Fic, FAITHFUL, 19/50?: The Reality Check

[loveslashangst]

Story: Faithful
Author: Love! Slash! Angst! melindakitty
Beta: the well-rested ophymirage
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, Tarantino-style filmmaking, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would be no doubt who Jack came back for, Gwen would stick with the man who loves her, we'd have regular doses of Unexpected!John, and everyone would cheer the f*** up.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first two series of Torchwood, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon, especially when it pisses me off. The PROLOGUE takes place right after "Countrycide" in series 1. The rest of the story, from Chapter 1 on, takes place about three weeks after "Exit Wounds", the end of Series 2.
Summary: Torchwood OT3 ZOMG! Jack/John/Ianto. The Rift is active, the Weevils are acting weird, and Captain John Hart is back in town. Let the crack-tastic smut ensue. I think there's a happily ever after in here somewhere, but until then, enjoy the insanity.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay, so here's the dealio...

*drags sorry ass out of bed AGAIN* Well, this turned out to be fraught with more angst and violence than I'd intended, but take heart -- there be porn in them there waters! I only hurt to heal, and there's some pretty serious stuff between Jack and Ianto that just HAS to be dealt with.

I leave for the U.K. on Friday. I plan to have another chapter ready before then, and in the meantime, there will not only be Innocence for those of you who are interested, but maybe even an extra surprise or two.

On with the show...

"Don't cry
Oh honey please don't be that way
Clouds in the sky
Should never make you feel that way...

"As long as we see it through.
You'll have me,
I'll have you.

"Sweetheart,
Tomorrow is another day.
Don't break my heart,
Oh honey, please don't be that way."
(Benny Goodman)

(In which Ianto throws the first punch, Jack is disarmed, and John has the last word.)



And then a tingling passes from John's lips to Ianto's. Cold. Dark. Music. John dancing. John chasing. John kissing. John shagging. John defending. John plotting. John. John. "John...?"

Memories consume Ianto's senses. Arch his back. Hold his body rigid.

And the darkness consumes him.

*****

Ifan's shriek is cut short by the silent agony of hyperextended muscles. To John's horror, the boy's back bows to an obscene angle. His limbs splay, stiff. His eyes roll into his head. His body shudders and spasms uncontrollably.

Neurotransmitter. The worm said "neurotransmitter engaged". There's no reason for it to have created a DNA-coded neurotransmitter -- unless he himself planned this somehow and lost the memory of it. And THAT would mean that Jack or some other Agent -- no, it'd be Jack, definitely Jack, all the others know that fucking with his mind results in six kinds of slow death before breakfast -- RetConned him. He wanted to kill Jack before for hurting his lovely Ifan, but now he's really got an excuse.

Okay, so the boy's downloading whatever memories he's repressed. Painful business, that. Like having one's brain sucked out of one's skull, turned inside out, then crammed back in. Not recommended. But that precludes his using nanogenes to ease the pain, which really chaps his arse, because -- contrary to virulent rumours -- he actually DOES have a heart where the people he loves are concerned. He lays across the boy. Holds him down. Does his best to keep Ifan from seizing any worse than he already is.

And of course, Jack just HAS to pick that moment to walk in.

*****

Ianto. John is killing Ianto. Fear is a thick metallic taste at the back of Jack's throat. He throws John off Ianto. Ignores the crash as the psychopath hits something. Ianto's seizing badly. Jack feels for a pulse -- erratic and stuttering. Panic wipes any thought of first aid from his mind. Goddammit, he can't even remember how to do CPR. (Please, please, please don't let him die!)

"Ianto!"

Ianto's face contorts, mouth wide.

"Jack," says John. "It's all right."

Jack turns from the bed. Grabs John by the shoulders. Slams him against the wall, one arm across his throat. Presses the muzzle of his sidearm against his temple. "How the FUCK is it all right?"

"You don't understand," John rasps. "Ifan--"

He thrusts his forearm harder against John's trachea, tempted to silence him once and for all. "Don't you DARE call him that." He cocks the pistol. "Or so help me."

"I'm TRYING to fucking help you," John gasps. His eyes are full of... earnestness? No. Can't be. John lies about everything.

Many times he's claimed he could kill John, but now... "What did you do to Ianto?"

"Dammit, I wasn't--" John gasps for air. After letting him turn a satisfying shade of blue, Jack eases off just a little. "I wasn't trying to hurt him!" John's not supposed to look upset. He doesn't have a right to be upset. All John does is come in, screw everything up, and leave responsible people to pick up the pieces. "For the love of Christ, Jack, he saved my life. Now let me help him!"

"You fucked Ianto into a seizure," he says coldly. "I think you've helped enough."

John jabs him in the ribs. Knocks the gun so the shot goes wide. Catches his pistol hand before Jack can strike with the butt of the gun. Twists his arm behind his back. Slams him to the wall, face-first.

"A little slow on the trigger, CAPTAIN?" John says, really pissed now. "You've been stuck in this backwater century too long if you think I'd take a pistol-whipping without a fight."

"Get off me!" Ianto's dying and John is a DEAD MAN! He twists. John pins him. He struggles. John pulls his arm to near-breaking.

"Yes, 'Jack Harkness'," John says, dripping sarcasm. "Let's stand here and dick-measure while the love of our lives seizes his way into permanent brain-damage. What a perfect way to show how much we love him." John jerks the pistol from his hand, cocks it, and holds it to his temple. "If you've done what I think you've done, Jack, I will kill you as many times as it takes to make sure you run out of free lives."

"--The Hell are you talking about." Has to be a way to get free. John anticipates his every move. Can't get any fucking leverage.

John applies his knee to Jack's tailbone. "If you make me shatter this, Jack, it's really going to hurt. Stop being a dick and we'll go help Ianto."

"Get off me or I will KILL you, Gianni." Dead. John is a dead man. He's going to kill him slowly just to watch the pain.

"Oh, so NOW you remember who I am?" John can be SO fucking annoying when he's being a prick. "You weren't just coming in here to confess your undying love, were you?”

Can't lever him off. Can't get rid of him. Can't kill him yet. "Fuck off, John."

"Grow up, Jack," John retorts. "And take some goddamn responsibility."

A sudden crunch, followed by shooting pain up his back. (Psychopath just broke his tailbone!) "Son of a bitch!"

"Are you going to calm down?" John twists Jack's arm. "Or shall I break something else?"

Calm. Calm. Can't kill him until he releases his grip. "Let me go, John."

"Nope. Not convinced." A sharp punch to his mid-back cracks one of his ribs, just as the pain in his tailbone subsides to a low throb. "When did you RetCon us?"

John's gone even more insane than usual. "Hate to break it to you," Jack growls, "but breaking my ribs isn't exactly helping your case."

"You're immortal," says John. "You'll live."

Blood. He's going to be elbows-deep in John's blood. "I'll live long enough to rip your balls off and feed them to you."

John snorts. "Nice. Cliché, but nice. And good luck with that -- did you forget they're retractable?" Another jab breaks the bottom rib on the left. "When, Jack?"

Hurts to breathe, but a little less with every second. "I have no idea what you're talking about and WILL YOU STOP THAT?"

A groggy moan from the bed. John glances up. Jack twists in his grip. Throws him off balance. Follows through with a punch that fells John like the craven coward he is.

But when he turns back to the bed, a very awake, very naked, and very furious Ianto decks him so hard he hits the floor.

"Son of a BITCH!" Ianto shouts. "Fucking BASTARD, I'll KILL you!"

Which puts Jack in the unlikely position of ducking for shelter from his lover behind his ex.

"You STOLE MY LIFE!" Ianto roars.

He scrambles away and to his feet. "Ianto...?"

"I think you pissed him off," John says.

"Not helping," he says.

"Not trying."

"Gianni." Ianto's glare softens as he looks to John. The gaze that passes between the two of them is palpable. Even watching it is like that cliché bolt of lightning, a sweet and sudden fire that runs from the crown of his head to the pit of his groin.

And in that moment, Jack hates them both. (This is why I don't do love anymore.)

Ianto's anger melts away. He crosses the room in three quick strides. Pulls John up and into his arms. Kisses him like he hasn't seen him in ages. Presses against him as if he'll never get enough.

Not that John's complaining, the fucking bastard. Traitors, the pair of them. He is going to KILL John and then... He doesn't even know what to do with Ianto. (I TRUSTED you!)

"Ianto!" The name is painful in his throat. It seems to tear flesh just as the sight of them together tears his heart.

And then Ianto pulls back enough to deck John. His ex staggers into the wall, stunned and disbelieving.

He grins in spite of himself -- he's always wanted to see Yan split John's lip.

"The Hell did I do?" John says.

"You said you'd come back for me." There's hurt in Ianto's eyes. Real hurt.

"I don't remember," says John. "I'm sorry."

Ianto looks at John for a long moment, evaluating. It's like the two of them share some telepathic communication. And why is Ianto trusting that fucking PSYCHOPATH over him?

Then both of them round on him with a matching pair of laser-like glares.

"Don't look at me, this is JOHN's fault!" he says.

"No," says Ianto. "It's your fault. You RetConned us both."

Great, Ianto's caught John's crazy with a kiss. "I did not."

"You did," said Ianto. "We shagged you. He gave me the protective treatment against RetCon--"

He stares at John, trying to imagine any scenario that would convince him that shagging John wouldn't involve losing a limb (or worse). "You did what?"

John shrugs. "Can't give you all the details." He indicates Ianto. "Better ask him."

"We met at the rave." Ianto advances, murder in his eyes.

"When, darling?" John prompts, following at a discreet distance. (COWARD!)

"2002." Ianto glares at Jack. "You wore the corset Owen bought you for Christmas."

An enormous grin splits John's face. "He wore the what?"

(He woke stiff and cold in the SUV. Couldn't remember...) The memory dissolves before he can catch hold of it. "Ianto, you have to believe me when I tell you I don't remember."

"I don't have to believe a goddamn word you say," says Ianto. "Everything you've ever told me." He takes a shaky breath. "The way we met. The job you offered me. The first time we..." He hunches slight, as if his heart hurts him. "EVERYTHING was a LIE!"

"Figures he knew you already," says John. (Oh don’t YOU fucking start!) "Jack always did like to poach whatever pond he ends up in."

"I..." (He never could figure out why Yvonne would spare Ianto so easily. And when he woke he reeked of sex and John?)

Ianto exhales as if someone's punched him in the gut. "You told me you wiped the files because you were trying to delete everything Yvonne did. You said it was to make sure no one ever tried to resurrect Torchwood One, but that's not it, is it?"

He's lost Ianto. Somehow he's lost him completely. The hot prickle of tears blinds him. "I was trying to protect you. I've always tried to protect you."

"Bullshit," Ianto says. "You were saving your own skin. You always save your own skin because it's always about you."

The tears are hot on his face. "I've only ever fought to protect you."

"You were trying to make yourself into the hero," Ianto continues, "when the truth is you're nothing but a dirty old man hiding behind a handsome face."

It hurts. God, it hurts. "That's not fair."

An icy glare. "How exactly does fair figure into this, Jack?"

"Ianto, I--" (Please believe me. Please see me.) "I only ever wanted to help you."

Ianto holds the door open for him. "You can go now."

"Ianto--"

"Get out," says Ianto. "I'm done being your part-time shag."

The words hit so hard he staggers. Fumbles for the doorframe. "Is that what you think?"

"You're in love with the Doctor," says Ianto. "You want to shag Gwen. You'd have it off with Martha and every other sentient being with a pulse if you could. You boast about your prowess in front of me. Talk about all the other pieces of ass you've had. You flirt and insinuate and invite and wave your goddamn dick around, then expect me to be grateful when you come home?" His face hardens. "Well, FUCK THAT!"

"Ianto, I..." Breaking. His heart feels like it's genuinely breaking. He looks to John for anything. (Please God go back to physical torture. That I can take.)

But John is gone.

Typical.

"All I ever was to you," Ianto says coldly, "was a future conquest. Someone you planned to shag as soon as--"

"That's not true." The sobs stab at him. (And deep in his heart, he's afraid to look and see if Ianto's right.) "It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it?" Ianto's eyes narrow. "How many times did you erase my memories?"

He's going to lose this fight and Ianto with it. "Ianto, I'm..."

"HOW MANY TIMES?!" The punch catches him off guard. Nearly knocks him off his feet.

Jack swallows hard. Tastes blood. "Fifteen."

"Is that all?" Ianto punches him in the gut. Ironically, the sarcasm hurts more.

"What did he do to you?" He gasps for breath, hating John more with every second. "What did that psychopath give you?"

"Don't fucking insult my intelligence, Jack -- or whatever your name is." Ianto decks him again, cracking his jaw. "How long have you been manipulating my life?"

"It ended after you turned sixteen." He swore to Alex that nothing he could say or do could force him to do it again.

Ianto moves with surprising swiftness. Pulls his sidearm from the pile of clothes. Cocks it under Jack's jaw. "LIAR!"

"I tried to save you," he insists. "I fought to have you sent to UCL. Away from Cardiff."

"Is ANYTHING I remember real?" Beneath that anger is a pain so real and vivid he wishes he could die in truth, if only so someone would pay for all the time Torchwood stole from Ianto. "ANY of it?"

He catches Ianto's eyes, hoping, "I'm real."

Ianto's voice trembles. "Was Lisa real?"

He pauses a little too long, trying to find some kind of answer. He stayed out of Yvonne's politics, but it wouldn't surprise him if she manipulated Ianto the way she manipulated everyone else.

Ianto's rage dissolves into tears. "She was Yvonne's, wasn't she?"

"I..."

Ianto presses the pistol harder into the soft flesh behind Jack's jaw. "WASN'T SHE?"

"I'm sure she loved you." He hopes. Honestly, he didn't know the woman. She certainly seemed to, at the end.

"Only because she was --was -- was ordered to." Ianto begins to sob. "I always kn-knew it. I j-just wanted to believe that-- that if I loved her enough..."

(Oh honey, I know EXACTLY how you feel.) "I love you."

"No you don't," says Ianto bitterly through his tears. "I'm just conv-venient."

He's destroyed him. God, he had no idea the depth and breadth of damage he's done to this poor young man, who's only ever wanted to love and be loved in return. Heart aching, he reaches for Ianto's shoulder.

Ianto recoils. Aims the gun at Jack's head with shaking hands. "Don't fucking touch me!"

"I'm sorry." He's in tears and doesn't give a damn. "I'm sorry. Ianto, I'm so sorry."

"You let me think I was going mad." As long as he lived, he hoped never to see that look of hate and betrayal in Ianto's eyes.

"I'm sorry." He starts to reach out. Decides against it when Ianto tightens his grip on the gun in warning. "Ianto honey, I'm so sorry. Please."

"Oh for fuck's sake," says John from the door. He's freshly showered, with one towel wrapped turban-style around his head and another tucked low across his hips (more to suggest nakedness than to preserve modesty.) "Just shoot him and get it out of your system."

"What?" Gods, the crazy really IS contagious -- Jack's actually happy to see John. He wipes at his tears.

"You're immortal," says John, ever the goddamn rational one. "It'll hurt like a sonuvabitch, then you'll get over it." He saunters in with a six pack of long-neck bottles of beer. "AND you'll have paid whatever stupid penance will satisfy your latest martyr complex. Ifan will have his revenge for whatever shit you pulled -- and a chunk of missing memories tells me you pulled shit on us both -- and I--" He casually takes the pistol from Ianto. "Thank you, darling." He uses the finger guard to open his bottle of beer. Sets the gun back in a very confused Ianto's hand. "And I will get a front row seat for something I've wanted to do for simply AGES."

"Son of a bitch," Jack snarls.

Ianto stares at John. "You're serious?"

John nods. Takes a swig of beer. He caresses Ianto's face. Jack's heart breaks again as Ianto leans into the touch, eyes closing in pleasure. "Am I wrong that you deserve satisfaction, my love?"

When Ianto opens his eyes, they are icy blue. "No."

John smiles, seductive. "Then off you go."

Jack steps forward. Ianto brings the gun up again, eyes cold. Before Jack can speak, the shot explodes in the room, deafening.

The bullet tears through Jack's chest, killing him instantly.

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Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories

Crossposted to jackxianto, torchwoodslash