Chapter Text
The Butler and the Spy
by Lilithangel
Ianto woke with the certain knowledge that there was someone in the house. He knew how the house felt when everyone was settled in for the night and every door was locked tight. So either one of the staff was up for a midnight snack or someone had broken in.
He pulled on a robe and picked up the fire poker. His quarters were just off the kitchen and he saw the flicker of a lantern move through the darkness. Whoever they were, they were in the pantry making a mess.
Pushing open the door Ianto leapt inside, poker raised and flipped on the light switch. The face that spun around and the hand that took the poker from him were frustratingly familiar and he relaxed his guard.
“At ease soldier,” the annoying voice drawled.
“It’s Mr Jones to you,” he replied.
“Just popped in for a chat with Jack, Mr Jones, and a quick bite to eat. I’ll be out of your way in no time.” John stroked the side of Ianto’s face with the handle of the poker briefly.
Ianto glared at John Hart and pushed the poker away. The Captain’s presence always meant trouble. The Captain was more disreputable looking than normal and Ianto could tell he was favouring one side. As much as he despised the man Ianto knew Jack would want John cared for. He also knew Jack took great glee in throwing them together for some reason so there was no point in just letting John carry on without assisting.
“The squire has a guest with him and would not appreciate you disturbing him at this time,” he said. “Let me arrange you a bath and a proper meal,” he added with a frown at the messy sandwich John had made.
“The feisty doctor’s visiting is he?” John said with a smirk, “I won’t interrupt. Don’t put yourself out for me, Mr Jones.”
“Nonsense,” Ianto said firmly repressing his desire to take John at his word, “you are a friend of Mr Jack’s and will be accorded all hospitality.” He stepped away from John quickly.
The staff at the manor was well used to Jack’s friends arriving at strange hours and Millie the tweenie put water on to boil while Matthew the footman dragged out the bath and stoked up the fire. They had been in the same bed when Ianto woke Matthew anyway. The squire paid well and no questions were asked of where anybody chose to sleep. So long as everyone did their jobs properly Mr Jones never said anything either and it was Mr Jones that everyone had to please.
Ianto prepared a proper repast for John and then hustled Millie and Matthew out of the kitchen before John had a chance to proposition them again. Things might be relaxed at the manor, but nobody was relaxed as John.
John had dropped his clothes unselfconsciously, climbing into the warm water with a sigh. Ianto released his own sigh when he saw the state of John’s clothes. He didn’t know anyone as skilled at destroying cloth as the man lounging in the bath, as well as flesh if the quick glance he had grabbed was correct.
He didn’t want to wake Owen up from a well earned rest, but he was afraid he might have to. The doctor had spent a long week coping with an influenza outbreak in the village only to have to return to the manor to treat the squire. Jack had worked tirelessly by his side and then gone out into the village to help where he could, and succumbed to the illness.
Ianto and Owen had shared duties caring for Jack the way they had when they all first met. They both shared the same fears again until Jack’s fever broke. The entire manor had conspired to keep Owen tucked up in bed for the last two days beside the squire.
“You look tired, Mr Jones,” John’s voice broke through Ianto’s reverie, “why don’t you join me, I’m sure I could help you relax.”
Ianto sighed, in irritation this time. For a fleeting moment he had thought the Captain had been concerned for him but it was just another excuse to tease him.
“I’ll see what I can do with your clothing sir,” he said, not rising to the bait. He placed the food within easy reach of the bath and turned to gather up the clothes.
“Put them at the foot of your bed maybe,” John said with a lazy grin. Ianto stiffened but did not turn around. He picked up the discarded clothes and left quickly.
John sighed as Ianto left and relaxed properly into the water. Ianto was just too easy to rile. He knew he shouldn’t but ever since he met the prickly young man he had enjoyed seeing the fire flash in the doe-like eyes.
He had met Ianto as a young valet in very similar circumstances to what had just happened. He had been crawling into Jack’s apartments via the small kitchen window and was nearly decapitated by an enthusiastic swing from Ianto wielding a cricket bat. Jack had woken on that occasion and stopped them from killing each other, finding Ianto facing down the barrel of John’s pistol. Ianto had been very offended by John’s appearance and behaviour and John just could resist teasing.
He was also very much aware of the crush Ianto had on Jack at the time. He and Jack had a very on-again off-again relationship and the stiff Welsh valet had not approved.
Really it had been Jack’s fault for hiring such a stuffed shirt and not imagining that John wouldn’t want to tweak his reserve just a little. Jack normally found people with remarkable levels of tolerance, with little quirks in their personality that meant they saw the world with a lot more flexibility than most. Obviously Mr Jones was more flexible than he acted around John.
John’s job sent him to places nobody should ever see and he had developed a personality to cope. He had always been wild, ‘too intelligent for his own good’ the school masters had said. If he hadn’t been the grandson of a wealthy patron he wouldn’t have lasted long enough to meet Jack.
They had both stood out from most of the school for very different reasons, but it was enough to forge a friendship that lasted through school and the very different careers they ended up in. Most everyone loved Jack; he was charming and flirted and normally got away with it. John had been underestimated by everyone but Jack. His slight frame and high cheekbones making people think he was weak. It didn’t take long to disabuse people of that notion but it did alienate him from most of the school. Except for Jack.
They explored their waking sexuality together and discovered a liking for the male form that would have gotten them beaten up or worse if it had been anyone else. Youthful fumbles turned into wild passionate nights as they shared an apartment at university. Until war broke out and Jack convinced John to join up with him. Officer training sent them on very different paths and the passion burned down to a comfortable friendship. It didn’t stop them sharing a bunk when they did meet up with increasing infrequency, but they both knew it wasn’t an ever after love.
John knew that when he first saw Jack’s dark haired valet. Well Jack knew it when he saw the way John looked at Ianto. It took John a bit longer to realise it and by then Ianto had absorbed and believed the amoral trouble maker John had taken so long to perfect.
The war ended but John’s job didn’t. There were so many nasty little messes to sort out on both sides. Secrets to be uncovered and others to be made to disappear for the good of crown and country. Many of the things John had done sat heavy on his battered soul but he had been raised a patriot and protecting the crown was more important than the look of disgust in a pair of hazel eyes, and the money was very attractive too.
Ianto returned with a clean robe just as John was dozing off in the cooling water. John blinked lazily at Ianto and climbed out of the bath to dry himself on the linen Ianto had provided. He let Ianto assist him into the robe and tied it loosely around his waist. Ianto could tell by the gleam in the other man’s eyes that he was going to be teased again, but Owen’s sleepy arrival in the kitchen saved him.
Owen’s eyes lit up at the sight of John and then he frowned, knowing that John would be carrying wounds he would recognise despite John’s refusal to acknowledge them.
“I’ll get my bag,” he said with irritation, “Ianto could you put the kettle on please?”
“Hello Owen, my most favourite doctor,” John said with a grin.
Owen’s irritation eased slightly under the charm, but John knew he would be getting the full lecture when Owen fixed him up. Owen possibly knew more than anyone, including Jack, about what John went through, identifying every bullet wound, knife or whip scar and burn on John’s skin, as well as the injuries he would never talk about to anyone.
Owen returned with his bag and an equally sleepy Jack who looked at John carefully and then nodded. He kissed Owen on the head, nodded again to Ianto and went back to bed.
“Drop the robe and let me look at you,” Owen ordered.
“Any excuse to get me naked,” John replied with a smirk as he obeyed.
“Like I’m interested in your scrawny arse when I’ve got Jack tucked up in bed waiting for me,” Owen retaliated.
“My arse is not scrawny,” John protested. He submitted to Owen poking and prodding him. “Your bedside manner hasn’t improved,” he grumbled.
“Neither has your ability to dodge,” Owen replied. He passed a bandage to Ianto who calmly wrapped it around John’s stomach.
The injuries Owen was patching up told a story that Ianto wasn’t sure he wanted to read. The bullet graze across John’s stomach must have been several days old by the inflammation puckering the edges. At least one of the bruises on John’s side bore the shape of a fist and had broken a rib by John’s intakes of breath as Owen manipulated the area. There were burns on his wrists that suggested ropes had been tied around them and John had struggled to get free. By far the worst was the sword wound in his upper thigh, which must have been excruciating to walk on.
Neither Owen nor Ianto bothered to ask for an explanation, John never told them the truth. Owen accepted that John didn’t want them to know and Ianto just assumed John preferred to lie. Owen sent Ianto on an errand at the end to get John alone.
“Any other injuries?” he asked carefully.
John smiled at Owen’s tact. “Not this time,” he said, “just what you can see.”
“Are you ever going to stop this?” Owen said in frustration.
“Actually yes,” John replied, “one last mission and I’m done. Figure it’s time to look at settling down,” he added for Ianto’s benefit as the butler returned. “Nice plot of land somewhere and maybe raise horses.”
Ianto snorted at John’s words. “If you’re done perhaps we can all get some sleep. Dawn’s fast approaching and some of us have work to do.”
John grinned and pulled the robe back on as Owen tidied up.
“You’re staying a while?” Owen asked John.
“Just the day,” John said, “I’ve got to be in London by tomorrow night and on the Packet to Paris Thursday. There’s a lovely lady waiting for me, we’re going to have such fun.”
Ianto huffed his disapproval at John’s words, but was there to help the other man stand. “Your room is ready for you sir.”
“Thank you Ianto, you are a god among men,” John said, he yawned, “in truth it will be welcome. I will talk to you all later, much later.” He smiled at Owen who snorted but smiled back.
“He’s a good man at heart,” Owen said with a fond smile as John left the room.
“I don’t think he’s got a heart,” Ianto replied. He stoked up the fire so that Millie wouldn’t have to. “Goodnight sir, for what’s left of it,” he added.
“Goodnight Ianto,” Owen replied, “brunch in bed I think, maybe at eleven.”
“Very good sir.”
Owen laughed at Ianto’s tone. Even after so many years they were more comfortable as friends than squire and butler, but Owen liked to play lord and master occasionally so Ianto would put on his best butler voice in reply.
The morning came far too soon for everyone, especially Ianto. The household was perfectly capable of running for a few hours without him, but he couldn’t rest with the possibility of John waking and causing havoc with the staff.
Luckily John didn’t emerge until lunchtime. When Ianto took a breakfast tray up to Owen and Jack, Owen confirmed that it was best to let John sleep. Jack frowned at the list of injuries John had sustained, only relaxing when Owen assured him none were life threatening.
Ianto never blushed at the sight of Jack and Owen in bed together, but Owen still burrowed under the bed sheets to hide his own. Jack didn’t mind because it gave him a chance to hand feed Owen breakfast.
Ianto left them to their repast and returned to the kitchen to find a flustered footman hiding in the pantry.
“Did you lay the fire in Captain John’s room, Andrew?” Ianto recognised the signs.
Andrew nodded. “The Captain was asleep Mr Jones, he had thrown off his covers and he was naked.” Andrew’s eyes were wide, “he woke slightly, saw me and rolled over onto his back. The things he suggested…”
Andrew was new to the staff and had not been exposed to John before. Ianto expected the young man would settle in nicely and be able to cope with John in the future. Ianto was pretty sure he would take up John’s offer next time unless Harry the groom managed to catch his eye. He wanted to be annoyed but it was just John.
Ianto soothed Andrew’s shocked sensibilities and assured the young footman that Captain John was mostly harmless and just liked to tease. He sat down for a coffee and sighed softly. Everyone seemed to find it easy to settle down and find someone. After Lisa died he hadn’t thought he’d ever want to love anyone again until Jack had helped heal his heart. Even though nothing physical had happened between them Ianto grew to realise he could be attracted to men and maybe there might be someone out there for him. It just seemed that nobody was quite right.
Accustomed to John’s habits, Ianto had a lunch tray prepared and took it up to John’s room himself. As Andrew had detailed John was naked. Ianto checked the bandages he could see and was pleased to see there was no sign of bleeding.
“Knew you couldn’t resist my charms,” a sleepy voice said.
Ianto rolled his eyes and placed the tray beside the bed. He opened the curtains to let in the sun, and smirked at John’s groaning protest.
“Brunch sir,” he said, “Squire Jack and Doctor Harper will be down in an hour or so and would appreciate your presence in the library when you’re ready.”
“Let me kidnap you Ianto,” John said as he helped himself to the food, “they don’t really appreciate you the way I would.”
“Thank you sir, but somehow I doubt it,” Ianto replied.
“You wound me Ianto, wound me,” John laughed as Ianto left the room. He watched the handsome butler leave, admiring the view. He always enjoyed sparring with Ianto. Jack really did have the best taste in staff and men.
He finished the food and completed his toilet, impressed by how clean Ianto had gotten his clothes. The shirt had been a disaster, but there was a pristine replacement in his size.
He wandered down to the library to find Jack and Owen making sheep-eyes at each other over a neglected game of chess.
“Spare me the hearts and flowers,” he said by way of introducing his presence.
“You love it really,” Jack said with a smile for his friend.
“How are you feeling?” Owen asked, “No new bleeding or soreness?”
“Everything’s fine except for how tight your butler bound my ribs,” John replied, knowing the man in question was standing behind him, “do you think he’s trying to tell me something?”
“That you’re a fool to take such risks,” Ianto replied, entering the room with the tea tray.
“This Paris trip,” Jack said, “anything I need to worry about?”
“Only if you’ve got a hankering for some high kicks and lacy knickers,” John said with a saucy grin.
Jack smirked at Owen and Ianto rolled his eyes. “Seriously John,” Jack continued, “is this really your last trip?”
John nodded and Jack noticed the shadows in his eyes. “Getting too old for this. Some of us may still look the same as we did ten years ago at school but the rest of us are feeling the years,” John grumbled light heartedly.
“It’s all God’s gift,” Jack preened and Owen snorted. John and Ianto shared a moment of amusement before Ianto remembered he was supposed to be annoyed with John.
“I haven’t made a lot of friends in my line of work,” John continued, “it’s time to stop before they come looking.”
“Are they likely to?” Jack asked with concern.
“I don’t think so,” John said.
“So we don’t have to plan for disgruntled husbands and musket wielding father’s descending on the manor?” Ianto said sarcastically.
“Maybe the other way around,” Jack joked. John grinned but Jack could still see the shadows in his eyes and worried. Jack knew the reason for the bravado in his friend and just wished he and Ianto could work their differences out. As much as he loved Ianto and relied on the younger man, he knew John would be good to Ianto if they would both let down their shields.
“I’ll send word when I return,” John said, his eyes dancing at Jack’s words, “you should come up and visit me in London.”
“Make sure you do,” said Jack, understanding what John was saying and giving his own message in return, “we might just take you up on that, see how the city folk live.”
“I’m coming back from this I promise.”
“I know and remember we love you.”
“When do you have to leave?” Owen asked.
“About now,” John replied, “if I want to make the early tide.”
“I’ll get your things, sir,” Ianto said.
“Anyone would think you wanted to get rid of me, Mr Jones,” John said, and Ianto just looked at him.
Ianto found John in the stables flirting shamelessly with Harry the groom. His stern cough sent Harry searching for work to do outside and left him with the amused Captain.
Ianto finished saddling the Captain’s horse and secured his bags to the saddle. Before he could turn around John had trapped him against the horse.
“Do I get a goodbye kiss, Mr Jones?” John whispered in his ear.
Ianto twisted around to glare at John only to have his mouth claimed in a kiss. For a brief moment he let himself enjoy the warmth and passion, until he felt a tongue press for entrance to his mouth and he recalled where he was. He put his hands on John’s shoulders and turned them around. He saw a shadow cross over them and then there was darkness.
Ianto woke up to pain and darkness and the sensation of being knocked about. The darkness appeared to be because of something over his head that smelt like sacking and horse feed. His hands were tied behind his back, his legs bound together and he was unable to stop his body being thrown around.
He fell against something soft which grunted and guessed it was John, the obvious reason for his predicament. Resisting the urge to kick the lump Ianto tried to make sense of his surroundings. They were in a cart of some sort and appeared to be alone. At least he hadn’t rolled into anyone else so far. He managed to brace himself against a corner and shake the sack off his head. Blinking, he waited for his eyes to adjust and the pounding in his head to ease.
The cart was covered and looked very much like the one they used at the manor for transporting livestock. John was splayed out on the floor, rolling listlessly with the rock of the cart. Ianto could see patches of blood on the white of John’s shirt and there was wetness across the sack over his head that suggested a head wound for John’s unconscious state. Obviously John had put up more of a fight than Ianto had.
As much as Ianto wanted to leave John unconscious, their chances of survival increased with his input. Ianto had no idea how long they had been unconscious or where they were being taken and why.
The cart reached a better patch of road and the ride eased enough for Ianto to scoot across to John. Wrinkling his nose from the smell Ianto grabbed hold of the sack with his teeth and pulled it free. John was sporting several bruises to his face and the hair over one ear was matted with blood.
John groaned as the sack was removed but didn’t stir and Ianto didn’t know how to wake him. Instead he tried to get free of his bonds, with little success. John moaned a couple of times and then fell silent, his body tense instead of relaxed.
“This is a fine mess you’ve got us into,” Ianto said to let John know who was there.
“How do you know it was my fault?” John said weakly.
“Last time I checked nobody wanted to knock me out and kidnap me,” Ianto said.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself;” John said with a shaky laugh, “I would have done it if I’d known you felt left out.”
“I’d rather you got us out of this one actually,” Ianto said, swallowing down his irritation.
John raised an eyebrow at his tone and wiggled upright. “Let’s see what we can do,” he said.
Ianto watched as he brought his knees up to his chest and twisted around until his hands reached his feet and then with another twist had his hands in front. He smiled cockily at Ianto who refused to look impressed. From there it was easy enough for John to loosen his bonds with his teeth and get free. He staggered slightly and Ianto watched with concern worried that he would fall unconscious again.
John stayed upright and crawled over to free Ianto.
“Who’s got us?” Ianto said as he rubbed his wrists.
“Not really sure,” John admitted, “got a few ideas but I didn’t get a good look at them. Not that it would have mattered, they felt like the muscle not the brain.” He touched the side of his head gingerly.
“Let me check,” Ianto said, ignoring his annoyance for a minute to check on John’s injuries.
“They have ruined Owen’s good work, and yours,” John said, pulling his shirt away from the bloody bandages.
The wound on John’s head wasn’t deep, it had just bled a lot as head injuries did. Ianto pulled off his neckerchief and tied it neatly around John’s head.
The cart went over rough ground and they were thrown together onto the floor, Ianto on top. John smiled and then winced as Ianto’s elbow struck his bruised ribs. The cart came to a halt and John’s eyes narrowed.
“We need to get down to the bottom of the cart,” he whispered to Ianto, “when they lift the cover, be ready to fight and run.”
Ianto nodded and they slipped down to the end of the cart. The canvas was thrown back and John kicked out at the first man, sending him flying backwards. Ianto stumbled off the cart and swung at the second man. The man stepped back, avoiding the punch. Before Ianto could swing again John was there, pummelling the other man.
“Get moving Ianto,” John yelled as the first man moved in again. Ianto couldn’t believe John expected him to just turn and run. Instead he jumped on the back of the first man and brought him down in a perfect rugby tackle.
They both tussled with their adversaries until the unmistakeable sound of muskets cocking stopped them cold. The cold touch of a barrel against the back of his head convinced Ianto to get off his opponent carefully.
John stood beside him and together they turned to face their kidnappers. The two men they had been fighting stood and grabbed them by the arms.
“Pascal,” John’s voice was colder than Ianto had ever heard, “what did I tell you about putting your filthy feet on English soil again?”
“I think you have nothing to say now, since I am the one with the muskets.” Pascal’s accent was French despite the English seaman attire he and the others wore. “You ticked off my employers greatly, Captain,” Pascal continued, “they were happy enough with me to grant me the pleasure of hunting you down and bringing you back to them.”
“Since I know your pathetic excuse for patriotism,” John sneered, “I couldn’t begin to guess who your employers are or why they want me.”
“I don’t care why they want you,” Pascal replied with a grin, “I almost didn’t take payment either when I found out it was you.” His free hand rubbed absently across a vivid scar on his throat and Ianto guessed John was responsible for putting it there.
This was a different John Ianto was seeing facing down Pascal. He stood upright and his usually mobile features were fixed in harsh lines that made him seem older. There was steel in his eyes that Ianto had only seen flashes of before.
“I only have to bring you to them alive,” Pascal continued, “they are happy for me to play a little so long as you will be able to recognise them when you die.”
John laughed, “Better men than you have tried and failed.”
“That’s why we brought your pet as guarantee of your behaviour,” Pascal said with a leer in Ianto’s direction.
“Do what you like to him;” John said with a shrug, “he was just a bit of fluff I dallied with to pass the time.”
“Really?” Pascal leered and moved close enough to Ianto for him to smell his less than pleasant breath. “Then you won’t care if I have a taste before sharing him with my men?” Ianto was quivering with rage at the conversation, especially since neither man was paying him any attention, focussed entirely on each other.
Whatever Pascal saw in John’s eyes made him laugh. “You are a cold bastard. We’ll take him for entertainment on the journey.” Ianto forced himself not to react when Pascal licked a stripe up the side of his face.
“How about we cut the pleasantries and you take us to your employers,” John said, “the less time I spend in your company the better.”
Pascal casually backhanded John hard enough to send him reeling against his captor. “One day under their hospitality and you will be mourning your time with me.”
John grinned at Pascal, his eyes steely grey with contempt.
“Bind their hands, properly this time,” Pascal growled, “I’ll take the boy. Marcel, you take the Captain. Don’t feel obligated to be too careful.”
Ianto was thrown onto a horse and Pascal mounted behind him, pressing uncomfortably close. Ianto clung to the pommel and tried to sit as upright as possible as the horse moved off. A glance sideways showed John in front of Marcel, somehow managing to appear relaxed and contemptuous of the grip Marcel had on him.
The ride was long and uncomfortable. Pascal rode the horses hard, as if there was pursuit hard on their heels. Ianto knew Jack would move the heavens to find them, but just how the indomitable Captain Jack Harkness could do that was beyond Ianto’s current imagination.
They stopped at the coast and Ianto realised they were going to France. He and John were dropped unceremoniously onto the sand as the others dismounted, looking out to sea.
“Just a piece of fluff?” Ianto hissed at John who had landed close to him.
“Would you rather he had gutted you there and then for the fun of watching my face?” John hissed back. “We won’t have much time. I have a plan but I need to know that you trust me. Do you trust me Ianto Jones?”
Ianto glared at John and thought hard. He did trust John, maybe not with his virtue but the steely eyed soldier that lay beside him he would trust with his life. That John reminded him very much of Jack. He nodded quickly and John relaxed slightly.
“Can you swim?” John asked as the men came back. Ianto nodded and then turned his head away before the men realised they had been talking. They were picked up like sacks of potatoes and tossed into the bottom of a rowboat.
The others pushed it back into the waves and climbed aboard, rowing hard against the incoming tide. Pascal sat beside them and kept his foot pressed into John’s back, forcing the Captain’s head into the bilge water.
Finally they reached the side of a yacht moored in the small bay. Pascal grabbed the lowered rope ladder and started to climb aboard. John was dragged upright and reached for the ladder before Ianto could. He climbed ahead of Ianto as soon as Pascal was at the top. A quick nod and Ianto followed John. Halfway up John stopped and looked down at Ianto. He grinned and spat out the wooden bung from the rowboat. He sprung away from the ladder taking Ianto with him. They plummeted towards the water and it was all Ianto could do to keep his bound hands out and attempt some kind of dive.
Under the water he had a moment of sheer terror, unable to tell where up was. John found him somehow and the moment past. They swam underwater as long as they could, John leading the way.
They surfaced some distance from the boat and looked back to see confusion reigning. Pascal had managed to organise some sailors with muskets and was scanning the ocean, ignoring the attempts of his men to climb out of the rapidly sinking rowboat.
It wasn’t easy to swim with bound hands but they turned and headed for shore as Pascal saw them and the sound of musket fire spurred them on. The surf picked them up and tossed them onto the beach like nothing more than driftwood. It hurt a lot and Ianto could only imagine how much John suffered with his existing injuries.
John didn’t give him a chance to ask. Dragging him onto the shore and untying the ropes around his wrists before he could even catch his breath.
“We have to get moving,” John said to him, “they will have another boat down as quickly as Pascal can point a gun at someone.”
Ianto nodded and they stumbled up the beach. John managed to keep an eye on Ianto as they made their way to the cover of the trees above the sand dunes as well as watch for pursuit. Once they were hidden from the beach John let them take a rest and get their bearings.
“We need to figure out where we are and how far from London,” John said, resting his hands on his knees.
Ianto nodded, taking big gulps of air and trying not to shiver as a cool breeze cut through his sea soaked clothes. “We’ve been gone at least a day,” he said, “We need to get back before Jack has the whole county out looking for us.”
John shook his head. “That will have to wait; we have to go to London.”
“Why?” Ianto demanded.
“Firstly Pascal will assume we will head back and if they lose our trail they will head straight there,” John said.
“All the more reason to go back and warn them,” Ianto interrupted.
“Jack can take care of things,” John said, “and secondly Pascal was expecting me which means somebody betrayed me and may have put everything at risk,” he finished.
“Fine, you go to London,” Ianto said, “I’ll head back.”
“It’s not safe; you have to stay with me. Jack would kill me faster than Pascal if I let that French scum get hold of you again.”
“I am capable of looking after myself,” Ianto said, annoyed at John’s words.
“I’m more capable,” John said simply. “We stand a better chance if we stick together. We’ll send a message to Jack when we get to London.”
Ianto recognised the signs and realised there would be no arguing with John. This was the soldier talking, not the annoying flirtatious cad Ianto was used to dealing with.
They headed off through the woods following John’s lead, Ianto having to trust his sense of direction. Ianto had spent enough time roaming through hostile territory to know they had to move quickly and quietly. They skirted the edge of a road until John was certain of where they were and he led them across country with more confidence.
After a few hours Ianto noticed John was stumbling slightly. He was chilled to the bone himself and knew the other man must be suffering even more with the injuries John had sustained.
“We need to stop,” he said, coming up beside John.
John looked set to argue and then nodded. “We should be far enough off trail.” He scanned their surroundings. They had left the denser woods behind and were now in a slightly more populated area. John wasn’t prepared to be seen by anyone but one look at Ianto’s exhaustion bruised face and he knew they had to stop before they were both useless.
The area they were in bore evidence of charcoal burners and John soon spotted a tumble downed hut without sign of habitation. The coppicing suggested it would be a year or two more before anyone came to harvest. “Over there,” he indicated to Ianto who nodded and followed.
Inside they were at least protected from the worst of the wind and the more sturdy furniture was still usable. Ianto set about clearing the small fireplace as John set things to rights. It felt so familiar Ianto was surprised to look over and see John instead of Jack.
John slipped out and returned with straw, kindling and wood which Ianto quickly set up in the fireplace. John pulled a small waterproof pouch out from his belt. Inside was a flint and tinder. “Everything else can be improvised,” John said at Ianto’s look.
They kept the fire small to reduce the smoke but it was nice to feel an improvement in temperature. John crowed in victory when he found a couple of old sacks stuffed in a corner.
“They’re not much,” he said to Ianto, “but get your clothes off.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ianto said in surprise.
“It’s warmer in here and you’re shivering more than when we arrived,” John said, “We both need to get out of our wet things and let them dry. The sacks will help with warmth and preserve your dignity.” He proceeded to strip down to his under things. Their clothes would be stiff with salt when dry but it was more important that they be dry.
Ianto followed suit and carefully laid their clothes out as straight as possible around the fire. He carefully kept his gaze averted from John’s body despite having seen everything before. Somehow it was all so much more intimate alone in the small hut.
They crouched as close to the fire as they could get. John looked sideways at Ianto and added another branch to the flames. Slowly Ianto could feel warmth seeping into his body. Their clothes began to steam slightly and Ianto began to relax. The sacking around his shoulders and waist itched and his legs ached from crouching so he gave up on his dignity, spread them on the ground and sat down closer to the fire so his smalls had a chance to dry. John followed suit and they sat in silence watching the flames.
John unwound Ianto’s neckerchief from his head where it had miraculously stayed and felt around his scalp gingerly. Ianto knelt up to check, pushing John’s hand away.
“Does it hurt?” Ianto asked.
“Not really,” John replied, “it’s just a bit tender to the touch.” The bandages around his middle had taken a battering but Ianto didn’t want to remove them. There was no new blood showing so he had to hope John would heal given time and rest. Neither of which were available at that moment.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” Ianto said, “I’d quite like to know what I was kidnapped and nearly killed for.”
“I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years,” John said, “it could be many reasons, but…” he added to forestall Ianto’s next words, “my suspicion is that it involves the lady I was to transport back to England.” Ianto huffed and John laughed softly. “Her name’s Aphrodite and she was stolen by Napoleon’s generals.”
“A painting?” Ianto guessed and John laughed again, “why did you make me think it was a woman?”
“Because you’re adorable when you’re riled,” John said.
Ianto glared at him and John smiled unrepentantly. A large shiver racked John’s frame and when Ianto touched his shoulder it was still icy cold.
“You’re frozen,” Ianto said, worry making him sound accusing.
“I’ll be fine in a while,” John replied.
“Lie down,” Ianto ordered, “don’t argue.”
“You’re very attractive when you’re bossy,” John quipped, but he stretched out in front of the fire.
Ianto rolled up a sack for a pillow and then lay down behind John and wrapped his arms around the smaller man.
“Why do you keep doing that,” Ianto demanded, “make me think the worst of you.” He rubbed his hands along John’s arms, trying to get some warmth into them.
“I’m not a nice man, Ianto Jones,” John said, suddenly serious, “I’ve done a lot of unconscionable things in the name of king and country.”
“What has that got to do with me?” Ianto said.
“You’re a good man, with a good heart, you’re better off a long way away from me.” Ianto looked at John in confusion. “I’m attracted to you, I thought it was obvious.” John said.
“Not to me,” Ianto admitted.
“Jack mentioned Lisa once when he realised I had my eye on you. I just accepted that you were only interested in females, but working for Jack you couldn’t be oblivious so it was fun to tease you.”
Ianto sighed; he sometimes hated Jack’s meddling. “It’s not that I’m not interested in men,” he admitted, glad that their positions meant John couldn’t see his face properly, “I just never thought to meet the right one.”
“And a rogue and a liar couldn’t be the right one,” John said.
“A rogue and a spy who was constantly appearing and disappearing and full of tales of his conquests?” Ianto retaliated. “A mere butler could never be enough to capture the attention of a man like that for long.”
“There is nothing mere about you, Ianto Jones,” John said, his voice heavy with sleep.
“Sleep,” Ianto said to John, nervous about the direction the conversation was heading.
“We can’t stay too long,” John said, “as soon as our clothes dry we have to move on.”
“Yes sir, I’ll wake you,” Ianto said. “You could be the right man,” he added as he felt the last of the tension drain from John’s body.
Ianto doubted he would be able to sleep; his mind was awhirl with the implications of their conversation. There was so much more to the Captain than the façade most saw, the façade Ianto had believed himself. He should have known that Jack wouldn’t have John as a friend if there wasn’t more than that, but his own reactions to the man had coloured his opinion.
Lying with John in his arms he couldn’t deny his attraction to the other man, or his fear of those feelings, and he was pretty sure he would be awake all night thinking about it.
TBC