ʟᴜᴄʏ ᴍᴀᴄʟᴇᴀɴ (okeydokey) wrote in noescapeisland, @ 2008-07-20 15:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | amanda young, captain jack harkness, ianto jones |
WHO: Ianto Jones and Amanda Young. Later Ianto Jones and Jack Harkness.
WHERE: A deserted part of the beach.
WHEN: Evening.
RATING: NC-17.
WARNINGS: Violence and character death (only temporary). Smut. Slash.
STATUS: In progress.
Ianto was used to being able to get time alone when he needed to think, but it was difficult here. At Torchwood, there were plenty of secret areas that the rest of the team just didn't think to explore. And, if he didn't feel like expending the effort to hide, he could just retreat to the archives. Nobody bothered him there, it was his sanctuary. It had become easier to hide since they'd lost Owen and Tosh, but he hadn't had the time. There was too much work to do, rebuilding Cardiff...and rebuilding Jack and Gwen, and then with the daleks there just hadn't been enough time to process his own emotions.
Here, while it wasn't as easy to get alone, he finally had the time to deal with things. He'd slipped out that evening, not telling Jack where he was going in case the captain decided to come along, and had headed to a secluded section of the beach. It was calm and quiet and the smell of the sea helped him gather his thoughts as he sat on a large rock and stared off into the distance. He'd left behind his jacket, tie and waistcoat, and had discarded his shoes and socks, leaving him in just his dress shirt and trousers. It was more comfortable that way. As much as the others seemed to think his suits were like his armour against the world, he'd never really worn them before that night with the pterodactyl. And he'd kept wearing them because Jack had said he looked good in a suit.
He was quiet as he thought about Owen and Tosh, finally allowing himself to grieve for his friends. There were no sobs or shows of emotion, just silent reflection on two people he cared about and missed. Tosh had been like a sister and a best friend to him, and he would always miss her brilliance and their times drinking coffee and talking about their lives, exchanging lessons in Japanese and Welsh. And Owen, as much as they disagreed and bickered, was like the older brother he'd never had. He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of someone approaching and he turned warily, blinking as he recognised the girl he'd been talking to earlier. "Oh," he said, "it's you."