[Torchwood] "Silhouettes" (PG-13)
Nov. 29th, 2012 02:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, sometimes Jack comes back from the future just to watch Starts post-Children of Earth (It worked best that way...)
Enough time had passed that Jack felt ready to nick back to Earth, at least for a visit: He had wandered the space lanes for years, running odd jobs with old contacts, just to keep busy, just to keep moving, just to stop thinking so much about what had happened on Earth. But now, his mind felt less clouded with dark memories and his heart felt less heavy with grief. The time had come to lance the wounds and let the infected crud out.
Time had come to look into the past and remember the good things, to drop the bad into the shadows for a bit. And he had had some good things to remember. One good thing, or good person, rather, in particular, namely, the man who had very nearly succeeded in holding down his roving heart for a while.
He set his alarm for a non-descript day about six months before the week that had unraveled his ties to earth, arriving in the alley behind a cafe they had frequented, on a quiet evening in late spring. Too damp for them to sit outside, given the light rain that fell on the city, but that would lessen his chances of being seen.
Sure enough, he could see the two of them, sitting at a table by the window, chatting over their meal, having a laugh over their drinks. He noticed how his other self kept one foot close to Ianto's feet, just in case his young partner should shift and brush against him.
No room at the table except for the two of them, and it had felt strange to him back then. He had not felt that way since Verity, the woman who had gotten him to stay still for a time in the 1930s... until the Cardiff Blitz, and the bomb that leveled the close where they lived.
Jack drew in a breath, forcing himself to focus on the present -- the bit of the past that stood present before him, the bit that he had shared with Ianto. Right now, his younger, happier self had slipped a hand across the table, to cover Ianto's hand, the younger, shier man looking up at him, glancing away, a bit embarrassed. So like Ianto: always so modest, but that modesty had drawn him in, since it hid such an adventurous spirit, a heart open to things that one would not think he would embrace, the virgin that captured the wild unicorn. And that modesty had given balance to his (Jack's) bravado: one would have thought them too different, but that difference gave them harmony.
Ianto looked back at Jack's younger self, a small smile quirking at the corners of his mouth; his younger self leaned in and murmured something, suggesting possibilities. Ianto leaned away a bit, eyes widening in shock, but his foot sliding between his companion's, Jack's younger self laughed, gently, but mischievously, getting a blush from Ianto, a blush that softened the younger Jack's teasing, a reassuring press of his hand, before he rose and the two of them started out.
Jack slipped into the shadows, careful to stay out of sight, watching them from a distance as they emerged from the cafe, his younger self with a hand on Ianto's back, companionably, as they walked out into the mist. Jack waited a moment, careful to keep their retreating shapes in sight, then slipped out the doorway where he had hidden himself and followed them, careful to keep his footsteps quiet, careful to keep a distance between him and them.
At length, their path brought them to Ianto's flat, some fumbling in the shadows: Ianto trying to dig his keys out of his pocket, a younger Jack sliding his hands up under his lover's coat and tickling his ribs. Ianto elbowing him, muttering some word of annoyance and amusement, before finding his key and unlocking the door. He just had it open, when Jack's younger self took Ianto by the shoulders and gently pressed him against the door, kissing him, Ianto slipping his arms about his lover's waist, the two of them framed by the light from the front room.
Jack watched, holding a breath, as if letting it out would shatter the moment or give away his location. The couple broke their kiss, stepping into the room, the door closing behind them, snuffing out the light.
Jack breathed out as if extinguishing a candle. He thought to slip around the back and see if could peer in through a window, but that would push things: someone might see him, or something might happen to give away his position. He could not let his younger self see him, and while Ianto had come to understand who and his lover was and would be, it would take way too much explaining.
He had seen what he had needed to see. And it would suffice. It would stay him the rest of the way, till earth needed him again....
Enough time had passed that Jack felt ready to nick back to Earth, at least for a visit: He had wandered the space lanes for years, running odd jobs with old contacts, just to keep busy, just to keep moving, just to stop thinking so much about what had happened on Earth. But now, his mind felt less clouded with dark memories and his heart felt less heavy with grief. The time had come to lance the wounds and let the infected crud out.
Time had come to look into the past and remember the good things, to drop the bad into the shadows for a bit. And he had had some good things to remember. One good thing, or good person, rather, in particular, namely, the man who had very nearly succeeded in holding down his roving heart for a while.
He set his alarm for a non-descript day about six months before the week that had unraveled his ties to earth, arriving in the alley behind a cafe they had frequented, on a quiet evening in late spring. Too damp for them to sit outside, given the light rain that fell on the city, but that would lessen his chances of being seen.
Sure enough, he could see the two of them, sitting at a table by the window, chatting over their meal, having a laugh over their drinks. He noticed how his other self kept one foot close to Ianto's feet, just in case his young partner should shift and brush against him.
No room at the table except for the two of them, and it had felt strange to him back then. He had not felt that way since Verity, the woman who had gotten him to stay still for a time in the 1930s... until the Cardiff Blitz, and the bomb that leveled the close where they lived.
Jack drew in a breath, forcing himself to focus on the present -- the bit of the past that stood present before him, the bit that he had shared with Ianto. Right now, his younger, happier self had slipped a hand across the table, to cover Ianto's hand, the younger, shier man looking up at him, glancing away, a bit embarrassed. So like Ianto: always so modest, but that modesty had drawn him in, since it hid such an adventurous spirit, a heart open to things that one would not think he would embrace, the virgin that captured the wild unicorn. And that modesty had given balance to his (Jack's) bravado: one would have thought them too different, but that difference gave them harmony.
Ianto looked back at Jack's younger self, a small smile quirking at the corners of his mouth; his younger self leaned in and murmured something, suggesting possibilities. Ianto leaned away a bit, eyes widening in shock, but his foot sliding between his companion's, Jack's younger self laughed, gently, but mischievously, getting a blush from Ianto, a blush that softened the younger Jack's teasing, a reassuring press of his hand, before he rose and the two of them started out.
Jack slipped into the shadows, careful to stay out of sight, watching them from a distance as they emerged from the cafe, his younger self with a hand on Ianto's back, companionably, as they walked out into the mist. Jack waited a moment, careful to keep their retreating shapes in sight, then slipped out the doorway where he had hidden himself and followed them, careful to keep his footsteps quiet, careful to keep a distance between him and them.
At length, their path brought them to Ianto's flat, some fumbling in the shadows: Ianto trying to dig his keys out of his pocket, a younger Jack sliding his hands up under his lover's coat and tickling his ribs. Ianto elbowing him, muttering some word of annoyance and amusement, before finding his key and unlocking the door. He just had it open, when Jack's younger self took Ianto by the shoulders and gently pressed him against the door, kissing him, Ianto slipping his arms about his lover's waist, the two of them framed by the light from the front room.
Jack watched, holding a breath, as if letting it out would shatter the moment or give away his location. The couple broke their kiss, stepping into the room, the door closing behind them, snuffing out the light.
Jack breathed out as if extinguishing a candle. He thought to slip around the back and see if could peer in through a window, but that would push things: someone might see him, or something might happen to give away his position. He could not let his younger self see him, and while Ianto had come to understand who and his lover was and would be, it would take way too much explaining.
He had seen what he had needed to see. And it would suffice. It would stay him the rest of the way, till earth needed him again....
