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cyusTitle: Plus One
Characters/Pairing: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Type/Setting: Gen / post-Cyberwoman
Rating: PG
Length: ca 1400
Summary: It's one day after Lisa dies. The sun's out in Cardiff.
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
horizonssing summer challenge, day one prompt
"Summer afternoon - summer afternoon;
to me those have always been the two most
beautiful words in the English language."
- Henry James
The sun soaks into his suit, sinks through the layers: the last of the warmth pools on his skin. Sweat tickles as it slips down, collects and runs along his back. The fabric catches up and sucks water and salt like coca-cola. There's the sound of bracken waves, the feel of the paved stones under his arse. The shirt clings to his chest, clings to his arms. It is penance, of a sort. He welcomes that. When he closes his eyes it's the sound of oblivion and release, so he keeps them open.
"Anything of interest?" The cap of Jack's boot presses to the curve of Ianto's arse.
Jack blocks out the sun. Ianto's not quite sure if he is to feel grateful or not. He clears his throat, afraid his voice is going to come out too high or too low, entirely inappropriate in either case.
"Shadows." It comes out too high after all, and Ianto stares out at the Bay.
"Yours?"
Ianto shrugs and avoids further poetic discussion. He half-turns, looks up at Jack and shrugs again. "Yours, mine, hers- does it matter?" Accusation hovers between them before Ianto turns back to face the water and takes it with him where Jack can't see it.
There's the pause and the voices around them.
"We burned the body."
Ianto's jaw clenches but practice has it look like a tongue movement behind closed lips, a roll to the shoulders like a cat's stretch in the sun. "Yes?" This may just be anger tagging along cruelty.
"Nothing."
Another pause. The sun glimmers through a gap Jack allows. It leaves half of his shadow visible, then gone again. He looks up at the sea, down again. The shadow's gone. A boy and a girl run by, his hand in hers as she drags him along. The boy's shrieking laughter as she twirls him in a pirouette follows them along the promenade.
"Did you come here often?" There sly knowledge, a needle placed carefully and inserted hot, the breeze of a body moving just behind him.
It's her hair, her laugh, the sun catching in her eyes when they were feeding sea gulls with old bread crumbs, and sometimes with chips, feeling adventurous. "With all due-"
"Stop." There's the rustle of clothes in his ear and the sun's grazing his head, warm beams that become unbearable a moment later. The hand is hard on his shoulder. There is the exhale, warm like summer air, along his ear. "She was dead before yesterday, before-"
Ianto twists up and away and two steps back until the water's edge is that much closer. His reflection wavers in it. It collapses against the planks and is still there by miracle. The children run into him in their game of tag. They apologize, giggling and his gaze is dragged to follow their backs until they disappear between too many people to distinguish. The sun is in his face. He has to squint. It may be for the better but he doesn't feel it.
"She was dead before yesterday." It carries along the width of the promenade. An elderly lady walks through between them, nodding her excuses to both of them, then she continues to mumble to herself. Jack's coat flutters in the breeze. Of all the pretentious poses: He looks like the Lion King.
"You didn't know her."
Three steps take Jack to Ianto. There is nowhere to go and Jack's hand curls easily into Ianto's suit. Jack stinks of sweat and rank breath. Ianto's shirt unsticks with dampness from his chest, pulls tight along his back and chafes. "No. You didn't know her." Jack's hand cradles his face, fingers jab at his forehead. "I knew her. With wires through here, and here, and- her whole brain just a collection of metal. That's how I knew her." It could be tenderness but for the fingernail, bruising.
Pulled so close Jack's eyes chill in unexpected ways when his body is so warm from the soak in the sun. Ianto braces his hands against the chest, pushes.
Jack lets go. His coat catches around Ianto's calves, a fleeting touch. Cool indulgence plays around his lips as he pulls Ianto one step forward and away from the waves. Not letting Ianto out of his sight he saunters back the steps he's taken, up one more step to street level to stand where Ianto's been sitting.
A flock of sea gulls takes flight from one of the railings, drowning out the world with their shrieks. Ianto watches, then turns back to look over Jack's shoulder, just to the side. The sun is back in Ianto's eyes, piercing. An unwilling gesture has him brushing out his suit, straightening the sleeves of his shirt. Burning heat, he doesn't believe in cleansing and wishes he did.
"Is there anything left?" His eyes search the brightness behind Jack until it is dancing in spots in his vision.
A short laugh. "The metal. Want it?"
Ianto thinks he can hear a smile in the voice but he is afraid to shield his eyes to the sun and find it. He turns on his heels. A late seagull jumps into flight around him. Enraged shriek and it takes off across the water. The sun's in his back. Sweat trickles down the nape of his neck, soaks into the collar. There's no movement behind him. He knows that if he turned around he would find Jack watching. One foot in front of the other he starts walking down the promenade, towards people, and life.
"You're not walking away, Ianto Jones."
"Why wouldn't I, Jack? What is there now for me other than the spot where she died!" If he turned around he knows he would find Jack with the hands in the pockets of his trousers, the legs spread, looking the hero and the villain in equal parts.
"You're not walking away."
When he closes his eyes it's the sound of oblivion and release, so he does. It leaves the sounds of his own steps on the stones, the gulls behind him and the bracken waves; the smell of summer: sweat and fish and sunscreen; the taste of metal on his lips. He stops, his back to Jack, hands clenched into fists.
"What if there are others – like her, half-encased in metal bits, their brains warped."
"You want me to find them so you can kill them, too, Jack?" He looks over his shoulder. Jack stands with the hands in the pockets of his trousers. Sweat trickles down from Ianto's hairline, along his cheek. He wipes at it with the back of his hand.
"It wasn't me who killed her. It was them long before that."
Ianto's lips thin.
"It's your duty-"
"This is not the British Army." There's a smirk on his face, an edge of cold fueled by anger. "This is not the War of Worlds – ever read the book, Jack? It's-"
"Oh but it is, and you know it, and you've seen it." Jack steps forward, step by predatory step until he leans close to Ianto. He catches Ianto's face in his palm, draws his head around. Ianto feels the lips' movement against his ear. The cock of the head has the sun back into Ianto's eyes. Sweat runs from his hair. It catches on Jack's face. "They screamed, they died, they pleaded for help and for mercy. They begged you to kill them and you wouldn't. You have a responsibility here and it's time you take it."
Ianto twists his face from the touch.
Jack's voice slips lower. His fingers keep a firm hold on Ianto's face. "She begged you to kill her and you denied her that. Do you want to do that to someone else? Knowing and making them suffer? Do you need them to suffer?"
Sweat tastes like tears on his tongue. He pulls away. Children brush past them, run around them, their hands catching on coat and suit as they try to touch the other and avoid the other's touch at the same time. As they are called away Jack has moved back, leaving Ianto in the brunt of the sun.
"You have a responsibility at Torchwood. You can't just walk away."
Ianto thinks of Canary Wharf and Lisa, of fire and screams. When he closes his eyes, it's pain and death he sees, so he keeps them open.
"Did you come here often?" Jack sits on their bench, the words an ugly repeat. The sun is playing with the color of his hair, the lines in his face. He seems to drink it in.
Ianto crosses the street and sits in the shade. The sweat cools on his body, leaving only the dampness as a reminder of the sun's warmth. Jack is watching him, soaking in the sun. Ianto closes his eyes and thinks of Lisa.
Characters/Pairing: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Type/Setting: Gen / post-Cyberwoman
Rating: PG
Length: ca 1400
Summary: It's one day after Lisa dies. The sun's out in Cardiff.
Notes:
horizonssing summer challenge, day one promptto me those have always been the two most
beautiful words in the English language."
- Henry James
The sun soaks into his suit, sinks through the layers: the last of the warmth pools on his skin. Sweat tickles as it slips down, collects and runs along his back. The fabric catches up and sucks water and salt like coca-cola. There's the sound of bracken waves, the feel of the paved stones under his arse. The shirt clings to his chest, clings to his arms. It is penance, of a sort. He welcomes that. When he closes his eyes it's the sound of oblivion and release, so he keeps them open.
"Anything of interest?" The cap of Jack's boot presses to the curve of Ianto's arse.
Jack blocks out the sun. Ianto's not quite sure if he is to feel grateful or not. He clears his throat, afraid his voice is going to come out too high or too low, entirely inappropriate in either case.
"Shadows." It comes out too high after all, and Ianto stares out at the Bay.
"Yours?"
Ianto shrugs and avoids further poetic discussion. He half-turns, looks up at Jack and shrugs again. "Yours, mine, hers- does it matter?" Accusation hovers between them before Ianto turns back to face the water and takes it with him where Jack can't see it.
There's the pause and the voices around them.
"We burned the body."
Ianto's jaw clenches but practice has it look like a tongue movement behind closed lips, a roll to the shoulders like a cat's stretch in the sun. "Yes?" This may just be anger tagging along cruelty.
"Nothing."
Another pause. The sun glimmers through a gap Jack allows. It leaves half of his shadow visible, then gone again. He looks up at the sea, down again. The shadow's gone. A boy and a girl run by, his hand in hers as she drags him along. The boy's shrieking laughter as she twirls him in a pirouette follows them along the promenade.
"Did you come here often?" There sly knowledge, a needle placed carefully and inserted hot, the breeze of a body moving just behind him.
It's her hair, her laugh, the sun catching in her eyes when they were feeding sea gulls with old bread crumbs, and sometimes with chips, feeling adventurous. "With all due-"
"Stop." There's the rustle of clothes in his ear and the sun's grazing his head, warm beams that become unbearable a moment later. The hand is hard on his shoulder. There is the exhale, warm like summer air, along his ear. "She was dead before yesterday, before-"
Ianto twists up and away and two steps back until the water's edge is that much closer. His reflection wavers in it. It collapses against the planks and is still there by miracle. The children run into him in their game of tag. They apologize, giggling and his gaze is dragged to follow their backs until they disappear between too many people to distinguish. The sun is in his face. He has to squint. It may be for the better but he doesn't feel it.
"She was dead before yesterday." It carries along the width of the promenade. An elderly lady walks through between them, nodding her excuses to both of them, then she continues to mumble to herself. Jack's coat flutters in the breeze. Of all the pretentious poses: He looks like the Lion King.
"You didn't know her."
Three steps take Jack to Ianto. There is nowhere to go and Jack's hand curls easily into Ianto's suit. Jack stinks of sweat and rank breath. Ianto's shirt unsticks with dampness from his chest, pulls tight along his back and chafes. "No. You didn't know her." Jack's hand cradles his face, fingers jab at his forehead. "I knew her. With wires through here, and here, and- her whole brain just a collection of metal. That's how I knew her." It could be tenderness but for the fingernail, bruising.
Pulled so close Jack's eyes chill in unexpected ways when his body is so warm from the soak in the sun. Ianto braces his hands against the chest, pushes.
Jack lets go. His coat catches around Ianto's calves, a fleeting touch. Cool indulgence plays around his lips as he pulls Ianto one step forward and away from the waves. Not letting Ianto out of his sight he saunters back the steps he's taken, up one more step to street level to stand where Ianto's been sitting.
A flock of sea gulls takes flight from one of the railings, drowning out the world with their shrieks. Ianto watches, then turns back to look over Jack's shoulder, just to the side. The sun is back in Ianto's eyes, piercing. An unwilling gesture has him brushing out his suit, straightening the sleeves of his shirt. Burning heat, he doesn't believe in cleansing and wishes he did.
"Is there anything left?" His eyes search the brightness behind Jack until it is dancing in spots in his vision.
A short laugh. "The metal. Want it?"
Ianto thinks he can hear a smile in the voice but he is afraid to shield his eyes to the sun and find it. He turns on his heels. A late seagull jumps into flight around him. Enraged shriek and it takes off across the water. The sun's in his back. Sweat trickles down the nape of his neck, soaks into the collar. There's no movement behind him. He knows that if he turned around he would find Jack watching. One foot in front of the other he starts walking down the promenade, towards people, and life.
"You're not walking away, Ianto Jones."
"Why wouldn't I, Jack? What is there now for me other than the spot where she died!" If he turned around he knows he would find Jack with the hands in the pockets of his trousers, the legs spread, looking the hero and the villain in equal parts.
"You're not walking away."
When he closes his eyes it's the sound of oblivion and release, so he does. It leaves the sounds of his own steps on the stones, the gulls behind him and the bracken waves; the smell of summer: sweat and fish and sunscreen; the taste of metal on his lips. He stops, his back to Jack, hands clenched into fists.
"What if there are others – like her, half-encased in metal bits, their brains warped."
"You want me to find them so you can kill them, too, Jack?" He looks over his shoulder. Jack stands with the hands in the pockets of his trousers. Sweat trickles down from Ianto's hairline, along his cheek. He wipes at it with the back of his hand.
"It wasn't me who killed her. It was them long before that."
Ianto's lips thin.
"It's your duty-"
"This is not the British Army." There's a smirk on his face, an edge of cold fueled by anger. "This is not the War of Worlds – ever read the book, Jack? It's-"
"Oh but it is, and you know it, and you've seen it." Jack steps forward, step by predatory step until he leans close to Ianto. He catches Ianto's face in his palm, draws his head around. Ianto feels the lips' movement against his ear. The cock of the head has the sun back into Ianto's eyes. Sweat runs from his hair. It catches on Jack's face. "They screamed, they died, they pleaded for help and for mercy. They begged you to kill them and you wouldn't. You have a responsibility here and it's time you take it."
Ianto twists his face from the touch.
Jack's voice slips lower. His fingers keep a firm hold on Ianto's face. "She begged you to kill her and you denied her that. Do you want to do that to someone else? Knowing and making them suffer? Do you need them to suffer?"
Sweat tastes like tears on his tongue. He pulls away. Children brush past them, run around them, their hands catching on coat and suit as they try to touch the other and avoid the other's touch at the same time. As they are called away Jack has moved back, leaving Ianto in the brunt of the sun.
"You have a responsibility at Torchwood. You can't just walk away."
Ianto thinks of Canary Wharf and Lisa, of fire and screams. When he closes his eyes, it's pain and death he sees, so he keeps them open.
"Did you come here often?" Jack sits on their bench, the words an ugly repeat. The sun is playing with the color of his hair, the lines in his face. He seems to drink it in.
Ianto crosses the street and sits in the shade. The sweat cools on his body, leaving only the dampness as a reminder of the sun's warmth. Jack is watching him, soaking in the sun. Ianto closes his eyes and thinks of Lisa.
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