rhea_silva

it's alive

Sat, 29 Nov 2008 14:28:18 GMT

posting from the fin's computer as laptop it running a recovery program. I know my last post said that my poor old laptop's problems were probably terminal, well they seem to have got a bit less terminal :)

Having spent the weekend with the laptop in bits, the fans now work, the battery is still dead and I know what the problem is with the hard drive - and it's not a mechanical fault, it's a problem with some of the data sectors.
So I ended up running a quick surface scan and fix the disk and that's got it stable enough for me to run the main scan - which what it's been doing for the last three and a half hours - it's probably got ablout another two hours to go.

So it looks like the problem is at least temporarily fixed without the need for me to spend money - which is a good thing as my credit card company has pretty much said no to be buying one on it for the next six months or so.

Cardiff Torchwood meet up

Tue, 21 Aug 2007 21:01:05 GMT

I had so much fun this weekend :) so first things first, here are my photo's , not as many as I thought I was taking as I did have some minor camera problems – like not actually knowing how the camera worked for most of the time :) Some of the photos are framed a little odd as I later discovered that the image in the viewfinder wasn't the image that the camera was taking *cheers for great design feature*

Anyway I got there on Friday evening and met up with everybody and went for a meal, then we all went ice-skating. That was interesting and not as difficult as I thought it would be as I’d never actually ice-skated before and it must be something going on fifteen years since I last roller-skated. I don’t think I made too much of an idiot of myself as I only fell over once :)

Saturday we spent most of the day down at Cardiff Bay where, even thought it rained pretty much continuously it was still fun. Spent a while taking photos on the Plas and of people standing on the 'invisible lift'
The water tower definately looks better with the water switched on, also the paving slab/invisible lift actually quite small.

Then we headed down the Plas to where the 'Torchwood Tourist office' is. I never realised/noticed from watching the series just how close the door is to the sea, it's only a few feet for anybody who is interested. Maybe they film it so it doesn't look like that. *is confused*

We went and had a look at the Doctor Who exhibition and I bought a little led sonic screwdriver torch. There wasn't any Torchwood stuff in the exhibition or even any Jack, which was a bit disappointing - but the Who stuff was cool.

Looked round the Millenium Centre were they filmed scenes for Doctor Who episodes New Earth and for The Sound of Drums. They have a small Doctor Who exhibit there as well, although the main Torchwood item that they have, 'Risen Mitten' wasn't in it's display case. *wonders if it's being used for filming again* The cat nun/nurse was still there though.

Also had a look at the Assembly Building which was used in The Lazerus Experiment - none of the photos I took of the Assembly building came out *stupid camera :( *

When the weather decided that it was going to get so bad that we really didn't want to be outside any more went bowling. The bowling lane we were all using was really random, sometimes it only gave you eight or nine pins other times it say you had a strike even if you'd only knocked down nine pins or give you three bowls per turn. I like random bowling though, it's much more fun than regular bowling :)

Weather was better on Sunday and we went for a picnic in Bute Park after wandering around a market by the Millenium Stadium *how confusing is it to have both a Millenium Centre and a Millenium Stadium in the same city?*
They sold nice cakes in the market, especially welsh cakes, sort of like a fried scone/scotch pancake.

Saw quite a few other filming locations, including the Alto Lusso building (the one Jack stands on top of in the opening credits of Torchwood) and City Hall (any big official building in Doctor Who and somewhere else that Jack stood on top of)

All in all it was a great weekend, everybody was lovely, sorry if I came across as too quiet or standoffish or something (people have said that about me in the past) I'm just a bit rubbish at being around lots of people for any length of time.

Potted version of why I’m so pants around lots of people is this(becase it's really nobody's fault bar my own). I was home schooled due to my brother’s illness and there only really being my mum around, we lived in the middle of nowhere so I didn’t have any friends/people my own age to speak to/hang around with until I left for college = truly sucky social skills. *sorry if that sounded all emo wank and stuff*
Still that’s all in the past and I really did have fun this weekend :) and would definately go on another meet up.

Going to Cardiff

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 17:54:33 GMT

I know it's only Monday but i'm really looking forward to the weekend already - and it's not because of the suckiness of work for a change, it's because I actually have plans for this weekend :D
I've probably bored everybody with this before, but for all those that haven't heard, I'm going to Cardiff on Friday to meet up with a load of Torchwood and Doctor Who fans. I'll probably take loads of photo and put them on photobucket if anybody is remotely interest.

As silly as it sounds I'm even looking forward to the eight and a half hour coach journey - yes i'm probably mad, but i've always liked travelling places, walking, car, coach, train, plane it doesn't really matter, it just like it.

I think it's the annonymity of it, the feeling of being free of the expectations of the people around you as they have none, because they don't know who you are.

I've done nearly all of my travelling on my own, both out of choice and necessity and I still get told by friends and family that I shouldn't travel places by myself, that it would be ok for me to do so if I was a man, but a woman travel on her own - unthinkable - they are so old fashioned sometimes.

Part of the problem I think is the media vastly over plays the dangers of life today and I for one refuse to limit what I do and where I go based on hype, especially hype that claims just about everything from eating chocolate to catching a bus in inherantly more dangerous for a woman to do than a man - it's just plain stupid.

I after a reenactment when some idiot snatched my freinds hat and run off with it chased him and got it back - what do I get told? I should have let one of the men do it.
Or those that wonder why I didn't get a new car after somebody broke into it? A I can't afford to (it only needed a new door after all) and B it's not like I was in it at the time - ok it was parked outside my house.

Should this sort of stuff bother me? I don't know, I'm just glad it doesn't.

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:48:52 GMT

Have just finished backing up all my previously posted fic, not that that took too long, there's only 11 of them so far. Unlike my fics to finish folder on my laptop which currently has about thirty fics in various stages of completion.
I will try to post on this account at least once a week with something connected to fandom.
Off now to check my GJ account to see if the Torchwood RPG i'm in has any new posts.

Fic: Untitled Jack/Ianto pwpish ficlet

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:43:47 GMT

Just a little Jack/Ianto ficlet.
210 words. Fluffy pwp. Rated R just to be on the safe side - although there is nothing graphic.
This is the first pwp i've posted, what do people think?

Jack has to admit that Ianto’s sofa is definitely one of his most favourite places. Right now, sprawled along the length of it with Ianto’s back against his chest, watching a movie and reaching round Ianto for the bowl of pop corn, it may just top the list of Jack’s favourite places to be.
Ianto’s shower is also a very high contender for that honour though. Jack smiles at the memory of them earlier that evening pressed close together in the steam, warm water flowing over them, cool tiles under his palms, the curling breathless heat of Ianto inside him.

Kissing Ianto’s neck just below the hairline Jack feels Ianto squirm against him. Pleased with the result Jack kisses him again, enjoying the sensations of Ianto’s body moving against his.

“I’m trying to watch this, can’t you stop being horny for a couple of hours?” Ianto complains good-naturedly.

“I don’t know?” Jack buries his nose in Ianto hair, inhaling the clean shampoo and hair gel scent, “could you stop being so hot and irresistible for a couple of hours?”

Ianto gives a low chuckle and pauses the DVD, before wrapping an arm around Jack and pulling him to lie on to top of him, “but I like being irresistible.”

</div>

Fic: Untitled short AU for last of the Time Lords

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:41:09 GMT

This is my fic journal after all so here is some fic - seems like ages since I last posted any
Title: untitled
Rating: pg, maybe pg-13 at a push
Spoilers: Last of the Time Lords (DW) and End of Days (TW)
Summary: Just a little bit of random AU for the end of Last Of The Time Lords.
A/N Not beta'd as it's short. I may do more with the AU idea that i've set up in this, but that's not a definate.

Comments always welcome

The paradox machine explodes in a shower of sparks and fractured time. It feels like a million stinging insects against his skin, blood pounding in his ears and through his veins.

Jack had expected this, you couldn’t just run in and shoot up a paradox machine and expect no ill effect.

What he hadn’t expected was the feeling of life being sucked out of him. It was Abaddon over again, the same tugging sense of wrongness, the sensation of the world going at first grey and then black as life and consciousness is torn from him

The floor of the TARDIS is cold under his cheek as he wakes, the smell of oil and ozone thick and heavy in the air.

Dragging himself upright against the central console, Jack draws deep shuddering breaths, trying to stop the feeling of vertigo that threatens to overwhelm him. His whole body aches and he feels every one of his hundred and seventy odd years.

Staggering over to one of the metal panels Jack looks fearfully at his reflection, half expecting to see an old man looking back at him.

The face that returns his gaze though is his own. Tired, covered in grime and things that Jack will never let himself remember, but still the same face he has had for the last century.

Pushing himself unsteadily away from the panel Jack grabs his gun from where it had fallen, before stumbling out of the Tardis.

Reeling from wall to wall Jack makes his way to the Valiant’s control room. Everything still seems greyed at the edges, the lights in the corridor too bright and stinging to his eyes, images double and blur before spinning into focus, only to shift and swim again when he blinks or shakes his head.

Whether it is an after effect of the breaking the paradox machine, the time reversal or a concussion, Jack’s not sure. Whatever it is it’s nauseating and Jack has to stop. Leaning against the wall, eyes closed, sucking in lung fulls of air, willing himself to not pass out, throw up or both.

Ahead a shot rings out and Jack breaks into a stumbling run.

Tripping, falling, pulling himself back to his feet by will power alone Jack makes his way through the corridors to the bridge.

Running, corridors, pain, death, too late, course disjointedly through his mind. I’ll not be left behind again, not this time, he tells himself as he scrambles to his feet yet again, hands scraped and torn on the metal floor, not again, never again.

The scene that greets him is jumbled. Martha holds back her mother, while Tish clings to her father and Lucy Saxon, white with shock and fury, is restrained by the guards, a gun lies at her feet, whilst in the midst of this the Doctor rocks the Master’s body, tears streaming silently down his face.

Throwing down his gun Jack wraps his arms around the Doctor, sinking to the ground behind him, burying his head against the Doctors back.

Jack wants to comfort him, wants to tells the Doctor that it’s alright, that everything is back to how it was, how it should be, that it’s all going to be fine, but it is all can do not to break, to dissolve into tears now that his tormentor is dead.

Lifting his head Jack looks at Saxon, the Master, the only other Timelord, his jailer, his executioner, the man who’d delighted in bringing him nothing but pain and death over and over again, until Jack had thought that he’d go mad from it.

The Master's empty brown eyes stare back at him, still challenging and defiant in death. Jack’s resolve cracks then, everything, every emotion, every feeling that he has buried this last year floods to the surface and he clings to the Doctor, trembling with relief and exhaustion, glad that it is finally is over.

Fic: Slow dances in time

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:34:43 GMT

Title: Slow dances in time.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Summary: Jack and Ianto dance.
Written for fanfic50
Beta'd by _stolendreams_

The muted sound of dance hall music drifts down through the Hub as Ianto makes his way up to Jack’s office.

Jack stands with his back to the door, the room barely lit by the light of a single lamp on his desk.

He doesn’t turn around as Ianto knocks politely, he just sighs softly and sets the record back to the start, the music beginning again.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it, how people can make such music when all around them the world is falling apart.” He runs a hand slowly along the gramophone’s timeworn wooden case.

“Sir?” Ianto steps closer, “is there anything you need?”

Turning, Jack holds out his hand, “dance with me?” His tone is wistful, expression full of memories and longing.

“I don’t know how.” But he takes Jack’s hand without hesitation.

“I’ll show you.” Jack places his other hand on Ianto’s back, “you trust me?”

Ianto smiles, shy at first and then a little bolder as he takes Jack’s arm, “always.”

They dance, not quite a waltz, limited as they are by the confines of the office, but more an expression of the mood of the music.

As the music slows they are not so much dancing as just holding each other close and swaying gently in time to the melody.

“Why have we never done this before?” Ianto’s voice has a dreamy quality to it as he looks at Jack.

“The time was never right.”

“It’s right now though, isn’t it?” It’s not really a question and Ianto holds Jack a little tighter.

Jack just smiles and rests his head against Ianto’s shoulder.

Eventually the music stops and all around them is still, but for the quiet hum of the Hubs computers.

“What do we do now?” Ianto’s voice is barely above a whisper, as if unwilling to break the mood between them.

“I think you know what I’d like to do.” There is a hesitancy, a nervousness not normally present in Jack’s voice as he looks at Ianto.

“I see.” Ianto’s expression is unreadable in the dim light, but he releases his hold on Jack’s arm.

“We don’t have to, if it’s not what you want.” It’s weary, tinged with a resigned disappointment, and Jack starts to turn away.

“But I do want this.” It’s a little breathless as Ianto’s hand curls around the back of Jack’s neck, drawing him back against Ianto’s chest and into a kiss.

They kiss, closed lipped for a moment until Ianto pulls back, his expression one of concern, “what’s wrong?” His hand still resting on Jack’s neck, fingers gently stroking just under Jack’s shirt collar, “I thought you wanted this?”

“Of course I want this. It’s just that I don’t know where this is going, where we’re going.”

“Bed, I’d hoped, desks are very uncomfortable for this sort of thing.” It’s gently mocking and Ianto puts a hand on Jack’s waist, fingers tangling into Jack’s shirt as if afraid that Jack might try to leave.

Jack can’t help but smile, albeit briefly, at Ianto’s attempt to lighten the mood, before becoming serious again, “no Ianto, I mean tonight, after tonight. Will there be an us? Should there even be an us?”

“I don’t know.” Ianto closes his eyes for a moment, frowning slightly, before looking into Jack’s eyes, “but I think it would be very wrong not to try.”

Jack pulls him into a tight embrace, breathing in deeply the scent of Ianto’s hair, “I could fall in love with you, I really could, it’d be so easy” he says with wonder in his voice.

Wriggling an arm free Ianto switches off the lamp, leaving just the faint light of the computer terminals outside as illumination.

“Are you implying that I’m easy?” Ianto attempts to sound scandalised and fails, laughing softly in the darkness.

“Never. Smart, cute, a little mysterious and far too gorgeous in a suit to be true, but never easy.” Jack laughs as well, genuinely amused by Ianto’s fake indignant expression.

He strokes Ianto’s cheek, eyes sparkling, “now, where were we?”

Fic: Lady in red

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:33:50 GMT

Title: Lady in red
Rating: PG
Pairing: Owen/Diane
Beta'd: _stolendreams_
Writen for fanfic50 prompt dress

I can’t believe I’m doing this, it’s bloody insane is what it is. Dancing and having a picnic on a rooftop in Wales, in December. It’s flaming freezing, and I’m having the time of my life. Maybe I should consider getting myself certified.

I’d wondered if I’d done the right thing buying her that dress, it hardly makes up for the fact that I screwed up the whole flying thing for her.

But looking at her right now, laughing and smiling, I’m so bloody glad I didn’t listen to myself, ‘cause she looks amazing.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look a red dress again without thinking of her.

And that’s the problem. I don’t do this romance stuff, the whole flowers, hearts and puppy dogs crap, that’s for all those other poor sods who think that sort of stuff actually means something.

Yet here I am with some old song playing on a record player, dancing and drinking champagne, looking out at Cardiff all lit up for Christmas, and I’ve never been happier than I am right now.

I’ve known her what? Five, six days? And all I can think is, however long I’m with her, it’s never going to be enough.

What the hell is she doing to me? I’m happy, sad, scared, I’m all over the place.

I think maybe I love her, I mean really love her, not just the sort of ‘I’d love to get you in my bed’ kind of love, I know that type, I’ve done it often enough.

But this, this is the real deal, the real stupid idiotic kind of love that’s going to screw you up, rip out you heart and stomp all over it.

I have no idea what I’m going to do about it, if I can do anything about it, hell, I don’t even know if I want to, and that’s so bloody scary.

You know what though, as long as I’ve got her, I don’t think I care.

Fic: Now leaving the station

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:32:56 GMT

Title: Now leaving the station
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness
Prompt: Desperate
Word Count: 850
Rating: G
Summary: How Jack got from the Game Station to Cardiff where Torchwood is set.
Spoilers: Doctor Who episode Parting of the ways
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to the BBC and always will do
Notes: This is a sort of crossover with Doctor Who as Captain Jack Harkness appears in both series.

Also thank you to </a></b></a>_stolendreams_ for betaing this for me

As the sound of the TARDIS fades, Jack drops to his knees.

He aches all over, he can feel his chest burning and his eyes stinging and he knows it’s not just from exertion. He’s just run, staggered through seemingly endless corridors, tripping and falling down steps and stairways in his haste.

All for nothing, echoes through his mind, it was all for nothing. He’s been left behind, abandoned, like he was nothing.

He had died for that flaming alien. That flaming amazing alien and his beautiful golden girl who’d started to make his life mean something again.

Dying for them, he’d been willing to do that, if it meant saving them. That part had turned out to be surprisingly easy, given the circumstances.

But living again? Knowing that he had apparently outlived his usefulness to them, that was hard. Somehow he’d expected better of them than that.

The only thing that Jack’s certain of right now is that he’s alone and that he had been dead. Because that first breath, that first gasp of life, the memory ofreviving on a cold metal floor is burned indelibly into his brain. He doesn’t know how he’s alive again, or why, or what it means. All he does know is that it scares the hell out him.

That first day is spent waiting, desperately hoping that the Doctor will return for him, even if it is only so he can yell at him. Yell at him, kiss him and ask him what’s going on and where had he gone to in such as hurry that he couldn’t be bothered to find out if he was dead or alive.

The second is spent trying to send a signal to somebody, anybody to come and find him.

Jack can’t remember a time when he’s spent so long without hearing another voice, human or alien. Forty-eight hours of near silence, of knowing there is not another living soul to speak to within a million miles of him, and it’s terrifying.

Jack has always surrounded himself with people. He needs them in ways that he can’t even begin to put into words, but if he really had to answer, it would be that he has an abiding fear of being totally alone and always has for as long as he can remember.

By the third day Jack decides that if he’s going to get out of this place and find the Doctor, and the answers he must surely have, he’s going to have to do it himself.

So much of the technology aboard the Game Station is broken, smashed beyond repair, it takes Jack another two days to salvage enough to build what he needs.

Two days in which he dies again, falling while trying to reach a piece of circuit board, leaning out over a blown out floor. He spends the rest of that day trying to stop shaking, cursing at everything that’s brought him to this.

Even after the machine is finished Jack waits three more days. Three days of walking empty corridors with nothing but ghosts and his own fears for company. Three days of sending signals that nobody responds to, of trying to understand just what has happened to him.

All he knows is he can’t give up on the Doctor yet, not yet. He’ll give him a few more hours, another day. The Doctor will come back if only he waits for him. He’d promised he would, Jack’s sure that he did.

It is a week, or as near as Jack can tell, from the moment the TARDIS faded from sight, when the air supply starts to fail.

Jack knows he can’t wait any longer now, the Doctor has had his chance, and activates his patched together time vortex manipulator.

It’s a terrible, terrifying thing to flick the switch, to open an uncontrolled vortex, to watch as time and space distort themselves within what appears to be little more than a giant soap bubble.

There’s no way ofcontrolling it, not properly, no way to set a definite time or date, even if he had any idea of which one to use. The best he can do is to use his old Time Agency wrist computer to point it in the right direction and hope to hell it works.

This, Jack knows, will probably burn it out, maybe even permanently. Leaving him stranded wherever it takes him. But he’s all out of ideas and out of time now as well.

Early 21st Century Earth seems to be his best chance of finding the Doctor again, Rose was from then and the Doctor always seemed to be visiting back there for one reason or another.

Closing his eyes he steps into the shimmering light.

He wakes on a bleak rocky hillside over looking a port filled with tall masted ships, canvas sails billowing in the stiff breeze.

He could cry for joy at the sight and sound of bustling, living, vibrant humanity below. Instead he weeps for the fact that his life, his existence as he knew it, is gone.

two drabbles: Like china and In empty rooms

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:30:59 GMT

Title: like china
Rating: G
Spoilers: vague ones for cyberwoman

Ianto stares at the mug, smashed now into pieces on the floor. Knocked from his hands by a carelessly thrown ball of paper.

“Sorry, I’ll buy you another,” Jack calls out.

“Don’t, just don’t,” he walks quickly away, before Jack can see his face.

Picking up fragments of mug Jack holds them together.

They say, amongst other things, caraidfab, and now he understands.

When Ianto arrives at work the next morning, there on the reception desk is the mug.

It’s repaired. Painstakingly glued back together. With it is a note. If only all things broken were so easily repaired. J

AN: caraidfab means boyfriend.

Title: In empty rooms
Spoilers: End of days
Rating: G

It does not seem right that his office should be like this. That it should look like he has just stepped out for lunch. What right has it to look the same now that he is gone?

From habit I straighten the papers on his desk. Papers that I know he will never read, at a desk where he will never again sit or talk or laugh.

His coat still hangs by the door, his scent clinging ghostlike to it.

I hold it. The wool is rough and so familiar against my face I cannot stop the tears from falling.

Fic: Not alone

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:29:05 GMT

Originally posted 05/01/2007

Title: Not alone.
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: pg13
Spoilers: Out of time.

Thank you to </a></b></a>_stolendreams_ for betaing for me again.

Ianto is waiting when Jack arrives back at the hub. Ready with a trolley, a body bag and a concerned expression as Jack gets slowly out of the SUV, the smell of exhaust fumes still clinging to his clothes.

"John’s dead," it’s bleak, unemotional, numb. Jack leans back against the driver’s door, too worn to do or say anything more.

"I know," Ianto puts a hand his shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze, one that Jack knows is meant to reassure him, to let him know that everything is going to be all right.

Jack doesn’t question how Ianto knows, there’s just dull relief that he doesn’t need to explain to him what happened.

They move the body down to the morgue. Jack walking slowly a few steps behind Ianto, head bowed, hands pushed in to coat pockets so Ianto will not see they are shaking.

"He looks peaceful," Jack sighs and leans against the cold metal wall. "He never should have had to go through this."

"You envy him don’t you," not a question and Ianto’s’ voice is sad as he closes the body bag obscuring John’s face from view.

"What?" Jack stares at him, confusion then fear playing across his face.

"I heard what you said to him," Ianto closes the drawer and picks up a clipboard.

"Who?" But Jack already knows the answer.

"John. You left your ear piece turned on, " Ianto starts filling out the form.

"Oh," the colour draining from Jack’s face, his voice half choked. "I’m sorry. I am so sorry."

Laying down the clipboard Ianto puts a hand on Jacks arm.

"It’s alright, sir," it’s so understanding that Jack cannot look at him, cannot bear to see the compassion in Ianto’s eyes. He cannot believe that he deserves it, not after what he has put Ianto through tonight, letting him hear his death, all the time Ianto knowing that he had used his car to do it. The thought of it makes him feel sick.

"Come on, I’ll make us some coffee, " Jack allows himself to be led away.

They sit at Jack’s desk drinking coffee.
It is Ianto who breaks the silence that has been in place since they left the morgue.
"Why didn’t you tell me?" The tone is sad, rather than angry, as Ianto sits, hands curled round his mug. Jack wishes it was anger, he could have dealt with anger.

"Tell you what? That I’m a time traveller? That I cannot die? That I’ve tried to so many times, so many ways, that I’ve lost count?" It’s as empty as Jack feels. He doesn’t want to do this right now, doesn’t ever want to do this. Saying it out loud make it all too real.

"How you feel," it’s disappointed, concerned and Jack can picture the small, worried frown on Ianto’s face, but he cannot look at him. Instead he closes his eyes, certain that he cannot deal with this right now, cannot cope with anymore understanding, anymore compassion. Afraid that if Ianto stays any longer, if he asks anymore questions, that he may just break.

"You should go home, it’s late," Jack still cannot meet Ianto’s eyes, wonders how he will ever meet them again now that Ianto knows what he is. "I’ll pay for your cab."

"What if I said I didn’t want to?" It’s sad again and Jack knows he’s got to get away.

"I’d say you were an idiot," Jack cannot even raise his normal smile as gets up to leave.

Ianto gives a quiet almost laugh and goes to stand by the door, half blocking Jack’s escape. "Maybe I am, sir, but I’m not going to leave you."

"Everybody leaves, Ianto, whether they mean to or not. All we ever are is alone," Jack cannot keep the despair out of his voice. He’s heard this too many times, believed it too many times.

Ianto sighs and lays his hand over Jack’s as he starts to open the door.
"You don’t have to be alone sir. It’s Christmas. Nobody should have to be alone at Christmas."

"I’d be awful company," Jack looks down at the floor willing Ianto to go, to please leave him alone. "No, you should spend it with your friends, your family, people you want to be with," Jack tries to move his hand away but Ianto grips it tighter, refusing to let him leave.

"There isn’t anyone else to spend it with, or that I’d rather be with," Jack catches a waver in Iantos’ voice that he was sure wasn’t there before.

"You must have someone…" Jack’s voice trails off as he finally meets Ianto’s eyes.

"You’re not the only one who’s all alone in the world Jack. Can’t we be a little bit less alone together? Even if it is only for tonight," more sadness, but also hope as he threads his fingers through Jack’s.

It is a small gesture but it’s all too much and Jack can feel tears stinging in his eyes. He wants to tell Ianto everything now, to share it all with somebody, not to be alone anymore. But nothing will come out.

Ianto doesn’t speak, instead he releases Jack’s hand and pulls him in to his arms, letting Jack’s head rest against his shoulder.

"You’re not alone," he kisses Jack then, softly, deeply, hands tangling in his hair.
Eventually they break the kiss and, a little breathless, Ianto speaks again, looking into Jack’s eyes. "You just need someone to remind you."

Then he smiles, "I want that someone to be me. Because I promise that I will keep on reminding you," he kisses Jack again, "until you understand," another kiss, "that you aren’t alone," kiss, "and that I will never, ever," kiss, "leave you."
Trembling, almost afraid of the intensity in Ianto’s voice, Jack kisses back and dares to believe.

Fic Going on

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:27:59 GMT

Title: Going on.
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: Up to and including Countrycide (episode 6)
Summary: Conversations, realisations and angst set after Countrycide.

Now beta'ed. So a big thank you to _stolendreams_ for taking a look at it when it was still the fic that punctuation forgot.

"Everybody else went home like I told them to." Jack walks up behind Ianto, who is slowly unloading the SUV.
"There’s too much to do sir, it’s still such a mess." He turns away, wincing slightly, as he lifts one of the crates from the boot and carries it over to stack it with the others he has placed against the wall.
Picking up the next crate, Jack places it with the rest, "quicker with two."
Ianto makes a noncommittal noise and returns to the SUV.
They unpack the rest of the equipment in silence. With Jack resisting urge to either order Ianto to go home, or to put his arms around him and kiss away the haunted expression that he has worn since they left the horror of that isolated village.
In the end he does neither, unwilling to send him home to an empty house, but unsure of Iantos reaction if he tries anything else.
With the last of the weapons, tracking devises and miscellaneous electronic equipment stowed away, Jack sits down.

He is tired and he doesn’t even need to sleep anymore. He watches the young Welshman for a moment, and wonders where he still finds the energy to be concerned over the state of his boots. Boots that Jack suspects he bought new for what was, probably, his first field mission. Concerned enough, Jack notices, to go and fetch a shoe cleaning kit.
Jack shakes his head. He hadn’t even known that they kept one at the Hub. Right now he couldn’t care less about the state of his own clothes, footwear or anything much else. He just wants to be left alone, so he can try to forget the horror of the last day or so, try to forget just how close he had to losing everybody.
He doesn’t allow himself to drink very often anymore, to actually get drunk is rarer still, but tonight that’s what he wants to do. To sink into an alcoholic haze where he can forget everything, to drink until he cannot even remember his own name or why he started drink.
Standing up, he is about to leave when he hears Ianto speak, although he suspects it isn’t particularly directed at him.
"It won’t come off." The voice is small and choked, "the blood won’t come off." Ianto throws the boot at the wall, where it hits with a dull thud.
"There were shoes there, so many shoes. So many people, all dead." His breath hitches repeatedly as he fights for some level of control, before wrapping his arms around himself and hunching forward. "And blood, there was so much blood. I never though I would see that again, all that death, all that…" His voice fading to a tear-filled whisper before trailing off altogether.

Walking over to him, Jack is more than a little disgusted at himself for even thinking of going to drown his own sorrows, not while one of his team is still here, still in need, still suffering.

"Come with me." Jack holds out a hand, and after a moment Ianto cautiously takes it.

Helping Ianto to his feet, Jack considers what to do. He knows that he should take him home, but being left alone is almost certainly not what he needs right now, so he settles with, "you look like you could do with a drink."
Ianto follows Jack slowly and silently up to his office, sitting down with a slight groan on one of the chairs. Jack picks up two glasses and a bottle from a shelf and pours them both a generous amount of whiskey.

Handing one to Ianto, he moves his seat round closer to him before sitting down.

Ianto stares into his glass for a moment before drinking most of it in a single gulp, gasping slightly at the burn of the alcohol. Jack can see Ianto’s hands are trembling as he puts theglass down on the table.

There is the ghost of a smile though, as he watches Jack put his own glass down on a coaster, before pouring another measure into Ianto’s glass. It has become a reflex measure of Jack’s when Ianto is around. He know that all cups and glasses must go on coasters or there will be hell to pay, or at the very least a few snarky comments in Welsh and a lot of comically despairing looks at the team’s natural state of untidiness
"How do you do it?" Ianto’s voice is soft and sad when he eventually speaks. "How do you go on after all the death, all the horror?"
Looking at the pale bruised face before him, Jack once more fights down the urge to close the gap between them, to put his arms around the exhausted, unhappy man in front of him, to hold him, to chase away the haunted look in those amazingly expressive blue green eyes. Instead he takes a swallow of his drink, letting the burn focus his thoughts before he speaks.
"You have to live for all those that didn’t, to try to stop it from ever happening again, because you need believe… have to believe that you make a difference." He says eventually, "because the alternative is unthinkable."
Closing his eyes, Jack sighs. He’s said more than he meant to, revealed more of his own insecurities than he ever intended.
They sit for a time, lost in their own thoughts,before Ianto speaks, "what is the alternative then?"
"Not to care." Jacks voice is tired, resigned, and for a moment there is silence.
"When did you stop caring?" The tone is almost casual, conversational, but with a trace of bitterness barely concealed beneath.
Jack looks at him with a pained expression, searching for a clue in his face as to where this is going, "do you think I don’t care?"
"I know that you don’t." Ianto’s voice is still neutral.

It is an enforced calm that Jack knows only too well.

"I can see it in how you treat everyone around you. We’re all disposable to you, aren’t we?" Standing, Ianto finishes the last of his drink before placing the glass down on the desk., "I should go." He doesn’t meet Jacks gaze.

"Maybe you should." Jack can feel his own mood darkening still further, thoughts turning in on themselves. Wondering when he stopped being Captain Jack, adventurer, lover of life. When he stopped living for the next thrill, the feel of another warm body next to, in, on,or around his own. Wondering when he became somebody who couldn’t even empathise with the need to save someone you loved. Was Ianto right? Was he just one of the monsters now?

"Ianto…" He gets up to go after him.
"What is it sir?" His expression says please let it go, let me go. But Jack isn’t in the mood to let it lie, not now. He has to know.
"What can I do…?" He searches for the right words, "what can I do to show you that I still care?" He doesn’t mean for it to sound so needy, but there is no other way he can think of saying it.
Ianto shakes his head, "you can't, not now." It's quiet, almost despairing.
"I’m sorry you feel…" Whatever else Jack is going to say dies in his mouth as he sees the anger in Ianto’s eyes as he cuts in, his voice bitter.
"You don’t know what I feel. I don’t even know what I feel, how I feel." He slams his fist down on the desk making the glasses rattle. "I’ve tried to hate you. You killed the only person who ever gave a damn about me, but I cannot, and so now all I can do is hate myself." His voice is louder now, with an edge of something close to hysteria in it, his accent more pronounced in his anger. "I ask myself everyday how could I fall for my lover’s murderer. How can I feel what I feel? Just what kind of sick, twisted freak am I?" Tears are flowing now.

Moving round in front of Jack, Ianto pushes him back hard against the computer console both hands against his chest.

"Some days I just want to die Jack. Do you know how that feels? Do you know what it’s like to go to sleep, hoping, praying that you never wake up again? Or what it's like wake in tears because there is nobody left who cares if you live or die?" He ends with a choked off sob as he drops to his knees trembling, the grief too overwhelming, exhaustion finally winning over anger.
Sliding down the console and into the narrow space between it and Ianto, Jack wraps his arms around him, pulling him even closer to rest against his chest. He can feel his own heart racing. There is, despite the fact that nothing now can really physically hurt him, a very real thrill of fear in seeing Ianto angry, passionate like this, it makes him feel alive.

Closing his eyes, he holds Ianto a little tighter,as much out of his own need for reassurance that things can maybe be made all right again, as to still the sobs that shake the man in his arms.
It could be minutes or even hours later when Jack shifts uncomfortably against the console, his back starting to ache from the cramped position he’s sitting in.
Still held tightly in his arms,Ianto stirs slightly and sighs before settling deeper into Jack’s embrace, head resting on his shoulder, body curled against his.
His eyes are closed and his breathing slow and steady, although tears are still wet on his cheeks. Asleep. Jack studies his face, amazed at how young he looks, he seems too young to have suffered so much, too young to have been through what he has.
Unshed tears still cling to Ianto's eyelashes. Jack closes his eyes, tears of his own threatening now in the knowledge that Ianto has cried himself to sleep in his arms. It speaks to him of trust that he cannot believe he deserves. The realisation of it makes something tighten in Jack’s chest, emotions welling up that make him want to kiss away the tears, to tell Ianto he’ll do whatever it takes, promise him just about anything if it means that things can alright again.
He doesn’t want to wake him, doesn’t want this moment to be over, but they cannot sleep here like this. Not unless they want to spend the next couple of days stiff and aching.
"Ianto." There is a muffled reply that may not have even been words, as he buries his face against Jack’s neck.
"Ianto. Come on, its time for bed." He shakes him gently. Ianto wakes with a start and stares at Jack, their faces only a few inches apart, his eyes wide and frightened.
"Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe." Jack says, concerned. He hadn’t meant to scare him.

A look of weary recognition passes across Ianto’s face and he closes his eyes again.
"I’m so tired, Jack. I’m so tired of …" He sighs, and Jack knows what he means.
Getting up slowly, Jack supports most of Ianto’s weight as they stand. He can feel him trembling, exhausted almost to the point where he needs Jack to keep him on his feet.
"Stay here tonight." Jack cannot stand the idea of taking Ianto back to his flat, of leaving him there alone.
Ianto nods, not questioning where he is to sleep, and Jack wonders, not for the first time, if Ianto knows he lives here.
Jack climbs down through the hatch first. Ianto follows slowly, slipping on the last couple of rungs, but doesn’t fall as Jack’s arms are round him in a heartbeat, supporting him, guiding him over to the narrow bed.
Ianto’s movements are stiff as he unbuttons his shirt, and Jack sees the barely disguised expression of pain as he bends to remove his socks.

Jack knows from Tosh that he took a beating allowing her to escape, even if the escape was only temporary. He knows from Owen that there are bruises.Only bruises, Owen had said dismissively, when he had asked him if Ianto needed to go to the hospital when he had dropped Gwen off there.
Sometimes, Jack has to wonder why a person with such a lack of empathy or compassion ever became a doctor. But he had seen how Owen had looked at Gwen – there was something there, he could only hope that it wouldn’t become something that would pull the team further apart than they already were.
Picking up a bottle of water and a packet of aspirin from the table, Jack sits on the bed and hands them to Ianto who accepts them with a small tired smile,"I’ll be alright, Sir."
And up goes the mask, thinks Jack sadly, giving Ianto’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping that he hasn’t chosen somewhere with a bruise.
"You should try to sleep." Jack stands up and heads for the door.
"What about you? Where will you sleep?" There is, as far as Jack can tell, genuine concern in his voice despite the tiredness, despite his earlier anger.
"I can go without when it’s for a good cause." Jack tries to smile, make it a joke, but its hard.
"You could sleep with me." It’s said fast, and for a moment Jack looks at Ianto wide-eyed, not believing what he is hearing.
"I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not tonight. Not…"
"Just sleep." Ianto’s gaze is steady,but his lip trembles slightly as he speaks. "Please. I don’t want to be alone."
With a barely perceptible nod, understanding dawning, Jack sits back down on the bed, placing an arm around Ianto’s shoulders. He is relieved that the younger man didn’t mean anything more physical. It’s not that he doesn’t want that with Ianto, he does, has done from the first moment he saw him,smiling and holding out a clipboard out for him to sign for the equipment he had brought down from London.
He wants to know if he looks as good out of a suit as in one, wants to know how Ianto’s skin will feel against his own, how Ianto will taste as he kisses him. Jack pushes more the graphic thoughts from his mind. They have a time and a place and tonight is not it, he knows is not it.

Tonight he will hold him, keep him safe, and take comfort in the knowledge that Ianto doesn’t hate him, that Ianto wants him as well, and that one day he will be ready.

Jack knows how to wait, he knows he’s got the time, and for once immortality seems almost like a blessing. Jack smiles at the thought, and knows it’s either that or cry.
"Lie down, " He moves to lay behind Ianto."I’ve got you."
Ianto lies down with a soft sound that could have been a yawn or a sigh of relief, head and neck resting on Jacks arm.
Spooned now against Ianto’s back, Jack pulls a blanket up over them both.

Almost immediately Ianto is asleep. Jack is not surprised. He knows how exhausting the last couple of days have been, emotionally and physically. But it’s not just the last couple of days,nor even the last couple of months, but the best part of a year,ever since Canary Wharf, he reminds himself,and wonders how Ianto has survived it all. How he has managed to come out the other side still able to think of love, the future and show concern for others.Jack lets out a slow breath. It is on days like this that Jack thinks that Ianto Jones is probably one of the most amazing men he has ever met.
He doesn’t want to drink away the horrors now, doesn’t want to fall into that bleak oblivion. There is a better way to remind himself that it is all over, for now at least, a way that offers hope for the future.
It has been a long time since Jack has held somebody while they slept, too long since anybody trusted him to keep them safe like this.

The bed is too small for two people really,but with Iantos’ back pressed against his chest, head resting on his arm, fingers laced with his own,Jack can think of no other place he’d rather be. The circumstances could be better, he knows, but this moment, if you separate it from everything else, if you could take it out of time, is perfect.

Fic: Goodbye 2/2

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:25:57 GMT

Originally posted 20/12/2006

Title: Goodbye 2/2
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating pg13
Spoilers: Slightly for Cyberwoman, also for a certain well known picture said to be from episode 13.
Think that just about covers it. Now very vey AU, no spoiler past ep4.

I am still curled on the sofa when I feel somebody shaking my shoulder. Looking up I see Gwen’s tear stained face.
For a moment I cannot speak, cannot think, although some how I manage to sit up and try to unwrinkle my suit. Like that matters now, like anything matters.
"He’s gone, the rift it…" her voice is barely above a whisper, it’s distraught, incredulous, like she cannot believe what she has seen.
I don’t need her to say who though, I know.
She’s still speaking, but I cannot make out the words. Everything is numb, I can’t feel anything, I know I should feel something.
"I’ve got to get out of here," Gwen is almost sobbing now, and I suppose that I should say something to her, but I can think of nothing I can say that will make things better, there is nothing anybody can say.
Then she is gone as well, running, stumbling down the steps that Jack so recently walked down.
The hub is silent now, but for the slow hum of the electrics, even Myfanwy is quiet. I don’t know where Owen and Tosh are, safe I hope.
I lie back down. I cannot find it in myself to leave, not yet.
I wake, although I didn’t realise that I had slept, the sound of an alarm, insistent yet muffled, from somewhere within the Hub.
The lights are flickering and the computers are going crazy showing an energy spike in the basement.
I know what it is, and I can feel bitter laughter bubbling up inside me.
It’s the rift. I’ve lost Jack and it was all for nothing. It’s achieved nothing, made no difference, because whatever it is, it’s still coming.
I am surprised how calm I feel as I go down to the weapon locker, take a gun and head for where the rift is reasserting itself. Perhaps it is because there is nothing left for me to lose.
What a mess, is my first thought as I open the basement door. The floor is cracked, and water is seeping in from broken service pipes, forming a pool in the centre of the room.
Electricity or something very much like it crackles across the surface of the water. So this is what the rift looks like when it is open, when it is about to let something unwanted in to our world.
The air above the water also seems to waver, and I am reminded of how heat reflects off metal or roads in hot weather.
Something is moving in the shimmering air, I cannot make it out, it is like a mirage, yet there is something familiar about it and I lower my gun. Hope however irrational starts to creep in.
Nobody who has gone through the rift has ever come back, I know I’ve read the files. But if anybody could, it would be Jack.
I stare into the crackling, arcing light, nothing is in focus, but I’m sure it’s him. It has to be him. He said he would come back, and Jack doesn’t lie to me, not about the things that matter.
The is rift faltering, struggling to stay open and I look about frantically for something, anything that might help keep it open, maybe even open it further.
Electricity is the only thing I can think of, it is was what Torchwood one used to open the other rift, the one that … I shake my head, I cannot go there right now, not and be of use to anyone.
There are cables fastened to the walls, part of the power system I put in place for… I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment. I cannot go there either. There are too many memories down here, why couldn’t it have been somewhere else? Anywhere else.
Grabbing one of the cables I wrench it loose from the wall, sparks scattering from the ragged wires that now protrude from where it has snapped from its connector.
Water and high voltage electricity – never a good mix, but I cannot not do this, or at least not try to do this. Where love is concerned I have always had a staggering lack of rational thought or judgment.
Holding the cable up as high as I can, I step in to the water, it is knee deep and icy cold but I can reach the rift now, reach out and touch it, if it wasn’t so terrifying it might actually be beautiful.
I know I am breathing too fast, my heart hammering almost painfully quick.
This better be you Jack. I close my eyes and push the cable in to the rift.
There is a sound like a bomb going off, a concussive blast, and I am dimly aware that the force of it has lifted me off my feet hurling me back against the wall.
I open my eyes with a groan. I ache all over, my head and hands are throbbing and it’s an effort to pull myself to my feet, even using the wall for support.
The room is darker than before, most of the lights probably having fused with the explosion or whatever it was.
The crackle and ozone smell of the rift is gone though, and I blink to try to focus, everything seems to spin, images doubled, overlapping, but I can still make out a figure kneeling in the water.
I could laugh, cry, shout for joy, because I know who it is.
Staggering across to the pool I drop to my knees in the water beside him.
He looks tired, soaking wet and a little bloody, but he smiles at me and I know that he’s still the same old Jack, that despite everything, it's all going to be ok.
"Miss me?" his voice is teasing, sexy in a way that only Jack is.
I cannot speak, my throat feels too tight with too many emotions, and I wrap my arms around him, burying my head against his shoulder.
"Come on," Jacks arms are around my waist, pulling me up with him as he stands, "lets get out of here,"
He kisses me as we leave the basement, a slow, gentle kiss and he leans his forehead against mine as we stop, and he smiles, "I told you it wasn’t goodbye."

Fic: Goodbye 1/2

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:24:02 GMT

Title: Goodbye 1/2
Pairing:Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Slightly for Cyberwoman, also for a certain well known picture said to be from episode 13.
Think that just about covers it. Is now very very AU and contains no spoilers past episode 4.

Here I am, held so close against him, his lips warm and soft on my own, his hand caressing the side of my face. I pull him closer to me, our bodies moulded against one another.

I don’t want this kiss to ever end, because when it does he will be going out to face what’s coming, that nameless horror that has had him starting at shadows for days now.

I know deep down that when he leaves he will probably never be coming back, that this kiss is goodbye. He doesn’t expect to live through this, whatever he says.

Tears are stinging my eyes, rolling down to run over both our faces, into our mouths.

Jack pulls back from the kiss as he tastes them.

“Ianto,” his voice is sad as he brushes the tears away with his thumb.

All it does though is make the tears flow harder than before. I cannot go through this again, the emptiness, the grief. I feel broken inside already, and he isn’t even gone yet.

“Don’t cry,” he moves to hold my face in his hands.

“I cannot lose you, I cannot bury…” my voice fails me, and I think that I might just fall down if he doesn’t keep on holding me.

“You wont,” he’s kissing away the tears. “I will never leave you,” he breaks the stream of kisses for a moment to give me one of his amazing smiles. How dark will life be never to see that smile again?

“What Jack Harkness wants Jack Harkness gets, and right now what he wants is an incredibly hot young Welshman called Ianto Jones, and nothing, not even a trans-dimensional rift is going to stop him,”

I want to believe him, to believe in the impossible, but if life has taught me anything, it’s that good things never last, and that fate seems to have decided that I don’t get a chance at happiness.

I know that I have started to shake, and I can see the concern in Jacks eyes as he almost carries me over to the small sofa, sitting me down, crouching in front of me, his hands warm and solid, covering my own.

“This is not goodbye.” He sounds so certain.

An alarm sounds from somewhere, and then he is gone, coat flapping behind him as he hurries down the steps, and into the hub.

I could follow him, but there is nothing that I can do, and I cannot bear to watch him die.

Fic: After the fact

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:19:10 GMT

Originally posted 28/12/2006

Title: After the fact
Author rhea_silva (the_silver_sun over at LJ)
Rating: PG
Word count: 1500
Spoilers: up to episode 5.
Pairing: Jack/Ianto - Although could be read as friendship rather than slash.

Ianto watches the CCTV as the SUV parks up back at the Hub.
Gwen and Tosh get out first, quickly exiting the vehicle and heading up the steps to the hub. Something has gone wrong out there today, of that Ianto is certain.

Owen gets out next, slamming his door behind him, he turns back to shout something at Jack who still sat in the driver seat, before hurrying after Gwen and Tosh.

We really should get a sound option installed on these camera’s, thinks Ianto a little distractedly, that way I’d know what kind of pandemonium is likely to occur and how much mess it’s likely to involve.

A moment later Jack gets out of the SUV and leans with his back against the driver door, head bowed slightly. Something in hunch of his shoulders tells Ianto that something was definitely wrong.
Jack looks up as if seeking something in the concrete and pipes above him before dragging the heel of his hand across his eyes. Shaking his head Jack stands up wiping his hand across his eyes again, then heads for the stairs and is out of view.

Unnerved is the best way Ianto can describe his feelings at the present moment. He knows he shouldn’t care about Jack. Jack had destroyed the one person that had made his life worthwhile.
It still hurt to think about Lisa. He wants to remember the good times, the quiet evenings spent in their flat curled up together on the sofa watching movies, that amazing holiday in France, how it felt just to hold her and to be held.

But now all the memories are forever tainted by blood and metal, by what she was at the end. She hadn’t been his Lisa, not then.
It hurts to admit it, even to himself that the being who died down in that basement wasn’t the woman that he’d seriously considered spending the rest of his life with. It doesn’t stop the pain though, doesn’t lessen the grief. But it allowed him, once the worse of the anger had died, to reflect on the actions of the rest of the Torchwood team, and from somewhere find it within himself to, if not forgive their actions, then to at least understand them.
To understand why Jack had done what he did, and it had been with a cold chill of fear that Ianto realised that had the circumstances been reversed, had he been in Jack's place, he would have acted as Jack had, made the same call, and that more than anything else left him feeling dead inside.

Taking a couple of deep breaths Ianto turns away from the monitors and heads down to the kitchen. Make them coffee and hopefully they will talk about what happened out there today. Are you really sure you want to know? He wonders as he turns on the coffee machine.
The atmosphere in the hub is decidedly tense as Ianto hands each of them their mugs, well hands Owen, Gwen and Tosh their coffees, as Jack is nowhere to be seen.

"I still cannot believe he did it." Gwen sounds shocked a little tearful, "to let that poor little girl…" she shakes her head and drinks her coffee.

"I know." Tosh is working half-heartedly on her translation program. More out of a need of something to occupy her mind, to distract her from what had happened than anything else, Ianto suspects.

Owen fidgets with pens, paperclips and just about everything else at his somewhat untidy workstation. "Brings a whole new meaning to away with the fairies don’t it."
Ianto can hear the bitterness there, hidden behind his usual sarcasm.
"How could he just let her go? Let those things take her?" Gwen doesn’t sound like she is going to drop it, "I mean there must have been something we could have done. We’re supposed to stop creatures, monsters like that aren’t we?"

"I don’t know." Owen screws up papers on his desk and throws them into the nearest bin, "it’s this place, Torchwood it screws with your head, you end up doing things, agreeing with things that you shouldn’t ever do." Another ball of paper bounces into the bin.

"That’s what Suzie said." Tosh's voice is sad. "she said it changes you, that it gets inside you. What if she was right?" Fear creeping into her voice, "what if we all end up like her?" She looks up at Jacks office, "or Jack?"

Gwen shoots her a questioning glance.

But it is Owen that answers, "he doesn’t think like us, not like normal people. Come on I’m just saying what everybody’s thinking." He sounds bitter as grabs his jacket from where he has thrown it on the floor next to his desk. "Sometimes I wonder if he’s even still human."

Gwen stares at him mouth slightly open as if trying to find something to say.

"I told him as much, don’t care if he fires me or sends me off to Torchwood two, I’ve had about all I can take of him and this nuthouse." Owen tugs on his jacket, "don’t know about you lot but I’m bloody glad it’s nearly the weekend, so I’m leaving early going to the pub, few clubs and then I’m going to get laid and try to forget this place." Without a backward glance he hurries up the steps and out of the Hub.

"What about you Ianto?" Tosh smiles sadly and places her mug back on the tray. "What do you think?"
"I think that…" Ianto weighs his words carefully before answering, "I think that there are no easy choices. The Captain must have had his reasons to do as he did, and we should respect that. Now if there is nothing else I’ll go feed Myfanwy and make sure that there is nobody waiting up at the reception desk."

Picking up Owen's discarded mug and placing on the tray next to Tosh’s Ianto hurries out of the Hub, before Gwen or Tosh can ask him any more questions that cannot, or will not want to answer.

Leaving the tray and mugs on the table in the kitchen Ianto leans against the wall for a moment and wonders what to do.

Sensibly nothing, Jack would appear in his own time act like nothing had happened and everything would go on as normal.
But sensible, Ianto thinks with a sigh, has taken a back seat lately, so straightening his suit and tie Ianto heads up to Jacks office.

The hatch to Jack's bedroom, living space or what ever it is, Ianto was never quite sure what to call it, is open, and with some trepidation he climbs down.

Jack sits on the narrow bed, coat flung on the floor, a glass of whisky in his hand and a half empty bottle at his feet. He doesn’t look up as Ianto walks over to him.

"I suppose they all told you what a monster I am." His voice is rough like he doesn’t really want to speak or doesn’t know what to say, "proved you right didn’t I, you come to gloat?" He finishes the glass then pours himself another.

Ianto reaches out his hand brushing lightly across the back of Jacks to cover the glass before he can raise it, "No I haven’t, I was concerned."

Jack lowers the glass and looks up, eyes a little red, "why do you care?"

"Honestly? I don’t know." Ianto sits down on the bed beside Jack.

"But I do know that what you did today you didn’t do lightly, whatever they say. If there had been any other way you would have taken it, I know you, you don’t let the monsters win. Those things had killed, they would have kept on killing."

Wrapping his fingers around the glass Ianto takes it easily from Jacks hand, placing it on the floor out of reach, "this stuff won't make it any better you know."

"I know." It is a sigh.

Ianto gives Jacks shoulder a squeeze as he stands up, "I’ll make us some coffee."

Ianto is nearly out of the hatch when Jack speaks again.

"I hate it you know." His voice is tired, "I hate having to decide who lives or dies. I never wanted this, this responsibility, Torchwood was only ever meant to be a means to an end, a way out."

"I know Jack, I know." It’s sad because he does know. Ianto knows how lonely Jack is, but he cannot go to him, cannot offer him comfort as he did on the night Suzie died. It still hurts too much, the memories of Jack holding a gun to his head, of him ordering him to kill the thing that had taken his beautiful Lisa’s face, had twisted her into something that killed, is still too fresh in his mind.

He hears Jack pick up the bottle.

"If you ever want to talk." Ianto says quietly as he leaves, but he knows that Jack won’t.

Fic: Control

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 09:17:01 GMT

Rating: Probably about an R – it’s very angsty
Warning: self harm
Notes: Written 1st person perspective, person in question being Ianto.
Spoilers: Episode 4 mainly.
A/N Ok so this is the first fan fic that I have ever posted (Oct 06), and yes it is unbeta’d so all the mistakes are mine. Feel free to comment on how I’ve done, I wont get any better at it unless I get told what I’m doing wrong.

So here I am again, sat at the table in the broom cupboard of room that they jokingly call a kitchen.

I’ve covered the table in newspaper, I don’t want to make a mess, after all I’ll be the one who will have to clean it up, I always am.

One of Owens scalpels lies in front of me, I know he hasn’t missed it, he’s far too untidy to ever notice and for once I am glad. It is easier and safer with the proper tools.

Always prepared , I should have been a boy scout. I have to laugh at that, only it still comes out as bitter as I feel, Some fucking boy scout nearly getting you friends killed.

At least they were my friends, now I don’t know, I’d like to believe that they still give a damn about me, but in all honesty they didn’t seem to before so why the hell should they now?

But I did it for love, I tell myself, I only ever had the best of intentions. The road to hell is paved with good intentions though, and these days that is exactly where I feel I am. Wasn’t there a special circle of hell reserved for traitors and betrayers of friends?

I draw the blade lightly across my skin, there is a bite of pain and a thin red line trails in its wake, and I allow myself a small sigh of relief. This helps, it has always helped, even when nothing else could, not even Lisa, even when she was alive and whole, however much I loved her, this though, this puts me get back in control of my life.

I wonder sometimes what it would be like just to cut a little deeper, to push the blade in with a bit more force, to let not just the pain and the anger bleed away but my life as well.
I only ever think it though, I cannot do it, will not do it. However much it hurts to be alive right now, and some days I think that I shall go mad from it, I still don’t want to die.

The blood trickles slowly from the cut to pool on the newspapers to make a shapeless red blotch across yesterdays’ sports results.

I don’t think any of them would understand why I do this, why I need this or could ever understand. No scratch that, Jack would probably understand, maybe he even does the same. I can see the same hollowness about him that I feel inside everyday now, but I don’t care about him, not any more, he's lost that right, so he'ss the last person I want inside my head. I don’t need his understanding and I don’t want his pity.

A couple of minutes more and the blood has stopped and I clean away the mess with an antiseptic wipe before putting a plaster over it and putting back on my suit jacket.

I’m putting the bloodied paper into the bin when I hear the sound of rest of the team arriving for another day at the mad house.
I start the coffee, put on a smile and go out to greet them.

This is the Ianto they expect to see – I wont disappoint them.