Fic: Vizzini's Rule (18/105)
Jul. 12th, 2008 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
buttononthetopTitle: Vizzini's Rule, Chapter 18
Rating: PG
Warnings: None that spring to mind.
Spoilers: Season One thru Cyberwoman (1x4)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around! All ©’s to Peter J. Hammond for the dialogue I borrowed from Small Worlds. No infringement, only worship, intended.
Summary: The origin fic continues - in which Ianto has trouble fitting back in...
Notes: Thanks for reading! :o)
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter Eighteen
Jack had been right, it wasn’t easy. The other’s had forgiven him, but forgiving was not the same as forgetting. A few months ago, Ianto had been glad to be ignored and generally treated as ‘the help’ but now he wanted to become a contributing part of the team. And it was hard on him to realize that it might never happen.
Ianto came to work every day ready to prove himself however he could. Since he couldn’t get Jack to give him anything else to do, he kept the Hub as tidy as possible at all times. He made sure there was always fresh coffee, sometimes around the clock. He tried to anticipate working lunches or late nights with take-away and drinks. He stayed late and came in early, although that was no real hardship since he was still prone to nightmares and panic attacks if he was alone or unoccupied for too long.
One late night, Ianto was again trying to clean the rust stains off the white tile walls of the Hub. He had concocted a new cleanser that he was pretty sure would eat through glass, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect on the stain. Because one of the ingredients in the cleanser was bleach, he had removed his suit and was wearing a pair of old running shorts and a sleeveless t-shit. He had just bent down to re-wet the scrub brush when he heard a loud wolf-whistle behind him.
Ianto stood up quickly and turned to face Jack.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jack said.
“Neither should you,” Ianto replied.
“But I live here.”
“Yes, well let’s not go into that again. Damned unhealthy.”
Jack smiled. They’d had this argument before. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Cleaning, sir.”
“Well, I can see that, but why are you cleaning at–,” Jack glanced at his watch. “Good God, Ianto, it’s almost one in the morning. Go home.”
“It’s easier to do this now when no one… well, almost no one is here,” Ianto explained, holding his ground as Jack approached him.
Jack reached out a hand to Ianto’s shoulder, but an odd look crept into his eyes and let his hand drop to grab the scrub brush from him instead. He looked down at it as he spoke. “Ianto, that stain has been there for a hundred years. Nobody even notices it but you. Leave it. Go home and get some sleep.”
“But–”
Jack looked up. “Go. Home.”
Ianto sighed, defeated. He reached out for the scrub brush, “I’ll just put these things away, sir, and then I’ll go.”
Jack shook his head. “I’ll take care of them. Just go, Ianto.”
Ianto dropped his eyes quickly, hoping that Jack hadn’t seen his pain at being dismissed. Jack can’t even stand to be in the same room with me anymore, he thought. He stripped off his gloves and dropped them by the pail. I can’t seem to get anything right, Ianto thought as he turned to walk away. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Give us time,” Jack said quietly.
Ianto was startled. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. Turning back around, he looked at Jack. “Sir?”
Jack sighed and dropped the scrub brush in the pail and then leaned back on the nearest workstation. “It’s going to take time for us to trust you again. You knew that when you decided to come back.”
“I know. It’s just…” he couldn’t finish.
“I know what you want, Ianto, what you think. You feel like you aren’t part of the team, but you’re wrong.”
Ianto clenched his fists, “No, I’m not. You won’t give me anything to do! I just get your coffee and… and…”
“‘And clean up our shit.’ I know you feel like that, Ianto, but it’s just not true. It never has been. I know this is hard for you–”
“Know? How do you know? You’ve barely spoken to me since–” Ianto stopped suddenly, his anger fading as soon as it had flared. No right to be angry, no right to complain, no right. He let his head fall forward, a picture of abject misery. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I had no right to say that. I… I’m sorry, if you’ll please excuse me?”
“Ianto,” Jack called.
Ianto didn’t turn, but he stopped and listened.
“Ianto, I don’t know how to say this right, but you are part of the team. Just give us all time and we’ll… you and I, we’ll figure out your place here. Other than making coffee and manning the Tourist Office, I promise. You’re worth more than that. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to come back at all. Okay?”
Ianto nodded, not quite sure he believed the Captain, but oh how he wanted to. He thought about what Jack had said as he shuffled down to the lockers to grab his suit. He had thought his suspension was his punishment, but he’d been wrong. This was his penance. If he was serious about staying at Torchwood and making up for the things he’d done, then he needed to serve his time without complaint. For however long it might last.
At the thought of Jack never chatting or flirting or touching him again, of Gwen’s pitying looks and Owen’s rude comments lasting forever, Ianto began to feel the panic rise in his chest. He slammed his locker closed without taking his suit. He concentrated on his breathing as he hurried out of the Hub. Once outside, he stood for a moment in the cool night air, just breathing in and out. He knelt down to loop the key to his flat through his shoe strings and then started to run, slowly at first. It was not quite seven miles to his flat. If he pushed himself, he could make it home in less than an hour. Hopefully, the run would exhaust him and he would be able to sleep for a few hours before he would have to retrace his steps and return to the Hub. Falling into the familiar, comfortable stride, Ianto let his mind go blissfully blank, focusing on nothing but the next step forward.
TBC in Chapter Ninteen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None that spring to mind.
Spoilers: Season One thru Cyberwoman (1x4)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around! All ©’s to Peter J. Hammond for the dialogue I borrowed from Small Worlds. No infringement, only worship, intended.
Summary: The origin fic continues - in which Ianto has trouble fitting back in...
Notes: Thanks for reading! :o)
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter Eighteen
Jack had been right, it wasn’t easy. The other’s had forgiven him, but forgiving was not the same as forgetting. A few months ago, Ianto had been glad to be ignored and generally treated as ‘the help’ but now he wanted to become a contributing part of the team. And it was hard on him to realize that it might never happen.
Ianto came to work every day ready to prove himself however he could. Since he couldn’t get Jack to give him anything else to do, he kept the Hub as tidy as possible at all times. He made sure there was always fresh coffee, sometimes around the clock. He tried to anticipate working lunches or late nights with take-away and drinks. He stayed late and came in early, although that was no real hardship since he was still prone to nightmares and panic attacks if he was alone or unoccupied for too long.
One late night, Ianto was again trying to clean the rust stains off the white tile walls of the Hub. He had concocted a new cleanser that he was pretty sure would eat through glass, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect on the stain. Because one of the ingredients in the cleanser was bleach, he had removed his suit and was wearing a pair of old running shorts and a sleeveless t-shit. He had just bent down to re-wet the scrub brush when he heard a loud wolf-whistle behind him.
Ianto stood up quickly and turned to face Jack.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jack said.
“Neither should you,” Ianto replied.
“But I live here.”
“Yes, well let’s not go into that again. Damned unhealthy.”
Jack smiled. They’d had this argument before. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Cleaning, sir.”
“Well, I can see that, but why are you cleaning at–,” Jack glanced at his watch. “Good God, Ianto, it’s almost one in the morning. Go home.”
“It’s easier to do this now when no one… well, almost no one is here,” Ianto explained, holding his ground as Jack approached him.
Jack reached out a hand to Ianto’s shoulder, but an odd look crept into his eyes and let his hand drop to grab the scrub brush from him instead. He looked down at it as he spoke. “Ianto, that stain has been there for a hundred years. Nobody even notices it but you. Leave it. Go home and get some sleep.”
“But–”
Jack looked up. “Go. Home.”
Ianto sighed, defeated. He reached out for the scrub brush, “I’ll just put these things away, sir, and then I’ll go.”
Jack shook his head. “I’ll take care of them. Just go, Ianto.”
Ianto dropped his eyes quickly, hoping that Jack hadn’t seen his pain at being dismissed. Jack can’t even stand to be in the same room with me anymore, he thought. He stripped off his gloves and dropped them by the pail. I can’t seem to get anything right, Ianto thought as he turned to walk away. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Give us time,” Jack said quietly.
Ianto was startled. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. Turning back around, he looked at Jack. “Sir?”
Jack sighed and dropped the scrub brush in the pail and then leaned back on the nearest workstation. “It’s going to take time for us to trust you again. You knew that when you decided to come back.”
“I know. It’s just…” he couldn’t finish.
“I know what you want, Ianto, what you think. You feel like you aren’t part of the team, but you’re wrong.”
Ianto clenched his fists, “No, I’m not. You won’t give me anything to do! I just get your coffee and… and…”
“‘And clean up our shit.’ I know you feel like that, Ianto, but it’s just not true. It never has been. I know this is hard for you–”
“Know? How do you know? You’ve barely spoken to me since–” Ianto stopped suddenly, his anger fading as soon as it had flared. No right to be angry, no right to complain, no right. He let his head fall forward, a picture of abject misery. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I had no right to say that. I… I’m sorry, if you’ll please excuse me?”
“Ianto,” Jack called.
Ianto didn’t turn, but he stopped and listened.
“Ianto, I don’t know how to say this right, but you are part of the team. Just give us all time and we’ll… you and I, we’ll figure out your place here. Other than making coffee and manning the Tourist Office, I promise. You’re worth more than that. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to come back at all. Okay?”
Ianto nodded, not quite sure he believed the Captain, but oh how he wanted to. He thought about what Jack had said as he shuffled down to the lockers to grab his suit. He had thought his suspension was his punishment, but he’d been wrong. This was his penance. If he was serious about staying at Torchwood and making up for the things he’d done, then he needed to serve his time without complaint. For however long it might last.
At the thought of Jack never chatting or flirting or touching him again, of Gwen’s pitying looks and Owen’s rude comments lasting forever, Ianto began to feel the panic rise in his chest. He slammed his locker closed without taking his suit. He concentrated on his breathing as he hurried out of the Hub. Once outside, he stood for a moment in the cool night air, just breathing in and out. He knelt down to loop the key to his flat through his shoe strings and then started to run, slowly at first. It was not quite seven miles to his flat. If he pushed himself, he could make it home in less than an hour. Hopefully, the run would exhaust him and he would be able to sleep for a few hours before he would have to retrace his steps and return to the Hub. Falling into the familiar, comfortable stride, Ianto let his mind go blissfully blank, focusing on nothing but the next step forward.
TBC in Chapter Ninteen
