Fic, FAITHFUL, 20/50?: The Overdue Confessions

[loveslashangst]

Story: Faithful
Author: Love! Slash! Angst! melindakitty
Beta: the workshopped-out 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.

Okay, so here's the dealio...

As I write this, I am both jubilant and reserved. Obama won. In a landslide. However, the continued battle over Prop 8 reminds me that, though I believe the world is a better place for having Obama as president, there is still a LOT of work to be done before we can claim "with liberty and justice for all".

Fortunately, I have faith in the American people. I always have. Though my own politics lean about as far to the Left as it gets (with a few key exceptions), I have always been and will always be a devout patriot.

And now I'll go back to what I'm good at -- humorous Smut with a side of Angst.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Apparently, I'm not alone in my assertion that not only did some deep wounds between Jack and Ianto need lancing, but Jack did kinda deserve to die.

Jack, "I'm not dead yet."

*ignores Jack* So the whole shooting thing. Yeah. That was kind of severe, I admit.

Jack, "I'm feeling much better."

*sotto voce* "Shut up, you're not fooling anyone."

Jack, "I feel HAPPY!"

*shoots Jack again*

Jack, "Dammit."

Anyway, as this tongue-in-cheek fanvid would indicate: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktvzWGWVJ48 there is no reason to worry, because Jack is Not Dead Yet. And believe me, as one of the biggest Janto shippers of them all, I take the oath yet again:

"I, L.S. Angst, do hereby solemnly swear that I will never in my fic permanently break up Jack and Ianto. If their relationship experiences difficulties, it's only so they can have passionate Makeup Sex later and emerge from the trial stronger and more loving."

So, on with the show....

"More than you know
More than you know
Man of my heart,
I
love you so
Lately I find
You on my mind
More than you know

"Whether you're right
Whether you're wrong
Man of my heart,
I'll
String along
I need you so
More than you'll ever know...

"Oh, how I'd cry
Oh how I'd sigh
If you got tired
And
Said goodbye
More than I show
More than you'll ever know."
(Billie Holliday)

(In which Ianto is disarmed, John gives the opening salvo, and Jack has the last word.)



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

An icy wave of realization hits Ianto as Jack falls to the ground. Recoil stinging his hand. Ringing ears from the noise. The stench of burnt gunpowder. "Oh my God."

"You shot him." John (or Gianni, or whatever he's calling himself now) actually sounds impressed.

"Oh my God." Jack sprawls, motionless. No. No. No no no no NO!

"You actually shot him." John takes a swig of beer.

"JACK!" He's already across the room. Jack is heavy in his arms. Unresponsive. Blood. There's blood everywhere.

"I suppose now would be a bad time to compliment you on your aim?" says John.

"SHUT UP!" Bleeding. Jack's blood all over his hands. How can one person bleed so much?

John sinks to a crouch in front of him. "He's immortal, Ifan."

"Shut UP!" He shot his lover. Jack will never forgive him for this. He can't undo this. The blood pools under his knees, sticky and hot. "I never should've listened to you!"

"But you did." How can John be so fucking calm when Jack is DEAD in his arms? "And you shot him, and now we can talk like civilized adults."

He can't have heard him right. "What?"

John's eyes are sincere, though his face begins to blur as fresh tears threaten. "Ianto. Ifan. Darling. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but your life is not exactly normal."

A jumble of fragments from the past. Sounds. Smells. Emotions. Who he is. Who he was. What he believed. What is true. (Who he loves.) But the pieces won't fit. "You told me to shoot him."

"Case in point," says John smoothly. "I did tell you to kill him, but we both know he won't stay dead. I've shot Jack myself a time or two, because when a man has as much unchecked power as our beloved Captain here, sometimes the only way to get his attention is to kill him."

He clutches Jack's body to his chest. "You're completely mad."

John nods, grinning. "Well yeah, but I'm also never wrong, now am I? Think about it, darling. When did things start going right between you and me?"

Jack. He's killed Jack. He loves Jack. (He hated Jack.) How could he have killed Jack?

"Ianto." John clicks his fingers in front of his face. "Stay with me, darling. Things got better after you tasered me -- and that warning shot was dead sexy too -- because it reminded me not to underestimate you. Even though I cheated my arse off, you took it in stride and outmanoeuvred me. "

His heart is shrinking. As the moments pass, all the love, for either of them, seems to trickle away. (I never deserved to be happy anyway.) "I killed him."

"Ifan," says John, annoyed. "He won't stay dead -- this isn't murder, it's just a karmic boot to the head. Jack will be fine. And once he recovers, maybe you can finally face him as an equal."

He flinches away from John's touch. "Why am I listening to you--?"

"Because." John insists on putting a hand on his shoulder. "Because I'm probably the only person here with the right kind of crazy to help you make sense of an insane life."

He throws John's hand off. Looks back to Jack. Maybe CPR? It's stupid, but it's better than holding Jack and feeling him bleed out. He lays out the body -- No. Jack. It's still Jack. -- and begins the rhythmic compressions.

"Ifan."

"Shut up." This is all his fault. Even if it's Jack's fault, it's STILL all John's fault. "Just... Just shut up."

"That's the spirit!" says John, grinning. "Give you a taser and a gun, and you get a backbone free with your breakfast cereal. But before you sink further into morose self-recrimination, let me remind you that shooting Jack dead is LESS severe than tasering me, and just as likely to garner you some respect."

He ignores him. Pinches Jack's nose closed. Breathes into his mouth.

John kneels before him, though mercifully he doesn't try to touch him again. "Your hope for a 'normal' life didn't end when you joined up with Torchwood, did it, Ifan?"

"I'm not listening to you." One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breathe.

"Yes, you are."

He is NOT looking at him. (Four. Five. Breathe.) "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm really not." Dammit, was that four or five? Once more to be sure. Breathe.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I-- Would you STOP that?"

John sobers. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. Point is, my love, that you have three choices."

The blood has a mind of its own. The pool he's kneeling in is getting smaller. Jack's body must be absorbing it. Good. That's progress. "Do any of them involve you shutting up and sodding off?"

"Is that what you want?"

He looks up at the hurt tone. John is madder than the Hatter and the March Hare combined, but there's a sincere offer there in his eyes -- John is calling his bluff.

And his whole body aches at the thought of losing John. He's insane. Irresponsible. Irreverent. Annoying. Dangerous. And he can't stop thinking about the way John gently and lovingly deflowered him. Taught him confidence. Offered to all but marry him, even though they barely knew each other.

John reaches out. In spite of logic and reason and even common decency, he can't help leaning into the caress. The kiss lightnings through him. He remembers. As fantastic as it was tonight, nothing could compare to the way that they...

Dammit. "I hate you for that."

John's eyes are neutral. "More than you love me?"

And he can't say no. He can't. He has good reasons to hate John, and good reasons to hate Jack, but...

He glances down. The pool of blood continues to recede. The hole in Jack's chest heals as he watches.

"Your life is madness, Ifan," says John. "So the way I see it, you have three choices. One, you can pretend normal rules apply to you."

"And run barking mad?" he says. "Thanks, no. Tried that."

"Right." When John swoops in for another kiss, Ianto doesn't fight him. (God, Jack, I'm even crazier than he is.) "Denial is stupid," says John. "Option two is to fight against the madness, hoping to escape."

He gently touches Jack's face. A dim light of life is there in that fixed blue gaze. Won't be long now. "That's what he wanted for me." He laughs bitterly. "Should've known there is no way out of Torchwood."

John's expression goes neutral. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Trapped. He's even more trapped than he was before. "They steal your life. They steal your past. They steal who you thought you were."

"I need you to start making sense, Ifan."

The heat burns along the inside of his ribs. The lover he lost. The life he lost. "I killed Jack. I killed Darcy. Lisa died because of me. That poor scientist too. I shot Owen. I couldn't save Tosh. I couldn't save..." His mouth won't form the rest of the words.

"Ifan."

"All the ones I couldn't save." He glares at John. "Don't you see? This place. This life. It makes murderers and madmen of us all. You should run before I kill you too."

"Sorry to remind you, Ifan," John says carefully, "but the future has been destroyed. Where exactly would I go?"

"I don't know." He's crying again. The sobs shake him. "I don't know."

John's hands are too hot on his face. Ianto pulls away. "Why do I keep fighting?"

"Because you're a survivor," John says. "Like Jack. Like me. That's why we love you."

"I can't -- I can't DO this anymore." The last of the blood runs up and into Jack's body as the exit wound in his back seals shut. He can FEEL the trickles of it running over his skin. "I can't run. I can't stay. I can't love. I can't be alone. I can't fix it. I can't live with everything broken."

John's eyes are hard. "Ifan. You need to stop this right now."

Jack's body is warming. Ianto looks into his lover's face. "I'm sorry, Jack. I shot the wrong man."

Furious, John leaps to his feet. Retrieves the gun from where Ianto dropped it. He puts it in Ianto's hand. His grip painfully tight, he yanks Ianto's arm up until the muzzle of the gun is a cold kiss against his temple.

He swallows hard. "What are--?"

John darts him a furious glare. "Making sure you shoot the right man, DARLING."

Cold. The gun is so cold. "I don't..."

"Don't you?" John snorts. "Then why threaten it? If you're not serious, then you're just wasting all of our time. Perhaps this is just your pathetic way of garnering sympathy. Well I have news for you, Eye Candy: there IS no normal. There IS no life but a mad life. There IS no meaning but the one we make. So if you're hell-bent on saying 'goodbye cruel world', well then." The sharp metallic click of the gun being cocked. "Far be it from me to stop you."

He's right. John is right. There's no hope. A sweet calm settles over him. Temple shot is too iffy, though. Possible to survive it. He moves the gun so it presses the flesh under his chin. With any luck, it'll blow most of his head clean off.

A rough hand knocks the gun as he pulls the trigger. Numbly, he watches the gun skitter across the floor. John pins him to the ground, though it takes another minute for him to recover his hearing enough to register what the man is shouting in his face. "The FUCK is the MATTER with you? Don't you know a bluff when you hear it?"

So good. It feels so good to have John pressing against him again. "Get off me!"

"God DAMN you if you think I would EVER let you hurt yourself!" John is nearly in tears. "What were you THINKING?"

Beside them, Jack gasps deeply. Arches as the first breath fills his lungs.

*****

Ifan's eyes are full of fresh tears as he looks up at John. Half breaks John's heart to see the fear and shame and pain in the boy's gaze. "Please."

Sullenly, he lets Ifan up. (Almost lost him. Almost lost him. Can't EVER take him that close to the line again.) He retrieves his bottle, which has tipped over in the fight -- bloody waste of alcohol. The swig tastes of guilt.

Coughing and gasping like the drama queen he is, Jack levers himself to sitting.

And of course, Ianto is right there, falling all over himself with apologies. "I'm sorry, Jack, I'm so sorry."

"You shot me," Jack says. He has the nerve to sound surprised.

Annoyed, he ignores them both. Gets a chair. Sits down, arms folded. Now he gets to wait for the two idiots across the room to either acquire a clue or to reach the depths of stupidity so he can bludgeon them with logic and reason.

Or possibly just the chair.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Ianto's in tears again. It's painful to watch that boy sometimes; lovely as he is, he seems to be unable to be happy without guilt.

Jack looks more thoughtful than angry. "No, I mean. I'm mad you shot me, but--" Aha! That's the look of a man who realizes he had it coming. "Actually, I kind of feel better."

Ifan is adorable when he's confused -- all big eyes and wibble. "What?"

"Told you," John says quietly.

Jack and Ianto turn on him as one. "Shut up."

"Touchy." He nurses his beer.

Ianto caresses Jack as if the physical contact will keep Jack rooted in this world. "Are you all right, sir?"

Jack nods. Gives the boy one of his hallmark half-grins, "And stop calling me sir."

Ianto bites back a sob (one can only assume of relief.) "Sorry, sir."

Jack's glare is more play than anger.

"Jack," Ianto relents. The boy tries to hold in his emotions, but his face threatens to crumple at any moment.

If John examined his own feelings a little more closely, he'd probably find a little self-recrimination there too. His lover really scared him with that damned gun. He finishes off the beer and goes to take out his annoyance on the Webley itself. He retrieves it. Unloads the ammunition. Field-strips it. He'd rip the damn thing apart if he could.

"It's a nice gun, isn't it?" Jack says, amusement in his eyes.

He belches as loud and obnoxiously as possible. "Gorgeous," he says. "Except when my lover decides to use it for a game of Russian Roulette."

Jack turns, shocked, to Ianto. "Are you okay?"

Ianto colours and ducks his head at Jack's worried gaze.

"No, Jack." Maybe HE needs to shoot Jack now. "Ianto is not okay. He hasn't been okay for a VERY long time. As his friend, his lover, and his SUPERIOR FUCKING OFFICER I would've expected you to see that."

Jack returns the glare. "I wasn't talking to you."

"No," says Ianto. "He's right."

"He's just trying to cause more trouble," says Jack.

"Probably," Ianto says. "But I haven't been right for quite some time, have I, Jack?"

Jack wisely gets very quiet. (No good answer to that question.)

Ianto gives an odd smile that seems to light him up from the inside. "And John is right -- the reason I'm miserable is because I've been trying to be something I'm not."

There's hope for the boy yet. "And what's that, darling?" John says.

"A regular person." Ifan looks at him with unveiled eyes. The depth of the boy's heart is startling. Warms John through and through, and through again. "So teach me how to be unrepentantly odd."

He smiles in spite of himself. "Unrepentantly odd. Love that." He recovers his mojo. "And here I promised myself I wasn't going to interfere. Leave it to Ifan to make a liar out of me."

"John." Jack gets to his feet. Selects a beer from the six-pack. Tosses another to Ianto. "You were a liar long before you met Ianto."

"A wise man once said, 'truth depends a great deal on our point of view'," John says. (He's always loved that movie. So quaint.) "Now sit your pretty little arses down and we'll talk about what just happened."

"We don't have to talk to you," says Ianto.

He can't help the grin. "Now you're getting it. No, you don't have to talk to me, because we're equals and I don't get to boss you around. But you will listen to me, because lately, I've been making a lot of damn sense."

Ianto and Jack exchange a quick look. Ianto slides into John's borrowed jeans. (No pants, now THAT is a tasty gift-wrapped treat.) Ianto perches beside Jack on the bed.

For his part, John drains another beer. (Not half bad, if a little bitter.) "Four fucking rehabs in four fucking years and this is where I end up." He enjoys the burp and gives them his best sardonic half-smile. "That was a stroke of genius, by the way, Jack. Turn me in to Central to get me off your tail."

Nostalgia works ridiculously well to get Jack to lower his guard. "I had to," he says, grinning reminiscently. "Your boys almost caught me outside that pub on Barcelona."

Ianto stares. "He put a price on your head?"

Ah, the good old days. "Not just A price," John corrects. "THE price. Bounty was so high even amateurs gave it a go." He grins around the mouth of his bottle. "I was a good wife, but I was a bitch of an ex."

Ianto actually smiles. "I'd imagine so."

"So that brings us back to Rehab 101." He folds his hands around the bottle in his lap, feigning primness. "Jack, would you care to share your feelings with the group?"

Jack actually looks kind of grateful. He takes a drink. Turns to Ianto. "I wanted to save you. Most of the people who were as problematic as you got relocated at best. Killed at worst."

"I know." The cold despair is back as Ianto takes his first real drink. "How many have I helped you--?"

"Now Mister Jones," he says in full schoolmarm mode. "I really don't feel that's constructive."

"Who gives a fuck what you think?" says Ianto fiercely.

He and Jack exchange a look. "You do," they say as one.

Ianto sulks prettily and nurses his beer.

Jack takes another sip and soldiers on. "You were marked from that first alien encounter when you were twelve."

"Who was it?" John can guess, but it'll be fun to watch Jack try to explain the mess he and his boys made of things.

"Therinians." Jack blushes. (Score one for the visiting team.)

He grins lasciviously and enjoys watching Jack squirm a little.

"It wasn't for that," Jack says, defensive as though he isn't breaking his own rules by mail-ordering contraband merchandise from other races in other centuries. (Shame, shame. Naughty, naughty.)

He shrugs. "Keep telling yourself that." He resumes his rehab maven persona. "Please continue, Captain Harkness."

Jack glances back at Ianto. "Alex wanted to have you shot." Another swallow of beer -- trying to telegraph a little less discomfort, though it isn't working for shit. "I knew you were special."

"Which is why you treated me like your lackey," says Ianto.

"Please let him finish, Mister Jones," he says primly.

"You just interrupted him," says Ianto, peevish.

"I am a psychopathic ex-assassin con-man recovering from four kinds of rehab," he reminds him. "I don't respond well to rules."

"Fair point." Ianto turns back to Jack. "You were saying?"

"I just... I just wanted you to live. To have a normal life. To get away from Torchwood." Jack blinks against what might -- if he wasn't just playacting again and actually was showing some sign of growing a heart -- be tears of remorse. "But they got you in the end. And for that, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I hoped you'd be able to break away. That you'd have the choice Torchwood never gave me."

"Ianto?" he cues. "Do you accept Jack's apology?"

Ianto considers him. Gives that lovely half-smile that melts him every time. "Yes."

"Good." He smiles in return, satisfied. "Now kiss and make up. Preferably with tongue."

Ianto's confidence wavers. "Just like that?"

He nods. (With any luck, he'll get a little three-way action out of this.) "Just like that."

Ianto considers it for a moment. "No."

That catches both him and Jack off guard. "No?"

Ianto's shaking his head. "No, I don't get to get out of it this easily."

Jack reaches for him. "Ianto..."

"I SHOT you," says Ianto. "Dead. All because I lost my temper. Lost control."

And they were making such good progress. Now the two martyrs have climbed back up on their crosses, and damned if he doesn't feel like breaking legs.

Jack sniffles. "I hurt you."

"That doesn't give me the right to hurt you back," says Ianto. "What's to stop me from killing you again?"

"Nothing." Jack smiles sadly. "And you will hurt me again. And I'll hurt you again. The key is, will we heal and forgive each other?"

It's so maudlin cute he could just vomit. "Didn't I tell you?" he says. "Takes a bullet to the heart and NOW he's talking sense." He takes a suggestive drink from the longneck bottle. "Don't suppose you're working up to that kiss?"

Ianto gives Jack a guarded look. "I'm still angry with you."

Jack nods. "I understand."

"But I know why you had to do it," says Ianto. (There is definitely hope for him yet.)

Jack takes Ianto's hand. "I only ever loved you."

Ianto raises an eyebrow at him, though he doesn't pull away. "Now we're getting into a weird area -- didn't you meet me when I was just a kid?"

Jack chuckles at his own child-molesting expense. "It wasn't like that at first. I saw myself in you -- someone wounded, but still innocent."

John chokes on his beer. "At the risk of ruining this tender moment," he says, "'innocent' is about the last word I'd use to describe you."

Ianto's harsh exhale sounds a little too close to a laugh of agreement.

Jack glares at them both, more playful than really annoyed. After a moment, he grins and drops the act. "Okay, you've got me there. You know what I mean."

Ianto laces his fingers with Jack's. "I am sorry, Jack."

Jack smiles at him. Brings their hands up so he can kiss the back of Ianto's. "Oh, honey, I am too."

John bites his tongue. If he mouths off one time too many, he might not get his threesome, and if anyone deserves a good shag right now, it's him.

And to his delight, Jack and Ianto do give him his makeup kiss with tongue. Jack moves in carefully. Ianto meets him halfway. The kiss is sweet at first, a wary press of lips. Jack cups Ianto's face with both hands. Ianto slowly opens to him. Jack pours himself into the kiss. Holds back nothing. Lets the tears fall even as Ianto begins to weep too. Jack kisses Ianto until both of them are sobbing and breathless.

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Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories

Crossposted to jackxianto, torchwoodslash