Day Seven - Jack
Jack sped through the English countryside toward Wales, desperately wishing he had the Torchwood SUV. With the lights running, he could have gone through so many traffic signals, and speed limits would be little more than guidelines. As it was, he kept it within reason, not wanting to be pulled over when Ianto's life depended on the anti-virus clutched in his hands for the past two hours.
As soon as his mysterious UNIT benefactor—Captain Dalton, if he remembered correctly—had handed him the mobile and keys to a hired car, Jack had dialed the phone Gwen had at Flat Holm. She'd answered immediately, only to tell him they were no longer at Flat Holm, but at Cardiff General.
Ianto was in critical condition.
Jack tried not to think too hard as he drove through the night. Gwen hadn't called back to tell him the worst, so he had to assume Ianto was still alive and that the anti-virus would provide the cure he needed. They hadn't gone through hell over the last seven days for it to end now. He'd had plenty of time to think trapped in his cell at Aston Down, and the frantic drive to Cardiff solidified his feelings. He wanted Ianto back in his life in every way possible. Friend, lover, coworker, everything. He couldn't lose him again.
He had his doubts. Ianto had been doing fine without him, and Jack had put him through so much over the past week that he worried Ianto might not want anything to do with him. Ianto had left his cover to come back to Torchwood, but in the process he'd lost practically everything and had almost died. He'd been shot and run out of his flat; he'd broken into and out of a secure military base; he'd faced down a three-headed alien before ending up in the firefight where his friend and handler had been shot and killed; he'd snuck into the Black Archive and met the Doctor; watched Jack undergo brain surgery that had resulted in his cyber-conversion, shot Jack to stop that conversion, and after all that, fallen victim to the alien flu virus.
It was a lot, even for Torchwood.
Why would Ianto want to come back to that life? He'd already left it behind once. Their brief conversations about Ianto's disappearance had given Jack the impression that there was more going on that he thought, though he still didn't understand Ianto's reasons for leaving. They may have fallen into one another's arms that night in the warehouse, and again in the morning, but Jack still sensed a reticence from Ianto that left him wondering where he stood. And now, after what the Welshman had been through at Flat Holm, would Ianto even want to see to him again, talk him again, let alone restart a relationship?
What Ianto had experienced at Canary Wharf and in its aftermath had been a nightmare of the worst sort, and Jack fully understood and accepted his part in it. Even as Ianto had begged for Lisa's life that horrible night, Jack hadn't listened, had only seen the danger and the threat. Though he'd been right, he had handled it in the worst way possible. He'd shown no empathy, no compassion, nothing, because at the time, all he'd felt was fear, anger, and betrayal. It had destroyed any fledging relationship he'd hoped for with Ianto, and it had taken them months to regain one another's trust.
And now Jack had forced Ianto to go through it again, to watch someone he cared about be lost to the metal monsters. Trapped behind the cyber-programming, Jack remembered more than anything the look of horror on Ianto's face. Of terror and anger, and most of all, of heartbreak. He'd seen that look on Ianto's face when he'd gazed at his doomed girlfriend; Jack had never thought Ianto would look at him in the same way. And yet Ianto had kept his promise, had ended the torment for Jack when Jack had needed him, even though he had been unable to do the same for Lisa. Ianto had faced his demons and won, but would he ever want to look at Jack again after what Jack had forced him to do?
Jack tried to put it from his mind as he sped through Cardiff. He concentrated on getting to the hospital and getting the anti-virus to Ianto, nothing else. There would be time later to worry about the repercussions of what had happened at Flat Holm; first Ianto had to get better. Jack couldn't lose him now.
Gwen met him at the door and they raced through the empty corridors. It was late at night, and the hospital was dim and quiet. When he got to Ianto's room, Jack stopped short in the doorway. Rhys was sitting in a chair next to Ianto's bed, head down with elbows on his knees. Ianto was hooked up to so many machines that Jack worried he was too late. Dr. Tomlinson entered right behind him and was all business.
"Do you have it?" he demanded, and Jack handed him the vial. The doctor shook it and raised it to the light, as if examining it in such a way would give him insight into the contents. He turned to Jack. "You're sure this is it? It will cure him and not kill him?"
"What choice do we have?" Jack asked, staring at the bed. The doctor nodded curtly and inserted it into a syringe. He then plunged it into Ianto's IV and waited. He nodded as the anti-virus worked its way into Ianto's veins.
"No immediate negative reaction," he said. "That's good. Now we just have to monitor him while we wait. An anti-virus works by replicating and attacking the real virus. Ianto is extremely sick. It could take a while."
"I'll stay with him," said Jack, still unable to take his eyes from Ianto. Rhys jumped up from the chair and moved it closer to the bed, offering it to Jack. Jack nodded his thanks, sitting down and taking Ianto's hand. For a while no one moved or spoke until Rhys cleared his throat.
"Come on, Gwen," he said. "Let's go down to next room for a bit."
"I want to be here, Rhys," Gwen protested, and Jack heard Rhys whispering to her. She sighed, then nodded.
"Jack?" she asked quietly, and Jack looked up at her. "We'll be next door, all right? You come get us if you need anything."
"Can you let Martha and Mickey know what's going on?" he asked, and she nodded. He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said, his voice rough. "Thank you for getting him here, for staying with him."
"You got him the cure," she said, her own voice cracking. "Now it's up to him to get better."
"Now it's up to him," Jack repeated softly. It seemed like he had just been sitting at Ianto's bedside speaking to him, when in reality it had been almost thirty-six hours since they'd arrived back at Flat Holm and discovered the reality behind the flu outbreak. So much had happened, from Ianto's illness to Jack's conversion. How would they ever recover?
Gwen and Rhys quietly left the room, but Dr. Tomlinson stayed. Jack finally glanced up at him.
"Thank you, Lionel," he said. "For helping to get him here. I know it couldn't have been easy."
The doctor pulled up a chair on the other side of Ianto. "It was interesting, to say the least," he murmured.
"Gwen said it was a bit more cloak and dagger than you're used to," Jack said. He was really only half interested in the story, but given the unlikelihood of Ianto regaining consciousness immediately, it seemed a decent way to take his mind off watching and waiting.
"I'm used to loading my patients into an ambulance," Dr. Tomlinson replied. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. "Not supporting them through underground tunnels and sneaking them onto a boat, hoping we didn't get shot the entire time."
Jack glanced up in surprise. "That bad?" he asked. He sat up to listen. Something serious had happened. The doctor nodded, clearly glad he had Jack's attention.
"Ianto's condition worsened after you left. By early morning he was critical, and there was nothing I could do at Flat Holm. We'd heard nothing from you, but we knew the facility was still being watched and suspected any attempt to remove Mr. Jones from the island would be met with resistance."
"I'm sure they would have stopped you immediately," Jack replied. "How did you get off the island then?"
"One of the nurses, Tom, knew of a tunnel system that went down to the docks. So we bundled Mr. Jones up as warm as we could and made our way to the water. We managed to board the boat, row it away from the island, and start it in the dark. We made it to shore by sunrise, and once we were on shore, a taxi brought us here and I was able to get us admitted quickly. Fortunately my name was not associated with Torchwood."
Jack agreed. Had Dr. Tomlinson had any official connection with Torchwood, he would likely have been detained immediately. He tried to imagine what it had been like: Ianto's condition worsening, knowing they were being guarded yet being unable to treat him at Flat Holm, fleeing into the dark. "Was he conscious?" he asked softly, still holding Ianto's hand tight.
"Yes, he was able to walk on his own." The doctor sighed. "I had to pump him full of drugs. There was no way we could carry him out, he needed to be mobile and alert. He crashed pretty hard when we arrived, but he's fought the entire time. In some ways, he's lucky to be alive." He paused and waited for Jack to look at him. "I did everything I could, Jack. I hope your little miracle cure works, for his sake."
"So do I," whispered Jack. He cleared his throat and glanced back at Ianto. "What about the others?" he asked.
"They're all fine. They've given us two rooms with strict instructions to stay here, a sort of pseudo-quarantine, if you will." He paused, and Jack sensed the doctor watching him thoughtfully. "You're not going to tell me where you got it, are you?"
Jack surprised him with a grin. "Actually, it was slipped to me by a government informant while I was being held at a secure military base," he said. The doctor appeared skeptical, and Jack couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face. "It's the truth. When I left the island, they threw me into a cell. No food, no water, nothing. It was probably a good sixteen hours before anyone came to the door, and it was our contact in London. She had it hidden in her bra and slipped it to me with her shoe."
"I really do feel as if I'm in the middle of a spy movie," the doctor murmured.
"Oh, it gets better," said Jack, warming up to it. He gazed affectionately at Ianto. "The first time they had me locked up—after they destroyed our base—Ianto talked his way in and broke us out by blowing up a car. Talk about James Bond!" He laughed as he remembered that first kiss with Ianto at Aston Down, hoping more than anything there would be more.
"What happened after you were slipped the anti-virus?" asked the doctor, drawing Jack back from his memories. Jack shrugged this time; it was hardly as exciting as everything else that had happened.
"They let me stew for a few more hours before they said I was wanted in London. I met the new Prime Minister," the doctor looked startled at that, "and was released after a long debriefing. And now I'm here."
The doctor was silent for another moment. He stood up and checked Ianto's vital signs, then nodded to Jack. "It'll take time for the anti-virus to replicate and clear his system, Captain. You might want to get some rest. It sounds like you had a long day. I know I did, so I'm going to go kip in the other room for a few hours. Call me if anything happens, even something good."
"I will," said Jack. "And Lionel? Thanks again."
"You're welcome," the doctor said softly as he slipped out, leaving Jack alone with Ianto for the first time in days. He gazed at Ianto's face, still so pale, thinking maybe, just maybe, he looked less tired, less drawn. It was more what he hoped to see than the reality, but Jack told himself to stay strong and believe. Ianto needed him.
He cleared his throat and tried talking to him, just as he had back at Flat Holm, but found his voice simply wouldn't work. The words didn't come as easily as they had come before. What could he say, with Ianto so much closer to death's door, all because of him? He wanted to beg the Welshman to fight it, to stay with him, but at the same time, Jack was terrified that Ianto would want nothing to do with him when he regained consciousness. He bowed his head and took deep breaths to keep the tears at bay, forcing himself not to think about the possibility that even if Ianto recovered, Jack might still lose him.
His head fell to the bedside and Jack jerked awake with a start. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and needed to rest. Yet leaving Ianto's bedside was not an option. Running his hands through Ianto's hair, Jack was surprised to find two blue eyes gazing tiredly at him. He leaned down to kiss Ianto's forehead.
"Welcome back," he murmured. "Mind if I join you?"
Ianto nodded once and let his eyes slip closed. Jack didn't bother to call Dr. Tomlinson for such a short period of consciousness. Instead, he slipped off his boots and moved to the other side of the bed. He climbed up beside Ianto, settling on top of the covers. Ianto shifted just enough for Jack to wrap his arms around him. He laid his head on the pillow beside Ianto, kissed his neck, and was asleep within moments. Above him, the monitors watching over the Welshman beeped and whirred as his heart rate settled, his blood pressure stabilized, and his fever slowly came down.
The two men who had saved the world slept peacefully, their worries forgotten for a few hours of much needed rest. What the morning would bring, only time would tell.
"Should he really be doing that right now?"
"Oh, leave them be, Rhys."
"I'm just not sure these beds are made for two, love."
"And I'm sure they need this."
"Unfortunately, Ms. Cooper, I do need to examine my patient."
There was the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat, and Jack opened bleary eyes to find Gwen, Rhys, and Dr. Tomlinson all standing around the hospital bed. Gwen looked like she might cry again, Rhys looked slightly embarrassed, and Dr. Tomlinson appeared somewhat exasperated. Beside him, Ianto began to stir as well. Jack was sorely tempted to close his eyes and curl up closer to the Welshman.
"Good morning," said the doctor loudly. "I know you're comfortable, but I need to see Mr. Jones, Captain."
Jack groaned softly before placing a kiss to the back of Ianto's neck and sitting up. He rubbed at his face as Ianto turned over, glancing around at everyone in confusion. He motioned to the mask over his face and Dr. Tomlinson took it off. Ianto's voice was dry and croaky when he spoke.
"What's going on?" he asked. He glanced at Jack. "Why are you in my bed?"
Jack laughed. It was obvious that Ianto was feeling better. His eyes were brighter and his face had more color. He was already struggling to sit up, so Jack scrambled to help him, jumping off the bed and grabbing another pillow to help support him. The doctor handed him some water. Ianto sipped it greedily and sounded much better when he spoke again.
"Seriously," he said. "What's going on? It is all over, everything?"
"It's all over," said Gwen, clinging to Rhys with a huge grin on her face. "Everything's going to be all right."
Jack looked from her to Dr. Tomlinson, who had immediately started poking and prodding Ianto. "How do you feel, Mr. Jones?" asked the doctor. Ianto turned to look at him.
"Better," he said. "Not normal, but better."
"You look better," nodded the doctor. "And all your numbers are supporting it. Your lungs sound clearer, your temperature is going down. I need to do some bloodwork, but I think you're past the worst of it." He glanced up at Jack. "Congratulations, Captain. It worked."
"What worked?" asked Ianto, turning to Jack. "What happened? They said you'd left, that Johnson took you."
"They let me go last night," said Jack. "I brought the anti-virus. You're going to be all right."
Ianto stared at him, then drew a shaky breath before letting his eyes slip closed. "Thank you," he murmured, his relief obvious. His eyes flipped open in panic. "But what about the others? Are they all right? Are you all right? Did they kill you? No, that was me. I killed you. Oh god, Jack, I'm—"
Jack stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Calm down, please. Gwen's right. It's all over and everything is going to be fine. Trust me."
"I'll trust you when you tell me what happened!" Ianto exclaimed. "To you, to me, to the 456, everything!"
Jack frowned at the doctor. "We defeated the 456. You don't remember?"
"I…" Ianto paused, looking confused. "I remember the end…Lisa…so much blood…" He trailed off again, his eyes slipping closed, his lips pursed tight. The monitor above him beeped. Dr. Tomlinson glanced up sharply.
"Calm down, Mr. Jones," he said, taking Ianto's hand. "You've been through a lot and need to let your body rest. There's nothing to get upset about right now."
Ianto looked tense, his jaw tight as he shook his head. Jack could see Ianto's chest rising and falling quickly.
"You should go," Dr. Tomlinson said. "I think he needs to be alone."
Rhys dragged Gwen out immediately over her soft protests, but Jack stayed. "I'm not leaving," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Dr. Tomlinson took a breath, obviously preparing to do battle once more.
"Need I remind you, Captain, that you are at least partially responsible for his emotional state right now?" he snapped, and Jack felt like he'd been slapped. There was a sharp intake of breath from Ianto, who shook his head as a tear slipped from behind closed eyes.
"I'm sorry, Jack," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."
Ignoring the doctor, Jack rushed around the bed to take Ianto's face in his hands. "No! Don't apologize," he said. "You have nothing to apologize for. Please, open your eyes. Take a deep breath with me and let me see those baby blues."
"I'm a monster," Ianto murmured, shaking his head free of Jack's hands. "I killed you."
"You saved me!" Jack exclaimed, his voice cracking. "Please, Ianto. Don't do this. You're strong. We can get through this, together."
Ianto's eyes snapped open at Jack's last word. He looked lost and panicked and utterly defeated. "No," he said, shaking his head and once again pulling away from Jack's touch. "No," he repeated, and Jack's heart broke. "I can't. You can't. We can't." He sucked in a shallow breath, obviously close to hyperventilating.
Dr. Tomlinson pushed Jack aside, needle in hand. "I think you should leave, Jack," he said softly and with more compassion than Jack would have expected at that moment. He slid the needle into Ianto's IV, and almost immediately the Welshman began to relax. His eyes slipped closed and he laid back down, curling in on himself and turning away from Jack. Jack stared at him, stricken.
"I've given him a sedative," the doctor said quietly. "In the hallway, please."
Gwen and Rhys were outside pacing when Jack stepped out. "What's going on?" Gwen demanded. "Is he all right? What's happened?"
"He's upset and confused," said Dr. Tomlinson, frowning at the floor. "Not unusual given the circumstances." He gave Jack a pointed look.
"What does he mean, Jack?" Gwen asked, and Jack sighed. It was his fault. It was always his fault.
"He saw me and panicked," Jack said softly. He turned to the doctor. "I should leave, shouldn't I?"
The doctor once again looked sad for Jack. "I think it would be better if someone else was with him when he wakes up in a few hours."
"No!" said Gwen, stepping between them. "You can't do that. Ianto needs Jack! You can't keep them apart."
"His blood pressure went through the roof, Gwen," Jack said wearily. "He started hyperventilating. He wants nothing to do with me." He sounded as defeated as he felt.
"No, you listen to me, Jack Harkness." Gwen poked him in the chest. Here was the righteous anger he'd been waiting days for. He let it wash over him; he deserved it, after all.
"You love him," she said. Jack saw Rhys and the doctor exchange startled glances. "And he loves you. You are not going to let what happened on that bloody island come between you. Not again."
"It's not that easy, Gwen," Jack started, but she cut him off.
"Yes, it is. You both need to stop feeling guilty and sorry for yourselves and you'll be fine. You did what you had to do, and so did he, but it's over. Ianto is back and you can't let him go again." She looked on the verge of tears, which for some reason made Jack angry. What did she know about him, about Ianto? What did she know about the guilt? Why did she care so much? He stepped into her personal space.
"You know nothing, Gwen," he said softly. To her credit, she stood her ground. He leaned in closer. "You know nothing about us, about what we've been through. If you did, you'd know there are some things you can't fix with a plaster and a kiss."
"I know you can fix this," she insisted, staring into his eyes, challenging him. That's what he had hired her for, wasn't it? Only he hadn't hired her to challenge his private life, and Jack opened his mouth to retort, to really let loose on her, when Rhys stepped between them.
"That's enough," he said, though he sounded shaky. "Gwen, you sit with Ianto. He doesn't want to see my ugly mug when he wakes up. Jack, are you hungry? I could really go for a fry-up."
Jack stared at Gwen before dropping his eyes and nodding. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and turned without a word, striding down the hallway away from Gwen, away from Ianto. He heard the others talking behind him, but ignored it, because he suddenly needed to get out, get away. He needed fresh air and sunlight and open spaces.
He sprinted down the stairs, through the front entrance, and into the cool morning air. The abrupt change calmed him, and he let the peaceful quiet envelope him and fill him, until he opened his eyes to find Rhys standing beside him.
"Better, mate?" he asked quietly, and Jack nodded. "Good, let's get some breakfast."
He started down the street, but Jack stopped him. "Actually, I think I'd like to go to Flat Holm. I have clothes there. I can clean up, check on Martha and Mickey, get something to eat there."
Rhys studied him carefully. "All right. Want me to call you a cab?"
"No, I'll walk to the dock." He held out his hand. "Thanks, Rhys. I appreciate it."
Rhys held onto his hand. "You'll be back soon, yeah?"
Jack forced himself to smile even though the question cut deep. "This afternoon. I promise."
"All right," he replied, nodding slowly and studying Jack carefully. "You'd better. I don't know about Ianto, but I know Gwen would be heartbroken if you did a runner right now."
"I won't," Jack said, his voice cracking. He laughed bitterly. "I might be tempted, but I won't. I've been called back to London tomorrow, so until then, I'm staying. I'll come by this afternoon."
"I'll let them know," said Rhys. "You stay safe, Jack."
"I will. Thanks again, Rhys."
Jack turned away and started the long walk. It would give him time to think. He had so much to think about—too much. The past, the present, the future. At Flat Holm he could clean up and change out of the clothes he'd been wearing for days. He would eat, he would rest, and most importantly, he would climb the tallest hill to gaze out at the sea and try to calm his racing mind and mend his broken heart.
It was mid-afternoon and Jack was sitting on his hill, staring out across the Bristol Channel. The city had no idea how close they had come to losing so many of their children. They were even luckier to be spared the flu epidemic gripping London. Jack knew that he needed to go back to the hospital, to Ianto, but he wasn't sure he could face the man after Ianto's earlier reaction upon awakening. It was as if by avoiding the inevitable rejection, he could put it off until it didn't hurt as much.
He also needed a plan. As much as he wanted to curl up in a hotel somewhere and let the world move on by itself after all that it had done to him, Jack knew he couldn't. The Hub had been destroyed, but he would be meeting in London the next day to discuss the future of Torchwood. It was hard to think about going back. He had been with Torchwood for over a hundred years, and they had taken it from him in one blistering, agonizing instant. The Hub was gone, Jake was missing or dead, Martha and Mickey and Ianto injured. Why would he go back after all that?
With a sigh, Jack tossed some rocks into the water again, watching the waves ripple outward. He knew he would go back, deep down the decision had been made. Only the smallest part of him wanted to return, but his sense of duty and obligation had become so honed after leading Torchwood Three for almost a decade that he couldn't say no. The Rift still needed to be monitored, the people of Cardiff protected. And perhaps even more importantly, the remains of the Hub needed to be secured. Though he and Ianto had been unable to get far in the ruins, Jack had no doubt that the deeper parts of the Hub had survived, and that dangerous alien technology could fall into the wrong hands if the site wasn't excavated. He couldn't let that happen.
What would Torchwood look like now? There was no Hub, so they would need to rebuild from the ground up. Would Mickey and Martha return? Frankly, Jack was surprised Martha had stayed for as long as she had, almost a year. She could ask to return to UNIT anytime, and Jack would let her. He wondered if Mickey would follow her.
He would let Gwen leave as well, if she asked. She was pregnant now, which meant wrestling Weevils and other dangerous aliens was strictly off limits. She'd be almost immediately restricted, but to what? They had no desks, no archives, nothing. And with a family on the way, would Gwen want to stay with Torchwood or would he finally lose her?
And then there was Ianto. Had the past week pushed him past his limit? Would he run again, leaving both Torchwood and UNIT behind this time? Jack wanted Ianto by his side, he knew that. As he looked across the water, he'd never felt so sure about anyone as he was about Ianto Jones. Gwen had been right back in the hospital, but did Ianto feel the same? Was it enough?
Jack's thoughts were interrupted by a text message on the mobile phone Captain Dalton had pressed into his hands in London. It was from an unknown number, an address in Wimbledon that Jack did not recognize. He frowned, wondering at the significance before it dawned on him: Alice. Steven. Ianto's family. Frobisher's family.
Shit.
Leaving the island immediately, he took a cab back to the hospital, trying not to worry. He replied to Dalton, who informed him that John Frobisher's family had been released, but that he was waiting for word from Jack on the others. Which meant they were safe, and probably stewing about being held.
Ianto had briefly awoken while he'd been gone, but was asleep once more. Jack explained the situation to Gwen, then left for Wimbledon before she could argue. The car he'd used to drive pell-mell to Cardiff was still in the car park and he drove as fast as he could back to London, screwing himself up for another confrontation at the safe house where his daughter and Ianto's sister had been hidden away almost a week ago. He was certain he'd get an earful from Alice, and suspected Ianto's sister might have words as well.
As expected, Alice was furious. She barely listened to Jack's explanation before storming out, determined to make her own way home with Steven. Jack couldn't blame her; she'd been locked up for six days with no word from him, no explanation, nothing. He let her go, determined to see her when she was calmer. He would tell her everything and make her understand; he wasn't going to lose her and Steven too.
Rhiannon Davies was less confrontational than Alice, though equally as angry in her own, understated way. Very much like Ianto, when Jack thought about it. She gathered the family's things while Jack stood awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure what to say or do after the shouting match with Alice.
"Where's my brother?" she finally asked quietly. "Is he all right?"
Jack swallowed and nodded. "He's at Cardiff General, recovering from the virus that hit London."
Her eyes widened slightly. "So he's really mixed up in all this? With the government and the children and the epidemic and everything?"
"More than you could possibly imagine," Jack murmured, taking her hands in his own. "Your brother saved the word."
"Get out," she said, shaking her head and stepping away. "You're taking the piss."
"I'm not. He's been working with UNIT for the last eight months and was in the thick of it. That's how he got sick—he was exposed at Thames House."
"Christ," she murmured. "Ianto Jones, what have you been up to?" She glanced up at Jack, the look in her eyes suddenly fierce. "Can we see him? He has a lot of explaining to do."
"He's still very sick," Jack said, wondering how Ianto would react to his sister barging into his hospital room, demanding answers. "I can get you on the first train back to Cardiff tomorrow."
She shook her head. "I don't want to stay here another night. If it's over and Ianto is safe, I want to be back in my own house, my own bed."
Jack blew out a breath. He couldn't drive them back to Cardiff that night; frankly he was tempted to stay in London himself, but he needed to see Ianto, reassure himself that the Welshman really was getting better. And that Ianto didn't hate him, despite his earlier reaction.
"It's too late to hire a car," he said. "I can put you up for the night somewhere else if you prefer. I'll get word to Ianto that you're safe. He should be up for visitors tomorrow."
She wasn't happy, but in the end it was all he could do. He booked a room at a hotel across from the train station, then purchased the family tickets for the first train back to Cardiff. After sending them on their way in a cab, Jack glanced around the safe house, closed the door, and started the drive back to Cardiff alone, determined to make things better with Ianto before they began the arduous task of rebuilding after the disaster of the long, hard week.
He only hoped he could.
Author's Notes:
Many, many thanks to Taamar, who had to work hard on this one! Now you know that Ianto is alive and well. I hope his mental state makes sense. It seems only natural that after what happened at Flat Holm, he and Jack would have some issues. The next chapter will go back to Ianto's point of view. I hope you enjoyed reading this one. As always, thank you for reading, and for all the amazing comments that keep me so encouraged to keep going on this once small story that has turned out to be so much more!