a warm glow of honeyed light drapes across the room, like a shield, blocking out the outside world. the cardiff weather is, as per usual, MISERABLE and dreary, but it feels muffled, in a manner - far away. there is nothing that can reach into the soft warmth of the hotel room to touch the couple within.
SKIN ON SKIN, smaller body tucked beneath the larger, palms and gentle fingertips exploring curves and lines well known to each other, lips pressed close time and again. two hearts, just a second out of sync, still slowing from the thrill of climax. for this moment, in this hotel room, regina’s world is perfect.
she had felt herself placing distance between them since the daleks had appeared in the sky - since she’d said those words that she had told herself would NEVER be given again. her anxious mind and heart continued to find reasons, tiny flickers of distrust and worry to cling to, to broaden the gap between them. so often, when she lay with the man who had enraptured her heart so completely, she could ALMOST SWEAR that his mind was with another. that at times when he spoke, when he touched her or held her close, she was not the person on his mind.
SHE TRUSTS HIM. jones, hero, defender of the earth. she TRUSTS him in a manner no other had been given. and for a short time, she had allowed that trust to wane, to give way to her own fears. it was when she had REALIZED this that she had planned this trip - four days, disconnected from anyone who might distract her, isolated from the outside world, with him. and only a few hours into that first night together, she feels a familiar peace and bliss settle over her. perhaps her fears ARE unfounded. how can she DOUBT him when he touches her as if she is made of stars, and he the night sky cradling her in his arms ?
it is the shrill ringing of a phone that shatters the illusion of perfection.
she feels it - the change in his body, the way he holds himself, how muscles tense and ripple beneath his skin. he is NO LONGER so soft and relaxed as they had been. their lips part - he leans over, hand extending to retrieve the device from the bedside table. phone off, she’d greeted him, not even a few hours before, i want it to be just us.
her disappointment is TANGIBLE, an ACHE in her chest all too familiar now, and for ONCE, she gives in to the urge to be selfish. her hand wraps around his, sliding the phone into her grasp as she pulls it away. a glance at the screen confirms what she already knows in the shadowed, most hidden places in her mind - bright letters in an order she had come most to FEAR.
her voice is soft, breathless still from his touch as silver gaze meets that of deepest blue. ❛ just us, remember ? don’t answer it. ❜ the TENSION in his body is clear as he lays against her still — and there is a decided change in the way he looks at her. she’s crossed a line by grabbing that phone, and YET — she cannot help herself, and she pulls it away again when he reaches for it once more. ❛ JONES -- ❜
❛ scott. ❜ the consonants of her name are suddenly TOO HARD as they leave his lips, almost as if bitten off by his teeth - she feels, suddenly, as though she is being scolded. like a child. like a selfish little girl. it has been so long since anyone has made her feel like this, and it is enough to allow him to take it, the ringing still shrill in her ears as he rolls off of her, bringing his body into a sitting position.
❛ tell them you can’t make it, ❜ she pleads, unwilling to surrender just yet -- maybe he is answering, but it is almost ridiculous at this point to believe he would simply LEAVE HER. she moves to face him, shifting her weight onto her elbow, the sheets still tangled about her form as she pushes locks of blonde away from her face, expression imploring. ❛ tell them they can do it without you, just this once. jones, just -- ❜
his tone is soft now -- HUSHED, as if she isn’t only inches away, able to hear every word that filters through the speaker. the cheery american voice is LOUD AND CLEAR, and she feels a hitch in her chest at it.
❛ IANTO ! this is your one am wake up call. SORRY about the early hour, but the rift isn’t known for waiting for a decent hour. ❜
perhaps the situation would be less painful if she couldn’t SEE the change. perhaps she wouldn’t feel this wounded if his spine didn’t straighten, if his shoulders didn’t roll back just a bit at jack’s voice. perhaps it wouldn’t hurt so badly if he didn’t react like the BEST THING IN THE WORLD had just happened, in jack calling. she simply lay there, staring at his back, feeling that ache in her chest grow.
❛ i’ll make it up to you in the only way i know how if you can get your beautiful suited self to the hub in twenty minutes. i’ve got a spare stopwatch. time starts now, ianto jones ! ❜
silence follows as the call disconnects. silence as a frost creeps over the room, icy tendrils wrapping around each atom of regina’s being, turning hurt to a cold, distant anger. she knows ianto’s decision before he moves -- before he’s up and searching for his clothing, BEFORE he turns to look at her with some useless apology in blue eyes. she says NOTHING, simply staring at him, her jaw clenched and fingernails biting into her palms as her hand curls into a fist, keeping every cutting word she wants to hurl at him locked in her chest.
❛ it’s not about that, scott, it’s work -- ❜
her tone cuts cleanly across his words like a KNIFE, refusing to allow any excuses. she can feel the hurricane threatening in her own eyes as she stares him down, releasing every bit of hurt as COLD, SHARP ANGER.
❛ of COURSE it is, i’m not just -- just leaving you. ❜ the lifted eyebrow she quirks is enough to let him know that is exactly what he’s doing, and he pauses, half-dressed now, to look fully at her. she may as well be made of stone at this point -- unmoving, hard, and cold. she knows he can see it, KNOWS that he is not oblivious enough to ignore what he is doing here. he steps closer now, but she does not lift her body to meet him, still there, half-reclining. he pauses, a soft sigh escaping those lips she knows so well, and she cannot deny that there is genuine regret in his expression. she also cannot deny that it is not enough. ❛ they need me. ❜
there is THUNDER in her voice now, a maelstrom threatening on the horizon. perhaps it is the only time that such an honest, desperate confession has doubled as a THREAT. he steps closer once more, within reach now, but she REFUSES to close the gap.
❛ and i’m coming back, scott. i promise. ❜
❛ right, after he’s done with you ? ❜ her voice is loud now - shouting, she’s shouting at him, and upon that release, she finds she cannot STOP. ❛ i have never ONCE asked you to stay, and i am telling you now, you KNOW they can do this without you, don’t you DARE walk out that door ! ❜
again, a line is crossed. she can see the way he stiffens at that order, before blue eyes avert from her and he continues to dress. once more, a quiet descends over them, chilling regina to the bone. she cannot help the bitter edge to the sardonic curl of her lips, her grey gaze steady on him. he does not LOOK AT HER again until he is adjusting the tie around his neck, turning to meet her gaze with a sigh. his eyes seem, impossibly, A DEEPER BLUE now than they ever have been before, bright with regret as he steps closer. he seats himself at the edge of the bed, head tilted in -- what, empathy ? sympathy ? she wants NONE of it. and still, the woman made of stone does not move when he reaches out to cup her cheek, his thumb ghosting along the line of her face.
❛ i’m sorry i have to go. i’m sorry about the timing of it. this is about torchwood, and i promise, scott, i’m going to come back to you. ❜
the soft turns on the vowels in each word would normally bring her COMFORT, but for now, it feels only like heartbreak. and finally, marble comes to life when he leans in to kiss her -- turning her head away from him, refusing the gesture. his lips brush her cheek instead, and she can feel the hesitation in him as he simply watches her. she has not looked away from him since the moment he had first entered the room that night, and now, she will see anything BUT ianto jones.
❛ i'll be back. ❜ there is another hesitation, and for a MOMENT, there is a brief inkling that her name lies heavy on his lips -- not scott, but regina. she brushes off the strange intuition, still refusing to meet his gaze as he releases a sigh, heavier than the one past, and stands.
she does not move as the door closes.
she does not MOVE for -- god knows how long after. there is nothing but the empty room, and the silence, save for her pulse rushing along each vein. in her head is a voice she has found she hates -- jack, his words bright as he speaks to the man she loves. she knows it is unfair to hate him for this -- what has he done WRONG other than exist ? she has met him, she UNDERSTANDS the magnetic pull he seems to have on every being within range.
she does not know now if she even matters to ianto in the face of that.
when she DOES move, it is to the window, to light a cigarette. it is RARE that she gives in to the urge to breathe deep of this poison, but somehow, she feels as though it is appropriate that night.
it is long after the cigarette has burnt down to nothing that she finds her phone, returning to the window to stare at the city outside. this city. god, how she hates it. she HATES the weather, she hates the grimy streets, she HATES the people there. all but one. how STUPID she feels now, taking all this time to fly across an ocean for him, when he has left at a moment’s notice. and she must acknowledge now what she refused to see before -- that he will never turn down jack’s beckoning words. that there will never be a moment when he will not run to his captain, even when lying with her.
she won’t be waiting for him when he returns.
a tap on the phone, lifting it to her ear as she gazes still, distantly, in the direction she knows the hub to be. he’s probably been there and gone, now, off to fight some alien or chase down a bad guy. he’s being the HERO he always has been, but it no longer seems to her to be a GOOD THING. not now.
the click of her call being answered draws her attention, as well as the concern in the deep, sleep-weighted voice at the other end.
❛ gina ? it’s three in the morning, are you ALL RIGHT ? ❜
that familiar note of care nearly breaks the icy wall -- but she does not allow it to shatter. there is no room for self-pity to drown her. it will have to wait until she is home.
she’s always considered home a feeling, rather than a place. what a naive notion.
❛ i need you to find the next flight home, adrian. we’re leaving tonight. please -- ❜ she forestalls the inevitable question as quickly as she can manage. ❛ don’t ask. i just need to go home. ❜
she ends the call then, unable to handle his inevitable questions. she knows he will show up soon enough, ready to listen and to hold her if needed, ready to be there. she takes one last glance at the city, almost hoping she’ll be able to see that black suv that will let her know he is out there. even now, she worries for his safety.
a sigh escapes her, as she finally turns from the window. there is nothing more that can make this any better -- and waiting for his return is a level of pathetic devotion she refuses to give him. it’s time for her to go home.
