Torchwood: Divergence
Book Two: Adferiad
Chapter 12
They'd managed to destroy the Xhoquitt in the sewers near St. Helen's Hospital, but none of the active team had escaped unscathed. The monster had been harder to find than they'd thought it would be for all its massive bulk. In fact, if it hadn't jumped the gun on its ambush and clipped Jack on the hand with the tip of one tentacle as it made a grab for his torch, they probably would have missed it until it was dining on one or more of them. The creature had blended into the damp brick and concrete so well, only the brief flash of light in its eyes or the glitter of teeth when it opened its great gator-like maw had given it away.
The Quinstekian Annihilator hadn't fired the first time Turlough had tried it, the quick-rigged mechanism of pencil erasers epoxied to constriction bands not having activated because the trigger for the bands had jammed. The young redhead had taken a glancing blow to the upper chest and left shoulder from a serrated suction cup edged tentacle as he'd tried to fix the weapon. Harkness had received much more substantial damage in a bid to shield the injured member of his team. Gwen had ended up severely bruised but thankfully not cut, when she'd moved to pull their leader to safety as Ianto had baited the beast away, the former constable having caught the backside of a swinging tentacle across one hip before she'd managed to clear the danger zone. In the end, Turlough had repaired the trigger for the Quinstekian gun and Ianto had sacrificed his dark blue cotton work shirt as well as most of the skin and some thin strips of muscle off his lower back when he'd halted his semi-effective sword attack to give the redhead a clear shot.
Fortunately, Martha had arrived with Lois in the van just as they'd limped and staggered from the tented area of the sewers, which meant they'd at least gotten field dressings before heading back to base for more comprehensive treatment. So, now they'd all had the chance to wash and change clothes once they'd been properly bandaged or otherwise patched up, and were praying the Rift would stay quiet for the remainder of the day.
"Sometimes…" Jack breathed irritably, slouched down on the couch where he was nursing multiple broken ribs, a serious concussion, deep facial lacerations, and a shattered right ankle. "Sometimes it's actually better to die in this kind of situation. Five or ten minutes and everything this minor is healed without a mark. Not when I survive though… it heals fast, but not fast enough, and hurts like hell while it's at it."
"Shall I have Martha give you something for pain?" Ianto offered from where he stood nearby looking rather drawn and pale himself, but in no way wanting to sit and possibly lean back against his own injuries. "I could tuck you into bed for a span, let you rest and heal where it's comfortable."
"How can I garner sympathy from my team if I'm in our room?" the Captain protested with a huge pout, though his eyes told his partner he appreciated the offer to care for him.
"What makes you think your poor beaten-up team is going to feel sorry for you at all?" Gwen countered with a laugh. "Turlough looks like a crazed chef took a giant cheese grater to him, I'm so bruised from ribs to knee on the left that I can barely walk, Ianto's back is like an effect from a horror film, and poor Martha and Lois had to patch us all up. I don't think we've got any pity to spare."
"You'll feel bad for me, won't you, Ianto?" the undying American wheedled, adding pitiful puppy eyes to his already massive pout.
"Yes, sir," Ianto replied evenly. "As long as I don't have to bend over or put my back against anything to do it… sir."
"Man, you lot are rough," Jack complained, chuckling softly. "You're all getting coal in your stockings, you know."
"Out of your own personal stock from Holidays past?" Turlough enquired with a smirk, typing one handed at his work station to spare his lacerated shoulder.
"Oh, well… now you've ruined the surprise," Ianto deadpanned.
Harkness laughed, then wished he hadn't as his head pounded and his damaged ribs throbbed.
"Okay," he groaned. "I changed my mind. Martha, medicate the crap out of me so my Barista Boy can help me hobble to bed."
"You've soldiered through worse," the young doctor tutted, approaching the man with a well filled syringe nonetheless. "And this is only likely to last an hour at most."
"I've worked through things before because we've been in the middle of a crisis and I had to," the Captain countered equitably. "Right now, it's pretty quiet so I can pretend I'm normal, and an hour's better than nothing. Indulge me, yeah?"
"Need help putting him down for a nap?" Cooper asked as Ianto approached the couch once the injection had been administered and his lover visibly relaxed.
"The volume and variety of his complaints tends to go up with a bigger audience," the Archivist declined, helping their leader to carefully rise from the couch. "So, it's likely better if I go it alone."
"Present and conscious," Harkness pointed out, even as his lover took his right arm across his own shoulders and got a grip on the opposing side's belt and waistband to help support him across the room.
"I rest my case," Ianto stated with a slight smile. "Come on… I'll have you settled in to time, and then you can grouse to your heart's content. I'll stay and simperingly sympathise with every word, I promise."
"Have I mentioned lately that your twisted streak shows a lot more when you're hurt?" Jack grinned as the younger man helped him hop up the stairs to the office, the pain killer fully kicking in. "I kinda like it."
"You're scaring the rest of the team," the young Welshman protested half-heartedly, wincing as the damage to his back throbbed sharply.
"We'll let you know if the Rift acts up," Gwen called as the two disappeared. "You might want to stay dressed just in case."
"Do our best!" Ianto called back, pushing open the bookcase and hitting the light switch on the wall out of habit before using his foot to shove the door closed again once they were both in the room. "Right then… on the bed or in it?"
"Chair first," the American advised. "Throw a blanket over the new duvet so I don't ruin it."
The eternal twenty-six-year-old did as he was told, before he carefully knelt to remove his partner's left boot, adjusted the compression of the splint on his right ankle, then assisted him over to the safely covered mattress. Quickly, before any protest could be made, the Scieron Changeling picked the older man up and eased him over onto the bed.
"Hey!" Jack blurted in surprise. "I'm a lot heavier than you are now. You're gonna strain something doing that."
"Did, thanks," Ianto hissed breathlessly, the injury to his back burning and throbbing so intensely he was afraid to move for a moment.
"Take off your shoes," the Captain instructed with a worried frown, carefully easing himself over closer to the wall before relaxing back semi-upright against the blanket buffered pillows. "And came lay down with me. Let the medieval torture marks start to heal, yeah?"
The young Welshman nodded, taking a couple of deep nasal breaths to steady himself before stepping back over to the chair to gingerly sit down and release the alien "zipper" on first one and then the other of the short boots that he wore. Finally, he returned to the bed, eased down so he could lie flat on his stomach close beside his injured lover.
"Your heartrate okay?" Harkness queried, able to feel the heat the shivering twenty-six-year-old was radiating.
"A boost probably wouldn't hurt," Ianto murmured, shifting a little more onto his side to lightly drape one arm over the older immortal's hips and press his forehead to the reclining man's body near his damaged ribs. "But I don't think either of us are up to moving much right now, so it'll have to wait."
"Or…" Jack began leadingly, shifting his arm so he could cup the back of his partner's head and gently stroke his hair. "I could describe what I plan to do next time we're free to pursue some Hub-wide 'dabbling'."
"Be kind," Ianto half-smiled. "Stick to the little things. We promised Gwen we'd stay dressed, remember? Plus, I'd hate to have you give away all your surprises beforehand."
"Good choice," Harkness chuckled softly, gently caressing the shell of the Welshman's left ear with his thumb. "Where to begin…"
Accelerated healing bolstered by one another's presence, the two relaxed while they could and let themselves mend, so they'd be ready for the next Rift spawned crisis.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
AN: Clearing out the octo-croc was actually the easy part of the run up to Christmas… just sayin'…
Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM
