Rating: PG-13 (For minor swearing. Also, possible rating change as the story progresses.)
Summary: When Ianto is abandoned by his father, he has no one left to turn to. His mother is gone and there is no one else that he feels close to. Can Jack break through the cold exterior to the warm and caring Ianto inside? Or will Ianto refuse his care and go off on his own?
A/N: I know, I know , I promised that ‘I am what I am’ and ‘it dont mean a thing’ would posted up soon but I’ve been busy with other stuff but to make it up to you here is I hope to be a short fic ‘Bluemoon’ enjoy and I will have the other two fics up soon now that I have free time.
Ps: Tad is the welsh word for father
E/D: I purposely left the author’s note unedited.
The rain had been falling hard for the past few hours, tapping at the window glass as if trying to tell him that it knew his exact feelings. Ianto had seen the shining night sky turn from a starry night blue to a cold, terrifying black. The dark clouds roared angrily at the small child as he looked out the window, waiting for his father to come home soon from work. The house always felt so empty without anyone else to share it with. At times, he would clean and re-clean the house in order to pretend that he wasn’t alone. Tears began to stream down little Ianto’s face to where he could no longer see the green numbers of the digital clock. Though he had no sense of time, he was certain that his father was going to come home any minute now. In fact, Ianto was sure that his Tad was going to walk through the door and ruffle his hair like he use to. “He promised,” the small boy would repeat to himself over and over again. He remembered his father’s exact words before he had left for work, “I’m going to be at work for a bit longer than usual. Don’t wait up. I’ll be back soon, I promise.” Ianto waited on the couch like he did every night and like every night, he stayed up for as long as he could before letting sleep take him.
The next morning, he would get up and change into his uniform for school. The Welsh boy had been walking himself ever since his mother had fallen ill. He never complained and did what he was told, knowing it one less thing his parents had to worry about. He quickly pulled on his shoes, knowing that he couldn’t be late since it would be the third time that week that he had over slept. Any more late arrivals and the school would want to talk his father who hadn’t come home yet. Running as fast as his legs would take him, he made his way through the short cuts of the neighborhood, knowing that the school wasn’t far off from where he lived.
At times like these, he missed his mom. When she was in one of her good moods, she would wake up really early so they could walk to school together going the long way. It took a lot longer but they could stop at the park and see the morning sky with it beautiful shades of yellow, pink, purple and orange brushed smoothly together. Now, those days seemed so far away, like a dream he was beginning to forget.
Once inside, Ianto signed in for the day before running to his class. He fixed his shirt, giving him a chance to regain his breath, before letting himself in. As he stepped in the classroom, he couldn’t help but wonder if his dad would be home when he school let out. Maybe he would give his dad a call instead. Maybe Tad had worked so late the past few days that Ianto had fallen asleep long before he had arrived home. It was a reasonable explanation as to why Ianto hadn’t seen or heard him. Ianto let out a sigh and sat down in his usual seat by the window as a cacophony of noise bombarded his ears. He could feel the eyes of his friend, Will, glaring at him. It was funny how he and Will had been inseparable from the very beginning, and now they were barely on speaking terms. He knew it was his fault really, for pushing Will away, but after him mom had been taken away he spent most of his time to himself. Nothing seemed to matter now. It wasn’t the same. Everything seemed to have lost its colors, it excitement, and Will couldn’t understand that. Ianto felt alone and empty because everything had changed in his world, and Will’s had stayed the same.
It was a few minutes later that his teacher, Miss Miller, had walked into the room. Ianto could tell without even looking away from the window, the myriad of voices always growing quiet whenever she arrived. She had always been his favorite teacher because of the way she spoke and her never-ending efforts to make the class fun. There was always a large smile on her face, as if there was never a bad day in her life, and it had always cheered him up seeing her smile. Now, all it ever did was make him resent the fact he had even come to school in the first place. He loathed her smile. He couldn’t understand how she had such a cheerful smile and such a perfect life when he was so miserable. As she began her lesson, he took out his journal and began to write, not listening to the energetic voice whose mirth seemed to come solely from mocking him.
During lunch he had sat alone, away from Will and his usual group of friends, grateful they no longer paid attention to his new habit. He looked down at the food that he packed for himself, a granola bar. It hadn’t been his first choice of food but his supply of favorite snacks had run out, leaving only his dad’s food. He removed the shining cover off, revealing the unappealing bar.
“Trade you,” a voice gently offered from behind that made Ianto jump. He looked up to see the red headed girl from his class. Ianto recalled her as one of those people who were always kind but rather loud at times. It made him wonder why she was speaking to him so softly.
“No thanks,” he said as quickly as he could. He didn’t really fancy eating the bar but he did not want to force anyone else to eat his food. He wasn’t going to go trade off anything just because he didn’t like it. “I want it.”
“You don’t like it,” the girl commented back rather quickly. “I can tell. You’ve been looking at it for a while and if you don’t want it you can have some of my pudding.”
“I said no,” Ianto snapped, slamming his hand on the table, making the girl jump.
“I was just trying to do you a favor,” the red head said softly, sounding a little hurt.
“Well I didn’t ask for it, nor do I need it,” Ianto yelled back angrily, getting up from the table and making his way to elsewhere in the room.
“Why are you being like this?” she called out to him, making him stop for a few seconds. “You used to be nice, now you’re just mean!”
“And you’re just a dumb girl who can’t keep her mouth shut!” he said back coldly. “So piss off and leave me alone.” Walking away, he hadn’t noticed that the girl had begun to cry.
He had made it to the other side of the cafeteria where there was not a single familiar face. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper but at the moment, all felt was anger. She asked for it though, he thought as he sat down. He had told her to leave him alone. Why couldn’t she have just done that? He looked at the bar in his hands, crushed into pieces from the outburst a few moments ago. Feeling stupid, he ate what he could before throwing the rest away.
Ianto was still hungry when he trudged back to class but the hunger quickly died when he saw the red head take her seat. He felt bad for losing his temper with her, she had meant well after all, and for that he felt sorry. He took his seat and began to write in his journal of the events that had just happened.
He had spent the whole class ignoring everyone and everything that he hadn’t heard the bell for lunch. It wasn’t till Miss Miller called his name rather loudly that he looked up from his journal. “Ianto,” she said as she crouched down to his height, looking straight into his eyes. “Can I talk to you?”
Not saying anything, Ianto shrugged his shoulders and looked back at the journal.
“Ianto, I wanted to know if there was something bothering you?” she said in hushed, soothing tone that all the adults seemed to have when talking to children, “Because, if there is, you can always talk to me about it.”
“No ma’am,” he whispered so softly that she had barely caught it. He was toying with the pencil in his hands, staring intently at it as if it was giving him the secrets of life.
“Well, are you feeling alright?” she asked, giving him one of her concerned looks.
“I’m fine ma’am,” he replied as he looked up at her with a forced smile on his face. “Why do you ask?” It was obvious that that woman wasn’t going to go away until she was sure that he was alright.
“Well you haven’t been talking to William for a while,” she replied sweetly, trying to get to him to talk, but all the boy did was smile and shrug. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Ianto remained quiet. He didn’t have the slightest clue what he was going to say about Will. Either way, whether or not he and Will were friends, it was none of her concern. He just shook his head and began to pick up his belongings, placing them in his messenger bag, before leaving the classroom.
Miss Miller sighed, knowing that she wasn’t going to get anything from the boy. As she walked to her desk, she wondered what had happened to make Ianto so cold and distant. He had always been a quiet boy, always willing to learn something new, and he was always happy to lend a hand. Now, all he ever did was write in his journal or look out the window. It was like someone had switched him off. She didn’t want to admit it but it scared her.
She sat at her desk as she watched the boy walk out of her class with a soft smile on his face. It wasn’t a real smile though. It made her wonder if something had been going on at home that had caused such a profound change in the boy. Not wanting to rush to conclusions, she decided that she would wait and see if he would start acting like himself again before talking to his parents.
It was about ten minutes later that a parent walked in with Penelope, the redhead girl from the class, demanding to know why she hadn’t done anything to the boy who had made her daughter cry.
As he made his way home he looked up into the heavens. If he was given the choice, he would stay out there for as long as he could, even if it rained or snowed or simply became night. But he knew better than that. He had to get home to see if his father had arrived from work. His feet slammed against cement as he raced home as fast as he could, hoping his father was home.
As soon as he reached home, he quickly opened and closed the mail box four times before taking the mail. He clutched the envelopes in his hands as he let himself in the house, taking a moment before pursuing his usual routine. There was nothing to do though. The house was just as he had left it in the morning. It was neat, organized, and lonely. Placing the letters on the table, he sorted them out, taking care with the ones addressed to his father. Ianto made his way back from to the living room from the kitchen when he was done.
It was then that he noticed something lying neatly on his pillow. It was a letter addressed to him with no address from where it came from and no stamp. The handwriting of the few words it bore seemed familiar and Ianto swallowed as he carefully picked it up. He slowly began to open it, taking care not to rip or tear the plain envelope. Once he opened it, he realized that it contained a bit of money attached to a small note that read, “Take care.” There was nothing more and nothing less. It was only then that he realized it was in his father’s writing. He had been home and Ianto had missed his chance to see him because he was too slow.
Ianto had no idea how much money the envelope held. Half of him wanted to throw the damn package across the room but the other half refused to let it happen. It wasn’t solely because it was something from his father but because even if he did spill the contents all over the ground, he would be forced to pick it all up. There was this constant drive that forced him to put everything in its place and the floor was not where the letter should go. It frustrated Ianto that he couldn’t bring himself to do the simplest things without obsessing over every detail to the point he had to leave the room before he went insane. Truth be told, he was angry but it wasn’t about what he could or couldn’t do. It was about his father.
What made him the angriest was the fact that his letter gave no information of whether or not he would be returning soon. In fact, his letter wasn’t anything close to a letter at all. It didn’t give him a return address, no simple greeting, no questions as to whether or not he was alright. His Tad hadn’t even about school. All it read was ‘Take care’ in sloppy handwriting. It was as if his father didn’t have time to write it or simply didn’t care.
Ianto threw the envelope back on the table in a section of its own before going leaving the house. There was no point in staying inside for the rest of the day. His father wasn’t coming back home tonight.
Wanting comfort, Ianto had walked himself to his and his mom’s spot at the park. It was whenever he felt like thinking that he would sit at their bench in front of the small pond. He often hoped that it would bring him closer to her. Today however, it only made him so much more aware of how much he missed her and how alone he truly was. It made him angrier, but he didn’t know why. His father was the only one he was supposed to be mad at and yet, his anger spread to everyone. He couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t like everyone had done something wrong to him.
Looking out at the small pond, hoping to distract himself from his thoughts, he spotted a mother duck with her family. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her interact with her ducklings. She splashed them as if it was her own way of making sure that they were all there. Her small, tender nature brought him a small feeling of peace and joy that he sorely needed. It didn’t make him feel much better about earlier but it kept his mind clear of it.
He stretched out across the bench, looking up at the sky in order to watch the drifting clouds shift shapes. It wasn’t long before a warm breeze began to softly caress his face. He closed his eyes in order to get a better sense of what the wind was carrying. His breathing slowed and he began to drift into unconsciousness.
When Ianto opened his eyes again, it was dark. He had fallen asleep. Sitting up, he noticed that the park no longer held the friendly tone from a few hours ago. He had been to the park in the very early hours but there had always been a shred of light to comfort him. Well that and his mother. Looking around he found that he couldn’t see anything at all but a lamp post from a distance. The wind began to pick up, making a shiver run down his spine. There was something about the park at night that scared him stiff but he knew he couldn’t stay here at all. He wanted, no, needed to go home. He took a deep breath before dashing out of the park. He ran across the field and past the dark and lonely playground. The wind pushed the swings back and forth, a loud screech echoing with every movement of the rusty chains.
Panic rose, consumed him, and drove him to run even faster than he ever had before. He could hear the grass crunch beneath his feet and didn’t even stop when he heard his feet slapping against the concrete. It was the only sound he heard. Everything else was quiet, waiting, watching the boy run. Ianto was out of breath, his side hurting, but he didn’t stop until the park was out of sight.
Once he was sure that there was enough distance from him and the park, he slowed down and began to look at his surroundings. There was something unpleasant about tonight. It was quiet and still and Ianto couldn’t help but feel as if the night was waiting for something, something bad. This only made him want to get home even more but in his panic, he had run towards the school instead of his house. This meant that even if he ran, it would take quite a while to get home. The few moments he spent dwelling on the problem were more than what Ianto wanted to spend in the chilling darkness. Though he knew some short cuts that could get him back a lot faster, he feared that it would be an unwise choice. These short cuts strayed from the road meaning he wouldn’t have any light from the lampposts that lined the sidewalk. The light meant safety. The darkness meant certain danger.
The boy had only walked a block when he heard a muffled argument that sounded nearby. At first, he didn’t know what to do. In order to get home he needed to walk in the direction of the argument but the uneasy feeling from earlier made him hesitant to take another step in that direction. Should he run through? Go another way? Wait until the argument died down? Going another way sounded like a good plan but if the argument was violent and someone was hurt, could he actually walk away? Without a doubt he knew that his mother would want him to save the injured person. To go another way would mean running home and shutting the door behind him. It would mean he had left someone to die or suffer for the sake of his own cowardice. It was not was his mother had taught him. She had always taught him to be brave and do the right thing, despite the fact that when she needed him, he hadn’t been there. Staying now would mean another chance to make it up to her.
Ianto took a deep breath before walking towards the sound in the alley located between two shops. Taking slow, careful steps to prevent him from being heard, he crept closer until he heard a loud bang and someone yelling out the name Jack. At that point, he felt his heart sink. He didn’t know this Jack but he was sure that he didn’t deserve to get shot. His mind raced to conclude the man was dead but Ianto desperately hoped that at the most, Jack had been injured. As scared as he was, he couldn’t just let the other person get hurt. What could he do though? He had no weapons. He was merely a kid, a very frightened kid.
He looked around his surrounding for something that could be useful but all he saw were a few rocks and an empty soda can. As quickly as he could, he picked the items up and carefully pressed himself against the wall of the building. Ianto moved slowly, trying to get a better view, but a dumpster blocked his way. The Welsh boy swallowed nervously and made his way to behind the dumpster. With his back press against the cold metal, he clenched his eyes shut and counted to three before he opened them again to get a glimpse.
The first thing Ianto saw was a man with a gun in a strange red mask. Careful not to draw too much attention to himself, he threw the can at the man. However, his aim was poor and it hit the wall only to bounce between the masked man’s feet, rolling to a stop beside a man on the ground.
Ianto froze, hoping that his distraction had come to some use.
Bloody Torchwood was all that came to Dr. Jimmy Evans as a gun was being pressed into his chest thanks to the courtesy of a Blowfish who stood in an expensive well, tailored suit while spinning of yet another monologue about how incredibly stupid Torchwood was . He was angry at the team that had been too occupied to do the mission themselves, angry at himself for not standing up for himself and being forced into the stupid mission, and for the first time, angry at Jack who was now dead on the floor. But most of all, he was angry for missing his anniversary dinner yet again. It was meant to be a quick job. Blowfishes were always too drugged up or too drunk to be a serious problem when they began making trouble. However this sober Blowfish, who enjoyed selling the drugs rather than ingesting them, had been outsmarting Torchwood for quite some time. Out of all the days that the Blowfish had been at large, it had to be that day that he showed his face. The hazel eyed Englishman was pulled from his hateful thoughts when a can suddenly appeared. Noticing the Blowfish had become confused, Jimmy grabbed hold of the Blowfish’s wrist, pushing it up into the air and quickly punching the damn thing in the face. The Blowfish hit the ground, knocked out cold.
As Jimmy turned the blowfish over to cuff him, he saw his savior emerge from behind the dumpster. He was ready to say his thanks but whatever words he had just formed were quickly lost when he saw a small child, who was smoothing down his white button down shirt, appear from behind the dumpster. Jimmy quickly cleared his throat before stating, “Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but shouldn’t you be at home or something?” Before the boy could reply, Jimmy refocused on the Blowfish. He didn’t have time to worry about the boy at the moment. He needed to make sure that the Blowfish wasn’t seen by anyone else and most definitely, make sure that it wasn’t going to get away. He wasn’t sure how old the boy was but he looked about the age of five. Trying to gauge the boy’s reaction, he wondered if the kid could tell if the Blowfish was real or a costume. At most, he probably thought it was a mask. If he did think it was a real monster, who would he tell? Who would believe him? Despite all that, there was one thing for certain. He was not the babysitter.
The next time he looked up at the boy, Jimmy noticed he had moved closer to Jack. Looking closely he could see the kid was starting to shed a few as if he knew Jack was dead. “Stay away from him!” Jimmy ordered as he got to his feet, moving toward the boy. “He needs to rest is all. Just leave him alone.”
Despite what the Englishman said, Ianto couldn’t help but want to be near the man in the long gray coat. He found himself kneeing down at the side of the man on the floor with the man’s head in his lap. His eyes were open. Ianto would have thought that they were a nice shade of blue if it wasn’t for the fact that something was missing in them. He gently tapped the man’s right cheek in an attempt to wake him but the man didn’t move. In fact, the man began feeling cold.
Dying from a bullet in the head, Ianto had always thought it was something that only happened in the movies his dad used to watch. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen in real life. Blood was pouring from the wound and so Ianto did what he always did to calm his nerves. Ianto cleaned. Ignoring the small bullet wound on the man’s forehead, Ianto began to mop up the blood with his handkerchief that was always tucked away in his pocket. He silently hoped the man in gray coat would be alright. It would be a tragedy if he didn’t. There was something about this man that captivated the Welsh boy. They had never met before but Ianto wished they had crossed paths sooner.
When he pulled the handkerchief away, he was about to close the man’s eyes when he noticed a small spark in them. His eyes shifted to the closing bullet wound, the job done when there was not a single trace of uneven skin. Ianto inched closer to get a better look and could see the life returning to those electric blue eyes. Something gold blossomed in those blue eyes and just as he was about to lean in to get a better look, the man gave a loud gasp of air.
The first thing Jack saw was the most beautiful greenish –blue eyes he had ever seen. Just by waking up to them he felt a rush of comfort overwhelm him. He felt a cloth being pressed against his right cheek with a strong but gentle hand. It felt warm, caring, and safe. The feeling of safety though was stronger than he had ever felt. It was like going home and being greeted by a warm and loving presence you couldn’t help but want to spill your heart to. However, looking closer, he could see immense amounts of sadness in those lovely eyes. Whoever these eyes belonged to, they were lost, almost broken. It wasn’t until something wet fell to his face, right above his right brow, that he realized what going on around him.
He was being held by a small, dark haired boy with warm tears leaving lethargic trails on his cheeks. “You’re crying,” he almost whispered. “Why?”
For some reason it was the first question that came out of his mouth. But the one he really wanted to know was who was this child and why was he mourning his death, as if they had known each other for many years rather than a few seconds. The gestures felt warm, even caring, but that was all taken way by Jimmy’s voice as called out to him, “Jack !” The boy was pulled away from him and Jack felt the hard concrete on the back of his head. It was then when Jack felt the sudden need to hate Jimmy. Jack quickly scrambled to his feet just in time to see the boy run out of the alley. He started after the boy but not without someone barking an order over his shoulders. “Stay with the blowfish,” Jimmy snapped but Jack was already on the boy’s tail.
Making his way out of the alley, he could hear the sound of feet slamming onto the sidewalk. Turning into the direction he believed the boy had gone, Jack hoped to catch up to him soon. However, he was at a disadvantage. He had just come back from the dead and his head was killing him. His body was as good as new every time he revived but head shots were something that always seemed to take more time. The usual feeling of being dragged over broken shards of glass to his unwilling body was prolonged and much more excruciating when it was his head that needed to be repaired. Ignoring his own body’s demands for recovery, he continued to follow the quickly fading footsteps.
Turning the on the next street corner, he found that the boy had gone quiet. To make matters worse, it seemed that whoever that boy was, he knew his way around or was just lucky because the street he had lost Jack at was one with many flats. There were many hedges, cars, and fences for the boy to hide behind. Jack couldn’t hear any noise despite his best efforts to be as quiet as possible. He gave the area one last look from left to right before spotting something on the floor. He had nearly overlooked it but over the years he had learned that some things, no matter how small, could help with a case. It turned out that the item had once been a simple white handkerchief that was now covered in his blood. Picking it up, he could see the there were letters stitched onto it, “I. Jones,” and on the opposite side it said, “Ianto J.”
Looking up again, hoping to see the boy while knowing he was gone, Jack found himself looking at the handkerchief as he walked back to Jimmy. From looking at it more carefully, he could tell that it had once been well pressed before it had been used. The stitching had been done in a lovely shade of pea green. It made him wonder what kind of kid carried a handkerchief these days.
His thoughts were once again interrupted by Jimmy but this time through the com, “Jack did you get him?” He sounded angry and Jack couldn’t be angry with him. Jimmy Evans was never really a prick like he was at the moment. Even Jack would be angry if he had been pulled away from his two year anniversary dinner that had been rescheduled for the third time that week.
“No, sorry Jimmy,” he said regrettably through the com. He could hear Jimmy curse more to himself than to Jack. “I know, don’t worry about him for now. I’ve found something that could help me find him but the kid could wait. Let’s get the Blowfish back to the hub and you back to your wife. Just come and pick me up first.”