Pairing: Gwen/Ianto (References to Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Jack)
Notes-If you love Jack/Ianto and hate Gwen, this ain't the fic for you. Takes place between Series 1 & 2. Thanks to beta_goddess for quick turn-around and brilliant insight.
She’ll always associate Jack with the rain that was falling the first night she saw him. A typically dismal, pouring-down-wet Cardiff night like so many others, only now that rain is heavenly because it brought Jack Harkness into her life with his unforgettable smile.
It’s raining tonight, so she’s thinking of him, not that she needs the rain for that. Has there been an hour since then that she hasn’t? Not if she’s honest with herself, which she isn’t always but wants to be now. Not an hour, not a minute. Maybe a few seconds here and there, but that might be pushing it.
“I love Rhys,” she’s insisted so many times, and meant it, but nothing about this good and decent man, whom she knows would lay down his life for her, can compete with the man whose very name is a lie and who has taken off for parts unknown only moments after confessing there was nothing he loved enough to be tempted by.
“Jack,” she sighs to herself, only she’s not alone.
“Jack,” comes a heartfelt reply, in the same accent as hers.
It was probably inevitable that she and Ianto would deal with the emptiness this way.
Ianto’s even more gutted by Jack’s departure than she is as he’s actually had the privilege of sharing the Captain’s bed, but that may not be the gift she would have thought it was. Late at night in the Hub, huddling together in a tent in Nepal, even just shopping for supplies, he seems unable to control the flow of confidences regarding Jack’s skills as a lover but shortcomings as a human being.
Gwen absorbs it all, only once pointing out that Jack allowed Ianto to live and become his lover following a betrayal that might have tipped different men into the other direction. Strangely enough, it’s the pain on Ianto’s face when she says it that impels her to reach out and hug him, thinking to comfort him, only to find herself being rather roughly embraced and then kissed in the cereal aisle at Sainsbury’s.
“Oh dear,” she says after she’s allowed to speak again. “That’s a bit of a shock.”
“For me too,” he replies softly, clearly ashamed, but equally obviously aroused. The cut of his trousers doesn’t allow for much concealment.
Thus Gwen starts her second Torchwood affair, or possibly her third if you consider her emotional entanglement with Jack an affair, which she’s positive Rhys would, and would be devastated to hear about. It was bad enough to confess to what had happened with Owen, but even with the Retcon already in Rhys’ system there was no way she could tell him about Jack. The lingering gazes. The closeness. The times she felt that being together was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
This affair is different. To be blunt, she won’t fuck Ianto. It’s better for both of them that way. They’re both sure that Jack is returning and Ianto wants to be able to say he’s been faithful, even though he knows Jack never was and never will be. Gwen’s accepted Rhys’ ring under one set of false pretenses and thinks two might be too many for her self-esteem to cope with.
So they lie together, side by side, in Ianto’s flat, where’s he’s assured her Jack never came, touching each other with Jack’s name on their lips and his face in their minds. Ianto does things with his fingers that drive her mad until he offers her release with an expression on his face somewhere between satisfaction and vengeance. She jerks him off, always slightly surprised by his staying power and with her own smugness when he comes screaming, thrashing a bit, and always crying in the end.
Jack’s really left that one a mess, she thinks, cleaning herself up to go home and saving her own tears until she’s out in the rain, where no one can see them.