Fic: Court Martial
Title: Court Martial
Series: Torchwood
Spoilers: Through S2 of Torchwood
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Beta: erin_giles
Disclaimers: I do not own Torchwood or the characters therein, they belong to the BBC and RTD. Any original characters and places are my property.
Summary: Jack's flashbacks of London were not always happy ones.
Author's Notes: I wrote this a week before CoE aired in England and it has been sitting on my thumb drive that entire time. It is a little dark, but I felt it needed to be told. CoE does not affect this at all.
Court Martial
“Captain Jack Harkness, it is the judgement of this court that you are guilty on all accounts of the crimes you have been accused of. But, in lieu of being court martialled here today you are being remanded to the jurisdiction of Torchwood London. You will serve an indefinite amount of time as an agent of Torchwood London until it has been determined--”
Jack bolted upright in his bed. Sweat trickled off his brow and down his chest. He struggled to breathe, gasping for air. His fingers tightly curled around the sheets, knuckles matching the whiteness of the coverings. Jack finally gulped in lungfuls of cool air, able to breathe again.
His body stiffened and he shuddered, stifling the cry that threatened to escape as a hand clutched at his shoulder. Pausing a moment, he tried to lock away the memory that threatened to overwhelm him. Eyes narrowing on the hand at his shoulder he gazed down the bare arm to a worried pair of intense blue eyes.
“Jack? What is it?” Ianto asked, propping himself up on an elbow. Even Ianto's breathing was shallow, telling Jack he had startled the young man.
“Don't worry about me, Ianto,” Jack said. He smiled at the younger man, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
“I can't, Jack,” Ianto said as he began to rub his hand across Jack's shoulders. He was one massive knot of tense muscles. “You dreamt of something that terrified you.”
“What makes you think it terrified me?” Jack leaned forward, pulling away from Ianto. He craned his head back, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. “Maybe it just excited me?”
“I know you, Jack,” Ianto stated, sitting up next to Jack. He adjusted the sheets, covering his lap. “Plus, when you sleep, your psychic barriers aren't as strong.”
“If you know what it is, then why even ask,” Jack spat out vehemently.
Ianto let out a sigh. “Don't do this, Jack,” he said as he hugged Jack's arm. He intertwined the fingers of both of his hands between Jack's and laid his head on Jack's shoulder.
“Do what?”
“Don't shut me out, Jack. Ever since Tosh and Owen died you've been closing yourself off more and more.” Ianto rubbed his chin against Jack's shoulder. “Gwen and I care about you. Don't do this. Talk to me.”
“I don't know if you can handle it,” Jack said, reaching his right hand across his chest, running his fingers through Ianto's hair.
“Are you serious, Jack? I worked for Torchwood One. I've been here how long? By your side all those times. There is increasingly less and less I can't handle,” Ianto said, pulling away. He brought a hand up, cupping Jack's chin and making Jack look him in the eye. “You don’t need to protect me, I can handle it.”
Jack let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes, centering himself. He had closed off so much of his life for so many years. “Ever since Gray-” Jack started. “Ever since Gray came back, memories that I had long since buried have been coming to the surface.”
“You experienced a memory? The nightmare was real?” Ianto ran his hand down Jack's neck to his chest, stopping over his quickly beating heart.
“It was real, at one point in my past,” Jack said, picking up Ianto's other hand, kissing the palm and holding it to his face. Ianto still had that distinct Ianto smell about him, but now, now it was a bit more rustic, hard, rutting from what they had been doing before they had both fallen asleep. Jack revelled in that smell of Ianto. He felt guilty stealing energy from Ianto like this, but he needed it. He needed Ianto if he was to bring those memories into the light.
“Your past is a lot of time to cover,” Ianto stated. “Tell me about the dream you just had,” he said, tracing the outline of Jack's lips with his fingers.
“It was during World War II. Well, the last time I had lived through the war,” Jack started. “They tried to court martial me.”
“Why would they be court martialling you? Ianto asked. “What could you have done?”
“I did nothing,” Jack said. “This time. I’ve done plenty of things in my past I am ashamed of, but this time I had done nothing. Those men were my responsibility, if I did not concede to what they said I did, they would have blamed my men. I was willing to do anything to protect them.”
“What did they accuse you of doing?”
“I can’t even begin to tell you. Just trust me, I would never have done that, even when I worked for the Time Agency,” Jack said. Ianto had to believe him. He just had to.
Ianto held Jack’s face between both of his hands and pulled him in close. He softly kissed Jack on the lips, a wave of love washing over the Captain. “I believe you,” Ianto said. “Yet, I don’t recall any mention of a court martial in your records.”
“Because it technically didn’t happen,” Jack said, taking a deep breath. His face was an inch from Ianto’s. “Instead of being dismissed and jailed, or something better, I was remanded to the jurisdiction of Torchwood London.”
Ianto pulled back. Jack could feel his heart beating even more rapidly. Ianto then quickly engulfed Jack in a hug, pressing his skin to the older man’s, feeling his body heat.
“I am so sorry,” Ianto said.
“It’s not your fault,” Jack replied.
They held each other in silence. Then Ianto whispered in his ear, “Tell me about it.”
Jack took a deep breath and then leaned back, searching Ianto’s face, making sure he was ready for what Jack was about to tell him. “I didn’t stay in the brig long after the mockery of my hurried trial.”
Scooting back, Jack sat up against the headboard. Ianto kneeled between Jack’s legs, sitting back on his heels, hands on Jack’s legs, keeping a constant connection.
“I was released into Torchwood’s custody,” Jack started, looking down at his hands, neatly folded in his lap. “I was moved in a van. My arms were handcuffed behind my back and I was shackled at the ankles. Two agents rode in the back with me, making sure I didn’t try anything, but they sat as far away as possible.”
Ianto traced his fingers up Jack’s legs, up to his hips. He moved closer. “Go on.”
“When we got to London, a hood was dropped over my head so I couldn’t see exactly where we were going. It still smelt of the last person, or organism, they used it on. They led me inside, letting me stumble around, to my own private quarters.” Jack shuddered. “I had a bed, and a mattress stained with I didn’t want to know what. No pillow, not even a blanket. The lack of windows did not bother me, not exactly a lot of windows on a spaceship.”
“I know…” Jack swallowed hard. “I know I was in the remotest part of that facility. The only reason they came there was because of me. They wouldn’t even turn the heating on despite the fact that it was winter.”
Ianto inched closer, his knees nudging Jack’s inner thighs. He didn’t even need to say anything, just pressed on Jack with his eyes.
“For about a week, the only human contact I had was minimal at best. There were the agents who brought me food twice a day - very talkative they were. Then there was the doctor who came to do the tests.” Jack tore his eyes away from Ianto.
“What kind of tests?” Ianto asked quietly.
“A full physical, and I mean full. There were blood tests and skin samples… Except for a gruff ‘stand up,’ ‘bend over,’ and ‘shut up,’ he didn’t say anything,” Jack said.
Ianto looked at him quizzically. “How did they take skin samples in the 1940’s?”
Jack turned his head to the right, closing his eyes. He couldn’t tell Ianto how they had just gouged into his arms, his back, and his legs. It was a good thing he couldn’t permanently die from an infection with that doctor leaving uncovered, gaping wounds on his body.
He slowly opened his eyes as he felt the bed shift. Jack looked out the corner of his eye as Ianto gently crawled over his legs, moving behind him. Grasping Jack by the shoulders, Ianto manoeuvred him forward, sliding in behind him. Pressing his chest against Jack’s bare back, Ianto curled his legs around the older man, embracing him in a hug.
“I am so sorry,” Ianto said.
Jack reached up, grabbing Ianto’s hands, holding them tight to him. He needed this man, more than he would ever understand. “You don’t have to apologize for something you had nothing to do with,” Jack said. “Besides, that was the bearable part.”
“What else did they do?” Ianto nuzzled his chin against Jack’s neck. “You can tell me.”
“Torchwood was doing its part for the war effort,” Jack said. “They ran experiments to try and help the boys on the front lines.”
Ianto intertwined his fingers with Jack’s, hugging his chest. “What kind of experiments could help the war effort?”
“They were attempting to use technology, including alien technology, to better equip the boys on the front.” Jack leaned back into Ianto. “They needed a live test subject to see if it worked. First they tried alien armour against modern weapons. The first thing I faced was a Panzer tank. The armour didn’t exactly work.”
“Oh, Jack.” Ianto kissed the back of his neck.
“That was preferable to some of the other tests they put me through. At least it was quick.” Jack took a steadying breath. “When they finally finished shooting, bombing, and strafing me, they then turned to the problem of chemical warfare.”
He could actually hear Ianto’s intake of breath. His body felt cold as his mind played out the horrible months spent at Torchwood London in 1944.
“If I survived the injection of their antidote, it was a good day to start with.” Jack took a deep breath and then began to ramble, getting it all out for the first time since it had happened decades ago.
“I didn’t let them see what some of the injections did to my insides. Having your liver slowly disintegrated by a Thressian slime demon while it is still hanging out of a gaping wound in your abdomen would have been far better than that.”
“I started to fight them whenever they came for more tests. Then they just beat me unconscious with anything they had handy and cuffed me before giving me the injections.” He turned his head to Ianto. “Imagine waking up barefoot in just trousers and a shirt with your hands cuffed behind your back. They stabbed the needle in my shoulder and then immediately vacated the room.”
Ianto shook his head in disbelief.
“I could hear the room being sealed off. Then they released the gas. It was nothing I remembered from the front lines. If I could use my hands I would have scratched my eyes out. They burned and my vision blurred. I wanted to tear my throat out, I couldn’t breathe.” Jack’s breathing became ragged. “I could feel lesions breaking out all over my skin. The blood dripped down my arms and legs, making the trousers sticky. Eventually I collapsed, passing out.”
Ianto brought his hand up, running his fingers through Jack’s sweaty hair. His other arm encircled Jack’s waist. Jack felt a wave of calm wash over him.
“I woke up tied down to a stretcher in my quarters. It took me weeks to heal and not once did they let me go. They changed the soiled sheets around me, only cleaning me enough that they wouldn’t be offended by the smell.” Jack trembled as he started to lose himself in the memory. They had barely fed him. Just some protein sludge they could dump down his throat once a day before leaving him in his own filth. The doctor would stop by every two days to check that he was healing, but didn't waste any bandages on his sores, and couldn't be bothered to clean away the pus.
They sat there for many long moments, Ianto holding Jack tight to him, his body covering Jack's. Then Jack felt the little kisses, starting on his shoulder and working their way up his neck to his ear. "I am truly sorry that anyone could do that," Ianto faintly whispered into his ear.
Jack leaned forward, burying his face in his hands and cried. For the first time since it happened, Jack Harkness cried about what Torchwood had done to him. There were no great wracking sobs of tears, but instead a silent stream wound its way down his cheeks.
Without warning he felt Ianto's body move away from his. His mind screamed out, not wanting him to go. He couldn’t let him go. Ianto's touch had kept him close to some form of sanity, especially finally reliving this ordeal. He needed Ianto and his soul sought out the younger man's. He could feel the bed moving, but saw nothing as his tears began to dissipate.
There was a gentle tug on his shoulder and Jack turned his head to see Ianto lying down next to him, the blankets lined up next to Ianto. He gave a slight pull and indicated the pillow behind Jack. Jack took a deep gulping breath, forcing the tears to stop and then laid down next to Ianto. Ianto pulled all three blankets and covers over them, wrapping them up in warmth. Ianto then snaked his arm under Jack's head, and pulled him into the crook of his elbow. Ianto lay against Jack’s side and draped his arm across Jack's chest.
"You’re fine. Torchwood One can no longer harm anyone, ever again." Ianto kissed Jack's forehead. "Tell me how you got out."
Jack breathed in and out slowly a couple of moments. "Huw."
"Huw?"
"It was Huw. I didn’t know that at first. All I know is that suddenly one day they didn’t come to run any more tests on me. I was alone for about two days. No food. Nothing. My feet were constantly frozen." Jack buried his nose into Ianto's shoulder. "Then the door opened and it was Huw. I couldn't fathom why he was there, he was supposed to be in Cardiff. My mind did not want to believe it."
"Huw Thomas? He led Torchwood Cardiff for a bit there didn't he?"
"He eventually did. He was second-in-command then," Jack said. "Huw walked in and shook his head at the state I was in. He held out a carrier bag and closed the door behind him. He had brought me a new change of clothes, a full set of clothes. I quickly got dressed, not caring where we were going, as long as it was away from there."
Ianto began to play with a strand of Jack's hair as he continued to cradle Jack's head.
"I can't remember a thing about the ride from London to Cardiff. I passed out in Huw’s car and next thing I knew I was being shaken awake by Bethan as Huw looked on. Bethan led me to a little room they had set up for me here. Blankets, pillows, light, and real food." Jack burrowed his hand under Ianto's hip, delighting in the feel of the Welshman.
"Bethan kept a journal, I've found it in the archives. There were a couple of days missing from early in 1944." Ianto kept his breathing steady, his voice low.
"She took them out." Jack buried his head in Ianto's chest and smiled. "It wasn't until a year later that I found out what happened, how Huw had saved me. Apparently he got disturbed by the sudden lack of reports from me on the front and went to investigate. When he found out that London had stolen me, he went on a rampage. When he found out what they were doing to me, he really made it personal. Huw could be quite persuasive when he wanted to be, and he chewed the ears off the right politicians."
"Good for him," Ianto said.
"'He belongs to us,' he supposedly said," Jack stated as he looked up. "He is our property."
"But it worked," Ianto said.
"It did." Jack laid his head back down, and closed his eyes. He felt so warm and safe, deep underground, snuggled in Ianto's arms, cuddled in blankets. 1944 felt like it was lifetimes away. It was. He was a different man then. He was a different man now, and he had this team to thank for that. This team. He took a moment to silently mourn Tosh and Owen once more.
"Just how did you find out what Huw did? It's not in any file or even personal journal apparently," Ianto idly asked.
Jack chuckled into Ianto's armpit, making the younger man squirm, much to Jack's delight. "You archivists. Get a little alcohol into you and the things you will say; 'Of course Huw would come after you,' or 'Just fuck me in-'"
The end of Jack's statement was muffled as Ianto curled his arm up, burying Jack's head in his pit. He relinquished and Jack finished laughing, then snuggled in close to Ianto, hugging him around the middle. He would survive, he always did. Jack's breathing became shallow and his top hand started to stray down Ianto's body. Torchwood London was gone; Ianto was here, he would continue on. Jack fell asleep once again.
Series: Torchwood
Spoilers: Through S2 of Torchwood
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Beta: erin_giles
Disclaimers: I do not own Torchwood or the characters therein, they belong to the BBC and RTD. Any original characters and places are my property.
Summary: Jack's flashbacks of London were not always happy ones.
Author's Notes: I wrote this a week before CoE aired in England and it has been sitting on my thumb drive that entire time. It is a little dark, but I felt it needed to be told. CoE does not affect this at all.
Court Martial
“Captain Jack Harkness, it is the judgement of this court that you are guilty on all accounts of the crimes you have been accused of. But, in lieu of being court martialled here today you are being remanded to the jurisdiction of Torchwood London. You will serve an indefinite amount of time as an agent of Torchwood London until it has been determined--”
Jack bolted upright in his bed. Sweat trickled off his brow and down his chest. He struggled to breathe, gasping for air. His fingers tightly curled around the sheets, knuckles matching the whiteness of the coverings. Jack finally gulped in lungfuls of cool air, able to breathe again.
His body stiffened and he shuddered, stifling the cry that threatened to escape as a hand clutched at his shoulder. Pausing a moment, he tried to lock away the memory that threatened to overwhelm him. Eyes narrowing on the hand at his shoulder he gazed down the bare arm to a worried pair of intense blue eyes.
“Jack? What is it?” Ianto asked, propping himself up on an elbow. Even Ianto's breathing was shallow, telling Jack he had startled the young man.
“Don't worry about me, Ianto,” Jack said. He smiled at the younger man, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
“I can't, Jack,” Ianto said as he began to rub his hand across Jack's shoulders. He was one massive knot of tense muscles. “You dreamt of something that terrified you.”
“What makes you think it terrified me?” Jack leaned forward, pulling away from Ianto. He craned his head back, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. “Maybe it just excited me?”
“I know you, Jack,” Ianto stated, sitting up next to Jack. He adjusted the sheets, covering his lap. “Plus, when you sleep, your psychic barriers aren't as strong.”
“If you know what it is, then why even ask,” Jack spat out vehemently.
Ianto let out a sigh. “Don't do this, Jack,” he said as he hugged Jack's arm. He intertwined the fingers of both of his hands between Jack's and laid his head on Jack's shoulder.
“Do what?”
“Don't shut me out, Jack. Ever since Tosh and Owen died you've been closing yourself off more and more.” Ianto rubbed his chin against Jack's shoulder. “Gwen and I care about you. Don't do this. Talk to me.”
“I don't know if you can handle it,” Jack said, reaching his right hand across his chest, running his fingers through Ianto's hair.
“Are you serious, Jack? I worked for Torchwood One. I've been here how long? By your side all those times. There is increasingly less and less I can't handle,” Ianto said, pulling away. He brought a hand up, cupping Jack's chin and making Jack look him in the eye. “You don’t need to protect me, I can handle it.”
Jack let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes, centering himself. He had closed off so much of his life for so many years. “Ever since Gray-” Jack started. “Ever since Gray came back, memories that I had long since buried have been coming to the surface.”
“You experienced a memory? The nightmare was real?” Ianto ran his hand down Jack's neck to his chest, stopping over his quickly beating heart.
“It was real, at one point in my past,” Jack said, picking up Ianto's other hand, kissing the palm and holding it to his face. Ianto still had that distinct Ianto smell about him, but now, now it was a bit more rustic, hard, rutting from what they had been doing before they had both fallen asleep. Jack revelled in that smell of Ianto. He felt guilty stealing energy from Ianto like this, but he needed it. He needed Ianto if he was to bring those memories into the light.
“Your past is a lot of time to cover,” Ianto stated. “Tell me about the dream you just had,” he said, tracing the outline of Jack's lips with his fingers.
“It was during World War II. Well, the last time I had lived through the war,” Jack started. “They tried to court martial me.”
“Why would they be court martialling you? Ianto asked. “What could you have done?”
“I did nothing,” Jack said. “This time. I’ve done plenty of things in my past I am ashamed of, but this time I had done nothing. Those men were my responsibility, if I did not concede to what they said I did, they would have blamed my men. I was willing to do anything to protect them.”
“What did they accuse you of doing?”
“I can’t even begin to tell you. Just trust me, I would never have done that, even when I worked for the Time Agency,” Jack said. Ianto had to believe him. He just had to.
Ianto held Jack’s face between both of his hands and pulled him in close. He softly kissed Jack on the lips, a wave of love washing over the Captain. “I believe you,” Ianto said. “Yet, I don’t recall any mention of a court martial in your records.”
“Because it technically didn’t happen,” Jack said, taking a deep breath. His face was an inch from Ianto’s. “Instead of being dismissed and jailed, or something better, I was remanded to the jurisdiction of Torchwood London.”
Ianto pulled back. Jack could feel his heart beating even more rapidly. Ianto then quickly engulfed Jack in a hug, pressing his skin to the older man’s, feeling his body heat.
“I am so sorry,” Ianto said.
“It’s not your fault,” Jack replied.
They held each other in silence. Then Ianto whispered in his ear, “Tell me about it.”
Jack took a deep breath and then leaned back, searching Ianto’s face, making sure he was ready for what Jack was about to tell him. “I didn’t stay in the brig long after the mockery of my hurried trial.”
Scooting back, Jack sat up against the headboard. Ianto kneeled between Jack’s legs, sitting back on his heels, hands on Jack’s legs, keeping a constant connection.
“I was released into Torchwood’s custody,” Jack started, looking down at his hands, neatly folded in his lap. “I was moved in a van. My arms were handcuffed behind my back and I was shackled at the ankles. Two agents rode in the back with me, making sure I didn’t try anything, but they sat as far away as possible.”
Ianto traced his fingers up Jack’s legs, up to his hips. He moved closer. “Go on.”
“When we got to London, a hood was dropped over my head so I couldn’t see exactly where we were going. It still smelt of the last person, or organism, they used it on. They led me inside, letting me stumble around, to my own private quarters.” Jack shuddered. “I had a bed, and a mattress stained with I didn’t want to know what. No pillow, not even a blanket. The lack of windows did not bother me, not exactly a lot of windows on a spaceship.”
“I know…” Jack swallowed hard. “I know I was in the remotest part of that facility. The only reason they came there was because of me. They wouldn’t even turn the heating on despite the fact that it was winter.”
Ianto inched closer, his knees nudging Jack’s inner thighs. He didn’t even need to say anything, just pressed on Jack with his eyes.
“For about a week, the only human contact I had was minimal at best. There were the agents who brought me food twice a day - very talkative they were. Then there was the doctor who came to do the tests.” Jack tore his eyes away from Ianto.
“What kind of tests?” Ianto asked quietly.
“A full physical, and I mean full. There were blood tests and skin samples… Except for a gruff ‘stand up,’ ‘bend over,’ and ‘shut up,’ he didn’t say anything,” Jack said.
Ianto looked at him quizzically. “How did they take skin samples in the 1940’s?”
Jack turned his head to the right, closing his eyes. He couldn’t tell Ianto how they had just gouged into his arms, his back, and his legs. It was a good thing he couldn’t permanently die from an infection with that doctor leaving uncovered, gaping wounds on his body.
He slowly opened his eyes as he felt the bed shift. Jack looked out the corner of his eye as Ianto gently crawled over his legs, moving behind him. Grasping Jack by the shoulders, Ianto manoeuvred him forward, sliding in behind him. Pressing his chest against Jack’s bare back, Ianto curled his legs around the older man, embracing him in a hug.
“I am so sorry,” Ianto said.
Jack reached up, grabbing Ianto’s hands, holding them tight to him. He needed this man, more than he would ever understand. “You don’t have to apologize for something you had nothing to do with,” Jack said. “Besides, that was the bearable part.”
“What else did they do?” Ianto nuzzled his chin against Jack’s neck. “You can tell me.”
“Torchwood was doing its part for the war effort,” Jack said. “They ran experiments to try and help the boys on the front lines.”
Ianto intertwined his fingers with Jack’s, hugging his chest. “What kind of experiments could help the war effort?”
“They were attempting to use technology, including alien technology, to better equip the boys on the front.” Jack leaned back into Ianto. “They needed a live test subject to see if it worked. First they tried alien armour against modern weapons. The first thing I faced was a Panzer tank. The armour didn’t exactly work.”
“Oh, Jack.” Ianto kissed the back of his neck.
“That was preferable to some of the other tests they put me through. At least it was quick.” Jack took a steadying breath. “When they finally finished shooting, bombing, and strafing me, they then turned to the problem of chemical warfare.”
He could actually hear Ianto’s intake of breath. His body felt cold as his mind played out the horrible months spent at Torchwood London in 1944.
“If I survived the injection of their antidote, it was a good day to start with.” Jack took a deep breath and then began to ramble, getting it all out for the first time since it had happened decades ago.
“I didn’t let them see what some of the injections did to my insides. Having your liver slowly disintegrated by a Thressian slime demon while it is still hanging out of a gaping wound in your abdomen would have been far better than that.”
“I started to fight them whenever they came for more tests. Then they just beat me unconscious with anything they had handy and cuffed me before giving me the injections.” He turned his head to Ianto. “Imagine waking up barefoot in just trousers and a shirt with your hands cuffed behind your back. They stabbed the needle in my shoulder and then immediately vacated the room.”
Ianto shook his head in disbelief.
“I could hear the room being sealed off. Then they released the gas. It was nothing I remembered from the front lines. If I could use my hands I would have scratched my eyes out. They burned and my vision blurred. I wanted to tear my throat out, I couldn’t breathe.” Jack’s breathing became ragged. “I could feel lesions breaking out all over my skin. The blood dripped down my arms and legs, making the trousers sticky. Eventually I collapsed, passing out.”
Ianto brought his hand up, running his fingers through Jack’s sweaty hair. His other arm encircled Jack’s waist. Jack felt a wave of calm wash over him.
“I woke up tied down to a stretcher in my quarters. It took me weeks to heal and not once did they let me go. They changed the soiled sheets around me, only cleaning me enough that they wouldn’t be offended by the smell.” Jack trembled as he started to lose himself in the memory. They had barely fed him. Just some protein sludge they could dump down his throat once a day before leaving him in his own filth. The doctor would stop by every two days to check that he was healing, but didn't waste any bandages on his sores, and couldn't be bothered to clean away the pus.
They sat there for many long moments, Ianto holding Jack tight to him, his body covering Jack's. Then Jack felt the little kisses, starting on his shoulder and working their way up his neck to his ear. "I am truly sorry that anyone could do that," Ianto faintly whispered into his ear.
Jack leaned forward, burying his face in his hands and cried. For the first time since it happened, Jack Harkness cried about what Torchwood had done to him. There were no great wracking sobs of tears, but instead a silent stream wound its way down his cheeks.
Without warning he felt Ianto's body move away from his. His mind screamed out, not wanting him to go. He couldn’t let him go. Ianto's touch had kept him close to some form of sanity, especially finally reliving this ordeal. He needed Ianto and his soul sought out the younger man's. He could feel the bed moving, but saw nothing as his tears began to dissipate.
There was a gentle tug on his shoulder and Jack turned his head to see Ianto lying down next to him, the blankets lined up next to Ianto. He gave a slight pull and indicated the pillow behind Jack. Jack took a deep gulping breath, forcing the tears to stop and then laid down next to Ianto. Ianto pulled all three blankets and covers over them, wrapping them up in warmth. Ianto then snaked his arm under Jack's head, and pulled him into the crook of his elbow. Ianto lay against Jack’s side and draped his arm across Jack's chest.
"You’re fine. Torchwood One can no longer harm anyone, ever again." Ianto kissed Jack's forehead. "Tell me how you got out."
Jack breathed in and out slowly a couple of moments. "Huw."
"Huw?"
"It was Huw. I didn’t know that at first. All I know is that suddenly one day they didn’t come to run any more tests on me. I was alone for about two days. No food. Nothing. My feet were constantly frozen." Jack buried his nose into Ianto's shoulder. "Then the door opened and it was Huw. I couldn't fathom why he was there, he was supposed to be in Cardiff. My mind did not want to believe it."
"Huw Thomas? He led Torchwood Cardiff for a bit there didn't he?"
"He eventually did. He was second-in-command then," Jack said. "Huw walked in and shook his head at the state I was in. He held out a carrier bag and closed the door behind him. He had brought me a new change of clothes, a full set of clothes. I quickly got dressed, not caring where we were going, as long as it was away from there."
Ianto began to play with a strand of Jack's hair as he continued to cradle Jack's head.
"I can't remember a thing about the ride from London to Cardiff. I passed out in Huw’s car and next thing I knew I was being shaken awake by Bethan as Huw looked on. Bethan led me to a little room they had set up for me here. Blankets, pillows, light, and real food." Jack burrowed his hand under Ianto's hip, delighting in the feel of the Welshman.
"Bethan kept a journal, I've found it in the archives. There were a couple of days missing from early in 1944." Ianto kept his breathing steady, his voice low.
"She took them out." Jack buried his head in Ianto's chest and smiled. "It wasn't until a year later that I found out what happened, how Huw had saved me. Apparently he got disturbed by the sudden lack of reports from me on the front and went to investigate. When he found out that London had stolen me, he went on a rampage. When he found out what they were doing to me, he really made it personal. Huw could be quite persuasive when he wanted to be, and he chewed the ears off the right politicians."
"Good for him," Ianto said.
"'He belongs to us,' he supposedly said," Jack stated as he looked up. "He is our property."
"But it worked," Ianto said.
"It did." Jack laid his head back down, and closed his eyes. He felt so warm and safe, deep underground, snuggled in Ianto's arms, cuddled in blankets. 1944 felt like it was lifetimes away. It was. He was a different man then. He was a different man now, and he had this team to thank for that. This team. He took a moment to silently mourn Tosh and Owen once more.
"Just how did you find out what Huw did? It's not in any file or even personal journal apparently," Ianto idly asked.
Jack chuckled into Ianto's armpit, making the younger man squirm, much to Jack's delight. "You archivists. Get a little alcohol into you and the things you will say; 'Of course Huw would come after you,' or 'Just fuck me in-'"
The end of Jack's statement was muffled as Ianto curled his arm up, burying Jack's head in his pit. He relinquished and Jack finished laughing, then snuggled in close to Ianto, hugging him around the middle. He would survive, he always did. Jack's breathing became shallow and his top hand started to stray down Ianto's body. Torchwood London was gone; Ianto was here, he would continue on. Jack fell asleep once again.