[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.

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[stopwatchdabble.livejournal.com]

The moment Ianto walks through the front of Torchwood, he feels like he's home. It's not his Torchwood of course, but Ianto can only function in this enviroment. He was Torchwood One. Then he was Torchwood Three, the backbone of the organization, wholly in charge of most of its most intimate operations.

He wonders what Jack calls this Torchwood. Torchwood Chicago? It sounds weird, even saying that in his head. He's always associated Torchwood with British, with the Crown. It was begun by Queen Victoria, after all. But Torchwood has never been conventional, and neither has Jack.

He doesn't know about his history with Jack. As he ascends the stairs; he's always taken the stairs in lieu of a lift. Lifts make him nervous, after Canary Wharf. He's always terrified of an emergency happening, and being trapped in one. So he takes the stairs.

His stomach clenches, and he feels a wave of nausea overtake him. He knows nothing about this Jack. Back home, he and his Jack were in the middle of...whatever they were. They'd gone on dates. He supposes they were in a relationship, even if it was mostly made up of shagging and late night film watching.

He stands in front of the door, hesitant for a moment, nodding at Mio as she leaves him. Then he stares some more.

He's gotten really good at staring. He should consider a career in it.

He finally steels himself, and knocks.