Fandomweekly Challenge 21 - The cost of living

[m_findlow]

Title: The cost of living
Fandom: Torchwood
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M. Spoilers for "Countrycide" and "Broken". Mentions suicide.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 21 - Blessing in disguise at fandomweekly
Summary: It takes death to prove that life is for living.

The crate must have weighed a ton, Ianto thought, struggling along the darkened hallway. Its rough wooden slats were leaving sharp, painful splinters in his hands but he didn't dare drop his side. Owen would only grizzle at him, complaining he couldn't do his job.

He heaved a small sigh of relief as they rounded the corner, finally reaching the entrance to the archives and setting it down. Jack, Gwen and Tosh followed behind, adding a pile of smaller boxes next to it.

'Well,' Jack began, dusting off his hands, 'I don't know about you, but clearing out a house of the occult is hungry work. Ianto, think you can rustle us up some pizzas?'

'Meat feast,' Owen demanded.

'Mexican,' added Gwen.

'The one with the little balls of cheese,' Tosh said.

'And double garlic bread,' Jack shouted, already disappearing down the corridor, the others jogging to catch up with him.

'Don't forget me,' Ianto replied to the now empty hallway. Even if he'd said it in their presence he didn't think it would have made much of a difference. His gaze fell on the crate full of items. It'd take weeks to sort it all out. They'd probably forget he was even down here, unless of course the pizzas didn't show up. He sighed again, pulling out the first object. 'Have to start somewhere,' he muttered.

'Still here?' Mandy asked, sidling up to the opposite side of the bar. 'Thought you might have a night off from visiting this old place.'

'Where else would I be?' he replied, idly pushing a cardboard drinks coaster around the bar top with his finger. With each little push on the corner, it turned slightly, inverting the image of a golden dragon and the name of the brand of beer it was advertising. It had managed to hold his attention for a good twenty minutes by now. It was nice just to let his mind go blank and stare at the image as it moved around, like his movements had brought it to life.

Mandy leaned over the bar on her elbows, considering the young man who was now her most regular customer. 'Now, I don't claim to know exactly what happened when you went out with your workmates to the Beacons, but I know it wasn't good.'

Ianto let out something between a chuckle and a sob. 'You think?'

Mandy deftly produced a glass tumbler, flipping it over setting it on the bar. She poured a finger of scotch into it and pushed it towards him.

'I'd rather a pint,' he said, though not really feeling like anything. Even a glass of water felt like more than he could stomach.

'Drink,' came the order.

He reluctantly picked up the glass swallowing it down in large gulps until the glass was empty. The liquor burned his throat and settled in his stomach, warm and comforting. It was reassuring in a way that nothing else seemed to be of late. 'I'm sorry you had to... That I... That I called you.' Even now his pathetic suicide attempt felt just as humiliating. Who called their local barmaid after popping one sleeping tablet? Someone with no friends, that's who, he thought despondently.

'Don't be stupid, Ianto. Do you think I could live with myself if I'd known you were in trouble and did nothing?'

'Funny how you care even when no one else does.'

She fixed him with a firm stare. 'I'm sure, absolutely and without question, that the people at work do care about you.'

He stared into the bottom of the glass. 'Maybe.'

Jack had saved him from the cannibals who'd been about to slit his throat and butcher him like a lamb. He remembered that look on Jack's face as he held the gun, intense and without mercy, ready to murder all of them for what they'd done. That expression had frightened him, such pure hatred and cold indifference, but then as soon as they'd been detained, it had dropped away. He'd checked on each of his team in turn, battered, bruised and bleeding. It was all a blur. He didn't think he really remembered what Jack had said or done. Gwen had been there, tugging the filthy gag from his mouth, holding him as he trembled involuntarily. He was ashamed of his own reaction. He thought he'd be braver, more unemotional, like the rest of them. He didn't think he had any emotions left. He'd been so dead inside lately, like a husk that had once contained a human being.

So many times since he'd lost Lisa he'd just wished he was dead. He wished Jack had done it for him. They could have died together. That's how it should have gone. Instead Jack was punishing him, forcing him to live, forcing him to face what he'd done every single day. Not that it mattered. Even without Jack and the rest of them, he was suitably proficient at blaming himself and wallowing in guilt and self-loathing.

Now though, after coming so close to death - to horrible, brutal, senseless death - he'd finally had to face up to his own mortality.

'Can I ask you something, Ianto? Now, don't get upset, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, and you can tell me to mind my own bloody business and all, but...' She paused, choosing her words carefully. 'These thoughts you've been having... You know, like the ones the other night.'

'You mean, do I still want to kill myself?' The words came out harsh and blunt, even to his own ears. The truth was he didn't want to die. Cannibals had been ready to murder him for meat and he knew right then that he didn't want to die. Not like this. He could have swallowed that whole bottle of pills and ended it, but he couldn't. Now he understood why.

Mandy reached over and took his hand. 'Do you?'

He shook his head. 'No.' And he meant it.