(no subject)
Tosh was in charge of making sure Ianto didn't do something drastic. When she asked Jack what, exactly, could be more drastic than hiding a Cyber-girlfriend in the basement for months and almost getting the entire team killed (quietly, of course, Owen didn't need any more reason to accidentally poke at lacerations or bruises), he just sighed quietly and said to see that the Hub didn't burn down or that a body wasn't found in the bay the next morning.
"He's concussed and, frankly, I doubt he's dangerous to anyone but himself. Owen's going to give you a few medications you can shoot into him if you want, though."
Tosh made a quiet noise; she didn’t even like the regular (and often experimental, no matter what he said about alien vaccinations) injections Owen visited on everyone.
"Tosh, it'll be fine," Jack said, tongue briefly darting out to touch his still-oozing lip. "I wouldn't ask you to do it, but Gwen's too new, and if Owen or I watched him...well, if I have to see him for ten more minutes, I'll end up shooting him after all. I'd give Owen about four minutes. Anyway, he's cuffed, he's sedated, and you have the keys, drugs, and gun."
Tosh nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as Owen led Ianto up the stairs from the autopsy bay. Jack walked away, gesturing to Owen to follow with the hand that wasn't resting on the butt of his holstered Webley. Ianto wouldn't meet her eyes, squinting down at the floor through bruised lids. There was blood drying on his suit and in his hair, sticking the slight curls down, and his hands were cuffed in front of him.
"Come on, then," she said softly, taking his elbow. He jerked at her touch but followed her quietly though the Hub door.
They were almost to her car before he spoke.
"It's not fair that they're making you do it."
"What?" Tosh almost shouted at him, so startled by him speaking to her that she almost jumped out of her skin.
"Retcon. Execution. It should be," he muttered, making a subdued hand gesture that she was forced to interpret as referring to Owen, for the medical administration of retcon, or Jack, for the administration of a bullet.
"It's not like that, Ianto," she said firmly, unlocking her car and all but shoving him into the passenger door. And wasn't it almost fun to be able to manhandle a six-foot bloke? But the fine fabric beneath her hands was stiff with drying blood, and the glints of silver from his wrists reminded her of her power over him and of the reason she had been given it in the first place.
This, she reflected as she buckled her seat belt, was going to be an awkward night.
The feeling did not abate over the long drive to her flat. She sat, feeling diminutive and powerless in the driver's seat, feeling the palpable rage and confusion radiating off Ianto in the passenger's seat. She barely curbed the impulse to announce the turns of the GPS as she took them, reasoning that one turn was the same to him. There would be more than enough time for awkward instruction when they got to her apartment.
"Well!" she said, putting her car in park, all too soon. "Here we are!"
Ianto didn't say anything; he didn't stir at all, which unnerved her slightly. What if he didn't cooperate when she went to get him out of the car? What would her neighbours think? How would she explain this, and oh, why couldn't he have handled this himself?!
But when she opened the passenger door and saw the dark bruises blooming on Ianto's face, it was like a punch in the gut. This was why he was on her doorstep. Jack didn't trust himself with this man, and she couldn't forget her own sins in the face of this child, skin bruising even as she stood on her doorstep.
"Come on," she murmured, taking Ianto's elbow and trying her best to guide his weight down to the pavement. Ianto didn't say anything, but followed the gentle pressure of her hand, and barely startled at the clang of the closing car door.
It was almost surprisingly easy to lead him up to her door - he was just as docile as under the threat of Jack's gun. She wasn't sure if she had been expecting him to rebel against a gentler touch, but felt gratified when she was able to steer him into her guest room.
"You can change in here, if you want to," she said, colouring slightly. "Jack sent clothes home that you can change into."
Ianto just nodded, not looking at the bed, the walls, or her.
"I'll just leave them in the loo," she mumbled. "It's the second door on your right. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen!"
And with that, she was finally able to abandon him to the mercy of her hot water and the pipes. It was unfair, she thought, for Jack to entrust her with Ianto's well-being. Although, if she was honest, there was no one else to do it.
Part 2
"He's concussed and, frankly, I doubt he's dangerous to anyone but himself. Owen's going to give you a few medications you can shoot into him if you want, though."
Tosh made a quiet noise; she didn’t even like the regular (and often experimental, no matter what he said about alien vaccinations) injections Owen visited on everyone.
"Tosh, it'll be fine," Jack said, tongue briefly darting out to touch his still-oozing lip. "I wouldn't ask you to do it, but Gwen's too new, and if Owen or I watched him...well, if I have to see him for ten more minutes, I'll end up shooting him after all. I'd give Owen about four minutes. Anyway, he's cuffed, he's sedated, and you have the keys, drugs, and gun."
Tosh nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as Owen led Ianto up the stairs from the autopsy bay. Jack walked away, gesturing to Owen to follow with the hand that wasn't resting on the butt of his holstered Webley. Ianto wouldn't meet her eyes, squinting down at the floor through bruised lids. There was blood drying on his suit and in his hair, sticking the slight curls down, and his hands were cuffed in front of him.
"Come on, then," she said softly, taking his elbow. He jerked at her touch but followed her quietly though the Hub door.
They were almost to her car before he spoke.
"It's not fair that they're making you do it."
"What?" Tosh almost shouted at him, so startled by him speaking to her that she almost jumped out of her skin.
"Retcon. Execution. It should be," he muttered, making a subdued hand gesture that she was forced to interpret as referring to Owen, for the medical administration of retcon, or Jack, for the administration of a bullet.
"It's not like that, Ianto," she said firmly, unlocking her car and all but shoving him into the passenger door. And wasn't it almost fun to be able to manhandle a six-foot bloke? But the fine fabric beneath her hands was stiff with drying blood, and the glints of silver from his wrists reminded her of her power over him and of the reason she had been given it in the first place.
This, she reflected as she buckled her seat belt, was going to be an awkward night.
The feeling did not abate over the long drive to her flat. She sat, feeling diminutive and powerless in the driver's seat, feeling the palpable rage and confusion radiating off Ianto in the passenger's seat. She barely curbed the impulse to announce the turns of the GPS as she took them, reasoning that one turn was the same to him. There would be more than enough time for awkward instruction when they got to her apartment.
"Well!" she said, putting her car in park, all too soon. "Here we are!"
Ianto didn't say anything; he didn't stir at all, which unnerved her slightly. What if he didn't cooperate when she went to get him out of the car? What would her neighbours think? How would she explain this, and oh, why couldn't he have handled this himself?!
But when she opened the passenger door and saw the dark bruises blooming on Ianto's face, it was like a punch in the gut. This was why he was on her doorstep. Jack didn't trust himself with this man, and she couldn't forget her own sins in the face of this child, skin bruising even as she stood on her doorstep.
"Come on," she murmured, taking Ianto's elbow and trying her best to guide his weight down to the pavement. Ianto didn't say anything, but followed the gentle pressure of her hand, and barely startled at the clang of the closing car door.
It was almost surprisingly easy to lead him up to her door - he was just as docile as under the threat of Jack's gun. She wasn't sure if she had been expecting him to rebel against a gentler touch, but felt gratified when she was able to steer him into her guest room.
"You can change in here, if you want to," she said, colouring slightly. "Jack sent clothes home that you can change into."
Ianto just nodded, not looking at the bed, the walls, or her.
"I'll just leave them in the loo," she mumbled. "It's the second door on your right. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen!"
And with that, she was finally able to abandon him to the mercy of her hot water and the pipes. It was unfair, she thought, for Jack to entrust her with Ianto's well-being. Although, if she was honest, there was no one else to do it.
Part 2