Torchwood: Fanfic: Attached

[m_findlow]

Title: Attached
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Gwen, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,368 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, unexpected attachment" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack has developed a unusual attachment to a piece of furniture

Jack was unusually stormy when he marched across the hub, dumping the paper bag with Gwen's crossiant in it on her desk without a further word. Gwen turned and watched him. Twenty minutes ago he'd been his usual cheery self, offering to go and fetch them both pastries from the local bakery, along with something akin to real coffee. They'd been there since six am, sorting out some minor rift alerts that had come though, whilst Ianto was away in London at one of the many hideously boring UNIT conferences that Jack hated. He was more than pleased to be able to send someone far more patient than him in his stead.

'What's wrong with you?' Gwen said, annoyed at his sudden change in demeanor for no apparent reason at all.

'It's gone,' he said.

'What's gone?'

He turned to face her. 'I was walking back along the quay and it's gone.'

Gwen hated it when he got like this. She wasn't a mind reader. 'You haven't answered the question yet.'

'The bench.'

Gwen took a minute to play catch up.

'That manky old wooden monstrosity?' she said, remembering the sad, wooden park-style bench that was jutted up against the side of the sea wall on the quayside. 'Probably got blown into the sea.'

'No, they removed it. It was bolted to the quay. Now it's gone.'

'Why are you so upset? It's not like anyone was using it. Stupid place to put one if you ask me.'

'Well nobody asked you, did they?' Jack said, storming off, accidentally taking both coffees with him.

What was all that about? she wondered.

He knew he shouldn't be upset over a piece of furniture, but he was. It might have been true that no one else used it, but he did. Well, him and Ianto both. It was their bench, really. How many times had they sat there sipping coffee and watching morning fog roll over the bay, or tucked into greasy fish and chips, wrapped in newspaper, watching as Ianto tried to scrape off the inordinate amount of tomato sauce Jack had dumped all over it with a spare chip. How many nights had they sat there, watching the sun dip low beneath the waterline, waiting for the stars to come twinkling out of the twilight and deepen into the night. They could sit there for hours, talking about nothing and everything. Ianto who was usually so reserved, became a fountain of conversation when they were huddled there together in a moment that was both public and private all at the same time. How many times had they sat there in the freezing air, happy just to be together, hand in hand until they finally both admitted that they were freezing their balls off, neither one wanting the moment to end? It had become a special place, a place that was their's. And now some idiot from the council had gone and taken it away from them. It made Jack furious.

'You need to get of over this Jack,' Gwen chastised him two days later when he was in one of his grumpy moods again, muttering about self interested bureaucrats having no idea what people in the real world wanted, twisting the steering wheel wildly around slow moving cars, and even some fast moving ones.

She was right, of course. He just couldn't explain his newfound attachment to it. It hadn't been pretty, the wooden slats well worn from the heavy rains, ice and bitter winds off the sea. The salt had rusted the metal fixtures and the whole thing was a little on the rickety side. Still, he missed it. And he missed it more because Ianto wasn't here. He could have sat there and pretended they were both there, or sat on the phone to him and described the view. Either way, the loss of both at the same time was more than he could put up with.

Gwen was relieved when Ianto returned home the next day, improving Jack's disposition no end, despite the bollocking he received for the mess lying around the hub. Nothing could dampen his mood just for having Ianto back. Even Gwen managed to give him a small hug, thanking him for coming back.

'I was only gone four days. He wasn't that bad, was he?'

'You can't even imagine,' she replied. 'Whatever you do, don't mention the bench.'

'What bench?'

A week later Jack was once again on pastry duties, being promised an extra special blend if he could summon a sour cherry tart for his nearest and dearest. On his way back, he once again took the long way around, walking back across the plass and down the stairs to the quay. It was one of those clear sunny mornings, the air crisp and cool but otherwise pleasant, so he wanted the walk to be stretched out for as long as possible. Halfway along the quay, hearing the gentle splash of water breaking up against the pier, slapping the few moored vessels, he saw something that nearly made him drop the bag of pastries. The bench was back, well, not the old one, but a new one, its fresh timbers polished. Maybe he'd misjudged the council rather harshly. Perhaps they'd only removed the old bench to replace it with a nice new one.

'They replaced it,' he declared, happily dropping a large bag full of apricot danishes on the desk.

Gwen sighed. 'Are we playing this guessing game again or are you going to start using nouns to describe things?'

'The bench. It's back.' He grinned stupidly, before setting off for his office, leaving Gwen in her usual state of perplexed confusion at Jack's behaviour.

'I'm so pleased,' she replied, not feeling all that enthusiastic about it at all.

When they day looked like it wasn't about to spit any more nasties at them, Jack sent Gwen home for what constituted a reasonable hour for once.

'Come on Ianto, it's fish and chips tonight,' he declared.

'What's the occasion?'

'You're back, isn't that enough reason?'

Jack parked himself happily on their nice new bench, tearing the wrappings off their package and scoffing down a mouthful of crispy fish before Ianto had even tucked the napkin neatly into his collar.

'You always put too much sauce on it,' he complained, pulling out the piece of fish, dripping in red sauce like some appendage from a bloody horror film.

'It makes it taste better,' Jack mumbled in between mouthfuls.

'If you insist,' Ianto said, eating it regardless. 'They've installed a new bench,' he added.

'I noticed. In fact I'd thought they'd taken it away permanently. I wasn't happy.'

'So I've heard. This one's much nicer though, don't you think?'

Jack shrugged, licking the salt off his fingers. 'It's okay.' He much preferred the company.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. 'I hope it's more than okay.'

'Why's that?'

'It cost us ten thousand pounds.'

Jack nearly choked on the four chips he'd just stuffed into his mouth.

'What do you mean it cost us ten thousand pounds?'

'You don't think this new bench is here by accident, do you?'

'It isn't?'

'Gwen told me how upset you were, so I went and had a chat with the Cardiff City council about a replacement. For a generous, er, donation, they were more than happy to accommodate the erection of a local memorial, provided that whomever we nominated was considered to have furthered the social, economical, or cultural progress of Wales through humanitarian efforts.'

'Huh?'

'Look behind you,' Ianto said, pointing to the small brass plaque on the back of the seat. 'May I present the Owen Harper memorial.'

It was true that the plaque was engraved with Owen's name, and dedicated to "invaluable services rendered to the City of Cardiff".

'I don't know what to say,' Jack said, astounded that Ianto would go to so much trouble for so trifling a thing. Even more so that he would think to dedicate it in Owen's honour.

'Then don't say anything, just think that you're posthumously sitting on Owen and that he wouldn't thank you for it.'

'Please,' Jack scoffed. 'Who wouldn't love this arse?'

Comments

[bk_forever]

Awwww, I love that Ianto got the bench replaced to make Jack happy,and I love even more that he dedicated it to Owen - after all, Owen died preventing a nuclear meltdown. If that's not humanitarian enough to merit a memorial, I don't know what would be. Owen might not thank them for sitting on him, but I think he'd like having something dedicated to him, even if it's just a bench.

Now they need a suitable memorial for Tosh. Maybe they could plant a cherry tree in her honour.