Two Heartbeats Out of Time, Jack/Ianto, part two
Part Two
They returned from their day off feeling both refreshed and relieved that the Rift had stayed dormant in their absence. Mac noticed that Ianto in particular was looking quite pleased with himself, whereas Jack spent the morning laughing at nothing and grinning at everything. She no longer doubted that they were a devoted couple, but the nature of their relationship continued to intrigue her. Jack was definitely in control of Torchwood but months of observation had confirmed Mac's belief that his command ended at the threshold of the little house the two of them shared.
She'd been there only once, dropping off some information not long after Jack had returned, and had been surprised at how domestic it'd seemed. Not at all what she'd expected, although she'd couldn't have articulated what those expectations may have been. A posh flat, maybe, to go with that flash Porsche Jack was so fond of. Or a hideaway somewhere, with an underground carpark and a glass lift to a shiny fibreglass house perched on a cliff. Certainly not a poky little place in a dodgy part of town, complete with a nosy neighbour hanging over the fence with a toddler on her hip. Mac's stay there had been brief-she hadn't even gone inside, since Jack had been chatting with the neighbour and had taken the envelope from her at the kerb-but she'd decided to try and coax an invitation to return as soon as possible.
They spent the morning updating files and attending to mundane housekeeping tasks, interrupted only by Gwen's late arrival and subsequent updates on newly purchased baby things that they all-save Jack-felt obliged to admire. This close to her due date, Mac was keeping an eye on Gwen but aside from some water retention-loudly lamented by Gwen as she pointed with dismay to her thickening ankles-she was doing brilliantly. Mac was anticipating a problem-free delivery and a healthy baby and mum.
All too soon, the calm of the morning was disrupted when the Rift alarms went off. After looking at the incoming data, Jack decided that he and Ianto could handle what appeared to be a small swarm of zyphoids that had come through a ripple in the Rift's energy field, taking up residence in an abandoned warehouse that suited their need for dark, damp spaces.
They'd gone off with a canister of carbon dioxide and promises of returning with Italian for lunch, leaving Gwen to guide them on comms and Jarvil monitoring the city for any other outbreaks. Mac, buried amongst her own research in the autopsy bay, listened with half an ear as Gwen lead Jack and Ianto to where the zyphoids had gathered, not noticing the urgent change to Gwen's tone until Jarvil rushed past her on the way to Gwen's workstation. By the time Mac joined him behind Gwen's chair, Gwen had turned on the overhead speaker so they could all hear the trouble that the lads had encountered in the warehouse.
From Jack's tense description, these zyphoids were a different breed than the harmless ones currently inhabiting Torchwood's secondary backup facility. The new arrivals were much more aggressive and thus more likely to attack neighbouring homes in search of small animals for food. On Jack's instructions, Mac and Jarvil set off to join them with a back-up canister of carbon dioxide, as they'd already depleted the canister they'd brought.
The drive to the warehouse was uneventful, as Mac and Jarvil listened in on comms to Jack's attempts at herding the zyphoids into a corner so they could be destroyed. It was quite amusing, listening to Gwen try and steer the two men, using Torchwood sensors to pick up the creatures' higher heat signatures. There was the usual exchange of half flirty, half grumpy remarks between Jack and Gwen, whilst it sounded as though Ianto seemed more irritated that he'd gotten a smear of something objectionable on his suit trousers than concerned about the job at hand. It was all very normal, just another day on the job, and Mac was looking forward to sorting out this zyphoid situation and moving on to a plate full of pasta and a glass of good claret.
***
"How is he?"
Mac grunted and slapped at a coil of hair that had fallen into her eyes. It should've been Jack Harkness answering that question, not a tired and shaken Jarvil. But then who was she to judge-she hadn't died a nasty death less than four hours ago and something like that might make a man yearn for a bit of privacy.
"He'll be fine. All the stingers came out cleanly and there don't seem to be any toxins in his blood, but I'll keep him under observation whilst I run more tests. You all right?"
Jarvil nodded, shoulders slumping. He was a big, graceful man, easily six inches taller than Jack, with wide shoulders and thick arms that tested the seams of the black cotton shirts he favoured. Formerly one of UNIT's finest, he was a professional soldier with sharply honed fighting skills and a deft touch with anything electronic that made its way into his huge, capable hands. Yet he looked diminished now, as if the events of the last few hours had worn parts of him away. He'd changed out of his bloodstained clothes and into yet another black shirt, but hadn't bothered to button the cuffs or tuck the tails into his black trousers.
"That's all right, then." Mac gave his arm a pat. "You can go on home, nothing more to do here tonight."
"Yeah, okay. I'll just check in with Jack-"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Mac glanced over her shoulder at the door to Jack's office. "I doubt he'd notice if the whole damn place fell down around his ears right now."
"Pretty upset, is he?"
"Upset?" Mac shrugged. "If you want to call it that. Pissed off would be more accurate."
"Pissed off? At what?"
"Not what." Gwen walked out of the small room where Torchwood's only hospital bed was located, one hand pressed against her lower back. "Whom." She gave Mac a wan smile. "He's asleep."
"Good." Balancing herself by placing a hand on the nearest desk, Mac toed off her shoes, arching her sock-covered feet in relief. "Best thing for him. You two go on, I'll be here for the night to keep an eye on him." On both of them, she added silently. Bloody stupid boys.
"You sure you won't need help?" Gwen tilted her head toward Jack's office. "I've been through this before."
Mac shook her head-even without the greyish smudges beneath Gwen's eyes and the tired rasp in Jarvil's deep voice, she knew they'd reached their limits after what had turned out to be a very bad day. She wasn't that far from exhaustion herself, but this wouldn't be the first night she'd slept on a cot to be near a patient, and as soon as she changed her clothes, found something to eat, and had some tea, she knew things wouldn't seem nearly so dire.
"I promise to ring if anything changes."
"All right." Gwen trudged toward the cog door, pausing to turn back to Mac. "There's a tuna fish sandwich in the fridge and some sea salt crisps in my desk drawer. Help yourself."
"Ah, bless you," Mac sighed. She watched as Gwen and Jarvil exited the Hub, Gwen's hand tucked into the crook of Jarvil' elbow, then turned toward the little room off the autopsy bay that served as the infirmary, intent on checking her patient before retrieving a fresh set of scrubs from her locker.
She found Ianto as Gwen had described him, adrift in an uneasy sleep. In the low light she could see that the bandages swathing his shoulder had yet to be stained through with fresh blood. That's where he'd taken most of the stingers, fragile, glass-like skewers that broke off once they were embedded in flesh. After detaching the stingers from their bodies, the zyphoids had fallen to the ground and died-Mac and Jarvil had stepped around dozens of them to get close enough for Jarvil to hose down the remaining zyphoids with carbon dioxide.
She rested the back of her hand on his forehead, finding it damp with perspiration but not overly warm. Only then did she look at the monitor to confirm her opinion that his temperature was well within the normal range. She continued with a visual inspection of Ianto's wounds that weren't bandaged-a few cuts on his forehead, a slice through his upper arm that had been too shallow to bother with, multiple wounds on his fingers and palms. They were inflamed but not any more than common cuts, the edges pink and seemingly free of infection. The zyphoid's stingers had been hollow and thin, causing clean punctures and cuts, more painful than dangerous, at least until the bloodwork was complete and Mac could be satisfied that there weren't going to be any side effects.
Ianto didn't stir during her examination and Mac attributed that to the mild sedative she'd added to his IV. His breathing was even and deep, and his complexion, though still pale, had regained some of its colour. All in all, everything pointed to a normal and not terribly protracted recovery, aided considerably by youth and strength.
Aye, Mac mused, save any surprises in the test results, his body would heal. His spirit-that was another matter.
Satisfied with her results, Mac took a shower and after washing and re-bundling her wet hair into its typical mop on the top of her head, got dressed and went in search of the tuna sandwich Gwen had offered. It wasn't the ravioli she'd been dreaming of earlier, but then her appetite wasn't what it had been, either. She was eating to maintain her blood sugar levels, knowing she had a long night ahead.
Putting the kettle on, she found the sandwich and set it on a plate, prying apart the slices of bread to scrape off a layer of wilted sprouts. She had the sandwich reassembled just as the kettle went off, so she unplugged it and sloshed some water into a cup where a tea bag was already waiting. When everything was arranged on a tray, she picked it up, planning to partake of her makeshift meal at her workstation while she analysed Ianto's test results and waited for Jack to appear from his self-imposed exile.
It was at that moment that reaction set it. Hands trembling, she dropped the tray on the counter, watching with disinterest as tea washed over the edges of her cup to stain the paper towel she'd placed beneath it. Grasping the edges of the counter, she lowered her head and closed her eyes, trying to will away the images that had suddenly flooded her brain.
Yes, Ianto had been injured. There'd been lots of bleeding on his part and a lot of yelling on hers, but it hadn't been any worse than anything she'd seen before. But what came back to her now was the scene she and Jarvil had walked in on-that was where the horror had been found, and that was what had her clenching her fists to stop them shaking now.
In the time it took Mac and Jarvil to leave their vehicle and approach the warehouse, the carbon dioxide canister strapped to Jarvil's back, the situation had gone from annoying to disastrous. They could hear Jack on comms, ordering at Ianto to get out and save himself, but the high-pitched buzz of the zyphoids' wings drowned out Ianto's reply. Then Jack and Ianto's comms had gone offline, leaving only Gwen's shaking voice urging Mac and Jarvil to hurry.
Jarvil burst through a side door, the hose of the carbon dioxide canister aimed and ready. Mac followed right behind, squinting into the murky darkness for any sign of their comrades. It wasn't hard to find them-the warehouse was empty except for rubbish, broken crates, and dead zyphoids. Trapped in a far corner, a dozen or so zyphoids hovering above them, were Jack and Ianto, their empty canister tossed aside. Jack was on the ground and Ianto was standing over him, swinging at the attacking zyphoids with a broken board. Even as she watched, Ianto connected with one of the insects, sending it flying across the warehouse to smash into a wall.
"What do you see?" Gwen asked.
Jarvil had taken off at a fast trot, Mac following behind with her medical bag slung over her shoulder.
"Looks like they swarmed," she panted. "Jack's down."
Mac waited only long enough for Jarvil to drive the zyphoids back before sprinting the last few metres to Jack's side. By the time she reached him, he was on his hands and knees, large drops of blood spattering the ground beneath him. Mac could see stingers protruding from his back and shoulders, but when he fell forward and then onto his side, she choked off a surprised cry. He'd taken two stingers directly to his heart, and she could see that he was going to bleed out in minutes. Ianto had dropped the board and was kneeling beside him, his upper chest near his left shoulder pierced and bleeding but doing more damage to his hands as he pulled at the razor-sharp stingers that laced Jack's body. He'd stripped off his suit jacket and had wrapped it around his fingers, but the stingers were so sharp that they shredded the material on contact, leaving Ianto's fingers and palms slick with blood.
"Damn it, Ianto!" Jack hissed, face contorted with pain, "I told you that you were sacked! Now get the hell out of here!"
Ianto didn't replied, his mouth set in a grim line as he pulled a stinger out of Jack's thigh.
Mac grabbed Ianto's arm as the wound welled with blood. "Stop! Ianto, stop it! That won't help him! I've got to control-"
"They have to come out." Ianto spoke through clenched teeth as he reached for another stinger embedded in Jack's calf.
"Mac! Get him out of here," Jack pleaded. He fell back against concrete floor, writhing away from Ianto as Ianto slid the stinger out of his flesh. "He no longer works for Torchwood! He doesn't belong here!"
Mac ignored him as she gave Ianto's arm a shake. "You're making it worse, Ianto! Damn it, keep doing that and he'll die!"
Ianto shook off her hand and twisted toward her, his pale face streaked with dust and sweat. "No!" He scraped his forearm over his face, smearing blood across his brow. "No," he repeated more quietly, "you don't understand. He's already dead." He bowed his head, and took in a great gulp of air. "I know what it looks like."
Mac opened her mouth to argue, but one look at the pool of blood beneath Jack and the waxen, blue tinge to his pallor and she couldn't deny the truth. She also knew what imminent death looked like, and even as she opened her medical kit, she could hear the breath rattle in Jack's chest, blood bubbling from his mouth to run across his jaw. She reached toward him, training and instinct taking over, but Jack died before she could even begin to evaluate his wounds or begin life-saving measures.
For a few seconds, Mac stared at Jack's body, unable to comprehend that this vital, seemingly unconquerable man was gone. Swallowing against the thick lump in her throat, Mac reached out and closed the sightless eyes, blinking back tears from her own. She'd known all along this immortality thing was a gimmick, a trick, some kind of heartless illusion-Jack Harkness was dead, and nothing on this earth was going to bring him back.
She turned to Ianto, who was removing the fatal splinters from the centre of Jack's chest
"Ianto," she murmured, "it's over. You don't have to-"
"You don't understand." Ianto winced as his fingers encountered a sharp edge protruding from Jack's shoulder. "They have to come out before he revives, otherwise-"
"Sweetheart, he's not coming-"
"Mac, Ianto's right." It was Gwen's voice in her ear, coming over the comm. "Let him see to Jack."
Mac rubbed at her wet eyes. "Gwen, Jack's gone-"
"He won't be for long. I know, it's hard to believe-"
"It's not hard, damn it!" Mac snapped. She glanced at Ianto, whose pale face and shaking hands were of more concern to her now. "It's fuckin' impossible! Men don't rise from the dead!"
Gwen's voice was gentle. "This one does, you just haven't had to witness it yet. What's the situation?"
Beyond Ianto, Mac could see that all of the zyphoids were out of the air, their carcasses littering the warehouse floor. Jarvil was kicking at the bodies, making sure they were dead, but when he looked over at Mac, she could see the concern on his face. He shook his head, clearly as uncomfortable as she was with Gwen and Ianto's adamant belief that Jack was coming back.
"The zyphoids are destroyed," Jarvil reported. "I'm still checking for stragglers."
Mac pressed her comm deeper into her ear. "Ianto's been stung," she told Gwen, "I've got to get him back to the Hub."
"I'm fine," Ianto said. He swayed on his knees, then keeled sideways, supporting himself on one hand as his eyes fluttered shut.
"Like hell." Mac forced herself to ignore Jack's body and moved closer to Ianto, motioning Jarvil to join them. "We need to get those stingers out of you and no arguments. Jarvil can see to things here."
Ianto's eyes flew open. "I'm not leaving," he said. "I have to stay with Jack, he'll need me."
Seeing the mulish set to Ianto's jaw, Mac tried a different approach. "Jesus, Gwen, help me out here. Jarvil can transport Jack's body back in the SUV, but Ianto needs medical attention now."
"Right." Gwen's tone turned brisk. "Ianto, love, come back with Mac. Jarvil will stay with Jack until he comes around and then bring him back."
Mac exchanged another exasperated look with Jarvil, wondering how long they were expected to go along with this charade. Between them, they got Ianto to his feet, overriding his weakening protests as his wounds began to take their toll. After taking one last look at Jack to impart a silent goodbye, Mac started to offer some words of solace to Ianto, but he interrupted her, raising his hand to capture a tear that had escaped to run down her cheek.
"Don't," he murmured. "it really is all right. He will be back." He looked past her to Jack's corpse, his eyes betraying his heartache. "He always comes back."
"Fine," Mac replied. She dashed away the moisture from her face and straightened her shoulders. "Then Jarvil will bring him home. Right now, you and I are leaving."
It looked as though Ianto was still going to baulk, but Mac could tell that the pain in his shoulder was beginning to make it hard for him to concentrate. "See that all the stingers are out," he told Jarvil, "and you'll find his coat and a spare shirt in the back of the SUV. He's usually cold when he comes back and he-and he-"
Ianto began to sag and Jarvil caught him, taking care to avoid the stingers. Between the two of them, Mac and Jarvil got Ianto to the back of the sedan they'd arrived in, making him as comfortable as possible. As Mac shut the door, he twisted in his seat to look out the back window toward the warehouse, as if expecting Jack to appear.
"I'll see you back home," Mac said to Jarvil as she opened the driver's door. "Let me know when you're in the garage and I'll help you with Jack's-with Jack. And gather up those spent stingers, I want a good look at them."
"Got it." Jarvil sighed and took Mac's hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "So you think all this about Jack coming back is some kind of hysteria?"
"I don't know." Mac gave Jarvil's hand a pat and climbed into the sedan. "We've both seen a lot of strange things since we signed on with Torchwood, but a man rising from the dead? That goes against every law of nature I know."
***
But Jack did come back. Staring at her spilled tea, Mac recalled hearing the disbelieving tone in Jarvil's voice as he narrated Jack's resurrection. She'd just got Ianto settled on the exam table when Jarvil's normally low voice erupted over the Hub's loudspeakers in a register she didn't expect he possessed. Frozen in her tracks as she listened, Mac spared a glance for her patient, who was sitting quietly on the table with his eyes closed and small smile on his mouth.
"Christ almighty, how?" she whispered. "I don't understand."
Eyes still closed, Ianto shook his head. "No one does. Something happened to him, changed him. He won't say exactly."
Mac scratched her neck. The hours she'd spent reading Owen Harper's journals had mentioned Jack's immortality, had even drawn up scientific theories, yet she'd assumed that's all it was, theories based on an assumption that couldn't be proven. She had a harder time dismissing Jack's constant presence in records going back fifty years or more, but assumed there was a prosaic explanation that didn't include any nonsense about immortality.
"But he died, Ianto, I swear he died. He is-I mean, he's human, isn't he?"
"No one knows, except Jack." Ianto winced as Mac clipped away his bloodstained shirt to began applying a topical anaesthetic to his shoulder wounds. "And at times I don't think he knows, either."
There hadn't been time for conversation after that. Mac had removed the stingers and attended to the punctures before turning her attention to the cuts on Ianto's hands, all the while listening to Jack and Jarvil as they mopped up at the warehouse. It was surreal for Mac to be listening to a man whom she'd declared dead not an hour ago snap out orders and arrange for the destruction of the zyphoid carcasses, yet it was unmistakeably Jack, albeit a Jack that sounded far angrier than she'd ever heard him.
As she helped a bare-chested and bandaged Ianto onto the bed in the small infirmary, he spoke up in a voice cracking with exhaustion.
"He sacked me, you know."
"Easy now, lay back, there's a good lad. Going to feel a bit of a pinch now, just an IV to keep you hydrated." Once she had the IV taped to the top of Ianto's hand, she pulled the blanket up around his abdomen and hit the control to elevate the head of the bed so that Ianto was nearly upright. "Now, I want you to relax and forget all about overgrown bugs and being sacked and dead boyfriends and try to get some rest."
"Jack didn't mean it," Ianto muttered. His hand strayed to the bandage crossing his chest, picking at the edges until Mac nudged it away.
"Course he didn't."
"He was just angry."
"Aye, could see that." Mac hitched her hip onto the corner of the bed. "Still is, from the tone of his voice. What has him so pissed off?"
Ianto leaned back against the pillows, his troubled gaze straying to the doorway. "I refused to obey a direct order."
Mac frowned. Ianto's loyalty to Torchwood-and to Jack-was unquestioned. "Sorry? That doesn't sound like you at all."
Ianto blinked, then looked at Mac. To her surprise, he smiled, a wistful turn of his mouth that brought an empty feeling to her stomach. "It's not the first time," he said, "nor the second, for that matter. But this time..."
His voice dwindled away and he looked down at his bandaged hands.
"Yes?" Mac prompted.
"He ordered me to leave him to die." Ianto raised his eyes to Mac's, and in them she saw the shadow of remembered fear but even worse, the haunting pain of watching a loved one suffer. And now that she knew that Jack was indeed immortal, that meant that Ianto had most likely seen the most important person in his life die over and over again.
"Why didn't you?" she whispered, fascinated in spite of the heartbreak inherent in the situation.
"I couldn't."
"But if you knew that he'd-"
"Doesn't matter. It never did. I can't take for granted that Jack is immortal, he wasn't born that way-if something made him that way, what if it could be taken away just as easily? He'll never know if the next time he dies is the last, the permanent one." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It almost happened once, you know. We thought he'd-that he wasn't coming back. We even put him in the vaults."
"Oh, sweetheart, that must've be rough."
"I gave up on him then." Ianto's mouth tightened. "Only Gwen believed that he'd make it. She waited day and night for him to come back, whilst I-well, I won't give up on him again. And if that means allowing him every chance to avoid death, then that's what I'll do."
Mac sighed, now understanding Jack's anger. "At the risk of your own life? He could've lost you today."
Ianto brushed the back of his bandaged hand against Mac's wrist. "Mac, believe me, I've no desire to be a martyr. But I couldn't walk away and leave him to die alone." He shook his head. "Sacked or not, that will never happen."
***
Mac tossed out the remains of the tepid tea and set aside the cup. Tea had its place, but a day like today called for something a bit stronger. Taking a small glass from the shelf, she placed it on the tray, planning on breaking into the liquor cabinet on the way to her workstation. She was just reaching for a napkin when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking up, she saw Jack standing a few feet away from her, hands in his pockets and head bowed.
"Jack? All right?" When Jack didn't react, she continued. "Ianto's going to be fine."
Jack nodded, eyes still on the concrete floor. "I know."
"How do you know? You haven't said a word to either of us since you-"
Jack lifted his head. "I've been paying attention," he said, his voice soft slicing the air between them like a knife.
Mac had it on the tip of her tongue to give him a piece of her mind, her primary instinct to point out that a useful boyfriend would've been at Ianto's side by now. But then she took a closer look at Jack and thought twice.
If she had to choose between them, she'd have to say that Jack looked far worse for the day's adventure, despite the fact that he was physically in better shape than Ianto. Upon returning to the Hub, Jack had cleaned up and changed his clothes, and to Mac's clinical eye, was suffering no lasting effects from his death. Yet he was paler than she'd ever seen him, with deep grooves bracketing his mouth. The skin around his eyes looked pinched and sore, and there was an uncharacteristic droop to his shoulders.
Rocking back on her heels, Mac crossed her arms. "Watching on CCTV isn't quite the same as being there, but I reckon you ken that."
Mouth set in a grim line, Jack glared at her, but Mac glared right back, though her heart wasn't in it. Every fear that Ianto had about Jack dying was playing out a hundred-fold in Jack's expression, and any anger she'd felt at Jack's perceived neglect of Ianto shrivelled and died beneath the torment that shone out of Jack's tired blue eyes.
Mac reached up and pulled out a loose pin, feeling strands of still-damp hair drift onto her neck and forehead. "How long are you going to let him believe he's been sacked?"
Jack's mouth twisted. "It was a stupid thing to say and I assume he knows that."
"Maybe he does, but it doesn't make it any easier to hear."
"He'll understand."
"That's a load of shite." Mac gave up and yanked the remaining pins out of her bun, letting thick wads of greying red hair fall to her shoulders. Though her anger at Jack had abated, she was still frustrated that he had yet to see her point. "You've got to understand-besides Torchwood, you're the most important thing in his life, it's instinctive to protect you, just like it's your instinct to protect him. It's fuckin' natural, in case you hadn't noticed."
"But I don't need protecting! I can't die!"
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything? D'you think it comes naturally to him that someone he loves is immortal? That he can just flip a switch and say, oh, well, Jack'll come back soon enough, may as well go off and have a pint. Jesus, Jack, you know the man better than I do-is what he did today out of character?"
"No, but-he has to adapt, damn it!"
"Adapt to what? You're asking him to accept something he's not wired to accept, no matter how many times he's seen you die."
Jack pointed a finger at Mac. "I thought I made it clear that we didn't need a house mother, so maybe you should just stick to medicine and leave-"
"Jack."
Mac and Jack turned to see Ianto standing at the top of the autopsy bay stairs, his hand cupped over the small wound where the IV had been attached.
"Who said you could get out of bed?" Mac snapped.
Ianto ignored her, his gaze fixed on Jack. "If leaving you to die is the default reaction to situations like the one we encountered today, or if you consider it to be a component of my Torchwood duties, tell me now."
Mac glanced at Jack. He'd gone utterly still, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "And if it is?"
"Then I imagine that my time here is over."
Hissing through her teeth, Mac took a step toward Ianto. "Wait, that's not-"
"Mac, that's enough." Jack swept passed her to stand in front of Ianto. "You know that's not what I want."
Ianto shrugged, then winced as his bandages pulled at his bare skin. "In this case, what you want is the least of my concerns. What you expect, that's what I want to know." He faltered, then straightened his shoulders. "Take it or leave it, I can't promise that the next time we're in that position, I won't do exactly what I did today."
"What if your choice puts one of your teammates at risk? Would it be worth it then?"
"You'll have to trust me to make the right decision at the time."
"Oh, so you'll only put yourself at risk. Yeah, forgive me if that doesn't make me feel a hell of a lot better."
Ianto took a step toward Jack. "I'm not trying to force you into a corner on this. But I can't guarantee that I'll do anything differently next time. The decision is yours, of course."
There was a brief moment of silence as the two men watched each other, Mac looking on as an unwilling witness. Though the circumstances of this conflict were highly unusual-arguing the merits of protecting an immortal lover-the heart of it remained the same. Love and sacrifice, stalemate and compromise-Mac found herself holding her breath, wondering what path Jack would take to resolve the crisis.
The tense stand-off broke when Jack sighed, lifting his hands to cup Ianto's cheeks. "Just promise me two things."
Ianto's eyes lit up, lines of distress easing from his face. "I'll give it my best effort."
"Will you at least pretend once in a while that I'm in charge here?"
"That is always my intent, today's evidence to the contrary. What else?"
"Yeah, so do me a favour, next time wait until I'm dead before yanking out anything that's stuck in me, okay? That hurt like hell, you know."
Ianto ducked his head, hiding a smile. "Sorry about that. I was just trying to save time."
"Your efficiency will be the death of me yet, Ianto Jones."
"Oh, Lord," Mac moaned, "let's not start with the death thing again. You," she continued, scowling at Ianto, "back to bed. And I'll be putting that IV back in as well, once you're settled."
"Yes, ma'am." Ianto's tone was meek, but he managed a wink in her direction as Jack took his arm to lead him back to the infirmary.
***
Hours later, Mac stood up from her workstation, rubbing at her eyes with the palms of her hands as she fought off a yawn. Based on the data from the stingers, and the evidence of Ianto himself, she was convinced that he'd suffer no ill effects from his battle with the zyphoids. In addition, she had quite a collection of the stingers to play with and she'd already written three pages of notes regarding their possible uses.
All in all, a good day's work, if a little dramatic. Sure, they'd lost a man, but then they'd gained him back, something she expected she'd best get used to. Another had been injured but was recuperating nicely, and an alien threat had been exterminated. Plus something had been settled between Jack and Ianto, even though she wasn't sure what that was. They certainly had a different set of obstacles than any normal couple faced, yet they seemed determined to make what they had work, despite those obstacles.
She decided she'd take a look at Ianto before she retired to the sofa for the remainder of the night. Descending the stairs in her stocking feet, she came to the infirmary doorway and paused there, propping her shoulder against the door, simultaneously amused and annoyed at what she saw in the dim light of a bedside lamp.
Any other time, she would've scolded Ianto for still being awake and Jack for keeping him that way, but she knew there was no need. She could see from the expressions on their faces that there was healing of another sort taking place, the kind of healing that had little to do with the physical yet everything to do with the continual well-being of both men. It was evident in the intimate cant of Jack's head as they spoke quietly to one another, in the casual stroke of his knuckles against Ianto's wrist. Ianto's fingers were playing with a fold of Jack's trousers, Jack having made himself comfortable by sitting on the bed in the narrow space beside Ianto's hip. They were engrossed in each other, happily lost in a world of their own, oblivious to their surroundings-and Mac had no wish to interfere. She turned and left, determined to extricate herself before disturbing them. Given her recent record of being around too many intimate conversations, she was content to leave them be for now, since she was certain that there'd be plenty of opportunities later to nag them about patients being kept up too late by thoughtless boyfriends who should know better.
Curling up on the couch, she unfolded a blanket and wrapped it around her legs before attempting to punch one of the cushions into some kind of acceptable form for her aching head. As she closed her eyes, she had the fervent hope that this dying thing of Jack's wasn't something she had to deal with too often. On the other hand, maybe he wouldn't object to a few wee tests, for the sake of science, of course.
God, she loved this job.
This story can be found at ooooh, shiny, where it is ever so much prettier.
Two Heartbeats Out of Time