A/N: For anyone who particularly likes the character of Lisa, be warned there is some Lisa-bashing to come. I'm not fussed with the character either way, but it's just the way the fic is.

After six days, and an intense course of antibiotics, Ianto was finally fit enough to return to work, and the first thing he did was to head towards Joe's room. He would find Gage later, and thank him for taking care of Joe in his absence. He was nearly there when he was intercepted by Spence.

"Jones, nice to see you back at work. Feeling better, then?"

Ianto stared at Spence suspiciously. The doctor was sounding far too pleasant, and it triggered significant alarm bells in his mind.

"Yes, thank you, sir. It was just a touch of the flu. I'm fine, now."

"That's nice. It missed you, you know. No one to take care of it, and all."

The breath chilled abruptly in Ianto's throat.

"What are you talking about? Gage..."

"Oh, that's right. You didn't know, you've been sick. I temporarily reassigned Adams off-site. He won't be back until next week."

The chill in Ianto's throat began to spread down through his chest and into his gut, and his head started to spin.

"Reassigned since when?"

"Same day you called in sick, as a matter of fact," Spence answered smugly.

"Then who's been looking after Joe?"

Spence's answering sneer was more than Ianto could stomach and he bolted past him, desperate to get to Joe's room as fast as possible. In his panic, Ianto fumbled the key code twice before he finally got the door open. He stumbled into the room, and froze, his heart sinking at the sight before him.

The bed was gone, as was the pillow. The blanket was the only thing that remained from what Ianto had bought for Joe from the camping store, but it had been badly torn. Joe was huddled once more in his corner, clutching what was left of the blanket. His head was bowed low, and one of his hands was hidden beneath the blanket's tattered remains.

"Joe?" Ianto called out cautiously. When he got no response, Ianto ventured a little closer. "Joe."

Slowly, Joe's head came up and Ianto recoiled a little at the sight. Joe's face bore multiple stunner burns along with a number of bruises, some more recent than others. Even worse than the obvious evidence of abuse, though, was the resentment and anger than shone out from those pale blue eyes.

"Joe, I'm sorry," Ianto said, feeling sick to his stomach. "I am so sorry. I was sick, and I couldn't come in to take care of you. Oh god, look at your face..."

He took another step closer, only to stumble and fall heavily on his arse when Joe suddenly lunged forward with an angry snarl. Ianto sat frozen, locked momentarily in a staring match with the other man, who was held back only by the shackle that held his left ankle. Then, as Joe lifted his hand from beneath the blanket in what Ianto assumed was an intent to strike him the Welshman did the first thing that occurred to him. He slapped Joe's hand away, hard.

What happened next was almost beyond Ianto's powers of comprehension. In a scene that reminded Ianto spookily of the Cowardly Lion's first appearance in The Wizard of Oz, Joe stared wide-eyed at him for several seconds, his lower lip trembling, before sitting back down with a thump and abruptly bursting into tears.

Ianto sat there, gaping at him in shock, utterly thrown by the unexpected reaction. As he regained his wits, though, he finally saw what he had missed just moments before. Joe's hand was bloodied and broken, a ruined mess of flesh and bone. He hadn't been intending to lash out, Ianto realised in dismay. He had only wanted to show his injured hand.

Joe continued to howl pitifully, cradling his hand to his chest. Ianto shook himself back to reality and pushed aside his own fears to move closer.

"I'm sorry," he murmured sincerely. "I didn't know your hand was hurt. C'mon now, let me see it."

He reached out and took a very careful hold of Joe's wrist. As near as he could tell, all of his fingers were broken, along with more than one bone in his hand. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been an accident.

"I know it hurts," Ianto said as Joe continued to cry noisily. "I'm sorry I slapped it, but you startled me." He shifted positions and got to his feet. "I'll be right back, I promise."

Ianto emerged from the room to find Spence waiting there for him.

"You bastard, you broke his hand!" Ianto snarled, his rage boiling over.

"No, Jones, it wasn't me. Jon Bourke had the honour of doing that, and he was perfectly justified in doing it. The freak tried to attack him when he got rid of that bloody camp bed. That was just a goddamned waste of money, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Ianto snapped, "and I paid for it out of my own pocket! You had no right to take it off him!"

"Get off your high horse, Jones," Spence snorted.

"Well, you had no right!" Ianto shouted angrily. "I bought that bed for him, and you had no right to take it away from him!"

"Where the hell are you going?" Spence demanded to know as Ianto stormed past him.

"To get a first-aid kit, because Joe needs medical attention. Then, I have to see about getting him a new bed. And then, I'm reporting this straight to Director Hartman."

He walked away quickly before Spence could stop him.

Joe's sobs had eased off a little by the time Ianto returned, but he remained the picture of misery. Hoping he was doing the right thing, Ianto set about splinting and bandaging Joe's hand to immobilise it while it healed.

"There we go," Ianto told him, offering a reassuring smile. He briefly contemplated trying to get Joe to swallow some painkillers, but just as quickly abandoned the idea. It would be too difficult trying to get Joe to understand what they were for, and Ianto did not want to risk damaging the fragile progress that had been made. He would instead crush some tablets later, and conceal them in some warm milk.

Ianto was pulled from his thoughts by a prodding sensation to his shoulder, and he looked to find Joe was poking at him to get his attention.

"What is it?" Ianto asked, and Joe lifted up the remains of his blanket. The Welshman nodded.

"I know. The nasty people took your bed away. Don't worry, I'm going to get you a new one, with a mattress and some nice, soft pillows." He paused, reaching up to gently thumb away a smear of dirt from Joe's temple. "You're going to be looked after properly from now on, and anyone who hurts you will answer to me."

A moment later, Ianto nearly had the wind knocked out of him when Joe tackled him. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought he was being attacked, but the realisation quickly dawned that Joe was, in fact, hugging him. It was clumsy and a little over-exuberant, but genuine and heartfelt. Warmed by the innocent gesture, Ianto hugged him back gently.

"It's going to be all right, Joe. You'll see."

Ianto's meeting with the Director was equally frustrating and productive. Her utter lack of concern for the injuries inflicted on Joe left him seething, but by similar account, nor did she hesitate to approve the purchase of a proper new bed for him. She was nothing short of ecstatic to learn that Joe was now allowing Ianto to make physical contact; a reaction that left Ianto feeling uneasy, to say the least. Still, Ianto had never been one to ignore a potential opportunity, and here was one that he couldn't afford to disregard.

"Ma'am, it would be better all round if we were to move him somewhere else. Somewhere with proper plumbing?"

Hartman regarded him in bemusement.

"Are you offering to toilet-train him, Jones?"

Ianto blushed red, but held his head high.

"Actually, Ma'am, I don't believe it would take much training, as you put it. Just... remembering. But it's not just that. Bathing facilities would be much appreciated as well."

Hartman shook her head.

"Sorry, Jones. Can't allow it. We don't have anywhere else to put him that had that level of security, and we just can't risk him escaping. He's too valuable a commodity."

Ianto struggled against a desire to snap at her for labelling Joe a commodity. Fighting for calm, he tried for a compromise.

"Can I at least give him a proper bath in the staff bathroom in Secure Archives? Hosing him down really isn't acceptable, Ma'am. He's not an animal... despite common belief."

"I'm assuming you mean that as more than a once-off?" she asked.

"Once every two days?" Ianto suggested. He wanted to be able to bathe Joe every day, but knew instinctively that it was expecting too much. It was no surprise to him when Hartman shook her head.

"Once a week, if you absolutely must."

Ianto frowned.

"Every third day, then."

"This isn't up for negotiation, Jones."

Ianto affected a long sigh.

"Very well, Ma'am. Just three times a week, then."

Hartman peered at him over the rim of her glasses.

"Mr Jones, I refuse to believe your math skills are so bad that you don't realise that three times a week is more frequent than every third day."

Ianto watched her owlishly.

"You're the one who gave me open slather, Ma'am, and I don't believe I'm being unreasonable. Now, you may not care than my colleagues have been using him as a punching bag, but surely even you should care that he's been forced to live in absolute squalor."

She poked primly at her glasses.

"Can you control him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. He'll do what I ask him to do."

"He'd better, Jones. Very well. You may use the Secure Archives bathroom three times a week, but I'm warning you. If there's any trouble at all, you'll be held exclusively responsible. Am I understood?"

"Absolutely."

"All right, then. Go on. I don't want to see you in my office again."

His foray into the city that afternoon was to a proper bedding store, rather than a camping store, and there he purchased a strong wooden bed frame with slats, a decent mattress and all the sheets, blankets and pillows to go with it. As he unloaded it all back at Torchwood Tower, his thoughts turned dark at the idea that Spence might try to have this taken away as well.

"Over my dead body," Ianto muttered under his breath, and then promptly hoped he wasn't jinxing himself by thinking that. After all, he knew full well that Spence could probably quite cheerfully strangle him right then.

The look on Joe's face was priceless when he wheeled it all into the room. He suspected that Joe had a rudimentary understanding of what was happening, but that was all.

"Here," Ianto told him, handing him one of the pillows. "Why don't you try that out while I get this sorted out for you?"
Joe, to Ianto's quiet amusement, placed the pillow on the floor and lay his head down on it.

"Comfortable, I gather?" he asked, and Joe uttered a sound of pure contentment, causing the Welshman to laugh. "That's good. All right, let's see here..."

Half an hour later, the bed was assembled and made, and Ianto watched with immense satisfaction as Joe curled up on it in contentment. After a brief moment of observation, Ianto crouched down beside the bed and gently brushed a strand of hair back from Joe's face.

"This is all yours. I won't let them take it away from you again."

Joe reached out with his uninjured hand and, with a surprisingly gentle touch, placed his palm on Ianto's cheek.

"Yan. Toe."

Ianto's eyes widened in astonishment as it registered in his brain what had just happened.

"Yes," he said eagerly. "Yes, that's right! I'm Ianto! Can you say it again?"

Joe didn't speak again, though. Instead, he continued to stroke Ianto's cheek in a tender, almost intimate gesture. Ianto felt a shiver pass down his spine as he felt something almost electric pass between them. It would be easy, too easy to just lean forward, and...

He jerked backwards, horrified with himself. There was no denying that Joe was an incredibly beautiful man, even through the grime that was smeared over his face and body.
Even so, it was no excuse to even contemplate taking advantage of someone whose mental capacity was effectively that of a child.

Slowly, Ianto came back to the present to realise that Joe was watching him worriedly. He forced his concerns aside and smiled gently, reaching up to close his hand over Joe's, where it still rested against his cheek. Joe was nearly asleep, soothed by the comfort of the new bed, and Ianto's protective presence.

"That's it," Ianto murmured. "Shut your eyes and go to sleep. I'll bring dinner for you tonight, and then tomorrow I'm going to show you how much fun a bubble bath can be."

"So," Lisa said that night as she and Ianto sat together watching a DVD after polishing off Chinese takeaway. Ianto glanced at her questioningly, his hackles instantly rising at her tone.

"What?"

"Jake told me you were in the Director's office today."

Ianto bit back a groan. Nothing went unnoticed within the Torchwood Tower. It was like living in a bloody gated community.

"Yes," he said simply, returning his attention to the DVD, and hoping Lisa would take the hint. She didn't, much to his chagrin.

"What were you in there for?"

"I just needed to speak to her concerning Joe," he answered bluntly. "Nothing to be worried about. It's all sorted now."

"Oh... I thought it must have been something important."

Ianto shut his eyes. He had to take a moment to calm himself before he could respond to that.

"It was important, Lisa."

"But you just said it was about Joe..."

He regarded her with irritation.

"Yes, I did. Do you realise that while I was away sick, my wonderful colleagues took away the camp bed I bought for him?"

Lisa snorted.

"Waste of money, that was. I can't imagine he'd know the difference between sleeping in a bed or on the floor."

Ianto seethed, but somehow bit his tongue.

"One of them had also broken Joe's hand, quite badly."

"Well," Lisa mused, "it's not as if it really matters, is it? I mean, it's not like he needs it for anything, right? And really, can he even feel pain?"

Slowly, Ianto set aside his coffee and stood up. Lisa looked up at him in astonishment.

"Ianto? Where are you going?"

"To bed," Ianto said stiffly. "I have to be up early tomorrow morning. Good night, Lisa."

He went, leaving her staring after him in open-mouthed confusion.

tbc...