Title: Polaroid
Author: theohsocurlyone
Rating: PG
Length: 3000+ words, oneshot
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Jack/Ianto, Gwen, OC
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Summary: When the sun comes, Jack immerses himself in heat, and memories.

***

"Sooo..." Nate drawls, flopping down on the grass and handing Jack an unidentifiable sky-blue drink. "Where did we get to?"

Jack takes it, rolling his eyes. "Don't ask me; you were the one who was interested in the first place."

Nate holds up his free hand in protest. "Hey, hey; don't give me that. You didn't have to play along. Anyway, I think it was...oh. Hmm. Lizzie?"

"No, too early. Ed? He was around then, I think."

Nate taps his chin idly for a second or two, before snapping his fingers. "Got it! Cara Blake, 2005. UNIT-Torchwood liason. On the site of an all-out alien brawl..."

"...caught defiling the crime scene with inappropriate activity already typical of Captain Harkness. Yes, that's it."

Jack smiles lazily at the memory. Or, rather, the intermittent bursts of clarity that substitute memory, now; the feel of her hair around his fingers, the sound of rain drops hitting the tent like tiny bullets, and that snorting laugh as he struggled with her raincoat. His mind is like a polaroid photograph; grey and dark, it induces panic when he recalls nothing; then the details slowly emerge in dark blobs, and spread, as the names take him back to a different time.

Cara Blake. Red hair, long fingernails. Welsh rain, and laughter.

Nate chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. "So, that's her done, in all possible meanings of the word. Who's next?"

Jack thinks back. 2005, British election, Tony Blair was voted in again. Suzie, of the curly hair and chapped skin of a labourer, had nearly destroyed the Earth at New Year with that modifed defabricator. On and on, rapidly through the months; Suzie had died (damn it, damn it, damn it), beautiful, brilliant Gwen Cooper had joined their little team of renegades, and...

His breath catches.

"Hey," Nate sits up slightly at the expression on Jack's face, "Are you all right?"

"Ianto." says Jack, simply, lying back on the grass and letting the drink slip out of his grasp. Nate rescues it before it becomes a blue puddle on the ground.

"Yan-toe." Nate tries out the word in his mouth. "Sounds...different."

He looks back at Jack, his head resting on the ground, and his expression is heartbreaking; a sudden mixture of tenderness and pain etched into the lines at the corners of his mouth, deep in his eyes.

Nate rests his head on his elbow and turns to face his friend.

"Tell me." he says, gently.

***************

"It's odd to see you out, sometimes." Ianto remarked, hands deep in his pockets as they stared out at the shimmering water of the bay.

Jack glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

Ianto flushed suddenly, looking straight ahead. "Nothing, never mind."

"No, go on." Jack turned to face him, a smile forming on his face. It was always fun seeing Ianto flustered; he kept such a strict level of professionalism back at the Hub, seeing him blush and fumble was a rare treat.

Ianto shot a look at him. "Well, you know. We spend so much time underground, it's sometimes...well...jarring seeing you out in the sunlight."

Jack grinned. "Are you calling me a vampire?"

"No! No, of course not."

Jack closed the gap until they were both shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning against the railing.

"I could never be a vampire. Or a Vashta Nerada, or a Blanovore, or anything like that. How could you be part of a species that hates sunlight? Hates this? Insane."

He freed one of his arms and trailed a finger, idly, up and down Ianto's spine; his shirt was warm from the heat and Jack could feel the light sweat on his back. Ianto relaxed, loosened, leant against Jack despite the heat.

"Thank God," he murmured, voice low. "You as a vampire would be deeply disturbing."

Jack bore his teeth and hissed, about to reply, when his words were interrupted by a jangling sound in the near distance; his heart leapt like a four year old's and he took Ianto's hand. "Ice cream?"

"Go on, then."

Ianto smiled and they started walking; Jack's arm snaking around his waist.

"I have met vampires," he said, conversationally.

"Have you now?" replied Ianto, so used to these sorts of stories that his responses were already second nature. "What are they like?"

"Overrated." said Jack, decidedly. "Not sexy at all. And I find most things sexy, so they're definitely a rare breed."

"I noticed." commented Ianto dryly. "I would've thought you'd have some interest. Particularly in the biting. And maybe the teeth."

Jack grinned, his arm tightening around Ianto's waist. "Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear..." he crooned softly, leaning over to sing in Ianto's ear.

Ianto sighed theatrically. "Jack, what did we say..."

"And he shows 'em, pearly white."

"...about singing in public?"

Jack's reply was to turn Ianto around and back him against the railing, pressing his body against the other man's and holding him close as the warm breeze floated through.

"Just a jack knife has Mack Heath, dear..."

"Jack." Ianto whispered, as Jack's fingers ran through his hair and his breath warmed Ianto's neck.

"And he keeps it, keeps it, way outta sight."

"I should hope so too." Ianto said breathlessly, his hands finding Jack's hips and his worry about people watching rapidly going out of the window.

The ice cream van's jingles grew faint and eventually faded away. Jack didn't care a bit.

***********

"It wasn't like it is here," Jack remarks, his voice low and lazy. His eyes are shut, and Nate wonders if he even knows he's talking. "Different in so many ways, but that was one thing that you couldn't ignore. Here, you got your summer; your two suns and your blazing heat and your full beaches every year, absolutely no exceptions. Back there, summer came, and you didn't know what the hell to expect. So when sun came, when that heat came, you just had to grab it and hold on before it slipped away. Embrace it while you could and do everything you could. Just immerse yourself."

He cracks an eyelid half-open and looks at Nate.

"Even when you think you have all the time in the world, it's still ticking away without you noticing."

***********

Gwen was by no means obsessive compulsive, but she always felt reassured knowing her gun was close by and hadn't been accidentally mislaid, and was antsy unless she checked every so often. It irritated Jack a little, but it was her way of coping.

However, when she was wearing a summer dress on the hottest day of the year, and her gunbelt was around her hips, underneath her dress, propriety had to overcome reassurance.

This didn't make her happy.

"Honestly," she said, continuing a steady stream of complaints, "I thought Weevils hated sunlight?"

"They usually do," replied Jack, walking along the path of the park with apparent nonchalance. Ianto knew that he was completely on guard; senses finely tuned for any kind of disturbance, waiting to pounce. "This one seems to be reacting positively to the temperature change in the atmosphere."

"Oh, great. Hottest day of the year; an excuse for ice cream and sunbathing and swimming, but all it produces is more bloody aliens."

"Buck up," said Jack, cheerfully. "At least we're outside; embrace it. You can work and enjoy the sun at the same time."

Gwen cast a withering look in his direction. "You suggested the dress. You really think it's practical?"

He looked her up and down, appreciatively. "Hell, no. But you look spectacular, Miss Cooper." He gestured to the band playing jazz at the bandstand in the distance. "If we weren't tied up I'd ask you to dance. Several dances. And then..."

The rest of his sentence was cut off by Ianto stopping so abruptly on the path in front of him that they almost collided.

"Where?" Jack asked quietly.

Ianto pointed at a little hillock just beyond the play area, where a figure was galloping back and forth. Jack silently directed them to go different directions; and turned his amble into a jog towards the errant Weevil, gun at the ready.

Within five minutes he and Gwen were struggling desperately with it to try and force it into submission; this one was a keeper and wasn't going down without a fight, or a chance to kill every human being that swung in its direction. Jack grabbed a flailing arm before it socked him in the jaw and yelled, "Zap it, Ianto!"

Ianto strode forward from where he'd been trying to hold back civilians, stun gun at the ready, but only got a foot away before a wrinkled leg escaped from Gwen's grip and kicked Ianto in the stomach, winding him; the stun gun dropped to the floor and he stumbled backwards, gasping.

"Ianto!" Jack shouted, agitated, left to the struggling Weevil as Gwen darted forward, snatched up the stun gun and pressed it to the Weevil's side. It went limp and sagged in Jack's arms as Gwen grabbed hold of Ianto's arm to try and keep him upright as he staggered a little, still reeling from the blow. Jack glanced down at the ugly, comatose face of the Weevil, as the crowd began to chatter and the sirens started to wail.

Just another perfect summer day, then.


Once the Weevil had been placed in a body bag and escorted to the SUV, and Gwen and Ianto had administered the retcon (mixed into glasses of cool lemonade, which unnerved Jack far more than it should have), Jack found Ianto watching the band, holding his arms around himself and swaying ever-so-slightly to the music.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, hand on Ianto's back.

Ianto sighed. "I'm fine, Jack; Gwen's asked enough times. I just...wasn't expecting it."

Jack sighed and they lapsed into silence, watching the band. The music sounded incomprehensible at first, but as he listened he recognised the low tones of the trumpets, and his face cracked into a grin.

"Moonlight Serenade!"

Ianto smiled at the joy on Jack's face. "It's their last song."

Jack glided in front of Ianto and took his hand. "Mr Jones, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

Ianto, perplexed, glanced at the watch on his free wrist. "Jack, we have about a minute before Gwen comes back to fetch us and send off the police. Maximum."

Jack's response was to grab Ianto's other hand and pull him close.

"Then we'll dance for a minute," he whispered in the other man's ear, and clasped the hand in his own and wound the other around Ianto's waist before he could protest. "Doesn't matter. We have the time."

They began to sway across the path to the distant music; Ianto slowly relaxing and pulling Jack closer to him, his thumb tracing circles on Jack's back as they moved. People stared at them, some muttering, some smiling; not wanting to intrude on the smiling, oblivious couple, despite the fact that they were blocking the path.

"We have the time." Ianto repeated, so softly Jack barely heard.

It was a balm to Jack's ears, a reassurance; they were in danger so frequently, kicked and beaten and riled so often that dancing, being close, sometimes seemed impossible. There could be no room for tenderness, no space for what they have, amongst the threats that lived on the edges of their lives, spilling over day by day. He'd worried that Ianto was waiting for disaster, that everything they did was the lead-up to a messy end. To hear him let go, even only slightly, released a strain Jack didn't realise he felt.

They danced to Glenn Miller, as Gwen stopped in her tracks to watch, a smile playing at her mouth.

Jack knew, dimly, that they should go, but he held on. They had the time. They had the time.

************

Jack's usually spilling over with words about his former lovers; descriptions and raptures and filthy anecdotes, and more than once, proclamations of hatred and bile stored up inside him that are released in monologues of bitterness. It's always fascinating to hear, and leaves Nate in awe each time.

He has to force the words out of Jack this time.

"What was he like?"

Jack shifts. "Beautiful. Loyal. Witty."

"How long were you together?"

Jack frowns, trying to work it out. "God knows. There was a year that never existed, and lots of years when I was away from all of them, then that time loop, and then...oh. Ages."

"Helpful." comments Nate, moving to lie next to Jack on the grass. "You've taught time theory at Universities across the galaxy, and you can't work it out? Oh, dear."

Jack kicks him as best he can. "It's the heat; messes with my head. It reminds me..."

He falls silent, and Nate knows that all those words are mounting up in his head, all those memories are shifting and spreading and developing until he won't be able to take it. The summer sun has made it worse, somehow; started off some terrible game of association inside his head.

"Go on." he encourages. Perhaps if Jack lets it out, he'll feel better, instead of being left to stew.

*********

Jack had called Ianto up once, at two in the morning, knowing he wasn't the biggest fan of sleep (except after sex, when wild horses couldn't wake him up), to help him search for something he can barely remember now; some kind of machinery that was emitting disturbing-sounding beeps in the dead of night. They'd found nothing important, just silly old humans messing around by themselves.

Even the night was warm and cloudless, the sky and stars endless above them, and in the distance, both could hear waves crashing against the beach.

"Your place?" said Jack to Ianto, as they began to walk back from the ditch they'd been investigating.

Ianto paused, glancing at Jack, the expression on his face unreadable in the darkness.

"Beach?" he replied, voice low and sounding hesitant. At Jack's lack of reply he backtracked, "Well, if you don't..."

"No, no." said Jack, firmly. "Come on. You can protect me from sea monsters."

Ianto smiled as they began to walk together in the direction of the sounds of the waves; hands thrust into pockets, not quite touching. The only sound was their own footsteps and the splash of the waves, which grew louder and clearer the closer they approached, crashing and receding against the sand.

The sand was uneven under their feet compared to the road, making them stumble and sink with as much dignity as they could. Jack followed Ianto's lead, who seemed to be able to navigate his way along the beach in the darkness, traversing around the logs buried in the sand and straying away from the edges of the waves. After about ten minutes of walking he abruptly stopped, and carefully lowered himself onto the sand, Jack following.

For a long while, they both sat on the beach and stared into the distance, at the half-moon reflecting into the water, Jack content to wait for Ianto to speak.

"I came here when I was a kid," Ianto finally said, quietly. "Long time ago, with my parents. It was our annual outing in the summer; my favourite place in the world."

He fell silent again. Jack inched closer.

"Everywhere's heaven when you're a kid, huh?" he said, voice low.

Ianto nodded. "Always." He looked out across the water, eyes following the path of a particularly large wave. "I never came back here when I grew up and moved away. Just stopped coming. I'd forgotten about it, until I moved back here."

He shifted on the sand, unconsciously leaning against Jack. Jack looked at him; his face was more open, more vulnerable, than he'd seen it in a long time.

"I keep meaning to come back, just for the day, but I never do." Ianto said, his voice barely a murmur. "I need to."

"Why?" asked Jack, as Ianto seemed to struggle for words.

Ianto looked at him for the first time since they'd arrived, a sidelong glance of trepidation and fear being held back. "Because...because I'll never know when I'll have a chance. When I'll be certain that I can before time runs out."

Jack looked at him, and his chest ached at the apparent resignation on Ianto's face. He hated that look, because it brought him back to reality more than anything, back to the harsh truth surrounding everyone on this little planet except him.

"Ianto..." he started.

"But I'm still here." interrupted Ianto, and Jack saw that that expression wasn't resignation, but hope. "I'm still going. Thank God."

Jack lifted a hand and touched Ianto for the first time that night; fingers stroking his cheek.

"We're still here." he assured him, and Ianto's fingers curled around Jack's arm as they kissed, pressing as close as they could, as they drank each other in to the sounds of the waves rising and falling on the beach. Ianto gently pushed Jack own until they were both lying on the sand; Jack's hands running down Ianto's arms as the other man kissed him deeper, his hand stroking Jack's jaw, feeling Jack's pulse beat rapidly against his fingers.

A vivid heat ran through Jack's body, quite unconnected to the warm summer wind that ruffled their hair and clothes, and he kissed Ianto fiercely, as if he could vanish from Jack's arms at any moment, as if he'd be left alone on the sand with nothing but memories and an ache that would be near-impossible to fix.

He's still here.

They were still here, together, and he'd never felt more loved.

**********

For a few moments, he's still on that dark beach, breathing Ianto in and clutching him as if he'd never let go. Then, reality crashes in like the waves, and he opens his eyes to see the two suns beginning to set in the sky, and people start to leave the huge expanse of scarlet grass for home.

He looks up and finds Nate still looking down on him; an expression of such pity on his face that his stomach swoops a little, with anger. He doesn't need Nate's pity, nor his eagerness over his scores of conquests over the years.

There again, when he's suddenly flooded with memories that make his breath catch and his chest tighten, the whole ridiculous tissue of shallow tales strikes him as pitiful.

He slowly levers himself up off the ground, standing up and shaking his legs to rid himself of the stiffness. Nate stands too, waits for Jack to speak.

"I should go." Jack says, finally, picking up his coat.

"I could walk you home?" Nate offers, his voice soft and lacking the bravado it contained earlier.

"No," Jack replies, struggling into his coat, "I'll be all right on my own."

He feels heavier than he did before; as if all these memories he and Nate have uncovered are weighing him down. The fire that had run through every limb so long ago, on that deserted beach, has been replied with a dull ache; one of appreciation, but one of loss, too. He'd never tried to suppress those seemingly endless memories, dating forward and back, but time had blurred the details. It was only when he was reminded, on a whim, that those recollections came flooding back; images and colour surging onto the dark polaroid of his brain and spreading out in every direction.

Ianto Jones. Faith. Peace, and summer sun.

Love.

Jack turns on his heel and walks away.

***