Torchwood: Fanfic: Persevering

[m_findlow]

Title: Persevering
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,125 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, learning to cope with separation" at fic_promptly
Summary: Being apart is harder than either of them imagined

It was never going to be easy, continuing Torchwood without Jack there, but as the saying went, you just had to get on with life.

Jack was coming back though, that much Ianto was sure of. When or how seemed to be a different matter completely. He couldn't die, that much they'd learned, which meant he'd live forever, a prospect that made Ianto shudder when he stopped to consider all of the implications that entailed. It also meant however, that he might come back tomorrow, or the day after... or maybe it would be months, years even. What did time matter when you had forever, he wondered. Would he come back whilst they were still here? Would they live long enough to see that day, knowing that Torchwood could kill you at any given moment? Did they even matter to him at all?

He'd waited for his Doctor for so long. He'd never said it outright, but he'd dropped lots of little hints along the way, and he hovered protectively over that jar with the hand, which was now missing, presumably taken with him for reasons unknown. Perhaps it belonged to the Doctor and he was just returning it, but what use either of them had for it was beyond comprehension.

It shouldn't have mattered. Torchwood was just a job. Tosh and Owen had been working here long enough to know what to do. Gwen too. Even he felt like he had a grapple on certain aspects, and had done a lot of Jack's administration as it was. They each had something that they could contribute to keep things ticking over without Jack. It wouldn't necessarily be easy, but they'd manage it, if not because they could, then because they simply had to.

Yet something felt off. It was something about the vibe of the place, like it wasn't fun anymore. There was no Jack there to laugh and smile, to make jokes, tease them and just be generally ridiculous as he paraded around. Owen always claimed Jack never did anything around here except give orders, but without him, everything just seemed that little bit harder. It took that little bit longer to realise what it was that needed doing, and to motivate themselves to get it done. Jack had always had an innate sense for that sort of thing.

And for Ianto, it was more than that. He didn't even bother to leave the hub anymore, but it felt empty and lonely even when he was surrounded by the others. There were several conversations that hovered around "that kiss", but since then it hadn't been mentioned. That kiss had somehow become his whole world, and Jack not being here made it feel like everything was in black and white when it should have been in bright technicolour. He'd started something with Jack, and he hadn't been sure it was going anywhere, but having to drag himself through the days and nights without him here now was agony. It was worse than having to cope with him being dead; it was having to live with the idea that Jack was somewhere else, living his life without him. Maybe he hadn't meant that much to Jack after all; just a blip in time, fun while it lasted.

He couldn't push away his own feelings on the matter. He'd mourned Jack, and then he'd come back to life, and there was still a bit of getting used to that idea. Perhaps he should have just continued thinking Jack was dead. Drowning himself in work could only put off the inevitable for so long, and then he'd have to sleep. And when he slept, he'd dream of Jack coming back. Better to just keep working and not sleep. That was what they invented coffee for, wasn't it?

Somewhere on the Valiant.....

Resurrection 184. It never gets any easier. What was it this time? Was it stabbed with a knife, broken bones, punctured lungs, internal bleeding, or did he get zapped by that laser screwdriver again? All the days and deaths were melding into one long nightmare without end. The only thing that kept him going was that first thought every time he came back. Ianto.

He really hadn't made that best of things, always thinking he had more time. That was the problem, wasn't it? When you had so much of it, nothing ever became urgent. He'd let it all a slip away through his fingers when he should have grabbed hold of it for dear life.

The Doctor. It was always The Doctor. If he'd had more time, which he always had oodles of, except when he really needed it. He didn't mean to just take off, but needing to know the truth had been his raison d'etre for so long he didn't ever think the day would come when he'd be able to get his answers. Now he'd gotten himself stuck headlong into one of The Doctor's adventures again, only everything good he remembered about being with The Doctor had turned on its head. What had been fantastic and beautiful had turned ugly. Not just for him, but now everyone on Earth was suffering because of them, his team included.

The Master toyed with him, teasing him with little bits of information about what he'd done to them, but never enough for Jack to know whether they were safe or not. If he'd touched a hair on their heads, Jack would kill him. He might kill him anyway.

He'd never felt so lonely in all his life as he did trapped and chained, down in the bowels of the Valiant. Not even when he'd been stuck on that game station in the year 200,100. All he wanted was to be back with his team, and to hold onto Ianto and never let him go again. When he'd fallen completely in love, he couldn't say, but the days ached with yearning that only the Master's physical pain could relieve.

Death from the Master's torture was falsely believed to be an escape from pain, just not the kind the Master thought he was inflicting. Jack's true pain had been inflicted upon himself. Pain was a welcome distraction from thoughts of his lover, far away and totally unreachable. It was relief from repeating over and over in his head all the mistakes he'd made, starting with the one he'd made about just how important his team were to him. If he ever got out of here, he was going to make sure that he never made that same mistake again. For now though, all he could so was try and hold on to those memories, lest the pain and the torture strip away everything that was left of his soul.