Fic: The Worst Nightmare

[badly_knitted]

 


Title: The Worst Nightmare
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Jack and Ianto both have more than their share of nightmares. Some are worse than others.
Word Count: 1063
Written For: Prompt 143 – Nightmare at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
 


 
Jack was accustomed to nightmares; he’d had more than enough of them himself. His nights were haunted by Gray’s abduction, the fae and their red rose petals, his abandonment aboard the Game Station, the mystery of the two years the Time Agency stole from him, and the year he spent being repeatedly tortured to death for the Master’s pleasure. Then there were the torments inflicted on him by Alice and Emily, Alex murdering his entire team before killing himself, Lucia leaving and taking their daughter with her, the faces of every single person he’d ever failed to save, all condemning him… Honestly, it was amazing he ever managed to sleep peacefully, even for a couple of hours.
 

Ianto understood and never complained about his restlessness, the screams and panicked flailing, being woken by an elbow in the ribs, or a knee in the stomach… He was no stranger to nightmares either; how could he be after all he’d lived through? Although he was so much younger than Jack, he’d already experienced horrors that would be unimaginable to most people. He’d witnessed friends and acquaintances as well as complete strangers slaughtered during the Canary Wharf battle; some were exterminated by Daleks, others deleted by the Cybermen, their bodies left scattered throughout Torchwood Tower. Dozens of people had been fully or partially converted to join the ranks of the Cybermen, and he’d discovered his own girlfriend strapped to a conversion unit, parts of her body encased in metal…
 

He had all the memories of escaping London with Lisa, of tending to her every need, trying to keep her alive, smuggling her into the Hub, and then of her homicidal rampage and final death. He carried so much guilt over that, and over the murders the Cyberwoman committed. On top of that he’d been taken prisoner by cannibals intent on butchering him.
 

Nightmares were a fact of life for both men, and maybe that was part of the reason their relationship worked so well. They understood each other, and the comfort they offered was based on empathy rather than pity. They didn’t need to apologise when their own bad dreams disturbed their lover’s sleep, although more often than not they did. They each knew the comfort and reassurance they offered one night would be repaid before long, and they’d be on the receiving end.
 

Only a few days ago, Jack had been the one gently shaken awake, sitting bolt upright in the darkness, eyes wide with remembered horror, and a scream on his lips as he’d snapped out of a nightmare that was more memory than dream. The Master’s face looming before his mind’s eye, the Master’s sneering voice mocking the ‘freak’ as the Time Lord casually thrust a red-hot poker into an open wound. Ianto had held him, warm hands soothing him, his deep voice, made huskier by sleep, murmuring over and over that it was okay, Jack was safe, the horrors of the Year that Never Was were behind him and he was home.
 

They’d made love once Jack had calmed down, the remembered agonies swept away on a tide of pleasure, and when they’d both finally drifted off to sleep, if either of them had dreamed again that night they hadn’t remembered come morning.
 

So when Jack was woken by Ianto’s desperate moans and cries of, “No, don’t, please stop!” he’d immediately rolled towards his lover, gathering the young Welshman into his arms, glad that he’d listened to Ianto and bought a proper bed for his recently expanded quarters in the Hub so they no longer had to share the cramped ex-army cot. At least now neither of them was in danger of getting tipped out onto the concrete floor due to the other’s restlessness.
 

“Shhh, it’s alright, I’ve got you. C’mon, Ianto; wake up, open those beautiful eyes. It’s just a bad dream, everything’s okay.”
 

“Make them stop…” Ianto whimpered.

 
Jack gave Ianto’s arm a sharp pinch, the brief pain serving to snap him out of his nightmare. Stormy blue eyes blinked open.
 

“Hey.” Propping himself on one elbow, Jack smiled down at his lover in the dim light filtering through the open manhole. “You okay? Sounded like a pretty bad nightmare.”
 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ianto rubbed his eyes. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”
 

“Nothing to apologise for.” Jack flopped down, his arms tightening around Ianto, pulling him closer.
 

Ianto shifted to rest his head on Jack’s chest, reassured by the steady beat of his lover’s heart. He wrapped one arm around the other man and breathed in the comfortingly familiar aroma of fifty-first century pheromones.

 
“Thank you.”
 

“You want to talk about it?” Jack brushed his lips lightly against the top of Ianto’s head, soft hair tickling his face.

 
“Think I’d rather try to put it out of my mind.”
 

“That bad, huh? Cybermen again?”
 

“Mm, at the start anyway, but…” Ianto trailed off, shuddering.
 

“But?” Jack prompted. As much as Ianto hated talking about his nightmares, it was usually the only way to exorcise them so he could get back to sleep.

 
Ianto huffed against Jack’s chest. “Fine. Yes, there were Cybermen, and they had you strapped to a conversion unit, and then it turned into a bed, and the Cybermen turned into Weevils wearing bondage gear, and then it got worse because a whole chorus fine of Weevils done up like Las Vegas showgirls in feathers, stiletto heels, and bright pink tutus came dancing through the room. They were doing the cancan and they had nothing on under their skirts. They were flashing their Weevil bits with every kick. In unison.” Ianto burrowed closer to Jack. “It was horrible. I thought Cybermen were bad enough, but the Weevils…” He shuddered again.

 
Jack squeezed Ianto tighter; he knew he should be reassuring, say something along the lines of, “It’s not real. It was just a dream,” but he wasn’t sure that would help. Once you’ve seen something, even in a dream, it can’t be unseen, except maybe with Retcon.
 

After a few minutes of silence, Ianto raised his head off Jack’s chest, just far enough to see the horrified expression on his lover’s face.
 

“Jack? You okay?”
 

“Weevils… naked… cancan…” Jack shook his head. “There’s no way I’m going back to sleep now.”
 

“Me neither,” Ianto agreed. “That’s the last time we’re ever watching Moulin Rouge after a Weevil hunt.”
 

 
The End