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CHARACTERS: Ianto Jones, OPEN
LOCATION: The Gardens
WARNINGS: Minor depictions of PTSD and Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of physical and mental abuse, cannibalism and body horror
SUMMARY: Ianto is back on the TQ, only a little worse for wear physically after the rescue team stormed Melkor's base. Now he has to work through the mental and emotional aftermath.
NOTES: Responses may be from both Ianto and Jack. Former captives are especially welcome!

They've temporarily relocated to the gardens, he and Jack. On finally returning to the Tranquility, Ianto had surprised even himself by nearly panicking at the enclosed dimness of their quarters. He'd insisted on checking on Myfanwy in a way that had fooled absolutely no one, especially not Jack, and they'd headed to the gardens immediately. Ianto had needed the light, the open brightness.

His wrists and neck are still chafed and sore, bite marks having broken open the skin around his wrists where he'd tried to chew through his bonds. He'd refused to go to the medbay and have it all bandaged; he didn't need medical attention, not like the others did. Jack had ultimately insisted on bandaging it all himself and Ianto had acquiesced.

He keeps close to Jack at all times, partially out of an unspoken fear that they'll be forcefully parted again, partially because he knows Jack can't be as alright as he's pretending to be, not after what Melkor did to him.

And that, he thinks, is his fault too. A lot of things are his fault. The worst of it is that there's some small part of him that feels bad for betraying Melkor. And that's crazy, it's some kind of bizarre misplaced sympathy, but knowing that doesn't help get rid of it.

As he recalls the almost crazed need he'd had to get back to the Tranquility, he wonders what else has been done to his mind.

CHARACTERS: Godric, Eric, Thranduil, Seraphim, generally OPEN to garden inhabitants
LOCATION: The Gardens
WARNINGS: Depictions and mentions of mental and emotional trauma
SUMMARY: Godric set out to rescue his progeny and his bonded from Melkor, and now they're back safely if not entirely alright. Torn between keeping an eye on both, he's brought Seraphim to the gardens to stay with them.
NOTES:

[A] Being torn between two bonds is something that can fray the nerves of even the strongest vampire. Eric would be his priority in most cases, but Eric is with Thranduil for now, something that gives him leave enough to focus on Seraphim.

Only after being assured that she's none the worse for wear does he go with her to collect some of her things, insisting that she remain close to him for now. She gives no protest, still shaken from her experience. Godric can feel it, the tremors along their bond less than they had been, but still not entirely settled. She likely won't be fully settled for some time yet.

[B] Once Godric is assured that Seraphim is settled nearby, he seeks out his child. Eric's emotional state has been battering him through their bond for so long that he itches to be near him, to take the pain and torment from him. Thranduil's presence is a boon, and a great comfort. He expects to find them together.

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Jack has been pretty afraid of what might visit him in his dreams as well, has been lying awake pretty much ever since he revived from his death on Arima and they got back to the Tranquility. Part of it is because he isn't ready to face what he knows is coming for him when he does dream, yes, but the other part is because he knows if he does sleep and he does dream, Ianto will feel the need to try and support him through it, and he can tell that Ianto's barely managing to support himself through what happened, never mind Jack and his own issues.

And so they find themselves lying there, and Jack knows that Ianto's awake as he holds him close, but it isn't until he speaks that he knows what's really on his mind. "Shh," Jack says, softly, moving to push himself up to look at Ianto, although his arm is still around the other man, "hey. It's alright. What do you have to be sorry for?"

Ianto ducks his head, finding it difficult to keep eye contact for long without feeling like he might fall to pieces.

"I still don't know how he got me on that shuttle, but I should have seen the trap. I should never have ended up in that situation, should have... I don't know. Been better. Good enough that I wouldn't get caught. God, he used me as bait, and y-you—" He breaks off, the bile rising in his throat as he remembers Melkor bringing in Jack's mutilated corpse.

"Hey," Jack soothes, gently rubbing Ianto's back gently, knowing where he's going with that thought and not liking it in the least. "That wasn't your fault, alright? I knew exactly who I was going to run into when I walked into that place. If you hadn't sent out that message, we would have never been able to find you. Find the others." It was a good, brave thing that Ianto did, knowing that he could get caught for it, knowing that things could go wrong (and wrong they did go), but fighting the good fight anyway.

Jack rubs Ianto's back some more before he reaches a hand to tip his face up to meet his eyes. "Nothing that he did to anyone was your fault, especially not what happened to me." He wants to make that abundantly clear - what happened to him was horrible, but he'd do it all over again if it meant saving them, getting Ianto out of there and back to relative safety, here in his arms as he is.

Ianto knows logically that Jack is right, at least in part. The signal had been necessary, had been the key to bringing in the cavalry, and it had saved lives. But Ianto had let his fear get the better of him in the end, and what had followed... He shakes his head shortly.

"He knew he could use us against each other. When he caught me, he was right there, looking over my shoulder—" A shudder goes through him, the recollection of Melkor's low voice in his ear enough to give him nightmares. "—telling me what to say. He wanted you to come, and I was so bloody terrified of him that I didn't even argue! I just led you right into a trap."

Jack runs a hand over Ianto's back gently, frowning at Ianto's words. Yes, he had led him into a trap. But it was a trap that he had been expecting. He had warned him of the trap, Jack knew of the consequences of what might happen if he didn't show up. "Ianto, I knew what I was getting myself into when I got there," he says, as gently as he can while still asserting his point. Well, not specifically, but he had been warned that Morgoth was capable of incredible cruelty.

"Part of the plan was leading me right into that trap, while the rest of them snuck in the back door." He shakes his head. "Like hell I was going to test his bluff just because it was going to be dangerous for me." He really doesn't need to remind Ianto that he can survive anything. Ianto's seen that first-hand enough times to know by now.

"Maybe you could have come up with a better plan, if I'd just held it together a little longer." He pulls in an unsteady breath, shaking his head. He knows better than this. This incredible guilt welling up inside of him is more than just his perceived failure.

"I'm sorry. I know the odds of a good outcome were low from the beginning. I know it doesn't do any good to go over it in my head, but I can't help it. I can't help but feel guilty about it, about... about everything. Even about betraying him! How fucked up is that?" It leaves him feeling raw and split open to confess that, as if confessing to an unconscionable crime. He lets out an unsteady, teary laugh.

"They were both inside my mind, Jack," he continues, weakly. "I think they might have trashed the place."

Jack can hear the tears in Ianto's voice, in his sigh, in the laugh that definitely doesn't have any humor to it at all. And he doesn't like it, one single bit. Morgoth got into his head himself, of course he had been in Ianto's head. And Ianto had been his captive for so much longer than Jack had been in Morgoth's presence.

He reaches out to run his hand through Ianto's hair, gently, tracing his fingers down the line of Ianto's cheek. He isn't sure whether he should offer or not. Enough people have been in Ianto's head lately, without him poking around in there himself. But at least he's someone Ianto trusts. There's no hurt in at least offering. "...I could take a look, if you like," he says, quietly. "I've had the right training. I don't mean through Torchwood, they barely knew what they were messing with half the time, but." He strokes his finger down Ianto's cheek. "I could check it out for you. I won't do anything that you're not okay with me doing," he reassures, quickly.

The touch is soothing, and Ianto calms a fraction, only to tense at Jack's offer. Then, by measures, he relaxes again. The idea of having someone in his mind again is knee-jerk terrifying. Ianto's only experience with it has been in violation. But because of that, and because he has so little knowledge of how to self-diagnose an inflicted mental problem, he has no idea how to tell how much damage there is, or how deep it goes. He doesn't know how to tell if some of his thoughts are no longer his own. And that's more horrifying than anything.

And this isn't some two-bit psychic offering his services, this is Jack. This is arguably the only person he will ever trust to do this.

Feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way he hasn't since he was a child, Ianto nods hesitantly.

"Alright. Just a look, right?" He remembers the way it felt when Melkor engulfed his mind, remembers the taste of blood in his throat. He remembers how it felt when Mairon went rummaging through his memories.

Jack nods and shifts forward to press a kiss to Ianto's lips before he pulls back slightly, moving to rest his forehead against Ianto's. "Just a look," he says, gently. "I promise."

He rests his hand against Ianto's cheek, keeping his forehead pressed against Ianto's, before he closes his eyes and descends. He doesn't really need to close his eyes, it just helps, and he's sure it makes it easier for Ianto to process what he's doing as well. It isn't difficult to do - he's been trained for these things, and Ianto's basically left himself wide open since they got back. "Relax," he coaxes, gently, reaching out into Ianto's mind. The last thing he needs is for Ianto to shut the door behind him while he's poking around in there.

His touch is gentle, but Ianto should be able to feel his presence in his head. He imagines a calming presence, a gentle hand, reaching out to hold Ianto's and reassure him that it's okay, really, projects the feeling of being wrapped up warm and safe and hopes that it comes through and distracts from his scratching around in his mind instead. "I'm going to look for anything he changed, okay? Anything that doesn't feel right." He speaks aloud, his voice calm and steady. "If I find anything, I won't touch it, I'll let you know first."

Ianto does his best to relax, but it's difficult. At the first touch of Jack's mind to his, he nearly panics, nearly tries to shove Jack out (though he doesn't know how, the urge is instinctive), nearly tries to physically scramble away. But the touch is gentle, soothing like a warm bath, like a blanket on a cold night. It doesn't hurt or overwhelm. The fright recedes and he finally eases into Jack's hold, mental and physical. His mind is naked and defenseless, but Jack cradles him so carefully he can't help but feel safe.

"Okay," he whispers, and carefully does nothing, giving Jack free reign to explore as he needs to.

Ianto's mind is a bit of a mess in the same way a ransacked home is a mess. The furniture is overturned, Mairon's deliberate delving for bits and pieces leaving the chaos of it behind him, nothing put back in its place. The door is kicked in, the lock shattered like glass (and that was Torchwood One training, that flimsy lock), but the foundation is still solid. The ceilings and the walls still intact. If it were a wound, it would be red and swollen, irritated but clean, uninfected. Nothing was left behind that didn't grow on its own; fear, anxiety, guilt and helpless anger the natural results of what was done to him and those around him.

Some of the memories that lay scattered on the floor are new ones, born of his experiences in Morgoth's company, and they throb angrily. Some memories will do that. Sometimes they don't stop hurting for a long time. Sometimes they have to scab over.

Jack makes sure to hold Ianto's hand as he walks the room of his mind. Makes sure not to touch anything just yet. He has promised he will only be looking for damage, and that's what he does, carefully stepping around the mess left behind by Morgoth and Mairon, careful not to let himself get emotional about the state of what he's finding. "Your shields are down," he says, although Ianto would have known that. Might as well start with the obvious. "The foundation is still solid, though." The walls, the ceilings, the floor. The fact that it all makes as much sense as it still does means that they have not been too heavy-handed. Of course, Jack would have been able to know that even before descending into his mind - Ianto wouldn't have been anywhere near as functional as he had been if they'd destroyed any of the structure.

He takes his time, looking over the bits and pieces scattered around, overturned and thrown carelessly aside, out of their neat and orderly places. Some of it is new - the new memories - and in fairly bad shape. It hurts to look at them, but they will have their place as well. Jack runs his hand over an overturned chair of a memory, angry red from its abuse but at his touch the hue softens slightly, to more of the color it should be. "They messed you up pretty good," he says, softly. "But nothing's there that shouldn't be. It's just out of place." He traces his thumb along Ianto's cheek again. "I can help you clean up a little, if you're okay with that? It might take a bit of time, but..." It's time that Jack's certainly willing to spend, himself.

The relief that rushes through him escapes him in a sharp release of breath. Nothing there that shouldn't be. It's just a bloody mess. That's a better diagnosis than he'd hoped for. But a mess is still a mess, and Jack's offer hangs in the air for a moment. He grasps Jack's shirt tightly in his hands.

"My crap shields aren't down, they're shattered. Gone. I don't remember how to build them, and I was never very good at any of it. You can— I'd like it cleaned up, but I don't know how long I can handle this, Jack." Because even though it's Jack, and Jack is warm and welcome, there is still a foreign entity in his mind and he isn't used to it. Like all new things out of one's comfort zone, the anxiety may eventually get the better of him and he'll have to call it quits.

Jack presses forward and their lips meet in a gentle kiss. Almost only the meeting of lips although it doesn't have to be much to be intimate, considering how far Jack is in Ianto's mind right now. "We'll go for as long as you can handle," he says, softly. "When you think you've had enough, you let me know. I'll step out. We can come back to it." He thinks he may be of some help with the shields too, but one step at a time.

First thing's first, the mess in front of him. And a mess it is. If he doesn't have enough time to get to everything, he figures he'll start with the biggest stuff first and work his way down to the nitty gritty. Even before he can start moving anything he needs to cleanse it though. Cleanse it of Morgoth and Mairon's influence, ease the aching associated with each angry burning touch, and go from there. Only after those marks have settled down can he start thinking about easing everything back into place. Some of it is more easily said than done. There are some large pieces that had been overturned, by their meddling. Jack tries not to look too hard at what they might be as he sets about righting them. He is in Ianto's mind, the most private place to be. It's bad psychic etiquette to look where you're not specifically invited to go. All the more reason to be upset at Morgoth and Mairon for what they have done here.

Ianto wraps his arms around Jack, keeping him close as Jack goes to work, their breaths mingling. He doesn't have enough psychic awareness to fully understand what Jack is doing, but some of the worst aches left from Arima ease a little as Jack goes. It isn't a healing, but it's a start.

Every now and then, the ghost of a memory flares up in his mind, like a smell that's strikingly familiar for a reason you can't quite grasp. They're not all good memories, and occasionally one leaves him feeling unsettled. But Jack isn't ripping them open like Mairon had done, and so he doesn't relive them.

Then there's one, propped red and burning in the corner like a land mine, that splits open at Jack's tenderest touch.

Melkor's hands, broad, long-fingered, and very strong, smooth over Ianto's shoulders.

"If you're so desperate for him to find you, Ianto, then craft your message anew." Melkor is leaning, chin tucked just over Ianto's shoulder. The words are warm enough to chase the chill from his cheek.

"Tell him that he has 'til morning to find you. Less than twelve hours. I shall let you be reunited if he can make it in time; if not, I shall unmake you, and have your disparate parts scattered about the colony for him to hunt for."

Ianto gasps, eyes flying open as the memory plays out unbidden by either of them.

"Stop..! Stop, Jack!" That memory plays on, Ianto knows. That memory ends in horror, in Jack's corpse.

Edited 2014-05-04 07:12 (UTC)

Jack can feel the memory burst under his fingers, like a leak being sprung, while in the physical world Into begins to flail against him. He can see where this is going. He knows where it will end. He recognizes that the last thing that Ianto wants to do is relive or rewatch this, especially now. He also knows that the worst thing that he can do is to just leave it like this. Ianto might have to relive it anyway. It could be the foremost thought in his mind, until they come back to patch it up again. Or worse.

He knows Ianto wants him out now. And he told the other man to tell him when he'd had enough. But in this case... He needs to take an extra few moments to make sure he's not going to leave the place in ruins. Steeling himself, knowing a quick fix really isn't going to be ideal but it will have to do for now, Jack forces his energy over the memory, overwhelming it into a stop with a memory of his own choosing. Quick, Jack, pick just the right one. There. The night he had left Ianto the ring. It's haphazard - like a piece of tape to hold a leak in a water balloon, but it'll have to do for the moment. And then he pulls out.

It's disorienting, to come back to himself that fast, but he'll focus on him later. For now he's opening his eyes and cupping Ianto's face in his hands to get him to focus on him. "Hey," he coaxes, gently. "Look at me. You okay?"

Ianto breathes harshly, gathering himself. The memory, terrible as it is, is now just a memory. It isn't happening anymore. And it had been interrupted in a quick, almost jarring way, replaced by a much kinder memory, full of joy. It makes him dizzy, and he knows Jack must have done it somehow on his way out.

Looking at Jack, he nods. He's the only one in his mind now, and once his heart slows down, once the disorientation fades, he feels a little steadier. That memory is there though, in the peripheral vision of his mind, threatening to spill over again.

"I think so."

Jack frowns, stroking a hand through Ianto's hair. "I know you're not gonna like this one bit, but I can't just leave it like that. That memory was toxic enough, before things spilled over. That patch isn't going to hold forever and if it isn't taken care of properly, it could fester. Think like..." He struggles for the right sort of analogy. "A slow leak, I guess is the best way to describe it, only a lot more toxic, and in your head, with that memory."

He meets Ianto's eyes, honestly. "You need to let me go back in. You can take a breather for a moment, and the only thing that I need to go back in for would be that, but it's important that you let me do this if you don't want that memory to stay with you until the next time we do this."

Ianto knows his fingers must be bruising, digging into Jack as they are now, but he's frozen, unable to let up on his grip. Jack's words ring in his ears like a dark prophecy. He's shaking lightly, adrenaline running through him at either prospect available to him. To let Jack back into his mind, or to let that memory remain at the forefront of his thoughts until he can stand another session of this.

It's not contest, really, but his stomach still flips uneasily at the thought of letting Jack back in there so quickly.

"...Okay. Okay. Give me a minute? Let's stay like this for just a minute." Until he can stop shaking, at least. He focuses on the patch, the good memory, attempting to find his center of calm again. Finding the ring. The warm flutter in his belly. Sipping the ring onto his finger, his quiet exhilaration. Slowly, it begins to work.

Jack nods, moving to take Ianto in his arms, pulling him close to his chest. "Take your time," he coaxes him gently. "Take all the time you need. You're okay." He runs his hands down Ianto's back, gently. "Just the one thing, and then we can call it a day. Come back to it later." He moves to stroke a hand through Ianto's hair again, down his face, his neck.

He knows that this is a moment for Ianto to collect himself, to take a moment to himself inside his head before he lets Jack go poking around in there again, so he falls quiet, just holding him, stroking, a strong, solid presence for him to hold onto. He's hoping that memory patching trick did the trick, that it was the right choice. There were a lot of directions he could have gone, but in the end he tried to find one that would have been the most positive, with the least negatives attached to it as well.

Eventually, Ianto's fingers loosen their grip and he breathes easier. The looming panic abates, and slowly he begins to work himself up to letting Jack in his head again. He doesn't honestly feel ready, but he suspects that he won't any time soon. He'd prefer to go a few days, but this won't wait, and he'd rather get it over with.

Bracing himself, Ianto inhales deeply, taking in Jack's scent, settling deeper into his embrace.

"Okay. I'm ready."

Jack curls tighter around Ianto, tucking his head in the crook of his shoulder as he does. His fingers rub circles against Ianto's shoulderblades and he nods in return to Ianto's go-ahead.

"Okay," he replies. He knows that he doesn't have much time, even with the permission Ianto is giving him. So he descends fast to get this done right. It will, of course, mean removing the patch and putting that memory back in its rightful place. Putting the rest of the fire out with an even gentler touch than he had been using before. He does these things with the utmost caution, knowing that one wrong step could start a whole hell of trouble. It's got to be uncomfortable. This memory is ugly, in ways that Jack tries very hard not to think about.

When it is mended and uprighted, put in its place and tended to, it's still a pretty angry memory, but it's as good as it can get without time to heal it, and Jack takes a deep breath and steps back out of Ianto's mind again for the second time that night. Turning his head, he presses a kiss against Ianto's jaw before he asks, quietly, "Better?"

It's hard going, and though Jack is both skilled and gentle, the frequent touches to that memory make his heart beat faster, unsteadily, and his muscles tense. What calm he'd won before quickly begins to dissipate. He doesn't call for Jack to stop; Jack would have already left if he were done. But even though it takes only a minute, time seems to stretch on for Ianto, until he makes a noise of distress.

Before he can break down and ask Jack to stop again, Jack is suddenly gone, the memory still fresh and menacing but tucked away in its proper place. Ianto can feel that, even if he doesn't understand exactly what Jack did or how. There's so much more to fix and much more time required to heal, but his head feels a little clearer, and he's the only person left in the sanctity of his mind.

That's almost as deep a comfort as knowing there's nothing in there that shouldn't be.

"Better," he answers just as quietly, wonderingly. Then he cups Jack's face in his hands and kisses him soundly.

While as deeply entrenched in Ianto's mind, concentrating as hard as he is on what he's doing and the fragility of the task at hand, Jack barely registers the noise of distress that Ianto makes, but he can still feel it. It's a wonder that he wasn't expelled out, although Ianto did invite him in, and he's honestly not sure how much psychic training Ianto's had, what Torchwood One might have trained him in, especially as a Junior Researcher as he was. But on the outside again, Jack makes a note to touch on it, when he can. It'll be a good skill to hone, and even if Ianto might not have much in the way of offense, at least resurrecting his defenses shouldn't be a bad idea.

It's obvious that the other man is grateful, though, as he finds himself being kissed right around the time he's coming back into his own. He warms into it, moving to clutch at Ianto's shoulders, running his hands up and through his hair. He could get used to staying here, in the gardens, for a while. For as long as Ianto needs, really. It isn't exactly living rough, they've got a camp and provisions with them and can go back out to the kitchens whenever they so choose. Hell, even if it weren't that easy, he still wouldn't mind it, because he can see how grateful Ianto is for having the open air around them. And at this point, Jack would do anything for him. (Ianto might find himself with a Jack-shaped shadow, for the next while.)

"Thank you," he breathes as he breaks off. He remains curled against Jack, comfortable and comforted, stroking his fingers across Jack's features. It slowly sinks in, the enormity of what they just did, and the enormity of trust that had been involved, leaving him amazed and only a little shaken. Ianto very firmly does not want anyone playing around in his head ever again, but he can tolerate this. Jack had been so careful.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" He hopes it isn't one of those questions that Jack considers off-limits.

Where the question might have been off-limits in other contexts, Jack is feeling oddly open right now. Perhaps it is because he has just spent so much time in the private confines of Ianto's own mind, it's only fair that he give something in return. "The Academy," Jack says, softly, leaning into Ianto's touch. "I had a sort of knack for the psychic courses. Among other things." Which isn't giving much away, but considering how much he's usually said, it's saying a whole hell of a lot.

All of a sudden, it hits him how tired he is. How much that sort of thing takes out of a person, how careful he had to be while immersed in Ianto's mind, how he really has no concept of how much time has passed since he first started. He hasn't been sleeping very well lately either, not that he ever needs to sleep much. He takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying not to look or sound as weary as he feels - a bit closer to his real age than usual. "Some of us got special training. Didn't think much of it at the time. Comes in handy now and then, though."

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