Hi Everyone, sorry about the wait. I'm going to split the conclusion into two chapters because it keeps growing on me. So in this piece we have mostly aftermath, and the serious fluff will follow later. Hope you enjoy.

Gwen crawled the rest of the way to Ianto's side around the same time Jack gasped back into life. The alley glowed with a sickly light as the SUV headlights briefly merged with the blue of the containment field. It ought to produce green, Ianto thought. A nice soothing green. Only it didn't. The alley looked every bit as off-color as its inhabitants. The unappealing view didn't matter though, because Ianto had something much better to look at. Jack filled his fuzzy vision, filled all his senses for that matter; Jack's arms were around him, Jack's scent in his nostrils, Jack's voice murmuring in his ear, soothing, unintelligible words that completely drowned out Tosh's anxious admonishments via the comm.

Evidently the cavalry had arrived. It was safe to leave it all to them now. Just as well, because there was something stinging his neck again.

Jack's arms closed around him, as restrictive as any paralysis. Ianto scrabbled uselessly against the grip, tried to force an explanation around the hysteria pouring from his lips, but Jack wouldn't let him free, wouldn't listen.

Owen's voice cut through the clamor, there was another sting, in his arm this time, and the dirty glow of the alley narrowed to the watery blue of Jack's eyes, then blinked out into blessed darkness.

-XXX-

He hadn't been unconscious long, Ianto thought, when his brain began to stagger back towards awareness, because he could smell the pungent aroma of un-emptied bins overlaid with the metallic sting of burned insect. Just his luck. In a stinky alleyway, he'd get smell back first.

Then again, he could smell Jack, too, which was better than any pine-scented deodorizer ever made. Ianto resolved to count his blessing, and got all the way to two.

Hearing returned next. Voices. Clear, each word distinct, if strangely distant. Now, if he was anyone but Ianto Jones, the voices would be singing his praises. Murmuring soothing words of comfort, at least. But no, because he was Ianto Jones, the voices were yelling instead. Arguing.

"Friggin' hell, Cooper, what were you thinking?" Owen of course.

"You told me to use a vein,"said a voice that sound like Gwen, only smaller.

There was a heavy 'all of you who are not doctors cannot possibly understand what I suffer' sigh, followed by "Well, yeah. A vein. Any vein would have done. Any other vein, for preference."

Jack's voice. Low, guttural, almost a growl. "You mean it didn't have to go directly into the wound?"

Owen merely sniffed. The man had quite an impressive command of non-verbal communication.

"I thought it'd work faster that way," said the meek voice which sounded nothing like the feisty woman Torchwood knew and frequently loved.

Owen snorted this time, just for variety, Ianto supposed. "And the shock of thinking he was being attacked again wouldn't do any harm at all, would it?"

Gwen gasped. Something clamped around Ianto's hand, something from the side where the scent that belonged to Jack was strongest. Jack was holding his hand – with two of the team present - and Ianto quietly relished the fact along with the return of the sense of touch, which he'd relish more if it wasn't quite so hard. He was hurting quite enough already without adding a cracked finger or two.

Far away, there was a muted cacophony of chimes, bells, snatches of tune. On its heels came Tosh's voice, clear and bell-like through the fog wrapped around Ianto's returning senses.

"Every phone in a five meter radius of the alleyway just received a 'get your arse back here' message from its number one speed-dial," Tosh announced. "So they're either ducking off to text or back in the scramble for taxis and this is your window to quit the pissing match and get Ianto out of there. Now."

It sounded like Tosh was a bit annoyed, Ianto decided, given he'd counted two minor curses in one breath. Tosh was a bit annoyed in the same way that Wales was a bit damp. Still, given the way the rest of the team snapped into action, she had things firmly under control, which was comforting. Ianto sunk gratefully back into oblivion, taking with him the feel of Jack's hand still wrapped firmly around his own.

-XXX-

Ianto's eyes opened on the same view they'd closed on, but in reverse. Blue pinpricks grew into blue orbs that became two worried blue eyes, suspiciously damp.

"Hi Jack," he said groggily, then giggled. "Hijack," he repeated. "That's funny, huh?"

"Hilarious." Jack replied. He didn't sound very amused, though. Ianto frowned as memory seeped back, then groped for his neck, stymied by the fact that both of his hands were inexplicably heavy.

"It's OK," Jack said hurriedly. Ianto felt a strong hand squeeze his. Jack was still holding his hand, then. That explained half of the 'not being able to move his arms' thing, not to mention being kind of nice.

Ianto squinted the other way. His left hand was playing host to one of those pointy objects Owen gloried in sticking into people, which was in turn connected to a long, winding tube, comfortingly red, leading from a bag suspended somewhere above. He was being filled back up. What the bug taketh, Owen giveth back.

Blue eyes smiled into blue for a few moments of precious, perfect peace. Jack brought his other hand up to stroke the hair away from Ianto's forehead, just for the sake of more contact. "So, how're you feeling?" he asked carefully.

Ianto looked up into eyes whose twinkle was dulled by worry and mentally chastised himself for being so pleased.

"I'm feeling…..drained," he replied, watching closely for a reaction. The twinkle returned. Jack's laugh echoed across the Hub.

From elsewhere in the medical bay, Owen thanked the gods of medicine – or possibly Ianto – for breaking the ridiculously sentimental atmosphere and stalked to his patient's side.

"If you're strong enough to make crappy jokes, I can stop risking life and limb keeping those two women away from you," he announced, after a brief examination.

Ianto nodded with enthusiasm. "Never too tired to have women throwing themselves at me," he agreed.

"Hey," Jack objected. Ianto smiled. Jack was worried about him, and giving at least the pretence of jealousy. This was progress.

Owen tipped his head back. "He's awake!" he shouted.

A squeal sounded from above. It didn't sound like Tosh, really, but given that she promptly threw herself down the stairs then across Ianto, it could hardly be anyone else.

It would have been easier to drop Jack's hand so he could stroke Tosh's hair, but Ianto chose to use the other instead, being careful not to tangle the tubes into the glossy black strands. Tosh's face was buried in his chest, her shoulders shaking.

"I'm OK, Cariad," Ianto said softly. When the sobs didn't decrease, he clowly slipped his other hand from Jack's grasp and wound it firmly around her shoulders. "C'mon, Tosh. It's all right. I'll be fine."

Jack shifted restlessly, feeling almost like an intruder without the warm hand within his, but still unwilling to cede his place at Ianto's side. Especially to a 'Cariad'. Ianto had never favored him with an endearing nickname. With or without Welsh vowels.

Ianto continued the soothing, while casting a questioning glance at Owen, who shrugged in reply. "She held it together until you got back," the medic told Ianto softly, before glaring at Jack. "Unlike some others I could mention. Anyhow, I reckon she's entitled to lose it a bit now."

"I can hear you, you know," Tosh mumbled into Ianto's chest. She straightened slowly, then examined her friend through reddened eyes. "Are you really OK, Ianto?"

Ianto smiled. "A bit drained, is all."

Owen groaned. "You've already used that one," he complained.

Tosh laughed weakly than sat back, rubbing a hand furiously across her eyes. "When you're better I'm going to slap you," she warned Ianto. "It's Jack's job to play the hero, not yours."

"Hear, Hear," Jack agreed, with forced heartiness.

"I wasn't being a hero," Ianto corrected solemnly. "I was being bait. And I did a bloody good job, didn't I? Get it, bloody good job?"

"Oh, you…" Tosh hugged him, fiercely, then pulled away. Ianto wasn't at all surprised to see her shrink towards Owen, but he was quite pleased at the way Owen's arms twined around her without hesitation. Progress all around, it appeared.

Gwen had made her way much more slowly down the staircase. And it was a quiet, subdued version of Ianto's usually vivacious colleague who took the chair Tosh had vacated. "Are you all right?" she asked, anxious eyes exploring his face.

Gwen hadn't so much as glanced at Jack, Ianto noticed. Not that it would have done her much good, what with Jack staring daggers at a point somewhere just above her head. Ianto's eyebrows rose, the eyes beneath them flicking with curiosity from Jack to Owen, noting that Owen too was looking anywhere other than at Gwen. Though in Owen's case it might have be related to whatever he was murmuring into Tosh's hair.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ianto asked, mystified and a bit concerned that everyone was keeping something important from him. "I mean, much as I hate to admit it, Owen is actually a competent doctor."

Tosh giggled, realised her face was still buried in Owen's shoulder, and withdrew with a squeak. Ianto noted with satisfaction the way Owen watched her vanish up the staircase, then returned his attention to the uncharacteristically quaking Gwen.

"And I'm sure you got to me faster than the other people that beastie attacked, Gwen," he continued. "So why wouldn't Owen be able to fix me?"

At which Ianto had his arms full of another weeping colleague. His hands patted her back absently while his eyes fixed on Owen. "What's happened?" he demanded. "Why are you both being so nasty to Gwen?"

Gwen's sobs grew louder. Jack twitched; completely unsettled by Ianto's defense of someone he'd always smugly assumed Ianto was either jealous of or threatened by.

Owen sniffed. "She only made you pass out, didn't she?"

Jack made a kind of growly noise which Ianto suddenly remembered from his semi-conscious daze, and things began to fall into place. He squeezed Gwen's shoulder, then gently disengaged himself from her embrace, nudging her into a chair instead. Jack promptly reclaimed a hand. Ianto thought that was quite nice, as long as it didn't become too much of a habit. Then again, he could probably make coffee one-handed, if he had to.

"As far as I remember," Ianto said slowly. "Gwen came damned close to getting attacked herself, trying to get that syringe to me."

"Whereupon she stuck it right into the wound, triggering a totally justified panic attack," Owen put in.

"And I had to hold you still while she did it," Jack interrupted, voice ragged. "You thought you were being attacked again, and you thought…..you thought I was helping it."

Gwen finally met Jack's eyes, and her face lost its remaining color at the desolation looking back at her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Jack shrugged. Ianto glared at him. Jack glared back, but his eyes dropped first. He never could outstare Ianto, and he wondered why he kept trying.

"I suppose you meant well," Jack admitted grudgingly, finally meeting Gwen's eyes.

Owen muttered something which included the phrase 'paving the road to hell' but subsided when Ianto's glare found a new target.

Ianto cleared his throat. "So she put the clotting factor right into the site where the anticoagulant was injected," he summarized. It appeared his mind was in working order again, which was a comfort. "Wouldn't that make it work faster?"

"That's what I thought," Gwen agreed, favoring him with a smile that was almost back to normal, if somewhat wobbly. "That, and not knowing how to find a vein by myself."

Owen took Ianto's blood pressure before responding, frustrated by how much of Jack – and Gwen - he had to get out the way first. It wasn't that he didn't understand. Jack and Gwen had stuffed up– both of them, in different ways - and Ianto paid in blood for it. They were dealing with a shit-load of guilt, which in Jack's case was complicated in ways Owen preferred not to think about, but was being forced to, which didn't help his frustration levels in the slightest.

"Owen," Ianto prompted. "Would it work faster that way, or not?"

"Yeah, maybe," Owen conceded, reluctantly. "The issue being," he continued, before Gwen could start feeling too vindicated, "Whether it worked fast enough to clot your blood in time for the shock-induced stroke."

Gwen gasped. Jack clutched Ianto tighter, if that were even possible. Owen almost felt sorry for them. Almost. But after this, maybe the pair of them would think twice before sailing into the next crisis half-cocked.

"Which it didn't," Ianto prompted, very pointedly.

Owen sighed. "Which it didn't," he agreed. He'd have liked to drag his lesson out further, but both Jack and Gwen were giving new definition to the description 'haggard' so he reluctantly decided to let them all – including himself, considering the looks Ianto was giving him – off the hook.

"Because you wouldn't have kept something like that from me, would you Owen?" Ianto continued, his tone as sweet as the sap of a Venus flytrap.

"Wouldn't dare," Owen grumbled. Really, there ought to be a law against a patient looking at his doctor as if he was wondering which crack said doctor had crawled out of.

Ianto smirked.

"You're growing quite a healthy martyr complex there," Owen added, getting in one final dig. "Too much forgiveness makes for a poor memory, is all I'm saying."

Gwen watched the doctor sail up the staircase, trailing his dignity behind him.

"He's right," she admitted. "I should have thought….I should have asked…I really am sorry, Ianto….Jack."

Ianto sighed. He didn't want apologies. He just wanted them all to leave, before Jack remembered he wasn't the sentimental sort, after all. "You're forgiven, and thank you," he said, which ought to cover everything.

"Yeah," Jack agreed hurriedly, as Ianto showed signs of the glare again. "All is forgiven. Now go home." He'd had enough of his Ianto comforting crying women, especially given that he could use a large serve of comforting himself. "And if Tosh is still shaky, how about the two of you share a taxi?"

Gwen smiled, still somewhat damply. "I'll take her home and let Rhys feed her," she decided. She rose to her feet. "Thanks Jack. Ianto…if there's anything…."

"Have a lovely night," Ianto said politely. "Give Rhys my regards."

Gwen couldn't help giggling at the polite dismissal.

"Don't call to check on him," Jack added. "He'll be sleeping."

-XXX-

Ianto sank gratefully onto the mattress of Jack's bunk. He felt almost like himself again, if a terribly weak version of himself. One of Owen's toys was still embedded in the back of his hand, but that was a minor concession in return for escaping the autopsy bay for the night.

"It's the medical bay when I've got a live patient," Owen had corrected. "But yeah, you might as well be in something that a least passes for a real bed. I'm leaving the cannula in, though. I don't want to risk triggering another stress attack if you need more blood. Or a sedative. Or whatever else I decide on."

Which was uncommonly pleasant, for Owen. He'd even agreed to Ianto having a shower, as long as someone supervised. Jack, of course, had only been too happy to volunteer.

Jack refrained from tucking Ianto in, instead pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Try to sleep," he directed. "I just need to get Owen's instructions for the night, then I'll be back."

Ianto closed his eyes with a contented sigh. It was something of a relief that Jack actually did mean sleep, this time. Ianto couldn't remember the last time he'd objected to one of Jack's more customary forms of relaxation, but then he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this tired, either. The blood loss, he supposed, regardless of the how much replacement blood Owen had pumped into him. And there'd been a lot. Ianto was sure he could hear it sloshing about inside him.

-XXX-

"I think I've got it all," Jack said, trying not to sound impatient as Owen went through Ianto's care instructions for the third time. "You should head off home, too," he offered.

Owen shook his head. "I'll kip on the sofa, thanks."

Jack frowned. "You think I can't look after him?"

Owen ran a hand through his hair. "Not that you can't," he said, with an unusual effort at diplomacy. "More that maybe you won't be able to."

Owen's hand waved imperiously as Jack drew breath to retort. "You're too close," he said bluntly. "If something goes wrong, it'll likely go spectacularly wrong, and I can't take the chance of you panicking."

Jack's face showed his confusion. Owen groaned internally, wished he'd asked Tosh to hang about long enough to do the tactful touchy-feely stuff, then squared his shoulders and motioned Jack over towards the ratty Torchwood sofa.

"I reckon," Owen began, before Jack could get a word out. "That you're as angry at yourself as you are at Gwen. You dropped the ball as badly as she did out there tonight."

Jack's mouth opened, ready to protest, then closed again. Fishlike, Owen thought, in an effort to regain his usual lack of sympathy. Didn't work. He couldn't help feeling sorry for the bloke. Apparently Ianto had gotten too far under Jack's skin, and the immortal nitwit was being forced to deal with something he'd avoided for so long he'd lost his coping mechanisms.

"You froze, Jack," Owen continued, not without sympathy. "I'd guess more than once. You let - oh hell, this sounds so bloody Doctor Phil, but there's no other way to say it – You let your feelings for him override your judgement."

Jack let his head sink into his hands, replaying the night in his mind. "You're right," he admitted. "I was watching Ianto when I should have been watching the alley and I let the shape-shifter take me by surprise." He lifted his head and met Owen's eyes. "You were right on that, too, Owen. It wasn't the venom that paralysed the victims. It was its eyes. Hypnosis. Ianto tried to tell me but I was too busy…."

"Spare me," Owen said, with a good imitiation of his usual sarcasm. "But you must see why I have to stay. You can't guarantee it won't happen again if he has a bad turn tonight, can you?"

Jack nodded, more drooping head than assent.

Owen rose from the sofa, pausing to give Jack an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Don't take it so hard, mate. It's kind of nice to know you're only human after all."

Jack looked up, eyes haunted. "I can't afford to be, though, can I?"

Owen did the shoulder pat again. "If you'll take a piece of advice from someone woefully unequipped to give it, talk to him. Much as it pains me to admit it, the boy has good sense."

As I said, more to come. Jack and Ianto in the bunker...fluff of course, Ianto isn't well enough for smut, even if I was capable of writing it.

Thanks for reading