Title: His Captain
By: el_evergreen
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: My very first Torchwood oneshot. I hope you like it!! The "he" in the fic would be Ianto.
Summary: Ianto reflects on the events of "Cyberwoman" and his feelings and loyalty for Jack.

***

Seeing the look on his friends faces when they found out he was the one who let Lisa into the Torchwood facility seemed, at that moment, all the punishment he could handle. Owen and Toshiko, standing there, staring at him as though he had just admitted to treason. In a way, he had.

Everything they had known - everything he had known - was destroyed by the Cybermen, and he had betrayed them all. He had been selfish. His excuse was that he wanted to help Lisa, but deep down, farther than he was willing to reach, he knew Lisa was already gone. He had just been trying to hold on to what was left of her… for his own sake.

Still, one face stood out to him. One face whose expression hurt him more than any of those truths put together. No matter how hard he tried to forget, no matter how many times he was told that forgiveness had been granted…no matter how he tried to blur it all from his mind… the face of his Captain remained.

He had tried to read the emotions passing across Jack's face; it was a rarity to see him showing such feeling. Or perhaps he had just been over-analysing. In those first moments, when the truth had been told, Jack seemed to be thinking of only one thing: how to keep everyone safe.

Later, though, the emotions had been obvious. To everyone.

Execute her, or I'll execute you both.

His anger had been evident, but it had been a mask. He had shown nothing but anger for the entire time. The look in Jack's eyes failed his livid front, however, and revealed something that he had never seen before: hurt.

Though he was fully prepared to keep his word and pull the trigger, he seemed to be asking… pleading, even… for an answer.

Why?

--

Now, sitting here in the office, after so much time has passed, the scene still replays itself in his head. How foolish he had been, to risk everything - his friends, his job… Jack -in a futile attempt to save a love that was already gone.

He scoffs aloud as he thinks of how stupid the whole thing had been. How close each and every one of them had come to death.

"Anything you'd like to share?"

He looks up from the top of his desk to see Jack looking at him from across the room. "No, sir," he replies. "Nothing."

Jack simply shrugs and returns to his work.

It's been a long time since they were in the facility alone. This was his fault - he had moped about all day and now had work to catch up on. He yawned quietly and wondered what time it was. At least three in the morning, he decided, and then scolded himself for forgetting his watch.

He looks across the room at Jack once more. There is something he wants to share, but perhaps now isn't the time. How would he put it, anyway? He doesn't usually pour his feelings out to anyone, and Jack doesn't seem the type to want to listen.

It isn't long before he's pulled out of his wandering thoughts again, this time by the sound of movement.

Jack, having finished his work, stands and tucks the papers away in their proper places.

Looking back down as his own desk, he frowns. It seems he'll never get anything done. How can he, when he can't even keep his mind in the right place?

"Leave it for tomorrow," Jack says, grabbing his coat.

A good idea. Still, he sits motionless at his desk, torn between the decision of whether or not to speak his mind.

Jack shuffles a few papers left on his desk, and then crosses the room.

I want to say something, he thinks. Why can't he say it out loud?

He feels a hand squeeze his shoulder gently, linger a bit longer than necessary. Then, it's gone.

Too late.

He blinks rapidly, as though he is finally seeing the room around him for the first time. It's blurry. He reaches up, and rubs them gently. As his hand reaches his face, he is surprised to find a thin, wet streak there. The hard lump in his throat finally catches his attention. He inhales; a deep, shaking breath.

He knows he'll never say what he wants to… but does it matter what is said? As long as it's there, does it matter? Surely it goes without saying.

He loves his Captain. He'll stand by him, especially when no one else will.

He'll stand by him until the end.

***