Title: Not Enough
Author: blacatk
Pairing: Tosh/Mary
Fandom: Torchwood
Episode: Greeks Bearing Gifts
Character(s): Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato
Rating: PG
Word Count: 309
Notes: Second Torchwood fic (for tonight and ever). I guess I'm on a roll and possibly getting to know the characters a bit better. This one is slightly longer. It's also #35 on My Table.
Warning: mentions of a lesbian relationship (if the episode title didn't already tell you that much).

***

Ianto Jones disapproved of many things Jack did. He was overly dramatic, he put his dirty boots all over the furniture, he forgot to use coasters, and his handwriting was in a tiny cursive that made late-night filing nightmarish. But those things made him human. This, however, made resentment edged with anguish curl sharply in the depth of Ianto's stomach.

Toshiko stared at him, straight in the eye, with no facial expression save a small frown and lost brown eyes that both filled the room and pulled the life out of it.

He took the small stack of paper from her and capped the black pen. His eyes broke contact as his gaze dropped to his own handkerchief, being twisted and straightened in her tiny hands. His eyes slid away and he scanned over the form. Every line was filled and a few ran over in a sloppy way that didn't fit Toshiko at all. It fit Mary.

Barely two hours ago there had been a knife at Toshiko's throat and a warm, alive Mary holding it. Not again, please. God, not again. Images of blood and sadistically beautiful countryside unfolded in his mind and ran his mouth dry.

Everything needed to be documented for the records. The sooner things were written, the more detailed. The logic was cold and soulless and Ianto wanted to throw-up, because these pages were oh so similar to ones in his own neat penmanship filed under Hallett, Lisa.

How do you write your dead lover into photocopied debriefing forms?

*** *** ***

"Thank you, Toshiko." Ianto's quiet smile made her shiver, either because the last person to smile at her was Mary or because she knew it was entirely forced. Even without the necklace, she knew what he was thinking and the wrinkle of understanding in the corner of his mouth sent another shiver through her lungs. So she simply nodded, rose from the chair, and left Ianto shifting and ordering Mary's life in ink.

***