Chapter Thirty-Seven
Hello again, wonderful people! I've been away on our boat (and learning to sail a mirror-dinghy) but I still had time to do MASSES of writing… really – 10,000+ words! :-) So all chapters up to 42 are written, and I'll probably be posting every other day.
Disclaimer: I don't own… but I plan to, like I plan to rule the world someday. Unfortunately, I doubt that's going to happen any time soon. :'-(
"What do you mean, 'there's a massive shoal of fish in the marina'?" Jack demanded, getting up from where he was seated on the edge of Ianto's bed.
Martha rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her. "I mean exactly that. The marina is jam-packed full of fish."
"What sort of fish?" Ianto asked curiously, leaning forward in his bed.
"Fish fish." Martha shrugged. "I dunno. I'm not exactly a fish expert."
"What are the harbourmasters doing?" Jack pressed.
"They're trying to—" Martha was interrupted by a bleep from her mobile. She read the text, her eyebrows jumping up her forehead in surprise. "Owen says that the fish have started biting people."
"'Biting people'?" Ianto echoed. "That hardly sounds like normal fish behaviour to me."
"Unless they're piranhas," Jack said. "Are they piranhas?"
"Not that I know of," Martha said. "They look like normal, silvery brown fish."
Jack grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "Okay, then," he said, "lets get moving."
"What about me?" Ianto's eyes were dark in his white face.
Jack blinked. "What do you mean? You're staying here."
"Can't I come with you?"
"Ianto—"
"Please, Jack. I haven't been outside for nine days now."
"No. What if something happened?" Jack bent down and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm not going to risk it."
"Jack!"
"No, Ianto. Maybe tomorrow, if the nurses give you the all-clear."
"Jack, please," Ianto begged. "You don't know what it's like to be stuck in here twenty-four-seven."
"I said no," an edge of impatience crept into Jack's voice.
"You can't tell me what to do!"
"Actually, I can – I'm your boss, in case you'd forgotten," Jack said angrily, his temper flaring.
"So I'm off-duty but I still have to do what you say?"
"Yes."
"How is that fair?"
Jack glared at him, eyes chips of ice. "It isn't. Life isn't fair. Don't you think I know that better than anyone else?"
"Oh, because you've gone through far more than any of the rest of us, despite the fact that I'm the one dy—"
"You have no idea what I've been through," Jack said through clenched teeth.
Ianto laughed, a hysterical note to it. "No, because you never tell me anything! It's all: Oh, you wouldn't understand, you're just the tea-boy—"
"When have I ever said you were just the tea-boy?" Jack demanded, taking a step forward. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight with anger.
"When d'you think?" Ianto asked sarcastically.
"We've talked about that—"
"And it doesn't seem to have made a difference!"
"It has made a dif—"
"No, it hasn't!" Ianto snapped. "Even now, it's always: Ianto, get me this! Ianto, get me that! Ianto, I need a f--k—"
"Listen to me—"
"Yes, it's all about you, isn't it?" Ianto retorted. "Captain Jack Harkness, defender of the Earth—"
"Do you think I chose to be who I am?" Jack asked incredulously. "Do you think I like watching everybody I love die? Do you think I enjoy dying repetitively, in the hope that this time it might be for good?"
"It's not my fault – blame your precious Doctor!" Ianto yelled, face red with anger.
Jack froze, and Ianto knew that he had crossed a line by dragging the Doctor into it. "You're not coming. And that's final."
Ianto regarded Jack bitterly. "Fine. But don't come back here afterwards."
"Wh— Of course I'm coming back here," Jack spluttered.
"Hurry up and get out," Ianto said, "sir." He curled his lips around the last word, as if it tasted bad.
"Ianto—"
"Get out."
"Fine," Jack spat, stalking out the room like an affronted cat.
Ianto flopped back against the pillows, angry tears filling his eyes. "Bastard."
Martha looked at him with a knowing glint in her eye. "Don't give him a too hard time," she said. "He just wants to look after you."
"I'm not a child," Ianto said, expression sour. "I can look after myself."
"Oh yeah, you can look after yourself so well that you die once, try to kill yourself a second time, and get leukaemia."
"The leukaemia wasn't my fault!" Ianto protested.
"I know that. But you still couldn't stop it happening," Martha said. "Jack lost you once, Ianto. You can't really blame him for wanting to keep you around for as long as possible."
"I'm the one that's going to die," Ianto said, "not Jack. I should get the choice about what risks I take."
"Maybe that's so," Martha replied calmly, "but Jack's suffering as much as you are, don't forget. He's the one that has to watch somebody he loves slowly dying in front of him, and he can't do anything to stop it."
"He'll move on," Ianto said quietly. "He'll forget about me in the end."
"That won't happen and you know it," Martha said sharply. "Jack doesn't forget the people he loves."
Ianto closed his eyes tiredly, letting out a long sigh. "Maybe. But he'll love again. This won't keep him down." He smiled wryly. "Nothing keeps him down."
"Ianto."
"Yeah?"
"Jack isn't infallible, you know. He has his weaknesses," Martha smiled, "and, at the moment, that weakness is you."
Ianto looked at her for a moment, eyes unreadable. "Maybe you'd better go and help out with the fish," he said finally.
"Yeah," Martha agreed. "Just think about what I said, yeah?"
"I will," Ianto said, "and Martha?"
"Yeah?"
"Thankyou." Ianto offered her a soft smile.
"You're welcome. See you later." Martha closed the door behind her, leaving him alone once more.
-T-
"Ianto?" Jack whispered, quiet in the darkened room.
"Jack?" Ianto asked, voice groggy with sleep. "What're you doing here?"
"I… I wanted to say sorry. About earlier." Jack swallowed. "I shouldn't have treated you like that." He paused. "Can I sit down?"
Ianto reached out and turned on the bedside light; the small room instantly took on a warm, intimate atmosphere. He patted the bed. "Sit here."
"I—"
"Please."
Jack perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed, uncertain of where this was going. "Ianto…"
Ianto reached out and took Jack's hand, lacing their fingers together loosely. "I know. And I'm sorry, too."
Jack looked down at their linked fingers, surprised. "I thought you were mad at me?"
Ianto chuckled. "Not anymore."
Jack kept quiet for a minute. "So I don't have to grovel, then?"
Ianto grinned, eyes dancing. Jack loved that mischievous grin and blue-eyed sparkle. "Well…"
Jack laughed softly, keeping his voice low as to not burst the bubble of comfort they seemed to be in at the moment. It was too special to break. "May I ask what changed your mind?"
"Martha," Ianto replied simply.
Jack nodded. He wet his lips, unsure of how to say what he wanted to.
"Will you stay tonight?" Ianto's voice was small, uncertain. He looked vulnerable against the stark white bedsheets, his good hand frail and grey where it held Jack's close. Jack felt that, if he squeezed too tight, the bones would snap and break, like brittle sticks of dry spaghetti.
"You want me to stay?"
"Yeah."
"Then I will." Jack smiled, attempting to swallow down the last shreds of sadness.
Ianto sat up, propping himself up with pillows. "Are you okay?"
Typical Ianto: caring about everybody else above himself.
Jack let out a shaky breath. "No," he admitted.
Ianto squeezed his hand, though Jack could feel the weakness in his grasp. "What happened?"
Jack shook his head. "I… I don't know how to say it."
"Then just say it as it comes," Ianto suggested.
Jack looked away, choosing to stare at the doorknob. "They want you to start chemotherapy."
"Isn't that good?" Ianto asked, confused. "That's a cure."
"There's only a fifteen-percent chance of you making it," Jack said softly, not meeting Ianto's eyes: he feared what he might see there. Anger? Disappointment? Sadness?
"What if I don't start it?" Ianto's voice was impossible to read.
"Then you'll die," Jack said, hating the matter-of-fact way it sounded. "Though it'll take longer."
"How long?"
"They're guessing at a couple of months. Half a year, tops."
Ianto was quiet. Jack risked a quick glance at him, and was confused at the smile he saw there. "What are you smiling about?"
"I was just thinking… I'm the first Torchwood agent to die of leukaemia." Ianto chuckled humourlessly. "Not exactly the way I expected to go."
Impulsively, Jack grabbed him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Ianto."
"You've got nothing to be sorry about," Ianto told him. His breath tickled the back of Jack's neck, sending pleasant little shivers down his spine. "It's just a little bit earlier than I expected."
Jack felt tears pricking at his eyes, but he ignored them. "You need to go to sleep," he said, drawing back and trying to smile at Ianto. "It's nearly two in the morning."
Ianto shuffled over to put his back against the wall. Jack took the hint and kicked off his shoes, settling down facing Ianto.
"This reminds me of your bed in the Hub," Ianto said, almost sounding amused. He closed his eyes and yawned widely, flopping onto his front and burying his nose in the pillow.
Jack pulled the covers up over them. "The nurses will kill me in the morning," he said with a grin. "They hate it when I sleep in your bed."
"Well, they can hardly expect you to sleep in one of those chairs," Ianto said with a mock-shudder, "and they wouldn't get in a camp-bed when I asked."
"You asked them to get in a camp-bed?" Jack asked. It sounded like the sort of thing Ianto would do.
Ianto shrugged, struggling to undo his sling with his free hand so that he could relax comfortably. Jack took over, and with gentle fingers eased Ianto's arm out of the sling, dumping the material on the bedside table.
Ianto smiled his thanks at him, and wriggled closer, so that he could rest his head on Jack's chest.
Jack draped his arm across Ianto's side and kissed him softly. He tasted of pears and chocolate and sleepiness (if that could be tasted), not to mention the something that was indefinably Ianto.
Ianto smiled into the kiss, before pulling back and yawning widely. "I'm tired," he said in surprise.
"It is two a.m.," Jack pointed out with an amused smile.
"I slept all afternoon, too," Ianto said. "I shouldn't be this tired."
Jack's heart clenched as he recalled the words he had seen when he had looked up leukaemia on the internet. Paleness, easy bruising, tiredness, aching in limbs—
"It's probably nothing," he said quickly, not wanting to think about it.
Ianto lifted his head to give Jack his 'yeah, right – what do you take me for?' look.
"Well, not nothing," Jack amended, "but you don't need to worry about it."
"It's part of the illness, isn't it?" Ianto asked through another yawn.
Jack restrained the urge to yawn as well. "Yeah."
"Okay, then." Ianto put his head down again, sighing in contentment. "I'm going to go to sleep now."
"Sweet dreams." Jack brushed a kiss across his forehead before letting his eyes close as well, relaxing in the knowledge that Ianto was safe in his arms; his lover's heartbeat pounded sure and strong against his own, a harsh reminder that every beat was one closer to his last.
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