Ianto's Journey - Chapter 9
Title: Ianto’s Journey - Chapter 9
Author: Timelordshines
Characters: Ianto Jones, Lisa Hallet, Owen Harper, Jack Harkness, Toshiko Sato, Suzie Costello
Series Rating: 15
Words: 1371 / 25351
Spoilers: S1E4, S2E12, DW-S2E12, DW-S2E13
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD and the BBC - I’m just borrowing them.
Written for hc_bingo prompt "Lacerations".
Start at the Prologue
Previous chapter - Chapter 8
Ianto looked once more at the schematic that Lisa had drawn for him and compared it to the various bits and pieces he had been able to salvage from the wreckage of Torchwood One and cobble together from the archives at Torchwood Three. He was nearly done - just a couple more pieces to put into place. Ianto purposefully didn’t think about how Lisa had known how to make the life support machine. She was the cleverest person he knew, well until he met Toshiko, but there were technological leaps here that she shouldn’t have been able to make. But it was going to work. It was nearly finished and not a moment too soon. Lisa was getting weaker by the day, her organs failing as he watched helplessly. All he could do was keep dosing her with painkillers to try and take the edge off, but the chemicals were putting too much strain on her liver and kidneys, the constant pain and inability to rest properly putting strain on her heart and respiratory system. But this machine would help with all that. She had explained it to him. It would take over all the automatic organ functions that a healthy body did without thinking, giving her own body a chance to rest and recuperate. That way, when he could find a specialist who could help to remove all the metal implants, she would be strong enough to survive, to heal and become the old Lisa again.
Ianto worked whilst he thought, assembling bits of metal, soldering wires into place and keeping an ear tuned into the comms link that he permanently wore, keeping tabs on the rest of the team and making sure that he knew where each of them was and if they were going to need him. He had found the best way to go unnoticed was to make sure he always knew what someone would need before they did, so that he would appear with the item, usually coffee, before they thought to look for it. That way nobody bothered to wonder where he was or what he was doing.
Ianto chuckled to himself, imagining Lisa teasing him for multi-tasking like a girl. She would say that men weren’t supposed to be able to do that. she would call him a woman, and he would laugh along with her and re-join with a comment about how women weren’t supposed to be able to park, but after driving in London for eight years she had become a dab hand at it so if he was a girl, she must be a man.
As he smiled, distracted by the memories, Ianto’s hand slipped. He stared in horror as the red spread across the palm of his left hand and the Stanley knife fell from his right to clatter to the floor. Ianto watched, mesmerised as a drip of his blood fell from his hand and splashed against the grimy floor. It took a second for his brain to catch up to what he was seeing and for the pain to register. He swore and took the handkerchief from his pocket, wadded it up, and pressed it tightly against the deep red line to stem the flow, a few more choice expletives falling from his lips. He watched as colour spread across the cream fabric and realised that he was going to have to get it stitched up to stop the bleeding.
Biting his lip against the sting in his palm and mentally chastising himself for losing concentration Ianto checked the soldering iron was turned off, picked up the knife and made the blade safe, the irony not lost on him, and left the room closing and locking the door behind him. He clenched his fist around the handkerchief in his hand and watched carefully as he walked along the corridor towards the archives and the rest of the Hub to make sure he didn’t drip anywhere. He didn’t want to advertise his presence in the unused and forgotten corridor.
On reaching the main level of the Hub Ianto walked straight past Toshiko and Suzie’s work stations without either of the women noticing, both of them far to engrossed in their work as usual. He headed down the stairs to Owen’s lair.
“Ooh time for another cuppa?” the medic asked, spinning on his seat to look at Ianto.
“Umm yeah, I’ll make one in a minute,” Ianto said, “I uh, I need your help first though Dr Harper.” He said using the title to indicate that he needed him in a medical sense and holding up his injured hand. “I uh, cut myself down in the archives.”
“What, you get a paper cut or something?” Owen smirked pushing his chair back.
“Yeah, something like that.” Ianto replied, pressing his lips together tightly in what could be mistaken for an approximation of a smile if you didn’t listen to the tightness in his voice or see the way his left eye squinted slightly in an understated grimace as his hand throbbed dully in time with his pulse.
“Alright, let me see it Teaboy.” Owen said, getting up from his chair and pulling on some gloves as he walked towards his patient. He took Ianto’s hand and unfurled the younger man’s fist to reveal the blood soaked handkerchief. He pulled the fabric away to see the wound, deep and angry looking. Ianto stared at it in fascination as blood slowly welled up in the crease again now that the pressure had been removed.
“Bloody hell Ianto, that’s some paper cut.” Owen said, gently steering Ianto to take a seat and handing him a fresh gauze. “Here, apply pressure again,” he directed before moving off to find the necessary tools of his trade.
“Right then Ianto,” said Owen reappearing at his shoulder with a loaded syringe, “I’m going to give you a local anaesthetic and then clean and stitch the wound.”
“Wait!” said Ianto, a little more loudly than he intended. “How long would an anaesthetic last?”
“A couple hours. I’ll only give you a low dose.”
“So I won’t be able to use my hand?”
“You won’t be using it much anyway, with that cut.”
“I don’t want the injection.”
“You afraid of a little needle, Jonesy?” Owen teased.
Jack chose that moment to saunter down the stairs, “What’s happening down here then?” which Ianto and Owen both simultaneously translated as “am I missing out on something?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “I just cut my hand on something I was archiving. The good doctor here is about to stitch me up.”
“He won’t let me give him a local anaesthetic.” Owen said petulantly like a child telling the teacher.
Jack turned to Ianto as if addressing a school child, playing along. “Why don’t you want the injection? Don’t you want to feel the doctor’s little prick?”
Ianto smirked as Owen spluttered.
Jack laughed. “Just do as your patient asks Owen”
Ianto mentally breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to get back down to the basement and finish Lisa’s machine and he was going to need the use of both hands to do that. Even though he knew his left hand was going to sting like a bitch, at least he would still be able to use it without the anaesthetic.
“Okay, but I advise you not to look Teaboy. It’s going to hurt like hell and seeing what I’m doing will only make it seem worse.”
Ianto absently nodded his consent but couldn’t help looking down at his hand with morbid fascination as the medic peeled away the bloodied gauze.
Jack perched on the edge of the table in front of Ianto and lightly touched the younger man’s knee breaking the spell. Ianto lifted his head and his eyes sought out the Captain’s face, locking their eyes together and falling into the other man’s deep blue gaze. The doctor’s skilled hands made quick work of cleaning the wound and administering the stitches. The pain only registered on the periphery of Ianto’s mind, the majority of which was caught up contemplating the varied shades and patterns of Jack’s darkening irises and the heat of the Captain’s hand still burning into his leg.
On to Chapter 10
Author: Timelordshines
Characters: Ianto Jones, Lisa Hallet, Owen Harper, Jack Harkness, Toshiko Sato, Suzie Costello
Series Rating: 15
Words: 1371 / 25351
Spoilers: S1E4, S2E12, DW-S2E12, DW-S2E13
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD and the BBC - I’m just borrowing them.
Written for hc_bingo prompt "Lacerations".
Start at the Prologue
Previous chapter - Chapter 8
Ianto looked once more at the schematic that Lisa had drawn for him and compared it to the various bits and pieces he had been able to salvage from the wreckage of Torchwood One and cobble together from the archives at Torchwood Three. He was nearly done - just a couple more pieces to put into place. Ianto purposefully didn’t think about how Lisa had known how to make the life support machine. She was the cleverest person he knew, well until he met Toshiko, but there were technological leaps here that she shouldn’t have been able to make. But it was going to work. It was nearly finished and not a moment too soon. Lisa was getting weaker by the day, her organs failing as he watched helplessly. All he could do was keep dosing her with painkillers to try and take the edge off, but the chemicals were putting too much strain on her liver and kidneys, the constant pain and inability to rest properly putting strain on her heart and respiratory system. But this machine would help with all that. She had explained it to him. It would take over all the automatic organ functions that a healthy body did without thinking, giving her own body a chance to rest and recuperate. That way, when he could find a specialist who could help to remove all the metal implants, she would be strong enough to survive, to heal and become the old Lisa again.
Ianto worked whilst he thought, assembling bits of metal, soldering wires into place and keeping an ear tuned into the comms link that he permanently wore, keeping tabs on the rest of the team and making sure that he knew where each of them was and if they were going to need him. He had found the best way to go unnoticed was to make sure he always knew what someone would need before they did, so that he would appear with the item, usually coffee, before they thought to look for it. That way nobody bothered to wonder where he was or what he was doing.
Ianto chuckled to himself, imagining Lisa teasing him for multi-tasking like a girl. She would say that men weren’t supposed to be able to do that. she would call him a woman, and he would laugh along with her and re-join with a comment about how women weren’t supposed to be able to park, but after driving in London for eight years she had become a dab hand at it so if he was a girl, she must be a man.
As he smiled, distracted by the memories, Ianto’s hand slipped. He stared in horror as the red spread across the palm of his left hand and the Stanley knife fell from his right to clatter to the floor. Ianto watched, mesmerised as a drip of his blood fell from his hand and splashed against the grimy floor. It took a second for his brain to catch up to what he was seeing and for the pain to register. He swore and took the handkerchief from his pocket, wadded it up, and pressed it tightly against the deep red line to stem the flow, a few more choice expletives falling from his lips. He watched as colour spread across the cream fabric and realised that he was going to have to get it stitched up to stop the bleeding.
Biting his lip against the sting in his palm and mentally chastising himself for losing concentration Ianto checked the soldering iron was turned off, picked up the knife and made the blade safe, the irony not lost on him, and left the room closing and locking the door behind him. He clenched his fist around the handkerchief in his hand and watched carefully as he walked along the corridor towards the archives and the rest of the Hub to make sure he didn’t drip anywhere. He didn’t want to advertise his presence in the unused and forgotten corridor.
On reaching the main level of the Hub Ianto walked straight past Toshiko and Suzie’s work stations without either of the women noticing, both of them far to engrossed in their work as usual. He headed down the stairs to Owen’s lair.
“Ooh time for another cuppa?” the medic asked, spinning on his seat to look at Ianto.
“Umm yeah, I’ll make one in a minute,” Ianto said, “I uh, I need your help first though Dr Harper.” He said using the title to indicate that he needed him in a medical sense and holding up his injured hand. “I uh, cut myself down in the archives.”
“What, you get a paper cut or something?” Owen smirked pushing his chair back.
“Yeah, something like that.” Ianto replied, pressing his lips together tightly in what could be mistaken for an approximation of a smile if you didn’t listen to the tightness in his voice or see the way his left eye squinted slightly in an understated grimace as his hand throbbed dully in time with his pulse.
“Alright, let me see it Teaboy.” Owen said, getting up from his chair and pulling on some gloves as he walked towards his patient. He took Ianto’s hand and unfurled the younger man’s fist to reveal the blood soaked handkerchief. He pulled the fabric away to see the wound, deep and angry looking. Ianto stared at it in fascination as blood slowly welled up in the crease again now that the pressure had been removed.
“Bloody hell Ianto, that’s some paper cut.” Owen said, gently steering Ianto to take a seat and handing him a fresh gauze. “Here, apply pressure again,” he directed before moving off to find the necessary tools of his trade.
“Right then Ianto,” said Owen reappearing at his shoulder with a loaded syringe, “I’m going to give you a local anaesthetic and then clean and stitch the wound.”
“Wait!” said Ianto, a little more loudly than he intended. “How long would an anaesthetic last?”
“A couple hours. I’ll only give you a low dose.”
“So I won’t be able to use my hand?”
“You won’t be using it much anyway, with that cut.”
“I don’t want the injection.”
“You afraid of a little needle, Jonesy?” Owen teased.
Jack chose that moment to saunter down the stairs, “What’s happening down here then?” which Ianto and Owen both simultaneously translated as “am I missing out on something?”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “I just cut my hand on something I was archiving. The good doctor here is about to stitch me up.”
“He won’t let me give him a local anaesthetic.” Owen said petulantly like a child telling the teacher.
Jack turned to Ianto as if addressing a school child, playing along. “Why don’t you want the injection? Don’t you want to feel the doctor’s little prick?”
Ianto smirked as Owen spluttered.
Jack laughed. “Just do as your patient asks Owen”
Ianto mentally breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to get back down to the basement and finish Lisa’s machine and he was going to need the use of both hands to do that. Even though he knew his left hand was going to sting like a bitch, at least he would still be able to use it without the anaesthetic.
“Okay, but I advise you not to look Teaboy. It’s going to hurt like hell and seeing what I’m doing will only make it seem worse.”
Ianto absently nodded his consent but couldn’t help looking down at his hand with morbid fascination as the medic peeled away the bloodied gauze.
Jack perched on the edge of the table in front of Ianto and lightly touched the younger man’s knee breaking the spell. Ianto lifted his head and his eyes sought out the Captain’s face, locking their eyes together and falling into the other man’s deep blue gaze. The doctor’s skilled hands made quick work of cleaning the wound and administering the stitches. The pain only registered on the periphery of Ianto’s mind, the majority of which was caught up contemplating the varied shades and patterns of Jack’s darkening irises and the heat of the Captain’s hand still burning into his leg.
On to Chapter 10