Title: Stain
Rating: K+ for a swearword
Prompt: Grief at 10_hurt_comfort
Characters/Pairings: Janto
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort
Spoilers: Exit Wounds
Summary: Ianto's not sure he can go on after the events of Exit Wounds.
Author's Note: Inspired by "Deal in the Morning" by Storms-Are-My-Nature. It's a most excellent fic, and I suggest you all check it out.
He scrubs and scrubs, but the red stain on the concrete won't go away. It's gotten lighter, but it had already soaked in even before he started. It's going to need more than just soap and water to get out.
He doesn't care, though. The rough back and forth movement of the brush helps numb his mind and take it away from his grief. He's going to have blisters, he can feel them forming already, but can't bring himself to care.
"Ianto, leave it," Jack says wearily from behind him.
"No, sir. If I leave it, it'll only be harder to get out later," the young man answers matter-of-factly.
"Ianto…" Jack breaks off, not knowing quite what to say. Both of them are overwhelmed with grief, and they need to begin to get through it, but neither knows how. Pushing it to the side and ignoring it isn't the right thing to do, but he also doesn't know if he can stand to face it just yet.
Instead, Jack heads to the supply cupboard and gets another brush. He returns and kneels down next to Ianto, joining in his task. The younger man just looks at him for a moment before going back to work.
For a while they work in silence, the only sound that of stiff bristles scraping across the floor and the soft swishing sound of the red-tinged water they displace. Time seems to stand still.
Finally, Ianto throws his brush down in frustration. It bounces off the concrete with a loud bang as he shouts, "This damn stain isn't going to come out!"
"Ianto, come here." Jack sets down his own brush and pulls him close, wrapping protective arms around him as the Welshman finally gives in. Tears begin to slide down his cheeks, wetting Jack's shirt, but neither cares. "I've got you. We're going to get through this." Jack keeps his voice as steady as he can, beating back the tears that threaten. Right now he has to be strong for Ianto.
"Jack," Ianto says desperately between sobs. "I can't-" He breaks off, unable to explain what exactly he can't do.
"That's it," Jack says, running a soothing hand up and down his back. "Just let it out."
"Gwen was right," the young man goes on, his voice rough from crying. "I don't know if I can go on after this. Tosh - and Owen-" He chokes on the names, a fresh wave of tears coming. Jack gently wipes them away and waits for him to continue, his heart singing in harmony to his lover's grief. "It's like Canary Wharf all over again, only worse. I didn't know those people so well, apart from Lisa, and she wasn't dead. This is…too much."
"I know," Jack whispers, his voice quavering. "I know. It's not going to be the same without them."
Ianto just nods against his chest, exhausted from his work and grief.
"Should we move somewhere more comfortable?" Jack asks softly.
Ianto nods again and pulls away from him slightly, allowing the Captain to stand and then help him to his feet. Jack wraps his arm around the younger man as he leads him toward his office and the bed that waits below. They've both had a long, hard day and need time to rest and recover, but Jack knows it's going to take more than a good night's sleep for them to get through this.
It's a start, though, and that's all he can ask for.