Silver (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_silver_story) wrote2009-11-06 06:05 am
a_silver_story) wrote2009-11-06 06:05 am
Entry tags:
Torchwood IMs: Ianto's Birthday (3)
Title: Ianto's Birthday (3)
Chapter: 86
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, the Doctor
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Genre Humour, smut, angst
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH! - possibly temporary.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: See title, really.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
87 |
IM | Ianto's Birthday (3)
Ianto seemed more relaxed about the idea than Jack did. He sat on the bed in the medical bay, sleeves rolled up, staring into space while the Doctor explained what they were doing for a third time. Jack paced, or fiddled, or sat by him to hold his hand. He wouldn’t stay still, and his tectchiness was making Ianto more and more nervous – not that he wasn’t already getting frightened.
“You don’t have to do it.” Jack told him quietly when the Doctor left them to give them space. “Really, you don’t. We can’t even know the chances of this working, and calculating it would be near impossible.”
“Jack ... this ... you have to be honest with me. Would ... would you have chosen me a hundred hears down the line, after I was dead and gone?”
The Captain thought for a moment before answering.
“Do you want me to lie?” he replied simply, and Ianto looked away. Jack curled his fingers under his chin, turning his head to look back at him. “Ianto: don’t think like this. You and me ... we’re here now. And we go together now. I love you now, and I always will.”
“I never want to leave you,” Ianto whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “and if this doesn’t work ... I’ll have to leave you sooner than ....”
“I have faith in the Doctor.”
“I don’t.”
Jack bit his lip, moving his hand to caress Ianto's cheek. He leaned into the touch, and Jack fought back the fear building in his belly. “If you can’t have faith in the Doctor, have faith in me.”
Ianto gave a weak laugh. “Faith in you and faith in the Doctor is the same thing in this scenario.”
“You don’t have to do it.” Jack repeated.
“You keep saying.” Ianto replied. Jack put his arms around him and squeezed him tight. “I’m ... I’m frightened Jack.”
“Me too, Ianto.”
“I don’t want to die yet, but I don’t want to live forever. And nor do I ever want to have to leave you.”
Jack rubbed his arm comfortingly, unsure what to say. He’d have to give up something no matter what happened.
“The Doctor reckons we can leave it a few more hours. Think about it some more.” Jack muttered into his hair, tucking his head under his chin.
“How are you planning on ... on euthanizing me?” Ianto asked, deciding he didn’t like the words ‘kill’ ... or ‘murder’.
“Quick injection. Totally painless. You’ll just ... fall asleep, and everything will stop.”
Ianto nodded. “Will you ... would you do it?”
Jack nearly jumped at the question. “Wh-what? You want me to ... to ...”
“I’d rather die at your hands than his.” Ianto told him resolutely. “However temporary.”
“Why don’t you like him?”
“He called you ‘wrong’.” Ianto replied simply. “Which means he’s going be calling me ‘wrong’ too. Considering everything you’re going through for him – in the past, and the present, and everything in your future – he could at least show you a little bit of respect.”
“He also called me ‘brilliant’ earlier. Does that cancel it out?”
“Not really. Not yet.”
They fell silent for a moment, but Ianto needed his answer.
“So ... would you do it, then? Would you give me the injection?”
Jack fought back tears, but they trickled forth anyway. He nodded, then buried his head in Ianto's neck, pinning their bodies together. His shoulders shook as he openly wept, clinging to Ianto so hard he would leave bruises. Ianto stroked his hair, shushing him, telling him he loved him. Jack’s murmurs were incoherent, but Ianto knew they echoed the sentiment a thousand times over, and the pain in his voice was obvious.
“I’ll do it.” Ianto whispered. “I’ll ... take the chance. Because you need me.”
God, he really hoped this worked.
~*~*~*~
“So ... here’s the plan.” began the Doctor, pushing a sheet of paper with doodles on it across the library desk towards Ianto. Ianto liked the library. He had hoped to have a proper look around, but was now very aware of the fact he might never get the chance. Jack was stood behind him, hands leaning on the back of his chair defensively. They both looked at the diagrams the Doctor had drawn.
Ianto raised an eyebrow.
“What makes you so sure Jack’ll be on top?” he asked, trying to make light of the situation and relieve the growing tension. The Doctor didn’t get it. “So ... what exactly are the chances of me not coming back?”
“No idea.” shrugged the Doctor. “This has never even been thought of before, never mind attempted. I could try and calculate your chances of coming back, but I don’t think Jack would like it ...”
He nodded silently. “Doctor ... why ... why me?” Jack’s hands lightly pressed onto his shoulders comfortingly.
“Equal and opposite.” the Doctor repeated, yet again.
“Am I?”
“Opposite?”
“No ... equal ...”
“You’re right. You are better than him.” winked the Doctor. Ianto turned a delicate shade of pink.
“I’m frightened.” he admitted.
“You ... you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Jack said quietly, almost timidly.
“Who else is there?” asked the Doctor. “I suppose we could use someone who’s already dead. But then I can’t be certain as to the equal and oppositeness of them ....”
“Time Travel?” suggested Ianto.
“No guarantee I’ll get where I want to go. Even the TARDIS is struggling with our location in the Timey Wimey now.”
“So ... it’s me because I’m convenient?”
“Yes.” said the Doctor.
“No.” said Jack.
“Well ... not convenient as such.” the Doctor backtracked after receiving a glare from Jack. “Conveniently ... perfect. Maybe the Timey Wimey is going wrong in this time period because ... erm ... woah!”
Jack staggered forward, Ianto's shoulders suddenly gone from under him. Instead there was a little boy – Jack recognised him as Ianto from when he’d accidentally turned himself into a child using a futuristic practical joke – looking very shocked and frightened. His big eyes stared around, his bottom lip wobbled and Jack instantly sprung into action, scooping him up and cuddling him close.
He yelped as little teeth bit down hard on his neck, nearly dropping the child, who landed on his feet and scurried away, finding somewhere to hide so fast the Doctor and Jack lost track of him. Jack could feel the tiny crescents in his neck where the little teeth had imprinted, and was fairly certain they were going to bruise.
“Ianto?” he called. He heard a whimper from the shadows between the books. “Ianto, it’s okay. My name’s Jack. I know you’re frightened, but you’re safe here; I’ll take care of you.”
There was movement in the shadows, and a little head poked out from behind a stand-alone shelf. Realising Jack had seen him, Ianto pulled back and hid again, his big blue eyes still wide and scared. Slowly, Jack made his way towards him, the Doctor watching cautiously from behind his desk. He crouched down low, Ianto backing up against the wall as if hoping it would absorb him and protect him from this stranger who knew his name.
“Ianto? Come out from there. I can help get you home if you come out.” He extended his arm, open-palmed, reaching for him. Ianto whimpered again, then slowly moved forward. Jack placed his age at around three, or only just. His little hand closed into Jack’s, and he helped him out from the shadows. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled him into his lap, trying to get him to relax even though he remained resolutely stiff. Eventually he crawled to sit on the floor next to Jack instead.
He’d stopped crying now, and was simply staring at the floor ignoring Jack and the Doctor’s attempts to talk to him. He pulled at his t-shirt, drew patterns on the floor with his finger, but he refused to speak to them or let them touch him. The Doctor frowned.
“Does his adult self not generally like being touched, by any chance?”
Jack thought about it. “He touches me.” he shrugged. “Though ... most of the time he just ... hints he wants to be touched, and waits for me to ... what are you getting at?”
“Nothing. Just curiou- oh!”
The child was replaced by a full-grown Ianto in a Marks and Spencer’s suit, half-way through chewing a sandwich. His eyes roved around in confusion, his jaw frozen mid-chew, and he gave the sandwich an accusatory glance as if it was solely responsible for the change in scenery.
“What ... the ... fuck ...?” he eventually asked, tired of the Doctor and Jack – evidently strangers – staring at him.
“Erm ... what year is it?” asked Jack.
“2005.” answered Ianto, his eyes darting from one to the other. “Um ... have you ... kidnapped me? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna tell you nothing.”
Jack blinked. “You ... you just used a double negative ...”
“You just stole me from the canteen!” scowled Ianto, taking another bite of his sandwich as if frightened that was going to be stolen next.
“Woahhhhh freaky ...” Jack suddenly exclaimed, and the Doctor noticed the subtle differences of his shirt and braces, his boots looking a little less worn and his hair darker. “Oh ... hi, Ianto.”
“Um ... how does he know my name?” Ianto asked the Doctor.
“Timey Wimey.” replied the Doctor.
Jack was staring at the Doctor, as if trying to place a face he knew but couldn’t quite remember where from. “D-D-Doctor?” he choked out.
Ianto changed again – this time shirtless and panting. He stared around, wide-eyed, sinking onto the floor next to Jack, obviously thinking he’d been taken from the same place.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Jack, realising that Ianto had been replaced by a future version of himself – or less naked one, at any rate.
“You ... y-you don’t know either?” panted Ianto in reply.
“Timey Wimey.” the Doctor told them, just as Jack suddenly donned a Victorian waistcoat and dress trousers, shiny shoes and fob watch. He looked around, spotted shirtless and flushed Ianto sat by him, and grinned.
“Well hello there!” he held out his hand. “What’s a pretty young thing like you doing getting kidnapped by a strange, lanky man like that?”
“Oi!” exclaimed the Doctor indignantly.
The TARDIS began to shake, the effort of trying to right the now Explained Temporal Displacements wracking her to the core. In a flash of yellow light and a slightly nauseous feeling, Jack and Ianto found themselves back in their proper time, sat on the floor of the TARDIS library.
Ianto massaged watering eyes, not wanting to talk about where he’d been or what he had seen.
“Let’s ... let’s go and get this started ...” he eventually murmured, getting up and heading away from the library without waiting for confirmation from either Jack or the Doctor.
~*~*~*~
The plan was that Jack himself would absorb the Vortex, bring Ianto back permanently then let the Vortex flowing through him fry his brain. Hopefully, when he woke up, Ianto would be there, first thing he’d see, eyes twinkling and laughing with relief.
The Doctor lead them to the little medical room, and this time the bed was set up far more comfortably. It was also on wheels, so that it would be easier to move Ianto's body into the control room once the drugs had ... taken effect.
Ianto sat on the bed, and true to his word, Jack was preparing the lethal injection, filling the syringe and fastening a tourniquet to Ianto's arm. The Doctor had wandered off to give them more time alone.
“Wonderful thing about Welsh skin,” Ianto commented. “it’s so pale, it’s practically translucent. You barely need the tourniquet to find the vein.”
Jack ‘mmm’d’, and flicked the air bubbles from the syringe.
“It’s a lethal injection, Jack.” Ianto pointed out. “I’m hardly worried about air bubbles. Come to think of it: why do they use sterilized needles for lethal injections? Defeats the object, really.”
“You’re babbling.” Jack told him quietly, the affection in his voice evident.
“Sorry.” Ianto smiled.
“Okay ... ready?” Jack asked.
“No. But go on.”
Jack took a deep breath, lowered the needle to Ianto's arm, applied a little pressure to the skin and ... jumped back before he could pierce it and poison the bloodstream.
“Jack?”
“Sorry ... I ... sorry ... try again ...”
He rested the point on Ianto's vein again, took a deep breath and ... he couldn’t do it. He actually couldn’t physically do it.
“I ... I can’t ...” he sniffed.
“Oh for pity’s sake!” sighed Ianto. “Give it here.”
He snatched the needle from Jack’s shocked hand, punctured his vein with a hiss, pressed the plunger and removed the syringe, tossing it aside onto the bedside cabinet. Jack was still in shock, staring at the empty syringe lying innocently on the side, flicking his gaze to Ianto and back again.
Ianto was calmly removing the tourniquet, and turning to lie down as if it was only some form on anaesthesia he’d just administered himself.
“At least I made it to twenty-six. Just about.” he sighed distantly. “A nice, round thirty would have been okay, too. But twenty-six isn’t so bad. Then again, from this side of a lethal injection, three hundred does sound very promising.”
“I ... can’t believe you did that ...” Jack breathed, taking Ianto's hand, still staring at the syringe.
“I knew I’d have to do it myself, Jack.” Ianto muttered. “But I also knew you’d want to pretend you were strong enough to do it.”
Jack sniffed. “I ... I want to see you again.”
“You will.” Ianto insisted.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because when it comes to leaving someone dead, you’re the most stubborn person I know.”
FIN
I was planning on posting this part and the next part as one chapter ... but I think it works better a bit more staggered.
Comments are love - as is immortality and coffee.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Chapter: 86
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, the Doctor
Author:
a_silver_storyGenre Humour, smut, angst
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH! - possibly temporary.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: See title, really.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
87 |
IM | Ianto's Birthday (3)
Ianto seemed more relaxed about the idea than Jack did. He sat on the bed in the medical bay, sleeves rolled up, staring into space while the Doctor explained what they were doing for a third time. Jack paced, or fiddled, or sat by him to hold his hand. He wouldn’t stay still, and his tectchiness was making Ianto more and more nervous – not that he wasn’t already getting frightened.
“You don’t have to do it.” Jack told him quietly when the Doctor left them to give them space. “Really, you don’t. We can’t even know the chances of this working, and calculating it would be near impossible.”
“Jack ... this ... you have to be honest with me. Would ... would you have chosen me a hundred hears down the line, after I was dead and gone?”
The Captain thought for a moment before answering.
“Do you want me to lie?” he replied simply, and Ianto looked away. Jack curled his fingers under his chin, turning his head to look back at him. “Ianto: don’t think like this. You and me ... we’re here now. And we go together now. I love you now, and I always will.”
“I never want to leave you,” Ianto whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “and if this doesn’t work ... I’ll have to leave you sooner than ....”
“I have faith in the Doctor.”
“I don’t.”
Jack bit his lip, moving his hand to caress Ianto's cheek. He leaned into the touch, and Jack fought back the fear building in his belly. “If you can’t have faith in the Doctor, have faith in me.”
Ianto gave a weak laugh. “Faith in you and faith in the Doctor is the same thing in this scenario.”
“You don’t have to do it.” Jack repeated.
“You keep saying.” Ianto replied. Jack put his arms around him and squeezed him tight. “I’m ... I’m frightened Jack.”
“Me too, Ianto.”
“I don’t want to die yet, but I don’t want to live forever. And nor do I ever want to have to leave you.”
Jack rubbed his arm comfortingly, unsure what to say. He’d have to give up something no matter what happened.
“The Doctor reckons we can leave it a few more hours. Think about it some more.” Jack muttered into his hair, tucking his head under his chin.
“How are you planning on ... on euthanizing me?” Ianto asked, deciding he didn’t like the words ‘kill’ ... or ‘murder’.
“Quick injection. Totally painless. You’ll just ... fall asleep, and everything will stop.”
Ianto nodded. “Will you ... would you do it?”
Jack nearly jumped at the question. “Wh-what? You want me to ... to ...”
“I’d rather die at your hands than his.” Ianto told him resolutely. “However temporary.”
“Why don’t you like him?”
“He called you ‘wrong’.” Ianto replied simply. “Which means he’s going be calling me ‘wrong’ too. Considering everything you’re going through for him – in the past, and the present, and everything in your future – he could at least show you a little bit of respect.”
“He also called me ‘brilliant’ earlier. Does that cancel it out?”
“Not really. Not yet.”
They fell silent for a moment, but Ianto needed his answer.
“So ... would you do it, then? Would you give me the injection?”
Jack fought back tears, but they trickled forth anyway. He nodded, then buried his head in Ianto's neck, pinning their bodies together. His shoulders shook as he openly wept, clinging to Ianto so hard he would leave bruises. Ianto stroked his hair, shushing him, telling him he loved him. Jack’s murmurs were incoherent, but Ianto knew they echoed the sentiment a thousand times over, and the pain in his voice was obvious.
“I’ll do it.” Ianto whispered. “I’ll ... take the chance. Because you need me.”
God, he really hoped this worked.
“So ... here’s the plan.” began the Doctor, pushing a sheet of paper with doodles on it across the library desk towards Ianto. Ianto liked the library. He had hoped to have a proper look around, but was now very aware of the fact he might never get the chance. Jack was stood behind him, hands leaning on the back of his chair defensively. They both looked at the diagrams the Doctor had drawn.
Ianto raised an eyebrow.
“What makes you so sure Jack’ll be on top?” he asked, trying to make light of the situation and relieve the growing tension. The Doctor didn’t get it. “So ... what exactly are the chances of me not coming back?”
“No idea.” shrugged the Doctor. “This has never even been thought of before, never mind attempted. I could try and calculate your chances of coming back, but I don’t think Jack would like it ...”
He nodded silently. “Doctor ... why ... why me?” Jack’s hands lightly pressed onto his shoulders comfortingly.
“Equal and opposite.” the Doctor repeated, yet again.
“Am I?”
“Opposite?”
“No ... equal ...”
“You’re right. You are better than him.” winked the Doctor. Ianto turned a delicate shade of pink.
“I’m frightened.” he admitted.
“You ... you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Jack said quietly, almost timidly.
“Who else is there?” asked the Doctor. “I suppose we could use someone who’s already dead. But then I can’t be certain as to the equal and oppositeness of them ....”
“Time Travel?” suggested Ianto.
“No guarantee I’ll get where I want to go. Even the TARDIS is struggling with our location in the Timey Wimey now.”
“So ... it’s me because I’m convenient?”
“Yes.” said the Doctor.
“No.” said Jack.
“Well ... not convenient as such.” the Doctor backtracked after receiving a glare from Jack. “Conveniently ... perfect. Maybe the Timey Wimey is going wrong in this time period because ... erm ... woah!”
Jack staggered forward, Ianto's shoulders suddenly gone from under him. Instead there was a little boy – Jack recognised him as Ianto from when he’d accidentally turned himself into a child using a futuristic practical joke – looking very shocked and frightened. His big eyes stared around, his bottom lip wobbled and Jack instantly sprung into action, scooping him up and cuddling him close.
He yelped as little teeth bit down hard on his neck, nearly dropping the child, who landed on his feet and scurried away, finding somewhere to hide so fast the Doctor and Jack lost track of him. Jack could feel the tiny crescents in his neck where the little teeth had imprinted, and was fairly certain they were going to bruise.
“Ianto?” he called. He heard a whimper from the shadows between the books. “Ianto, it’s okay. My name’s Jack. I know you’re frightened, but you’re safe here; I’ll take care of you.”
There was movement in the shadows, and a little head poked out from behind a stand-alone shelf. Realising Jack had seen him, Ianto pulled back and hid again, his big blue eyes still wide and scared. Slowly, Jack made his way towards him, the Doctor watching cautiously from behind his desk. He crouched down low, Ianto backing up against the wall as if hoping it would absorb him and protect him from this stranger who knew his name.
“Ianto? Come out from there. I can help get you home if you come out.” He extended his arm, open-palmed, reaching for him. Ianto whimpered again, then slowly moved forward. Jack placed his age at around three, or only just. His little hand closed into Jack’s, and he helped him out from the shadows. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled him into his lap, trying to get him to relax even though he remained resolutely stiff. Eventually he crawled to sit on the floor next to Jack instead.
He’d stopped crying now, and was simply staring at the floor ignoring Jack and the Doctor’s attempts to talk to him. He pulled at his t-shirt, drew patterns on the floor with his finger, but he refused to speak to them or let them touch him. The Doctor frowned.
“Does his adult self not generally like being touched, by any chance?”
Jack thought about it. “He touches me.” he shrugged. “Though ... most of the time he just ... hints he wants to be touched, and waits for me to ... what are you getting at?”
“Nothing. Just curiou- oh!”
The child was replaced by a full-grown Ianto in a Marks and Spencer’s suit, half-way through chewing a sandwich. His eyes roved around in confusion, his jaw frozen mid-chew, and he gave the sandwich an accusatory glance as if it was solely responsible for the change in scenery.
“What ... the ... fuck ...?” he eventually asked, tired of the Doctor and Jack – evidently strangers – staring at him.
“Erm ... what year is it?” asked Jack.
“2005.” answered Ianto, his eyes darting from one to the other. “Um ... have you ... kidnapped me? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna tell you nothing.”
Jack blinked. “You ... you just used a double negative ...”
“You just stole me from the canteen!” scowled Ianto, taking another bite of his sandwich as if frightened that was going to be stolen next.
“Woahhhhh freaky ...” Jack suddenly exclaimed, and the Doctor noticed the subtle differences of his shirt and braces, his boots looking a little less worn and his hair darker. “Oh ... hi, Ianto.”
“Um ... how does he know my name?” Ianto asked the Doctor.
“Timey Wimey.” replied the Doctor.
Jack was staring at the Doctor, as if trying to place a face he knew but couldn’t quite remember where from. “D-D-Doctor?” he choked out.
Ianto changed again – this time shirtless and panting. He stared around, wide-eyed, sinking onto the floor next to Jack, obviously thinking he’d been taken from the same place.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Jack, realising that Ianto had been replaced by a future version of himself – or less naked one, at any rate.
“You ... y-you don’t know either?” panted Ianto in reply.
“Timey Wimey.” the Doctor told them, just as Jack suddenly donned a Victorian waistcoat and dress trousers, shiny shoes and fob watch. He looked around, spotted shirtless and flushed Ianto sat by him, and grinned.
“Well hello there!” he held out his hand. “What’s a pretty young thing like you doing getting kidnapped by a strange, lanky man like that?”
“Oi!” exclaimed the Doctor indignantly.
The TARDIS began to shake, the effort of trying to right the now Explained Temporal Displacements wracking her to the core. In a flash of yellow light and a slightly nauseous feeling, Jack and Ianto found themselves back in their proper time, sat on the floor of the TARDIS library.
Ianto massaged watering eyes, not wanting to talk about where he’d been or what he had seen.
“Let’s ... let’s go and get this started ...” he eventually murmured, getting up and heading away from the library without waiting for confirmation from either Jack or the Doctor.
The plan was that Jack himself would absorb the Vortex, bring Ianto back permanently then let the Vortex flowing through him fry his brain. Hopefully, when he woke up, Ianto would be there, first thing he’d see, eyes twinkling and laughing with relief.
The Doctor lead them to the little medical room, and this time the bed was set up far more comfortably. It was also on wheels, so that it would be easier to move Ianto's body into the control room once the drugs had ... taken effect.
Ianto sat on the bed, and true to his word, Jack was preparing the lethal injection, filling the syringe and fastening a tourniquet to Ianto's arm. The Doctor had wandered off to give them more time alone.
“Wonderful thing about Welsh skin,” Ianto commented. “it’s so pale, it’s practically translucent. You barely need the tourniquet to find the vein.”
Jack ‘mmm’d’, and flicked the air bubbles from the syringe.
“It’s a lethal injection, Jack.” Ianto pointed out. “I’m hardly worried about air bubbles. Come to think of it: why do they use sterilized needles for lethal injections? Defeats the object, really.”
“You’re babbling.” Jack told him quietly, the affection in his voice evident.
“Sorry.” Ianto smiled.
“Okay ... ready?” Jack asked.
“No. But go on.”
Jack took a deep breath, lowered the needle to Ianto's arm, applied a little pressure to the skin and ... jumped back before he could pierce it and poison the bloodstream.
“Jack?”
“Sorry ... I ... sorry ... try again ...”
He rested the point on Ianto's vein again, took a deep breath and ... he couldn’t do it. He actually couldn’t physically do it.
“I ... I can’t ...” he sniffed.
“Oh for pity’s sake!” sighed Ianto. “Give it here.”
He snatched the needle from Jack’s shocked hand, punctured his vein with a hiss, pressed the plunger and removed the syringe, tossing it aside onto the bedside cabinet. Jack was still in shock, staring at the empty syringe lying innocently on the side, flicking his gaze to Ianto and back again.
Ianto was calmly removing the tourniquet, and turning to lie down as if it was only some form on anaesthesia he’d just administered himself.
“At least I made it to twenty-six. Just about.” he sighed distantly. “A nice, round thirty would have been okay, too. But twenty-six isn’t so bad. Then again, from this side of a lethal injection, three hundred does sound very promising.”
“I ... can’t believe you did that ...” Jack breathed, taking Ianto's hand, still staring at the syringe.
“I knew I’d have to do it myself, Jack.” Ianto muttered. “But I also knew you’d want to pretend you were strong enough to do it.”
Jack sniffed. “I ... I want to see you again.”
“You will.” Ianto insisted.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because when it comes to leaving someone dead, you’re the most stubborn person I know.”
FIN
I was planning on posting this part and the next part as one chapter ... but I think it works better a bit more staggered.
Comments are love - as is immortality and coffee.
no subject
“I knew I'd have to do it myself, Jack.” Ianto muttered. “But I also knew you'd want to pretend you were strong enough to do it.”
*sobs* Poor boys.
Can't wait for another update. Please, post it soon.