Fic: Closer Together and Further Away. (3/11)
Even though they had walked slowly and had taken frequent stops Jack was shaking by the time they halted on a small patch of dry ground, blood slowly seeping through the bandage on his leg.
Ianto doubted that they were much more than a mile from island where they'd spent the night despite the length of time they had been walking. Hungry and cold, his shoes having soaked through with water again, Ianto helped Jack sit down, before going to stand at the edge of the dry ground.
The way Jack's breath had caught when he'd mistimed a step, pain shooting out from his injured leg, had been frighteningly reminiscent to Ianto of helping Lisa escape Torchwood Tower. In pain, her legs failing from the incomplete cyberconversion, he had supported her as they'd stumbled through the burning chaos, the screams of the dying and terrified cutting though them. Despite the cool clean air, Ianto could almost taste the smoke in the back of his throat and feel the heat of the fires that had broken out in the tower on his skin.
“You spotted something over there?”
Ianto jumped as Owen spoke, not realising that he was standing right beside him. “No.” He stopped, hating how shaken he sounded and how his hands shook. He dug his them into his pockets, not wanting Owen to see. Having him jumping at shadows was the last thing that they needed. "It's nothing.”
“We should go,” Jack said hoarsely as he got awkwardly to his feet. “We can't stay here, we need dry ground and a fire before we can rest.”
“Then we go back to where we were last night,” Owen said holding up a hand. “And that's not up for discussion. I know I agreed with you earlier, but the sun is starting to get lower again so we've probably only got a couple of hours of light left and knowing our luck if we keep walking in the dark we'll end up up to our necks in quicksand. We had food, water and somewhere dry...well dryish to sleep - and I don’t see that anywhere else round here, do you?”
Ianto moved to Jack's side, relieved that Owen was taking a stand about it. “I’m sorry, but I think Owen is right. I don't think we should have left in the first place. Maybe if you're feeling better in a few days we can try again.”
Jack ignored Ianto looked at Owen. “We both know that isn't going to happen.”
If Jack had expected him to back down, it didn't happen as Owen stared him down. “It could, weirder things have happened, we ended up here after all. Now let me a have look at your leg and then we'll head back.”
There wasn't anything more Owen could do other than use more of Ianto's old shirt to bandage the wound. Then supporting Jack between them they turned back towards the island.
It took even longer to return to the island, and Ianto was wondering if they were going to have to carry Jack by the time they had covered half the distance. Jack pushed on though, determined not to give up, as if by showing he could walk about to the island he'd somehow prove that he'd be able to walk tomorrow.
Lack of food, even after just a day, was telling. Although the roots had stopped his stomach from feeling quite so empty, they had done nothing to give him any energy and with the effort of supporting Jack he had started to feel a little light-headed himself.
The small island with it low tangle of bushes and few taller trees was a welcome sight in the dimming afternoon light. The day had seemed to pass quickly and Ianto as looked at his watch, which had somehow survived the journey to this strange alien planet, he realised that sunrise had been little more than ten hours before. The previous night hadn't seemed all that long either, and he suspected that a day on this planet was probably only about seventeen or eighteen hours long.
The length of the day was immaterial though and Ianto turned his attention to lighting a fire as soon as they reached where they had camped the previous night. It was a slow job coaxing the fire to light and stay lit and Ianto tried not to think about what they'd do when they exhausted the small supply of dry wood or Owen's lighter ran out of fluid.
“I forgot how bad this is, waiting for things to heal,” Jack said a tremor in his voice, as wrapped in his greatcoat he tried to get warm by the small, barely burning fire. “It’s been years, more than a century.”
“You should probably rest,” Ianto said, realising that Jack must be feeling awful if he was being so unguarded about his past. Because as much as he was curious about Jack's past, letting him ramble on when he'd almost certainly regret it later wasn't fair.
“No, I need to talk.” Jack caught hold of Ianto’s hand, eyes locked on his in an appeal for understanding. “To tell you why.” Jack looked at Owen, the same need in his eyes. “To tell both of you why I left, why I came back.”
“Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t going to be one of your fun stories about how you slept with the entire chorus line of an amateur production of Oklahoma?” Owen said sitting down next to Jack.
“It wasn’t the entire chorus and it wasn’t all at once.”
Ianto couldn't help but smile. For a moment it felt like they had the old Jack back, the one from before he went away. Then it was gone, lost to weariness and pain.
“When I left it wasn't because of what happened with the team, with Abbadon or Bilis. It was because of the Doctor. Only he didn’t come for me,” Jack said quietly, eyes downcast. “He was there just refuelling I guess. I saw him and I just grabbed on and didn’t let go. Ended up at the end of the universe.”
“Maybe he didn’t realise…” Ianto began.
“Oh he realised. He knew what had happened to me and he’d left me behind - last man standing on a dead space station. I died for him.” The bitterness and hurt in Jack’s voice was clear and unmistakable. As was an undercurrent of guilt that suggested he didn't think he had the right to feel that hurt. “I’d told myself he couldn’t have known. That maybe something had happened to him or to Rose. That there had to be a reason why he'd left me, why he never came back. But there wasn't, he just didn't want to have to deal with the freak I'd become.”
“But he fixed you,” Owen said, trying and failing to sound positive. “He must have cared a bit. And he did get you home safe...”
“He didn’t fix me,” Jack snapped, pain making his temper short. “It was an accident, just like the first time. There was machine, a paradox device, and I had to destroy it. I got caught in the blast as time rolled back. I guess it reset me as well as the time line.” He closed his eyes, breathing uneven in a way that wasn’t only down to his leg. “I thought I was going to die. I was ready to go.”
Jack looked as vulnerable as Ianto had ever seen him, worse even than after he'd returned from dealing with John Ellis' suicide. Hoping that he wouldn't be pushed away, Ianto took Jack's hand in his. He was sure he should say something, tell Jack how glad he was that he didn't die, or the simple truth that he'd felt like that few times himself. Anything really, but the words wouldn't come.
“And that's what broke your wrist strap thing,” Owen said sounding sure he was right.
“No.” Jack refused to meet their eyes. “He broke it when I said I wouldn't travel with him any more.”
Owen looked somewhere between angry and horrified.
“It's not like that. He said it was to protect the time lines, but I think he was trying to protect me.” He smiled sadly, not sounding entirely convinced by his own argument. “He doesn't think the way we do. He sees everything and tries to do the best for everyone. He must have had his reasons. Maybe I would have done the same if I'd known why.”
“Yeah right, because abandoning someone and then smashing their stuff so they can’t leave or call for help is just how I’d protect someone,” Owen said sarcastically. “Seriously he sounds like a class bloke. Can’t think why you didn’t want to stay with him.”
Ianto tensed, waiting for the argument that would almost certainly follow.
“I'm tired,” Jack said, his voice cracking so badly as to make it almost inaudible. “I'm not talking about this anymore. You've got your answers. Now leave me be.”
Ianto shook his head as Owen opened his mouth to speak again. “No, let him rest, if it’s what he wants.”
“Whatever.” Owen scowled and stomped to gather enough firewood to keep them going until morning.
Sighing, Ianto ran a hand through his hair. He cared about them both and hated to take sides, but eventually Jack would have to see that even if the Doctor hadn’t done any of the things intentionally or out of spite, he still had every right to be hurt and angry at the thoughtlessness of it.
Not that he was going to try to talk Jack round about it. Jack was asleep or at least pretending to be, while Owen gathered anything that looked like it might burn. Turning his attention to the reeds, Ianto started to gather some more roots and tried not to think about how desperate their situation was.
Hiding in routine, almost to the point of obsession in some tasks had been how he'd got through long weeks following the fall of Torchwood One, caring for Lisa and terrible first few weeks after her death. Part of him wondered if there was any point in finding any sort of routine to cling to. They couldn't survive on a few roots, not long term. They were just delaying the inevitable.
With Jack apparently asleep and Owen not having said a word to either of them since Jack’s reveal about his past, Ianto sat by the fire and tried not to think too hard about what tomorrow would bring. His thoughts turned to Gwen and Tosh. Would they search for them or would they assume they were all dead? He closed his eyes, maybe they'd think he and Owen were, but they didn't know about Jack's new found mortality. Gwen would never stop looking as long as she thought Jack was out there and in need of help. And as long as she searched he knew Tosh would too. He couldn't allow himself that hope of rescue though, because the despair when it failed to happen was more than he was willing to subject himself to.
“I am sorry you know,” Owen said interrupting his thoughts. Between them the fire burnt lower, the embers just a deep red glow against the darkness of the cloudy, moonless night.
“For what?” Ianto asked, his voice heavy with sleep that he didn't welcome, worried what twisted memories would turn his dreams to nightmares when he finally closed his eyes.
“For Jack.”
“You've done all you can.” Ianto looked at Owen across the fire. Owen's head was bowed, low light lit the angles of his face and the gingerish brown stubble clinging to his chin making him look older than Ianto knew him to be. “We're lucky you're with us.”
“I mean when I shot Jack. Before he left us. I was so angry, I just lost it.” He sighed and moved a little closer to the fire. “I thought he'd forgiven me, but today...”
“Don't,” Ianto interrupted, not wanting to get into a conversation about how much they let Jack down. Because they had let him down, admittedly a lot of it could have been avoided if Jack had just told them the truth, rather than just continuing to do his 'do as I say and don't ask questions' routine. What had happened at Torchwood One had meant Ianto was wary of just following orders without questioning them at least a little bit.
He wondered if Tosh had been allowed access to the Rift manipulator data after she and Jack had returned from the 1940's, so she could find out whether her calculations would have worked if they hadn't been missing the final parameters, then perhaps none of what followed would have happened. If they had found a way to control the Rift then, they might have had a hope of rescue now. As it was, Ianto knew their chances of seeing Earth again was remote. Even survival for more than a few more days wasn't a given.
He drew his knees up until they reached his chest; cold not merely physically chilling him. The only comfort he had was that with the exception of Gwen and Tosh there was nobody who would miss him. He's glad it wasn't Gwen who was taken. She had a life, a wedding with Rhys in just a few short month’s time and, if she wanted it, a life away from Torchwood. Part of him wished Tosh were with them, because if there were a way, however remote of making Jack wrist strap thing work again, she'd be able to do it. The other part of him was relieved that Tosh wasn't trapped in their marshy nightmare.
“Have you gone to sleep?” Owen asked, moving round the fire to sit closer to him.
“No,” Ianto said, eyes closed, chin resting on his knees. He didn't know what to say to Owen about Jack. He hoped that Jack had forgiven him or a least didn't hold any form of grudge against Owen for what had happened, but it didn't feel right saying that he had when he didn't know for certain. He'd seemed pretty forgiving just before he'd left, but with Jack Ianto wasn't every really sure of anything.
“Well you probably should,” Owen said rather more tersely than was necessary. “As you'll be building that shelter you were on about this morning.”
Ianto didn't bother opening his eyes. “Lucky me.”
“Well you are,” Owen grumbled. “At least you can see what you're doing and you don’t have a dodgy leg.”
Ianto sighed. Trust Owen to be able to make him feel guilty for not needing glasses and not having fallen out of a tree. “Goodnight, Owen.” Then with one last look at Owen and Jack, Ianto lay down, hoping that the morning would bring a brighter and better day.
0X0X0X0
Ianto woke up cold, stiff and hungry, his nerves ragged from the formless fears that had haunted his dreams, but any complaints died before they were fully realised as he saw Jack.
Sat by the fire, his injured leg held awkwardly straight out in front of him, he was pale, tight lipped and trembling. He looked up as he heard Ianto move, revealing dark smudges beneath his eyes showing sleep had been elusive.
His teeth chattered as he spoke. “Guessing I look as bad as I feel.”
“I didn't mean to stare,” Ianto said sitting down beside him. He wondered if Jack would mention anything from their conversation the previous day, or whether he would act as if it had never happened.
“I don't know if I'm going to be able to walk today,” Jack said quietly, leaning against Ianto's shoulder, his eyes closed. “You should probably leave me. If you find help, you can come back. I trust you.”
“No,” Ianto said firmly, wondering if it was some kind of test to see whether they'd abandon him. “If you can't walk we all stay here.”
“Ianto's right, we stay together,” Owen said as he returned from collecting more firewood. “It's light enough to get a good look at your leg again. I'll give it a clean and redress it. Then we'll decide what to do.”
“It's going to hurt, isn't it?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Jack grimaced and lay down. “Your bedside manner sucks, you know that?”
"Yeah, but you love me any way."
The wound was still leaking slightly as Owen removed the makeshift bandage, blood and yellowish fluid staining the material, while edges of it looked red and inflamed. Feeling useless, Ianto sat next to Jack and let him hold his hand under his fingers hurt with the pressure.
Using the other sleeve of Ianto's shirt and the tie, Owen re-bandaged the wound. Picking up the bloodied material, Owen stood without a word and walked away.
Worried by Owen’s silence and sudden departure, Ianto carefully freed his hand from Jack. “I'll just see if he needs anything. I'll only be a minute.”
“How bad is it?” Ianto asked quietly as reached Owen who was staring down into a pool of water at the edge of the island.
Owen glanced back at Jack. “It's infected, only time will tell how bad. But if he gets full blown septicaemia there's not going to be anything I can do for him.” He closed his eyes, hands balling into fists at his sides. “I hate this fucking place. I hate the countryside. I hate that I haven't got anything I need and I hate that I'm probably going to have to watch him die and I can't do a sodding thing about it.”
Owen's voice cracked and he turned away from Ianto. Lack of food, stress, tiredness and the near overwhelming hopelessness of their situation stripping them of any reserve they had, tears and anger all too easily rising to the surface.
“Do you want a minute?” Ianto asked, putting a hand on his shoulder, realising that Owen was close to tears.
Owen nodded, but didn't reply.
There had been this strange thing between them since Jack left with the Doctor, a growing respect between that had on occasions nearly become something more. It had started as a recognition of shared pain and loss in the wake of Jack's departures and had become something close to friendship by the time they had been send on a wild goose chase up the Himalayas. There it had been cemented into an understanding that they probably would never have achieved if they had remained in Cardiff, the reliance and trust that they'd needed to have in each other during that week in the mountains forcing them to put aside any remaining differences. If the plan in sending them there had been to break them, then it had failed spectacularly and they has emerged closer and more sure of their abilities to work together as a team than they had been before.
Ianto gave Owen's shoulder a small squeeze. “I'll see if I can get him to eat something.”
Owen dug his hands into his pockets and hung his head, unable or unwilling to reply.
Returning to Jack, Ianto sat down, and said with a lightness he didn't feel, “So how do you want your roots this morning? Charred or just a bit smoky?”
X0X0X0X0X
The mist had thickened rather than thinned as the sun had risen higher, and despite Jack's protestations that they should start walking again even if it meant leaving him behind, they decided to wait.
Building a shelter was less than successful and after a couple of hours work all Ianto had to show for his efforts was a tangle of branches that almost certainly wouldn't keep them dry if it rained and sore hands. Disheartened, he'd sat back down by the fire with Owen and Jack.
“Did you hear that?” Owen asked quietly, prodding Ianto in the arm.
Ianto blinked realising that he must have nearly been asleep. “Hear what?”
Owen squinted out into the mist shrouded marsh. “I thought I heard people talking.”
They'd not seen any sign of habitation or any life larger than that the bat-birds creatures that had flown over shortly after their arrival, but Ianto knew that they'd seen very little of the place they found themselves stranded in. He got to his feet and said, “I'll take a look.”
“Just make sure no one sees you,” Owen said, wary despite the fact that they needed help. “As knowing our luck, they'll want to eat our brains or something.”
“Thanks for that, Owen,” Ianto muttered mostly to himself. “Because I don't still have nightmares about being eaten.” Moving to the edge of the island, he crouched down behind one of the low, scrubby bushes and peered through.
Standing in the marsh, watching the island intently and occasionally pointing at the thin wisps of smoke from their camp fire were five aliens. Little more than four foot tall they were covered from head to foot in short, dense lilac coloured fur. Large golden eyes, small rounded ears and noses as well as whiskers gave them the appearance of otters taken humanoid form.
Carrying sticks, bows and nets they could have been a hunting or foraging party, but Ianto wasn't willing to take the risk that they hadn't actually come to chase them off their land. Ducking back down, Ianto quietly and carefully made his way back to Owen.
“Did you see something?” Owen asked, caught somewhere between hope and fear.
“Yes.” Ianto turned to Jack. “Do you know anything about short, hairy, purple aliens?”
Jack blinked at him bleary eyed. “Why?”
“Because there are five of them over there.” Ianto pointed to where he'd seen them watching the island from the marsh.
“Were,” Owen said moving closer to them. “Look over there.”
Ianto turned to see the five aliens standing on the edge of their camp, still watching them with the same unblinking gaze.
“What should we do?” Ianto asked, wishing he had something to hand to defend them if the aliens did prove hostile.
“Go and say hello,” Jack said, a half smile on his lips. “Although I seem to remember that got me told off a few times.”
Before they could do anything else one of the aliens handed their bow and stick to one of the others in their group and stepped forwards. They patted their chest with a web fingered hand, the gesture making the seashell and feather necklace they were wearing clatter. “Pon-Pel.”
Ianto and Owen looked at Jack, hoping he knew whether this was a challenge, a greeting or something else entirely.
Jack shook his head and then said, “Get me up.”
With effort, Ianto and Owen got him to his feet. With his arms about their shoulders, they helped Jack limp forwards.
Stopping in front of the alien who had spoken, Jack pointed to himself and said, “Jack.” Then he held out his hand and smiled “Hello.”
The alien tilted their head to one side considering them for a moment and then spoke again. Rather haltingly this time in a language different from what they had first spoken in, as if it wasn't something they usually had cause to use.
Ianto couldn't understand what was being said, and if Owen's expression was anything to go by neither could he. Jack however smiled and replied.
The alien smiled back, their ears twitching as they revealed a mouth full of small sharply pointed teeth.
“So who are they?” Owen asked not happy about being unable to understand what was being said.
“Her name is Pon-Pel and she's a tracker.” He spoke to Pon-Pel again before translating again. “Apparently this planet is called Elen Sicar and they are the Star-Chosen. And handily she can speak a little bit one of the eight pan galactic trade languages.”
“Do they mind us being here?” Ianto asked. From what he could tell the aliens didn't seem hostile, but he unwilling to just assume that to be true.
“No, they're curious though. They saw our fire and came to see who was here.” The effort of staying on his feet was beginning to tell and Jack swayed, his good leg faltering under him, and he would have fallen if Ianto and Owen hadn't held him up.
Owen gave rather annoyed sigh. “You know you could have just said ‘I need to sit down’.”
“No,” Jack said, the appeal mostly directed at Ianto. “If I sit down, really I'm not going to want to get back up.”
Pon-Pel looked where the makeshift bandage was tied about Jack's leg and then turned back to the other Star-Chosen and started talking animatedly to them.
“What are they saying now?” Owen peered at the Star-Chosen who were standing just far enough away to be out of focus.
“I don't know,” Jack replied irritably. “Why do you think I always have the answers? I don't. I never did.”
Ianto sighed. He really wished that Owen could ask a simple question without making it sound like a challenge or an accusation and that Jack could stop taking everything so personally. He was about to try to intervene and defuse the situation when Pon-Pel returned and spoke to Jack again.
“Well here's you answer, Owen. They're going to take us to their village,” Jack said once he'd finished talking to Pon-Pel. He smiled, weary, pained but genuine. “They think we should be able to get there before dark.”
It wasn't exactly a long time, but Ianto was all too aware of how difficult Jack had found walking the previous day and Owen and his own somewhat weakened state after more than two days with nothing more than water and a handful of roots of dubious nutritional value. They would have to make the walk, the alternative didn't bear thinking about.
The mist had finally started to lift as they doused camp fire with water. Satisfied that it was out, Pon-Pel moved to the edge of the island and gestured for the rest of them to follow her.
With legs that were short even in comparison to their height, the Star-Chosen's walking speed was slow enough that Jack was able, with Ianto and Owen's help, not to fall behind.
The marsh was still as vast and featureless as before as far as Ianto could tell, but the Star-Chosen seemed to know exactly where they were going. Occasionally one or two of them would break off from the main group before returning, the string bags they carried over their shoulders filled with roots or leaves or some large spiral shells that looked a little like very stretched out snails.
It was hard going and it amazed Ianto that Jack was still on his feet and attempting the occasional translation for them. As time passed his attempts at conversation dwindled
Walking ahead of the rest of the group, Pon-Pel reached the top of the rise before them. She stopped at the crest and pointed to whatever was on the other side of the ridge, before turning back to them and saying something that Ianto didn't understand, but apparently made the rest of the Star-Chosen make a noise that he could only hope was a happy one.
It only took a minute or two more for Ianto, Owen and Jack to reach the ridge and see what Pon-Pel had been so pleased to see.
Beyond the ridge the ground sloped gentle away down to a large lake, the far side of which was lost beyond the horizon. Away to his right on a narrow peninsula tall trees with sparsely spaced branches, which looked rather like scots pines, spread down to the lake’s rocky shore, The golden evening sunlight caught the blue-grey needle like leaves making them shimmer against the cloudless sky.
And on the lake was the Star-Chosen's village. A collection of two dozen oval wood and thatch buildings on a wooden platform built on top of massive timber piling. Not connected to the land, as far as Ianto could see, access appeared to be via the half a dozen jetties that protruded out from the edge of the platform into the lake, alongside of which canoes, rafts and a couple of more substantial single masted boats moored.
Thin wisps of smoke rose from most of the buildings, fire lit for warmth and cooking the evening meal was Ianto’s guess, although how they did it safely without burning down the whole wood village he didn’t know.
When they reached the lake shore, Pon-Pel held up a hand to signal that they should stop. The Star-Chosen put down the bags and baskets they were carrying, and sat down on the pebbly beach. After a moment they turned to each other and started talking.
Owen squinted across the water towards the village. Then he tried looking through one eye and then the other, before giving a frustrated sigh. Turning to Ianto he said, “So is there something over there or not?”
“There's a village. I think they're waiting for something or someone,” Ianto said, aware that Jack was now leaning almost all his weight against him, his whole body trembling with the effort of remaining upright. “I'll try and find out in a minute, first Jack needs to sit down.”
Looking round Ianto saw a large driftwood log lying on the narrow, rocky shore and he helped Jack over to it. There was no sense in keeping him on his feet any longer than was necessary - he'd worry about getting Jack back on his feet when they were ready to move again.
While Ianto helped Jack, Pon-Pel lit a lantern, then lifted it high on the pole she carried with her, before raising and dipping it three times.
After a few moments there was an answering light from the nearest of the jetties, and Ianto could see that a raft was being made ready to come out and meet them.
Before the rafts could set sail, Pon-Pel covered one pane of the lantern with a scrap of red cloth and
held it aloft again. She kept it in place until there was an answering blue light from the jetty and then she lowered the lantern and extinguished the flame.
It didn't take long for the rafts to cross the lake, the Star-Chosen paddling them into the shallow water next to them.
The journey across the lake was surprisingly smooth. Ianto hadn't been sure what to expect as his own experience with boats comprised of a one hour sight-seeing trip down the Thames and the occasional trip out to Flat Holm while Jack had been gone.
Next to him on the raft, Jack was lying down with eyes closed, grateful for the chance to rest. While on a second raft Owen sat with Pon-Pel, looking decidedly unhappy about the whole experience.
A large crowd had gathered by the jetty, dozens of curious Star-Chosen watching them as they moored the rafts.
Climbing off the rafts was harder than getting on, the jetty standing above the level of the gently rolling deck of the craft. Eventually, with Ianto on the jetty and Owen on the raft, they managed to get Jack off the raft. The effort seemed to have taken the last of the energy Jack had and he shivered and shook, his arms around Ianto for support until Owen could help.
Waiting at the front of the crowd was an older Star-Chosen. Leaning on a twisted walking cane, her lilac fur had turned to silvery grey. Pon-Pel stepped forward to greet her. Palms pressed together then foreheads touched. They stepped back from each other and Pon-Pel spoke to her briefly. Then, after making a clicking noise with her tongue and moving her head from side to side, Pon-Pel began to move the curious crowd out of their way. Some drifted away, back to their houses, while others, mainly children stayed watching their strange visitors.
The older Star-Chosen moved forward until she was just in front of Jack. Reaching up, she placed a hand on his chest, making sure she had his attention before speaking to him calmly and clearly in the trade language used by Pon-Pel.
Jack nodded wearily, eyes closed. “She speaks it too. Speaks it better.” His voice was slurred with exhaustion and he didn't raise his head or open his eyes. “She's their healer. Her name's Cisca-Mar. She's err...” He stopped and then spoke briefly to Cisca-Mar, before reverting back to English for Ianto and Owen. “I told her you're a healer, a doctor. It's going to be all right.”
Cisca-Mar indicated that they should follow her to what appeared to be one of the largest buildings in the village. With Jack nearly collapsing between them Owen and Ianto helped him cover the short distance to the building.
The door was low and they all had to duck to enter, but once they were inside the high, conical roof meant that they could stand comfortable as long kept towards the centre of the building.
Two more Star-chosen were working inside. One was grinding some kind of herb into powder in a mortar, while the other tended to a fire burning in a raised, clay-line hearth. They both turned and looked at Cisca-Mar as she called to them.
Although Ianto couldn’t understand the words that were being said the meaning was clear: Please come and help me.
The Star-chosen who had been tending the fire lifted a pot of water onto a hook above the flames, and then walked over to them. The other looked curiously at them, but didn’t approach, opting instead to pull back the covers on a bed in the corner of the room.
Cisca-Mar pointed to Jack and then to the bed.
“Not going to make a joke about everybody wanting to get you in bed?” Owen said helping Jack over to it.
Jack shook his head.
Owen gave Ianto a worried, disbelieving look, but said nothing. Ianto knew what he meant. When Jack stopped making inappropriate jokes and comments things were pretty bad.
The bed was a little too short, even though the Star-Chosen had tried to lengthen it by placing a storage trunk with a blanket over the lid at the end of it. Jack didn't care though and he laid down with a groan, which Ianto suspected was as much from pain as relief at being off his feet.
“Hey, no sleeping yet,” Owen said to Jack, his tone kinder than Ianto was generally used to hearing. “I've got to give it a clean first.”
Jack looked at them both with weary, pain filled eyes. “I was really hoping you weren't going say that.”
The wound looked worse than it had that morning, the inflammation round the edges more pronounced, blood and pus leaking from it as part of the scab came away with the makeshift bandage.
“It's bad, isn't it?” Jack asked through gritted teeth.
“Yeah.” Owen kept his eyes on Jack's leg rather than his face. “But it's going to all right. I can give it a proper clean now. You'll be fine in no time.”
It was a lie. Ianto knew it with a cold, terrible certainty that Owen was lying to try and make Jack feel better. Owen, who didn't normally care about whose feelings he trampled on felt the situation was bad enough not to burden Jack with the truth.
“Do you need me to do anything?” Ianto asked, relieved that his voice sounded a lot steadier than he felt.
Owen rubbed a weary hand over this eyes. “Yeah, keep his leg still and try not to get in the way.”
Jack shook and cried out as Owen and Cisca-Mar cleaned the wound as thoroughly as they could. Unable to do anything more than hold Jack's leg still, Ianto felt useless. The utter helplessness and inability to do anything to ease the pain dragging up memories of caring for Lisa in the first few weeks following her partial conversion.
As soon as he was no longer needed to keep the leg still, Ianto moved to the top of the bed. Shivering, his eyes glazed with pain, Jack lifted his head slightly so it rested on Ianto's thigh, before slumping back exhausted.
It scared Ianto to see him like this. Everything that Owen had said about blood poisoning and Jack's own admission that not so long before he'd been ready and willing to die settling like a weight in his chest. He took Jack's hand tightly in his, hating that he needed to draw as much comfort from it as he was giving.
At one of the small tables round the edge of the room, Cisca-Mar scooped some bright green paste out of a small earthenware pot and spread it onto a pad of cloth. She pointed to Jack's leg indicating that it needed to go over the wound.
Owen looked dubiously at the green goo and then sighed and took it from her.
Jack flinched as Owen carefully placed it over the wound. “It feels odd,” he said after a moment.
“You want me to take it off?” Owen asked, sounding concerned that whatever was on the bandage might be having some undesired effect.
Jack blinked and then slowly shook his head. “It’s sort of cold and tingly. I think it's helping.”
“That's good, isn't it?” Ianto said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“If it starts feeling weird tell me and I'll get taken it off,” Owen said as he started to wrap a bandage round Jack's leg to keep the pad in place.
Owen had just finished securing the bandage when Pon-Pel rejoined them. After settling the large, round earthenware cooking pot she’d been carrying into the embers at edge of the fire, she went over to Cisca-Mar and started talking.
“She's got them well trained,” Owen said approvingly, as he watched one of Cisca-Mar's assistants start to tidy up, the other mixing some kind of dried herb with hot water in a lidded jug.
Once the pot had had time to heat through Pon-Pel ladled its contents into bowls. After days without a proper meal the stew, a mixture of sliced roots and pieces of fish, seemed like some of the best food Ianto had ever eaten. He looked at Owen who was eating as fast as the rather too small spoon would allow. It reminded him of all the times they'd ended up working stupidly late chasing down something that had come through the Rift and then ordered takeaway. Sighing, he tried to push away the thought that they were never going to be able to do that again.
Jack ate a little, but was soon nearly asleep in his food, the green paste on the bandage apparently having a painkilling effect finally allowing him to sleep.
Without Jack to translate for them communication was limited to pointing and gesturing and hoping that they were understood. Ianto watched as Owen tried to talk to Cisca-Mar about what medical supplies she had available and wondered if he would have any success.
Once the extra lanterns had been extinguished and the detritus from cleaning Jack wound had been cleared away, Cisca-Mar's assistants left for the night, Pon-Pel going with them.
There didn't appear to be a spare bed anywhere, but Ianto found he didn't care. Exhausted, he lay down on one of the reed mats by the fire, the need to rest weighing heavier on him than anything else, at least for now.
They'd survived the marsh and found help, now all they had to make Jack well again and get home. Closing his eyes, Ianto drifted off to sleep with hope for the future in his heart for the first time since they'd left Cardiff.
Link to part four