Hello again, people! Sorry for the wait – I've been ill and school's been horrifically busy of late...
Oh, and btw, I'm probably going to drop Sudden Parenthood because I've used part of the planned plot in this. Oops. :-P
This chapter is dedicated to WickedTorchwoodFan, who helped me through a tough spot of writer's block this chapter. Thankyou so much – you rock! :-)
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood. :'-( (Ack, I need some more inventive disclaimers... anybody think of some?)
Owen was sitting on a red plastic chair, his legs swinging aimlessly as he stared at the pot-plant in the corner. The plant seemed to be half-dead, its leaves drooped and shrivelling. The flower heads had lost their petals - save for one which, small and wrinkled, clung on whilst the others lay decomposing in the dust.
Being a keen botanist, Owen's fingers itched to fill a cup with water from the dispenser, to tip it over the dry soil and away all those dead browned petals. But he kept his ass firmly rooted to the chair, and instead fixed his attention on the peeling paint-work.
The door opened, and Toshiko hurried through, looking upset.
"Owen, have you seen Jack?" she asked.
The medic nodded at the ceiling. "He's upstairs, in Ianto's room. Why?"
Toshiko shook her head, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "They sent another message," she admitted. "Has Gwen filled you in?"
"Filled me in on what?"
"Jack thinks that Ianto died of leukaemia," Toshiko said, talking at top speed. "Julia's daughter died of leukaemia just after she was talking to mermaids."
"And by mermaids you mean aliens," Owen realised. "Jack thinks there's a connection."
She nodded, pulling out her PDA from her pocket and tapping away at it. "Here you go," she handed it to him, "this should have everything. I need to go and talk to Jack."
"Wait a bit – they're sleeping." Owen stood up. "Try the Doctor first."
"The Doctor?" she seemed taken aback.
Owen shrugged. "He's the expert in all this, isn't he?"
"I guess..." Toshiko replied cautiously. "Where is he?"
"He and Martha were going to visit Ianto, but he was sleeping so they went to talk with the doctors." Owen ignored the flicker of annoyance that he, a doctor himself, was being stuck down here like a naughty toddler whilst Martha and the Doctor got to look at the test results for themselves. "They said that they wanted me here in case something came up."
Tosh smiled sympathetically at him. "You could come with me, if you want," she offered shyly. "I don't know much about cancer."
Owen smiled, although without humour. "Martha does," he said, surprising himself with his bitter tone.
Toshiko looked upset for a fleeting moment. "If you don't want to come—"
"I'll come," Owen said quickly. He nodded towards the door. "C'mon, then."
-T-
Martha frowned at the readout the doctor had presented her with. "Are you sure?"
The doctor nodded, her face grim. "No doubt about it. I've run this scan numerous times – they all come up with the same answer."
"Is there any way the machines could be faulty?"
"It's unlikely – they were serviced last week," the doctor said, her voice crisp as a freshly-bitten apple. She had her hands in the spacious pockets of her white medical coat. "We can run some further tests, though we'll need some more blood-samples," she dropped her voice, "I'm sorry, Dr Jones, but I don't think he'll make it. The cancer's so far along that he strictly ought to be dead already."
"That's not going to happen on my watch," Martha said stiffly.
The doctor pressed her lips together in a thin line. "I look forward to seeing that," she replied. "But are you sure that Mr Jones hasn't show any symptoms?"
"Not that I know of," Martha said slowly, shaking her head. "But I haven't seen him for quite a long time."
"This says that he should have first contracted the leukaemia about two years ago, maybe more." The doctor's eyes were suspicious. "We really need to know if he has – it could make all the difference to the way we set about treating him."
"Why don't we just handle it how we'd normally deal with any cancer patient?" Martha suggested. "I need to go and talk to some colleagues."
"Don't leave it too long," the doctor warned. "This is a delicate situation."
"I'm well aware of the 'situation'." Martha's tone was deadly, her posture stiff. "Please excuse me, I need to go and confer with Dr Smith and Dr Harper."
Martha turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, almost bumping into Owen and Toshiko.
"What do the tests say?" Toshiko asked nervously. "Because Jack's got this theory—"
"Ianto's got leukaemia," Martha said abruptly.
She didn't quite get the reaction she had expected. Tosh simply nodded and said, "That's what we thought – we were just coming to tell you."
"Owen?" Martha asked, surprised. "Did you know?"
"Tosh just told me, yes," Owen replied. "I'd like to get a look at the results myself, check for other abnormalities, see how far it's along, that sort of thing—"
"Ianto ought to be dead by now, according to this," Martha waved the sheet of paper at them, "but, as you can see, he's still very much alive."
"That's because he has died of leukaemia – he just came back again," Toshiko explained. "Jack thinks that might be how the aliens kill."
Martha frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Somehow, they cause leukaemia to start in the body of a person they choose, then they accelerate it until they die," the technician said. "We just don't know how they cause the leukaemia to start in the first place."
Martha opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind. "I think we need to go and tell the Doctor," she said finally.
-T-
Jack was starting to drift off, arms wrapped protectively around Ianto's sleeping form, when the door banged open and the Doctor marched in.
Jack glared at the timelord. "What?" he asked in a heated whisper. "He's sleeping."
The Doctor's eyes were dark, the echoes of loss and sorrow clinging to his angular face. "Jack—" he began, then broke off to grab a nearby chair, dragging it to the bedside. "It might be better if you wake him up," he said, his voice lowered.
Jack hesitated. "This better be good," he warned. "He needs to sleep."
"It's important," the Doctor promised.
Jack threw him a doubtful look, but shook Ianto's good shoulder gently. "Ianto. Ianto…"
The Welshman woke slowly and groggily, his eyes fluttering open. He peered up at Jack through his lashes, his eyes a sleepy blue. "Hmm?"
Jack held back a soppy grin at the look of drowsy bewilderment on his lover's face, which he couldn't help but find adorable. On any other occasion, he would have told Ianto so, but even he felt a bit uncomfortable with showing such affection in front of the timelord. Flirting, yes – affection, not so much. "Morning, sunshine," he instead said, helping Ianto to sit up.
Ianto's eyes widened momentarily when he saw the Doctor sitting in the chair by the bed, before the polite mask slammed into position once more. "Good morning, sir."
"Hey, don't I get a good morning?" Jack teased.
"Morning, Jack," Ianto said. The hint of his warm smile set a ball of heat glowing in Jack's chest, one which sent pleasant tingles down his spine and dancing across his skin. Ianto yawned involuntarily, his fingers uncurling from Jack's brace to cover his mouth. "Is there any particular reason for waking me up?"
"Other than to hear those gorgeous welsh vowels?" Jack grinned. He would have continued, but the Doctor leapt in.
"I actually need to talk to you both, Ianto," he said solemnly. "It's a serious matter."
Ianto frowned for a moment. Then the creases in his forehead smoothed out, his expression clearing with understanding. "The leukaemia?" he asked.
The Doctor nodded. "Martha, Toshiko and Ewen told me."
"Owen," Ianto said absently, "not Ewen."
The Doctor waved a hand in the air. "Whatever – they showed me the test results." His gaze was serious. "Ianto Jones, according to those results - which are about accurate ninety-nine percent of the time – according to those results, you should be dead."
Jack stared at the Doctor. There was a glimpse of the little lost boy he had once been behind the captain-façade. "What are you saying?"
The Doctor looked away, memories glinting like gold-dust in his old-but-young eyes. "I just thought that I ought to warn you."
"Warn us about what?" Jack unconsciously sought out Ianto's hand and squeezed it tight.
"Jack… maybe it's time to accept that we can't change what the Universe chooses. At least, this way, you'll have time to say goodbye." The Doctor made to stand up, but Ianto's next words stopped him in his tracks.
"How long have I got?"
The Doctor turned around, slowly. He forced himself to look at the young Welshman. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I really don't. It could be hours, days, weeks – months, even."
"So there might be time to find a cure?" Jack asked hopefully.
Ianto saw the glint in his eyes and tightened his grip on the captain's hand. "No, Jack," he said, his voice soft. "Don't. Please don't."
"But can't you see?" Jack's eyes were fairly alight, now. He looked at the Doctor. "We can stop it," he said excitedly, "it's only leukaemia. They've got a cure for it by the 30th century—"
"No, Jack." The Doctor sat down again, leaning forward to meet Jack's eyes. "We can't. Ianto belongs in the 21st century. He isn't meant to have a cure."
"He's right, Jack." Ianto offered up a small smile, trying to comfort Jack as best as he could. "Why should I get anything special? I'm not any more important that other people who die from it."
"You are," Jack insisted. "We can't fix everyone, but we can help you. You save the world every day – why shouldn't you get some reward?"
"I did get my reward," Ianto said quietly, his blue eyes glowing with a soft inner peace. "I got you."
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