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fictionalTitle: There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains To Bear Their Names To Time
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Ten, +TW team, +sundry members of DW Cast
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rm & kalichan
Rating/Warning: NC-17, slash, plot, religion (!!), and porn.
Summary: Some people say goodbye and others say hello.
Wordcount: ~32,000 words, posted in five parts
Authors' Notes: This is the penultimate installment of our series, I Had No Idea I Had Been Traveling. The title is from a poem by Leonard Cohen; summary is, of course, courtesy The Beatles. Next up: the final installment of the main story arc, though we will be returning to the 'verse at some point after that for some digressions and interludes, and a DVD commentary! Just prior to this, we posted two prequels (one for Jack, and one for Ianto) which are fairly important to the conclusion of the series. They are numbered 8 & 9 in the links below if you'd like to catch up.
Previous installments:
1. A Strange Fashion of Forsaking | 2. Dear Captain, Last Night I Slept in Mutiny | 3. To Learn This Holding and the Holding Back | 4. The Most Beautiful Girl in the World | 5. I Imagine You Now in That Other City | 6. Many of My Favorite Things Are Broken | 6.5 Up, Down, Strange, Charm, Truth, Beauty: or, A Child's Guide to Modern Physics | 7. In Our Bedroom After the War | 8. And I Cannot Know How Long She Has Dreamed of All of You [Jack/Nine/Rose] | 9. The Spectacular Catastrophe of Your Endless Childhood [Ianto/OFCs, Ianto/Lisa]
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 1
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 2
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 3
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 4
"Jack," Andy said, ducking his head into the man's office, clearly having run up the stairs from somewhere.
Jack held his hand up for quiet, but Andy wasn't interested.
"Jack," he said again, this time more sharply.
Jack put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and pulled it fractionally away from his head. "What part of 'I'm on the phone' are you not getting, Andy?"
"The part where Ianto's on the plass," he said breathlessly.
Before Jack could even decide how he was going to react, he heard everyone else in the Hub start speculating excitedly, and there was absolutely, positively going to be none of that.
"And we've got a bit of a situation here," Jack said into the phone, moving to hang it up. Not that it had stopped the UNIT idiot on the other end of the line from continuing to babble at him.
"Look," Jack said, "team member, possible alien possession, I'll call you back." He hung up and looked at Andy. "Headed this way?"
"Yeah."
Jack felt himself sag in relief, but that was all he was going to allow himself for now. Andy jumped out of his way, and Jack pushed past him out of his office to lean on the rail.
"Ravi, sit the fuck down, this isn't an exciting social occasion. Maeve, I'll want you to check him over before he touches anyone or anything. Gwen --"
"But he was just --"
"What, Gwen, he was just what? WE HAVE NO IDEA. And you're on security. Everybody got that? It's not welcome back Ianto until we're sure it's Ianto, and then I have to have a talk with him about being absent without leave."
"But --"
"Right. We used to shoot people for that. Now are we clear?"
Jack glowered until a mumbled "yes, sir," had been dragged out of each of them. Ianto's disappearance had been worrisome, humiliating, inconvenient and angry-making. He wasn't letting him off the hook easily, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give his team whatever ridiculous romantic show they were apparently craving.
***
Ianto thought about stopping to buy a paper, just to make sure of the date. Things looked right, the weather seemed reasonable, but he knew and Jack always said, not to trust the Doctor in matters of time. Which was a little ridiculous.
But the thought of waiting to see Jack, walking and talking and gesturing with those big ridiculous hands of his -- well, there was no thought of it at all. Considered and dismissed. It wasn't an option, and Ianto was glad he had just enough dread of Jack's mood over the whole thing that he wasn't going to do something hideously embarrassing, like fling himself into Jack's arms in the middle of the Hub, much as Gwen would probably give it a cheer.
Ah, Gwen. He'd missed her too. And god, he couldn't tell her either. Which was a shame. She'd understand a bit of what it had taken out of him, even if he would have resented her assertions on the fact. She wasn't with Jack. It wasn't the same.
Ianto headed for the tourist office. There wasn't any need to be flashy about coming back. He'd had to do a bit of work in the field and now he was back, and it wasn't a big deal, it really wasn't, except for the part where he was shaking a little.
He let himself in, locked up behind him and punched the button for the secret door. Then it was down the hall, into the lift and waiting, waiting, waiting, before it was more waiting for the cog door to roll aside as the claxons went off.
For a moment, Ianto froze. But then he took a deep breath and walked into the Hub, his home -- not as much as Jack's, of course since Ianto had kept his flat, but still he belonged here and to here more than any other place, and whether he liked it or not, everyone knew it.
Everyone was also staring at him.
"I..." he swallowed. "Not to sound like an amnesiac, but what day is it? The Doctor di--"
"Three days," Jack said coolly from the landing by his office. "You were gone three days. For us."
"Jack," Ianto practically sighed.
"How long were you gone?" Jack asked, formal and cold, eying him not like a predator, but like a soldier. It wasn't pleasant. It made Ianto feel like he weren't even real.
"A week? I'm not sure. I'd have to do the math. It... it gets complicated, you know," he said, feeling sheepish.
Jack looked from him to Maeve. "Get him checked out," he said and turned to retreat back into his office.
"Jack --" Ianto said again.
Jack turned and looked back down at him. "Yeah?" he asked sounding, Ianto thought, disinterested and put upon.
"I'm sorry," he said, when he realised 'I missed you' was about to be wildly inappropriate. Jack was clearly furious with him.
"You always are," Jack said evenly.
"Jack --" this time it was Gwen.
"Keep your gun on him until the good doctor assures us he's still human and in control of his own faculties. Right now, I have work to do," he said, not even bothering to look at her before finally disappearing back into his office.
Gwen looked startled, Andy, confused, and Ravi, uncertain.
Maeve sighed. "It'll be all right," she said, more as if by rote than with any actual sympathy. "Figure we'll sort out his humanity after we confirm yours," she added, clearly bored with her own joke.
Ianto gave her a faltering smile, but kept his eyes as trained on Jack's office for as long as could while he followed her to the medical bay.
The rest of the team clustered close behind him as he sat up on the autopsy table that served double duty for actual examinations and rolled up a sleeve so that Maeve could draw some blood.
With profound disinterest Maeve slapped an electrode onto his temple.
"You don't really think I'm possessed, do you?" he said weakly, as she injected the plunger into his arm.
"Hardly," she said, her tone brisk as usual. "Jack just wants time to collect himself, you know that."
Somewhere behind him, he heard Andy snicker, and then an oof, as if someone (probably Gwen) had elbowed him in the ribs. It was, Ianto reflected, rather nice to be back where he could identify everything that was going on from just the slightest suggestion of a sound. That was what was meant by home, he supposed.
"And it is protocol," Gwen said soothingly.
"Of course," Ianto agreed. "I'd do the same myself."
Maeve glanced over onto the monitor and nodded to herself. Efficiently, she dabbed a bit of blood onto a slide, and examined it under the microscope. "You're fine," she said, and ripped the electrode off. "Same as ever."
Gwen came up next to him as he rolled his sleeve down and prepared to put his jacket back on.
"Not quite the same," she observed, touseling his hair, and just for once, Ianto didn't feel inclined to stop her. And when she put her arms about him and squeezed him close, it was quite an effort not to bury his face in her shoulder and hang on for dear life.
"We missed you," she murmured into his hair. "I missed you. Jack was worried you weren't coming back."
"Never happen," Ianto said shortly, afraid his voice would crack with emotion if he spoke at more length. As far as he was concerned, if he never cried again it might be too soon. He pulled away from Gwen's hug as soon as he could, not wanting to collapse.
"No such luck. Bloody Torchwood," Andy said. "Everyone drops in harness."
"How true," said Ianto.
Andy chuckled. "It's good you're back."
"Longest three days in the world," Ravi chimed in, before slinging a companionable arm around him.
Ianto laughed involuntarily. "You should see it from here."
"So where did you go?" Andy asked curiously, before everyone turned to look at him. "What? What did I say?"
"Andy, how thick are you, really?" Maeve snapped.
Ianto shook his head. "Can't tell you. Classified, I'm afraid."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. We're all Torchwood here," Andy protested.
"Sorry," Ianto said. "Can't be done."
"Right," Gwen said. "Ianto, you need to report to Jack. The rest of us..." she paused to look at everyone meaningfully, "are going to take a half day."
Ravi laughed. "After dealing with Captain Asshat for the past three days, I'd say we have it coming."
"Truer words were never spoken," Andy said. "Maeve, buy you a drink?"
"Oh, Andy," Gwen said, laughing, as Maeve rolled her eyes. "Do you never give up?"
"I'll buy you one too, Gwen, no need to get shirty."
"What about me?" Ravi said, batting his eyelashes.
"Might do," Andy said. "How old are you again?"
Ianto stood there stock still, watching them banter and laugh, as they hurried into their jackets and coats. And then one by one, they filed past him; Andy pressing his shoulder as he passed, Ravi giving him a quick, fierce hug, and Maeve simply holding his gaze for a long moment, before nodding in acknowledgement and moving onto the lift.
Gwen stopped in front of him, and reached up to take his face between her hands. "Go on, you idiot. Get it over with."
He nodded.
"Tell Jack we'll be back tomorrow. And that we've everything in hand."
"All right," he said, and watched them shrink as they rose out of the Hub and back into the world.
As the door to his office opened and Ianto came forward to stand in front of his desk, Jack refused to look up from the paper he was currently scanning. Ianto didn't seem to betray any unease, but simply waited until Jack signed his name at the bottom of the report.
When Jack finally raised his eyes, he saw that Ianto was standing at what looked like a close approximation of parade rest, and Jack mentally complimented him on his demeanor. But wasn't that always the problem with Ianto? He always looked so appropriate for every occasion, until his surface was scratched, and then all manner of hidden things seemed to just come spilling out.
Jack let the silence draw out for a long moment, before he said, "Maeve clear you?"
"She cleared me, sir," Ianto said. "Everything is... fine."
He arched an eyebrow at Ianto's choice of phrase. "And why isn't she telling me this, instead of you?"
"She's gone, sir. She and the team have left for the day."
At the look on Jack's face, Ianto winced. Because, as he ought to have suspected, that simple statement looked like it was going over like a lead balloon. "Really?" Jack said, his smile dangerous now. "On whose authority? I don't remember saying anything about--"
"Gwen's order," Ianto said hurriedly. "She said to tell you everything's in hand."
"Yeah?" Jack said. "You sure about that?"
"I had to go," Ianto blurted out. "I'm sorry. I just--"
"Had to. Really? And why was that?"
"I... can't tell you."
Jack rose to his feet. "You can't tell me?" he said, his voice rising on every syllable till he was shouting.
"No," Ianto said. "I can't."
"Fine," Jack snapped. "Then get out."
"Jack," Ianto protested.
"The team's taking a half day; I assume -- and please, correct me if I'm wrong -- you still consider yourself part of the team. So why are you still here?"
"Why do you think?" Ianto exclaimed. "Jack, please don't--"
"No. You don't get to do this. You were absent without leave, Ianto. You can't just swan off for a pleasure cruise and expect everything to be the same when you get back."
"Oh, you're the only one who gets to do that, are you?" Ianto shot back, before biting his lip. "Look. I'm sorry."
"You keep saying that," Jack said evenly. "It's beginning to lose its novelty factor."
Ianto sat down and stared at the floor, feeling his eyes sting again. Because this was just as hideous as he had imagined it would be, and he couldn't explain or anything.
"Ianto," Jack said, and Ianto thought his voice might be softening slightly, but it also could have been wishful thinking.
"He asked me," Ianto said, interrupting him, "what I thought you would tell me to do if you could know about it. And I thought about who he was, and what he was to you, and I knew you'd tell me to do what he said, no questions asked. So I did. And I knew you might hate me for it, at least for a little while. But I wish you wouldn't."
There was a long pause, and then Jack sighed. "Yeah," he said.
"Sir?" Ianto asked.
"I don't hate you."
"Oh," Ianto said, with a ridiculous feeling of relief. "That's good."
"I'm really fucking furious with you, but that's another story."
"I know."
"You just... you just left. You didn't leave a note, nothing."
"Neither did you," Ianto pointed out. "It doesn't work like that. I didn't get it then. I do now."
"He works like that," Jack said. "I don't expect you to."
Ianto felt himself blush with shame, as he recognized the justice of that. "Yes," he said. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Did you have fun?" Jack said irrelevantly.
"I wouldn't call it that." He got to his feet and went over to where Jack was standing in front of his desk now. Reaching out with one hand, he laid his palm against Jack's face -- still human, not separated from him by a wall of glass. "I missed you," he said finally.
Jack didn't move into the caress. "It was only a week."
"It felt longer," Ianto said.
"I imagine it would. Worrying about my reaction when you should have been busy saving the world," Jack said.
Ianto thought he sounded petulant and sighed as he realized there was going to be an ebb and flow to Jack's anger. This wouldn't resolve quickly. "It wasn't like that either," he said, taking his hand from Jack's face, much as he didn't want to. But he didn't step back. Let Jack be forced to deal with him.
"Then what was it like?" Jack asked, the words bitten off.
"Scary. Lonely. And it didn't make very much sense, until it did and then that was worse. Gwen said you thought I wasn't coming back," he added quietly, making it almost a question.
Jack shifted and slid out from between the desk and Ianto. "You know how Gwen --"
"Did you think I wasn't coming back?"
"I don't know Ianto, you're so good at keeping secrets, I thought wow, hey, maybe this is payback for Lisa! Maybe, maybe he's waited years to do this!" Jack said sarcastically.
Ianto hung his head and shook it. "There is no payback for Lisa, Jack. Just life. Just this life. Did you really think --?"
"I was scared, all right? I was fucking scared. And you betraying me seemed a lot better than the Doctor getting you killed."
Ianto smiled faintly. "I was actually pretty safe. Physically."
"Tell me?" Jack asked, and Ianto thought his need to know seemed palpable.
"I can't," he said miserably. "I can't."
"He ask you not to?"
"Yeah, but... big paradox thing. I wish I could. I really, really wish I could, Jack."
Jack sighed, seeming to give up for a moment. "All right. Why you then? Why did it have to be you?"
"You don't get to ask questions to try to figure it out. But for the record, it didn't have to be me. The Doctor just wanted it to be, and you take that up with him if you want, but it's done now, and there's nothing either of us can do about it."
"Fine," Jack said curtly. "What's up with the suit?"
"Huh?"
"The suit," Jack said, gesturing irritatedly.
"What about it?"
"It's not yours."
Ianto looked down at it and laughed. It was grey, from the Face's temple. Ooops. "I needed clean clothes. It was given to me."
"You look like an accountant or something."
Ianto laughed slightly hysterically, feeling as if he was on the edge of a very disturbing precipice. "Grey has that effect, sir," he managed.
"Do you ...?"
"What?" Ianto asked, when Jack trailed off.
"I --"
Ianto sighed, and sat down again. "I really, really, don't have the energy to read your mind right now, Jack," he said, only realizing the absurdity of the statement once he'd finished it.
"Get some rest then," Jack said, tipping his head towards the hatch in the floor. "Or go home if you want."
Ianto bit his lip and stood. "I was hoping not to do it alone," he said, trying to keep the bite or the panic or the need out of his voice as he opened the hatch and started down the ladder. He didn't close it after him; he wanted the light and the living world of Jack moving above him.
After an hour or so where he managed to get nothing at all useful done, Jack finally descended to what he still thought of as his cubby, even though Ianto and some explosives had turned it more or less into a proper room.
The lights were off, and the place was lit only by what streamed through the hatch door. When his eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness, he saw Ianto standing by his dresser, fingering the cuffs of his shirts.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Ianto jumped. Jack narrowed his eyes. It wasn't like Ianto to be surprised by anyone ever.
Ianto shrugged in response.
"Something awful happened, didn't it?" Jack finally asked.
"Yeah," Ianto said, even though that wasn't completely true. After all, nothing awful had happened to him and the Face hadn't actually seemed miserable, just wry and Dovev -- Ianto felt guilty somehow to think of him with his name even in a place where he hadn't been born yet -- had been brave. Everyone and everything was fine, just fine. Jack didn't hate him and he hadn't even punched the Doctor, although he did regret that part just a little. He should have. In the Tesco.
Jack noticed the little half smile on Ianto's face.
"What?"
"Should have punched the Doctor when I had a chance."
Jack barked with laughter and sat on the bed. "He wouldn't have appreciated that."
"And that would have been the point," Ianto said, his fingers wandering over shirts again.
"Something awful happened and you can't tell me," Jack said – it was like learning a fact, like learning a language -- more for his own benefit than Ianto's.
"Yeah," Ianto acknowledged again.
"And right now you need me, more than you need me to be angry," Jack said, as if saying the words out loud would help him absorb the lesson.
"Yeah."
Jack sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "All right," he said, resigned.
Ianto took it as permission and went and sat on the bed next to Jack, reaching out to touch his face again.
"Second time you've done that," Jack said, still trying to work out what had happened.
Ianto shushed him softly.
"All right," Jack said, his voice cracking from the effort of restraint when he still had a thousand questions and too much energy.
Ianto mapped his face then with the pads of his fingers, fascinated it seemed by every architectural detail -- the slope of his nose, the cleft of his chin, the outline of his lips, the creases at the corners of his eyes.
It would have been intense, Jack thought, had Ianto been actually looking at him, instead of the construction of his face like pieces of a puzzle.
From there the fingers trailed down his arms, lingered to shakingly undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, and became distracted again before deciding to be fascinated with his hands. Ianto mapped the digits and callouses, the edge of nails and then bowed his head to kiss one palm and then the other.
Jack thought he looked beautiful like this, even if the man still felt oddly remote and lost to him, like he was still back wherever he had been with the Doctor. Jack knew he wasn't one to complain about it, but he hated it.
"Does that feel good?" Ianto asked, after pressing a sucking kiss to each knuckle of Jack's left hand.
He sighed with relief. A seduction, that he could understand and knew how to respond to. Even if it was strange. Even if he was starting to suspect Ianto had seen someone tortured. It was the fascination with the hands. Jack had seen it before.
"Yeah," he breathed, even though he had hardly noticed the pleasure in it for the strangeness of the entire matter. "You'll have to let them go if you want me to get undressed though," he said, trying to help them both the only way he knew how.
Ianto nodded, laughed almost nervously and said, "thanks," but did nothing to attend to his own clothes. Jack didn't even try, knew better than to mess with a frightened man's armour, and Ianto's particularly, at least right now, even if he somehow hated that suit on him. It didn't fit quite right and the color was wrong.
When Jack was naked, Ianto continued on in exactly the same way, only getting bolder in that his touches went from fingertips to the whole of his hands, from the occasional mouthing at a surface to sucking kisses, the occasional lick and the rubbing of the whole of his face against him.
Jack had no idea how he was supposed to respond or whether Ianto wanted him to be aroused by this strange mapping or not. He wasn't mostly, only because it felt so off. Under other circumstances, sure, but Ianto felt timid to him, as opposed to glorious, although the feel of his rough cheek dragging down his chest was enough to make him moan.
"Ianto," he said softly, but got no response. He tried again.
Ianto looked up at him from where he'd been rubbing his face against Jack's thighs and briefly his cock, seeming almost startled, like he was seeing him for the first time.
"What do you want?" Jack said low and gentle, his voice forcing his mouth to slide into a smile.
"I can't even tell you how I missed you," Ianto said sadly.
"I know," he said, trying to sit up, to reach for Ianto and drag him up so that they could be face to face, so that Jack could hold him, so that Jack could try to make whatever this was make enough sense to be of use.
"I --"
It was Jack's turn to shush Ianto, as he seemed to choke on whatever it was he wanted to say. Jack wondered if he should offer him retcon now or later. Whatever was going on in his head wasn't any good.
"What do you need?" he asked. "What do you need?"
"Anything," Ianto said, finally. Jack suspected it was less desperation and more the ease of not having to find or articulate a real answer. "Make sure I remember."
Jack grinned. "I can do that," he said, chuckling, hoping it masked the unease that he felt.
Truly, he expect Ianto to lash out in some sort of blind panic at any moment, an idea which only horrified him the more for the degree to which he was starting to grasp the struggle it had been for Ianto to keep it together in front of everyone in the Hub. Because he wasn't together. Not at all.
"Good," Ianto said, eyes flickering up to Jack's, long and clearly enough for Jack to sigh in relief.
At first, everything felt strange to Ianto; Jack's fingers tugging through his hair, Jack's certain kisses, Jack undressing him efficiently but not frantically because he himself had forgotten how in the urge to see and feel that Jack's body was whole and hadn't started to go through some process Ianto didn't even want to think about. If he did, Ianto worried he'd have to admit that the process had probably already started when Jack had become whatever he was and that the process was probably going on right now.
He shuddered.
"All right?" Jack asked, yet again.
"Yeah," he smiled. "The relief of human contact," Ianto said, and thought, somewhat hysterically, that Jack would probably think he'd fucked some alien now.
"I do what I can," Jack replied, smug.
"Do more," Ianto said, and Jack laughed warmly.
Ianto closed his eyes then, and it was good just to listen to Jack's breathing, the rasp of flesh against flesh and the wetness of kisses -- there, always, in the space just behind his jaw.
"That's good," Ianto mumbled as Jack smoothed his hands down his sides. "Oh your hands," he breathed.
"Yeah?" Jack said, liking the praise, liking the idea of Ianto being his again, enough to put his own discomfort aside. "Want one in you?"
Ianto nodded, frantically, and Jack laughed, thinking he looked so young, thinking he looked like the first time he had had him in a proper bed.
"I have no idea how anyone is supposed to live without this," Ianto said when Jack finally, finally pressed slicked fingers into to him, so slowly, so gently, Ianto thought he might go a little bit mad, even though it was just right, another manner in which to measure flesh.
"They're not, Ianto, they're not," Jack said, a little breathless with the possession of him and wishing he knew what horrors he was reassuring him against. Not himself though, not Torchwood. He wasn't the monster, not this time, and he'd take a lot of things on himself, but not the Doctor, because hell, if he could be responsible for the Doctor everything would look quite a bit different in his life. He'd be missing this for one, and he was so glad he wasn't.
It was like Ianto had heard him thinking or reached some matching moment of melancholy and frustration, when he opened his eyes – they looked startled almost -- and asked Jack to fuck him.
"You know," Jack said, easing them into a better position for it and his fingers out, "I'm liking this vocal thing."
Ianto chuckled.
"Can we keep it after you're done being traumatised?"
"I'll try," Ianto said, but speech had clearly gotten difficult, what with Jack's cock pressing into him.
It was good, Ianto thought, being on his back. A lot of the time it wasn't his preference, too much awkward folding up of limbs and not enough leverage. There was usually plenty of time to kiss Jack after and there was a lot to be said for the man's teeth tugging on the nape of his neck.
But not now. Now there was a lot to be said for finding any way he could to pull Jack in closer, more, harder, and being able to dig his nails into the man's arms wasn't bad either. Not at all. He wanted to leave marks and to feel Jack's skin as if it were his own.
"Jesus, Jack, touch me," Ianto growled, because he wasn't about to let go of the man to fist his own cock, not after the week he'd just had. He was going to just keep touching Jack and never let go no matter what the cost.
Jack complied, glad for some clear direction, glad Ianto wanted relief and bliss. He couldn't be that traumatised if he wanted to feel good, if he wanted Jack to do what Jack did best.
Jack murmured a little litany of encouragement and praise along with his strokes, telling Ianto it was time to show him just how glad he was to be back.
And Ianto was, he really, really was, and he had no idea, as he came -- the muscles in his legs nearly cramping and his stomach feeling like it was flipping over -- how he could have ever thought he was supposed to stay with the Face and his servant.
"Yes yes yes yes yes," Ianto hissed, as he came down from the high of it with Jack still fucking him.
"Good," Jack said, smug. "Getting close."
At that, Ianto seemed to snap back from his lassitude. "No. Not yet. Not yet."
"Not yet?" Jack asked, amused.
Ianto shook his head, as Jack slowed down and tried, really tried to pull himself back from the approaching edge.
"You'll be sore and oversensitized and cursing me," he panted and teased.
"And I'll be here," was Ianto's only response.
Jack felt those words travel straight to his groin. Okay he thought. Okay. Ianto's sentiment was not one to be argued with.
And so he made it last as long as he could, forcing them out onto a long wire of need, and doing what he could to keep them suspended there forever, fucking into Ianto with sharp, long strokes, as the man desperately, uselessly clawed at Jack's back and arms, trying to take him in deeper and deeper with each thrust.
And then he could hold back no longer, and he was coming, the orgasm torn out of him, like the gutteral cry he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to, waves of sensation crashing over him, and for a moment that could have been a year or a month or a day, wiping his mind clean of all thought.
When he struggled back to sentience, he realized they were plastered together with sweat and come, and Ianto's fingers were playing in his hair. They lay there in silence for awhile as Jack felt his heartbeat return to normal.
Jack slid out, feeling Ianto wince as his abused flesh was abraded once again, and then lay next to him, though not touching, so they were both staring up at the ceiling.
"That was--" Ianto began, and then trailed off.
"Nice," Jack finished for him, when it seemed as though Ianto wouldn't be able to find the word.
"Something of an understatement," Ianto said, and Jack grinned.
There was a long pause, and then Ianto shifted so that they were touching, and Jack could feel him all along the length of his body.
"You're not all right, are you?" Jack said finally.
There was a pause. "No," said Ianto. "I'm not."
Jack put his arm around Ianto's shoulders, so that his head was lying now against his chest, not something he usually did, but wanting somehow to comfort, and not knowing what else to do. "Do you want retcon?" he asked finally.
Though he knew he shouldn't have been, Ianto was actually taken aback by the suggestion. But this was Torchwood, and this was Jack, and nothing had to play by the rules that he had learnt before he'd known what things hid in the shadows.
To his surprise, he found himself seriously considering the idea, a part of him wanting nothing more than to return to a week ago, before he'd traveled so far. He could. Jack would do it for him, make him forget and sit by him while he slept the foreign world away, making it so that they were just as they had been before, when things were simple and Jack's hands were just hands, not measures of a staggering quantity of loss.
I thought you should know, he heard the Doctor's words sounding in some distant corner of his mind, and I thought Jack deserved to have someone who knows. You can't love someone without knowing them. Not really. Not enough..
"No," he said. "I don't."
He heard Jack exhale into a sigh. "You always have to do it the hard way, don't you?"
"Yeah," Ianto agreed. "I do."
"You sure you don't want to tell me about it?" Jack said, and somehow Ianto knew he was asking for the last time.
And oh, how Ianto did want to; more than anything, he wanted to lay this secret at Jack's feet and free himself from the impossible, solitary weight of this knowledge.
But not enough to throw it on Jack. "I can't," he said.
A beat, and then Jack asked, "Spoilers?" surprising Ianto into a quick involuntary laugh, because of course, Jack was clever, Jack had traveled with the Doctor and knew him better than Ianto ever would.
And what could he possibly say? He couldn't... he wouldn't lie outright.
"Spoilers," Ianto finally admitted, and the word fell into the silence between them like a stone into a pool; he could almost feel the concentric ripples traveling through time.
He reached out to clasp Jack's hand tightly in his own, knitting their fingers together, wondering if doing so would ever cease feeling so fragile.
"There's something I forgot to say," Jack said, as if the previous exchange had never happened, and Ianto marveled at his ability to compartmentalize, knowing now that this information -- vague as it was -- had been locked away and that they'd never speak of it again.
"Yes?"
Jack turned to press a kiss into the top of Ianto's head. "Welcome home," he said.
"Thank you," Ianto said. "It's good to be back." He thought for a moment, and then added, fondly, "Sir."
And then there was the sound of Jack's laughter in the dark, and Ianto knew that this sound, this moment had been waiting for him all this time, and it would be here forever, always and forever. No matter how far they went, and long after he'd crumbled and turned to dust, this was here and this was theirs.
"I finally understand," he whispered.
Jack pressed his hand. Turning his head slightly, Ianto could see the corner of Jack's mouth quirking into a rueful, poignant smile. He didn't ask what Ianto meant; instead, almost as if he'd heard the rest of Ianto's unspoken thought, he said a single sentence aloud.
"All times are now."
end
Click here for a beautiful, illustrative cover bylaurab1. [Contains spoilers for the installment.] Please do go and fanperson her!
Continue to Harbour
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Ten, +TW team, +sundry members of DW Cast
Authors:
rm & kalichanRating/Warning: NC-17, slash, plot, religion (!!), and porn.
Summary: Some people say goodbye and others say hello.
Wordcount: ~32,000 words, posted in five parts
Authors' Notes: This is the penultimate installment of our series, I Had No Idea I Had Been Traveling. The title is from a poem by Leonard Cohen; summary is, of course, courtesy The Beatles. Next up: the final installment of the main story arc, though we will be returning to the 'verse at some point after that for some digressions and interludes, and a DVD commentary! Just prior to this, we posted two prequels (one for Jack, and one for Ianto) which are fairly important to the conclusion of the series. They are numbered 8 & 9 in the links below if you'd like to catch up.
Previous installments:
1. A Strange Fashion of Forsaking | 2. Dear Captain, Last Night I Slept in Mutiny | 3. To Learn This Holding and the Holding Back | 4. The Most Beautiful Girl in the World | 5. I Imagine You Now in That Other City | 6. Many of My Favorite Things Are Broken | 6.5 Up, Down, Strange, Charm, Truth, Beauty: or, A Child's Guide to Modern Physics | 7. In Our Bedroom After the War | 8. And I Cannot Know How Long She Has Dreamed of All of You [Jack/Nine/Rose] | 9. The Spectacular Catastrophe of Your Endless Childhood [Ianto/OFCs, Ianto/Lisa]
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 1
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 2
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 3
There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time, Part 4
"Jack," Andy said, ducking his head into the man's office, clearly having run up the stairs from somewhere.
Jack held his hand up for quiet, but Andy wasn't interested.
"Jack," he said again, this time more sharply.
Jack put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and pulled it fractionally away from his head. "What part of 'I'm on the phone' are you not getting, Andy?"
"The part where Ianto's on the plass," he said breathlessly.
Before Jack could even decide how he was going to react, he heard everyone else in the Hub start speculating excitedly, and there was absolutely, positively going to be none of that.
"And we've got a bit of a situation here," Jack said into the phone, moving to hang it up. Not that it had stopped the UNIT idiot on the other end of the line from continuing to babble at him.
"Look," Jack said, "team member, possible alien possession, I'll call you back." He hung up and looked at Andy. "Headed this way?"
"Yeah."
Jack felt himself sag in relief, but that was all he was going to allow himself for now. Andy jumped out of his way, and Jack pushed past him out of his office to lean on the rail.
"Ravi, sit the fuck down, this isn't an exciting social occasion. Maeve, I'll want you to check him over before he touches anyone or anything. Gwen --"
"But he was just --"
"What, Gwen, he was just what? WE HAVE NO IDEA. And you're on security. Everybody got that? It's not welcome back Ianto until we're sure it's Ianto, and then I have to have a talk with him about being absent without leave."
"But --"
"Right. We used to shoot people for that. Now are we clear?"
Jack glowered until a mumbled "yes, sir," had been dragged out of each of them. Ianto's disappearance had been worrisome, humiliating, inconvenient and angry-making. He wasn't letting him off the hook easily, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give his team whatever ridiculous romantic show they were apparently craving.
Ianto thought about stopping to buy a paper, just to make sure of the date. Things looked right, the weather seemed reasonable, but he knew and Jack always said, not to trust the Doctor in matters of time. Which was a little ridiculous.
But the thought of waiting to see Jack, walking and talking and gesturing with those big ridiculous hands of his -- well, there was no thought of it at all. Considered and dismissed. It wasn't an option, and Ianto was glad he had just enough dread of Jack's mood over the whole thing that he wasn't going to do something hideously embarrassing, like fling himself into Jack's arms in the middle of the Hub, much as Gwen would probably give it a cheer.
Ah, Gwen. He'd missed her too. And god, he couldn't tell her either. Which was a shame. She'd understand a bit of what it had taken out of him, even if he would have resented her assertions on the fact. She wasn't with Jack. It wasn't the same.
Ianto headed for the tourist office. There wasn't any need to be flashy about coming back. He'd had to do a bit of work in the field and now he was back, and it wasn't a big deal, it really wasn't, except for the part where he was shaking a little.
He let himself in, locked up behind him and punched the button for the secret door. Then it was down the hall, into the lift and waiting, waiting, waiting, before it was more waiting for the cog door to roll aside as the claxons went off.
For a moment, Ianto froze. But then he took a deep breath and walked into the Hub, his home -- not as much as Jack's, of course since Ianto had kept his flat, but still he belonged here and to here more than any other place, and whether he liked it or not, everyone knew it.
Everyone was also staring at him.
"I..." he swallowed. "Not to sound like an amnesiac, but what day is it? The Doctor di--"
"Three days," Jack said coolly from the landing by his office. "You were gone three days. For us."
"Jack," Ianto practically sighed.
"How long were you gone?" Jack asked, formal and cold, eying him not like a predator, but like a soldier. It wasn't pleasant. It made Ianto feel like he weren't even real.
"A week? I'm not sure. I'd have to do the math. It... it gets complicated, you know," he said, feeling sheepish.
Jack looked from him to Maeve. "Get him checked out," he said and turned to retreat back into his office.
"Jack --" Ianto said again.
Jack turned and looked back down at him. "Yeah?" he asked sounding, Ianto thought, disinterested and put upon.
"I'm sorry," he said, when he realised 'I missed you' was about to be wildly inappropriate. Jack was clearly furious with him.
"You always are," Jack said evenly.
"Jack --" this time it was Gwen.
"Keep your gun on him until the good doctor assures us he's still human and in control of his own faculties. Right now, I have work to do," he said, not even bothering to look at her before finally disappearing back into his office.
Gwen looked startled, Andy, confused, and Ravi, uncertain.
Maeve sighed. "It'll be all right," she said, more as if by rote than with any actual sympathy. "Figure we'll sort out his humanity after we confirm yours," she added, clearly bored with her own joke.
Ianto gave her a faltering smile, but kept his eyes as trained on Jack's office for as long as could while he followed her to the medical bay.
The rest of the team clustered close behind him as he sat up on the autopsy table that served double duty for actual examinations and rolled up a sleeve so that Maeve could draw some blood.
With profound disinterest Maeve slapped an electrode onto his temple.
"You don't really think I'm possessed, do you?" he said weakly, as she injected the plunger into his arm.
"Hardly," she said, her tone brisk as usual. "Jack just wants time to collect himself, you know that."
Somewhere behind him, he heard Andy snicker, and then an oof, as if someone (probably Gwen) had elbowed him in the ribs. It was, Ianto reflected, rather nice to be back where he could identify everything that was going on from just the slightest suggestion of a sound. That was what was meant by home, he supposed.
"And it is protocol," Gwen said soothingly.
"Of course," Ianto agreed. "I'd do the same myself."
Maeve glanced over onto the monitor and nodded to herself. Efficiently, she dabbed a bit of blood onto a slide, and examined it under the microscope. "You're fine," she said, and ripped the electrode off. "Same as ever."
Gwen came up next to him as he rolled his sleeve down and prepared to put his jacket back on.
"Not quite the same," she observed, touseling his hair, and just for once, Ianto didn't feel inclined to stop her. And when she put her arms about him and squeezed him close, it was quite an effort not to bury his face in her shoulder and hang on for dear life.
"We missed you," she murmured into his hair. "I missed you. Jack was worried you weren't coming back."
"Never happen," Ianto said shortly, afraid his voice would crack with emotion if he spoke at more length. As far as he was concerned, if he never cried again it might be too soon. He pulled away from Gwen's hug as soon as he could, not wanting to collapse.
"No such luck. Bloody Torchwood," Andy said. "Everyone drops in harness."
"How true," said Ianto.
Andy chuckled. "It's good you're back."
"Longest three days in the world," Ravi chimed in, before slinging a companionable arm around him.
Ianto laughed involuntarily. "You should see it from here."
"So where did you go?" Andy asked curiously, before everyone turned to look at him. "What? What did I say?"
"Andy, how thick are you, really?" Maeve snapped.
Ianto shook his head. "Can't tell you. Classified, I'm afraid."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. We're all Torchwood here," Andy protested.
"Sorry," Ianto said. "Can't be done."
"Right," Gwen said. "Ianto, you need to report to Jack. The rest of us..." she paused to look at everyone meaningfully, "are going to take a half day."
Ravi laughed. "After dealing with Captain Asshat for the past three days, I'd say we have it coming."
"Truer words were never spoken," Andy said. "Maeve, buy you a drink?"
"Oh, Andy," Gwen said, laughing, as Maeve rolled her eyes. "Do you never give up?"
"I'll buy you one too, Gwen, no need to get shirty."
"What about me?" Ravi said, batting his eyelashes.
"Might do," Andy said. "How old are you again?"
Ianto stood there stock still, watching them banter and laugh, as they hurried into their jackets and coats. And then one by one, they filed past him; Andy pressing his shoulder as he passed, Ravi giving him a quick, fierce hug, and Maeve simply holding his gaze for a long moment, before nodding in acknowledgement and moving onto the lift.
Gwen stopped in front of him, and reached up to take his face between her hands. "Go on, you idiot. Get it over with."
He nodded.
"Tell Jack we'll be back tomorrow. And that we've everything in hand."
"All right," he said, and watched them shrink as they rose out of the Hub and back into the world.
As the door to his office opened and Ianto came forward to stand in front of his desk, Jack refused to look up from the paper he was currently scanning. Ianto didn't seem to betray any unease, but simply waited until Jack signed his name at the bottom of the report.
When Jack finally raised his eyes, he saw that Ianto was standing at what looked like a close approximation of parade rest, and Jack mentally complimented him on his demeanor. But wasn't that always the problem with Ianto? He always looked so appropriate for every occasion, until his surface was scratched, and then all manner of hidden things seemed to just come spilling out.
Jack let the silence draw out for a long moment, before he said, "Maeve clear you?"
"She cleared me, sir," Ianto said. "Everything is... fine."
He arched an eyebrow at Ianto's choice of phrase. "And why isn't she telling me this, instead of you?"
"She's gone, sir. She and the team have left for the day."
At the look on Jack's face, Ianto winced. Because, as he ought to have suspected, that simple statement looked like it was going over like a lead balloon. "Really?" Jack said, his smile dangerous now. "On whose authority? I don't remember saying anything about--"
"Gwen's order," Ianto said hurriedly. "She said to tell you everything's in hand."
"Yeah?" Jack said. "You sure about that?"
"I had to go," Ianto blurted out. "I'm sorry. I just--"
"Had to. Really? And why was that?"
"I... can't tell you."
Jack rose to his feet. "You can't tell me?" he said, his voice rising on every syllable till he was shouting.
"No," Ianto said. "I can't."
"Fine," Jack snapped. "Then get out."
"Jack," Ianto protested.
"The team's taking a half day; I assume -- and please, correct me if I'm wrong -- you still consider yourself part of the team. So why are you still here?"
"Why do you think?" Ianto exclaimed. "Jack, please don't--"
"No. You don't get to do this. You were absent without leave, Ianto. You can't just swan off for a pleasure cruise and expect everything to be the same when you get back."
"Oh, you're the only one who gets to do that, are you?" Ianto shot back, before biting his lip. "Look. I'm sorry."
"You keep saying that," Jack said evenly. "It's beginning to lose its novelty factor."
Ianto sat down and stared at the floor, feeling his eyes sting again. Because this was just as hideous as he had imagined it would be, and he couldn't explain or anything.
"Ianto," Jack said, and Ianto thought his voice might be softening slightly, but it also could have been wishful thinking.
"He asked me," Ianto said, interrupting him, "what I thought you would tell me to do if you could know about it. And I thought about who he was, and what he was to you, and I knew you'd tell me to do what he said, no questions asked. So I did. And I knew you might hate me for it, at least for a little while. But I wish you wouldn't."
There was a long pause, and then Jack sighed. "Yeah," he said.
"Sir?" Ianto asked.
"I don't hate you."
"Oh," Ianto said, with a ridiculous feeling of relief. "That's good."
"I'm really fucking furious with you, but that's another story."
"I know."
"You just... you just left. You didn't leave a note, nothing."
"Neither did you," Ianto pointed out. "It doesn't work like that. I didn't get it then. I do now."
"He works like that," Jack said. "I don't expect you to."
Ianto felt himself blush with shame, as he recognized the justice of that. "Yes," he said. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Did you have fun?" Jack said irrelevantly.
"I wouldn't call it that." He got to his feet and went over to where Jack was standing in front of his desk now. Reaching out with one hand, he laid his palm against Jack's face -- still human, not separated from him by a wall of glass. "I missed you," he said finally.
Jack didn't move into the caress. "It was only a week."
"It felt longer," Ianto said.
"I imagine it would. Worrying about my reaction when you should have been busy saving the world," Jack said.
Ianto thought he sounded petulant and sighed as he realized there was going to be an ebb and flow to Jack's anger. This wouldn't resolve quickly. "It wasn't like that either," he said, taking his hand from Jack's face, much as he didn't want to. But he didn't step back. Let Jack be forced to deal with him.
"Then what was it like?" Jack asked, the words bitten off.
"Scary. Lonely. And it didn't make very much sense, until it did and then that was worse. Gwen said you thought I wasn't coming back," he added quietly, making it almost a question.
Jack shifted and slid out from between the desk and Ianto. "You know how Gwen --"
"Did you think I wasn't coming back?"
"I don't know Ianto, you're so good at keeping secrets, I thought wow, hey, maybe this is payback for Lisa! Maybe, maybe he's waited years to do this!" Jack said sarcastically.
Ianto hung his head and shook it. "There is no payback for Lisa, Jack. Just life. Just this life. Did you really think --?"
"I was scared, all right? I was fucking scared. And you betraying me seemed a lot better than the Doctor getting you killed."
Ianto smiled faintly. "I was actually pretty safe. Physically."
"Tell me?" Jack asked, and Ianto thought his need to know seemed palpable.
"I can't," he said miserably. "I can't."
"He ask you not to?"
"Yeah, but... big paradox thing. I wish I could. I really, really wish I could, Jack."
Jack sighed, seeming to give up for a moment. "All right. Why you then? Why did it have to be you?"
"You don't get to ask questions to try to figure it out. But for the record, it didn't have to be me. The Doctor just wanted it to be, and you take that up with him if you want, but it's done now, and there's nothing either of us can do about it."
"Fine," Jack said curtly. "What's up with the suit?"
"Huh?"
"The suit," Jack said, gesturing irritatedly.
"What about it?"
"It's not yours."
Ianto looked down at it and laughed. It was grey, from the Face's temple. Ooops. "I needed clean clothes. It was given to me."
"You look like an accountant or something."
Ianto laughed slightly hysterically, feeling as if he was on the edge of a very disturbing precipice. "Grey has that effect, sir," he managed.
"Do you ...?"
"What?" Ianto asked, when Jack trailed off.
"I --"
Ianto sighed, and sat down again. "I really, really, don't have the energy to read your mind right now, Jack," he said, only realizing the absurdity of the statement once he'd finished it.
"Get some rest then," Jack said, tipping his head towards the hatch in the floor. "Or go home if you want."
Ianto bit his lip and stood. "I was hoping not to do it alone," he said, trying to keep the bite or the panic or the need out of his voice as he opened the hatch and started down the ladder. He didn't close it after him; he wanted the light and the living world of Jack moving above him.
After an hour or so where he managed to get nothing at all useful done, Jack finally descended to what he still thought of as his cubby, even though Ianto and some explosives had turned it more or less into a proper room.
The lights were off, and the place was lit only by what streamed through the hatch door. When his eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness, he saw Ianto standing by his dresser, fingering the cuffs of his shirts.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Ianto jumped. Jack narrowed his eyes. It wasn't like Ianto to be surprised by anyone ever.
Ianto shrugged in response.
"Something awful happened, didn't it?" Jack finally asked.
"Yeah," Ianto said, even though that wasn't completely true. After all, nothing awful had happened to him and the Face hadn't actually seemed miserable, just wry and Dovev -- Ianto felt guilty somehow to think of him with his name even in a place where he hadn't been born yet -- had been brave. Everyone and everything was fine, just fine. Jack didn't hate him and he hadn't even punched the Doctor, although he did regret that part just a little. He should have. In the Tesco.
Jack noticed the little half smile on Ianto's face.
"What?"
"Should have punched the Doctor when I had a chance."
Jack barked with laughter and sat on the bed. "He wouldn't have appreciated that."
"And that would have been the point," Ianto said, his fingers wandering over shirts again.
"Something awful happened and you can't tell me," Jack said – it was like learning a fact, like learning a language -- more for his own benefit than Ianto's.
"Yeah," Ianto acknowledged again.
"And right now you need me, more than you need me to be angry," Jack said, as if saying the words out loud would help him absorb the lesson.
"Yeah."
Jack sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "All right," he said, resigned.
Ianto took it as permission and went and sat on the bed next to Jack, reaching out to touch his face again.
"Second time you've done that," Jack said, still trying to work out what had happened.
Ianto shushed him softly.
"All right," Jack said, his voice cracking from the effort of restraint when he still had a thousand questions and too much energy.
Ianto mapped his face then with the pads of his fingers, fascinated it seemed by every architectural detail -- the slope of his nose, the cleft of his chin, the outline of his lips, the creases at the corners of his eyes.
It would have been intense, Jack thought, had Ianto been actually looking at him, instead of the construction of his face like pieces of a puzzle.
From there the fingers trailed down his arms, lingered to shakingly undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, and became distracted again before deciding to be fascinated with his hands. Ianto mapped the digits and callouses, the edge of nails and then bowed his head to kiss one palm and then the other.
Jack thought he looked beautiful like this, even if the man still felt oddly remote and lost to him, like he was still back wherever he had been with the Doctor. Jack knew he wasn't one to complain about it, but he hated it.
"Does that feel good?" Ianto asked, after pressing a sucking kiss to each knuckle of Jack's left hand.
He sighed with relief. A seduction, that he could understand and knew how to respond to. Even if it was strange. Even if he was starting to suspect Ianto had seen someone tortured. It was the fascination with the hands. Jack had seen it before.
"Yeah," he breathed, even though he had hardly noticed the pleasure in it for the strangeness of the entire matter. "You'll have to let them go if you want me to get undressed though," he said, trying to help them both the only way he knew how.
Ianto nodded, laughed almost nervously and said, "thanks," but did nothing to attend to his own clothes. Jack didn't even try, knew better than to mess with a frightened man's armour, and Ianto's particularly, at least right now, even if he somehow hated that suit on him. It didn't fit quite right and the color was wrong.
When Jack was naked, Ianto continued on in exactly the same way, only getting bolder in that his touches went from fingertips to the whole of his hands, from the occasional mouthing at a surface to sucking kisses, the occasional lick and the rubbing of the whole of his face against him.
Jack had no idea how he was supposed to respond or whether Ianto wanted him to be aroused by this strange mapping or not. He wasn't mostly, only because it felt so off. Under other circumstances, sure, but Ianto felt timid to him, as opposed to glorious, although the feel of his rough cheek dragging down his chest was enough to make him moan.
"Ianto," he said softly, but got no response. He tried again.
Ianto looked up at him from where he'd been rubbing his face against Jack's thighs and briefly his cock, seeming almost startled, like he was seeing him for the first time.
"What do you want?" Jack said low and gentle, his voice forcing his mouth to slide into a smile.
"I can't even tell you how I missed you," Ianto said sadly.
"I know," he said, trying to sit up, to reach for Ianto and drag him up so that they could be face to face, so that Jack could hold him, so that Jack could try to make whatever this was make enough sense to be of use.
"I --"
It was Jack's turn to shush Ianto, as he seemed to choke on whatever it was he wanted to say. Jack wondered if he should offer him retcon now or later. Whatever was going on in his head wasn't any good.
"What do you need?" he asked. "What do you need?"
"Anything," Ianto said, finally. Jack suspected it was less desperation and more the ease of not having to find or articulate a real answer. "Make sure I remember."
Jack grinned. "I can do that," he said, chuckling, hoping it masked the unease that he felt.
Truly, he expect Ianto to lash out in some sort of blind panic at any moment, an idea which only horrified him the more for the degree to which he was starting to grasp the struggle it had been for Ianto to keep it together in front of everyone in the Hub. Because he wasn't together. Not at all.
"Good," Ianto said, eyes flickering up to Jack's, long and clearly enough for Jack to sigh in relief.
At first, everything felt strange to Ianto; Jack's fingers tugging through his hair, Jack's certain kisses, Jack undressing him efficiently but not frantically because he himself had forgotten how in the urge to see and feel that Jack's body was whole and hadn't started to go through some process Ianto didn't even want to think about. If he did, Ianto worried he'd have to admit that the process had probably already started when Jack had become whatever he was and that the process was probably going on right now.
He shuddered.
"All right?" Jack asked, yet again.
"Yeah," he smiled. "The relief of human contact," Ianto said, and thought, somewhat hysterically, that Jack would probably think he'd fucked some alien now.
"I do what I can," Jack replied, smug.
"Do more," Ianto said, and Jack laughed warmly.
Ianto closed his eyes then, and it was good just to listen to Jack's breathing, the rasp of flesh against flesh and the wetness of kisses -- there, always, in the space just behind his jaw.
"That's good," Ianto mumbled as Jack smoothed his hands down his sides. "Oh your hands," he breathed.
"Yeah?" Jack said, liking the praise, liking the idea of Ianto being his again, enough to put his own discomfort aside. "Want one in you?"
Ianto nodded, frantically, and Jack laughed, thinking he looked so young, thinking he looked like the first time he had had him in a proper bed.
"I have no idea how anyone is supposed to live without this," Ianto said when Jack finally, finally pressed slicked fingers into to him, so slowly, so gently, Ianto thought he might go a little bit mad, even though it was just right, another manner in which to measure flesh.
"They're not, Ianto, they're not," Jack said, a little breathless with the possession of him and wishing he knew what horrors he was reassuring him against. Not himself though, not Torchwood. He wasn't the monster, not this time, and he'd take a lot of things on himself, but not the Doctor, because hell, if he could be responsible for the Doctor everything would look quite a bit different in his life. He'd be missing this for one, and he was so glad he wasn't.
It was like Ianto had heard him thinking or reached some matching moment of melancholy and frustration, when he opened his eyes – they looked startled almost -- and asked Jack to fuck him.
"You know," Jack said, easing them into a better position for it and his fingers out, "I'm liking this vocal thing."
Ianto chuckled.
"Can we keep it after you're done being traumatised?"
"I'll try," Ianto said, but speech had clearly gotten difficult, what with Jack's cock pressing into him.
It was good, Ianto thought, being on his back. A lot of the time it wasn't his preference, too much awkward folding up of limbs and not enough leverage. There was usually plenty of time to kiss Jack after and there was a lot to be said for the man's teeth tugging on the nape of his neck.
But not now. Now there was a lot to be said for finding any way he could to pull Jack in closer, more, harder, and being able to dig his nails into the man's arms wasn't bad either. Not at all. He wanted to leave marks and to feel Jack's skin as if it were his own.
"Jesus, Jack, touch me," Ianto growled, because he wasn't about to let go of the man to fist his own cock, not after the week he'd just had. He was going to just keep touching Jack and never let go no matter what the cost.
Jack complied, glad for some clear direction, glad Ianto wanted relief and bliss. He couldn't be that traumatised if he wanted to feel good, if he wanted Jack to do what Jack did best.
Jack murmured a little litany of encouragement and praise along with his strokes, telling Ianto it was time to show him just how glad he was to be back.
And Ianto was, he really, really was, and he had no idea, as he came -- the muscles in his legs nearly cramping and his stomach feeling like it was flipping over -- how he could have ever thought he was supposed to stay with the Face and his servant.
"Yes yes yes yes yes," Ianto hissed, as he came down from the high of it with Jack still fucking him.
"Good," Jack said, smug. "Getting close."
At that, Ianto seemed to snap back from his lassitude. "No. Not yet. Not yet."
"Not yet?" Jack asked, amused.
Ianto shook his head, as Jack slowed down and tried, really tried to pull himself back from the approaching edge.
"You'll be sore and oversensitized and cursing me," he panted and teased.
"And I'll be here," was Ianto's only response.
Jack felt those words travel straight to his groin. Okay he thought. Okay. Ianto's sentiment was not one to be argued with.
And so he made it last as long as he could, forcing them out onto a long wire of need, and doing what he could to keep them suspended there forever, fucking into Ianto with sharp, long strokes, as the man desperately, uselessly clawed at Jack's back and arms, trying to take him in deeper and deeper with each thrust.
And then he could hold back no longer, and he was coming, the orgasm torn out of him, like the gutteral cry he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to, waves of sensation crashing over him, and for a moment that could have been a year or a month or a day, wiping his mind clean of all thought.
When he struggled back to sentience, he realized they were plastered together with sweat and come, and Ianto's fingers were playing in his hair. They lay there in silence for awhile as Jack felt his heartbeat return to normal.
Jack slid out, feeling Ianto wince as his abused flesh was abraded once again, and then lay next to him, though not touching, so they were both staring up at the ceiling.
"That was--" Ianto began, and then trailed off.
"Nice," Jack finished for him, when it seemed as though Ianto wouldn't be able to find the word.
"Something of an understatement," Ianto said, and Jack grinned.
There was a long pause, and then Ianto shifted so that they were touching, and Jack could feel him all along the length of his body.
"You're not all right, are you?" Jack said finally.
There was a pause. "No," said Ianto. "I'm not."
Jack put his arm around Ianto's shoulders, so that his head was lying now against his chest, not something he usually did, but wanting somehow to comfort, and not knowing what else to do. "Do you want retcon?" he asked finally.
Though he knew he shouldn't have been, Ianto was actually taken aback by the suggestion. But this was Torchwood, and this was Jack, and nothing had to play by the rules that he had learnt before he'd known what things hid in the shadows.
To his surprise, he found himself seriously considering the idea, a part of him wanting nothing more than to return to a week ago, before he'd traveled so far. He could. Jack would do it for him, make him forget and sit by him while he slept the foreign world away, making it so that they were just as they had been before, when things were simple and Jack's hands were just hands, not measures of a staggering quantity of loss.
I thought you should know, he heard the Doctor's words sounding in some distant corner of his mind, and I thought Jack deserved to have someone who knows. You can't love someone without knowing them. Not really. Not enough..
"No," he said. "I don't."
He heard Jack exhale into a sigh. "You always have to do it the hard way, don't you?"
"Yeah," Ianto agreed. "I do."
"You sure you don't want to tell me about it?" Jack said, and somehow Ianto knew he was asking for the last time.
And oh, how Ianto did want to; more than anything, he wanted to lay this secret at Jack's feet and free himself from the impossible, solitary weight of this knowledge.
But not enough to throw it on Jack. "I can't," he said.
A beat, and then Jack asked, "Spoilers?" surprising Ianto into a quick involuntary laugh, because of course, Jack was clever, Jack had traveled with the Doctor and knew him better than Ianto ever would.
And what could he possibly say? He couldn't... he wouldn't lie outright.
"Spoilers," Ianto finally admitted, and the word fell into the silence between them like a stone into a pool; he could almost feel the concentric ripples traveling through time.
He reached out to clasp Jack's hand tightly in his own, knitting their fingers together, wondering if doing so would ever cease feeling so fragile.
"There's something I forgot to say," Jack said, as if the previous exchange had never happened, and Ianto marveled at his ability to compartmentalize, knowing now that this information -- vague as it was -- had been locked away and that they'd never speak of it again.
"Yes?"
Jack turned to press a kiss into the top of Ianto's head. "Welcome home," he said.
"Thank you," Ianto said. "It's good to be back." He thought for a moment, and then added, fondly, "Sir."
And then there was the sound of Jack's laughter in the dark, and Ianto knew that this sound, this moment had been waiting for him all this time, and it would be here forever, always and forever. No matter how far they went, and long after he'd crumbled and turned to dust, this was here and this was theirs.
"I finally understand," he whispered.
Jack pressed his hand. Turning his head slightly, Ianto could see the corner of Jack's mouth quirking into a rueful, poignant smile. He didn't ask what Ianto meant; instead, almost as if he'd heard the rest of Ianto's unspoken thought, he said a single sentence aloud.
"All times are now."
Click here for a beautiful, illustrative cover by
laurab1. [Contains spoilers for the installment.] Please do go and fanperson her!Continue to Harbour
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 05:59 am (UTC)I have a thing for European movies precisely because they don't do the Hollywood happy ending. Spoorloos (the original version of The Vanishing) is the perfect example; by having the guy save the girl in the Hollywood version they completely miss the point of the film, which is about obsession. Jean de Florette is also a classic, funnily also about jealousy and obsession. Man Bites Dog was a film that I only needed to see once; but it left its mark.
I am a lover of a well told tale. And I love LJ because I get to give feedback. All I need now is a 28 hour day.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 06:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 06:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 06:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 07:00 am (UTC)AWESOME. Exactly what we like to hear. *grins* Thank you so much.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 07:03 am (UTC)Thank you so much! We look forward to your comments!
All I need now is a 28 hour day.
You and me both!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 07:05 am (UTC)The funny thing is that statement about Jack is oddly true about Ianto too (even though he's the one thinking it.) Torchwood, in so many ways, is a little island of misfit toys; the nice thing about it, is its about taking your damage and working with it to create something awesome anyway.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 07:09 am (UTC)I think most of us are pretty horrified at the thought of Jack ending up as a head in a jar, I loved how you managed to get some humour in there as well, he didn't lose his typical snark.
Yeah, there's a grotequerie to the whole FoB thing that lends itself to black humour, and it was very important to us that it both capture the essence of Jack-ness, but also the aeons of time which have changed him.
We're also delighted you enjoyed our OCs. They are always a risk in any fic, but we had a great time cooking them up!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 08:02 am (UTC)Oh my gosh, I'd never read that before. What a great extract, and I can see how it could have inspired something like this. Maybe in addition to the 'DVD commentary' you could throw in some 'Behind the Scenes' extras; unused scraps, plot outline details and how they changed, OC profiles, you two discussing the fic. I don't know about everyone else, but I love that kind of stuff, so I'd enjoy it.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 08:10 am (UTC)I love the darker Doctor, and the way Ianto perceives the very one-sided relationship between he and Jack (the kind which is almost a reversal of the relationships Jack has with everyone else) and while he's a little jealous, and angry on Jack's behalf, and angry on his own behalf, I loved especially that moment where he looks at the Doctor and sort of gets it. That 'I could fall in love with this person if everything was different' moment.
That's an amazing quote. Very true, and a strangely soothing way of looking at the calamity of life (to me, anyway.) I've been browsing your journal and your life and ideals are as interesting as your fic, so I hope you don't mind if I friend you to read along. Don't at all feel like you need to reciprocate.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 08:51 am (UTC)This was the verse that came to me while reading, but you know I could just quote the whole song...
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do ya
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
[
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 09:09 am (UTC)...This is how we console ourselves when we're wheeling down to the end.
I was reading what you said to Rach upthread, and the weird thing (and I'm able to say this out loud because it's 4am, and my internal editor seems to have fallen asleep, unlike the rest of me, which seems to have had too much coffee or something) is that there's this weird creepiness about this universe in that I feel like I never discovered it before, but it was always somehow waiting. Suddenly I'm looking at books I read as a child and finding these perfect quotes that sort of encapsulate my Theory of Everything, and it was all here in this particular fictional universe, all this time. Like this one, by Susan Cooper that I must have read a million times, and yet now it all seems connected: "For ever and ever...so that a thing may be for ever, a life or a love or a quest, and yet begin again, and be for ever just as before. And any ending that may seem to come is not truly an ending, but an illusion. For Time does not die, Time has neither beginning nor end, and so nothing can end or die that has once had a place in Time."
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 09:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 09:33 am (UTC)We've been having a very eerie experience with this story. It came alive in strange, strange, awesome ways that just overwhelm us, and it also ended up being very personal in a way that managed to be both obvious, and also was oddly unexpected. We keep having that "well, it's true but where did it come from???" moment.
But I hesitate to say so, not because of shame per se, but out of fear of being misunderstood... I mean, I believe in stories. I really, truly do. Just because it didn't happen, doesn't mean it's not real.
Good authors are doorways and the thing I hate most in fiction is when the author tries desperately for control, to make the story into what they want it to be, rather than the shape it wants to take... the shape that it is.
At the same time, I really don't want to be one of those folk who thinks that they are married to Snape on an astral plane, you know? Cos that's creepy.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 09:44 am (UTC)But seriously, I think it's great. It makes me happy that you two are having such fun with it; it must help that there are two of you, because having someone to flail at and feed off and fangirl must be desperately necessary when your fic grows to resemble the monster from the Black Lagoon.
I also dislike unnecessary author meddling, but I've never minded being told, well, this is what I was thinking when I wrote it, this is how I was interpreting my own text. I've never felt like the author's opinion in any way disqualifies my own interpretation, but it can shed new light on the story, and on the crafting of it. And I do so love to learn.
So um. Don't, I suppose, be afraid of explaining how you arrived at a certain point, since you make it very obvious you're okay with your readers having travelled a different route.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 10:00 am (UTC)Yeah, writing together is definitely helpful in that regard. Guaranteed audience for flailing! And we're flailers.
But yeah, it's always interesting to find out what authors had in mind, which is so often different from what they produce. S'like the thing about magicians. I don't, actually, think it loses any of its enchantment when I find out how the trick is done. It's so impressive when they tell you what they're going to do, and even perhaps how they're going to do it, and then it looks like magic anyway. Unless it's a cheap trick, of course. And one of my favorite seats in a theatre has always been off to the side, on the balcony where you can see into the wings. That liminal moment of transition between character and actor, fictional and real world, is so compelling.
I just object to the god motif of writing; I have spoken and thus it shall be. Possibly I am just contrary.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 10:10 am (UTC)Imagination can't be, or shouldn't be, reined back. An author can pronounce from on high whatever the hell they want and people might listen, as Stephanie Meyer and Anne Rice have proved countless times. But they can't get inside the reader's head and force them to see the story exactly the way they want them to.
But possibly you are just contrary. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 10:43 am (UTC)The thing is a story, is as Scott Lynch says, a venn diagram between what the reader brings to it, and what the author puts in. And I like to think of each fictional universe as an archive, with succeeding variations simply enriching the world further, making the archive more and more complete. [It's one of the reasons I love Ianto as an archivist, actually!]
Yeah, I almost never want to like the characters that the author wants me to, for instance. It always seems so unfair, when the dice are loaded on their behalf. Yay anti-heroes. Doctor Who is rather rare in that regard, since the Doctor is my favorite character.
re: anti-heroes -- I see from your journal subtitle that you must feel the same way?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 10:54 am (UTC)Oh my gosh, some of my favourite characters are anti-heroes; Snape, definitely, and Crowley — which is what
I do rather like straight-up villains, too, though.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 01:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 04:33 pm (UTC)Anyway.
"calamity of life" -- that's exactly it really, and I don't even mean it as a bad thing, just a sense of it feels like it's all just this big jumbled crashing. Anyway, welcome. I'm visiting with my partner and her parents right now before she heads off on another dig, so I'm much quieter than usual online, but I'll be back soon.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 04:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 07:39 pm (UTC)I liked the first trilogy quite a lot, and then started the ship ones and then put them aside. I suppose if I can still enjoy Ender's Game I ought to be able to pick those back up again.
We have the same favorites, I see, though for me Mal is much like Jack in his [lack-of-anti] hero-ness. But there's a willingness to be a bastard that I just love, as well as some serious flaws. I dunno who Stein is though?? What's the source?
OH LANNISTER BOYS. I really liked Jaime too, although A Feast for Crows I found disappointing in many respects.
And yes, of course, villains. Rach's and my other ongoing project is a deatheater centric HP fic. Mmm. Evil is tasty, and (often) aesthetically pleasing!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 07:56 pm (UTC)I keep promising myself that A Dance With Dragons is going to be really good — as though I can guarantee anything of the sort! But I'm getting antsy for it, the fantasy market is so bereft of anything decent at the moment I will be really disappointed if Martin just. Gives up the ghost.
Stein is from an animanga called Soul Eater, which borrows a few tropes from popular series like Bleach and Naruto and starts out with the standard Japanese wtf-slapstick, sales-boosting-fanservice humour, but rapidly develops into an interesting look at insanity and goes places a lot of manga doesn't. It's a bit like Neon Genesis Evangelion if you're familiar with that in any way beyond reputation. Anyway, the man himself is one of the adult protagonists and a mentor and teacher to the main characters. He's also mildly sociopathic with an absolute fetish for dissection and a belief that scientific experiment is the ultimate truth. His story's mostly the struggle between the pull of the physical embodiment of insanity in the world and his very skewed notion of what is 'right'. Oh and he has a screw through his head and is named Franken Stein, lalala anime is whack.
Harry Potter darkfic was my life for a good long while (true story, I found this fic because a RL friend who, I swear, reads every Snarry fic posted on the internet, recommended me a Lucius/Snape which I don't think I ever actually got around to reading.)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-28 05:59 pm (UTC)already happened, and that everything happens at once. We perceive
time as linear and experience grief due to this perception, but it is
in actuality merely a seething ball of disorder. Any story, every
story, is not only true, but begins wherever one wishes to notice,
pull or pick up the thread."
How totally prophetic and also reminiscent of the alien race in "Slaughterhouse Five" by Vonnegut - have you read that?
P.S. This episode of your fic-novel brought me to tears. I rarely cry and battle hard to stop myself from doing so, but this undid me.