Title: Sorry isn’t enough
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,797 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 468 - Sorry
Summary: Jack wishes there were more he could do to help Ianto to grieve.


It was late when the SUV finally pulled up at the bottom of Garth Hill. Somewhere out there was their weevil, though knowing Jack's luck, it would be all the way at the top of the hill. Down here at the bottom though was just a shabby winding dirt path crowded in from all directions by scrubby bushes and trees. Perfect if you happened to be the hunter and not the prey. At this moment Jack felt far more prey than hunter. It was just him and his sidekick for this evening – one rather inexperienced general supper officer – who seemed as surprised at being recalled to duty as Jack was asking him to come along. Ianto simply didn't do fieldwork. These days he just silently went about whatever needed doing without attracting much attention at all. Jack took an educated guess that after the cyberwoman incident, he'd had his fill of attention for the next three lifetimes.

‘Look at it. God, I love this city,’ Jack said, filling in the silence as they wound around bends in the pathway, sucking down fresh air as the gradient slowly became steeper and more challenging to ascend. Jack trudged alongside Ianto, feeling uncomfortable with the awkwardness he'd created.
He chanced a sideways glance at Ianto. Maybe now was a good opportunity to start mending some fences, getting a feel for how far progressed Ianto was along the chain of grief. ‘So, uh, Lisa… Uh, how did you... ‘

‘With respect, sir, I'd rather not talk about it,’ Ianto said, cutting off the line of conversation just as swiftly as Jack had brought it up.

‘Understood,’ Jack hastily replied, throwing his hands up in defence, feeling unusually chastised by the remark. ‘But you do understand…’

‘I understand you did what had to be done, yes, sir.’

‘But I am… sorry.’ There. He’d said it. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it, it just didn’t feel right coming out of his mouth.

‘Yes, sir,’ Ianto said, as if awarding points for trying. ‘Could we just look for the weevil, please?’

“Way to go, Jack…” he thought glumly, as he heard the sound of a weevil howl and began running towards it. He'd been hoping that his admission of guilt might be enough to get Ianto to finally open up. He supposed he should have known that it would take more than one little sorry to open that door. If there was one thing he’d learned about Ianto Jones so far, it was that the man was a closed book, sealed shut with a padlock and key, much like that diary he liked to tout around after hours, jotting down goddesses only knew what.

Jack kept just slightly ahead of Ianto as they ran in pursuit of the weevil’s location, following it by sound, and making sure that Ianto, in a mood, didn't go inadvertently stumbling into danger.

They caught up with it, close enough to hear its heavy breathing as it could no doubt also hear theirs as they puffed from the uphill run. Jack began explaining his plan when Ianto picked up the large tattered branch from the ground, gripping it tightly and completely derailing Jack's train of thought. Jack was sure he must have lost his mind. ‘A stick?’ he said. ‘You’re gonna poke it with a stick? That's your distraction?’ It sounded even more crazy when Jack said it out loud. One thing you didn’t do was provoke a weevil. You might face it down, giving it something to think about as it considered whether you were enough of a threat to attack, whilst waiting for a moment to surprise it, but you didn't initiate a cock fight with one.

Ianto’s expression was calm but determined. ‘I'm not going to poke it.’

He watched Ianto go charging in, like a man on a mission, wielding the tree branch like a weapon, except he didn't just stop at one strike, taking the weevil to that ground where they could sedate it and cuff it. He kept going, bringing the stick down on the weevil over and over again, like he meant to beat it to death. Jack couldn't tell if he yelled at Ianto to stop out of loud or if it was only in his head. The weevil was a nuisance, certainly, but it didn't deserve to be assaulted like this.

Finally, the weevil cowed in a ball on the ground, moaning softly from its injuries, clearly defeated and knowing that surrender was the only way to avoid more hurt. Jack felt sorry for the poor creature. If anyone else had done that toa weevil – civilian or another member of his team – he’d have chewed them out, yet he was too stunned to find the words, let alone the anger.

Ianto dropped the tree branch as if he’d used it for nothing more than tripping up the poor creature. ‘Weevil disabled, sir. I'll see you back at the car.’ With that he just walked away, as if nothing had happened.

Jack looked down at the pathetic shape of the weevil. and then back over his shoulder where Ianto was merely a speck in the distance. He knelt down and pulled a sedation pen from his pocket, giving the weevil some much needed relief. ‘I'm so sorry,’ Jack whispered, knowing that Ianto might never have acted like this if Jack hadn't pressed him to talk about Lisa. He didn't have to wonder if that was what triggered the outburst. He knew just as certainly as he knew trying to bring it up again would result in Ianto shutting him out entirely. The weevil had been the unfortunate recipient of Jack’s punishment.

He hefted the weevil over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and carried it, without help, back to the SUV. That was how he knew he'd done the wrong thing. The old Ianto wouldn't have left him to lug such a heavy creature on his own. It was doable, but much easier with two. This wasn't any kind of Ianto that Jack knew. He was volatile and emotional, though doing his best not to show any emotion at all. Jack knew that part well at least. Ianto was never good at showing his emotions any more than Jack was good at revealing his own. Perhaps that was why Jack was so bad at getting Ianto to open up. He was used to people who could be vulnerable on their own terms without having to draw it out of them.

Ianto was sitting in the passenger seat when Jack finally caught up to him, dumping the weevil unceremoniously in the back of the SUV. Thank the goddesses it was out cold now else it might not be too happy about sharing a car with the man that had assaulted it.

Jack hopped into the driver’s seat and took a moment to pause and look at the man in the seat next to him. Ianto was staring out the side window, calm as could be, as if nothing had happened. ‘Are we good?’ Jack asked.

Ianto turned his head back towards Jack, a look of serene calm greeting him. ‘Of course. The weevil didn't cause you any trouble?’

‘No,’ he replied. Not after you clubbed it almost to the point of unconsciousness, he felt like adding, confused by the complete lack of remorse. ‘Ianto, your hands…’ he said, catching a glimpse of blood.

Ianto looked down at them as if seeing them for the first time, splinters, blood and all. ‘Huh.’ That was it. No epiphany. No delayed shock.

‘I'll clean you up when we get back to the hub,’ Jack said. And then we are definitely going to have a nice long chat, he vowed, whether Ianto wanted one or not.

‘That's okay, sir. You can just drop me off home on your way. I have a first aid kit.’

Ianto’s uncharacteristic behaviour surprised once more. ‘Well, sure, but…’ He should have just made it an order but something about Ianto's attitude had caught him off balance. ‘Four hands are better than two,’ he limply replied, ‘and easier to pluck out splinters.’

‘I'll be fine.’

‘Ianto…’ He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. This sudden outburst of violence felt slightly self destructive.

He didn't think that Ianto would hurt himself in a serious way, but the behaviour was unsettling all the same, and Jack knew he was completely to blame. He'd taken away the one thing that mattered in Ianto's life. He had to. Lisa had to die or, to be more accurate, the thing that was pretending to be Lisa had to die. Ianto had to know that as well. He'd been the one to confirm that the cybermen had given up converting humans in their usual way of removing brains, and had started just upgrading whole bodies. Cybermen were metal robots but they still required a human neural processor to command their hive intelligence. It was a bizarre fusion of highly advanced technology with biological computer function. The one thing they didn't transplant though was the amygdala, the part of the brain that accounted for emotion. It was cut aqalong before it was implanted, making sure that no cyberman could ever question its actions, or feel remorseful. Those traits were uniquely human ones, that served no purpose as far as the cybermen were concerned.

‘Left at the roundabout,’ Ianto said, cutting off Jack's thoughts.

Without thinking, Jack merely reacted to the instruction, letting Ianto guide the car back to his place. Jack could have said no. He could have said that Ianto needed more medical attention than a few sticking plasters, but he was paralysed by the cold emotionlessness. It was eerily cyberman-esque, and just for a moment Jack wondered if they really had killed that cyberman down in the basement, or had they arrived too late, once it had transplanted itself into Ianto, concealing itself and letting them only think it had been defeated.

He quickly dispelled the idea. Jack simply hadn't fully appreciated just how much hurt he'd caused that day he'd killed Lisa. There was a kind of pain and betrayal that couldn't be brushed off with a few apologies and an attempt to move on. Perhaps he shouldn't have let Ianto brood on his own for so long. Perhaps he should have been there from the beginning instead of suspending Ianto from his job. Too late now, of course. Jack knew better than anyone that you couldn't change the past, just as he knew there were also some things you could never fully atone for. Maybe there was no amount of saying sorry that was going to fix this. Ianto had wounds, both emotional and physical, that he didn't want Jack trying to fix.