A/N: Again, thank you for your support and understanding during my exams; they are now finished, so I am looking forward to dedicating as much time as possible to both of my multi-part fictions, as well as working on some one-shots, codas and interludes. This chapter features the return of the Doctor into Jack's life - there has been much discussion around me about which incarnation it will be, and there is a specific reason why I have chosen this particular Doctor, which will be elaborated on in my Author's Notes at the end of the chapter. Thank you so much for your continued support with this fiction, and I hope I continue to meet your expectations.


Served Cold

Chapter 6

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Being in the foetal position was comforting.

Even on the cold floor, with the harsh, spiky fauna that may have been hay but may have been something completely different, Ianto found that drawing his knees up to his chest brought back some sense of security. The warmth that was brought when he curled his arms around his shins, tucking his head down into his chest, burrowing into the somewhat familiarity of his tattered shirt, was such a blessed thing in this environment.

It was something he'd done before. He'd remember curling up in his sheets, drowning himself in the harsh cotton and delighting in the warm darkness it had brought. Especially on those occasions when the back of his legs and shoulders were smarting with raised, red welts, and he could feel the pain and anger and disappointment and confusion bubbling in his chest…

He'd pretend that he was something other than what he was, cocooning himself away, hibernating until his time would come and he would free.

Sometimes his sister would come in; she annoyed him most of the time, but when she heard the snappa-snappa-snappa of the belt from the privacy of her room she would always make the effort, and at these times he really didn't mind. She wouldn't come under the covers, but she would wrap her arms around the bundle in the centre of the bed, stroking the tuft of hair poking out onto the pillow. He liked that.

When he closed his eyes, even here and now, on this cold ship, with the madman just around the corner, he could sometimes imagine her tiny, shivering fingers pushing through his hair, the gentle touch on his scalp soothing and steadying his racing heartbeat.

Her's and Lisa's touch had been so very similar to one another; they were soft, reassuring, their slim arms covering him like a tiny, cotton blanket. They made him feel loved, and all he had wanted to do was make them happy, as they did with him.

Jack's touch had been different – it had been solid, strong, encasing him in a hard circle of warmth. .

He flinched ever so slightly at that memory, curling further in to try and block out the feel of the strong arms wrapped around him. It was easier to think of his sister and his fiancée, because there was nothing they could do – he'd accepted that he would never see them again. Jack was different, in every way, as he so often was. The hope was more painful than the certainty. He didn't think that Jack would find him; he understood the immortal man more than the man himself gave him credit for, and he knew that the only reason Jack would have run away would have been to forget, completely and utterly.

He wouldn't want to be reminded.

Ianto fully expected him to turn away and keep running, and he didn't begrudge him that – even in dying, all he'd wanted was for Jack to remember him, but he'd never wanted him to waste his life. He wanted him to live, for fuck's sake – even if there was a tiny petulant part of him that wanted Jack to grieve, the larger, pragmatic part of him wanted him to go on living and loving and fighting.

But there was always that hope that Jack would be chasing around the universe after him, the slim chance that he meant enough to incite that level of loyalty. As much as he tried to suppress it, there was a desperate longing within him to be found, to be the focus of Jack's passion once again. His brain, however, knew that that wasn't true, and the conflict between the hope and the pragmatism was more painful than the pain that his captor inflicted every day. The cuts on his body would heal, the throbbing pain in his head would subside, at least blocked out by sleep, but that hope ate away at him every single day.

He didn't want to hope anymore.

It just hurt too much.

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"Ouch!"

The small, ginger woman tumbled backwards, her fingers grasping uselessly at the railing before she finally lost her balance, landing heavily on something protruding from the floor. She winced, bracing herself against the harsh movements and trying to ignore the uncomfortable poking sensation. As the vibrations subsided, she breathed out and forced herself up onto her elbows, only to be pulled back down as someone stumbled and fell on top of her, forcing her back onto the offending object.

"Rory!"

"Sorry!"

Rory scrambled away from her, holding out his hand to help her up. Amy rolled her eyes, grinning fondly before taking hold of the fingers and hauling herself up, rubbing the small of her back where one of the many miscellaneous "pointy things" had dug into her spine. She'd long ago given up trying to work out what every lever did, instead just accepting that the Doctor knew what he was doing (even though she was convinced that even he had no idea what some of the annoying protrusions were actually there for).

"We're here!"

Speak of the devil.

"Where?" she shot him a glare, exaggerating the rubbing movements on her back accusingly. He grinned madly, his bow tie slightly askew and his hair falling floppily out of place.

"Here!"

"Helpful," she sighed, moving forward to brush herself up against his fiancé's arm, abandoning her attempts at getting the Doctor to notice her injury. To be fair, it wasn't actually that bad, but it would have felt good to make him feel guilty. It was his fault, after all; even after River Song's revelations, he still seemed to love the creaking noise too much to actually take the brakes off before landing.

"Honestly," Rory's voice didn't hold the same teasing tone that Amy's did, and she suppressed a smile at the lift in testosterone levels in the room. "Where are we, Doctor?"

"The Beaches of Algorn," the Doctor grinned madly, oblivious to both Amy's guilt-trip and the accusing tone of Rory's voice. "One of the best holiday spots this side of the universe. Second only to Barcelona in the 2010 Galactorial Standards Agency Rankings."

Rory shot him a sceptical look.

"You're telling me that Spain tops a list of beaches in the universe?"

"No, of course not, don't be stupid," the Doctor adjusted his bow tie, aiming a pitying look in the direction of the human male, who was now looking decidedly abashed and offended.

"Now," his hands clapped together enthusiastically. "Who's up for a bit of a sunbathing?"

Before they could answer, he'd bounded off to the door of the Tardis, wrenching it open with the enthusiasm of a five year old and disappearing into the haze of light which filtered its way through. Amy turned to her fiancé, running her hand down his arm to lace their fingers together, giggling ever so slightly as he lowered his eyes to stare at their joined hands.

"Come on then, lover boy," she teased as she pulled them both forward slightly, feeling little resistance on his part. "I believe skinny dipping is just around the corner…"

His face spread into a grin, squeezing her hand tightly before stepping forward to stand by her side. Amy suppressed another laugh, beaming widely as they headed out through the door of the space ship, closing it firmly behind them…

…only to walk slap bang into the stationary back of the Doctor.

"Doctor…what…?"

The Scottish woman stopped abruptly, her voice cut off by the sound of guns being cocked. Rory's hand tightened around hers, only this time there was nothing romantic or affectionate about it – she could feel the shiver of fear running through him, and the protective tightening of his fingers around her own. It was a futile gesture, but she returned it, unwilling to take her eyes off the guns now being aimed squarely in their direction.

The Doctor turned slightly, his arms raised to his head in a gesture that the two humans quickly copied, eager to cause as little trouble as possible (at least, until they had a secure plan, that is). He grinned shyly, his eyes sparkling with the same look Amy had seen so many times since she had run away with him – the look of a naughty child who had just been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Well…" he shrugged, licking his lips nervously. "It's still sand…"

x

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Sometimes he felt like he deserved it.

The madman never said it, of course, but that just reinforced the idea in his mind. If his captor had openly stated that it was his fault, then he'd have railed against it, fought back, just like he had always done. At home, as a kid, feeling the whip of a belt against his back and hearing those harsh, accusing words in his ears, he'd fought it. Everything in him had told him that this wasn't fair, that he didn't deserve it, that one day he was going to get him back for treating him like this.

But here, in this environment, with only his own thoughts to keep him company, he persuaded himself that this was his fault, and that he deserved it.

Why else was this happening to him?

He'd tried to be a hero, encouraged Jack to stand up to the 456, and the result had been his death, had been Jack's death, and then…

His assailant had told him what had happened after he had died. At first, he'd refused to believe it, but deep down he knew that Jack would have done whatever it took to save the children; it was Jack through and through.

And now he knew that it was his fault.

Perhaps if he'd been more patient, not pushed Jack, perhaps then there would have been another way; perhaps they'd have stuck together and worked it out, found another solution. But they hadn't. They'd walked in, fuelled only by their anger and impatience, and Ianto had condemned Jack to be alone again – in the long run, he'd probably had it easier, not surviving to see the bloodbath.

And this was his punishment for that – he didn't deserve to stay dead.

It was all his fault, and this was his punishment.

Something caught in his throat, and he moved his hands to rest against his face, rubbing his dirtied thumb against the corner of his eyes. It was wet, he could feel it, and he let out a choked sob, shaking his head as he realised that he didn't deserve to be crying..

He wanted to find Jack, to tell him that he was sorry, that he didn't mean to cause all this pain and heartache, but he knew that was never going to happen. Jack was never going to know that he was sorry, and maybe Jack would hate him forever for what he'd done. It would be better if Jack just forgot about him, consigned him to history, found someone who would truly understand him and who wouldn't hurt him.

He hurt everybody he ever touched. His Mum, his Dad, Rhi, Lisa, Tosh, Owen…Jack…he could never do enough…

He flinched inwardly as he heard footsteps approaching the tiny room that he'd been confined to, the leather ropes at his wrists chafing against his skin as he pulled away too harshly. His breath caught in his throat as he wiped hurriedly at his eyes, pushing away the tears from his cheeks and swallowing hard, trying to subside the quivering of his breath.

He wasn't going to be scared. He wasn't going to fight anymore.

This was his punishment, after all.

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TBC...


A/N: I have chosen the Eleventh Doctor for a few reasons. I adore Mattt Smith's incarnation, and really enjoy writing for him - I also love the relationship between Amy and Rory, and really wanted to shine some more light onto that (this is obviously set before Episodes 8 and 9 of Series 5: "The Hungry Earth" and "Cold Blood"). My main reason, however, is that this story is set before the events of "End of Time" in Jack's timeline, and I do want to address that particular scene. I have found that, when canon disappoints me, the best way of fixing it is not to ignore it entirely, but to stick to the canon and modify it to bring it to a more favourable conclusion. Therefore, Jack's encounters in "End of Time" will indeed be taking place, but in the contexts of this plotline. If anyone can give me the specifics of that scene, the words, the actions etc. (I couldn't bear to watch it, unfortunately, and therefore I do not know the specifics), then I would be eternally grateful.

Thank you once again for your continued support. A big shout to all my reviewers and my lurkers. Please review to keep the bunnies biting - your comments and support are what keep this story floating.