Set directly after the team shoot Lisa/Annie. Ianto's POV. One use of swearing.

Red. Everywhere was just red. Not the bright cheerful red that you see everywhere. No. It was the dark red, that sombre, macabre red that slowly turns brown whilst you watch it. Blood red. Well, that's because all I can see is blood. Lisa or Annie's? Who knows? Not me. Could be both. Probably is both.

Flashes of silver. Metallic. Oh god, I can taste it. That sharp, copper tang of the blood. On my lips, my clothes, creeping in rivulets into my pores. What have I done?

Numbness. There is no feeling any more. Just this rambling inside of my head. I know it's my own rambling, but I can't seem to shut up. I'm not even making sense to myself. Underneath the noise in my head I can hear the steady drip, drip, drip, dripping of water as it travels down the walls, off the ceiling, along the floor and into my clothes. Is it water? Probably some blood in there too. That's the sort of noise that will drive a person mad eventually. Because you get used to it. You get so used to hearing that steady rhythm of water. You start listening for patterns, beats, anything. And then, when you least expect it, it changes. And you notice. That's what drives you slowly, oh so slowly insane.

There's another noise too. High. Unnatural. Animalistic, a primal scream of hurt, anguish, pain. It's quite loud actually. Oh. Right. It's me. I should probably stop. And I'm crying; I can feel it now. The tears making tracks down my face, the sting of the cuts in my hands, the grit pressing into my knees, and a hand, tugging on my upper arm.

A voice penetrates the fuzziness that has settled firmly around me: brash, insistent, familiar and calming -

"Ianto, you can't stay here. You need to move. Please. Ianto. Stand up at least?" The voice changes, speaking to somebody else, "Owen, will you help me? Just get him up. I'll sort the rest out." Heh. Clearly, Owen doesn't want to help me. I stand up by myself. Fuck 'em. I don't need help.

I'm vaguely aware of the floor turning the wrong way and jumping up at my face before somebody grips my hips, hard, steadying me, and then steering me; obviously leading me somewhere. I ought to know where really – I know the entire schematics of this place, but I can't even bring myself to care. I see endless brick, damp, wet, green where the water got to it. I can feel my nose wrinkling at this. Dirt. Mess. I still don't know where I'm going.

The next thing I'm aware of is a hand pushing at my shoulder, and another at the back of my knees, forcing me to sit on a hard, wooden bench. Without really noticing it I hear the hiss of running water, interrupted occasionally by a hand, checking the temperature.

I'm stood up again, I know that much, but I don't know how I got to that position, and I can't move now. I can't make my limbs do what I want them to do. My muscles seize up, and suddenly, I'm drowning. I panic, I know I'm not actually drowning; I'm not in any water, but I am.

I fall to the cool tiled floor, shaking violently – I can feel my fingers brushing against the grime of the floor. Then as suddenly as it started it stops. I'm safe, wrapped in somebody's arms. Strong arms, forming a cage, keeping me upright. I calm down and relax slightly. They must notice – their arm gets a little less tense, but still remains firmly wrapped around my torso.

"Undress and get in the shower. The water's plenty warm enough now." A voice murmurs in my ear. Calmer than the last time they spoke. Obviously doesn't want to kill me again then. "I'm going to let go of you. Can you stand?" I shake my head dumbly – I know that I'll simply fall again – everything's still numb. Not working properly.

I hear whoever it is sigh, then they wrap one arm; tanned, toned and muscular I dimly notice, more securely around my waist, their spare hand gripping my upper arm, gently moving me towards the shower.

I'm pushed into the stream of water without my clothes being removed. I can feel the hot water quickly soaking them through, making them heavy. I look down at the shower floor, thankfully, my shoes and socks have been removed, no need to ruin a perfectly decent, not to mention expensive pair of shoes. Then I focus more clearly on the shower floor. Blood is running off of me in a steady river – a river of red. Bright, bright red. The longer I stare, the fainter it gets, turning gradually into a pinkish hue that disappears, round about the same time that I realise I've been undressed. When did that happen?

"Ianto? Are you planning on getting out? The water's cold. Ianto?" I look up, into the worried eyes of Jack. I nod.

"Yeah." My voice cracks slightly from all the screaming I did earlier on. Jack holds out a hand, and I take hold of it, making sure I'm balanced before stepping out of the shower and onto the tiled floor, damp from the condensation.

Jack takes a step back from me, keeping his hand on mine so that his arm is extended, the tendons showing along his muscles where he was straining to keep me upright, he only lets go to wrap a towel around me.

"Can you stand while I go fetch some clothes?" He asked quietly. I nodded, and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering despite my best efforts not to due to the chill in the air. Looking down at my arms I can feel a tiny spark of interest at the goosebumps prickling up my skin.

Jack returns fairly quickly, or it could have been not so quickly at all, I don't really know. Do I even care? I decide that I probably do. He holds out the clothes to me – just a pair of jeans and a plain tee shirt. Doesn't look like I'm staying here for long then. I take the clothes from him and quickly dress, not even bothering to try and hide the flushing of my skin that appears naturally.

"Be in my office in 10 minutes Ianto. We have to talk. We have to figure out what I'm going to do with you."

I nod dumbly, and watch as he turns and walks away.

Retcon, or a bullet to the back of the head? Either one of those options seems viable right now.

Everyone's pissed. They can't look at me. They want me gone, out of their lives, forever.

I just hurt.

Everything's numb, so why can I still feel?