Title: The Eye of Neith (10/10)
Author: Emma
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, Martha, Andy, John Hart; Jack/Ianto, mentions of past others
Rating: R, maybe
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Spoilers: None. Takes place twenty or so years after Series 2 ends.
Summary: Torchwood’s past and Ianto’s future collide when Ianto’s former lover arrives in Cardiff asking for help…
Author's Note: Validium is featured in the classic Doctor Who episode Silver Nemesis . The "Sinister Woman" appears in 42 and The Sound of Drums. For TARDIS technology and society, visit the TARDIS pages of www.whouniverse.org
Other Note: Now that this is finished, and some of you have been kind enough to say you have enjoyed it, I'd like to dedicate it to avon_09 , who, when I told her I was dreaming Torchwood stories, said firmly, "write them down!"


Homecoming is here; Part one is here; Part two is here; Part three is here; Part four is here ; Part five is here; Part six is here; Part seven is here; Part eight is here; Part nine is here

           They lay in a tangle of sheets, sated and exhausted. Jack’s head was tucked between Ianto’s neck and shoulder. Every once in a while he would take a delicate sucking bite wherever he could reach. Ianto stroked up and down Jack’s back with his left hand; his right was clasped in Jack’s left and tucked under Jack’s chin.

 

            “You are definitely recovered,” Jack purred. “In fact, you might be better than ever.”

 

            Ianto used their linked hands to tilt Jack’s chin up. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, licking at his lover’s lips until they parted. The kiss was unhurried, gentle, a satisfied culmination rather than a hungry beginning.

 

            Finally they had to come up for air. They smiled at each other as they reshuffled a little before settling back contentedly.

 

            “I forgot to ask you earlier,” Jack said. “What did the Doc give you before he left?”

 

            Ianto reached over to his bedside table and snatched up a small leather-bound book. “With his sense of humor I was terrified it was going to be a fifty-first century sex manual or something.” He positioned it so Jack could see the spine. Embossed in gold on it was Care and Feeding of TARDIS.

 

            “Well, it’s a practical gift in any case.” Jack stroked Ianto’s wrist above the bracelet. “Do you get any sense of it at all?”

 

            “Yes, but very faintly. It’s more of a presence in the back of my head than anything else. The Doctor thinks it might never be more than that. He says this TARDIS is several thousand years older than his, and that makes it ancient even by TARDIS standards.”

 

            Jack looked at him speculatively. “Ianto, what time is it?”

 

            “Nine forty-six and sixteen seconds,” Ianto replied unthinkingly, then looked at Jack in shock. “What the hell?”

 

            “A TARDIS is able to share some of its abilities if it chooses. One of them is perfect time sense, and the other is… tell me, Ianto, what would you say if I asked you to…” he continued in a guttural, click-filled language.

 

            “I’d say you’re getting even more avant-garde in your old… I understood what you were saying! I was hearing you say the words but I was also hearing the meaning. Perfectly separate but simultaneous.”

 

            “The TARDIS, the Doctor’s TARDIS I mean, installed those little improvements in my head permanently. I guess yours has done the same thing to you.”

 

            “That’s nice,” Ianto chuckled. “You won’t be able to swear in Roxicoricofallapatorian again when you’re mad at me.”

 

            Jack made a face at him. “Spoilsport.”

 

            “And speaking of which, it’s lunch and rugby with the guys today, in trade for girls’ day at the spa tomorrow. You coming?”

 

            “Can I go to the spa instead?” When Ianto swatted his arse Jack made a face. “What? Those sea salt body wraps Gwen and Martha were talking about sound fantastic!”

 

            “Vain. Vain. Vain.” Ianto chanted mockingly as he jumped out of bed. “I’m going to shower."

 

            He heard Jack’s phone ring as he walked into the bathroom. Ianto always thought of this particular room as Jack’s own space. When they had bought the place Jack had contacted the best known – and most expensive – bathroom designer in Cardiff and they had happily torn the room down to the bare walls and started again. Ianto, who hadn’t even known there were such folk as bathroom designers, stood by in bemusement as his partner immersed himself in the arcane subjects of chrome fittings, spa tubs, and indirect lighting.

 

            It wasn’t that Jack didn’t take Ianto’s taste into consideration. The place was decorated in Ianto’s own favorite greens and browns and there was cleverly placed cabinetry that kept clutter to a minimum. Even the dirty-clothes bin was hidden behind elegant wood doors. Everything else, though, was a tribute to Jack’s need for pampering.

 

            A huge glassed-in shower dominated the room. It had several shower heads that would deliver perfectly heated water at any pressure desired to every part of the body. At the press of a button the whole thing turned into a sauna; there was even a bench at one end to lounge and indulge. Ianto got a bit hard just from remembering some of the more memorable times he had spent on that bench. Jack was very very good at indulging himself.

 

            On the other side of the room were twin sinks with special lighting controls that could deliver anything from strong white light to let you see yourself clearly while shaving to a gentle soothing amber that did wonders for a hangover. The tub also had special lighting; Jack claimed a bathroom was no place for overhead bulbs. Ever the toilet, which looked more like a modern piece of furniture than a sanitary convenience, had its own lighting controls.

 

            When Ianto had teased Jack about the bathroom, his partner had told him firmly that indoor plumbing was one of the great human cultural advances and he saw no reason to deprive himself.

 

            “I grew up in a farming settlement in the middle of nowhere. Primitive doesn’t even begin to describe it. Loos were tiny cubicles with a bench that had a hole in it over a conveyor belt that carried everything away to the waste recycling facility. Showers were strictly rationed to conserve water. The best time in the Boeshane was the rainy season. Everyone walked outside without a stitch the moment the first drops hit. It looked like a drug-induced orgy except people were soaping each other up instead of fucking. I like the idea of water on demand. Besides, by fifty-first century standards this is barely adequate.”

 

            Ianto had to admit that it had been easy to adjust to Jack’s idea of barely adequate. Stepping into the shower he adjusted the shower heads to deliver a rhythmic massage to his shoulders and back. He poured a bit of the sinfully expensive liquid soap Jack insisted on buying him because “it smells just like you” on a washcloth (Egyptian cotton, thank you very much) and was soaping up when he heard Jack walk in.

 

            “I forgot to tell you,” Jack said as he examined his face in the mirror over one of the sinks, “that I ran into Mrs. Bolton the other day.”

 

            “You ran into Mrs. Bolton? How in the world did you manage that?”

 

            “By the simple expedient of finding out where she was staying and going to visit,” Jack said sheepishly. “I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

 

            “And is she?”

 

            “Yeah. Turns out Davies left her a nice little inheritance, so financially she’ll be fine. She did say she didn’t know what to do with herself now that he wasn’t around. Something about always doing for a nice gentleman and the devil making trouble for idle hands or something. Anyway. I hired her.”

 

            “You what?”

 

            “I hired her. Now, before you say anything, you know we’re both busy and I don’t like having an impersonal cleaning service in the flat every few weeks and you end up doing all the work anyway and you shouldn’t and besides Martha and Gwen could also use some help which Mrs. Bolton said she would be happy to oblige and…”

 

            Ianto, who had been trying unsuccessfully for a while to interrupt, resorted to a high-pitched whistle. “Silence. That’s much better. About Mrs. Bolton, I’m glad you hired her.”

 

            “You are?”

 

            “Sure. Mrs. Bolton is a very nice lady who is also a first class cook. What’s not to like? Besides, I have the feeling she knows how to keep secrets. If she finds out anything she shouldn’t she won’t go blabbing to her canasta club.”

 

            “Good, that’s settled then.” Jack stepped into the shower and crowded Ianto against the tile. “Because I have much more interesting things to do than to discuss our new housekeeper.”

 

            He put his hands on the wall on either side of Ianto’s head and pressed in with his hips. Ianto moaned as he felt Jack’s cock brush against his.

 

            “Oh, yeah,” Jack whispered, rocking his hips slightly. “Have I told you how much… yeah, just like that… I love… yeah… that sound?”

 

            Ianto grabbed at Jack’s neck with both hands and pulled him into a ferocious kiss. They sucked and bit at each other, egging each other on to the edge of violence, then back, easing into a passionate tangle of lips and tongues until they were gasping for air.

 

            “If we don’t slow this down,” Ianto said “it won’t last very long, and I have plans.”

            “Plans?” Jack grinned.

 

            “Yes, plans, Captain Harkness.” Ianto took a soft bite at Jack’s chin. “So who was on the phone?”

 

            Jack, busy running his fingers along the crack of Ianto’s arse and dipping down to his balls, didn’t answer until Ianto grabbed his head, forcing Jack to look at him, and mouthed telephone. “Oh.Yeah. Telephone. It was John. He asked if he could take some time off. I said yes.”

 

            “John? What did he want time off for?”

 

            “Isabella has invited him to Egypt.”

 

            Ianto dropped his hands as if he’d been burned. “John is going… Isabella? Isabella has invited John… what?”

 

            Jack laughed out loud at his partner’s befuddlement. “Yes. Isabella. John. Egypt.”

 

            “Jack… but…what the…” Ianto was incoherent. “But he…”

 

            Jack pushed Ianto back against the tile, and this time used his whole body to hold him in place. “Ianto. You have to stop worrying about John. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
                                                         ****************

The tale of Ianto's developing talents will be continued in The Siege of Annwfn. But before we follow Jack and Ianto into the Welsh underworld, we'll step back and find out how PC Andy joined Torchwood in The Mermaid of Mermaid Quay.