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Hidden Truths

Sooooo....You know how I said this was gonna be five parts?…

Hidden Truths; a Ianto Jones Fan Journal

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Samurai
Sooooo....You know how I said this was gonna be five parts? Well...(glances at notes) there may be a couple more parts to come...I think there's two more. Maybe one, if I can condense them.

Enjoy!




Death is on your heels. And sooner or later, it's gonna catch you. And part of you wants it. Not only to stop the fear and uncertainty, but because you're just a little bit in love with it.

Gwen woke to Jack’s hand on her arm and Ianto’s hair in her face.

It only took a moment for her to remember what had happened; when Ianto had cried himself out, which took a disturbingly long time, they’d fallen asleep more or less where they were. Ianto was curled against her, head on her shoulder and one hand wrapped tightly around her waist. Gwen smiled faintly when she realised that, even unconscious, he was carefully avoiding the wound on her side.

Jack was crouched beside them, one hand on the floor for balance; as soon as she focused on him he let go of her arm, laying one finger against his lips.

“Ianto’s totally out of it,” he murmured. “What happened?”

“Did I miss check in?” she mumbled in reply, gently moving the arm Ianto wasn’t lying on. Jack had asked her to call every day, to let them know what was happening; in exchange, he kept the others away unless she asked for them and kept Rhys up to date.

“Yeah. Can you move?”

“No,” she decided. “What time is it?”

“Half three, give or take. How long have you been here?”

“Thursday? Since this morning, then. God, I can’t feel anything.”

“Probably better, you’re going to be sore—did you knock him out, or what?”

“No, he’s just exhausted…back up for a minute, Jack. Over there.”

Once Jack had backed off to a safe distance she moved a little, enough to jostle Ianto. “Ianto? Listen to me. We need to get up off the floor, ok? Can you stand up?” She ran a hand through his hair; the gesture was oddly tender and Jack looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Ianto,” Gwen repeated, a little louder now. “We have to get up; come on.”

Ianto mumbled something in Welsh. Not for the first time, Jack cursed the fact that his facility with languages had vanished along with the Tardis.

“I know you’re tired,” Gwen agreed. “We just need to get off the floor and over to the couch, and then you can go back to sleep.”

“Iawn, Lisa,” Ianto sighed. Alright, Lisa.

Jack blinked, looking up in surprise; Gwen didn’t hesitate, wrapping her hand around his arm and pulling.

She got him installed on the couch, cajoling and pushing where necessary, and sat next to him until he was fully asleep. Then she looked up, meeting Jack’s gaze.
“He’s not done that before.”

“Called you Lisa?” Jack came to sit on the coffee table, watching them. He didn’t much like the look on Gwen’s face, or the bags under her eyes.

“He told me what happened.” She smoothed a hand through Ianto’s hair again. “I don’t think he’d acknowledged it to himself, even, but I got him angry, and…” she trailed off, shrugging.

“And what happened?” Jack asked intently. Gwen shook her head, and he insisted, “Tell me, Gwen. How do I make this right?”

“You can’t make this right, Jack,” she snapped at him. Ianto stirred, moving towards wakefulness, and she turned back to him, soothing him in Welsh.

“Jack,” she added, in the same gentle tone, “he’s waking up. Back off a bit.”

Jack bumped the couch on his way, jerking Ianto into wakefulness, but by the time he could focus Jack was leaning against the door, as far away as he could get and still be in the room.

Gwen shifted to the coffee table, giving Ianto room to sit up, and spoke quietly to him for a minute before lifting her voice to say, “Jack’s here, Ianto.”

Ianto stiffened. Jack could see it from across the room.

“You don’t have to talk to him,” Gwen continued, shooting a warning glare at Jack over Ianto’s shoulder. “And I won’t, if you don’t want me to. But you need to talk to *someone*, Ianto, and I don’t think I can help you.”

“I can’t,” Ianto murmured, staring at his hands.

“You told me,” Gwen reminded him.

“You’re…it’s not the same.”

Gwen bit her lip, meeting Jack’s gaze again. He was still leaning against the wall, seemingly relaxed, but his gaze was dark and dangerous and she could see the way he was holding himself, ready for action.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” she murmured, taking a gamble. Ianto’s eyes met hers, huge with shock and betrayal and pain, and she forged on desperately. “You helped Tosh get away, that was a good thing, Ianto.”

“I thought I’d die,” he murmured. “It was in his eyes. I could see it.”

“And you didn’t care, did you?” Jack spoke up. Gwen jumped at his accent; it was harsher than she remembered, after almost a week of nothing but Welsh.

Ianto didn’t react, still staring at Gwen, and Jack pushed off the wall, pacing towards them. “You’d have been glad if he’d killed you.”

“Gwell na fyw fel hyn.” Better than living like this. Ianto spoke quite deliberately in Welsh, challenging Gwen with a look to translate.

“It’s not better,” Jack said, coming to a halt beside Gwen; she couldn’t see him, and it made her uncomfortable.

“You don’t speak Welsh,” she said in surprise, craning over her own shoulder to see him.

“Don’t need to. I’ve been where Ianto is.”

Ianto snorted. “I think not. Sir.” He finally looked up, meeting Jack’s eyes, and Jack silently acknowledged the words hanging between them, thrown in the heat of battle and ignored since then.

“Resisting the urge to shoot…one day I’ll have the chance to save your life, and I won’t…You execute her or I will execute you both…You’re worse than anything we keep down there.”

“A long time ago,” Jack said slowly, measuring the words, “I worked for…a different agency. And they betrayed me. I left them and fell in with two people—who I would gladly die for. Tried to, once, but…and they left me behind. Abandoned me, left me for dead, however you want to say it.” His gaze refocused, looking at Ianto. “You think that it’ll never stop, that you’ll always feel this way, but you won’t. It passes.”

“When?” Ianto whispered, broken now.

Jack laughed shortly. “I’ll let you know…do you want to tell me what happened?”

Ianto shook his head, glancing at Gwen. “Can I, then?” she asked, and when he didn’t react she twisted to face Jack. “When the man went after Tosh, the woman got…frustrated. She assaulted Ianto.”

Ianto shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. Gwen glanced at Jack; he could have been carved out of stone.

Ignoring him for a moment, she slipped off the table onto the couch, laying a gentle hand on Ianto’s arm. When he didn’t react, she risked wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and he sagged against her.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jack said jovially, sitting on the end of the coffee table. Ianto made a noise that might have been a laugh, smothered by his grip on Gwen. “Ianto.” Jack cupped the back of his neck. “It really wasn’t your fault.”

Ianto shuddered, still gripping Gwen’s arms, but he lifted his gaze to meet Jack’s. “Not a field agent,” he murmured.

“No, you’re not,” Jack agreed. “We’ll fix that. Later, when you’re…”

“I’m not sick,” Ianto said, so fiercely that Gwen shied away.

“Wasn’t going to say that,” Jack said, almost warningly. His hand fell away from Ianto’s neck. “I was going to say rested. Right now Owen could take you without any trouble. You need to get your strength back up.”

Ianto dropped his eyes, acknowledging that, and Gwen took it as her cue to say brightly, “Well, you haven’t eaten in a while, Ianto. What would you like?”

“I’m not hungry,” he told her, but he let Jack help him to his feet and followed Gwen into the kitchen without complaint.

“Ow,” Gwen said halfway, pausing to rub her leg. “Pins and needles,” she added over her shoulder.

“Tell me about it,” Ianto muttered, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably to shake Jack’s hand loose. Jack let go, dropping back a step or two.

“Ow,” Gwen muttered again, shaking out her hand and dropping into the nearest chair.

“Told you,” Jack said mildly, halting in the doorway. “You ok, Ianto?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Ianto said promptly. Gwen frowned; Ianto was standing straighter than he had been and was almost bustling.

“Jack, do you need to head back to base?” she asked casually. “You have an investigation going on, right? Tosh was telling us…”

Jack shoved off the door frame, watching her. “Yeah. I probably should be heading back. Who knows what Owen’s done to the base by now.”

“We’ll check in tonight,” Gwen promised. Jack caught her eye, raising an eyebrow, and she tilted her head towards the door.

“Ok. We’ll talk to you then.”

Gwen followed him to the door, pretending not to notice how Ianto slumped as soon as they were gone, and paused just outside.

“Gwen,” Jack said quietly, one eye on the door.

“He’s acting,” she murmured. “Around you. Like it never happened.”

Jack nodded quickly. “Can you…you’re going to stay?”

“Have to, don’t I? There isn’t anyone else.” She glanced back over her shoulder; Ianto hadn’t emerged from the kitchen yet. “And he needs someone.”

Jack touched her chin, guiding her eyes up to his. “You ok?”

“Fine. I’m fine, Jack.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.” She moved her head away from his hand, and he let it drop. “Go back to base. We’ll be fine.”

Jack turned away, finally, and she spent half a minute feeling sorry for herself before going back to Ianto.



“You should go.”

Ianto hadn't looked at her and he was speaking Welsh, both bad signs. Gwen sighed, settling back into the seat.

“Do we have to have the same conversation again, Ianto?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Not here to help. I know you don’t need it.” She stifled a yawn, leaning on one hand. “Just here for the company.”

“Aye, cos I’ve been so good that way.”

“Seen worse.” Gwen accepted the cup he passed her, smiling as she breathed in. “Oooh…don’t know how you do it, Ianto, I swear.”

“Magic,” he said dryly, lifting his own cup. “Hadn’t you realised?”

Gwen laughed, putting the cup back down. “Hogwarts and all, I suppose.”

“Hogwarts? No, we have a Welsh branch, didn’t you know?”

Gwen slid back into English. “I really do just want to help, Ianto.”

“I know,” he agreed. “It’s just…I’m not…” He grimaced, going back to Welsh. “I don’t usually need help. I’m not good at taking it.”

Gwen shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m the best at giving it, either, but I’m here.”

Ianto smiled. “I know,” he repeated. “And I appreciate it.”

Gwen reached across the table; Ianto caught her hand and held it tightly. “Any time, caridad.”
  • Love, love, LOVE the way you've written the Welsh, and the story rocks.
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