Chapter Two

A slightly higher warning for this one. Minor smut.

Set after Countrycide.

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. If I did, Ianto would still be alive, damn it.

Ianto sat perched just within the boot of the SUV, lacking the strength to even wish he could force his body into numbness. Flesh and mind, cold and dark, like he had felt before. But instead there was pain, searing physical pain and a gaping scar across his mind that he couldn't even attempt to patch, just yet.

The police, criminals, and his battered friends moved around him as he stared on, gaze completely detached from seeing them fully; he could only sense the sounds, the crying and angry words, the soft concerned ones between Jack and Owen. Ianto realised that was where his eyes had strayed, and he only heard murmurings between the two. He heard his name, Gwen's, Tosh's, then his again, before a broad grey-blue shape strode towards him.

Jack tentatively touched Ianto's shoulder, not fully aware of the extent of his injuries.

"Hey" he smiled, an expression that belied his own exhaustion, "time to go home."

Silence reigned in the SUV. They sense that they had been inside this vehicle left only an unpleasant aftertaste in the car, a sensation of every surface being coated in a thin layer of grime. Yet compared to what they had been through, the drive back to the Hub was a magical mystery tour.

"Ianto? Come on, we're back."

Ianto lifted his aching head and found his Captain smiling down at him from the open passenger door. He also realised he was the only one left in the car.

"Where are the others?" he asked, barely audible.

"Home. Gwen is being looked after by Rhys. Owen and Tosh opted to go back to their apartments. None of us wanted to wake you and I figured you might not want to be alone, so…"

He shrugged helplessly, half indicating towards the Hub. Jack made the right choice - the last thing Ianto wanted to do was go back to his flat and lie sleepless in the lonely darkness, his heart racing at every minute sound, his restless brain forcing him to relive the sights and stenches.

He remained slumped and motionless so Jack took that as a barely conscious man's affirmation, reached over to unbuckle his seat belt, and carefully helped the young man slide from his seat and onto hard, trustworthy tarmac. Not a blade of grass in sight.

Ianto hissed, his eyes retreating behind scrunched lids.

"You really are going to have to keep still for this" Jack said, attempting a sterner intonation despite knowing that his smirk shone through. The ice cubes bundled within chequered cloth were beginning to drip onto his knee, and he pressed the frozen package to Ianto's purple-blossomed cheekbone once more.

Ianto did his best to glare, failing miserably. He had begun to feel calm once more; the obscure normalcy of his boss's office coupled with Jack's seemingly relentless need to fuss over him soothed his screaming soul.

"Jack?" he muttered, his voice returning to normal also, though he could still taste the filthy copper tang that stained the rag which had left the corners of his mouth sore, and a flavour that no amount of scotch was washing away.

"Ianto" Jack replied. So many of their recent conversations had begun this way, over the weeks. Shy enquiries evolving into soul-searching talks that Jack could only watch unfold and attempt to reply to with experience. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve such trust, but it warmed him at night when the ghosts came to play.

Since the evening when he had found Ianto still working way into the night, their conversations had become more frequent, longer, and they even began to laugh together, occasionally. Jack wasn't sure what it was about being in the Beacons which made Ianto take a step back, but the comment about his last kiss being Lisa disappointed him - and he knew that Ianto saw it. Besides the fact that it was an unnecessary addition to the proceedings and sullied the mood entirely, it wasn't strictly true…

He took the ice away and gazed at Ianto, watching him gather his thoughts the way he undoubtedly chose his clothes in the morning - mentally considering what went where and how it fitted together, before allowing the finished product to be revealed.

"When Tosh and I were in the cellar… she said that all of this was worth it, to protect people. And I asked… who protects us?"

Jack nodded, before he realised that was the end of the sentence.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said, doing that little incredulous head-shake as if it was the most ridiculous question ever asked. "We protect each other. Yeah, we protect everybody else too, but this scrappy little group we've got going on? We're a team, and we come first. You think I'd have stolen a tractor and shot every one of those bastards if I didn't care about you all more than anything else? It took all my restraint not to blow all of their sick brains out…"

Jack ground his teeth together, remembering their rotten grins, the terror on the faces of his friends - and Ianto through it all, beaten, broken, tied and bound. The personal outrage was overwhelming when he let rip with a roar, firing at shoulders and knees instead of bursting their vile heads like melons. His scowl softened at the memory of something Tosh had said in the car, when Ianto was suffering the fitful embrace of traumatised sleep - Ianto had saved her, created a diversion while she ran… and the boy was punished with a gun-butt to the skull and a promise that he would be the first to be bled.

He broke into a sudden smile, meeting Ianto's startled eyes.

"And you, Ianto Jones, I believe you too put yourself a risk to save a colleague today! You're a hero. We'll have to officially make you a field agent."

Jack wasn't entirely prepared for Ianto's tense expression to collapse in a whimpering stream of tears. He stood dumbly staring for a moment, the young man visibly crumbling upon the edge of his desk, looking as if he was simply going to tumble forward and fall face-down onto the floor - until Jack caught him against his chest and held on.

Ianto sobbed like a child, not even knowing why. Catharsis, he supposed. A mixture of abject horror and the kindest words he had unknowingly been longing for, plus being cared for. He lacked the strength to wrap his arms around Jack's hips, as much as he ached for the extra contact. His Captain standing above him made him feel young and small, entirely protected, which in this situation, he couldn't find embarrassing.

Ten or fifteen minutes passed before he rubbed his face against wet blue cotton one last time and pulled away. He grimaced at the sight of the wet patch stretched across Jack's middle like and blinked up apologetically, his flushed face seeming so innocent that Jack wanted to pull him back. He smirked.

"Had much worse on my clothes. Welsh snot is nothing'" he said, causing a glimpse of a smile to grace Ianto's face.

"I'll have it dry cleaned for you, sir" Ianto mumbled, slipping off the desk and onto his feet, expecting Jack to step back and give him some room. He didn't. Instead, they found themselves almost nose-to-nose and sharing a breath; just another inch or two and they would have been pressed together entirely.

Ianto, despite all his natural awkwardness, found himself frozen where he stood and wanting the calm of Jack's eyes, though they were too close to focus on fully. He wanted to hold both of the Captain's hands, nuzzle back into his neck, and just stay for as long as he needed to in a company of a comfort source. He told himself he would have felt the same about whoever was here.

Jack took in a wavering breath before whispering;

"Gwen asked me if I ever get scared."

Ianto audibly swallowed, catching the scent of those 51st century pheromones.

"And?"

"I was absolutely terrified of what I would find in that house. I don't fear for my life… but for the lives of those closest to me, yeah, I get scared."

Jack risked pressing the tip of his nose to Ianto's, before their foreheads came together, and both felt the heavy embrace of exhaustion attempt to knock them down.

"I was afraid of dying" Ianto sighed, his desire to stay conscious wilting with his body. Jack tasted the fear in his words, the strength it took to say it, and the strange realisation behind the statement.

"Perhaps I do want to live, after all" Ianto breathed, and Jack immediately closed the gap between their lips.

The kiss lasted two seconds, no more. A stopwatch couldn't have been more accurate.

"If you ever doubt the value of your life again, I'll kill you" Jack growled, and Ianto couldn't bring himself to laugh.

Ianto whimpered softly as Jack peeled away his previously white (now a filthy streaked beige) shirt, and began to tug the hem of the t-shirt beneath up over his hips.

"Lift your arms… this will probably hurt" he warned, and Ianto obliged until the chill air of Jack's bunker puckered his flesh and he dropped them once more. Jack's hand warily lingered close to Ianto's belt buckle, but a hoarse murmur of "I'll do it" stopped him, and he stepped away, slipping down his braces and undressing himself in turn.

Ianto didn't watch him as he let his own jeans fall. His mind was finally blank as he had wished; blank with exhaustion and the power a little affection can bring. But it was not the cold, numb kind he was acquainted with. No, he was warm, cocooned within himself whilst feeling able to emerge if need be.

Jack's bed looked surprisingly small, compact, soft - precisely what he needed, and with another body to lie next to. The Captain was out of his clothes in seconds, and under the covers before Ianto was sure whether he was wearing anything at all. With all his defences down, he didn't much care, though his own boxers stayed on. He was probably too modest for his own good.

"You want me to hold you?" Jack asked in his softest, most non-threatening voice, the boy looking lost as he hovered next to the mattress with his hands loosely knotted in front of his crotch, purple marks blossoming all over his young flesh. He almost added 'I don't bite', but it didn't seem appropriate. Jack, you soft old ass… since when did that stop you?

Ianto thought for a moment, unnecessarily since he knew what the answer would be immediately, then nodded just once. Jack pushed himself up a little and Ianto slid in, faced away and coiled up as small as possible. Jack frowned, before realising that Ianto wanted to curl up behind him. Was he insecure about this? Or did he just want to feel protected?

Ianto felt the calming warmth of smooth skin press against his spine, and one arm lazily snaked around his waist. Jack's breath skimmed over his nape.

"Goodnight sir" he mumbled, as his overwhelming tiredness gripped hold of his mind and suffocated it.

"Night Ianto" Jack whispered back, pondering the novelty of having armfuls of mostly-naked man and wanting nothing more than to keep him safe for a few dark hours.

Jack held him all night, through the restless wriggling and mumbled strings of nonsensical words. He adjusted his own body accordingly, watching Ianto's soft young face contort and relax again as his dreams caught him in their grip and released. That he could sleep at all was a good sign, Jack mused.

He himself settled into a light doze, one where he remained aware and alert, but relaxed enough to recharge as humans do. The boy continued to shift in his arms, and Jack found the most peace when Ianto's breath was whispering steadily across his cheek. He turned his own head slightly, eventually, to catch that warm breeze against his own mouth. To his contented delight, Ianto's unconscious body chose to remain in that position for the remainder of the night.

He ached, GOD how he ached… light filtered red through Ianto's eyelids and he winced from it, realising that his flesh and bones thrummed with a dull pain that made him wonder if he would simply shatter.

Jack was staring at him - he had felt the muscles twitch, seen the caged movements of the eyeballs increase, the mind waking slowly. He knew the flinching would come. Ianto was still black and blue all over; sadly that hadn't changed overnight.

The Captain had spent the last hour or so, fresh from his own variation on sleep, doing little other than focussing his thoughts solely on the young man in his arms. His scarred yet strangely brilliant mind, his distinctly British wit, his pain, which in some ways he seemed to cling to for fear of whatever else there might be in his own mind… and, almost as an afterthought Jack realised with surprise, his looks. Ianto had an extraordinary face. Such high cheekbones, downturned childlike mouth and brilliant sky-blue eyes. It seemed fitting, a look of naivety tinged with tragedy. He was a beautiful puzzle of a man.

Ianto finally gave up the fight and opened his eyes, seeing only the blurred colour of flesh until he blinked the sleep away from his eyes, and found Jack's face. Warm, comforting Jack. Jack who held him all night, just him. Ianto smiled a small but dazzling smiled, forcing Jack to claw at his own composure.

But then the memories returned. The horrors of what he had seen and felt, his own constant sense of loss that lay beneath the surface, the throb of it letting him know he was alive. Shadows returned behind his eyes and the smile waned. He was still staring at Jack, unknowingly pleading - and Jack answered with a kiss like the one last night. Soft, brief, chaste, protective.

"Hey."

"Morning."

"You know, you should really spend a little time in that warm bubble between sleep and awake."

"Hmm?"

"The place where you're not sure whether the world exists at all and you don't really care. You know what I mean, I just saw it in your face."

Ianto stared out into space for a moment, remembering how it felt just then, his emotions at seeing Jack and being unaware of anything else. It was good.

"Show me how" he whispered, blinking slowly before his eyes swivelled back to Jack. He looked afraid.

Jack hesitated for less than a second before gently rolling Ianto onto his back and hovering above him. Ianto's eyes widened but he didn't argue, especially since Jack's fingers were too quick for him. They touched either side of his head, pressing gently at the temples, and rubbed there in slow, small circles.

"Close your eyes" Jack whispered, "don't think about anything at all."

Ianto accepted the darkness and the touch willingly, but switching off his mind would take more. Jack's breath was very close to his face, and then he was kissing Ianto's eyelids, as if trying to remove the grey smudges. A kiss strayed to his left cheek.

"Jack…"

"Shhh."

The movements of Jack's fingertips were ceaselessly steady, and Ianto felt his thoughts beginning to melt, drifting into the recesses like sand in water. He wanted to panic, but he couldn't bring himself to. A kiss found his lips yet again, and stayed for longer. Ianto found himself responding this time, just a single languid caress of Jack's sweet mouth that almost unwittingly offered permission.

This was the only kind of comfort Jack knew how to give. He was a great deal better with words than he would ever admit to himself, but physical intimacy was his speciality. He could be taking advantage of the situation… but he'd taken advantage of Ianto quite enough lately. This was different. It was care. And it was making him feel impossibly good to know that it helped.

His fingers stopped their circling. One hand ran through Ianto's short waves and the other slid down over his throat, stopping at the collar bone. Ianto was still returning the kiss at his own pace, but his thoughts hadn't quite been replaced by silence; the fluttering in his stomach, almost nauseating, that was what reigned now. He could almost hear his own nerves singing out, nerves that leaned more towards excitement than fear. All he could hear was the gentle caress of their lips meeting again and again and the occasional shuffle of cotton against skin.

Jack's palm slid over his belly, caressing it, revelling in the sprinkling of soft hair that trailed downwards, and Ianto arched to him. He didn't want any questions, he didn't want to have to think, and he didn't want to pause to worry about this situation. He wanted to be cared for, just for now, for somebody to show him a little pleasure and allow these endorphins to flow for as long as possible.

Jack couldn't help but read the complete lack of resistance as submission. The ultimate test was… his fingers found it, through brushed cotton, and Ianto hissed into his mouth. The Welshman's cock strained against his fingers and Jack wasted no time in cradling it against the heel of his hand, his thumb running a few firm, lazy circles around the tip.

Ianto was lost, in that bubble the Captain spoke of. His waistband was being tugged gently down, and the reality of skin on pulsing skin was almost too much to bear. He felt everything at once, chaotic and calm… pleasure and pain. Jack's tongue finally breached his mouth, and as it stroked Ianto's in rhythm with his own hand, Ianto couldn't pretend to care when he came across Jack's wrist within two minutes, a fractured growl reverberating throughout his taut frame.

Once he was melted back into the mattress, Jack gently removed his hand and his tongue, and smiled into Ianto's flushed, startled face.

"Now, that wasn't so bad" he murmured, a statement rather than a question. To his surprise Ianto let out a quick, loud laugh. His expression softened again, and he smiled sheepishly up at Jack. He had already made the decision not to think too hard about what just occurred, when it had caused this rush of positive energy. He wasn't going to question it. But he was going to thank Jack… somehow.