Torchwood: Divergence
Book Two: Adferiad
Chapter 60
Jack shifted to give the Ianto a very passionate kiss, the fingers of one hand monitoring the Changeling's carotid pulse. The Captain felt his lover's breath fail him, the instinctive tensing of muscles, then the fluttering beat beneath his fingers stopped as he drew back. Another round of heartache and waiting had begun.
"Has he gone again?" Gwen asked softly, coming to rest a comforting hand on their leader's shoulder when he nodded. "What he did was so brave, but… God… so much damage. And now he's scared this'll put a wedge between you, make you not want him. The poor thing is still so damn insecure, even after nearly five months."
"I'll have to prove him wrong," Harkness insisted evenly, settling to sit back against the headboard so he could keep one hand lightly pressed to the younger man's throat. "But this whole thing with the Cult has the wind up my back. Too similar to be coincidence."
"Similar to what?" his companion pressed, moving to sit on the bottom corner of the bed facing him.
"Back after his very first Scieron Guardian resurrection at Harwoods," the Captain explained, his expression mirroring concern. "We'd been 'relaxing' and took a break. Ianto kind of dozed off, woke up in a panic from a nightmare. He said the two of us looked to be somewhere on a world with a light green sky, in front of a ruined city where pale, thin aliens were holding me captive, making me watch what was happening. In his dream, the Doctor was there, not an incarnation he recognised, and some stranger in a ratty cassock. They'd had him beaten bloody, told me my continued existence was a mistake and Ianto just compounded it. The Doctor turned a blind eye to what the stranger was doing to teach me the error of my ways."
"Torturing Ianto?" Cooper gaped
"Worse," the undying American stated flatly, squarely meeting the woman's shocked gaze. "Having him drawn and quartered."
"Bloody hell…" the one-time PC at the end of the bed breathed. "The old mine carved into a crumbling city. The skinny, pasty faced, alien controlled Cult members, and that device stopping us in our tracks, making the people down there hold us back. The green light from the crystal, the entity it held trying to rip him apart… All sounds an awful lot like that dream. Just no Doctor to ignore what was happening. But how?"
"I don't know," Jack shook his head. "But I think it's worth asking his Faery Shadow Mother about when he's really on the mend."
There was silence between them for several long minutes, both contemplating the implications.
"That's flat out scary, that is," Gwen finally commented, rubbing the back of her neck as a chill ran down her spine. "Think he remembers too?"
"Guess it depends on how much he actually saw before that thing blinded him," the Captain shrugged. "I'm sort of divided on hoping he does and praying he doesn't. That dream really spooked him."
"Maybe…" the raven-haired woman began, only to have Ianto revive with a choking gasp, followed by a terrified cry and panicked attempt to sit up.
"Ianto, I'm here, you're safe," Harkness called, quickly trying to hold the younger man down as he started to struggle. "Don't fight, it's just me… Ianto."
The familiar voice finally seemed to register, the twenty-six-year-old subsiding into trembling submission and allowing his partner to check his bandages for blood stains as he gulped air.
"That was new," Jack said at last, gently shifting the pillows behind the Welshman's head after making sure he hadn't done himself damage by ripping sutures in his panic. "Is it because your eyes are covered?"
"They… they told me… to wake up…" Ianto grated, his throat raw from crying out and trying to pull extra oxygen into his lungs. "But… the Dark…"
"Didn't go away because your face is bandaged and your eyes are still ruined," the older immortal nodded sympathetically. "So, you were afraid you'd gotten trapped on the other side of death. Don't worry about that. I will be here whenever you revive… just listen for my voice, okay?"
The young Changeling gave a tiny nod, swallowing hard past the soreness in his throat as he remembered to breathe through his nose.
"Gwen," Jack called evenly, never taking his eyes off his still trembling lover. "Could you get a bottle of water and a straw? I think he could use a bit of a drink."
The former constable rose and hurried out through the office, fielding the concerned questions of the other two team members as she went. Back in the room, Harkness was smoothing his injured partner's hair, then shifted enough to lean over and gingerly kiss his chin, throat, and the area below his clavicle.
"Doing a little better?" he queried quietly, lightly brushing the Welshman's lips with his own for good measure.
"Little…" Ianto replied hoarsely, then winced in pain as several of his injuries throbbed sharply. "I'm… I'm sorry, Jack… I didn't realise… I'd take so much damage…"
"Most of this could easily be mortal," Jack pointed out, still smoothing the twenty-six-year-old's hair. "Why didn't the Scieron just let you die and fix everything all at once?"
"Too much…" his Archivist breathed shakily. "They'd've had to… take me…"
"No quick fix then," the Captain shrugged. "They whisk your body to Hell for a couple days, and it's fine."
"Easier to put… me back together from… an explosion," Ianto whispered haltingly. "This kind of… repair… takes much longer… Probably lots of blood… and knife work on the altar again… Slower than… forced regeneration… And I was still dead… when they opened my head before… Mother Shadow thinks… the trauma would be… too much…"
"Still…" Harkness frowned, wondering what the difference was.
"It's for you…" the young Welshman grated with a hard shiver. "You were barely sane… after four days… Couldn't risk… a possible fortnight… in Hell… So, it has to be… periods of death… for major work… and a few weeks of… boosted healing after that… I'm sorry…"
"You're suffering like this to keep me from going off the deep end while you're in Hell," Jack breathed, his lover unable to see the touched expression he wore. "But worried the long road to recovery will be a burden to me. You amaze me, Ianto Jones. Tell the red-lighters not to get excited… you've got one incredible kiss coming."
He carefully slid one hand behind the twenty-six-year-old's neck, gently pressed the other to the right side of his face bandages and all, and presented him with a long, eloquent snog. The injured Changeling did his best to respond appropriately, though he did end up flinching in pain as the older man finally moved back.
"Ow…" Ianto moaned with an obvious pout that turned into a grimace. "Shit… ow… Christ, Jack… Don't… don't get me all worked up… when I'm wearing… a damn Foley…"
"Sorry," Harkness apologised, though he couldn't quite stifle a slight chuckle. "No, really… I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that."
Gwen cleared her throat where she stood in the doorway, a bottle of water in one hand and a plastic wrapped bendable straw/twist-on cap combination in the other.
"Jack Harkness," she began, trying to keep her tone stern, but fighting a smile. "Are you torturing the patient?"
"Not intentionally, but apparently so," the American replied, shifting on the mattress to simply sit beside his lover once more. "I did apologise though. And honestly, he really had that kiss coming."
"So I gathered," Cooper grinned, handing him the items she held and dropping down into the chair. "You're such a sweetheart, Ianto. How did you ever end up with Captain Cardiff?"
"Just lucky…" Ianto whispered hoarsely, his partner gently raising his head so he could sip from the straw that now arched out of the water bottle's special cap. "Better… thank you…"
"Think you're up to a little warm broth?" the former PC in the nearby chair prodded. "Lois is going for a late lunch run to the Deli, said she'll bring back whatever you two want."
"They do a nice beef and wild mushroom broth," Jack suggested helpfully. "Just enough rosemary, sage, and marjoram to taste it, not overly salty or oily. And very well strained so you can just drink it without needing to chew."
"Sounds good…" the bedbound immortal beside him agreed, taking another sip of water before relaxing to indicate he'd had enough. "What about you…?"
"Seems kind of rude to get my usual when you're stuck with liquids," Harkness began, only to feel his Archivist tense beside him. "Ianto?"
"Don't…" Ianto protested, his breathing accelerating even as he started to shake harder than he already had been. "Don't… bloody do that… Just eat… Please…"
"Okay, okay," the Captain relented, carefully rubbing the young Guardian's upper chest, and kissing him on the head above the bandages. "No mollycoddling. Calm down, buddy. I get the message."
"So…" Gwen filled in as their leader soothed his agitated lover. "The beef with mushroom broth for Ianto, Black Forest Ham and Swiss with stone-ground mustard for you, Jack. Crisps and pickle on the side or not?"
"Crisps, no pickle," the American instructed with a tiny smile. "And no onions. Last time they put onions and tomatoes on my sandwich, neither of which belong anywhere near good ham and cheese. I find veggies on that sandwich, and we've got a problem."
"Definitely… no onions…" Ianto put in shakily, grimacing in disgust.
"I'll have Lois be doubly sure," Cooper chuckled, rising from her seat again. "Either of you want juice or coffee while I'm up, or are you okay with the water?"
Ianto gave a tiny shake of his head, Jack declining as well.
"Let me give Lois your orders," their companion smiled, heading for the door once more. "Then I'll ring Rhys about tonight and be back shortly."
"Still feels… like I'm being a horrible… nuisance…" Ianto breathed, his expression below the bandages telling his partner he'd be facing that lost child look if the heavy gauze wasn't there. "But… a fortnight or more in Hell… It's too long…"
"You aren't a nuisance, honey," Harkness insisted gently, only to blink as his expression twisted like he'd just sucked on a dozen lemons. "Oh, God… Did I just call you 'honey'?"
"I won't tell…" the bedbound Changeling whispered, though he did manage a slight smile. "But try not… to do it again… ever…"
"I've got to pick some less cloying term of endearment to use," Jack stated firmly. "I still like 'Tiger Pants'."
"Just… not in public… please…" his Archivist requested earnestly.
"'Eye Candy'?" Harkness suggested with a grin. "'Hot Stuff'? 'Baby Doll'? 'Angel'? 'Sweet Tush'? 'Fire of My Loins'?"
"I'm going… to hurt you, Jack…" Ianto hissed warningly. "'Tiger Pants' is fine… for the Hub… if you insist… 'Buddy', 'Barista Boy'… both okay… You can even call me… 'Frân' like the baby does… maybe an occasional… 'Sweetheart'… or 'Sweetie'… if you're lucky… but that's it, yeah…?"
"Works for me," the Captain chuckled, gently stroking the Welshman's now sweat-damp hair back away from the bandages and toying with the curls it fell into. "And I give you permission to actually do me damage if 'honey' comes out of my mouth in reference to you again."
"Happily, sir…" Ianto sighed, wincing as his wounds throbbed sharply once more. "And I promise… to stick to… 'Captain Cardiff'… or 'Cariad'… since you enjoy the… Welsh vowels so much… And horrific things… like 'Jackie' or 'Jacko'… or 'Cap'n Hard-On'… will never pass my lips… unless read from… an Archive entry…"
His partner laughed and shook his head, well remembering the cited 'horrific' names from T3 teams and missions past, and who had originally used them. Only Ianto would likely ever know about them… no-one else had combed the old records the way he had.
"More than fair," the American conceded, then sobered in obvious concern. "Can you rest, or is the pain too bad?"
"Bad…" the immortal twenty-six-year-old beside him growled truthfully, a strangled moan breaking free as well before he could stifle it. "Nothing… nothing for it though…"
"That's the hardest part for me," Jack confessed, lightly caressing the edge of the younger man's jaw. "I hate seeing you suffer. I wish there was something I could do."
"Talk to me…" the young Guardian murmured shakily in response.
"What about?" Harkness asked with an arched brow.
"Doesn't matter…" Ianto replied breathlessly. "Helps… if I can focus… on your voice…"
"Okay," his partner nodded, taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly. "Have I ever told you about the super swanky resorts on Hephalian Major?"
"No…" Ianto whispered, flinching once more.
"Oh, ho, ho," Jack grinned, settling back against the single pillow behind him and rhythmically rubbing the top of his beloved Archivist's head. "Ianto… the place is amazing. Vast, crystal-clear turquoise seas, pearl white beaches, double suns – one blue, one yellow – and incredible variety of water dwelling creatures of all colours and shapes. It's absolute beautiful. Then there are the huge hotels with built-in spas for almost every species imaginable…"
He could feel the younger man relax slightly, his breathing becoming deeper and more even. Pleased, the Captain continued his quiet tale of intergalactic opulence and waited for lunch to arrive.
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AN: Now Jack knows why Ianto is taking the long road on this. How can you argue with that level of love?
Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM