the steady beeps of the heart monitor filling the silence between Ianto's hurried sniffs as he tried to get himself under control. Now was not the time to fall apart; he'd managed so far to maintain his usual calm (save for one or two more harried moments, the coffee machine in the Hub came to mind first) despite the overwhelming urge to scream with laughter at the heavens for yet another near miss in the intergalactic race to beat up earth and crawl into his bed and hide for days on end and allow himself to splinter and break as responsibility cracked every defense. But he didn't. He performed his duty, to Queen and country as well as Torchwood, Avalon, and the rest of the world who demanded answers and looked to the figures of Mr. Black (thank whatever deities kept Stephen in his place, it was almost as good as having two of himself with Stephen doing speaking engagements), Colonel Sheppard and Captain Harkness for strength and understanding.
But here, in the quiet of Jean-Luc's room, no one was listening, no one was looking for a reliable pillar of collect calm and it was just too much as those requirements fell away, leaving him without the structured official Torchwood One decorum to rely upon in face of stress and others.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered rather than spoke, clutching Jean-Luc's hand to steady his own. "I did this. Remember-remember when we were kids, it was winter and we were out running on the roof to get out of class and I slipped on an icy patch. Tumbled clear off the roof, but you stopped me. You stopped me from falling. Fuck, you were always watching out for me." Ianto didn't even bother pretending to be collect and reserved any longer, no one was around to see him give in, just this once. His shoulders shook as he cried, guilt for the relief that Jean-Luc had succeeded, that his family lived, that Torchwood lived, that the whole world lived because of Avalon and Jean-Luc. That guilt blended with other responsibilities, knowing it had been war against the dragons but feeling there had to have been an alternative other than Avalon. He'd made the decisions, he'd called the orders. "You were my responsibility to protect. And I don't care if you bloody chose to do it, I said yes."
And for Ianto, that was really the crux of the argument. For all Avalon had chosen their place in the fight against the dragons, Ianto had allowed them to do it. Jean-Luc wouldn't have done it if Ianto had said no; Ianto was certain of it. He could have stopped it. He could have stopped Jean-Luc.
But then, earth might have fallen.
The uncertainties and consequences were what fractured his control. He'd second guess his decisions until the end of his life, always wondering what could have happened if only he had acted differently. If he'd been wiser. If he'd had more experience.
If he was more like Ms. White.
Would she have made the same choice? Ianto rather thought not; she would have held the safety of the kids and Avalon above all else; especially the safety of Jean-Luc.
Then again, Jean-Luc almost died under her command as well.
Maybe Ianto was more like Ms. White than he had thought.
Black and White, the decision makers of the century. Ianto almost laughed.
"I'm making a right mess of things. Failed to keep Torchwood a secret. Failed to maintain Avalon's secrecy and failed to protect you. What the fuck have I accomplished other than nearly destroying Britain under my watch?" Ianto gave a hearty sniff and dried his eyes on the bedding when he didn't find a tissue box about and the black tee wasn't exactly made for stretching to his face. "Fuck, I know. You'd tell me I'm being a complete wanker and rig my showers to only spray cold water till I agreed. We're not kids any more though. And I don't honestly think I was meant for this."
Ianto rested his head on Jean-Luc's hand until a tapping on his shoulder startled him. He'd lost track of the time, a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand read it was late afternoon, well past when he'd intended to return to the Hub. The tapping resumed, and Ianto saw it was the corner of a box of tissues digging into his shoulder.
"Out. I need to check on my patient, and you need to eat something before you go back. I already called Gwen and told her where you were so she wouldn't worry."
Ianto wiped his eyes with a handful of tissues and blew his nose, collecting himself before he allowed his mind to filter through the information presented to him. The speaker's voice was Owen. Nope, his mind pretty much stopped there with the information processing.
"There's fresh coffee in the kitchens and soup for the evening meal. I've given Jess strict orders not to give you any coffee until you finish off a bowl of soup and slice of bread. Coffee and scotch are not food groups, Tea-boy, and one patient is enough for me. I'm shite with patients."
Owen was giving him orders. Ianto felt his ears flame red with embarrassment at having been caught out in such a state, especially by Owen, but the man wasn't commenting, just held a rubbish bin up for him to toss his used tissues in, then handed him the remaining box as Ianto was guided towards the door.
Owen?
"Straight to the kitchens. Don't try to sneak out, Jerry is on security duty and knows not to let you leave unless it's been cleared by Jess. Doctor's orders. I'll keep you informed of any changes with Jean-Luc. Now out."
With that, Ianto found himself outside of Jean-Luc's room, struck speechless by a smirking Owen who seemed to enjoy pushing Ianto around a little too much. Probably thinking of it as revenge for the glue incident. Or shooting him in the shoulder. Or the time Ianto switched to decaf, just for amusement's sake.
"Oh, and Ianto?"
Ianto didn't say anything, just waited for whatever else Owen had to say. Maybe by that time, he'd have found his voice and have a witty rejoinder to follow.
"You're being a complete wanker."
The door clicked shut in his face before Ianto could remember to breath, much less respond.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
The wind whipped about Ianto, the cold currents of air threatening to push and pull him right from his perch on top of the Millennium Center. He had quickly caught up on things at the Hub; Jack had begged for a cup of coffee, insisting he'd had nothing but instant all day, and Ianto had frozen still upon walking into the kitchenette, a new coffee machine standing in proud, shining splendor where the other one had once stood. Ianto wasn't sure who had gone out and bought it, none of Torchwood Three were fessing up to it, but it brought a smile to his face all the same.
As did the crudely drawn picture of a faery with a big red 'x' drawn over it pinned above the machine.
Ianto was fairly certain that was Gwen's doing.
New mugs gleamed in the cabinets, and not a single red rose petal could be found. Not that Ianto had looked too hard. But he did notice that someone had been efficient in their removal.
It didn't even smell like roses.
He'd left after finishing some paperwork for Jack, plenty of time to catch his twice-daily perch atop a building in honor of the original Jack. Ianto had maintained that tradition, all this time, save for a few occasions when doom and dragons had threatened.
But this time as he stared over Cardiff, drinking in the sights of the city at night, Ianto permitted himself to grin in wonder.
Cardiff still stood.
Even in the patches of city where he knew the dragons had attacked and destroyed huge portions of land, buildings and people (although thankfully the loss of life had been far less than Ianto had initially calculated), lights still shown in the darkness, signs of rebuilding, signs of life.
At least in this part of his job, Ianto knew he had succeeded. Cardiff still stood. As did Britain. Forgetting, momentarily, the costs, Torchwood had emerged victorious against the alien threat.
That was something.
Even Torchwood Three itself remained standing, the Information Center quickly rebuilt (the lift had gone in first; the initial few days of Gwen bitching about the rope ladder and her boots were enough to change priorities) and a new shipment of brochures ordered to replace what had been lost. It had become quite the attraction these days, the old Information Center. Word had spread that Torchwood members were often spotted coming in and out of the building before it had been destroyed (and that take-away had been delivered to the location) and visitors now flocked to see the building, and to maybe catch a glimpse of the defenders of Britain against alien threat.
Surreal was the only word Ianto could use to describe the first time he'd been asked to pose for a picture.
Ianto pulled the coat tighter around his body, also 'borrowed' from Stephen. He was in London doing more interviews as Mr. Black, and Ianto knew he'd have time to return the coat and pants to Stephen's wardrobe before he returned to Avalon the next day. It was long, reminding Ianto of Jack's greatcoat, and on impulse he had taken it to remind himself of things that once were. Ianto had spent a few evenings and mornings with Jack on the rooftops, wrapped in the warmth of the greatcoat to fight off the chill in the air. He wondered if it'd be poor form to buy a similar one for this Jack, just so he could have some of those moments back.
He didn't hear any footsteps announcing a presence, but Ianto felt hands wrap around his waist, burying themselves in the warm folds of the leather coat. Ianto supposed he should been startled, or at least affronted at the audacity of whomever was behind him, but he knew the sound of the one breathing at the nape of his neck, lips lightly kissing the skin behind his ear before a cold nose was buried in his hair.
Ianto laughed softly and leaned back into Jack, shivering as his cold hands crept under Ianto's tee and pressed against his skin.
"It's freezing. What are you doing up here?"
Looking out over the city, lights twinkling amidst the shadows of people walking along the pavements, Ianto could almost feel the life in the city, the pulse beating strong as ever. There had been no defeat in Cardiff. And the denizens of the city; they knew and they understood. Yet they weren't frightened or cowering in their homes, they were still out there living their lives as they had before they knew of such things as aliens and the gifted.
She really was an amazing city.
"Reminding myself that there's an entire population with a hint of the threats Earth faces, concepts of space-time, alien races, and foreign tech just creeping into the notions of 'real' within their minds. I came up here to remind myself that its my duty to make sure they're safe."
Jack pressed himself completely against Ianto until Ianto was sure there wasn't an atom's-width of space between them. "And is it working?" Jack returned, quoting himself from both then and now, joining Ianto in the gaze out at the city and her lights.
"Yes," Ianto started with a smiled, leaning back against Jack, confident as he surveyed the city. "Yes it is."
Next Chapter, 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: Part 3 of 3 due to size and LJ limits. Seriously. This chapter hit 27,000 words. I'm an idiot. Cookie to anyone who can pick out the all-encompassing themes tho ;)
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
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 1
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22, Part 2
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto woke to the smell of coffee so tantalizingly close he was fairly certain he'd fallen asleep on coffee beans. Through bleary eyes, he could just make out a mug floating in front of his face, slim fingers moving it around like the motion would inspire him to move.
It did, not that he'd admit it to his sister.
He sat up with a groan, his back stiff from the short night; a quick glance at his watch told him he'd been asleep for less than three hours. He took the proffered mug once he'd got himself settled on the couch; soon disrupted as Elaine curled up under the blanket next to him. Ianto took a sip, relieved his family knew how to brew a cup of coffee; he didn't fancy facing another coffee machine soon.
"Nearly scared me half to death when I found you here this morning. What time did you get in?"
Ianto grimaced as Elaine giggled and tried to push his hair, which must have been awful if she was even trying to fix it, back into place. Either she succeeded or she gave up because she stilled beside him. "Late. Early." Ianto took another sip of coffee, more a gulp which burned like alcohol without the fire down his throat.
"Dad took the boys to the store to keep it quiet a bit longer, otherwise it would have been even earlier. You should hear what the ladies down at the store say about you Torchwood lot." Elaine laughed and Ianto cringed at the thought of what gossiping women might be saying . He'd grown up listening to their chatter, and often none of it was kind. "They are positively entranced by that 'Captain Harkness' and Colonel Sheppard, though they think that one's using alien hair products. 'Course, old Mrs. Ellis swears her son Dewey is a member of Torchwood."
"Dewey Ellis?" Ianto frowned, thinking back to what he knew about the village gossip, "I thought he ran off with his girlfriend from Swansea because his mum hated the idea of him marrying a Catholic?"
"He did!" Elaine stole Ianto's coffee mug from him to take a sip before handing it back. "Has three kids now. Not that Mrs. Ellis will admit to 'em. He wouldn't work with Torchwood anyways, always drank more than he worked." They sat in silence for a while after that, Ianto drinking the rest of the coffee before setting the mug down on the end table.
Elaine broke the silence first. "I was so scared when your call came though." Ianto had included them on the emergency band just in case, he knew that was probably a violation in Torchwood code but he really couldn't be arsed about it. He'd figured Ms. White wouldn't have disagreed, had she been watching his every action. "It was Canary Wharf all over again. I was so scared I'd lose you, too."
"You didn't lose me." Ianto gave his sister a one-armed hug, holding her as she clung to him in quite a different fashion than Gwen had the night before. Where Gwen's had been fierce, Elaine's was desperate. Ianto couldn't blame her; the dragons had been terrifying and Elaine had two children to worry about and their family was so small. But the worst hadn't happened, Britain still stood as did his father's home and his family was safe. Secure. Whole.
Ianto didn't know where or when his father was from, but what family existed in this time still lived. And for all the destruction and horrors, losses and sacrifices, that was something. A small something in relative scope, but a small hope, a small smile of success.
He'd saved his family.
"I hate that you stay at that bloody place," Elaine mumbled into his sleeve. Ianto didn't look down when he felt her fingers knot into his wrinkled shirt at his chest, just covered her hand with his; he'd sat with Elaine enough in the past to have the art of sister-comfort down pat. "But it was easier knowing it was you who took mum's place and was out there protecting us."
He'd almost failed, in a spectacular sense, but he didn't tell his sister that. She didn't need to know how close they'd all come to falling. If it hadn't been for Avalon, if it hadn't been for Sheppard and Ronon, if it hadn't been for Jack and Owen and all the others, they most certainly would have failed.
"I made a promise to you after Gavin died, Ellie. I will do everything to protect our family." Ianto rested his chin on Elaine's head and pulled the blanket tighter around them. Even if it meant taking Ms. White's place. Family was important, and like Gwen had said, the team had become family as well. So many responsibilities, so many families. So much to protect. "Including running around Cardiff being chased by a dragon. The damned things looked like my birthday cake two years ago. I swear, you'd better put a kitten on my next cake. Big, fluffy harmless kitten. I don't care what the twin terrors say, no more kings and queens, no more dragons. Just a big, harmless kitten."
Elaine giggled like Ianto hoped, taking a shaky breath before loosening her grip on his hand. "Fluffy kitten. Got it. Any other requests, King Ianto?"
Ianto nudged his sister with his shoulder, silently chiding her for the nickname he really hoped she didn't start using in common practice. A giant yawn cracked his features; Ianto felt seventy for all he wasn't quite thirty. He'd believed that events had aged Stephen; he should probably assume they had aged him as well. Maybe it was just the let down from the intensity of war; after the Battle at Torchwood One, there hadn't been time to think or rest, he had simply moved on to the next stage in his plans. this time, however, the recovery period was inching along at an ever increasingly slow pace and dragging him unwilling along for the ride. What did he want most, next to his family?
"Yeah. How about a long sleep until the next emergency?"
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
It was hardly the next emergency that woke Ianto from his doze. He and Elaine hadn't moved until their father came up with Ianto's nephews, the three apparently having found a large quantity of sugar given the range of the twin's vocals. Elaine got up with an admonishment to their father and herded the twins outside to run off some of their seemingly unlimited energy. Ianto rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grinned at his father who held out a large travel mug of coffee from the store.
Must be a genetic thing to think that coffee was the answer for everything.
"Don't suppose this is just a visit."
Point to his father, but Ianto hadn't the faintest idea where to begin, much less how to start. He padded over to his father's pipe stand instead, picking it up as well as the tin of tobacco and silently handed it to Broderick before falling back onto the couch to curl back up in the blanket with his coffee. His father didn't ask questions, just started preparing the pipe while rambling about the day-to-days at the store.
"Grace Roberts, you remember her? Of course you do, you remember everything, don't you, dear boy. Your mother," Broderick waved the bell of the pipe at Ianto as he settled back into his chair, the rich, spicy smoke curling up with its calming caress. Ianto inhaled deep and sipped his coffee, the scents blending into an earthy scent of all things good as his father continued, "Your mother was the same way. Couldn't forget a face or a name. Not quite as good as you, but a mind like a steel trap."
She had no apparent problem forgetting her children or birthdays, but Ianto wasn't going to remind his father of this fact, not while he was smiling with fondness at the memories.
"Oh, to be sure, her work consumed her. But you two are far more alike than you might care to think."
Ianto knew his grimace had nothing to do with the temperature of the coffee, and he'd apologize to his father if he would have actually meant it. Broderick found it amusing all the same, laughing as he puffed on his pipe. The years and times, not even the death of his wife had ever seemed to dent the man's spirits and Ianto wished he took after his father more.
"She hated coffee, though. You got that from me." His father beamed with pride now and Ianto snorted as he took a sip of the perfect cup of coffee Broderick had brewed. Could have been worse, Ianto supposed. He could have inherited his father's sense of style instead. "The faeries too, it seems. Pesky little buggers, aren't they? Always meddling in something or another."
This time, Ianto choked on his drink rather than swallowing it properly, coughing and sputtering as he saw on the coffee table what his father was gesturing towards with his pipe. Two red rose petals in clear view, resting on the top of a book of Celtic myths and legends. Rather than the rage he had felt the day before, Ianto could only stare in stunned silence as he wiped coffee from his chin. His father didn't appear to either notice or care about Ianto's predicament, just continued on, puffing with a smile on his pipe.
"In fact, I remember the night of our wedding. Oh, but your mother looked beautiful that day. Carried my Viviene up to the bedroom, ran her right into the corner of the wall up at the top of the stairs but it didn't matter, we were laughing so. More nerves than naught, I think. I was so afraid of screwing up she'd leave me without a second thought." His father paused, and for that Ianto was glad, the images of his parents' wedding night was one he did not need etched into memory. There were just things he did not need to know about his parents, plenty he wished he did know, but their wedding night was not one of them.
Ianto squirmed on the couch as father continued, wondering if for once, the faeries couldn't play his way and just ... swallow him, the couch, the blanket and his coffee up in their timeless forest which had taken Jasmine. "Walked into the bedroom and had to blink to make sure I'd entered the right house. Bed was buried in rose petals, spilling off the bed and onto the floor, trailing to the door. Bless your mum, she thought I'd arranged it all. Didn't have the heart to tell her I had nothing to do with it. Made you that night, we did, right on top of those petals. Pesky little buggers that they are, but they can set a mood. Nine months later and you come around, all solemn and so rare with your smile. Thought for a while I'd done something wrong, should've told your mum the truth or knocked those petals to the floor 'cause they'd stolen your joy. But every now and then, sometimes with reason and sometimes just out of the blue, you'd laugh and it'd just light up the house. And now you've gone and saved the joy of the world. Guess your old man didn't do so wrong after all."
Wondering if it was too early to begin drinking something heavier than coffee, Ianto finally found his voice for the first time since his father arrived. "You know about the faeries? They're dangerous creatures."
"Dangerous? Oh, sure, they get a little carried away with their games sometimes, but I wouldn't call 'em dangerous. Quite beautiful when they want to be. Only explanation I have for my boy surviving that accursed battle at Canary Wharf when so many others didn't." The joviality drained from his father's voice as he remembered, as did Ianto, all that had been lost that day. Broderick had gained a full household following so many years of solitude after Ianto and Elaine had left for their careers.
"I survived because I had to." Ianto said carefully, avoiding all mentions of his true purpose in his will to live.
"Yes, yes. And I suppose you escaped carrying a partially converted Cyberman and a conversion unit all on your charm and wiles." Ianto gaped at his father who just winked and smiled. "You're smart, my boy, but even intellect and cunning didn't get most out of that building."
Unexpected shame burned his cheeks, threatening Ianto's loose control over his emotions as only his father could do. In retrospect, it hadn't been the wisest choice of actions and his rationale and logic questionable at best, but to have his father know that he had been so craftily duped by the Cyberman and to have made such an egregious error in judgement was humiliating. Instead of looking at Broderick, Ianto picked at a piece of fuzz still connected to the blanket, one of many spots on the blanket worn by time and love.
"Did mum know?" Ianto finally managed to ask, his voice hoarse and crackled with embarrassment and a lingering grief that he'd never been able to shake for the events of that final day; the trust which had been broken, the havoc he'd almost unleashed on the world once again, and the loss of a final piece of Torchwood One.
"I don't believe so; she never mentioned it. Ianto." Reluctantly (and feeling like he was again five years old), Ianto quit fidgeting with the blanket and looked his father in the eyes, holding his head high despite the heat in his ears and the flush in his face. "Everything happens for a purpose, even the most doubtful of choices. You acted out of desperation and loyalty and I can hardly find fault with that. After all, it led you to become the man you are today."
If Ianto had believed his face on fire before, that compared little to the stain of red flushing his cheeks now under his father's praise. Ianto began and stopped himself numerous times, not sure how to respond and feeling desperately inadequate and undeserving given the losses and destruction still collected during the fight against the dragons. Everything he could think of to say just sounded so ... trivial.
Finally, he realized what he could ask. "You seem to know everything-"
"Me? No, must've been your friend Jack who told me about Lisa."
Ianto didn't believe his father for a moment, given Broderick's knowledge of the faeries and of his wife's death, so Ianto continued. "Can you tell me ... what do you know ... I have ... my friend," Ianto fumbled around, trying to talk about precisely what he'd spent the past weeks avoiding talking about. He knew it was ridiculous, that he was handling this childishly, but thinking meant acknowledging and for his part, Ianto couldn't think about it, much less speak of it. He knew there must be a whole process of guilt in those self-help books, and at the present moment he probably fell into whatever step was labeled 'denial,' but he just couldn't for all that he should.
Broderick watched Ianto for what felt like hours, just silence stretching between the two of them after Ianto's voice trailed away. It was uncomfortable, having his father's focus solely directed at him, but Ianto remained still, knowing he had sounded as desperate as he felt for just a brief reassurance. His father had spoken of choices and purpose, and Ianto knew there must be a purpose in this. There had to be. There was an answering reply for every decision made, his father had said as much.
Ianto just simply could not see the purpose in his one choice, however.
"I think you already know the answer, Ianto. And how will you accept it if you can't even speak his name to recognize the life?"
Sullenly, Ianto nodded, knowing his father was right but at the same time, avoidance had worked so well for him. After all, he'd managed to deny Lisa's death for a good year before admitting the Cyberman portion had won long before she'd been killed by Torchwood Three.
"Go see him, it'll just get harder the longer you stay away."
"I will," Ianto promised; almost sounding convinced of his own words.
"Ianto Llacheu Jones..." Broderick warned, just as he had when Ianto was twelve and broken a window in the store next to his father's with a pellet from a mis-fired slingshot.
"Fine, fine. I will." And this time, he meant it.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
"Uncle Ianto!"
Only the twin warning cries alerted Ianto of the incoming child-sized missiles which struck and attached themselves to his legs. They'd grown like weeds since last he saw them, and they easily pulled him down to the grass, suit trousers be damned. Ianto laughed and rolled with them anyway, fending off their combined tickle attack, their four small hands much more effective than his two. But if their squeals and giggles were to go by, he was getting in a few solid tickles of his own.
Eventually, they tired out. Or rather, Uncle Ianto grew tired and Bryce and Gareth got bored with the tickling and opted to just sit on their conquest instead of attacking when Ianto failed to play along.
"Did you really fight a dragon?"
"Was it big?"
"Did it bite you?"
"Dragons don't bite, they blow fire out their noses."
"Nuh uh! Do not. They have fire in their stomachs. Don't they, Uncle Ianto?"
Ianto grinned at his nephews, looking up at them from his rather comfortable spot on the grass. How he wished he could be a kid again. "They were very big," he admitted carefully, not sure what Elaine had told the boys about the fight or what they might have seen on the news. "A lot of us fought the dragons, but they're all gone now."
His nephews' cheers made him grin all the more.
"Tell us about it!"
"Yeah, were you scared?"
"More scared than I've ever been." Ianto didn't have to lie or fib on that one as he slid the twins to his thighs so he could sit up. He wrapped them both in a big hug, feeling tiny hands grab his sides in return. "Was scared I'd never get to see you two again."
"We were scared too, but mommy was more scareder-"
"'Cause she was crying-"
"Uh huh, and so we told her that Uncle Ianto would protect us, just like you said."
Ianto felt his eyes well-up at their blind faith in him, so trusting that their uncle would watch out for them despite all his faults. Hell, they probably didn't even think he had faults. They were young yet, and far too new to the horrors of the world and how even those they put on pedestals would fall. Everything did, eventually. Ms. White and Avalon, Torchwood One and Yvonne. Even an alien attack was exciting. He wondered how long it would take for that illusion to fall and they discovered their uncle was just as human as they were and at some point, would fail them, too.
"I will always do what I can to protect my family."
"We know, Uncle Ianto. We told Kent," Ianto had to rack his brain to think of who that was, before he remembered Elaine mentioning something about the twins having a friend named Kent who'd stop by the store to play. His mother taught at a local school. According to Elaine, the mother was not looking forward to having the three troublemakers in school together. "We told him that our uncle fought the aliens-"
"And Kent wants you to be his uncle too cause he says the aliens might take him from his bed like they do on the telly so now he won't sleep."
"'Cause he doesn't have an uncle who fights aliens."
"Will you?"
"Will I what?" Ianto tried his best to follow Bryce's question, but he failed miserably, too keenly aware of the cold seeping in through his trousers from the ground and how even Torchwood Three's best dry cleaner probably wouldn't be able to get the stains out.
"Be Kent's uncle? He needs an uncle to protect him too."
"Tell you what." Ianto shifted a bit so that he could look at both Bryce and Gareth, who's concern for their friend was so plainly written on their faces. How odd was it to be having this conversation with his nephews, it certainly wasn't one he had dreamt of having in his lifetime and certainly not planned for. He'd planned for talks about the kids' father, about sex and wanking when the time came because imagining his mother talking to him about wanking nearly pushed Ianto over the edges of sanity every time he considered it, but never had he planned on how to address the twins' friends' real fear of aliens. "Why don't you tell Kent that all of Torchwood is working to protect his family, so he shouldn't be scared about being taken from his bed. Torchwood is watching out for every single one of your friends, too. But you two are under my special protection and always will be."
Amidst his nephews cheers, cheers that meant more than any from Avalon or complete strangers, Ianto hugged them just a little tighter.
"Uncle Ianto, you're squishing us."
With a snort of laughter, Ianto let them go, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and dragged back into the house where Elaine took one look at the grass stains on his shirt and trousers and mouthed an apology. Ianto just shrugged with a smile.
Suits could be laundered, but he wouldn't pass up a moment with his nephews for anything.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
After grabbing a change of clothes (stolen from Stephen's closet since he'd already used the spare suit he kept at Avalon), Ianto made his way down to his (Mr. Black's) office. He turned on the telly and poured a glass of Scotch kept secure in a vault behind a psi-proof lock, along with various official papers and documents curious children and adults should be kept away from.
As he sat at the round table, the furniture looking rather lonely with its twelve open spots, feet kicked up on the top and the chair tilted back at what was certainly a dangerous degree and watched, the reporting was about the celebrations still continuing across the globe, from India to Britain to South Africa, everyone was still enthralled by the notion of a narrow escape from an alien threat and the celebration of freedom and life. It had surprised Ianto at first; but then, he was viewing the situation as someone who had grown up with aliens. The attack had been nothing new or different, only the magnitude had changed. For everyone else, however, it was as though a new lease on existence had been felt and cherished by all, and the stores selling food and alcohol were profiting.
The first world-wide party, broadcast simultaneously on all stations had taken place only two days after the fight. And now, over five weeks later, spontaneous parties were happening for little or no reason, just an excuse to be with friends and family, Ianto theorized. From the way it sounded, New Orleans in the United States hadn't shut down yet, day or night, the party still continued.
Ianto pitied their livers. Fuck, it wouldn't be the dragons that killed off the population on earth, it'd be the alcohol pickling their insides.
But, at least the in-fighting among humans had momentarily ceased. The few nations who had sought to profit from the ordeal were quickly stomped out in a surprising union of spirit. But warring factions all had the same surprises, the same shock and questioning of values. In some areas, they'd dropped the animosity and fought side by side against the dragons. Hard to resume fighting against a supposed enemy who had risked their life to protect yours. If anything had come from the casualties of this attack, at least there was a temporary peace. The cynic in him said it wouldn't last, that humans were, by nature, a people who would not be satisfied with what they possessed but must continuously look for more, be it land or converts or rights or goods. But at least, for the moment, there was a relative peace among the celebrants.
With a grim smile, he raised his glass in toast to the telly on the far wall and drank, joining in as well he could from inside the offices of Avalon.
"Mr. Black, I need your sig-"
Ianto turned slowly in surprise, surprise switching into amusement as he caught Owen openly staring. Ianto supposed it was either the black leather pants, which Stephen considered 'denim' and about the only thing he owned (and an article of clothing Ianto had grown rather fond of in their recent escapades) or the black tee he had snitched from Stephen's wardrobe as well (minus the gaping bullet wound the previous tee he'd borrowed, Ianto had made sure to stock Stephen's wardrobe with his favorite shirts for damaging the one). Or quite possibly, it was being mistaken for "Mr. Black" which had caused Owen to pause so dramatically in his statement. Any of the three possibilities made Ianto smirk, and he raised a brow as Owen continued to stare, the gaze only broken once when his eyes darted to the vault, to the scotch, and back to Ianto again.
"Stephen's not here," Ianto drawled, stating the obvious as he swirled his scotch and turned back to the telly to see what else had happened in the world aside from parties and purported alien sightings.
"Bullocks. Sorry. Don't think I've seen you dress like a normal person before."
Ianto didn't even turn to respond, just continued watching the images on the screen. A ferry had capsized near Bergen, Norway. All passengers had been saved by a passing vessel. "Brecon Beacons, the night we all about became the main course. I wore denims." Ianto nudged the bottle of Scotch over to Owen after pouring a refill, the other man would have to fend for himself to find a glass. "My other clothes got dirty and rather than walking around naked, I borrowed some of Stephen's."
"Right. Want my advice? Buy a pair of pants from Stephen." As Ianto turned to confirm that it was indeed Owen who had stated this, the doctor began to stumble over himself. "Cos Jack would appreciate the look. Then again, he appreciates anything with a hole or at least a crevice to rub off in. Not that he would, 'cos you and he, ah, fuck." Ianto settled for snorting in amusement as Owen cut himself off by drinking his Scotch.
Ianto would have to thank Stephen doubly for the clothing and the entertainment.
"So, I've been thinking," Owen started, to which Ianto turned his head, mostly in surprise at confirmation that Owen indeed thought. The look Owen threw him confirmed that Owen had caught on to what Ianto's train of thought had been. Owen glared (which, oddly enough, had no discernible impact Ianto noted)before continuing. "Out there during the fight, you were comfortable giving orders and could chat in whatever fucking language you were talking in on your mobile like it was your native tongue. My friends Amberlynn and Mitch were medics at Torchwood One and never mentioned you in their stories, so you weren't a field agent. Makes me think you were being primed to take over Yvonne's spot."
Owen smirked with pride at his deduction while he awaited Ianto's answer.
Ianto's following snort caused it to crash almost immediately. "Not bloody likely."
"She didn't like your coffee?"
"No," Ianto refrained from rolling his eyes, but only barely. He knew what he was about to say was considered classified, it was all locked away under encryption and various other security measures, but Owen would understand. He'd lost in the Battle of Canary Wharf, just as Ianto had. Besides, Ianto reminded himself, he set the rules anyway. "She didn't like me disagreeing about the purpose of the ghost shifts. Put me on limited desk duty before the attack."
Owen scowled, like Ianto's statement didn't compute with the information he had gathered. "What the bloody hell was she thinking?"
"Unlimited power. Energy for all of Britain." Ianto shrugged, staring at his drink before sipping from the glass.
"No, that's not ... never mind." Owen pushed the bottle of Scotch back over to Ianto who wondered briefly why Owen had come in search of Mr. Black in the first place. Hopefully nothing to do with the children, not after sharing a drink or two with Ianto. "So what department were you in?"
Ianto debated for a moment between lying and telling the truth before he decided it just wasn't worth it to lie. "Intelligence."
Owen's reaction was similar to Jack when he had shared the information so long ago. surprise written across every feature as he coughed on his drink. Ianto really didn't know why it was so surprising; it wasn't like he tried to hide his knowledge of alien artifacts, research, or people.
Inside, there was a young boy who smiled with glee at the thought of one-upping Owen.
"So ah, not just a tea-boy then."
Ianto smirked. "Not exactly."
"Would explain why they never mentioned you; they always said you lot were a secretive bunch. And how you knew of that glue." Owen grimaced as sipped his drink, then waved the glass at Ianto after what must have been painful contemplation for Owen. "So, if you're all intelligent, why haven't you been in to see Jean-Luc yet? Avoiding my patient for some particular reason other than being a complete and utter twat?"
Or maybe not so painful. Owen occasionally did have a good grasp on Ianto and his habits. "I'm working up to it." Ianto raised his glass and drank the last of the scotch, feeling the warmth spread through him and give him courage he might not have had otherwise.
"You're a fucking idiot, ya know."
Yes, while, Ianto might be, but he wouldn't ever admit that to Owen.
"Your best friend, from what I hear, is lying up there in a coma and you haven't been to visit since we brought him in. I know you have a guilt complex longer than my prick, don't get me started on fighting the bloody dragon with a field knife to save Jack who is immortal in case you forgot, but this is going on ridiculous. You're being a shite friend and you're making Tosh worry." The last was said with a cross of his arms, Ianto watched as Owen sat back in his chair, rather pleased with himself for his scolding.
And the sorry thing was, Ianto knew he was right.
Except for maybe the prick thing. Ianto was fairly certain his guilt complex was much longer than Owen's prick.
"For whatever reason, Jean-Luc sought your permission for Avalon to join the fight. And it was the right bloody choice because they won where we would have utterly failed. So quit being an arse and get up there to see him. Would do you good instead of mucking about in the guilt you've drowned yourself in."
For lack of anything to say to defend himself, Ianto gathered the bottle of scotch and put it back in the safe, making sure the vault was sealed shut so none of the children could get in.
"And don't ever wear those pants to work; Jack will never get anything done!" Owen shouted after him as Ianto left the room.
Ianto smirked, fairly certain that Jack wouldn't be the only one not getting anything done if he wore these pants to work. He'd felt Owen's eyes follow him all the way out.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
Ianto nervously knocked on the door before he entered; he chided himself after he did it since he wasn't really expecting an answer, but maybe the situation had changed since Owen had checked in last and his friend would be awake and calling him a prat (or worse) for avoiding him.
His heart sank when he looked in and heard nothing but the steady rhythm of the heart monitor mixing with the utter stillness that was Jean-Luc.
Closing the door behind him (which really was just another opportunity to avoid looking at the bed), Ianto steadied himself before turning to walk towards the bed, hesitation and guilt dragging every step until he was barely moving. He made it, eventually, tugged by an invisible hand until his thighs were stopped in their forward progress by the bed. It startled Ianto, consciously he knew he was walking forward but he'd so successfully pushed aside the knowledge that he was moving towards Jean-Luc's bed that once he was there, it was as though he were magically moved and his feet had no part in the process.
There'd be no avoiding now.
Ianto sat heavily into the chair by the bed; uncomfortable and hard on his back; he couldn't imagine Tosh sitting in it for any length of time. But he knew she had. He knew a good many had, spending time each day with the most gifted of them all; the one who had saved the world.
And Ianto had put him there.
Guiltily, Ianto's eyes finally focused on the figure laying on the bed, white sheets (the black satin sheets Jean-Luc was so fond of, hedonist that he was, had been removed the moment Owen had moved his patient to his room for privacy) pulled up to his chest, the pure white bedding just contributing to the pallor of his skin.
Even Jean-Luc's freckles were pale.
Ianto didn't move, not for a very long time. He just stared at Jean-Luc, motionless save for the steady rise of his chest as he breathed. Ianto got lost in the action, counting the number of times the sheet rose and fell, pitching his own breath in tempo with Jean-Luc's. It was almost too slow for Ianto, but it was relaxing, hypnotic.
Calming.
The thought made Ianto laugh, the noise sounding harsh in the room. Or perhaps it wasn't the sound, just the tension strung tight within Ianto (and the alcohol he'd drank before venturing to the room) that made it sound so foreign to his ears.
Leave it to Jean-Luc, the man could be in a coma and still work to calm Ianto.
Ianto reached out, then jerked his hand back, irrationally scared to touch Jean-Luc because what if his friend's skin was cold, cold and fragile and still as death. He looked so pale, laying on the bed, Ianto hardly could believe life still flowed. But he knew it did, the Healers said Jean-Luc lived, as did Tosh and Owen. There was technically nothing wrong with Jean-Luc, not that the Healers could find and repair. One of them, Geppetto Russo (who the kids called Gipper for a reason Ianto couldn't quite understand), likened Jean-Luc to a spring which had sprung with such force and power, it'd stretched beyond its means. It might recoil and pull itself back together, or the spring may have been irreparably damaged, no one could tell.
And so Jean-Luc slept on, lost somewhere in that sprung mind.
And Ianto avoided.
After a second graceless jerk of his hand, Ianto steadied himself and touched Jean-Luc's hand, releasing a sigh of relief (not a sob) that the skin was still warm, the fingers movable if not limp, as Ianto curled his hand around Jean-Luc's.
There was still the chance. The Healers and Tosh and Owen hadn't given up hope yet for a full recovery. No one knew anything. No one had seen this in their lifetime, much less read about it in any text books.
But there was no guarantee he would ever wake up.
Ianto leaned forward on the chair, inching closer to the bed until he could rest his elbows on the mattress. He started once and had to clear his throat when his voice came out all cracked and unintelligible. Ianto's second try was much more successful, though the words sounded so much like they didn't belong. He didn't even know if there was any point to it, but once he started talking, he just couldn't stop.
"You'd love it, you know. You're a celebrity, the hero of the day. Fuck, people are praying for you." Ianto laughed at the ridiculousness of it at the same time as he wanted to weep for the public's sincerity and outpouring of concern. For all the people across the globe knew nothing of Avalon, once they did (for those who had gotten over their initial fears), it was like they'd always known of Avalon, and Avalon's losses and grief were their own. They'd set up memorials to the gifted who had died and money poured in for education, both in the public and private sectors, everyone wanting to contribute and be a part of this 'new' brand of talent, for generosity now, for profit later, Ianto assumed. Another thing for Mr. Black to manage, to make sure the gifted were not abused.
And the cards and gifts to the one who had yet to wake from the alien attack. Ianto shook his head as he looked about the room, flowers and plants dotted every surface like people knew Jean-Luc. Maybe some of them did. Ianto still wasn't certain how much information had passed between the minds of all who had merged to fight the invasion, but there was definitely a bond that had developed between them. All of them; the globe over. The Vice President of the United States had even made a trip to Avalon, visiting the kids and spending some time, privately, with Jean-Luc.
Jean-Luc would love it.
Except maybe for the praying bit.
"There are even people who are calling to write your bloody memoirs. Everyone wants to know Jean-Luc." This time, Ianto couldn't quite conceal the choked sob, reassured that no one was in the room to hear it anyway except for Jean-Luc who would mock him endlessly if he had heard it. Ianto almost wished he had. He'd accept the mocking gladly.
Instead, there was just the steady beeps of the heart monitor filling the silence between Ianto's hurried sniffs as he tried to get himself under control. Now was not the time to fall apart; he'd managed so far to maintain his usual calm (save for one or two more harried moments, the coffee machine in the Hub came to mind first) despite the overwhelming urge to scream with laughter at the heavens for yet another near miss in the intergalactic race to beat up earth and crawl into his bed and hide for days on end and allow himself to splinter and break as responsibility cracked every defense. But he didn't. He performed his duty, to Queen and country as well as Torchwood, Avalon, and the rest of the world who demanded answers and looked to the figures of Mr. Black (thank whatever deities kept Stephen in his place, it was almost as good as having two of himself with Stephen doing speaking engagements), Colonel Sheppard and Captain Harkness for strength and understanding.
But here, in the quiet of Jean-Luc's room, no one was listening, no one was looking for a reliable pillar of collect calm and it was just too much as those requirements fell away, leaving him without the structured official Torchwood One decorum to rely upon in face of stress and others.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered rather than spoke, clutching Jean-Luc's hand to steady his own. "I did this. Remember-remember when we were kids, it was winter and we were out running on the roof to get out of class and I slipped on an icy patch. Tumbled clear off the roof, but you stopped me. You stopped me from falling. Fuck, you were always watching out for me." Ianto didn't even bother pretending to be collect and reserved any longer, no one was around to see him give in, just this once. His shoulders shook as he cried, guilt for the relief that Jean-Luc had succeeded, that his family lived, that Torchwood lived, that the whole world lived because of Avalon and Jean-Luc. That guilt blended with other responsibilities, knowing it had been war against the dragons but feeling there had to have been an alternative other than Avalon. He'd made the decisions, he'd called the orders. "You were my responsibility to protect. And I don't care if you bloody chose to do it, I said yes."
And for Ianto, that was really the crux of the argument. For all Avalon had chosen their place in the fight against the dragons, Ianto had allowed them to do it. Jean-Luc wouldn't have done it if Ianto had said no; Ianto was certain of it. He could have stopped it. He could have stopped Jean-Luc.
But then, earth might have fallen.
The uncertainties and consequences were what fractured his control. He'd second guess his decisions until the end of his life, always wondering what could have happened if only he had acted differently. If he'd been wiser. If he'd had more experience.
If he was more like Ms. White.
Would she have made the same choice? Ianto rather thought not; she would have held the safety of the kids and Avalon above all else; especially the safety of Jean-Luc.
Then again, Jean-Luc almost died under her command as well.
Maybe Ianto was more like Ms. White than he had thought.
Black and White, the decision makers of the century. Ianto almost laughed.
"I'm making a right mess of things. Failed to keep Torchwood a secret. Failed to maintain Avalon's secrecy and failed to protect you. What the fuck have I accomplished other than nearly destroying Britain under my watch?" Ianto gave a hearty sniff and dried his eyes on the bedding when he didn't find a tissue box about and the black tee wasn't exactly made for stretching to his face. "Fuck, I know. You'd tell me I'm being a complete wanker and rig my showers to only spray cold water till I agreed. We're not kids any more though. And I don't honestly think I was meant for this."
Ianto rested his head on Jean-Luc's hand until a tapping on his shoulder startled him. He'd lost track of the time, a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand read it was late afternoon, well past when he'd intended to return to the Hub. The tapping resumed, and Ianto saw it was the corner of a box of tissues digging into his shoulder.
"Out. I need to check on my patient, and you need to eat something before you go back. I already called Gwen and told her where you were so she wouldn't worry."
Ianto wiped his eyes with a handful of tissues and blew his nose, collecting himself before he allowed his mind to filter through the information presented to him. The speaker's voice was Owen. Nope, his mind pretty much stopped there with the information processing.
"There's fresh coffee in the kitchens and soup for the evening meal. I've given Jess strict orders not to give you any coffee until you finish off a bowl of soup and slice of bread. Coffee and scotch are not food groups, Tea-boy, and one patient is enough for me. I'm shite with patients."
Owen was giving him orders. Ianto felt his ears flame red with embarrassment at having been caught out in such a state, especially by Owen, but the man wasn't commenting, just held a rubbish bin up for him to toss his used tissues in, then handed him the remaining box as Ianto was guided towards the door.
Owen?
"Straight to the kitchens. Don't try to sneak out, Jerry is on security duty and knows not to let you leave unless it's been cleared by Jess. Doctor's orders. I'll keep you informed of any changes with Jean-Luc. Now out."
With that, Ianto found himself outside of Jean-Luc's room, struck speechless by a smirking Owen who seemed to enjoy pushing Ianto around a little too much. Probably thinking of it as revenge for the glue incident. Or shooting him in the shoulder. Or the time Ianto switched to decaf, just for amusement's sake.
"Oh, and Ianto?"
Ianto didn't say anything, just waited for whatever else Owen had to say. Maybe by that time, he'd have found his voice and have a witty rejoinder to follow.
"You're being a complete wanker."
The door clicked shut in his face before Ianto could remember to breath, much less respond.
***
The 21st Century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready.
The wind whipped about Ianto, the cold currents of air threatening to push and pull him right from his perch on top of the Millennium Center. He had quickly caught up on things at the Hub; Jack had begged for a cup of coffee, insisting he'd had nothing but instant all day, and Ianto had frozen still upon walking into the kitchenette, a new coffee machine standing in proud, shining splendor where the other one had once stood. Ianto wasn't sure who had gone out and bought it, none of Torchwood Three were fessing up to it, but it brought a smile to his face all the same.
As did the crudely drawn picture of a faery with a big red 'x' drawn over it pinned above the machine.
Ianto was fairly certain that was Gwen's doing.
New mugs gleamed in the cabinets, and not a single red rose petal could be found. Not that Ianto had looked too hard. But he did notice that someone had been efficient in their removal.
It didn't even smell like roses.
He'd left after finishing some paperwork for Jack, plenty of time to catch his twice-daily perch atop a building in honor of the original Jack. Ianto had maintained that tradition, all this time, save for a few occasions when doom and dragons had threatened.
But this time as he stared over Cardiff, drinking in the sights of the city at night, Ianto permitted himself to grin in wonder.
Cardiff still stood.
Even in the patches of city where he knew the dragons had attacked and destroyed huge portions of land, buildings and people (although thankfully the loss of life had been far less than Ianto had initially calculated), lights still shown in the darkness, signs of rebuilding, signs of life.
At least in this part of his job, Ianto knew he had succeeded. Cardiff still stood. As did Britain. Forgetting, momentarily, the costs, Torchwood had emerged victorious against the alien threat.
That was something.
Even Torchwood Three itself remained standing, the Information Center quickly rebuilt (the lift had gone in first; the initial few days of Gwen bitching about the rope ladder and her boots were enough to change priorities) and a new shipment of brochures ordered to replace what had been lost. It had become quite the attraction these days, the old Information Center. Word had spread that Torchwood members were often spotted coming in and out of the building before it had been destroyed (and that take-away had been delivered to the location) and visitors now flocked to see the building, and to maybe catch a glimpse of the defenders of Britain against alien threat.
Surreal was the only word Ianto could use to describe the first time he'd been asked to pose for a picture.
Ianto pulled the coat tighter around his body, also 'borrowed' from Stephen. He was in London doing more interviews as Mr. Black, and Ianto knew he'd have time to return the coat and pants to Stephen's wardrobe before he returned to Avalon the next day. It was long, reminding Ianto of Jack's greatcoat, and on impulse he had taken it to remind himself of things that once were. Ianto had spent a few evenings and mornings with Jack on the rooftops, wrapped in the warmth of the greatcoat to fight off the chill in the air. He wondered if it'd be poor form to buy a similar one for this Jack, just so he could have some of those moments back.
He didn't hear any footsteps announcing a presence, but Ianto felt hands wrap around his waist, burying themselves in the warm folds of the leather coat. Ianto supposed he should been startled, or at least affronted at the audacity of whomever was behind him, but he knew the sound of the one breathing at the nape of his neck, lips lightly kissing the skin behind his ear before a cold nose was buried in his hair.
Ianto laughed softly and leaned back into Jack, shivering as his cold hands crept under Ianto's tee and pressed against his skin.
"It's freezing. What are you doing up here?"
Looking out over the city, lights twinkling amidst the shadows of people walking along the pavements, Ianto could almost feel the life in the city, the pulse beating strong as ever. There had been no defeat in Cardiff. And the denizens of the city; they knew and they understood. Yet they weren't frightened or cowering in their homes, they were still out there living their lives as they had before they knew of such things as aliens and the gifted.
She really was an amazing city.
"Reminding myself that there's an entire population with a hint of the threats Earth faces, concepts of space-time, alien races, and foreign tech just creeping into the notions of 'real' within their minds. I came up here to remind myself that its my duty to make sure they're safe."
Jack pressed himself completely against Ianto until Ianto was sure there wasn't an atom's-width of space between them. "And is it working?" Jack returned, quoting himself from both then and now, joining Ianto in the gaze out at the city and her lights.
"Yes," Ianto started with a smiled, leaning back against Jack, confident as he surveyed the city. "Yes it is."
Next Chapter, Part 1