Sick Leave (3/4)
“There we go, not quite up to your standards but it’ll do” said Jack, as he came back in and handed a steaming mug to Ianto who had been sitting on the sofa where Jack had left him, hands clasped in front of him, deep in thought.
“Thanks,” muttered Ianto, keeping his eyes downcast as he took the mug and Jack saw extensive finger bruising covering the delicate bones of his wrist.
The Welshman seemed uninclined to make conversation, content to sit in silence, staring into his cup, the cold light of day basking his battered body in an unhealthy glow, accentuating every mark, every scratch that had been forced upon him by some evil b-, traumatising him so much that he’d been unwilling to ask for help despite so obviously needing it as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Are you in pain?” asked Jack, quietly, catching his eye.
“It’s tolerable,” he said flatly, voice devoid of any emotion, looking anywhere but Jack whose concerned gaze he couldn’t take right now.
“I could call Owen, I’m sure he’d-“
“No! No I cant … I couldn’t…” he stammered, panicking at the thought of Owen seeing what had been down to him and making snide little comments about it, he just wanted to sleep and make it all go away.
“Hey, hey, Shh…I wont tell Owen, I promise,” murmured Jack, moving to sit beside the distraught man, pulling his head to rest on his shoulder as he stroked his tousled hair affectionately as the fear and stress of the previous days finally caught up with Ianto and tears fell mercilessly down his sore face as he clutched at Jack.
“Shh…’s ok, I’m here,” soothed Jack, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he gradually calmed down.
“Sorry about that, don’t know what came over me,” mumbled Ianto, as he scrubbed tiredly at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sobbing like that had not been a good idea for his already inflamed muscles.
“Don’t worry about it. Though seriously, has anyone checked you over because, quite frankly, you look awful,” said Jack, concerned as he rubbed slow, concentric circles on Ianto’s shoulder blade.
“I’m fine. Really. It looks worse than it is” said Ianto, sub- consciously tugging at the sleeves of his t- shirt.
“Ianto, you are not fine. This is not fine. This t- shirt isn’t a fashion statement is it?” said Jack, sympathetically, placing his hand over Ianto’s wrist.
Ianto shook his head and allowed Jack to push back the sleeve to reveal the deep gashes covering his forearms. Jack closed his eyes, swallowing his anger and fear, keeping himself calm so as not to frighten the fragile man.
“Is it like this all over?” he asked softly, running his thumb lightly over the scars. Ianto nodded, turning his head away.
“Oh baby. Right, this is what we’re gonna do, you show me the rest and I’ll clean and dress them. Then you are going to go to bed and sleep.”
“I’m not a child, Jack. I’m quite capable of looking after myself,” said Ianto, agitatedly, turning his head away.
“I know, but sometimes you don’t have to,” said Jack turning his head to face him, kissing him gently on his swollen lips.
“Okay,” breathed Ianto against him, letting Jack in.
“Good boy,” whispered Jack, resting his forehead against Ianto’s, entwining his fingers in deep brown locks before increasing the gap and slowly tugging the t- shirt off, trying to keep the resulting pain to a minimum.
Jack let out a low whistle when he took in the battered torso, all the injuries pointed to an attack of some kind and he noticed Ianto was trembling.
“Its okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, taking his hand and entwining their fingers before pulling him up and leading him to the bedroom where he made Ianto lie down on the bed.
“You stay here, I’ll go and get some frozen peas to take the swelling down and hopefully ease the pain, then I’ll put some antiseptic in cool water and sort your hands out,” said Jack, perching on the edge of the bed, stroking Ianto’s hair.
“Thank you,” mumbled Ianto, the soothing motion of Jack stroking his hair calming him.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” said Jack, kissing his forehead lightly before leaving and returning a minute later armed with two bags of frozen peas.
http://welsh-scotsman.livejournal.com/2713.html chapter four
When Ianto calls in 'sick', it's up to Jack to find out what's really going no and give him some much needed tlc.