A/N I have borrowed the story Family History from Mc Parrot so I could write something that I felt needed to be said. Before you read this you should read her lovely story. Don't forget that this idea belongs to Mc Parrot
A/N: This one shot is set sometime after chapter 5. It is from Ianto's POV.
Manda and Jack are playing outside with the twins. I stay far away from the games, after what happened last time. I shudder as I remember the pain. A couple of months ago, if I had felt such pain I would have said it was the most horrible pain I could have ever imagined, but now I know of worse pain. I should be resting, but I can't stay still. I hate that I have to be treated like a small child. While everyone is outside, enjoying themselves, I must be here, having an afternoon nap. Even as a child I never was very good at settling down.
I sit up, making sure I don't move too quickly and go to stand at the mirror. I want to see what has happened to me. I was too afraid before, when the memories of that pain were fresher. But being here has made me feel like a human again not just a sick patient that had to be taken care of.
I take off my shirt. I see thick purple bruises all over my chest, and the fresh one newly developed. Even though Manda has seen me like this, she doesn't treat me like an invalid. For that I am grateful—she has helped me regain myself. Yet I am ashamed of the person I have become, it's as though I am old and weak. I know that I will never regain my strength. That scares me. I don't know what I'll do without Torchwood. My life had become Torchwood. Without it I won't have anything. I will become a war casualty, left and forgotten, never able to return to former glory. I realize, now, that Jack must truly love me. He doesn't treat me like a patient, once cured, left and forgotten. Regardless of his feelings for Camille or Estelle, he loves me.
My eyes sting as I start to cry, not from pain but because of what I've become: an old, weak, constantly tired man. I need the morphine just to be able to stand. It dulls the pain but it never disappears completely. I am scared that I will become addicted. Terrified that the pain will never go and that I'll need to use it forever.
Jack comes into the room. "Are you okay?" He hugs me and leads me to the bed. "Come lie down." The problem is that I can't answer his question. Am I okay?
A/N That probably wasn't as good as Mc Parrot's story. Please review; I love constructive criticism.