Friday afternoon and Jack was standing at the Tourist Office door impatiently waiting for Ianto.

“C’mon!”

“Calm down, Vienna’s not going anywhere.”

“Why are you taking so long?”

“Because my boss has me checking every website on the entire net after a single piss-poor Weevil photograph was published on a Newport based UFO site that nobody visits.”

“Oh, that.”

“Right.”  Ianto abandoned his computer and picked up his coat.  “Did you look at the information I sent you?  Vienna not websites.”

“Yes.”

Jack herded Ianto out of the building.

“Any preference?”

“No.  You?”

“They’ll all be booked up, no point in getting excited.”

“Hey, go on, just for me.  Get all excited,” Jack drawled, walking backwards as he studied Ianto’s indulgent expression.  An expression that suddenly turned to dismay.

Jack spun around to see the allegedly incomparable Bryn Price headed in their direction, or at least in the direction of the shops behind them.

“Great.  Going by that look on your face you haven’t told him about this.  Me.”

“I—  Jack, can we…”

“No.  I’m not avoiding your significant other.  ‘Sides, letting him meet the competition might spice up your sex life.”

“Jack.”

Jack strode forward to meet Bryn, but quickly noticed that the man’s attention overshot both him and Ianto, and as Bryn walked past it became clear that he hadn’t so much as registered his supposed boyfriend.  The reason why didn’t take a hell of a lot of figuring out, and by now Ianto was looking completely stricken.

Without a word Jack seized Ianto’s arm, frog-marching him all the way to his car and ordering him inside.  Jack dropped into the Rover’s passenger seat and stared to the front.

“I can explain,” Ianto told him.

“I bet you can.  Drive.”

“Where?”

“Yours.  Unless you want this conversation at the Hub.”

A quick shake of the head and Ianto started his car, driving to the house in frigid silence.

They were soon in Ianto’s lounge, staring at one another from opposite sides of the room.  Jack shook his head in dismay.

“Is there ever a time when you’re not hiding something?”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Okay.  Let’s be fair.  Apparently, you can explain,” Jack ground out, virtually shaking with anger.

Ianto had regained a little of his composure the second he set foot on home ground; Jack’s demands were met with unplanned but unsurprising defiance.

“On consideration…why do I have to?  Isn’t it obvious what’s happened?”

“When, Ianto?”

“That’s unimportant.”

“That’s—  You can’t see the importance?  You choose not to?”

“It isn’t actually a concern of yours.”

“If you’re serious about leaving…

“Which I am.”

“…we’ve lost precious time when we could have been together.”

“No, we haven’t.  This changes nothing.”

“It could have changed everything.  If you did this for us…”

“Fuck off, Jack.  Why would I cause myself such anguish for something that doesn’t exist?  I did it for Bryn, because I care.  Why should he have to go through the kind of pain I went through when I was dumped without a decent excuse?”

“Don’t try turning this around.”

“I’m not.  It’s simply the truth.  I wanted to protect him.”  Grief coursed through Ianto at such a brutal reminder of what he’d lost, and his voice shook with the strain of holding the sadness in check.  “I couldn’t be in love with him, not like he deserved, but I loved him enough to not want him hurt.”

Jack remained untouched.

“I should be relieved you’re going to London.  It’s probably the luckiest escape I’ve had in years.”  Dipping into his pocket Jack pulled out Ianto’s spare keys and hurled them across the room.  “I’ll let myself out.”  At the door Jack turned back, intent on delivering one final blow.  “A little advice: you shouldn’t drink.  When you drink you don’t know what – or rather who – you’re doing.”

Jack waited for the reference to make sense, and was satisfied to see the shock of it ripple though Ianto as random pieces of a drunken memory fell into place.

“Why?” Ianto asked.

“Why what?  Why did I crawl into your bed?  Why did I pretend to be whoever you were likely to fuck?  Why did I leave when I was disappointed with the standard of the service?”

“Why not tell me?  What right have you to judge me when you’ve been equally as dishonest?”

Their phones rang simultaneously: texts from Toshiko distracted them before any further damage was done; they read and started for the door.

“Stay here,” Jack ordered.  “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“You can’t stop me from working because of a personal matter.”

“I think you’ll find I can do anything I like.  Stay away from Torchwood.  I’ll speak to you later.”

Jack flew out of the house and left Ianto to pick up the discarded keys, to collapse onto the nearest surface, exhausted and feeling as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

Another text from Toshiko stirred him after ten zoned-out minutes.  He sent a message back:

‘Jack doesn’t want me around.  See you as and when.’

And he switched off the phone.

…

“Jack, where’s Ianto?”

“Not here.”

“I can see that.”  Gwen waited.  And waited.  “Jack…”

“I made a decision.  Don’t question it.”

“We’ll need him for this.”

“No, we won’t.”

Gwen backed off, alarmed by the level of hostility in Jack’s voice.  She hurried to the boardroom where Toshiko and Owen were waiting to be briefed.

“He won’t talk about it.  He’s a bit scary.”

Toshiko re-read Ianto’s text for the thirtieth time.

“I don’t like this.”

“He wouldn’t hurt Ianto,” Gwen insisted.  “I’m sure…  I’m sure he loves him.”

“Love,” Owen sneered from where he was pressed against the glass wall, watching Jack charging erratically about the Hub.  “Has to ruin everything.  When it’s just sex it’s fine, then it’s love and…you’re fucked.  And not in the good way.”

“Who exactly are you talking about now?” Gwen pointedly enquired.

“He’s seriously lost it.”  Owen returned to the safer subject of mad Jack.  “Who’s prepared to tranquilise him for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we have this thing to hunt down.”  Gwen stared at the fuzzy photographs scattered across the table.  “It’ll be bad enough with only four of us, we couldn’t do it with three.”  She watched Owen struggle back to his chair and sit.  “Make that two-and-a-half.”

“We need Ianto,” Toshiko agreed.

“That’s what I told him.  He bit my head off.”

“They were fine earlier.  Jack was happy.”

The three exchanged gloomy looks before turning their subdued attention to the photographs of the thing.  It had too much of everything: height and muscles and horny protuberances and teeth.  Owen creakily laid his head on the table.

“I’m going to die.”

…

Jack arrived back at Ianto’s a little after nine.  The encounter with the thing had been exactly as vicious as Jack needed it to be to work off some energy, and the creature’s remains were presently at the Hub awaiting a detailed investigation.  Everyone else had been sent home to recover from the experience but Jack couldn’t rest, he couldn’t tend his wounds or sleep, he had to be here.  He rang the bell several times and he knocked, but there was no answer.  Jack knew Ianto was inside, he was simply ignoring him.  And Ianto was perfectly within his rights.

Jack broke in.

Downstairs was deserted and quiet, there were signs of packing, a few boxes scattered around, books sorted into piles, pictures taken from the walls, a vase lovingly wrapped and stored.  It shouldn’t have been a shock: Ianto was leaving, Jack knew that.

Jack ran up the stairs and barged into Ianto’s bedroom, throwing open the door and entering without a word.  Ianto didn’t even look up.  He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, poring over photographs that he was arranging in an album.  Jack felt a wave of irritation rush through him.  If he ever heard the name Lisa again…

“Can’t you take a hint?” Ianto asked him with a long-suffering sigh.

“If you wanted to keep me out you’d have better security.”

“Is that the household equivalent of deserving to be raped because I’m not wearing a chastity belt?”

“Don’t give me that passive aggressive shit.”

“Go away, Jack, there’s no reason for you to be here.”

“Maybe I want some answers.”  Ianto carried on with his photographs.  “Or maybe I just want an honest reaction.”

Jack grabbed a handful of pictures and threw them into the air; Ianto was off the bed in a second and Jack was against the wall, firmly pinned by a forearm across his throat.  Ianto stared into his eyes and spoke with quiet intensity.

“We can’t both be out of control.  Seeing as this behavioural thrashing around means so much more to you, I’ll just let you get on with it until you wear yourself out.  But not at the expense of my possessions, or my memories.  Understand?”

Jack gave a twitch of a smile and Ianto stepped back, dropping his arm, knowing he hadn’t made any point at all.  Jack took Ianto’s hand and pressed it to his groin to demonstrate the effect Ianto had had on him, letting him feel the solid heat beneath his palm.

“Proximity.  Reaction.  Doesn’t matter whether your passion is for me, against me…”

“Driving one another insane is hardly the perfect basis for a balanced relationship, whatever the context.”  Ianto extricated his hand with some difficulty.  “You think we can ever work together again?”

“I know we can.”

Jack’s hands ran around Ianto’s waist, helping himself to an embrace and burying his face in Ianto’s neck.  Ianto shivered as he felt Jack’s lips below his jawline, felt his tongue and his teeth as he licked and sucked.

“Don’t mark me,” he felt obliged to warn, but not obliged to stop.

Jack kissed a wayward trail to Ianto’s ear.

“Fuck me?” he invited in a hoarse whisper.

Ianto turned his head and caught Jack’s mouth, kissing him but conveying a sufficient lack of ardour to firmly answer no to Jack’s suggestion.  Prepared to do a little convincing, Jack dropped to his knees, hands sliding to Ianto’s hips and…losing his grip completely as Ianto yanked himself away and began picking up photographs.

“Not going to happen, Jack.  Go home, go away, just…go.”

Jack sat back on his heels and glared.

“Aside from temporarily pissing you off, is there no way I can move you?”

“You do.”

“When?  How?”

“Only all the time and in every way.”

Jack gave a humourless laugh.

“And here I’ve been, thinking you were unassailable.”

“Jack…”  Ianto placed the photographs on the bed and went to Jack, pulling him to his feet.  “We don’t like one another at the moment.  You really should go.”

“We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not.  And look at the state of you, you’re battered, you need to rest.”

“Grazes, couple of bruises…  You should see the other guy,” Jack grinned.

“You need to…”

“You’re going to have to throw me out.  Words or deeds, your choice.”

Shaking his head, Ianto tidied up the bed, cradling albums and photos in his arms.

“You stay here then.  I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Jack stepped in and took a picture from the top of the pile, waving it under Ianto’s nose before slapping it back down.

“She seems like a good person.  Caring, compassionate…”

“She was.”

“Think she’d want you entombed in her memory?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

Ianto went downstairs and reverently placed the albums in one of the packing boxes.  Jack was three inches behind him all the way, and he wouldn’t shut up.

“I still don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“If you’re as resilient as you appear.”

“I am.”

“I can’t tell if it’s true resilience, or if you’re suppressing so much that one day you’ll either break down or blow up.”  Ianto began to walk away; Jack hopped into his path.  “Tell me to fuck off, Ianto.  You did earlier, and I’d liked it.  Feisty, remember?”

Ianto rolled his eyes and offered, flatly,

“Fuck off, Jack.”

“No.  Where’s the passion?”

“It’s already packed.  Can I get you anything?   I have tea, coffee, I think there’s Temazepam…”

“Is it natural, or is it hard work to be this polite?”  Ianto tried to sidestep Jack but Jack was instantly with him.  “Shall I tell you a nasty secret?  I actually fantasise about what you hide beneath that innocuous surface, about the endless possibilities.  My body comes alive at the thought of catching the merest glimpse.  And I don’t mean the kind of misery that was exposed when Lisa was ripped away, that was little better than sloppy seconds.”  A flare of anger in Ianto’s eyes was rapidly extinguished, but not so fast that Jack didn’t see it.  “That’s more like it.  Why do you feel you have to cope?  Stop coping, Ianto.  Let’s see what happens when you’re honest with yourself, with the both of us.  What do we get?  Punching?  Screaming?  Shooting, or is that just Owen?  Shooting better not be a euphemism or I’ll slit his fucking throat.”

“Listen to yourself,” Ianto muttered in disgust.  He turned away but once again Jack was there, in his face.

“Do I offend you?”

“Like this?  What do you think?”

“That’s so you.  What do I think.  Turn it around, deflect attention.”  Another sidestep, another block.  “I want to see you fired up, Ianto, I want to see you crazy enough to smash anything you can lay your hands on, whether it’s a frame with Lisa inside, or my face.  I want a true expression of your feelings as you protest the injustice of being kept away from the source of your sanity, the work you cling to like a lover, I want you raging and spitting fire.  I want to feel what you can’t help but feel as I drive you insane because I’m sick of seeing you in control.  I want you torn to pieces, turned inside out.  I want you raw.”

Ianto’s pretence of indifference finally gave way to visible distress.

“Why?”

“Because then…you’ll be me.”

All at once Jack’s eyes were swimming with tears, and he was swallowing hard.

“Ah no, Love,” Ianto said, common sense taking a back seat as he grabbed at Jack, holding him tight, so tight, but knowing he couldn’t push any comfort into that unyielding frame.

“Raw,” Jack stressed.  “Satisfied?”

“I don’t want this.”

“Nor do I.  I resent you—  I can’t express how much.  It’s as if you forced me to come back and now I’m trapped here without you.”

Pointless trying to reason with Jack in this mood so Ianto kept quiet, knowing that this would lead to another of Jack’s increasingly desperate moves and wondering if he should just give in and let the captain have anything he wanted.  But that would make him the pushover he’d spent so long attempting to prove he wasn’t.  He gently eased Jack away and gave him a strained smile.

“Whether you’ll admit it or not, you’re exhausted, you’re wounded.  Go and have a shower and get into bed, I’ll be up soon.”

“I’m not here to be coddled.”

“I know that, but would it hurt so much?”

“Everything hurts.”

Ianto shrugged hopelessly.

“What do you want?”

“Sex with you would be nice for a start.  And a middle and an end.  That kind of closeness.  But no, I can see it on your face.  You’re purely tea and sympathy.  I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.  I’ll go find a fuck.  Finally taking your advice, you must be pleased.”  Jack played at waiting for an answer, playing broadly to add insult to injury.  “And you know what?  Seeing as I need something exceptional, something exciting, I know just the kind of man I’m looking for.  Just the man.”  Jack headed for the door.  “I’m gonna fuck and fuck and fuck.”

Ianto started in panic.

“No, Jack.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Not Bryn, you can’t.”

“And why not exactly?  I hope you’ve got a good reason ‘cause, gotta tell you, even my curiosity is hard when it comes to this guy.”

“You can’t risk destabilising him.”

“Don’t worry.  It’s not his mind I’m interested in.”

“Jack.”

“This is the only way I can make any kind of impact on you.  There must be some way to shake you out of playing it safe.”

“You seriously imagine this is it?  How can you think I’ll want you after this?”

“Maybe that’s just it.  I don’t think you’ll want me whatever I do.  Or don’t do.  Maybe I’ll fuck Bryn because I want to be close to you and sharing his body is as close as I’m allowed to get.”

“I will never forgive you.”

“It isn’t your forgiveness that I want.”

Ianto shook his head in amazement; he tried to convince himself that he barely recognised this Jack.

“You used to be cruel without being spiteful.  I admired that, it was quite an art.”

“Pay attention, Ianto.  This is when you get to make your last stand.  You offer me whatever it will take to stop me.”

“How can I do that to myself?  When I’m the only one here who respects me.”

“Good answer,” Jack acknowledged.  His smile was oddly kind, admiring, and Ianto found that more unnerving than all the noise and threats.

Seeing that Ianto wasn’t about to throw himself into the breach, Jack left.  The moment he was out of sight Ianto rushed to the phone and, frantically concocting a feasible scenario, dialled Bryn’s number.

“Hello?”

Too tempting to fall apart at the sound of that voice; Ianto fought to hold his emotions in check.

“Is that Bryn?”

“Yes, who’s that?”

“Hi, umm…  My name’s Jason, I’m a friend of Ryan.  Ryan Merton?”

“Oh, right, yes, I haven’t heard from him since he moved away, how is he?”

“Absolutely fine, sends his love.  And…well, we were good mates before I moved to Cardiff last week, and we were talking, and he said I should give you a ring, ask you out.  You come highly recommended apparently.”

Bryn laughed and the sound warmed away the chill Jack had left.

“He’s a cheeky bastard.”

“You should be flattered.”

“Oh, I am.”

“Any chance you’re free tonight?”

“Now…  Thing is, I’ve just started seeing someone and I’m unfashionably well behaved, I don’t play the field when I’m attached, so…”

“That’s it, enough said.  I’ve missed my chance.”

“Thank you, though, you’ve made my night!”

“Hope he’s good to you.”  Ianto cleared his throat before he could continue.  “Listen, Ryan’ll take the piss out of me unmercifully if he knows you turned me down.”

“If I hear from him I won’t say a word about you, I promise.”

“Thanks, Bryn.”

“Not a problem.”

“Bye.”

Ianto switched off his phone and threw it aside.

He was crying and he couldn’t stop.  It wasn’t all about losing Bryn, it was the tragedy of losing everything.  The possibility of love and stability had been replaced by Jack’s fickle affection, manoeuvring and contempt; there was nothing left for Ianto but leaving Cardiff, his home, his friends, his work.  Those long months of despair when all he’d wanted was for Jack to be alive and safe and here seemed a long way away.

The night wore on and Ianto’s mourning eventually ran out of steam.  He felt much better for letting it all out, and if he and Jack had been on speaking terms he might have recommended it, as Jack appeared to be the one most likely to blow up or break down at present, despite what he’d assumed about Ianto.  Ianto’s fighting spirit was on the up, and he thought of Jack trying to seduce Bryn: now it made him laugh.  Bryn was unshakeably faithful: Jack would have met his match and then some.

Ianto made himself a mug of tea and curled up in one of his armchairs to drink it, considering what might have happened if Bryn had accepted Jason’s offer of a date.  Ianto had been ready to send him someplace that Jack wouldn’t have thought to look for him, but would Jason have stood him up?  Even if meeting for the shortest time could compromise the new memories?  Ianto didn’t know the answer and was sad for himself, but glad for Bryn, that he’d never had the opportunity to find out.

…

Ianto took the weekend off work.  He contacted Toshiko to let her know that he was okay, and trusted that she’d tell Gwen and Owen if they were concerned/nosy about his absence.  He didn’t ask after Jack, and assumed that Jack had said little about him.  For the best, Ianto supposed.

All this nonsense with Jack was, at least, making it easier to consider moving on.  But he was loath to sell the house and made enquiries about letting it through a local estate agents, and that seemed simple enough on a financial and management level.  The personal level was more of a problem.  If they’d been on better terms, he would have asked Jack to take it on, hoping that having his own home might force Jack away from the Hub occasionally.

On and off over the weekend Ianto felt the tingle.  He didn’t see Jack, and surmised that the captain’s stalking skills had been refined.  He didn’t want to see Jack.  He really, really didn’t want to see Jack.  His emotions regarding the man were veering wildly from moment to moment, and too often he felt disturbingly tender toward him, sorry for his anguish, guilty for being the inadvertent cause.

No matter how often he replayed Jack’s words, analysed his actions, goaded himself with the captain’s completely unacceptable behaviour, he’d eventually swing back to feeling little but compassion.  Jack had lost.  And there wasn’t much in this world that Ianto understood better than loss.

Attrition 16       Attrition Index       Attrition Notes

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