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silver_sunTitle: Things Lost and Found Along The Way (6/10)
Rating: pg13
Characters/Pairings: Jack. AU Ianto, Owen and Tosh. Owen/Tosh, eventual Jack/Ianto.
Word Count: 2.5k (of 19k/28k posted)
Contains: Serious illness of an alien variety. Talk of using Jack's ability to come back form the dead to cure him.
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. This is a sequel to 'The Spaces in Between.' which was 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.
“Celesti has got Vran to drop our speed for a while so we can get more stable connection,” Tosh says, as she sets up the viewing screen and comms link that she's attached the vortex manipulator on a table next to Jack’s bed. “I've routed it so that it will either go the computer we spoke to Gwen on at the spaceport or to her phone, if the computer isn't switched on.”
“Thanks.” Slowly, Jack sits up, hating the fact that even this small movement it’s something he has to actively think about doing now, that everything he does has to be weighed against the pain and exhaustion it will cause.
The fact that neither are consistent doesn’t help. The pain and weakness seems to wax and wane, and Jack suspects that it's his immortality trying to whatever damage it is that has been done. It's not working though, not properly, as the periods where he’s not aching or coughing too much to be able to do anything other than lay in bed waiting for it to pass, seem to be getting fewer and fewer.
It’s frustrating, miserable and, if Jack’s honest about it, rather frightening; it feels like his life is ebbing away and he’s powerless to stop it.
The device takes a few moments to connect. The transmission is voice only at first, Gwen sounding a little stressed, as she says, “Hang on a minute, just got to park.”
“If it's a bad time I can call back.”
“No. Well yes, it is bad, but not Torchwood level of bad, if you know what I mean,” Gwen admits. “But I've always got time for you Jack.”
The visual feed kicks in a minute later, showing Gwen sat in the driver's seat of an SUV. She stares at Jack for a moment, wide eyed and worried, before asking, “Jack, what's happened? You look dreadful.”
“Seem to have picked up a bit of bug.” Jack manages a half hearted smile, knowing that he looks far from well. “I need you to you to send Owen-” He stops to take a breath, feeling a little dizzy. “A file. It's on the mainframe, in the secure area.”
“What's it called?” Gwen asks, grabbing a pen and paper from the glove box.
“CJH datafile eighteen dash four dash ninety three. It's encrypted, just send it, I'll give Owen the codes when it gets here.”
“I'll send the file as soon as I get back to base,” Gwen says, watching him, worry clear in her eyes. “You're going to be alright, aren't you?”
“You know me.”
“Yes I do, so don't you dare lie to me, Jack.” Gwen sounds upset, and angry. “Not about this, not...I can't lose anybody else, Jack. I can't lose you.”
Jack doesn't answer. Instead he closes his eyes, not able to bear to see Gwen's reaction, because he knows he's not going to be able to offer her any words of comfort.
“Jack?” Gwen asks, scared now rather than angry. “Jack, please you're scaring me.”
Leaning round, so he can see into the monitor, Ianto answers. “He'll be alright, Gwen. We won't let anything happen to him, I promise.”
“You’d better do,” Gwen says protectively.
Then the connection flickers for a moment, the flickering accompanied by a series of beeps.
“I'm going to have to go, I’ve got another call,” Gwen says, reluctantly. “It’ll be Andy asking where I’ve got to. He’s managed to get himself arrested, and I was on my way to sort it out.”
“Something serious?” Jack asks, knowing that Gwen can ill afford to lose any staff right now, not when it’s just her, Rhys and Andy running Torchwood.
“He ran naked through the Sennedd while the assembly government was in session.”
Jack laughs, the sound rattling and wheezing in his chest. “There’d better be pictures.”
“There was a live televised broadcast going on – everybody has pictures.” Looking at Jack, she gives him a reassuring smile. “I'll get him to tell you all about it when you get here. He'll have seen the funny side of it by then.”
Jack can’t miss the emphasis that Gwen puts on ‘when,’ as if by saying it firmly enough she can assure his safe return to Earth. It’s reassuring somehow, that despite everything that has happened to her and all that she has seen since joining Torchwood, there’s still the same determined to see the best outcome no matter what attitude that she had when she started.
“Before you go,” Tosh says, moving the monitor a little so that Gwen can see her. “When you send the file just treat it like email. Instead of an address you'll need to send it to the number you've received this call on. It should be a twenty seven digit number.”
“I’ll send it as soon as I can.” The connection flickers again, Andy trying to phone her again, and Gwen sighs. “You call me if there's anything else you need, or if...well if anything happens.”
“Of we will,” Tosh reassures her.
“Get well soon, Jack.” Gwen touches a hand to the screen. “It's not been the same round here without you. ”
“And you keep safe,” Jack tells her.
“I will, and I'll see you soon.” Gwen presses a button on her phone and the transmission cuts out.
With the call ended, Ianto says, “I supposed I'd better go and ask Celesti if we can keep at this speed for a while longer, just until Gwen gets a chance to send the file.”
“And I should get the comm relay back to Kelda, so we can have to hooked back up for when she does,” Tosh says, starting to unplug the monitor from the comm unit. “Do you need anything before we go?”
“No,” Jack says wearily, glad to be able to lay down again. “I think it's time to catch up on my beauty sleep”
* * *
Jack isn't sure how long Tosh and Ianto have been gone long when he's woken up by Owen, who's carrying a small, portable monitor and what looks like a flat metal paddle about the same size and shape as cricket bat, letting himself in to his room.
Jack looks at it sceptically.
“You know what it is then,” Owen says, putting the monitor down on the table, and then plugging the metal paddle into it.
“It's a hand scanner.” Jack has seen enough of them over the years, at spaceports, police stations and at a few of the more interesting clubs that he used to frequent. “It's designed to check for concealed weapons and sub-dermal implants. It's not an x-ray.”
“Yeah, but Tosh has been tinkering with it.” Owen waves it with a flourish. “Now it does all kinds of stuff.”
Jack laughs briefly, Owen’s obvious enthusiasm about what Tosh can do with technology, .
Putting the scanner down for a moment to switch everything on, Owen says, “This is going to be easier if you're sat up.”
Jack slowly swings his legs out of bed, so that he's sat on the edge of it facing Owen.
“Alright then, top off.”
“I knew it,” Jack says, wheezing as he tries to take of his t-shirt. “You just want to see me naked.”
“As if,” Owen snorts.
Shivering slightly, the persistent low grade fever that he’s been running since falling ill making the room feel chill, Jack tries to keep still while Owen runs the scan.
Holding the scanner a couple of inches from Jack, Owen moves the scanner slowly up and down his back, and then repeats with his chest.
“Let's see what we've got,” Owen says, putting the scanner down. Bringing up the scanned images on the monitor, Owen swears.
“It's bad then?” Jack asks, wondering why he's actually surprised. The way he’s feeling good news would be more shocking.
“Yeah.” Owen turns the screen around so that Jack can see.
The display is poor quality, the resolution of the image having been sacrificed to some extent to gain the deeper scanning capability. Jack can make out his lungs though, their surface looking like a haphazard patchwork of white and grey blotches.
“I'm not normally in favour of patients self diagnosing stuff, but you've probably seen a hell of a lot of diseases, alien or otherwise over the years,” Owen says, sounding sorry that he's having to do this to Jack. “So any ideas?”
Jack shakes his head. He can think of a few things that would show up like that on x-rays of the lungs: Cancer, tuberculosis, Jindosian lung rot. But none of them fit, and certainly none of them should appear and progress so much in just a couple of days.
“Well it was worth asking anyway,” Owen says, looking rather disheartened by the fact that Jack can't think of anything. “Let's get you back into bed.”
"Talk me through what you've found so far, maybe I'll think of something" Jack says, once he's laying in bed again, propped up with stack of pillows piled behind him, to make breathing a little easier.
Owen doesn't look happy about explaining, although Jack suspects this is mostly because he's still not sure of what is actually going on. "Okay, far as I can tell something is affecting your lungs, but I don't have the equipment here to find out exactly what, except that it's fast and nasty.”
"Whatever this is you've got you're trying to fight off, but it's pretty much a draw at the moment." Owen looks even less happy as he continues. "Your lymph nodes are swollen, and your white cell count is cycling from near overload to barely there faster than I've ever seen anyone's do or should even be possible. It's that immune response that's giving you the fever and joint pain. The cough and chest pain is because your lungs are fucked."
Jack manages a wheezing laugh. “Technical term is it?"
Owen just smiles grimly and presses on. "The antibiotic I started you on doesn't seem to be having any effect, so I'm going to stop it and start what I've been told is a broad spectrum anti-viral. I don't know how good it is though, I'm not exactly up to date on my alien drugs from another dimension."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then I'll think of something else, won't I?" Owen's confidence seems forced and Jack doesn't blame him.
"You could just-" Jack pauses to take a breath, the sound rattling in his chest. "-kill me. I'd come back."
"You know that for certain, do you?" Owen asks, sounding as if he's giving it serious consideration, as he puts down the notes he's been making about the scan. "You're a hundred sure?"
The worry about how he's managed to get ill in the first place, and about what it means in terms of reviving is still there, and Jack shakes slowly shakes his head feeling sick and scared at what he's finally admitting.
"Then we're not doing it," Owen says firmly, picking up the notes back up again.
"Going to die anyway," Jack rasps, feeling another bought of coughing about to start. Leaning forward, he presses a hand against his chest, hoping it'll relieve some of the pain.
Not that it really works any more, and long before the coughing spasm has finished Jack is shaking, tears running down his face. Along with the pain and the copper tang of blood there's a vile musty taste that seems to be getting stronger the longer he's been sick.
Not musty, Jack thinks a little wildly, a fresh wave of exhaustion engulfing him, but rotten. He’s rotting, he's as physically dead on the inside as he sometimes feels. A half hysterical laugh escapes him, as he knows it's either that or cry.
Owen doesn't say anything, he just rubs Jack's shoulders, until it has passed.
“Your temperature feels like it gone up a bit, so make sure you keep drinking plenty of water, and try to get some sleep,” Owen says, helping Jack lay back down. “I've got a few things I need to do. I come back with the new meds in a while.”
Nodding, Jack slumps back against the pillows, feeling too weak and miserable to argue.
The door doesn't close properly as Owen leaves, and Jack can hear footsteps in the corridor outside.
The footsteps stop outside the room, and Jack hears Ianto ask, “How is he?”
"He asked me to kill him," Owen says quietly, sounding like he still can't quite believe it.
Stifling a groan, Jack rolls over so he can see them.
“You didn't," Ianto says, looking horrified. "Please, Owen, you didn't."
"Of course I bloody well didn't, do you think I'm a idiot?" Owen says angrily, although it's more out of frustration than actual anger. "He doesn't even know if he's immortal any more."
"Is that even possible?"
"How the hell should I know?" Owen snaps, and pushes past Ianto. "I'm going to ask Tosh, see if she can make some sense of it. You stay with him, and make sure he doesn't try anything stupid."
"Of course." Ianto sounds close to tears.
Jack rolls over, pretending he hasn't been listening to them talk, as Ianto opens the door and walks in.
"Hey," Ianto says as he sits down on the chair next to Jack's bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Been better," Jack replies breathlessly.
Ianto is quite for a moment, a sad and distant look on his face, before he says, "Owen told me what you asked him to do, and why he wouldn't do it."
Jack closes his eyes. He really hadn't expected Ianto to admit to that conversation, or want to talk about it with him.
"He's gone to talk to Tosh, to find out if it's possible," Ianto says quietly. Taking hold of Jack's hand he asks, "You think it's possible, don't you? You think that you're mortal again."
"Maybe. I don't know." It's barely above a whisper, the fear that has been plaguing Jack suddenly too much to bear now that he's admitted it. As if by speaking his fears aloud he's making them true. He's had years, centuries, to get use to the fact that he's going to live forever, but just a few short days to take in that might have all been taken away from him. The thought that his death, if Owen can't find a cure, could be days or even hours away, and that there will be no reviving this time, terrifies him more than ever thought it would.
A sob shakes him. He's not ready to go. Not now, not like this.
"Jack?" Ianto leans closer.
"I'm scared." Jack admits, starting to shake, unable to stop despite the fact that the movement is hurting him.
"I know." Ianto's voice is thick with emotion, tears barely held back as he puts an arm around Jack, trying to comfort him.
Part of Jack thinks that for everything he that he's done or has failed to do in his unnaturally long life that this is no more than he deserves, but another part has never wanted to live more than he does right now. Turning his face against Ianto's chest, Jack lets the tears fall.
Rating: pg13
Characters/Pairings: Jack. AU Ianto, Owen and Tosh. Owen/Tosh, eventual Jack/Ianto.
Word Count: 2.5k (of 19k/28k posted)
Contains: Serious illness of an alien variety. Talk of using Jack's ability to come back form the dead to cure him.
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. This is a sequel to 'The Spaces in Between.' which was 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.
“Celesti has got Vran to drop our speed for a while so we can get more stable connection,” Tosh says, as she sets up the viewing screen and comms link that she's attached the vortex manipulator on a table next to Jack’s bed. “I've routed it so that it will either go the computer we spoke to Gwen on at the spaceport or to her phone, if the computer isn't switched on.”
“Thanks.” Slowly, Jack sits up, hating the fact that even this small movement it’s something he has to actively think about doing now, that everything he does has to be weighed against the pain and exhaustion it will cause.
The fact that neither are consistent doesn’t help. The pain and weakness seems to wax and wane, and Jack suspects that it's his immortality trying to whatever damage it is that has been done. It's not working though, not properly, as the periods where he’s not aching or coughing too much to be able to do anything other than lay in bed waiting for it to pass, seem to be getting fewer and fewer.
It’s frustrating, miserable and, if Jack’s honest about it, rather frightening; it feels like his life is ebbing away and he’s powerless to stop it.
The device takes a few moments to connect. The transmission is voice only at first, Gwen sounding a little stressed, as she says, “Hang on a minute, just got to park.”
“If it's a bad time I can call back.”
“No. Well yes, it is bad, but not Torchwood level of bad, if you know what I mean,” Gwen admits. “But I've always got time for you Jack.”
The visual feed kicks in a minute later, showing Gwen sat in the driver's seat of an SUV. She stares at Jack for a moment, wide eyed and worried, before asking, “Jack, what's happened? You look dreadful.”
“Seem to have picked up a bit of bug.” Jack manages a half hearted smile, knowing that he looks far from well. “I need you to you to send Owen-” He stops to take a breath, feeling a little dizzy. “A file. It's on the mainframe, in the secure area.”
“What's it called?” Gwen asks, grabbing a pen and paper from the glove box.
“CJH datafile eighteen dash four dash ninety three. It's encrypted, just send it, I'll give Owen the codes when it gets here.”
“I'll send the file as soon as I get back to base,” Gwen says, watching him, worry clear in her eyes. “You're going to be alright, aren't you?”
“You know me.”
“Yes I do, so don't you dare lie to me, Jack.” Gwen sounds upset, and angry. “Not about this, not...I can't lose anybody else, Jack. I can't lose you.”
Jack doesn't answer. Instead he closes his eyes, not able to bear to see Gwen's reaction, because he knows he's not going to be able to offer her any words of comfort.
“Jack?” Gwen asks, scared now rather than angry. “Jack, please you're scaring me.”
Leaning round, so he can see into the monitor, Ianto answers. “He'll be alright, Gwen. We won't let anything happen to him, I promise.”
“You’d better do,” Gwen says protectively.
Then the connection flickers for a moment, the flickering accompanied by a series of beeps.
“I'm going to have to go, I’ve got another call,” Gwen says, reluctantly. “It’ll be Andy asking where I’ve got to. He’s managed to get himself arrested, and I was on my way to sort it out.”
“Something serious?” Jack asks, knowing that Gwen can ill afford to lose any staff right now, not when it’s just her, Rhys and Andy running Torchwood.
“He ran naked through the Sennedd while the assembly government was in session.”
Jack laughs, the sound rattling and wheezing in his chest. “There’d better be pictures.”
“There was a live televised broadcast going on – everybody has pictures.” Looking at Jack, she gives him a reassuring smile. “I'll get him to tell you all about it when you get here. He'll have seen the funny side of it by then.”
Jack can’t miss the emphasis that Gwen puts on ‘when,’ as if by saying it firmly enough she can assure his safe return to Earth. It’s reassuring somehow, that despite everything that has happened to her and all that she has seen since joining Torchwood, there’s still the same determined to see the best outcome no matter what attitude that she had when she started.
“Before you go,” Tosh says, moving the monitor a little so that Gwen can see her. “When you send the file just treat it like email. Instead of an address you'll need to send it to the number you've received this call on. It should be a twenty seven digit number.”
“I’ll send it as soon as I can.” The connection flickers again, Andy trying to phone her again, and Gwen sighs. “You call me if there's anything else you need, or if...well if anything happens.”
“Of we will,” Tosh reassures her.
“Get well soon, Jack.” Gwen touches a hand to the screen. “It's not been the same round here without you. ”
“And you keep safe,” Jack tells her.
“I will, and I'll see you soon.” Gwen presses a button on her phone and the transmission cuts out.
With the call ended, Ianto says, “I supposed I'd better go and ask Celesti if we can keep at this speed for a while longer, just until Gwen gets a chance to send the file.”
“And I should get the comm relay back to Kelda, so we can have to hooked back up for when she does,” Tosh says, starting to unplug the monitor from the comm unit. “Do you need anything before we go?”
“No,” Jack says wearily, glad to be able to lay down again. “I think it's time to catch up on my beauty sleep”
* * *
Jack isn't sure how long Tosh and Ianto have been gone long when he's woken up by Owen, who's carrying a small, portable monitor and what looks like a flat metal paddle about the same size and shape as cricket bat, letting himself in to his room.
Jack looks at it sceptically.
“You know what it is then,” Owen says, putting the monitor down on the table, and then plugging the metal paddle into it.
“It's a hand scanner.” Jack has seen enough of them over the years, at spaceports, police stations and at a few of the more interesting clubs that he used to frequent. “It's designed to check for concealed weapons and sub-dermal implants. It's not an x-ray.”
“Yeah, but Tosh has been tinkering with it.” Owen waves it with a flourish. “Now it does all kinds of stuff.”
Jack laughs briefly, Owen’s obvious enthusiasm about what Tosh can do with technology, .
Putting the scanner down for a moment to switch everything on, Owen says, “This is going to be easier if you're sat up.”
Jack slowly swings his legs out of bed, so that he's sat on the edge of it facing Owen.
“Alright then, top off.”
“I knew it,” Jack says, wheezing as he tries to take of his t-shirt. “You just want to see me naked.”
“As if,” Owen snorts.
Shivering slightly, the persistent low grade fever that he’s been running since falling ill making the room feel chill, Jack tries to keep still while Owen runs the scan.
Holding the scanner a couple of inches from Jack, Owen moves the scanner slowly up and down his back, and then repeats with his chest.
“Let's see what we've got,” Owen says, putting the scanner down. Bringing up the scanned images on the monitor, Owen swears.
“It's bad then?” Jack asks, wondering why he's actually surprised. The way he’s feeling good news would be more shocking.
“Yeah.” Owen turns the screen around so that Jack can see.
The display is poor quality, the resolution of the image having been sacrificed to some extent to gain the deeper scanning capability. Jack can make out his lungs though, their surface looking like a haphazard patchwork of white and grey blotches.
“I'm not normally in favour of patients self diagnosing stuff, but you've probably seen a hell of a lot of diseases, alien or otherwise over the years,” Owen says, sounding sorry that he's having to do this to Jack. “So any ideas?”
Jack shakes his head. He can think of a few things that would show up like that on x-rays of the lungs: Cancer, tuberculosis, Jindosian lung rot. But none of them fit, and certainly none of them should appear and progress so much in just a couple of days.
“Well it was worth asking anyway,” Owen says, looking rather disheartened by the fact that Jack can't think of anything. “Let's get you back into bed.”
"Talk me through what you've found so far, maybe I'll think of something" Jack says, once he's laying in bed again, propped up with stack of pillows piled behind him, to make breathing a little easier.
Owen doesn't look happy about explaining, although Jack suspects this is mostly because he's still not sure of what is actually going on. "Okay, far as I can tell something is affecting your lungs, but I don't have the equipment here to find out exactly what, except that it's fast and nasty.”
"Whatever this is you've got you're trying to fight off, but it's pretty much a draw at the moment." Owen looks even less happy as he continues. "Your lymph nodes are swollen, and your white cell count is cycling from near overload to barely there faster than I've ever seen anyone's do or should even be possible. It's that immune response that's giving you the fever and joint pain. The cough and chest pain is because your lungs are fucked."
Jack manages a wheezing laugh. “Technical term is it?"
Owen just smiles grimly and presses on. "The antibiotic I started you on doesn't seem to be having any effect, so I'm going to stop it and start what I've been told is a broad spectrum anti-viral. I don't know how good it is though, I'm not exactly up to date on my alien drugs from another dimension."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then I'll think of something else, won't I?" Owen's confidence seems forced and Jack doesn't blame him.
"You could just-" Jack pauses to take a breath, the sound rattling in his chest. "-kill me. I'd come back."
"You know that for certain, do you?" Owen asks, sounding as if he's giving it serious consideration, as he puts down the notes he's been making about the scan. "You're a hundred sure?"
The worry about how he's managed to get ill in the first place, and about what it means in terms of reviving is still there, and Jack shakes slowly shakes his head feeling sick and scared at what he's finally admitting.
"Then we're not doing it," Owen says firmly, picking up the notes back up again.
"Going to die anyway," Jack rasps, feeling another bought of coughing about to start. Leaning forward, he presses a hand against his chest, hoping it'll relieve some of the pain.
Not that it really works any more, and long before the coughing spasm has finished Jack is shaking, tears running down his face. Along with the pain and the copper tang of blood there's a vile musty taste that seems to be getting stronger the longer he's been sick.
Not musty, Jack thinks a little wildly, a fresh wave of exhaustion engulfing him, but rotten. He’s rotting, he's as physically dead on the inside as he sometimes feels. A half hysterical laugh escapes him, as he knows it's either that or cry.
Owen doesn't say anything, he just rubs Jack's shoulders, until it has passed.
“Your temperature feels like it gone up a bit, so make sure you keep drinking plenty of water, and try to get some sleep,” Owen says, helping Jack lay back down. “I've got a few things I need to do. I come back with the new meds in a while.”
Nodding, Jack slumps back against the pillows, feeling too weak and miserable to argue.
The door doesn't close properly as Owen leaves, and Jack can hear footsteps in the corridor outside.
The footsteps stop outside the room, and Jack hears Ianto ask, “How is he?”
"He asked me to kill him," Owen says quietly, sounding like he still can't quite believe it.
Stifling a groan, Jack rolls over so he can see them.
“You didn't," Ianto says, looking horrified. "Please, Owen, you didn't."
"Of course I bloody well didn't, do you think I'm a idiot?" Owen says angrily, although it's more out of frustration than actual anger. "He doesn't even know if he's immortal any more."
"Is that even possible?"
"How the hell should I know?" Owen snaps, and pushes past Ianto. "I'm going to ask Tosh, see if she can make some sense of it. You stay with him, and make sure he doesn't try anything stupid."
"Of course." Ianto sounds close to tears.
Jack rolls over, pretending he hasn't been listening to them talk, as Ianto opens the door and walks in.
"Hey," Ianto says as he sits down on the chair next to Jack's bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Been better," Jack replies breathlessly.
Ianto is quite for a moment, a sad and distant look on his face, before he says, "Owen told me what you asked him to do, and why he wouldn't do it."
Jack closes his eyes. He really hadn't expected Ianto to admit to that conversation, or want to talk about it with him.
"He's gone to talk to Tosh, to find out if it's possible," Ianto says quietly. Taking hold of Jack's hand he asks, "You think it's possible, don't you? You think that you're mortal again."
"Maybe. I don't know." It's barely above a whisper, the fear that has been plaguing Jack suddenly too much to bear now that he's admitted it. As if by speaking his fears aloud he's making them true. He's had years, centuries, to get use to the fact that he's going to live forever, but just a few short days to take in that might have all been taken away from him. The thought that his death, if Owen can't find a cure, could be days or even hours away, and that there will be no reviving this time, terrifies him more than ever thought it would.
A sob shakes him. He's not ready to go. Not now, not like this.
"Jack?" Ianto leans closer.
"I'm scared." Jack admits, starting to shake, unable to stop despite the fact that the movement is hurting him.
"I know." Ianto's voice is thick with emotion, tears barely held back as he puts an arm around Jack, trying to comfort him.
Part of Jack thinks that for everything he that he's done or has failed to do in his unnaturally long life that this is no more than he deserves, but another part has never wanted to live more than he does right now. Turning his face against Ianto's chest, Jack lets the tears fall.