Naming Our Mistakes

[nothing_rhymes_with_ianto]

Title: Naming Our Mistakes
Author: qafkinnetic
Rating(s): PG-13
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto
Warning(s): Spoilers for Fragments and Cyberwoman
Summary: There was no instant connection between Jack and Ianto. That never happens in real life.
"Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes." - Oscar Wilde

There was no instant, zinging connection between him and Jack. Of course there wasn’t. That sort of stuff only ever happens in stories. Sure, there was an immediate sexual attraction; that sort of thing happens all the time in real life. But Ianto hated Jack. He hated this strange American who ignored the survivors of the battle and cast aside the half-converted like so much garbage. He was only there to infiltrate the Hub and fix Lisa. He was only there until he could heal her and get out again.

There was never a sudden connection between him and the captain. Ianto had simply stepped inside the Hub one day, been introduced to his fellow employees, who responded distractedly and went back to their work, and was showed around the place and given the instructions that he would be their in-Hub jack of all trades. He was taught how to feed the Weevils, where the coffee machine was, what each of the group liked. and he was shown the archives, which he scoffed at as soon as he saw them.

“Have you ever even had an archivist?”

“Not that I know of,” Jack responded. “Though maybe there was one back when Torchwood Cardiff was first established. Other than that, I’m not sure.”

“Well, this’ll take up a lot of my time.”

“I’ll be amazed if you can get it into working order. Tosh tried once. A bookcase fell on her and she never came back in.”

“I’ll get it done.”

It had been completely impersonal and business-like, although Ianto was sure they could both feel that strange sexual attraction humming quietly underneath everything. From then on, their relationship consisted of flirting and commands. Jack would flirt at Ianto, and Ianto would flirt back, or throw back some bit of witty banter. Jack would command Ianto to act, and Ianto would do it. He liked Jack more and more as time went on.

Lisa was always in the back of his mind. The love for her and his attraction to Jack sat in separate places in his mind, only coming closer when he listened to a tale or watched on the screen as Jack killed some helpless alien simply because he deemed it a ‘threat’ and the incongruous hatred flared up again until it nearly choked him.

Then he was flooded with rage, hate, desperation, loss, confusion, emptiness, as Jack threatened him, threatened Lisa, killed Lisa. And he was helpless. Jack sent him home as stiffly and coldly as the metal voice that Lisa’s had become. The anger in his eyes made Ianto shudder.

There was no zinging connection between them, not even when Jack came to see him during his suspension. There was only a tired acceptance and the repeated, fading echo of ‘why?’ And when he came back, there was only the routine again.

There was no zinging connection between them. That only happens in stories and films. No, their connection was gradual, a mutual understanding of loss, a mutual blame of death, a shared loneliness and a distant respect. And a strange, skewed sense of loyalty to the other that had done wrong for the sake of right.