Jack felt like he hadn't moved in days. And really, he hadn't, since they'd moved Ianto out of the infirmary and into the relatively unfurnished spare room. It was a lot homier than the infirmary, with a queen-sized bed, and now a rather comfortable chair which Jack had pulled up to the right side of the bed (the IV and other machinery had taken over the left). Jack didn't imagine he'd left that chair much over the last few days. Five days, precisely. Not for more than a few minutes at a time, to shower, shave, change clothes, and occasionally grab a bite to eat, when the others protested too much. Four days had passed; Martha said it was normal. Ianto's body – no, Ianto, not just his body – had been through a lot of stress, between the injuries and his sudden, mysterious revival, and it needed the time to recover. He needed time to recover.

The sound of boots clicking on concrete floor caught his attention, and he turned to see Gwen standing behind him. "How is he?" she asked

Jack shrugged. "About the same. Still sleeping, still breathing." He leaned forward, brushing his thumb across Ianto's forehead. "Still alive." And that word…God, that word still brought the lump into his throat. Ianto was alive.

Gwen smiled softly, resting her hand on his shoulder. "He'll be all right, Jack, you'll see," she said.

"I know," Jack said absently. "I just wish he'd wake up."

"Give him time. He came back to us once already."

Jack nodded, and then turned in his seat. "Did you need something?" he asked.

"Rhys and I are going out. I wanted to know if we could fetch you something; thought perhaps you might like us to take Ianto's things out of storage?"

That was right, Ianto's things…he'd be wanting those, what little they'd cleared from his flat. Honestly, aside from clothes and books, he hadn't had much. Not even enough to fill up a proper storage bin, though he'd gotten one all the same. The best one.

"Only the best for you, Yan," Jack whispered.

"Pardon?"

Jack shook his head. "Nothing. Yes. I mean, if you wouldn't mind." It was hard to concentrate, he'd been finding, and today was no exception. It was just…he could hardly bear to take his eyes off the beautiful sight in front of him: the rise and fall of Ianto's bandaged chest.

Gwen gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "All right, then. Call me if anything changes or you think of something else you'd like." Jack gave her a thumbs up, and with that, Gwen took her leave.

Jack wasn't sure how much time had passed since Gwen left; he didn't really care. He'd just gotten back from a quick trip to the john, and had only just started to sit down when he noticed something move out of the corner of his eye.

Could it? No…. Jack let himself fall the rest of the way into the seat, keeping his eyes trained on Ianto's hand, at the fingers sticking out from the white plaster that reached up nearly to his elbow. Martha'd had to re-break the bones to set them right, but she'd said they would heal soon enough.

Suddenly, another twitch, barely a flicker, caught Jack's eye. Slowly, Ianto's breathing began to change, quickening for a moment, before slacking off to even, measured breaths. Controlled breaths.

And Ianto was controlling them.

Jack knew the signs all too well. Whenever Ianto woke from a particularly horrific nightmare, whenever the world behind his eyes was too terrifying, he would always feign sleep until he could get himself calm again. He was always so careful, so guarded, and his sleep was no exception.

There was no mistaking it. Ianto was awake, and he was scared. Jack's first instinct was to comfort him, but he'd been in this situation before. Ianto needed the time, needed the chance to collect himself, and Jack was going to give it to him.

Only this time, it seemed he couldn't collect himself. Even as his breath stayed even, as his body stayed still, he couldn't hide it. When tears began to spring up from his closed eyes, thickening on his lashes and streaming down the sides of his face, Jack knew he couldn't just sit there.

Rising to his feet, he braced a hand on the pillow beside Ianto's head to hold himself up as he leaned over the bed. With his free hand, he gently stroked Ianto's cheek, brushing away the tears that wet his eyes. "Shh, you're awake. There's no more darkness, Yan, just open your eyes." He pressed a gentle kiss to Ianto's forehead. "Just let me see those beautiful baby blues."

He watched as Ianto's Adam's Apple bobbed, his face finally contorting to reveal the upset the tears had already made clear.

"Can't," Ianto choked out, his voice hoarse and airy with disuse.

Jack understood. His eyes were probably heavy, still thick with sleep, but that wasn't it. All Ianto knew was that it was dark, and that scared him. But more than the fear of the darkness behind his eyelids…was the fear of opening them, and seeing nothing but that same darkness. It had happened already, in the morgue.

"Yes, you can," Jack assured him, now caressing Ianto's cheeks with both hands, his face mere millimeters from Ianto's. He could feel the other's breaths on his face, so he knew Ianto could do the same. Anything to show him that there was something there, waiting for him when he opened his eyes. "Come on, Ianto, I'm right here. You can feel me, hear me; hell, I reckon you can smell me."

Ianto let out a weak, dry laugh, despite himself. "51st century pheromones," he breathed.

Jack chuckled. "That's right. Come on, then, just one thing left. Just open your eyes."

And Ianto did. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, and Jack found himself staring down into those blue eyes he loved so much. Jack smiled, stroking his fingers along Ianto's jaw. "Jack," the younger man whispered.

"In the flesh," Jack replied. "I told you I'd be right here when you woke up."

Ianto nodded, but it was a weak sort of nod, and one that would have had his head lolling to the side were it not for Jack holding his face between his hands. They had him on morphine, for the pain, and it looked to be doing a number on him. Ianto always did have a low threshold for opioids.

"Someone's tired," Jack teased softly, tapping Ianto's nose.

"I'm not," Ianto protested immediately, but the slurring told another story, as did his apparent inability to focus his eyes. "Not tired at all. Slept long enough."

Even as the normally articulate man tripped over his tongue, Jack got the feeling that he really did mean it. Not that he wasn't tired, perhaps, but he certainly didn't think Ianto wanted to go back to sleep. He could sympathize; normally when he came back, he had trouble sleeping for days. Anything to avoid the black, blaring nothing he'd just crawled out of.

"All right, then, no sleeping," Jack said. He knew Ianto still needed his rest, but he got the feeling the medicine would see to that soon enough. "Can I get you anything?"

Ianto quickly shook his head, his broken arm brushing against the front of Jack's shirt. It seemed only then did he realize he had a plaster. In the scheme of things, though, it wasn't that important – at least, Ianto didn't appear to think so. He let his arm fall back to the bed, and instead licked his cracked lips. "Stay," he said, and then added, blushing, "if…if it's no trouble…please." He tried to sound calm in the request, but Jack could sense a plea in his words, see the desperation in his eyes.

Ianto didn't want to be alone.

Which, as it turned out, worked just fine, because Jack didn't plan on leaving him anytime soon. "Think there's enough room in that bed for the two of us?"

Casting a glance down – Jack kindly moved out of the way so he could see the bed he was lying on – Ianto looked back up, a weak smile on his face. In that smile, Jack could see the ghost of the old Ianto bleeding through, and it heartened him. "I think so," Ianto muttered, cringing when his voice cracked over the end.

Wincing at the scratchiness of his young lover's voice, Jack reached over to the bedside table and took the glass of water from it. "First things first," he said, turning the straw around and putting it to his lips. Ianto gratefully accepted the help, pulling from the liquid eagerly. "Slowly…slowly, Ianto." When Ianto made no indications of slowing down, Jack pinched the straw. "You'll make yourself sick," he warned, and after a little while longer, he put the glass back on the table. "Better?"

Ianto nodded, reaching up with his left arm – the unbroken one – to rub at his eyes with the heel of his palm. He was fading fast, it looked like, just like Jack had predicted.

"All right, let's see if we can get you over," he said. Luckily, there were numerous extra sheets on the bed, including the one they'd used to shift Ianto from the infirmary bed to this one. Walking around to the other side of the bed, Jack pushed the covers out of the way and gripped the single crisp sheet, pulling it towards him. As Ianto was lying directly on the sheet, he went with it, without jarring him at all. Once he was over far enough, Jack pulled the covers back down and walked back to the other side.

"There we go," Jack said, kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed next to Ianto. It didn't take long for them to get comfortable – they had a sort of design for this sort of thing, especially after what had happened with those cannibals; poor Ianto had been bedridden for weeks after that. Now, Jack lay on his side facing Ianto, his head propped up on one arm as he ran the other through Ianto's short, messy hair. Ianto was pressed as close as he could manage into Jack's chest, and for the first time since Jack had rescued him from the morgue, he seemed to truly relax.

This time, unlike when they'd been trying to get Ianto to sleep the first time, Jack's ministrations were having their usual effect. Heavy eyes grew heavier, and Ianto blinked. Once, he shook his head quickly, and started to push himself up, trying to fight the sleep, but Jack shushed him, pressing feather light kisses to his head and stroking gentle patterns through his hair.

"You're okay," he told him, his voice low and soothing and soft. It was the voice he used to calm Ianto after nightmares, to settle his nerves when tensions got to be too high. "No more darkness, Yan, never again. I've got you now, and I'll never let you go."

Aided by the medicine and Jack's gentle care, sleep was starting to take Ianto. Only this time, he wasn't scared; he was at ease, safe in Jack's arms. As his eyes slid closed and he started to drift, his cracked lips parted as whispers slipped as slurs from them. "Jack…"

"What is it, Yan?" Jack asked, more to humor him than anything. He hardly even expected an answer – Ianto looked to be fast asleep. But then, with a breath of air, three words slipped out before Ianto's finally surrendered to sleep.

"I love you."

And this time, unlike the last time he'd heard those words – when he'd held this same man dying in his arms – Jack didn't refuse it. He said it back.

"I love you too, Ianto Jones." After pressing a kiss to those same lips, Jack laid down beside him, and for the first time in what felt like years, he too fell into a peaceful sleep.