A/N: NEXT CHAPTER I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DO SOME RESEARCH FOR AND I'M GOING BACK TO SCHOOL ON MONDAY SO IT'LL TAKE A WHILE

~0~

Chapter 7=

The first half of their journey back to the hub was in silence, occasionally broken by a tiny whimper of pain from Jack or a quiet curse as Ianto navigated through the busy throng of traffic on the roads. As they pulled up for the fourth time behind an extraordinarily long line of cars at a set of traffic lights, Ianto glanced across at his lover and frowned in concern. Said immortal was leaning heavily on the window with his knees drawn up tightly to his chest with his spindly arms wrapped around his emaciated body as his frame occasionally shook with painful cramps. Five minutes later and they were still stuck in the damn traffic and Ianto was seriously considering the morals of using his stun gun on the idiot who kept beeping his horn behind them when Jack gave a slightly louder than average whimper and curled up into an even tighter ball. The Welshman reached across and squeezed the elder's hand tightly and he gave him a weak smile in response.

The lights finally changed to green and Ianto almost banged his head on the steering wheel when after crawling along at a snail's pace, they had to stop again. Trying to remind himself that things could be worse, he took the opportunity to further examine the former time agent and he didn't like what he saw. The elder man was so thin that he didn't even look skeletal; his eyes were dull and sunk deep into his face, skin almost grey. Ianto shivered slightly, how and why had it gotten to this? When had his lover started to starve himself and why hadn't he noticed? Maybe it was something that he'd done, although Jack probably wouldn't tell him if it was. Could it be because of the Doctor? Ok, that was possible, after all, Jack hadn't been like this before he had left, or had he? He didn't know anymore; Ianto wondered if he would have even noticed how badly the situation was getting if Jack hadn't collapsed.

Another louder than average whimper and Ianto spotted a tear leak out and down the immortal's face, distraction time. "So what actually happened?" He asked, trying for a cheerful tone, discreetly cranking the heater up to full blast at the same time.

"Dunno," Jack maundered, eyes screwed shut, "I was walking then it was all fuzzy and I fell over and hit my head on the wall and I tried to call you but then it just all went dark."

"But all the way to the posh area?" Ianto remarked incredulously, "Quite a journey that you went on."

Jack just shrugged, "I'll walk about thinking then eventually snap out of it and walk back to the hub, one time I somehow ended up in Splott."

"We should get you a collar with owner's details," The Welshman deadpanned, "I'll ask Owen to chip in, I'm sure he would love to take a photo."

Jack gave a non-committal grunt, "What are you going to tell the others?" he queried, keeping his eyes downcast, "Because brilliant as you are, even you couldn't make up a believable excuse for their immortal leader staggering in looking worse than he does when he's dead."

Ianto shot him a look that was somehow both puzzled and concerned, "Jack, the other three have all gone home, it's 7:30, we've all been worried sick about you- even Owen."

"It is? Oh, the last time that I looked at my watch, it was almost 2."

The younger eyed him warily and wondered if maybe he should call Owen back in because if the situation got any worse the medic would be angrier if he didn't call and hadn't the Brigadier said on the phone that the elder seemed delirious?

Jack knew that Ianto was watching him but was too tired to care. His head was killing him, pounding in time with his heart beat and words bounced around his skull, 'freak, abomination, pervert, stupid, idiot, whore, wrong, wrong; 's not easy even looking at you Jack, 'cuz you're wrong, freak, wrong, thing it…' in addition to that, his stomach kept cramping and it felt a bit like that time when he had been poisoned with Regalious venom by the Master. The Master… maybe it was all still a dream, maybe he was still on the Valiant slowly but surely going insane. Maybe if he fell asleep he would wake up still in chains in the boiler room on the airship being tortured and raped and mind-raped by the Master and all the guards, the freak hidden in the basement so as not to disturb the guest of honour with his wrongness. With the broken bodies of his team scattered all around him and with Tish forced to make her way through the mini graveyard every Sunday to give him a meagre sip of water that was probably fished out a toilet bowl but greatly welcomed all the same, dying more than twice a day really took it out of a man. And so did watching your entire family die horribly after they had been tortured and raped and God knows what else.

Jack let loose a pained sob and then another and he felt all of the emotions that he had been locking away since getting back from the Valiant all rising to the surface and overwhelming him and he just let it carry on because he was just too tired to try and remain the immortal, strong, unbreakable person that everyone knew and expected him to be. Someone sat down on the seat next to him and yet he just carried on crying, he was so tired and everything hurt so fucking much. "Jack? Are you ok, what's the matter?"

Shit, Ianto! But he didn't sound very angry, more perturbed and worried, "Hurts," he mumbled, turning as best he could in his seat and practically throwing himself into Ianto's lap, "hurts so much, so tired, so tired Yan."

"Sshh," the younger quietened him, carding his long fingers through Jack's silky brown hair, "It's going to be alright cariad, I promise, we're home now."

"Home?" He repeated decrepitly.

"Home," Ianto confirmed, brushing a kiss to his forehead.

~0~

Ianto got Jack settled in his narrow camp bed and the instant that his head hit the pillow, he let out a pained groan and curled up on his side with his knees pulled up tightly to his chest. Ianto sat down next to the pillow and started to stroke his hair as the only means that he could think of to provide him with some comfort, "Try to lie on your back, it won't hurt as much then." The Welshman suggested gently. Jack merely shook his head and curled up even smaller. Ianto sighed and then had a brainwave, "Do you think you could maybe do with that hot water bottle now hmmm?" the immortal moaned before giving a slight nod. The younger mumbled something that sounded like 'be right back' and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading back up the rickety ladder to the kitchen.

The ex time agent groaned again as yet another bout of agony went through him. What he didn't understand was why this was happening to him, he sure as hell couldn't have gotten food poisoning or some sort of stomach bug due to the fact that he had hardly eaten at all these past few days and yet it wasn't hunger pangs, he would know them at once and this wasn't it. So fucking what was wrong with him?! Apart from the obvious of course. Ooh, hold on, that thought floating around in his subconscious looked like it had the answer, wait for it, wait for it… there!

Oh yeah, Jack thought to himself as the memory unfolded in his mind's eye, that was it. Blake had said something about a brand new game they would play and he had agreed to it because otherwise 'that fucking team of yours is going to fucking suffer'. When the deranged lunatic had ordered him to simply shut his eyes and look asleep, it had been surprising- after previous experiences he had been expecting to have to castrate himself- but he didn't dare argue. He had waited and listened whilst the younger had gone to the kitchen and fished something out of the very back of the cupboard where all the pots and pans where kept before sauntering back in, "Open your eyes freak!" he did and then spontaneously recoiled from the massive syringe in his tormentor's hand. Blake laughed before randomly stabbing the tip into his arm and injecting some watery purple liquid. "Ya know freak, that stuff was actually quite a good thing that I invented."

"You invented? You mean someone else did and then you killed them and took all of the credit."

"Well, it's the same ending; don't you want to know what that ending is?"

"Go ahead; I could do with a good laugh."

"Well, when you walk- or rather stagger- out of the front door, it's going to be a lot harder for you to keep our situation a secret from that stupid tea boy of yours." Then there was sire burning through his veins and he tried to scream out of pain but something was blocking his throat and stopping him from speaking and a brown fog was descending over his eyes and slowly putting him to sleep.

"Jack!" a shout snapped him out of his memories and he raised dull, tired eyes to meat Ianto's, when had he come back? Hadn't he only just left to get a hot water bottle? A wave of pain washed over him and he grimaced, yeah, hot water bottle would be much appreciated at this point in time.

Ianto must have noticed his distress because he gently started to tug at his arms and got them to loosen slightly before slipping a hot, fluffy object next to him, Jesus, but if that didn't feel good! He gave a small sound of content and attempted to melt himself into it, oh, how good it would feel to have that hot water bottle glues to his stomach right now. The Welshman shook his head in a show of fond exasperation and gently started to remove his over shirt and the thick blue jumper with stars and snowflakes on Gwen had gotten him for Christmas; for some reason he was freezing cold all the time now, even when in the oven that was Ianto's flat.

"Oh Jack!" the younger exclaimed in equal parts shock and horror as he finally succeeded in removing the jumper. The immortal's usually tight-fitting shirt hung loose on a frame so skinny that every bone underneath the almost translucent skin showed through perfectly. Dark, marring purple bruises spanned one wrist and disappeared under his sleeve, one big long greenish mark lay in all its glory on his side and Ianto wondered absently if maybe he was going to throw up, he was so horrified.

"Oh cariad," he said, softer this time, "What's happened to you?"

Jack assumed that he was talking about the bruises so shrugged slightly and murmured, "I fell over when I was in that alleyway, probably, it doesn't hurt, honestly."

"And you're so thin!"

"Am not." Came the weak protest, Ianto put a hand on his forehead and felt the overheated skin there and got up to go to the tiny ensuite bathroom and came back a few moments later with a wet towel; getting a happy sigh when he started to use it to wipe his lover's face.

"Jack," Ianto started, hesitating slightly as the immortal man snuggled deeper into his side, "are you… I mean... are you deliberately starving yourself so that you can be thin?"

"What, no!" Jack reared up in shock, staring at the young tea boy as if he had just turned into an alien with purple skin and six tentacles. Another bolt of pain ripped through him and he fell back down onto the pillow with a cry, scrabbling to pull the hot water bottle back into position from where it had been dislodged when he moved.

"Sshh," Ianto soothed him softly, readjusting the pillow and pulling the duvet up, "do you want me to get own? He could give you something to help you get better." It didn't surprise him when Jack shook his head.

"Just, hold me, please?" he mumbled and felt relieved when the Welshman slipped under the covers beside him because although he would never say it, just being held in Ianto's strong arms made him feel much better.