Torchwood: Divergence
Book Three: Rheoleiddiad

Chapter 8

Ianto Jones was back in his own bed, heavily sutured, stapled, and bandaged; a strong dose of activated charcoal liquid, lactic acid, and magnesium carbonate helping his Shadows to counteract any residual venom in his body. The barbed spike had wormed its way to within an inch of his heart by the time Turlough was able to remove it, having twisted itself out the opposite side of his lung from where it had entered. Diligent irrigation and suction had cleared the damaged organ so the holes could be sealed with surgical glue and negate the need for a chest tube. A large bore needle and oversized syringe had drained the remaining venom from the Changeling's stomach, and allowed direct introduction of the charcoal mixture, then the rest of the spike's rampaging path had been thoroughly cleaned out as well. Finally, the huge surgical wound had been closed with multiple layers of rapid dissolving filament inside and staples outside.

Ianto had screamed himself completely voiceless and severely abraded his wrists straining against the straps binding him, his long months in Hell rising before his eyes the entire time the procedure had been underway. Fortunately, the unavoidable seizure the experience brought on had hit before he had any stiches or staples to worry about ripping loose. Now, he was just staying as still as possible and trying to breathe past the pain, glad the charcoal mixture was being dispersed by the Shadows in his body and not making him vomit again. Jack was sitting with him, though the older man was atop the covers instead of under them. He was sharing the pillows plumped against the headboard, one hand rhythmically rubbing his partner's head and the other turning the pages of the leather-bound H.G. Wells book he had resting across his lap. They both heard the main door rotate open, the chatter of feminine voices.

"Gwen's back…" Ianto squeaked, his voice a barely audible rasp after nearly shredding his vocal cords during the surgery… just like when he was in Hell.

"Yep," Harkness acknowledged quietly, making no effort to move or stop what he was currently doing, though he did shift his gaze to the twenty-six-year-old shivering beside him. "I just felt all your muscles bunch up. Relax, Ianto. You'll pull stitches if you keep it up and I can't take having you under the knife again right now, whether you can endure it or not. Turlough said that secretion would still be messing with you for at least a couple hours, until your Shadows and the counter-agents break it down enough to render it impotent. There's nothing to worry about or be afraid of, I promise."

"She's going to come hunting us…" the young Guardian beneath the covers breathed shakily. "But I don't…"

His voice failed him, but the expression of fear-laced misery on is face was very eloquent.

"Turlough," Jack called quietly over the headset he'd put back on after the impromptu surgery earlier. "Our patient isn't up to having visitors yet. If they want details, they can look at the CCTV footage. But questions and well wishes need to wait for a while, yeah?"

[Understood,] the redhead acknowledged. [I'll do my best, but we both know Gwen tends to ignore direct orders when she's on a roll, let alone listen to strong suggestions.]

"Show her the video and point out the time stamp," Harkness insisted. "He's only been back in bed for twenty minutes. He needs at least ninety before even vaguely considering guests."

[Wish me luck,] the thirty-year-old Trion noble out in the Hub murmured, obviously approaching the new arrivals.

Jack marked and closed his book, slid it over onto the night table then shifted to lean close and give his shivering partner a gentle kiss.

"Time to close the door," he half-smiled, rising from the mattress to go ease the panel to and let it latch. "Anyone who can't take the hint, is gonna get a close encounter with the worst static shock of their life."

The American used his wrist strap to set a small field around the door handle, that would give an unpleasant but harmless jolt to anyone who touched it. And he hadn't been back on the bed with his book open for more than ten minutes, when he heard the discharge of the field accompanied by a surprised yelp. Stubborn nonetheless, they inched open the door and a dark head poked in through the opening.

"Not right now," Jack insisted, putting his H.G. Wells aside again. "Hence the booby-trapped door."

"I just wanted to check after all the trouble this morning," Gwen frowned. "Good god, Jack… open surgery to remove that brutal thing Turlough showed us. You should've called Martha."

"Turlough proved himself to be a fine trauma surgeon, and there wasn't time to call anyone," the immortal Captain stated plainly. "Ianto's trying to rest and recover, so…"

"Is he awake?" Cooper prodded, not giving up.

Harkness sighed, seeming about to give in and allow the woman to enter. His lover however, still had far too many unsettled emotions being cranked up by the alien substance in his body to want to deal with anyone, but most especially the former PC… not with his earlier nightmare still so vivid in his mind.

"No, Jack… please…" Ianto hissed, his over-strained voice barely a whisper even to the man sitting right beside him. "I can't deal with her right now… not yet…"

Even the small amount of added anxiety from trying to get his point across proved to be too much because of the alien secretions still present in his tissues, his vision narrowing as horrific pain settled in his chest and it became harder and harder to breathe. The twenty-six-year-old was reduced to small gasps, his muscles tightening and only increasing the agony from his recent surgical wounds. He could hear his partner trying to soothe him, but it was already too late, his spine arching as the seizure hit and the world went black…

"Don't worry, I won't let her stay," Jack vowed, then cursed under his breath as the younger man manifested seizure heralding symptoms. "No, no, no… please don't pull out those staples… Everything's alight, Ianto, I've got you… you'll be okay. Just breathe, buddy… that's right…"

"Jack?" Gwen called worriedly, opening the door a little further.

"Later," Harkness growled, trying to keep his lover from doing himself damage as he started to convulse. "Damn it, just give him some time, okay? Really… go talk to Turlough about the crap we're trying to purge from Ianto's system and what it's doing to him. I swear, I'll come do the whole heart-to-heart thing later. Not. Right. Now. Please."

The seizure passed just then, however instead of making his normal dazed recover, Ianto simply lay spent and shivering at the older man's side. Tears slowly leaked from his still closed eyes, and he took long but shallow and shaky breaths, obviously hurting yet too exhausted to complain.

"Lean on me," the Captain urged, shifting to get an arm around the younger immortal's shoulders so he could hold him close and try to ease his suffering. "I'm right here, Ianto. You're safe… I'll take care of you. Just try to rest."

Jack heard the door click shut and sighed. Could this day get any worse?

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AN: Don't tempt fate, Jack…

Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM