Torchwood: Divergence
Book Three: Rheoleiddiad

Chapter 20

Down in the firing range, Ianto had draped his field jacket over the weapons table and started his meditation exercise. But it wasn't helping much, and he paused to strip off his turtleneck and belt before progressing to actual battle practice.

"Why won't the fucking dream go away?!" he cried after several long minutes of extremely intense weapon and evasion work, left palm and forehead pressed hard against the nearest wall.

With a howl of pure frustration, the twenty-six-year-old struck out with a clenched fist at the heavy reinforced metal lattice of the ammunition room door beside where he leaned, surprised when the blow punched straight through the panel. The broken steel ripped his flesh from curled fingers to elbow all the way around, and Ianto pulled his right arm free with a shocked gasp, blood gouting and pouring from the gashes. Suddenly Jack was there wrapping a towel around the wounds, his expression a mix of worry about the damage and excitement over the display of power.

"Did not mean to do that," the young Welshman breathed tightly. "I didn't think that stuff would give so easily."

"Well, it's not actually made to stand up to a frustrated Scieron Guardian," Harkness half-smiled, applying pressure to the younger man's forearm and wrist. "Boy, you did a number on it and yourself. I think this needs more than what the first aid kit down here has to offer."

"Please don't make me go to medical where everyone can see," Ianto begged. "I turn off the CCTV down here so they can't watch when I have my freak out fits."

"Then we bring Martha down here," the older immortal reassured. "Or I can call Turlough if you want."

"I want that damn dream to go away and let things get back to normal," the Changeling hissed desperately, starting to shake as his expression grew increasingly lost and afraid. "But it won't stay down, and this little voice keeps telling me that I if I was gone it wouldn't matter, because you'd still have Gwen. That you wanted her from the beginning and I was just a willing substitute when we first got together. That what the alien in the Trench said was true, you want her more than you ever have me, and her eyes say she wants you too. My heart wants to believe it's all a lie, but that voice won't shut up and leave me be. And I'm starting to think it may be right."

Harkness stared at the younger man in shock for a moment, unconsciously letting go of his towel wrapped arm. Then panic flared when his partner took a tiny choked breath and keeled forward, crimson light flaring in his anguished eyes. The American caught the distraught Guardian, got them both safely down to the floor so he could cradle his injured lover's upper body in his arms.

"Please don't do this, Ianto," he begged, fearing that at any moment the Welshman would manifest the Scieron Pledge Blade and take his own life. "Ianto… Stay with me, please…"

It was the same plea he'd made at Thames House… and the twenty-six-year-old in his arms suddenly gasped and convulsed in response. Jack could hear Otherworldly voices whispering, knew the Shadows were speaking to their Chosen. Then one of them hissed to him as well.

*Show your annwyl the truth,* the Scieron insisted in his mind. *Show him the night you abandoned the Earth. Let him hear the words, feel what was in your heart when your last hope was gone.*

As though summoned, the memory surfaced like ink black oil in clear water, a dark and desolate thing etched with pain and grief. And he knew that Ianto was sharing it, hearing him refuse Gwen's tearful pleas that he stay or at least come back for her, feeling the cold fire that burned away his very soul because he'd lied to himself until it was too late. Now the one person who'd loved him no matter what, understood him better than anyone he'd ever known and truly made his immortality bearable after all this this time was lost beyond Death's Door… and it was his fault. He could run forever, but he'd never escape the echoing agony of that loss.

The Captain could feel the scalding trails of tears on his grief chilled cheeks, the trembling of the shirtless Welshman in his arms, the fever heat of his exposed skin. At last, the memory faded, leaving the two of them alone with what they'd shared as the Hell light finally left the younger immortal's eyes. There was no need for words, Ianto simply turning to wrap his arms around his partner and curl up against him half in his lap. Jack held him tighter in return, kissed the top of his head and simply let relief wash through him… he wasn't going to lose his beloved again.

For several minutes the pair stayed just as they were, wrapped around one another and ignoring the world. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Harkness finally shifted to urge the younger man to sit up beside him and let him remove the gore-soaked towel covering his right arm. The bleeding had all but stopped and the gashes were actually showing the first signs of trying to close, but they were obviously still quite painful and the twenty-six-year-old was giving off a tonne of heat.

"Your Faery Shadow Mother boosted your healing a lot with her gift a couple weeks back," the American remarked. "Which is great for the physical damage. But what can I do to help heal your heart?"

"You've done a lot too," Ianto breathed, huddling close and resting his head on the older immortal's shoulder when he put an arm around his bare back. "And I've managed to bleed all over another of your shirts."

"I'll take it out in trade," Jack suggested half-jokingly, momentarily running his hand down the young Archivist's spine to tug at the waistband of his trousers before embracing him once more.

"I'm willing to offer a down payment," his partner stated earnestly, then smiled the first honest, relaxed smile the Captain had seen since the Changeling's return earlier in the day.

Harkness grinned and moved to engage the younger man in a very passionate kiss, gasping in surprise when he felt the Welshman shift to purposefully slide his left hand down along the fly-front of his Chinos with clear intent.

"CCTV's off?" he panted, resorting to quick, teasing kisses.

"Until I turn it back on from this end," Ianto all but purred, bringing his hand back up to loosen his leader's belt then unfasten the zipper and button for him.

"Let's go count some bullets," Jack growled as he stood up, helping his Welshman to his feet even as he shucked his braces and started unbuttoning his now blood smeared blue shirt and opened the door the younger man had punched a hole through.

The two slipped into the small, shelf filled room past the blood on the floor and headed for a familiar corner. This wasn't their first round in the cramped space packed with boxes of bullets and other munitions, and it obviously wouldn't be their last. At the moment it was merely a preview of things to come once they had the base all to themselves later in the night… and it was a very good thing that the walls of Torchwood-Cardiff couldn't talk.

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AN: Poor Ianto is not having a good day. But at least Jack is on board for making it a much better night.

Happy New Year!

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