Fanfic - Counting Stars 7/17 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]
A/N: Just a little mention here - I'm not really using the events of Doctor Who in this fic - those that overlap with this time-frame, I mean. Partly because I haven't watched a lot of them, but mostly because I had a hard enough time fitting all the Torchwood eps into a coherent timeline without squishing in the Doctor Who stuff as well, like ATMOS and Adipose and all. So I've come up with my own stuff to fill in the gaps between episodes... like Misty, and like what you'll see here. =D
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Tommy’s leaving hurt Tosh, and badly, Ianto could see (feel) that much. She still refused to call off their next get-together, though, so he bought a fresh carton of double chocolate ice-cream and headed over to her house that evening.
“Trying to learn Spanish?” he asked as she dug out some bowls and spoons. She glanced over at the book lying on her table.
“Oh. Yes,” she said, voice faltering somewhat. “I - I bought it a while back and never did get around to it.”
“Never enough time,” Ianto said with a smile. “If you’d like, I could help you with it.”
“You know Spanish?” Tosh asked as she scooped out generous portions of ice-cream into each bowl.
“Enough,” Ianto acknowledged. “Picked it up from some old neighbours, back in London.”
“I don’t want to put you out,” Tosh began, but Ianto waved her off.
“Consider it an exchange for you working on my Japanese with me,” he said.
“I still can’t believe how quickly you pick up kanji,” she grumbled good-naturedly. “Want to start with this now then? I’ve got Bride of Frankenstein for later.”
“I should’ve brought Misty,” Ianto laughed, accepting the ice-cream she offered him. “She’s fascinated by old shows for some reason. Loves silent movies and horror flicks.”
“Nightmare on Elm Street,” Tosh suggested.
“The Cat and the Canary,” Ianto replied.
“Dracula,” Tosh said around her spoon.
“King Kong - don’t ask me,” Ianto said, catching Tosh’s incredulous look.
“Oh, I know. Werewolf of London,” Tosh said eagerly.
“You know what,” Ianto said. “Next week, we’ll go to my place and have a horror night.”
“Horror-comedy night,” Tosh corrected. “If I want horror I’ll just go visit Janet.”
“There’s that,” Ianto conceded. “Shall we get started then?”
They settled down to nearly an hour of running through the basics of Spanish. At the end of it, Tosh proclaimed that her mind couldn’t take any more, so they started up the movie. Ianto provided commentary on the film and Tosh described each scene before it occurred, and they came to the mutual conclusion that they were complete geeks. That agreed upon, Ianto left with a brief, uncharacteristic hug for Tosh.
He rather thought that the smile on her face was genuine - she certainly felt a lot happier as he left than she had the entire week, and the appreciative warmth of her gratitude kept him company all the way home.
“If I could have everyone’s attention?”
Jack looked up from his paperwork to see Ianto standing in the middle of the Hub. The girls had also stopped working, while Owen, in true contrary fashion, was continuing to draw blood from the dead Weevil on his autopsy table. Ianto didn’t let that bother him.
“Detective Swanson just called,” Ianto continued pleasantly. “She seems to think that Torchwood might be interested in going down to Newton Beach. Porthcawl.”
“Alien activity?” Jack asked, getting up from his desk. Even Owen had abandoned his pretence of work, and the team was gathering their equipment while listening.
“An infestation of jellyfish,” Ianto said blandly, and everyone froze.
“Jellyfish,” Gwen repeated after a moment of silence.
“Jellyfish,” Ianto confirmed with a nod.
“We’re not the bloody Coastguard,” Owen pointed out irritably.
“No,” Ianto agreed. “But the Coastguard does seem to be having some trouble with the jellyfish.”
“What kind of trouble?” Jack asked, thoroughly enjoying Ianto’s deadpan delivery. He trusted that Ianto wouldn’t waste their time, but he couldn’t think of any reason why Torchwood would want to get involved with jellyfish.
“Whenever any boats - or swimmers - get near, the jellyfish clump together and start… bubbling,” Ianto explained.
“Bubbling,” Tosh repeated faintly.
“The bubbles appear to be solid,” Ianto continued. “And are therefore quite effective at keeping everyone away. As a consequence, there is a half-mile swathe of unpoppable bubbles floating in the Channel at the moment.”
“Alien jellyfish,” Jack summarised delightedly. Ianto nodded, his face completely straight.
“I think I’ll stay behind and check the archives,” he said. “I’m sure there’s something somewhere on how to deal with them.”
“If you insist,” Jack chuckled. “Everyone else ready to go?”
That got them out of their frozen shock and scrambling to get ready. “Better bring a tank or something,” Jack added.
“Already loaded, sir,” Ianto said, and Jack gave him a warm smile.
“Thanks, Ianto,” he said. “Let us know if you find anything.”
“Of course, sir,” Ianto said. “And please - don’t irritate Detective Swanson. It’s taken me a while to get on her good side.”
Jack gave him a speculative look. “When I get back, you’re going to tell me how you managed that miracle,” he warned before chivvying the rest of the team to the SUV. Ianto smiled as he watched them leave. He made a quick round to collect empty coffee cups and discovered that Jack had left a post-it on his which read 12) Makes a damn good cup of coffee. Smiling, he slipped the note into his wallet and then headed down to the archives to do a little research.
Talking to Kathy Swanson had triggered a memory in him, and he was fairly certain that it was connected to the alien jellyfish. 1957, 1957, he thought as he wandered amongst the recovered Torchwood London data. Even with all the interruptions of the past months, he’d made some very good headway in re-filing and organising all the salvaged information, and it was easy enough to find the relevant section. A few minutes more and he had the file in hand and was reading it rapidly to make sure he’d remembered properly (he had). He went back up to Tosh’s desk to contact Jack.
“What’ve you got, gorgeous?” was Jack’s greeting, and Ianto tried very hard not to flush scarlet; he could hear the SUV’s engine in the background, which meant that the others had definitely heard that. Owen was going to be insufferable.
“’Lo, Jack,” he said as calmly as he could. “I thought I remembered reading about something, and -”
“And you were right, of course,” Jack chuckled.
“I do know everything,” Ianto pointed out. “1957, London - a small number of jellyfish-like creatures appeared in the Thames River. Caused a bit of a furore.”
“The Thames, huh?” Jack said. “I can imagine.”
“Strange jellyfish appearing in the river,” Ianto agreed. “In any case, Torchwood being distinctly alien-unfriendly back then, the jellyfish were transported back to base for study and dissection.”
“And?”
“And it was discovered that while they do look remarkably like jellyfish, their tentacles appear to contain some kind of complicated pneumatic system,” Ianto explained. “That’s how they generate the bubbles, though the substance they’re formed out of was never conclusively identified. The few live specimens that Torchwood retained appeared to spew the bubbles at random intervals, though more so when agitated. Again, nothing conclusive. The general consensus was that they aren’t intelligent creatures.”
“You think otherwise?” Jack asked, his voice interrupted by a blare of horns.
“Please try not to get anyone killed on the roads,” Ianto sighed. “And yes. Torchwood back then had a rather blinkered view. If it didn’t communicate in a fashion we could understand, it wasn’t intelligent. I suspect there’s more to those bubbles than they realised.”
“You think that’s how they communicate?”
“Possibly,” Ianto said. “It says here that some types of bubbles popped easily and others remained in a solid state for up to ten hours. I think the solid ones are a kind of physical defence system. The others…”
“Could be a means of communication, right,” Jack agreed. “We’ll see what we find. Any news on our jelly friends?”
Ianto tapped a few keys and Tosh’s computer obligingly provided him with the information he wanted. “Nothing new,” he said. “Except that a news van appears to be headed in that general direction. I’ll check what they’re after and redirect them if need be.”
“Thanks,” Jack said, and Ianto could hear the grin in his voice. “Who’s meeting us at the scene? Not Swanson, right?”
“No, one of her colleagues there,” Ianto replied. “Someone… not very high up on the chain. Jellyfish, after all.”
“So, a flunky. Brilliant.”
“Be. Nice,” Ianto said sternly.
“Or?”
“One word, Jack,” Ianto said. “Decaf.”
“I’ll be nice!” Jack said hurriedly. “Er - wait, define ‘nice’.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Ianto said, then quickly added, “In public.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t clarify that,” Jack grumbled.
“I know,” Ianto chuckled. “In any case, there’s a chance the jellyfish might understand us. Try talking to them before you resort to anything drastic to get rid of the bubbles.”
“Got it,” Jack said. “See you in a bit.”
The team came back sopping wet. Ianto eyed them critically as they dripped all over the floor, mumbling something about sautéed jellyfish. Jack and Owen were carrying the large tank between them, and Tosh and Gwen both had plastic bags full of squirming jellyfish as well.
“Rather more than expected?” Ianto asked.
“Just a little,” Jack said cheerfully, albeit slightly breathlessly. Ianto pointed out the area near the medical bay that he’d cleared, and Jack and Owen manhandled the tank over, setting it down with twin sighs of relief.
“How did it go with the locals?” Ianto asked.
“Hey, go get dried off,” Jack told the other three. “’Bout as well as expected,” he added, turning back to Ianto and beckoning him into his office. Ianto followed him in, closing the door and perching on the edge of the open manhole that led into Jack’s room. From his vantage point, he could see flashes of skin as Jack rid himself of his wet clothes and started drying himself.
“They thought you were full of it?” Ianto asked idly.
Jack turned wounded eyes up at him.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ianto said, eyes glinting mischievously.
“My sweet, gentle Ianto,” Jack declaimed dramatically, vanishing once more from Ianto’s view. “What have you gone and done with him, cruel stranger?”
“Oh, he’s fine. Tied up and gagged, is all,” Ianto said.
“What, like you know how to tie up and gag yourself,” Jack replied sardonically. Ianto bit his tongue and tried to think of some way to respond that wouldn’t incriminate him. The silence dragged on just a tad too long, and Jack reappeared directly beneath him, looking up incredulously at Ianto.
“There something you want to tell me, Yan?” he asked, both eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Nothing at all,” Ianto said immediately. Jack hopped ungracefully on the spot as he shoved his right leg into his trousers and pulled them up. He grabbed a shirt and hastily threw it on, not even bothering to button it up as he clambered partway up the ladder. Ianto licked his lips as Jack settled himself comfortably between Ianto’s legs, still standing on the ladder, arms braced on the office floor.
“You’ve got kinks you didn’t tell me about,” he murmured.
“They’re not kinks,” Ianto protested.
“So you tie and gag yourself for…” Jack trailed off expectantly.
“Other reasons,” Ianto said weakly.
Jack shook his head sadly. “Oh, Yan. One day you’ll give in and spill all your secrets to me.”
“The day that you do, maybe,” Ianto shot back. A slightly uncomfortable silence descended between them. Jack broke it by leaning back and buttoning up his shirt, still balanced precariously on the ladder.
“You forgot your suspenders,” Ianto pointed out softly as Jack tucked his shirt in.
“Right,” Jack muttered, and fairly dove back into his room to get them. It felt a lot like running away, but Ianto took the opportunity to leave Jack’s office. By the time the others trickled back in, disgruntled after their dunking, he was perfectly composed.
“What do you suppose they eat?” he asked, pretending not to notice the way Jack stood right beside him, far closer than he normally did while they were at work.
“Jellyfish things?” Owen said with a shrug. “What the hell do jellyfish eat anyway?”
“Plankton, fish, other jellies,” Ianto replied, refusing to jump as Jack leaned against a table, hooking a hand in Ianto’s trouser pocket. “Depends on the species. Most equivalently-sized jellies - real ones, I mean - would probably feed primarily off small crustaceans.”
“Try them on shrimp?” Gwen asked, eyeing Jack strangely.
“I might do that,” Ianto said. “Hopefully they’re not actually vegetarian. Figured out if they can communicate?”
“Nope,” Tosh replied. “Though they do sting. Owen found that out the hard way.”
“I presume they’re either not poisonous or you had anti-toxin handy,” Ianto said, raising one eyebrow. Jack tugged lightly at Ianto’s pocket, gently enough that the others wouldn’t have seen the movement. Ianto considered the request for a minute, then took half a step to the side, allowing Jack to rest his head against Ianto’s side contentedly.
“The latter,” Owen said. “What the he-”
“We’ll just go get back to work!” Tosh interrupted loudly and completely unsubtly. “Come on, you lot.”
Ianto watched them go, biting his lip. “I think you scared them,” he muttered under his breath.
“Don’t care,” Jack said petulantly. Ianto looked down at his shoes, then up at where Myfanwy’s nest was. Then he carefully pushed Jack’s hands away, resolutely steeling himself against the near-pleading look Jack gave him.
“Best get back to things,” he murmured, giving Jack a quick kiss before retreating back into the safety of the archives. He didn’t wait for a response.
Jack didn’t show up the rest of the day, and when Ianto went back up at nine, he found that only Tosh was still at work.
“Jack took off for a while,” she told him when he asked. “Didn’t see where he went though - he left while I was in the washroom.” She rubbed at her eyes tiredly. “And I think I’ll be off myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Ianto said. “Go on, I’ll get things sorted out here.”
He saw her out, then went back to check on the systems. As he’d suspected, the major alerts had already been re-routed to Jack’s wristband. That meant that Jack was either in his room - having decided against inviting Ianto down, or even saying goodbye - or he was out on the streets and wouldn’t be back for a long time yet (in which case he still hadn’t said goodbye).
A quick check of the alerts revealed one that had gone directly to Jack’s personal systems, by-passing Tosh’s. The Rift had taken something or someone again, and Jack was in all likelihood out checking the incident. Without telling Ianto.
Then again, Ianto hadn’t exactly dealt well with things either.
Ianto powered down the Hub, leaving Tosh’s programs running for her. He walked home with the night wind nipping at his heels. It hadn’t been too long ago, he reflected, that he’d thought things were going swimmingly with Jack. Evidently, he’d jumped to conclusions.
This, Ianto thought in dismay, was a complete mess.
The vast bulk of the alien creature lay unmoving in front of him. The men involved in the operations had been summarily restrained and gagged, and were now watching the Torchwood members with more than a little fear in their eyes. The way they’d been treated thus far didn’t have anything in common with law enforcement, and given the nature of what they’d been doing, they were evidently afraid of what might be done with them.
Good, Ianto thought savagely, running a hand across the creature’s cool, damp skin. He’d been practically blasted off his feet by the emotions coming from the poor thing, all that fearpainangerterrordespair, and it had been all he could do to focus on his job. He’d managed for a while - even when he’d been captured he’d somehow retained enough presence of mind to keep his arms tensed while he was tied up, and then it was simply a matter of time before he worked the ropes off - but it had finally gotten to be too much for him, and he’d mentally reeled from the creature’s fresh agony.
At the worst possible time, too. He suspected he’d be dreaming of the sound of the gun hitting empty chambers for weeks to come. Click, click. But then Jack had yelled for him to go after the guys, and he’d pulled himself together because dammit, all this couldn’t have been for nothing, and he’d done as Jack asked. And if he’d been a little more violent than usual… he didn’t think anyone would blame him.
“Got the stuff out? Thanks, Tosh.”
He looked over at the sound of Jack’s voice, immediately recognising the kit that Tosh had just passed over to Jack. Amnesia pills, then. It was such a pity they couldn’t truly pay for their crimes.
“Hey, everyone except Owen, get over here!” Jack called. Ianto gave the dead creature a last pat before making his way over. Gwen looked rather reluctant to leave Rhys.
“I’ll make this quick,” Jack said, evidently noticing her distraction as well. “Ianto and I will stay here and Retcon these guys, get them the hell out of here and start clearing up. Tosh, Gwen, you two and Owen get Rhys back to base so Owen can patch Rhys up properly. Ianto, what d’you think we’ll need to clean up here?”
“A laptop,” Ianto told Tosh. “I want to wipe their computers before leaving. And if you would, go down to level B4 -”
“The archives?” Tosh interrupted, looking slightly panicky. “But I don’t know where anything is there!”
“Which is why I’m telling you,” Ianto replied. “And pay attention, because things down there aren’t labelled yet. Once you enter the level, turn left and go down the corridor. You’ll find yourself in a small room. Go to the second cabinet from the left. On the third shelf should be something that looks a bit like a bright yellow fire extinguisher. It’s not dangerous to transport, so you needn’t be worried - bring that over, will you?”
Tosh cast a worried look over at Gwen, who looked at her with an equally apprehensive look. Ianto sighed.
“Call me if you can’t remember the directions,” he said, and Tosh smiled sheepishly.
“That all we need?” Jack asked, frowning over at the massive creature behind them.
“Along with the standard clean-up kit in the SUV,” Ianto nodded. “Oh, and a lighter.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “So grab the stuff, load the SUV, and Tosh can drive it back because I doubt you’re gonna want to leave Rhys, right Gwen?”
“Nope,” Gwen said with another glance back at Rhys and Owen.
“Okay, go,” Jack said, clapping his hands together. The girls didn’t waste any time getting back to Rhys and Owen, presumably to explain the course of action to them and get Rhys out. “Been a while since I’ve had to Retcon anyone,” Jack said with relish. “Let me do that, Ianto?”
“Of course, sir,” Ianto replied blandly. “Enjoy yourself. I believe I’ll have a look at their records in the meantime.”
“What you do best,” Jack chuckled, but almost immediately turned serious. “They didn’t hurt you, did they? I saw that guy running for it but with the alien in the way I couldn’t see what he did to you. Did he hit you, or just take off?”
Ianto considered that question. “The latter. Since the gun wouldn’t fire.”
Jack stilled. “What?”
“The gun wouldn’t fire. He tried twice, but he was out of ammunition,” Ianto explained. “That or the gun jammed. Either way.”
Jack looked rather pale, Ianto noted, and while it was vaguely sadistic to enjoy that, he couldn’t deny the flush of pleasure at how affected Jack was. “I didn’t…” Jack managed after a few moments. “I didn’t realise he’d…”
“It’s fine,” Ianto assured him, reaching out and giving Jack’s wrist a quick, reassuring squeeze. He was hardly going to do anything else while still in sight of those bloody morons. The brief contact seemed to settle Jack slightly, and he gave Ianto a pained look.
“Look, we do what we have to,” Ianto murmured quietly. “I was the only one in a position to go after them, we both know that. You had to be the leader, Jack, not my lover. I get that.”
“Doesn’t mean I -” Jack began, then promptly shut up at the look on Ianto’s face.
“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this,” Ianto insisted. “Today wasn’t the best of days, but we managed. And we’re none of us hurt. You did good, Jack.”
Jack took a deep breath, then blew it back out heavily. “I’ll try convincing myself,” he said wanly, refusing to meet Ianto’s eyes. Ianto fancied he could feel Jack’s retreat as a physical thing. “Okay, I’m going to Retcon these guys and then drag ‘em out and dump them. You get started on the paper trail?”
Ianto gave him a strained smile. “Of course, sir.”
The actual clean-up went smoothly. The men had tried to cover their tracks with false documentation, of course, but the entire infrastructure they’d constructed was surprisingly simple to tear down. Ianto had gathered up all the physical evidence he could find and was almost done dismantling their amateur printing press by the time Tosh returned.
“Guys, I’m back!” she called, and Ianto paused in his work to go greet her.
“Where are those people?” was the first thing she asked when she saw him.
“I’m guessing Jack’s brought them somewhere,” Ianto said. “Always easiest to dump them near a busy roadway of some sort, so they’ll be found quickly.” Far enough that they wouldn’t be spotted carrying the bodies, near enough that once they came to, they’d find help soon. Ianto was used to it.
“Right,” Tosh said. “Brought the things you wanted,” she added. “How does all this work, then? I’m guessing this isn’t a fire extinguisher?”
“Not exactly, no,” Ianto said, picking up the canister and pulling a tab on the side, then checking the nozzle. “Help me get as much of this as you can over the - uh, space whale - a thin layer’s fine, we just need to coat as much of it as possible.” He aimed the nozzle at the creature and sprayed a thick mass of frothy substance onto it.
“Like whipped cream,” Tosh said, surveying it doubtfully.
“Not harmful to touch,” Ianto assured her. “Though the clean-up kit has gloves in it if you’d like.”
“I think I would,” Tosh decided, and went off to find the gloves. They worked steadily, spreading the substance across as much skin as they could manage. Still, the sheer mass of the creature, added to the difficulty of getting the top of the creature covered (there were all sorts of acrobatics involved, and much abuse of ladders) meant that work was slow. By the time Jack rejoined them (with a suspiciously smug look on his face), they were barely a quarter of the way through.
“I suspect we’re gonna run out soon,” Jack said, joining in once Ianto told him what to do. In a quieter voice, so that Tosh wouldn’t hear, he added, “And did you actually stun that one guy in the crotch? His trousers were burnt.”
“That thing holds more than it looks like it should,” Ianto said, deciding not to respond to Jack’s question.
“Bigger on the inside?” Jack asked, then chuckled to himself. Ianto didn’t ask.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps this,” he added, lifting a froth-covered hand, “expands upon contact with air. It might be in a different form within the canister.”
“Could be,” Jack agreed. “How does this work anyway?”
“You’ll see,” Ianto replied. Jack and Tosh both tried to coax more information out of him, but he staunchly refused to say anything. It wasn’t his fault neither of them was interested in archival data. And for heaven’s sake, this was information that had been recovered from Torchwood London! Had no one bothered to even look at what they’d salvaged?
No, Ianto thought, remembering the room full of untouched material rescued from the wreckage of Canary Wharf. No, of course they hadn’t.
The canister proved its worth by supplying them with more than enough of the substance, which Ianto knew to be a kind of alien ignition source. It worked in reverse to what was normal on Earth, though, feeding inward and demolishing whatever it covered without any potential for spreading outward. The London team had theorised its purpose was exactly what Ianto was now using it for - as a safe means of demolishment. They’d tested it on a number of materials, and organic material was amongst those that had been easily destroyed. Hopefully, the creature didn’t have some sort of unknown resistance to it.
Ianto ensured that there weren’t any spills anywhere, and that they’d all managed to scrub the fuel off themselves before touching the lighter to the now-white creature. The flame flickered, then appeared to get pulled into the substance before completely vanishing. For good measure, he applied the flame twice more, then stood back.
“Um,” Tosh began, staring at the creature. “Nothing’s happening.”
Ianto shrugged. “It’s not immediate.” He turned to the others. “I’d suggest not touching that while it works. In the meantime, we still have clean-up to do,” he said pointedly.
“I’ll wipe the electronic trail,” Tosh offered immediately. Ianto suspected ulterior motives - the warehouse wasn’t exactly in great shape. Jack took one look around, then directed a mock-betrayed look at Tosh. She smiled back impishly and headed back out to get her laptop.
It was another ten minutes before anything happened. Ianto paused in his work as he caught sight of faint curls of mist rising from the creature. That, he knew, indicated that heat-altered chemical had completely transformed, which meant that it wouldn’t be long now -
With a hissing sound, much like steam escaping a kettle, the massive alien creature deflated.
Jack and Tosh both stopped working to stare in surprise.
The creature crumpled into itself, the alien fuel eating away everything of its body, leaving behind nothing more than some white foam to indicate where it once had been. Ianto waited until the mist had stopped rising, then stepped over to the foam. It was already inert, so it could be washed away without any fear of contamination.
Once the other two had stopped exclaiming over the fuel (and Ianto’s knowledge of it), it was surprisingly quick getting everything else done. They were packed up soon enough and headed back to the Hub.
Owen was just about done patching Rhys up by the time they got back. It had taken a while longer than they’d expected, Gwen explained, because Rhys had lost enough blood to warrant a transfusion. Otherwise, though, Owen expected Rhys to make a full recovery.
Ianto wondered, uncharitably, what Gwen was thinking as she watched the man she’d had an affair with save the man she professed to love. He knew it was a cruel thought to have, and felt a pang of guilt the moment it crossed his mind.
It was nothing compared to the way he felt when Gwen came back in, refusing to Retcon Rhys - or when he heard Jack’s response.
“What was that about, Jack?”
“What?” Jack looked genuinely confused at what Ianto might be asking.
“That,” Ianto said, trying to remain calm. It was probably a good thing that Owen and Tosh had already left. “With Gwen.”
Jack scowled at his monitor before reaching out and switching it off. “Exactly what I said,” he said. “She might forget, but I won’t.”
Ianto swallowed thickly. “You need her,” he said.
“Don’t we all,” Jack sighed.
“No, we don’t,” Ianto said before he could censor himself. Jack frowned, pulled out of whatever he was thinking.
“Ianto? You okay?” he asked cautiously.
Ianto smiled for the barest moment. It was an ugly sort of look. “I thought I was,” he murmured, glancing at the floor, the desk, the wall, anything but Jack.
“You said you weren’t hurt - were you?” Jack asked, sitting up straight.
“Not physically,” Ianto said.
“Then - what?” Jack asked, perplexed. The bewilderment in his voice broke the last vestiges of Ianto’s control, and he was finally able to look at Jack, who rocked back in his seat from the weight of the hurt and anger he saw.
“I can’t believe I actually thought for a while there that we had something,” Ianto murmured, his voice quiet and completely at odds with the look in his eyes. “That you might care about me.”
Jack surged to his feet. “I do! What are you talking about, Yan?”
“That!” Ianto jerked his head towards the office door. “You. Gwen. You might as well have announced it over a loudspeaker that you’re in love with her!”
Jack flinched as if he’d been slapped. “What?” he whispered, eyes wide as he stared at Ianto.
Ianto shook his head slowly, meeting Jack’s gaze steadily. “Exactly what I said,” he quoted.
“You’re not seriously doubting,” Jack began, but his voice caught and he had to swallow before he could continue. “How I feel about you?”
“How you feel about me?” Ianto asked thickly. “I have no clue, Jack.”
“How can you not know?” Jack exclaimed in disbelief.
“How can I?” Ianto retorted. “When you say one thing to me and then you say things like that to her -” he waved in the general direction of the door. “How am I supposed to know which one to believe in?”
“She’s a friend, Ianto, a team-mate!” Jack cried. “I do need her, of course I do, I need my team! That doesn’t mean I’m in love with her!”
Ianto bit his lip hard. “That’s not what it sounded like,” he said flatly. “To any of us.”
Jack took a step forward but froze when he noticed Ianto backing up unconsciously. “Yan, I -” he started, then stopped, raising his hands and letting them drop again helplessly. “I don’t know what to do to fix this,” he murmured. “This is the truth - I need Gwen, I need Tosh, I need Owen. They’re my team. I love them all because they’re my team. But you, I need you in a - I was going to say completely different way, but that’s not right. I need you because you’re my team too, but you’re so much more on top of that. You’re my sanity, my reason, my - my everything, Ianto, I don’t have the words to tell you what you mean to me.”
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and stepping back to lean tiredly against his desk. “I can’t make you believe that,” he whispered. “But it’s the truth.”
Jack was so busy struggling to keep the tears back that he didn’t hear the soft footsteps padding across the floor. He did, however, feel the arms that cautiously encircled him.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said softly. “I didn’t think that was how it would sound.”
“But it still hurts,” Ianto said quietly. “I think I need some time, Jack.”
That pulled an involuntary sound of distress from Jack before he swallowed hard and pushed away. “Yan, I -”
“Just some time,” Ianto interrupted, letting his arms fall away from Jack. He stepped back a couple of paces, watching as Jack seemed to shrink in on himself, any semblance of emotion leaving his eyes.
“All right,” Jack said dully. “Will you be coming in to work tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Ianto said. “This won’t affect work.”
Jack shook his head mutely. Ianto waited a moment, but Jack simply wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the floor. When it became evident that no further commentary would be forthcoming, Ianto took a deep breath and composed himself.
Then he walked out.
Two hours later, Jack was still staring at the unopened bottle of scotch and trying to convince himself that guzzling the whole thing was a good idea. Ianto, he reflected, had been more of an influence on him than even he had previously suspected. Not that that influence seemed likely to be sticking around for much longer now.
Then the entrance to his room opened and a very familiar body dropped through. Jack gawped at Ianto in complete confusion.
“I thought - you -” he managed to sputter. He hadn’t even heard the entrance alarms!
“I said I needed time,” Ianto said, raising an eyebrow.
Jack sputtered a little more.
“Well,” Ianto said, consulting his watch. “By my reckoning, it’s been just about two hours. That does seem to indicate the passage of time, does it not?”
Realising that nothing coherent was going to come out of his mouth any time soon, Jack closed it and settled for staring at Ianto in disbelief.
“You see,” Ianto said. “I spent half an hour thinking about things like I’d intended to, but everything kept coming back to the same thing.”
Finally, something he could comment on. “What?” Jack asked, pulling up his legs to make space for Ianto on the bed. Then he wondered if it wasn’t too familiar an action to be doing right that moment - but Ianto was sitting down, looking completely at ease, and so he tried to relax as well.
“That thinking about us doesn’t work without you contributing,” Ianto said. “So. I have a question. You may or may not want to answer it.”
Jack shrugged. “Shoot,” he said with an indefinable emotion in his voice. Ianto wasn’t sure he wanted to analyse it too closely.
“In terms of cultural mores, what was the 51st Century like - specifically, wherever you grew up, or felt had a formative effect on you?” Ianto asked, all in one breath.
“You’ve spent some time on that one,” Jack observed. Ianto gave him a distinctly un-amused look.
“Cultural mores,” Jack repeated thoughtfully. “Like - what, what’s acceptable behaviour, that sort of thing?”
“Yes.”
“I guess - relaxed and tense at the same time,” Jack said. “The time when I was growing up, the planet our colony was on was being attacked by this alien species. Long story. Long war.” He trailed off, eyes looking at something that wasn’t in the room with them. Ianto watched him in fascination.
“That’s where the tenseness came from,” Jack said absently. “But because of that, people were a lot more open with each other. Within our colony, everyone knew and trusted everyone else. Other colonies were another matter, of course, but… it was communal, I guess. Our parents raised us, but so did the other adults. We never knew when there might be an attack, so we weren’t shy about telling our families and friends how we felt about them. We were complacent for a while, but after a raid or two - it was important, showing them you cared. There were monogamous pairs and committed groups, no one would interfere with them, but there were also plenty of close -” He paused, frowning.
“There’s no word for it in 21st Century English,” he mused. “Kithker - good friends you might or might not have sex with, but either way they’re really important to you. If you didn’t want to share, you made that clear from the outset, so there wasn’t much in the way of jealousy or relationship problems. And I’m making it sound better than it was - what I’m saying is the theory of how it should’ve worked, but we were all human, we all got jealous or selfish or envious at times, it wasn’t perfect.”
“How old were you?” Ianto asked.
“Grew up there,” Jack replied. “Up until I was eighteen, which was when I was recruited to the Time Agency. Which, you know, worked pretty much the same way, except I think the no-jealousy thing worked better there. Easier in a crowd,” he said ruefully. “To escape someone you’ve pissed off.”
Ianto smiled wryly. “I don’t doubt it. You’ve had - what’s the plural, kithkers?”
“Kithkeres,” Jack corrected. “Yeah, quite a few, back then. Of course, I did control myself when I ended up back in time.” He gave Ianto a half-hearted smirk.
“I have a hard time imagining you with any kind of control over yourself,” Ianto retorted. “So… I'm a kithker to you, then?” He was rather proud of the way the sentence came out sounding totally casual.
Jack looked at him inscrutably. “Nope. You’re my animo.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”
“Above all else,” Jack said, sounding as if he were quoting something. Ianto blinked in confusion, and Jack gave him a surprisingly sweet smile. “If I were to put any label on what we are - what I hope we still are, I should say - it’d be ‘animatos,’” he added.
I don’t like labels. Boyfriends, lovers, partners, whatever you want to call it, we’re that.
“We are,” Ianto blurted out before he could actually think over what he was saying.
“We - what?” Jack asked. Back to the sputtering, he thought dimly. It really wasn’t doing anything for his image. Then again, this was Ianto, who’d seen him at his worst and for some obscure reason still wanted to stick around. He thought. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to suppress the ache in his chest.
“Assuming,” Ianto hastily clarified. “That means ‘in a monogamous, committed relationship.’”
Jack nodded rapidly.
“Then we are,” Ianto said, then bit his lip. “Just -”
“Just?” Jack whispered, as if hardly daring to hope.
“Earlier, when I was trying to figure things out,” Ianto said quietly. “I started wondering if the problem wasn’t because we’re coming at this from two different cultures. I mean, you’ve been here a while, but this wasn’t what formed you, 20th and 21st Century Earth aren’t what gave you your core values.”
“And suddenly the question makes sense,” Jack murmured. Ianto smiled slightly.
“Good,” he said. “But just - could you maybe try to think before you speak? About how it’ll sound to people of this time? Because as much as I try to understand where you’re coming from, Jack, I’m a creature of my own time, and sometimes - it’s - difficult.”
Jack barked out a half-hysterical laugh. “Oh, Yan,” he gasped. “I’ll definitely try. And tell me when I’m being an ass, please. I don’t always realise. And you know, if I screw up like that again, I don’t care if we’re in front of the Queen, you can smack me.” He paused, considering his words. “Not in a good way,” he amended.
Ianto grinned outright at that. “Deal,” he said, and didn’t even complain when Jack lunged across the bed and thumped near-painfully into Ianto’s arms.
“I’ve been here a long time,” Jack whispered to him. He kept his eyes closed, simply listening. “But I’ve never really tried to blend in. Never felt the need. After the first two times I was killed for trying to pick up a guy, I decided to stop doing that, but outside of that… I guess my attitude was more of a ‘these poor, backward people,’ kind of thing. I never adopted the customs. Always saw myself as outside of them. Still do, I guess, though the current times suit me better than the eighteen and nineteen hundreds did.”
Ianto breathed quietly, feeling Jack’s warmth all down the length of his body. It was reassuring.
“I’ll do better,” Jack murmured. “Actually think about what I’m saying, about what it’ll sound like in this time.” A small huff of laughter that he felt as a slight vibration against his back. “I promise I will.”
And I promise that I will try and understand what you intended to convey, instead of constantly misreading you, Ianto swore silently. It would be hard, of course, and he rather suspected they’d continue to misunderstand each other despite their best intentions - but he knew Jack was in love with him. He knew that. Jack loved him, and that was what he had to remember anytime something happened that hurt him.
And he’d have to stop being so bloody sensitive, too. He supposed he was still a tad touchy about Gwen because he’d seen Jack’s attraction to her, way back when, and her reciprocal attraction. And the Doctor. He wasn’t quite sure he liked the Doctor, either. But whatever Jack said or did, he said he loved Ianto, and Ianto would trust him at his word.
What else could he do?
“Morning,” Ianto said. Jack blinked at him sleepily.
“I suspect Owen will be insufferable today,” Ianto went on, tugging the sheets down and chivvying a mildly protesting Jack out of bed and into the small attached bathroom. “Seeing as I’m in the same clothes as I was yesterday. Really will have to bring in a few changes, I suppose.”
Jack made a vehement sound of agreement through a mouthful of toothpaste. Ianto grinned at the bed as he straightened it. Morning ablutions finally complete, Jack greeted Ianto properly.
Ianto hummed contentedly as Jack finally pulled back from the kiss. “Shaping up to be a good day,” he murmured.
“Yep,” Jack replied, nuzzling Ianto’s neck. They stood there locked in their embrace for a few minutes before Jack slowly pulled away with a sigh.
“Ready to go brave the world?” he asked, smiling.
“Or rather, put up with Owen,” Ianto replied. “Let’s have at it.”
“You think Owen’s even up at this time?” Jack teased as he climbed up the ladder and wrestled the manhole cover open. Ianto leaned against the base and took in the view appreciatively.
“Absolutely not,” Ianto said. “Perhaps there’s time for me to run home and get changed?”
“That’s presuming I’m letting you go anywhere further than ten feet from me,” Jack growled playfully.
“That far?” Ianto asked blandly, and Jack smothered a laugh. “I must say though, that might prove problematic when I’m working in the archives.”
“What’re you working on today?” Jack asked, leaning down to give Ianto a hand. The two of them clambered out into Jack’s office with a minimum of fuss, even if Jack’s hands did tend to wander a little.
“The usual. Going through the old files, replacing the physically damaged ones, entering the data into the computer system.” Ianto carefully brushed himself off and straightened his clothes. He might be wearing the same clothes from yesterday, but that was no reason to look like he’d slept in them. “Sorting out the items we’ve got down there. Things like that.”
“I really don’t pay you enough,” Jack sighed.
“And here I am, sleeping with the boss,” Ianto said mournfully. “I thought that was supposed to get me benefits.”
“Sleeping with the boss is the benefit,” Jack averred, looking torn between laughter and indignation. “Whatever’s gotten into you, Ianto, I think I like it.”
“What, the sarcasm and deprecating humour?” Ianto asked quizzically. “I’ll be certain to keep that in mind, sir.”
“Yep. Though you gotta promise me you’ll do the, uh, deprecating humour on Owen, too,” Jack said.
“I’ll see what I can do, sir,” Ianto said, with a tiny smile. They’d reached the kitchen by then, and Ianto busied himself with the coffee while Jack dug around for cereal, fruits and milk. Between them, they got breakfast sorted out in rapid order and sat down to enjoy their meal (Jack took a sip of coffee and went into orgasmic rapture. Ianto wondered if he should feel jealous of his own bloody coffee.) before the others got there.
“I hate to bring it up just when we’re in a good mood,” Ianto said hesitantly as he chased a blueberry around his bowl. Jack looked up mid-bite, his cheeks comically puffed with food.
“Mmrf?” he said intelligibly.
“Rhys,” Ianto sighed. “Should I put him under surveillance?”
Jack chewed thoughtfully. “Couldn’t hurt to tap his lines for a month. Maybe two,” he mused. Ianto munched through some fruit, watching the hard light in Jack’s eyes that meant he was thinking. He wondered when he’d grown to recognise each of the subtle changes in Jack’s eyes that revealed his every emotion.
“Standard procedure,” Jack finally decided. “Four months’ surveillance - tap everything - see if you can find out who his friends are and put them under basic surveillance too.”
“Without Gwen finding out, I presume,” Ianto said, lips twitching slightly.
“I really don’t feel like going through eternity without my mini-Captain and his two lieutenants,” Jack commented, stuffing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“I cannot believe you said that with a straight face,” Ianto deadpanned. Jack considered sticking out his tongue, realised his mouth was full, and settled for crossing his eyes at Ianto instead. Ianto sighed in a highly put-upon manner as he finished his meal and gathered his plates. Jack hurriedly spooned the last of his cereal into his mouth, then brought his plates to the sink as well.
“I’ll dry,” Jack offered. Ianto blinked, then nodded slowly, nudging over the bowl he’d already rinsed clean.
“What?” Jack asked, snagging a towel.
“It’s kind of my job to do that,” Ianto said uncertainly, focusing on the fruit platter he was soaping.
“Actually, it isn’t,” Jack corrected. “You’re just really nice and we take too much advantage of you. But besides that, we’re not at work now.”
Ianto looked around at the Hub (Myfanwy obligingly let out a well-timed shriek) and raised an eyebrow.
“Smart aleck,” Jack said with a grin. “Hub, not work. Look, I live here - doesn’t mean I’m at work all the time.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Ianto said, but without any bite. Jack laughed.
“This is casual time, relaxing time,” he said. “Actually, you know, there should be a rule about that. Say, if we’re in casual clothes, we’re not working, so no bothering us.”
“Jack,” Ianto said patiently. “Casual clothes for you are no clothes at all.”
“Your point being?”
“My point being,” Ianto retorted immediately. “You’re out of your bloody mind if you think anyone else gets to see what’s mine.”
Jack very carefully set down the still-damp plate he was holding, plucked the fork out of Ianto’s hand and dropped it into the sink, then proceeded to kiss the breath out of Ianto.
“What,” Ianto panted five minutes later. “Brought that on? Not!” he clarified hastily. “That I’m complaining.”
“You’re hot when you’re being accidentally possessive,” Jack said with a satisfied smile, returning to the neglected plate.
“Possessive?” Ianto asked blankly.
“What’s yours, huh?” Jack said. He didn’t seem able to stop smiling, and the grin only grew wider when Ianto started, then flushed brilliantly.
“Two points to me,” he said gleefully.
“We’re keeping score now?” Ianto asked, vainly trying to stop blushing.
“Sure, why not? Two points for making you blush,” Jack said. “One for… uh, making you twitch.”
“You simply have to be yourself for that,” Ianto replied.
“In public, then,” Jack said, finishing up the dishes and turning a wicked look on Ianto. “And, let’s see, three points if I can leave you at a loss for words.”
“Is there a prize?” Ianto asked archly. Jack blinked. “Say, the same criteria for me - if I make you twitch, blush and so on - and whoever gets to a set amount first…”
“I like the way you think, Ianto Jones,” Jack purred, sidling closer and hooking his thumbs through Ianto’s belt loops. The entrance alarm chose that moment to blare, and Jack tossed a brief scowl over his shoulder while simultaneously tugging Ianto closer.
“You really should let go,” Ianto observed. “Work to do.”
“Yeah, work,” Jack replied. “Lots of things I want to work on.”
“Like paperwork,” Ianto offered, trying to keep a straight face.
“We never did finish our conversation about your kinks, did we?” Jack asked slowly. Ianto shrugged innocently.
“We could always work on it,” Jack suggested, tugging Ianto close so that he could kiss the exact spot where Ianto’s skin disappeared under his shirt collar. The entrance alarms went off again, and he vaguely heard both Owen and Gwen calling out greetings to Tosh.
“And have to redo the whole lot later?” Ianto asked, nudging Jack backwards till he hit the edge of the counter. He buried his hands in Jack’s hair, holding him in place. “I think not.”
“I’m never going to see the phrase ‘work to do’ in the same light again,” Jack mumbled, alternately biting and licking at Ianto’s neck. Ianto had used Jack’s soap, and the smell of his chosen fragrance on Ianto was a surprising turn-on. “We could just scrap the whole lot of it -”
“And again, no,” Ianto said firmly, then dipped his head to nibble on the top of Jack’s ear. Jack breathed out sharply, the air puffing warmly across Ianto’s neck. “I vote we see who gets to ten points first, and whoever does gets to choose what they want the other to do for them for… a week.”
“Good plan, but while we’re working on that, let’s get back downstairs,” Jack suggested, his voice hitching as Ianto shifted down, nipping at Jack’s earlobe, and then the side of his jaw, his fingers undoing the buttons on Jack’s shirt.
“Ianto, are you he - oh my god, sorry!”
“On the other hand, there’s work to do,” Ianto observed, pulling back.
“I had no idea Tosh could move that fast,” Jack laughed. Ianto kissed him again before sliding out of his hold.
“Go on then,” Ianto said, pushing Jack towards the door. “We’ll have time later.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Jack called over his shoulder as he stepped out of the kitchen area. A beet-red Tosh was trying, without much success, to explain to a confused Gwen and Owen why it wasn’t a good idea to go up to look for coffee (or Ianto) at that point. “Oh Tosh!” he sang out happily, grinning when all three looked up and saw him - shirt undone, hair thoroughly messed and looking quite sated. The looks of dawning comprehension on Gwen’s and Owen’s faces were really quite amusing.
“It’s safe now,” he stage-whispered, and headed back to his office with a distinct bounce in his step.
Ianto wrestled the heavy cabinet into place, then stood back with a sigh of relief. That took care of 1963. There was always something satisfying about finishing off one year’s worth of records and beginning the next. He rather thought that he could really do without having to move those bloody cabinets by himself, though.
Perhaps he should move on to 1964 now, Ianto thought. Or maybe begin labelling the artefacts. He had to move away from the paper at some point, however reassuring it was to lose himself in the words.
“I don’t think I’ve been down here in months,” Jack commented from behind him.
Ianto half-turned into Jack’s loose embrace. “How does it look?” he asked, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder and ignoring the lurid green post-it that Jack had just gleefully attached to his shoulder.
“Pretty damn good,” Jack replied. “I think the last time Cardiff did any archiving was… eh, early nineteen hundreds? I forget when, exactly. We sorta… uh, grew slack.”
“Sorta,” Ianto parroted flatly. Jack kissed the side of his forehead in apology.
“Yep, sorry,” he said. “You know, I actually hadn’t hired an archivist since I became leader. Didn’t really see the need for one at the time.”
“Regretting it now?” Ianto asked casually.
“Regretting not having found you sooner,” Jack told him. “With all those visits I made to London, to talk to that woman - I wish I could’ve stolen you from her sooner.”
“Who, Hartman?” Ianto asked, and Jack nodded. “I doubt she even knew I existed. It’s Mitchell you’d have had to steal me from.”
Jack considered that for a moment, then steered them both over to Ianto’s small workspace. “Who’s Mitchell?” he asked.
“Remember how I told you I was recruited to Torchwood One?” Ianto asked, sitting down and eyeing his clean desk speculatively. It would probably be bad form, he decided regretfully, to fuck Jack over it.
“Caught some senior researcher’s eye,” Jack replied promptly. “Was that Mitchell?”
“Yep,” Ianto said. “He used to come to the café where I worked quite frequently. We chatted some when he had time, and I suppose he realised I had a good memory and I was pretty organised. And that I could keep my mouth shut.”
“So he sounded you out about joining Torchwood?” Jack asked.
“Eventually, yes. I think he was a little surprised at my - well, lack of surprise when he did the whole alien spiel on me.”
“You weren’t surprised?” Jack pursed his lips, then shrugged and sat down on the floor, leaning against Ianto’s legs and looking up expectantly. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”
Ianto smiled. “Nothing to bite into, really. I’ve always believed in the possibility of aliens. With as many galaxies, stars, solar systems, planets out there, not to mention the diversity of life even here on Earth… I thought it rather arrogant of humans to believe our Earth the only place in the entire universe capable of supporting life. Mitch offered me proof, nothing more.”
“Always knew there was a reason I fell for you,” Jack commented with a grin. “So, this guy take you under his wing or something?”
“Initially. After a while other sub-divisions within Research started borrowing me. I was constantly running between divisions ferrying information to and fro. The upside of the extra work was that I got to look at a lot of information I wouldn’t otherwise have had access to.”
“My evil genius,” Jack said contentedly. “Taking over the world one piece of paperwork at a time.”
“It’s why no one ever succeeds,” Ianto sighed. “Taking over the world means a lot of paperwork, and these megalomaniac types never have the patience for that.”
“What they need is a sexy accountant,” Jack said, nodding sagely.
“Except then that accountant would be the one really running the world,” Ianto countered with a completely straight face.
“But the instructions would come from the ruler of the world,” Jack argued.
“Oh, sure,” Ianto said. “Can’t you just picture it? ‘Sexy Accountant of mine, I’m in the mood to blow up a small island for no reason other than the fact that I can. How does Hawaii sound?’ And the accountant would reply, ‘Quite terrible, sir, seeing as Hawaii pays quite a lot in taxes and overall revenue. It wouldn’t be very good for the economy if you were to destroy it. But of course, if you do decide to go ahead with that plan, as is well within the rights of your evil, despotic highness, then please fill out Forms D266 through F825 first. In triplicate.’”
“When you put it that way,” Jack said, a crestfallen look on his face. The expression lasted a grand total of two seconds before he started laughing.
“Absolutely no laughing matter, Jack,” Ianto said solemnly. “Great rulers have fallen before the might of the paperwork.”
Jack managed to wheeze out something that might have been an affirmation between gasps of laughter.
“And on that note,” Ianto muttered, and got up to grab a few fresh folders, nudging Jack away from his legs. Once he’d gathered all the necessary material, he plucked the forlorn post-it off his shoulder, reading the brief message on it. 4) Dependable, it told him in a thoroughly matter-of-fact way, and his cheeks grew slightly warm as he folded the note and set it aside. Jack had finally managed to get himself under control, and was watching contentedly as Ianto began to work.
“Not uncomfortable down there?” Ianto asked once he’d finished rewriting the contents of one folder.
“Nope,” Jack said, resting his head on Ianto’s thigh. The amusement had faded, and he sounded somewhat tired now. Ianto let his free hand fall into Jack’s hair, mussing it affectionately. It was nearly fifteen minutes later before either of them spoke again.
“The Master didn’t care about paperwork,” Jack whispered.
“No,” Ianto replied quietly. “I didn’t expect he would.”
“Not when he could kill people. It was all he cared about, actually. Got a thrill off scaring people, hurting them, killing m - them.”
“You,” Ianto said.
“Killing - me,” Jack said with difficulty. Ianto slowly carded his fingers through Jack’s hair.
“I broke,” Jack admitted nearly soundlessly. “He broke me. I don’t remember - most - of the last couple of months. Just over and over, dying, coming back, dying, coming back. I was hallucinating a lot. I think.”
Ianto deliberately kept his hand moving soothingly, no matter how badly he wanted to hurt something - someone - at that point.
“What changed?” he asked, when it looked like Jack wasn’t going to go on.
Jack shrugged slightly. “You. Thinking of you brought me back.”
Ianto thought that over. “When you said that certain things happened that made you want to come back to me…”
“You’re the reason I was sane enough to help carry out the Doctor’s plan,” Jack said. He twisted slightly to look up at Ianto. “The reason I’m here now, mostly intact and functioning.”
Ianto met Jack’s eyes, listening for all the words that Jack wasn’t saying. He thought he understood, more than he ever had before.
“Did I do something, in that year?” he asked, and Jack gave him a heartbreakingly sweet smile.
“Yep,” he said. “But I’ll explain that later?” It was a question, not a statement, and Ianto knew that if he pushed, Jack would explain things to him.
“When you’d like,” Ianto said. Jack kissed the side of Ianto’s knee, then pulled himself to his feet.
“I’ll go try and make a dent in my work,” he said. “Oh, by the way - the Queen doesn’t want to talk to me any more. Seems she only wants to get reports from you?”
Ianto smiled blandly. “I presume Her Majesty appreciates conciseness and courtesy,” he commented.
“I’m pretty sure that was a dig at me,” Jack said with a frown. “So, you mind taking over the reports to her? I’ll handle the rest.”
“That’s fine, sir,” Ianto replied.
“Great! ‘Cause she’s calling in five minutes,” Jack said, and then bolted before Ianto could say anything else.
Part Eight