A Multitude of Sins
A Multitude of Sins
“Ianto? Can I come in?” Tosh asked, leaning against the old, wooden door that was barring her from her friend.
“It’s unlocked,” Ianto’s tired voice answered, and Tosh turned the worn brass handle and went in, realizing as she shut the door behind her that she was moving slowly so as not to startle him. She took off her coat at a more normal pace, carefully took off her shoes and set them next to his, and stepped into the living room of his flat.
He was sitting on a pale blue couch, a green pillow clutched to his chest with one arm, the one not in a sling, his head back and eyes closed. She crossed the room quietly and sat down next to him as gently as she could. He didn’t open his eyes.
“Are you feeling any better?” She asked, softly.
“No, not really,” he responded sharply.
She ignored his tone. “Can I get you anything? Some water?” She paused. “Owen sent a pretty strong painkiller. He said you ducked out before he could get back to you.” She didn’t mean for that to come out accusatory, but she knew it did. Maybe it was.
Ianto opened one eye and looked at her pointedly, and then closed it again. “I was tired,” he said.
She leaned into his shoulder, “Do you want it, then?”
“No thanks, not right now,” he mumbled, “It’d probably just make me sick.”
“Yeah,” she replied, “It might. He told me to call him if it did so he could try something else for you.”
“Always thinking ahead, our Owen,” Ianto said sarcastically.
“It wasn’t his fault,” she said softly, reaching down for his good hand that was still clutching the pillow. She laid her hand over top of his, gently pulling it off the pillow, letting the pillow fall and lacing her fingers through his that were now free. She loved his hands.
Ianto ignored her gaze, but held her hand tightly.
“Jack woke up,” she said, looking away, knowing that this was probably an unfair play.
It got Ianto’s attention, though. “Was he angry I left?” he asked, opening both eyes; she saw a hint of concern break through his indifferent mask.
“I don’t think so,” she said, looking back to his hand. “He’s still sick; he couldn’t get over here yet.” She knew she was understating Jack’s condition, remembering him lying on the med table, sweating and trembling uncontrollably after vomiting, eyes clenched shut against the obvious pain of the poison. But she didn’t want guilt to be the reason Ianto went back to him tonight.
Ianto shook his head and leaned forward, “I just wanted to be alone.”
“I think he knew that, too,” she said gently. “He told me look after you until he could get here.”
“He must be feeling like shit if he’s still down,” Ianto said distractedly.
“It was a big alien with lots of poison,” she remarked sharply. Her snarky attitude surprised her, but suddenly his self-indulgence was grating on her.
“Did he send you?” he asked, just as sharply.
She sighed, “No. I told him I was going to come find you. He had just finished throwing up and didn’t seem up to coming along.”
“What? Why was he throwing up?”
She cursed her slip. “Owen’s running some tests, but he can only guess that the poison’s interfering with his healing,” she replied.
They were quiet for a few minutes, Ianto’s head returning to the back of the couch and Tosh holding his hand. She went to pull away so she could get him some tea or something, but he squeezed and held on, so she stayed. Sometimes they had to ground each other, and tonight it was her turn.
After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and glanced over at her. “I should go back to him,” he said, almost as a question.
She shook her head, “No, it’s okay. Gwen and Owen are both there, and he’ll come when he’s able.”
“Or not,” Ianto said bitterly.
She couldn’t see his reasoning, and so she paused and looked at him carefully. “You’re upset with Jack?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It was probably his idea, you know.”
She thought of the martyr complex Jack and Ianto both seemed to share. He was probably right.
He nodded and continued. “He should have let one of us negotiate. That thing had it out for him and he knew it,” he said angrily.
“Owen was the closest and he let him go. Do you really think Owen could have stopped him?” She asked quietly. Always defending Owen. Tonight she really felt justified, though.
He sighed. “Probably not, but he should have tried.”
“You weren’t exactly smart about it, though,” she said with a chuckle, glancing pointedly down at his arm and recalling his rush to Jack’s side, a torrent of profanity aimed at Owen all the while, and his total miss when it came to being aware of where the alien’s tentacles were.
He started to protest, and then grinned, “You’re probably right.”
“You did a good job hollering at Owen, though. Can’t say I’ve heard anyone else call him as many unpleasant things in a string like that.” She laughed again, “It was probably good for him.” She did believe that.
He sighed and stood up suddenly, wavering just a bit on his feet. “Can you take me back to the Hub? I don’t feel like driving, but I should go back.”
“Why?” she asked, standing as well, not really surprised at her inability to keep him here, but wanting to hear his reasoning anyway.
“I want to see how Jack’s doing.” He paused. “I shouldn’t have left.” Guilt then, after all.
“Well, you were hurt and you were angry at both of them. It’s understandable.” Sort of, she thought.
He looked around the room in a bit of a daze. “I think I left my jacket at the Hub. Hang on, let me grab a jumper.” And he disappeared down the hallway for a moment or two. She grinned when he emerged with an obvious tourist shop giveaway, a black jumper with the Welsh dragon emblazoned on the front. She kept quiet, though, and helped him get his sling back on his arm.
She drove him back to the Hub as he asked, but insisted that he take one of the painkillers once he got there before he went to see Jack. If she could get him sleeping at the Hub before she left, she’d be content; she knew he needed it desperately.
She and Ianto headed for the med bay after he had a drink and a pill, and Jack was lying in the hospital bed Owen had recently brought in, an odd sight. There was actually an IV running from his arm, and a couple of bags of medicine hanging from the pole. He was awake, but still pale and sweating, and Owen was talking to him softly while Gwen stood off to the side, her arms crossed in her at-the-ready stance and still dotted with residue from cleaning the alien mess up. She looked up when she heard them come in.
“Ianto! Are you feeling all right?” She said, crossing the floor to meet him as he descended the steps. She wrapped him in a hug, being careful of his arm.
He nodded, “A little tired, but I’m okay.”
Owen turned and raised an eyebrow at him, silently offering Ianto the chance at first words.
He took them. “I’m sorry for leaving so quickly, Owen.” And he paused. “I’m sorry for yelling so much, too.”
Owen nodded at him, “Okay.”
Ianto crossed to Jack, and said, his accent even thicker in tiredness and anger, “But he’s not invincible. We have to stop treating him that way.”
Tosh was surprised he opened with this, expecting him to be distracted by Jack.
Jack shook his head and said hoarsely, “It wasn’t Owen’s fault, Ianto. Give him a break.”
Ianto picked up Jack’s hand in his own, looking sharply down at Jack, “So it was your fault? You need to stop throwing yourself in, sir.”
Gwen stepped over to the other side of the table and suddenly a debate had arisen in the med bay, where Ianto and Jack were fighting at cross purposes and the rest of them were being asked to take sides. Tosh watched as Gwen sided with Ianto. “He’s right, Jack. A plan would have been safer for everyone. Instead you just whisper to Owen and swan in. We didn’t know what was happening.” She paused and took a deep breath and added, “And you’re not invincible. Obviously.”
Ianto looked surprised but grateful for her outburst, but then Owen stepped forward and said very firmly and loudly, “Now is not the time.”
Tosh was startled, and she and the others looked sharply at him. He was adjusting the medicine in one of the bags, and he glared up at them. “He’s sick. It’s going to be at least a few hours before he feels any better. Ianto, you’re dead on your feet. Now is not the time for you to be picking fights. Gwen, call a meeting tomorrow and sort policy out then. Go home and rest for now. Tosh,” he said lightly, looking past the others where she had stayed standing on the bottom step, “can you get a blanket or two for the couch upstairs? Ianto can crash there.”
She nodded, but didn’t move right away. Gwen was still staring at Owen, who said, “Look, I let him go in and I probably would do it the same if it happened again. You can present your arguments against us tomorrow. I’m not in the mood to deal with any of you at the moment, so bugger off to your respective places and leave me and Jack alone.” Jack closed his eyes and nodded, and Ianto just held Jack’s hand and looked away.
There was nothing else to be done. Tosh slipped upstairs and found the blankets after wishing Gwen a good night as she left through the cog door. After placing them on the couch, she wound her way back downstairs to the med bay, where Ianto was sitting on the bed, still holding Jack’s hand. Owen made one last check of the equipment and approached Tosh on the steps and they walked upstairs together.
She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the tired walk as he trudged slowly up the steps, and the sadness in his face. “You need to rest, too,” she said quietly.
He nodded, “Yeah. I’m gonna sleep in my chair until his IVs are done running. Then I’ll go home. I’ll set an alarm.”
“Do you want me to stay for awhile?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I think it’ll be quiet. You and Gwen get any rift calls for the night, so you may as well go home and try to sleep while you can. Jack’ll be better in a while, I imagine. The saline and morphine drip should do the trick of tiding him over until the healing really takes care of it.”
She stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around, looking down at Jack and Ianto. She chuckled, seeing that Ianto had already stretched out next to Jack in the hospital bed, cramming his long frame in, his good arm tucked under Jack’s head, and was almost asleep. Jack had thrown his free arm over Ianto’s chest and was breathing evenly next to him.
Owen looked down at them and wiped his face with his hand and then sighed heavily, “Of course, I guess I can have the couch now. Fuck. A couple of martyrs falling in love with each other cannot be healthy in this line of work.”
She smiled, gave Owen a quick hug, looked at her best friend curled up with his lover, and headed home, mission accomplished.