Fic: Time Enough and Life. (4/6)
Feb. 28th, 2012 07:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silver_sunTime Enough and Life part four
Link to part three
The Empress of India Hotel is located in a side street in one of London's more affluent areas. The smart late Victorian architecture, the well maintained appearance and the uniformed footman at the door give the impression of opulence even before they get inside.
“We're staying here?” Ianto asks in surprise, as Jack parks the car outside.
“Oh yeah. Me and this place go way back.” It's been years since he was last there, not since the last major UNIT Torchwood conference in the early 80's, before things got rather more frosty between them.
Walking round to the back of the car, they get their bags and laptop out of the boot. Keeping a change of clothes in their car and at the Hub had become routine long ago for Torchwood staff – there were too many incidents where you couldn’t or didn’t want to wear what you had on, and going naked really wasn’t an option.
The interior doesn't disappoint. Lights that mimic gas lamps on the wall, polished tiles floors and dark wooden furniture give it the appearance of Victorian gentlemans club. It almost seems as if nothing has changed since the last time he was there. He knows that's not the case though, if it really was exactly the same he'd be looking for some kind of temporal disturbance by now, and not talking to the rather cute guy behind the reception desk.
The receptionist quickly deals with their booking, and hands Jack the key card to their room.
“Torchwood has a long standing account here,” Jack says as they carry their bags into the lift. “It's been the hotel of choice for holding meetings and treaties that needed to stay under the radar.”
“Well whoever chose this place had very good taste.” Ianto looks at the decorative wood and brass panels in the lift. “I hate to think how much all this costs.”
“It's no more than you're worth,” Jack says as the lift begins to move. “Plus I know we can talk here about anything we want without being overheard.”
Curious now, Ianto asks, “How can you be so sure?”
The lift arrives at their floor, and Jack says, “Because every room has its own sound dampening field.” Jack double checks their room number, and points down the corridor. “This way.”
Following Jack towards their room, Ianto says, “You don't seem to mind very much that they are using alien tech.”
Stopping outside their room, Jack says, “It's not really all that alien any more. We supplied UNIT with a few basic schematics back in the seventies and the rest is, as they say, history.”
Inside is a large, brass framed double bed, green leather wing backed chairs either side of the fireplace, and the vintage dressing table in front of the bay window gives the room a feel of timeless elegance.
Leaving Ianto to look around, Jack puts their bags into the wardrobe, and hangs his coat on the back of the door.
Turning back he finds Ianto standing at the window looking out at the rain blurred city lights, his expression lost and sad.
Walking over to him, Jack asks, “What's wrong?”
“I'm going to be as out of time as this room is one day,” Ianto says quietly, still looking out at the city. “Unless the team can do something about it.”
Standing behind him so that his chest is against his back, Jack says, “Do you want them to?”
“I don't know.” Sighing he leans back. “I want to have a normal life, well as much as working for Torchwood will allow. But then I look at you, and all I can think is how selfish I'm being.”
“Selfish?” It's not the word he would have used. Because if he were offered the chance of mortality he's pretty certain that he'd grab it with both hands and refuse to let go.
“Yes, selfish.” He turns his head so that he's looking at Jack. “I know how much losing people hurts you. How can I force another loss on you just because I'm afraid of living too long?”
“Oh Ianto.” Putting his arms around him, Jack holds him tight. He really doesn't know what he can say to make it better, or if, in fact, there actually is anything that can. He can't even deny what Ianto has said. Losing people hurts, and it doesn't seem to matter how long he's lived, the pain of knowing he'll never see someone again, never have them in his life doesn't get any easier.
What he'd seen happen during the year that never was has only reinforced how badly he's going to take the deaths of any of his team. Owen current undead state is a constant reminder of how far he'll go to try not to go through that loss again.
Feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, Jack turns Ianto in his arms and kisses him.
As much as he wants to tell himself that this is just about letting Ianto know that whatever decision he comes to it'll be okay, deep down though Jack knows that this is about wanting reassurance for himself that whatever happens in the future that at this moment he's not alone
It takes a moment for Ianto to kiss back, and when he does it's far from enthusiastic. Realising that his lover's heart really isn't in it, he stops.
“Sorry,” Ianto says, eyes downcast. “I'm just not in the mood.”
“That's okay.” Sure he's disappointed, but he'd rather have honesty right now than continue when his lover has his mind somewhere else.
Reluctantly, Jack lets go of him. Relieved that he feels a little more in control of his own emotions, he picks up his coat, saying, “How about we go out, get some food? You could show me where you used to go.”
“No.” Ianto sits down on the bed, looking like he got no intention of going anywhere.
“No?” Putting his coat back down, Jack asks, “Do you mean you're not hungry or that there's nowhere you like?”
“Both.” Ianto loosens his tie, and then opens the laptop case on the bed next to him.
“I'm not buying that,” Jack says sitting down next to him. “One or the other, maybe. But not both. And I seem to remember you feeding most of your lunch to the pigeons. So I would have thought you'd be hungry by now.”
Turning away from him, Ianto switches on the laptop, saying, “Well I'm not.”
“This isn't about me saying you'd put on weight, is it?”
“What?” Ianto sounds annoyed at Jack's constant interruptions. “When did you say that?”
“When you asked me if you'd changed.”
“No,” Ianto snaps. “You really think I'm that shallow?”
Jack sighs, and then says, “I'm trying to help here, but you've got to give me something to work with, okay?”
Ianto glares at him. “Alright, fine. My stomach feels like it's tying itself in knots because I'm so fucking scared about what has happened to me, what might still happen.” He gets up and starts pacing. “So will you stop bothering me, and let me try to find out what they did to me. Because an answer, whatever it is, is the only thing that's going to make me feel any better, okay?”
The fact that he’s actually sworn at him is, Jack knows, a measure of incredibly stressed Ianto still is. “If it's what you want, I will,” Jack says knowing that he's going to have to take a step back, even if he hates doing it, because if he doesn't he might just screw things up with Ianto to a point where they are going to be hard to fix.
“Thank you. If you're hungry, get yourself something, you don't have to wait for me,” Ianto says, settling in one of the armchairs, the laptop on his knee. “I'm going to send the scans through to Tosh.”
Despite Ianto telling him he's not hungry Jack orders room service for them both, and he does eventually eat some of the food.
Once the files are sent via the heavily encrypted connection that Tosh has set up between them and the mainframe, Ianto turns his attention to reading through them himself.
Jack supposes he could, as Ianto's boss, order him to share the information. But here in a hotel room and sharing the same bed it's harder than ever to draw any distinction between their working and personal lives.
Although he'd called this a case when they'd told the rest of the team, Jack really can't bring himself to think of it as such. Ianto had been honest with him in the end, sparing himself nothing to relate what must have been painful memories and facts. He just has to hope that he'll choose to do the same with the information gained here.
Getting a book out of his bag, Jack sits down on the bed to read, hoping that Ianto will decide to share what he finds sooner rather than later.
Jack realises he must have dozed off at some point when the book he was reading falls from his hand on to the polished wood floor with a thud.
The space in bed beside him is empty and Jack peers around the darkened room. In the faint light from the street lamps outside filtering in through the partially drawn curtains Jack can see the glint of the golden hands on the carriage clock on the mantle over the fire, it reads two twenty.
Still sitting in the armchair, barely illuminated by the dim light in the grate, Ianto is asleep, the laptop still balanced on his knees.
Shaking his head, Jack gets out of bed. Picking up the laptop, he powers it down before placing it on the floor.
Turning his attention back to Ianto, Jack shakes his shoulder gently saying, “Time for bed.”
Half asleep, Ianto nods and then gets to his feet. He shuffles the few steps to the bed, then lies down on top of the covers still fully dressed, and is almost instantly asleep.
Watching him for a moment, Jack decides against waking him again so that he can get undressed, opting instead to just remove his tie and shoes for him.
Climbing back in bed beside him, Jack lies in the dark, listening to the sound of Ianto breathing and the traffic outside in the city, and tries not to think about what failing to find any answers tomorrow will mean for them.
Although he hadn’t intended to fall asleep again, Jack realises that he had when he’s woken by the sound of somebody trying to be quiet as they move about the room.
Switching on the bedside light, he can see Ianto helping himself to a drink from the mini bar.
Ianto jumps as the light comes on, spilling the drink he’s pouring. Putting the bottle down, he grips the edge of the table, hunched shoulders shaking. His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”
Wishing that he had, rather than try to tough it out alone, Jack gets out of bed. Walking over to him, he asks, “Nightmare?”
“Not exactly,” Ianto rubs his eyes, red with lack of sleep and recently shed tears. “It's mostly just memories.”
Jack gives him a questioning look.
“It’s being back in London, seeing all those places again.” He hangs his head, breathing growing ragged. “I thought I'd be able to manage.”
“You seem like you're managing pretty well to me,” Jack says, moving in close to him and putting his arms around his shoulders. It’s not exactly the truth, as he knows how hard everything must be for him right now. But he’s coping far better than anybody should be expected to. He’d held his own with Margaret Hughes, and if Jack’s honest about it, got them a better result than he’d have managed on his own.
Ianto makes a noise that Jack takes to mean that he disagrees.
Resting his chin on the top of Ianto's head, Jack holds him a little tighter, and then says, “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No,” he says miserably. “It won’t help. It won’t change the past, and it won’t make me feel any better. Nothing can. Because everybody I knew here is dead.”
Jack sighs, but says nothing. Telling him it will get better with time is, even if it is to some extent true, still too hurtful to hear at the moment, when the reality of what Ianto is facing means that losing everybody you know and love could become a recurrent, inescapable part of life.
Leaning forward against him isn't the most comfortable of position to hold, and when after a few more minutes he hasn't spoken, Jack says, “Come back to bed.”
Sighing, Ianto closes his eyes. “I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep.”
“You should try.” There have been a few occasions since they started sleeping together when Ianto has woken beside him, sweating, shaking, terror clear on his face.
Jack knows all about nightmares, and he knows Ianto has seen him in a similar state often enough, especially in the first few weeks after arriving back at Torchwood, the events of the Year that Never Was weighing heavily on his mind.
Sighing again, Ianto nods, and then gets up.
It only takes a few moments for him to shed the rest of his clothes, and then join Jack in bed.
Holding Ianto close, Jack stays awake, guarding his sleep until morning, just a few short hours away.
Part five
Link to part three
The Empress of India Hotel is located in a side street in one of London's more affluent areas. The smart late Victorian architecture, the well maintained appearance and the uniformed footman at the door give the impression of opulence even before they get inside.
“We're staying here?” Ianto asks in surprise, as Jack parks the car outside.
“Oh yeah. Me and this place go way back.” It's been years since he was last there, not since the last major UNIT Torchwood conference in the early 80's, before things got rather more frosty between them.
Walking round to the back of the car, they get their bags and laptop out of the boot. Keeping a change of clothes in their car and at the Hub had become routine long ago for Torchwood staff – there were too many incidents where you couldn’t or didn’t want to wear what you had on, and going naked really wasn’t an option.
The interior doesn't disappoint. Lights that mimic gas lamps on the wall, polished tiles floors and dark wooden furniture give it the appearance of Victorian gentlemans club. It almost seems as if nothing has changed since the last time he was there. He knows that's not the case though, if it really was exactly the same he'd be looking for some kind of temporal disturbance by now, and not talking to the rather cute guy behind the reception desk.
The receptionist quickly deals with their booking, and hands Jack the key card to their room.
“Torchwood has a long standing account here,” Jack says as they carry their bags into the lift. “It's been the hotel of choice for holding meetings and treaties that needed to stay under the radar.”
“Well whoever chose this place had very good taste.” Ianto looks at the decorative wood and brass panels in the lift. “I hate to think how much all this costs.”
“It's no more than you're worth,” Jack says as the lift begins to move. “Plus I know we can talk here about anything we want without being overheard.”
Curious now, Ianto asks, “How can you be so sure?”
The lift arrives at their floor, and Jack says, “Because every room has its own sound dampening field.” Jack double checks their room number, and points down the corridor. “This way.”
Following Jack towards their room, Ianto says, “You don't seem to mind very much that they are using alien tech.”
Stopping outside their room, Jack says, “It's not really all that alien any more. We supplied UNIT with a few basic schematics back in the seventies and the rest is, as they say, history.”
Inside is a large, brass framed double bed, green leather wing backed chairs either side of the fireplace, and the vintage dressing table in front of the bay window gives the room a feel of timeless elegance.
Leaving Ianto to look around, Jack puts their bags into the wardrobe, and hangs his coat on the back of the door.
Turning back he finds Ianto standing at the window looking out at the rain blurred city lights, his expression lost and sad.
Walking over to him, Jack asks, “What's wrong?”
“I'm going to be as out of time as this room is one day,” Ianto says quietly, still looking out at the city. “Unless the team can do something about it.”
Standing behind him so that his chest is against his back, Jack says, “Do you want them to?”
“I don't know.” Sighing he leans back. “I want to have a normal life, well as much as working for Torchwood will allow. But then I look at you, and all I can think is how selfish I'm being.”
“Selfish?” It's not the word he would have used. Because if he were offered the chance of mortality he's pretty certain that he'd grab it with both hands and refuse to let go.
“Yes, selfish.” He turns his head so that he's looking at Jack. “I know how much losing people hurts you. How can I force another loss on you just because I'm afraid of living too long?”
“Oh Ianto.” Putting his arms around him, Jack holds him tight. He really doesn't know what he can say to make it better, or if, in fact, there actually is anything that can. He can't even deny what Ianto has said. Losing people hurts, and it doesn't seem to matter how long he's lived, the pain of knowing he'll never see someone again, never have them in his life doesn't get any easier.
What he'd seen happen during the year that never was has only reinforced how badly he's going to take the deaths of any of his team. Owen current undead state is a constant reminder of how far he'll go to try not to go through that loss again.
Feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, Jack turns Ianto in his arms and kisses him.
As much as he wants to tell himself that this is just about letting Ianto know that whatever decision he comes to it'll be okay, deep down though Jack knows that this is about wanting reassurance for himself that whatever happens in the future that at this moment he's not alone
It takes a moment for Ianto to kiss back, and when he does it's far from enthusiastic. Realising that his lover's heart really isn't in it, he stops.
“Sorry,” Ianto says, eyes downcast. “I'm just not in the mood.”
“That's okay.” Sure he's disappointed, but he'd rather have honesty right now than continue when his lover has his mind somewhere else.
Reluctantly, Jack lets go of him. Relieved that he feels a little more in control of his own emotions, he picks up his coat, saying, “How about we go out, get some food? You could show me where you used to go.”
“No.” Ianto sits down on the bed, looking like he got no intention of going anywhere.
“No?” Putting his coat back down, Jack asks, “Do you mean you're not hungry or that there's nowhere you like?”
“Both.” Ianto loosens his tie, and then opens the laptop case on the bed next to him.
“I'm not buying that,” Jack says sitting down next to him. “One or the other, maybe. But not both. And I seem to remember you feeding most of your lunch to the pigeons. So I would have thought you'd be hungry by now.”
Turning away from him, Ianto switches on the laptop, saying, “Well I'm not.”
“This isn't about me saying you'd put on weight, is it?”
“What?” Ianto sounds annoyed at Jack's constant interruptions. “When did you say that?”
“When you asked me if you'd changed.”
“No,” Ianto snaps. “You really think I'm that shallow?”
Jack sighs, and then says, “I'm trying to help here, but you've got to give me something to work with, okay?”
Ianto glares at him. “Alright, fine. My stomach feels like it's tying itself in knots because I'm so fucking scared about what has happened to me, what might still happen.” He gets up and starts pacing. “So will you stop bothering me, and let me try to find out what they did to me. Because an answer, whatever it is, is the only thing that's going to make me feel any better, okay?”
The fact that he’s actually sworn at him is, Jack knows, a measure of incredibly stressed Ianto still is. “If it's what you want, I will,” Jack says knowing that he's going to have to take a step back, even if he hates doing it, because if he doesn't he might just screw things up with Ianto to a point where they are going to be hard to fix.
“Thank you. If you're hungry, get yourself something, you don't have to wait for me,” Ianto says, settling in one of the armchairs, the laptop on his knee. “I'm going to send the scans through to Tosh.”
Despite Ianto telling him he's not hungry Jack orders room service for them both, and he does eventually eat some of the food.
Once the files are sent via the heavily encrypted connection that Tosh has set up between them and the mainframe, Ianto turns his attention to reading through them himself.
Jack supposes he could, as Ianto's boss, order him to share the information. But here in a hotel room and sharing the same bed it's harder than ever to draw any distinction between their working and personal lives.
Although he'd called this a case when they'd told the rest of the team, Jack really can't bring himself to think of it as such. Ianto had been honest with him in the end, sparing himself nothing to relate what must have been painful memories and facts. He just has to hope that he'll choose to do the same with the information gained here.
Getting a book out of his bag, Jack sits down on the bed to read, hoping that Ianto will decide to share what he finds sooner rather than later.
Jack realises he must have dozed off at some point when the book he was reading falls from his hand on to the polished wood floor with a thud.
The space in bed beside him is empty and Jack peers around the darkened room. In the faint light from the street lamps outside filtering in through the partially drawn curtains Jack can see the glint of the golden hands on the carriage clock on the mantle over the fire, it reads two twenty.
Still sitting in the armchair, barely illuminated by the dim light in the grate, Ianto is asleep, the laptop still balanced on his knees.
Shaking his head, Jack gets out of bed. Picking up the laptop, he powers it down before placing it on the floor.
Turning his attention back to Ianto, Jack shakes his shoulder gently saying, “Time for bed.”
Half asleep, Ianto nods and then gets to his feet. He shuffles the few steps to the bed, then lies down on top of the covers still fully dressed, and is almost instantly asleep.
Watching him for a moment, Jack decides against waking him again so that he can get undressed, opting instead to just remove his tie and shoes for him.
Climbing back in bed beside him, Jack lies in the dark, listening to the sound of Ianto breathing and the traffic outside in the city, and tries not to think about what failing to find any answers tomorrow will mean for them.
Although he hadn’t intended to fall asleep again, Jack realises that he had when he’s woken by the sound of somebody trying to be quiet as they move about the room.
Switching on the bedside light, he can see Ianto helping himself to a drink from the mini bar.
Ianto jumps as the light comes on, spilling the drink he’s pouring. Putting the bottle down, he grips the edge of the table, hunched shoulders shaking. His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”
Wishing that he had, rather than try to tough it out alone, Jack gets out of bed. Walking over to him, he asks, “Nightmare?”
“Not exactly,” Ianto rubs his eyes, red with lack of sleep and recently shed tears. “It's mostly just memories.”
Jack gives him a questioning look.
“It’s being back in London, seeing all those places again.” He hangs his head, breathing growing ragged. “I thought I'd be able to manage.”
“You seem like you're managing pretty well to me,” Jack says, moving in close to him and putting his arms around his shoulders. It’s not exactly the truth, as he knows how hard everything must be for him right now. But he’s coping far better than anybody should be expected to. He’d held his own with Margaret Hughes, and if Jack’s honest about it, got them a better result than he’d have managed on his own.
Ianto makes a noise that Jack takes to mean that he disagrees.
Resting his chin on the top of Ianto's head, Jack holds him a little tighter, and then says, “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No,” he says miserably. “It won’t help. It won’t change the past, and it won’t make me feel any better. Nothing can. Because everybody I knew here is dead.”
Jack sighs, but says nothing. Telling him it will get better with time is, even if it is to some extent true, still too hurtful to hear at the moment, when the reality of what Ianto is facing means that losing everybody you know and love could become a recurrent, inescapable part of life.
Leaning forward against him isn't the most comfortable of position to hold, and when after a few more minutes he hasn't spoken, Jack says, “Come back to bed.”
Sighing, Ianto closes his eyes. “I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep.”
“You should try.” There have been a few occasions since they started sleeping together when Ianto has woken beside him, sweating, shaking, terror clear on his face.
Jack knows all about nightmares, and he knows Ianto has seen him in a similar state often enough, especially in the first few weeks after arriving back at Torchwood, the events of the Year that Never Was weighing heavily on his mind.
Sighing again, Ianto nods, and then gets up.
It only takes a few moments for him to shed the rest of his clothes, and then join Jack in bed.
Holding Ianto close, Jack stays awake, guarding his sleep until morning, just a few short hours away.
Part five