"Ianto?"
Leave me alone. I'm tired. I don't feel so good. Think I may have the flu.
"Ianto Xavier Jones, you open your eyes right now."
His name—his full name—just about cut through the pain in his head. The tone was familiar—a wash of noise that somehow focused and made sense. His name. Someone was calling his name.
Mum, I feel like shit—leave me be alone.
Ianto tried to call, "Mum?" but no sound came out. His throat was thick and tight, and there was something in his mouth that hurt. Cold, hard plastic forced past his lips and
into his throat, stopped him from talking.
"He's awake. Sean, go get the doctor."
Was Sean here? Why was his brother here? Ianto only had the flu or something. Sean should be at college. He shouldn't be here. Wherever here was. He forced his eyelids, heavy and scratchy, to open, and the Jones glare was so overwhelming that he shut them again. When he attempted to lift his hand to pull whatever was in his mouth off, something cut into his wrist. What the hell? Was he being held down? Panic curled at the edges of his consciousness, and he struggled against the bonds.
"Ianto, it's your mum—don't panic. Calm down, sweetheart," she crooned. Then, in an entirely different tone within the spectrum of available mom tones, she snapped an instruction at someone to let her son out of the damn restraints.
"The doctor is worried he'll pull out the breathing tube, ma'am. He was trying to remove—"
"Take off the restraints, and I'll make sure he doesn't," she said to the other person in the room with them. Then more quietly to him, with gentle words, "Lie still, Ianto. You hear me, son? We'll get the breathing tube taken out, okay? You just need to lie still."
Breathing tube? It hurts so much.
He couldn't say he would try, but he moved his head in an approximation of a nod, groaning at the spikes of pain that banded his skull.
"How is he?"
The new voice was deep, growly and familiar. Ianto tried to open his eyes again, he really did, but there was no way he could handle the extra pain.
"He's awake," Ianto's mum confirmed to the guy in the room. "Are you leaving now? Did they clear you?"
Ianto felt he ought to recognize the voice. "I had a small case of smoke inhalation. Hazard of the job, ma'am."
"What about the burns on your hands?"
"These? It's nothing." The owner of that damn sexy voice dismissed her concerns out of hand. There was no false modesty in his voice, just a simple statement.
"Call me Jenny, please. After all, I owe you my son's life."
My life? What happened? I'm so tired.
"Jenny, then. And we were just doing our job."
"Whatever. I can't thank you enough. I hope you know that."
Silence. Ianto assumed the guy was nodding, or something equally frustrating given his currently blind status.
He felt a touch on his wrist, and whatever was restraining him on the left-hand side slipped away. Experimentally, he attempted to relax and then tense the muscles in his arm.
As his fingers moved and he felt the ache in his arms, he suddenly knew exactly where he was. Hospital. Not only did he know where he was, but with a stab of clarity, he knew why he was there. Fire. Hospital. The choking smoke. The panic returned with a swift kick, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He clawed at the plastic in his mouth, wanting it out and far away from him.
"Calm down, buddy," the guy with the deep voice said at his side. Evidently "Sexy" hadn't left. The voice had been very close, and the firm authority in his tone was enough to snap through the rising terror that gripped Ianto.
"The nurse is going to be taking the tube out now," Sexy said.
Ianto gripped the guy's hand tightly and followed the nurse's instructions until his throat was finally free and he experienced a whole different world of pain.
Experimentally, he attempted to open his eyes.
He wanted to see who was holding his hand. But just opening his lids welcomed stabbing pain, and reluctantly he shut them again. There was some movement around him, but it was difficult to concentrate on who it might be as the buzzing in his ears grew louder. Then everything went a bit hazy and he gave in to sleep.
When he woke next, he blinked up at the ceiling and realized he wasn't in such a bad place as to the pain. Casting his gaze around the room without moving his head was one thing; actually focusing on anything was another.
He imagined he saw Sean sprawled asleep in the corner
"Sean?" he whispered past the raw scrape of his throat and the pain in his chest. At least his head felt better.
"Sean?" he called again.
Sean finally stirred and crossed to the bed.
"Hey, Ianto," he said gently.
"What happened?" Ianto coughed as his chest tightened.
"Don't you remember?"
"There was a fire."
"Jeez, Ianto." Sean buried fingers in his long dark hair. "You went back into a freaking burning building to get Duncan Gerald, and you were trapped in the fire. The new guy, Jack Harkness, got you out."
Jack Harkness? Ianto concentrated past the wool in his head and remembered the new hire at the mayor's office who was also a new fire fighter. They hadn't met—hell, the guy had only arrived in town a few days ago.
Was that the voice he'd heard? The one asking after him that sounded like whiskey over ice?
Is Jack here? Was that him talking earlier?
Ianto attempted to word the question and forced the syllables past his dry throat. Sean leaned in. Evidently what sounded like English in Ianto's head was more like garbled nonsense, because Sean had this worried expression and obviously hadn't heard a word.
"Are you in pain? Ianto? Should I call a nurse?"
"No," he managed to bite out. "Wanna sit up," he said.
The words were clearer, but fuck, it hurt to push the sounds out of him. Sean helped him to sit up. Ianto was thankful that his brother hadn't called in a nurse, who would have been bound to stick him or prod him or tell him to lie down again.
"So," Sean started as he sat on the side of the bed. "I guess you want to know what the fuck happened?"