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d8rkmessngrAuthor: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: The slash part of the story here. SMUT. Dark, suicide themes. You were warned. :)
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Out of Time" and mentions events shown in "Adam" and "Adrift"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13,Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29 Act 1/6, Ch 29 Act 2/6
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 29 "Out of Time"
Act III "She'll know I'm missing by now."
December 18
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
They fell through back to Earth. They didn't go mad seeing a dark star or had their minds destroyed watching a sun burn out of existence. They flew into the Rift and the Rift spitefully returned them physically whole but over fifty years too late.
Jack pinched a spot between his eyes and lifted his head from the newspaper clippings Tosh found in the archives. How ironic that a man from the future would try to rehabilitate lost people from the past. Jack didn't know if he should laugh. When Tosh reported the fluctuation spike over the airstrip, Jack had feared that the storm Alex Hopkins foresaw spilling from a torn sky was today.
He thought this was just as bad.
Jack leaned into his chair and turned the old camera he was given charge of in his hands. He wondered if it would be kind or cruel to develop the family photos. What purpose would seeing his present become the past serve displaced John Ellis?
A bitter laugh and Jack set the camera down carefully.
"1953."
Ianto stood there, looking still a little stunned from when the three returned with Jack, Gwen, and Owen. He set down a tray of sandwiches and pot of coffee and nudged a triangle towards Jack.
"Everyone had dinner already before they left." Ianto tucked a napkin into his collar, took a sandwich half himself and took a large enough bite that told Jack Ianto had waited for him. The coffee, however, was still steaming hot.
"And they're fine? No ill effects?"
Jack recalled how John Ellis shook his hand firmly in the hostel and promised he would look after the girls. He was a man from an era of modern chivalry and responsibility.
"Well, considering everything they knew is now gone, they're doing okay." Jack shrugged. Jack dropped the sandwich back onto his plate; what little appetite he had was completely gone. He waved wearily at the pile of clippings he was going to give them. "So much has happened. I don't know how we're going to get them to the 21st century." Jack lifted his gaze and met Ianto's.
"I need you to get some papers and background for them." Jack's mouth twisted. "And maybe take them shopping? Get them…adjusted?"
Ianto nodded. "Of course." He sat down on a corner of Jack's desk and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Ianto frowned at Jack's plate and switched his sandwich for another. He pushed the plate back towards Jack again. He nodded, satisfied, when Jack took a bite.
"At least it wasn't another alien spaceship."
Jack laughed, but it felt funny coming out. He swallowed, but didn't taste anything. "Gwen said almost the same thing. Said it was better since they were human." Jack shook his head, his stomach churning.
"You don't agree?"
The black and white article about the Millennium Stadium stood out on his desk. Jack shrugged.
"It's not that simple." Jack stared out his office door and its stained glass panes. The tree Gwen had set up by the archway of the infirmary caught his eye. Its shiny tinsel shone through the glass but still looked grey and listless. Oh well, Gwen had tried. She meant well.
"Another question?" Ianto asked softly.
Jack shrugged as he idly sorted through the clippings with a finger.
"Was someone there to help you adjust when you arrived?" Ianto murmured quietly despite the fact no one was in the Hub. "There were files from …" Ianto paused, trying to remember, "1909?"
"I was here longer than that." Jack shrugged one shoulder. "I arrived around 1869 until we met up in 1941." Again, Jack added bitterly. That year seemed to hold a place for him. He met up with the Doctor twice in that year.
Ianto exhaled. "So no one helped you?"
Jack scoffed. "Torchwood recruited me as a freelancer in 1899. They didn't specialize in…temporal displacement rehabilitation at the time."
"That is a mouthful," Ianto commented lightly. He didn't look bothered by the reminder of Jack's long years. "So it was just you?" Ianto sounded sad for some reason.
"It wasn't too bad."
"Are you lying?"
Jack looked up. His smile felt brittle on his face. "Kind of." When Ianto's face fell, Jack hastily added, "But he came back so it was fine."
Again, Ianto didn't ask who he was, but his mouth thinned at the mention and his voice hardened. "So you were here alone for seventy years before he returned. How did you get here? The Rift?"
Death smelled putrid in the artificial air. His calls to a space station completely exterminated went unanswered.
"You could say that," Jack answered in a dull voice. He rubbed the skin under his leather wrist strap. He could still feel the bindings on him, the tubing that slid painful and hot into his veins, the tearing of the Vortex from him, like flaying strips of flesh off him with barbed wire. Jack choked; he remembered shivering in the dark when dry, hot hands flipped him, breached him as he was told how everything he was doing wasn't enough. He failed, unable to fix himself and was still doomed to watch everything disappear around him…
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
It was so dark. So cold. So alone. And Jack had wanted nothing more to know he wouldn't be alone again. But everyone leaves. Everyone. It wasn't their fault. It was his.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
The pain had come steady like a regular visitor in his room. The tearing agony marked time as he traveled with a soul who loathed the sight of him yet couldn't tear himself away from Jack's body. And he punished them both by sterilizing their encounters to brute, blunt, animalistic strokes.
…thrum-thr—
Ianto's hand cupped the back of his neck. The darkness receded.
"Come back," Ianto said quietly. His fingers kneaded the stiff muscles that tensed in his shoulders. "Jack, wherever you are. You're right here. Not there…"
Jack took a shuddering breath. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. Ianto made no judgments. He didn't mock him when Jack shivered. Nor did he shush him when the sigh he exhaled hardened to something more frightened. Ianto just sat there, his hand around Jack's neck, a warm, soothing tether to here and now.
The hand vanished but before Jack could panic, mentally flailing, a cup was pressed into his hands. Jack gulped down the scalding brew before its burn registered on his tongue. Jack felt the empty cup pulled away, refilled and set down in front of him.
"Thanks," Jack coughed and reached for the new coffee. He paused when it became a dish of sandwiches instead.
"You haven't had dinner yet." Ianto plucked another triangle from the tray. "Nor have I. The least you could do is keep me company." Ianto hesitated before adding, "There's some M&Ms for dessert."
Jack chuckled weakly but he copied Ianto and bit into a sandwich. "Are you trying to bribe me with candy?" Jack teased. "I'm not a kid."
"I don't know. Despite your age, you have this infuriating talent of not eating at proper times."
"I was busy," Jack grumped. He polished off two halves, suddenly realizing he was hungry. "Besides, it's not like I can starve to death." Been there, so not doing that again.
"Bony elbows and knees aren't very attractive to me," Ianto quipped. He waggled a triangle at Jack. "Sex is very awkward when you're being poked." At Jack's smirk, Ianto rolled his eyes. "Not by that, of course."
"I knew all you wanted from me was my body," Jack quipped. He grinned wanly, but that last bite was sticking in his throat. That's how he had wanted it to be, damn it. Jack forced another smirk, swallowed hard and reached for his coffee.
"Oh, I want more than that, but I'm very patient." Ianto smiled secretively.
Huh?
Jack gazed up at him, perplexed. Ianto just shrugged. He nodded towards the sandwiches again to which Jack acquiesced with a roll of his eyes.
There was no talking, but a relaxing silence as they ate.
"I uh…" Ianto began after Jack finished another half. He pointed towards the workstations. "It'll take me a while to get their paperwork ready." He looked at Jack, his eyes dark.
Jack nodded solemnly but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Be too late to drive home then."
"I think I may need some alternate accommodations, sir," Ianto said in a low voice. He spread his legs apart just a little. Jack slipped a hand between Ianto's legs and watched Ianto flush as Jack massaged the swell in his trousers. Ianto closed his eyes briefly as his hands reached over and carded through Jack's hair.
"I think we can arrange something," Jack whispered as he rolled his chair so he was settled between Ianto's legs. Both hands now kneaded Ianto's upper thighs. He could feel Ianto's breath over his hair as Ianto hunched over him like a living shelter.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Ianto breathed before he lowered his head and sealed his mouth over Jack's.
Act IV "What, did you fall through time, too?"
December 20
The drive back to the hostel was somber. Jack spared John a glance, nothing more as the man sat too still, his posture not inviting any sort of communication.
At the traffic light, Jack slowed down the SUV. He wished he had taken one of the others' personal cars. The equipment, monitors and gauges were intimidating enough to the team when they all had first encountered them. John, the displaced shopkeeper, former businessman, sat rigid in the passenger seat.
As soon as the light changed, Jack switched gears and started up again.
John cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said gruffly.
"For what?" Jack could see John's hand tentatively touch the dashboard.
"Back there. In the pub. I didn't mean to demand you find my boy." John coughed, shifting as if the seat didn't quite fit. Nothing did any more. He couldn't even comfortably smoke his pipe in the pub or in the hostel.
"I didn't mean to let out my frustrations at you," John said stiffly, too old-fashioned to indulge in revealing confidences, yet also too honorable to let his actions go unpunished.
"It's a difficult position to be in," Jack said quietly. "I think you're entitled."
"He's my boy, you see."
Jack nodded.
"Alan was just becoming a man when I left. We were going to have a new life, a better life in Dublin."
Jack wanted to tell John he still can, but he feels it belittles his present/past. Jack blinked hard. None of them were expecting to put their world into the past tense; was instead of is, had instead of have. It wasn't fair.
The steering wheel squeaked under his curling hands.
"It's what all fathers want to do," John continued, his voice so gruff, Jack had to strain to hear. "We all just want to watch our children grow up. That's life. And I don't have that, Jack."
It was like Ianto was talking to him, years later down a life Jack might have condemned him to.
The road blurred for a second.
"I only wanted to see my boy grow up, see what kind of man he becomes, see the girl he marries, hold my grandchildren. That's all. Grow old with my wife. Retire. I never wanted much." John heaved a sigh.
"I feel like I've been cheated out of my life, Jack. Seeing my boy again…it won't make up for it, but if I can see what a full life he had, it'll be something."
Jack nodded, unable to speak. He sighted the hostel and drove up to the curb. He watched John climb out of the SUV after a few seconds of trying to figure out the latch. Jack didn't help him, smiling briefly when John made a triumphant sound when he sorted it out on his own.
John stooped down and peered through the open window.
"I'll find him," Jack promised, extending out his hand. John gripped it with an intensity that Jack hoped was the strength that would see John through.
"Thank you, Jack." John smiled briefly, hope flaring up in his eyes. He nodded curtly and strode in like he would his own house.
Jack watched for a moment, stared at the businessman's back before he drove back to Torchwood, his stomach cold and heavy, John's words echoing in his ear. He stopped the SUV outside the Millennium Stadium. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel and swallowed convulsively. He fought the urge to throw up.
The Hub was quiet when Jack walked through the cog doors. It wasn't a surprise since Jack had deliberately taken a long time, telling Ianto when the younger man had called that it would be too late by the time he returned. Ianto was very quiet over the mobile but agreed, oddly reluctantly, that it would be more practical for him to go home for the night.
Nevertheless, the silence was depressing when Jack scanned the central area. He wearily noted that Gwen and Owen's stations looked untouched and hoped their charges were faring better than John. They were both young women, in Diane’s case with no attachments, and stood a better chance of seeing this as a new adventure rather than a death sentence.
Jack's shoulders slumped and suddenly, taking another step seemed to require too much. The promise he made sounded foolhardy, like the photos Jack had developed for John. The past was proving not to be shoring him up for the future. Instead, it was crumbling the very foundations under John's feet.
The silver garland and small tree huddling by the infirmary served to only add to his gloom. Some of the presents were already under the tree and Jack stared at the display. He wondered if this was going to be the life of Torchwood; celebrating holidays in the watery, crumbling underground hole.
"Getting to be bit of a Scrooge, are you?" Jack muttered to himself. This was ridiculous. John's words had settled it for Jack. It was the right decision. He…he shouldn't be standing here…wishing.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
No one would thank him for being selfish.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
Jack didn't want anyone else telling him he was cheated out of life.
Shoulders slumped as he scanned the Hub. Going down the hatchway didn't appeal to him and sadly the Rift alarms had been silent. Maybe Weevils do take a holiday.
He spotted the short pillar with the two jars. It had been silent all this time; no Time Lords returning, no one to fix him. Like Jack, that hand would stay unchanged. The bubbling was audible from where Jack was.
Jack hesitated, shedding his greatcoat as he walked over. He could hear the hand tapping the echo in his mind.
Rounding down to the depression where the column stood, Jack stopped short.
There was a post-it on the jar.
Jack's brow knitted together as he leaned over. He blinked at the note.
This isn't your bed. Go to sleep, it read in Ianto's neat, small handwriting.
Jack stared at it. He smirked wryly. Okay, he wasn't expecting that. Jack reached over to peel it off. There was another one underneath it.
You're still here? Have you forgotten where your bed is? There was a tiny map that marked his hatchway with an X that ended the note. The last post-it had a crude drawing of a stick figure on a rectangle, Zs trailing above. Now, was scrawled in capital letters below it.
Shaking his head, still smiling faintly, Jack clutched the yellow post-its as he headed for his office, his greatcoat draped over his arm. Jack was surprised he wasn't mad that Ianto had placed post-its on the stasis jar. Owen avoided it now ever since he accidentally spilled coffee on the column, nearly shorting its power source. Jack had yelled long and loud enough that the medic and everyone—except Ianto, in fact—avoided talking to him for the rest of the day.
There was a covered plate with another note—in purple no less—from Ianto; a bold Dinner was scribbled on it with a marker. Taking off the cover revealed some warmed up vegetarian pizza, minus broccoli, extra eggplant.
Jack sat there, eating the pizza, rereading the notes as he chewed. He'd discovered two more notes; one on the ladder as he descended, applauding him for remembering where his bed was, and another on his pillow that read Good Night with a smiley dotting it.
It was with a chuckle that Jack finally fell asleep, Ianto's post-its tucked under his pillow. He forgot about John, about the whoosh-whoosh of the TARDIS, or the hand sneering at him in the jar.
He didn't dream the entire night and woke up to a tray of fresh coffee and three packets of M&Ms waiting on his desk.
Act V
Additional Notes: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: The slash part of the story here. SMUT. Dark, suicide themes. You were warned. :)
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Out of Time" and mentions events shown in "Adam" and "Adrift"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13,Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29 Act 1/6, Ch 29 Act 2/6
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 29 "Out of Time"
Act III "She'll know I'm missing by now."
December 18
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
They fell through back to Earth. They didn't go mad seeing a dark star or had their minds destroyed watching a sun burn out of existence. They flew into the Rift and the Rift spitefully returned them physically whole but over fifty years too late.
Jack pinched a spot between his eyes and lifted his head from the newspaper clippings Tosh found in the archives. How ironic that a man from the future would try to rehabilitate lost people from the past. Jack didn't know if he should laugh. When Tosh reported the fluctuation spike over the airstrip, Jack had feared that the storm Alex Hopkins foresaw spilling from a torn sky was today.
He thought this was just as bad.
Jack leaned into his chair and turned the old camera he was given charge of in his hands. He wondered if it would be kind or cruel to develop the family photos. What purpose would seeing his present become the past serve displaced John Ellis?
A bitter laugh and Jack set the camera down carefully.
"1953."
Ianto stood there, looking still a little stunned from when the three returned with Jack, Gwen, and Owen. He set down a tray of sandwiches and pot of coffee and nudged a triangle towards Jack.
"Everyone had dinner already before they left." Ianto tucked a napkin into his collar, took a sandwich half himself and took a large enough bite that told Jack Ianto had waited for him. The coffee, however, was still steaming hot.
"And they're fine? No ill effects?"
Jack recalled how John Ellis shook his hand firmly in the hostel and promised he would look after the girls. He was a man from an era of modern chivalry and responsibility.
"Well, considering everything they knew is now gone, they're doing okay." Jack shrugged. Jack dropped the sandwich back onto his plate; what little appetite he had was completely gone. He waved wearily at the pile of clippings he was going to give them. "So much has happened. I don't know how we're going to get them to the 21st century." Jack lifted his gaze and met Ianto's.
"I need you to get some papers and background for them." Jack's mouth twisted. "And maybe take them shopping? Get them…adjusted?"
Ianto nodded. "Of course." He sat down on a corner of Jack's desk and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Ianto frowned at Jack's plate and switched his sandwich for another. He pushed the plate back towards Jack again. He nodded, satisfied, when Jack took a bite.
"At least it wasn't another alien spaceship."
Jack laughed, but it felt funny coming out. He swallowed, but didn't taste anything. "Gwen said almost the same thing. Said it was better since they were human." Jack shook his head, his stomach churning.
"You don't agree?"
The black and white article about the Millennium Stadium stood out on his desk. Jack shrugged.
"It's not that simple." Jack stared out his office door and its stained glass panes. The tree Gwen had set up by the archway of the infirmary caught his eye. Its shiny tinsel shone through the glass but still looked grey and listless. Oh well, Gwen had tried. She meant well.
"Another question?" Ianto asked softly.
Jack shrugged as he idly sorted through the clippings with a finger.
"Was someone there to help you adjust when you arrived?" Ianto murmured quietly despite the fact no one was in the Hub. "There were files from …" Ianto paused, trying to remember, "1909?"
"I was here longer than that." Jack shrugged one shoulder. "I arrived around 1869 until we met up in 1941." Again, Jack added bitterly. That year seemed to hold a place for him. He met up with the Doctor twice in that year.
Ianto exhaled. "So no one helped you?"
Jack scoffed. "Torchwood recruited me as a freelancer in 1899. They didn't specialize in…temporal displacement rehabilitation at the time."
"That is a mouthful," Ianto commented lightly. He didn't look bothered by the reminder of Jack's long years. "So it was just you?" Ianto sounded sad for some reason.
"It wasn't too bad."
"Are you lying?"
Jack looked up. His smile felt brittle on his face. "Kind of." When Ianto's face fell, Jack hastily added, "But he came back so it was fine."
Again, Ianto didn't ask who he was, but his mouth thinned at the mention and his voice hardened. "So you were here alone for seventy years before he returned. How did you get here? The Rift?"
Death smelled putrid in the artificial air. His calls to a space station completely exterminated went unanswered.
"You could say that," Jack answered in a dull voice. He rubbed the skin under his leather wrist strap. He could still feel the bindings on him, the tubing that slid painful and hot into his veins, the tearing of the Vortex from him, like flaying strips of flesh off him with barbed wire. Jack choked; he remembered shivering in the dark when dry, hot hands flipped him, breached him as he was told how everything he was doing wasn't enough. He failed, unable to fix himself and was still doomed to watch everything disappear around him…
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
It was so dark. So cold. So alone. And Jack had wanted nothing more to know he wouldn't be alone again. But everyone leaves. Everyone. It wasn't their fault. It was his.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
The pain had come steady like a regular visitor in his room. The tearing agony marked time as he traveled with a soul who loathed the sight of him yet couldn't tear himself away from Jack's body. And he punished them both by sterilizing their encounters to brute, blunt, animalistic strokes.
…thrum-thr—
Ianto's hand cupped the back of his neck. The darkness receded.
"Come back," Ianto said quietly. His fingers kneaded the stiff muscles that tensed in his shoulders. "Jack, wherever you are. You're right here. Not there…"
Jack took a shuddering breath. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. Ianto made no judgments. He didn't mock him when Jack shivered. Nor did he shush him when the sigh he exhaled hardened to something more frightened. Ianto just sat there, his hand around Jack's neck, a warm, soothing tether to here and now.
The hand vanished but before Jack could panic, mentally flailing, a cup was pressed into his hands. Jack gulped down the scalding brew before its burn registered on his tongue. Jack felt the empty cup pulled away, refilled and set down in front of him.
"Thanks," Jack coughed and reached for the new coffee. He paused when it became a dish of sandwiches instead.
"You haven't had dinner yet." Ianto plucked another triangle from the tray. "Nor have I. The least you could do is keep me company." Ianto hesitated before adding, "There's some M&Ms for dessert."
Jack chuckled weakly but he copied Ianto and bit into a sandwich. "Are you trying to bribe me with candy?" Jack teased. "I'm not a kid."
"I don't know. Despite your age, you have this infuriating talent of not eating at proper times."
"I was busy," Jack grumped. He polished off two halves, suddenly realizing he was hungry. "Besides, it's not like I can starve to death." Been there, so not doing that again.
"Bony elbows and knees aren't very attractive to me," Ianto quipped. He waggled a triangle at Jack. "Sex is very awkward when you're being poked." At Jack's smirk, Ianto rolled his eyes. "Not by that, of course."
"I knew all you wanted from me was my body," Jack quipped. He grinned wanly, but that last bite was sticking in his throat. That's how he had wanted it to be, damn it. Jack forced another smirk, swallowed hard and reached for his coffee.
"Oh, I want more than that, but I'm very patient." Ianto smiled secretively.
Huh?
Jack gazed up at him, perplexed. Ianto just shrugged. He nodded towards the sandwiches again to which Jack acquiesced with a roll of his eyes.
There was no talking, but a relaxing silence as they ate.
"I uh…" Ianto began after Jack finished another half. He pointed towards the workstations. "It'll take me a while to get their paperwork ready." He looked at Jack, his eyes dark.
Jack nodded solemnly but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Be too late to drive home then."
"I think I may need some alternate accommodations, sir," Ianto said in a low voice. He spread his legs apart just a little. Jack slipped a hand between Ianto's legs and watched Ianto flush as Jack massaged the swell in his trousers. Ianto closed his eyes briefly as his hands reached over and carded through Jack's hair.
"I think we can arrange something," Jack whispered as he rolled his chair so he was settled between Ianto's legs. Both hands now kneaded Ianto's upper thighs. He could feel Ianto's breath over his hair as Ianto hunched over him like a living shelter.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Ianto breathed before he lowered his head and sealed his mouth over Jack's.
Act IV "What, did you fall through time, too?"
December 20
The drive back to the hostel was somber. Jack spared John a glance, nothing more as the man sat too still, his posture not inviting any sort of communication.
At the traffic light, Jack slowed down the SUV. He wished he had taken one of the others' personal cars. The equipment, monitors and gauges were intimidating enough to the team when they all had first encountered them. John, the displaced shopkeeper, former businessman, sat rigid in the passenger seat.
As soon as the light changed, Jack switched gears and started up again.
John cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said gruffly.
"For what?" Jack could see John's hand tentatively touch the dashboard.
"Back there. In the pub. I didn't mean to demand you find my boy." John coughed, shifting as if the seat didn't quite fit. Nothing did any more. He couldn't even comfortably smoke his pipe in the pub or in the hostel.
"I didn't mean to let out my frustrations at you," John said stiffly, too old-fashioned to indulge in revealing confidences, yet also too honorable to let his actions go unpunished.
"It's a difficult position to be in," Jack said quietly. "I think you're entitled."
"He's my boy, you see."
Jack nodded.
"Alan was just becoming a man when I left. We were going to have a new life, a better life in Dublin."
Jack wanted to tell John he still can, but he feels it belittles his present/past. Jack blinked hard. None of them were expecting to put their world into the past tense; was instead of is, had instead of have. It wasn't fair.
The steering wheel squeaked under his curling hands.
"It's what all fathers want to do," John continued, his voice so gruff, Jack had to strain to hear. "We all just want to watch our children grow up. That's life. And I don't have that, Jack."
It was like Ianto was talking to him, years later down a life Jack might have condemned him to.
The road blurred for a second.
"I only wanted to see my boy grow up, see what kind of man he becomes, see the girl he marries, hold my grandchildren. That's all. Grow old with my wife. Retire. I never wanted much." John heaved a sigh.
"I feel like I've been cheated out of my life, Jack. Seeing my boy again…it won't make up for it, but if I can see what a full life he had, it'll be something."
Jack nodded, unable to speak. He sighted the hostel and drove up to the curb. He watched John climb out of the SUV after a few seconds of trying to figure out the latch. Jack didn't help him, smiling briefly when John made a triumphant sound when he sorted it out on his own.
John stooped down and peered through the open window.
"I'll find him," Jack promised, extending out his hand. John gripped it with an intensity that Jack hoped was the strength that would see John through.
"Thank you, Jack." John smiled briefly, hope flaring up in his eyes. He nodded curtly and strode in like he would his own house.
Jack watched for a moment, stared at the businessman's back before he drove back to Torchwood, his stomach cold and heavy, John's words echoing in his ear. He stopped the SUV outside the Millennium Stadium. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel and swallowed convulsively. He fought the urge to throw up.
The Hub was quiet when Jack walked through the cog doors. It wasn't a surprise since Jack had deliberately taken a long time, telling Ianto when the younger man had called that it would be too late by the time he returned. Ianto was very quiet over the mobile but agreed, oddly reluctantly, that it would be more practical for him to go home for the night.
Nevertheless, the silence was depressing when Jack scanned the central area. He wearily noted that Gwen and Owen's stations looked untouched and hoped their charges were faring better than John. They were both young women, in Diane’s case with no attachments, and stood a better chance of seeing this as a new adventure rather than a death sentence.
Jack's shoulders slumped and suddenly, taking another step seemed to require too much. The promise he made sounded foolhardy, like the photos Jack had developed for John. The past was proving not to be shoring him up for the future. Instead, it was crumbling the very foundations under John's feet.
The silver garland and small tree huddling by the infirmary served to only add to his gloom. Some of the presents were already under the tree and Jack stared at the display. He wondered if this was going to be the life of Torchwood; celebrating holidays in the watery, crumbling underground hole.
"Getting to be bit of a Scrooge, are you?" Jack muttered to himself. This was ridiculous. John's words had settled it for Jack. It was the right decision. He…he shouldn't be standing here…wishing.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
No one would thank him for being selfish.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
Jack didn't want anyone else telling him he was cheated out of life.
Shoulders slumped as he scanned the Hub. Going down the hatchway didn't appeal to him and sadly the Rift alarms had been silent. Maybe Weevils do take a holiday.
He spotted the short pillar with the two jars. It had been silent all this time; no Time Lords returning, no one to fix him. Like Jack, that hand would stay unchanged. The bubbling was audible from where Jack was.
Jack hesitated, shedding his greatcoat as he walked over. He could hear the hand tapping the echo in his mind.
Rounding down to the depression where the column stood, Jack stopped short.
There was a post-it on the jar.
Jack's brow knitted together as he leaned over. He blinked at the note.
This isn't your bed. Go to sleep, it read in Ianto's neat, small handwriting.
Jack stared at it. He smirked wryly. Okay, he wasn't expecting that. Jack reached over to peel it off. There was another one underneath it.
You're still here? Have you forgotten where your bed is? There was a tiny map that marked his hatchway with an X that ended the note. The last post-it had a crude drawing of a stick figure on a rectangle, Zs trailing above. Now, was scrawled in capital letters below it.
Shaking his head, still smiling faintly, Jack clutched the yellow post-its as he headed for his office, his greatcoat draped over his arm. Jack was surprised he wasn't mad that Ianto had placed post-its on the stasis jar. Owen avoided it now ever since he accidentally spilled coffee on the column, nearly shorting its power source. Jack had yelled long and loud enough that the medic and everyone—except Ianto, in fact—avoided talking to him for the rest of the day.
There was a covered plate with another note—in purple no less—from Ianto; a bold Dinner was scribbled on it with a marker. Taking off the cover revealed some warmed up vegetarian pizza, minus broccoli, extra eggplant.
Jack sat there, eating the pizza, rereading the notes as he chewed. He'd discovered two more notes; one on the ladder as he descended, applauding him for remembering where his bed was, and another on his pillow that read Good Night with a smiley dotting it.
It was with a chuckle that Jack finally fell asleep, Ianto's post-its tucked under his pillow. He forgot about John, about the whoosh-whoosh of the TARDIS, or the hand sneering at him in the jar.
He didn't dream the entire night and woke up to a tray of fresh coffee and three packets of M&Ms waiting on his desk.
Act V
Additional Notes: Many thanks to
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2008-06-02 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-03 12:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-02 10:48 pm (UTC)PS hope your trip was fun despite the hangups!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-03 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-03 01:31 am (UTC)The post-its leading the way was entirely too CUTE for words!
^____________________________________________^
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Date: 2008-06-03 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-03 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-03 03:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-08 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-21 09:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 05:03 am (UTC)Shows how well he's starting to understand Jack that he can predict his movements and leave post-its in the right places.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-27 09:47 pm (UTC)