Chapter Four, Jack's POV. Apologies for the delay - I was travelling. Also, if the information about painkillers is incorrect, or could use a little tweaking, let me know. I did what I could with the internet, but I truly don't know much about what is available in the UK, and I am in no way a medical professional.

He looked across the SUV to where Ianto sat. He was reclined slightly, his head tipped towards him, with his eyes closed. His arms were wrapped tightly around his chest, as if holding himself together, although it was probably more reflexive than anything else. He knew that Ianto probably wasn't feeling anything right at that moment, that exhaustion had most likely wiped the agony from his mind, but he couldn't stop his own wince of pain at the picture he painted. The doctors at the nearest A&E were not impressed with Ianto's condition, and threw suspicious glances in his direction as they wheeled him off for x-rays. He knew they were right, too. It was his fault that Ianto was broken. He'd pulled the poor man from his comfortable position in the Hub, and forced him out into the field, into a situation he wasn't trained to deal with.

Sure, Ianto held his own. He was damn proud of his team, all of them, but especially Ianto. Tosh made it a point to give him the full, gory details; of their discovery in the basement, of Ianto's shock at the freezer contents, of his bravery in taking on the villagers to let her get away. He shuddered to think how close he came to losing them all, but especially to losing Ianto. That cleaver was cutting into his neck as he started firing – he could see it, could see the thin, red line as it broke the surface of his skin. He knew Ianto was unhappy with himself, that he thought he could have done more. But he'd seen the look of horror on his face, and knew without a doubt that it was a damn miracle he was walking and talking, as opposed to a catatonic bundle in the corner. He sure as hell didn't blame him for curling up and covering himself when he started firing. He wasn't all too sure he wouldn't have done the same, given Ianto's history.

The diagnosis from the hospital was just about what Jack expected. Ianto definitely had two broken ribs, which were currently wrapped tight. The downside to a rib fracture was the inability to immobilise the torso. All that could be done was protect them as much as possible. The A&E staff concurred with Owen's original diagnosis about Ianto's head, ruling out concussion. Chances were good he would have a headache in the morning, due to the combination of stress, lack of sleep, and the bloody great contusion on his forehead. However, his thick skull prevented any further damage.

The medication prescribed was a hell of a lot stronger than the paracetamol he'd passed him while Ianto was still in the bath. The fact that he had only just ingested the pills meant that he was required to wait another four hours before taking anything else. He knew that Ianto was only holding on because he was asleep. As soon as he stopped the SUV, and woke him up, the pain would return, likely ten-fold. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard – there was still half an hour to go before he could officially pass the narcotic pain meds on to Ianto. Screw it, though. He was only a minute away from Ianto's flat, and he no longer had any intention of leaving after settling him into bed.

He pulled the SUV up outside the flat. He was more than willing to double-park in the middle of the road, or even on the footpath itself, while moving Ianto. Let anybody try and complain – it would give him the perfect excuse to take out his frustrations. However, an open spot was directly opposite the door. Serendipitous, that nobody was using it. And probably better for the general population, in the end.

He turned the key, then twisted his body towards Ianto. He reached out a hesitant hand, trying to decide how best to wake him. Ianto's sleepy voice took the choices away.

"Jack?"

"Shh. We're home. Sit tight, I'll come around and give you a hand."

As he opened the door and climbed out, he could hear Ianto mutter quietly. "Not much choice. Couldn't move if I tried."

This whole situation made him so mad. It was all his fault. In this particular case, even more so. Ianto's ribs most likely hadn't been broken before the bath, just cracked. It was him, pulling him up out of the water, which caused the damage. He was doing his best to finish the job the residents of Brynblaedd started.

He walked around to the passenger side of the SUV, opened the door and reached in. This time, Ianto waited patiently for his help, which was both gratifying and irritating. The man was young, fit – he shouldn't need this sort of help. He held Ianto's arm, and watched him swing his legs out of the high vehicle. Well, at least he wasn't going to have to push himself upright. Just get his feet on the ground and stand. And that was a problem – he could see the strain on Ianto's face as he moved each leg. The problem with injuries to the core – it was impossible to move any other part of the body without it. Still, he knew that Ianto wouldn't want him to fuss too much, so let him move at his own pace. At the current rate, worrying about medicating him too soon would be a moot point.

Eventually, Ianto's feet were both on the ground, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, the other holding his hand tight enough to cause blood flow issues. He was white around the eyes and lips, signs of the amount on pain he was suffering. He stood slowly, weaving a little until his balance settled. Ianto let himself be moved out of the way of the door, leaning against the SUV gratefully.

As soon as he'd locked up the SUV, arming the multiple deadlocks and alarms that Tosh improved upon, he wrapped one arm protectively – well, possessively, to be honest – around Ianto's waist, leading him slowly up to the flat. He rummaged in a pocket for the keys, then let them both in. This time, he didn't bother with his coat or boots, instead focusing on getting Ianto all the way into the flat and to the bedroom. Better to do it and leave a little mess, than risk Ianto falling over.

As they passed the bathroom, Ianto put out a hand, halting their progress.

"Stop. Need to take a piss." His voice was low, scratchy and quite obviously he was holding back cries of pain.

He led him in, positioning him in front of the toilet. "Need a hand?"

"My ribs are broken, Jack, not my dick. Quite sure I remember how to do this on my own."

He huffed in annoyance. Ianto could be such a stubborn and snarky bastard. "Fine. If you fall on your arse, don't blame me."

"Jack," Ianto reached out his hand, stopping him from leaving the bathroom. "I didn't mean… Just, stay close, yeah? I'm not feeling too steady."

He sighed. He knew that Ianto was just about done in completely, and that he truly hadn't meant anything bad with his words. It was more that he was so frustrated, both with the lack of contact between them, and not being able to do more to help Ianto. It wasn't fair of him to take out his bad mood on Ianto.

He didn't say anything, just stood behind him with a steady hand on his shoulder. He could feel Ianto's body tremble beneath his touch – he needed to get him in to bed immediately, before the man fell over into the loo. It wouldn't do to drown him, or break him further.

Ianto pulled himself together, then turned to face him. His face was flushed. "Could you, um, flush? I can't bend…"

"Sure." He turned him around to face the sink. "You wash your hands."

The sound of the tap running was drowned by the flush of the toilet. He reached around Ianto to wash his own hands, then wrapped his arm around his waist again. He led him out and back towards the bedroom. Only three steps, but he was sure it felt like a marathon run to Ianto. His body was shaking so much by now, it felt like a small earthquake. It was clear he didn't have much left in him.

As he stood Ianto by the bed, he wondered whether to strip him down, or just pull the covers over him fully dressed. Ianto took the decision from him, however, when he started to push the waist of the joggers down his hips.

He took over when it became apparent that Ianto couldn't move them beyond the reach of his hands. As he grabbed the loose fabric and tugged, he remembered that Ianto wasn't wearing underwear. It was his own fault – he'd not bothered with them when helping Ianto dress earlier. He gritted his teeth and leaned down, wanting nothing more than to soothe away the hurt with kisses, yet knowing it was the last thing Ianto needed. The last thing he wanted. The pointed lack of arousal when his face was only inches away was proof positive.

He stood back up and helped Ianto push the shirt back off his shoulders, letting gravity help it on its way to the floor. The white wrapping of the hospital bandage ran from Ianto's waist up to his armpits. If their relationship was stronger, he'd make some comment about impersonating a mummy, but at this moment, he knew Ianto wouldn't appreciate it. Maybe later.

He eased him down to the bed, and picked up his legs to swing them up. He pulled the pillows over from the other side, setting them up in a big pile behind Ianto's head, and then tugged up the duvet. He held him as he lay back, moving the pillows as needed until the strain in Ianto's face receded.

"Good?" He waited for Ianto to nod. He didn't blame the wince that accompanied it. Clearly, he was far from good.

"Let me get some milk – shit, no, it's past the date. Um, water?" Ianto nodded again. "Some bread, too. You can't take this stuff on an empty stomach."

"Whatever, Jack. Not like I'm going anywhere."

There wasn't really anything he could say. Better to just fall back into his usual pattern and say nothing at all. He turned and wandered to the kitchen. The pills the hospital prescribed were in his pocket, weighing him down with the responsibility of doing things right. On top of everything else, he had the potential to fuck this up as well. Sure, the instructions on each little bottle were explicit, as these things went, and he had the full lecture from both the doctors and the pharmacists, but it would be so easy to screw up. To hand over more than the required dose, or to get the timing wrong.

Of course, he wouldn't. He'd been around long enough, and seen enough, to know his way around a pharmaceutical situation. That was why he was so impressed with Ianto – the man actually stopped an idiot doctor from prescribing something that could very well have been disastrous.

The Brufen* he could understand – standard ibuprofen, good for soft tissue swelling, as well as aches and pains, or high temperature. And the Co-dydramol – paracetamol with dihydrocodeine – used to combat mild to moderate pain. It was the OxyContin he didn't get. At first, it seemed the perfect thing – strong, like the Co-dydramol. But as Ianto pointed out to a surprised medico, it was not to be used on those with head injuries. As Ianto had been quite severely beaten about the face, he had to agree. What the hell the doctor was thinking, he didn't know.

As he collected the medication before taking Ianto home, he'd mentioned it quietly to the pharmacist, who just shook his head and muttered under his breath about the incompetency of some so-called professionals. He'd also called Owen to fill him in on Ianto's condition – coincidentally getting a royal bollicking for breaking his patient, and not calling sooner – and double-checked the prescription. Owen was reluctantly impressed with Ianto for catching the error, and not just taking the opiates so he could pass out.

He poured a glass of water, and made a quick cheese sandwich. Ianto did have ham in his fridge – it even smelled good, unlike the milk, which had turned while they were out – but he didn't think meat was high on his menu at the moment. It might never be again. And once more, he wouldn't blame him. What a god-awful way to become vegetarian. Now he'd never be able to get the boy to put some weight on his bones.

Walking back into the bedroom with plate in one hand, and glass of water in the other, he very nearly decided not to hand them over. Ianto was lying with his eyes closed, one hand laid protectively over his ribs and the other palm-up on the bed. He looked completely shattered – and more than a little gorgeous. Once again, Ianto took any decision out of his hands, cracking one eye open as he stood staring.

"Medication doesn't do any good still in the bottle, Jack. Were you planning on handing it over, or just staring all night?" He sounded as exhausted as he looked.

"I thought you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."

"Thought about it. My ribs are screaming, though. Bit hard to sleep through all that racket."

He put the plate and glass down on the bedside table closest to Ianto, then reached into his pocket for the pills. As his hand closed around the small bottles, it dawned on him that he was still wearing his coat. He put the bottles down beside the food, then shrugged out of the heavy material, laying it carefully on the chair in the corner. He bent over and unlaced his boots quickly, slipping them off and placing them neatly out of the way. He stood up to see Ianto peering at him with narrowed eyes.

"What?"

"That's twice today you've taken your boots off. You okay?"

"Seriously, Ianto, it's not that big a deal."

Well, it was, actually. He wasn't obnoxious and thoughtless on purpose, but he knew he came across that way to some – hell, to a lot – of people. It was more that he was usually in a hurry, or focused on something other than his feet, that prevented him from doing somebody's floor the courtesy of socks. And some days, his socks had holes in them, so he wasn't keen on showing them off, anyway.

He could see the disbelief in Ianto's face, but was extremely glad the other chose not to comment further. At least about that, anyway.

He walked back around the bed and reached for the small bottles. Opening one, he shook out the round, white tablet – Brufen, 800mg, good for eight hours. He handed that to Ianto, then repeated with the other container – Co-dydramol, 500mg paracetamol and 10mg dihydrocodeine tartrate, one every 12 hours. He pulled up his wrist unit and made quick notes, setting alarms for repeat dosages, as from now on until timing lined up again, they'd be administered all over the clock.

He made Ianto eat the sandwich first – or rather, watched him swallow a couple of bites, then drop his hand and grimace.

"Ugh. No more."

"You need the food, Ianto. The ibuprofen isn't good on an empty stomach."

"I know that, Jack. These few bites will do, I'm sure."

"And if you're sick?"

"Then I'll scream like a son-of-a-bitch when I throw up. I just can't stomach eating anything at the moment."

"It's your gut." He shrugged. Wasn't much he could do to force him, short of strapping him down and wrenching his jaw open, then shoving the food in and making him chew. He was a bastard, but not that much of one. "Here, drink this."

Ianto took the proffered water gratefully, then tossed the two pills into his mouth and took a healthy swallow. It was obvious that even that wasn't comfortable, so he just held his hand out for the glass and silently put it back on the small table.

He watched Ianto, as Ianto watched him. He couldn't look away, the stare from Ianto as intense as anything he'd ever seen from him. It unnerved him, while at the same time, turning him on. He wished he knew what the hell Ianto was thinking; was he mad? Curious? Indifferent? Or was he aroused, like him? The dark colour of his eyes hinted at the possibility of it being the last, however there was a better than good chance it was simple exhaustion and drugs.

Feeling quite shaky himself, he broke the contact, moving away to push his coat off the seat of the chair – while making sure it wasn't tossed haphazardly on the floor – and sat down. The minutes ticked by in slow motion, feeling like an eternity happening in a second. Ianto's eyes drooped closed, his mouth opened slightly, and his breathing stopped coming in short, panted gasps. It was evident the medication was finally easing his pain.

He was prepared to spend all night watching him. In fact, was under orders from Owen to do just that, thanks to further injuring him.

What he wasn't prepared for was Ianto to suddenly start speaking, slowly and softly, the words pouring forth in a pained torrent.

All medical information I found at ./aches-and-pains/medicines. I honestly have no idea as to its veracity. I just needed something that looked right, because I honestly have no clue what is available pain-wise in the UK. New Zealand, Australia and the US? I can do that in my sleep! (Sort of.) If there are any issues with these medications, either that I should know about, or need to change, please do contact me.