STORIES
THIRTYONE
No one was as surprised as John Hart when John opened his eyes, although to be honest, The Doctor, Ianto and even Jack were all absolutely stunned to realize the man was actually alive.
But what really, truly surprised John Hart was to open his eyes and see Jack Harkness crouching over him.
"You're naked!" John's raspy voice was barely a whisper. Then he bared his teeth, more rictus than smile, "Were you just kissing me?"
On the other hand, no one was very much surprised at all when that same John Hart next turned his face to the side and vomited a considerable amount of water onto the floor.
Jack quickly elevated John's head and torso and gave him a few solid thumps on the back. John inhaled loudly through his mouth and then coughed up a second immense wave of water. This time the ever-helpful Ianto Jones was there with a towel.
After a minute the coughing slowed, then stopped, and John's breathing became less ragged, more comfortably rhythmic.
"Better?" Jack asked; his face full of stoic concern although his hands were still shaking from the adrenalin aftershock.
John took a slow, shallow breath, looked deeply into Jack's eyes and nodded solemnly. Something unsaid, yet profound, passed between them. Then he anxiously glanced around the room. "Where," he inhaled painfully, his chest again shuddering with coughing spasms, "where's Wil?"
"I'm here," she said, shimmering into existence. She promptly went to him and knelt down beside Jack. John's visage became dark, ominous as he focused on her damaged face and her injured arm. She took his hand in hers and shook her head, "Don't worry about it."
"I hope you put up a good fight," he croaked after a few moments, visibly and with great effort letting go of his anger. At lease for the time being…
Wil's eyes briefly met Jack's before the two of them simultaneously turned and smiled down on John. Then her expression changed into something more serious as John started to shiver uncontrollably. "We need to get him out of these wet clothes and warmed up." She glanced back at Ianto and the Welshman nodded and briskly walked away.
Wil then looked at The Doctor. "And we need to get out of here. We've got unfriendly company on the doorstep, ringing our doorbell, and Grasshopper is about to show them some interesting new toys that Jack happened to have on hand."
The Time Lord raised an eyebrow in Jack's direction but unfolded up off the floor and went to his console, moving out of the way of the rapidly reemerging Ianto Jones, who was carrying yet another stack of dry towels topped off by what looked like some striped flannel pajamas.
Ianto smiled as John curiously watched him set down the armful of stuff he'd carried in. "It's the best I could find in the time I had," he apologized. "I'll try to locate something more suitable for you to wear later." Then he began helping Jack and Wil remove the soaked apparel.
John nodded and did what he could to extricate himself from his coat, shirt, boots and pants. It was quite a challenge to pry all of his clothing off of him; none of it came off willingly, that's for sure. It was almost as if the material had adhered to his skin. In fact John grimaced while his friends and lovers diligently yanked and tugged and jerked. Plus, the bulky manacles were still affixed to his wrists and ankles, and they were definitely complicating the situation. Although the front of his shirt had already been ripped down the center so that the defibrillator paddles could be placed on his chest, there now was additional rending and tearing of cloth. Of course Jack and Wil had already seen the dreadful scars – the graffiti of violence – that covered John's body, but Ianto had not, and the Welshman's hands faltered for a second as the worst of the disfigurement was revealed. Jack caught Ianto's eyes and held them. It's okay, the Captain silently mouthed. Ianto nodded almost imperceptibly in response and moved on.
"Wil, come here." This was The Doctor, and Wil kissed John on the cheek before she stood and crossed over to the console. The two of them consulted quietly, if animatedly, just beyond Jack's hearing. The Captain was not amused by this too private conversation but he had more important duties. John's clothes were finally removed, Ianto had covered him with warm, dry towels, and it was time to start the second phase of the project.
Jack had already observed that somehow the amazing weapon he'd used to cut John free of his chains had accompanied him back onto the TARDIS. Its presence was improbable, if not miraculous, to be sure. He figured that without realizing he must have grasped it in his half-frozen fingers using something akin to a death grip. The knife was lying on the floor where it had apparently fallen from his hand. The Captain now reached over, picked it up and snapped it open. Then – carefully! – he went to work on the manacles. Ianto leaned back and watched in amazement as the heavy pieces of metal clattered noisily to the floor. John watched, too. His face was unreadable.
After all four shackles had been cut off Jack closed the blade. "Where did you get this?" he asked in awe.
John held out trembling fingers, reaching for it. Jack handed it to him.
"Ecba," John whispered – the sound of his voice like a prayer.
Wil and The Doctor stopped speaking and turned to look at John.
That's when the Captain noticed a particular kind of pain in his friend's eyes. Certain nuances in his posture and his face told Jack that his former partner was grieving deeply – the signs were clear only because he'd known John for so very long. Jack knew John was going to grieve in a funny, hidden way, over an extended period of time. Such as it always was and always would be with John Hart. Amen, Jack said to himself silently, sadly mourning in support of his friend's grief.
A few seconds later the flannel pajamas had been employed and Jack was finally starting to pull on his own clothes. "We need to get back to Cardiff," John said, his voice still weak but sounding stronger than before. He gazed fixedly at Jack as if the Captain was the only other person in the room, if not the universe. "We need to get back there now."
Jack gazed up wordlessly at the Doctor. "Well," the Lord of Time said, shrugging, "I suppose that answers that question."