Torchwood: Divergence
Book One: Dychwelyd

Chapter 7

A lorry breakdown and rush to rework the delivery had prevented Rhys from coming by for lunch, but the team had made do with Chinese takeaway. All of them had stuck to their assignments, Gwen having floated between the other four to offer assistance where needed, and Jack had spent ninety percent of the time in the room behind the office with Ianto. Martha had finally gotten her urine sample in the late afternoon, her patient had succeeded in purging the last of the swallowed blood that had been upsetting his stomach, and had even been able to keep down a cup of tea with dry toast at dinner time. They'd also learned that it wasn't wise to touch him when he was dreaming, only Jack having managed the trick without ending up bruised.

The team members had headed home around 9:00 pm, returned the next morning by 7:00 and picked up their projects where they'd left off. Ianto had been feeling stronger and more focused, even managed a little apple juice and a small bowl of thin porridge. The IV had been removed since he was able to keep down liquids, and he'd made the trip to the loo in the sleeping area on his own a couple of times, safely clad in a pair of light weight cotton pyjamas Lois had purchased on her way into work that morning.

The day had seen Jones make steady progress, and when everyone else had called it a night by 8:30, the young Welshman had felt up to trying to take charge of his appearance again. The first step had been asking Jack to cut his hair. So, they were currently in the communal showers down the corridor from the large main bathroom near the workstations, with the door braced open. Ianto was seated on one of the low benches with a towel around his neck, Harkness standing behind him with a comb as well as scissors and clippers from the medical bay.

"Do what you can," the Archivist murmured, closing his eyes as his partner began combing through his sink dampened, past shoulder length hair to tame the loose ringlets it had wound into as soon as it got wet. "I trust you not to leave me looking like the victim of a rabid barber."

"Hey, I've done my share of hair cutting over the years," Jack pointed out with a chuckle. "I think I can manage something at least vaguely like how you wore it before without butchering it. But I still think it's a pity to chop it off... it's so soft and shiny."

"You're welcome to keep the clippings if you're that fond of it," Ianto offered evenly. "I'll see if they can be braided into a new strap for your Vortex Manipulator. But it really needs to go... it freaks me out every time I pass a reflective surface. Makes me worry I'm stuck being a woman again."

"Oh, yeah..." the Captain breathed, a feral grin spreading across his face. "That was one of the most unique evenings I've ever had. And coming from me, that's saying something."

"I'm not arguing on that point," his companion shrugged, blushing slightly at the memory. "I'd just prefer to keep it a singularly unforgettable and non-repeatable experience. Not being able to sit comfortably for two days rather sticks with you... especially when the cause was so damn enjoyable."

The older man simply continued grinning, finally applying the scissors to his partner's unprecedentedly long hair. There was a comfortable lull between the two then, the only sounds coming from the Hub being the soft whirs and clicks of the various computer arrays, and the rhythmic rush of water cascading down the section of the water tower at the room's far side near the big cogwheel door.

"What boggles my mind," Jack began quietly, putting aside the scissors and picking up the clippers. "Is that your hair grew this long while you were gone, but not whiskers. Your sideburns are still perfect and you barely look to have a five o'clock shadow, even though you haven't shaved since you came back."

Ianto made no comment, not knowing the explanation and unwilling to hazard a guess. So many things had changed about him since those Shadows had brought him back to life, and he had no idea why they'd bothered. A dull ache suddenly began to pulse behind his eyes as he thought about the blur of those pain filled months, and the young Welshman unconsciously hunched his shoulders in reaction.

"You okay?" Harkness asked, his concern evident as he turned off the clippers and stepped around to face the young man.

"Sorry... just a touch of headache," the Archivist murmured with a weak smile, but the haunted, lost child look had returned to his eyes. "Not enough caffeine I think."

"Let me finish up quick then," his Captain suggested. "We can take some coffee back to bed, and I'll tell you about the Gilgamesh Leviathan migration I watched pass through the Andromeda Nebula last Christmas."

"Did they look anything like the creature Rhys led us to?" Ianto queried, genuinely interested.

"Not a thing," Harkness smiled, switching the clippers back on and using the comb to gauge his work. "The Leviathans aren't quite that big, and they're more like a cross between giant sea slugs and jellyfish full of millions of tiny bioluminescent lights that shift through and incredible range of colours. And for their size, they're amazingly free flowing and graceful."

"Sounds enchanting," the younger man commented. "Like techno-colour whale watching."

"With a heavy dose of underwater ballet," Jack agreed with a laugh as he pulled the towel from around his companion's neck. "Okay... take a look and see if it'll do."

He helped the pyjama clad Welshman up from his seat on the low bench, and let him look into the mirrors over the nearby bank of sinks. It was still a little longer in the top than Jones was used to wearing it, but the back was nicely clipped to just above where his shirt collar would normally rest, and he could actually recognise his own reflection again.

"Perfect," Ianto pronounced with a weary smile. "But I'm short on cash at the moment and I'm not sure I'm up to any other means of compensation just yet. I suppose it'll simply have to accrue interest for a bit."

"Sounds like a deal to me," his partner chuckled, the sparkle in his blue eyes promising many interesting evenings to come in the name of that assumed debt. "Think you can make it to the bedroom on your own? I'll clean up here, and bring you some caffeine and paracetamol in a minute."

The twenty-six-year-old nodded and turned away from the mirror, but instead of heading straight for the door, he stepped over to put his arms around Harkness and sighed. The Captain returned the embrace, still surprised by how healed and whole the simple contact made him feel, and pleasantly reminded of the tiny difference in their heights. After a few minutes of shared warmth, Ianto reluctantly moved away and headed out into the Hub.

Jack watched him go, then set about sweeping up the loose hair on the floor and generally tidying the shower room. When he was done, he returned the cleaned scissors and clippers to the medical bay, pocketed some paracetamol tablets, got out an Archive bag and started toward the kitchenette. As he walked, he placed a bulging fist full of dark, carefully set aside, twelve-inch-long hair into the bag, forced out the air and sealed it before tucking the bundle into his shirt front. A few minutes later he was on his way into the office with two cups full of the last of the coffee Ianto had patiently coached Lois through the making of earlier. He paused to relocate the Archive bag to the centre desk drawer, then proceeded into the bedroom to enjoy the coffee, the company, and a good recounting of a magical moment in deep space.

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AN: My laptop has a malfunctioning battery and needs to go in for repair. I'll try to get another chapter formatted and posted before I ship it off, in case it hasn't come home by the time I'd normally be posting.
Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM