She gazed serenely at the man lying on the operating table, at his relaxed countenance which belied the intense pain he had been in only a few short hours earlier. She studied the lines of his face through the clear respirator mask and multiple tubes taped to his skin. Yes, he was a pretty one, with his high cheekbones and strong jaw. Even the blood smeared across his face and matting in his hair could not hide the strength and masculine beauty found in this man. A tiny smile tilted the corners of her lips. She was going to enjoy this one.
There was an easy tension in the room as the doctors and nurses moved back and forth efficiently and with an economy of movement, a tension the woman was familiar with and able to ignore as she glided forward to stand close to the table. No one seemed to notice the woman standing quietly by their patients head, her long, straight black hair angled against her cheeks creating a black hood as she looked down at his face. The long black gown with it's high neck and flowing sleeves should have made her stand out in the stark environs of the operating theatre with it's gleaming metal and white surfaces but no one seemed to see her at all.
"Suction." A nurse reached over to where a doctor was working in the open cavity of the mans chest. "Sponge." Controlled and efficient the surgery continued with requests for equipment or assistance being met almost before they were made.
The woman in black tilted her head up, the dark hair falling back to reveal her pale beauty. Her skin glowed almost white in the glaring lights of the operating theatre as her dark eyes glanced dispassionately at the men and women working around the table. This medical team was good but it was time.
The long sleeve of her black dress fell back as she reached out a thin, graceful hand and ran a caressing finger across the bloodied forehead of the man on the operating table. He was very weak now. The thread of life to which he was clinging was thin and would be easily snapped.
"Blood pressure is dropping." Immediately the tension in the room increased a notch, becoming a flurry of activity surrounding the mans open chest. "We're losing him." The movements of the medical team sped up as they fought to save this man.
The woman pulled her hand away, a slight frown marring her brow. There was something different about this one. Certainly he was a fighter, his lifes history confirmed that, but it was almost as if there was someone else fighting for him as well. Most unusual. Again she reached out and ran a finger across his brow. The tenacity with which he hung on to his last thread of life was surprising. She stepped back, her hand dropping to her side, to be once again hidden in the folds of her black sleeve.
"We have a pulse. He's back into sinus rhythm. Lets finish this and close him up." The words didn't even register in the woman's mind as she studied the man before her. What was it about this man that was so different?
One of the doctors pulled off his bloody gloves as he turned away from the table. "I'll go and talk to Captain Harkness."
- - -
Rhythmic beeping and muted conversations drifted through the curtained area where the man lay in the recovery room. She stood at the foot of his bed taking in the change in his appearance. The oxygen mask from the respirator was gone, replaced with a smaller set of tubes to assist his breathing. The blood had been washed off of his face and hair revealing pale skin and a slight shadow of stubble across his jaw. The strength and beauty in his face was still evident but was tempered by the boyish tilt of his nose.
Interest caused her to step closer and tilt her head to one side, black hair falling forward against her cheeks again as she looked down at him. So this was one. One of the chosen few that lead a truly charmed life. One that seemed to laugh in the face of death and come away virtually unscathed. She ran a finger along the man's forehead. Not looking to take anything, just curious to feel the life force flowing through his body, his soul. His life thread was still incredibly thin but now that she knew what to look for she found the fire and the steel holding this man here. Odd. He had a firm understanding and acceptance of his own mortality. Where was the hidden strength coming from? With every beat of his heart she could feel his weakened life thread quiver slightly with the strain but yet it was growing stronger.
"Ianto?" One whispered word.
The powerful surge of life that came from deep inside the man surprised her and she drew her hand away quickly. It's unexpected strength was intense, cutting, and she fell back a step. Understanding rippled through her as Captain Harkness stepped further into the recovery area. This man, this captain, was Ianto Jones' bond, his tie to life. Sharing his own life force to strengthen and reinforce the weakened thread of the younger man.
Death straightened her shoulders in acceptance as she turned and silently left the room unnoticed. There was nothing here for her. Not yet. The bond between the two men was too strong. The love and friendship that was entwined between them created a thread of incredible strength and only time would diminish the power of this thread. She would have to wait and come back later, when that time was right.