Ianto Smile

Why would Jack Come Back?

 
Authors Note: So, thinking about the new season of Torchwood coming up, I keep thinking why in hell would Jack go back? It seems more likely he'd go find the doctor, and that's unlikely as it is... so here's my theory, and it comes in the last words of Ianto Jones. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or it's characters, if I did there would be no need to write this because Ianto would still be alive, or he would have turned out to be a time lord. I still think that could totally happen. 

When Gwen finally pulled the Torchwood database back up, the first thing she did was go to close Ianto’s profile. She wasn’t surprised that he’d left a video, much like Tosh had. It was one of the reasons she’d used to procrastinate this. That didn’t make it any easier to watch, and this time there was no Jack to hold her as the tears came.

He was just as pristine as ever, unnecessarily straightening his tie as he sat down in front of the camera. “Uh, Hello. Right so I’ve finally kicked the bucket then? Well, I figured Tosh had the right idea, you know? Leave a couple last words. I know I don’t usually talk much, and I don’t know if what I’m going to say will make you guys feel any better, but it makes me feel better, knowing that you’ll know.

“Gwen, you first then, we got along well, didn’t we? You’re a hell of a woman, a hell of a Welshwoman, and maybe you had a bit more of Jack than I liked, but you were always a good friend to have. You were the kindest to me, after Lisa. I know that’s your nature, but it did help. And after Jack left… remember Owen snarking about us being the Welsh duo? It was fun. You watch after Rhys, you two are good together, and don’t let anything or anyone- especially yourself- let you think otherwise.

“Jack,” the Ianto on the screen sighed and ran his hands through his hair, clearly searching for words. “Well, it was good, yeah? Hey, let’s face it, I was Torchwood, it’s not like we didn’t know this was coming. Not like you didn’t ask me to quit a few times because of it. There were enough close calls as foreshadowing. As I remember, those close calls ended in some spectacular ways.

“Do me a favor? Please? Just one thing? I know you’re probably blaming yourself. Hell you’re probably up on the highest roof you can find brooding. I wouldn’t put you past going all the way to Dubai just to stand on the Burj Khalifa,“ Gwen gave something between a giggle and a sob. Jack had found a way to get up a bit higher than that.

“Just don’t. If only because I’m asking you too, please don’t blame yourself. My number was up at Canary Wharf, and I’m lucky to have had those extra years, to have had you,” he smirked, the small self-depreciating smile accenting the fact that he’d looked down at his hands, away from the camera. “However small the percentage of you I really had may be, and whatever tiny portion of your life I count for, well, I’m glad to have had at least that much,” his eyes rose to look steadily into the camera, and Gwen felt so sad to see the passion there, knowing she’d never see it again.

“You’re worth it. You were always worth it. And you need to believe that. I love you Jack Harkness. It may be foolish and stupid, but there it is. And as someone who loves you, I am telling you that if you blame yourself for my death I swear I will resurrect just to kick your ass. You never know, those gloves could have come from a three-handed species.”

The joking smile quickly faded, and he cleared his throat. “I know you want to run away. Ever since you got back from seeing the Doctor… nothing was holding you here. Nothing but us. Without Tosh and Owen… without me… you always said Gwen would be fine on her own, because ‘she has Rhys after all’. And while not blaming yourself was a favor, this one’s an order. Don’t you dare leave her. She needs you. You can’t leave her alone in that empty dungeon to figure it out all on her own with our ghosts lurking in the corners. I know it hurts, I can’t begin to understand the pain you must have gathered over the centuries, but you’ve always been the enduring one, Jack. You always will be. You don’t have a choice, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about that, but you don’t. “

“Right I think I covered everything did I? Gwen you’re awesome, Jack I love you, don’t blame yourself, don’t leave her to deal with all this shit on her own… yep that’s everything…”

“Oh! Jack, if you wouldn’t mind telling my sister in person? She’ll probably whale on you but I can’t bare the thought of her just getting a letter. Right then… carry on.”

The video blacked out for a second before popping back on, showing Ianto from a slightly different angle. “Oh, and if you didn’t watch this before Jack took off, don’t worry Gwen it’s programmed to also show up on his wrist strap so he should be coming back now.”

“I mean it Jack.”

This time when the screen went black, Gwen let herself break down.

TWTWTW

One or two galaxies over, Jack was sitting in stunned silence, watching the blue of the hologram that had just been Ianto flicker out of existence. It would take him months to get back to earth… but really, after that, what else could he do?
Ianto Smile

Do You Trust Me?







“Do you trust me?” Jack’s eyes were wide and earnest as he asked the question.

Ianto had heard it often enough, and usually the answer was a resounding “yes”. He had trusted Jack with his mind, believing Jack over his own memories. He more than trusted Jack with this body, and there were handcuff bruises to prove it. But this, this was his soul they were talking about.

“No Jack, I don’t. Step away from my coffee machine.”




emilie autumn

That Look - Drabble

 Jack doesn’t regret running after the Doctor, not even after what the Master did. He does regret giving no notice.

It isn’t because of Gwen’s screamed criminations, or the accusing stare from Owen. It isn’t Tosh’s quiet acceptance that he doesn’t deserve. None of those things make him regret it.

No, it’s the look in Ianto’s eyes. It’s that look that makes Jack feel guilty in the end, because he knows it too well. He’d worn it in himself after the Doctor left him. Of all people, he should have known better than to abandon anyone after a life or and death situation without warning, but he had, and it sits like a heavy stone in his stomach. Hypocrite.

Ianto would eventually chase away most of the blame Jack placed on himself with cool logic and warm lips, but that look in his eyes… Jack would never forgive himself for putting it there.
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emilie autumn

Better Left Unsaid

Jack shouldn’t have said it. It was a really, really bad idea to utter that phrase. The moment the words left his lips, he knew it was a mistake. There was a silent, understood agreement that he would never, ever, say that. And now he had.

“Wh-what did you just say?”

Now that it had been said, with Ianto staring at him with wide, unbelieving blue eyes, Jack wasn’t about to take it back. “You’re adorable.”

“I… I am not! I’m… I’m masculine.” Ianto floundered, pulling away from Jacks embrace.

“Yes, but you are also so cute. Especially with your hair like that,” Jack said fondly, glancing at the disheveled state of Ianto’s hair that he was responsible for.

“Puppies are cute. Kids are cute. I am not cute. I’m-“ Ianto was left searching for an adjective that worked without making him sound vain. He was coming up blank.

“Hot. Handsome. Gorgeous. And adorable. It’s a compliment,” the Captain tried to amend, pulling the younger man back into his arms.

“I am not cute.” Ianto reiterated, glaring at his lover.

In response Jack kissed his nose, giggling (in a very manly way) at the way Ianto's nose scrunched involuntary in response. “So cute.”

“Bastard.” Ianto hissed.

“Cute!” Jack responded, kissing the younger man before he could protest any further.

~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note: I feel like mentioning this to anyone who will actually understand the giggle fit I had: I've been invited to run on a cross country team, and their home course is Harkness Memorial State Park. This may be a serious deciding factor in my college choices. XD
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emilie autumn

Jack Bloody Harkness

 Captain Jack Harkness, leader of Torchwood 3.

You have to get on his good side. For Lisa. Yes, he’s an arrogant ass, but he’s got the space and the equipment you need to help her. Saving him from a Weevil doesn’t work. Bringing him coffee (and hell it is superb coffee) doesn’t work. Pteranodon. Well. That’s convenient. And, it seems to work. It is for Lisa after all. He smells good- naturally apparently, and then you’re rolling, laughing, and close. Too close, far too close, and as the laughter fades it is very hard to think of anything at all but the sight, sound, smell of the man. He makes you feel like Lisa used to. Lisa. You think of her and roll off him, feeling very guilty. You got the job. For Lisa.

Not for Captain Jack bloody Harkness.

You’re fooling yourself. You like how Jack compliments you, despite how you warn him about sexual harassment. You like the cheeky grins and innuendos, despite your protests. You like that he trusts you. You hate that he trusts you. You shouldn’t- it’s all helping Lisa- but you hate that he trusts you, because that means that you’re betraying him. You don’t want to betray him. Why don’t you? It’ll save the woman you love, but for some reason it feels wrong. You feel guilty. Because you know it’ll hurt him. You shouldn’t be worried about hurting him, or making him smile with witty comments. You should be worried about getting Lisa better. Not him.

Not about Captain Jack Harkness.

You’re hurt. Everything hurts. Lisa is everywhere in everything, you can’t escape her. It’s like rats gnawing on your insides, but they never seem to do any damage strong enough for your body to show the pain. They don’t notice, none of them. They didn’t notice before either. You want to scream. Want someone, anyone, to know how much this hurts. But you won’t. And it’s his fault. His orders. What hurts most was that he was right, in the end. And you can’t get the feel of his lips on yours out of your head. It just makes you hate yourself all the more. Funny how you can’t hate him, once the adrenaline and sobbing had ceased. And you hate that you can't hate hi for it. 

Damn Jack Harkness.

His flirting is starting to become unbearable. And not because of Lisa (his flirting is nothing at all Lisa-like, you doubt he’s comparable to anyone else) but because you wish he’d stop flirting and actually do something about it. He tends to push it until you’re about to snap, and then walks away. You feel some guilt over Lisa, but every time he steps into your personal space any coherent thought is over powered by those damn pheromones, and the rats seem to go away. It’s something other than pain. So, you give in, and the next time he’s cornered you, you kiss him.

And now you're involved with Jack bloody Harkness. 

Just when you think you’ve learned his tricks, he goes and dies. Breaks your fucking heart even though you really weren’t supposed to be that attached- being just a part time shag and all- but there it is. And you have to admit to yourself that you did actually love him. And that’s partially okay because it’s not like he’s around to run for the hills at even the barest hint of commitment. And then comes he back to life.

Jack Fucking Harkness.

So now you’re happy, thrilled actually. Not only is the man that you apparently love still alive and kicking- but actually kissed you in front of the entire team. Claimed you in a none-too-subtle way that meant the butterflies were perfectly acceptable. Maybe, just maybe you could be something more. And then what does he do? Ups and vanishes. Right.

Jack bloody Harkness .

Heartbroken. Not like you haven’t been here before. Some how it’s worse this time, perhaps it’s because the rats are gnawing at already sore wounds, or perhaps because the man who had taken them away the first time had been the one to put them back. Maybe it’s because he left willingly. It doesn’t matter really. Nothing happens like it should. The world doesn’t stop spinning, your heart doesn’t  stop beating, and with one member- the most important member- of the team gone you’re needed in the field. You deal, you adapt, and it becomes comfortable, you get used to it. Then of course, when you start to think maybe it’s not so bad anymore, he shows up again.

Damn Jack Harkness.

You want to punch him, or kiss him, possibly both. You haven’t got the time for that though because his crazy ex is running around causing all sorts of hell. Typical. And when you’re finally alone and you’ve geared up the courage to give him what-for, what does he do? Asks you on a date. One thing you never saw coming. The one thing you weren’t prepared for. The only thing that blind-sides you enough to let him back in. And then he’s smirking again.

Jack Harkness.

It’s taken all this time to pinpoint it, but finally it’s completely clear. Why you let him back in every time. Why you keep going back even though he's irritating, cocky, and dangerous. You’re addicted. You know his reputation, how cold he can be, how easily he can leave, how easily he could break your heart again. You don’t care. It’s worth it. He’s worth it.

Jack Harkness is worth it.
emilie autumn

Jack Bloody Harkness

 Captain Jack Harkness, leader of Torchwood 3.

You have to get on his good side. For Lisa. Yes, he’s an arrogant ass, but he’s got the space and the equipment you need to help her. Saving him from a Weevil doesn’t work. Bringing him coffee (and hell it is superb coffee) doesn’t work. Pteranodon. Well. That’s convenient. And, it seems to work. It is for Lisa after all. He smells good- naturally apparently, and then you’re rolling, laughing, and close. Too close, far too close, and as the laughter fades it is very hard to think of anything at all but the sight, sound, smell of the man. He makes you feel like Lisa used to. Lisa. You think of her and roll off him, feeling very guilty. You got the job. For Lisa.

Not for Captain Jack bloody Harkness.

You’re fooling yourself. You like how Jack compliments you, despite how you warn him about sexual harassment. You like the cheeky grins and innuendos, despite your protests. You like that he trusts you. You hate that he trusts you. You shouldn’t- it’s all helping Lisa- but you hate that he trusts you, because that means that you’re betraying him. You don’t want to betray him. Why don’t you? It’ll save the woman you love, but for some reason it feels wrong. You feel guilty. Because you know it’ll hurt him. You shouldn’t be worried about hurting him, or making him smile with witty comments. You should be worried about getting Lisa better. Not him.

Not about Captain Jack Harkness.

You’re hurt. Everything hurts. Lisa is everywhere in everything, you can’t escape her. It’s like rats gnawing on your insides, but they never seem to do any damage strong enough for your body to show the pain. They don’t notice, none of them. They didn’t notice before either. You want to scream. Want someone, anyone, to know how much this hurts. But you won’t. And it’s his fault. His orders. What hurts most was that he was right, in the end. And you can’t get the feel of his lips on yours out of your head. It just makes you hate yourself all the more. Funny how you can’t hate him, once the adrenaline and sobbing had ceased. And you hate that you can't hate hi for it. 

Damn Jack Harkness.

His flirting is starting to become unbearable. And not because of Lisa (his flirting is nothing at all Lisa-like, you doubt he’s comparable to anyone else) but because you wish he’d stop flirting and actually do something about it. He tends to push it until you’re about to snap, and then walks away. You feel some guilt over Lisa, but every time he steps into your personal space any coherent thought is over powered by those damn pheromones, and the rats seem to go away. It’s something other than pain. So, you give in, and the next time he’s cornered you, you kiss him.

And now you're involved with Jack bloody Harkness. 

Just when you think you’ve learned his tricks, he goes and dies. Breaks your fucking heart even though you really weren’t supposed to be that attached- being just a part time shag and all- but there it is. And you have to admit to yourself that you did actually love him. And that’s partially okay because it’s not like he’s around to run for the hills at even the barest hint of commitment. And then comes he back to life.

Jack Fucking Harkness.

So now you’re happy, thrilled actually. Not only is the man that you apparently love still alive and kicking- but actually kissed you in front of the entire team. Claimed you in a none-too-subtle way that meant the butterflies were perfectly acceptable. Maybe, just maybe you could be something more. And then what does he do? Ups and vanishes. Right.

Jack bloody Harkness .

Heartbroken. Not like you haven’t been here before. Some how it’s worse this time, perhaps it’s because the rats are gnawing at already sore wounds, or perhaps because the man who had taken them away the first time had been the one to put them back. Maybe it’s because he left willingly. It doesn’t matter really. Nothing happens like it should. The world doesn’t stop spinning, your heart doesn’t  stop beating, and with one member- the most important member- of the team gone you’re needed in the field. You deal, you adapt, and it becomes comfortable, you get used to it. Then of course, when you start to think maybe it’s not so bad anymore, he shows up again.

Damn Jack Harkness.

You want to punch him, or kiss him, possibly both. You haven’t got the time for that though because his crazy ex is running around causing all sorts of hell. Typical. And when you’re finally alone and you’ve geared up the courage to give him what-for, what does he do? Asks you on a date. One thing you never saw coming. The one thing you weren’t prepared for. The only thing that blind-sides you enough to let him back in. And then he’s smirking again.

Jack Harkness.

It’s taken all this time to pinpoint it, but finally it’s completely clear. Why you let him back in every time. Why you keep going back even though he's irritating, cocky, and dangerous. You’re addicted. You know his reputation, how cold he can be, how easily he can leave, how easily he could break your heart again. You don’t care. It’s worth it. He’s worth it.

Jack Harkness is worth it.
emilie autumn

Space

Disclaimer: If I owned Torchwood I'd be publishing a book, not posting to the internet. 





 “Hmmm, how about that one?” Ianto asked pointing at the sky.

Jack followed the direction, focusing on the star the younger man was gesturing to, or close enough to it; there were an awful lot of stars visible that night and it was hard to tell exactly to which he was referring. “Nope, not a star, that is a galaxy. Look closer. I believe I’ve been there too, third year at the Time Agency, there was this ripple…”

“Alright then.” Ianto tilted his head back further, to the point of losing his balance, had he not been steadied against the Captains chest. “How about there, that center star on Orion’s Belt?”

“You watched Men in Black again, didn’t you?”

“No. Just- okay maybe- but I was more thinking, Orion, dashing hero of the constellations, you dashing hero down here...”

“And the center of his belt because…”

Ianto pulled his gaze from the stars to roll his eyes at Jack’s wolfish grin.

They both turned back to the heavens to watch the stars in silence. It was a chilly evening, but the Captain was wrapped up in his coat, and Ianto had a nice big radiator named Jack keeping him warm.

Jack wasn’t really sure when things like this had become common for them. Watching movies, taking walks, going out to breakfast, watching the stars. He wasn’t sure when their relationship had gone from because-it’s-convenient to because-we-care. He was acutely aware of the man in his arms, everything from the warm aroma of chocolate and coffee to the slight curl in lengthening hair, but it wasn’t just physical. Jack shivered as he realized that Ianto had sway over more than just his body- the Welshman had somehow snuck his way past century old barriers with snarky comments and just, caring. He was far too close to loving the younger man, and that wasn’t a good thing. He already didn’t want to let go, and he was going to have to, eventually… all too soon…

Ianto felt the shiver and turned in his lover’s arms to press a soft kiss to Jack’s lips, pulling back just far enough so that the murmured words were understandable. “Cold?”

“Yeah.” Jack lied, looking back up to the stars.

“Come on then, I think I know of a way we can warm you up.”

We look to the sky
Diamonds swimming in squid’s ink
Tilting back our heads
Until we cannot close our mouths
We try to count but lose our place
And shiver
Not because it is cold
But because we are afraid of falling
~Emilie Autumn
emilie autumn

Just Tonight

Disclaimer: I own nothing. You can tell, because if I did, the plot line in CoE would have been much different..... 



“Ianto, wait hang on, I meant to talk first-“ he kissed the younger man roughly, pushing him back into the wall, hands exploring.

“Really now?” Ianto gasped between kisses, his hands getting more and more tangled in the Captains hair.

“Yes-“ he dove back into Ianto’s mouth, tongues tangling messily. “Wait! Yes I did,” Jack managed pull his mouth off the Welshman’s, fighting his libido for control over his body. Ianto wasn’t making it any easier, attaching his mouth to Jacks collarbone when the kisses stopped.

“Oh fuck. Ianto… “

“Mmmmm, yes Jack?” the younger man purred the words against his throat; the vibrations ticking Jacks already heightened senses.

“Are you- are you absolutely sure you still want to do this? I mean… it’s not just, is it? I can’t-“

Ianto paused his assault, pulling back to meet Jack’s searching eyes. “What is it Jack?”

“I can’t promise you anything Ianto. Nothing. You have to know that.“

“I’m not asking for anything but tonight.”

“For the past two months.”

Ianto dropped the grip he had on the Captain, leaning back into the wall and crossing his arms. “Do you want to stop? Because really, you ought to have a chat with your body then, because it definitely doesn’t.”

“No that isn’t- this isn’t about me. I don’t want-“

“Don’t want what?”

“I don’t want to break your heart!” Jack suddenly averted his gaze looking anywhere but the man in front of him. “After, after Lisa… the state you were in…” Jack’s eyes flashed with sadness as he remembered the wreck that had once been Ianto Jones. How long it had taken to reassemble the Welshman. He never wanted to be the cause of that much pain.

“Jack.” Two pair of blue eyes reconnected, trying to understand one another. “I’m not asking you to love me. I’m not even asking you to like me. Just kiss and fuck me into oblivion. We both need the release.”

Jack couldn’t deny that. His body certainly supported it 110%. Still. The fact that their encounters were becoming more frequent, were becoming a habit, he wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Ianto didn’t seem the kind to be able to sustain such a relationship without getting attached eventually.

“Jack. Please? Just tonight?”

Ianto’s begging ripped away Jack’s control, quickly handing it over to his sex drive. Even as he slammed the Welshman back into the wall and their limbs re-entangled themselves, somewhere Jack knew that it wasn’t just for the night. After all, they’d been having the same conversation every night for weeks, and they’d have it again tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that…
emilie autumn

Parlez-Vous Français?

 Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood nor any of it's characters, and I get no profit from this, other than a bit of extra time studying french in a much more interesting way. 

“Giant snails from space would attack on Gwens day off, and of course they would choose to possess a couple of French blokes.” Owen’s delayed comment rang in the otherwise tense warehouse air as the team waited for their Captain to resurrect.

“At least that telepathic field hasn’t had any effect on us! With our luck I thought they’d reduce us to vegetables.” Tosh added, a futile attempt at aiding the scientist in breaking the heavy silence.

Finally, finally, Jack gasped back to life, spitting up the violet-blue slime that the snail-like creature had suffocated him with before they’d managed to kill it and its companions. “I hate suffocating. Damn it! I’m going to have a migraine for hours.”

Ianto helped the Captain to his feet, frowning at the residue smeared all over the grey-blue coat. That was not going to come out easily. Still, “Tout est bien qui finit bien.”

“I didn’t know you spoke French!” Jack’s tone was accusatory to the point of a pout, as though he was a toddler that had been denied a treat.

“Je ne le parle pas.”

“Ianto, you’re speaking French.” Tosh watched as confusion swept across her friends face, even as delighted surprise crossed the Captains.

“No. No way! The telepathic field- you must have been hit with it somehow!” Tosh couldn’t help but wonder why Jack seemed happy about it.

“Merde.”
~*~

Ianto’s eyes dashed between Tosh, typing away at her computer messing with the scanner that he was not allowed to take his hand off of while Owen inspected his throat, eyes, and ears carefully. He felt like a lab rat.

“There we go!” Tosh announced, the scanner beeped in agreement and narrowed to a view of only Iantos brain, lit up various shades of green and yellow, with a pulsing red dot clearly signifying whatever the hell was causing him to speak French.

“Oh-ho! Looks like those snails telepathic whatevers caught you right in the language skills! Ha, well that explains a lot. Nice trick, though why they’d try and make you speak French is beyond me…”

“I think they were just lashing out and their hosts language over shadowed Ianto’s, but is he hearing and understanding English?” Jack asked

“Oui.” Ianto replied, sick of being talked about rather than to. “La question est pouvez-vous résoudre ce problème?”

“Uh….” Owen and Tosh regarded him blankly.

“He asked if you could fix it.” Jack translated, adding “What? You don’t live in England for over a hundred years and not pick up French. “ When the rest of the team stared at him in surprise.

“Well I don’t know, yet. We should be able to rig a telepathic blocker somehow, and you having some psychic training from Torchwood will help, it’ll take some time.”

Ianto sighed angrily, and probably would have complained, but he figured it wasn’t worth making Jack translate it for them, so he just nodded heavily.
~*~

“Ianto. Ianto. Quit pacing, you are only distracting us!” Tosh finally told him off after watching the Welshman pace around and around them for nearly two hours.

“Je suis désolé Tosh, je ne sais pas quoi faire d'autre.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what you just said Frenchie, but why don’t you occupy yourself making some coffee for us, if you’re going to be a pest anyway?”

Ianto met Owens comment with a glare. “C'est du décaféiné pour toi,” he declared before heading for the coffee machine.

“Oi! I understood that!”

Ianto grinned to himself at the doctors reaction as he started up the coffee machine, choosing French Roast because the situation was clearly asking for it. He was just turning the machine on when arms wrapped themselves around his waist. “How are they doing?”

“Aucun progrès encore, mais ils travaillent dessus.” Ianto turned in Jacks arms to face him, meeting lust darkened eyes.

“I know it’s bad they haven’t figured this out yet, but do you have any idea how amazing you sound in French?”

“Non. Non Jack. Je ne suis pas d'humeur à ça.” Ianto pushed the older man away irritated, tiered, and above all fed up. He just wanted the day to be over, he was in no mood for what Jack clearly couldn’t get off his mind.

“Fine. Spoilsport.” Jack grumbled. “I swear speaking French should count as teasing.”

Ianto fixed the older man with his best withering stare. He would have insisted that it was not his fault out loud, but really, he didn’t want to get Jack over excited.

The Captain just continued to pout, sulking about the coffee machine until Ianto handed him his cup, at which point the Welshman’s choice of brew broke his mood, forcing a smirk onto the previously pouting face. “Nice choice.”

“Merci.” Ianto brushed his lips over Jack’s before quickly ducking around him to bring Tosh and Owen coffee.

“Definitely teasing.” Jack growled.

~*~

“I think we’ve got it!” Tosh announced, spinning around in her chair to grin at a groggy Ianto.

“Quoi?” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and straightened his lapels, focusing on Tosh’s computer screen.

“I said, I think we’ve got it! It’s going to take some tweaking to your specific psychic frequency, but I think we can remove the lingering telepathic effects now by reversing the-“

“Oi! Tosh, the man doesn’t want all the techno-babble. Let’s just put him right yeah?”

“S'il vous plait.”

Ianto once again found himself seated in autopsy, hand on the scanner, not allowed to move, Owen fluttering about his him, checking vitals. “Okay mate, here’s how this is going to go, Tosh is going to send the signal through the scanner in reverse, so it should fix the issue as soon as it links with your psychic field. You shouldn’t feel anything, but we need to know when it starts working, so start rambling and we’ll know we’re there when we can understand you.”

Ianto’s first though was to just repeat a word over and over, but then he spotted Jack emerging from his office and his mischievous side kicked in. The second Owen told him to start talking he took off in rapid-fire French, louder than was necessary, and watched the Captains reaction.

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise and a wolfish grin spread across his face before he registered just why Ianto was talking. Then he sprinted towards autopsy.

“Il a vraiment d'horribles manières au lit. I mean, I don’t know why I keep coming back. Well I mean I guess that’s part of the reason I keep coming back-“

“We have English!” Owen crowed.

“Good as knew. And just out of curiosity Ianto, what were you rambling about?” Tosh asked stepping away from her keyboard to accept a thank you hug from Ianto.

“Oh just-“

“Hey!” Jack interrupted sharply, arriving in the small autopsy space. “Back in English I see!”

“Yes, and quite happy about it. It was unnerving thinking in one language and hearing another come out my mouth.”

“And on that note I am going home.” Owen called, heading for the door.

“Good job Owen, and you too Tosh. You guys can come in late tomorrow, it’s been a long night.”

Ianto and Jack watched their coworkers leave, calling goodbyes. As the door shut, the younger man turned to find Jack regarding him sadly. “You know, you could learn French, the old fashioned way.” The older man suggested hopefully.

“Oh, you know I don’t think I’ll have to. I can speak English now, but the French meanings sort of… stuck.”

“What do you mean stuck?

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, monsieur?”

~*~

French:
“Tout est bien qui finit bien.” –All’s well that ends well
“Je ne le parle pas.”- I don’t speak it.
“Merde.” - Shit
“La question est pouvez-vous résoudre ce problème?” - The question is can you fix it?
“Je suis désolé Tosh, je ne sais pas quoi faire d'autre.” –I’m sorry Tosh, I don’t know what else to do.
“C'est du décaféiné pour toi,” – It’s decaf for you.
“Aucun progrès encore, mais ils travaillent dessus.” – No progress yet but they are working on it.
“Non. Non Jack. Je ne suis pas d'humeur à ça.”- No. No Jack. I’m not in the mood for it.
“Merci.” – Thank You
“Quoi?” – What?
“S'il vous plait.”-Please
“Il a vraiment d'horribles manières au lit.” – he really does have horrible manners in bed
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, monsieur?” - Would you sleep with me, sir?
I apologize for any mistakes XD My french isn't very good, but this was the best study option I could think of =D
emilie autumn

Crazy

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or anything related to it, I did make up the plot line but hell, go ahead and steal that if you really want to, nothing i can do about it. 
 

~*~

Ianto was out on a weevil hunt, alone. Jack, Tosh, and Gwen had gone off to deal with some alien sighting at the hospital (they seemed to show up there a lot) and Owen was busy with an autopsy, which left the ex –teaboy to take care of the creature.

He liked being a field agent, really, but going at it alone was terrifying, not that he’d admit it. They usually went in pairs, except for the Captain, but it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation for him.

Ianto slipped into the warehouse, gun at the ready. Whispers of movement reached his ears, but even as he swung around the weevil smashed into him, knocking the young man to the floor.

~*~



Ianto sat up with a start, flailing wildly against restraining arms before registering who was holding him and relaxing. “Oh, hey Jack, good timing. I’d hate to get killed by a weevil, it’d almost be embarrassing at this point.”

“Of course Mr. Jones.” And that was where it started.

There was nothing Jack in his tone. No innuendo dancing over the use of Ianto’s surname, not even annoyance at his careless attitude towards the fact that he almost died. There was no emotion at all, and that, more than anything, brought Ianto fully to his senses.

“Jack…” he started, but the question he meant to ask was lost as he looked around. He was in what was undoubtedly a hospital room, white on white on white on white on white. And it was the long-term residency kind, with a dresser and desk in the corner. Ianto frowned. “Where are we?”

“You know where we are. Your room.” There was exaggerated patience in the older man’s voice, and Ianto frowned as Jack let go and backed away, apparently sure he wasn’t going to start flailing again.

“But I- what happened?”

“What always happens when you throw yourself against a wall, you knocked yourself out.” There was slight exasperation under the concern that he was generating as he smiled down at the Welshman. “Just sit tight Mr. Jones. The doctor will be along in a moment.”

Ianto kept staring blankly at the door for five minutes after Jack had exited. What the bloody hell was going on?


~*~



The next person to come in was Owen, which was probably why the white coat didn’t make Ianto suspicious right off the bat. “Don’t expect coffee today,” Ianto quipped, smiling at the doctor who just regarded him steadily.

“Mr. Jones, I have never asked you for coffee.”

“Come off it Owen. Just because Jack’s being daft and playing the “Mr. Jones” card doesn’t mean I’m going to put up with you lot-“

“Hang on,” Owen said, regarding his patient carefully. “You’re recognizing that we are referring to you formally.”

“Well yes, hard to miss.”

“Mr. Jones, are you aware that you’ve been in this institution for two years now?”

“Wait- hang on, what?”

“I think we may have found your combination at last!”

“What?” Ianto repeated, more intensely this time.

“Look. Now for the first time in a year you are recognizing reality. If we can cling to that, if you can work through and fully recognize the difference between Torchwood and the real world, if you can see the difference, then maybe we can bring you back. You can get better Mr. Jones.”

“I’m not sick.” And that’s when they started telling him about his life.


~*~



The beginning seemed correct. Ianto Jones, born in Wales, mother, father, sister, average grades, got a job as a researcher at Canary Warf, girlfriend Lisa. All right. But that’s where similarities stopped between his memories and the papers they were shoving in front of his nose and the words droning in his ears.

Canary Warf went up in flames. Lisa died at a hospital a few days after from burns. He was diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder and induced schizophrenia that caused constant delusions of alien life and paranoia. Admitted to the Cardiff Institute for the Mentally Ill, began having delusions of romance with one of the volunteers.

Ianto focused on the second part of the last line. No. No. He could never have imagined Jack. He wasn’t that creative. And Jack was so very real, everything about him, he smell, his touch. It couldn’t be all in his head.

He wanted to say that the rift must have done this, transported him to a parallel realm maybe, or something like that. Right? But the details… everything they had on him prior to Lisa’s death was so accurate... No. He couldn’t have imagined Jack, let alone their relationship. He refused to accept it.

~*~



Ianto backed himself into a corner of the lounge room, staring at all the crazies. He had taken up this post for a week since they’d started trying to “bring him home” as they put it.

This wasn’t, couldn’t be right, yet it was so real. He kept looking for the glitch, the little thing that would let him know he was dreaming, but he couldn’t find it. It was real, down to the light blue scrubs he was forced to wear. And each day the likeliness that he was dreaming shrank.

The reality all the doctors insisted upon was imprinting itself in his head. He couldn’t remember his flat anymore, though true he hadn’t been there in months, since he’d been spending nights at the Hub… with Jack… or was it because he hadn’t been there in years? Because he’d spent his time dreaming his life away at the institution?

He’d had a week of having his memories negated and replaced, dissected and connected to Canary Warf (the traumatic stress that started his insanity, they claimed) or some other part of his life before Torchwood, before he went mad.

The lines were blurring, and he was falling apart.

If he was going to be honest with himself, all he wanted was for Jack to hold him and tell him it was all okay, like he did for his Captain when Jack woke up shivering, terrified by people and places his lover couldn’t begin to comprehend. But Jack wasn’t there.


~*~



A week and a half in he switched to the day room, meant to be light and sunny, but this was Cardiff, and so rain was almost constantly battering the skylights. That’s where he spotted Tosh. He walked carefully over to the frantic young woman who was scribbling on paper, running hands through her hair every three seconds. “And that’s divided by the integer when the dividend is less than four, but if the quotient-“

A hand grabbed his elbow just as he was about to ask her what she was working on. His turned to face Gwen, and his mouth dropped open in shock. “Now then sweetheart, leave poor Ms. Sato alone, shall we? Can’t have her damaging the rift with an equation gone awry, right?”

Ianto blinked and almost sighed with relief before he realized what she was doing. Humoring him. There was nothing but empty concern and pity in the nurse’s eyes. “Gwen, there’s no rift here.”

He watched her eyes widen before she smiled at him. “Well then, your meds are finally working! Good for you love, keep up the good work!” she chirped, releasing his arm and going back to carefully guide a haggard looking Tosh off the floor and over to the nearby couch, the Japanese woman still clutching at the papers and mumbling mathematics.

Tosh and Gwen. Ianto watched them, trying to put them at their desks, Tosh’s fingers frantically skimming over her keyboard, Gwen pouring over the hard copies of files. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t see past the crazy girl and her nurse.


~*~



Aliens aren’t real. He’d repeated it enough in the past two weeks that he was ready to believe it.

Torchwood isn’t real. Yep, repeated that one too.

You are not a master at making coffee. Well he hadn’t been allowed to try and make coffee yet, so he couldn’t prove that wrong.

Ms. Cooper is an employee and Ms. Sato is a patient. That is your only relation to them. He could see the hard evidence for that himself.

Captain Jack Harkness does not exist. That’s where he usually froze, memories dashing through his head, happening in places he’d admitted couldn’t be real, but still, he couldn’t forget the blue grey eyes, the touch. No. Jack couldn’t be imaginary.


~*~



It was three and a half weeks after Ianto had “woken up” before he saw him. He was back in his corner of the lounge when Jack walked into the group room, smiling at inebriated patients. Ianto had spent weeks talking with the doctors, changing medications to get rid of the man, and there he was. The last chance that maybe, maybe Ianto wasn’t crazy. He couldn’t help himself. He all but ran over to the older man, throwing his arms around him. “Jack! Oh, thank god, I-“

“Whoa, let go please.” The man pushed him away, leaving Ianto wide eyed once again. “Don’t give me that look. I thought maybe when I got back from vacation you’d have dealt with this.” He sighed. “Look, Mr. Jones, I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m not who you think I am, and I can’t have you assaulting me.”

“No! No you have to be. Jack, please, it is you, and I know it is.” Desperation crept into Ianto’s voice.

Jack was the last thing holding him together. If Jack wasn’t real then the last bit of Ianto that was holding on to some form of certainty would fall off the edge into the abyss that threatened to take over. Ianto really hadn’t admitted he was crazy, not to himself, if only because that would mean losing control, with everything in his life thrown on its ear he needed something, anything, that he could be sure of. He’d always been sure of Jack. The Captain would always be there, always come back, always find a way to save the world. As long as he held onto that, Ianto still felt like himself, even as everything else shifted.

“It’s John, actually.”

“No. It can’t be in my head. You even smell right! All you need is your coat…”

“You’ve complemented my aftershave before,” Jack… John? Offered weakly. “And you do always go on about a coat, but I’ve never worn one when I’m in…”

“Jack, please don’t do this…” Ianto could feel himself falling apart. “Please. We-“

“No. I know where you’re going with that, and no. I would never, that would be taking advantage of you.” He could tell Jack (John?) was trying to be helpful, but the soft voice contradicting everything he knew was shattering his heart.

Please... you weren’t… I’m not…” Ianto fumbled, trying to fit deluded memories into the hospital environment.

“Mr. Jones.” Ianto met Jack/Johns cold blue grey eyes. Fluttering memories of doing just this filled his head but he couldn’t seem to place where… it flitted between the Hub and the asylum lounge. Which was real?

“I can see you focusing on reality. That’s amazing. I thought you were one of the lifers, and here you are struggling to pull yourself back. I can’t help much, it’s all in the meds, the therapy and the doctors, I’m just a volunteer, but if it helps you figure out reality at all- We were never, are not, and never will be together in any way shape or form. That was and is all in your head. I don’t know you, you don’t know me.”

Ianto felt each word hit him across he face and settle into his mind. “Jack- please“ he whimpered.

“It’s John. And I don’t think we should talk until you fully grasp reality Mr. Jones. “

Hot tears streaking down his cheeks, Ianto felt what was left of himself crumble as he watched the volunteer walk away.


~*~

Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.
Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.
Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.
Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.
Then why did Ianto miss him so much?
Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.
Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.
Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.
Captain Jack Harkness is not real. Captain Jack Harkness is not real.


~*~



“Oi, John!” Ianto offered a halfhearted smile as the volunteer turned to face him.

“I wanted to apologize. I realize you never were interested in me and my delusions, well, I realize that must have been awkward for you and I’m sorry about that.”

John blinked, amazed. “Well, hey, not your fault.”

“Thank you, but really, I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright just, I think we should still keep our distance. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t still awkward, for me.”

“I get it, it’s the least I can do. Sorry, again.”

John just nodded.

~*~



“Mr. Jones!” Doctor Harper smiled, patting the young man on the back. “I cannot say what a remarkable case you are. Two years on the bend and you’ve righted yourself in just over a month!”

Ianto half smiled. “I’m not sure I’m all the way there yet, I still have flashes from time to time.”

“Ah, but still, such amazing progress. Don’t be too hard on yourself, you’ve done amazing so far. Another week and I think we might be able to release you to your sister if all goes well-“

Ianto blinked as the doctor went out of focus, his voice suddenly fading before slowly focusing again.

“Uh, Doctor Harper, I-“ The doctor blurred again as he turned to face his patient, and then everything went black.

~*~


“Crelutarian telepath. They get high off of driving people insane, usually by convincing them they already were.” Ianto blinked as he tried to figure out where he was. No white walls, no awkward hospital scrubs, just an old warehouse and a rather tattered suit.

Ianto lifted his eyes, brushed them over the collection of hospital staff standing just meters away, settling on John. His eyes conflicted with his brain, the latter telling him he must be imagining things again, his eyes firmly believing that it was Jack, draped in his coat standing in that dashing hero pose he did so well.

“John… I, I know you said… but I seem to be lost…” he said, trying, and failing, to pick himself off the ground.

“Oh, bloody hell.”

“Who’s he talking about?”

“They’ve driven him bonkers.”

“Poor Ianto.”

“Ianto…” his name was repeated by a soft husky voice that was far too close, and Ianto’s head snapped up, focusing on the older mans face, not inches from his own as the Captain hunkered down next to him.

“John?” he tried, eyebrows furrowing as the name Jack pulsed in his head. No, that was wrong. He wasn’t going to be crazy anymore. Jack wasn’t real. Captain Jack Harkness isn’t real.

“No, Ianto, it’s me, Jack.” He flashed a classic Harkness grin.

The Welshman just shook his head, easily falling back to a sentence he’d been forced to repeat over and over again. “Captain Jack Harkness is not real.”

He found it very hard to repeat that fact, even inside his own head, as lips crashed onto his and hands simultaneously tugged gently at his hair and caressed his cheek. An alien yet familiar tongue invading his mouth as the older man pushed, searching for something… something just out of reach. He invaded all of Ianto senses, overloading them until the younger man gasped.

“Ianto,” blue grey eyes held his carefully. “Who am I?”

Ianto’s brain raged against itself. He didn’t want to be crazy anymore. Aliens didn’t exist. Torchwood was all in his head. Captain Jack Harkness wasn’t real, even John had looked him in the eyes and sworn that, but the same eyes were holding his now, more real than seemed possible, contradicting, confusing, turning his whole world upside down again.

“Why are you doing this?” Ianto felt himself choke up and fought the urge to cradle his legs to his stomach. “Please, please stop. You can’t do this again, Ja- John… oh god… why are you doing this to me? Please...I got better, I’m getting better, you can’t-“

A searing kiss stopped his rambling, blanking out all thought for a minute, lost in moving lips, twisting tongues, and the pure heat and energy that rolled off the Captain.

Blue grey eyes captured his once more. “Who am I?”

“Jack?” he asked carefully, his voice sounding hoarse and scared, even to his own ears.

“There we go.” Jack smiled, pecking his lips again.

Ianto closed his eyes, fighting the memories of doctors telling him how good he was for forgetting ‘all that science fiction nonsense’, the images of the team as psychiatric doctors and patients, Jack/John pushing him away. He shook his head, clearing the asylum memories, trying to put everything back in place.

He focused on Jack, tightening his hold, rebuilding his world through the Captain. “And we’re together right? We shag like bunnies?”

The Captain pulled him close, tucking Ianto’s head under his chin with a chuckle. “Every chance we get.”

“Oh. That’s good then.” Ianto murmured, snuggling into his lover’s chest.

If this was all in his head, so be it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: Torchwood nonsense that happened to me this last week:
~In my grammar book I was correcting sentences, and one that needed to be corrected was “whenever dad discusses politics with Captain Hart he gets very excited”. I choked on the M&Ms I was eating.
~Then I went to watch Buffy the Vampire slayer. I forgot that James Marsters used to play Spike in that show before he was John Hart. My brain hurts.
~ I realized John Barrowman is too productive for my comfort zone. Actor/writer/singer/partner/dog owner/ amusing person... sheesh. I can't even do my math homework
~ I realized the song Move Along by the All American Rejects is one of many that work for Captain Harkness, and Here Comes My Baby(?), Prelude 12/21(AFI), and Brighter(paramore) could all be very jack/ianto.