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badly_knittedTitle: Miraculous Recovery – Follows ‘Stay With Me’
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 732
Spoilers: Set post-Children of Earth. Fix-it.
Summary: Ianto died, he’s pretty sure of that, but now he’s alive again…
Written For:
toomanyghosts’ prompt: any; any; better than I expected, at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
threesentenceficathon.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Dying is awful, but at least it’s relatively quick. Not so quick that Ianto doesn’t have time to say his goodbyes, drink in the sight of Jack’s face to carry with him into whatever afterlife may or may not exist, but a whole lot quicker than he would have expected death by alien virus to be. He doesn’t want to die, had hoped he’d have a few more years to enjoy being with the man he loves, but if he has to go, he’s glad it’s this way, in Jack’s arms, instead of alone, bleeding out in some dark, dank, lonely alley, ripped apart by a Weevil, or some unknown alien menace. He hopes Jack will keep his promise to remember him, doesn’t really expect him to, but still… Then his vision, already greying at the edges, fades out completely, and the last thing he hears is Jack begging him to stay, and… He really wishes he could; his heart breaks at the thought of leaving Jack to carry on alone. If there was any possible way, he’d take it, without a moment’s hesitation…
The first thing Ianto sees when he opens his eyes is Jack, leaning over him, his eyes red-rimmed from crying, but also smiling so wide his jaw must surely ache… Ianto’s does just from looking at him, and he winces in sympathy, then winces again as he realises Jack has his hand in a grip so tight it’s in danger of being crushed, which would be a shame; he finds having two working hands rather useful… He can do a lot more with two hands than just one. Jack must have belatedly realised what he was doing, perhaps because of the pained expression on Ianto’s face, because his grip loosens to something more bearable, and his smile softens to something less jaw-cracking, and altogether more comfortably familiar.
“Hey there, how are you feeling?”
That’s when Ianto realises that he’s still lying on a hard wooden floor, but in a large and completely unfamiliar room, half covered with some sort of blanket, and Jack is kneeling on the floor beside him, which must be a bit hard on his knees. The floor also feels unpleasantly cold, and Ianto’s arse has gone to sleep, making him wonder just how long he’s been lying here…
Ianto clears his throat, his mouth feeling dry as the desert, and manages to speak, sounding a bit hoarse but otherwise intelligible. “Quite a lot better than I was expecting, under the circumstances. Didn’t I… die? I sort of vaguely remember something about a fast-acting virus…” He trails off at the haunted expression on Jack’s face. “I did, didn’t I? I died.”
“Yeah, you did,” Jack admits, eyes welling up with tears again. “But there was no way I was losing you in such a stupid way. I never should’ve let you go to Thames House with me, not without precautions. I should’ve gone alone, made you stay with Gwen at the warehouse…” Jack’s hand around Ianto’s tightens again and Ianto yelps; he can’t help it, he can feel his bones grinding together.
“Jack… Fingers!” He doesn’t want to have miraculously come back from death just to end up with mangled fingers. What if he needs them for… something important?
“Sorry.” Jack loosens his grip, kisses Ianto’s fingers, as if that will soothe the pain he’s caused, which it really doesn’t although the gesture is appreciated, and lets go. “Think you can stand? We still have a job to do, and there’s not much time left.”
Ianto nods. “If you give me a hand; there seem to be a few bits of me that haven’t quite woken up yet.”
“Whatever you need.” Jack tosses the sheet aside and hoists Ianto onto his feet so fast they both almost overbalance, ending up clinging to each other to stay upright. It’s a reassuringly familiar position to be in, and Ianto smiles.
“Very efficient, thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Right, naptime’s over, so back to work then. Where do we start?”
Ianto ruthlessly pushes recent events to the back of his mind in order to focus on more important matters. They can discuss the ins and outs of his resurrection later, once the 456 have been dealt with and they have a chance to catch their breath. Right now, they have to save the world. Again. He’s surprisingly alright with that.
The End
The first thing Ianto sees when he opens his eyes is Jack, leaning over him, his eyes red-rimmed from crying, but also smiling so wide his jaw must surely ache… Ianto’s does just from looking at him, and he winces in sympathy, then winces again as he realises Jack has his hand in a grip so tight it’s in danger of being crushed, which would be a shame; he finds having two working hands rather useful… He can do a lot more with two hands than just one. Jack must have belatedly realised what he was doing, perhaps because of the pained expression on Ianto’s face, because his grip loosens to something more bearable, and his smile softens to something less jaw-cracking, and altogether more comfortably familiar.
“Hey there, how are you feeling?”
That’s when Ianto realises that he’s still lying on a hard wooden floor, but in a large and completely unfamiliar room, half covered with some sort of blanket, and Jack is kneeling on the floor beside him, which must be a bit hard on his knees. The floor also feels unpleasantly cold, and Ianto’s arse has gone to sleep, making him wonder just how long he’s been lying here…
Ianto clears his throat, his mouth feeling dry as the desert, and manages to speak, sounding a bit hoarse but otherwise intelligible. “Quite a lot better than I was expecting, under the circumstances. Didn’t I… die? I sort of vaguely remember something about a fast-acting virus…” He trails off at the haunted expression on Jack’s face. “I did, didn’t I? I died.”
“Yeah, you did,” Jack admits, eyes welling up with tears again. “But there was no way I was losing you in such a stupid way. I never should’ve let you go to Thames House with me, not without precautions. I should’ve gone alone, made you stay with Gwen at the warehouse…” Jack’s hand around Ianto’s tightens again and Ianto yelps; he can’t help it, he can feel his bones grinding together.
“Jack… Fingers!” He doesn’t want to have miraculously come back from death just to end up with mangled fingers. What if he needs them for… something important?
“Sorry.” Jack loosens his grip, kisses Ianto’s fingers, as if that will soothe the pain he’s caused, which it really doesn’t although the gesture is appreciated, and lets go. “Think you can stand? We still have a job to do, and there’s not much time left.”
Ianto nods. “If you give me a hand; there seem to be a few bits of me that haven’t quite woken up yet.”
“Whatever you need.” Jack tosses the sheet aside and hoists Ianto onto his feet so fast they both almost overbalance, ending up clinging to each other to stay upright. It’s a reassuringly familiar position to be in, and Ianto smiles.
“Very efficient, thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Right, naptime’s over, so back to work then. Where do we start?”
Ianto ruthlessly pushes recent events to the back of his mind in order to focus on more important matters. They can discuss the ins and outs of his resurrection later, once the 456 have been dealt with and they have a chance to catch their breath. Right now, they have to save the world. Again. He’s surprisingly alright with that.
The End
