Heaven in Hell's Demesne
Title: Heaven in Hell's Demesne
Author: crystalshard
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Spoilers for first season only.
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes to call you back from a nightmare is a familiar voice.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood, it belongs to the BBC.
A/N: Written for jadesfire2808, who wanted crying!Jack and protective!Ianto.
Pain shot through Jack's exhausted body. He hadn't been allowed to sleep for five days now, and his all-too-human mind was playing tricks on him. Despite the constant ache of his feet, his knees, his shoulders and his arms, he was starting to become a little unglued. He could barely feel the manacles around his wrists. This was the Master's latest experiment - to see if humans could die of sheer exhaustion. Part of the experiment evidently involved not sitting down, since Jack had been kept chained up for the past five days in this hot, dirty little room near the Valiant's engines.
The pain ran down his spine again - down the outside of his spine. The lack of sleep had only sharpened his susceptibility to pain, and Jack clenched his jaw with the effort of not crying out as the Master sliced another parallel line down his back.
"Jack? Jack, can you hear me?" Ianto knelt next to Jack's prone form, carefully avoiding the alien artefact that Jack had just been handling. "Jack?"
Shaking Jack produced no response. Neither did calling. A slap to his face only caused a brief red mark to appear.
"Owen! Get up here, now! Jack's collapsed!"
A startled "What?" reached Ianto's ears as Ianto ran his hand through his hair in agitation. Owen raced into the office, followed by Gwen and Tosh.
Jack managed to hold back his cries, but he couldn't stop his traitorous body from shaking. There was an approving noise from behind, and the Master said something. Jack wasn't sure what. He was in no condition to listen.
More lines, this time horizontal. The sting of something liquid on his back, applied by a rough hand wielding an equally rough cloth.
"Oh! Did I tell you, Jack?" the Master asked with false enthusiasm. "We found Ianto Jones. Clever boy, wasn't he? He was almost a challenge." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Very uncooperative. You should have trained your people better, Jack. It's such a waste when I have kill them."
Ianto. Ianto's dead. Exhaustion, pain and loss surged sluggishly inside him. His sensible self tried to tell him that the Master was probably lying, but his sensible self didn't have the majority vote right now.
Unbidden, unwelcome, a tear rolled down Jack's cheek. It was joined by others, unwillingly set free to flow down his face. The Master pretended not to notice as he left the room.
Ianto was startled to see tears on Jack's face. Jack's eyes were still closed, his body unmoving except for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Owen had tried several times to revive Jack, with as much success as Ianto had had. After a while Owen had shrugged, declared that it was just deep sleep, not a coma, and suggested that someone keep an eye on him for the rest of the day and call him if anything changed. They'd put Jack on the morgue table - for ease of access to medical equipment, as Owen had tartly said. But the doctor had still managed to find a chair for Ianto to sit in. Tosh, meanwhile, had gone to try and translate the writing on the device.
"Jack?" Ianto asked the sleeping body in front of him, not expecting an answer. He pulled a handkerchief out of one pocked and began to pat the tears away as they emerged. He might not have noticed the shiver of Jack's eyelids, were he not drying Jack's tears, but notice he did. "Jack? Jack, wake up. It's okay, you're safe here. Jack."
"Jack, open your eyes. It's okay, you can wake up. Jack? Jack, come here. Come to me."
Jack hung his head, a lump forming in his throat. Why did it have to be Ianto's voice that he was imagining?
"Jack? Wake up. Please, Jack," Ianto coaxed, and was rewarded with a stronger flicker of awareness. "Jack? Jack, I'm here. Come back."
Jack's eyes snapped open, staring blankly for a moment before re-focussing on Ianto. "I . . . Ianto?"
"Welcome back," Ianto said simply, not bothering to disguise the relief in his voice. "You had us all worried there."
"Ianto." Jack's hand reached up and tentatively grabbed Ianto's upper arm. "Tell me I'm not hallucinating."
"As long as you're not seeing pink elephants or indigo giraffes, sir, you're not hallucinating."
Jack smiled in relief. A mass of tension seemed to fall out of him as he did so. "You called for me."
"Yes, I did." Ianto glanced up the stairs. "I should probably call Owen. Let him know you're all right."
Jack blinked, and Ianto was momentarily surprised to see Jack's eyes glisten suspiciously. Silently, he passed Jack his handkerchief and laid a hand on Jack's shoulder.
Owen could wait.
Author: crystalshard
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Spoilers for first season only.
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes to call you back from a nightmare is a familiar voice.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood, it belongs to the BBC.
A/N: Written for jadesfire2808, who wanted crying!Jack and protective!Ianto.
Pain shot through Jack's exhausted body. He hadn't been allowed to sleep for five days now, and his all-too-human mind was playing tricks on him. Despite the constant ache of his feet, his knees, his shoulders and his arms, he was starting to become a little unglued. He could barely feel the manacles around his wrists. This was the Master's latest experiment - to see if humans could die of sheer exhaustion. Part of the experiment evidently involved not sitting down, since Jack had been kept chained up for the past five days in this hot, dirty little room near the Valiant's engines.
The pain ran down his spine again - down the outside of his spine. The lack of sleep had only sharpened his susceptibility to pain, and Jack clenched his jaw with the effort of not crying out as the Master sliced another parallel line down his back.
"Jack? Jack, can you hear me?" Ianto knelt next to Jack's prone form, carefully avoiding the alien artefact that Jack had just been handling. "Jack?"
Shaking Jack produced no response. Neither did calling. A slap to his face only caused a brief red mark to appear.
"Owen! Get up here, now! Jack's collapsed!"
A startled "What?" reached Ianto's ears as Ianto ran his hand through his hair in agitation. Owen raced into the office, followed by Gwen and Tosh.
Jack managed to hold back his cries, but he couldn't stop his traitorous body from shaking. There was an approving noise from behind, and the Master said something. Jack wasn't sure what. He was in no condition to listen.
More lines, this time horizontal. The sting of something liquid on his back, applied by a rough hand wielding an equally rough cloth.
"Oh! Did I tell you, Jack?" the Master asked with false enthusiasm. "We found Ianto Jones. Clever boy, wasn't he? He was almost a challenge." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Very uncooperative. You should have trained your people better, Jack. It's such a waste when I have kill them."
Ianto. Ianto's dead. Exhaustion, pain and loss surged sluggishly inside him. His sensible self tried to tell him that the Master was probably lying, but his sensible self didn't have the majority vote right now.
Unbidden, unwelcome, a tear rolled down Jack's cheek. It was joined by others, unwillingly set free to flow down his face. The Master pretended not to notice as he left the room.
Ianto was startled to see tears on Jack's face. Jack's eyes were still closed, his body unmoving except for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Owen had tried several times to revive Jack, with as much success as Ianto had had. After a while Owen had shrugged, declared that it was just deep sleep, not a coma, and suggested that someone keep an eye on him for the rest of the day and call him if anything changed. They'd put Jack on the morgue table - for ease of access to medical equipment, as Owen had tartly said. But the doctor had still managed to find a chair for Ianto to sit in. Tosh, meanwhile, had gone to try and translate the writing on the device.
"Jack?" Ianto asked the sleeping body in front of him, not expecting an answer. He pulled a handkerchief out of one pocked and began to pat the tears away as they emerged. He might not have noticed the shiver of Jack's eyelids, were he not drying Jack's tears, but notice he did. "Jack? Jack, wake up. It's okay, you're safe here. Jack."
"Jack, open your eyes. It's okay, you can wake up. Jack? Jack, come here. Come to me."
Jack hung his head, a lump forming in his throat. Why did it have to be Ianto's voice that he was imagining?
"Jack? Wake up. Please, Jack," Ianto coaxed, and was rewarded with a stronger flicker of awareness. "Jack? Jack, I'm here. Come back."
Jack's eyes snapped open, staring blankly for a moment before re-focussing on Ianto. "I . . . Ianto?"
"Welcome back," Ianto said simply, not bothering to disguise the relief in his voice. "You had us all worried there."
"Ianto." Jack's hand reached up and tentatively grabbed Ianto's upper arm. "Tell me I'm not hallucinating."
"As long as you're not seeing pink elephants or indigo giraffes, sir, you're not hallucinating."
Jack smiled in relief. A mass of tension seemed to fall out of him as he did so. "You called for me."
"Yes, I did." Ianto glanced up the stairs. "I should probably call Owen. Let him know you're all right."
Jack blinked, and Ianto was momentarily surprised to see Jack's eyes glisten suspiciously. Silently, he passed Jack his handkerchief and laid a hand on Jack's shoulder.
Owen could wait.