Ficlet: Tired

[badly_knitted]

Title: Tired
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 576
Spoilers: Exit Wounds.
Summary: Working for Torchwood has never been an easy job, but now it seems impossible.
Written For: toomanyghosts’ prompt ‘any ; any ; i'm just so fucking tired,’ at threesentenceficathon.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
 


 

Torchwood had always been a difficult job: long hours, frequent danger, very little time off, and often no time to eat a proper meal, not enough sleep, living on coffee fumes and catnaps. But that was then, in the before time that now seemed like a distant memory, when there had been five people to do all the work, and if that had been hard, now the job was all but impossible. And yet, it still had to be done, because there were still Weevils to deal with, and the Rift didn’t stop just because there was no time to deal with everything it chucked at them.

 
Ianto was run ragged, had been for days, and there was no sign of anything easing up anytime soon. The caffeine wasn’t working anymore, or maybe he was just too numb to feel its effects, because he was beyond bone weary, and now on top of everything else, there was Jack, and…
 

He loved Jack, despite everything he’d done, or because of everything he’d done, or for other reasons, or just because he was Jack, and impossible not to love, but right now, Ianto just wished Jack would get the hint and go away. Because Ianto hurt so much, inside and out, and no matter how much work he did, his to-do list just kept getting longer, and the three of them could NOT keep on going like this, or at least Ianto couldn’t. Unlike Jack, he wasn’t immortal, didn’t heal from every little thing in a matter of hours, and he was so frayed around the edges that if one more thread was pulled, he was going to unravel, and then where would the team be? He was all that was holding them together.
 

“Ianto? Ianto, what’s wrong?”
 

Ianto knew Jack had been talking to him, but he didn’t think he’d heard a single word. Not that it mattered, since nothing was making much sense anyway; his brain was fried, his eyes were burning, and… there was something else, but he’d forgotten what it was.
 

“Ianto?”
 

“Give it a rest, Jack, I’ve been on the go for…” He shook his head, exasperated with himself, annoyed with Jack for interrupting his train of thought, because he’d been about to do something, and now he didn’t know what. “Don’t remember how long. Too long. I’m just so fucking tired, all the time! There aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done. I just want to sleep, but every time I close my eyes…” The nightmares were even worse now than they had been after Canary Wharf. Lisa still featured heavily, and Cybermen, and Daleks, but now there was Tosh, and Owen, begging him to help them, to save them, and John bloody Hart, and Jack’s brother sneering at them as he killed them all, over and over, and… “I can’t do this anymore, Jack, it’s too much, I just want to forget, close my eyes, and just have everything go away. It hurts.”
 

“It’ll be alright, Ianto. Come with me, let me take care of you.” Jack steered him down into the cramped bunker beneath his office, and Ianto let him, too tired to argue that he still had work to do. “Lie down and sleep; I’ll watch over you and keep the nightmares away. I know it’s hard, but we’ll get through this, Ianto, I promise.”
 

And even though it seemed impossible, Ianto wanted to believe him.
 
 

The End
 



 
 
 

Comments

[mrs_sweetpeach]

Ianto really has my sympathy here; last night we got home so late I had trouble brushing my teeth and using my sinus rinse. I'm amazed I didn't collapse in the shower before I fell into bed.

[badly_knitted]

He's having a rough time, dealing with the loss of two close friends while trying to hold the rest of the team together, do all his work, and a lot that used to be done by his friends. Grief and exhaustion are not a good mix.

Thank you.