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silver_sunTitle: Things Lost and Found Along The Way (5/10)
Rating: pg13
Characters/Pairings: Jack. AU Ianto, Owen and Tosh.
Word Count: 3.5k ( 15.5k posted of 27k total)
Contains: Serious illness of an alien variety.
Summary: Travelling back to Earth with Ianto, Owen and Toshiko on board the freighter Ariadne, Jack has growing concerns that the glove he'd used to bring them into this universe has somehow affected him. He's still trying to deal with these worries on his own when they receive a distress call from another ship. A call which is about to change everything.
A/N: This is a sequel to The Spaces in Between. , a CoE sort of fix it. Any similarity to Miracle Day with regards to what is going on with Jack is totally accidental as this aspect of the fic had already been decided on last year. Updated weekly on Friday.
Starts here
Jack wakes feeling groggy, the painkillers having worn off while he was asleep.
The dim lighting in the room helps a little, as while his headache isn't as fierce as it had been before Owen had given him the painkillers. It's still there though, as a dull background throb, and accompanied now by pain that seems to have spread through his whole body, his joints aching as he tries to find a more comfortable position to lie in.
Jack is still trying to decide whether to get up and find Owen and get some answers about what’s going on, or if he should try to go back to sleep in the hope of feeling better when he next time he wakes, when the door opens and Ianto looks in at him.
Seeing that Jack is awake, Ianto says, “I thought I should come and see how you are.”
Ianto looks exhausted, the tightness around his eyes and slightly stilted way in which he turns his head makes Jack wonder if his migraine is completely gone yet.
“I'll be alright, I always am.” Jack tries to sit up, the tightness in his chest suddenly increasing, making it hard to breathe. “What about you.”
“I'm okay.”Ianto sounds shocked, as he gets a better look at Jack, his eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room, saying, “You look awful.”
Jack manages a half hearted grin. “Thanks.”
“I didn't mean it like that.”
“I know.”
“What I said earlier about not wanting you as a friend.” Ianto sounds a little ashamed as he sits down on the chair next to Jack's bed. “I don't mean it.”
“Should be me saying sorry. I shouldn't have...” Jack stops, the effort of sitting up having left him feeling breathless and dizzy. “I shouldn't...”
Closing his eyes, Jack tries to concentrate on getting enough air in to his aching lungs, but he can feel consciousness spiralling away from him.
Jack slowly opens his eyes, the sensation of being rolled over onto his side jarring him awake.
“Take it easy,” Owen says before Jack has a chance to speak.
“What happened?” Jack asks, his voice sounding disturbingly weak to his own ears.
Standing behind Owen, worry clear on his face, Ianto says, “You passed out again.”
“No more questions for a minute.” Owen waves Ianto back out of his way. “Just try to breathe slow and deep.”
Dragging in a lungful of air, Jack can’t suppress a groan as the pain in his chest increases, his lungs feeling like they are being filled shards of broken glass.
Owen puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Keep going, you’ll be alright.”
Jack tries again. The second breath is slightly easier, and the third is better still, but the forth catches in his throat, as another bout of coughing suddenly overtakes him.
Owen swears under his breath, then with Ianto's assistance, helps Jack to sit up and lean forward.
There's little Jack can do but wait for it to pass, relying on Owen and Ianto not to let him fall of the edge of the bed. When the coughing finally abates, Jack's relived to find that there’s no taste of blood in his mouth this time, although his throat feels raw and he's trembling from both exhaustion and the lingering pain in his lungs.
Slumping back against the pillows, Jack asks, “Do you know what I've got yet?”
“No,” Owen says, not looking happy about admitting it. “I haven't exactly got a research lab out here with me, have I?”
It's not really the answer he wanted to hear, but Jack clings to the one consolation is that it’s him who’s sick, rather than Owen, Tosh or Ianto. That he’s not having watch feeling helpless and inadequate while they cough and struggle to breathe. So if he has to be Owen’s lab rat to figure out what this is and find the best course of treatment then so be it, because if this is contagious he wants them to have the best chance possible.
“It seems to be a bit quick for anything that was on the Meridian Star,” Owen says, getting a small bottle of pills out of his pocket. “I mean it's been less than a day, and if were something really nasty and contagious I doubt you'd have been the first to show symptoms. My best guess is that it's something from our world. Me, Tosh and Ianto probably didn’t get it because we grew up there, some kind of natural immunity. Could be that while you were using the glove your immune system took a bit of a hit.”
Owen's theory does seem to fit with the tiredness that he’s been feeling since travelling to the parallel Earth. It still doesn’t explain the slower rate of healing though.
“Honestly I'd expected your freaky healing thing to have kicked in by now, being as it's been a few hours,” Owen says, shaking a couple of the pills out of the bottle. “Since it hasn't I suppose I'd better give you something to help it along.”
Jack gives Owen a questioning look. He knows that in the past he's used his ability to revive to avoid a lingering and painful death, and for a moment he wonders if that is what Owen is about to suggest.
“I've been informed that these are what passes for antibiotics out here, so I'm going to get you started on these right away.” Owen hands Jack two tablets and a glass of water. “With any luck you should start having some improvement in the next twenty four hours or so.”
“I shouldn't need them.” Jack looks dubiously at the two small tablets. “I’ve told you, I don't get sick.”
“Well you're sick now, so get them down your neck.”
“Great bedside manner you've got there.” Jack grimaces as he swallows the pills, his throat sore from coughing.
“Most of my patients don't mind.”
“Let me guess, most of your patients are dead.”
Owen shrugs. “That's Torchwood for you. All the dead weevils and slimy, smelly, corrosive or hallucinogenic things you could ever want.”
“You're going to feel right at home in Cardiff then.”
“Oh lucky me. And before you ask why antibiotics,” Owen says, sounding like he's trying to head off any more arguments. “It's because chest infections frequently are bacterial. People get sick with a virus, like a cold, fluid can build and get infected with bacteria. So in the current absence of any better course of treatment we're going with antibiotics, before you get full blown pneumonia or something equally unpleasant.”
“You put it like that, how's a guy to refuse?”
“You're not supposed to,” Owen says, leaving the bottle of pills on the table with a hastily scrawled note reading two times six hours.
Jack doesn't answer, content for now that Owen knows what he's doing.
* * *
A day and a half after passing out in Ianto's cabin, Jack is seriously starting to reconsider just letting whatever he's caught runs its course. Aching, miserable and exhausted from another night where he's spent more time coughing than asleep, a quick death followed by a speedy revival back to a healthy body is beginning to look appealing.
Nobody has broached the subject of using his immortality as a way to cure his illness, but killing himself because of what is in all probability a just some very unpleasant but non lethal bug, seems excessive. Apart from that if whatever he's caught does turn out to be contagious at least Owen will have a head start on planning an effective course of treatment the longer he has him to study.
Then there's the question of how long it will take to revive. It's not something Jack really wants to think about, but he knows he can't avoid doing so forever, especially if his slow healing is connected to his new found ability to get sick.
Poison and the very few diseases and viruses that have actually managed to kill him have always taken him hours to revive from. Scaling this up from the amount of time it has taken his knee to heal would mean that it would probably take him weeks to come back to life.
It's too long for anyone to hold out hope that he's going to come back, and it serves to reinforce the fear that they will have burnt, buried, frozen or jettisoned his body before he's able to revive.
What if I never revive? The thought seem to come out of nowhere, and while it's one he's had a great deal in the past, it really hasn't figured in his thoughts since the Doctor had told him he's a fixed point, that nothing can ever cause him to die permanently.
The Doctor had been so sure about it that he'd not questioned it. Jack also knows that the Doctor isn't totally infallible. He was wrong about being the last Timelord, and wrong about being able to travel to parallel worlds. Sure it’s not often he makes a mistake like that, but when he does the consequences for everybody involved seem to be dire.
The idea that his immortality has some how just switched itself off is ridiculous, impossible, yet now he's thought it there seems to be no way to remove it from his mind.
Jack shivers, and he knows it's nothing to do with illness.
He's still shivering, trying to get the thought out of his head, when Ianto arrives with his breakfast.
Ianto gives him a sympathetic smile as he puts the tray down on the table by Jack's bed. “You might feel better if you eat something.”
“Maybe,” Jack says, not sounding too certain about it. He's not hungry and there seems to be rather a lot on the tray.
“I wasn't sure what you'd want,” Ianto says, seeming to guess Jack's unspoken. He sits down on the chair next to Jack's bed. “I hope you don't mind, I brought mine too. I just thought you might like some company.”
It surprises Jack a little that Ianto is volunteering to spend so much time with him, given that before he fallen ill Ianto had He just hopes Ianto is doing this because he wants to, rather than out of some misguided notion that he should do because he hadn't been able to be there for his Jack at the end. While he doesn't know the exact details of the death of the Jack from the parallel Earth, he knows that it had been slow, Ianto watching him fade over days or maybe even weeks as he'd used his own life energy to power a shield over the Hub, keeping them safe. He really doesn't want to think about what must be going through Ianto's mind right now.
“I can go if you'd rather be alone,” Ianto says when Jack hasn't answered him.
“No, stay,” Jack replies quickly, wanting a distraction from his thoughts, He just hopes that if the situation is making Ianto uncomfortable that he'll actually tell him, rather that suffer in silence.
Ianto smiles. There's a slightly shy nervousness about it that Jack thinks if he weren't feeling so rough he'd find really rather attractive.
“You're still the only one that's sick,” Ianto reassures him, seemingly taking Jack's hesitation to answer as worry that he might infect him. “And it's looking less and less like that whatever it is you've caught is contagious. I don't think Owen is any nearer to working out what it is though, not if the way he's swearing at the lab he's trying to set up is anything to go by.”
The food isn't particularly appealing, an alien analogue for porridge and toast, but Jack knows that he should at least make an effort.
Eating slowly, Jack listens to Ianto talk about what is going on aboard the Ariadne. It's not actually particularly interesting, but it's been lonely spending most of the time alone in his room, and Jack is willing to take whatever he can get right now.
The toast isn't too bad, rather dry and bland, but otherwise inoffensive. The glutinous texture of the porridge make Jack gag as he eats the first spoonful. Pushing the bowl away, Jack can feel cold beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Seeing that Jack has stopped eating, Ianto asks, “Are you alright?”
Jack shakes his head, then wishes he hadn't, the movement making the nausea worse.
Covering his mouth with his hand, Jack realises there isn't going to be enough time to do anything more than lean forward as the food comes back up. Retching and coughing, until tears are running down his face, Jack continues to dry heave long past the point of there being anything left to bring up.
Ianto looks slightly ill at the sight of the vomit covered bed covers. He runs a finger around the the collar of his shirt, loosening it slightly as he swallows hard. “Do you want to go and get cleaned up?”
Jack nods very slowly, still uncertain whether he's going to be sick again.
Ianto looks at Jack and then at the bed and then at Jack again. “Do you need any help?”
“I can manage,” Jack says, getting out of bed.
Ianto looks soiled sheets, and says, “I'll clean this up then, you take as long as you need.”
Legs feeling like rubber, Jack leans against the walls for support as he walks the short distance to the bathroom.
Bracing his hands against the edge of the sink, Jack looks at his reflection in the mirror. Skin looks pale, making the dark smudges beneath his bloodshot eyes look all the more pronounced.
Everything seems to take much longer than it should, but eventually, with his face and hands washed, and his teeth brushed, Jack feels marginally better. He's trying to decide if he should attempt to have a shave, as after a few days without there is a definite hint of stubble, when there is a knock at bathroom door.
“Jack?” Ianto asks at the door. “Are you alright in there?”
“Yeah.” Deciding to forgo the shave, Jack slowly makes his way to the door.
What little energy he had left seems to fade away as he fumbles with the door catch. Eventually he manages to open it, and stumbles out to leans weakly against the door frame.
They look at each other for a moment, then Ianto steps forward,
No fuss, no questions, just a silent gesture of support. One which Jack accepts with heartfelt gratitude.
Even with his arm around Ianto's shoulders for support, Jack is shaking with exhaustion by the time he sits back down on his bed, his breathing harsh and laboured.
“Do you want me to get Owen?” Ianto asks, sounding worried that Jack might pass out again.
Jack shakes his head. There's nothing that Owen can do right now that Ianto isn't already doing.
“You should probably lie down,” Ianto says, pulling back the edge of the clean covers he's put on the bed, so that Jack can get in.
There's a knock at the door, and a moment later, before either of them have a chance to answer, it opens.
“Bad time?” Celesti asks, seeing Ianto leaning over the bed, his arm around Jack. “I can come back.”
“No, it's fine. I should go,” Ianto says, sounding startled. Helping Jack lean back against the pillows, his hand lingers on Jack's shoulder, as he says, “I'll see you later.”
He doesn't give Jack time to reply though, as he quickly leaves the room.
“He's sweet on you,” Celesti says, after Ianto has left. “I reckon you'd be in with a chance with him once you're back on your feet.”
It would be so easy, Jack thinks, so very easy to fall in love with him. To have all that quite intensity focused on him again, to hear that soft voice whisper things in his ear, to feel his arms holding him tight in the still of the night when they are alone. It feels like a second chance, although considering it as such would probably be massively unfair on the both of them.
Jack closes his eyes. Sure it would be easy falling for this new Ianto, and it would keep on being so right up to the point where it would tear his heart apart all over again when he inevitably loses him.
“I take it I said the wrong thing,” Celesti says when Jack doesn't answer.
“No,” Jack answers wearily, opening his eyes. “It's just a really, really bad idea.”
“Complicated?”
“Oh yeah.” Jack smiles hoping to deflect any deeper questions. “Do you normally try to hook up your passengers with each other, or should I feel special?”
Celesti laughs briefly, then says, “I say it as I see it. But that's not why I can to see you.”
“No?”
“No.” Celesti looks serious now. “I came to see how you are, see if you needed anything.” She sighs. “I can't help but feel this is my fault.”
“It's not.”
“I asked you to be in the first group over, I sent you off to deal with environmental controls on your own and without any safety gear,” she says,sounding guilty. “I'd say it's more my fault than anyone else's.”
“You couldn't have known.”
“When you're in command you have to take responsibility for the bad along with the good, and right now I feel pretty damn responsible.” Celesti sighs again, and runs her hand through her hair. “I'm not a great captain, but I try to do right by my crew. And you've worked as hard as any of them, so whatever you need to get well, as long as I can do it, you've got it.”
There really isn't anything that Jack can think of that Celesti could do for him. The fear of a slow revival if he were to die still haunts him, and Jack says, “If anything happens to me, make sure Owen, Toshiko and Ianto get to Earth.”
“I hope it won't come to that.” Celesti takes Jack's hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “But if it does you've got my word on it, one old soldier to another, your people will get home safe.”
Jack squeezes her hand back. “Thank you.”
Letting go of Jack's hand, Celesti says, “I'd better be going, this old crate doesn't run itself. ”
Celesti has been gone only a few minutes when Owen arrives, carrying a mug and a data pad.
"Need to know what's normal for you, not just using guess work from my worlds Jack's records" Owen says, without preamble, sitting down on the chair next to Jack's bed. "If I've got that as a baseline I can start to work out what's off."
Jack doesn't try to sit up, "There should still be a copy on the Hub's mainframe. I started monitoring it years ago, before I knew it was never going away."
Owen looks at him with something close to sympathy, knowing that Jack is talking about about his immortality. "Can you get to it?"
Jack takes a moment to answer. "I don't know, Gwen will have changed the codes after I left. I need to speak to her. Tosh can use this to get a connection." He looks at his vortex manipulator, then tries to unbuckle it. Even this small action seem to make the exhaustion worse, his fingers shaking too much remove it.
"Let me do it," Owen says, not unkindly as he pushes Jack's hand aside. Once it's removed Owen puts it in his jacket pocket.
Picking up the cup on the tray, Owen hands it to Jack. “Drink this.”
Jack takes a small sip, and then nearly spits it out. “Oh, that is awful.”
“It's good for you, it's not supposed to taste nice." The look on Owen's face suggests that he's going to stay there until Jack drinks it. "It's a nutrient mix. You're not keeping food down, and fighting off whatever the hell this is really taking it out of you, so you need something to keep you going.”
Jack nods. He knows that Owen is right, and drinks the rest as quickly as he can, trying not to register the taste.
“I'd better get going,” Owen says once Jack has finished. He pats his pocket containing the vortex manipulator. ”I'll make sure Tosh gets it. Shouldn't take her long to rig something up, then we'll get this all sorted out. You'll be back to making dodgy comments about alien meat and tentacles over dinner in no time.”
Still feeling queasy, Jack manages a wan smile. He just hopes Owen is right.
Rating: pg13
Characters/Pairings: Jack. AU Ianto, Owen and Tosh.
Word Count: 3.5k ( 15.5k posted of 27k total)
Contains: Serious illness of an alien variety.
Summary: Travelling back to Earth with Ianto, Owen and Toshiko on board the freighter Ariadne, Jack has growing concerns that the glove he'd used to bring them into this universe has somehow affected him. He's still trying to deal with these worries on his own when they receive a distress call from another ship. A call which is about to change everything.
A/N: This is a sequel to The Spaces in Between. , a CoE sort of fix it. Any similarity to Miracle Day with regards to what is going on with Jack is totally accidental as this aspect of the fic had already been decided on last year. Updated weekly on Friday.
Starts here
Jack wakes feeling groggy, the painkillers having worn off while he was asleep.
The dim lighting in the room helps a little, as while his headache isn't as fierce as it had been before Owen had given him the painkillers. It's still there though, as a dull background throb, and accompanied now by pain that seems to have spread through his whole body, his joints aching as he tries to find a more comfortable position to lie in.
Jack is still trying to decide whether to get up and find Owen and get some answers about what’s going on, or if he should try to go back to sleep in the hope of feeling better when he next time he wakes, when the door opens and Ianto looks in at him.
Seeing that Jack is awake, Ianto says, “I thought I should come and see how you are.”
Ianto looks exhausted, the tightness around his eyes and slightly stilted way in which he turns his head makes Jack wonder if his migraine is completely gone yet.
“I'll be alright, I always am.” Jack tries to sit up, the tightness in his chest suddenly increasing, making it hard to breathe. “What about you.”
“I'm okay.”Ianto sounds shocked, as he gets a better look at Jack, his eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room, saying, “You look awful.”
Jack manages a half hearted grin. “Thanks.”
“I didn't mean it like that.”
“I know.”
“What I said earlier about not wanting you as a friend.” Ianto sounds a little ashamed as he sits down on the chair next to Jack's bed. “I don't mean it.”
“Should be me saying sorry. I shouldn't have...” Jack stops, the effort of sitting up having left him feeling breathless and dizzy. “I shouldn't...”
Closing his eyes, Jack tries to concentrate on getting enough air in to his aching lungs, but he can feel consciousness spiralling away from him.
Jack slowly opens his eyes, the sensation of being rolled over onto his side jarring him awake.
“Take it easy,” Owen says before Jack has a chance to speak.
“What happened?” Jack asks, his voice sounding disturbingly weak to his own ears.
Standing behind Owen, worry clear on his face, Ianto says, “You passed out again.”
“No more questions for a minute.” Owen waves Ianto back out of his way. “Just try to breathe slow and deep.”
Dragging in a lungful of air, Jack can’t suppress a groan as the pain in his chest increases, his lungs feeling like they are being filled shards of broken glass.
Owen puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Keep going, you’ll be alright.”
Jack tries again. The second breath is slightly easier, and the third is better still, but the forth catches in his throat, as another bout of coughing suddenly overtakes him.
Owen swears under his breath, then with Ianto's assistance, helps Jack to sit up and lean forward.
There's little Jack can do but wait for it to pass, relying on Owen and Ianto not to let him fall of the edge of the bed. When the coughing finally abates, Jack's relived to find that there’s no taste of blood in his mouth this time, although his throat feels raw and he's trembling from both exhaustion and the lingering pain in his lungs.
Slumping back against the pillows, Jack asks, “Do you know what I've got yet?”
“No,” Owen says, not looking happy about admitting it. “I haven't exactly got a research lab out here with me, have I?”
It's not really the answer he wanted to hear, but Jack clings to the one consolation is that it’s him who’s sick, rather than Owen, Tosh or Ianto. That he’s not having watch feeling helpless and inadequate while they cough and struggle to breathe. So if he has to be Owen’s lab rat to figure out what this is and find the best course of treatment then so be it, because if this is contagious he wants them to have the best chance possible.
“It seems to be a bit quick for anything that was on the Meridian Star,” Owen says, getting a small bottle of pills out of his pocket. “I mean it's been less than a day, and if were something really nasty and contagious I doubt you'd have been the first to show symptoms. My best guess is that it's something from our world. Me, Tosh and Ianto probably didn’t get it because we grew up there, some kind of natural immunity. Could be that while you were using the glove your immune system took a bit of a hit.”
Owen's theory does seem to fit with the tiredness that he’s been feeling since travelling to the parallel Earth. It still doesn’t explain the slower rate of healing though.
“Honestly I'd expected your freaky healing thing to have kicked in by now, being as it's been a few hours,” Owen says, shaking a couple of the pills out of the bottle. “Since it hasn't I suppose I'd better give you something to help it along.”
Jack gives Owen a questioning look. He knows that in the past he's used his ability to revive to avoid a lingering and painful death, and for a moment he wonders if that is what Owen is about to suggest.
“I've been informed that these are what passes for antibiotics out here, so I'm going to get you started on these right away.” Owen hands Jack two tablets and a glass of water. “With any luck you should start having some improvement in the next twenty four hours or so.”
“I shouldn't need them.” Jack looks dubiously at the two small tablets. “I’ve told you, I don't get sick.”
“Well you're sick now, so get them down your neck.”
“Great bedside manner you've got there.” Jack grimaces as he swallows the pills, his throat sore from coughing.
“Most of my patients don't mind.”
“Let me guess, most of your patients are dead.”
Owen shrugs. “That's Torchwood for you. All the dead weevils and slimy, smelly, corrosive or hallucinogenic things you could ever want.”
“You're going to feel right at home in Cardiff then.”
“Oh lucky me. And before you ask why antibiotics,” Owen says, sounding like he's trying to head off any more arguments. “It's because chest infections frequently are bacterial. People get sick with a virus, like a cold, fluid can build and get infected with bacteria. So in the current absence of any better course of treatment we're going with antibiotics, before you get full blown pneumonia or something equally unpleasant.”
“You put it like that, how's a guy to refuse?”
“You're not supposed to,” Owen says, leaving the bottle of pills on the table with a hastily scrawled note reading two times six hours.
Jack doesn't answer, content for now that Owen knows what he's doing.
* * *
A day and a half after passing out in Ianto's cabin, Jack is seriously starting to reconsider just letting whatever he's caught runs its course. Aching, miserable and exhausted from another night where he's spent more time coughing than asleep, a quick death followed by a speedy revival back to a healthy body is beginning to look appealing.
Nobody has broached the subject of using his immortality as a way to cure his illness, but killing himself because of what is in all probability a just some very unpleasant but non lethal bug, seems excessive. Apart from that if whatever he's caught does turn out to be contagious at least Owen will have a head start on planning an effective course of treatment the longer he has him to study.
Then there's the question of how long it will take to revive. It's not something Jack really wants to think about, but he knows he can't avoid doing so forever, especially if his slow healing is connected to his new found ability to get sick.
Poison and the very few diseases and viruses that have actually managed to kill him have always taken him hours to revive from. Scaling this up from the amount of time it has taken his knee to heal would mean that it would probably take him weeks to come back to life.
It's too long for anyone to hold out hope that he's going to come back, and it serves to reinforce the fear that they will have burnt, buried, frozen or jettisoned his body before he's able to revive.
What if I never revive? The thought seem to come out of nowhere, and while it's one he's had a great deal in the past, it really hasn't figured in his thoughts since the Doctor had told him he's a fixed point, that nothing can ever cause him to die permanently.
The Doctor had been so sure about it that he'd not questioned it. Jack also knows that the Doctor isn't totally infallible. He was wrong about being the last Timelord, and wrong about being able to travel to parallel worlds. Sure it’s not often he makes a mistake like that, but when he does the consequences for everybody involved seem to be dire.
The idea that his immortality has some how just switched itself off is ridiculous, impossible, yet now he's thought it there seems to be no way to remove it from his mind.
Jack shivers, and he knows it's nothing to do with illness.
He's still shivering, trying to get the thought out of his head, when Ianto arrives with his breakfast.
Ianto gives him a sympathetic smile as he puts the tray down on the table by Jack's bed. “You might feel better if you eat something.”
“Maybe,” Jack says, not sounding too certain about it. He's not hungry and there seems to be rather a lot on the tray.
“I wasn't sure what you'd want,” Ianto says, seeming to guess Jack's unspoken. He sits down on the chair next to Jack's bed. “I hope you don't mind, I brought mine too. I just thought you might like some company.”
It surprises Jack a little that Ianto is volunteering to spend so much time with him, given that before he fallen ill Ianto had He just hopes Ianto is doing this because he wants to, rather than out of some misguided notion that he should do because he hadn't been able to be there for his Jack at the end. While he doesn't know the exact details of the death of the Jack from the parallel Earth, he knows that it had been slow, Ianto watching him fade over days or maybe even weeks as he'd used his own life energy to power a shield over the Hub, keeping them safe. He really doesn't want to think about what must be going through Ianto's mind right now.
“I can go if you'd rather be alone,” Ianto says when Jack hasn't answered him.
“No, stay,” Jack replies quickly, wanting a distraction from his thoughts, He just hopes that if the situation is making Ianto uncomfortable that he'll actually tell him, rather that suffer in silence.
Ianto smiles. There's a slightly shy nervousness about it that Jack thinks if he weren't feeling so rough he'd find really rather attractive.
“You're still the only one that's sick,” Ianto reassures him, seemingly taking Jack's hesitation to answer as worry that he might infect him. “And it's looking less and less like that whatever it is you've caught is contagious. I don't think Owen is any nearer to working out what it is though, not if the way he's swearing at the lab he's trying to set up is anything to go by.”
The food isn't particularly appealing, an alien analogue for porridge and toast, but Jack knows that he should at least make an effort.
Eating slowly, Jack listens to Ianto talk about what is going on aboard the Ariadne. It's not actually particularly interesting, but it's been lonely spending most of the time alone in his room, and Jack is willing to take whatever he can get right now.
The toast isn't too bad, rather dry and bland, but otherwise inoffensive. The glutinous texture of the porridge make Jack gag as he eats the first spoonful. Pushing the bowl away, Jack can feel cold beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Seeing that Jack has stopped eating, Ianto asks, “Are you alright?”
Jack shakes his head, then wishes he hadn't, the movement making the nausea worse.
Covering his mouth with his hand, Jack realises there isn't going to be enough time to do anything more than lean forward as the food comes back up. Retching and coughing, until tears are running down his face, Jack continues to dry heave long past the point of there being anything left to bring up.
Ianto looks slightly ill at the sight of the vomit covered bed covers. He runs a finger around the the collar of his shirt, loosening it slightly as he swallows hard. “Do you want to go and get cleaned up?”
Jack nods very slowly, still uncertain whether he's going to be sick again.
Ianto looks at Jack and then at the bed and then at Jack again. “Do you need any help?”
“I can manage,” Jack says, getting out of bed.
Ianto looks soiled sheets, and says, “I'll clean this up then, you take as long as you need.”
Legs feeling like rubber, Jack leans against the walls for support as he walks the short distance to the bathroom.
Bracing his hands against the edge of the sink, Jack looks at his reflection in the mirror. Skin looks pale, making the dark smudges beneath his bloodshot eyes look all the more pronounced.
Everything seems to take much longer than it should, but eventually, with his face and hands washed, and his teeth brushed, Jack feels marginally better. He's trying to decide if he should attempt to have a shave, as after a few days without there is a definite hint of stubble, when there is a knock at bathroom door.
“Jack?” Ianto asks at the door. “Are you alright in there?”
“Yeah.” Deciding to forgo the shave, Jack slowly makes his way to the door.
What little energy he had left seems to fade away as he fumbles with the door catch. Eventually he manages to open it, and stumbles out to leans weakly against the door frame.
They look at each other for a moment, then Ianto steps forward,
No fuss, no questions, just a silent gesture of support. One which Jack accepts with heartfelt gratitude.
Even with his arm around Ianto's shoulders for support, Jack is shaking with exhaustion by the time he sits back down on his bed, his breathing harsh and laboured.
“Do you want me to get Owen?” Ianto asks, sounding worried that Jack might pass out again.
Jack shakes his head. There's nothing that Owen can do right now that Ianto isn't already doing.
“You should probably lie down,” Ianto says, pulling back the edge of the clean covers he's put on the bed, so that Jack can get in.
There's a knock at the door, and a moment later, before either of them have a chance to answer, it opens.
“Bad time?” Celesti asks, seeing Ianto leaning over the bed, his arm around Jack. “I can come back.”
“No, it's fine. I should go,” Ianto says, sounding startled. Helping Jack lean back against the pillows, his hand lingers on Jack's shoulder, as he says, “I'll see you later.”
He doesn't give Jack time to reply though, as he quickly leaves the room.
“He's sweet on you,” Celesti says, after Ianto has left. “I reckon you'd be in with a chance with him once you're back on your feet.”
It would be so easy, Jack thinks, so very easy to fall in love with him. To have all that quite intensity focused on him again, to hear that soft voice whisper things in his ear, to feel his arms holding him tight in the still of the night when they are alone. It feels like a second chance, although considering it as such would probably be massively unfair on the both of them.
Jack closes his eyes. Sure it would be easy falling for this new Ianto, and it would keep on being so right up to the point where it would tear his heart apart all over again when he inevitably loses him.
“I take it I said the wrong thing,” Celesti says when Jack doesn't answer.
“No,” Jack answers wearily, opening his eyes. “It's just a really, really bad idea.”
“Complicated?”
“Oh yeah.” Jack smiles hoping to deflect any deeper questions. “Do you normally try to hook up your passengers with each other, or should I feel special?”
Celesti laughs briefly, then says, “I say it as I see it. But that's not why I can to see you.”
“No?”
“No.” Celesti looks serious now. “I came to see how you are, see if you needed anything.” She sighs. “I can't help but feel this is my fault.”
“It's not.”
“I asked you to be in the first group over, I sent you off to deal with environmental controls on your own and without any safety gear,” she says,sounding guilty. “I'd say it's more my fault than anyone else's.”
“You couldn't have known.”
“When you're in command you have to take responsibility for the bad along with the good, and right now I feel pretty damn responsible.” Celesti sighs again, and runs her hand through her hair. “I'm not a great captain, but I try to do right by my crew. And you've worked as hard as any of them, so whatever you need to get well, as long as I can do it, you've got it.”
There really isn't anything that Jack can think of that Celesti could do for him. The fear of a slow revival if he were to die still haunts him, and Jack says, “If anything happens to me, make sure Owen, Toshiko and Ianto get to Earth.”
“I hope it won't come to that.” Celesti takes Jack's hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “But if it does you've got my word on it, one old soldier to another, your people will get home safe.”
Jack squeezes her hand back. “Thank you.”
Letting go of Jack's hand, Celesti says, “I'd better be going, this old crate doesn't run itself. ”
Celesti has been gone only a few minutes when Owen arrives, carrying a mug and a data pad.
"Need to know what's normal for you, not just using guess work from my worlds Jack's records" Owen says, without preamble, sitting down on the chair next to Jack's bed. "If I've got that as a baseline I can start to work out what's off."
Jack doesn't try to sit up, "There should still be a copy on the Hub's mainframe. I started monitoring it years ago, before I knew it was never going away."
Owen looks at him with something close to sympathy, knowing that Jack is talking about about his immortality. "Can you get to it?"
Jack takes a moment to answer. "I don't know, Gwen will have changed the codes after I left. I need to speak to her. Tosh can use this to get a connection." He looks at his vortex manipulator, then tries to unbuckle it. Even this small action seem to make the exhaustion worse, his fingers shaking too much remove it.
"Let me do it," Owen says, not unkindly as he pushes Jack's hand aside. Once it's removed Owen puts it in his jacket pocket.
Picking up the cup on the tray, Owen hands it to Jack. “Drink this.”
Jack takes a small sip, and then nearly spits it out. “Oh, that is awful.”
“It's good for you, it's not supposed to taste nice." The look on Owen's face suggests that he's going to stay there until Jack drinks it. "It's a nutrient mix. You're not keeping food down, and fighting off whatever the hell this is really taking it out of you, so you need something to keep you going.”
Jack nods. He knows that Owen is right, and drinks the rest as quickly as he can, trying not to register the taste.
“I'd better get going,” Owen says once Jack has finished. He pats his pocket containing the vortex manipulator. ”I'll make sure Tosh gets it. Shouldn't take her long to rig something up, then we'll get this all sorted out. You'll be back to making dodgy comments about alien meat and tentacles over dinner in no time.”
Still feeling queasy, Jack manages a wan smile. He just hopes Owen is right.