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madbottoms) wrote2012-12-16 10:45 am
Chosen One - Chapter 7
Summary: Our favourite tortured boys are back in this third and final instalment in which they try to outrun Hell.
Notes: See chapter 1 for disclaimer warnings and related info. Cheers as always for the comments and hope the silent readers are enjoying it too. Let's continue the tortured journey.
Penance
*~*
JACK
I jerk awake from the first real sleep I’ve had in weeks. I open my eyes and find myself lying on the couch wrapped around John, my head on his shoulder—drooling on his shirt, actually—my legs entwined in his and my arms in a death grip around his neck. My T-shirt is hiked up around my waist and I tug it down over my boxers, when I look up I find a grin on John’s face, directed at Ianto.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, unwinding my limbs from John’s and sitting up. Which, considering the puddle of drool on John’s shirt, must sound like a total lie.
Ianto stands in his bedroom door wearing black cotton boxer briefs and nothing else. There are pillow creases on his cheek and his black hair is sticking up every which way. He rubs his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, as if he thinks he’ll see something different when he stops.
A knife carves its way through my heart. After yesterday, I don’t even know what to say. He as much as told John he was done with me.
Whatever’s left is yours.
“Chill. He’s just using me for my body.” John’s face explodes into a grin and the glare blinds me.
I smack him on the thigh as he swings around and sits next to me on the edge of the couch, still in his T-shirt and jeans. “I am using you.”
“And I’m totally cool with that.”
Ianto stares at us in silence, then turns and walks back into his room, closing the door behind him.
I drop to the couch, my aching head in my hands. I’m so confused.
Once again, my thoughts have given me away. “Sorry,” John says, leaning his shoulder into mine. “I can’t resist riling him up.”
I rub my face and stare at my toes. “I just wish I knew what I was supposed to do. Why does everything have to be so complicated?”
He sighs deeply and then his hand is on my back, over my heart. “Because your situation is complicated.”
My heart feels like a lead weight in my chest as I stand and drag myself to my room. Just as I reach my door Ianto steps back out into the family room, now in a black T-shirt and faded jeans, and points to the kitchen. “I’m cooking. Anyone else want a frittata?” he says, his tone totally neutral as if everything was totally normal.
I just stand there for a second working on breathing, ’cause what wants to burst out of my mouth has nothing to do with omelettes. When I finally think I can speak without saying something desperate, I say, “ Yeah … okay. I’ll be out in a sec.” I step through the door, closing it behind me and just stand at the mirror, staring.
What am I doing?
I squeeze my eyes closed and breathe. I have to figure this out. I want Ianto close but I want him safe, and the two just don’t go together. Finally, I grab whatever’s on top in my dresser and throw it on. It turns out to be a blue T-shirt and shorts.
When I step through my door there’s already food on a plate, sitting on the table.
“Eat,” Ianto says, gesturing to the table with his elbow as he flips another frittata in the skillet.
I slide into the seat and John slips a steaming mug of black coffee onto the table in front of me. I lift it to my face and inhale. “Mmm…” I look up at him as he sits in the chair next to me. “A godsend.”
He arches a platinum brow and quirks an amused smile. “I am.”
I smirk at him. “I was talking about the coffee.”
A minute later, Ianto is at the table with another plate. But just as he sits, there’s a knock at the door.
John slides out of his chair and moves to the door. When he pulls it open, Hope is standing there. She’s traded her cut-off shorts and bikini top from yesterday for black shorts and a blue sports bra, but she’s still barefoot.
“I was heading out for a run,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “But I wanted to bring this by first.” She holds up a shoebox with a blue ribbon around it. “A housewarming gift.”
“Entrez,” John says, stepping aside to let her pass.
Hope steps through the door and walks over to us at the table, still holding the box. I take it from her since Ianto is eating. “Thanks. You didn’t need to get us anything.”
She shrugs. “It’s just something I made. No big deal.”
I untie the ribbon, pull the lid off the box, and gingerly lift out a small sculpture of driftwood, shells, and sea glass. An angel, complete with halo and wings. “This is … beautiful.” My gaze slides past Hope to John.
“Thanks. I do sea art. I make a ton selling this stuff to the tourists.”
John pulls out a chair for Hope and she settles into it.
I admire the piece, turning it gently from side to side. “I’m sure.” I lift it to show the guys before I push my chair back and stand, looking around the room for someplace to put it. I finally settle on an end table near the window and place it next to the lamp there. Immediately tiny flecks of light refracting through the sea glass colour the room like a rainbow.
“That’s the perfect spot,” Hope says with a smile.
I nod and head back to the kitchen, where Ianto is already putting more food into the pan. I pull a plate out of the cupboard. “Have some breakfast. You’ll love Ianto’s cooking.”
“Only if you have extra,” Hope answers with a glance at Ianto.
He holds up the cutting board with chopped tomatoes and peppers. “Extra,” he says. He smiles at her and my heart pinches. “It’ll just take a moment.”
John pulls a mug out of the cupboard. “Coffee?” he asks Hope, holding it up.
“Yeah, thanks,” she says. “Cream, no sugar.” Then she turns to me with raised eyebrows and an impish grin. “They cook too?”
“Good thing,” I answer. “If it was up to me, we’d starve.”
“Or just survive on eye candy. One or the other…” Hope mutters under her breath with a glance at the boys.
My face feels warm, and I’m sure I’m blushing as my eyes flick to Ianto.
“So, John says I’m supposed to help you train,” she says loud enough for the others to hear.
I shrug, pulling my eyes back to Hope. “I guess. Do you do judo?”
She nods. “There’s a martial arts studio in Ness… or, really, more of a mixed martial arts gym. I work out there.” She turns to John. “I’ll take him up tomorrow?”
“You’ve checked this place out?” he asks her.
“I’ve been going there for years. He’ll be fine.”
He lowers himself into his chair, sliding Hope’s mug toward her then drums his fingers on the table, contemplating. I catch myself hoping he’ll say yes. I’ve missed the outlet of judo. At just the thought of being on the mat, slamming someone to the ground, something heavy lifts off my shoulders.
“You said he needs to train John,” Hope interjects.
His chair creaks as he pushes into the back of it, staring hard at Hope.
“Just let them go,” Ianto says from the stove, sliding Hope’s frittata from the pan onto a plate.
John leans onto the table and folds his arms, eyeing Hope. “You’re sure it’s safe.”
“Yes,” she says, rolling her eyes, but then smiles at Ianto as he places the plate in front of her before sliding back into his seat.
Please, I think, crossing my fingers.
It’s only when John’s face softens that I realise how hard I’m pushing the thought. Why does my Sway only seem to work when I don’t mean to use it?
“Once,” John says, his eyes shifting between us. “We’ll try it once. But any sign of trouble—”
“There won’t be any trouble,” Hope interrupts through a mouthful of food. “This is really good,” she adds with a glance at Ianto, pointing to her plate with her fork.
I try to ignore the stone that forms in my heart at the way Ianto smiles back.
“Fine,” John concedes.
Hope flashes me a victorious grin and high-fives me across the table. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten.” She stands and lifts her empty plate from the table.
Ianto looks up. “If you’re really going for a run, I was going out after breakfast. You mind company?”
She smiles at him and I suddenly wish I’d taken up running as a tendril of jealousy slips out from my black pit. “That’d be great. There are some good footpaths that cross to the other side of the island. It’s really quiet over there. I could show you those if you want.”
“Sounds good,” he says with a raise of his eyebrow, and I see Hope’s cheeks turn pink.
The rest of us stand from the table bringing our dishes to the sink, and I start to fill it. But then I realise Ianto is standing next to me, ready to dry. I look up at him. “Go. I got it this time.” He holds my gaze for a moment and I feel my insides flip at the intensity of his gaze.
“We need to talk when I get back,” he says.
It’s not a request. It’s a demand. And it makes my insides ache. “Okay.”
His lips press into a hard line as he nods then pushes away from the counter. I breathe in his cinnamon as he brushes past me. He pauses as he passes Hope. “I’ll be right out,” he says, heading to his room.
*~*
When they’ve gone, and I’ve finished with the dishes, I turn to find John near the door. “I’ll check back later,” he says, tugging the door open and stepping through. But before he closes it, his gaze finds mine, and in that brief second he can’t hide the pain—or longing—in his eyes. Then he’s gone.
I trudge to my room, stick my iPod on the speakers and drop into the soft brown armchair in the corner, curling into a ball as I listen to the music. I feel so nervous. I’m not sure what Ianto plans to say to me. Is he leaving? Staying? I don’t really know which I’m hoping for.
Breathe.
I close my eyes and my heart stings as my mind shows me what Ianto and I had. I see us at the quarry, kissing under the stars; Ianto, grease smeared across his face, under the Mustang; Ianto and me in his bed. Here behind my closed door, I mourn our loss and let the tears fall.
*~*
It’s over an hour later when the front door clicks open. I listen as Ianto’s bare feet pad across the family room. He’s breathing hard from the workout and I imagine the sweat trickling down his chest, between his shoulder blades, over his lips. I close my eyes and push the image out of my head. The bathroom door clicks shut and I hear the shower start.
A reprieve.
I have a few more minutes to pretend that this might not be the end of everything.
I stand and yank a brush through my wild hair, tying it back in a knot, and then just stare at myself in the mirror over the dresser.
Could you stay together … get married and all that?
Grandpa’s question rolls around in my head, and I remember the hopeful look Ianto wore when he answered. Ianto was the first person I dared let in—the only guy I’ve ever really loved. My heart pounds with the memory of what it felt like to be that close to another person. I wanted a life with him more than anything. But what I know now without a doubt is that a normal life with a normal family isn’t in my future.
If there was some way I could give Ianto that life, I would. I want him to have that, even though it can’t be with me. I saw how he looked at Hope. Could I keep loving him—keep him mortal—so he could love someone else?
When I hear the shower shut off, I take one last look at myself then head to the family room and settle into the couch. The bathroom door opens a few minutes later and Ianto steps through with a towel wrapped around his hips. The black serpent tattoo around his upper arm stands out more sharply against skin a few shades paler than I remember, and he’s a little thinner. But what really draws my eyes are the pinkish-white scars crisscrossing his chest and arms. I have the sudden urge to kiss the angry burn on his ribs and make it all better.
I want to make everything better for him.
“I’ll just…” He gestures awkwardly toward his room. “Let me get dressed.”
“Okay.”
He hesitates and his lips part to say something else, but then he looks away and strides across the room, disappearing behind his door.
I can’t stop thinking about what he wants to say—what I’m gonna say.
Figure out what you want, Jack.
I want things to be how they were before Lilith.
I push the image of Lilith in Ianto’s bed out of my head as I walk to the window and peer past Hope’s, down the beach.
At first, my mind is elsewhere and I don’t notice them. But then I realise Hope is out there, on her front porch. And she’s not alone.
John is sitting with her.
They look deep in conversation, and as I watch, he leans his shoulder into her and I see him nod and turn his head in my direction.
I tuck behind the window frame just as Ianto’s door swings open.
Ianto stands there in his T-shirt and jeans, curling his bare toes into the wooden floor and staring at me, looking more tentative than I’ve ever seen him. He’s usually so sure of himself. A true Creature of Pride.
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