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iknoweverythingSummary: This is written from the perspective Ianto now, December 31st, 2011, having just ended up in in the present a few weeks before the New Year in some alternate dimension thanks to Time Rift nonsense. (It's Doctor Who/Torchwood. Just... go with it. If you can't, go stalk SWS for the threads). He was near-death (less than 30 seconds) at the hands of the 456 so it's probably an understatement to say he's having some existential issues.
Word Count: Approximately 1,300.
Warnings: Its not especially NSFW though references sex once. There's not an ounce of crying but... It's kind of a depressing read. The flashbacks are nice though?
Author's Notes: If you want to experience this bit of writing like an episode with musical overlay, I recommend the following song. Specifically, this particular piano cover helped me set tone. The Freshman by The Verve Pipe - COVER by Jay Brannan. Additionally, I did my best to research the historical weather patterns for both flashbacks but if they're at all inaccurate my apologies.
---
New Year's Eve, 2005
"Oh come on Ianto! I promise you, it's delightful to watch fireworks on the southbank," Lisa had laughed, pulling on his arm and putting on a pout to match her one finger tugging on a hoop earring playfully.
Ianto never could say no to her.
So they'd packed up coffee and two toasts of champagne into thermoses, bundled up against the elements, and braved the river shore with 25,000 other souls hoping to get the best view of fireworks over the Thames. Ianto and Lisa were slim, quick, and had good eyes that managed to get them a perfect little patch of grass to be squeezed in along side everyone else. They'd had to arrive early and, by 11:00 PM, both the hot coffee and the bubbly were gone and Ianto had taken to rubbing up and down Lisa's arms to counteract the cold.
It really was a wonder they didn't catch hypothermia.
Back then Ianto didn't wear suits, he didn't need them for fulfilling some construct of himself. Still though, Lisa tackling him to the ground that night as the London Eye glittered among the pyrotechnics earned her a sigh among loving kisses. Grass stains never did come out of denim like one would hope. Somewhere in those kisses she assured him she was getting a promotion in 2006, commensurate with a raise. She would happily buy him all the new jeans he wanted.
Ianto could never forget how Lisa looked that night. Ever possessing an eye for details, his memory had effortlessly kept photographic stills. With how cold it had been, there wasn't much fanfare in what they wore, but Lisa more than made up for it in accessories. Clipped in hair extensions, shiny silver nails, and gleaming, hot pink, glossy lipstick. She'd even found a pair of ridiculous oversized sunglasses, blue, and caked with glitter that seemed to get on everything she touched. Ianto would still find flecks of that glitter on his coat after the Battle of Canary Wharf.
"Now kiss me proper Ianto Jones, before the jacket gets it."
"Happy New Year Lisa Hallett," Ianto said with adoration in his voice.
And kiss her he did, grinning like he might burst. They shared that first moment of 2006, along with the other thousands of couples nearby, tangled up in each others arms. London's sky was ablaze with color and Ianto was entranced with the way it reflected in those beautiful brown eyes. It took his breath away, just for that moment.
"Your eyes are brighter than any of the colors tonight," he swore quietly.
Pressing her soft lips to his ear, Lisa simply whispered "I love you Ianto."
New Year's Eve, 2008
Gwen had insisted, then shifted between outright pleading and demanding, that the remaining members of Torchwood Three do something festive for December 31st. The last year had brought so many difficulties, so much tragedy and pain, and wouldn't 2009 be something new and exciting to look forward to? Persistent, always so damned persistent, Gwen made sure the subject came up daily between the 27th and the 30th.
Eventually, her passion won out over the naysayers. When she showed up to work on New Year's Eve, the Hub had just enough glitz, thanks to Ianto's diligence the night before, to feel festive. Tinsel had been secured in all those places the eye would settle on and there were light strings draping archways. For Gwen, and Gwen alone, Ianto had sat up for three and a half hours untangling them and trying to believe that the wires hadn't become sentient and twisted themselves impossibly together on purpose.
That morning, Ianto had gone so far as to put post-it notes with little streamers on the photo of Owen and Tosh that had remained on permanent display by Gwen's computer station. There was even a small tray of cupcakes with, supposedly, edible sparkles.
Gwen was thrilled, Jack was happy, and Ianto had engineered the decor in such a way that he could clean it all up quickly at the end of the evening.
Rhys had shown up that night around 9:00 PM with a bottle of champagne, all sorts of delicious finger foods, and a big smile. Ianto found music that Gwen promptly changed, twice, and Jack watched as they all laughed, really laughed, for the first time since losing the other two members of Torchwood. At some point there were even party hats, though Ianto steadfastly refused one for the first hour until Jack threatened to make him wear it, and nothing else, for the rest of the night. Jack wore red, Ianto wore purple, and Gwen and Rhys both had silver.
It was such a shame, they never did manage to take a picture of that.
Before midnight struck, they all made their goodbyes with hugs, kisses, and promises to see each other tomorrow. The Williamses headed home so they could watch the countdown in the comfort of their flat. Jack had promised fireworks, sort of insisted on them really, with ulterior motives in mind. So, to make good on that promise, the Captain lead his lover to the roof.
It was freezing cold, barely above 0° Celsius, which Ianto went on at length about as they took the lift up. The conversation was a crystal clear memory where the archivist started to rattle off the evening's weather report. Temperatures would be in the single digits, winds were at a gentle 11 kmph, and, while a fog was expected later in the evening, at the change of the year at least the sky was was supposed to be free of clouds? Finally, after Jack made it very clear that he didn't know he was sleeping with an almanac, Ianto relented. Just before they stepped out of the lift, Ianto re-tied his scarf against the winter air. Jack had to do a little more persuading than usual, at first, to get Ianto to play along. But oh was the Welshman so very glad when he did.
As 2008 became 2009, and fireworks lit up Cardiff Bay, Ianto Jones had the most incredible sex, accompanied by one of the most spectacular views the city had to offer.
***
Ianto never did see the end of 2009. And now, on New Year's Eve, 2011, as suddenly as he'd found 2011, it was slipping away. The lights were low, the television off, as he sat in his new dining room. In consideration of the past, over a rather lonely single flute of champagne sitting on an otherwise empty table, Ianto was a little stunned to realize how much he'd loved and lost between each of those precious memories. More than once in his past, Ianto had found himself living a life he was willing to leave. Now, even those were all the places he wished he could get back to.
And so here he was, another three years having passed, still wearing a suit, though now its out of preference. Ianto wasn't sure if he had anything left that the next three could even try to take. A part of him was ashamed at how he did not seem able to be handle falling through time with poise and efficiency. Compared to Jack's being out of place by three millenia, two years ought to have felt like a simple drop in the bucket.
Instead, those two years felt like an impossible sea whose divide he could never traverse again.
11:42 PM and Ianto had already downed two glasses of champagne. It only seemed fair since he'd missed all those toasts since 2008. Or, maybe, he was toasting to two good memories. Ianto could probably create an entire archive of paired reasons for those drinks if it was necessary. The third refill, it waited for midnight.
Ianto pulled out his stopwatch, the only tangible piece he had from the life and Cardiff he would never be a part of again. There was a sort of reverent look in his eyes as he turned the time piece over in his hands. Glancing at the watch on his wrist and then back to his palm, Ianto depressed the button on the top of the stopwatch. Seventeen minutes and seventeen seconds would mark the New Year. Watching that second hand count up, it almost felt like a shadow of being home.
Word Count: Approximately 1,300.
Warnings: Its not especially NSFW though references sex once. There's not an ounce of crying but... It's kind of a depressing read. The flashbacks are nice though?
Author's Notes: If you want to experience this bit of writing like an episode with musical overlay, I recommend the following song. Specifically, this particular piano cover helped me set tone. The Freshman by The Verve Pipe - COVER by Jay Brannan. Additionally, I did my best to research the historical weather patterns for both flashbacks but if they're at all inaccurate my apologies.
New Year's Eve, 2005
"Oh come on Ianto! I promise you, it's delightful to watch fireworks on the southbank," Lisa had laughed, pulling on his arm and putting on a pout to match her one finger tugging on a hoop earring playfully.
Ianto never could say no to her.
So they'd packed up coffee and two toasts of champagne into thermoses, bundled up against the elements, and braved the river shore with 25,000 other souls hoping to get the best view of fireworks over the Thames. Ianto and Lisa were slim, quick, and had good eyes that managed to get them a perfect little patch of grass to be squeezed in along side everyone else. They'd had to arrive early and, by 11:00 PM, both the hot coffee and the bubbly were gone and Ianto had taken to rubbing up and down Lisa's arms to counteract the cold.
It really was a wonder they didn't catch hypothermia.
Back then Ianto didn't wear suits, he didn't need them for fulfilling some construct of himself. Still though, Lisa tackling him to the ground that night as the London Eye glittered among the pyrotechnics earned her a sigh among loving kisses. Grass stains never did come out of denim like one would hope. Somewhere in those kisses she assured him she was getting a promotion in 2006, commensurate with a raise. She would happily buy him all the new jeans he wanted.
Ianto could never forget how Lisa looked that night. Ever possessing an eye for details, his memory had effortlessly kept photographic stills. With how cold it had been, there wasn't much fanfare in what they wore, but Lisa more than made up for it in accessories. Clipped in hair extensions, shiny silver nails, and gleaming, hot pink, glossy lipstick. She'd even found a pair of ridiculous oversized sunglasses, blue, and caked with glitter that seemed to get on everything she touched. Ianto would still find flecks of that glitter on his coat after the Battle of Canary Wharf.
"Now kiss me proper Ianto Jones, before the jacket gets it."
"Happy New Year Lisa Hallett," Ianto said with adoration in his voice.
And kiss her he did, grinning like he might burst. They shared that first moment of 2006, along with the other thousands of couples nearby, tangled up in each others arms. London's sky was ablaze with color and Ianto was entranced with the way it reflected in those beautiful brown eyes. It took his breath away, just for that moment.
"Your eyes are brighter than any of the colors tonight," he swore quietly.
Pressing her soft lips to his ear, Lisa simply whispered "I love you Ianto."
New Year's Eve, 2008
Gwen had insisted, then shifted between outright pleading and demanding, that the remaining members of Torchwood Three do something festive for December 31st. The last year had brought so many difficulties, so much tragedy and pain, and wouldn't 2009 be something new and exciting to look forward to? Persistent, always so damned persistent, Gwen made sure the subject came up daily between the 27th and the 30th.
Eventually, her passion won out over the naysayers. When she showed up to work on New Year's Eve, the Hub had just enough glitz, thanks to Ianto's diligence the night before, to feel festive. Tinsel had been secured in all those places the eye would settle on and there were light strings draping archways. For Gwen, and Gwen alone, Ianto had sat up for three and a half hours untangling them and trying to believe that the wires hadn't become sentient and twisted themselves impossibly together on purpose.
That morning, Ianto had gone so far as to put post-it notes with little streamers on the photo of Owen and Tosh that had remained on permanent display by Gwen's computer station. There was even a small tray of cupcakes with, supposedly, edible sparkles.
Gwen was thrilled, Jack was happy, and Ianto had engineered the decor in such a way that he could clean it all up quickly at the end of the evening.
Rhys had shown up that night around 9:00 PM with a bottle of champagne, all sorts of delicious finger foods, and a big smile. Ianto found music that Gwen promptly changed, twice, and Jack watched as they all laughed, really laughed, for the first time since losing the other two members of Torchwood. At some point there were even party hats, though Ianto steadfastly refused one for the first hour until Jack threatened to make him wear it, and nothing else, for the rest of the night. Jack wore red, Ianto wore purple, and Gwen and Rhys both had silver.
It was such a shame, they never did manage to take a picture of that.
Before midnight struck, they all made their goodbyes with hugs, kisses, and promises to see each other tomorrow. The Williamses headed home so they could watch the countdown in the comfort of their flat. Jack had promised fireworks, sort of insisted on them really, with ulterior motives in mind. So, to make good on that promise, the Captain lead his lover to the roof.
It was freezing cold, barely above 0° Celsius, which Ianto went on at length about as they took the lift up. The conversation was a crystal clear memory where the archivist started to rattle off the evening's weather report. Temperatures would be in the single digits, winds were at a gentle 11 kmph, and, while a fog was expected later in the evening, at the change of the year at least the sky was was supposed to be free of clouds? Finally, after Jack made it very clear that he didn't know he was sleeping with an almanac, Ianto relented. Just before they stepped out of the lift, Ianto re-tied his scarf against the winter air. Jack had to do a little more persuading than usual, at first, to get Ianto to play along. But oh was the Welshman so very glad when he did.
As 2008 became 2009, and fireworks lit up Cardiff Bay, Ianto Jones had the most incredible sex, accompanied by one of the most spectacular views the city had to offer.
***
Ianto never did see the end of 2009. And now, on New Year's Eve, 2011, as suddenly as he'd found 2011, it was slipping away. The lights were low, the television off, as he sat in his new dining room. In consideration of the past, over a rather lonely single flute of champagne sitting on an otherwise empty table, Ianto was a little stunned to realize how much he'd loved and lost between each of those precious memories. More than once in his past, Ianto had found himself living a life he was willing to leave. Now, even those were all the places he wished he could get back to.
And so here he was, another three years having passed, still wearing a suit, though now its out of preference. Ianto wasn't sure if he had anything left that the next three could even try to take. A part of him was ashamed at how he did not seem able to be handle falling through time with poise and efficiency. Compared to Jack's being out of place by three millenia, two years ought to have felt like a simple drop in the bucket.
Instead, those two years felt like an impossible sea whose divide he could never traverse again.
11:42 PM and Ianto had already downed two glasses of champagne. It only seemed fair since he'd missed all those toasts since 2008. Or, maybe, he was toasting to two good memories. Ianto could probably create an entire archive of paired reasons for those drinks if it was necessary. The third refill, it waited for midnight.
Ianto pulled out his stopwatch, the only tangible piece he had from the life and Cardiff he would never be a part of again. There was a sort of reverent look in his eyes as he turned the time piece over in his hands. Glancing at the watch on his wrist and then back to his palm, Ianto depressed the button on the top of the stopwatch. Seventeen minutes and seventeen seconds would mark the New Year. Watching that second hand count up, it almost felt like a shadow of being home.
