Torchwood Fan Fiction: The Five Stages

Title: The Five Stages
Author: Published as Finn AUS
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, post Exit Wounds
Rating: If you’ve seen all episodes aired then you’re good.
Summary: Ianto goes through the five stages of grief.
Spoilers: Up to and including Exit Wounds
Disclaimer: All credit and kudos to BBC and Co, and a small clap for John B and massive clap Gareth for his fine performances in S2, stole the show.
Feedback: Yes please!!
Author Note: I really felt Ianto didn’t get the grief outlet that Gwen and Jack were allowed to do on screen, so I wanted to explain in my own way, why we didn’t see that outpouring. Apologies for badness and lack of grammar.

Denial

The floor. It’s covered in it and it’s all I can see. She lays dying, almost dead and I can’t move. I’m frozen and I can’t see anything but her blood and its sickly trail down the stairs. They shed tears and hold her close and suddenly I’m compelled to action. I rush toward my area, and grab the solvent and a rag and beginning scrubbing. The trail runs right through the hub and I can’t seem to scrub it all away, it just sinks into the rag, a red I know too well. It takes a moment for the others to realise I’m not there, they are still contained in their grief. But after minutes pass, and no breath returns, and the tears slow, both Jack and Gwen begin to return to their surroundings. He rises slowly and catches my eye across the floor. I’m kneeling, my pristine suit soaking into her blood and I continue to scrub. The rag is now red and no use, but I can’t stop, I can’t stop scrubbing. I feel a hand on my shoulder and feel his weight come to my level.
‘Ianto,’ he whispers, trying to break my trance. I won’t stop though, can’t. It must be clean, the blood can’t remain.
‘Ianto,’ he tries again, and his hands encompass mine. I am still for a moment, and I notice, not for the first time that his hands cover mine completely. Then I see, his hands are covered, the blood is everywhere.
‘Owen,’ I mutter words for the first time and they hurt my throat. They drag across my lips and scar my mouth. I rise quickly, the keys, they must be somewhere, where did I leave them? Jack holds my shoulders, attempting to still me but it’s not enough, and his strength isn’t completely returned. I shake the grasp and race to the keys.
‘Where are you going?’ Gwen interrupts, her tears running black.
‘Owen, out there.’ I reply, more strongly this time.
‘Ianto,’ Jack says again, inching towards me. His desperation doesn’t offer a strong shoulder for me at the moment.
‘No, Owen’s alone, he’s ... out there,’ I am rambling, I know it, and I can’t stop shaking but I must keep moving.
‘There’s nothing out there,’ Gwen offers tearfully.
‘No, Owen’s out there, he’s ...the...his body...he’s alone.’ I repeat. I can’t leave him alone.
‘Ianto,’ Jack for a third time repeats my name. I feel like I can’t quite hear him. The keys are violently shaking in my hands. I feel his hands wrap around me and the jangling stops. I can’t though, and I try to move away.
‘No, there’s blood, on the floor. I need to ...there’s...’ my words are making no sense, I can’t rearrange them. I feel his embrace, and slowly the sensation of his cheek against mine. I can’t quite catch my breath, I can’t get it back to normal and my heart keeps beating faster than normal, I feel wrong in my own skin. His fingers touch my neck, caress my face but I can’t quite feel it.
‘Ianto, they’re dead,’ he finally gets past my name and I choke. My knees buckle and I launch into his shoulder. I feel his grip tighten and surround me.

Anger

Moments later though, when the tears have subsided and our embrace has ended. It strikes me, harder and faster than I thought would be possible but with a strength that emboldens me. The gun is so close, and the black metal so comforting. So soothing. He is talking to Jack, offering a penance that should never be accepted. I move quickly and with a skill and precision few expect from the tea boy. The gun is at his temple before anyone realises.
‘Ianto, what are you doing?’ Jack is startled and I see it in his eyes, it’s nothing he’s expected from me.
‘Hey, eye candy, it’s okay.’ John tries to deflect with humour. I won’t have any of it.
‘You!’ I click the safety off, my finger itching on the trigger.
‘Woah, no, Grey held me hostage, I didn’t have a choice,’ he is yelling now, panic surging as he understands my intent.
‘Ianto, Ianto, what are you doing?’ Gwen arrives on the scene and is quickly moving towards me.
‘It’s his... fault. Owen and Tosh ... dead...you!’ I thunder. ‘There’s always a CHOICE!’ I continue.
‘Ianto, put the gun down,’ Jack commands. His arms folded.
‘It’s his fault! He...his,’ I shake, waiting for the others to understand. John brought this into our lives, welcomed it. Why don’t they see that?
‘Put it down,’ he demands. His voice echoing through the hub. It halts me and I can’t do it. I throw the gun to the floor, it skidding to his feet. And I seethe at him, barely contained rage. He mirrors my stance, hoping to soothe the anger. I leave the room, but not before a well placed punch lands John out cold on the floor.

Bargaining

The archives are dark and quiet but I’m searching by memory. If I find it, then of course, Jack will agree. He’s done it himself.
‘What are you doing?’ He doesn’t startle me, I heard him enter the room moments ago.
‘The glove, I’m looking for the glove.’ I answer, without stopping.
‘It’s gone,’ he replies simply.
‘Where? We can... Tosh...she could,’ my words still won’t make sense.
‘No,’ he whispers.
‘What? ...We...you’ve done it!’ I plead.
‘And it was the worst decision I’ve made. Owen was never the same, do you want that for Toshiko?’ He asks. And of course I don’t, but if I could just give him an answer that would make him understand then of course, of course he’d help. It’s just my words, they won’t work.
‘Ianto, they’re gone now,’ he walks towards me.
‘But, if we...try...and just,’ I stammer, the shaking returning.
‘No,’ he says again, an understated determination. I can’t breathe again, and my knees give away and I find myself on the floor.

Depression

He’s kneeling in front on me. Almost praying, but staring into my soul that it scares me. I see him through tears and I can’t do it anymore, so I hang my head. His hands pull me into his embrace and I feel everything leave. I’m left with pain, a pain I know.
‘I can’t...this...Canary Wharf and now...’ my words hurt my ears.
‘I know, I know,’ he repeats.
‘What’s the point?’ I ask, and for the first time, my words fall into place and make sense. It’s a sense that I don’t want to understand.
‘Because what’s the alternative,’ he offers.

Acceptance

‘The End is where we start from,’ I felt Jack stand taller in that moment. Felt him rise, to the challenge. I realise that I want to be there for him, to be in the fight and to make a difference. I’ve stood amongst ruins before, with battered bodies lying around me and it sent me to a place I don’t care to remember. Here though, in an emotional wasteland, I want to change it, I want to count.