Ianto sighed, cradling Jack's head in his lap.
Jack had died again, and while Ianto waited for Jack to sharply draw in that breath, for his pulse to go from zip to hammering away like it always did, he reflected on some of the times Jack had died.
The one when the jealous boyfriend had smashed a bottle over Jack's head when he'd talked up his girl.
The time Owen had shot Jack.
The time Jack and Ianto had almost gotten crushed by a pterodactyl.
Ianto worried every time that Jack's pulse stopped that it wouldn't go back to hammering. Would there ever be a time when it didn't?
Ianto felt nausea overcome him at the thought and shoved it from his mind.
He absent-mindedly fiddled with Jack's WWII coat, arranging it around Jack the way he liked it to get his mind off of the cold, dead Jack and back on the smiling, cocky one that was so full of warmth and life.
Ianto always found the minutes before Jack came back to the living agonizing.
The Welshman could not imagine life without Jack, but life always demanded that of him while he waited for his beautiful man to come back to him.
It always hurt like nothing else.
Suddenly, Jack sucked in that breath and Ianto let the tears stuck in his throat slide down his cheeks.
In a public setting, Ianto never would've let the desperation and the tears show, but he had sent the others away until Jack could come back in Ianto's arms, the way it always should be.
Ianto didn't say anything yet, just smiled down at Jack.
Jack, still weak, reached up a hand and brushed casually through Ianto's hair, wiping the tears from his cheeks.
"Come on," Jack said. "I need to hear those beautiful Welsh vowels."
Ianto smiled and wiped his tears from his face, placing a kiss on Jack's lips that was so full of love that it almost hurt.
"Welcome back."
Ianto's voice was a bit thick and croaky. He cleared his throat.
Ianto got Jack in a sitting position and kissed him once more before calling the rest of the team in.