#blipintiime

her voice is soft and distant, stirring him from a dream he can’t quite remember as he wakes. and though the early morning light glows a gentle shade of gold, it is harsh on eyes still heavy with sleep. but, he knows that tone; knows he is needed. a slow breath fills his lungs as he pushes himself up, gaze drifting to where REGINA SCOTT stands before a window open to a city beginning to liven below their room. it was their bubble of solace in the aftermath of hell.

the curves of her body are accentuated by the sun’s rays hitting her skin in the most perfect of ways. her silhouette outshines any work of art the welshman has ever laid his eyes upon. a compliment unlike any other considering the way the eiffel tower near glitters in the distance.

she is unlike anything he’s ever seen.

❝ i know– ❞ his hands are soft as they find her hips, fingers gripping lightly and pulling her body against his own. with her feet bare, she stands far shorter than he, and so he must stoop to press his lips to her temple.

❝ it’s over. ❞ hands slide along her body, finding her stomach it is reassuring and protective. it is A PROMISE. more than anything, he knows regina needs not a saviour. but, already he’s given everything to keep her safe. a choice he would make time and time again if need be.

A LONG NIGHT had dragged on into the early hours of morning, and still no sleep had touched the mind of regina scott. the texture of their hotel ceiling is now one she intimately knows, having lain in the dark beneath the body of the only man in the world she trusted, and listened to him breathe. the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her own has lulled her into her dreams many a night before, but now...

THOUGH NEARLY A WHISPER, she knows he will come to her. there is no one on earth that knows her better than he, and as his hands find her body, her own palms rest carefully on top of them, eyelids fluttering shut over silver gaze as she cants her head into his kiss.

THIS IS IT. he is it. ianto jones. her solace. her reward. everything she has been so desperately clawing her way towards for so long. his hands find her mid and he pulls her close against him, his skin on hers and his touch everything she could ever crave. this man, here, with her, is a dream she has never imagined could be reality. as her head rests back against his chest and she opens her eyes to view the beauty of the city she loves around them, it feels, for the first time, that she can breathe.

                   ❝ i know. ❞

IT’S OVER. it’s gone, and her husband is dead, and she doesn’t live in fear. but the absence of it has left her uncertain; who is she now ? not the perfect wife, not the secret victim, not the grieving widow. she’s a liar. a murderer. a lover. a mother. her fingers curl about his hands, holding him closer against her. he has been her rock, her support. he followed her into murder without blinking. she loves him.

                  ❝ i don’t know what i’m meant to be now. ❞

SOFT, her voice and her touch both as she listens to the sound of the city coming awake -- the traffic and voices and noise that so constantly follows her in her life. it’s easy to drown in, to drown her thoughts in. it’s why she loves big cities. to hide. it’s the first time in a long while she’s wanted someone to hide with her.

SHE KNOWS -- she knows, he’s given up everything for her. his life has been wrapped around hers for so long that she doesn’t know where he ends and she begins. and now their lives will revolve around another. she has never been anything but selfish, she still is and will be. all she craves in her deepest soul is his reassurance.

a sharp breath is sucked in, head turning to meet the gaze of JACK HARKNESS. and he cannot keep the imploring out of his eyes, searching for any sign that the other man could be speaking his truth. of course, why would the immortal man be lying? why say something such as this without meaning it?

and yet there is doubt that settles heavy on the heart of IANTO JONES.

it is not the other man he doubts-- but himself. for so long, he’s known his own feelings for jack bordered on love. no, no that isn’t quite true, is it? they’d crossed that line some time ago. but, ianto is nothing more than a human being from south wales. jack traveled the stars, once, and has lived numerous lifetimes; he’d only crossed the channel once is his short twenty-five years of life. who is he to feel the love of THE MOST IMPORTANT MAN IN THE UNIVERSE?

❝ oh? ❞ he attempts to keep a casualness to that deep, welsh tone as an eyebrow quirks and he turns fully, looking to jack from where he stands at the bathroom sink with a toothbrush in hand, awaiting the winter-mint of his toothpaste. ❝ and what’s brought this on? ❞

a smile touches his lips as his head dips and his nightly routine is continued.

❝ you sure it isn’t just this domestic life playin’ with your mind? ❞ for a moment he wonders if jack truly would prefer this life over the one they lead beneath the streets of cardiff, at TORCHWOOD. the mundane repetition to each day has ianto clinging to his sanity by the skin of his teeth. but, jack? he’s thriving. as much as ianto craves to hear those words from the man he most certainly loves, he wants it to be real.

not the effects of an idyllic life that is simply a FACADE.

                            it slipped out. 

TRULY, he does love this man in front of him. and, by god, he’s loved him for a long time now. he screams it in his mind, over and over. he murmurs it under his breath when ianto can’t hear. it’s real and it’s true, but saying it is a fear he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over. making it real like that? a  t a n g i b l e  concept to be plucked from the air and held by his tongue? a love that will be struck down by death and leave him lonely once more...

but ianto looks so BEAUTIFUL in this light - this harsh white light of an enclosed bathroom that should make anyone look their worst yet makes that man glow like the ANGEL he is. 

and his thoughts don’t filter; they  s p i l l  from his lips in a way he can’t take back. and though his heart pounds within it’s cage, he keeps that steady smile across his lips and prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that his eyes don’t betray the fear that comes with saying those words. to say them can’t be thought of as a mistake. loving IANTO JONES could never be a mistake.

                          “ can’t it be a bit of both? ” jack suggests coolly. he takes a step towards him, somehow even more endeared by the toothbrush hung from his mouth. 

the captain’s arms  s n a k e  around ianto’s waist from behind, lowering his chin against his shoulder with a smile. he nuzzles the skin of his neck for a moment, peppering small kisses into the soft space made just for HIM, arms tightening their grip lovingly. 

Listen the thing is you all were DEAD and I had no one else don’t give me that look

                             It happens in double time and slow motion ALL AT ONCE. Too quick to do anything to help, so slow that he wants to rip his eyes away so he doesn’t have to witness that horror. Weevil’s aren’t anything NEW. They’re not hard to deal with it. They don’t confuse the team trying to look for solutions. They’re old hat, a weekly occurrence and definitely the simplest of things for Torchwood to handle. 

                          So why did this have to happen?

                                                                                                           “IANTO!” 

Jack’s yelling the moment his beloved drops to the ground; Weevil attached. Nerves skyrocket, pulse elevates and all Jack can do is hope and pray that Ianto’s still breathing when he finally gets over there. The street has never felt so long, ongoing and never-ending Jack keeps running, coat billowing out behind him. He pulls out his gun and shows no mercy. Two bullets to the head, one to the heart and the Weevil drops dead on the ground beside Ianto.

Jack’s dropping only a second later. He skids to his knees, paying no heed to the glass and stones that litter the ground in this alleyway. The immortal has NO clue where to put his hands, they hover over Ianto’s body uselessly just trying to assess the damage that’s been caused while remembering to breathe TOO.

“Ianto... Jesus Christ, Ianto. Okay... it’s okay, I’ve GOT you, yeah?” Jack reassures but whether the words are for his darling or himself is unclear. Ianto’s bleeding and he’s bleeding BADLY. Jack takes a shuddery breath and looks over his shoulder. Tosh is already running in the opposite direction, no doubt to go and get the SUV. 

       “I see ‘keep out’ signs as suggestions more than actual orders. Like ‘dry clean only’.” 

                         in his archivists DEFENCE, he had told him to go all out. but jack hadn’t realised that all out would entail punching him directly in the face. he’d seen stars for a moment - though that was probably more down to the shock of it all - and immediately recoiled with wide eyes. the jig could not have been given up just yet so he threw him self back into this ‘ fight ’ with the same amount of GUSTO until the two of them had what they needed and could retreat. 

on the way back to the SUV jack suddenly clutches his nose and turns with an indignant expression. the look of pain, however, is quickly transformed within seconds, to a look of that like a kicked PUPPY as his boyfriend inspects his face with damage. 

                                               he wrinkles his nose just a little as if to test ianto’s diagnosis. 

“are you sure?” jack complains, touching his own skin with careful fingers. brows are furrowed with intensity as he does so. “I still think it’s BROKEN.” he practically whines.