Torchwood: Divergence
Book One: Dychwelyd

Chapter 32

Jack was in his office on the phone to UNIT about an alert the other group had taken that had ended up with two injured red-caps and a dead Hoix. He didn't pay much attention when Gwen disappeared, then returned helping Turlough marshal three restrained, stun muzzy Blowfish down to the cells. However, when Martha came in shepherding a dirty, blood splotched, hollow-eyed Ianto and aimed for the Autopsy Lab, the Captain started trying to find a way to finish the phone conversation in a hurry. In fact, he'd just managed to get the Colonel off the line and was starting for the door when the team doctor appeared at the threshold.

"Did one of the Blowfish break loose before you got there?" Harkness asked immediately, his concern obvious. "He said he was okay when we left."

"They didn't touch him, Jack," Martha reassured. "When we got to the location, they were all secure. But Ianto was sitting back by the place's burnt-out fireplace, staring at the blood stains on the ground and his clothes, crying his heart out. When I finally managed to calm him down, he was able to tell me that he thought what happened on the field was because he wasn't fast enough or careful enough. That you died because he messed up somehow, and was petrified that you weren't coming back due to how long it took for you to breathe again.

"He's a wreck, Jack. He's gone out on all but three alerts since he got his memories back and that was only because he was already handling another at the time. It's really wearing on him. He's pushing himself way too hard. And I don't know if it's because he feels it's his duty since he was brought back as a Scieron Guardian, or if he's trying to prove he's still valuable to Torchwood now that he's changed, or if he somehow thinks you expect it of him... that you won't love him or want him if he isn't on the job twenty-four/seven the way you are. Regardless of the reason, he's worked himself into a near collapse, which is largely due to the fact that he never took the time to fully recover after the Scieron unsealed his memories. He needs a break; a chance to rest and just be the old quiet, putter around the Hub Ianto for a couple of days so that he can recuperate properly. Have you show him that your love doesn't depend on how much field work he puts in. Otherwise, he's going to set himself catatonic."

"I'll take care of him," the Captain promised solemnly, his gaze going to the office windows where the edge of the Autopsy Lab stairs was just visible. "We had an issue a couple days ago. I thought we'd worked it out, but it must still be bothering him. I need to pay closer attention, not keep taking him for granted the way I always have."

"Right now," Martha nodded, glancing toward the medical bay as well. "He needs some dedicated Jack and Ianto time. See if you can get him to lie down for a while, then do something away from the Hub. Take him for dinner or just out for a walk. Let the rest of us worry about the Rift, yeah?"

Harkness nodded, following the young woman out into the Hub and across to the medical bay. His partner was sitting on the second step down, right side leaning against the tiled wall, blood-stained peacock teal necktie dangling from that hand, left arm tucked against his stomach, head bowed. If he hadn't known better, the Captain would have thought the younger man had been drinking. The fact that such wasn't the case became even more obvious when he started down the risers. Ianto's head snapped up and he scrambled to his feet, his expression one of worry and guilt as he briefly met the American's gaze with damp, red rimmed, almost bruised looking eyes.

"I... should go change..." the twenty-six-year-old stated quietly, gripping his tie in both hands to hide that they were shaking, ignoring the protest from the left as the wounds there leaked fresh crimson into the layers of gauze wrapping it.

He came up to the walkway, quickly stepping past his partner and the team doctor to head for the office. Martha almost stopped the young brunette, but Jack shook his head no.

"Lemme have your kit," he requested evenly. "I'm not so great with tying sutures, but I can clean and bandage well enough. Let the others know we're out of action for a bit, yeah?"

Martha handed over her normal travel kit of medical supplies with a nod, then watched the former Time Agent disappear into the office and beyond.

Harkness entered the bedroom he shared with his partner, closed the door and locked it. He tossed the physician's kit on the end of the neatly made bed, noticed that the younger man's hands were trembling so badly he could barely undo the molecular "zipper" of each of his boots where he sat in the nearby chair.

The footwear finally came off, Ianto standing to slip out of his jacket with a wince. The deep espresso brown suit was beyond repair, as was the snow-white shirt beneath it. The blood stains alone did for the crisp cotton garment, add the cut all the way across the left should below the seam and it was bound for the rag bin. Suddenly Jack's hand was on his uninjured shoulder urging him to turn around, and he felt tears threatening again.

"Tell me what's wrong," the Captain murmured, his eyes filled with worry.

"Nothing..." Ianto squeaked, quickly lowering his gaze as he tried to dredge up a smile, but the cheery façade he'd hidden behind so often in the past simply would not manifest.

"Not buying it," Jack countered bluntly. "Let's try again. What's. Wrong?"

"I... I am..." Ianto breathed shakily, his voice strained and grating. "I'm wrong... I keep trying to remember how we did things before the 456... and practice all the Scieron training... but I can't get any of it right... I'm too slow, or too reckless, or... I'm just not doing the job right at all... I burned your hand; let you get shot... no wonder you aren't sure you can trust me..."

The eternal twenty-six-year-old was trembling all over, didn't realise he'd started leaking tears half way through his babbled confession or that he'd clenched both hands into fists so tight that the left was once more bleeding enough to completely soak the gauze wrapped around it. He was afraid he was going to lapse into another seizure and that his partner would regret having him back, was trying his hardest to stay in complete control and failing miserably. Then he was suddenly in Jack's arms, the American holding him close and stroking his hair, offering support as his knees went weak.

"Martha's right," Harkness stated quietly. "You need some serious downtime. You've been trying to go at full speed since the Scieron returned your memories, when you really should have relaxed and let the dust settle for a couple of days before attempting to do anything. You're not wrong, Ianto, you've been doing an amazing job the past few weeks. You were invaluable at every Rift alert plus you've been covering everything from special projects to house cleaning at the Hub in between spikes. And you've been handling it all so well, I didn't realise what it was doing to you. But now I'm watching you crash right in front of me... and it's breaking my heart."

"I don't..." Ianto choked, struggling to regain his composure with little success. "I don't want to do this... I... I don't want to worry you... or be a burden... I need..."

"You need to let it go," Jack urged, gently steering the younger man over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Let everything out... all the worry and stress and fear. Don't try to hold it inside anymore, because it's hurting you. Turn it loose. Cry, scream... whatever it takes. I'm right here to help. If you need to hit me, do it... it's not like I don't have it coming for everything I put you through before London. Want me to hold you, talk to you, listen to you, it doesn't matter. I've got your back, buddy. I meant what I said on the Millennium Centre roof the other day. I love you, Ianto, and I want you to be happy, not drowning in misery because you're trying too hard to please me or think you owe this selfish little world anything."

"You... you hate people... who cling..." the twenty-six-year-old in his arms moaned brokenly, still desperately fighting the complete breakdown he could feel building. "Get cross...when team members cry...sup...supposed to be...professional..."

"Screw professional, you're officially on sick leave as of now," the Captain stated decisively, using one hand to make his partner raise his head and meet his gaze. "I get touchy when anyone in Torchwood cries, because it's really hard for me not to be sobbing right alongside them, which looks kinda bad for the boss. I've shed a few tears for various people and things, but I haven't actually cried myself out for decades. It almost caught up to me at Thames House when you slipped away, but I stopped breathing just after that. So, it's all under lock and key again for the moment. At some point though the dam's gonna burst and I'll be exactly where you are now... probably worse.

"Go ahead and cry, Ianto, and I'll watch over you till all the misery's been washed away. Maybe someday you'll do the same for me, yeah? Oh, and on the clinging issue... there's only one entity in the entire Universe and beyond that I'm okay having cling when the situation warrants it. You are the one, and this definitely qualifies as a good reason. So just try to relax, don't be afraid to put your arms around me if it helps, and open the flood gates. It's okay. I won't let go till you want me to."

He shifted just enough to kiss the younger brunette on the forehead, and that was the final straw... the deluge had begun.

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AN: Always the bad with the good… and Ianto will have to face both in spades for a time.

Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM