laughingxcrying (laughingxcrying) wrote,

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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. 

Tags: jackxianto, torchwood

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  • 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…

  • 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…

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