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fandomweekly2025-04-25 01:51 pm
badly_knitted) wrote in fandomweekly2025-04-25 01:51 pm
[#258] Reminders (Torchwood)
Theme Prompt: #258 – Scars
Title: Reminders
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: It’s been years since the 456 came to earth demanding children, years since Ianto died and eventually came back to life, but the scar on his face is a constant reminder.
As Ianto slept, Jack found himself studying his lover’s face, so peaceful and untroubled. It made him smile. Then, inevitably, his eyes were drawn to the scar on Ianto’s right cheek, faded almost to invisibility, nothing more than a faint, silvery mark, barely noticeable unless looked at from the right angle.
It wasn’t Ianto’s only scar, the Welshman had two or three others from childhood injuries and illnesses: one on his right knee from falling off his bicycle when he was eight, one on his left hand from an accident in woodworking class when he was eleven, and an appendectomy scar. The one on his face though, that was the one that always troubled Jack, because it was a reminder of the mistakes that had very nearly cost Ianto his life.
Reaching out, he lightly traced the scar with the tip of one finger. If he’d had any sense, he wouldn’t have returned to the Hub after reviving in the hospital basement. He should have known right then that they wouldn’t just have killed him and then left his body to be found, should have realised something wasn’t right… If he’d stayed away, he might have exploded elsewhere, or not at all, depending on how the bomb they’d put inside him was rigged. Ianto wouldn’t have been injured by flying debris when the Hub exploded, and…
And what? Might he not have gone to London then, not gone with Jack to face down the 456, not been infected with the alien virus that killed both him and Jack? Would that have meant he wouldn’t have been reconstructed in the house of the dead, only to blow himself up destroying Syriath? In which case, he wouldn’t be here now, with Jack, alive and well, but still bearing that tiny, telltale scar.
Then again, if Ianto hadn’t died back then, the Rift would still be open, and Jack might have left earth anyway, leaving his lover behind to run Torchwood without him, because Gwen would have had to quit, for the safety of her unborn child… Torchwood was no place for a pregnant woman, or a new mother. Her priorities would have shifted.
Jack had so many mixed feelings concerning those five dreadful days after the children started chanting. He wished he could have spared Ianto everything he went through, but at the same time, all the terrible things that had happened, even Steven’s death, had led to this, the two of them alive, immortal, and travelling the universe in the TARDIS that had grown from the small piece of coral Jack had kept under a lamp on his desk for so many years.
He traced the shape of the scar again, a thin line he could scarcely feel, the contours etched into his mind.
“You do know that tickles, don’t you?” Ianto murmured, and Jack herked his hand away guiltily.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Then you should keep your hands to yourself when I’m asleep.” Ianto opened his eyes and looked at his lover, his husband. “And don’t think I don’t know what you were doing, brooding about all your failures, the things you think you should’ve done or not done. You have to stop blaming yourself for everything. You may be a fixed point, but that doesn’t mean the universe and everything in it revolves around you.”
“I know that. I just… Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d done things differently.”
“The kill squad would most likely have caught up with Gwen and I and gunned us both down, removed us from the field of play. Then we wouldn’t have been there to rescue you, you’d still be encased in a block of concrete, the government would have handed over ten percent of the world’s children, and in a few years, the 456 would have come back for more.”
Jack flinched. “You don’t know any of that, not for sure.”
“No, I don’t, because none of that happened, but you don’t know that anything would have been better if you’d acted differently, and either way, it doesn’t matter, because we know what DID happen. This,” Ianto touched his own cheek, his fingers settling on the scar. “It’s just a scar, little different from any of my other scars. A memento of times long past.”
“You could get it lasered away. I know people who do very good work.”
“And what good would that do? It would just come back the next time I died.”
“But you’re more careful than I am, you don’t die as often.”
“And the next tine I DID die, we’d be having this same conversation. The scar stays, Jack. It’s hardly visible, and it’s a reminder of something I don’t want to forget, my last few days on earth. I know a lot of bad things happened back then, but that’s why I’m here, now, alive, and I’m grateful for that.”
“So am I, it’s just… You don’t know what it was like for me after you died, not really. I killed my own grandson, sent a constructive wave through his brain… There was so much blood, Ianto! For months after that, every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was red. I used to love that colour, especially on you, but now I hate it. Steven deserved better. He should have died an old man, surrounded by family.”
“Everyone should die that way, but a lot of people don’t. He might have died young anyway.”
“But I wouldn’t have been responsible, and Alice wouldn’t have hated me.”
Ianto sighed. “I think your scars run a lot deeper than mine, Jack, and they’re not visible on the surface. I wish I could take your pain away.”
“You do.”
“Not all of it. I don’t imagine anyone could do that. Not even the Doctor.”
“Maybe in a few thousand years it’ll get easier.” Jack smiled sadly. “I just know it would be a lot worse if I didn’t have you.”
The End
It wasn’t Ianto’s only scar, the Welshman had two or three others from childhood injuries and illnesses: one on his right knee from falling off his bicycle when he was eight, one on his left hand from an accident in woodworking class when he was eleven, and an appendectomy scar. The one on his face though, that was the one that always troubled Jack, because it was a reminder of the mistakes that had very nearly cost Ianto his life.
Reaching out, he lightly traced the scar with the tip of one finger. If he’d had any sense, he wouldn’t have returned to the Hub after reviving in the hospital basement. He should have known right then that they wouldn’t just have killed him and then left his body to be found, should have realised something wasn’t right… If he’d stayed away, he might have exploded elsewhere, or not at all, depending on how the bomb they’d put inside him was rigged. Ianto wouldn’t have been injured by flying debris when the Hub exploded, and…
And what? Might he not have gone to London then, not gone with Jack to face down the 456, not been infected with the alien virus that killed both him and Jack? Would that have meant he wouldn’t have been reconstructed in the house of the dead, only to blow himself up destroying Syriath? In which case, he wouldn’t be here now, with Jack, alive and well, but still bearing that tiny, telltale scar.
Then again, if Ianto hadn’t died back then, the Rift would still be open, and Jack might have left earth anyway, leaving his lover behind to run Torchwood without him, because Gwen would have had to quit, for the safety of her unborn child… Torchwood was no place for a pregnant woman, or a new mother. Her priorities would have shifted.
Jack had so many mixed feelings concerning those five dreadful days after the children started chanting. He wished he could have spared Ianto everything he went through, but at the same time, all the terrible things that had happened, even Steven’s death, had led to this, the two of them alive, immortal, and travelling the universe in the TARDIS that had grown from the small piece of coral Jack had kept under a lamp on his desk for so many years.
He traced the shape of the scar again, a thin line he could scarcely feel, the contours etched into his mind.
“You do know that tickles, don’t you?” Ianto murmured, and Jack herked his hand away guiltily.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Then you should keep your hands to yourself when I’m asleep.” Ianto opened his eyes and looked at his lover, his husband. “And don’t think I don’t know what you were doing, brooding about all your failures, the things you think you should’ve done or not done. You have to stop blaming yourself for everything. You may be a fixed point, but that doesn’t mean the universe and everything in it revolves around you.”
“I know that. I just… Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d done things differently.”
“The kill squad would most likely have caught up with Gwen and I and gunned us both down, removed us from the field of play. Then we wouldn’t have been there to rescue you, you’d still be encased in a block of concrete, the government would have handed over ten percent of the world’s children, and in a few years, the 456 would have come back for more.”
Jack flinched. “You don’t know any of that, not for sure.”
“No, I don’t, because none of that happened, but you don’t know that anything would have been better if you’d acted differently, and either way, it doesn’t matter, because we know what DID happen. This,” Ianto touched his own cheek, his fingers settling on the scar. “It’s just a scar, little different from any of my other scars. A memento of times long past.”
“You could get it lasered away. I know people who do very good work.”
“And what good would that do? It would just come back the next time I died.”
“But you’re more careful than I am, you don’t die as often.”
“And the next tine I DID die, we’d be having this same conversation. The scar stays, Jack. It’s hardly visible, and it’s a reminder of something I don’t want to forget, my last few days on earth. I know a lot of bad things happened back then, but that’s why I’m here, now, alive, and I’m grateful for that.”
“So am I, it’s just… You don’t know what it was like for me after you died, not really. I killed my own grandson, sent a constructive wave through his brain… There was so much blood, Ianto! For months after that, every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was red. I used to love that colour, especially on you, but now I hate it. Steven deserved better. He should have died an old man, surrounded by family.”
“Everyone should die that way, but a lot of people don’t. He might have died young anyway.”
“But I wouldn’t have been responsible, and Alice wouldn’t have hated me.”
Ianto sighed. “I think your scars run a lot deeper than mine, Jack, and they’re not visible on the surface. I wish I could take your pain away.”
“You do.”
“Not all of it. I don’t imagine anyone could do that. Not even the Doctor.”
“Maybe in a few thousand years it’ll get easier.” Jack smiled sadly. “I just know it would be a lot worse if I didn’t have you.”
The End
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