Fic: The Windhovers (2 of 10), Jack/Ianto
Title: The Windhovers
Chapter: 2 of 10
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1, S2
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien
Summary: "A hallucination is a fact, not an error; what is erroneous is a judgement based upon it." - Bertrand Russell
The Windhovers (1 of 10)
He'd overslept.
Ianto stared at the coffee machine in disgust, impatiently waiting for espresso to hiss and spit out the end of the nozzle. The rest of the team's coffees were already made, just a double shot for him left to brew.
He never overslept.
His internal clock consistently woke him up at five, no matter what had happened the night before or the genuine reason to stay in bed. That night, Jack had taken him to his flat after Owen had finished his testing (some of it made up on the spot just to torture him, Ianto was certain of that) and had followed in, not asking, but Ianto wasn't about to turn him away. He hadn't said anything, however, just directed Ianto towards the bedroom after placing a glass of whisky in his hand with a silent order to drink it. Ianto had followed without question, swallowing the contents in one gulp and felt the alcohol burn all the way down to his stomach and shoot out across every cell, the individual nerve bundles collapsing after the strain of the day. The springs popped as the tension unwound until he felt larger than the space he occupied in the room; numb and weightless with the heavy images of his mother pressing from the dark corners. Jack left him for a moment and Ianto just sat on the bed, eyes closed, every slow breath like fire and tasting of whisky until he was sure the air itself was drunk.
Jack had returned, his quiet footfalls warning Ianto so he didn't startle when the bed dipped, nor did he protest when the hoodie and tee (both Jack's, though Ianto had never seen Jack wear them in all the time he'd known the man) were pulled over his head. He did arch a questioning eyebrow when his trousers were removed, however; while Jack was an exceedingly attractive man, sex just seemed beyond Ianto's capabilities at that point. Unexpectedly, all he received was a chaste kiss, too quick to be leading towards anything remotely serious, before Jack patted the bed. Ianto obliged, laying as indicated on his stomach.
Ianto never failed to appreciate how Jack knew when silence was required, every movement and look volumes louder than any spoken word and far more appropriate. To be sure, they talked, often, Jack sharing stories from his past, Ianto sometimes so close to the verge of sleep he dreamt of the tales - the worlds Jack had visited, the creatures he'd met, the adventure and drama playing out in visions of purple skies and orange earth. But there were other times, like that night, when Jack just knew, and as the older man's legs settled into their straddle of Ianto's hips, silence said everything.
The first drop had surprised Ianto, cool on his skin as it and others pooled between his shoulder blades. Then Jack's hands swept the scented oil over his skin and Ianto was lost, first in the gentle massage that warmed then loosened every taunt muscle in his shoulders, and finally to sleep as Jack's quiet hum and tender hands lulled Ianto away from warring thoughts.
And then he'd overslept.
The possibility of a sedative in the whisky wasn't entirely out of the question; in hindsight Ianto should have been suspicious. With the new day had come clarity and Ianto stared at the coffee machine as the details aligned themselves, though he willed the machine to go faster since he was already late to daily morning meeting. It was a possibility, but he'd not woken with any lingering aftertaste or residual sedative hangover, the latter being the primary reason why he avoided the drugs. He didn't even remember dreaming, which was equally unusual. Standard Torchwood nightmares were commonplace, mixed in with a variety of the surreal and fanciful. And sometimes Jack. He always remembered, though, especially the nightmares. But this time he remembered nothing, no hint or fragment or scattered wisp of a thought. Just sleep.
Sleep and waking up late.
Finally the espresso, colored just as his mum's hair, started trickling into the special Italian-made cup he reserved for those who wished to enjoy an unadulterated espresso. Every coffee had its cup, and every cup had its person. Today, Ianto's was small, delicate and naked.
He scowled at the cup at this consideration, hoping no one else paid attention to the mug or the philosophy of the king of coffee. He did check, however, to make sure he was indeed clothed and his tie straight before he arranged the beverages on a serving tray, specifically ordered for balance for distribution. Ianto kept his footfalls silent as he walked, pausing out of visual range yet where he could still overhear the conversation carrying on in the conference room.
"-clean. No signs of pathogen or toxin in his bloodwork. No implants, no tumors...hell, even his hair samples came back clean, no indication of drug use or illness."
"Toshiko?"
"The body suit was designed specifically to negate visual recognition within the range of our perception. It's really remarkable, actually, based on quantum physics we haven't discovered yet-"
Ianto hated being subject matter for the daily meetings. At least with Lisa, he had been absent during the fallout and whether or not he was discussed...well, he didn't know and didn't care to find out. But he had a rather vested interest in the reporting occurring in his absence now. Taking a deep breath and making sure his spine was as straight as possible, he braved the conference room, not bothering to care who he interrupted as he entered. "I've always had a rather high sensitivity to electromagnectic fields." The team at least looked moderately abashed for discussing him without his presence. "Might have led to the symptoms, given the mechanics of the suit."
He didn't apologize for being late, just passed out the mugs, setting them down deliberately on the coasters with the Torchwood emblem and ignored the scattered Starbucks cups sitting carelessly on the table top. Tosh thanked him, making a show of sipping her soy latte (half decaf, no whip with chocolate shavings). Gwen and Jack looked up a bit guilty from theirs, stammering thanks while Owen looked like he wished the world to swallow them all alive for enjoying their beverages when he couldn't. Served him right for all the tests the night before.
"Tosh?"
"That's possible." Ianto sipped his espresso and smiled behind the cup as he watched Tosh's eyes light up with the excitement of discovery. The others looked relieved at this as well; apparently a plausible, normal explanation of any sort was worth relief. "Exposure to high EMFs is said to lead to paranoia, hallucinations, nausea." Tosh smiled apologetically for the hallucinations portion, but Ianto just shrugged; he was the one who'd brought it up, after all. "If you're sensitive enough to it, the suit may have put off a large enough field to trigger the paranoia and the image of your mother, making you see...well, a ghost."
The silence following Tosh's explanations lasted long enough for Ianto to finish his espresso; he really wanted nothing more than to hide for the next few days in the Archives until the team forgot about the whole incident. He wouldn't - he couldn't - but it was enough walking around with the visuals and knowledge in his head. He didn't need the pitying looks from Gwen or the studious gaze of Owen as he tried to puzzle Ianto out, possibly blame it on aliens just for an excuse to try out a number of remedies for sake of annoying and embarrassing Ianto.
"I'd like to run a few tests, activate the armor in a controlled environment, if you wouldn't mind?"
Tosh looked so hopefull Ianto didn't have the heart to tell her no. He nodded (to her delight; it seemed Owen wasn't the only one who enjoyed subjecting him to tests), running a finger around the lip of his cup as he began mentally going through artifacts in the Archives that he could use to distract Tosh if he needed to refocus her on something less ... him-related.
"Fine. Ianto, no field work for a week, just to be sure there's nothing else going on." Ianto didn't mention that it hadn't been on active field duty that he'd encountered the problem for fear of being lashed to the coffee machine for a week by a well-intentioned (if not slightly overprotective) captain. Not that Jack wasn't overprotective of the entire team - to a fault, if Ianto were to be asked - but Jack might get ideas about confining Ianto to the Hub for protection and they could no longer Retcon Owen. "Tosh, keep up your research on the suit. We need to know if we can track wearers so this doesn't happen again. Dismissed." Ianto stood with the rest, a week of no field duty meant plenty of time re-cataloging and cross-referencing the Archives. "Not you."
He rolled his eyes at the tone, but moved to a seat closer to Jack while the others filed out. He could hear Gwen's eager questions about ghosts all the way down the hall and around the corner; seemed her aunt thought her home was haunted and Gwen wondered if there was anything they could use to test the EMF readings in her house. The door closed behind Owen, considerate of him, and Ianto spoke up before Jack could start. "I'm sorry for my tardiness this morning, I overslept."
Jack waved off the apology, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, cradling his mug of coffee in both hands. "You can take time off, if you need to. We can survive without you for a few days. Can't guarantee the state of the Archives, but we could manage. For a couple days."
Ianto smiled briefly, acknowledging Jack's attempt at humor. "Time alone in my flat doing nothing would be worse, but thanks." Time alone with the memories of shooting his mother. Nothing could have been more worse.
"That line about EMFs was bullshit."
He snorted; he couldn't help himself. Trust Jack to skip all finer points and jump directly to the one faulty argument. "I know. The effect should have worn off soon after you disabled the body suit." Ianto frowned, staring at his hands as he flipped a pen between his fingers. "Owen says my labs came back clean. I don't know what happened but I don't need everyone spending days trying to figure out why I saw my mum and you didn't."
"Do you know why?"
"What? God, no." The pen flipped out of his hands, skittering across the table until Jack calmly stopped it. Ianto was too flustered to even muster an apology. "Jack, I have no idea. If I had my choice of visuals I would have opted to shoot an alien over my mum for fuck's sake!"
Jack nodded, settling back in his chair like he hadn't accused Ianto of...whatever it had been. Popping alien narcotics? Making it up? Knowing the answer and not revealing? Jack was warped enough for his position as head of Torchwood Three, Ianto decided. "How'd she die?"
Ianto gave up all pretense of composure and slumped back in his seat with a sigh. He knew the question had been coming, and really it was better from Jack than any of the others. They had an understanding between them - Jack wouldn't push, Ianto could choose to answer. Went vice versa; they both did their fair share of avoiding, but they never lied. At least, Ianto trusted that Jack never did. Ianto didn't, and he'd quickly learned what was game and what wasn't, as had Jack. Family had always been avoided, on both sides.
And now, he could tell Jack, or he could push him off yet again, burying family within memory and no where else. He fully expected Gwen to rope Tosh in on a hunt for information once she learned nothing was in his files, and they'd have a hard time finding anything as he had been very thorough with the data wipe. Or rather, the hacker who'd owed him a dozen favors had been thorough in erasing/altering all the records at Ianto's request before he'd signed on with Torchwood One.
His family might as well be ghosts. He just wasn't exactly sure who it was he was trying to protect anymore - his family or himself.
Running a hand through his hair, he settled finally with his hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jack waited patiently for an answer or a 'no.' Gwen would find nothing in her search. Tosh would let it go after Gwen quit pushing and Jack would let the subject drop if he wanted. He didn't have to answer. It'd be so easy to say 'no.' He just couldn't remember a time when someone had honestly asked, with no motive and no threat to either his mother's memory or his job. "Suicide," Ianto finally answered, hearing but not seeing Jack's chair clunk down on all four legs, "Room 314 of Providence Park."
He took a quick glance at Jack who'd pitched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced under his chin and touching his lips almost as though he was physically stopping himself from saying anything. Maybe he was; if it were possible, Jack would figure out a way to accomplish it. Ianto laughed at the idea, then realized how ridiculous he must sound and cut himself off before Jack called Owen in. He freed his hands from behind his head, using his fingertips to press against the burning in his eyes. It helped, for a time.
"I tried to take care of her, did for years." He snorted at the enormity of the task, but it'd been the only thing to make sense at the time, even if it had been incredibly foolish. They had no other family, so he'd simply done it rather than risk separation. "She just...kept getting worse. I was gone on Christmas day - had a job cleaning a church - and she started a fire in the kitchen. Burned the house down; the neighbors barely got her out and all she kept saying was that 'they were coming.'"
And not for the first time Ianto berated himself for allowing things to deteriorate that far. It'd been so insidious, a slow creep towards instability where excuses for her eccentricities failed and he could barely recognize her for the woman she had been almost ten years before. He sighed and finished the story; what little there was remaining. "She spent five months at Providence before she...I was supposed to visit the next day."
Ianto smiled sadly at the memory. While he'd hated seeing her in that place, he'd always looked forward to seeing her, playing draughts and letting her win in outrageous fashion or reading to her when the medications and her own realities stole her attention. Twice a week - more if he could cut class or wasn't working. Jack smiled with him, despite there being no way he had a clue what memory was trickling across Ianto's mind. But at the same time, it was almost better with the captain not knowing, and with Jack joining blindly in an emotion Ianto wasn't sure he wanted to describe.
He was abruptly pulled to his feet, stumbling forward until he found his balance wrapped in a full-bodied hug. It took him a moment to realize how and why he'd moved, relaxing instead of protesting as was his first instinct. He didn't think Jack would let go even if he'd complained about the manhandling or reminded him they were at work in an embrace inappropriate for employer and employee.
And if Ianto were completely honest with himself, he enjoyed the sympathetic touch.
"My mother's name was Nydia."
The words were spoken so soft at first Ianto thought he'd imagined them. Given his track record of late, that idea wasn't too far-fetched. But he'd felt the breath wisp past his ear, and that certainly hadn't been imagined. "Isolde," Ianto replied, knowing he hadn't been asked but offering it just the same. It felt good, to say it just once, to have someone listen and not call her crazy or mock her when they thought he wasn't listening. He hadn't spoken her name in nearly a decade.
He wondered how long it had been for Jack.
"You were just a kid."
Ianto took the words for how they were intended, not an admonishment for the guilt or grief but for the respect he heard behind the words. "I never was much of a kid." And he hadn't been, working whatever job he could find that would pay him when even they didn't believe the lies of his age; it helped that he'd always been tall for his age. But he'd taken care of her, even if now he realized it wasn't 'just mum being mum' and she'd been outside his ability to tend.
He'd do it all over again if he had to. She'd been the only family he'd had left.
Jack chuckled, low and dry. Whether in agreement, amusement or simply a private joke, Ianto wasn't sure, but he closed his eyes, falling into the steady sway as Jack danced them in a slow circle. There were a million things to do around the Hub, and the team was probably thinking whatever they wished to think Jack and he were up to in the conference room, but for once, Ianto didn't care about office rules or work or even the CCTV footage Tosh was most likely tapping into. He rested his head against Jack's shoulder, and Jack's against his.
He was willing to bet they both weren't ever really kids.
Next Chapter
Chapter: 2 of 10
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1, S2
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien
Summary: "A hallucination is a fact, not an error; what is erroneous is a judgement based upon it." - Bertrand Russell
The Windhovers (1 of 10)
He'd overslept.
Ianto stared at the coffee machine in disgust, impatiently waiting for espresso to hiss and spit out the end of the nozzle. The rest of the team's coffees were already made, just a double shot for him left to brew.
He never overslept.
His internal clock consistently woke him up at five, no matter what had happened the night before or the genuine reason to stay in bed. That night, Jack had taken him to his flat after Owen had finished his testing (some of it made up on the spot just to torture him, Ianto was certain of that) and had followed in, not asking, but Ianto wasn't about to turn him away. He hadn't said anything, however, just directed Ianto towards the bedroom after placing a glass of whisky in his hand with a silent order to drink it. Ianto had followed without question, swallowing the contents in one gulp and felt the alcohol burn all the way down to his stomach and shoot out across every cell, the individual nerve bundles collapsing after the strain of the day. The springs popped as the tension unwound until he felt larger than the space he occupied in the room; numb and weightless with the heavy images of his mother pressing from the dark corners. Jack left him for a moment and Ianto just sat on the bed, eyes closed, every slow breath like fire and tasting of whisky until he was sure the air itself was drunk.
Jack had returned, his quiet footfalls warning Ianto so he didn't startle when the bed dipped, nor did he protest when the hoodie and tee (both Jack's, though Ianto had never seen Jack wear them in all the time he'd known the man) were pulled over his head. He did arch a questioning eyebrow when his trousers were removed, however; while Jack was an exceedingly attractive man, sex just seemed beyond Ianto's capabilities at that point. Unexpectedly, all he received was a chaste kiss, too quick to be leading towards anything remotely serious, before Jack patted the bed. Ianto obliged, laying as indicated on his stomach.
Ianto never failed to appreciate how Jack knew when silence was required, every movement and look volumes louder than any spoken word and far more appropriate. To be sure, they talked, often, Jack sharing stories from his past, Ianto sometimes so close to the verge of sleep he dreamt of the tales - the worlds Jack had visited, the creatures he'd met, the adventure and drama playing out in visions of purple skies and orange earth. But there were other times, like that night, when Jack just knew, and as the older man's legs settled into their straddle of Ianto's hips, silence said everything.
The first drop had surprised Ianto, cool on his skin as it and others pooled between his shoulder blades. Then Jack's hands swept the scented oil over his skin and Ianto was lost, first in the gentle massage that warmed then loosened every taunt muscle in his shoulders, and finally to sleep as Jack's quiet hum and tender hands lulled Ianto away from warring thoughts.
And then he'd overslept.
The possibility of a sedative in the whisky wasn't entirely out of the question; in hindsight Ianto should have been suspicious. With the new day had come clarity and Ianto stared at the coffee machine as the details aligned themselves, though he willed the machine to go faster since he was already late to daily morning meeting. It was a possibility, but he'd not woken with any lingering aftertaste or residual sedative hangover, the latter being the primary reason why he avoided the drugs. He didn't even remember dreaming, which was equally unusual. Standard Torchwood nightmares were commonplace, mixed in with a variety of the surreal and fanciful. And sometimes Jack. He always remembered, though, especially the nightmares. But this time he remembered nothing, no hint or fragment or scattered wisp of a thought. Just sleep.
Sleep and waking up late.
Finally the espresso, colored just as his mum's hair, started trickling into the special Italian-made cup he reserved for those who wished to enjoy an unadulterated espresso. Every coffee had its cup, and every cup had its person. Today, Ianto's was small, delicate and naked.
He scowled at the cup at this consideration, hoping no one else paid attention to the mug or the philosophy of the king of coffee. He did check, however, to make sure he was indeed clothed and his tie straight before he arranged the beverages on a serving tray, specifically ordered for balance for distribution. Ianto kept his footfalls silent as he walked, pausing out of visual range yet where he could still overhear the conversation carrying on in the conference room.
"-clean. No signs of pathogen or toxin in his bloodwork. No implants, no tumors...hell, even his hair samples came back clean, no indication of drug use or illness."
"Toshiko?"
"The body suit was designed specifically to negate visual recognition within the range of our perception. It's really remarkable, actually, based on quantum physics we haven't discovered yet-"
Ianto hated being subject matter for the daily meetings. At least with Lisa, he had been absent during the fallout and whether or not he was discussed...well, he didn't know and didn't care to find out. But he had a rather vested interest in the reporting occurring in his absence now. Taking a deep breath and making sure his spine was as straight as possible, he braved the conference room, not bothering to care who he interrupted as he entered. "I've always had a rather high sensitivity to electromagnectic fields." The team at least looked moderately abashed for discussing him without his presence. "Might have led to the symptoms, given the mechanics of the suit."
He didn't apologize for being late, just passed out the mugs, setting them down deliberately on the coasters with the Torchwood emblem and ignored the scattered Starbucks cups sitting carelessly on the table top. Tosh thanked him, making a show of sipping her soy latte (half decaf, no whip with chocolate shavings). Gwen and Jack looked up a bit guilty from theirs, stammering thanks while Owen looked like he wished the world to swallow them all alive for enjoying their beverages when he couldn't. Served him right for all the tests the night before.
"Tosh?"
"That's possible." Ianto sipped his espresso and smiled behind the cup as he watched Tosh's eyes light up with the excitement of discovery. The others looked relieved at this as well; apparently a plausible, normal explanation of any sort was worth relief. "Exposure to high EMFs is said to lead to paranoia, hallucinations, nausea." Tosh smiled apologetically for the hallucinations portion, but Ianto just shrugged; he was the one who'd brought it up, after all. "If you're sensitive enough to it, the suit may have put off a large enough field to trigger the paranoia and the image of your mother, making you see...well, a ghost."
The silence following Tosh's explanations lasted long enough for Ianto to finish his espresso; he really wanted nothing more than to hide for the next few days in the Archives until the team forgot about the whole incident. He wouldn't - he couldn't - but it was enough walking around with the visuals and knowledge in his head. He didn't need the pitying looks from Gwen or the studious gaze of Owen as he tried to puzzle Ianto out, possibly blame it on aliens just for an excuse to try out a number of remedies for sake of annoying and embarrassing Ianto.
"I'd like to run a few tests, activate the armor in a controlled environment, if you wouldn't mind?"
Tosh looked so hopefull Ianto didn't have the heart to tell her no. He nodded (to her delight; it seemed Owen wasn't the only one who enjoyed subjecting him to tests), running a finger around the lip of his cup as he began mentally going through artifacts in the Archives that he could use to distract Tosh if he needed to refocus her on something less ... him-related.
"Fine. Ianto, no field work for a week, just to be sure there's nothing else going on." Ianto didn't mention that it hadn't been on active field duty that he'd encountered the problem for fear of being lashed to the coffee machine for a week by a well-intentioned (if not slightly overprotective) captain. Not that Jack wasn't overprotective of the entire team - to a fault, if Ianto were to be asked - but Jack might get ideas about confining Ianto to the Hub for protection and they could no longer Retcon Owen. "Tosh, keep up your research on the suit. We need to know if we can track wearers so this doesn't happen again. Dismissed." Ianto stood with the rest, a week of no field duty meant plenty of time re-cataloging and cross-referencing the Archives. "Not you."
He rolled his eyes at the tone, but moved to a seat closer to Jack while the others filed out. He could hear Gwen's eager questions about ghosts all the way down the hall and around the corner; seemed her aunt thought her home was haunted and Gwen wondered if there was anything they could use to test the EMF readings in her house. The door closed behind Owen, considerate of him, and Ianto spoke up before Jack could start. "I'm sorry for my tardiness this morning, I overslept."
Jack waved off the apology, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, cradling his mug of coffee in both hands. "You can take time off, if you need to. We can survive without you for a few days. Can't guarantee the state of the Archives, but we could manage. For a couple days."
Ianto smiled briefly, acknowledging Jack's attempt at humor. "Time alone in my flat doing nothing would be worse, but thanks." Time alone with the memories of shooting his mother. Nothing could have been more worse.
"That line about EMFs was bullshit."
He snorted; he couldn't help himself. Trust Jack to skip all finer points and jump directly to the one faulty argument. "I know. The effect should have worn off soon after you disabled the body suit." Ianto frowned, staring at his hands as he flipped a pen between his fingers. "Owen says my labs came back clean. I don't know what happened but I don't need everyone spending days trying to figure out why I saw my mum and you didn't."
"Do you know why?"
"What? God, no." The pen flipped out of his hands, skittering across the table until Jack calmly stopped it. Ianto was too flustered to even muster an apology. "Jack, I have no idea. If I had my choice of visuals I would have opted to shoot an alien over my mum for fuck's sake!"
Jack nodded, settling back in his chair like he hadn't accused Ianto of...whatever it had been. Popping alien narcotics? Making it up? Knowing the answer and not revealing? Jack was warped enough for his position as head of Torchwood Three, Ianto decided. "How'd she die?"
Ianto gave up all pretense of composure and slumped back in his seat with a sigh. He knew the question had been coming, and really it was better from Jack than any of the others. They had an understanding between them - Jack wouldn't push, Ianto could choose to answer. Went vice versa; they both did their fair share of avoiding, but they never lied. At least, Ianto trusted that Jack never did. Ianto didn't, and he'd quickly learned what was game and what wasn't, as had Jack. Family had always been avoided, on both sides.
And now, he could tell Jack, or he could push him off yet again, burying family within memory and no where else. He fully expected Gwen to rope Tosh in on a hunt for information once she learned nothing was in his files, and they'd have a hard time finding anything as he had been very thorough with the data wipe. Or rather, the hacker who'd owed him a dozen favors had been thorough in erasing/altering all the records at Ianto's request before he'd signed on with Torchwood One.
His family might as well be ghosts. He just wasn't exactly sure who it was he was trying to protect anymore - his family or himself.
Running a hand through his hair, he settled finally with his hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jack waited patiently for an answer or a 'no.' Gwen would find nothing in her search. Tosh would let it go after Gwen quit pushing and Jack would let the subject drop if he wanted. He didn't have to answer. It'd be so easy to say 'no.' He just couldn't remember a time when someone had honestly asked, with no motive and no threat to either his mother's memory or his job. "Suicide," Ianto finally answered, hearing but not seeing Jack's chair clunk down on all four legs, "Room 314 of Providence Park."
He took a quick glance at Jack who'd pitched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced under his chin and touching his lips almost as though he was physically stopping himself from saying anything. Maybe he was; if it were possible, Jack would figure out a way to accomplish it. Ianto laughed at the idea, then realized how ridiculous he must sound and cut himself off before Jack called Owen in. He freed his hands from behind his head, using his fingertips to press against the burning in his eyes. It helped, for a time.
"I tried to take care of her, did for years." He snorted at the enormity of the task, but it'd been the only thing to make sense at the time, even if it had been incredibly foolish. They had no other family, so he'd simply done it rather than risk separation. "She just...kept getting worse. I was gone on Christmas day - had a job cleaning a church - and she started a fire in the kitchen. Burned the house down; the neighbors barely got her out and all she kept saying was that 'they were coming.'"
And not for the first time Ianto berated himself for allowing things to deteriorate that far. It'd been so insidious, a slow creep towards instability where excuses for her eccentricities failed and he could barely recognize her for the woman she had been almost ten years before. He sighed and finished the story; what little there was remaining. "She spent five months at Providence before she...I was supposed to visit the next day."
Ianto smiled sadly at the memory. While he'd hated seeing her in that place, he'd always looked forward to seeing her, playing draughts and letting her win in outrageous fashion or reading to her when the medications and her own realities stole her attention. Twice a week - more if he could cut class or wasn't working. Jack smiled with him, despite there being no way he had a clue what memory was trickling across Ianto's mind. But at the same time, it was almost better with the captain not knowing, and with Jack joining blindly in an emotion Ianto wasn't sure he wanted to describe.
He was abruptly pulled to his feet, stumbling forward until he found his balance wrapped in a full-bodied hug. It took him a moment to realize how and why he'd moved, relaxing instead of protesting as was his first instinct. He didn't think Jack would let go even if he'd complained about the manhandling or reminded him they were at work in an embrace inappropriate for employer and employee.
And if Ianto were completely honest with himself, he enjoyed the sympathetic touch.
"My mother's name was Nydia."
The words were spoken so soft at first Ianto thought he'd imagined them. Given his track record of late, that idea wasn't too far-fetched. But he'd felt the breath wisp past his ear, and that certainly hadn't been imagined. "Isolde," Ianto replied, knowing he hadn't been asked but offering it just the same. It felt good, to say it just once, to have someone listen and not call her crazy or mock her when they thought he wasn't listening. He hadn't spoken her name in nearly a decade.
He wondered how long it had been for Jack.
"You were just a kid."
Ianto took the words for how they were intended, not an admonishment for the guilt or grief but for the respect he heard behind the words. "I never was much of a kid." And he hadn't been, working whatever job he could find that would pay him when even they didn't believe the lies of his age; it helped that he'd always been tall for his age. But he'd taken care of her, even if now he realized it wasn't 'just mum being mum' and she'd been outside his ability to tend.
He'd do it all over again if he had to. She'd been the only family he'd had left.
Jack chuckled, low and dry. Whether in agreement, amusement or simply a private joke, Ianto wasn't sure, but he closed his eyes, falling into the steady sway as Jack danced them in a slow circle. There were a million things to do around the Hub, and the team was probably thinking whatever they wished to think Jack and he were up to in the conference room, but for once, Ianto didn't care about office rules or work or even the CCTV footage Tosh was most likely tapping into. He rested his head against Jack's shoulder, and Jack's against his.
He was willing to bet they both weren't ever really kids.
Next Chapter