Forgotten - 2/4
As Jack and Owen drove to Cathays, Owen was suspiciously quiet.
“Ok, Owen, what’s wrong?” Jack asked.
At first Owen didn’t answer. He continued watching the buildings through the window. His brow furrowed, he opened his mouth and shut it a few times before responding, “I’m a doctor. I trained in A&E. I was the best in my year. I saved hundreds of lives, human, alien, whatever. Why didn’t I see it?”
Jack sighed and switched to third gear, “Why didn’t any of us see it? We’re all so used to him in the background that we don’t notice him even when he’s right there. I mean, it happened with the cyberman, but things have just gone back to where they were, haven’t they? We get coffee, towels in the bathroom, and the pterodactyl shit is cleaned up. I mean, have you ever actually seen him scrubbing the pterodactyl shit? Somehow it all just magically disappears.”
“I want to hate him Jack. I mean, he almost killed us and I really, really want to hate him. But we were there, remember? We saw the flames, the ash, the bodies. We heard the screams of the half-converted. And I want to hate him, I really do, but I keep asking, what if it was Katie?” Owen bit his lower lip and traced patterns on the car window. “I wanted to kill you after Katie. And Tosh? If it was her mom? And if it was Rhy? Would any of us have just let them die?”
“Yeah…” Jack said quietly as they pulled up to the Church. “Tosh, has he left?”
“No,” came the answer in Jack’s ear. “No sign of him leaving, but I can’t figure out where he is once you get there. There’s no camera inside, and no records of any family members buried there.”
“Ok, we’ll call if we find him,” Jack responded. He turned the car off and looked to Owen. “Let’s go. Bring your med kit. We don’t know what he’s going to be like.”
Jack and Owen quickly entered the Church grounds, searching for any sign of their missing teammate. They walked through row after row of graves, ancient and new, only for Jack to climb the highest tree in an attempt to see further.
“Nothing,” he said as he fell (he would forever claimed it was intention) to the ground. “Absolutely nothing. It’s like he disappeared.”
“You know, he’s going to bugger you to get those grass stains out,” Owen said, pointing to the new stains on Jack’s greatcoat. “I guess we should head back to the SUV. Maybe Tosh can pull up a satellite image or something.”
Just then, the two men were approached by a young reverend with dark hair and kind eyes. “Are you the police?” he asked.
“We can be. We’re Torchwood. What’s wrong?” Jack said.
“My name’s Reverend Mathers. I found a young man in our church a few hours ago. He was lighting three candles. He looks pretty bad, but refused to let me help him. I think he’s hurt. I called the police, but they haven’t come yet. ”
“Show us,” Owen commanded.
Sure enough, as soon as Owen and Jack entered the Church vestibule, they caught sight of Ianto sitting in one of the back pews. Even from the distance, Owen could see it wasn’t good. The young man was paler then usual, the only color being the dark bruises littering his face and head, his chest rising rapidly as he struggled to take in air. The medic hurried to his side, and began his lightly tapping Ianto on the side of his face.
“Ianto? Ianto! Wake up! Wake up damnit!” Owen called loudly.
Slowly Ianto’s one good eye opened. He stared blearily around, trying to pinpoint the sound in his ear. When he turned his head slightly and groaned, he was confronted with someone shining a torch in his face. He weakly tried to push the torch away, but didn’t have enough strength to lift his arm.
“Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.” Owen chanted. “Ok Jackie boy, hospital time. Carry him. He’s in no fit state to walk.”
Jack quickly lifted Ianto into his arms, carrying him as easily as one would carry a child. Ianto groaned in protest; the dark was nice. The dark was comforting. He liked the dark. This bloody hurt! He kept trying to go back to the dark, but just as he would, someone would call his name, or his ribs would get bumped, or his arm would be moved. All of which combined to make the darkness a rather unachievable dream. At least until he was laid down and still. Then the dark came happily.
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The next time Ianto woke for any extending period of time, it was to the sound of a rather annoying beeping. Thinking it was his alarm clock, he reached over with his left hand to hit the snooze button, only to feel someone grab his arm and make small shushing noises. He muzzily opened his eyes to see Gwen watching him closely.
“Gwen? Where’m I? Wh’s wr’ng?” he slurred.
“You’re in the hospital love. Just lay back now ok?”
“’Spital? Why? Who’s hurt? Is it Tosh? Is she ok? They were gonna-“ Ianto cried.
“Hush love, Tosh is fine. She’s ok. Don’t worry about her. You’re here ‘cause you’re hurt sweetheart. You got hurt, but you’re going to be fine. Just lay back and go to sleep now, ok?” Gwen watched sadly as Ianto slowly closed his eyes and his breathing evened out.
“Ok Copper Cooper. What the hell was that? That wasn’t even English! All I got was something about Tosh,” Owen said, storming in.
“Hush Owen, he’s asleep. That’s why Jack asked me to stay with him. Ianto’s first language was Welsh. He was speaking Welsh. It happens with bilingual people sometimes,” Gwen explained.
“Actually, Ianto’s multilingual,” Jack said as he entered the room. “Welsh, English, Japanese, French, German, and a smattering of Mandarin. You should try holding a conversation when he’s drunk, not that he ever gets drunk. Like being at the UN without the translators. I remember this one time I stopped in to see the Jamaican ambassador to pick up some alien jerky...”
“Right, enough! Out. Everyone out. Right now. I really don’t wanna know,” Owen said, holding his hands over his ears and ushering Gwen and Jack into the hallway. The supposedly soothing cream and green walls did nothing to calm Jack. He kept glancing back towards the room, as if by Harkness Will alone he could force Ianto’s bruises, cuts, and broken bones to heal.
“So, Doctor? Prognosis?” Jack asked, suddenly serious.
“Ok, here we go. Three broken ribs, broken right arm, sprained right knee, concussion, enough bruises and contusions to make his body look like an abstract painting in the Louvre and…” Owen said slowly, looking distinctly uncomfortable and rubbing one hand on the back of his neck, “bite marks. Lots of ‘em. Various sizes.”
“They bit him? They beat him and they bit him?” asked a cold and frightening Jack.
As Owen nodded the affirmative, Jack smashed his fist into the wall, watching as the broken bones and cut skin realigned and healed. ‘Gwen, go back to the Hub. Have Tosh do a search for the villagers’ police files. I want them in solitary confinement for the rest of their goddamn lives!”
At that, Gwen fled the hospital, happy to get away from Jack’s temper. She had seen him angry before, but never like this, never this openly. In truth, it frightened her, and she was more than willing to spend the rest of the day with Tosh eating Chunky Monkey on the Hub’s couch as Mainframe infiltrated the police database.
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When Ianto next awoke, he still had trouble remembering where he was and why that bloody beeping wasn’t being turned off. Of course, the IV port in his arm and the disassociated feeling in his head was enough to remind him of hospitals and Gwen. He slowly moved parts of his body, trying to figure out the vague pain that seemed to spread everywhere. He thought back to his rugby days, remembering how his coach used to have them wiggle their fingers and toes whenever they woke from a concussion.
Jack noticed the slight movement of toes under the thin hospital blankets. He watched, smiling and fascinated, as legs were bent, hips shifted, and finally arms lightly raised. He knew what Ianto was doing, had seen boys in war do the same thing when they woke from injuries. He also noted the frequent grimaces on Ianto’s bruised and swollen face, and was pleased that Owen was adept at figuring out pain medication doses.
“Ianto,” he called softly. “It’s ok Ianto. You’re in a hospital, Cardiff A&E. You’ve been here for a few hours. You’re safe now, ok? Can you look at me? Turn your head a bit to the left and you can see me.”
“Jack? Beth ydy c? Paham ach 'ma? Paham ach mo am 'r bogail?”
“Okaaaayyyyy…” Jack said, blinking and rubbing a hand through his hair. “Um, that was Welsh again, I think. Or a possible Calufraxian dialect, but since you don’t know Calufraxian, I’m gonna go with Welsh. Right. Now’s about when I’d be calling for Gwen but Gwen’s at the Hub. Ok, let’s try this again. Can you say that in English Ianto?”
“Jack?” Ianto asked, blinking.
“That’s right Ianto. You’re at the hospital.”
“I know. But why are you here?” Ianto asked.
Jack started, surprised by the question. He looked at Ianto closely, and could see the confusion on the young man’s face. “I’m here because I was concerned about you. I wanted to make sure you were ok. When we found you at the church, you were hurt pretty badly. I’m so sorry we didn’t think to ask you before. We should have. We didn’t-“
“Jack?” Ianto interrupted. “I don’t understand.”
“What do you mean, Ianto?”
“He means that was too much for a conversation,” Owen said, walking up to Jack and putting his hand on Ianto’s arm. “Look at me Ianto.” Ianto turned his head, following the new noise.
“You’re at hospital. You are hurt. Jack and I are here. You’re safe now,” Owen said, stroking Ianto’s bare arm.
“Ok Owen. Is Tosh ok?”
“Yes.” Owen turned to Jack and said, “Concussion, Jack. Big concussion. His brain’s been messed up. Use short sentences, straight to the point. He won’t be able to follow anything more than that for at least a few more hours.” Owen fiddled with Ianto’s IV and injected a sedative into the port. He looked back at Ianto and saw him staring off into the distance. He turned to see what Ianto could be looking at, and his eyes were drawn to the painting of the Welsh countryside on the wall. Ianto’s eyes never left the painting.
“Shit,” Owen mumbled. He motioned to Jack to remove the painting. “Ianto, look at me again, come on. There. Go back to sleep. Right now. Sleep again. When you wake up, you’ll feel better.”
“Ok Owen. Good night.”
“What are we going to do Owen?” Jack asked, pulling desperately at the painting that was screwed into the wall. Finally he opened his wrist strap, pressed an assortment of buttons and the painting dropped onto the small table below it with a resounding crash. Jack picked it up, holding it in front of him like a shield, as he turned back to Owen. Owen looked over and saw something he’d never seen before. Jack Harkness, Captain Jack-bloody-Harkness was scared.
“It’s a concussion, Jack. Best thing for him is sleep. Each time he wakes up he’ll be a bit more lucid.”
“Owen, if we hadn’t found him, what would have happened?”
“I’ve seen it before Jack. People get beaten up and left for dead. Concussion like this, the injuries, going into shock like he was at the Church - probably a coma or worse. He could have died Jack. He could have fucking died and it would have been my fucking fault.” Not once did Owen raise his voice above a soft whisper, and Jack had to step closer to hear.
“No, not your fault. Mine. I’m the Captain, it’s my job to make sure all my people are safe.” Jack rubbed his face, surprised at the amount of stubble he felt there. He hadn’t realized it had been so long. “Ok, next step. When can we take him home?”
“I want him to be able to track a conversation. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Fine, ok, right. Do we even know where he lives?”
“Not exactly my area of expertise. The only things I know about him are his coffee-making skills, his love of alphabetizing, and his penchant for metal girlfriends.”
At that, both Jack’s and Owen’s mobiles beeped, alerting them to rift activity in Penarth. They met up with Tosh, leaving the convalescing Gwen to coordinate their activities. Unfortunately, the hoped-for weevil hunt turned out to be a diplomatic and anthropological survey visit by Shadow Proclamation authorities, which meant that the Torchwood teach was on diplomatic babysitting duty. No one got any sleep that night, having to see to the diplomats’ every need, which, remarkably, included reservations at both Cardiff’s finest hotel and dinner at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Dinner concluded at a wine bar, which led to (a) very drunk diplomats, (b) a very confused waitress who couldn’t figure out why her patrons kept insisting on drinking white wine straight from the bottle, and (c) another 10 years of protection under the Shadow Proclamation for Earth. It also meant that no one was able to be with Ianto at the hospital when woke the next few times.
When Jack and Owen finally made it back to the A&E, they were greeted by an empty room and an emptier bed. Ianto was nowhere to be seen. Jack turned on his heel, greatcoat flying heroically out behind him and he and Owen chased down the nearest nurse. She was an elderly woman, graying hair tied in a tight bun, with little whisps falling by the sides of her face. Her green eyes regarded the two men suspiciously.
“Ianto Jones?” She asked. “Oh, you mean young Ifan. That’s what all the nurses called him. Short for Ianto, you know, little Ifan. Poor thing, all beat up like that and no one to be with him. People like that usually have family beating down our door, but not him. He was released AMA two or three hours ago. Mairead, the night nurse, drives past his home on her route, so she gave him a lift.”
“AMA?!” Owen shouted. “I have Torchwood authority. I left fucking instructions and you go and release him against medical advice?!”
“Look, I don’t know about Torchwood or any instructions ok? I just came on four hours ago. He was released and Mairead took him home, that’s all I know. Go yell at her if you want, I’ve got patients to see.”
Once Tosh convinced Mainframe that no, they weren’t going to hurt Ianto, they only wanted to make sure he was ok, she sent over directions to his home in Roath to the SUV’s GPS.
“Roath?” Owen said with an eyebrow lift worthy of Ianto. “Tea-boy lives in Roath? Seriously? Who’d he kill to get a flat over there?”
“It was his parent’s house, Owen. They left it to him when they died,” Gwen said scathingly in his ear.
“Gwen,” Jack began, “Just out of curiosity, when did his parents die?”
“Hang on Jack, I’m searching for death certificates,” Tosh said. Jack and Owen could hear her typing furiously in the background.
“Oh my god.” “Oh no.” Tosh and Gwen said simultaneously.
“Jack, you’re not going to believe this. Ianto’s mum died in Providence Park when he was a kid. His dad and stepmum, though…They died…they died while visiting London. On the day of Canary Warf. Their bodies were found in a flat belonging to Ianto Jones and Lisa Hallet. They were deleted.” Tosh said.
“Jack, there’s something else,” Gwen said quietly. “The anniversary of their death, the anniversary of Canary Warf, was three days ago. When we were in the Beacons. We went to the Beacons and he almost died on the one-year anniversary of Canary Warf.”
“No wonder he was pissed at ‘Name Your Last Snog’,” Owen muttered.