Torchwood: Divergence
Book Two: Adferiad
Chapter 64
"Ready?" Harkness asked reluctantly, his own heart pounding as he watched the water beneath the younger man turn a dark, ominous red before swirling down the drain. "Ianto?"
"See you soon…" Ianto promised weakly, simply waiting to die.
Jack closed his eyes and hit the necessary button on his wrist strap, cringed at the loud crackle of electricity, felt the tingle on his skin, heard the one he loved take a single startled, gasping breath. Fifteen seconds had never felt so long before, but he had to be sure the Changeling was truly dead. Finally, he cut the power, took a deep breath and opened his eyes so he could see to turn off the water, trying not to let his gaze wander down to the still figure slumped in the corner. And no sooner had he stepped back from the shower stall, than a lurid red glow rose within the tiled cubicle, scorching heat and the smell of boiling blood filling the ensuite as the Hell portal leapt to life from the Void.
[Jack?} Gwen's voice called over his earcomm. [We just registered a massive electrical spike from in there. Are you two alright?]
"Soon," the Captain replied simply, backing up toward the door to stand beside the airing cupboard and stare expectantly at his lover's lifeless body.
[What's going on?] Cooper pressed, obviously worried. [What do you mean 'soon'? It's a… no, no, no. He cannot possibly be dead. Martha checked him, there's no way…]
"Martha missed something," their leader stated evenly, unconsciously rubbing at the blood stain on his right shirt sleeve. "It wasn't his joints or the muscles. Something internal, deep, that tore or ruptured when he fell on the steps earlier. The haemorrhaging was accelerating and he just couldn't bear being laid up anymore. The Scieron said they'd finish all the work needing done, wake him whole and healthy… so I helped him."
He could hear the bedroom door rattle behind him, the woman's voice clear over the comms as well as beyond the dual-purpose bookcase.
[What did you do?] Gwen demanded, her tone horrified and angry. [Jack Harkness, what did you bloody do?!]
"What he asked," Jack breathed. "What he needed. It wasn't easy for me, and you're making it a whole lot harder. Please… just let it go. I'll explain later, yeah? For right now, give me a little peace and quiet while I wait for the portal to close. I'll let you know when he revives."
Then he shut down the headset, pulled it off and tossed it out onto the night table near his partner's untouched cup of coffee. He watched the Shadows flickering in the hot crimson glow that filled the shower stall, tried to ignore the aching void in his heart and soul. Even past the portal's searing light, the American could see the horrible bruises around Ianto's eyes fade and disappear, the ink dark blood beneath him filtering smoke-like into the Hell spawned singularity as fuel for the gateway.
But then he saw the flash of a blade as one of the Scieron moved, had to force himself to stay where he was as the obviously hot razor-sharp metal opened his lover's body to expose his abdominal and chest cavities. In horrified fascination, Harkness stared as the knife wielding Shadow lifted ribs to bisect the limp twenty-six-year-old's motionless heart, severed thin threads of its own substance and wove them into the organ's interior chambers, more being laced throughout the Welshman's abdomen. Then it sliced a long continuous filament from itself, somehow used it to stitch the breached organ, muscles, and skin closed, the external incisions disappearing completely as it worked.
Time dragged on, the heat from the portal starting to make the immortal Captain sweat even as far away as he was. He refused to move though, wanting to be ready when the Scieron finished and returned his beloved Archivist to life. For more than an hour, Jack watched the Shadows flicker around his partner's inert body, involuntarily put a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry when the knife reappeared and the blade plunged into each of the Changeling's prised open eyes. Dark wisps were forced deep inside the pierced orbs, then more was used to repair the incisions.
Finally, the Scieron filtered away and the portal faded, the heat dissipating almost instantly. Harkness bolted for the shower, reaching the tiled stall just as an Otherworldly voice whispered on the air.
"Deffro, Frân Arian …"
The young Welshman came back from the Dark with a huge gasp for air, his eyes snapping open in semi-panic.
"Ianto," Jack called soothingly, pulling the disoriented Guardian into his arms. "I've got you… it's okay. Just take some good deep breaths, yeah?"
The younger man blinked at his Captain, then gave a short trembling laugh as he reached up to touch his face in an unsteady caress.
"Jack," Ianto panted happily, shakily shifting to embrace the older immortal even as tears started to fall. "God, it's so good to see you."
"My Barista Boy is back!" Harkness nearly shouted with a grin, holding his lover close then giving him an intense kiss. "You feel in top form again?"
"Yeah," his finally fully healed Archivist reassured, taking a moment to return the kiss in kind. "Save for the creepy sensation of damp pants and being ready for a long nap, I feel great."
Blood red light flickered in his tear blurred eyes just then, and they both heard in their minds the voice of the Scieron who seemed to take the strongest interest in the Changeling.
*Child of My Knife,* the Hell Shadow whispered. *I felt you would be best served in the future by a further gifting of my substance, and thus more advanced regeneration abilities. This will help prevent a repetition of the long and complicated recovery you've endured recently, baring complete dismemberment or catastrophic anatomical destruction. Be well, ein hanwyl Frân.*
The glow disappeared from Ianto's eyes, returning them to their normal grey-tinged blue.
"Blessings from your Faery Shadow Mother," Jack half-smiled, drying the young Welshman's tears with his fingertips and urging him to his feet. "No doubt who her favourite kid is. And boy am I glad."
"My balance is still a bit off," his partner nodded, reaching out to hold onto the American so he could pull off his boxer briefs. "Much better. Wow, am I tired."
"I don't wonder," Harkness chuckled, steadying his now naked companion as he exited the ensuite and made his way back to the bed. "They had you in the portal for more than an hour and a half. Man… watching her slice you open and weave her Shadows into you. Not a pleasant experience. But at least you weren't able to feel it this time."
"Which I appreciate more than I can say," Ianto breathed, shakily putting on a clean pair of pants before easing over onto the mattress, then letting his lover help him back into his pyjama shirt and bundle him under the covers. "Damn it… I bled on the carpet. The pile might be dark grey, but that stain'll still show. And it's on your shirt sleeve… lovely."
"I've got it," the Captain smiled, leaning over to give the twenty-six-year-old another good solid snog. "I know where the Isofoam is. You get some rest. I'll tell Gwen you're okay, field her cranky accusations and then come watch you sleep for a while till the Rift acts up again."
"She's on about you helping me die?" Ianto groaned, closing his eyes. "Love her to death, but, God… sometimes…"
"You and me both, especially the past couple weeks," the older immortal snorted, retrieving his headset and activating it. "He's back, Gwen, but really tired. I need to do a quick clean up in here. You can come back in with me, but save your choice words till we're out in the Hub, yeah?"
Jack rolled his eyes in response to whatever the former PC said, then mimed to his companion that he should go to sleep even as he started for the door. He unlocked the panel, opened it and stepped through, but it was still slightly ajar when he faced the woman sitting behind his desk.
"You tell me what the hell has been happening in there the past two hours," Cooper growled, her dark green eyes angry in the dim light from the lamp by the computer. "What did you do?"
"I told you before," Harkness stated evenly, squarely meeting her dour gaze. "He was haemorrhaging from some sort of internal damage. I helped him to the loo when you left and he was passing nothing but blood. By the time we headed back for the bed it had progressed, because the entire seat of his briefs was soaked. Things were so wrong he went into a seizure, Gwen, and when he came out of it he asked me to put him in the shower so he could bleed out. Because if he died, the Scieron could fix all the remaining damage at once, and he was so far beyond enduring the pain and anxiety of such a long recovery that he'd already been contemplating some form of suicide. The Shadows agreed the most merciful thing to do was to stop his heart and let them work like after Harwood's. So, I got him in the shower, turned on the water and used my VM to run 500 joules through the stall… very quick and fairly painless."
"You killed him," Gwen snapped, surging up from the chair and rounding the desk to physically confront her boss. "Just like that."
"Yes," the Captain replied bluntly. "It was the only kindness I could show him, and I couldn't even make myself watch when I did it. But I did watch the Scieron make good on their promise. He's whole, healthy, and pain free again, and he can see. What I did earlier is no different than when we first rescued him from that mine with the Cult. I helped him die ten times over two days, remember? Stole his last breath with a kiss, like the damn Ghostmaker and his silver flask. Because he needed me to, Gwen, not because I wanted to."
"Doesn't make it alright," the one-time constable hissed venomously, preparing to say more but never getting the chance.
"Oi!" Ianto called sharply from the bedroom. "You're having a go at the wrong person, PC Cooper. Like to step inside and try again?"
At that exact moment, his teammate wasn't sure she should. In the years she'd known the young Welshman, she'd only heard that irritated, clipped tone a couple of times. And on those occasions, it was because he'd had too many buttons pushed on a touchy subject and had lost his normally epic patience. Still, slinking off to avoid a confrontation would just make matters worse, so she pushed the bookcase door open and walked into the room, Harkness moving over to stand on the threshold and watch how things played out.
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Welsh bits:
ein hanwyl Frân = our beloved Crow
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AN: Ianto is 100% whole and healthy again (just needs that nap)… but things can never be that easy at Torchwood.
One more chapter of Book Two after this… With luck I'll have enough of Book Three typed up to start it for Ianto's Birthday in August.
No change with the internet yet. If I don't respond to a review right away, that's why.
Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM