Wednesday

[galadriel1010]

08.00

Having got started on the reports at 8ish the night before, he was still on it twelve hours later. UNIT had requested copies of five of them, one seven months ago, so he got those done first and sent them off before moving on to the rest of the pile. By the time the others arrived he had finished all the reports that had still needed doing for the last three months and was now finding it much harder to remember what had happened. He would never again object to Ianto’s pestering to do reports when the events happened, it was infinitely easier the morning after than even a month later. How he was going to fill in that one from 2001 he had no idea.

Fear and regret clutched at him as he realised that he may never again have the chance to roll his eyes in exasperation and see Ianto’s amused and tolerant smile as he ‘purloined’ the paperwork that Jack had neglected yet again.

He reached for the phone, filled with an urge to check on his receptionist, his friend, but he stopped himself. He’d promised Ianto the space to figure out what he wanted, and he half suspected that part of the urge was an attempt to avoid the report glaring at him from his desk, which he couldn’t remember the faintest thing about. Had they really been visited by a Judoon requesting their cooperation? Or was it one of Owen’s spoofs? He resolved to give that one to the medic to fill out, then turned to the next report with a sigh, setting the phone from his mind, even if the reason for the phone call was lodged there.

Ianto had tidied and cleaned every other room in the house, but he’d left his room to last. He knew it would be the hardest. Even though she’d never come to the house, it felt like they’d shared this room. When he moved in he’d put all her clothes in the wardrobe and the dresser, organised her favourite books onto two shelves in the bookcase and set out the photos of them. In here, Lisa was everywhere; no wonder he hadn’t been able to let go. He stood in front of the bookcase and took down the photo of the two of them that held pride of place. It had been taken at her sister’s wedding, about two months before… before the battle. She was wearing that gorgeous dark blue dress with silver embroidery, whilst he wore a dark blue waistcoat over a white shirt; both now hung side by side in the wardrobe at one end.

He took the photo and sat down on the bed, swallowing painfully as he traced her face with his finger. She was so young, so happy, so carefree; they both were. Their jobs had shown them a whole new universe of wonders and they believed they could control it all, they believed they were invincible. The naivety of youth, how soon everything had changed.

As the face of an unnamed partygoer was obscured by a tear, he realised that it was his and dashed any further tears from his eyes. He had no right to cry, not when his actions had caused so much destruction in the name of love. Lisa had become a monster, and it was his fault. He felt physically sick, but didn’t move; how could Jack give him a second chance after what he’d done? At Torchwood One he would have been shot immediately, and he definitely wouldn’t have been given the chance to try to talk to her. He wondered if Jack had been holding onto hope as much as he had, that maybe she could be changed back, but they’d been wrong, yet again. Torchwood wasn’t a place for hope, it was a place for equations and certainty and, he had to admit, quite a lot of guesswork. Not hope. Which made him eminently unsuitable for a position there, even one as trivial as receptionist. He knew this, it was the reason he’d resisted Jack’s attempts to get him to join them in the field, but now he knew that he couldn’t go back to Torchwood at all. As long as they relied on him even slightly, the rest of the team would be in danger.

He finally allowed the tears to flow as he accepted the inevitable. He would leave Torchwood and be retconned, he would have no memory of aliens, of Torchwood One, of Lisa, of moving back to Cardiff, of Jack… His breath hitched in his throat; hope, yet again, foolish hope had tricked him into believing that maybe one day the Captain, the man he regarded as Earth’s greatest here (he shuddered inwardly at the hero-worship going on there) would come to regard him as at least a friend. Oh he knew that Jack flirted with him a lot, but whom didn’t he flirt with? Ianto just looked good in a suit, that was all it was, and made a bloody good cup of coffee.

He set the photo aside on the bed and buried his face in his hands again. He wished that he could say that he’d miss them, but he wouldn’t remember them. Without Torchwood he would have nothing, but that was the way it had to be. He didn’t deserve a second chance and couldn’t trust himself with one. Even if Jack trusted him again, the others wouldn’t. He couldn’t go back after betraying them like that. Knowing it was true didn’t make it any easier though.

10.57

Owen appeared in the door of Jack’s office and grinned at the look of concentration on his face. He set a mug of coffee down within his reach and attempted to peer over his shoulder at the report, “Coffee Jack.”

“Thanks Owen,” Jack sounded distracted, “You didn’t make it, did you?”

The medic laughed at the mild panic in his voice, “Not a chance, it was Gwen, but she said she figured it was my turn to have a go at you over yesterday.”

Jack leaned back in his chair and met his eye, “Do you think I was right?”

“Nope.” The captain nodded, the usual confident façade breaking for a moment before Owen continued, “You should have fired him and retconned him into oblivion. You can’t afford to be soft here, Jack, you know that better than most, or we thought you did, anyway.”

Jack met his eyes sternly, “Ianto is integral to this team. Without him we would have gone to pieces long ago, and I know that in the last three months he’s turned down at least five approaches from Canary Wharf to come and join the new team there.”

“Yeah, and I wonder why that is…” Owen sneered.

“Damn it Owen, if he’d just been here for Lisa he would have been much better off in London. He stayed here for a reason. Besides, now Lisa’s gone he’s going to need as much support as we can give him. I’m worried about him, Owen. I’m worried that he’ll think he has nothing left to live for.”

“Would he be wrong?”

The look on his leader’s face told Owen everything, it was a look of pure anguish and loss, mixed with hope, exhaustion and a deep, indescribable knowledge. “He’s only twenty five, Owen. Twenty five, intelligent, good looking and capable of pretty much anything. He has everything to live for.”

Owen shifted uncomfortably but was saved from having to reply by the rift alarm. He ran down to Tosh’s station where he studied the readings over her shoulder.

“Rift spike over towards Barry, Jack. Town called ‘Twin–yur–Odun’”

“Twyn-yr-odyn” Gwen corrected.

“Whatever, any idea what it is Tosh?” Jack interrupted tetchily.

“Getting a visual on it now Jack.” She said as she hacked onto the local CCTV network.

He ran down the steps to stand behind her and winced as the visual appeared, “Just what we always wanted, a hoix. You all know what to do?” They answered in the affirmative and he nodded, “Right, so…” He hesitated a moment, and it was painfully obvious that he’d been about to give an order to the absent administrator, “OK, Gwen, you’re with me. We’ll track it and secure it. Owen, I want you to come via a butcher’s shop and get some pork chops. Tosh, keep a visual on it and keep us informed.” He grabbed his coat from the rail, snatched the SUV keys moments before Gwen reached them and bounded out through the rolling cog door not quite full of his usual energy.

Ianto had gone through to one of the spare bedrooms and collected a box and two holdalls for clothes. Into the box he put all the photos of the two of them, her copy of Wuthering Heights from her A levels and a few pieces of jewellery; then he taped the box up, labelled it carefully with her full name and the date, and put it in the loft. Once that was done, he very carefully packed all her shoes and clothes into the holdalls, with some of her favourite books, which he knew he’d never read himself. Her few dresses were already in a long dress bag, apart from the blue one from that wedding; he was furious with himself, but he couldn’t get rid of it, couldn’t lose that wonderful moment. Hopefully, one day he would have a daughter or a friend to whom he could give the dress. Lisa would have liked that.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at the two holdalls and one dress bag which were all that remained in his life of the woman he’d loved. Her dad had most of her things: photos, exam result certificates, the manuscript of her novel. He would take the box with him next time he visited London. In the meanwhile, he took the bags down to the car and drove into the centre of Cardiff, then left them at the Marie Curie shop where they could do some good.

18.00

The Hoix had been a nightmare to stop. They’d had to shoot it in the end, because it got too close to a children’s playground, but he wasn’t happy about it. Owen had finished the autopsy and written his report, Tosh had done hers and even Jack had finished his. He had filed everything in a cabinet by the door (he didn’t trust himself with the archives) and sent everyone except Tosh, who was working on some new programme and wanted to get it finished, home.

With the young technician there, the quiet in the Hub was peaceful; the whir of computers, Myfanwy’s lazy wing strokes above their heads and the steady drip of water calmed his nerves. He leaned on the rail and looked down on the hub, at a loss for what to do. He knew he should go back to the reports, but he needed files from the archives, and he didn’t dare go in there without Ianto anymore. Once upon a time he’d been in and out of there constantly, using the files for his own personal search. Since Ianto arrived, however, and spent about three months organising the archives, he’d been reluctant to go in there. Jack was to filing what Herod was to childcare.

He sighed heavily and Tosh looked up at him with a slight smile, “You sound bored, Jack.”

“Just thinking, Tosh.” He stretched and wandered down to stand behind her, “Worrying about everything as usual.” Although Gwen was supposed to be the sensitive one, and Ianto seemed to understand him better than anyone, Tosh was the only one he told about his worries and stresses.

“Ianto?” she asked

“Yeah, I’m worried about leaving him to deal with it on his own. And worried about the decisions I made.”

“Don’t worry about your decisions after the event, Jack. What’s done is done and we’re all relying on you. Once you start second guessing yourself we fall apart.” She looked him squarely in the eye and he nodded, glad for having someone there to tell him off like that, “If you’re worried about him, why don’t you check on him?”

“I’m the last person he wants to see.” Jack mused, “I get the feeling he doesn’t like me all that much.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Jack. You gave him the chances he asked for, and there was nothing else you could do in the end. I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said.” The look on his face told her that nothing she could say would convince him of that, “Fine, Jack. But I’m going to go round and check on him. You’re right, he shouldn’t be alone, not all the time anyway.” She let him help her into her coat and picked up her bag, “I’ll tell him you were worrying about him. And don’t stay here all night, OK Jack. It’s not healthy, and you’re not as invincible as you make out.”

He tried to smile, but it didn’t seem to make the grade because she gave him a pitying look, “You’re right, Tosh. I’ll go find a live band or something. Don’t worry about me.”

Five minutes later he’d sealed the Hub up and was settled back in his office with another report. He suspected that Tosh knew that he’d had no intention of leaving.

Ianto had wandered around town for a bit after leaving the clothes, gratefully received as he’d expected, as he’d been unwilling to return to the empty house again. He treated himself to a box set of the extended edition Lord of the Rings films, and some computer games he’d always fancied, but then found himself with a dilemma when the shops shut. He could either go home and watch the DVDs, or stay in town and drink himself into a stupor. The decision was made when he realised that it was the night of an international match at the Millennium Stadium, so every bar in town would be packed.

Back at the house he made himself a slice of cheese on toast, reflecting belatedly that he’d probably have enough nightmares without the cheese, and settled down in front of his computer with the first of the Sims 2 games to install. A knock on the door at about quarter to seven surprised him, but hope sprang in him at the thought that it might be Jack. As a result, he was quite surprised at the relief he felt when he opened the door to Tosh instead. She was carrying two bottles of wine and wearing a shy smile, “Tosh, hi, come in!” he stammered.

“Thanks, Ianto. I brought two bottles, I couldn’t remember which you preferred and figured that with the match on you probably wouldn’t fancy going into town.”

“Sounds like I don’t have a choice in the matter.” He smiled gently to take the sting out of his words and took her coat to hang up, “I’m glad you came today rather than yesterday, the place was a right mess.”

“Been there, done that.” She grinned, “I’m tempted to take a day off just to tidy, but there are better things to do. You have a gorgeous house, Ianto.”

He looked around as if seeing it for the first time, “Yeah, it’s lovely. I had hoped that one day it would be full of kids. Guess there’s no chance of that now though.”

“You never know Yan. You’re still way below the age that most people settle at these days, if you choose to you’ll find someone else.”

“Tosh, we work for Torchwood, we’ll both be dead long before most people have children. How could I have kids with that hanging over me?” He got down two wine glasses and poured two reds, “Sorry, Tosh. Didn’t mean to get all introspective.”

“It’s OK, I appreciate it must be hard.” She took the glass and they settled at the kitchen table, “I’m sorry about what happened to her, no one deserves to have that happen to them.”

“No, I’m sorry. Lisa died in the battle, what I brought into the hub was a monster. I put you and everyone else in danger because I couldn’t let go. When we were together I couldn’t believe that she would stay with me when she could honestly have had anyone she wanted. When I had the chance to cling on that bit longer I took it without considering the consequences. It was practically necrophilia, just because no one else would have me.”

She squeezed his hand across the table, “Don’t put yourself down Yan, there are plenty of people in the world who will do it, you have to hold yourself high. Why would anyone not have you, anyway? You’re clever, funny, good looking, loyal and dependable. And, and this is important, you make the best coffee in Cardiff, no, the whole of Wales! If not the world.” That got a smile at least, a genuine one.

“So what you’re saying is…” he grinned at her over his wine glass, “you’d go out with me if I asked you?”

The look on his face reassured her that he wasn’t asking, “Yes, if I weren’t utterly and hopelessly besotted with Bollock Brain.”

He laughed at that, picked up the bottles and gestured through to the living room. Once in there he settled in an armchair with his feet on the coffee table, not something she’d expected of him, whilst she curled up with her feet underneath her. He seemed about to say something when a noise she recognised came from the computer and he blushed, “Erm… bear with me a moment.”

“You’re installing Sims?” She grinned, “I love that game.”

“I’ve never played it before, but I’m told it’s very good. Just, do me a favour and never tell Owen.” Ianto pulled a face, “I think it might improve my reputation, not necessarily a good thing.”

Tosh laughed, “He ribbed me for weeks when he found out I play it, but if he’s ever winding you up, he LOVES morris dancing, but it really annoys him if anyone knows about it.”

“You didn’t tell me, I take it?”

“Got it in one. Have you got any of the expansion packs?”

“All of them, I went a bit mad in town today, bought the whole lot, and Rollercoaster Tycoon 3. I’m hoping it’ll be as good as the original, because that won’t run on this machine.”

“I’m afraid it’s not, too complicated, too many additions. Still a very good game though.” She watched him as he wandered across to change the disc, then came back to sit on the sofa and reclaimed his glass, “You’re finding stuff to fill your time then?”

“Yeah, cleaned the house yesterday, then went on a mad spree in town and came back with a mountain of DVDs and computer games. The house just seems so empty, I was honestly going stir crazy until you arrived.” He replied miserably.

She smiled sympathetically in response, “I’m glad I came then, Jack wanted to come and see you but…” He looked up startled, “He was worried you wouldn’t want to see him. I was planning on coming anyway so I said I’d tell you he was worried about you. We all want you to come back.”

“Even after what I did?” He asked incredulously.

“Especially after what you did. You’re our friend and we want to be able to keep an eye on you. This would be a hard time for anyone, it must be especially hard for you.”

“Why, because I’m weak?” he asked, clearly stung

“No, because love is like chemistry, the more you put in, the more painful it is if it blows up in your face. And you’ve got so much love to put in Ianto.” She paused as if considering what she’d just said, “God, I sound like Gwen. But I mean it Ianto, Lisa was a very, very lucky girl, and you’ll find someone else who’s just as lucky. Someone else you can love like that.”

“I can’t. It hurts too much. How can I ever love anyone when I know how much it hurts?”

“Because we have to.”

Author’s note:

Sorry this is taking so long (and becoming so long). I intended it to be a quick filler to get onto the Janto later on, but, as always, it evolved and ate me. So this is being uploaded either from the TI office in St Peterport on Guernsey or from the reception at the campsite (Fauxquets, lovely place, I can’t recommend it highly enough.) It’s been written up to this point partly at home in Halifax, partly at Sedgemoor motorway service station, partly in the car, partly on the ferry and quite a lot of it in a tent. An odd bunch of places really.

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or anything to do with it. They belong to RTD and the BBC. Aaaah acronyms and alphabetisms.

See you on Thursday J