Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Torchwood – if I did, the events of Day One, Four and Five would NOT have happened!
Set: Some time between series 2 and 3, with references to series 1, Doctor Who and the Torchwood novels
Pairings: Jack/Ianto (obviously!) and Gwen/Rhys
Author's note: This is my first epic story, so any feedback would be appreciated! Also, a special thanks to Loopstagirl and Veritas Lilly for their beta-ing and encouragement! Enjoy!
MEMORIES
CHAPTER 1
Overhead, fluorescent strip-lights lit the clinically white corridor: the odd one blinking impatiently, whilst waiting for the electrician to fetch a new bulb from his van. Jack waltzed through the unusually deserted corridors, his strides so long that Gwen had to quicken her pace in order to keep up. The smell of disinfectant clung to their noses as they continued their way through the labyrinth of passageways, the noise of their shoes squeaking on the still-wet floor and echoing all around them.
A hospital porter, in his aqua-blue scrubs and tattered Converses, briefly appeared from the supply closet, mumbling angrily as he retreated to get the mop he had only just returned.
"Oops," noted Jack, as he saw the muddy footprints that trailed behind him.
The corridors felt endless, each one identical to the previous. For all Gwen knew, they could have been walking in circles - the artificial lighting made it difficult to tell just how much time had passed. They eventually reached a set of double doors, leading to the stairwell. Jack, in his usual method, bounded up the steps two at a time; whereas Gwen, who was not as comfortable with the prospect of heights, stuck to the handrail nearest the wall, taking it slowly and steadily. With her arm in a cast, she could only hold on with one hand; a thought she tried not to let bother her. By the time Gwen had reached the third floor, Jack had completely disappeared. Only the flash of a long greatcoat whipping around the corner of the door told her he had already exited.
Slightly out of breath and clutching the stitch at her side - she knew she shouldn't have eaten that sausage roll! - Gwen hurried to meet Jack who was waiting outside the little gift shop.
"What is it with you and grapes?" she enquired, noticing the little polythene bag in his left hand.
"Red and seedless," he replied, wiggling the bag and flashing Gwen one of his winning smiles. "Ianto's favourites."
"And you would know that, how? Or do I not want to know?"
Jack glanced down at her with a familiar expression, "I'm psychic!"
"I never know if I should believe you when you say things like that," she replied.
"Well, there are a lot of things you don't know about me…"
"You can say that again," muttered Gwen under her breath, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
*****
Ianto opened his eyes. He found himself lying in an uncomfortable bed; the sheets folded with military precision, and two recently fluffed pillows supporting his head. Neatness; he liked that. A small machine beside him beeped rhythmically, each sound ripping through his head like a thousand bullets, causing the sharp, twisting pains behind his eyes to worsen.
What had happened?
He tried to rack his brain for any trace of a memory, but his mind was blurred, as though huge sections had been blotted out and replaced with a smudged vortex of grey. Wow, he thought as he attempted to prop himself up, that must have been one heck of a coffee liqueur…
After a painful struggle with his head, Ianto gave in, letting himself slide back down into his original position. He looked around him. Yes, definitely a hospital; white walls, white ceiling, the sickeningly cheerful daffodil curtains… Ianto shuddered.
Judging from the sounds of muffled footsteps and murmured voices, he wasn't alone on the ward. A few moments later, a young nurse popped her head around the curtain and seeing Ianto awake, entered with a big grin.
"Good morning, my lovely," said the nurse cheerily, "It's nice to see you awake." She laid a tray down on the cabinet beside him and fetched the clipboard from the end of the bed. Taking a black biro from the left pocket of her tunic, she flicked over the top page and, checking the time on her watch, began scribbling notes. "The Captain was getting worried about you. Been in everyday since you arrived. He'd stay longer than the visiting hours if Matron would let him."
Arrived? How long had he been here?
"What day is it?" Ianto whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse.
"It's Wednesday, love. You've been unconscious for six days. Don't worry though; the Captain will be here soon, I'm sure he'll explain everything. Heaven knows he wouldn't tell us a thing!"
The nurse returned the clipboard and walked over to the beeping machine; the clicking of her heels shooting more bullets into Ianto's skull. Seeing him wince, she adjusted the buttons on the monitor and clicked the dial two places to the left, causing pale blue liquid to drip slowly from an IV bag raised above the bed.
"Hmm, this should make you more comfortable."
Ianto watched as the liquid travelled down the long tube and into the bandaged tap on his right hand. Once again he shuddered; ever since the incident with Lisa in the Hub basement, Ianto had developed a hatred for needles – just the thought of one in his arm made his skin crawl.
The nurse nodded her head towards the double doors at the end of the ward, "It appears you have visitors, Mr Jones. I'll be back in an hour to check your stats," giving him a little wink. "As for you, Captain Harkness," she said with a mischievous smile, "you'll have to be gentle with him. He's only just woken up!"
"Aren't I always," replied Jack with a cheeky grin.