Title: Freedom to be
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,983 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 317 - Relief
Summary: Being on suspension is the best thing Ianto could have had happen.
When Ianto woke up the first thing he did was suck in a deep breath and just let it out. Today was the first day when he hadn't woken up in a panic and completely disoriented. He knew where he was and he knew why he was here. He lay flat on his back and took a few more deep breaths. It felt good, just breathing in and out, like it was reminding him that he was alive, and that breathing was an essential component of that. After a few minutes of lying there in the dark, he rolled over and went back to sleep.
When he awoke again sometime later he couldn't tell what time it was. He'd had the curtains drawn so close that it could have been bright sunshine out there and he wouldn't know. He doubted it, but it was always possible. This darkness was much nicer, especially now that it didn't terrify him quite so much.
He rolled onto his back again and reverted to his deep breathing exercises. Everything felt different today. He was on suspension today, just as he had been for the last week, but it didn't fill him with that same dread as before. He felt something different now and realised it was relief. Relief that the nightmare was over, that Lisa was finally at peace, and that he had nothing else to do.
He should have been feeling a hundred types of guilt. He'd done everything he could to save the woman he loved, and the more and more he turned it all over in his mind, the more he understood that yes, he really had done everything, and it still hadn't been enough. There was no one, no matter how smart or how well resourced, that could have fixed her or done anything different to change the outcome. If anything, the only thing he'd done was prolong her suffering and endanger lives.
Jack might have told him that there was no way back for her and that the only solution was death, and Ianto might not have accepted it or even refused, but at least perhaps they might have given her a peaceful death. She didn't even have to know they were doing it. The right combination of drugs would have been enough to put her to sleep so that she'd never wake up again. In hindsight that would have been the kindest thing he could have done for her. It was a difficult pill to swallow that perhaps he'd done more harm than good.
He should also be feeling guilty at all the secrets he'd kept from the team. They were supposed to be his friends but it had never quite felt like they really were. He knew he had only himself to blame for that. They would have helped if he'd asked, or even if he hadn't asked. If they knew he was in need of help, they'd have been there. This was what they did every day. It was just that when it became personal, he wasn't quite so keen on needing to depend on anyone else. He'd always hated owing anyone anything, and this was a massive thing.
Jack putting him on suspension was meant to serve multiple purposes. It was meant to be time for him to grieve his loss, but also to serve as time to consider all the things he'd done wrong and to go through that process of remorse. Today wasn't a day for either of those things. Today was just a feeling of lightness of being. So much weight felt lifted from his shoulders.
There was no getting up at four in the morning, having slept on virtually nothing in a corner of the most remote part of the hub, hiding away in a basement with a monster. There was no waking up in a panic, wondering if whilst he'd been selfish enough to snaffle an hour or two of sleep for himself, his lover had been lying there in pain. There was no rifling through Owen's cupboards full of potent drugs, looking for the ones that were the strongest and most highly regulated, all of which would need to be carefully replaced so that Owen never noticed they'd been going missing. There was no nervousness at having gotten his research wrong, mixing too much of one drug with another and risking killing her with his kindness. There was no sneaking around the hub, praying that Jack, or one of the others - but mostly Jack - finding him somewhere he shouldn't be, or at a time he shouldn't be there. So much of his late night and early morning movements had been filled with a heightened sense of alertness, listening for even the tiniest sound of footsteps or movement that might signal someone else nearby about to uncover him, that he was now permanently stuck in that heightened state. The adrenaline surging state of survival, which had evolved to keep a human alive during a brief moment of danger had become a sustained drain on his body. He hadn't noticed it until now, how strange it felt not to be in that fight or flight mode all the time. It was a small wonder his body hadn't given up on him, giving him a stroke or a massive heart attack or something. He was sure if Owen had known, he'd have had Ianto strapped into a bed and on drugs to bring him down a few notches on the panic meter.
It was odd to think that after so many months secrets and lies that it was all out in the open now. There was a release of some invisible burden inside him. Everyone knew what had been going on. Perhaps not the full details, but enough. He didn't have to pretend that his weekend was filled with laundry and shopping and catching up with friends, not that he thought they'd believed he had any in the first place. He didn't expect empathy from them, but at least their questions would stop now. There was nothing left to lie about, except perhaps that he was coping with it and that he'd be okay. He wasn't sure he was there yet, or would ever be.
Now he had nothing to do. No driving himself into the ground for a hopeless cause, no pretending to his teammates that everything was fine and normal, and not even any of the other chores that had filled his days - making coffee, filing paperwork, cleaning, always cleaning, and keeping the place running without anyone actually noticing. He literally had nothing to do except lie here in bed for as long as he wanted. He could roll over right now and go back to sleep if he wanted. He could spend weeks here, not getting up, not shaving or showering, not changing his clothes. He could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He didn't have to be tied down to set meal times and accepted foods. If he wanted to eat peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon at three in the morning, or have fried rice for breakfast, he could. He could even let the dishes pile up in the sink and leave stuff all over his apartment if he wanted. Who cared about cleaning? No one was coming to check up on him. He could live however he wanted. He was suddenly free to do whatever, no job, no responsibility, no one to look after. For the next three weeks, anyway. After that he wasn't sure what Jack would do with him.
And there was something else, he realised as he lay there, feeling his chest rise and fall. His head felt clear, like it hadn't for months. There was no jumble of thoughts all vying for his immediate attention. There was also no more tangling of his emotions. As much as he had tried to ignore it, the months since he'd joined Torchwood had been the best and the worst.
He liked working for Jack, even if most of it was just chores. The man had given him a chance when he didn't have to, and their rapport had grown from there. The man was often shameless and outrageous, with all his stories of things that couldn't possibly be true, but he was also kind and caring, always looking out for his team. He understood what kind of toll a place like this took on a person and he was forever trying to inject a sense of humour and lightness into their days.
And he loved messing with Ianto, who had learned to give as good as he got. The others called it flirting but Ianto had disagreed with them. At least at first. He enjoyed it when Jack took notice of him, making a point of leering at his choice of clothing or making a point about how good he looked. Ianto enjoyed the attention. With Lisa being that way she was, unable to do much more than fight through the pain of each day, it was nice that someone actually noticed him. He'd begun to feel all but invisible some days, but Jack reminded him he was still there.
Jack was good looking in an effortless way, and Ianto couldn't understand why that made him feel good inside. He loved Lisa but he was also growing attracted to Jack, which didn't make sense because he was a man and Ianto wasn't gay. Still, those feelings weren't going away and, if anything, they'd been getting stronger.
Lying here now, he knew that he was still grieving for Lisa, but something else was fighting to take its place. A week ago he might have been alarmed by that. He didn't want to feel anything but loss and despair, but now that Lisa was finally at peace, those feelings swept back in like a wave riding slowly up the beach. He'd felt guilty over them before when he'd meant to love Lisa to the exclusion of all else, but now he felt like he had space to process them. He'd been squashed so tightly into a box with no way out and now he'd been released.
Was it okay to like a man? Moreover was it okay to like his boss? Here alone in his flat, with nothing else to do, and with everything he'd seen at Torchwood, it felt insignificant. Had he been the one boxing himself in? There were loads of people these days who were gay, or who liked other people regardless of their gender. Had he been one of them all along and just not known it because he'd never met a man that made him feel the way Jack did? Was that so wrong? And was it wrong to fancy someone so quickly after losing someone else they'd loved? Was it possible to love two people simultaneously? He'd never considered any of those questions because he'd never had to. He'd lived a plain, unexciting life where conventional relationships were the path of least resistance. Could there be more to it than that?
He sucked in another deep breath and held it for as long as he could, until his lungs were burning and his eyes watering. When he finally felt himself gasp, heaving in one breath after another, he remembered what it was to fight so hard for life. His body didn't want to give up, so the rest of him shouldn't either. He would grieve over Lisa and process those feelings, but suspension gave him time for more than just that. Suspension meant he had a path back to Torchwood, and a path back to Jack. He didn't know if he'd have the courage to face it and see where it would lead, but he had time enough to figure it out. Perhaps that was the greatest relief of all.
When Ianto woke up the first thing he did was suck in a deep breath and just let it out. Today was the first day when he hadn't woken up in a panic and completely disoriented. He knew where he was and he knew why he was here. He lay flat on his back and took a few more deep breaths. It felt good, just breathing in and out, like it was reminding him that he was alive, and that breathing was an essential component of that. After a few minutes of lying there in the dark, he rolled over and went back to sleep.
When he awoke again sometime later he couldn't tell what time it was. He'd had the curtains drawn so close that it could have been bright sunshine out there and he wouldn't know. He doubted it, but it was always possible. This darkness was much nicer, especially now that it didn't terrify him quite so much.
He rolled onto his back again and reverted to his deep breathing exercises. Everything felt different today. He was on suspension today, just as he had been for the last week, but it didn't fill him with that same dread as before. He felt something different now and realised it was relief. Relief that the nightmare was over, that Lisa was finally at peace, and that he had nothing else to do.
He should have been feeling a hundred types of guilt. He'd done everything he could to save the woman he loved, and the more and more he turned it all over in his mind, the more he understood that yes, he really had done everything, and it still hadn't been enough. There was no one, no matter how smart or how well resourced, that could have fixed her or done anything different to change the outcome. If anything, the only thing he'd done was prolong her suffering and endanger lives.
Jack might have told him that there was no way back for her and that the only solution was death, and Ianto might not have accepted it or even refused, but at least perhaps they might have given her a peaceful death. She didn't even have to know they were doing it. The right combination of drugs would have been enough to put her to sleep so that she'd never wake up again. In hindsight that would have been the kindest thing he could have done for her. It was a difficult pill to swallow that perhaps he'd done more harm than good.
He should also be feeling guilty at all the secrets he'd kept from the team. They were supposed to be his friends but it had never quite felt like they really were. He knew he had only himself to blame for that. They would have helped if he'd asked, or even if he hadn't asked. If they knew he was in need of help, they'd have been there. This was what they did every day. It was just that when it became personal, he wasn't quite so keen on needing to depend on anyone else. He'd always hated owing anyone anything, and this was a massive thing.
Jack putting him on suspension was meant to serve multiple purposes. It was meant to be time for him to grieve his loss, but also to serve as time to consider all the things he'd done wrong and to go through that process of remorse. Today wasn't a day for either of those things. Today was just a feeling of lightness of being. So much weight felt lifted from his shoulders.
There was no getting up at four in the morning, having slept on virtually nothing in a corner of the most remote part of the hub, hiding away in a basement with a monster. There was no waking up in a panic, wondering if whilst he'd been selfish enough to snaffle an hour or two of sleep for himself, his lover had been lying there in pain. There was no rifling through Owen's cupboards full of potent drugs, looking for the ones that were the strongest and most highly regulated, all of which would need to be carefully replaced so that Owen never noticed they'd been going missing. There was no nervousness at having gotten his research wrong, mixing too much of one drug with another and risking killing her with his kindness. There was no sneaking around the hub, praying that Jack, or one of the others - but mostly Jack - finding him somewhere he shouldn't be, or at a time he shouldn't be there. So much of his late night and early morning movements had been filled with a heightened sense of alertness, listening for even the tiniest sound of footsteps or movement that might signal someone else nearby about to uncover him, that he was now permanently stuck in that heightened state. The adrenaline surging state of survival, which had evolved to keep a human alive during a brief moment of danger had become a sustained drain on his body. He hadn't noticed it until now, how strange it felt not to be in that fight or flight mode all the time. It was a small wonder his body hadn't given up on him, giving him a stroke or a massive heart attack or something. He was sure if Owen had known, he'd have had Ianto strapped into a bed and on drugs to bring him down a few notches on the panic meter.
It was odd to think that after so many months secrets and lies that it was all out in the open now. There was a release of some invisible burden inside him. Everyone knew what had been going on. Perhaps not the full details, but enough. He didn't have to pretend that his weekend was filled with laundry and shopping and catching up with friends, not that he thought they'd believed he had any in the first place. He didn't expect empathy from them, but at least their questions would stop now. There was nothing left to lie about, except perhaps that he was coping with it and that he'd be okay. He wasn't sure he was there yet, or would ever be.
Now he had nothing to do. No driving himself into the ground for a hopeless cause, no pretending to his teammates that everything was fine and normal, and not even any of the other chores that had filled his days - making coffee, filing paperwork, cleaning, always cleaning, and keeping the place running without anyone actually noticing. He literally had nothing to do except lie here in bed for as long as he wanted. He could roll over right now and go back to sleep if he wanted. He could spend weeks here, not getting up, not shaving or showering, not changing his clothes. He could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He didn't have to be tied down to set meal times and accepted foods. If he wanted to eat peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon at three in the morning, or have fried rice for breakfast, he could. He could even let the dishes pile up in the sink and leave stuff all over his apartment if he wanted. Who cared about cleaning? No one was coming to check up on him. He could live however he wanted. He was suddenly free to do whatever, no job, no responsibility, no one to look after. For the next three weeks, anyway. After that he wasn't sure what Jack would do with him.
And there was something else, he realised as he lay there, feeling his chest rise and fall. His head felt clear, like it hadn't for months. There was no jumble of thoughts all vying for his immediate attention. There was also no more tangling of his emotions. As much as he had tried to ignore it, the months since he'd joined Torchwood had been the best and the worst.
He liked working for Jack, even if most of it was just chores. The man had given him a chance when he didn't have to, and their rapport had grown from there. The man was often shameless and outrageous, with all his stories of things that couldn't possibly be true, but he was also kind and caring, always looking out for his team. He understood what kind of toll a place like this took on a person and he was forever trying to inject a sense of humour and lightness into their days.
And he loved messing with Ianto, who had learned to give as good as he got. The others called it flirting but Ianto had disagreed with them. At least at first. He enjoyed it when Jack took notice of him, making a point of leering at his choice of clothing or making a point about how good he looked. Ianto enjoyed the attention. With Lisa being that way she was, unable to do much more than fight through the pain of each day, it was nice that someone actually noticed him. He'd begun to feel all but invisible some days, but Jack reminded him he was still there.
Jack was good looking in an effortless way, and Ianto couldn't understand why that made him feel good inside. He loved Lisa but he was also growing attracted to Jack, which didn't make sense because he was a man and Ianto wasn't gay. Still, those feelings weren't going away and, if anything, they'd been getting stronger.
Lying here now, he knew that he was still grieving for Lisa, but something else was fighting to take its place. A week ago he might have been alarmed by that. He didn't want to feel anything but loss and despair, but now that Lisa was finally at peace, those feelings swept back in like a wave riding slowly up the beach. He'd felt guilty over them before when he'd meant to love Lisa to the exclusion of all else, but now he felt like he had space to process them. He'd been squashed so tightly into a box with no way out and now he'd been released.
Was it okay to like a man? Moreover was it okay to like his boss? Here alone in his flat, with nothing else to do, and with everything he'd seen at Torchwood, it felt insignificant. Had he been the one boxing himself in? There were loads of people these days who were gay, or who liked other people regardless of their gender. Had he been one of them all along and just not known it because he'd never met a man that made him feel the way Jack did? Was that so wrong? And was it wrong to fancy someone so quickly after losing someone else they'd loved? Was it possible to love two people simultaneously? He'd never considered any of those questions because he'd never had to. He'd lived a plain, unexciting life where conventional relationships were the path of least resistance. Could there be more to it than that?
He sucked in another deep breath and held it for as long as he could, until his lungs were burning and his eyes watering. When he finally felt himself gasp, heaving in one breath after another, he remembered what it was to fight so hard for life. His body didn't want to give up, so the rest of him shouldn't either. He would grieve over Lisa and process those feelings, but suspension gave him time for more than just that. Suspension meant he had a path back to Torchwood, and a path back to Jack. He didn't know if he'd have the courage to face it and see where it would lead, but he had time enough to figure it out. Perhaps that was the greatest relief of all.
About
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fan_flashworks is an all-fandoms multi-media flashworks community. We post a themed challenge every ten days or so; you make any kind of fanwork in response to the challenge and post it here. More detailed guidelines are here.The community on Livejournal:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
fan_flashworks Page Summary
Designed by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chasethestars
chasethestars
Comments