Fic: The Boy Is Gone 12/20
TITLE: The Boy Is Gone 12/20
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood and its characters are property of the BBC. The Family Jones is of my own creation.
RATING: PG-15
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, OC's
SUMMARY: The Rift has never been the most stable influence in Ianto Jones’ life but when children in Cardiff start disappearing all over the city, Ianto’s family life crashes rather dramatically with Torchwood.
AUTHOR NOTES: This is the sequel to my stories, “Family Matters” and “A Nostalgic Yearning” and is the finale in the series “Footprints in the Sand”. It will not make sense unless you have read these. Set post Exit Wounds.
I decided to bring the next chapter forward a day since I actually feared for some of your lives (and mine as well If I'm honest). So well done to all of you that pestered me for the next chapter - it paid off apparently! XP I can't guarantee it'll work again though - and also I fear the end of this chapter will leave you wanting more again as well. Also note I now have artwork for this piece. ;)
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 |
Friday 15th August 12.01pm
“Uncle Jack?”
Jack’s brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, which is odd, because he’s usually so good in a crisis. Now though he can barely do what he’s told and he feels like he’s more of a hindrance than help as he shuffles left to let the fire brigade through then right to let the paramedics through. He doesn’t even realise he’s still got Finn in his arms until one of the paramedics is asking to take a look at him. Jack is reluctant to relinquish his hold on the small boy though; part of him scared that he’ll lose Finn again if he puts him down, or worse - he’ll lose the composure he’s valiantly holding on to.
“… found the other children… rift’s closed…”
Snippets of sentences filter through every once in a while, making sense in his addled mind. Seems like it’s only the important one’s that make it through but Jack doesn’t really care at the moment. He can’t say anything; it’s a physical impossibility at the moment. Gwen and Rhys enter his vision a couple of times, both of them looking concerned, and Jack can see, like him, Gwen is fighting to hold onto her composure. He almost cries out in pain himself though when they finally lift the girder free. Ianto’s cries are vocal enough though.
“…will follow in the car…”
It’s been a while since Jack’s been in the back of an ambulance. Finn takes everything in, cataloguing all the bits and pieces and sounds of the engine, radio, machines and the traffic outside in his childlike imagination and files them away for later. Jack can only hear the blip of the heart monitor and Ianto’s painful wheezing.
He becomes fascinated with Ianto’s left hand, the finger’s ballooning up and changing a deep shade of purple that would be flattering on Ianto in the form of a shirt. He’s watching Ianto’s index finger twitching every so often, and he feels like it’s a reminder, a sign from Ianto saying ‘I’m still here. I’m still fighting.’
It doesn’t help that halfway to the hospital Ianto’s heart monitor flat lines and Jack swears his own heart stops as well.
He’s stood in the middle of Cardiff Royal A&E, no longer side stepping to let people through. He’s stood in the way of everyone when he seems to re-establish himself in the world again instead of drifting through it aimlessly. Sound suddenly comes crashing down around him, the smell of blood threatening to overwhelm him that’s been lingering in his nasal cavity for the last hour or so. He feels sick; physically sick. He suddenly realises his arms ache as well since he hasn’t let go of Finn in all that time and the small boy doesn’t seem to want to relinquish his hold on Jack either. Small fists are clutching onto the lapels of his greatcoat as tears continue to slide gracelessly down Finn’s cheeks.
“Mummy!” Finn suddenly yells before squirming in Jack’s arms. But Ria is already running down the corridor to meet them, tears of happiness streaming down her face as she pulls Finn from Jack’s arms, clutching him close to her chest.
“Finlay.” She cries in relief, planting kisses all over him, smelling his hair and brushing dust from his clothes.
“Where’ve you been munchkin, you’re filthy?” Ria asks rhetorically, a slight hysterical laugh in her voice as she pulls Finn back to her chest, the worry back in her eyes as she looks up at Jack still stood in the middle of the corridor, looking slightly dazed.
"What about Ianto?" Ria asked tentatively, as if she was scared of the answer. Jack just nodded at first, licking his dry lips as he watched Finn snuggling into the side of his mother.
"He's back too." Jack said slowly as if he needed to think about each word carefully before he said them.
"Uncy Yan got a big owie when the building fell down and now he won't wake up." Finn hiccoughed into his mother's shoulder, peering out at Jack as if hoping he would correct him again and just tell him Uncy Yan was sleeping.
"Is he-" Ria swallowed nervously, looking like she couldn't take much more. "Will he be okay?"
"They don't know. I need to go and," Jack gestured back down the corridor nervously.
"Stay with Finn, get him checked out, I'll come get you the minute we know anything." Jack said softly, stepping towards Ria and wrapping his arms round her involuntarily before he was pressing a kiss to her hair.
Rhys watched Ianto's sister and Jack interacting from the other end of the corridor, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. It had never really crossed his mind that other members of the Torchwood team had family who cared about them, who feared for their lives every minute of the day from when they stepped out the front door in the morning until when they returned in the early hours of the next morning, bedraggled and exhausted. It suddenly made him feel not so alone in the world and for a brief daft moment he thought of setting up a support group for Torchwood employees family's and spouses - but Rhys was sleep deprived and if he was honest with himself, badly shaken by the whole weeks events. He turned as he felt Gwen's presence at his right shoulder.
"Any news love?" Rhys asked hopefully but he could already see by the look in her eyes that she'd been unable to determine the state of Ianto.
"They’re looking after him. They won't tell me anything else. Not even when I told them I was Torchwood." Gwen shrugged. "Might send Jack, he might get more out of them."
"Never heard of the expression 'no news is good news'?" Rhys asked, putting his arm round Gwen's shoulder and pulling her close.
Friday 15th August 5.02pm
“What did they say?” Gwen asked, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other as Jack traipsed wearily towards her. Jack shrugged. Half of the things that had been said about Ianto’s condition had gone way over his head, and the other half were barely permeating the surface.
“Broken ribs, punctured lung, broken arm, cuts, bruises.” Jack explained, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “They’re worried about his brain though. He’s fractured his skull and he’s been bleeding into his brain.”
“Will he be okay though?” Gwen asked, eyes full of tears as she looked up at Jack. Jack desperately wanted to tell her Ianto would be fine, that he’d wake up and they’d take him home and everything would be fine. He couldn’t lie to her though.
“They won’t know until he wakes up. If he wakes up.” Jack said forlornly, swallowing down the sobs that rose painfully in his chest.
“What about the kids? Are all the parents here now?” Jack asked, trying to change the subject. “Did you get Andy to sort out the cover story?”
“Me and Rhys sorted it Jack, everyone’s been reunited.” Gwen placated, a hand reaching out to rest on his forearm.
“We’ll still need to check the children to see if-“
“Jack.” Gwen stopped him mid-sentence, motioning over his shoulder to an elderly man who was currently stood outside the door of ICU, looking in through the window at Ianto.
Jack moved away down the corridor to the man stood there. Jack was shocked to see him, had never seen him outside of his house, let alone showing care and concern for his offspring. But here he was, Jack had no idea how he knew, but presumed Ria had called him, and Jack detected emotion in those eyes for once that wasn’t anger or even indifference.
“Mr. Jones?” Jack prompted when he drew level with Dylan. Dylan’s eyes didn’t move from the still form of Ianto through the window, a nurse sat beside his bed, monitoring him at all times.
“I’m not very,” Dylan started then sighed. “Rona was always the one that comforted the kids, looked after them when they got ill.”
Jack understood. Dylan Jones didn’t know how to show his weakness, when his wife had died a part of him had died with her, the part that knew how to care and love. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his children any less than he had done before; he’d just lost the one person that had taught him how to. They were still children in his eyes, barely old enough to tie their own shoelaces let alone live their own lives and Dylan had lost the ability to connect with them on an adult level.
“Go and sit with him. Tell him that you’re there.” Jack encouraged, his own eyes turning towards the still form of Ianto in the hospital bed. It almost broke his heart to see Ianto lain beneath the pristine white sheets and it was at that moment that it suddenly all hit home, all of the words the doctor’s had said to him, because he could suddenly see Ianto. He could see how human he was. The left hand side of his face was swollen, black and blue from where he had collided with the floor. Jack couldn’t see his wavy brown locks, they were hidden from sight in swathes of white gauze and Jack had never thought to ask if they had shaved his whole head. He dreaded to think what Ianto looked like bald.
He watched as Dylan entered the room, the nurse beside Ianto’s bed smiling up at him as Dylan explained who he was before he was sitting down hesitantly in the visitor’s chair. Ianto didn’t react, just continued to lie there, an IV port in his good hand dripping blood and saline and antibiotics and god knew what else. Jack didn’t really care as long as they were keeping him alive.
Jack witnessed Dylan’s hand reaching out towards Ianto’s hand, before hesitating. He pulled back slightly before his hand came to rest on Ianto’s forearm, wizened fingers flexing slightly as if they wanted to tighten their grip before Dylan’s thumb was rubbing a half circle on Ianto’s arm, coming to rest unconsciously on Ianto’s pulse point.
Jack’s gaze flickered briefly to the heart monitor, numbers on it that weren’t zero, which for the moment was reassurance enough for Jack. He turned back down the corridor to Gwen who was still stood there looking slightly lost.
“Come on, we need to be Torchwood for another hour and then we can be family and friends.” Jack said, taking her by the elbow and leading her back down the corridor.
“I don’t think I can Jack.” Gwen whispered as they stood next to the bank of elevators. Jack didn’t need clarification on what she meant. He’d heard the words before when Owen and Tosh had died. But it was different now; Ianto wasn’t dead. It didn’t stop the niggling voice at the back of Jack’s mind though filling him up with doubt and insecurities.
Friday 15th August 5.34pm
Dylan Jones didn’t know what to do with himself as he sat by his son’s bedside. He had horrific flashbacks to Canary Wharf and the way for the best part of a week his daughter and his wife had just sat on their living room couch, sobbing in each other’s arms. Dylan had wished he’d still worked, wished he’d still had his tailors shop where he could go and immerse himself in the cutting of silk and the pinning of hems. But then if he still had his tailors shop maybe Ianto wouldn’t have ever gone to London to work for Torchwood.
Dylan sighed. There was no use blaming himself for things he couldn’t change. No use wishing on the past, as Rona used to say.
“You can speak to him if you want, it sometimes helps.” The nurse encouraged from where she was scribbling briefly on her clipboard, glancing back up at the monitor that held numbers and lines that made no sense to Dylan.
“I wouldn’t know what to say.” Dylan replied gruffly, his hand still resting gently on Ianto’s arm.
“Just talk to him as if he were here, tell him what you’ve been up to since you last saw him.” The nurse tried again, and Dylan glanced at her name badge to note her name was Lisa. That had been the same name as Ianto’s girlfriend hadn’t it? Or was it Laura? He was sure it began with an L. He was with that Captain of his now. His son was a bloody poof. But Dylan realised that suddenly didn’t matter anymore as he watched his son taking what could be his last breath.
“I’m sorry about the way I’ve been since your Mam died.” Dylan said softly, looking at the hospital sheets rather than the damaged face of his son. “You, Ria, Megan and Bryn lost your Mam just as much as I lost my wife. Although Bryn and Megan don’t put up with me anymore.” Dylan swallowed, finally bringing himself to look up at his son, trying to gaze past his translucent eyelids to his mother’s eyes beneath.
“I miss you at Sunday lunch you know. You should come this weekend, you know I’m not much of a cook, but I can probably stretch to fish and chips from the chippie down the road. You can bring that Captain of yours if you like.” Dylan encouraged before he was stuttering to a halt again as Ianto remained unmoving.
“You know you’re almost being as bad as when you were a teenager. You refused to get up on a morning for school. Your Mam had to drag you out of bed some days, not like when you were a kid. You were up at the crack of dawn, still not wanting to go to school mind, but desperate to go to work with me.” Dylan glanced over at the plastic bag full of the remains of Ianto’s tattered suit that was poking out of the cupboard under the nightstand.
“I remember when you came back to Cardiff after London, came round the house and said you had a job interview so your Mam fished out that suit of yours from the back of the cupboard that I’d had cut specially for you for your sister’s wedding. Don’t suppose you still have it mind.
“…back…”
Dylan’s head shot up, looking directly at his son’s parted lips as they tried to form another word, his eyes not open. Dylan’s eyes swivelled towards that of the nurse who was now up on her feet, a hand on Ianto’s good shoulder, shaking slightly.
“Ianto?” She asked, shaking again. His eyelids fluttered slightly before another whispered word passed his lips that neither Dylan nor the nurse could make out. Dylan’s hand tightened unconsciously round his son’s arm.
“Ianto, it’s your Dad. You need to wake up.” Dylan encouraged, on his feet as well now, leaning over Ianto, almost desperate to see those baby blue eyes.
“…back of…” Ianto whispered again, his head turning slightly towards Dylan who had a frown on his face.
“Back of what cariad?” Dylan pressed, his fingers moving down so that he was squeezing Ianto’s hand between his.
“…wardrobe…” Ianto struggled out. Dylan caught the nurse smiling across the bed at him as Dylan continued to look confused.
“I think he means that suit you were talking about.” The nurse supplied with a smile before turning her head back to her patient.
“Ianto pet, I need you to open your eyes for me. Can you do that love?” The nurse spoke loudly and clearly as Dylan flopped backwards into the visitor’s chair, refusing to let go of his son’s hand until the nurse insisted to check Ianto’s reflexes. He let a tentative smile pass his lips though when dull blue eyes, heavy with exhaustion and pain turned to regard him.
“Come to work with you?” Ianto stuttered out dopily, confused as to his whereabouts as he took in the sight of his father before him, presuming himself to still be five years old again.
“Course you can ma boy.” Dylan agreed, a doleful smile on his face now as he watched Ianto’s eyes closing again.
“’k. Five more minutes.”
Dylan watched as Ianto slipped back to sleep again, tears brimming in Dylan's eyes now that he refused to let fall.
“He’ll be a bit confused the first couple of times he wakes up but that’s the same with any serious head injury. We’ll just need to have a brief chat with him every time, make sure he knows who he is, where he is and when he is, check his responses and that. But it’s a good sign that he recognises you, that he seems to remember where his suit is.” The nurse was smiling at him, a hand briefly on his shoulder in reassurance before she was heading over to the desk at the end of the ward to report to another nurse stood there.
“Back of the wardrobe.” Dylan repeated to himself, giving a brief huff of laughter as his hand reached out to cover Ianto’s again.
On to Part 13
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood and its characters are property of the BBC. The Family Jones is of my own creation.
RATING: PG-15
PAIRINGS/CHARACTERS: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, OC's
SUMMARY: The Rift has never been the most stable influence in Ianto Jones’ life but when children in Cardiff start disappearing all over the city, Ianto’s family life crashes rather dramatically with Torchwood.
AUTHOR NOTES: This is the sequel to my stories, “Family Matters” and “A Nostalgic Yearning” and is the finale in the series “Footprints in the Sand”. It will not make sense unless you have read these. Set post Exit Wounds.
I decided to bring the next chapter forward a day since I actually feared for some of your lives (and mine as well If I'm honest). So well done to all of you that pestered me for the next chapter - it paid off apparently! XP I can't guarantee it'll work again though - and also I fear the end of this chapter will leave you wanting more again as well. Also note I now have artwork for this piece. ;)
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 |
Friday 15th August 12.01pm
“Uncle Jack?”
Jack’s brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, which is odd, because he’s usually so good in a crisis. Now though he can barely do what he’s told and he feels like he’s more of a hindrance than help as he shuffles left to let the fire brigade through then right to let the paramedics through. He doesn’t even realise he’s still got Finn in his arms until one of the paramedics is asking to take a look at him. Jack is reluctant to relinquish his hold on the small boy though; part of him scared that he’ll lose Finn again if he puts him down, or worse - he’ll lose the composure he’s valiantly holding on to.
“… found the other children… rift’s closed…”
Snippets of sentences filter through every once in a while, making sense in his addled mind. Seems like it’s only the important one’s that make it through but Jack doesn’t really care at the moment. He can’t say anything; it’s a physical impossibility at the moment. Gwen and Rhys enter his vision a couple of times, both of them looking concerned, and Jack can see, like him, Gwen is fighting to hold onto her composure. He almost cries out in pain himself though when they finally lift the girder free. Ianto’s cries are vocal enough though.
“…will follow in the car…”
It’s been a while since Jack’s been in the back of an ambulance. Finn takes everything in, cataloguing all the bits and pieces and sounds of the engine, radio, machines and the traffic outside in his childlike imagination and files them away for later. Jack can only hear the blip of the heart monitor and Ianto’s painful wheezing.
He becomes fascinated with Ianto’s left hand, the finger’s ballooning up and changing a deep shade of purple that would be flattering on Ianto in the form of a shirt. He’s watching Ianto’s index finger twitching every so often, and he feels like it’s a reminder, a sign from Ianto saying ‘I’m still here. I’m still fighting.’
It doesn’t help that halfway to the hospital Ianto’s heart monitor flat lines and Jack swears his own heart stops as well.
He’s stood in the middle of Cardiff Royal A&E, no longer side stepping to let people through. He’s stood in the way of everyone when he seems to re-establish himself in the world again instead of drifting through it aimlessly. Sound suddenly comes crashing down around him, the smell of blood threatening to overwhelm him that’s been lingering in his nasal cavity for the last hour or so. He feels sick; physically sick. He suddenly realises his arms ache as well since he hasn’t let go of Finn in all that time and the small boy doesn’t seem to want to relinquish his hold on Jack either. Small fists are clutching onto the lapels of his greatcoat as tears continue to slide gracelessly down Finn’s cheeks.
“Mummy!” Finn suddenly yells before squirming in Jack’s arms. But Ria is already running down the corridor to meet them, tears of happiness streaming down her face as she pulls Finn from Jack’s arms, clutching him close to her chest.
“Finlay.” She cries in relief, planting kisses all over him, smelling his hair and brushing dust from his clothes.
“Where’ve you been munchkin, you’re filthy?” Ria asks rhetorically, a slight hysterical laugh in her voice as she pulls Finn back to her chest, the worry back in her eyes as she looks up at Jack still stood in the middle of the corridor, looking slightly dazed.
"What about Ianto?" Ria asked tentatively, as if she was scared of the answer. Jack just nodded at first, licking his dry lips as he watched Finn snuggling into the side of his mother.
"He's back too." Jack said slowly as if he needed to think about each word carefully before he said them.
"Uncy Yan got a big owie when the building fell down and now he won't wake up." Finn hiccoughed into his mother's shoulder, peering out at Jack as if hoping he would correct him again and just tell him Uncy Yan was sleeping.
"Is he-" Ria swallowed nervously, looking like she couldn't take much more. "Will he be okay?"
"They don't know. I need to go and," Jack gestured back down the corridor nervously.
"Stay with Finn, get him checked out, I'll come get you the minute we know anything." Jack said softly, stepping towards Ria and wrapping his arms round her involuntarily before he was pressing a kiss to her hair.
Rhys watched Ianto's sister and Jack interacting from the other end of the corridor, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. It had never really crossed his mind that other members of the Torchwood team had family who cared about them, who feared for their lives every minute of the day from when they stepped out the front door in the morning until when they returned in the early hours of the next morning, bedraggled and exhausted. It suddenly made him feel not so alone in the world and for a brief daft moment he thought of setting up a support group for Torchwood employees family's and spouses - but Rhys was sleep deprived and if he was honest with himself, badly shaken by the whole weeks events. He turned as he felt Gwen's presence at his right shoulder.
"Any news love?" Rhys asked hopefully but he could already see by the look in her eyes that she'd been unable to determine the state of Ianto.
"They’re looking after him. They won't tell me anything else. Not even when I told them I was Torchwood." Gwen shrugged. "Might send Jack, he might get more out of them."
"Never heard of the expression 'no news is good news'?" Rhys asked, putting his arm round Gwen's shoulder and pulling her close.
Friday 15th August 5.02pm
“What did they say?” Gwen asked, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other as Jack traipsed wearily towards her. Jack shrugged. Half of the things that had been said about Ianto’s condition had gone way over his head, and the other half were barely permeating the surface.
“Broken ribs, punctured lung, broken arm, cuts, bruises.” Jack explained, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “They’re worried about his brain though. He’s fractured his skull and he’s been bleeding into his brain.”
“Will he be okay though?” Gwen asked, eyes full of tears as she looked up at Jack. Jack desperately wanted to tell her Ianto would be fine, that he’d wake up and they’d take him home and everything would be fine. He couldn’t lie to her though.
“They won’t know until he wakes up. If he wakes up.” Jack said forlornly, swallowing down the sobs that rose painfully in his chest.
“What about the kids? Are all the parents here now?” Jack asked, trying to change the subject. “Did you get Andy to sort out the cover story?”
“Me and Rhys sorted it Jack, everyone’s been reunited.” Gwen placated, a hand reaching out to rest on his forearm.
“We’ll still need to check the children to see if-“
“Jack.” Gwen stopped him mid-sentence, motioning over his shoulder to an elderly man who was currently stood outside the door of ICU, looking in through the window at Ianto.
Jack moved away down the corridor to the man stood there. Jack was shocked to see him, had never seen him outside of his house, let alone showing care and concern for his offspring. But here he was, Jack had no idea how he knew, but presumed Ria had called him, and Jack detected emotion in those eyes for once that wasn’t anger or even indifference.
“Mr. Jones?” Jack prompted when he drew level with Dylan. Dylan’s eyes didn’t move from the still form of Ianto through the window, a nurse sat beside his bed, monitoring him at all times.
“I’m not very,” Dylan started then sighed. “Rona was always the one that comforted the kids, looked after them when they got ill.”
Jack understood. Dylan Jones didn’t know how to show his weakness, when his wife had died a part of him had died with her, the part that knew how to care and love. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his children any less than he had done before; he’d just lost the one person that had taught him how to. They were still children in his eyes, barely old enough to tie their own shoelaces let alone live their own lives and Dylan had lost the ability to connect with them on an adult level.
“Go and sit with him. Tell him that you’re there.” Jack encouraged, his own eyes turning towards the still form of Ianto in the hospital bed. It almost broke his heart to see Ianto lain beneath the pristine white sheets and it was at that moment that it suddenly all hit home, all of the words the doctor’s had said to him, because he could suddenly see Ianto. He could see how human he was. The left hand side of his face was swollen, black and blue from where he had collided with the floor. Jack couldn’t see his wavy brown locks, they were hidden from sight in swathes of white gauze and Jack had never thought to ask if they had shaved his whole head. He dreaded to think what Ianto looked like bald.
He watched as Dylan entered the room, the nurse beside Ianto’s bed smiling up at him as Dylan explained who he was before he was sitting down hesitantly in the visitor’s chair. Ianto didn’t react, just continued to lie there, an IV port in his good hand dripping blood and saline and antibiotics and god knew what else. Jack didn’t really care as long as they were keeping him alive.
Jack witnessed Dylan’s hand reaching out towards Ianto’s hand, before hesitating. He pulled back slightly before his hand came to rest on Ianto’s forearm, wizened fingers flexing slightly as if they wanted to tighten their grip before Dylan’s thumb was rubbing a half circle on Ianto’s arm, coming to rest unconsciously on Ianto’s pulse point.
Jack’s gaze flickered briefly to the heart monitor, numbers on it that weren’t zero, which for the moment was reassurance enough for Jack. He turned back down the corridor to Gwen who was still stood there looking slightly lost.
“Come on, we need to be Torchwood for another hour and then we can be family and friends.” Jack said, taking her by the elbow and leading her back down the corridor.
“I don’t think I can Jack.” Gwen whispered as they stood next to the bank of elevators. Jack didn’t need clarification on what she meant. He’d heard the words before when Owen and Tosh had died. But it was different now; Ianto wasn’t dead. It didn’t stop the niggling voice at the back of Jack’s mind though filling him up with doubt and insecurities.
Friday 15th August 5.34pm
Dylan Jones didn’t know what to do with himself as he sat by his son’s bedside. He had horrific flashbacks to Canary Wharf and the way for the best part of a week his daughter and his wife had just sat on their living room couch, sobbing in each other’s arms. Dylan had wished he’d still worked, wished he’d still had his tailors shop where he could go and immerse himself in the cutting of silk and the pinning of hems. But then if he still had his tailors shop maybe Ianto wouldn’t have ever gone to London to work for Torchwood.
Dylan sighed. There was no use blaming himself for things he couldn’t change. No use wishing on the past, as Rona used to say.
“You can speak to him if you want, it sometimes helps.” The nurse encouraged from where she was scribbling briefly on her clipboard, glancing back up at the monitor that held numbers and lines that made no sense to Dylan.
“I wouldn’t know what to say.” Dylan replied gruffly, his hand still resting gently on Ianto’s arm.
“Just talk to him as if he were here, tell him what you’ve been up to since you last saw him.” The nurse tried again, and Dylan glanced at her name badge to note her name was Lisa. That had been the same name as Ianto’s girlfriend hadn’t it? Or was it Laura? He was sure it began with an L. He was with that Captain of his now. His son was a bloody poof. But Dylan realised that suddenly didn’t matter anymore as he watched his son taking what could be his last breath.
“I’m sorry about the way I’ve been since your Mam died.” Dylan said softly, looking at the hospital sheets rather than the damaged face of his son. “You, Ria, Megan and Bryn lost your Mam just as much as I lost my wife. Although Bryn and Megan don’t put up with me anymore.” Dylan swallowed, finally bringing himself to look up at his son, trying to gaze past his translucent eyelids to his mother’s eyes beneath.
“I miss you at Sunday lunch you know. You should come this weekend, you know I’m not much of a cook, but I can probably stretch to fish and chips from the chippie down the road. You can bring that Captain of yours if you like.” Dylan encouraged before he was stuttering to a halt again as Ianto remained unmoving.
“You know you’re almost being as bad as when you were a teenager. You refused to get up on a morning for school. Your Mam had to drag you out of bed some days, not like when you were a kid. You were up at the crack of dawn, still not wanting to go to school mind, but desperate to go to work with me.” Dylan glanced over at the plastic bag full of the remains of Ianto’s tattered suit that was poking out of the cupboard under the nightstand.
“I remember when you came back to Cardiff after London, came round the house and said you had a job interview so your Mam fished out that suit of yours from the back of the cupboard that I’d had cut specially for you for your sister’s wedding. Don’t suppose you still have it mind.
“…back…”
Dylan’s head shot up, looking directly at his son’s parted lips as they tried to form another word, his eyes not open. Dylan’s eyes swivelled towards that of the nurse who was now up on her feet, a hand on Ianto’s good shoulder, shaking slightly.
“Ianto?” She asked, shaking again. His eyelids fluttered slightly before another whispered word passed his lips that neither Dylan nor the nurse could make out. Dylan’s hand tightened unconsciously round his son’s arm.
“Ianto, it’s your Dad. You need to wake up.” Dylan encouraged, on his feet as well now, leaning over Ianto, almost desperate to see those baby blue eyes.
“…back of…” Ianto whispered again, his head turning slightly towards Dylan who had a frown on his face.
“Back of what cariad?” Dylan pressed, his fingers moving down so that he was squeezing Ianto’s hand between his.
“…wardrobe…” Ianto struggled out. Dylan caught the nurse smiling across the bed at him as Dylan continued to look confused.
“I think he means that suit you were talking about.” The nurse supplied with a smile before turning her head back to her patient.
“Ianto pet, I need you to open your eyes for me. Can you do that love?” The nurse spoke loudly and clearly as Dylan flopped backwards into the visitor’s chair, refusing to let go of his son’s hand until the nurse insisted to check Ianto’s reflexes. He let a tentative smile pass his lips though when dull blue eyes, heavy with exhaustion and pain turned to regard him.
“Come to work with you?” Ianto stuttered out dopily, confused as to his whereabouts as he took in the sight of his father before him, presuming himself to still be five years old again.
“Course you can ma boy.” Dylan agreed, a doleful smile on his face now as he watched Ianto’s eyes closing again.
“’k. Five more minutes.”
Dylan watched as Ianto slipped back to sleep again, tears brimming in Dylan's eyes now that he refused to let fall.
“He’ll be a bit confused the first couple of times he wakes up but that’s the same with any serious head injury. We’ll just need to have a brief chat with him every time, make sure he knows who he is, where he is and when he is, check his responses and that. But it’s a good sign that he recognises you, that he seems to remember where his suit is.” The nurse was smiling at him, a hand briefly on his shoulder in reassurance before she was heading over to the desk at the end of the ward to report to another nurse stood there.
“Back of the wardrobe.” Dylan repeated to himself, giving a brief huff of laughter as his hand reached out to cover Ianto’s again.
On to Part 13