21

Ianto blinked the blood out of his eyes. The worst part of this, with a probably broken arm and definite concussion, was that if he made it out alive, he was due another hospital stay. His head pounded and the blood trailed down to his mouth.

"He'll be here in a minute or so," Neil said. There was no emotion in his voice—no excitement or regret— nor did he appear to want a response.

Ianto had been close behind Jack on his way out the door, but he'd opened it to find Neil, his ex from college.

The one he'd filed a restraining order against. Everything had crystallized the moment the baseball bat connected with his arm as he'd lifted it to protect himself. Ianto's radius bone had broken with a sickening snap. Neil had swung again and cracked him upside the head, stunning him enough to allow Neil to shove him with the bat back into the kitchen. Ianto had crumpled to the floor, curling himself into a ball in a vain attempt to lessen the effect of the blows, every one accompanied by Neil's curses.

Suddenly the blows had stopped, and now there was complete and utter silence.

Sickness rose in Ianto, but he tried to focus. "Why are you here?" he asked through blood and a swollen, split lip.

"You didn't think I'd leave you, did you?" Neil looked puzzled, and Ianto imagined he saw hurt in the other man's expression.

"You were always meant to be mine. You just kinda forgot." The last he added on a laugh dripping with sarcasm.

Ianto resisted answering. The first rule in the Academy—let the bad guy deliver his monolog; it inevitably gives you extra time. Although what he was going to do with the extra time, he didn't know. He couldn't fucking move. One of the blows had opened a gash on his temple, and another had cracked a few ribs.

"I saved up all I could and bought myself a car. Came all the way here, and I see you helping that old guy, and your world is all kind of calm, so I stirred it up a bit. Got your attention. And the consideration of that fire fighter who pulled you out. I was gonna do that, you know. I watched for a while, and I waited, and I was gonna go in and pull you out, then you'd see past what everyone said about me —see the real me."

Ianto watched with growing horror as the man in front of him was lost in this daydream. He moved slightly and waited for Neil to stop him. But Neil didn't show any sign at all of seeing the small shift. His cell was in his jacket, which had fallen to the floor no more than twelve inches away. He chanced another few inches toward the cell, and the feel of the bat connecting with his knee was a pain unlike any he'd felt before.

"Don't you fucking do that," Neil screamed. He leaned over and picked up the jacket before checking in the pocket and pulling out Ianto's cell phone.

Another smack to the head, and Ianto felt his consciousness slip away.

How long he had been unconscious, he didn't know, but Neil pressing down on his arm sent pain screaming through him, and he couldn't fight being awake.

"I only wanted your attention. Was going to save you." He muttered the words, and there was an emptiness to his tone that scared Ianto. Neil was in his own twisted reality.

"You need to stay awake and listen to me. I saw what he did. That man, the big guy. He carried you out, and then I knew he'd won you."

What the hell? Won him? Ianto started as Neil stood. He wasn't sure how many more blows his chest could take.

Neil dropped the baseball bat at his feet, and for a second Ianto stared at the obscenely scarlet blood-tipped end. His blood. The blood he could taste in his mouth, and that was dripping into his eye. Fear of a very different kind knifed through him as Neil pulled out a revolver and methodically checked the safety and the bullets inside.

"I don't like to make too much mess," he said matter-of-factly. "The old man tonight. He wasn't the sort of guy this town needs. Do you agree?"

Ianto wondered if Neil wanted an answer. If, indeed, he wanted anything outside some manic episode of blood-soaked revenge.

"Answer me, Yan, baby," he said. He punctuated the words with a tilt of the gun and clicked the safety off. The noise was harsh in the otherwise quiet room.

"No," Ianto said. That was what he thought Neil needed to hear. Feed his fantasy enough to stay alive.

Neil laughed. "You don't believe that. You and your bleeding heart. I bet you think an alcoholic who wastes your time is worth a minute or two. But me…" He stopped and stared into the distance. "I wasn't worth that minute, was I?"

"You hurt me," Ianto snapped. He couldn't help himself. He knew he should stay quiet, but the words dripping from Neil were like acid on the skin. "You scared me."

Neil pointed the gun directly at Ianto, and Ianto closed his eyes. If this was the end, he didn't want his last image to be of a madman. He wanted to remember his mom, his brother, his friends, and Jack.

"That's my boy." Neil chuckled. "There's the fire I liked in you. The one that had you fighting me. You loved it when I hurt you—it turned you on."

"No—"

"Enough. I'm not here to listen to you. I've had everything I can handle tonight." The cell rang in his hand, and he turned it over to check the screen.

"Oh look," he began conversationally. "It's your new lover." He connected the call. "You'd best hurry, big man," he said with a maniacal laugh.

"Don't you fucking hurt him," Ianto rasped. He coughed on a mouthful of blood and tried to push himself to stand.

Neil might as well shoot him, because there was no way Ianto was letting Jack get hurt here.