Fictions: Good Soldier

[firesnap]

Title:  Good Soldier
Author: firesnap
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Jack/Gwen, mentions of Rhys
Summary: Jack realizes he's fighting a war on two fronts.
Notes: This story hasn't been beta'd, as a warning. It's a little coda to Meat and not, unfortunately, the fabulous threesome thing I've been working on when not playing with my reel_torchwood monstrosity. I like Jack's adoration of Gwen and Ianto too much to not play with it in other ways though.
Contains: Language, unbeta'd writing.
Relevant Episodes: Meat
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all of its characters are owned by the BBC and Russell T. Davies. I make nothing from writing this and wouldn't take your filthy money if you offered it. All characters included and mention within are of legal age.



Jack was trying to burn the images on his office's small monitor into his brain. At least, that's what it felt like. He stared at the CCTV video of Gwen and Rhys, talking and arm in arm and his eyes watered from the effort of not blinking. This was ridiculous. He felt like some sort of voyeur.  If he was honest with himself, he'd just go ahead and admit that he knew why this confrontation had been so volatile and why he had a sharp, stabbing pain radiating in his chest. Jack had never really considered himself an honest man, but even he could admit defeat and take some time to lick his wounds. He flexed his fingers out of the fist they'd been clinched into once, then again when he felt them squeeze back into the same grip.
 
Jack finally blinked when a polite cough filled his office. He knew the cough, he'd heard it enough. Normally, it was Ianto's way of testing Jack's mood. A small flirtatious smile or a hurried get on with it gesture was usually all Ianto needed to chart the course of their interaction. Jack didn't smile this time.  "I'm not in the mood for banter," he mumbled. "What do you got?"
 
"Ah. Yes." Ianto placed a copy of Owen's medical report on the space whale meat and Jack's striped coffee mug on the rich dark wooded desk. His lips were thin, curled into a ghastly parody of a smile as he reached across Jack's line of sight for the decanter of Scotch and poured a good measure of it into the mug.
 
"You know, I'm not in the mood for banter either." Ianto agreed. "Brought you that before I go home."
 
Jack huffed and clenched his fingers around the edge of his desk.
 
Ianto's lingering presence wasn't helping his mood. Instead of supportive it felt accusatory and Jack couldn't take that battle on top of the one he'd just finished. It may be childish, but he wasn't in the mood for dealing with Gwen or Ianto or any of the mess he'd made for himself since coming back. Jack, for the first time in a long while, had let things get too messy, too complicated and unresolved. Now it was going to end in someone feeling hurt, or worse, him left vulnerable and exposed. He spent the century before this making excuses to any connections he'd created -- that he was waiting for someone, that he wasn't going to stick around forever and that he couldn't put all of himself out of there when there wasn't a future in Cardiff. Now, after The Doctor, after the end of the universe, he had no excuses left. And two very persistent people knew that. Either Jack was going to lose and end up condemned to being tied to Wales and having to outlive them, or they were both going to end up feeling played or abandoned and Jack would still lose them. Jack could see it coming, he couldn't stop it, and no amount of silent pep talks or arguments was going to change that.
What he really needed was space to sort through this tangle, but he doubted he was going to get it. Either the job or the constant presence of Gwen and Ianto would guarantee that. "You sure that's all you wanted, Ianto?" he sighed.
 
The mug scrapped loudly across the wood as Ianto pushed it toward Jack and then he took a step back. "No," Ianto cocked his head and looked down at Jack, as if contemplating Jack's existence or purpose, and then he sighed. "No, but I have some advice for you."
 
"I don't want advice right now. Or scolding. Or whatever else."  He wanted to be left alone, to brood, or run. Running would be good. He may have stopped hanging about on roofs so much -- mostly because he'd spent too much time with his feet not on the ground in the past year--  but that didn't mean he didn't have other ways to hide.  Jack glared at Ianto, then at the mug on his desk, as if deciding which one he wanted to grab first. He chose the mug.
 
"Maybe not, but I'm still going to say it." The coffee and scotch mixture was already at Jack's mouth when Ianto had responded so Jack couldn't do much more than widen his eyes at the annoyed, tired tone in Ianto's voice.
 
"You, Captain Harkness, need to do some serious thinking." Ianto held a hand up when Jack opened his mouth. "Not about what we do," he rushed. "Honestly, I'm fine with uncomplicated fuck if that's what you want to do  -- though buying me dinner now and then is a good touch. I like that. You're good company. Most of the time.  No, you, sir, need to make up your mind over that," Ianto jerked his head toward the CCTV images Jack had been playing. Jack felt heat rush to his face and, for a split-second, he couldn't tell if it was from annoyance or something else. "Either throw your hat into the ring or stop fucking with the person who did manage it. It's embarrassing to watch."
 
"Fuck you," Jack sputtered.  Jack looked at Ianto in shock, still holding his coffee mug to his lips.
 
"You have," Ianto responded promptly. "I'm serious though -- you're pulling all of us in different directions depending on your mood. It's not attractive or heroic. Either do something about it or leave them be."
 
"Why do you care?" Jack was drumming on the edge of desk, feeling like a cornered predator. The muscles in his body felt tight and ready to pounce or attack depending on how this went. It wasn't a direct attack, but Ianto's cool indifference to the situation was as infuriating as Gwen's in your face approach to it all. They both knew exactly, in their own way, how to fuck around with Jack's head.
 
"Because you're going to end up alone, more than usual, if you don't and no one, no one, is going to feel like picking you up and dusting you off if that happens.  Because you tell everyone want they want to hear, when it's convenient for you, and we're all starting to catch on. Because you're making her miserable, and confused, and he doesn't deserve it either."
 
"What about you?"
 
Ianto frowned as if he hadn't considered Jack asking that question. Maybe he didn't, and that made Jack feel like a bastard. "I'm not going to be a bitter ex-girlfriend," he chuckled. "If that's what you're worried about. You were the one that came to me like an awkward school boy and if you've changed your mind that's fine. We'll get it sorted before…  Nevermind. It's going to hurt dynamics.  It's going to get someone killed. Almost did." Ianto didn't need to add the like today, Jack heard that on his own.

The coffee mug hit the desk's surface with a loud clink. "So that's it? You care that it's disrupting work. Then why come in here acting like a martyr? You could have told me to get over it.  Told me to act like a boss. Write a memo. Whatever. "
 
Ianto grimaced. "How would that fix anything? You can't separate yourself from Torchwood any more than the rest of us can." With a shrug in his shoulders, Ianto walked toward the office's exit. He then paused at the doorway and turned to face Jack once more. "I care because I like her and this is messing with her head. Because you're the only immortal in the room, Jack, and the rest of us don't have eternity to wait for you to grow up and learn you can't have everything you want, when you want it, without it affecting others. That's not fair." Ianto took a deep breath. "Or, maybe. Just maybe, I want to see if you're capable of making a decision for yourself, or if you really just wait for us to come crawling to you."
 
"You think that's what I do?"
 
"I do. I think she won't fall for it."
 
"But you will?"
 
"I already did," Ianto corrected. "She's stronger. You'd have to fight for that one. Decide if you're going to and let the rest of us know, will you? I'm tired of guessing what you want and, I imagine, so is she." With that, Ianto left Jack's office and headed toward the Tourist Office exit. The sound of the cog door rolling shutting never sounded so oppressive to Jack. It made the whole place feel like a tomb. 
 
Jack rubbed his temples. Ianto, without a doubt, could make his head ache like no other. He didn't understand how someone could be that apathetic about everything. Actually, that wasn't a fair assessment. Ianto, obviously, had psyched himself up quite a bit for that little confrontation. He always thought Jack couldn't tell, but after last year (no, the year before) Jack had made it a personal mission to learn Ianto's tells. With a couple quick presses of a button, another CCTV camera filled the small monitor. Sure enough, there was Ianto in his car, one hand tight around the steering wheel while the other held an unlit cigarette.
 
Jack couldn't turn the monitor off fast enough.
 
It was sort of amusing, in a gut twisting way, how well tailored that little act had been. Ianto had stood there, cool as could be, and resignedly implied that he didn't put up a fight against Jack; that he was the path of least resistance . A more cynical Jack would have given Ianto points for the amazingly well-crafted attempt at manipulation. As it was, and in away only another con artist could, Jack admired the technique involved and all the while picturing a different life where Ianto could make good fairly easy on those smooth lies and subtle subterfuges. 
 
Gwen's rebelling against Jack openly and Ianto's quieter pulling and pushing accomplished the same goals with different approaches.  They each had an arsenal of very personal methods that fit them perfectly and were damn hard to struggle against. Maybe that's why Jack couldn't tell either of them no. Maybe Jack did tell them both no and they knew how to get around it so well that Jack didn't even realize how often he was being played. They could start running things entirely if this kept up. Usually, Jack loved it. Thrived on it. Usually, Jack could step back and bask in their affections and admirations without feeling fear of what would be expected of him. Not the case anymore. Now, he'd let people in that knew him, or enough about him, to keep him in place. They weren't even battling each other for his affections. That Jack could understand -- he could cope with it and turn things to his advantage. No, instead they seemed to be working together to slowly wear down every defense and barrier Jack had set up for himself. 
 
 So there it was, the real lesson he'd learned from this mess with Rhys. The real reason his stomach twisted and pained as he watched CCTV images a dark haired girl laughing freely or a blue eyed boy smoke a cigarette in his car. It wasn't about lust or power struggles; it was about realizing how far gone he really was over these people in Cardiff and how quickly he was losing control of the situation. 
 
There'd be no rest or quarter now, not between the two of them, and Jack had no one to blame but himself.  Gwen had gotten what she wanted with her impassioned speeches, eyes brimmed with emotion, and it had acted like another rope tying Jack's heart to this pace. Then Ianto had come in to act as counter point and keep Jack off balance while the two of them probably conspired together. Hopefully in a sexy way.  At least Ianto had played his part well -- acting as if they both didn't know how Jack had to fight for every foot of ground he made with Ianto as much as he did Gwen. He battled away constantly at Ianto's sidesteps as much as he fought against Gwen's fiery counter-attacks. No, it was different battle but the same war with both of them.  The same long, slow war with Torchwood stuck in the middle and no easy resolution in sight.
 
Jack was a good solider, but fuck, he was getting tired of fighting.