![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mrwubblesTitle: Before You Know It (3 of 3, split due to length)
Author: Yuma
Rating: PG-13 (Teen, strong language and mentions of violence)
Category: no pairing, angst, hurt-comfort, team fic
Word Count: 5968 words. Complete
Warning: Mentions torture. Nothing graphic though. Strong language. Spoilers from DW's Utopia and TLOTTL. Takes place after TW's To the Last Man.
Summary: In all honesty, he should have been expecting it. He was there when boys, not yet men, suffered what was first called shell-shock, then combat fatigue, to the neatly packaged politically correct acronym.
Disclaimer: Torchwood is owned by BBC, Russell T Davies, and their mutual affiliates. This is for entertainment purposes only.
<-- Part 1
<-- Part 2
"You're not sleeping."
Jack jerked. Damn, he forgot Ianto was here. The young man was still sitting at the edge of the bed and Jack didn't realize he was accustomed to his presence until Ianto moved away to refill the glass.
"You should go home," Jack sighed, accepting a tall glass of yet more cool water. He drained it quickly, unwilling to chance it souring again from memory.
"And you should be sleeping," Ianto countered in that damn mild voice Jack found charming at times. Today wasn't one of them. "We both seem to be very consistent with not doing as we're told, sir."
Jack scowled, but the effect was lost to Ianto in the dark. He sagged back against the wall, cushioned by his pillow.
"Look, sorry if I worried you two before," Jack began, trying to find the words that kept slipping away from his mind. "I'm—"
"You stopped breathing, you know." Ianto's voice cracked, but only a little and then he went on as if he was chatting about the weather. "Just after I came down to the sewers. We tried to get you up to the surface between the two of us and halfway there, you…well…stopped." Jack could hear him shifting as if to adjust his suit. "Breathing, that is," Ianto clarified.
Lately, it felt like all Jack could ever do was apologize and apologize. He remembered hanging between two bodies, water all around him, voices echoing and warping to screams of agony. There had been a splinter of fear that the cries came from him and he reacted, in the only way he know how to win the next round from Saxon.
"Sorry." It was a lame attempt. Jack waved towards himself, glad the gloom hid the shaking in his hand. "See? Breathing. I'm okay now."
The disembodied scoff told him Ianto wasn't convinced. And for the first time in a long time, Jack wasn't either. It was a revelation that tightened in his chest like a vise.
"If you can't sleep," Ianto said all of a sudden, "Then perhaps now would be a good time to review our quarterly operation reports."
Jack was glad for a reason to be doing something, but it didn't stop him from predictably protesting, "I said I would review them next week."
"Yes," Ianto agreed in an amicable tone. "You did promise." He paused for dramatic effect, before adding, "last week that is." Another pause. "And the week before that."
"Fine. Put them on my desk. I'll look them over now," Jack grumbled half-heartedly as he started to swing his legs around. Ianto placed a hand on his blanket covered knee, stopping him.
"No need," Ianto nudged until Jack's legs were stretched out across the bed again. He sat closer on the bed, effectively trapping him there. "We can go over the reports here before dinner." He pressed a new drink into Jack's numb hands as if he knew Jack was thirsty again.
"I can't read in here," Jack pointed out.
"Who said anything about reading?" Ianto returned. "I can give you the report now, sir."
"Uh…you?"
Jack could hear the modest smile. "It has been three weeks, sir. I think I have it memorized fairly well."
Ianto didn't wait for a reply and went straight into his verbal report, first starting with the information center that hid their main entrance. Efficient as always, Ianto broke down each section that needed attention, talking in a precise and even voice that never paused, never rose even when he repeated the need to replace the coffee machine after Jack had tried to tweak it with an alien artifact they found. They still couldn't get out all the beans embedded in the wall.
Somewhere between the necessity to replace the hothouse's fluorescent lamps and to update their tactical kits, Jack found himself drifting. Ianto's voice lowered to a comforting, familiar white noise. He could hear Owen complaining about something as Gwen laughed in that full of life laugh he always envied. Tosh surprised them both with a giggle that was free of doubt, insecurity, and unhappiness.
All alive. Yet they were all dead before and their blood intermingled with his as he hung dying above their corpses. Jack closed his eyes, wishing desperately the smell would go away. He held his tongue as he was tortured; stoic as each one was caught and brought before him. They never pleaded for their life; never uttered a word to Jack. He had never been more proud. He had never been more heartbroken.
Their silence haunted him though. Even more than the scent of his own blood on his body or a strain of Glenn Miller that reminded him of dancing with beautiful Estelle during the Blitz.
The silence between bouts of torture was just as bad. Taunting the guards helped fill some gaps, but otherwise he was left alone to smell his own filth, his blood, and the tang of fear. The soup of odors grew heavy at times and he would choke. His fear as his mind wandered in the solitude would congeal and fester in his mind. He wondered how the Doctor was, if Martha was safe, who would be brought before him next. Alone, living while everything else was dying, until all there was left was the metallic tang of blood drying on his hair.
It was the first time Jack realized he was truly alone in there.
"Jack."
It was a light touch; warm fingers grazing across his knuckles that made him realize he was cold and clenching his hands so hard, they hurt. It took several blinks before the coppery smell and wet sounds of his pained panting disappeared.
Jack relaxed his hands and focused on Ianto's pale face in front of him.
"You're alright. We're alright," Ianto said quietly because the young man always knew what needed to be heard. Ianto paused and the sounds of Owen and Gwen's friendly disagreement floated by, Tosh's mediating voice a pleasant accompaniment.
"Of course you are," Jack quipped, but it sounded weak even to his ears. "You're with the Captain."
Ianto surprised him by agreeing. "Yes, we are." He fell silent, as if debating his next words.
"Thank you," Ianto said earnestly. "For coming back."
It was a gratitude he didn't feel like he deserved. Jack grunted, scrambled back up the bed until he could pull his knees up and past his human rail, swinging his legs over. Jack grimaced; he could feel how cold the floor was even through thick socks.
"Where're my boots?" he mumbled, one hand out to brace himself, ready to rise.
Ianto sounded weary. "Stop this." A firm hand wrapped around an elbow and pulled. It wasn't much of a struggle and Jack dropped back heavily onto the bed. "Just listen to Owen for once and rest up."
"I'm fin—"
"You are not fine!"
Stunned, Jack fell silent. Outside, the talking stopped, and then it started up again a little subdued. Ianto let go, parting with a brief squeeze around his bicep in apology.
"Sorry."
Jack gave a humorless laugh. "Shouldn't I be saying that? I left you guys. I was the one who ran out on you." He was the one who left them vulnerable to Saxon, at a loss when the—No, it didn't happen, damn it.
"Yes." Ianto didn't sound happy with the reminder. "But you also came back…from wherever you went."
It sounded like exoneration but Jack was at a loss on how to accept it.
"Where did you go?"
"I—I can't answer that," Jack answered, hushed. He kept his voice low not for privacy, but because he wanted to keep hearing the sounds of life beyond the open hatch.
"Can't as in the enigmatic Captain Jack Harkness' can't or as in you can't can't?"
This time, it was easier to laugh. Jack smiled wanly towards Ianto's direction. "Both." He sobered. "I just have to figure this out inside my head. I'm not…I know you guys think I'm shutting you out, but…" His head drooped. Jack felt drained. Odd especially since apparently he'd slept more than he ever did in a week.
"We only want to help you."
Jack's mouth quirked at the gentle explanation and he shrugged one shoulder. "I know. I just need—"
"Time," Ianto finished, with an insight that always surprised everyone, including himself at times. "Well, so long as you don't go gallivanting off to space or wherever you were again," Ianto mused lightly, "I suppose we could give you all the time you need."
Jack bumped his right shoulder against Ianto's. "Thanks," he rasped, warmed by the words. He fell silent again and just listened to Toshiko complaining loudly about someone's stained coffee cup on her station. Owen generously offered up Gwen as the culprit. Jack's lips twitched when he heard Owen's outraged yelp; Gwen apparently got her revenge.
The hollow echo Jack could feel like pressure in his ear eased somewhat. If anyone said silence was just a void of sound, Jack would correct them. It may be a void of sound, but everything else amplified. He felt sweat trickling down his face, blood smelled coppery and felt sharp drying on his skin, and the lack of noise itself held a sort of sound. It was a plaintive vibration of what should have been there: life, the melodic sounds of his team, alive and ready, his own agonized cries he refused to entertain Saxon with, and the welcomed thuds of the Doctor and Martha's footsteps, safe and sound. It was a culmination of every zero and gave its own painful hum that rang excessively in his ear until it hurt.
"Pudding?"
Huh?
Jack shook his head and looked up to find Gwen, hair all around her face as she stuck her head through the opening, grinning unabashed at them upside down.
He couldn't help himself. Jack pretended to leer up at her. "Yes, cupcake?"
Gwen lobbed a plastic spoon at his head.
"Punhara gave us rice pudding and fruit salad." Toshiko's explanation sailed past Gwen's shoulder from behind. A dainty hand stuck in the hole next to Gwen's head, showing their good fortune in a clear, plastic container of colorful fruit. "Did you want pudding or fruit?"
"Fruit, please," Ianto chose, earning a snort from Gwen for his healthier choice.
"Jack, did you want to eat with us up in the board room?" Toshiko asked hopefully. Gwen's head disappeared; her shushing still audible. Toshiko squeaked and didn't ask again.
Jack opened his mouth then closed it. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to crawl out of here and into the light he savored. Somehow, sitting here, in the darkness of his choosing was easier. Not better. Just easier.
"Actually," Ianto spoke up smoothly. "We were going to eat in his office later." Jack could feel Ianto's gaze on him. He nodded. "Thought we might as well get some work done. Quarterly operations reports."
"Oh." That was Toshiko, and she sounded so disappointed, Jack was going to change his mind when she brightened. "Operation reports? Are we getting new coffers?"
"Yes. Why?" Ianto asked, suspicion crept into the usually reserved voice.
"No reason," Gwen piped in. She popped her head in once more to offer them a sheepish grin before she disappeared again. "You may want to requisition a new hot plate though and a new fire extinguisher."
"And concrete for the floor," Tosh added.
Jack shouldn't laugh and he tried not to, but obviously he failed because he could sense Ianto glowering at him, but the higher, alarmed "Why?" Ianto gave was just too funny. Gwen answered in a bright voice, "Never mind, Ianto. We'll just eat out here, alright?"
"Try not to spill curry on the keyboards again," Ianto advised, but Jack grinned to himself when he heard the underlying plea. He laughed when Tosh gave a very uncharacteristic snort to the idea she would ever abuse her machines that way.
"Oi!" Owen could be heard, very annoyed, behind them. "I told you girls he needed to rest! What are you two doing here gawping about?"
"We were just asking which one they wanted," Gwen fired back. "We're not gawping."
"Ianto wanted the fruit," Tosh supplied.
Owen grunted. "No surprise. Tea boy probably wants to watch his girlish fi—Ow!" Owen howled and fell silent.
It was dead silent until…
"You deserved that," Tosh pointed out.
Owen growled and made a lot of noise hurrying them away until suddenly the open hatchway was clear again.
Jack chuckled and he could feel Ianto's muted laughter next to him. It felt good to laugh.
"Aye." Owen's grumbling could be heard over the opening but not seen. "You alright?"
Jack knew who the question was directed to. He thought for a moment and surprised himself by answering, "Getting there."
Owen just grunted, sounding surprised as well by the answer.
"Thanks," Jack added, looking at where he knew Ianto must be; right next to him.
"Right." The doctor could be heard shifting from foot to foot. "Food's on your desk. Best eat it while it's hot. Then straight back to bed. I'll check on you in the morning. Bed rest."
"Okay," Jack agreed begrudgingly.
"No coffee," Owen warned.
Jack groaned his agreement. Ianto muttered under his breath he'd pay ten quid to see that. Jack poked him with his foot.
"No solo Weevil hunting."
Jack could hear Ianto rolling his eyes. Jack just grunted out a promise. He was in no hurry to become a Weevil snack today.
"No sewer exploration. No shagging aliens. No defrosting soldiers. No running over sleeper aliens with the car—"
"Alright! Okay!" Jack exclaimed, but he surprised himself by laughing. "None of that. Promise. Not going anywhere."
"Better not," Owen grunted. Footsteps walked away then stopped. "I'm out here if you need anything." Owen didn't wait for an answer.
Jack closed his eyes and listened. Someone laughed in the distance and he smiled faintly. Soft, pleasant noises chattered and filled the Hub, trickling into the gloom. He could still hear the hollow thud of silence, thumping against his heart. The blood remained albeit fainter and he found it easier to breathe.
Without preamble, Ianto continued with his report, his words even and slow as he reviewed updating the visitor maps in Reception upstairs. Jack stared at the profile he could barely make out in the dark. Ianto never faltered, talking so low at times, Jack strained to hear a syllable. Outside, the other three were still loud enough to hear, but no longer audible enough to understand. Just enough noise to let him know life was singing outside his haven. Jack wondered if it was deliberate as he felt his body grow heavy.
This was what he came back for. This was what he thought about as he hung on his chains and grieved the dead. It hurt back then, God, it hurt so much. But when Saxon left him alone, it was worse. It was a wordless, soundless, cold void. The memories of Torchwood kept him warm until they returned to hurt and break him.
That cold, wiggling feeling returned in his stomach. The scent of his blood congealing on the floor grew stronger. Jack swallowed.
Ianto stopped for a moment and Jack blinked sleepily towards his direction as he felt the sheet being pulled up higher around him.
"Does it help to know we're alright?" Ianto asked, hushed.
Hell, yeah. "Yes," Jack's voice cracked. "It helps a lot."
Ianto sounded satisfied. "Good." And he continued with his report like he'd never stopped.
Yes, Jack thought as he heard the others start up again, Gwen yelping something about her pudding. Ianto never paused, but there was a chuckle under his words as he could not help but listen. Jack knew there was a smile on his lips as his eyes slid shut on their own accord.
Ianto was right. They were all alright. And that was good. In fact…
It was fantastic.
The End
Author's Acknowledgment: Dedicated to Brate, Gina, Joyce, and Paula.
Feedback is like cookies. I like cookies. -lol-
Author: Yuma
Rating: PG-13 (Teen, strong language and mentions of violence)
Category: no pairing, angst, hurt-comfort, team fic
Word Count: 5968 words. Complete
Warning: Mentions torture. Nothing graphic though. Strong language. Spoilers from DW's Utopia and TLOTTL. Takes place after TW's To the Last Man.
Summary: In all honesty, he should have been expecting it. He was there when boys, not yet men, suffered what was first called shell-shock, then combat fatigue, to the neatly packaged politically correct acronym.
Disclaimer: Torchwood is owned by BBC, Russell T Davies, and their mutual affiliates. This is for entertainment purposes only.
<-- Part 1
<-- Part 2
"You're not sleeping."
Jack jerked. Damn, he forgot Ianto was here. The young man was still sitting at the edge of the bed and Jack didn't realize he was accustomed to his presence until Ianto moved away to refill the glass.
"You should go home," Jack sighed, accepting a tall glass of yet more cool water. He drained it quickly, unwilling to chance it souring again from memory.
"And you should be sleeping," Ianto countered in that damn mild voice Jack found charming at times. Today wasn't one of them. "We both seem to be very consistent with not doing as we're told, sir."
Jack scowled, but the effect was lost to Ianto in the dark. He sagged back against the wall, cushioned by his pillow.
"Look, sorry if I worried you two before," Jack began, trying to find the words that kept slipping away from his mind. "I'm—"
"You stopped breathing, you know." Ianto's voice cracked, but only a little and then he went on as if he was chatting about the weather. "Just after I came down to the sewers. We tried to get you up to the surface between the two of us and halfway there, you…well…stopped." Jack could hear him shifting as if to adjust his suit. "Breathing, that is," Ianto clarified.
Lately, it felt like all Jack could ever do was apologize and apologize. He remembered hanging between two bodies, water all around him, voices echoing and warping to screams of agony. There had been a splinter of fear that the cries came from him and he reacted, in the only way he know how to win the next round from Saxon.
"Sorry." It was a lame attempt. Jack waved towards himself, glad the gloom hid the shaking in his hand. "See? Breathing. I'm okay now."
The disembodied scoff told him Ianto wasn't convinced. And for the first time in a long time, Jack wasn't either. It was a revelation that tightened in his chest like a vise.
"If you can't sleep," Ianto said all of a sudden, "Then perhaps now would be a good time to review our quarterly operation reports."
Jack was glad for a reason to be doing something, but it didn't stop him from predictably protesting, "I said I would review them next week."
"Yes," Ianto agreed in an amicable tone. "You did promise." He paused for dramatic effect, before adding, "last week that is." Another pause. "And the week before that."
"Fine. Put them on my desk. I'll look them over now," Jack grumbled half-heartedly as he started to swing his legs around. Ianto placed a hand on his blanket covered knee, stopping him.
"No need," Ianto nudged until Jack's legs were stretched out across the bed again. He sat closer on the bed, effectively trapping him there. "We can go over the reports here before dinner." He pressed a new drink into Jack's numb hands as if he knew Jack was thirsty again.
"I can't read in here," Jack pointed out.
"Who said anything about reading?" Ianto returned. "I can give you the report now, sir."
"Uh…you?"
Jack could hear the modest smile. "It has been three weeks, sir. I think I have it memorized fairly well."
Ianto didn't wait for a reply and went straight into his verbal report, first starting with the information center that hid their main entrance. Efficient as always, Ianto broke down each section that needed attention, talking in a precise and even voice that never paused, never rose even when he repeated the need to replace the coffee machine after Jack had tried to tweak it with an alien artifact they found. They still couldn't get out all the beans embedded in the wall.
Somewhere between the necessity to replace the hothouse's fluorescent lamps and to update their tactical kits, Jack found himself drifting. Ianto's voice lowered to a comforting, familiar white noise. He could hear Owen complaining about something as Gwen laughed in that full of life laugh he always envied. Tosh surprised them both with a giggle that was free of doubt, insecurity, and unhappiness.
All alive. Yet they were all dead before and their blood intermingled with his as he hung dying above their corpses. Jack closed his eyes, wishing desperately the smell would go away. He held his tongue as he was tortured; stoic as each one was caught and brought before him. They never pleaded for their life; never uttered a word to Jack. He had never been more proud. He had never been more heartbroken.
Their silence haunted him though. Even more than the scent of his own blood on his body or a strain of Glenn Miller that reminded him of dancing with beautiful Estelle during the Blitz.
The silence between bouts of torture was just as bad. Taunting the guards helped fill some gaps, but otherwise he was left alone to smell his own filth, his blood, and the tang of fear. The soup of odors grew heavy at times and he would choke. His fear as his mind wandered in the solitude would congeal and fester in his mind. He wondered how the Doctor was, if Martha was safe, who would be brought before him next. Alone, living while everything else was dying, until all there was left was the metallic tang of blood drying on his hair.
It was the first time Jack realized he was truly alone in there.
"Jack."
It was a light touch; warm fingers grazing across his knuckles that made him realize he was cold and clenching his hands so hard, they hurt. It took several blinks before the coppery smell and wet sounds of his pained panting disappeared.
Jack relaxed his hands and focused on Ianto's pale face in front of him.
"You're alright. We're alright," Ianto said quietly because the young man always knew what needed to be heard. Ianto paused and the sounds of Owen and Gwen's friendly disagreement floated by, Tosh's mediating voice a pleasant accompaniment.
"Of course you are," Jack quipped, but it sounded weak even to his ears. "You're with the Captain."
Ianto surprised him by agreeing. "Yes, we are." He fell silent, as if debating his next words.
"Thank you," Ianto said earnestly. "For coming back."
It was a gratitude he didn't feel like he deserved. Jack grunted, scrambled back up the bed until he could pull his knees up and past his human rail, swinging his legs over. Jack grimaced; he could feel how cold the floor was even through thick socks.
"Where're my boots?" he mumbled, one hand out to brace himself, ready to rise.
Ianto sounded weary. "Stop this." A firm hand wrapped around an elbow and pulled. It wasn't much of a struggle and Jack dropped back heavily onto the bed. "Just listen to Owen for once and rest up."
"I'm fin—"
"You are not fine!"
Stunned, Jack fell silent. Outside, the talking stopped, and then it started up again a little subdued. Ianto let go, parting with a brief squeeze around his bicep in apology.
"Sorry."
Jack gave a humorless laugh. "Shouldn't I be saying that? I left you guys. I was the one who ran out on you." He was the one who left them vulnerable to Saxon, at a loss when the—No, it didn't happen, damn it.
"Yes." Ianto didn't sound happy with the reminder. "But you also came back…from wherever you went."
It sounded like exoneration but Jack was at a loss on how to accept it.
"Where did you go?"
"I—I can't answer that," Jack answered, hushed. He kept his voice low not for privacy, but because he wanted to keep hearing the sounds of life beyond the open hatch.
"Can't as in the enigmatic Captain Jack Harkness' can't or as in you can't can't?"
This time, it was easier to laugh. Jack smiled wanly towards Ianto's direction. "Both." He sobered. "I just have to figure this out inside my head. I'm not…I know you guys think I'm shutting you out, but…" His head drooped. Jack felt drained. Odd especially since apparently he'd slept more than he ever did in a week.
"We only want to help you."
Jack's mouth quirked at the gentle explanation and he shrugged one shoulder. "I know. I just need—"
"Time," Ianto finished, with an insight that always surprised everyone, including himself at times. "Well, so long as you don't go gallivanting off to space or wherever you were again," Ianto mused lightly, "I suppose we could give you all the time you need."
Jack bumped his right shoulder against Ianto's. "Thanks," he rasped, warmed by the words. He fell silent again and just listened to Toshiko complaining loudly about someone's stained coffee cup on her station. Owen generously offered up Gwen as the culprit. Jack's lips twitched when he heard Owen's outraged yelp; Gwen apparently got her revenge.
The hollow echo Jack could feel like pressure in his ear eased somewhat. If anyone said silence was just a void of sound, Jack would correct them. It may be a void of sound, but everything else amplified. He felt sweat trickling down his face, blood smelled coppery and felt sharp drying on his skin, and the lack of noise itself held a sort of sound. It was a plaintive vibration of what should have been there: life, the melodic sounds of his team, alive and ready, his own agonized cries he refused to entertain Saxon with, and the welcomed thuds of the Doctor and Martha's footsteps, safe and sound. It was a culmination of every zero and gave its own painful hum that rang excessively in his ear until it hurt.
"Pudding?"
Huh?
Jack shook his head and looked up to find Gwen, hair all around her face as she stuck her head through the opening, grinning unabashed at them upside down.
He couldn't help himself. Jack pretended to leer up at her. "Yes, cupcake?"
Gwen lobbed a plastic spoon at his head.
"Punhara gave us rice pudding and fruit salad." Toshiko's explanation sailed past Gwen's shoulder from behind. A dainty hand stuck in the hole next to Gwen's head, showing their good fortune in a clear, plastic container of colorful fruit. "Did you want pudding or fruit?"
"Fruit, please," Ianto chose, earning a snort from Gwen for his healthier choice.
"Jack, did you want to eat with us up in the board room?" Toshiko asked hopefully. Gwen's head disappeared; her shushing still audible. Toshiko squeaked and didn't ask again.
Jack opened his mouth then closed it. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to crawl out of here and into the light he savored. Somehow, sitting here, in the darkness of his choosing was easier. Not better. Just easier.
"Actually," Ianto spoke up smoothly. "We were going to eat in his office later." Jack could feel Ianto's gaze on him. He nodded. "Thought we might as well get some work done. Quarterly operations reports."
"Oh." That was Toshiko, and she sounded so disappointed, Jack was going to change his mind when she brightened. "Operation reports? Are we getting new coffers?"
"Yes. Why?" Ianto asked, suspicion crept into the usually reserved voice.
"No reason," Gwen piped in. She popped her head in once more to offer them a sheepish grin before she disappeared again. "You may want to requisition a new hot plate though and a new fire extinguisher."
"And concrete for the floor," Tosh added.
Jack shouldn't laugh and he tried not to, but obviously he failed because he could sense Ianto glowering at him, but the higher, alarmed "Why?" Ianto gave was just too funny. Gwen answered in a bright voice, "Never mind, Ianto. We'll just eat out here, alright?"
"Try not to spill curry on the keyboards again," Ianto advised, but Jack grinned to himself when he heard the underlying plea. He laughed when Tosh gave a very uncharacteristic snort to the idea she would ever abuse her machines that way.
"Oi!" Owen could be heard, very annoyed, behind them. "I told you girls he needed to rest! What are you two doing here gawping about?"
"We were just asking which one they wanted," Gwen fired back. "We're not gawping."
"Ianto wanted the fruit," Tosh supplied.
Owen grunted. "No surprise. Tea boy probably wants to watch his girlish fi—Ow!" Owen howled and fell silent.
It was dead silent until…
"You deserved that," Tosh pointed out.
Owen growled and made a lot of noise hurrying them away until suddenly the open hatchway was clear again.
Jack chuckled and he could feel Ianto's muted laughter next to him. It felt good to laugh.
"Aye." Owen's grumbling could be heard over the opening but not seen. "You alright?"
Jack knew who the question was directed to. He thought for a moment and surprised himself by answering, "Getting there."
Owen just grunted, sounding surprised as well by the answer.
"Thanks," Jack added, looking at where he knew Ianto must be; right next to him.
"Right." The doctor could be heard shifting from foot to foot. "Food's on your desk. Best eat it while it's hot. Then straight back to bed. I'll check on you in the morning. Bed rest."
"Okay," Jack agreed begrudgingly.
"No coffee," Owen warned.
Jack groaned his agreement. Ianto muttered under his breath he'd pay ten quid to see that. Jack poked him with his foot.
"No solo Weevil hunting."
Jack could hear Ianto rolling his eyes. Jack just grunted out a promise. He was in no hurry to become a Weevil snack today.
"No sewer exploration. No shagging aliens. No defrosting soldiers. No running over sleeper aliens with the car—"
"Alright! Okay!" Jack exclaimed, but he surprised himself by laughing. "None of that. Promise. Not going anywhere."
"Better not," Owen grunted. Footsteps walked away then stopped. "I'm out here if you need anything." Owen didn't wait for an answer.
Jack closed his eyes and listened. Someone laughed in the distance and he smiled faintly. Soft, pleasant noises chattered and filled the Hub, trickling into the gloom. He could still hear the hollow thud of silence, thumping against his heart. The blood remained albeit fainter and he found it easier to breathe.
Without preamble, Ianto continued with his report, his words even and slow as he reviewed updating the visitor maps in Reception upstairs. Jack stared at the profile he could barely make out in the dark. Ianto never faltered, talking so low at times, Jack strained to hear a syllable. Outside, the other three were still loud enough to hear, but no longer audible enough to understand. Just enough noise to let him know life was singing outside his haven. Jack wondered if it was deliberate as he felt his body grow heavy.
This was what he came back for. This was what he thought about as he hung on his chains and grieved the dead. It hurt back then, God, it hurt so much. But when Saxon left him alone, it was worse. It was a wordless, soundless, cold void. The memories of Torchwood kept him warm until they returned to hurt and break him.
That cold, wiggling feeling returned in his stomach. The scent of his blood congealing on the floor grew stronger. Jack swallowed.
Ianto stopped for a moment and Jack blinked sleepily towards his direction as he felt the sheet being pulled up higher around him.
"Does it help to know we're alright?" Ianto asked, hushed.
Hell, yeah. "Yes," Jack's voice cracked. "It helps a lot."
Ianto sounded satisfied. "Good." And he continued with his report like he'd never stopped.
Yes, Jack thought as he heard the others start up again, Gwen yelping something about her pudding. Ianto never paused, but there was a chuckle under his words as he could not help but listen. Jack knew there was a smile on his lips as his eyes slid shut on their own accord.
Ianto was right. They were all alright. And that was good. In fact…
It was fantastic.
The End
Author's Acknowledgment: Dedicated to Brate, Gina, Joyce, and Paula.
Feedback is like cookies. I like cookies. -lol-
