I wasn't expecting to get something posted again quite so soon but, ta-da! I'm a bit iffy on it to be honest. I'm not sure the emotion is really as consistent as it should be. And I'm not positive about the last line. That's what I need you guys for. Let me know! If it's crap, or I screwed up somewhere, I need you to tell me! Even if it's just an errant comma, I would appreciate the criticism.
Alright, so here's the deal. I didn't want to but I ended up warning you in the summary, there are CoE spoilers in here. If you read my profile you might want to call me a bit of a hypocrite because I said I refuse to believe that there was a third season of Torchwood and then I turned around and wrote this. But really, I think everyone has to have their own CoE fic. And most everyone, by which I mean writers, should have a fix-it. It's a sort of prerequisite to writing Torchwood. So here's my attempt.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, RTD owns them. He doesn't treat them right though so he should give them to the fans, because we obviously take better care of them.
Captain Jack Harkness was immediately aware of two things as he awoke. One, he had no idea where he was. Two, he didn't know who owned the warm body that was pressed up against him.
Oh god. Please tell me I didn't.
He couldn't remember falling asleep, yet alone doing anything that would lead to someone's warm flesh being settled against him. He did vividly remember the events from the last few days though.
The hub. Gwen. Alice. 456. Stephen. Ianto. Oh god. Ianto.
Jack chocked back a sob as a searing pain settled into his chest at the thought of his dead lover. Ianto, the man he obviously must have forgotten in order to end up in someone else's bed. He took a deep breath in a vain attempt to put himself together at least well enough to flee the bed. He could mourn and chastise later. Taking another lungful of warm air, Jack opened his eyes.
He blinked.
The cracked ceiling he was currently facing was actually familiar. The warm brown walls attached to it were familiar too. With more hope than should have been possible, Jack turned his head and got an eyeful of sleeping Welshman. Gorgeous, dark-haired, sleeping, Welshman. His gorgeous Welshman. Warm, and breathing, and so very much alive.
Jack launched himself up, dislodging the head that was pillowed in his shoulder and effectively waking said sleeping Welshman. The man blinked, hard, and pulled himself up to look at Jack, who was now standing next to the bed.
"Jack," Ianto grumbled, not quite awake yet. "What's going on?"
"You.....you're.....you're dead!" Jack stuttered.
Ianto made a show of looking down at his chest and bringing a hand to his heart. It seemed to be beating, as far as he could tell anyway. He opened his mouth to answer Jack's statement to the contrary but the other man lunged back onto the bed and put Ianto's mouth to different use.
When Jack finally pulled back from the desperate kiss, he wasted no time in pulling the Welshman into a crushing embrace. He buried his face in Ianto's neck and pressed light kisses to every inch of available skin. Ianto, though clearly confused, wrapped his arms around his shaking lover and moved a hand in slow, soothing motions over Jack's back.
Jack had progressed to mumbling into his neck now. Ianto couldn't hear what he was saying until Jack picked his head up and met his lover's gaze.
"You're here. I don't care how you're here. All that matters is that you're here," Jack kept mumbling. Ianto shook his head and pulled back farther from the older man.
"Jack! You need to calm down! You're going to make yourself sick again," Ianto reprimanded. Jack's eyes were glassy and his skin still looked flushed, much to the younger man's dismay.
"Sick?" Jack asked, his features clouded with confusion.
"Yes, Jack. You're sick, remember? You threw up when we got home and you've been tossing and turning all night. In fact, I think you still have a fever." Ianto silently cursed as he felt the older man's face. He was still far too warm.
Jack had calmed visibly but there was still confusion evident on his face. His expression went determined suddenly and he looked Ianto dead in the eye.
"The date. What's the date, Ianto?"
"It's Sunday. July 12th. Why?" Ianto was the confused one now.
"The hub. The hub is still there, right? It hasn't been destroyed?" Jack was a bit frantic again and his questions were only worrying Ianto more.
"Yes Jack, the hub is there. Why in the world would you think it had been destroyed?" Jack ignored his question and asked another of his own.
"The children. The children haven't all started talking in unison, have they?"
"No. Jack, what's going on," Ianto demanded. Jack seemed to realise that he was scaring his young lover because he sat up a bit straighter and untangled himself from the previously desperate embrace.
"Sick. That's it. I was sick. Must've been a dream. That's right. A dream," Jack was mumbling under his breath as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at how sweaty it was.
Jack eased himself from the edge of the bed and padded to the bathroom, still out of sorts. Ianto stared after him, growing more worried by the second. It wasn't like Jack to get sick in the first place but it had happened a time or two in the past few years. This wasn't typical sick Jack behaviour though.
For a brief moment, Ianto thought about calling Owen. The pang in his chest was expected as he remembered the late medic. He sighed deeply, refocusing on his ill lover, and headed to the bathroom where Jack was now scrubbing his face frantically.
With patient hands, Ianto dragged the flannel from Jack's hands and away from his red face. He exchanged it for a towel and wiped the older man's face softly before setting the towel on the sink and wrapping his arms around the feverish Jack.
For a few minutes they just stood there. Jack wrapped his arms around the younger man's waist and just clung. Ianto started rubbing circles on the other man's back again as he held him close.
Eventually they broke apart slightly, Ianto pulling back and Jack easing his grip reluctantly. Ianto smiled at him and took his hand, leading him back to the bedroom and settling him on the bed. As Ianto stepped away from the bed and headed toward the door he heard what he could only describe as a whimper from the man on the bed. He frowned to himself but turned back to Jack, managing to convey nothing but patience and care as he assured Jack that he would be right back.
In the kitchen, Ianto leaned against the counter and finally allowed the frown and frustration to mar his features. He let out a weary sigh. He didn't know what was wrong with Jack and the man had not spoke again after his frantic but strange questions and mumbling.
Calming himself again, he filled a glass with water and headed back to the bedroom. Jack was still sat in the middle of the bed, looking lost, like he couldn't quite piece something together in his mind. Ianto sat on the edge of the bed and eased the glass into Jack's hand, encouraging him to drink the water.
Jack drank greedily and then set the glass on the nightstand next to the bed. He moved toward Ianto, who was now sitting against the headboard next to Jack, and arranged himself on the young Welshman's chest. Ianto didn't miss how both Jacks head and hand instantly settled on the area above his heart.
"Jack, what's wrong? You're scaring me," Ianto whispered. Jack didn't move, just sighed deeply and pressed closer.
"I must have had a really, really bad nightmare. The more I think about it, I know that's all it could have been. There were these creatures. We, well the government really, called them the 456. They, well, there was a hit put out on me. On all of Torchwood actually. They ended up shooting me and planting a bomb in my stomach," Jack started. He went on to explain every detail to Ianto, choking up a bit as he replayed what had seemed like the young man's very real death. The details came pouring from his lips, the images still so sharp in his mind that he had to keep telling himself it was nothing more than a dream. As he capped off his story, Ianto leaned down to brush a kiss across his forehead.
"It was a dream Jack. You know it was. I'm right here." Jack lifted his head and looked the younger man in the eye. The confusion that had filled his eyes was gone now as he let the dream slip away.
"I know. I'm realising that now. There were too many inconsistencies. I've never dealt with anyone called the 456 before, and I've certainly never given them any orphans. Stephen is twenty now. Actually, Alice has invited us to his birthday party next week. She says she'll never forgive us is we don't show up." Jack chuckled at the thought of his daughter. She and Ianto had met a few months ago and the older woman had taken an instant shine to her "step-father", as had her son.
"I'll call her later," Ianto murmured, still looking at Jack. Jack smiled at him and leaned closer so his lips were barely an inch from his lovers.
"Everything was all jumbled when I woke up. Even the details about Alice and Stephen. But there was one thing that I just knew was wrong. Want to know what really convinced me that it was all a dream?" Ianto nodded his head, a bit dumbly. Jack's pheromones seemed stronger at the moment and it was doing his head in.
"Even when you were dying, dream me couldn't say it. He couldn't tell you that he loved you." Jack pulled back a bit more, allowing Ianto to clear his head a little and focus on Jack.
"I love you, Ianto Jones." Ianto just grinned.
"I know. I love you too, Jack." The words were barely out of his mouth when Jack darted forward again, this time claiming his lover's lips in a kiss full of love and passion. Ianto returned the kiss with equal fervour.
The last bits of the dream drifted to the back of Jack's mind, leaving him rooted solely in the present, which was taken up completely by his young lover.