Ficlet: Not Indestructible
Jun. 4th, 2026 07:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: Not Indestructible
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Jack, Ianto, Owen, Gwen, Tosh.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 936
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There are times Ianto is convinced Jack has no common sense whatsoever.
Written For:
acoldwarinmyhead’s prompt ‘Any, Any, “Why is he bleeding?” / “Because he is an idiot!”,’ at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
threesentenceficathon.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Just because Jack was immortal and came back to life fully healed whenever he was killed didn’t mean he couldn’t get hurt; injury was an occupational hazard for all Torchwood employees, and Jack, despite his unusual abilities, was no exception. Unfortunately for everyone, but mostly for Jack, he had something of a reckless streak, diving headfirst into danger without a thought for his own safety. He sometimes seemed to forget that he didn’t heal quite instantaneously if he didn’t die, and Ianto was the one who usually found himself picking up the pieces and putting his lover back together, sometimes literally, although thankfully not this time. Which wasn’t much of a consolation, when he thought about it.
He staggered into the Hub from the underground garage, doing his best to support Jack, who was listing badly to one side and didn’t seem capable of walking in a straight line without assistance. Even WITH assistance, the task was almost beyond him.
“Oi! Owen! A little help here would be good!” That took all the breath Ianto could spare; Jack wasn’t exactly a lightweight. Not that he was fat, but he still outweighed Ianto, which made half-carrying him something of a struggle.
Taking in the situation at a glance, Owen abandoned his computer game and pulled his white coat on, muttering something about stupid immortal idiots, and what had their fearless, brainless leader done to himself this time? It was a valid question.
“Bring him down to the med bay and I’ll take a look at him. Assuming he hasn’t healed by the time he gets there.”
“What happened?” Gwen said, rushing to give Ianto a hand, supporting Jack on his other side, which didn’t really help much since he was leaning all his weight in the opposite direction, against Ianto. Still, the attempt at assistance was appreciated. Sometimes it was the thought that counted.
“The usual. Mistook himself for a superhero. Again.”
Somewhat precariously, with Jack threatening to topple over with every step, they made their way down the stairs to the med bay.
“But why is he bleeding?” Gwen demanded.
Blood was still dripping down Jack’s face and onto his coat, which meant more work for Ianto. He’d have to take it to the drycleaners once he’d rinsed off most of the blood with cold water.
Grunting with the effort of keeping Jack vaguely upright, Ianto rolled his eyes. “Because he’s an idiot, that’s why,” he panted. “Should’ve been a nice, simple Weevil hunt, only our brilliant captain forgot his Weevil spray, didn’t he? So when he cornered a big bull Weevil in an alley, what did he do? In his absolute conviction that he’s indestructible as well as immortal, he decided to headbutt the damn thing, right in the face, and you know how bony a Weevil’s head is. Broke his nose, bit right through his bottom lip, and gave himself a concussion. Which is probably fine, it’s not like he ever bothers to use his brain.”
“What happened to the Weevil?” Tosh asked, leaning over the med bay railing as Ianto and Gwen manhandled Jack over to the examination table and propped him against it, since there was little chance they could get him up onto it. Even if, by some miracle, they managed, he’d probably only fall off the other side and do himself more damage. It seemed safer for all concerned not to try.
“Poor thing was so unnerved, it ran off, straight down the nearest manhole. Probably not used to having humans throw themselves at it. With any luck, it’ll decide to stay in the sewers, where it’s safer.”
Owen came striding over, penlight in one hand, flashing it in Jack’s eyes, making him blink and tip sideways even further. Ianto grabbed an arm and held on. If Jack ended up on the floor, they’d never get him back on his feet. He’d have to stay there on the cold tiles until he healed.
“Definitely concussed,” Owen declared. “Someone should keep a close eye on him for a few hours.”
Ianto gave a resigned sigh. “By someone, you mean me.”
“Nice of you to volunteer.” Owen continued his examination. “Lip seems to be healing, shouldn’t need stitches. Now, let’s see about his nose.” One hand reached up, grabbed Jack’s nose, and forcibly straightened it, with a horrible crunching sound. Gwen winced, Jack yelled, then slumped into Ianto’s arms, his dead weight dragging Ianto to the floor with him.
“Oh, thanks for that,” Ianto said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“You’re welcome.” Owen peeled off his bloodstained latex gloves and dropped them in the bin, then stripped off his white coat. “He’ll be fine. He always is. Don’t know why I even bother.”
“Because it’s your job?” Extracting himself from beneath his unconscious lover, Ianto peeled him out of his coat, tossed it onto the examination table, and settled Jack in the recovery position before doing what he could to clean the blood off his lover’s face.
“This is what you get for being an idiot,” he muttered, checking that Jack’s nose was properly aligned. It was. Owen might not have much of a bedside manner, but he was good at his job. “Right, you can stay there while I deal with your coat. Best to get the blood out while it’s still wet.”
There was a lot about Jack that Ianto loved; he was charming, charismatic, handsome, a skilled and unselfish lover, and a good cook, but self-preservation was not his strong point. Still, Ianto supposed nobody was perfect; sometimes you just had to make the best of what you’d got.
The End
He staggered into the Hub from the underground garage, doing his best to support Jack, who was listing badly to one side and didn’t seem capable of walking in a straight line without assistance. Even WITH assistance, the task was almost beyond him.
“Oi! Owen! A little help here would be good!” That took all the breath Ianto could spare; Jack wasn’t exactly a lightweight. Not that he was fat, but he still outweighed Ianto, which made half-carrying him something of a struggle.
Taking in the situation at a glance, Owen abandoned his computer game and pulled his white coat on, muttering something about stupid immortal idiots, and what had their fearless, brainless leader done to himself this time? It was a valid question.
“Bring him down to the med bay and I’ll take a look at him. Assuming he hasn’t healed by the time he gets there.”
“What happened?” Gwen said, rushing to give Ianto a hand, supporting Jack on his other side, which didn’t really help much since he was leaning all his weight in the opposite direction, against Ianto. Still, the attempt at assistance was appreciated. Sometimes it was the thought that counted.
“The usual. Mistook himself for a superhero. Again.”
Somewhat precariously, with Jack threatening to topple over with every step, they made their way down the stairs to the med bay.
“But why is he bleeding?” Gwen demanded.
Blood was still dripping down Jack’s face and onto his coat, which meant more work for Ianto. He’d have to take it to the drycleaners once he’d rinsed off most of the blood with cold water.
Grunting with the effort of keeping Jack vaguely upright, Ianto rolled his eyes. “Because he’s an idiot, that’s why,” he panted. “Should’ve been a nice, simple Weevil hunt, only our brilliant captain forgot his Weevil spray, didn’t he? So when he cornered a big bull Weevil in an alley, what did he do? In his absolute conviction that he’s indestructible as well as immortal, he decided to headbutt the damn thing, right in the face, and you know how bony a Weevil’s head is. Broke his nose, bit right through his bottom lip, and gave himself a concussion. Which is probably fine, it’s not like he ever bothers to use his brain.”
“What happened to the Weevil?” Tosh asked, leaning over the med bay railing as Ianto and Gwen manhandled Jack over to the examination table and propped him against it, since there was little chance they could get him up onto it. Even if, by some miracle, they managed, he’d probably only fall off the other side and do himself more damage. It seemed safer for all concerned not to try.
“Poor thing was so unnerved, it ran off, straight down the nearest manhole. Probably not used to having humans throw themselves at it. With any luck, it’ll decide to stay in the sewers, where it’s safer.”
Owen came striding over, penlight in one hand, flashing it in Jack’s eyes, making him blink and tip sideways even further. Ianto grabbed an arm and held on. If Jack ended up on the floor, they’d never get him back on his feet. He’d have to stay there on the cold tiles until he healed.
“Definitely concussed,” Owen declared. “Someone should keep a close eye on him for a few hours.”
Ianto gave a resigned sigh. “By someone, you mean me.”
“Nice of you to volunteer.” Owen continued his examination. “Lip seems to be healing, shouldn’t need stitches. Now, let’s see about his nose.” One hand reached up, grabbed Jack’s nose, and forcibly straightened it, with a horrible crunching sound. Gwen winced, Jack yelled, then slumped into Ianto’s arms, his dead weight dragging Ianto to the floor with him.
“Oh, thanks for that,” Ianto said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“You’re welcome.” Owen peeled off his bloodstained latex gloves and dropped them in the bin, then stripped off his white coat. “He’ll be fine. He always is. Don’t know why I even bother.”
“Because it’s your job?” Extracting himself from beneath his unconscious lover, Ianto peeled him out of his coat, tossed it onto the examination table, and settled Jack in the recovery position before doing what he could to clean the blood off his lover’s face.
“This is what you get for being an idiot,” he muttered, checking that Jack’s nose was properly aligned. It was. Owen might not have much of a bedside manner, but he was good at his job. “Right, you can stay there while I deal with your coat. Best to get the blood out while it’s still wet.”
There was a lot about Jack that Ianto loved; he was charming, charismatic, handsome, a skilled and unselfish lover, and a good cook, but self-preservation was not his strong point. Still, Ianto supposed nobody was perfect; sometimes you just had to make the best of what you’d got.
The End
(no subject)
Date: 2026-06-04 11:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2026-06-05 09:22 am (UTC)Thank you!