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shejustcalledmeafish · 4 months ago

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49, 52, 58 (self-sacrificial • fake death/presumed dead • crying) john/jack/ianto

Ianto was really tired of his boyfriend’s exes showing up and causing problems. It was even worse now that he had two boyfriends, one of them a previously mentioned problem causer. Now they were chasing a woman who had materialized in the middle of a road, and shattered a civilian’s windshield with her fuck-off huge sword when they swore at her for being in the way.

Both Jack and John had gone pale when they saw her face on the CCTV and Ianto sighed deeply before they all bolted for the SUV. Ianto had tried to ask who the woman was in the SUV, but the way Jack and John had been sitting, dead silent, tense shoulders, sharing occasional glances, well. Ianto held his tongue. Something had happened. Something bad. He’d get the full story out of them once they’d removed the immediate threat.

If only it had been that easy.

She’d run from the street and into the nearby park by the time they’d arrived. The police had arrived but one glare from Jack had them retreating to set up a barrier and do crowd control.

“Split up, search the area, don’t let her get away,” Jack barked, then took off into the trees, John on his heels for a few steps before veering off at an angle. Ianto sighed, locked the SUV, palmed his stun gun, then started to run as well.

The park wasn’t too large, but the trees were just thick enough that Ianto knew it might be a bit of a search. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found her first. He didn’t know her history or what she wanted; he doubted he’d be able to talk her down. But he couldn’t just do nothing, so he ran, dodging tree roots, and searching for the woman and her massive sword. She couldn’t be that hard to find.

She wasn’t, which was why John found her first. Ianto stumbled into a small clearing to the clash of metal. Sometimes he almost forgot John carried a sword. It was sexy, sure, but rarely that practical. Even now, he was outclassed, a katana was not meant to equal a two-handed claymore. But John was never one for a fair fight, and Ianto saw a dagger in his right hand as it came up to block a swing of her blade.

For a moment, Ianto couldn’t do anything but watch as they dueled, neither seeming to gain the upper hand. His stun gun was no good from a distance, but before he could go for his handgun, before he could even consider putting a bullet in this stranger, it no longer mattered. John glanced to the side, spotted him, and for just a moment, faltered. It shouldn’t have been enough. But the woman closed the distance, rendering John’s sword all but useless, and John looked forward just as she drove the claymore into John’s chest.

“John!” Ianto realized with a start that it hadn’t been him that screamed, but Jack, bursting out of the bushes. John didn’t cry out, the only sound his own sword clattering to the ground. But a feral smile emerged as he swung his right hand up and plunged his dagger into her throat even as she began to draw her sword from his chest. She staggered back, her sword coming free with a horrible sound and collapsed, John’s blade still deep in her neck.

Jack rushed in, catching John as his legs gave out, but Ianto couldn’t help but stare at the woman, suffocating as she tried to bring in air through a passage blocked by steel. Her hand came up, trembling as she gripped the dagger and pulled it free. She pressed her hands to the wound, but it was too late, blood flooding over her skin and still into her throat. Ianto just watched, unmoved and moving, as she choked and died.

Ianto turned away only when Jack called his name. He had his hands pressed tight over the wound, barking orders to send an ambulance and get Owen and hurry. John was still conscious, barely, his breath coming in wheezes and gasps. As Ianto knelt next to his side, he tried to speak, but only blood came out, spilling over his lips. Ianto took his hand, and John squeezed it tight. Jack was frantic trying to manage the wound, and normally, Ianto would be too.

But he could see it in John’s eyes, felt it in the way his grip began to go slack. He wasn’t going to make it. The blood was leaving him too quickly, pouring out with every frantic beat of his heart, seeping into the dirt. When his eyes fluttered shut, unconscious, Jack attempted rescue breaths, actual ones, better than he’d tried on Ianto before. But it wasn’t enough.

He raised his head as a siren wailed into earshot, mouth slick with John’s blood, and met Ianto’s eyes. Ianto reached out and took Jack’s hands, soaked in that same blood. They didn’t move until the paramedics came and ushered them aside to confirm what they already knew.

When Gwen and Owen arrived, they took charge, clearing up things with the paramedics and the police, and arranging for transport of both bodies to the Hub. Jack responded when he needed to, but his voice and eyes were hollow. Gwen had hugged Ianto tight when she first arrived, but had been drawn away to her work. Ianto wasn’t sure if Jack wanted his comfort, not yet, but he would be there for him. His own grief didn’t matter, not in comparison to Jack’s.

That didn’t stop him from having to hold back tears as Gwen eventually drove them back to the Hub, Owen taking the bodies separately. Jack had taken his hand in the backseat, and Ianto had held him tight as they traveled, pulling him into his arms like he did whenever Jack had died. He didn’t have to ask to know that Jack wished he had died instead, how this could have all been just a minor inconvenience.

Hours passed, torturously slow and somehow all too quickly. And then Ianto was staring at John’s body, laid out bare and cold on the autopsy slab. Protocol was protocol, but Owen had quickly excused himself before starting, and now it was just him and Jack and only the two of them. Just like it had been before.

“Who was she?” Ianto said quietly, finally voicing the question that had been itching inside him since the whole clusterfuck began. Her body was tucked in one of the morgue drawers, waiting her turn on the main slab. Jack stood on the opposite side, and Ianto watched as he took a deep breath.

“Her name was Lupe. We ran a con with her back in the day, the way we used to do them. We betrayed her, she betrayed us, John betrayed me for her, she betrayed him for me, you name it.” Jack smiled, only briefly. “It was a good time. But it ended badly. Left her to die as a volcano was erupting badly.”

“I see,” Ianto said. Jack was looking at him guiltily, but Ianto had developed a surprising tolerance to their past atrocities. He knew Jack had changed, the guilt was evidence enough. John was a bit of a trickier case, but, well. He had been. “Do you think she came here intentionally for you?” Jack shrugged.

“Maybe, although I’m not sure how. She was just a fifty-first century civilian, not a time agent. Maybe it’s just a cruel joke by the universe.” This time, Jack did not smile. Ianto held his tongue on his next question. It didn’t matter if they had been lovers, any of them. It wouldn’t change a thing.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto said. He gripped the edge of the autopsy table, careful not to touch John. “I should have stopped her, I shouldn’t have—” Fuck. “I distracted him, Jack. She wouldn’t have been able to, if I had just—”

“Ianto,” Jack said firmly, and Ianto looked up. “This is not your fault.” Ianto let out a choked noise, feeling the tears coming now, too late to stop them. “She stabbed him, not you.” Another small smile. “As much as we might have wanted to sometimes.” Ianto wanted to laugh, but instead just cried. Jack was around the table in a second, taking him and holding him tight. Ianto just cried into his shoulder, deep heaving sobs.

Jack only stepped back when Ianto’s breathing finally evened out, forcing himself to breath deep and slow. He stepped away from Jack, and up toward John’s head. Ianto wished he could say he looked asleep, but he didn’t. He just looked dead. He bent down and pressed a last kiss to John’s cold lips.

“I’m sorry,” Ianto murmured. Then even quieter, so Jack couldn’t hear. “I love you.” He stood up, brushing a hand briefly along John’s cheek. “Goodbye.” Then he forced himself to step back. Jack took the suggestion without prompting, stepping up to have his own private moment.

If Jack said anything, Ianto didn’t hear it. But he saw the kiss Jack gave him, almost disturbingly passionate. John would have enjoyed it, and Ianto smiled even as he felt the urge to cry renew inside him. Jack stepped back and Ianto took him into his arms.

For a moment, they stood and watched him. Ianto’s eyes had come to rest on the fatal wound, marring his otherwise rather perfect chest. So he noticed quite clearly when the wound began to change.

He thought he was seeing things, and stepped away from Jack to look closer. The wound wasn’t just changing, it appeared to be healing over, and for a moment, Ianto felt hope flicker in his chest. The wound smoothed over with fresh skin, pink but not scar tissue. Jack had noticed too, peering over his shoulder.

For a moment, nothing else happened. Then Ianto saw a pulse start to flutter in John’s neck, and he started to breathe as his eyes shot open. It was so similar to how Jack revived that Ianto almost laughed as he felt his knees threaten to give.

John pressed a hand to his chest where the wound used to sit, then looked over, face puzzled. Ianto knew they must look a wreck, but he couldn’t help the smile that burst over his face. Jack gripped onto his arm, holding onto Ianto like it might all vanish.

“Did I get stabbed through the heart by Lupe, or did I just have the worst trip?” John asked, looking down at himself. “And did you take my clothes off or did I?” When they didn’t respond, he shot them a look. “You’re scaring me.” His tone was joking, but his eyes betrayed his doubt.

Jack let go of Ianto and rushed to John. He almost flinched away, but let Jack hold him. He patted Jack’s back awkwardly.

“Wow, you’d think I died,” John quipped, then wheezed as Jack’s arms squeezed him tight. He met Ianto’s eyes, and the next quip died on his tongue. “Fuck.”

Ianto couldn’t help himself then, he took the few quick steps to their side. Jack let go of John just enough to allow Ianto to take hold of his face and turn it for a deep kiss. Ianto didn’t care what had happened, although he knew they would have to investigate. It was simply too good to be true. But for now, that was enough.

#torchwood #my fic #i technically only did two of the prompts but shhh #it took me a month to do this i can be forgiven for forgor #anyway yayyy #posting this in the middle of class #like a good bad student

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