[BTR] [RP] The future teaches you to be alone, the present to be afraid and cold.

[eelseason]

{{OOC: Backdated to Ianto's retrieval date.}}

Certain people's relationships can best be destroyed as "mutually assured destruction." Call him rather all-or-nothing in the pursuit of fatalism, but Jack frequently has the feeling that his relationship with Ianto, apparently in whatever universe or set of circumstances it occurs in, is one of those.

He's prowling around the periphery of his second-floor office – rather, the second-floor office which was once Gwen's – and reflecting that, of all the people in his long and storied past with Torchwood to come through, Ianto is a close second only to Suzie in terms of how awkward timing and circumstance makes this. To be honest, he'd prefer if he'd never come through. He'd prefer if he never had to look at any of the faces he betrayed again – not for a long, long time, if ever again.

Chicago emphatically does not care what he wants.

So he's here. Prowling like a caged animal, watching the door.

Waiting.

Comments

[stopwatchdabble.livejournal.com]

"I've already heard about my other self," Ianto says. There is anger now, boiling underneath the surface. It's hard to anger Ianto; he's slow to rage and prefers calm. But there's always a point where he begins to assert himself, and contrary to popular belief, he's not Jack's lapdog. Nor is he the passive one in their relationship.

Whatever remains of it. He's not even sure anymore.

"I never used your moral compass," he sits back in the chair, chest moving up and down with his barely-restrained wrath. "I used mine. It just happened to coincide with yours most of the time. Fine, you want honesty? I'm fucking pissed you left me with complete bloody strangers, then instead of picking me up yourself, you sent the female version of me."

There it is, the real person he is inside, the one he's worked years to control. His accent has thickened, and his demeanor isn't as polished. He grew up in the Estates, and as hard as he tries to hide it under expensive suits and a polished accent, he'll always be from the Estates.

"Does she perform all my duties now, or only the professional ones?" he's hitting below the belt, but he can't make himself give a damn.

[eelseason]

Right. Well. He does seem to be mangling this conversation rather well.

Good, echoes back a small corner of his mind. Push hard enough and maybe he'll keep his distance. Maybe he'll leave. And that's one less person for you to snap under your heel.

He gives a thin, and somewhat venomous, smile back. "Politics, Ianto. When a powerful, unknown organization is playing at charity, you don't send the leader of your own to accept it. And Mio is a perfectly capable agent." He raises his eyebrows. "Yeah. I replaced you. You fell through a Rift, and I got Torchwood handed to me with instructions to keep it running. Can't exactly staff positions with fond memories."

This is dangerous territory. All of it. From the quirk of his eyebrows to the tone of his voice, the emotion swirling inside him – he's edging close to a backslide, even if just a minor one, and who's going to be here to stop it? He can recognize, it, but stepping back...

Stepping back means disengaging. There are only so many ways to disengage.

He looks to the door.

"Your moral compass doesn't have a picture of what's going on here," he says. "Why don't you go give it one. Get a sense of the history, here. Talk to people. Ask around. Take a week." His voice is hard. "If you really think Torchwood is where you want to cast your lot after that, I'll consider you, but I won't consider it before then."

[stopwatchdabble.livejournal.com]

What Jack fails to realize and what Ianto refuses to admit is that the Welshman is a certified emotional masochist. Why else would he try to save his unsaveable girlfriend, and then shag the very same person that shot her in the head? There was the delightful emotional attachment he'd developed to also consider.

One of these days he might admit out-loud that he is seriously fucked up and so is their relationship, but today is probably not that day.

He sits down on the desk now, blue eyes hot with anger, but his expression surprisingly blank. Then again, he's extraordinary good at maintaining a facade. He only loses control of it when he is enraged or impassioned, both of which Jack brings out in him, unfortunately.

Goddamn him.

"One week," he repeats, still perched on the edge of Jack's desk. It's almost like old times, except he is almost positive this argument will not end in a rather undignified shag against this self-same desk. He bets the desk is grateful. "And then I can return, if I still want to, no questions asked? Get back to my old duties?"

[eelseason]

"I'll consider you," Jack repeats, not giving an inch. No promises. No guarantees. Chicago is notoriously unkind to those.

Just go. It would be nice if Ianto developed a sudden affinity for civilian life, while he's gone. Failing that, if he worked up enough doubts to keep him from coming back. Keep him from crashing right into Jack's orbit again, like every Ianto Jack's run into has seemed to. Hard as it is to believe, Jack is aware of some patterns he falls into, and this one has never ended well for either of them.

It would be so much easier if they could intercept that pattern before it began again, here.

[stopwatchdabble.livejournal.com]

Ianto's not likely to adapt to civilian life. In fact, a life bereft of Torchwood would probably be very bad for the Welshman. Without it, he didn't have grounding, and his current psychosis is likely to take over. Jack can feel guilty about that later though, once he finds out what Ianto is inflicted with.

"I'll go," he says, standing up from his perching position. He walks over to Jack, and leans over him, blue eyes staring down at him. He's always been good at staring down Jack. It's how he makes him do his paperwork...he supposes Mio probably does that now.

"But I will be back," he finished, taking a deep breath. He closes his eyes for a minute, reigning in his emotions. "You aren't getting rid of me this easily."

[eelseason]

Jack raises his eyebrows, unphased. That's one nice thing about teetering on the line between Torchwood agent and Time Agent – the skillset is comprehensive, including something of an inability to be bulled.

Is that a threat? he'd like to ask. But asking is giving the conversation leave to continue, and he doesn't particularly want to do that.

So he'll just step up to meet Ianto's eyes, keeping his locked and impassive. His own emotions are neatly partitioned – as neatly as he can manage, anyway – and shoved away.

He supposes it can't hurt, putting off the impression that there's not much to return to.

[stopwatchdabble.livejournal.com]

Suddenly, unexpectedly, his lips curl into a grin. He steps back from Jack, arms going behind his head. He's manic, after all, not entirely sane before Adam, and after Adam he's become a psychopath. Jack intimidates him less now than he did a year ago.

"So, what did the Rift gift you with?" he asks lazily, as he takes a few steps back towards the door. "Super-strength? Super-speed? Never-ending sex drive?" He certainly hopes it's not that latter. Jack might enjoy that too much, and Ianto doesn't enjoy his new-found empathy at all.

[eelseason]

...that was an unexpected reaction. Jack's eyes narrow infinitesimally, as that little detail gets added into the running tab of his reactions. Establish a baseline.

"A headache," he says, keeping his voice flat. Well. It did, after a fashion – he spent a good long time with an ocular migraine courtesy of the Rift, before it decided to switch things up on him.

And you? Empathy, or...?

Or this Ianto really does have a different history to his own. And Jack doesn't appreciate that revelation.

[stopwatchdabble.livejournal.com]

Ianto's eye-roll indicates that he's not really impressed with Jack's answer. He's going to let it go, for now. Once he's back he's sure he'll find out. It's inevitable. Ianto's good at finding things out, and he's good at being patient.

He's probably the most patient man alive. He can wait a week to return to work.

"Alright Jack. I can see you can't wait for my arse to leave. So I will." It occurs to him he has no where to stay. He supposes he can hole at in a homeless shelter until he has an alternative.

He didn't exactly expect a welcome-home snog, but he didn't expect to be pushed out the door either. He wonders if Jack really doesn't want him around, or if the immortal is performing another one of his stupid martyrdom attempts.

[eelseason]

"Civilian quarters are in the wings," Jack says. He can't... actually read Ianto's mind. But the information he's giving seems pertinent. "Martha Jones is heading up the civilian initiative to look after the Wanderers. As far as I know the man looking to take charge of the archangels is Julien Cuevas, Elashte is the leader of the demons here, and there's probably no shortage of Angels of Knowledge. Enjoy the city."

Preferably in a way which will convince him he's needed more, elsewhere.

One can always hope.

[stopwatchdabble.livejournal.com]

What does he even say to that? Thank you? Fuck you? I love you? He's grateful he doesn't have to live in a homeless shelter, but being this close to Torchwood, with it's vast knowledge, and not being able to absorb it actually makes him ache inside. It hurts, because the one thing Ianto might love more than Jack is knowledge.

He joined Torchwood to expand his horizons. At one point, he thought he was helping the world. Then Lisa died.

But now he wants to make amends for his sins, and Jack isn't going to let him do that without a week. So he'll take that week.

He doesn't realize yet how disastrous that week will be, or he would have pleaded for Jack to keep him around. He would have gotten down on his knees and done anything.

But he doesn't know, so he gives Jack one last fleeting smile, full of a myriad of conflicting emotions and shoves his hands into his trouser pockets, exiting his office with. "Have a nice day, sir."