There would be no point waking him up if you weren't reading this...so thank you and here comes the Welshman...with fluff

Spoilers for The Dead Line

"You can come down now, Jack," The Doctor called.

Jack took the stairs two at a time. Ianto was Ianto again, minus alien fluff. Pale, though. So pale, so still. Still and silent on the metal table, covered by a sheet. There was an empty chair waiting just beside Ianto's head. Jack dropped into it and found Ianto's hand. His smile dropped away as he registered the concern on the faces that surrounded him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, fighting down panic.

Martha bit her lip. "He should have woken up by now," she admitted softly.

Jack searched the faces around him. Martha and Tom were maintaining a professional calm. Gwen looked as though she'd been crying. As Jack met her eyes she turned and fled up the staircase. The Doctor's face was blank.

"You said he'd be OK," Jack protested, staring pleadingly at Martha.

"Head injuries," Tom said, a defensive edge in his voice. "We'll never really know enough about head injuries. All the scans say he's fine, but…."

Martha moved to Jack's side and squeezed his shoulder. "Over to you, now," she told him. "Wake him up."

Jack looked at her, eyebrows lifting. "How do I do that?"

"Talk to him," Tom answered.

Jack eyed them suspiciously. "Does that really work, or is it just something you doctors tell us to do" but he broke off as Ianto's voice echoed in his mind, finishing the sentence to make us feel better rather than help. Which pretty much answered his question. He'd heard Ianto say those words, and more, from the depths of his own stupor. Maybe Ianto would hear him.

"I'll try," he agreed.

Martha patted his shoulder comfortingly. "We'll leave you to it. Call us if – when - he wakes up. He'll need help with the pain."

Jack's eyes focused sharply. "This," he said bitterly, "Is your definition of 'all right'…"

"I told you about the broken ribs," Martha reminded him. "And we had to expect bruising. Heaps of that. He'll be stiff and sore for a good while yet. Nothing we can't manage. But you have to get him back, first."

Martha led Tom away. The Doctor remained, watching silently as Jack started a one-sided discussion with the man lying on the table. About Weevil hunting. No reaction. Jack's voice broke again.

There was a shriek from overhead. "Myfanwy's putting in her two cents worth," Jack commented, looking towards the sound so the Doctor wouldn't see the tears beading his lashes. "It might help. He spoils her rotten. Come on Ianto," he urged, squeezing the hand that lay heavy in his. "Myfanwy misses you. Don't you, big girl?" As if in response, the prehistoric avian swooped dangerously low, the wind of her passage ruffling their hair.

"A pterodactyl," The Doctor said, looking up and frowning. "From the Rift. How did a pterodactyl end up coming through the Rift?"

"You could ask her," Jack suggested. Ianto's fingers were turning pink, he thought hopefully, before realizing he'd squeezed too tightly. He forced his hand to relax. The fingers turned pale again.

"I just might," the Doctor responded. "I hate an unsatisfied curiosity."

Jack played with Ianto's hand, twining the limp fingers through his own.

"Odd," he mused. "I'd probably never have given him a job here if it hadn't been for Myfanwy."

The Doctor watched him in silence for a moment, his brow furrowed. The pterodactyl bothered him. Jack in pain bothered him. The memories of Jack's screams through the year that wasn't were one of the reasons the Doctor didn't sleep.

"I seem to remember having a discussion about keeping some distance," The Doctor commented dryly.

Jack used his free hand to stroke damp hair away from Ianto's forehead. "I'm usually pretty good at that," he said. "But not this time. Not with him."

"What exactly," the Doctor asked intently, "Is so special about him?"

Jack met the Doctor's eyes. "Everything. Nothing. No idea. Doesn't matter. Just is."

The Doctor sighed. "Is it worth it, Jack? Is it worth what you're going through now? Is it worth what you're going to go through? He's mortal. It won't happen today, but the time will come…..and you'll mourn him forever."

Jack blinked, surprised. The Doctor was blunt, always, but not usually brutal. Still, he must have a reason for asking. The Doctor always had a reason. Is it worth it? he asked himself. Is he worth it? Jack's mouth curved into a smile. No question, really. "Yeah," he said softly. "It was. It is. He is."

The Doctor let out a breath and patted Jack on the shoulder. "Then you should try telling him that," he suggested pointedly. "It might possibly be a better incentive than Weevils and pterodactyls."

Jack smiled, a relieved smile. The Doctor always had a reason. "Thank you," he said softly. The smile turned cheeky. "You might want to leave now, Doctor. This is about to get personal." He raised Ianto's hand to his lips.

"I'll go chat to that pterodactyl," The Doctor said hastily.

"Take some chocolate," Jack called after him, his voice muffled. The Doctor didn't look back.

-XXX-

Ianto floated in the dark, retreating from the pain that racked his body. It would be so easy just to stay here, to sleep. But the voice wouldn't let him. The voice he'd answer to anywhere, anytime, calling him, dragging him back towards wakefulness, towards pain.

Ianto swam groggily back towards consciousness, following the voice. It sounded like Jack's voice. But maybe it wasn't him. The words weren't right. "Yan, come back. Please. I….I love you. Come back, wake up for me…." Jack never said things like that. So maybe it wasn't Jack. Maybe there was no reason to wake up. But the voice continued, demanding, pleading. Saying the same things, over and over. Perhaps he was dreaming, again. He'd had dreams like this, or maybe they were just daydreams. Dreams where he was more than the Teaboy, more than the part-time shag. The one I'll always come home to. Had he really said that, or was it just part of the dream?

But it really did sound like Jack, even if the words were wrong. And the voice had broken off into sobs. Well, just in case it was Jack, after all, he'd better try to get back. Because Jack was obviously upset about something and maybe Ianto could make him feel better. If he woke up. Not really an appealing idea. He could already feel the beginning of the pain that waited at the edge of consciousness. "Wake up Cariad. Come back to me." Well, that settled it. It was Jack's voice. He had the worst Welsh accent in existence.

Ianto's eyelids fluttered. He was right, with consciousness came pain. Everything hurt. But there was a hand holding his and lips brushing against his forehead, which was taking his mind off the pain quite nicely, thank you.

"Yan?" he croaked. Not the best of Welsh vowels, but the best his very dry throat would allow. "You've never called me that, before."

An arm around his shoulder, lifting him gently. Eyes screwed tightly shut against the pain of movement, but those pheromones were helping. A cup pressed against his lips. Water. Throat felt better right away. The arms lowered him back down. Damn.

"And haven't we agreed you'd stop trying to mangle the Welsh language?" Ianto continued, dragging his eyes open.

He smiled crookedly at the sight. Jack looked terrible. His face had turned an unbecoming shade of gray, set off by red-rimmed eyes. All of which was completely overshadowed by the smile that spread across his face at the sound of Ianto's voice.

"He's awake!" Jack bellowed. Which Ianto thought was a quite unnecessary observation, delivered far too loudly. He opened his mouth to say "Obviously," but didn't have a chance to get the words out. Jack's lips had closed over his, passionate and demanding.

Nice, but…"Ouch," Ianto complained, twisting his face to the side. "Not so hard."

Jack leaned back. "Sorry." He captured Ianto's hand instead, pressing a kiss into the palm before laying the hand flat against his cheek. "I thought….I thought I'd lost you."

"Hence the soppy nicknames?" Ianto teased. "No one's called me Yan since I was about eight."

Jack laid Ianto's hand slowly back onto the bed. Ianto was back, complete with the banter that had always headed off sentiment before. And Jack's usual reserve was creeping back too. He was starting to feel embarrassed. Soppy didn't begin to cover how he'd behaved tonight. But it seemed as though he couldn't stop himself. And you were supposed to be sentimental at Christmastime, right? What the hell, no one was watching. Except Ianto, who looked as though he'd be laughing if he wasn't in so much pain.

"I won't do it again," Jack mumbled. Ianto's fingers closed around his before he could get his hand away. Not that he was trying very hard.

"I don't mind, really," Ianto said softly. "Keep it for when we're alone, though, OK? I don't want anyone else to start with it."

"OK." They smiled at each other, quite soppily, just for a moment or two. Then Jack realized something else, and for the second time in as many days, a blush spread across his face.

"You heard what I said, huh?"

"You should know about being able to hear stuff when you're unconscious," Ianto chided gently, squeezing Jack's hand. "You heard every word I said while you were in that coma."

"Blip," Jack confirmed. But he couldn't meet Ianto's eyes.

"Of course, I might not have heard everything," Ianto offered generously, "if that makes you feel better."

"If you weren't so weak I'd smack you one," Jack grumbled.

"Don't make me laugh," Ianto complained. "Hurts." He shifted uncomfortably on the hard metal table. "Can I stop lying on the autopsy table yet?"

"You're not moving until Martha says it's safe."

"Martha? What's she doing here?"

"Putting you back together," Jack told him.

"Because," a voice said from above, "I wasn't sure if I remembered all the ways humans join up inside. Didn't want to risk mixing you up with an Orionite, they're very similar from the outside, but the plumbing's all different. Left to me, we might have rewired you unnecessarily."

The Doctor clattered the rest of the way down the stairs and smiled down at Ianto. "About time you joined us," he said cheerfully. "Jack was becoming a bit of a handful."

"Stop teasing him," Ianto told the Doctor firmly. "That's my job."

"You do realize," the Doctor said with mock severity, "That he's a full time occupation?"

"Lifetime occupation," Jack corrected. "Think you can handle it?"

Ianto eyes glowed through the pain. It hadn't been a dream, after all.

Christmas is nearly over...just a few loose ends left, pterodactyls and such...