Torchwood; Gwen, Ianto; A Gift Title: A Gift Fandom: Torchwood Pairing/Characters: Gwen, Ianto Rating/Warnings: G, spoilers through “Adrift” and set sometime thereafter Disclaimer:here Prompt: 02 – pile of gifts Summary: It seems so little, but how could she do less?
~*~
“We don’t have to do this, you know.” Ianto shifted the pile of silver-wrapped boxes to catch the one on top that was trying to slide off.
“Yes. We do.” Gwen steeled herself, straightened her own packages, and stepped into the facility’s main hall.
She tried not to hear the cries, then berated herself for trying to block out their pain.
“Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.”
“You agreed with me, Ianto. You helped me shop, helped me wrap, and now you’re bloody well going to help me play bloody Santa Claus, all right?”
With a long-suffering sigh that she knew all too well, he replied, “I meant that you could wait back at the boat.”
“I know what you meant, and you can stuff it.”
They turned a corner and arrived at the nurses’ station, setting down all the boxes but one.
“Right then.” He looked around. “I don’t see …”
“Helen?” Gwen spotted her and hurried over.
“You did come! Happy Christmas, Gwen,” the nurse gave her a quick hug.
“Happy Christmas, Helen.” She bit her lip. “Is Jonah …?”
“You’re just in time. You probably have about ten good minutes.” Helen led her to his door and swiped her badge through the reader slot. “He’ll be glad to see you.”
Gwen managed a weak smile, or at least she thought she did, before opening the door.
He had his back to her. Always, he kept his back to the door.
“Jonah?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Did you bring my mum again?”
“No, Jonah. I’m sorry.” She walked around the end of his bed so that she could see him. He hadn’t changed much, though his eyes looked sadder than she remembered. She hadn’t thought that could be possible. “I did bring you a present though.”
“A present?” He looked confused, as if he’d forgotten the meaning of the word. Perhaps he had. But when she handed him the box, he looked at it for a moment, then opened the paper.
She held her breath. She and Ianto had spent the longest on this, of all the gifts. What they’d settled on could either be a comfort or a reminder of all he’d lost.
He opened the book and flipped a page. Then another. He looked up at her, eyes bright with tears.
“There are still trees?”
“Yes, Jonah. There are still trees.” Had this been as much a mistake as bringing his mum had been?
“Thank you,” he whispered, looking back down to the large, glossy pages, flipping to one that held an ocean scene. “Thank you.”
“Happy Christmas, Jonah,” she whispered, pleased when he was too engrossed to respond.
When she rejoined him at the nurses’ station, Ianto gave her an odd smile.