Mommy

[czarina_kitty]

Title:  Mommy
Author: czarina_kitty
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper
Rating:  R
Warnings:  Um…Author declines to state because that would give it away.
Prompt: Torchwood, Ianto, a little bit of back story. No one mentions his mother. Ever.
Summary:  Post Countrycide Ianto deals with repressed memories.
Disclaimer: I do not own, or make any money from the use of, these characters.
Notes: Written for the open/amnesty round at dark_fest. 
Spoilers: Cyberwoman, Countrycide

 

            It had been slightly more than 36 hours since returning from the country and Jack had still not left Ianto’s side.  Ianto, no longer content to sleep and wake screaming from the nightmares, insisted that he needed to keep moving, keep busy.  After a day of random cleaning, reorganizing the contents of drawers that were already organized, and alphabetizing books and CDs, Jack had had enough.  He had insisted that they go out for groceries and prepare a proper meal.

            “Ah,” Jack said, pulling the oven door wide to remove the pan of lasagna.  “Just like mom used to make.”

            Jack heard the salad bowl bounce on the floor and turned quickly to see Ianto backing into the wall, sinking to floor and trembling violently.

“Ianto?  What’s wrong?” Jack asked, as he watched Ianto bring his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them, rocking ever so slightly forwards and back.  Jack set the dish on the worktop and moved rapidly to crouch down at Ianto’s side, pulling his phone from a pocket and hitting auto dial as he did so.

“Owen, I need you at Ianto’s flat.  Now,” Jack said into his phone.

“What’d he do this time?” Owen asked, a trace of boredom in his tone.

“I don’t know.  Just get here.”

“You don’t know?  You’re supposed to be watching him.”

“Now, Owen.”

Jack noted the blown pupils and Ianto’s gaze firmly fixed on the still open oven door.  Jack gathered Ianto in his arms and heard the younger man choke out a single word: “mommy.”  Jack shifted his weight so that he could kick the oven door closed and felt Ianto go limp in his arms as he did.  Jack continued to hold Ianto for several long moments until Ianto tried to pull away from Jack.

Jack refused to let go and pulled Ianto back into his arms.  “Not yet, stay here.  Tell me what’s wrong,” he prompted gently, one hand moving to card through Ianto’s hair.

“Let me go.  Nothing’s wrong.  I’m fine.  I was… dizzy for a minute, but I’m fine now.”

“No, you aren’t fine,” said Jack, still refusing to loosen his grip on the younger man.  “And that wasn’t ‘dizzy’.  Owen’s on his way.”

“I don’t need Owen, don’t want Owen,” Ianto protested feebly.

“Ianto, you’re sitting on the floor of your kitchen.  Your pulse is racing, your breathing’s shallow, and you’re shaking.  You need Owen.  Can you tell me what happened?” Jack asked, suddenly thinking that a dish with tomato sauce so soon after Lisa and so soon after the cannibals might not have been his smartest move.  Maybe he should have made mac and cheese.  Something vegetarian and lacking in ingredients that too closely resemble blood.     

“Nothing happened, Jack.  Now let me go.’
            “Hush.  You’re ill.  Just sit still,” Jack said.  They were still sitting together on the floor, Jack gently rocking Ianto on his lap, when Owen arrived. 

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

“There’s nothing wrong with him now that wasn’t wrong with him this morning when he had a nightmare,” Owen told Jack once they had settled Ianto into bed.  “Or last night, when he refused to eat the steak you made for him.  Or yesterday afternoon when he didn’t want pain medication because he thought it was Retcon.  He had a panic attack.  He’s been traumatized, these things are going to happen.  Just give him some time.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure.  I’m not sure about anything when it comes to him,” Owen said.  “He survived Canary Warf, spent months hiding his girlfriend in the basement only to watch us gun her down, and was almost eaten by cannibals less than 48 hours ago.  All things considered, I’d say he’s coping rather well.”

“When you put it like that…”
            “If you can get him to talk, it might help.  But don’t upset him anymore because I am not coming over here again.”

“He’s not much of a talker.”

“Whatever.  I have plans.”

“Thank you,” Jack said softly.

“Yeah, don’t call me again.”

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

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, gently running his hand up and down Ianto’s back as the other man lay on his side.

“You gave me quite a scare there,” Jack said.  “Owen thinks you had a panic attack.  Ever had those before?”

“No.  I just…,” Ianto trailed off.

“What triggered it?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know.  Nothing.”

“Was it almost being eaten yesterday?  A flashback?   It’s understandable.”

“No.  Maybe.  I don’t know.”

“Talk to me.  Tell me about what happened out there.”

“That, with the cannibals, it wasn’t about me.  I had to save her, had to keep Tosh safe.  I couldn’t let them get her.  Can’t let anyone else get hurt because I’m weak…”

“Ianto,” Jack said, using two fingers to raise Ianto’s chin and force eye contact, “What happened out there was not your fault.  You did good, great out there.  You aren’t weak.”

‘Yes, I am.  I couldn’t save Lisa, I couldn’t save m…”  Ianto’s breathing hitched as he stopped talking to fight back the tears.

“Ianto, who else couldn’t you save?” Jack asked softly.  Ianto refused to answer, refused to make eye contact.

“Ianto,” Jack said as gently as he could.  “When you were panicking, just now, you said something.   You said ‘mommy.’”

“I don’t want to talk about her,” Ianto said, breathe still hitching.

“Ianto, you’ve never mentioned your mother.  Ever.”

“I’m sure I must have,” Ianto said, still refusing to look at Jack.

“You haven’t.  Tell me about her,” Jack said, pulling Ianto up to sit next to him, leaning against the wall for support.

“I don’t remember much about her.  She wasn’t…around for most of my childhood.”

“Your parents divorced?” Jack asked.

“Never married.  Da never married any of his ‘friends’,” Ianto said, not bothering to mask the contempt in his voice.  “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yes.  I’m sorry, but I need to know.  You don’t panic like that.  It isn’t like you.  So I need to know, what’s so frightening about my lasagna?”

“It wasn’t the lasagna,” Ianto said shifting closer to Jack.

“Then what was it?” Jack asked. 

Ianto mumbled something in reply, burying his head against Jack’s shoulder.

“What was that?”  Jack asked.

“It was the oven,” Ianto said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“The oven?  What about the oven?  As far as I know, you’ve never been scared of kitchen appliances before.”

“No.”  Ianto gave a short, derisive laugh before continuing.  “It was the oven, you… leaned into the oven, and then you mentioned your mom.  After everything else, it made me remember,” Ianto said quietly.

Jack waited for Ianto to continue, but after a few moments he prompted, “What did it make you remember?”

            “The last time I saw my mom.”  Ianto was fighting tears and Jack offered him the tissue box from the nightstand.  Ianto blew his nose and tried to calm his breathing. 

            “Tell me about it.”

            “Can’t.”

            “Yes, you can.  I’m right here,” Jack said softly.

            “No. Can’t talk about it.  Can’t ever talk about it,” Ianto said, shaking his head.

            “Ianto,” Jack whispered.  “You’re safe.  Talk to me.”

After a long moment, Ianto began speaking quietly.  “I was four.  I got out of bed one night after I was supposed to be asleep.  Went down to the kitchen to sneak a biscuit.”

Jack smiled at the image of Ianto as a young child, doing something so…sneaky and childish.  So normal.

“But Mom and Da were in the kitchen and they were fighting, they were always fighting.  Da hit her, knocked her to the floor.  I wanted to go help her,” Ianto pauses for a few deep breathes.   “I was scared I’d be in trouble for being out of bed.   I ran back upstairs and hid under the blankets for what for what felt like hours, waiting for him to come after me.  He didn’t, but the next morning Da told Rhi and I that Mom had left, that it was our fault, that if we had been good she would have stayed.  I thought it was true.  I believed that for years.”

“I’m sorry, that had to be hard, believing it was your fault.  But you have to know it wasn’t you.”

Ianto shook his head softly.  “Just now,” Ianto paused to take a deep, shuddering breath and curled himself tighter into Jack’s arms.  “Just now, I remembered the last image I have of my mother.   I saw her, I saw him…I saw him push her head into the lit oven.  And I never told anyone because I was too afraid he’d beat me for being out of bed.”

“You were just a kid, Ianto.  You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I should have, but I was afraid.  I was weak.”

“You weren’t weak.  You aren’t weak, Ianto.  You were four, a child.  You were too young to stand up to an adult, any adult, let alone your own father.  You shouldn’t have been put in that situation.  It isn’t your fault.  None of it is your fault.”

“But I wasn’t always four, Jack.  I grew up.”

“Yes, you grew up.  But you can’t change the past, Ianto, and if you didn’t remember it…That was probably for the best.  That was your mind finding a way to keep you safe.”

“No.  That’s not what I mean,” Ianto said, a slight air of self-confidence coming back into his voice.  “I wasn’t always four, but I never did anything.   Mom wasn’t the only one of Da’s girlfriends who disappeared suddenly.  They all did eventually.  And I never said or did anything about it.”

            Jack tightened his arms around Ianto and kissed his forehead over and over, murmuring, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.  I’ve got you.  No one can hurt you now.  I’m here,” as Ianto sobbed in his arms. 

***********

            “Sorry I ruined the evening,” Ianto said quietly, still tightly held in Jack’s arms. 

            “You didn’t ruin anything.  Why don’t I go get our food and we can eat in here?” Jack asked.  Jack could feel Ianto tense as he moved away and leaned in to kiss Ianto before pulling back and heading for the kitchen.  He took a few minutes to clean up the spilled salad before returning to the bedroom with two plates.

            “Jack,” Ianto said a few minutes later, “this is burnt on the outside and raw in the middle.”

            “Yeah, like I said, just like my mom used to make it.”