Transcending Torchwood: Chapter 4

[galadriel1010]

14.12.61
Jack brushes sleet out of his hair and pushes the door open cautiously, setting his boots down next to Steven's and padding in socked feet into the living room. The curtains are drawn, shutting out the worst of the weather, and Steven and Ianto both have books on their laps. He takes his coat off and hangs it on the hook on the back of the door, then goes and collapses onto the sofa next to Steven. “It's cold out,” he comments when the greetings are finished. “I think we might get snow tonight.”

“I hope you're not going to spend the night on your roof.” Ianto puts a bookmark in and sets the book aside. He smiles at Jack, who is trying not to look as unsettled as he feels, and stands. “I know you, Jack, and I know this area. It wasn't hard to find you and make sure you were alright.”

He brushes his fingers through Jack's hair, neatening it from the wind and Jack's attempt at drying it off. It's gentle, and Jack leans into it, hoping that it will last longer... that they're finally getting somewhere. The last two weeks have ached, although every day has been a little easier than the last and a little gentler on his battered and confused heart. Ianto leaves him and his slippers - ridiculous zebra-striped things that Steven bought him and that he wears more out of spite than out of a desire for warm feet - slap their way across the hall and into the kitchen.

“Give him time,” Steven says next to him, quiet so that Ianto doesn't hear, reaching across to squeeze Jack's hand. “I know it hurts, but it's been a long time for him and...” He bites his lip and starts rubbing the back of Jack's hand gently. “He got lost somewhere along the way.”

“It happens,” Jack tells him with a glance at the door. A brighter light comes in through it from the clear bulbs in the hall compared to the standard lamps they're using in the living room, but there's no shadow breaking the light. “You can only go so long without it before you start to close yourself off.”

Steven nudges him and nods at the door. “Go and talk to him. Neither of you should be on your own when you're both right here.”

He sighs and squeezes Steven's hand. “I will get through to him eventually, won't I?”

“Not if you don't try.” He pushes Jack off the sofa, and closes his eyes when Jack stops to kiss his forehead. “You can bring me a slice of the chocolate cake if it goes tits up and you need an excuse.”

Jack laughs and crosses the hall to the kitchen, curling his toes up to protect against the cold that strikes through the stone flags. He sits on the table and swings his feet off the ground, ignoring Ianto's pointed and amused glare, and watches Ianto's precise movements as he prepares a tray of drinks. “I went to the restaurant in the rec centre this afternoon,” he says at last. “We played cricket at lunch, commanders against primary field team. They wiped the floor with us.”

“I feel for you.” Ianto reaches up for another mug and doesn't look around. “David played county cricket; did Steven tell you?”

“No, he didn't.” He swings his feet some more, then drops to the floor again and stands next to Ianto. “Was he good?”

“He was. Never played for England, but... yeah, he was good.” He flicks the coffee machine on and turns to Jack. “Did you enjoy your game?”

“I did. And then it was still quiet, so we went for drinks, and I saw the posters...” he trails off and glances up at Ianto. “The Christmas party?”

Ianto nods and his gaze drifts to somewhere just over Jack's shoulder. “It's held at the conference centre. UNIT have theirs there the week before. I go to both.”

His eyes are distant with loneliness, and Jack reaches out to take his hand and hold it. They got married there, in the grand dining hall where UNIT UK hold all their formal functions, and now Torchwood as well. It must have hurt him to stand there alone and put on a brave face for the gathered masses, especially when he still bore the scars of the night that had ripped Jack away from him. He waits for Ianto to come back before he tells him, “I'm here now. And I wondered if you would go to the party with me?”

“Everyone will want to see you,” Ianto tells him. “You're a legend.”

“Quite honestly,” Jack says, “I only care about one person there.”

“Do I have to be jealous of anyone?”

“No. You really don't.” He leans closer, hesitating an inch away, and then Ianto's lips meet his. It’s soft, gentle, tentative, everything it has always been and in that moment it's the best thing that has ever happened to him. When Ianto pulls back Jack has to open his eyes again, and Ianto is looking lost and confused. Jack licks his lips and straightens up. “Is that a yes?”

6.7.14
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed next to him and held his hand. She was pale, with dark smudges under her eyes that gave away how little sleep she'd got last night. By the time his team had got him back to the Hub at just after two in the morning Gwen had been there waiting for him, and she'd barely left his side since. It was reassuring having her there, even after the pain that spread across his chest, shoulder and back had been sorted by the good drugs.

He stilled her fingers, which were trailing across his wrist, and smiled at her reassuringly. “So, any news?”

“Adrian's on his way to talk to you,” she told him. Her eyes were wide and worried and he squeezed her hand without feeling any more confident than she looked. “He wants to send you to Cardiff Royal Infirmary, at least for a couple of nights, just in case.”

“That sounds reasonable.” He looked at the doorway, where Adrian had just entered, and kept his smile in place. “Was I overdoing it again?”

“You exist in a constant state of overdoing it,” Adrian scolded him. He'd trained as a vet before retraining at the age of thirty, and was the oldest Torchwood agent in Cardiff after Gwen. His bedside manner was still geared more towards frightened animals than grumpy humans, but it was much better than Owen's had been. He and Ianto had an ongoing argument about Ianto working too hard and too much, and Ianto ached enough that he was prepared to concede defeat. “If you'd listened to me six months ago...”

“I'll let you make it an order,” Ianto assured him. “Now, what's wrong with me?”

Adrian sighed and tucked his tablet into his pocket, leaning forwards on the rail at the end of the bed. “You had a heart attack.” He watched Ianto's reactions and tilted his head. “You don't look surprised.”

“I'm not.” He retrieved his hand from Gwen and massaged feeling back into it – she had an impressive grip. “My dad and my maternal grandmother both died of heart failure, and it was either a heart attack or the curry coming to get me. It was bound to not be the curry sooner or later.”

“Yes, well...” Adrian glanced at Gwen and then fixed his gaze on Ianto again. “I want to get you into a proper hospital for monitoring, and to get that shoulder patched up better. You won't need surgery this time, but I don't think it's the first time it wasn't the curry, alright?”

He curled his fingers into the blanket and picked at a thread. “I need to tell Rhiannon to get herself checked out as well, then.”

“That would probably be for the best.” Adrian came around the bed to check his eyes and then examine the bandages that covered his shoulder. “Is this hurting?”

“Throbbing gently,” he answered, careful not to go with his instincts and shrug. “I've had worse.”

“I've read your medical records. You were very lucky, though,” he fixed Ianto with a stern gaze. “Kashif saved your life today, alright?”

Ianto nodded and glanced at his shoulder. “I know. It was too close.”

Adrian squeezed his other shoulder and smiled. “You made it, though, and that's what matters. I'll go and make arrangements for you to be taken to the hospital and checked over. Gwen, make sure he doesn't move, alright?”

She nodded, blinking fast, and reached for Ianto's hand as Adrian left again. “Are you alright?”

He glanced at the doorway and grinned. “I'm alright, alright?”

“Oh stop it.” She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. “You're far too young for a heart attack. And you're fit, and you don't smoke...”

“I drink too much,” he pointed out. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. My doctors have been watching out for it for years, with not much help from me, I admit.” He squeezed her hand again and smiled at her. “I'll be fine. They'll take care of me.”

Gwen scowled. “Shouldn't the Doctor have fixed this? I thought you were cured of everything.”

“It's part of who I am,” he said, trying to calm her even though he didn't understand it himself. “Maybe they could repair it now, but then I'd go on and have another heart attack and the damage would be done all over again. Better that we know and can go forwards taking it into account, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled again and patted his hand. “I'll go and pack you some clothes up. You relax, you hear?”

14.7.14
“You wanted to see me?” Kashif leaned in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, one eyebrow raised at Ianto. “Louisa sent me.”

“Yes, I did.” He set the paperwork aside and capped his pen, then gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk. “Sorry, I'm still catching up on what I missed whilst I was away.”

“I do not envy you,” Kashif laughed. “I can't keep up with my own. You never told me how much was involved in the second in command role. So much for thinking it was all running around giving orders.”

“That's what the commander does,” Ianto teased. “Their second cleans up after them.”

“Ah, a hangover from Captain Harkness's days?” Kashif asked.

He dropped his gaze to the spare desk in his office, which hadn't been used in three years. “You say that like he worked here years ago,” he scolded. “Besides, I stopped being his second in command here when I went to London.”

“And I doubt Gwen did much of his paperwork.” He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. “Anyway, I don't think you wanted to talk to me about paperwork.”

“In a circumspect way, I did,” Ianto contradicted him. “I suppose you've heard why I collapsed last week?”

“Adrian and Gwen told us all. We all had our suspicions anyway; guess I'm just glad it wasn't worse.”

“So am I.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach. “So I'm retiring from Cardiff's day to day operations.” Kashif gaped at him and he continued, “I'll still be based here, but I'm too great a risk in the field now and it will allow me to focus on the development of the organisation as a whole, particularly on what's happening in Edinburgh. I've been distracted by the small picture since Jack...” He swallowed and carried on. “Anyway, I need to get back to the big picture.”

Kashif closed his mouth into a wry smile. “And you're telling me because...”

“Because I want you to become the commander of this Hub,” he explained, and Kashif gaped again. “You're quick thinking, a strong decision maker, comfortable with command and have a good grasp of the requirements of the city. You're also charismatic, and the team all like you.” He looked at his calendar. “I'll give you until Friday to make a decision.”

“I...” Kashif let out a breath and nodded. “Thanks. I'll need to talk to Aisha. Really, Ianto, thank you. It's... I can't believe you asked me.”

“Believe it.” Ianto smiled at him and stood. “And now I think you have paperwork to do. Oh, Kashif?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep it under your hat for the moment.” When Kashif agreed he opened the door for him, and followed him out onto the landing. The new Hub was in an old station building, and his office was one of two on the upper floor, so from the landing outside it he could look down the stairwell and watch his team working. Gwen waved up at him when she saw him and carried on her phone conversation, resting her spare hand on her swollen stomach. She'd soon be off work again, and there would only be him left of those who had worked in the old Hub. Tim and Anthony returned with a box of suspicious items from a car boot sale and Ianto went to make coffee and join them. He wasn't gone yet.

16.12.18
Rhys was pale and his red-rimmed eyes stood out starkly, fixed on Gwen's still face. Her mam sat next to him and held his hand, and Ianto sat on the other side of the bed. Everyone else was shut out, waiting for news at their homes, at the Hub, in the waiting room, in whatever bar they'd poured themselves into. They would all keep their phones on, waiting and praying for a miracle but expecting the opposite. Torchwood worked miracles; it didn't get them.

Ianto looked at Rhys once more and got up to leave the room. The other man didn't even look at him, but Mary gave him a distressed glare that he escaped quickly. He'd done this too often to go through it again. Kashif looked up when he stepped out onto the corridor and stood. “Is she...”

“Still fighting.” He sugar-coated the truth and indicated the coffee machine down the hall. “That's Gwen through and through.”

“It's all my fault,” Kashif leaned against the wall and hung his head. “She was my responsibility.”

Ianto scoffed and started inserting coins into the machine. “She walked into it.”

“You're not supposed to speak ill of the dead.”

He looked sidelong at Kashif and pressed the button firmly. “She isn't dead yet. Look, Gwen's been with Torchwood for years. She's come back three times, and every time she's been accepting that she was probably signing her own death warrant. It's morbid, but people die at Torchwood, especially if they have a tendency to drop things, press the wrong button or trust small fluffy animals just because they're small and fluffy.”

“So that's it; we're all going to die?” Kashif was glaring at him, and it intensified when Ianto shrugged. “How can you be so casual about it?”

Ianto met his gaze and sipped his coffee, pulling a face when he tasted it. “That is disgusting. Yes, we're all going to die, Kashif. Most of us are going to die to Torchwood. Look, I know I sound callous, but that's because I am. I outlived nearly eight hundred people in one day when I survived the Battle of Canary Wharf.” He sighed and blew on his coffee, then cradled it between his hands. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

“Adrian won't be happy,” Kashif warned.

He snorted. “Adrian was at the bottom of a vodka bottle when I last saw him, and didn't seem to plan on moving any time soon. We all deal in our own way.”

Kashif nodded and watched a nurse drift down the corridor towards Gwen's room. Eventually he asked, “How do you deal?”

“I don't know yet.” He straightened up and followed the nurse, gut instinct driving him forwards. “My coping mechanism fell into the Rift in Edinburgh.”

Chapter 5