Author's note: Last chapter I've written, I was going to finish here but I suppose I must make him better mustn't I? There is a little bit of swearing at the end, sorry it needed it. Tell me if you want this to continue so I can make Ianto better (although this isn't going to be happy ever after) any ideas of suggestions are welcome.
The room seemed stifling, the air too thick and heavy with thoughts. Owen had tried speaking at first, just murmured nonsense about recent events or even – god help him – the weather, but now he sat silent. Ianto wasn't talkative at the best of times, but this complete silence...if Owen didn't know better he'd have thought he couldn't speak.
He stood as the others entered, noting Gwen's wide-eyes and Tosh's slight flinch. Jack's face was its usual impassive mask. He could see what they saw and he knew they had every right to be frightened.
The room was deep beneath the archives, a miniature hospital hardly used, almost forgotten. The walls were white, as was the bed at its centre. In fact the only thing that had any colour was the drip hanging by Ianto's head; the red shockingly loud against the sterile room.
Even the figure they had come to see seemed devoid of colour. His skin was pale from shock and blood loss, there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair seemed flat and dull. Only his eyes showed colour, but they were so black and hopeless that no-one could look.
Gwen walked to his side and smiled brightly. She seemed to realise there was nothing she could say, and gently squeezed his hand instead. Ianto didn't respond.
Tosh sat on the end of his bed – carefully avoiding his legs – and rested her hands in her lap. Her mind was having trouble processing what was in front of her eyes and Owen longed to reach over and hug her but he stayed put.
Jack hadn't moved. He simply stood by the end of the bed and stared at Ianto's face. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Ianto raised his eyes. The emptiness that has so consumed him was gone and in its place was a burning anger.
"Am I completely bound?" His voice was rough, but no-one could mistake the venom in it as he spat the words at Jack. "Do I have no choice? I choose the only path still left to me, and even that was too much. You had to come in, in your big grey coat with your smile; you had to be the fucking hero didn't you? I have not life, I want no life. I am dead Jack."
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Endnote: I am not sure what I am going to do next – any ideas or requests are appreciated. There may be a slight wait for the next chapter, as I have to write it. Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed, or just lurked.