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First fic posting to my journal

Title: One Moment in Touch
Author: Poisndfntainpen
Rating: PG-13? definitely not more than that
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Summary: Ianto comes back to work after his suspension (sort of a vague summary, sorry)
Spoilers: a little bit for Small Worlds
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing of Torchwood.



I have no beta, all mistakes are mine


One Moment in Touch


One touch and everything I spent the past four weeks convincing myself of just falls away.

Four weeks. He showed up every few days throughout the four weeks of my suspension just to “chat” and he didn’t lay so much as a finger on me. I’m back in the hub for two hours and suddenly his hand is on my shoulder, down my back. Fuck. Ianto Jones, for such an supposedly brilliant man, you are an idiot.  It was too easy. I see that now. It was entirely too easy to write off my manipulation of Jack as a simple ploy to protect Lisa.

During my suspension, the first thing I had to come to terms with was myself; my crimes, my betrayals. I had to sort out just precisely what they were and who I had committed them against. It didn’t even take me a whole week to realize that, as much as it tore me apart inside, Jack was right; my Lisa died at Canary Wharf. I couldn’t see the situation for what it was. I was too close, too caught up in any possibility that my love might be saved. That’s why I lashed out at Jack; hit him, pointed a gun at him, called him a monster. But it wasn’t his fault. And that’s why Jack was the second and seemingly most complicated item I had to sort out during my suspension. Quite simply, I used Jack. I studied him, manipulated him to get into Torchwood and then his bed. Anything to protect Lisa...but was I supposed to enjoy it?

I eventually concocted the theory that I *had* to enjoy it. Keeping Lisa a secret depended on making my time with Jack convincing so he wouldn’t get suspicious. I told myself it was a response my body gave in a time of duress. It was not unlike mothers who are able to accomplish feats of strength, such as lifting cars, to save their children. I enjoyed sleeping with Jack Harkness to protect my ailing girlfriend... As I said, I’m an idiot.

Never the less I had myself believing wholeheartedly in this theory when I returned to work early this morning. I thought if I got in early, reaffirmed myself to the background before anyone arrived, perhaps the team would be less out of sorts with my return. What I hadn’t counted on was Jack being there. God knows why. I, of all people, should have been conscious of that fact.

I was so nervous to re-enter the hub. I immediately fell into routine. Coffee, cleaning, monitoring, filing... And then there he was, standing in his office, questioning my presence. With nervousness threatening to rear its head for the second time this morning, I returned to the computer and my work. It was then his hand appeared on my shoulder. I knew instantly that my “theory” was total shit. As his hand moved across my shoulder and down my back, every feeling I’d ever had about Jack Harkness suddenly came together as a whirling vortex inside my brain.

In that moment I wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness. I wanted him to help alleviate some of this guilt and pain. I wanted to rip off his clothes and lose myself in him. I wanted to scream and cry and rage at him. I wanted to tell him everything I’d realized during my suspension, that he was right and I was wrong, that the thing I called Lisa was the monster, not him. It threatened to spill forth like an emotional tidal wave leaving me washed out somewhere in its wake.

“Whaddya got?”

I opened my mouth, took a deep breath and.......then his hand was gone, and so was my courage.

“Funny sort of weather patterns.”

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