The Measure of a Man (6/9)
Owen looked up as Jack and Ianto entered the medi bay and slipped his mask of stoicism on to cover his shock at how pale Ianto had become; he looked close to collapse.
“Come on, mate, lets get you sat down,” he said, calmly, helping Ianto to the bed ,knowing that if he panicked about the young man’s condition, then Ianto certainly would.
“So, how you feelin’ besides knackered?” asked Owen, gently noting how the young man seemed to be curled against Jack for comfort.
It was only then that it occurred to Owen that Ianto needed someone too. He spent so much time looking after all of them that Owen had taken it for granted that he didn’t need anyone. It also occurred to him that Ianto’s stoicism was more down to necessity rather than choice as the others, including Owen weren’t exactly warm to him. That would all change now, they owed him big time.
“Dizzy. Nauseous,” mumbled Ianto, soothed by Jack’s steady heartbeat and comforting warmth.
“He’s freezing too,” supplied Jack, feeling how much the Welshman was shivering.
Owen frowned in concern, “Ianto, look at me a minute<” he commanded, quietly, turning the man to face him and looking into dull, barley focused eyes.
“Okay, you’ve just got delayed shock, that’s all. We probably shouldn’t have let you sleep but once you’re high on painkillers and have slept you’ll be fine,” said Owen, cheerfully and was rewarded with a small, genuine smile.
“Listen, Jack, I’m gonna get ‘im a blanket anyway, can you strip ‘im to the waist?” Jack nodded as Owen left the room.
Jack just sat holding the boy for a minute, trailing his fingers up and down his back, knowing from past experience that Ianto felt safe when he was held. The young man rarely initiated physical contact but it was something he needed to be happy. Jack was only too happy to oblige.
“Come on then,” he murmured, supporting Ianto with one arm and slowly unbuttoning his shirt with the other and expertly slipping it off sore shoulders. The t-shirt was slightly trickier but if Ianto felt any pain, he didn’t show it.
Jack closed his eyes briefly, unable to take in the sight of Ianto’s battered torso and arms of both which were covered in black, blue and deep purple bruises spanning the majority of his skin.
Ianto bowed his head as tears of shame trickled silently down his sore face.
“Oh, Ianto, don’t cry,” murmured Jack, tucking the dark head under his chin, gently rocking him back and forth as silent sobs wracked his weakened body.
Owen came back down to see Jack trying to comfort the distressed man. Poor guy he thought as he silently went over to them and draped the blanket over Ianto’s shaking shoulders.
“Ianto, look at me,” he commanded firmly, crouching in front of him so as not to appear intimidating.
“You are better than those f-ers. So don’t you dare let them get to you. You are worth so much more than that. Got it?” Ianto nodded “ Good man, now lie down,” said Owen, patting his knee as he got up.
“You must think I’m a right pathetic idiot,” muttered Ianto, staring up at the ceiling.
“No. Course we don’t. You were nearly killed, of course, you’re gonna be a bit shaky for a bit. It’s perfectly natural,” soothed Jack, kissing his battered hand.
“Anyone who isn’t has a screw loose,” said Owen, casually, filling a syringe.
“But you lot-“
“Cope in different ways, just ‘cos we don’t show it doesn’t mean we’re not affected. You shoulda seen my first mission, it was nightmare, still, life goes on eh? You’re stronger than you think,” concluded Owen as he injected the painkiller.
“Listen, Ianto, will you be alright if I nip upstairs for a minute to see how the others are getting on?” asked Jack, relieved at how well the English and Welshman were getting on. It just went to show; anything was possible.
“Why wouldn’t he be with me injecting him with God knows what? Go on, ‘op it,” smiled Owen.
“I’ll be fine. You go,” said Ianto, softly, feeling safe and confident enough to be parted from their Captain. Strange as it felt to admit it, he trusted Owen.
“Good, Call if you need anything,” murmured Jack, kissing him gently on the lips before leaving.
“So…You and our good Captain,” mused Owen, drawing up a chair to tend to the young man’s numerous injuries.
“What about it?” asked Ianto warily, just because he trusted the medic didn’t mean he always knew what he was thinking.
“Nothing. I was just saying; you’re good for each other,” said Owen, non committedly, paying rather more attention to the chaffing round Ianto’s wrists than was entirely necessary.
“Aw! Owen, I didn’t know you cared,” muttered Ianto, dryly, he could swear the medic was blushing; heart to hearts weren’t exactly their thing; sniping and insults yes, relationships, no chance.
“I don’t… I mean… Everyone deserves someone and if that someone happens to have a thing about ridiculous army coats then so be it,” gabbled Owen, uncomfortably, ignoring the Welshman’s enquiring gaze.
“It’s alright, Owen, I know what you mean. Its good to know you care,” murmured Ianto somehow knowing despite the painkillers that something had changed between them.
“Well, you’re part of the team, now; a clean slate and all that.”
http://welsh-scotsman.livejournal.com/4423.html chapter seven