m_findlow

Title: Breathing space
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 811 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for farad's prompt "Any, any, it was so hard to explain that all he wanted was to be alone" at fic_promptly
Summary: Ianto wishes they'd stop crowding around him

Solitude. He'd always preferred solitude, and he'd never had any problem getting it. Until now that is.

For months on end they'd ignored him, or at least paid him little mind as he went about his day. It was just how he liked it. He didn't want any of them getting too close. If they got too close they might start to notice the cracks in his facade. They might notice the tinges of red around his eyes from the lack of sleep, or the fact that he was wearing the same suit as yesterday, a bold coloured tie worn to distract attention from the rest of the outfit. They might notice the way he looked at each of them in turn, searching for any signs that they suspected he was up to something, or see the way his hands began to tremble slightly when the lights around the hub flickered, knowing he had to fix the power fluctuations before someone went looking in earnest for the source of the problem.

All of that felt like a lifetime ago now. The irony of it was that for all that time he hadn't really been alone. He'd had Lisa and he'd had the hope that they'd be together again. Now that she was gone he truly was alone, yet couldn't find the solitude he yearned for. Everywhere he went, he could feel their eyes on him. Eyes that distrusted his being here, eyes that worried about his sanity, eyes that bore into his soul and hated him for his betrayal. They all had their reasons for not letting him out of their sight, and made every kind of excuse to be close by.

Owen was constantly after him for this medical checkup or that. He was anaemic, he wasn't sleeping enough, he needed more sunlight, he needed to eat more vegetables. It was all just a ruse to ask the more probing questions. Owen wanted to know if he felt like killing himself. Perhaps if he'd just said yes, then he'd go away, or give him something to take away the pain. Then again, maybe he'd just have him sectioned.

Tosh kept trying to be the impartial one. She brought him coffee, or tea, or a pastry because she "just happened to be passing by". She didn't hassle him with questions but she was always trying to do something nice for him, even though he knew he didn't deserve it. He knew why she was being so nice to him too. He'd read her files, known she'd been imprisoned for treason, all for trying to save her mother's life. He should have been able to relate, but it really didn't feel like the same thing.

Gwen was far less averse at cornering him under the auspices of caring. She wanted to know what his plans were for the night, the weekend, did he want to go have a drink with them after work, that she understood he must be hurting but that he needed to move on with his life. He wasn't sure she trusted him, despite her sweet words, and knowing how much she might love to be the one to run and tell Jack what she'd learned from her fine policing skills, either to have him removed completely, or be permanently spied on.

Then there was Jack. It didn't matter where he went, he could feel Jack's eyes following his every move, burning into him. It was a closeness of a different kind, and far from what they'd had before he'd been uncovered as a traitor. The weight of Jack's feelings pressed down on him until he didn't think he could stand it anymore. Whenever he looked up, he caught Jack's gaze on him, those cold blue eyes warring between fury and hatred, empathy and hurt. He barely spoke a word apart from giving him instructions and yet there seemed to be a torrent of unspoken questions that weighed heavily on him. Instead, Jack loaded him up with work, somehow understanding that Ianto needed the distraction, or perhaps to distract him long enough to prevent him from doing anything else. Jack was keeping him close for his own reasons, because as the old saying went, you kept your friends close, but your enemies closer.

It was more than he could bear. He just wanted to be alone like he had been before. He wanted to be alone so that he could grieve and not have to be ashamed of the mess he'd made. He didn't want their sympathies or their mistrust. He wanted to be left to mourn the way he should have months ago. This was something he had to face alone.

He'd always been the quiet one, never asking any of them for help before, and because of it, he couldn't find the voice to ask them now.