Jack lay in his own blood, as he often did. The amount of times he insisted on sacrificing himself bordered on suicidal, and Ianto's own insistence on sitting with him until he revived was pure masochism.
Ianto held Jack's body with one hand. Jack would revive with a loud gasp, arms and legs kicking outwards. He was always in so much pain when he did, breathing heavily and confused, and Ianto didn't know if anything he did could help.
Ianto held him, now, too; he was kicking, screaming, crying, slowly coming back to life.
"I've got you," he whispered against Jack's hair, pressing a soft kiss against it.