Ianto didn't sleep well that night. He was consumed with anxiety over the possibility that the Doctor could turn up at any given moment to rescue Joe. Even though logically he knew that it would take time, the mere thought of finally seeing Joe rescued from the hell of his existence left him in a thorough state of nervousness. He wanted to get Joe out of Torchwood, and the sooner that could happen, the better.

Tired but hopeful, Ianto headed into work the next morning, and walked into chaos. He was greeted by Enid as he walked into Secure Archives, and was immediately taken aback by the fright that showed on her face.

"Ianto, thank God! You have to come, quick! It's Joe! We think he's been poisoned…"

Ianto broke into a run, barely waiting for her to finish speaking.

"How?" he demanded as he ran.

"It was Gage…"

Ianto's blood turned to ice. Gage…? No, it couldn't possibly be… He wouldn't... He reached Joe's room, and pushed past the gathering of employees to get inside.

Gage was there, sitting on the bed with Joe's head resting on his lap. Joe was crying pitifully as Gage stroked his hair, murmuring soothing words. There was an acrid stink of vomit in the air that turned Ianto's stomach.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely as he crouched down to get a good look at Joe.

"It was in the milk," Gage answered. Ianto glanced up at him at the sound of his croaky, strangled voice, and felt his heart clench at the sight of his friend's red-rimmed eyes. "Someone got into the fridge overnight and poisoned his milk, but I didn't realise it until it was too late."

"How much did he drink?" Ianto asked. He took Joe's hand in his own, gutted by the agony in those beautiful blue eyes.

"Half a glass… but Ianto, I made him pancakes this morning. I used nearly two cups of milk in the mixture." Gage shook his head. "He started throwing up before he was even halfway through."

Ianto returned his attention to Joe, taking in his pallid features, glassy eyes, the tremors and the whimpers of pain. He knew, beyond a doubt, that Joe was dying, and right then it was little consolation that he would come back to life. The death he would suffer in the meantime was going to be prolonged and painful.

Whoever had done this — and Ianto had three suspects in mind already — had taken cruel advantage of one of the few simple joys that Joe got, and that was his food.

"Ianto, here."

He looked up as one of the other archivists placed a bowl of water on the floor beside him, complete with a wash cloth. He managed a grateful smile, and immediately began to rub the cloth gently over Joe's feverish skin.

"Is there anything else we can do?" Tristan Granger asked softly, and Ianto was again taken aback by the genuine concern in the other man's voice. For a long moment, he had to struggle to clear his mind, and get his mouth working again.

"The fridge," he said finally. "It'll have to be emptied out completely. No telling what else they might have contaminated."

"You want us to find Carl and Jon, and beat the shit out of them, too?" Tomas Dyer asked flatly. "Because we will, quite cheerfully. Fucking bastards had no right to do this to him."

"No," Ianto whispered hoarsely. "No… Please don't. Just the fridge. We… We'll worry about Jon and Carl later."

"Yan toe," Joe whimpered, reaching out to Ianto with a trembling hand. Ianto took it, tears filling his own eyes as he witnessed Joe's distress. "Better…?"

"I'm sorry, Joe," Ianto said. "I'm so sorry, cariad. I can't make this better."

Joe shut his eyes and cried, clutching his stomach in agony.

"There is one way to fix him," Gage said miserably, "but I can't stomach the thought of killing him. Not even as an act of mercy."

Ianto stroked his fingers over Joe's forehead and temple. It was an abominable choice — to risk Joe's trust in him by killing him to make him better, or to simply do nothing and let him suffer a slow, agonising death. And suddenly, Ianto knew why Bourke and Branton had done what they did.

Ianto knew that death was inevitable now. Whatever he chose to do, Joe was going to have to suffer the pain and trauma of dying and reviving. If he chose to kill Joe, there was a strong chance it would destroy Joe's trust in him. Equally, doing nothing and letting him die painfully could quite conceivably have the same result. Either way, he faced losing the bond with Joe that he had worked so hard to develop.

Joe convulsed suddenly and tumbled off the bed, landing heavily on the floor with a painful thud. He retched violently, and a mixture of blood and vomit erupted from his mouth.

"Bloody hell, he's bleeding internally," Gage groaned. "What the fuck did they put in the milk?"

"I have to do it," Ianto whispered in devastation. "I'm going to have to kill him. I can't just sit back and let him suffer like this."

"You do that, and it could wreck his trust in you," Gage warned.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Ianto exploded, tears flooding his eyes. "Look at him, Gage! I can't let him suffer like this!"

Silence fell between the two men, and the tension that hung in the air was almost palpable.

"Ianto," Tristan spoke up suddenly, breaking the deadlock between them, "Spence wants you in his office, right now. You too, Gage."

Incredulity filled Ianto's face, and he gave a determined shake of his head.

"No. We're not leaving Joe. He can just bloody wait."

"He's got the Director there, Ianto. You can't just let her wait. And besides, I overheard a bit of what they were talking about. I heard Hartman saying she wanted to move Joe to Torchwood's research facility in Glasgow."

Rage mixed with panic washed over Ianto, but still he hesitated. Enid walked over, then, and knelt by Joe's head.

"Go on, and be back as quick as you can. We'll look after Joe, I promise."

Sick with anger and distress, Ianto leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Joe's temple.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

"Yan toe," Joe whimpered, but it was all he could manage before the pain became too much again, and he tried once more to curl in on himself.

"C'mon," Gage said angrily. "Let's go and tell Spence to shove it up his arse, so we can get back here." He paused to follow Ianto's lead, and leant down to kiss Joe tenderly on the forehead. "We'll be back in a minute, Joe."

They hurried out together, each man compiling in their own minds the names they planned on calling Spence. They were barely ten feet from Joe's room, though, when the horrifying noise of a gun being fired echoed down the corridor. Exchanging looks, they ran back to find Tomas standing over Joe with his gun in his hand. Joe was dead, with a single, clean bullet wound to his temple.

"What have you done?" Ianto choked out as he collapsed to the floor beside Joe. Tomas looked shaken as he stepped away and holstered his gun.

"I did what I had to do. What you couldn't bring yourself to do. He was going to die, Ianto. A bullet to the head was a hell of a lot more merciful than letting the poison do the job."

An instant later, Tomas was on the floor after Gage punched him. Tomas ruefully rubbed at his split lip, but made no effort to fight back.

"I'll let you have that one for free, Gage, but only because I know you care about the big guy as much as Ianto. Just… don't do it again, mate."

"But why?" Ianto burst out.

"Think about it," Enid spoke up anxiously. "It's pretty obvious that Jon and Carl were trying to damage the progress you've made with Joe. If either one of you had been the one to kill him, he would have stopped trusting you."

"We know that," Gage growled.

"Well, think about it," Tomas said, echoing Enid's words. "He doesn't like me or trust me anyway. Better that I be the one to do it. That way, he doesn't associate either of you with causing him more pain. Oh, and we are going to get that pair of bastards for this, I guarantee it."

Slowly, the haze of anger that had descended over Ianto began to dissipate, and he looked around at his colleagues in dazed confusion. The support they were offering was unexpected, but very welcome.

"Thankyou," he whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"We need to move him," Gage stated, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. "He shouldn't have to wake up in here."

"We can carry him over to the rec room," Tristan suggested. "You two can stay with him in there, and we'll clean his room up."

Ianto watched in a daze as his colleagues used one of the blankets off the bed as a makeshift stretcher, and carried Joe out of the room. He followed, and it wasn't until they'd settled Joe's body onto the cot that he found his voice again.

"Why are you all helping?"

"There's no ulterior motive, if that's what you're thinking," Tomas answered soberly. "We're not trying to set you up or anything like that."

"Then why? I'm sorry to keep on asking, but I just don't understand what's changed. It wasn't that long ago that you all thought Joe was just some freak to take your frustrations out on."

"We know," Enid admitted, sounding abashed. "We were wrong. Every one of us had the same choice as you when we started working here, Ianto. To either go on treating Joe like everyone else, or to see him as a human being. We all chose not to see him as a human, and that was wrong. He's a man, not a monster, and no human deserves to be treated like this."

A hand descended onto his shoulder, and he looked around to see Tomas watching him solemnly.

"We're not asking for forgiveness, mate; just that you'll let us help you to look after him from now on."

"All of us together means Spence and those other two prats won't be able to do anything like this again," Tristan said. Ianto eyed him sceptically, and Tristan reddened slightly in acknowledgement of what Ianto wasn't saying. "I know. Carl and I have… I don't need to say it, do I?"

"Save our ears, please," Gage muttered, and Tristan chuckled awkwardly.

"Right. Anyway, I'm done with him. The bloke is a bastard, and I don't want anything to do with someone who's willing to poison another person just for kicks."

"All right, sunshine," Tomas growled. "Let's go. We've got to get Joe's room cleaned up."

"We'll take him to the bathroom to clean him up when he comes back," Ianto decided, and Tomas nodded in agreement.

"Good idea. Let him have a proper bath. If Spence wants to complain about it, he can complain to me."

"You look like you don't know which way to turn," Gage said wryly once their colleagues had gone. Ianto sat down on the floor beside Joe, gently cleaning away the blood and vomit that stained Joe's face.

"I know you said they were all coming round to see Joe differently, but I didn't really believe it until now."

"They've all seen the difference you've made, Ianto. It'd have to be a cold-hearted bastard who can ignore it."

"Like Spence, Bourke and Branton?"

Gage sighed.

"Yes, like them."

"Gage, look," Ianto murmured suddenly. The older man did, and quickly saw what Ianto was indicating. The bullet wound that had killed Joe was gone, as was the skin discolouration that had been caused by the poison.

"He's coming back," Gage announced, somewhat unnecessarily. "Be ready, mate. It might take a minute before he knows he's safe."

"I know," Ianto said, bracing himself for a potential struggle. A moment later, Joe erupted back to life with a wild gasp and a pained cry. Ianto and Gage tried to hold him down, but it wasn't easy. It quickly became apparent that he was panicking, and that was the last thing they wanted.

"Joe!" Ianto spoke loudly, perching himself carefully on the edge of the cot and reaching out to grasp the sides of Joe's face in an effort to gain his attention. "Joe, it's me! It's Ianto! Stop fighting us, we're not going to hurt you!"

Slowly, Ianto's voice pierced the haze of panic that surrounded Joe, and his struggles eased off and finally ended altogether. He stared up at Ianto with wide eyes that were wet with tears.

"Yan toe…?"

"That's right," Ianto murmured, stroking the sides of his face tenderly. "It's me. Gage and I are both right here to look after you. Calm down, now, okay?"

Joe looked from one man to the other for several long seconds before his face crumpled and he burst into a fresh flood of tears.

"Ow," he sobbed, reaching up to clutch at his head.

"His head must hurt like hell," Gage said grimly, and Ianto gathered Joe into his arms. "Not surprising, seeing as he just got shot in the head. I'll bet his stomach isn't feeling too great, either."

"Gage, can you get some painkillers? And then I want to put him in the bath. Maybe by the time he's had a wash and gotten some clean clothes on, he won't hurt so badly. And hopefully the others will have finished sorting out his room."

"Consider it done," Gage assured him , and went to get the requested painkillers.

"You'll be okay," Ianto whispered, cradling Joe to him as they waited.

"Bad food," Joe whispered miserably as he clung to Ianto. "Bad Gage."

Ianto felt his stomach clench unpleasantly. Damn Jon and Carl for this.

"No, Joe. Not bad Gage. Good Gage. It wasn't his fault, Joe. He didn't mean to hurt you."

They sat quietly for the next few minutes until Gage reappeared with the requested painkillers and glass of water. As he came near, though, Joe pulled away, fear in his eyes. Gage halted, looking on with sad understanding.

"Here, Ianto. You'd better be the one to give these to him. Something tells me he's not going to accept anything from me right now."

"He's just upset and confused, Gage…"

Gage smiled sadly.

"I know, mate. It's okay, really. And to be honest, if this had to happen, then I'm glad it's me in the firing line, and not you. He needs you, Ianto. It'd wreck him to think you'd done something to hurt him."

"Gage…" Ianto started to protest, but Gage cut him off.

"I'll go run a bath. Lots of bubbles, right, Joe?"

Joe only blinked at him, still visibly unsettled. Sparing them both as reassuring a smile as he could manage, Gage hurried from the room. Ianto sighed heavily, feeling oddly like he'd just lost his best mate. He returned his attention to Joe, who was cuddling in against him again.

"I know you don't understand, Joe, and I know you're confused. I just wish that I had a way to make you understand what happened. It wasn't Gage's fault. Someone else put something bad in your milk to make you sick. It was Jon and Carl, not Gage. He wouldn't hurt you anymore than I would."

He honestly didn't expect a response, let alone coherent sentences; so when Joe spoke hesitantly, it took Ianto a long moment it to register in his mind.

"Gage didn't h… hurt me?"

Slowly, Ianto drew back to stare at Joe in astonishment.

"Did you just…? I mean… No. No, cariad, he didn't hurt you. Look at me now. Someone else put something bad in the milk. Gage didn't know about it until you got sick. He would never have given it to you if he'd known. He's never hurt you like that."

Ianto watched as Joe slowly processed what he was being told. When he finally spoke again, it was in a small, tremulous voice that was full of uncertainty.

"Gage still likes me?"

"Yes," Ianto answered firmly. "Yes, Joe, he still likes you. I promise you that he does."

Joe managed a tiny smile, then, and the relief in his eyes was obvious. Ianto sighed again, and gently thumbed a tear away from Joe's cheek.

"How about we go to the bathroom? Gage is running a bath for you, and you can show him that you aren't upset at him. Okay?"

"Okay," Joe murmured.

As Ianto led him from the Rec Room, he looked back at his charge quizzically.

"You do understand me when I speak to you, don't you?" he asked. Joe's forehead creased a little, as though it was an effort for him to comprehend.

"Y… Yes," he answered finally, tentatively.

Ianto squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"You're coming back to us. That's really good, Joe."

"N… No."

"What do you mean, no?" Ianto asked, confused.

"Not… Not Joe."

Ianto slowed to a halt and turned fully to face his charge.

"Your name's not Joe?"

Joe shook his head, and then winced at the twinge of pain that accompanied the movement.

"Easy," Ianto murmured. "Those painkillers are going to take time to work. Now, just say yes or no. Is your name Joe?"

"No."

Ianto fought down a spark of excitement. If Joe was able to remember his name, then that might put him a step closer to finding the Doctor. If he could give Sarah Jane Smith a name to go by, then it might just speed things up a little.

"What's your name, Joe? What's your real name?"

Joe didn't answer, though. He couldn't. When he tried to remember what he used to be called, it was just a painful blur. He couldn't focus at all, and certainly couldn't remember that far back when he had been living from day to day in a state of child-like simplicity for so long. The only thing he could be sure of was that Joe was not his name.

His face fell as his memories came up blank, but Ianto's hands cupping his cheeks brought him back from the edge of despondency with gentle and loving persistence.

"Hey, listen to me. It's all right. You'll remember when you're ready to remember. It's okay."

Joe stared back at him, his eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. After a long moment, he gulped and nodded. Ianto smiled warmly at him.

"That's the way. Remember, no more tears about silly things."

Although granted, Ianto thought belatedly, not being able to remember his own name was hardly a trivial thing, but he was trying to soothe Joe; not upset him all over again.

"Of course," he went on with a grin, "it just means you have to put up with me calling you Joe for a little while longer. Think you can cope with that?"

He grinned, and was relieved to get a tentative smile in return.

"All right, c'mon. Let's go and get you into the bath."

"Bubbles," Joe said happily and, even as Joe watched, he settled back into that semi-aware state of being. Taking his hand, Ianto led him along the corridor to the bathroom.

Gage had just finished filling the bath when they entered. Not wanting to upset Joe, Gage moved right away from the bath. He was visibly astonished, though, when Joe pulled away from Ianto and crossed to him. A moment later, Gage found himself caught up in a fierce hug.

"Ianto…?" Gage asked hoarsely.

"He understands that it wasn't you who poisoned him, Gage. He was scared before that you didn't like him anymore, and he's trying to say sorry for doubting that."

Gage sighed, and wrapped his arms around Joe to return the embrace.

"You daft lad, of course I like you! I'm so sorry that happened. I promise you it won't happen again."

"I like you too, Gage," Joe mumbled into his shoulder, causing Gage to look from Joe to Ianto in astonishment.

"Did he just…?"

"He did," Ianto confirmed with a grin. "He's talking properly, and he understands what's going on around him. Only drawback is that his memory is sketchy, he can't recall his real name."

"Don't worry," Gage murmured, acutely aware of the way that Joe had buried his face in his shoulder. "It'll come back to you when you're ready for it. Now, are you ready for a nice, hot bubble bath?"

The frown fell away, and Joe rapidly stripped off and clambered eagerly into the bath, where he was soon happily splashing away.

"I think his mind might finally be starting to recover," Ianto said quietly as he sat on a chair by the bath in order to wash his back, and his hair. "He had moments before when I was sure he understood more than he let on. Now I can see him actively trying to stay lucid."

"I suppose that's a good thing," Gage conceded grudgingly. Ianto eyed him with a frown, annoyed by his apparent pessimism.
"Why do you say that? I thought it was a good thing."

"Calm down, Ianto. I agree with you… generally speaking. But think about it. The more aware he becomes, the more he'll understand what's going on around him. The more he'll understand what Torchwood has done to him, and what it's still doing to him."

"I think he understands now, Gage," Ianto murmured sadly.

"Look at him," Gage said. Ianto looked down, and smiled sadly as Joe slapped a hand down onto the surface of the water, creating a small splash and a ripple effect. He laughed in delight and did it again, harder, causing water to splash up and wet Gage.

"Oi, you!" Gage growled lightly, and reached across to ruffle Joe's hair. He was answered with a giggle that put a smile on both his and Ianto's faces.

"Just like a child," Gage murmured, torn between sadness and amusement.

"This is his defence mechanism," Ianto mused. "Everything that Torchwood did to him, this is how he dealt with it. He regressed."

"When we've gotten him out of here," Gage whispered, "I swear to God that I'm going to pack my bags and run as far from this god-forsaken place as possible. And I think you should be planning to do the same."

Ianto only smiled faintly. He had long planned to do just that from the moment he first contemplated the possibility of getting Joe away from Torchwood. He turned his attention back to Joe.

"How's your head feel now, Joe? Still sore?"

The contented smile faded from Joe's face as Ianto's words reminded him of the dull throbbing pain in his skull.

"Still sore," he echoed, rubbing gingerly at his head. Leaning in, Ianto pressed a soft kiss to Joe's temple.

"You'll feel better soon, I promise."

By the time they took Joe back to his room, it had been thoroughly cleaned, and all the bed linen replaced. It wasn't the only thing that had been done, though. All three of them stood and stared in confusion at the changes that had been made by their colleagues.

The walls, once cold and bare, had been brightened with a number of posters that Ianto quickly recognised as the nature posters that had previously been plastered around Enid and Tristan's workstations. On the table was a plastic jug with a small bouquet of flowers, along with a brightly coloured piece of material that had been laid down as a makeshift tablecloth. A small pile of books sat on the table beside the flowers.

On the bed, beside Joe's carefully folded favourite blanket, there was a small stuffed dog that Ianto was fairly sure had previously been a fixture on the desk of one of the other female archivists.

All together, they were small, but significant touches that had combined to transform what had once been a dank and dirty prison cell into a halfway decent and liveable bedroom.

Joe broke away from Gage and Ianto almost without them realising it. Pausing only to collect his blanket from the bed, he wandered over to one of the posters to stare at it. The picture he was looking at was of an ocean vista at sunset. As Ianto and Gage watched, Joe reached up to touch the picture, as though he could reach into the very image and transport himself there.

"Joe?" Ianto called out uncertainly. Joe glanced at him before moving on to the next picture — an artist's vision of the universe.

For a good couple of minutes, Joe simply stood there staring at it. Growing concerned, Ianto ventured forward until he could see Joe's face. What he saw just about broke his heart. Joe was crying — not the loud, wrenching wails of other times, but silent tears of real grief. Ianto glanced at the poster again with sad understanding before gently turning Joe away and drawing him into a comforting embrace.

"It's okay," he whispered as Joe cried into his shoulder.

"I'll take it down," Gage offered, but as he reached for the poster to pull it off the wall, Joe uttered a wail and grabbed at his hands to stop him.

"Leave it up," Ianto said quietly. "We can all use it as a reminder of where Joe really belongs."

Gage grunted.

"Yeah. Any place but here."

tbc...