Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.


Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Warning For This Chapter: dark, evil Suzie, innuendos

Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to "They Keep Killing Suzie"


Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13,Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25





Master Fic List: here


Chapter 26 – "They Keep Killing Suzie"
Act I
Next morning…

It felt strange, being held tightly as if silently asking him to stay. As if he was wanted.

Jack wasn't used to feeling this way. He might have felt this way before but Jack couldn't remember anymore.

His hand went up and down a satin back without a thought, more automatic than conscious now as Ianto kept tensing and flinching whenever he stopped. And Jack, never needing much sleep anyway and momentarily disconcerted by the unfamiliar sensation of not being pushed away, sat in the dark with Ianto sprawled on top of him, his bare legs a tantalizing tangle with his.

Ianto mumbled something Jack thought sounded like someone's name. There was a sharp pang in his chest as he suspected he knew whose name it was. Then Jack grimaced at himself. Of course Ianto must be thinking about her. Who else would it be?

But here, in the dark, Jack could almost pretend.

Jack carefully shifted a little onto his back without jarring Ianto so he could snag the duvet that covered the pale buttocks he had a glimpse of before and pull it higher to Ianto's shoulders. The younger man wrinkled his nose, fidgeted, and grumbled something that sounded vaguely like…elephants? Ianto simply rubbed his head against Jack's chest and dropped back over his body once Jack stilled. It was silk upon his skin, sinewy muscles that pressed against him that had always fascinated him as much as the feminine, roundness of a female's body. It was like acknowledging his existence, his worth, when a body responds to his touch.

He stared down at the messy top of the younger man's head, the right side of his face now planted firmly over his chest where his heart was. For some reason, it touched Jack that Ianto would find it reassuring against his ear. Sleep had loosened Ianto's arms from around his torso, now flopped on either side in an awkward slump.

Ianto was…warm.

His body settled across him, warmer and more soothing than the thickest blanket he'd ever known.

Leave.

He should leave before Ianto woke up and Jack could see the truth in his eyes when drowsy slumber gave way to whatever horrible realization Ianto would come to. Jack didn't want to see it. Leaving would maintain the pretense for a little longer. He should really go.

As if sensing his thoughts, Ianto's arms curled around him again.

Jack dropped his head back against the headboard. Ianto's head was a comfortable weight on him. He resisted wrapping his arms around Ianto; it wouldn't do anyone any good wishing. He set his jaw.

Ianto mumbled again, a mild frown, and this time Jack's name escaping like a sigh.

…Maybe just a few more minutes.

Jack tentatively kissed the top of Ianto's head and closed his eyes. He was suddenly very aware of the difference between this darkness and another. His eyes burned. Jack swallowed.

Shutting his eyes—because the difference made the lump in his stomach grow black and miserable—Jack tried to hear the TARDIS hum, tried to imagine it was someone else here, staying the night…

Someone else who'd want him to stay.



Someone sneered in his ear. Hot breath that traced his ear, his neck, then down his back and before he could say anything, hands flipped him over. Not that he ever would say anything. To deny him would be to deny the very existence of himself.

Worthless, damaged goods, unnatural and corruptive.

…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…

The words took the place of his name. Each biting thrust was the punctuation. All he could feel was himself dissolving away and being put back together wrong and irreversible but there was nowhere else. Nowhere else. There were only empty stations, surrounding corpses, beaches riddled with the dead, everything dying while he stayed the same and leaving him with no one to hear him scream in fear. No one but him and the drumming and the deconstruction of himself, starting with his flesh, then to his soul…

He woke with a violent start before the tearing pain or the agony of ice chiseling into his heart could begin.

"…easy…alright…"

It was a voice he should know, but all that registered were the hands on his bare flesh and that it was so dark. God, no, Doctor, he couldn't. Please…he couldn't take any more of the cruel parody of love and affection ripping into him.

"…shh…"

He can't. He can't take any more, yet can't deny him, can't walk away, can't…he can't.

"Jack…you're alright…"

It took a few seconds, like it always did, until his heart rate slowed and the iron band around his chest loosened. He lay there, feeling a bit lost.

Hands that were gripping his shoulders pulled away and the suffocating feeling of being trapped vanished.

The darkness was unfamiliar; not as cold though, not as silent and every so often, light streaked across in a thin beam across his face.

Where was he? Who was he? The Doctor's companion? Jack? James?

The dull burn at the base of his spine confused him and for a moment, a peculiar moment, when fear curdled in his stomach—why would he ever fear him—Jack Harkness thought he was back in the muted TARDIS.

His breath quickened and his fingers curled on—wait, this wasn't his blanket. Not the TARDIS then. Jack scrunched up his face and could feel the crisp cotton of a pillow sham against his back. Not Caveat either. They were never hospitable enough to offer rooms with linens.

The two possibilities eliminated, Jack drew a blank. The vapor of a sneer in his ear again. Jack shivered and it went away.

He remembered wool pressing into his skin, grinding into the tender spots of his belly like sandpaper, fabric bunching under his fingers as he held on or reined back from—he still couldn't decide—the body pistoning into him; a relentless pace that cut into him, dry and desperate, and took his breath. It was a sensation too familiar that the lump in his stomach returned sharp and frozen.

Wait, this time it’d felt different though. The desperation, the hunger, the need was mutual. Jack was pulled in instead of pushed away by disgust, loathing, or disdain. He felt embraced, held onto with a possessive grip, filled with something warm he could no longer recognize.

Someone's face came out of the shadows. Ianto's eyes glittered despite the darkness.

"You awake?" Ianto asked quietly, no recrimination, no disgust, just open concern. He was still sprawled over Jack but had propped up his upper body with his arms.

Jack closed his eyes and swallowed; his throat was so dry it hurt.

Not the TARDIS. Not Caveat. Not some filthy alley, pressed up against a nameless body.

Jack grimaced as he pushed himself up by the elbows. Ianto sat up, rolling off, but still kept his eyes on Jack.

"Morning," Ianto murmured faintly. He sat up on his side of the bed, looking down at him, the duvet messily pulled up to his waist, his hair messy from running his hands through it, his eyes a little red-rimmed.

"Morning," Jack managed and dropped back down on the bed. So much for the quiet exit. He laid back and found—Rose would have found this hilarious—that he was at a loss for words. Jack looked over at Ianto apprehensively and studied him. The younger man merely stared back.

"You alright?" Ianto asked low.

Jack laughed. It sounded funny to his ears. "I think that's a question I should be asking you."

"I didn't have any nightmares," Ianto said, sounding a little amazed. "For once." He nervously ran his tongue over his lower lip. He pulled the duvet higher around himself until he realized he was pulling it away from Jack's lower body. He stared at Jack’s exposed crotch for a moment, swallowed and averted his gaze.

The eyes that wouldn't meet his reminded Jack of someone else. Ianto couldn't even look at him, took him in the dark, away from his gaze, because he was wrong. This shouldn't be something new, yet his insides tightened and Jack exhaled sadly.

"Listen," Jack began.

"I…I really don't think I'm gay," Ianto blurted out. Then, he looked cross at himself for saying it.

Jack supposed it was better than Ianto panicking or running him out of his flat.

"I don't think you're gay, either," Jack answered slowly. He struggled to prop himself up again. Jack met Ianto's gaze. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes steady on him.

"Look, it's okay," Jack gave him what he hoped was reassuring smile. "It…doesn't have to mean anything. You don't have to worry about it. It was just…" The words stuck in Jack's throat. It can't mean anything. Ianto sat there looking far too young, far too alive to be anything for him. Human life, Jack had learned, was too fragile and too short to embrace or keep by his side.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Jack stressed.

For some reason, instead of relief, Ianto frowned. He folded his arms in front of him and despite the fact that his shirt and tie were somewhere in the vicinity of the bottom of the bed, he looked very indignant.

"I don't think I appreciate you making the decision for me here."

The "huh?" must have been clear on Jack's face because Ianto's scowl softened. He slouched closer to Jack.

"I don't think I can cavalierly dismiss this." Uncertainty flitted across Ianto's face and his pale pallor reminded Jack of cracked porcelain.

"I mean…unless you want me to…" Ianto waved his other hand between them.

Ianto's mouth was so close, Jack found himself leaning up towards it. He cleared his throat and forced himself to lie back again. "It'll be easier."

"Why would it be easier?" Ianto asked, looking sincerely curious. After a second, understanding dawned and he went, "Ah…because we work together?"

Jack snorted and pointed a thumb at himself. "I'm a man."

"Really?" Ianto said dryly. "I hadn't noticed."

Jack shot him an exasperated look.

"You never showed any itch for…" Jack knew his hand gesturing was getting erratic because Ianto leaned away. "You were having a hard time before and…and…this was a distraction and now you're feeling…uh…grateful, that's all."

"I wish," Ianto said tightly, "people would stop telling me how I feel."

Jack dropped back onto the bed. He covered his eyes with his right forearm. It would have been easier if the sex was horrible or Ianto looked a little imperfect, maybe a wart or two instead of having the lean, muscular grace of a dancer and the face of the universe. It would have made this more convincing.

For who, Jack wasn't sure.

"What? So now you're suddenly gay?"

Ianto's frown was audible. "No, I told you, I don't think so. I don't suddenly have an urge to ogle Owen or any other man." He sounded frustrated. "And I'm not bloody grateful for the sex either."

Jack couldn't help himself; he pouted.

"Gee, thanks," Jack griped, his tone injured.

Ianto scoffed. "You know what I mean." He sighed, dropping his eyes to the bed. He considered Jack under hooded eyes.

"You know, it would have been a lot simpler if you were ugly as sin," Ianto chided mildly, unknowingly echoing Jack, still sitting like he was wearing a suit rather than being wrapped only with the duvet.

"I…thanks…I think." Jack grinned at him, but it faltered at Ianto's thoughtful look. "What?"

"Can I…" The lilt of hesitation drew goosebumps along Jack's arms; rounded soft vowels that rolled over him like a heat wave. "Can I touch you?"

Jack turned his head and looked skeptically at Ianto. "I think we did more than that last night."

It was strange and disturbing to find the flush on Ianto's cheeks so disarming, so beautiful. Jack's fingers twitched, wanted to brush across the modest stain to see if it was just as warm.

"I just want to…" Ianto shrugged one shoulder. "Touch."

It occurred to Jack no one had ever wanted to do that. Consumed, devoured, carved pieces out of him bit by bit, or maybe peel. No one ever asked before either.

Jack studied Ianto. He wished he could decipher the look on Ianto's face, wished he could figure out what Ianto was thinking when he first woke up.

The shy hand that reached over actually scared him, but Jack didn't stop him as Ianto tentatively brushed the back of his hand across Jack's chest. Ianto drew back his hand, his brow furrowing.

"Would it help if I had breasts?" Jack joked.

Sure enough, Ianto's eyes widened and an easy smile spread across his face. Ianto chuckled nervously.

"God, no. I think you would make a horribly ugly woman, Jack Harkness."

"Hey," Jack protested half-heartedly.

Ianto visibly relaxed now. He reached over again, this time palm down, and hovered his hand over Jack's chest before settling it on Jack's abdomen. It was automatic; Jack tensed.

"Easy," Ianto murmured and stroked the quivers away with the back of his fingers. He looked intent as his hand followed the ridges of muscle, sweeping up Jack's skin like the topography of a map.

Ianto had a callus on his right pointer finger. Jack could imagine it handling files, hardening the digit to an unbelievably coarse texture that was both rough and gentle circling his left nipple.

That hand, its travels marked by that callus, trailed back down like a pencil on vellum paper, tracing every contour. Ianto paused every so often, head tilting at each stuttered breath Jack took.

Jack closed his eyes when Ianto's fingers tentatively brushed across his left hip, across a rigid thigh. His eyes flew open when Ianto's fingers lightly grazed the base of his cock.

The hand paused over Jack's genitals; so close, its heat beckoned Jack. Jack inwardly groaned when Ianto's hand circled his groin like the light step of a spider on a web. Jack bit his lower lip, trying hard not to startle Ianto by thrusting his hips hungrily toward those long, elegant fingers brushing an invisible painting on his skin, but he couldn't hold back the tiny whimper.

"Huh." Ianto sounded mildly surprised. His hand withdrew and left Jack feeling exposed. "Was that good?"

Very.

"Not bad," Jack managed not to squeak. "I uh…so…um…you?"

Ianto sounded a little breathless for some reason. "Well…uh…it wasn't…I mean…I wasn't…repulsed."

It was like a bucket of cold water. Jack scowled up at him. "You know you're really bad with the compliments."

"What do you want me to say?" Ianto huffed. He started to get up, looked down and remembered, then hastily dropped back down on the bed so hard, the mattress bounced underneath Jack.

"Well, I usually don't get referred to as repulsive," Jack griped although secretly, a part of him argued it would probably be better if Ianto had.

"I didn't say that either!" Ianto huffed. "I'm in a bed with a man, a naked man. What do you want me to say; that it was bloody marvelous?"

Okay, Ianto did have a point. Jack clamped his mouth shut.

Ianto sighed. "And that was a prelude to my hysterics." He gave Jack a rueful look.

Jack smiled faintly. "Believe me, I've seen worse." He dropped back down on the bed and studied Ianto sitting next to him.

"Other than the sleeping with a man part," Jack murmured. "How are you feeling?"

The duvet hid the slouch but it was clear in his weary voice. "I don't know. How should I feel?"

"I thought you didn't like people telling you how you feel." Hesitantly, Jack settled a hand on a bent knee peeking out under the duvet. Ianto, to his surprise, didn't flinch.

"I feel like I aged a hundred years," Ianto sighed.

"That's not so bad," Jack teased.

Ianto chuckled and gave Jack a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I mean…oh, I don't know what I mean! All I know is I’m not feeling as horrified as I thought I ought to be!" The younger man frowned. "I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not." Ianto darted him an apprehensive look.

"What do you think?"

Jack should tell him he thought this was a bad thing. He should tell Ianto to move on, find a wonderful girl deserving his attentions and have a family; everything that would never happen here. This was just a physical addiction pumping between them, cloaking them from everything. It couldn't last, but the damage, the aftermath potentially could be forever. No, not for Jack though, but for Ianto. He should tell Ianto this. Ianto would listen.

"I don't know," Jack found himself saying instead.

God, he was a selfish bastard.

Ianto's shoulders dropped. "Brilliant. What's next then? Where do we go from here?" His hands opened and closed in his lap.

Jack watched those long hands flex rhythmically like a heartbeat, pulsing and opening. He couldn't stop looking.

"I don't know. See where it takes us?" Jack croaked, feeling his chest tighten. "But…no matter what…I don't want you to see me any different." He wouldn't be able to stand it.

The sigh was heavy in the darkness. "Of course I'll see you different now."

Bile rose up Jack's throat.

Ianto leaned over Jack, his eyes overly bright. "I did see you naked, you twit." Ianto flicked affectionately at a bare shoulder. "Not really something one can easily forget."

The relief that swept over Jack was overwhelming, to the point he was speechless and Ianto's teasing smile wavered.

"Jack?" Ianto looked nervous now.

Jack recovered quickly. "You've seen me naked four times," Jack joked shakily.

Ianto gave him a disbelieving eyebrow. "I didn't know we were keeping count—Jack!" Ianto yelped when Jack suddenly grinned and tugged at the corner of the duvet. Ianto quickly yanked the thick coverlet around him tighter than an egg roll.

"Come on," Jack coaxed wickedly. "Time to even the sco—ow!" Jack jerked. He gaped at Ianto and rubbed the sore spot.

Ianto's eyes twinkled. "The one advantage about sleeping with another man is I know exactly where it will hurt to pinch."

Jack raised his hands in surrender. "Fine!" he laughed and the room seemed to lighten. "I—where are you going?"

To Jack's amusement, Ianto levered off the bed, the duvet wrapped around his middle, and somehow managed to walk in a very dignified fashion to the bathroom.

"Shower," Ianto said primly as he hitched the duvet higher around himself.

"And you're leaving me without the covers?" Jack couldn't stop laughing and he wondered if it wasn't due to the fact he was still here, still talking to Ianto. "I'm cold!"

"Well," Ianto drawled, "We certainly can't have that."

Without warning, the covers flew over Jack's head like a net and before Jack could scramble free of the duvet, Ianto had safely ducked into the bathroom.



Act II

Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.