galadriel1010 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
galadriel1010) wrote2011-06-28 11:14 am
galadriel1010) wrote2011-06-28 11:14 am
Entry tags:
Timelord!Ianto: Change 2b
Title: Trials of a Timelord
Chapter Title: Change of Place
Challenge/Fest: LongliveIanto cliché bingo
Prompt: Movie Crossover (I chose Men In Black - I know, I push that envelope hard)
Rating: G
Dedication:
Summary: Ianto Jones has to find himself and his place at Torchwood Cardiff, whilst hiding his deepest secret.
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Tosh, Owen, Suzie
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Author's Note: I realised that this story wasn't actually finished when I put it up, so here's the second half of it.
Jack held his finger against the button next to Ianto's neatly printed name for just long enough to be obnoxious and stepped back. He knew there was every chance he wouldn't be answered – he knew he didn't really deserve an answer – but he was determined and patient. Mostly.
He made himself wait for a response, despite his twitchy fingers, and was startled when the light on the panel lit and the door opened with a click. The speaker stayed stubbornly silent, so he entered and climbed the stairs to Ianto's floor, where he found the door open for him. Whatever he was expecting from Ianto's flat, it wasn't the barren shelves and packed boxes that he found. Ianto was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands and only looked up at him for a second, clearly distressed, before he dropped his head again.
“Oh, Ianto.” Jack hung his coat up next to the door, on a bare hook, and crossed to crouch next to Ianto, trying to catch his eye. “Ianto?”
“Jack.” Ianto looked away and Jack wondered if he'd prefer his other name. “I'm nearly ready. The boxes are labelled and ready to pack away, there's nothing in them that could be...”
“That's not going to happen,” Jack cut him off and rested his hands on Ianto's knees where he could feel the shaking. “Ianto, I'm sorry.”
He blinked slowly at Jack and stared down at his hands. “Why are you sorry? I was...”
“I reacted badly,” Jack interrupted again, before Ianto could get into more self-flagellation, “but I understand. I'm sorry you didn't feel you could trust me sooner, and that I proved you right. It doesn't matter though, I promise. Nothing will change.”
Ianto swallowed hard and shook his head. “Have you told them?”
“Who?”
“Suzie, Tosh and Owen.” Ianto's voice broke and his hands fluttered between his face and Jack's hands, never touching either. “They won't, they can't...”
“Hey, it's okay.” Jack caught his hands and held onto them. They were cold and shook in his grasp, and he realised just how scared Ianto was. “Oh Ianto. I won't tell. If I'd known...”
Ianto closed his eyes tightly and turned away from Jack as much as he could. “They never... Everyone sees me differently.”
Jack slid onto the sofa next to Ianto and hugged him carefully. “I don't. You're just the same as ever. I won't let anyone hurt you.” He held on as Ianto turned towards him and slid his arms tentatively around his waist. A moment later Ianto was clinging to him and sobbing against his shoulder, fear and relief shuddering through him violently, and Jack murmured to him softly. “I'm sorry,” he murmured again. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like I did. It doesn't matter to me.”
The sun rose higher, towards its zenith, whilst Ianto fell apart and put himself back together in Jack's arms. Jack wasn't naive enough to think that it was all over the revelation and his own deplorable reaction. Months of hiding and fear had been compounded by the losses he couldn't talk about if he was to keep up the deception, and it was all coming to a head in one go. He knew as well as anyone that having to hide part of yourself away meant hiding the rest of yourself as well – his own walls were probably insurmountable.
Ianto sighed eventually and pulled away to scrub at his face again and avoid looking at Jack. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.
“Don't worry about it,” Jack assured him, leaning back into the sofa and tipping his face up to the ceiling. “Want to talk?”
“Not...” He stood up and wandered across the room to run his finger along the handiest shelf of his bookcase. “I don't know if I'd know how. You get used to not talking when people don't care.”
“I know.” Jack lifted his head to watch Ianto pace between the boxes. “But I need to understand this. Call it curiosity.” Ianto didn't respond to he dropped his head back again and asked, “How about I ask you questions, and you give me the answers? We can even play that bloody stupid game where we trade questions, if you like.”
“Bloody stupid game sounds good.” Ianto threw himself into the armchair opposite but got out of it almost instantly. “I need a drink. You?”
“Coffee, if it's on offer.” He turned his head to look at the kitchen doorway through which Ianto had just disappeared. “If not, I'm happy with water.”
There was silence for long enough to worry him, but then Ianto returned with two mugs of coffee and, inexplicably, a plate of biscuits. He shrugged at Jack's inquisitive look, carefully as he was carrying a tray, and set it down on the bare coffee table. “I found them when I was clearing out the cupboards. Along with a tin of peaches I don't remember buying.”
“Huh. There's always a tin of peaches.” Jack reached for the coffee but left it when he felt the heat, collecting a biscuit instead and gesturing around the room with it. “Did you really think all this was necessary?”
“I know how Torchwood deals with aliens, Jack,” Ianto pointed out bitterly. He sipped his coffee, which was cooler because of the milk, and almost glared at Jack. “You're not so different. How long have you been working for Torchwood?”
Jack froze. “How long do you think?”
“My question, Jack.”
He opened his mouth out and paused. Unusually, the truth would help. “Since eighteen ninety nine. I was young and foolish and opened my mouth too often.” He'd leave that for Ianto to unravel more. “What are you doing on Earth?”
“I'm here to archive everything.” He squeezed the back of his neck and peered at Jack through dark lashes. “We choose our own names to describe ourselves, and I am...”
“The Archivist,” Jack finished for him. “So you came to Earth to record us?”
“Yes.” Ianto narrowed his eyes. “That was nearly two questions. How did you get into Torchwood?”
Jack hesitated again and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees for support. “I was arrested, and they gave me a choice of working for them or spending the rest of my existence in their cells as an alien threat. Not much of a choice.”
“They didn't give me the choice,” Ianto pointed out.
He reached out to him and smiled when Ianto met him halfway and allowed their fingers to lace together. “I would have come for you. I've only been in charge here since the... the last director, on New Year's Eve...”
“I know, Jack.” Ianto tightened his fingers. “I heard, you don't have to tell me.”
Jack was grateful for that. He'd never been able to articulate what happened that night since he finished with the official reports. “Well, once I took over I had access to a lot more files and a lot more information. I found out that they were holding you, and... you didn't deserve that.”
Ianto surprised him by getting up and hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” He tucked his face against Jack's neck so that his voice was muffled. “That's all I wanted when I was there.”
Hugging him back cautiously, Jack rubbed his cheek against Ianto's thick, dark hair and rested one hand on the back of his neck. “And... What do you want now?”
A pregnant pause rested between them, and then Ianto's stomach rumbled and he laughed tightly. “Pizza,” he said decisively. “Or Chinese... No, definitely pizza.”
Jack let it go, laughing, and gestured around the boxes. “Have you got a computer in there somewhere? We can order food and I'll help you unpack again.”
“Thanks. It's...” Ianto got up and rummaged through a box to find his laptop, turning out books and DVDs as he did so. “I didn't pack neatly.”
“Passive-aggressive from you.” Jack joined him on the floor and leaned in close. “Does this bother you?”
“This...” Ianto turned his head and found Jack's face a breath away from his own. He licked his lips and rubbed his nose against Jack's gently. “Nothing you did would bother me, exactly. I just might not get it.”
Jack rubbed their noses together more firmly and smiled. “Okay, good to know.” He rested his chin on Ianto's shoulder and stole the mouse. “Do you have a preference for pizza places?”
To stop him in his tracks, Ianto stole the mouse back and held it out of reach. “What are you after, Jack?”
He sighed. “If I say dinner, you'll sigh at me, won't you?”
“Possibly even roll my eyes,” he agreed. “You're distractingly handsy, even to me.”
“Especially to you.”
“I mean that even I am distracted by your handsy... ness,” he elaborated, “and it has no effect on me.”
“Well...” Jack snuck an arm around Ianto's waist and hugged it. “The others don't let me hug them as much as you do.”
He stared at the computer screen, frowning at it rather than Jack. “It's that simple?”
“Is it so hard to believe that I'm such a simple person?” Jack squeezed him and sighed in his ear.
Ianto turned to look at him, as much as he could with Jack’s chin still on his shoulder, and said softly, “I think you’re a very complicated person, possibly made up of simple layers. You’re like a cake.”
“Or an onion,” Jack muttered. “Ogres have layers, onions have layers…”
“And they make you cry.” Ianto pushed him away, but smiled as he did so. “Don’t look at me like that, I’ve seen Shrek. It’s what I do. I recorded everything, from the very first radio broadcast to the present day, and I watched and listened to bits of it.”
Jack laughed, incredulous. “That’s what you came here to archive? Our TV and radio?”
“And the internet,” Ianto added. “My original project submission was to rescue libraries from destruction, but that was turned down. Too dangerous apparently.”
“You’re the Professor Song of the airwaves,” Jack laughed.
“The who?”
He waved him away. “Celebrity criminal when I was growing up. She was always breaking out of prison to go time travelling. I wanted to be her and, well, here I am.”
“Definitely layers,” Ianto told him. He was fighting laughter, but collected his laptop from the floor again and gestured around the room. “We need to order pizza before my battery dies, and I really need to unpack all this if I’m not spending the night in the cells” Jack winced and Ianto softened a bit. “Thank you, Jack. For understanding.”
Jack leaned in and kissed his cheek, then pushed himself to his feet before Ianto could respond. “Don’t keep secrets like that again, okay? I need to know for your safety, as much as anything else. We need to figure something out regarding your medical treatment if you don’t want Owen to know, for example.” He smiled when Ianto groaned and nodded. “Hawaiian for me. I’m just going to call Tosh and see how Agent Dillie and his comrades are getting on.”
He left Ianto frowning at him curiously and shut himself in the small, bare bathroom, where he leant against the door and closed his eyes. Ianto was far too innocent to be worming his way under Jack’s skin the way he was.
Next chapter
Chapter Title: Change of Place
Challenge/Fest: LongliveIanto cliché bingo
Prompt: Movie Crossover (I chose Men In Black - I know, I push that envelope hard)
Rating: G
Dedication:
Summary: Ianto Jones has to find himself and his place at Torchwood Cardiff, whilst hiding his deepest secret.
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Tosh, Owen, Suzie
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Author's Note: I realised that this story wasn't actually finished when I put it up, so here's the second half of it.
Jack held his finger against the button next to Ianto's neatly printed name for just long enough to be obnoxious and stepped back. He knew there was every chance he wouldn't be answered – he knew he didn't really deserve an answer – but he was determined and patient. Mostly.
He made himself wait for a response, despite his twitchy fingers, and was startled when the light on the panel lit and the door opened with a click. The speaker stayed stubbornly silent, so he entered and climbed the stairs to Ianto's floor, where he found the door open for him. Whatever he was expecting from Ianto's flat, it wasn't the barren shelves and packed boxes that he found. Ianto was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands and only looked up at him for a second, clearly distressed, before he dropped his head again.
“Oh, Ianto.” Jack hung his coat up next to the door, on a bare hook, and crossed to crouch next to Ianto, trying to catch his eye. “Ianto?”
“Jack.” Ianto looked away and Jack wondered if he'd prefer his other name. “I'm nearly ready. The boxes are labelled and ready to pack away, there's nothing in them that could be...”
“That's not going to happen,” Jack cut him off and rested his hands on Ianto's knees where he could feel the shaking. “Ianto, I'm sorry.”
He blinked slowly at Jack and stared down at his hands. “Why are you sorry? I was...”
“I reacted badly,” Jack interrupted again, before Ianto could get into more self-flagellation, “but I understand. I'm sorry you didn't feel you could trust me sooner, and that I proved you right. It doesn't matter though, I promise. Nothing will change.”
Ianto swallowed hard and shook his head. “Have you told them?”
“Who?”
“Suzie, Tosh and Owen.” Ianto's voice broke and his hands fluttered between his face and Jack's hands, never touching either. “They won't, they can't...”
“Hey, it's okay.” Jack caught his hands and held onto them. They were cold and shook in his grasp, and he realised just how scared Ianto was. “Oh Ianto. I won't tell. If I'd known...”
Ianto closed his eyes tightly and turned away from Jack as much as he could. “They never... Everyone sees me differently.”
Jack slid onto the sofa next to Ianto and hugged him carefully. “I don't. You're just the same as ever. I won't let anyone hurt you.” He held on as Ianto turned towards him and slid his arms tentatively around his waist. A moment later Ianto was clinging to him and sobbing against his shoulder, fear and relief shuddering through him violently, and Jack murmured to him softly. “I'm sorry,” he murmured again. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like I did. It doesn't matter to me.”
The sun rose higher, towards its zenith, whilst Ianto fell apart and put himself back together in Jack's arms. Jack wasn't naive enough to think that it was all over the revelation and his own deplorable reaction. Months of hiding and fear had been compounded by the losses he couldn't talk about if he was to keep up the deception, and it was all coming to a head in one go. He knew as well as anyone that having to hide part of yourself away meant hiding the rest of yourself as well – his own walls were probably insurmountable.
Ianto sighed eventually and pulled away to scrub at his face again and avoid looking at Jack. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.
“Don't worry about it,” Jack assured him, leaning back into the sofa and tipping his face up to the ceiling. “Want to talk?”
“Not...” He stood up and wandered across the room to run his finger along the handiest shelf of his bookcase. “I don't know if I'd know how. You get used to not talking when people don't care.”
“I know.” Jack lifted his head to watch Ianto pace between the boxes. “But I need to understand this. Call it curiosity.” Ianto didn't respond to he dropped his head back again and asked, “How about I ask you questions, and you give me the answers? We can even play that bloody stupid game where we trade questions, if you like.”
“Bloody stupid game sounds good.” Ianto threw himself into the armchair opposite but got out of it almost instantly. “I need a drink. You?”
“Coffee, if it's on offer.” He turned his head to look at the kitchen doorway through which Ianto had just disappeared. “If not, I'm happy with water.”
There was silence for long enough to worry him, but then Ianto returned with two mugs of coffee and, inexplicably, a plate of biscuits. He shrugged at Jack's inquisitive look, carefully as he was carrying a tray, and set it down on the bare coffee table. “I found them when I was clearing out the cupboards. Along with a tin of peaches I don't remember buying.”
“Huh. There's always a tin of peaches.” Jack reached for the coffee but left it when he felt the heat, collecting a biscuit instead and gesturing around the room with it. “Did you really think all this was necessary?”
“I know how Torchwood deals with aliens, Jack,” Ianto pointed out bitterly. He sipped his coffee, which was cooler because of the milk, and almost glared at Jack. “You're not so different. How long have you been working for Torchwood?”
Jack froze. “How long do you think?”
“My question, Jack.”
He opened his mouth out and paused. Unusually, the truth would help. “Since eighteen ninety nine. I was young and foolish and opened my mouth too often.” He'd leave that for Ianto to unravel more. “What are you doing on Earth?”
“I'm here to archive everything.” He squeezed the back of his neck and peered at Jack through dark lashes. “We choose our own names to describe ourselves, and I am...”
“The Archivist,” Jack finished for him. “So you came to Earth to record us?”
“Yes.” Ianto narrowed his eyes. “That was nearly two questions. How did you get into Torchwood?”
Jack hesitated again and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees for support. “I was arrested, and they gave me a choice of working for them or spending the rest of my existence in their cells as an alien threat. Not much of a choice.”
“They didn't give me the choice,” Ianto pointed out.
He reached out to him and smiled when Ianto met him halfway and allowed their fingers to lace together. “I would have come for you. I've only been in charge here since the... the last director, on New Year's Eve...”
“I know, Jack.” Ianto tightened his fingers. “I heard, you don't have to tell me.”
Jack was grateful for that. He'd never been able to articulate what happened that night since he finished with the official reports. “Well, once I took over I had access to a lot more files and a lot more information. I found out that they were holding you, and... you didn't deserve that.”
Ianto surprised him by getting up and hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” He tucked his face against Jack's neck so that his voice was muffled. “That's all I wanted when I was there.”
Hugging him back cautiously, Jack rubbed his cheek against Ianto's thick, dark hair and rested one hand on the back of his neck. “And... What do you want now?”
A pregnant pause rested between them, and then Ianto's stomach rumbled and he laughed tightly. “Pizza,” he said decisively. “Or Chinese... No, definitely pizza.”
Jack let it go, laughing, and gestured around the boxes. “Have you got a computer in there somewhere? We can order food and I'll help you unpack again.”
“Thanks. It's...” Ianto got up and rummaged through a box to find his laptop, turning out books and DVDs as he did so. “I didn't pack neatly.”
“Passive-aggressive from you.” Jack joined him on the floor and leaned in close. “Does this bother you?”
“This...” Ianto turned his head and found Jack's face a breath away from his own. He licked his lips and rubbed his nose against Jack's gently. “Nothing you did would bother me, exactly. I just might not get it.”
Jack rubbed their noses together more firmly and smiled. “Okay, good to know.” He rested his chin on Ianto's shoulder and stole the mouse. “Do you have a preference for pizza places?”
To stop him in his tracks, Ianto stole the mouse back and held it out of reach. “What are you after, Jack?”
He sighed. “If I say dinner, you'll sigh at me, won't you?”
“Possibly even roll my eyes,” he agreed. “You're distractingly handsy, even to me.”
“Especially to you.”
“I mean that even I am distracted by your handsy... ness,” he elaborated, “and it has no effect on me.”
“Well...” Jack snuck an arm around Ianto's waist and hugged it. “The others don't let me hug them as much as you do.”
He stared at the computer screen, frowning at it rather than Jack. “It's that simple?”
“Is it so hard to believe that I'm such a simple person?” Jack squeezed him and sighed in his ear.
Ianto turned to look at him, as much as he could with Jack’s chin still on his shoulder, and said softly, “I think you’re a very complicated person, possibly made up of simple layers. You’re like a cake.”
“Or an onion,” Jack muttered. “Ogres have layers, onions have layers…”
“And they make you cry.” Ianto pushed him away, but smiled as he did so. “Don’t look at me like that, I’ve seen Shrek. It’s what I do. I recorded everything, from the very first radio broadcast to the present day, and I watched and listened to bits of it.”
Jack laughed, incredulous. “That’s what you came here to archive? Our TV and radio?”
“And the internet,” Ianto added. “My original project submission was to rescue libraries from destruction, but that was turned down. Too dangerous apparently.”
“You’re the Professor Song of the airwaves,” Jack laughed.
“The who?”
He waved him away. “Celebrity criminal when I was growing up. She was always breaking out of prison to go time travelling. I wanted to be her and, well, here I am.”
“Definitely layers,” Ianto told him. He was fighting laughter, but collected his laptop from the floor again and gestured around the room. “We need to order pizza before my battery dies, and I really need to unpack all this if I’m not spending the night in the cells” Jack winced and Ianto softened a bit. “Thank you, Jack. For understanding.”
Jack leaned in and kissed his cheek, then pushed himself to his feet before Ianto could respond. “Don’t keep secrets like that again, okay? I need to know for your safety, as much as anything else. We need to figure something out regarding your medical treatment if you don’t want Owen to know, for example.” He smiled when Ianto groaned and nodded. “Hawaiian for me. I’m just going to call Tosh and see how Agent Dillie and his comrades are getting on.”
He left Ianto frowning at him curiously and shut himself in the small, bare bathroom, where he leant against the door and closed his eyes. Ianto was far too innocent to be worming his way under Jack’s skin the way he was.
Next chapter
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Really sweet chapter.
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(Right now I'm supposed to be finishing an essay I need to hand in this afternoon...)
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I love the non-sexual tension... because all of that touching and closeness has no effect on Ianto. None whatsoever.
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