"There was nothing to recall," Jack says. He steps closer, drawing Ianto's head down until his forehead touches his chest. You're listening, right? You're sensing. Quiet competence. "Think back. You can remember the quiet before the crash. The breath of air before the memory."
And this – this is tricky. He closes his own eyes, then; evens out his breathing, takes very baseline he's ever established from Ianto, every scrap of psychological profiling... and then turns it. Steps inside. Replicates it right into his own emotional state, pushing it over his shields.
A dark, quiet loyalty. Carbon-innocuous; carbon-strong. Watching, waiting, learning everything just to be able to be that much more necessary, that much more invisible. It would be heroic, really; and the more palatable sort of heroics, and the aversion to running in with guns blazing was equal elements jealousy and lack of confidence and distaste and dignity. But at the same time, things had to be done. Things were done in accordance to these inner imperatives – love so strong t hurt, anger so black it choked, all hard and steady as pavement.
Good old Ianto. Loyal Ianto. No, the point here is not that there was never darkness in him. For one thing, Jack rarely recruits for that. But it was just this: low and everpresent, like a fault line in the earth, not this predatorial thing. Know thyself, they say. And this is as close to a mirror as Jack can provide.
no subject
And this – this is tricky. He closes his own eyes, then; evens out his breathing, takes very baseline he's ever established from Ianto, every scrap of psychological profiling... and then turns it. Steps inside. Replicates it right into his own emotional state, pushing it over his shields.
A dark, quiet loyalty. Carbon-innocuous; carbon-strong. Watching, waiting, learning everything just to be able to be that much more necessary, that much more invisible. It would be heroic, really; and the more palatable sort of heroics, and the aversion to running in with guns blazing was equal elements jealousy and lack of confidence and distaste and dignity. But at the same time, things had to be done. Things were done in accordance to these inner imperatives – love so strong t hurt, anger so black it choked, all hard and steady as pavement.
Good old Ianto. Loyal Ianto. No, the point here is not that there was never darkness in him. For one thing, Jack rarely recruits for that. But it was just this: low and everpresent, like a fault line in the earth, not this predatorial thing. Know thyself, they say. And this is as close to a mirror as Jack can provide.
His voice is low and even. "Are you following?"