m_findlow

Title: Keeping the faith
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,510 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for samuraiter's prompt "Torchwood, Ianto (& or /) Jack, seeing the serious side of Captain Jack for the first time" at fic_promptly
Summary: Ianto thought he knew who Jack was

Ianto is convinced he's figured out exactly who Captain Jack is about five minutes after arriving at Torchwood. He's cocksure of himself beyond anything Ianto has ever known, parading around the hub like he owns it. Well, in truth he supposes he does own the hub, but he doesn't have to be smug about it.

He's given Ianto the fifty pence tour, expecting him to be completely in awe of everything Jack shows him, somehow proud that the hub is in a complete mess, rubbish everywhere, paperwork all out of order, if done at all, and don't even get him started on the kitchen or the archives. The place is just too disgusting for words, and yet, Jack seems oblivious to it all, even pleased by his efforts. Nothing Ianto can say, nor his disparaging looks of disappointment seems to dampen that inexhaustive mood of Jack's.

At first he thinks Jack is out to impress him, but as soon as the rest of the team arrive, he's equally affable and charming with them too; all smiles, jokes and shameless innuendo. The one thing Jack doesn't do is serious. No matter how bad things get, and they get pretty bad sometimes, he's never without a smile and a quip about whatever the rift throws at them. Even if the whole team stagger back through the door, covered in slime, looking thoroughly bedraggled, Jack is still there, trying to keep things light. Based on everything Ianto has seen, it's going to be only too easy to pull the wool over his eyes, having already managed to sneak Lisa into the hub, and now left only to figure out a way to fix her. He can't understand why Yvonne Hartman had such a problem keeping a leash on Jack, or perhaps it was just his unfailing good mood that irked her sensibilities. Whatever it is, Ianto knows that he's got Jack's number. He's their unflappable hero of the hour, unfazed by anything. Ianto expected there to be more to him, but there's just an egocentric shell, and that's it.

He surreptitiously watched Jack through the glass of his office. He was hunched over his desk, head in his hands, looking like a man who had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. He must've thought he was alone for the night, forgetting the inconspicuous young man who hovered about the hub, making things happened as if out of thin air. That was just they way Ianto liked things. People who didn't get noticed weren't considered suspicious, or up to anything untoward. They disappeared seamlessly into the background, where they would be forgotten and left to their own devices.

He knew he should go home, or at least disappear downstairs, leaving Jack to whatever was on his mind, but the sight of the man so out of sorts worried him. Perhaps he'd been wrong about Jack all along. Maybe there really was more to him than the Peter Pan attitude of a boy who refused to grow up.

He stepped quietly toward the threshold of Jack's office and knocked gently.

'Anything else I can get you, sir?'

At first he didn't think Jack had heard him, because he didn't move. Ianto was about to carefully step away, melting into the background, when Jack finally did speak.

'Can you bring me a brand new day?'

'Would that be with or without tearing a hole in space and time?' he quipped. Jack loved to tease him and get a rise out of him, and he liked being able to exercise his wit.

Jack let out the tiniest of chuckles, raising his head from his hands to look up and meet Ianto's gaze.

'Bad day, sir?'

'The worst.'

'Didn't think you did bad days.'

'On the contrary. I could write the book on bad days.'

Ianto risked stepping into Jack's office. He couldn't tell what he was supposed to do, but he couldn't very well leave now. He walked across the yards that separated them and came to sit in the chair opposite Jack's desk, covered in all manner of oddities.

Jack picked up a letter off his desk, turning it in his fingers, flipping it around without actually looking at it, staring straight through Ianto as if he wasn't there, before dropping it back on his desk, letting out a long sigh and leaning back in his chair. The letter sat there between them for several minutes, but Ianto finally got the message that if he had enough courage he should pick it up and read it. Gingerly reaching across, he took hold of it, unfolding it and reading the contents.

It was a wrongful death law suit for a former Torchwood employee, killed on the job on New Year's Eve, 1999. Ianto's eyes boggled as he read further.

'Jack,' he said, forgetting that they weren't on a first name basis, 'they're asking for a twenty million pound settlement!'

'I know,' he said quietly.

'But, bloody hell, twenty million?' He looked up at Jack, his face ashen. 'What did the lawyers say?'

'Torchwood doesn't have lawyers.'

'Torchwood One did.'

'We don't need them.'

Ianto wanted to scoff. 'I beg to differ, sir,' he said, remembering his place.

'It's done, Ianto. I already wrote them a cheque. This is what they thought of it,' he said, reaching into his pocket, and tossing the two torn pieces of paper on the desk. Ianto picked them up and placed the halves back together, seeing the familiar cursive script and signature of their affable leader.

'Thirty million pounds? Jack are you mad?' he said, before pausing. 'Hang on, but why did they reject it?'

'They want the money, but they want their day in court, more. They want to be able to string someone up, point the finger, have the guilty parties crucified for all the world to see. And who can blame them?'

'But... according to this, you weren't even in charge of Torchwood at the time. I'm no expert, but, how can you take responsibility for this?'

'They're suing the organisation. These days, that means me. Beside, I was there in '99. I'm as much to blame as the next person. I should have paid more attention, seen the signs, done something to prevent it.'

Ianto frowned. 'I don't understand.' And he didn't. What happened to all that "outside the government and beyond the police" bit? Surely some department somewhere must have been able to do something. Couldn't the Crown intercede, or had they decided not to?

Jack leaned forward. 'This job is dangerous, Ianto. You saw that the first time we met. People here don't live to be ninety. I'm trying to change that, but... some things are out of our control. I can't protect you from everything that comes through the rift. That's the honest to God truth of it. No amount of money can replace a person. Once they're gone, everything they could have been is gone too.'

Ianto sat there and thought about Lisa. Her family thought she was gone too. They grieved, knowing they couldn't change what happened. Twenty million pounds couldn't give them back their daughter, sister, cousin. Ianto would get her back though. He'd find a way. Seeing the haunted look on Jack's face made him realise that Jack too wished he could have moved heaven and earth to save the people he'd lost. His boisterous, devil may care facade had been just that, a facade to hide the true nature of what they were faced with. If the others knew, they might not come back.

Like Jack, he held his own mask firmly in place, hiding away the ugliness of reality. He'd thought Jack to be shallow and selfish, one dimensional, and poles apart from Ianto in every respect, but sitting here now, he realised that the only thing separating them was the lie that Ianto kept about why he was really here. Once you stripped that away, they were exactly the same; two men trying to protect the people they loved, no matter the personal cost, and unable to fix the things that they were powerless to change.

'I'm sorry, sir. I wish there was something I could do to help.'

Jack gave a tired little shrug. 'Doesn't matter. Maybe tomorrow the rift will bring us something amazing, and we can all forget about this for a time.'

'Is that likely, sir?'

'No, but we have to hope. Without hope, none of us would ever get out of bed in the morning.' He cleared his throat loudly, eager to change the subject. 'Speaking of,' he said, consulting his watch, 'it's late. You should get yourself to bed.'

'Yes, sir,' he said, standing up. 'Goodnight, sir.'

He took the steps two and a time, before doubling back and heading down to the basement sublevel, unlocking the door and shutting himself inside. Lisa was sleeping, for which he was immensely grateful. The pain had been so bad lately.

Jack was right, they had to cling to hope or they'd all drown in sorrow.