![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Three to Eternity
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1300
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen
Summary: Written for The Multi-Fandom Hug-Snuggle Fest. Ianto dreams. Jack can chase dreams away.
Spoilers: Through all of CoE
Ianto woke up with a sharp gasp, his cold hands clutching frantically at his throat. His fingers were icy on his narrow throat, as he felt for his fluttering pulse and raw breath. The darkness was inky and oppressive and Ianto felt blinded in the hot, claustrophobic atmosphere. He fumbled out of bed and blindly, instinctively, groped for the ladder, his left hand still pressed to his throat, not quite believing in the life he could feel under his fingertips.
He scrambled out of the lightless room, climbing the ladder with one hand and in bare feet, but he didn't notice the cold of the metal. When he reached Jack's office, dim, but full of the half-light of the never dark emergency lights and half-sentient main frame, Ianto breathed a strangled sigh that caught in his throat and sounded more like an animalistic cry than a sound of human relief. He stumbled down the stairs, catching himself on the railing, ready to sob in relief that it was here, that he was alive, that it hadn't been real.
"Whoa, where do you think you're going dressed like that?"
Jack's voice was laden with innuendo and the wool of his great coat was cold and rough against the bare skin of Ianto's back. Ianto closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Jack, of the Hub: old wool and cold air and metal and that old fashioned aftershave Jack insisted on wearing.
It was real. This, Jack and Ianto and the blinking lights of the computers and the pterodactyl's sleepy grunts, they were what was real. That had been a dream, a nightmare. This was reassuringly real.
"What's wrong?" When, after a beat, Ianto didn't answer, Jack asked, "Ianto, what happened? Just an hour ago, you were fine, just sleeping."
Ianto tried to say that it was nothing, he was fine, he always went around the Hub in nothing but his boxers, but his throat was raw - from the poison, his mind supplied, torn from the burning gas - and he just let out another broken gasp. Ianto frowned. He didn't like that; he didn't like the idea that his body wouldn't obey him, that he couldn't tell Jack not to worry.
Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto's shoulder and gently guided him to the worn out couch, pulling Ianto down to sit beside him. Jack spent a long moment just holding Ianto against him, his arm heavy on his shoulders and anchoring Ianto to the Hub and reality. Ianto relaxed minutely into the soothing warmth of Jack.
"Ianto, what happened?" Jack's voice was firm, the voice of the leader of Torchwood Three, but Ianto could hear the worry in it, too. "You're shaking."
Ianto coughed hoarsely, trying to lubricate his aching throat. "Death," he croaked. "It was death." He reached a hand up to massage his throat.
Jack's arm around him tightened sharply, nearly pulling him into his lap. Ianto found he didn't mind. The warmth of Jack's body heat, the care he showed for him, thawed some part of Ianto that had been frozen since he had awakened alone in the choking darkness of Jack's room. His breath caught in his throat again as he remembered, remembered the pain of his last gasp escaping his body, the horror of watching Jack blow up, the indescribable agony of seeing what happened to the world after his death. It felt so real.
"Canary Wharf?" Jack asked softly. "Was it another flashback?"
Ianto shook his head, curling a little against Jack and wrapping an arm loosely around Jack's waist. He concentrated on breathing and taking in the sight of the Hub. "Mine. Yours. Here. The children." He coughed again, his voice still low and rough.
"Your death? The children?" Jack repeated. He pressed Ianto closer to him and Ianto thought he could feel the ghost of kisses in his hair.
"They killed me. I died. The 456." Ianto swallowed sharply, his hand clutching Jack's great coat. "I died and you... you were gone. You had sacrificed the children before. You left. Left earth, left everything. Everyone. He coughed again. "I was dead. I couldn't do anything."
They sat there, on the worn out couch in the corner of the Hub, wrapped around each other until Ianto realised they were breathing in tandem. He found he didn't mind that he was only wearing his boxers and wrist watch while Jack was fully dressed, obviously having just come in from outside. It was comforting, knowing Jack was right there and the Hub was whole and safe. His breath had evened out with Jack's and his heart wasn't fluttering in his chest like a frightened butterfly, but he could still remember. He could remember all of the fearpainhorrorrunthey'llkillyougetoutpain.
"Ianto!" Jack's voice was urgent and pulled him back into reality and the Hub. "You're safe. You're here. I'm here. You're alive. I'm alive. We're okay. We're safe."
"It was an invasion," Ianto said slowly, his voice coming back to him. "We called them the 456. They came to take the children."
"And you died saving the children?"
Ianto shook his head. "No, the gas... It was so stupid. I knew I would die." He coughed again. "But I went after them. And they killed us."
"You're here," Jack reminded him, cupping his hand around the back of Ianto's head. "We're alive. And it was dream and you died saving lives. It's okay."
"No. No. I didn't save anyone."
Jack didn't say anything for a while, just held Ianto. Then he spoke, "I can't imagine that happening, not against aliens that don't even have a proper name and can't even come after adults."
Ianto knew that Jack was trying to bring levity into the conversation, but he shuddered, remembering. "They were using them as drugs. They were just going to kill us."
"Ianto Jones, I cannot imagine, in this reality or anything other, you dying at the hands of a couple of junky aliens that don't even have real names."
He looked up at Jack, seeing his lover smiling. "I'm not a fighter. I could die any day."
"You're a survivor," Jack told him firmly. "You've faced things that trained soldiers have run from - with good reason - and walked away. You survived invasion by Daleks and Cybermen. Worlds have fallen to them. Worlds. And everything you've seen since you came here, you're still alive, still here. You amaze me sometimes."
"I amaze Captain Jack Harkness?"
"All the time." Jack leaned in and kissed Ianto, a long kiss that reassured him that this was all very real.
*
At some point, Ianto realised, they must have fallen asleep, because Ianto woke up to the sound of Gwen's voice. He blinked and realised that he was curled around Jack, half wrapped in his coat like a blanket, with his arms tucked under Jack's shirt. Jack's hands, on the other hand, had crept under Ianto's boxers.
"I thought you said you wouldn't be playing any more games where I'd be seeing them," Gwen said, though she sounded more amused than anything else.
"Are those cinnamon rolls from the new shop?" Jack asked from under Ianto, eying the paper bag in Gwen's hand.
"None for either of you until there's coffee," Gwen told him with a shake of her head.
Ianto peeled himself off Jack, shivering in the cool air of the Hub. "No coffee until I get dressed." He paused and looked at Gwen. "You're not pregnant, are you?"
"Oh god, I hope not," she said, her hand going to her stomach. "I think I've had enough problem pregnancies for one lifetime, don't you?"
Jack smiled at Ianto. "Go get dressed. We'll all be bears without our coffee."
Ianto shook his head as Jack groped his ass on last time and made his way back up the stairs. He had enough clothing here and it felt good to wake up next to Jack, seeing that everything was okay. They were fine; they were alive. They would make it.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1300
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen
Summary: Written for The Multi-Fandom Hug-Snuggle Fest. Ianto dreams. Jack can chase dreams away.
Spoilers: Through all of CoE
Ianto woke up with a sharp gasp, his cold hands clutching frantically at his throat. His fingers were icy on his narrow throat, as he felt for his fluttering pulse and raw breath. The darkness was inky and oppressive and Ianto felt blinded in the hot, claustrophobic atmosphere. He fumbled out of bed and blindly, instinctively, groped for the ladder, his left hand still pressed to his throat, not quite believing in the life he could feel under his fingertips.
He scrambled out of the lightless room, climbing the ladder with one hand and in bare feet, but he didn't notice the cold of the metal. When he reached Jack's office, dim, but full of the half-light of the never dark emergency lights and half-sentient main frame, Ianto breathed a strangled sigh that caught in his throat and sounded more like an animalistic cry than a sound of human relief. He stumbled down the stairs, catching himself on the railing, ready to sob in relief that it was here, that he was alive, that it hadn't been real.
"Whoa, where do you think you're going dressed like that?"
Jack's voice was laden with innuendo and the wool of his great coat was cold and rough against the bare skin of Ianto's back. Ianto closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Jack, of the Hub: old wool and cold air and metal and that old fashioned aftershave Jack insisted on wearing.
It was real. This, Jack and Ianto and the blinking lights of the computers and the pterodactyl's sleepy grunts, they were what was real. That had been a dream, a nightmare. This was reassuringly real.
"What's wrong?" When, after a beat, Ianto didn't answer, Jack asked, "Ianto, what happened? Just an hour ago, you were fine, just sleeping."
Ianto tried to say that it was nothing, he was fine, he always went around the Hub in nothing but his boxers, but his throat was raw - from the poison, his mind supplied, torn from the burning gas - and he just let out another broken gasp. Ianto frowned. He didn't like that; he didn't like the idea that his body wouldn't obey him, that he couldn't tell Jack not to worry.
Jack wrapped an arm around Ianto's shoulder and gently guided him to the worn out couch, pulling Ianto down to sit beside him. Jack spent a long moment just holding Ianto against him, his arm heavy on his shoulders and anchoring Ianto to the Hub and reality. Ianto relaxed minutely into the soothing warmth of Jack.
"Ianto, what happened?" Jack's voice was firm, the voice of the leader of Torchwood Three, but Ianto could hear the worry in it, too. "You're shaking."
Ianto coughed hoarsely, trying to lubricate his aching throat. "Death," he croaked. "It was death." He reached a hand up to massage his throat.
Jack's arm around him tightened sharply, nearly pulling him into his lap. Ianto found he didn't mind. The warmth of Jack's body heat, the care he showed for him, thawed some part of Ianto that had been frozen since he had awakened alone in the choking darkness of Jack's room. His breath caught in his throat again as he remembered, remembered the pain of his last gasp escaping his body, the horror of watching Jack blow up, the indescribable agony of seeing what happened to the world after his death. It felt so real.
"Canary Wharf?" Jack asked softly. "Was it another flashback?"
Ianto shook his head, curling a little against Jack and wrapping an arm loosely around Jack's waist. He concentrated on breathing and taking in the sight of the Hub. "Mine. Yours. Here. The children." He coughed again, his voice still low and rough.
"Your death? The children?" Jack repeated. He pressed Ianto closer to him and Ianto thought he could feel the ghost of kisses in his hair.
"They killed me. I died. The 456." Ianto swallowed sharply, his hand clutching Jack's great coat. "I died and you... you were gone. You had sacrificed the children before. You left. Left earth, left everything. Everyone. He coughed again. "I was dead. I couldn't do anything."
They sat there, on the worn out couch in the corner of the Hub, wrapped around each other until Ianto realised they were breathing in tandem. He found he didn't mind that he was only wearing his boxers and wrist watch while Jack was fully dressed, obviously having just come in from outside. It was comforting, knowing Jack was right there and the Hub was whole and safe. His breath had evened out with Jack's and his heart wasn't fluttering in his chest like a frightened butterfly, but he could still remember. He could remember all of the fearpainhorrorrunthey'llkillyougetoutpain.
"Ianto!" Jack's voice was urgent and pulled him back into reality and the Hub. "You're safe. You're here. I'm here. You're alive. I'm alive. We're okay. We're safe."
"It was an invasion," Ianto said slowly, his voice coming back to him. "We called them the 456. They came to take the children."
"And you died saving the children?"
Ianto shook his head. "No, the gas... It was so stupid. I knew I would die." He coughed again. "But I went after them. And they killed us."
"You're here," Jack reminded him, cupping his hand around the back of Ianto's head. "We're alive. And it was dream and you died saving lives. It's okay."
"No. No. I didn't save anyone."
Jack didn't say anything for a while, just held Ianto. Then he spoke, "I can't imagine that happening, not against aliens that don't even have a proper name and can't even come after adults."
Ianto knew that Jack was trying to bring levity into the conversation, but he shuddered, remembering. "They were using them as drugs. They were just going to kill us."
"Ianto Jones, I cannot imagine, in this reality or anything other, you dying at the hands of a couple of junky aliens that don't even have real names."
He looked up at Jack, seeing his lover smiling. "I'm not a fighter. I could die any day."
"You're a survivor," Jack told him firmly. "You've faced things that trained soldiers have run from - with good reason - and walked away. You survived invasion by Daleks and Cybermen. Worlds have fallen to them. Worlds. And everything you've seen since you came here, you're still alive, still here. You amaze me sometimes."
"I amaze Captain Jack Harkness?"
"All the time." Jack leaned in and kissed Ianto, a long kiss that reassured him that this was all very real.
*
At some point, Ianto realised, they must have fallen asleep, because Ianto woke up to the sound of Gwen's voice. He blinked and realised that he was curled around Jack, half wrapped in his coat like a blanket, with his arms tucked under Jack's shirt. Jack's hands, on the other hand, had crept under Ianto's boxers.
"I thought you said you wouldn't be playing any more games where I'd be seeing them," Gwen said, though she sounded more amused than anything else.
"Are those cinnamon rolls from the new shop?" Jack asked from under Ianto, eying the paper bag in Gwen's hand.
"None for either of you until there's coffee," Gwen told him with a shake of her head.
Ianto peeled himself off Jack, shivering in the cool air of the Hub. "No coffee until I get dressed." He paused and looked at Gwen. "You're not pregnant, are you?"
"Oh god, I hope not," she said, her hand going to her stomach. "I think I've had enough problem pregnancies for one lifetime, don't you?"
Jack smiled at Ianto. "Go get dressed. We'll all be bears without our coffee."
Ianto shook his head as Jack groped his ass on last time and made his way back up the stairs. He had enough clothing here and it felt good to wake up next to Jack, seeing that everything was okay. They were fine; they were alive. They would make it.
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
I fixed it! I checked like five times! It's working on my computer and has been since a minute after I posted, I swear it was just a minute!
Why do I always have HTML fail when I have spoilers? (But I fixed it, I promise! Also, by spoilers, I meant "Vague references to a PTSD flashback and references to the trailers." But it's still spoilers.)
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
The end is making me crave a cinnamon roll for breakfast...
From:
Mmmm. Comfort!
Thank you again for contributing!
*happy sigh* Gorgeous imagery: Jack's voice was laden with innuendo and the wool of his great coat was cold and rough against the bare skin of Ianto's back. Ianto closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Jack, of the Hub: old wool and cold air and metal and that old fashioned aftershave Jack insisted on wearing.
Don't we wish: Ianto tried to say that it was nothing, he was fine, he always went around the Hub in nothing but his boxers...
Exactly: His breath caught in his throat again as he remembered, remembered the pain of his last gasp escaping his body, the horror of watching Jack blow up, the indescribable agony of seeing what happened to the world after his death. It felt so real.
From:
Re: Mmmm. Comfort!
CoE needs more fix-it fics!
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
I think this line takes the cake, though; Ianto tried to say that it was nothing, he was fine, he always went around the Hub in nothing but his boxers
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
It just doesn't, does it? Bad sign, especially given that it was RTD writing most of it...
From:
no subject
But it doesn't make sense that the government is the group supplying them with their human-drugs. If they were junkie aliens on the lam and, I don't know, the adrenal glands of prime ministers give a better high or something, I may have bought it. Or junkie aliens who want to harvest humans like cattle - so they're trying to collect a few to create a good breeding stock. That could work, too. It could be very creepy - like a Lovecraft story, but with more aliens and fewer Elder Gods.
When I remember that RTD's the one who's made a point - in the DW episodes he's written and some of the TW episodes - that regular people know about aliens in this 'verse (I remember especially Martha's comments in Smith and Jones) - CoE proceeds to make less and less sense. As he engineered all of these things - Torchwood's government connections, regular folks knowing that aliens exist, there being reciprocal relations between UNIT and Torchwood - my mind quivers.
From:
no subject