Title: Burdened
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 710 words
Content notes: Spoilers for CoE, but a post-Day Four AU.
Author notes: Written for Challenge 405 - Amnesty & 222 - Breakdown
Summary: Ianto has reached a point at which being alive feels more of a burden than being dead.
Ianto had no idea how long he crouched there in the warehouse, starting at, or more accurately, through, the metal platform that was all that remained of the items to be dismantled by Agent Johnson's MI-5 team. No matter how long he looked at it, he couldn’t fathom any scenario in which Jack would have used it to kill a child, let alone his own grandson. It was, as Johnson had described it to him, monstrous.
His eyes became drawn to a tiny patch of rust coloured liquid. That it was blood was not in question. It made the bile rise up in the back of his throat. Instead of some child he’d never met, he pictured his nephew in its place, and that's when it finally broke him.
He collapsed forward onto his knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. His arms hugged around his torso as he curled into a ball of agonising pain. He cried for the murdered child, who had never deserved to be yet another sacrifice; cried for the mother who would never again hold her little boy in her arms and tell him she loved him; cried for Jack who had been made a murderer, forced to watch as he condemned his only living family to death and despair; and he cried for himself, alive when he should have been dead, where the pain of it all would never have reached him.
He hadn’t been ready for death, but he’d long ago reconciled that it was inevitable that he'd have to accept whatever life he had up until this point, he’d have said it was a good life. He was no angel, had made mistakes, had regrets, but he’d had joy as well. And love. He’d loved with all his heart a man that didn’t believe he was worthy of love.
He wished Jack were here now so that he could look him in the eye and tell him he was forgiven for what he’d done, even if he didn’t yet believe that it was forgivable. He just needed Jack to hear it and know it. Perhaps there would come a time when he could truly forgive Jack for what he’d done. He’d saved millions of lives and yet the price still felt far too high.
Ianto rued with bitterness the choices they were forced to make. They were prepared to give up their own lives to save those of innocent people they barely knew, but living when others had died made him feel hollow. Everyone in Thames House had died yesterday – everyone except him. He didn't care for existentialism questions but why him? Ordinary, everyday public servants had died because he and Jack had been too hasty in thinking they had all the answers, and that any alien threat would simply cow before torchwood. Hadn’t Torchwood already made that mistake once, to their eternal ruin? He should have known better than to let it happen again. More innocent blood on his hands whilst he remained alive and whole.
There was a sudden hand on his shoulder, unusually tender when the heavy black boots entered his peripheral vision as he continued to start at the floor in front of him. ‘Jones, we’re going now,’ Agent Johnson told him. ‘You should come with us.’
Ianto snorted, then wiped his nose with the back of his shirt sleeve leaving it sodden. ‘What for?’ came the despondent reply. To lock him up? Perhaps they should. He was as much to blame for this as anyone. If he’d been here earlier, none of this might have happened.
‘We’ve got the data from Cooper’s video link. Greene is going down for this. Your own account would be valuable testimony as to what was perpetrated.’
Ianto’s barked laugh came out as more of a strangled sound. ‘What, implicate Jack in the murder of a child so that you can lock him up for eternity?’
‘Harkness took reasonable measures,’ Johnson replied. ‘That’s what my report will read.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘We made mistakes, too, but we’ll make them right.’
Ianto rubbed at his face with the heel of his hand and pushed himself to his feet. ‘We can’t ever make this right,’ he said, brushing past her and heading for the door.
Ianto had no idea how long he crouched there in the warehouse, starting at, or more accurately, through, the metal platform that was all that remained of the items to be dismantled by Agent Johnson's MI-5 team. No matter how long he looked at it, he couldn’t fathom any scenario in which Jack would have used it to kill a child, let alone his own grandson. It was, as Johnson had described it to him, monstrous.
His eyes became drawn to a tiny patch of rust coloured liquid. That it was blood was not in question. It made the bile rise up in the back of his throat. Instead of some child he’d never met, he pictured his nephew in its place, and that's when it finally broke him.
He collapsed forward onto his knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. His arms hugged around his torso as he curled into a ball of agonising pain. He cried for the murdered child, who had never deserved to be yet another sacrifice; cried for the mother who would never again hold her little boy in her arms and tell him she loved him; cried for Jack who had been made a murderer, forced to watch as he condemned his only living family to death and despair; and he cried for himself, alive when he should have been dead, where the pain of it all would never have reached him.
He hadn’t been ready for death, but he’d long ago reconciled that it was inevitable that he'd have to accept whatever life he had up until this point, he’d have said it was a good life. He was no angel, had made mistakes, had regrets, but he’d had joy as well. And love. He’d loved with all his heart a man that didn’t believe he was worthy of love.
He wished Jack were here now so that he could look him in the eye and tell him he was forgiven for what he’d done, even if he didn’t yet believe that it was forgivable. He just needed Jack to hear it and know it. Perhaps there would come a time when he could truly forgive Jack for what he’d done. He’d saved millions of lives and yet the price still felt far too high.
Ianto rued with bitterness the choices they were forced to make. They were prepared to give up their own lives to save those of innocent people they barely knew, but living when others had died made him feel hollow. Everyone in Thames House had died yesterday – everyone except him. He didn't care for existentialism questions but why him? Ordinary, everyday public servants had died because he and Jack had been too hasty in thinking they had all the answers, and that any alien threat would simply cow before torchwood. Hadn’t Torchwood already made that mistake once, to their eternal ruin? He should have known better than to let it happen again. More innocent blood on his hands whilst he remained alive and whole.
There was a sudden hand on his shoulder, unusually tender when the heavy black boots entered his peripheral vision as he continued to start at the floor in front of him. ‘Jones, we’re going now,’ Agent Johnson told him. ‘You should come with us.’
Ianto snorted, then wiped his nose with the back of his shirt sleeve leaving it sodden. ‘What for?’ came the despondent reply. To lock him up? Perhaps they should. He was as much to blame for this as anyone. If he’d been here earlier, none of this might have happened.
‘We’ve got the data from Cooper’s video link. Greene is going down for this. Your own account would be valuable testimony as to what was perpetrated.’
Ianto’s barked laugh came out as more of a strangled sound. ‘What, implicate Jack in the murder of a child so that you can lock him up for eternity?’
‘Harkness took reasonable measures,’ Johnson replied. ‘That’s what my report will read.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘We made mistakes, too, but we’ll make them right.’
Ianto rubbed at his face with the heel of his hand and pushed himself to his feet. ‘We can’t ever make this right,’ he said, brushing past her and heading for the door.
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chasethestars
chasethestars
Comments
If Torchwood hadn't been prevented from doing their job, a lot of lives would have been saved. All blame belongs with the government, and Johnson's team for carrying out illegal orders.