Ficlet_zone Challenge 12 - One of them

[m_findlow]

Title: One of them
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack  
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,266 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 12 - Lost Reverse Fandom (One of Us) at ficlet_zone
Summary: Ianto has to face up to the fact that that he's one of them now.

Ianto swallowed the hard lump that had formed in the back of his throat as he pressed the button for the lift. Just a few moments earlier he'd been stood in the tourist information office, recalling the scene from last night. He could still feel the cool sensation of the rough brickwork pressed against his cheek. There was still a dull pain in his wrist where Jack had twisted it and yanked it up against his back. Even Jack's hot breath and a tiny fleck of spittle hitting the other side of his face were as vivid now as if they'd happened just a moment ago. As the lift descended, Jack's words came back to him with absolute clarity.

'Your loyalty is to us now.'

He supposed that was what this was - Jack agreeing not to kill him or retcon him or lock him up for all eternity. Jack letting him walk right back into Torchwood even after everything he'd done to betray them. In a way this was Jack saying that he could stay on here at Torchwood, provided he left last night's betrayal at the door and gave them his complete loyalty from here on in. He supposed he was one of them now. Why else would he have dragged himself out of bed this morning, dressed and driven himself to work as if nothing had changed. Only a ridiculously loyal madman would willingly walk back into the lion's den. He couldn't even be sure he was going to walk back out alive. Maybe this was nothing more than a ruse to get him to come quietly, lulling him into a false sense of security.  

The klaxons went off as the cogwheel door rolled open, announcing his presence. He took a tentative glance around the place. The hub hadn't changed, even if it felt like it surely should have. Sure, they'd cleaned up the worst of it, righting furniture and equipment that had been knocked over in the battle, mopping up the worst of the blood trails and otherwise trying to eliminate any trace of what had happened here yesterday. He was sure though that if he looked closely enough, there'd still be the odd spatter of red on a wall or on the side of some everyday item that would serve as a reminder of what he'd done. It'd take weeks, or even months to find them all and to surreptitiously clean them away. That would be a punishment in and of itself. Every time he'd think he could move on there'd be that one little red spot, cautioning him against doing anything foolish ever again. One more misstep and Jack might not be so forgiving.

As for the rest of the hub, it looked just the same - that same lived in, slightly messy batchelor pad of abandoned glasses, half empty pizza boxes and other miscellany littered about. It was still his job to clean up what they hadn't. Cleaning up was probably all he was good for, and all that they might trust him to do.

As his gaze rose upward he spotted the one person that filled him dread. There was Jack, standing at the head of the boardroom, gazing dispassionately down on him. The cut on his lip where Ianto had punched him was visible even at this distance and only added to the fearsome look on his face. What would happen now? He'd come back, even after everything. Even after the nightmares and the random wandering the streets in his post traumatic haze, and the ending up at his local pub, drinking away what was left of his consciousness until he could stagger home and sleep the sleep of the heavily intoxicated. Somehow he'd still woken up, hangover notwithstanding, and decided this was what he had to do.

He let his eyes drift up to meet Jack's. There was the tiniest nod, as if he was affirming that his choice had been the right one. If this had been a test, then Ianto had - by virtue of returning to face up to his crimes - passed. He gave the tiniest nod back and that was that. You're one of us now. That was the silent pact they'd just made. What had happen before didn't matter anymore, at least not to Jack. With that one small action Ianto had not absolved himself but he had accepted his fate.

What now? he wondered. How could things ever go back to the way they'd been before? He wasn't even sure he knew how things had been before. So much of what he'd done had been predicated upon lies. He hadn't wanted a job at Torchwood. In fact, he wanted nothing more to do with them at all. Once Lisa was better, they were going to leave and go somewhere far away where the could just be together and be happy. How deluded had he been to think that they could ever escape Torchwood?

Jack had given him the nod of acquiescence, but what about the rest of them? There was Gwen up there with Jack, her bleeding heart oozing out through those hazel eyes and that sympathetic frown. She hadn't been here all that long and she had a boyfriend. She knew what it was to be in love with someone. She might be able to forgive him. As for the others, Owen would be a real shit. He'd already had a go at Ianto for being disloyal. Loyalty seemed to be the only currency around here that mattered. Perhaps in their line of work that was a valid expectation. Would Tosh be able to see past his dishonesty? She'd never been unkind to him, but everyone had their limits. She and Owen knew what cybermen were capable of. They'd been there to clean up the remnants of Canary Wharf. She knew exactly what kind of monster he'd brought into their midst.

At the end of it all, what did it really matter if they hated him? He was stuck here now for the indefinite future. If he wanted to leave, Jack would have to "deal" with him. He was Torchwood, and the only way you left Torchwood was in a pine box. Most didn't even get that. Jack would lock him away in the morgue to rot for all eternity. There'd be no cryogenics to preserve his body. Jack might simply incinerate his corpse, or worse, disfigure it sufficiently that he could use it as a replacement corpse for some other poor bastard killed by something that came through the rift. Staying here didn't guarantee him safety from any of those things happening, but it did postpone them, even just for a little while. It wasn't much of an alternative.

He spotted the rubbish littered on the coffee table and dumped on the sofa, feeling a rising sense of annoyance. They could clear up blood and dead bodies, fake corpses and make people disappear, but a few pizza boxes and used napkins was a stretch too far. He grabbed a black bin liner and began picking them up one by one, stuffing them in the bag. He didn't even have the energy to shove them in with any conviction, despite knowing he was being watched. He was tired and hungover and overwrought. As if they'd feel any guilt at an overt display of irritation on his part. What right did he have to be annoyed at them? They were the ones that were stuck with him. He was one of them now, whether any of them, including himself, liked it or not.

Comments

[mscatmoon.livejournal.com]

Good story. You did a wonderful job of dealing with Ianto's thoughts upon his return to the Hub after Lisa. It's disturbing too, with the idea that Ianto is an indentured servant of Torchwood, paying for the right to stay alive and un-retconned by swearing his loyalty to the organization. He truly has no choice and that's sad and chilling.

[m-findlow.livejournal.com]

He'll eventually find his place as one of the team proper but for now he just has to weather the storm.

Thank you!

[jo02]

I really liked this - intense and gritty, without being overly emotional.

I could imagine it happening this way.

[bk_forever]

Poor Ianto, no time yet even to grieve properly and he's back at the Hub, cleaning up. At this point the future holds little promise for him. Very well done.