For oncoming_storms: 159.3 Rewrite an episode ending
with rhiannon
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"Are you crazy?" Rhys screamed as he rounded on Gwen, passing between the motionless bodies of Thames House staff--people, not bodies, motionless people. He glanced, once, at the paramedic who, four beds down, didn't dare move. "Put that down!"

"We need him," she said, but her voice was deep, wrong, and she never took her eyes from Jack and the barely-there rise and fall of his chest. "We all need him."

"Gwen," he tried again, "sweetheart..."

Her mouth twisted, and she snarled "I need him!" and before he could wonder what she meant she pulled the trigger.


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For oncoming_storms: Things you don't talk about
pretty when he bleeds
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1. "You never talk about your job!" Rhiannon exclaimed, frustrated, turning towards the sink so that Ianto couldn't see her face. "You don't talk about Lisa, not anymore, and then here you are, back in Cardiff, and I don't even find out for months." She breathes in, and he can hear the strain. "I don't understand, Ianto. What happened to you?"

"Nothing," he said, and even he could hear the lie--it was flimsy, because she was always the hardest to lie to, and he didn't want to lie at all.

Never again, he'd told himself, he'd promised himself... but then he'd walked right back to Torchwood.

2. "You have a sister?" Gwen asked, surprised and curious, and Ianto knew he had made a mistake. But the girl on the screen had looked so much like her, and for a moment all he could see was Rhiannon at fifteen, sneaking back into the house at night smelling like perfume and cheap booze. Lost in that moment, he'd smiled and started, When my sister--

Now, caught, he cleared his throat and nodded, because Gwen was Gwen and would never give up.

"Uh," he answered, "yeah, Rhiannon, she's married. Kids."

3. By the time he grabbed two glasses--mugs, really--for the wine she'd brought, Martha had already found the photograph. Not that it was hidden, really, but its presence slipped his mind.

"Lisa?" she asked, her voice hushed. He didn't answer; he only moved his head slightly, not even a nod, just a slight motion from side to side that in any other situation probably wouldn't have meant yes, that's her. "Jack told me about her," she went on, and though Ianto didn't stop her he already knew. Pterodactyl or no, Ianto had refused to tell Martha how he and Jack had met--he couldn't bear to hear the story, let alone to tell it.

Quietly, he offered a mug and steeled himself for questions.

4. Jack rested his hands beneath his head, one elbow hanging rather haphazardly off the side of the bed, and watched as Ianto dressed far slower than necessary. "You know, your father has the whole master tailor story," he mused suddenly, and Ianto's fingers slipped over the knot of his tie, "but that's it. You never talk about your mother."

Ianto sighed and assessed his image in the mirror. Crooked. "Neither do you," he said, far too gruffly, as he started over.

Then, for the moment, Jack was quiet.

For oncoming_storms: 112. Children
black and white
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"There were four," Owen said to Ianto, his breath coming quickly after the long chase on foot. He turned in a slow circle, keeping his gun aimed at the shadows. "Where's the fourth?"

"I lost it," Tosh answered, baffled, from the Hub. "I'm going through all the nearby CCTV footage." She paused and Ianto could hear the steady taptaptap of her fingers on the keyboard, and then her quiet, frustrated swear. "But it's got to be there somewhere."

Owen lowered his gun but still searched for movement with his eyes. "No, Tosh, surely it went on holiday."

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ooc
sharp dressed man
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I know I've been pretty scarce for the past few months. I've had a lot going on, particularly recently--finished my master's program, had a 300 mile move, and am now trying to figure out my employment situation. I've also been struggling with Ianto and feeling rather miserable about RP in general.

But I miss him, and I miss people and Torchwood and fun. Hopefully Mr. Jones and I can work something out.

In the meantime...


For oncoming_storms: 15.1 Displaced
faaayce
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I am displaced
.
And she's my friend of all friends
She's still here when everyone's gone
.
I just know that no one
No one survives


They sit together in the living room of her new house.

Gwen is stretched out on the sofa, her shoes off and her toes curled around the edge of a coffee table Rhys has bought on sale. There's a glass in her hand, and the look in her eyes says she wishes it were something else--wine, something stronger still, anything, perhaps, that isn't bloody fizzy. But fizzy helps her nausea and she isn't going to do anything, ever, that would risk hurting the baby, and so fizzy it is.

Ianto sits on a ottoman whose pattern doesn't quite match the drapes, and sitting there he feels awkward, like he doesn't know where to put his knees. His down is down, and he watches his feet, the floor, her hand out of the corner of his eye, but not her face.

"I miss you," she whispers, and he sniffs, once, to keep himself under control.

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Ianto Jones
Torchwood
485 words

Ianto Jones: the man your man could smell like
run Ianto run
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Now back to him...Collapse )


For writers_muses: 131.6 Precipice
lisa <3
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and oncoming_storms 148. Doctor Who episode

ooc: Because I have a thing about re-writing Doctor Who episodes.

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring
I don't mean on a phone
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight

Christmas 2006


They both had to work Christmas Eve. That was usual for Torchwood, or at least for those who didn't have a favor to call with the management. Ianto certainty did not, and as a result it was half six by the time he felt he had finished enough to justify clocking out. Five minutes later, he found Lisa in the car park; she looked cold, her short skirt and shorter pea-coat fashionable but not entirely practical. She rubbed her hands together and from from time to time she blew on them. Her breath solidified in the air, surrounded her hands in mist, and then faded away.

"That won't make you warmer," Ianto said from just behind her right shoulder, knowing she hadn't seen him yet. She started, then laughed and spun to face him. He offered her his arms, holding out his unbuttoned coat so that she could slip her arms beneath it. "But this will."

"You're late," she admonished. It appeared she didn't hold a grudge, though, as she snuggled up to him, gratefully accepting his body heat and resting her chin on his chest. "And tell me again why I put on a skirt this morning? My legs are like icicles."

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Ianto Jones
Torchwood
2,500 words

For oncoming_storms 148. Doctor Who episode
look down
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ooc: Spoilers for The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang.

A few days after Ianto's seventh birthday, he went to London for the first time. His dad thought he was too small to go, but the Cowell family, who had a daughter who went to school with Rhiannon, said they would look after him. Rhiannon went too, of course, and Catrin Cowell, and Catrin's younger brother John, who was five.

They took the train, and Ianto had never taken the train before, so he watched the countryside through the window the whole way. Mrs. Cowell said he was a good boy, but a quiet boy, and she gave him and John each a half a sandwich as a snack.

That afternoon, they went to the National Museum.

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For quitehomoerotic: when I was seventeen
profile
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As he crossed the street, Ianto shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and bent his shoulders forward even further. For once, his father wasn't around to tell him to stand straight, to look proud of being a Jones, so he didn't. Besides, he wasn't proud of being a Jones, not after Bethan Taylor had spent three weeks giving him hope over history revisions, only to move on to Gary Evans, who was better in maths.

He'd discovered everything earlier that morning, when he saw the two of them together, Bethan brushing her fingers against his wrist. Ianto remembered how she had ruffled his hair once, when they'd first started talking, and he thought he understood the way Gary looked as though he'd forgot everything but her.

As he thought about it, Ianto gave a sour look to the next person he passed.

(no subject)
outside
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Jack was out of the car before Ianto could even hit the brakes. Greatcoat billowing dramatically, he bounded up the others, already waiting by the SUV. By the time Ianto parked and joined them on the curb, Jack was motioning to the (hopefully) empty warehouse that seemed to stretch on for miles. "Gwen," he said, "you and Ianto go around back. Look for anything out of place. Tosh and I will see if anyone's home."

Owen groaned. "Oh, Jack, don't tell me I'm--"

"Stay in the SUV," Jack told him. "Don't doze off. You're the backup we hopefully won't need." Owen huffed, but of course Jack only grinned in response. "Come on, let's go. And we'd better find something good, because you all interrupted my dinner."

With that, Jack strode off and Toshiko followed. Torch in hand, Ianto fell into step next to Gwen as they made their way around the curve of the building. It was comfortable, he thought, their strides matched, elbows almost brushing each other. He liked being paired with Gwen in the field. He glanced at her and found that she was already looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"So," she said, cheerful, her gaze shifting to the barely lit path in front of them. Ianto shined his light into the shadows to one side. Just a dumpster. "I was having a nice evening in, wasn't I, just me. Rhys down at the pub. Then Tosh phoned. Rift Alert."

"Yep," Ianto replied, giving the 'p' a little pop in the hopes that would be final enough.

Gwen paused to look thoughtfully above them, but there was nothing there. "What were you doing, then, this evening?" she asked, casual but forced. Ianto closed his eyes, just briefly, and all of a sudden he felt that he'd been caught. Somehow, he'd known this was what she was after.

Instead of answering, though, Ianto turned on his comms. He thought he could see Gwen roll her eyes. "Nothing around the side. Still moving towards the back."

"Just a lot of dust in here," came Jack's voice over their earpieces. "I really hate dust."

"Nice try," Ianto answered, a little too quickly perhaps, "but we've all seen the Hub."

Gwen snickered, and Ianto thought he could hear Tosh's murmur something on the other end of the line. "I'm wounded," Jack said, but it was slightly more warm, personal. "Right. Keep checking in. Owen, get your feet off the dash."

As the comms went silent again, Ianto let his hand fall to his side. Let it rest right beside his gun, retrieved from the glove box of his car. He and Gwen continued to move as one. Apart from a concrete path and an occasional, rusted bit of metal to catch the light, there was nothing to be found.

"Only," Gwen started again, "you and Jack came in your car, and Jack said the alert interrupted dinner, so I thought..." He pointedly didn't look at her, hoping she'd not go on. She did. "Well, you're wearing your new suit."

"What?" Ianto asked, conscious of the fact that he was suddenly speaking in a low, strangled mumble. "it's not--"

"Expensive," she said. "Looks good. I thought so when you wore it the first time last week."

"It's not," he tried again, but this time he didn't know if he wanted to say it wasn't expensive or it wasn't new. And it was both, so he stopped. He ran his fingers through his hair, which probably made it stick up. That was a shame, considering the time he'd spent in the front of the mirror that afternoon. The memory brought with it a familiar little squeeze of nerves in his stomach. "Gwen..." His tongue felt thick, like he was speaking through mud. But he had no choice now, because a long time ago he'd given up lying to the team. He sighed. "Okay. We were at Eliza's."

“Wait. Ianto! Eliza’s? The posh French place? God, I can barely get Rhys to go out for a curry and Jack’s taking you to Eliza’s!”

“No,” he said slowly, keeping his voice even and low. He stole a glance at her but didn't linger. “You know Jack. Pizza and takeaways. Doesn’t even have a kitchen.”

For a moment, Gwen didn’t answer, then she gasped. At first Ianto thought she had found something, some movement in the darkness, but when he shone the light in her direction he saw only gap-toothed delight. “Oh, I always knew you were a catch.”

Without meaning to, Ianto felt himself smile. For some reason, that only made her look happier. She leaned into him, encircling his arm with hers and causing his torchlight to waver.

“I didn’t mean,” he started awkwardly, stopped. He cleared his throat. Looked down at his feet. “It’s not a secret. I don’t think it’s a secret. It’s just. Complicated.”

Gwen patted his arm. Slightly patronizingly, he thought. "Come on, Romeo," she said. "Let's finish up here and get you off to the rest of your date."

"I never said it was a date," he protested. Not that effective, considering, and maybe more than a little pathetic.

She only laughed and started off ahead.

?

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