Title: Free Solo
By: lower-case-me
Pairing: Jack/Ianto pre-slash & mention of Ianto/Lisa
Rating: AO
Spoilers: Cyberwoman
Caveat: Don't try this at home. No, seriously, unless you know exactly what you're doing, don't go there. Also, this is unbeta'd.
Summary: Jack jumps to a (slightly) mistaken conclusion. There will be a fluffy happy ending.

***

Ianto closed his eyes and pressed close against the rock. He was aware that he was making serious mistakes. He was hanging on too tight, with his weight on his fingers rather than using his legs and feet. His arms were bent at the elbows instead of straight. He was breathing too hard, and worst, he was hesitating here, halfway up the cliff face, getting cold and tired. Lisa's voice echoed in his head over and over again, telling him to move, that the longer he hung there the harder it would be. She was right, but she was also gone.

Which was why he was here. They'd done this route together, back before Canary Wharf. That's good, Ianto, he thought, calming himself. You've done this before. But everything was different, then. He was fitter and more practiced, and what's more, Lisa had lead the way. She was always the better climber even thought Ianto was stronger and taller. She was always the braver one.

He'd fallen in love with her on a climbing wall. All her best and most precious qualities shone out so clearly when she was off the ground. Grace, courage, exquisite balance, and, oh, God, the way she looked. The flex and stretch of muscle and the swell of her breasts in a tight shirt. It was all Ianto could do to remember the rope in his hand. But she was relying on him, and Ianto would rather have died than let her take even a minor fall onto a loose rope. On that first day she'd kept looking down at him and calling for more slack, smiling as though she understood.

Ianto choked back a sob and pressed his face against the cold limestone. His fingers were cramping, and if he waited much longer, Ianto knew he wouldn't get any further. He'd fall and he'd die.

The last time he'd done this climb, there was a rope above him. He couldn't see her because of the overhang that was right above his head now, but he'd known she was there, and she'd catch him if he fell. He'd fallen before, many times, and so had she. Once, he'd even fallen while soloing, with no rope. But it was okay. He'd fallen six or seven yards into the sea below, come up spluttering and spitting out brine, and heard Lisa and four or five of their friends laughing and cheering and calling out to make sure he was alright. Despite falling, he'd felt on top of the world.

This was a sea cliff too, technically. He could hear the waves and smell the salt in the air, but the Bristol Channel lapped the rocks a long way behind him. A fall now would mean hitting bare earth and stone far below. There was no rope above him, no Lisa pulling it tight and locking it through a belay device. He was alone, and the wind was so much colder than it had been before.

He had to make a choice. That was why he was here doing this. He'd chosen a route carefully. Graded E2. Not that hard, he heard Lisa say. Not that hard at all. A one-move wonder, she said in his memory. But hard enough to make him chose.

Slowly and painfully, Ianto looked up, trying to see past the overhang that loomed above him. Even when he leaned out, putting more weight on already screaming fingers, he couldn't see the tiny lip of rock on the face, above the horizontal section. But it was there. It had to be there. This was the one move, and this time he one had one shot.

By sheer force of will, Ianto slowed his breathing. He transferred some of his weight onto his toes. The right foot hurt- the toes had been wedged in the little crack for too long, but that didn't matter as much as the fingers. His left foot was held against the wall, standing on nothing, but keeping him balanced and providing a tiny offering of friction, shoe rubber against stone. He eased one hand off the rock and flexed the fingers, before reaching behind his back- so slowly, to avoid keeling over, and dipping it into his chalk bag and covering his fingers in dry powder. Then, the other hand.

Gritting his teeth, Ianto moved the free foot to a flake of rock higher up under the roof of the overhang and one of his hands to the lip, pressed there flat. It took every muscle in his body to keep him wedged there, and now he really did have to chose. You do this right now, Ianto Jones. You do this or you die. Now the voice he heard was his own.

He pushed off both legs and swung out and around the edge of the roof, using the flat hand to keep him on the right path. The other arm swung up, reaching desperately for the little hold that was up there somewhere. Both feet left the rock as Ianto's palm smacked into the bare rock, dragged for a split second, and held. Ianto gasped and brought his feet back in before moving the other hand, wedging two fingers into the limited space on top of the flake. Keep going. Don't hang there. One more move and you're over.

He moved off the flake, reaching his hands as high as possible to better, bigger holds, then brought one foot up. Forcing the toe into a hold that was nothing more than a thumbprint in bare stone, Ianto rolled his weight onto it and moved his whole body over the lip of the over hang. Now he could stand against a flat vertical surface, which felt like safety 20 yards above the ground with the salt wind across his back.

Ianto breathed. He chalked each hand again, wiping the sweat off against his trousers first. It was alright, he told himself, the worst was over. The leg he'd been standing on before was shaking uncontrollably, but that was just something that happened. Lisa would have massaged his thigh when he got to the top, laughing at him with her eyes shining like they did after a hard climb or after sex.

A wave of longing washed over him. He wanted her back, and he wanted their life back. He wanted a rope and the comforting pressure of a harness tight around him. He wanted to be able to call a rest and lean back against the rope. Cheating, Lisa would say. Would have said.

He didn't want to do this anymore. If he could, he would have put away the decision and crawled into bed, but he couldn't, and he knew he had to do this now, or he would have to keep living in numb emptiness until he keeled over and died of a heart attack at age 80. Probably picking up take-away cartons off Torchwood floor, he thought. If I'm lucky. Or, he'd fall apart after another month or two of impossible pain and realise that all along he'd wanted to die.

Ianto knew he wasn't sane enough to make the choice for himself. He was too tried to keep struggling on if it was going to be for nothing. There had been too much fruitless agony in his life already, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to live or die. His mind was too much of a mess. So he'd come here, for two reasons. For the first, he'd always felt very clear-headed while climbing. One move after another. There was no room for thought beyond the next handhold. For the second, he knew he'd have to choose. Either he'd hang on, move, fight, or he'd let go and die. Very simple.

So now, Ianto pressed himself against the cliff face with his arms straight and breathed and took his weight on his toes, and decided to live. It would be very, very easy to let go. He'd just have to open his hands and allow himself to fall back into the wind. The air would take him until he hit the ground and then he'd never have to fight again. Never have to make coffee again. Never have to clean up someone else's mess. Never have to care, ever again. All the pain would be gone and he could just sleep.

But he'd decided to live. Slowly, ignoring the pain in his hands and toes and the infinitely worse ache inside, he moved up the cliff face. One move at a time. He looked only for the next hold, just like Lisa taught him, and didn't think of the yawning drop below or the long climb still above.

***

Ianto carried the tray flat across his forearm and unloaded the coffee mugs by curling all his fingers around the cups themselves rather than using the handles. It hurt less that way. Of course, it wasn't easy to do that and look like it was natural, but a lot of things weren't easy and Ianto did them anyway. He'd made the decision to live, and now he had to, even if it hurt. And it did.

When they were finished, he loaded the empty mugs back onto the tray the same way and carried them out to the kitchen and the sink. He was loading them into the dishwasher when Jack cleared his throat.
'Can I help you, Sir?' he said, still working.
'You're the one who looks like he needs help' Jack said lightly, and Ianto suppressed a twinge of annoyance. He didn't like condescending speeches, and he was already doing his best to do his job and not inconvenience anyone.

But he was surprised how gently Jack put a hand on his arm and guided him back to his feet. All he said was 'Let me see.'

Jack took Iantos left wrist, undid the cuff and rolled back the sleeve. He was subtly surprised not to find any mark, and repeated the process with the other arm. There were no gaping slash wounds there either. Nor the slightest sign of self-harm. Captain Jack Harkness was not often wrong, but he was now. A base- and unworthy, he knew- part of Ianto enjoyed the expression on his face. He gave in to it and raised an eyebrow.
'Sir?'
'Looked like you were hurting' Jack said by way of explanation, and immediately Ianto was sorry.
'I was. It does' he offered, opening up the curl of his hand and showing the white gauze taped along the base of his fingers. Somewhere along the line, almost certainly going over the overhang, a flake of rock had sliced open the palm, but he hadn't realised until the walk back to the road when the blood had started to flow to his fingers again.

Ianto massaged the forearm of the same hand with the heel of his thumb. The fingers hurt too much.
'I was rock-climbing on my day off, Sir. Something I used to do a lot of. I suppose I've lost more condition than I imagined.'
Jack put his hand with Ianto's and copied the soothing movement. The arm was rock-hard where muscles had stiffened and torn.
'Jesus. What were you climbing, Snowdon?'
'You can walk up Snowdon, Sir. Or take the train. The slope is quite gentle' Ianto corrected in that way he always had. I believe estate agents pronounce it 'Sploe', Jack thought, and suppressed a smile. He used one hand on either of Ianto's arms, rubbing hard with his thumbs.
'Train to the top of your highest mountain, huh? I might have to do that some day.'
'The walk is very- ah' Ianto winced but didn't pull away. 'Very scenic, Sir. Particularly when the weather is clear.'
'Clear weather? I thought Snowdon's in Wales.' Jack smiled, and so did Ianto.
'We have clear days, Sir. There was one in 1989 that was particularly fine.'

'So who did you go climbing with? You need someone else on the other end of the rope, right?' said Jack, keeping his tone easy but not pretending to be asking a casual question. Ianto paused, then answered.
'No, Sir. There was no-one.' He swallowed nervously, not wanting to have this conversation but not prepared to lie.

At the top of the climb, he'd been deeply disappointed to find no-one there, despite the illogic of the idea that anyone even knew where he was, let alone be waiting. He hadn't expected to find Lisa there. She would have been hanging close to the edge, attached to a safety line, so she could see him coming over the last edge and kiss him as soon as he was safe. It had been Jack that he'd imagined. Jack would be sitting back against a boulder, looking out over the sea, and would make no move until Ianto reached him, when he'd turn and smile.

But Ianto was alone. So he had sat down, safely more than a body-length from the edge, and let go and wept with exhaustion and loneliness and insupportable grief. Then, after a while, when the tears and sobs had eased and he was able to stand again, he got up and walked away to pick up what was left of his life. Ianto was deeply tired of crying, but he was not his father and he knew that it took so much more strength to rebuild your world than it did to suffer the ruin silently.

'Why?' was all Jack said, here and now.
'I needed to think, Sir. It used to help clear my mind. And I... needed to make a choice.'
'Did you decide?' Jack said quietly. Ianto nodded.
'I'm still here.'

That was all he bring himself to say, but Jack seemed to understand. He leaned forward and kissed Ianto on the hard edge of the cheekbone, wrapping an arm around his neck.
'You made the right choice.'

***