m_findlow | Fffc Bingo Card - Seeing the world

Title: Seeing the world
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Bingo Card Prompt 24 - Window at fffc
Summary: Ianto isn't where Jack left him, and for once that's a good thing.

‘I'm home!’ Jack called out, maneuvering the plastic shopping bags through the narrow doorway. He dragged them into the modest kitchen and began unpacking the contents, a loaf of bread for sandwiches and toast, apple juice - because the small grocer around the corner had been out of orange juice and wouldn't be getting another delivery until Wednesday - rice and capsicums, because Jack had it fixed in his mind to cook up a spice laden risotto for dinner. That reminded him that the cookbook from whence the inspiration for it had come was due back at the library in a few days. It was refreshing to have that as the biggest of his worries and the most pressing thing on his to do list.

Jack poked his head around the corner of the kitchen and into the pokey little living room. The television was turned off, a change from up its usual flickering images left on mute. The rumpled sofa was equally empty.

‘Ianto?’ he called out, remembering having left his lover curled up there before heading out for groceries. He'd been there virtually all day so Jack hadn't expected him to not still be there when he got back. He didn't even like leaving Ianto alone these days, but neither did he feel like dragging him all over town just for the sake of getting basics. It was a hard kind of normal to get used to but Jack had done it, if not because he had to, because he wanted to. Ianto needed space to heal after everything that had happened with the 456.

Whole days could drift by without so much as a word or an acknowledgment that Jack existed. Jack didn't confuse his isolation for anger at him specifically. This was just what Torchwood did to people - broke them permanently and irrevocably. But Jack wasn't going to let that happen. That was why he'd brought them here, to this little seaside house in Aberystwyth, so that they could be removed from the pain that resided in Cardiff. It had been months, but every so often, Jack would get a tiny glimpse of the old Ianto still tucked away inside the silent shell that was protecting him from the outside world.

‘Ianto?’ Jack called out again as his hand wrapped around the banister, feet plodding up the echoing stairs. He checked the bathroom on his way past and then headed for the bedroom.

He found Ianto there, sat huddled against the French windows and staring out at the view. It wasn't the best day for enjoying the vista. The ocean was a flat stretch of slate grey and the sky above it powdered silver that blurred at the horizon, signaling the onset of rain about half an hour from now. It wasn't gloomy but it had its own air of gravity and its moods were consistent and visible, something Jack often wished he could say of Ianto.

Things however looked promising. Cupped in his hands was a mug of tea, sipped delicately and kept mere inches from his face at all times. He'd made himself tea. That was good. Mostly Jack forced them on him, in the guise of wanting one himself, even if he wasn't thirsty. Ianto making tea counted as a little victory. Ianto having moved from one room to another counted as another. Even more comforting was the basket sitting just underneath the alcove, full of folded socks and towels. Ianto hadn't touched a piece of laundry in the entire time they'd been here.

‘I was going to do those when I got back,’ Jack said, making conversation.

Ianto sipped his tea without replying for a long minute before speaking. ‘I was watching you.’

Jack nodded, coming to sit on the opposite side of the windows. The houses curved along the road that hugged the stretch of coastline from one headland to the other. Jack would have been visible walking along the quiet street for several blocks before turning left and away from the esplanade.

‘Like what you saw?’ Jack teased, stretching his leg out along the frame. Ianto lowered a hand to touch it, thumb brushing over the wooly grey socked foot. ‘Always.’

Jack enjoyed the way Ianto's hand rubbed his foot. Today was a good day, he decided. Better than most, and he took it for what it was. Tomorrow could be a different story.Tomorrow Ianto might crawl back into his shell and go back to being wordless. That was what Jack hated the most, how easy it was to switch from one to the other. It was like one step forward, two steps back, but he'd persist for as long as it took to get the old Ianto back for good.

He leaned his head against the glass, taking in the opposite view of brightly painted, narrow houses pressed alongside each other along the waterfront. As he trailed his gaze from the far end back to the shore immediately below them, his eyes landed on the last good sign. Tucked behind Ianto's curled up legs was a book.

‘We've read that one, already,’ Jack said, recalling the hours spent reading it aloud. It had been one of his first purchases from the second hand book co-op. When Ianto hadn't shown any interest in reading books, Jack had taken it upon himself to read them for him. Anything to take his mind off everything they'd been through.

‘I don't think I took much of it in,’ Ianto replied, admitting perhaps for the first time his own troubled state of mind. ‘I have trouble remembering... stuff... time…’

Jack leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on his leg. ‘It's okay. Things will get better.’

Ianto's expression turned anxious at the prospect. ‘I like it here. I'm not sure I want to go back.’

Jack understood. Torchwood, whatever that was now, was still back in Cardiff. Maybe going back wasn't the answer, wouldn't change anything. Perhaps they were exactly where they were meant to be.