Disclaimer:Torchwood is property of the BBC and, as much as we may now resent it, was created by Russell T. Davies. If I owned any of the canon characters, I'd hope they'd be a) better treated and b) actually consistent. Now pass the Retcon ... and possibly some strong coffee ;)
_________
It was a little disconcerting, lying on the floor, surrounded by that hot, sticky liquid he could only assume was his own blood. Through the haze and the darkness pressing in, he wondered how long it would be before someone might find him - after all, only he and Jack ever really came up the stairs this far, and Jack would be in bed.
Could be worse, thought Ianto, though he couldn't currently draw forward anything that might possiblybe worse than being left to bleed to death at the top of the stairwell. And he fucking hated these stairs...
It's funny, really - nothing hurt. Even where the blade had pierced his body from behind felt perfectly normal, as did all his insides. In truth, it was just the blood that made him worry. The puddle seemed to be growing alarmingly fast, saturating his hair and turning his pale, white skin red. He watched it, as if disembodied, blossoming out until it trickled down the steps, spreading out wider and drip, drip, dripping over the edge. Maybe someone might find him sooner than expected, he mused. They might see the blood trickling down and come investigate ....
Shifting slightly, Ianto gasped.
There was the pain. It lanced through him as he tried to push himself onto his stomach. Maybe he should call for help, he wondered. Would anyone hear him?
Ohhh dear. There was a lot of blood.
Lamely, he tried to push more of the pool over the edge of the stairs to make it drip down, his voice refusing to cooperate with the idea of saving his life. Some of it splashed over and the dripping further down the stairs sped up before resuming its steady, slow rhythm.
He was starting to feel faint. About time, he grumbled to himself, seeing how much blood his fear-beating heart had pumped out of his body.
"Is that blood?" he heard a woman exclaim. Three storeys down, he reckoned. She must be able to see it dripping down. He could hear delicate heels clicking on the steps, and her scream when she saw him. "Oh my ... help!" she yelled. "Help! Mr. Jones has been stabbed!"
She knelt by him, "I don't know if anyone heard," she whispered. "I don't want to leave you but ... I'll run and ...."
Everything was hazy, anyway. It was getting dark around the edges, like the border in a black and white film. Far, far away, Ianto could hear voices and footsteps - curses as people stepped in or slipped on his blood on their way up the stairs. He closed his eyes to listen.
"Mr. Jones!" some of them were shouting.
"He's dead .... " others whispered.
The message was passed back through the crowd that had gathered.
Great, thought Ianto. I hate being the centre of attention ... and who's going to clean up this mess?
There was a din as everyone spoke at once - even if the paramedics were trying to get to him, they wouldn't be heard. Ianto decided he didn't mind - he was happy to go like this. Sort of. It was mysterious and unjust, shocking and premature - and people would only ever remember him as being young and beautiful. Jack would find someone else, Giacomo had Rhys and Rhys had Giacomo. Jack could marry Rhys and keep them all together, he thought, with a dry humour he didn't really feel.
There was a primal yell to his left, and Ianto tried to open his eyes but in the end just couldn't be bothered. He felt strong arms lifting him roughly, fingers gripping his blood-soaked hair and the familiar scent of his Captain surrounded him.
Yes, Ianto thought as the shutters began to roll closed on the distant world. This is a good death ....
~*~*~*~
Three Days Earlier
Monday
Ianto took a deep breath as he watched Rhys pace up and down the living room. He hadn't spoken for five minutes, and couldn't seem to find the words to say.
"So ... you'll marry Jack, adopt Giacomo ... happy families?"
"It's not like that," Ianto murmured.
"Was I not considered in any of this?"
Ianto's eyebrows shot up. "What are we supposed to do? If the Captain's right -"
"This is what's best?" Rhys cut him off, bitterly. "And if the Captain isn't 'right'? I lose Giacomo anyway."
"If he's wrong, you'll still see Jack every day."
"As his child-minder! Totally different from parent, Ianto."
"I know," Ianto replied quietly.
"I don't care if the Captain is his biological father... and it's not like he's ever given a shit about him before!" fumed Rhys.
"That's not true," Ianto insisted.
"Two years of my life I've devoted to that child!" growled Rhys. "You've been here just less than half that time, and already you're trying to steal him away from me!"
"'Steal' him?" Ianto exclaimed. "Rhys ... I'm not ... we're not ...."
"Then what are you doing?" he snapped.
"Preparing ... in case ...."
"In case the worst should happen?" suggested Rhys.
Ianto nodded.
"Well I've got news for you, mate: for me, it already has."
Before Ianto could reply, Rhys stalked to his bedroom and slammed the door. Ianto sat on the sofa, dumbstruck, before dropping his head into his hands. Closing his eyes, he took deep, calming breaths, biting on his lower lip. His eyes snapped open. It was like he suddenly realised - he had no control. The ball wasn't in his court. None of these decisions were his. His life wasn't his own. He had to do what was expected, not what he wanted. No one was giving him a choice.
Claustrophobia prickled at the edge of his brain, and he quite calmly registered the fact he was about to start hyperventilating. Running into his bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water, leaning on the sink and concentrating on getting the 'in' and 'out' of air in his lungs back under control. Then he re-styled his hair, getting it neater and more ordered and more ... controlled. He straightened his shirt and tie, took a deep breath and let it out in ten even and precise puffs of air, before feeling confident his stoic demeanour was also back under his control.
Leaving the bathroom, he entered the kitchen. Broken oven, he noted. Well, since he earned the money, he was going to pick the new one. Maybe get rid of the mis-matched cutlery and utensils and buy a matching set. They needed colour-coded chopping boards, too. Ianto was always dubious of having meat and vegetables chopped on the same board - even if it was washed in between.
What else had been bothering him?
Ahhh, yes. A shampoo, conditioner and shower gel dispenser for both the en suites and the main bathroom. Squeezing bottles was overrated, and dispensers gave a measured amount. New towels wouldn't hurt - again, they would need a matching set for each of them. Black for Ianto, navy for Giacomo and deep burgundy for Rhys. Simple. He'd just have to make sure no one used anyone else's towels and everything would be fine.
What else?
The Captain needed a throw for his God-awful leather couch ...
... or a new couch. Would buying a new couch for the Captain be going a little too far? Would the Captain say anything even if it was? Probably not ....
Oven, cutlery, utensils, chopping boards, shower dispensers, towels, couch ... what else had he been ignoring?
Washing baskets.
There was only one in each bedroom, and they needed three per room. One for darks, one for colours, one for whites. Ianto didn't care how far washing powder had developed over six billion years - separate washes was how it was done, goddamit, and he'd label the bloody baskets if he had to.
Itching, Ianto grabbed his suit jacket and settled it around his shoulders, straightening it out. He was on his way to the front door when a knock sounded behind it. Pulling it open, he blinked, the Captain stood there, stepping aside expectantly as if Ianto should be leaving with him.
"Efficient as always," Jack commented.
"I ... yes," Ianto agreed.
"Ready to face the Senate?" Jack asked, indicating again that Ianto should step outside the door.
"I ... oh! Yeah! ... yeah," he mumbled, remembering their hugely important meeting that had been forgotten during his conversation with Rhys. "How long will we be?" he asked, closing the door behind him and falling into step. "I need to go to the town."
"We'll be back late," shrugged Jack. "Ask Rhys to go instead."
"No! No ... I need to do it," Ianto explained hurriedly.
"Okay ...." Jack said warily. "What do you need to get?"
"A new oven, new cutlery and utensils, new towels, shower dispenser ... CHOPPING BOARDS! I need to colour-code the copping boards!"
He stopped in the middle of the corridor and ran his fingers through his hair. "I need to go now," he realised. "I really, really need to go now."
"All those things can wait until tomorrow," Jack told him with a frown.
"They can't. I need them now," Ianto replied shakily. "I need them before someone else tries to get them ... they won't be right if I let anyone else ...."
"Ianto," Jack called firmly, grasping the hands that had started pulling at dark hair and squeezing them tight. "What's wrong?"
"The cutlery doesn't match!" Ianto exclaimed, wide-eyed. "I tried to ignore it, Jack. I really did. But it's been driving me insane, Jack. It doesn't match so I threw the lot away and now we need a new set. Amatching set - and all the utensils to go with it. Do you understand, Jack? I need to go now!"
"Just tell Rhys you want matching sets," shrugged Jack.
"No! What if he picks one that doesn't match the kitchen or the crockery?" Ianto asked, as if it was the most obvious mistake in the world. "What if I can't find one that matches the kitchen or the crockery? What if I have to get new crockery? What if I have to get a new kitchen? And the cleaners have left the unused plugs on again!" he fumed, going to the opposite wall and flicking the unused plug socket to 'off'. He checked the others down the corridor and Jack followed him worriedly, watching as he flicked them all off and complained about symmetry, co-ordination and mis-matched cutlery.
Jack stopped him halfway down the corridor in the opposite direction to where they were meant to be going. "Ianto! Ianto!" he growled, pulling him tightly into an embrace. "It's okay ... stop it now. What's wrong? What's started this off?"
Ianto gave a weak laugh. "Started this off?" he asked. "I'm always like this - I just choose to painfully ignore it. But no more! I can't do it anymore!"
He pushed Jack away from him and carried on down the corridor, looking for plug sockets that had been left on. Jack grabbed his hand.
"Why can't you do it any more?" he asked gently. "What is it?"
Ianto sagged in his arms, rested his chin on Jack's shoulder and tried to fight the tears that were forcing his voice about two octaves too high. "Rhys hates me," he whimpered. "It's not even my decision, and he's blaming me for it."
"What's not your decision?" asked Jack.
Ianto pushed away again forcefully. "You aren't! This isn't! Nothing is!" he snapped. "There's nothing that I've chosen in my life! I never chose to come here! I never chose to be a parent! I never chose to marry you!"
"I'm not forcing you to marry me," Jack insisted.
Ianto laughed ironically. "Of course you're not! Funny, isn't it, how you made me promise to always be there for Giacomo - and the only way I can keep that promise is to find myself legally bound to you! You should marry Rhys! He's been around longer!"
Jack didn't look overly enthused at the idea, and Ianto was willing to bet that Rhys wouldn't be either.
"I told you you didn't have to marry me," Jack repeated, looking subdued and a little shocked.
"No, I don't," Ianto agreed. "But it's the only way I can keep my promise to that little boy, so I have to fucking do it. No choice."
Jack was blinking back tears. "I ... You ... you said you loved me. That time ... when...."
Ianto sagged again, leaning against the wall before pulling himself into Jack's arms. "I do love you," he muttered in his ear. "I do. And I want to marry you - just ... I expected ... I needed ...."
"More control?"
Ianto nodded, his face rubbing against Jack's hair.
"Falling through the Rift, coming here, starting another life ... it makes you feel like you have nothing that's yours, nothing that you can grasp on to. So now you're trying to control the little bits of your life that you can change - like the cutlery and the utensils, making sure they match."
Ianto pulled back to sniff and look him in the eye, nodding slowly.
"C'mon," Jack coaxed. "I think I need to take you to see someone - just to talk this through. Okay?"
"Okay," Ianto whispered. "You're going to go to the Senate without me, aren't you?"
Jack started pulling him gently down the corridor. "Would you be able to cope with the Senators right now?" asked Jack. Ianto shook his head resignedly. Sometimes Jack could actually be right. "Don't worry - I've got your notes, and I know them back to front."
"I ... I ... what if ... ?"
"Even if you did come, you'd be useless," Jack reminded him. "I know what these people are like, and you've never even experienced the politics here yet."
Ianto sagged again, nearly stumbling as he was reminded of just how alien this place was. Outside the bubble of the School, he knew nothing. He didn't even know that much inside it, if he was honest. It had been enough that he was surrounded by people who loved him, but things were changing again - drastically.
The Doctor bounded out to meet them on the fourth floor stairwell. "Good morning!" he beamed. "Oh - are you okay, Ianto?"
"I'm having a breakdown," Ianto calmly informed him.
"Oh," the Doctor said, his eyes flicking to Jack. "Is this about ... ?"
"Sort of," sighed Jack. "It was the cutlery that set it off."
"Cutlery?"
Ianto gave a weak laugh. "It doesn't match - so I might have to get a new kitchen."
"Right ...." The Doctor gave him an odd look.
"I'm taking him down to find someone to talk to," Jack explained. "I'll be with you in a minute - hospital wing is this way ...." he directed, guiding Ianto down the sterilised corridor.
"I don't need the hospital," frowned Ianto.
"They'll just keep an eye on you until I get back," Jack smiled. "Really - I know you don't need the hospital. I just want to make sure you're looked after and I need you with people I can trust."
"Mmm, okay," agreed Ianto, though he still sounded dubious. Jack had a firm arm around his waist and his hand in an iron, white-knuckled grip.
"Just in here," he said, guiding Ianto into a waiting room. A nurse - this time not a cat - hurried over. She and the Captain spoke in hushed voices before she smiled politely at Ianto and guided him into a room with two chintzy armchairs, a coffee table and a plate of biscuits.
"Just wait here a moment, Mr. Jones," she instructed soothingly while Jack loitered in the doorway. They spoke again, Jack nodded and she left them alone for a moment.
"I'll be back later tonight," the Captain assured him. "I'll ring at every break to make sure you're okay."
"I'm not a baby," scowled Ianto, munching on a pink wafer from the plate on the coffee table.
Jack smiled humorously and Ianto was reminded that to Jack, he really was. Jack was ancient now - literally billions of years old. Ianto would be even less of a blip in time now, after all the husbands and wives and lovers he would have had ....
Why did he keep playing hard to get? Why did he keep hesitating with him? Why didn't he just give his everything to Jack for the short time they had and stop thinking about the whole life-time-commitment issues? Jack wouldn't have a problem committing - this time would fly past faster now than it did Then. Marriages were probably a gimmick for him now....
He watched rather than heard Jack saying goodbye to him, kissing his lips then his forehead, hugging him tightly. He turned and gave him a sad smile before he left, and all Ianto could think to say in reply was: "... bring me back something nice?"
Jack barked out a laugh, told him again that they would see each other later and swept away as best he could without his greatcoat. Hmmmm ... pondered Ianto. Maybe I should get Mr. Turnbull to whip up something at least ... similar.
He sat in his comfy, chintzy chair and waited patiently for someone to come and talk to him - though why they'd want to talk to him about why he needed matching cutlery that matched the crockery andmatched the kitchen was beyond him. Most people were bored by such things.
Delicately he munched on another pink wafer, then a chocolate bourbon. He was just licking the chocolate off his fingers from a chocolate digestive when a young-ish woman with a grey pencil skirt suit entered the room quietly and sat opposite him, smiling in a disconcertingly friendly manner.
"Good morning, Mr. Jones," she smiled, holding out her hand. "I'm Doctor Shaykhlislamova."
Ianto blinked.
"Don't worry - most people just call me Doctor Shay," she smiled, mock-exasperated eye roll included. "Now, the nurse tells me your partner brought you in this morning because he was worried about how upset you were getting, yes?"
"I ... uh ... the cutlery is mis-matched. It ... doesn't match itself, never mind the kitchen or the crockery," he said, unable to think of anything else.
"Right ... okay ...."
Doctor Shay took an electronic notepad from her pocket and withdrew the stylus, writing down a couple of notes.
"Let's not talk about the cutlery for now," she decided. "Why don't you just talk about what else has been bothering you?"
"I ... erm ... well, I want to colour-code the chopping boards. And the towels."
"The towels?"
"Black for me, navy for Giacomo and burgundy for Rhys," he nodded.
"I see," she nodded, jotting something down. "How about what's bothering you emotionally?"
Ianto raised an eyebrow. "You want me to talk about my feelings?"
"You won't believe how much it will help," she smiled reassuringly.
Ianto gave a weak laugh and put his head in his hands.
This was going to be a long, long, long morning.
Tuesday
It had taken Doctor Shay five hours to get Ianto to even mention about his 'issues', and by God did that woman had perseverance. Even though all she had done was get him to hint vaguely towards the tip of the incredibly large and probably growing iceberg, she counted it as a success and commended him for it.
She also recommended that he stayed overnight in the wards, just so that they could keep an eye on him. She'd also prescribed him some little blue pills that he'd glanced at dubiously and refused to swallow. He left them on the bedside table. They fetched him nice, soft pyjamas and he had settled into a bed.
He'd relaxed for the evening, curling up with a book until he fell asleep, waking up next morning with a cat nurse leaning over him and not fully remembering where he was. The feeling of being lost and disequilibreated felt hauntingly familiar.
Promptly, he had a panic attack.
Nearly an hour later, the nurses had managed to convince him that he hadn't fallen through time again and that he was still 'home', still at the School. Rhys and Giacomo were booked in to visit him later, but no one had heard from the Captain since he'd brought him to them.
Doctor Shay came in and perched in the chair beside his bed, noting he hadn't taken the blue pills she'd prescribed.
"I don't want anti-depressants. I told you yesterday," he sighed as she tried to coax him into swallowing them.
"They're not anti-depressants," she insisted again. "They're medically proven to help restore your natural balance of hormonal and chemical levels in order help to keep you calm to help us work through this little rough patch."
"Anti-depressants," Ianto nodded.
"You'd feel much better if you took them, Ianto," she repeated.
His eyes flicked to her at the use of his first name. She'd started doing it yesterday when she thought they'd 'made a breakthrough', and for some reason the lack of professionalism he took comfort in being called 'Mr. Jones' made him clam up again. He hugged his knees to his chest, wishing he could go and sit in the window seat and look outside.
He hadn't replied to her yet, and she sighed.
"I'm only trying to help you to help yourself, Ianto." She pushed the water and pills closer to him. He turned further away, resting his forehead on his knees.
"I want to go home now," he said, smiling and raising his head. "I already feel much better."
His smile faded as Doctor Shay's eyebrow raised in an almost incredulous manner. She cleared her throat and looked down at her electronic notebook. "The nurses tell me you had a pretty severe panic attack this morning," she informed him casually.
His face darkened. "Last time I woke up in a hospital bed, I was in a different time and place, expected to just pick up, carry on and start another life. As if it would be that simple. I can't help it if waking up in a hospital brought back all that ... stuff."
"Do you think you'll react the same tomorrow?" she asked.
Ianto shrugged. "Maybe. So all the better I go home, really," he reasoned.
"I can have you transferred to a homier room," she said sweetly. "I think we need to work with you a little longer, yet."
Fifteen minutes later, an orderly came to inform them Mr. Jones' new 'accommodation' was ready. He lead them to a private room with peach walls, sunlight streaming in through a net-covered window and flowers in a vase on the bedside table. There was a telephone, an en suite and a bookcase, as well as a computer port and a spot where the television hologram thing would appear.
The door wasn't lockable from the inside, and Ianto had a feeling the door handle could be programmed to simply not work from his side either. He'd seen it in one of the soaps - though that had been a soap about a police station, and the door had been used to stop a serial killer getting out of the interview room.
He swallowed. "Where's the Captain?" he asked again.
"He's still busy at the Senate, I hear," Doctor Shay replied blandly. "Now, back into bed. Let's see if we can improve upon our progress from yesterday ...."
~*~
It only took three hours for her to give up this time. Ianto just stopped talking eventually, hugging his knees and staring out of the window. He would talk about his 'feelings and issues' with Jack, no one else. It wasn't what he wanted a stranger to hear - or even a friend, or relative ... or even Rhys.
He thought of Rhys and bit his lip, and Doctor Shay noticed the tiny movement as she prepared to leave. "Ianto? Ianto, what are you thinking?"
Ah, grumbled Ianto. The magic question ... the magic question that every man hears then promptly forgets exactly what he was actually really just thinking ....
"Oh ... nothing ...." he replied, trying to ignore his train of thought.
"It must have been something. You look upset," she observed, touching his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the contact and she quickly withdrew her hand. She frowned and sat beside him, a little too close. "Ianto? Look at me ... do you not like me touching you, Ianto?"
"I've never liked being touched," he admitted, hoping it might stop her touching him again. "Only a few people ...." he trailed off. He found himself listing them in his head: Jack, Giacomo - even Rhys he didn't mind on occasion. Back home he'd had to get used to Gwen, but even Rhi knew her boundaries with him. The kids used to clamber all over him until he could prise them off, and Johnny ... well, Johnny never really stopped talking long enough to see if the bone-crushing hugs went down well or not.
Ianto sighed and rested his head on the window.
"Hmm. What would you like for lunch, Ianto?" asked Doctor Shay, pulling him out of his reverie.
"I ... erm ... what's on offer?"
"Anything you like," she smiled.
"Erm ... chicken chow mein? I wouldn't mind that right now - just ... no beansprouts or vegetables. Just the chicken and the noodle and the sauce. If it has to have vegetables that's fine I just ... hate picking them out or accidentally finding them."
"Sure," she nodded, and got up from his bed, leaving him in peace and with plenty of personal space.
He sighed with relief, turning to stare out of the window again.
He jumped when a thud resounded from his bedside table, and turned to find a bag of grapes had been dumped there by a smiley-looking Captain.
"Afternoon," he grinned, sitting down on the bed as Ianto dragged him into a kiss. It was desperate and hurried, and Ianto was about to take it further before pulling away sheepishly and remembering where he was.
"I can't believe you brought me here," he grumbled, touching their foreheads together.
"You were having a breakdown in the corridor. I didn't know what else to do. Anyway, I've come to get you," smiled the Captain, reaching up to run fingers through his hair.
"You have?"
"Yeah - why? You wanna stay?"
"No ... it's just ... Doctor Shay said she wanted to 'work with me some more'. I don't wanna though."
The Captain seemed to hesitate, and Ianto groaned.
"You're going to let them keep me?"
"Doctors know what's best for you, Ianto. Maybe this will be a big help," he reasoned.
"But ... Jack ... can't I just ... talk to you instead?"
Jack shrugged and opened his arms. "Talk to me, then," he offered.
Ianto pressed his lips together. "I ... don't know where to start," he admitted.
"Neither do I," Jack pointed out. "but your doctor will know. And what if you have another panic attack?"
"I don't want to be here," Ianto moaned, burying his head in Jack's neck. "Take me home. And ... how did you know about that?"
"You've just had a breakdown, Ianto - and I told you I'd ring every break. And if the doctors think it will be better for you to stay another day or so ...."
"Pfft. If I've learned anything about doctors it's that they don't know anything about people," Ianto waved off his concern. "Especially not psychologists."
Jack breathed out heavily through his nose.
"Anyway," Ianto moved the conversation on. "How did it go at the Senate?"
"Oh ... I ... didn't get to see them," Jack sighed, running fingers through his hair. "Part way through the debate some high and mighty senator or other's daughter was taken ill so the whole thing was called off so he could see her. I waited there all night, but eventually got sent back."
"Oh ... they can do that?"
"Apparently so," shrugged Jack, leaning back on his elbows. Ianto hugged his knees.
"So ... what do you think is going to happen?"
"You know what I think is going to happen."
"Mmm," Ianto sounded, non-committal.
"I spoke to a registrar," Jack continued conversationally. "But you can speak to your own if you want to."
Ianto rested his forehead on his knees. "I just had a moment, is all," he murmured quietly. He lifted his head to look at the Captain. "Did he say any dates he had available?"
"Thursday is the soonest he's willing to do it," Jack nodded.
"Bloody hell," sighed Ianto. "Thursday ...."
"Too soon, I know."
"No ... no. Thursday. Plenty of time to get sorted. There's only going to be six guests, remember?"
"Did you tell Rhys?"
"What do think set all this off?"
"Ah ... I thought ... hmm ... sorry ...."
Ianto stretched out like a cat, lying himself over Jack's lap. Jack relaxed, resting a hand on his stomach and rubbing the soft pyjamas through his fingers. "What else have the doctors decided?" he asked.
"She prescribed me some pills, but I'm not taking them," grumbled Ianto, his eyes drifting shut as Jack started running fingers through his hair.
"Why?"
"I don't need anti-depressants."
"The doctors think you do."
"Are you saying I should become chemically dependent just because I was feeling a bit weird yesterday?"
"You had a nervous breakdown! You should be grasping at all the medical care you can get before we have to start paying for it," Jack said.
"There's no NHS? - National Health Service?"
"Not on this planet."
"It's a good job I'm not going to become chemically dependent on the drugs then, isn't it?"
Jack sighed. "I want you better."
"I'm not sick. I'm just ... a nutjob," he smiled. Jack's nails scratched a little on his scalp, and Ianto found his eyes drifting shut. He jumped awake again when an orderly entered the room, carrying his bowl of chow mein.
"Lunch," he said, offering it out. Ianto took the bowl with thanks, then called the orderly back. "Yessir?"
"Can I have chopsticks, please?"
"Right away, sir."
The orderly turned and left, and Jack watched as Ianto licked the sauce off his fork and put it aside. "You're not going to eat it until he comes back?"
"I need chopsticks. It's Chinese food."
"Yeah but ... it'll be getting cold."
"Leave me to it, Jack. Seriously."
"Daddy!" chirped a little voice as Giacomo hurtled into the room. "Are you feeling better?"
"Much better now you're here. Where's ...."
He trailed off as Rhys entered the room, jaw tight and trying not to look at how Giacomo was now cuddling the Captain like his life depended on it. He sat heavily in the chair by the bed, and Ianto stared into his rapidly cooling bowl of noodles. An awkward silence filled the room, Little Jack not really noticing, cemented as he was to his newfound father's side.
The Captain was eternally grateful when his phone beeped, giving him an excuse to leave. Rhys and Ianto avoided looking at each other as they heard Jack's voice floating back to them, the conversation getting more and more irate as it continued. Giacomo was glancing between them, finally clocking that something might be wrong.
"Have you had a fall out?" he asked.
For the first time, Ianto looked Rhys in the eye. Rhys quickly glanced away again.
"Why do you say that?" Rhys asked Giacomo.
"You're still friends?"
"Of course we are," Rhys replied, a little edgily. "Aren't we, Ianto?"
"Yeah," Ianto nodded, smiling tightly.
Little Jack's eyes flicked between them. His bottom lip quivered, and he suddenly burst into tears.
Rhys and Ianto shared a look in alarm - wearing the same expression they always did when Giacomo suddenly started crying and neither of them had any idea what to do about it.
"Jack," Rhys tried soothingly, crouching in front of him. "Don't cry, Jack. It's okay. Everything's fine."
"But you're not! You're not friends! Why aren't you friends?"
"Sometimes grown-ups fall out, love," Rhys tried to explain. "Sometimes we just ... can't see eye to eye." He glanced over at Ianto.
"What's wrong? What happened?" sniffed Giacomo. "Is it why your sick?" he asked Ianto.
"I'm not sick," Ianto insisted. "I just felt a bit funny yesterday, so the Captain brought me here to be looked after. I'm fine - I'll be home soon."
"But you were sick again this morning," Giacomo sniffed, eyes wide. "Rhys said so."
Ianto scowled at Rhys. "Is there anyone who doesn't know I had a turn this morning?"
"Call it what it was," sighed Rhys. "And if you must know, I rang up to find out how you were and got a very angry Captain yelling down the phone at me about it."
Giacomo hiccoughed. "The Captain's my Dad!" he grinned, though is face was wet with tears.
"I know," Rhys muttered quietly. "You keep saying."
"Jack had no right to yell at you. I'm sorry," Ianto groaned, rubbing his eyes. "This is all my fault, and you have every right to hate me."
"It's not," Rhys assured him. "and I don't hate you."
"You don't?"
"No. I hate the situation, but ... well, Good Old Rhys is just gonna have to deal with it. And ... what I said yesterday ... about stealing ... I shouldn't have said that."
"I suppose that must be how it feels," Ianto admitted, reaching out to touch Giacomo's hair.
"He belongs with his Dad," Rhys acknowledged.
Ianto returned to staring at his food and wondering where his chopsticks were. "I wish you could stay with us."
"What?" Giacomo piped up. "Stay ... where's Rhys going? Rhys? Where are you going?"
"Jack ... you remember what Ianto and the Captain were saying about the School maybe closing down? Well ... if it does ... we'll all get split up."
"That's why the Captain and I are getting married. That way you and me and him will definitely be kept together," explained Ianto.
"Buh ... Rhys ... ?"
"I'll come and visit," Rhys assured him. "Won't I, Ianto? I'll come and visit."
"All the time," Ianto nodded, though both men knew they might be lying.
"You promise?" Giacomo asked Rhys. Rhys closed his eyes.
"I'll do my best."
Giacomo looked over at Ianto for reassurance, and Ianto gave him his best smile. "Okay," nodded Little Jack eventually and sullenly. "But I wish you weren't going."
"Me too, kid. But ... it's what's best."
The door bust open and the Captain stormed in, his phone clutched in his hand and a look of thunder on his face. Giacomo cowered into Rhys' arms as his sheer presence intimidated them both, though Ianto was used to it and unfazed. "Politicians!" he fumed, pacing up and down. "Seriously - we should wipe them all out! Who are they to ... to ... to ... to think they have the right to ... to ... to just ...."
"Sit down," Ianto instructed firmly, getting to his feet and shivering as his bare skin touched the sterile lino floor. The Captain sat heavily, then cast an alarmed look at Giacomo's cowering behaviour. "Giacomo?" he called. "I'm sorry - did I frighten you?"
Little Jack bit his fingers and nodded. Big Jack held out his arms, and after a moment Giacomo ran into them as Ianto returned from the en suite with a glass of water. He handed it to the Captain. "Drink it in sips," he instructed. "Feeling calmer now?"
Jack nodded.
"Mmm. Make sure Doctor Shay doesn't get her hands on you," he smiled, resting a hand on his back and waiting for the water to be drunk. "She'll have a field day - probably take you in as a permanent patient."
"As long as you bring me grapes every day, I'm sure I'll survive being waited on hand and foot whilst high as a kite," smiled Jack as Giacomo began counting the buttons on his shirt.
"That lifestyle is overrated," sighed Ianto.
"What does 'high' mean?" asked Giacomo.
"You'll find out when you're older," said Rhys and Ianto in unison, cutting off before Jack could open his mouth.
"Yeah," the Captain agreed with them. "... when you're older."
Rhys cleared his throat. "Ianto, why don't you and Giacomo go and find some ice cream?" he suggested.
"I ... um ... okay ...." agreed Ianto, his bare feet aching on the floor. "I can find out where my chopsticks are on the way, I suppose."
He helped Little Jack down from Big Jack's lap and lead him out of the room, leaving a very tense Rhys and Captain behind. He wasn't entirely sure leaving his Missus and the Ex in the same room was a good idea, but settled on pretending they might act like mature adults while he was gone.
"What flavours ice cream are there?" asked Little Jack.
"I'm not sure," shrugged Ianto.
"Are your feet cold?"
"I'm okay, love."
"You're walking funny."
"I don't like having bare feet, is all. I should've borrowed Rhys' socks and shoes ...."
Doctor Shay cornered them while they were asking a nurse about ice cream.
"Hello, Ianto!" she smiled.
"Doctor Shay," he replied, very nearly groaning. He was aware that Giacomo was hiding behind his leg now. "Giacomo - come out and say hello to Doctor Shay ...." he coaxed. "He's shy," he added for her, by way of explanation.
"I see," she nodded, and Ianto could almost hear her trying to diagnose him with some form of social disorder or other.
"Just shy," he asserted. "People can be shy without being socially inept."
"Of course they can," she nodded. She crouched down to Giacomo's eye level. "Hello, Giacomo. My name's Doctor Shay. Aren't you going to say hello?"
"Hello. Pleased to meet you," he intoned, holding out his hand.
"I see," replied Doctor Shay, standing and starting to take notes on her electronic notepad. Ianto rolled his eyes.
"We're looking for ice cream," he told her. "So if you'll excuse us ...."
"Oh ... sure, sure - ooo! How was your lunch, Ianto?"
"I ... haven't tasted it yet."
"Did it not arrive?" she frowned.
"Yeah ... I just ... asked for chopsticks instead of a fork and they haven't come yet."
"So you didn't eat it with the fork while you waited? You've let it go cold?"
Ianto shuffled. "I know what I like and I know how I like it," he mumbled. "C'mon, Jack. Let's find ice cream now that nurse Kace has wandered off. Goodbye, Doctor," he added curtly and pulled Giacomo along with him until they found the nurses' station.
By the time they returned to Ianto's hospital room, a very thick, heavy silence had set in the air. Giacomo climbed into the bed with his ice cream cone, much to Ianto's chagrin. He couldn't help but raise a questioning eyebrow at the practically touchable tension between Rhys and the Captain, and was greeted with 'hmphs' and folded arms in return.
"What?" he asked.
Rhys spoke first. "The ceremony is the day after tomorrow? You didn't tell me?"
"I only found out this morning," Ianto replied quietly.
Jack huffed. "What is it to do with him anyway?"
"Jack!" Ianto chastised. "His life is affected by this as well, don't forget - and don't reply to that; you'll just make it worse."
"Things could get worse?" asked Rhys, mock-incredulity dripping through his tone.
"Don't answer that," Ianto instructed the Captain. "In fact - if you haven't got anything nice to say to each other, don't say anything at all. Just never, ever apologise, or never set aside your differences, or never, ever behave like the mature adults you're supposed to be - and let's not forget that most of Rhys' dislike of you, Captain, stems from something that never actually happened about ... oh ... six billion years ago. You don't even remember Gwen, and he's still pissed at you for being attracted to her even though nothing ever happened."
"Oh, did it not?" scowled Rhys.
"No - for your information, Rhys, Gwen never slept with Jack. Ever. Well ... not while I was there, anyway."
Rhys folded his arms. "When she first started ... she was ... there was ... something. She kept going out - faking texts and phone calls. What was going on there, then?"
Ianto sighed. "I'm not telling. You'll only blame me."
"Gwen was his wife, right?" asked the Captain, listening carefully.
They nodded, and Rhys' jaw tightened.
"Rhys is married?" Giacomo asked from the bed, licking his ice cream and watching them all warily.
"I'm a widower, Jack. It means my wife died."
"Oh ...." he breathed. "Are you still sad?"
"I'm still very sad, love."
"How long will you be sad for?"
Rhys shuffled. "I don't know. And ... let's not talk about it, eh?"
"Why not?"
"Because talking about it makes me even more sad," explained Rhys.
Ianto climbed into his bed beside Giacomo, being careful of the ice cream cone. Sighing, he looked over into his now cold bowl of Chinese lunch. Rhys followed his eyes.
"Shall I get that warmed up for you?" he asked, not waiting for a reply before picking up the bowl and, smiling reassuringly, leaving the room and Jack, Ianto and Giacomo alone.
"Rhys is finding this really hard," Ianto murmured.
"Never expected him to take it easy," Jack replied.
Ianto sighed. "Anyway - what was your phone call about?"
Jack rubbed his face. "Politicians deciding things without me," he grumbled.
"What things?"
Jack gave him a meaningful look.
"Oh ... I ... see ... are they ... is the School ... ?"
"They're sending a surveyor on Friday morning to value the building."
"Fuck."
"Ommmmmmmmmmmm!" Giacomo hissed. "You're not allowed to say that!"
Ianto ignored him. "It's just a surveyor, though. Nothing final."
"Of course not," agreed Jack. "I'm sure we might somehow, miraculously pull back from this."
Ianto reached out and touched his shoulder. "It'll be okay," he said softly."It'll be fine. Really. And if not ... we'll have the next breakdown together, 'kay?"
"What's a 'breakdown'?" asked Giacomo, munching on his wafer cone, ice cream all devoured - some of it smeared around his face.
"It's when Ianto tries to make you buy a new kitchen so that it matches the knives and forks," the Captain smirked.
"Shuddup," grumbled Ianto.
Giacomo didn't get it. He was about to say so when Doctor Shay bustled in.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Captain - pleasure to meet you, sir. Now if you don't mind, Ianto needs his rest."
"I'll be taking him home in the morning," he informed her. "Doctor ... ?"
"Shaykhlislamova," she smiled, blushing a little and shaking the Captain's hand. "I'm looking after Ianto, aren't I, Ianto?"
"Mmm," Ianto agreed.
"But I'm afraid you won't be able to take him home so soon. He's had a rough time of it, recently - and he's refusing his medications."
"If I hide them in his food, can I take him home?"
"I need to ensure his levels are returned to normal," she replied, biting her lip. "If I can get him through his course of medications here, I'll know for certain he's okay."
"He's coming home tomorrow," Jack informed her. "You can keep him until the afternoon at the latest. I'll collect him before two."
"As his doctor," began Doctor Shay, but Jack cut her off.
"I'll make sure he takes the pills," he assured her, pocketing the bottle. "Seriously: you're not going to make him do anything he doesn't want to do."
"Erm ... hello?" called Ianto. "Still here? And I'm not taking the pills, Jack."
"Ianto," Doctor Shay cut in. "I'm a doctor - I'm a specialist in this field. I know what is going to be best for you, and that's why I'm prescribing you this medication."
"I don't want anti-depressants. I've been getting on fine without them for nearly a year!"
A heavy silence fell as he realised what he'd let slip. Doctor Shay's notebook whipped out.
"You've been on medications for this depression before?" she asked, jotting things down.
"I ... sort of. Just ...." He found himself pulling Giacomo towards him and cuddling him tight. Giacomo seemed to understand he needed comfort, and cuddled him back. "I don't want to talk about it," he settled on saying.
Doctor Shay gritted her teeth. "Ianto, you don't seem to want to talk about anything. Maybe that's why you were on your medications before, and why you ended up having a breakdown and your panic attacks."
"Panic attack," he scowled. "Singular. And I'm fine now - and I don't want to go back on pills. It's notnormal."
Jack stepped forward before Doctor Shay could speak. "How so?" he asked.
Ianto ran his fingers through his hair. "It's like ... like ... there's no up or down ... you're in one place. Everything's ... muted. Or numbed. Your high and low is gone, and all you're left with is this ... mid-ground."
"I got you a fresh bowl of ... oh ... what's going on?"
Rhys was back - chow mein and chopsticks and all - and now staring from each face to the next.
"Doctor Shay says Ianto's going home tomorrow," grinned Jack. "Now, c'mon, Little Jack - Ianto needs his rest."
"Hang on a moment!" fumed Doctor Shay.
Jack sighed. "I know you're trying to do your job, and that you're doing what you think is best - but let's just see how he goes for now, hm? I promise I'll bring him back if I think he needs you."
"Why can't I just leave now?" sulked Ianto.
"Because you'll stress yourself out over ... things. Here you're kept away from it."
"I don't wanna be kept away from it!"
"You don't even understand - what are you writing?" Jack asked Doctor Shay, who had started scribbling notes down.
"Just ... things about ... stuff," she sniffed, not pausing in her scribbles.
"Are you ... trying to ... hey! Give that here!"
He tried to snatch her pad, and she jumped away. "This is doctor-patient confidentiality!" she snapped.
"Am I the patient?" asked Jack.
She shuffled. "No," she said curtly, switching off the notepad.
"Hmph," scowled Jack. "Anyway, I'm in charge. I'm taking Ianto home tomorrow."
They stared each other down, but the Captain won out. The doctor glared at him. "I shall see you tomorrow at two, and we shall discuss the course of Ianto's medication, as well as the symptoms he is exhibiting that you may need to monitor." She straightened her jacket and marched out.
Rhys arched an eyebrow. Jack shrugged. Giacomo put his hands on his hips. "If you don't tell me what's going on this instant, I'm going to get very cross!"
They all stared at him a moment, Jack looking bemused, Ianto fighting back a laugh and Rhys rubbing his face. "I'll explain it to you on the walk home," he decided, taking Giacomo's hand. "Now go and say 'bye bye' to Ianto."
Giacomo gave him a kiss and cuddle goodbye, then allowed Rhys to guide him out of the room, waving.
"Do I get a kiss and cuddle goodbye from you, too?" Ianto asked Jack. Jack gave a small laugh, leaning down and pressing their lips together, before breaking apart and squeezing him tight. Ianto put his lips close to Jack's ear. "I'm not taking those pills," he muttered.
"I already know where I'm going to accidentally leave them," Jack assured him.
"As long as it's not in my food ...." Ianto joked.
Jack stood and kissed him on the head. "Oh!" he remembered, turning back. "Which tailor do you use? I thought we could get him whip something up for our ceremony. Maybe ... a matching pair?"
Ianto raised an eyebrow. "I was thinking 'co-ordinating' pair, but his name is Mr. Turnbull. His address is in my desktop organiser in my office, and he'll know what I like."
"I'll make sure you see him tomorrow," nodded Jack. "Turnbull ...." he repeated, committing it to memory. "Right! Well ... bye then ...."
"Bye," sighed Ianto, and pulled the covers up to his chin as he lay down for his designated afternoon nap. He closed his eyes. He was tired. And hungry. Why was he hungry? Sitting up, he remembered his chow mein. He gathered up the bowl greedily and reached for the chopsticks, then hesitated. He bit his lip, and remembered the quips about hiding pills in his food.
He got out of bed and flushed the meal down the toilet, set the bowl down and climbed back into bed. He popped some of the grapes Jack had brought into his mouth, eating half the bag gratefully. Again, he settled under his covers, closed his eyes and this time, drifted off into a fitful sleep.
~*~*~*~
He woke up much later than he thought he would sleep during the day. It was dark outside, and someone had been in his room to take away his chow mein bowl and draw the curtains. His bedside lamp had been put on low, and some fresh pyjamas had been laid out on the chair.
Ianto washed and changed in his en suite, re-entering his room as a nurse came in to ask him what he wanted for dinner. He asked for stuffed monkfish, knowing he wasn't going to eat it, and clambered back into bed.
He barely registered when the plate was brought, drifting between asleep and awake, and only vaguely recalled when he woke up the next morning the cold dish being taken away again.
Maybe he did need this time away from everything, he considered as he allowed himself a luxurious lie-in.
Wednesday
Finally, he was back in his own clothes, waiting for Jack to come and 'collect' him. His stomach rumbled from avoiding breakfast as well as dinner the night before, and he was getting grumpy with the lack of sustenance. Finally he could hear heavy boots thudding on the sterile floors, and he was on his feet before the Captain could enter the room.
He grinned wide, but faltered when he saw the greyness of Jack's skin and the shadows under his eyes. "Not get much sleep?" he asked.
The Captain shook his head silently.
"C'mon," sighed Ianto, and guided him out of the room. He let himself be lead to the main reception and signed himself out, not waiting to find Doctor Shay to say goodbye. He knew it was rude and out of character for him, but he just couldn't stand the sight of that damned notepad anymore.
Jack put a firm arm around his waist and Ianto returned the hold as they set off together. They relaxed away from each other and walked normally the further from the hospital wing they got. Ianto was semi-relieved to note that the School hadn't fallen apart without him over the past day and a half, though he did feel only slightly annoyed that it hadn't.
"These stairs are gonna be the death of me," groaned Ianto, halfway up and still having to climb.
Jack gave a small laugh. "C'mere!" he grinned, and before Ianto could fully register what was happening, found himself lifted and cradled in Jack's arms.
"Ohhh no, Jack ...." he moaned.
"What?"
"Put me down," he grumbled.
"Why? You hate the stairs."
"I don't need to be carried like a girl!"
He yelped as Jack practically tossed him in the air and flung him over his shoulder. "You're going to do your back in!" he yelled, lauging. "Jack!"
"Shut up. You're supposed to be relaxing," Jack chastised.
"And what are we supposed to do on Thursday night if every movement is painful for you?"
"Fair point," sighed Jack, pausing to put him down. They began their upward climb again. "Ianto?" Jack eventually asked.
"Mm?"
"Why did you never tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"That you needed medication."
He sensed Ianto tensing as they walked. "It never came up," he settled on saying.
"What about at the hospital when you first came through? They didn't ask you if you needed any medicines?"
"Not that I can recall. It was a while ago."
"And you've just been quietly stressing without them all this time?"
"I've been fine," Ianto insisted.
"You had a breakdown," Jack reminded him.
"I know. I was there," grumbled Ianto, feeling his lungs starting to hurt as they got near the top of the stairs. He groaned as his calves started to burn, and was thankful when they finally reached the end. "I want lifts, and I want them now," he glowered.
Jack laughed, probably not taking him seriously. He lead Ianto down the spiral stairs to his house, shucking his jacket and insisting Ianto take his off too. The Captain yawned and Ianto took pity on him, leading him by the hand to the bedroom.
"When did you last sleep properly?"
"It's not the sleep. It's the stress," Jack sighed as Ianto pushed him onto his squishy bed and started pulling at his boots. "Just think ... this time next week ... we might have to give all this up."
Ianto set his boots aside and crawled up to lie beside him, head on his shoulder. "Never mind that," he sighed. "This time next week we'll be married men."
"Mmmm," Jack agreed. He closed his eyes, then cocked one open. "You're going to be my wife," he smirked.
"No. You're going to be my wife," insisted Ianto with a grin.
"You're the well-dressed eye candy with a penchant for organisation," Jack reminded him.
Ianto smiled to himself at the 'eye candy'. He would never, ever admit to Jack that he loved John Hart calling him that. "So I'm just going to be a trophy wife?" he pouted.
"Ha! So you are going to be the wife!"
"Well, they always say that the wife is dominant in the bedroom," smirked Ianto.
"Like a tiger?" asked Jack, suggestively.
Ianto bit down on the Captain's ear hard enough to give him a little shock. "Like a whore," he whispered. He felt Jack shiver before strong arms shoved and pushed until Jack was lying on top of him, flush together and comfortably between his legs.
"Mmm I think I'll come to like this arrangement ...." He leaned down and kissed him, using his weight to constrict and pin him to the bed.
Ianto wondered if Jack took the hint that he liked to be called 'whore' in the bedroom. Jack had thus far not once uttered the word, and it was the nearest thing to a term of endearment Ianto would allow.
The Captain slid his hand between them, pushing his fingers into the fabric of Ianto's trousers so that it would put more pressure on his erection, making him hiss and moan into Jack's mouth. "Stop ...." he managed to bring himself to mutter as Jack finally let his mouth free.
"Huh?"
"You need to nap - you're practically grey."
"I'm restless," Jack pouted.
Ianto pushed him off. "Not until our Wedding Night," he chastised.
"Um ... what?"
"We're not having sex again until we're married. You're going to have to be celibate for the next twenty four hours at least."
"But ... we haven't ... since ...."
"I know - it'll be hard for you. But you'll appreciate it all the more when we get to do it again."
Jack groaned, stretching out on the bed. Ianto rolled onto his side, rubbing the Captain's belly. Jack sighed sleepily. "Mmm. Maybe a nap won't hurt," he pondered, then promptly fell unconscious. Ianto smiled, watching him for a while before falling asleep himself.
"Mr. Turnbull ... just ... give Jack the purple and silver two-tone, and me the red and gold," Ianto finally decided. "Don't let me change my mind."
Mr. Turnbull laughed. "But you would look good in the silver and purple two-tone shirt."
"But red is my colour - and Jack in red looks ... strange."
"Then don't have the red?"
Ianto kneaded his forehead, Jack lounging in the chair in the corner of his living room while his wedding clothes were decided by his wife-to-be.
"Maybe he could have blue and silver? I could have purple? The Captain's favourite colour is blue, after all ...."
"Hmm. Yes - I would think blue is his colour," agreed the tailor. "And while red is yours, it is not the colour for a husband to wear on his wedding day."
"Well, you know best," smiled Ianto. "Purple for me; blue for the Captain."
"With the silver two-tone," finished Mr. Turnbull. "You say you don't want jackets?"
"No point having waistcoats to cinch in our middles if you can't actually see them. And this way the shirts are shown off to full effect."
"Mmm," agreed Mr. Turnbull. "but what about other occasions?"
"Other occasions?"
"You're only planning on wearing them once?"
"Where I come from, you're only supposed to wear them on the day itself, sorry. Okay then - we'll have jackets."
"What waste!" laughed Mr. Turnbull. "Anyway - you have your cut and colours chosen, so I shall begin work on these right away and deliver them first thing tomorrow morning."
"You're a miracle worker," smiled Ianto.
"Sometimes a tailor has to be," sighed Mr. Turnbull. "Right! I must be off!"
He gathered up his papers and swatches and made his way out of the living room, up the spiral stairs and through Jack's office, Ianto a step behind to see him out.
"Ahh!" sighed Mr. Turnbull, almost proudly. "It must be so exciting for you - your last night as a boy. Tomorrow, you become a man, and your youth is all but gone ...."
Ianto stared at him. "Gone?"
Mr. Turnbull laughed. "In my culture, Mr. Jones, you are a child until you are married. And tonight is your last night as a child - shall you use it wisely?"
"I ... I suppose I should try ...."
Ianto waved goodbye to Mr. Turnbull, keeping his words in mind, and shut the door to the office again, locking it and wandering back downstairs with two mugs of strong coffee. He set Jack's on the coffee table before him, settled himself on the couch with a heavy sigh and tipped his head back, eyes closed, relaxing.
Jack moved and sidled closer, resting a head on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
"Good," Ianto smiled. He squirmed as Jack reached into his pocket, and produced the little brown bottle of blue pills Doctor Shay had prescribed. "What are they for?" he asked.
"Forgot I had them in my pocket and they were digging in my side," sighed Jack, putting them on the coffee table as far away as he could be bothered reaching. "But ... I think you and I need to talk ...."
"What about?"
"Well ... I've thought of a place to start," Jack suggested.
"Oh?" Ianto raised his head to look at him.
"Why don't you tell me why you were on those things to start with?"
Ianto bit his lip and glanced away. "I ... uh ...." He cleared his throat. "Um ... okay. Well...."
He started with Canary Wharf, and the Cybermen. Then Lisa, and what he did. The cannibals; shooting Owen; thinking he'd forever lost Jack, Jack leaving - then coming back. He told him about John Hart - and was a little peeved to find that the Captain was still visited by him - and Gray. Owen's death and resurrection and the tortured aliens of the Pharm; Pearl and the Ghostmaker and the one little boy they were able to save. Finally, he spoke openly about the effect Toshiko and Owen's deaths really had on him, despite how he had had to hold it together for Jack and Gwen, really only getting to mourn in private.
Jack was quiet a moment. "And then," he pondered. "after all that ... this happens ...."
"Mmm," agreed Ianto. "Why couldn't it have been Gwen?" he joked.
"Mmm," nodded Jack. "At least she'd have had Rhys ...."
"I was joking," Ianto told him with a small laugh. "I ... I don't think I would change this. It's been hard but ... I think I'm adjusting."
"You'll be happy here?"
"I think I very nearly already am."
"... and you won't need the medications?"
"I already don't need them," huffed Ianto.
Jack bit his lip. "But if you did, you'd tell me, right?"
Ianto nodded, though he didn't mean it. "Now! I need to be getting back home. It's late, and Rhys will have been expecting me back a while ago ... I hope he's not angry ...."
"If he is, you can set me on him," Jack offered, helping him to his feet. "... or you could just stay here?"
"Can't sleep in the same house the night before the ceremony," Ianto grinned, and Jack pouted. "S'a pity we never got to have Stag Do's though."
"We'll find a strip club after the ceremony, if you're desperate," offered Jack, innocently. Ianto gave a small laugh and rolled his eyes. "I also know a rather ... easy ... guy who has some rather ... exciting tentacles ...." he added, with suggestive eyebrows.
"Sounds delightful ...." agreed Ianto, a little sarcastically.
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. I bet you'd love it ... Hey! For your wedding gift, how about I-"
"Wedding gift?" Ianto cut him off, eyes wide. "We're doing gifts?"
"Well ... yeah ... you ... didn't think of ... y'know?"
"Hahahahaha," laughed Ianto, trying not to sound nervous. "Got you! I ... uh ... I have something in mind," he lied.
Jack grinned. "Like what?"
"Just ... something ... erm ... yeah."
Jack grinned wider. "Hey - did you ever get anywhere with that puzzle box?"
Ianto cleared his throat. He'd had that bastard thing for months now. "No," he scowled. "I found it an insanely cruel present."
"I wondered why you never, ever spoke about it," sighed Jack.
"Is the box itself the gift? Can I just smash it open?"
Jack smiled softly. "Be patient with it," he advised.
"I have been," grumbled Ianto. "Anyway ... I need to ... go home."
Jack offered to walk him back, but he declined, wandering through the twilit corridors and smiling with the precision of the timed lights as they flickered on. He hesitated by a window to gaze out into the garden, pushing open the pane to let the cold air into his lungs. He hadn't been outside for days ....
He tried to push the window open further, but this high up it only opened a fraction to comply with health and safety regulations. Biting his lip and checking his watch, he decided that a quick stroll wouldn't hurt. Climbing back up the stairs would, but at least he only had to go to the flat and not the offices on the topmost floor.
Mr. Turnbull's words came back to him: "Tonight, is your last night as a child - shall you use it wisely?"
He decided to see how fast he could run down the stairs without jumping, stopping himself at the halfway point and taking a surreptitious look around. Last night as a boy, he decided, and swung his leg over the bannister. He checked to make sure there was still nobody about, bent forward, loosened his grip and let himself slide down.
The corners would bruise his inner thighs, but he didn't care: he hadn't done this for years. He let himself laugh as he slid towards the last flight of stairs - the longest, leading straight into the lobby. He picked up speed, flew off the end and landed as gracefully as a cat. He stood upright, adjusted his tie and glanced around.
He cleared his throat, spotting a middle-aged woman with two young boys, watching him. "Good evening, ma'am," he greeted, the boys watching him agape and the woman glaring at him sourly. He quickly slid out of the front doors and began to wander towards the back of the building and the stretch of gardens. The grass out front needed mowing, he noted - not that it mattered too much, as hardly anyone ever came by the front entrance.
He stopped.
His instincts were prickling.
He hadn't had a gun for months, but still his muscle-memory reached for the back of his waistband. To disguise the movement he hitched his trousers up, then carried on wandering along, listening as carefully as he could to any form of movement.
A small clump of grass shook to his right, and Ianto froze, turning towards it. "Who's there?" he barked, authority in his tone.
No answer.
Taking a deep, calming breath, he ignored his constricting chest and fear-beating heart pounding in his ears, edging forwards. He didn't know if this was a good idea or not - chances were it was just kids hiding out past their curfew or ... a large mouse.
The mouse stared up at Ianto, and Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. He then tensed again when he realised what the mouse was sat on. He rushed back inside, opened an emergency panel and pulled out a torch - which boasted to him that it had the 'power of a million candles' - and ran back outside. The mouse was gone, but as he flicked on his torch Ianto saw that he wasn't wrong.
It had been exploring a patch of freshly-turned earth - freshly-turned earth in a vast expanse of green, covered with a mis-matched shade of new turf. Had Ianto not been on high-alert, he probably would have missed it.
Glancing around, checking he was alone, he got on his hands and knees and pulled a little at the grass. It came free, soil and all, in a large square. It was heavy, and solid, as if someone had put wood through it to make a ... door. A trap door. In the ground, and leading to a tunnel. He frowned to himself. There were no tunnels in the grounds on the blueprints ... maybe some kids had dug it for funsies? He wanted to explore the mystery, find out where the tunnel lead ... maybe apprehend a villain ....
Ianto felt like one of the Famous Five.
I'll be Julian, he thought, lowering himself into the hole. Jack issucha Dick. He shone his torch around and grumbled as he realised that while the initial hole was man-deep, he would have to crawl on his hands and knees to follow it. Getting dirty wasn't what he liked doing ... but this tunnel ... it shouldn't be here. And he could always have ginger beer and a shower later ....
Last night as a boy, he reminded himself, and crouched down, tying his tie around his head like Rambo to hold the torch in place by his temple as he crawled. He frowned around him, pausing, moving his head from side to side. The sides of the tunnel were propped up with wooden planks, and looked ... professional. He bit his lip, wondering if he should go back for Jack. His instincts were no longer prickling like they did when danger was ahead, so he decided to carry on. The planks would ensure he wouldn't wind up buried alive, at any rate.
And something had being going on that shouldn't have been.
He crawled along, hoping his suit would forgive him, for about five minutes before the tunnel forked. The fork was well-supported with wooden beams, and judging from the level of damp in the soil and the relative dryness of the planks, Ianto guessed they hadn't been there long at all. One of the forks was sporting darker support beams up the wall and Ianto assumed it was an older tunnel. He decided to go down the newer-looking one, trusting the wood a fraction more and trying to mentally map out where he was in his head. He assumed this fork was leading towards the older, more easterly part of the grounds, and followed it as the damp soil soaked through his knees and made them ache.
The roof of the tunnel finally started getting higher - the floor lower - and eventually Ianto could walk, slightly hunched, for a few meters before turning a sharp corner and finding himself face-to-face half with soil, half with brick, aluminium and concrete foundation. He touched it, frowning, assuming it was the foundations of the School itself. Maybe work was being done that Jack had organised while he'd been with Doctor Shay?
But no ... Jack would have told him and wanted his approval first.
Ianto's instinct told him something was very, very wrong. Using his bare hands, he scraped away more soil from the building in front of him, digging and digging away until he saw that the tunnel did, in actuality, lead straight to a corner.
He frowned. Was the tunnel incomplete? Had it gone off in the wrong direction? Had they meant to hit a corn-
It hit him. It his him so hard it nearly winded him. FUCK, he mentally yelled. On auto-pilot he dropped to his hands and knees crawling as quickly as he could back to the fork. Instead of heading to the exit, however, he hurried down the other tunnel as quickly as he could manage, dreading but almost certain he knew where it would lead.
Similarly to the other tunnel, this one lengthened until he could stand, but there was no wall of aluminium, concrete and brick, only loose soil and debris. Running on adrenalin, he began to dig using his hands, pretty much clawing at the dirt until finally fresh air began to filter through from the other side. He managed to create a man-sized hole, and pulled himself through it, breathing hard and groaning through his aches.
He was exactly where he thought he would be.
The ruined site of the school rooms - right at the edge.
Not caring how dirty his fingers were, he ran them through his hair, staring around him, the enormity of what he had found bearing down on his shoulders. He bit the back of his hand, trying not to panic, using the pain to re-centre himself and focus.
He hastily refilled the hole so that it looked still undiscovered and used the temporary door to get back inside the building. He came across the same woman and children from the lobby on the stairs, and the look he received was even more sour than the last thanks to his shockingly dirty and dishevelled appearance. He ignored her, trying to get up the stairs faster as the lactic acid that built up in his calves made them burn as his thighs began to complain.
Ianto practically crawled up the final flight, dragging himself by his hands up the last few steps.FUCKING LIFTS, he screamed in his head. If it wasn't for those tunnels, I'd HAVE THEM BY NOW!
He was catching his breath enough to stand, when he heard footsteps moving towards him. Piqued, he raised his head, panting. He stared. "It's ... you?"
"Me what?"
"What are you doing ... why are you here? ... what are you doing here?"
"Put two and two together, my love."
"You ... you know what ... what's going ... going on?" he panted, trying to stand up.
"Need help?"
Ianto found himself being tugged to his feet.
"Blimey, you must be unfit. Those stairs almost killed you."
"What the hell do you know about the ... the tunnels?" demanded Ianto.
"Everything."
"Are you ... are you ? ... no ... please no ... not you ... please not you ...."
Ianto was too tired, and his reactions were too slow. He found himself spun around, forced forward a little and winded on the banister of the landing. There was a mouth close to his ear, and he felt something hard shoved into his back.
"Because it will make him mine!" came the hissed reply.
It wasn't until the blade was pulled out that Ianto realised he'd been stabbed.
No longer pinned to the railing, his weight went from under him, and hot wetness seeping through the back of his shirt told him he was bleeding copiously. It hadn't felt like he'd thought being stabbed would - hell, he thought it would feel like when he'd been pierced by shrapnel, or that time Owen's scalpel had to be used to cut open his thigh and pull out that weird bug thing. It had felt like ... being pushed. As if someone had clapped him hard on the back ...
Ianto tried to grip the bars of the banister, unsure whether or not he was alone or in company still. His fingers weakened, and he found himself lying on the floor, waiting for the pain to come and ... help. He needed help.
He tried to turn onto his stomach, but feeling pain lance through the wound in his back he gave up. He tried calling out, but his voice wouldn't work. He felt afraid - truly afraid - and his heart began beating faster, pumping more blood out of his stab wound and killing him quicker. He took advantage of it, pushing the puddle of blood out and hoping against hope someone might see the red liquid dribbling down and come to investigate sooner rather than later - though he doubted he could be saved now.
"Is thatblood?" he heard a woman exclaim. Three storeys down, he reckoned. She must be able to see it dripping down. He could hear delicate heels clicking on the steps, and her scream when she saw him. "Oh my ... help!" she yelled. "Help! Mr. Jones has been stabbed!"
She knelt by him, "I don't know if anyone heard," she whispered. "I don't want to leave you but ... I'll run and get help, I will ... I'll run ...."
He couldn't really hear that much anymore, but at the promise of gossip people were drifting up the stairs to see what was going on. They stopped dead, staring at him lying sprawled in his shroud of red. Then the talking started. It escalated - panicked shouts echoing through the hall. Someone ran down the corridor to the Captain's office, knocking frantically on the door until he finally emerged, disgruntled.
"Mr. Jones ...." the lad whispered, pointing down the hall, and Jack saw.
The gathered were silenced by his shout of anguish, watching quietly as he charged down the corridor like a bull. "Ianto!" he yelled, gathering his limp form up in his arms. His skin was pasty and clammy, his suit caked with soil and his eyes were closed. "Ianto ... stay with me ... stay with me ...."
He pressed his fingers to his neck and sagged, cradling him closer as if he was precious. The Captain moved until he was cross-legged, crushing Ianto to him, rocking backwards and forwards as tears poured down his face.
"What happened?" he begged the unresponsive body laid across him. "What happened?"
Don't worry - I'm sure it will all be fine! ~ Silver x