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antigwenallies Sep. 24th, 2008 07:37 pm)
adia313.livejournal.com posting in antigwenallies Sep. 24th, 2008 07:37 pm)Title: A Quiet Night in Wales (part 4)
Pairings: Rhys/Gwen, Jack/Ianto; unrequited Jack/Gwen
Spoilers: entire series
Warnings: Language, off-screen violence, adult themes
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rhys and Ianto’s guys’ night out ends with shocking news.
Word Count: ~1300
Part 3.4
Ianto maneuvered through the packed pub toward the small table. As he sat down, he slid one pint across the table to Rhys and plunked the other in front of his chair. He took a small sip of beer and waited for Rhys to speak. It would be a long wait, Ianto assumed, but he had plenty of time. No one was waiting for either of them at home; Jack was in Swansea to make sure that Gwen got “settled” at the UNIT training camp. It felt good to be around people other than the Torchwood team. Jack had just sprung him from the hub. On one hand, sharing Jack’s little cot for a few nights had led to some adventures, but on the other hand, it had been awhile since he had felt so worn out. He couldn’t wait to sleep in his double bed that night—although he fervently wished that he didn’t have to sleep in it alone.
Rhys seemed just as exhausted as Ianto. Of course, Ianto had the feeling that Rhys probably didn’t have quite as good a reason. He looked like he’d been run over by a fleet of lorries. He had dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise, his face was deathly pale—and Ianto thought about deathly pallor with some authority. But Ianto Jones was nothing if not patient; he could wait.
He had drained half his pint by the time Rhys spoke. Rhys’s voice was more hesitant than Ianto had heard from the larger man; Ianto had to strain to hear him over the conversations buzzing around them. “She’s been my entire life for ten years. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without her, but at the same time, she’s not… She’s not the woman I fell in love with. I don’t even like her any more. If she came back to her right mind, I’d… I’d marry her in an instant. She’s so arrogant now, so… self-centered… I’m supposed to let her be the mother of my children?”
“That’s something that you want to think about,” Ianto said neutrally. He wanted to be a sounding board for Rhys, not let his own opinions about Gwen influence his new friend’s future with the woman he had, until recently, loved completely.
“The relationship hasn’t been the same for a long time,” Rhys admitted. “I used to think she was having an affair—with Jack, actually.”
Ianto allowed himself a small smile. He’d worried about the same thing himself for a long time. Not any more. Quietly, he reassured Rhys, “No.”
“She was having an affair with someone, though, wasn’t she?” Rhys said.
Ianto cursed Gwen’s indiscretion. Of all the people in Cardiff, she had to choose Owen freaking Harper, the loudest, most obnoxious jerk in the United Kingdom to sleep with. Even if she didn’t have an ounce of taste, why couldn’t she just screw someone who her fiancé wasn’t absolutely guaranteed to meet? “Yeah.”
“Who with?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“No, but I need to know,” Rhys said weakly.
Quietly, Ianto answered, “Owen. Owen Harper, our M.O.”
“I see,” Rhys murmured. For a long time, he didn’t speak. His eyes were dangerous—he looked like a stranger, someone Ianto would cross the street to avoid after dark. Rhys’s large hands were clasped around his glass so tightly that the skin had stretched white across his knuckles. “Are you going to wipe my memory?”
“Jack hasn’t ordered me to,” Ianto reassured him. “I don’t think he will, but if he does, I’ll do everything within my power to convince him to change his mind.”
“Maybe I need it.”
“You don’t,” Ianto murmured. “Trust me. The side effects can be painful, probably more painful than what you’re feeling now.”
“I doubt it, mate.”
Ianto stared contemplatively into his beer. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He knew that nothing he said would make Rhys feel any better. Whether he felt worse about not having realized what a raving nutcase Gwen was or about watching the relationship on which he’d built his life collapse around him, Rhys was in a bad way. There was nothing that Ianto could do to right his world. He’d thought that knowing that he wouldn’t be retconned would make Rhys feel better. Apparently not.
Lisa would have known what to say.
“Look, I’m rubbish company tonight,” Rhys sighed. “I’m sorry.”
And now Rhys was assuming responsibility for it. Shaking his head—he’d drunk his beer quickly enough that the movement made him feel momentarily shaky—he mumbled, “It’s hardly your fault.”
Rhys snorted, but Ianto wasn’t sure if that was a refutation of his previous statement or self-deprecation. Shaking his head slowly, Rhys mumbled, “Maybe we should call it a night.”
That was exactly what Ianto did not want. Rhys would head back to his apartment and stew. Being miserable with someone else was always better than being miserable alone. And with Jack in Swansea, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. With a bit of an exaggerated sigh, Ianto mumbled, “I don’t really want to go back to an empty flat.”
Rhys shrugged. “I’ve got a big couch. You’re more than welcome.”
They finished their beers in quick order. Then, they gathered their belongings and pulled on their coats. The cool night air was a relief after the heat in the packed pub, and Ianto breathed deeply as soon as the door closed behind them. Cardiff in spring must be the most beautiful place on earth. The almost impossible combination of land and sea by the Millennium Centre, the warmth of the Rift Pool and the Bay, not to mention the green and grey playing together across the cityscape. Maybe Jack would want to go for a walk the Sunday after he got home.
Lisa had loved long walks, would insist that they sit on the tube for half an hour so that they could walk in Hyde Park because she liked Hyde Park.
Jack wouldn’t have all day, of course, but maybe for a few hours… early in the morning… It was worth asking.
It was a short walk to the empty flat. Already, it looked different from the last time that Ianto had been there. Empty beer cans sat on the coffee table, and plates with half-eaten meals sat on the kitchen counter. Undone laundry lay strewn in various piles across the floor. Ianto bravely hid his disgust as he handed Rhys his jacket. As Rhys made his way across the apartment, Ianto pulled his mobile from his trousers pocket. He noticed the flashing screen—not particularly surprising—and called his voicemail.
“It’s me,” Jack’s voice sounded tense. “I need you to call me as soon as you get this.”
“Huh,” Rhys said. “That’s weird.”
Temporarily distracted from returning Jack’s call, Ianto glanced at Rhys. He was punching buttons on his answering machine. The new message played—Rhys sans Gwen—and then, Jack spoke: “Rhys, this is Jack Harkness. Please call me when you get this message.”
“I’m on it,” Ianto said. He called Jack quickly. If the tension in Jack’s voice hadn’t been enough to warn Ianto that something very wrong was happening, then Jack’s having called both Ianto and Rhys would have done. All things considered, it was probably better for Ianto to hear whatever it was first and tell Rhys than for Rhys to hear it firsthand.
Jack’s phone rang three times before it was answered. An unfamiliar voice merely barked, “Hello?”
Quickly snapping to his professional voice, Ianto replied, “Good evening. I’m calling for Captain Harkness.”
“Who is this?”
“Ianto Jones. Torchwood officer 804. I need to speak to the Captain, sir.”
“Captain Harkness is preoccupied at the moment,” the stranger said, his voice oddly gentle. “I suppose that makes it my place to tell you… Your whole team’s got my deepest sympathies, lad… Gwen Cooper is dead.”
*
Thanks for reading! I’ll appreciate any feedback that you have time to offer!
(Real life has kept me from posting the last few weeks, but I wanted to get something up, even though it’s short. I hope to have one more chapter and an epilogue before this story concludes.)
Pairings: Rhys/Gwen, Jack/Ianto; unrequited Jack/Gwen
Spoilers: entire series
Warnings: Language, off-screen violence, adult themes
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rhys and Ianto’s guys’ night out ends with shocking news.
Word Count: ~1300
Part 3.4
Ianto maneuvered through the packed pub toward the small table. As he sat down, he slid one pint across the table to Rhys and plunked the other in front of his chair. He took a small sip of beer and waited for Rhys to speak. It would be a long wait, Ianto assumed, but he had plenty of time. No one was waiting for either of them at home; Jack was in Swansea to make sure that Gwen got “settled” at the UNIT training camp. It felt good to be around people other than the Torchwood team. Jack had just sprung him from the hub. On one hand, sharing Jack’s little cot for a few nights had led to some adventures, but on the other hand, it had been awhile since he had felt so worn out. He couldn’t wait to sleep in his double bed that night—although he fervently wished that he didn’t have to sleep in it alone.
Rhys seemed just as exhausted as Ianto. Of course, Ianto had the feeling that Rhys probably didn’t have quite as good a reason. He looked like he’d been run over by a fleet of lorries. He had dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise, his face was deathly pale—and Ianto thought about deathly pallor with some authority. But Ianto Jones was nothing if not patient; he could wait.
He had drained half his pint by the time Rhys spoke. Rhys’s voice was more hesitant than Ianto had heard from the larger man; Ianto had to strain to hear him over the conversations buzzing around them. “She’s been my entire life for ten years. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without her, but at the same time, she’s not… She’s not the woman I fell in love with. I don’t even like her any more. If she came back to her right mind, I’d… I’d marry her in an instant. She’s so arrogant now, so… self-centered… I’m supposed to let her be the mother of my children?”
“That’s something that you want to think about,” Ianto said neutrally. He wanted to be a sounding board for Rhys, not let his own opinions about Gwen influence his new friend’s future with the woman he had, until recently, loved completely.
“The relationship hasn’t been the same for a long time,” Rhys admitted. “I used to think she was having an affair—with Jack, actually.”
Ianto allowed himself a small smile. He’d worried about the same thing himself for a long time. Not any more. Quietly, he reassured Rhys, “No.”
“She was having an affair with someone, though, wasn’t she?” Rhys said.
Ianto cursed Gwen’s indiscretion. Of all the people in Cardiff, she had to choose Owen freaking Harper, the loudest, most obnoxious jerk in the United Kingdom to sleep with. Even if she didn’t have an ounce of taste, why couldn’t she just screw someone who her fiancé wasn’t absolutely guaranteed to meet? “Yeah.”
“Who with?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“No, but I need to know,” Rhys said weakly.
Quietly, Ianto answered, “Owen. Owen Harper, our M.O.”
“I see,” Rhys murmured. For a long time, he didn’t speak. His eyes were dangerous—he looked like a stranger, someone Ianto would cross the street to avoid after dark. Rhys’s large hands were clasped around his glass so tightly that the skin had stretched white across his knuckles. “Are you going to wipe my memory?”
“Jack hasn’t ordered me to,” Ianto reassured him. “I don’t think he will, but if he does, I’ll do everything within my power to convince him to change his mind.”
“Maybe I need it.”
“You don’t,” Ianto murmured. “Trust me. The side effects can be painful, probably more painful than what you’re feeling now.”
“I doubt it, mate.”
Ianto stared contemplatively into his beer. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He knew that nothing he said would make Rhys feel any better. Whether he felt worse about not having realized what a raving nutcase Gwen was or about watching the relationship on which he’d built his life collapse around him, Rhys was in a bad way. There was nothing that Ianto could do to right his world. He’d thought that knowing that he wouldn’t be retconned would make Rhys feel better. Apparently not.
Lisa would have known what to say.
“Look, I’m rubbish company tonight,” Rhys sighed. “I’m sorry.”
And now Rhys was assuming responsibility for it. Shaking his head—he’d drunk his beer quickly enough that the movement made him feel momentarily shaky—he mumbled, “It’s hardly your fault.”
Rhys snorted, but Ianto wasn’t sure if that was a refutation of his previous statement or self-deprecation. Shaking his head slowly, Rhys mumbled, “Maybe we should call it a night.”
That was exactly what Ianto did not want. Rhys would head back to his apartment and stew. Being miserable with someone else was always better than being miserable alone. And with Jack in Swansea, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. With a bit of an exaggerated sigh, Ianto mumbled, “I don’t really want to go back to an empty flat.”
Rhys shrugged. “I’ve got a big couch. You’re more than welcome.”
They finished their beers in quick order. Then, they gathered their belongings and pulled on their coats. The cool night air was a relief after the heat in the packed pub, and Ianto breathed deeply as soon as the door closed behind them. Cardiff in spring must be the most beautiful place on earth. The almost impossible combination of land and sea by the Millennium Centre, the warmth of the Rift Pool and the Bay, not to mention the green and grey playing together across the cityscape. Maybe Jack would want to go for a walk the Sunday after he got home.
Lisa had loved long walks, would insist that they sit on the tube for half an hour so that they could walk in Hyde Park because she liked Hyde Park.
Jack wouldn’t have all day, of course, but maybe for a few hours… early in the morning… It was worth asking.
It was a short walk to the empty flat. Already, it looked different from the last time that Ianto had been there. Empty beer cans sat on the coffee table, and plates with half-eaten meals sat on the kitchen counter. Undone laundry lay strewn in various piles across the floor. Ianto bravely hid his disgust as he handed Rhys his jacket. As Rhys made his way across the apartment, Ianto pulled his mobile from his trousers pocket. He noticed the flashing screen—not particularly surprising—and called his voicemail.
“It’s me,” Jack’s voice sounded tense. “I need you to call me as soon as you get this.”
“Huh,” Rhys said. “That’s weird.”
Temporarily distracted from returning Jack’s call, Ianto glanced at Rhys. He was punching buttons on his answering machine. The new message played—Rhys sans Gwen—and then, Jack spoke: “Rhys, this is Jack Harkness. Please call me when you get this message.”
“I’m on it,” Ianto said. He called Jack quickly. If the tension in Jack’s voice hadn’t been enough to warn Ianto that something very wrong was happening, then Jack’s having called both Ianto and Rhys would have done. All things considered, it was probably better for Ianto to hear whatever it was first and tell Rhys than for Rhys to hear it firsthand.
Jack’s phone rang three times before it was answered. An unfamiliar voice merely barked, “Hello?”
Quickly snapping to his professional voice, Ianto replied, “Good evening. I’m calling for Captain Harkness.”
“Who is this?”
“Ianto Jones. Torchwood officer 804. I need to speak to the Captain, sir.”
“Captain Harkness is preoccupied at the moment,” the stranger said, his voice oddly gentle. “I suppose that makes it my place to tell you… Your whole team’s got my deepest sympathies, lad… Gwen Cooper is dead.”
*
Thanks for reading! I’ll appreciate any feedback that you have time to offer!
(Real life has kept me from posting the last few weeks, but I wanted to get something up, even though it’s short. I hope to have one more chapter and an epilogue before this story concludes.)
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