jooles34 | Never Seen, Never Seeing

Title: Never Seen, Never Seeing
Characters: Ianto, Owen
Rating/Warnings: PG though some swearing
Word count: 1192
Spoilers: References to Cyberwoman and Fragments
Summary: Returning from work after the Lisa incident Ianto knows he is completly alone.
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Torchwood.
AN: This has probably been done before, and I was absolutely not supposed to be writing last night, but the boys wouldn’t shut up until it was done.

Ianto looked around the Hub. It was a tidy as he could get it, all his jobs were done for the day and no-one seemed to need anything. He tapped his ear comm.

“Jack if there’s nothing else, I’ll be off.”

“That’s fine Ianto, goodnight.”

“Sir.”

Without a backward glance he headed towards the cog wheel door. He didn’t notice four pairs of eyes silently watch him leave.

But even if he had turned around he wouldn’t have seen them look at him. Maybe he would have caught them turn away from him out of the corner of his eye, but that was as close as he would get. He was even more of a ghost now. No, not a ghost. People ghosts simply didn’t exist, but he was very much there. No, he was more like something behind a perception filter. They were more than aware that he was there, but they didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. Wouldn’t or couldn’t, he wasn’t really sure. But ever since he had retuned to work four days ago no-one had been able to look at him, certainly not look him in the eye. Even Jack, normally so direct, confrontational even, seem to avoid him.

Though if he had turned around and managed to catch them looking, his question would have been answered. If he’d turned around he would have caught four people who didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to be around this stranger in their midst. A man who was even stranger to them now; more alien than some of the things they pulled into their vaults. But they did know that they all had a part to blame.

Ianto arrived home, changed and picked up the phone. He took a deep breath and dialled a number he knew by heart.

"Jubilee pizza.”

Ianto swallowed the bile in his throat and placed his order. The man on the other end of the phone didn’t say a word, but must have wondered why he had ordered pizza every night for a month. Ianto doubted the man would have ever considered self-inflicted exposure therapy as the reason.

Forty minutes later and the front door buzzer went. Ianto pressed the release without bothering to speak to the caller.

He heard the tap on his door and opened it, money in hand. He saw the pizza, but there were two instead of one, then he saw the crate of beer. He hadn’t ordered that. Then he noticed the person holding both.

“Owen?”

“Yeah, and the pizza’s getting cold and the beer’s getting warm, so how about you let me in.”

Ianto didn’t move, so with a roll of is eyes, Owen pushed past him and into the flat. He dropped the pizza boxes onto the table and took the beers into the kitchen. Ianto closed the front door with a shake of his head and a scowl harshening his features.

“So, the tap’s still on my phone then?”

Owen came out of the kitchen with two open beers.

“Yup. I called them back, made it two pizzas and said I’d pick up instead of delivery. It’s amazing how few questions they ask when you offer to pay upfront. And you need to vary your diet mate. This must be your third pizza this week.”

Ianto hid a snort. They couldn’t even spy on him properly.

Owen slurped his beer from the bottle before handing one to Ianto. He sat in a chair, making himself comfortable and pulling one of the pizza boxes onto his lap. He opened it and a look of distaste crossed his features.

“Pineapple on pizzas is just bloody wrong. I don’t now how you do it.” He tossed the box across the small coffee table and picked up the other box. He inhaled deeply as he opened it.

“Perfect.” He looked up at Ianto. “You might want to sit down. I didn’t spend good money on pizza for you to ignore it.”

Ianto crossed to his sofa and sat. He picked up the beer and the pizza. He sipped at his beer, but left the food untouched as he studied Owen. The doctor was devouring his pizza with an unnatural energy. The way the man ate it was a wonder he stayed as slim as he was. Ianto wrinkled his nose as a piece of pepperoni fell from the pizza onto Owen’s t-shirt. It turned into a huff of distaste when Owen then picked it up and popped it into his mouth.

“Why are you here?”

Owen paused. He swallowed his mouthful and dropped his half eaten slice back into the box.

“I thought we could talk.”

Ianto raised his eyebrows making it very clear what he thought of that idea. Owen sighed.

“I know where your mind is. You know, deep in your heart, you know that she was gone long before; that essentially she was already dead. She already wasn’t the person that you knew, had fallen in love with. She’d already changed beyond all repair. But that’s too hard to think about, because then you have to face up to the fact that you were fooling yourself. For all those months you were fighting to save someone who was already lost.

“So it’s easier to keep up the pretence, to yourself and everyone else. And that way you can blame someone else. That way you can blame Jack. Jack didn’t step in quick enough. Jack didn’t do enough. Jack was too late. But as much as you blame him you stay with him, stay working with him, because there's simply nowhere else to go.”

Ianto’s grief and anger clouded his ears from the tone of Owen’s voice. “What the hell makes you think you know what you’re talking about? Thanks for the beer, thanks for the pizza, thanks for the psychoanalytical bullshit. Now feel free to go back and tell Jack that you’ve done your best doctor bit and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Christ, you can be really thick sometimes.” Owen punched the arm of the chair as he stood up and strode into the kitchen, leaving Ianto staring at the pizza box. Ianto heard the rattle of jars as the fridge door was yanked open and slammed shut again.

Ianto listened to the schnick of two more beer bottles being opened and leant forwards, arms on his knees, preparing for whatever attack was coming next.

Owen walked back in and passed him a bottle. Ianto took it, barely looking up, and started to worry the label as condensation formed on the glass. Owen sat down heavily and took a long draft from the bottle. He leant back in the chair and tipped his head back.

He took a deep breath. The sound jarred in Ianto’s ear, finally penetrating his own bubble of self pity. It wasn’t the usual sigh of boredom, sarcasm, or irritation that normally coloured Owen. It was tinged with…something else. Ianto looked over at the other man, intrigued despite himself. Owen addressed the ceiling as he slowly emptied the air from his lungs.

“Her name was Katie.”