Current mood:	rushed
Entry tags:	fic, fic: tw

Fic: Déja-Vu
Title: Déjà-Vu
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Summary: Ianto dreads days like this, days when Jack switches off the monitors and just sits in his office, staring into the darkness.
Spoilers: Set before Cyberwoman
Rating: None
Word count: 1100
Notes: A huge thank you to my beta jadesfire2808 who helped me immensly with this. Written for the prompt 'Circumspect' for tw_wotd_fic. Just a little something, hope you enjoy.
Fic Masterlist: Here.




Ianto has worked with Jack for mere months, but already he dreads days like this, days when Jack switches off the monitors and just sits in his office, staring blindly into the darkness.

At first he thought it was a weird habit, but soon he discovered the pattern. Days when Jack refused to participate in their daily routine and gave his team the day off were the days that would go down in the history books. Bad things happen on these days.

Ianto knows from the files that Torchwood Three didn't respond when Torchwood One took care of a ruined Big Ben, it stayed silent when Sycorax or Cybermen attacked. A hundred other, human things like wars or terror since then and they'd all watched it at home on TV, because their boss had given them the day off. They would find him later in the Hub, listening to their discussions but never participating.

He can imagine Jack sitting in his office for years, waiting for a crisis to end. Maybe he sat there, staring at the darkness while Ianto tried to stay alive at Canary Wharf when the Cybermen came. It makes him sick, but he never shows it. There are more important things than disgust.

It isn't any intelligence briefing that alarms Jack (Ianto's sure, he'd have to file it), he just seems have a seventh sense for disaster. A sense that - against everything Ianto pretends to know about Jack Harkness - lets him stay put and do nothing.

Today is one of those days again, the Hub deserted and the CCTV monitors dead, radiating a sense of foreboding. It makes the hairs on Ianto's neck stand up, a prickling sensation like the wing of history brushing by a bit too close.

He opens the door of the Tourist Information, taking one last gulp of fresh air, unspoiled by nearing disaster perhaps, and he flinches involuntarily. The sun shouldn't be so high in the sky, the weather shouldn't be so warm, everything looks wrong.
Something's not right with the world, something to do with the Rift perhaps. Strangers pass him by, the laughter of one so very familiar, yet so much more carefree than he's ever heard it. He stares after a Jack in jeans and blue shirt, accompanied by two strangers as they wander past.

He sees this Jack's eyes travel over him, assessing him without any kind of recognition, grinning more openly than he thought was possible. If this Jack is concerned by his obvious shock he doesn't show it, just walks off after the man in the leather jacket and the blonde girl, towards one of the restaurants on the bay.

Ianto shivers, knowing that he left Jack down in his office with a cup of coffee. There's no way he could've gotten out before him. He slams the Tourist Information door shut, practically running back into the relative safety of the Hub, taking two steps at once until he's down on the base level and out of breath. From up on the railing Jack - his Jack - watches him, his stance revealing his tiredness, but his eyes still wary.

"Temporal Shift," he says, emotionless as if reciting a textbook, "creating something of a fold in time, replaying events from one or two years ago. Will give the entire world a rather huge fright and cause a hell of a lot of paradoxes." The grin isn't genuine, Ianto can tell.

He bites back the questions. It would do him and Lisa no good if he started asking questions now. Lisa. He remembers their summer holidays, two years ago. If he could phone her, would it change the present? He can see the challenge in Jack's eyes, and doesn't dare to ask.

"Won't be long." Jack adds, and Ianto has his answer.

"Coffee, Sir?" Ianto asks, because it's the only question that won’t compromise their delicate stalemate. Jack smiles weakly and nods.

---

Ianto knows far too well that there are places on this Earth where history is as thick as tar, where it threatens to smother anyone who remembers. The echo of people and of emotions engulf these places, making even the coldest heart clench.
Sometimes it's the history of an entire nation, the dark spot where people used to be, where there are only ruins now. But there are simpler things, private echoes, too. The house you grew up in, the place that saw your first kiss, the exact spot where your future changed forever. These places cannot be shared, cannot be marked with statues or memorials. They are private spots where the echoes are so strong you could drown in memories.

Memories of happier days are the hardest to bear. Ianto knows that far too well. It's the reason why he left London. It's the reason why he can never go back.

Jack Harkness stares up at the silver monolith in front of him, the Plass above the Hub deserted now after all the chaos this Déjà-Vu Day (Ianto came up with that name and Jack thinks it'll stick) caused. Ianto watches while his boss pretends to measure the amount of damage done to the Rift by the dimensional quake. He sees the glint in Jack's eyes, memories coming to haunt him as he stares past the fountain at the few visible stars. The letters of the Millennium centre reflecting golden light into his face, giving him an otherworldly glow.

Jack lowers the scanner and instead touches the pavement with his bare hand, as if he can feel something there, something powerful judging by his slow movements, as if stoking the stone.

He closes his eyes and his shoulders slump, tangled in emotions Ianto can't quite place. But the moment is over in an instant, and the guarded expression Ianto knows so well returns to Jack's face. He' shaken it off now, Ianto can tell, because that's how he must look like after visiting Lisa in the basement. Maybe the two of them have more in common than he wants to admit.

Jack dictates his report and Ianto obediently writes down the facts as if he hadn't seen Jack almost break down mere seconds before, following him back into the Hub.

He can't forget that other Jack's smile, the joy and the vitality in it. The same person, separated from this one only by time. Not for the first time Ianto wonders who Jack Harkness is, and how he came to be what he is now.


He will, of course, never ask and Jack will never answer. They both have to protect their secrets.