It's time.
We've waited too long. Need him. Travelled so far, worked so hard – we've earned this. Tomorrow. Tomorrow's the day. Tomorrow's our time. He's distracted, he's lost, he's weak. He's ours.
Ianto was shaking, involuntary tremors running through his limbs, and Jack should have been worried out of his mind. Instead, he sort of wanted to punch him, repeatedly.
There was a cure for this right here, pulsing through his body, and yet Ianto refused it. Ianto had continued to refuse it for the past hour, despite Jack's repeated and varied attempts to get him to give in. Ianto probably thought he was being noble – to Jack, he was just being annoying.
Blood donation. People did it all the time; he was fairly sure that Gwen would be a blood donor, she seemed the type. How was this any different?
It wasn't, but it was apparently something that Ianto was willing to kill himself for. Jack was fed up of trying to persuade him. He was fed up of Ianto trying to pretend like he was some sort of hero.
Jack was fed up with all of it; the sound of Ianto taking a short pained breath, hissing in through his teeth, just drove that point home.
"Ianto, please…" he whispered quietly – but he'd never been good at begging outside of the bedroom.
Ianto smiled, shaky pain clear even through that forced expression. "I know it's not like you to give up, Sir, but you're starting to get on my nerves." His voice trembled; Jack could hear the strain he was under and it wasn't fair.
And this was stupid. He'd learned long ago not to expect fairness from life. Why start now? If Ianto died, the world would go on without him. In the scheme of things, it wouldn't matter.
As Ianto groaned in agony after shifting just a tiny amount, Jack knew that it mattered to him, even if it didn't to the rest of the world.
"I'm going to get you a painkiller. Or something," he said, whispering quietly as he knew there was something odd going on with Ianto's senses as well. Too strong, too different. Whispering helped.
Ianto's eyes stayed closed, but he managed to move his head slightly, in a gesture Jack thought was possibly a nod. "Cupboard above the sink."
Jack stroked his hand through Ianto's hair one last time, and then he slipped away from where Ianto's head had been rested on his lap. "Back soon," he promised.
A short walk took him through the rooms of the apartment, which already felt sterile and empty. Ianto was fading fast, life slipping away as those creatures inside him used his body, his blood, his life – and all Jack was doing was sitting around watching. Pathetic.
A fumble for the light-switch made the strip-lighting in the kitchen flicker on and Jack could remember the first time he stood in this room. It was after Lisa, Ianto standing awkwardly in that cute little suit of his, uncomfortable conversation passing between them.
As Jack recalled, that night had ended with sex on the kitchen table; he doubted if tonight would work out the same way. At the most, he'd just hope for a happy ending.
Moving mechanically, hardly thinking about it, he grabbed a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it with water, before starting to hunt down the painkillers Ianto had mentioned. Aspirin, probably. Wouldn't help much: he really did hate 21st century medicine. Not a single nanogene in sight, though, considering his old WWII fiasco, though, that was probably a good thing.
Water poured and pills fetched, he froze before leaving the kitchen: there was a knife on the counter.
Bread-knife, he'd guess, with a black plastic handle but a temptingly sharp blade. You could do a lot of damage with a knife like that, even if Ianto had just been using it to make himself some food.
A lot of damage.
Glancing back at the door that would lead him through to the living room and back to Ianto, Jack only took a few seconds to consider the type of damage that would be most useful to all of them, to all of his team, and especially to Ianto. He placed the glass and pill bottle down on the counter and approached the knife instead.
He picked it up from the counter, surprised by how light it was, and took a breath. He could do this – he had to. Looking down at his arm, he tried to work out where exactly would be the best place to cut. Ianto had gone for his neck last night, but he really doubted if it was his best idea ever to take a bread-knife to his neck.
Settling on halfway up his lower arm, knowing that would bleed enough but not too much, he shifted his hold on the knife to give him a firmer grip. Nothing left now but to do it, he thought as he placed the knife against his skin, pressing it down but not breaking the skin.
He steeled himself, he got ready for this – then he sliced the knife across the skin in one fluid drag. The pain took a few seconds to hit but he grit his teeth and refused to make a single sound as that stinging pain started and the blood began to run.
Throwing the knife back to the counter, he walked forwards quickly, blood flowing freely. There was a lot more than he'd anticipated, but that could be a good thing. Anything that would tempt Ianto was a very good thing.
Opening the door to the living room quickly, his hand immediately went back to pressing on the cut to stop the free flowing blood; no point in wasting any before he was there.
As he entered, several red streams starting to run out of the wound and over his skin, Ianto slowly pushed himself up on the couch, shaking his head. The movement had to have hurt, Jack knew that, but it didn't show on Ianto's face. All that did was horror, his eyes wide and staring.
"Jack?" he asked quietly. "You said you were just going to get painkillers."
"Yeah," Jack said, and shrugged as he walked forward. "Figured this would help a lot more."
Ianto shook his head again, and Jack got the impression that he would have stood up and ran out of the apartment if he had the strength for it. That one reason at least to be glad that he was already breaking out in a sweat.
"I said I wouldn't," Ianto repeated firmly.
"And I said you would. End of story." Jack sat down, and ignored the way that Ianto backed off a few inches. He looked towards him and plainly said, "I'll hold you down if I have to."
Ianto glared at him, breathing heavily. His eyes were blood-shot but kept glancing down to the bleeding wound on his arm, as if entranced by it. That was a good sign, Jack told himself, even though slowly being looked at as if you were food was mildly alarming.
When Ianto didn't make another move, Jack decided that it was time to take things even further, even though he hadn't thought that would even be necessary. He glanced away from Ianto and down at his arm, running his thumb over some of the spilt blood. Once it was stained red, he looked up again, to where Ianto was still watching him, eyes still wide – but it wasn't just terror in them now, some odd mix of fear and lust and hunger.
Taking his blood-dipped thumb, Jack raised it lightly to Ianto's lips. He expected Ianto to flinch away, but he didn't. He stayed there perfectly still, two natures fighting – the desire to live and the urge to cling to his morals. Running his thumb over Ianto's bottom lip, Jack could already tell which side was going to win.
It didn't take long for Ianto's mouth to open and for him to suck Jack's thumb inside. His tongue flicked over it, gently taking every last drop that he could. Around the digit, Jack could feel the vibrations as Ianto moaned low in his throat – and he braced himself for the moment that the bloodlust took over and he found himself being pinned down and used.
Ianto stayed gentle for now, though, as sensual as he was in all the other areas of their lives. His tongue moved gently and as he started softly sucking on that thumb, Jack began to think that Ianto should have been infected a long time ago. His arm hurt like hell, but this was good – unnaturally so, in a way that conjured up memories of the legends of vampires, the magnetism around them.
Damn good, though – and getting better as Ianto released the thumb from his mouth and focused his attention on the rest of Jack's arm instead. His eyes were dark, pupils enlarged, and it looked as if he wasn't human.
This really didn't present much of a problem for Jack, especially as Ianto's tongue started to lick a long and exploratory line up the inside of his wrist, tasting the blood that had dripped down there by now.
He worked methodically – of course he did, Jack realised hazily; this was Ianto – to lap up every spilt drop on Jack's arm, his tongue making Jack's skin tingle beneath it. Jack's eyes slipped closed, putting his trust completely in Ianto not to go too far. Ianto's grip on his arm was light, barely there.
Eyes closed he could just enjoy the sensation as Ianto's tongue moved over his arm, trailing indistinct patterns up and down as he cleaned it thoroughly of the blood Jack had lost. The bleeding from the cut on his arm had slowed by now, even if he'd still lost enough to make him pleasantly light-headed.
When Ianto's tongue reached the wound, he stopped and pulled back, causing Jack to blink his eyes open again. He'd been relaxing back against the couch, but now he had the unpleasant feeling that Ianto was about to start arguing with him again.
As he opened his eyes, though, Ianto didn't have a cool and resolved expression on his face. He looked a little healthier already, skin not half as pale, so this was working. However, he had an uncertain smile on his face as he watched Jack – Jack didn't think that was a good thing.
"You're enjoying this," Ianto said, sounding thoroughly amused.
Jack frowned at the accusation, but he didn't argue against it. He was pretty sure that Ianto was right about it, and that would… Well, that would make this a lot easier, until they could figure out a cure.
As Ianto brushed his lips over a spot of skin just below the cut, Jack smirked and looked down over Ianto's body – to the very prominent erection straining against his black trousers. "You're not exactly complaining either," he countered.
Ianto smiled and nodded, accepting that for once. One of his hands moved to hold the hand of Jack's uninjured arm, squeezing it tightly for a second. "This is going to be okay, isn't it?" he asked, and he sounded surprised by that.
Jack didn't answer for a second, because he wanted to promise Ianto more than just 'okay'. As Ianto's tongue lowered onto the very edge of his arm's cut, he took in a hissing breath as a vague murmur of pain started up. But he smiled slowly and closed his eyes again. "Yeah," he agreed "It's gonna be fine."
The following morning, with the vicious silence of the Hub surrounding him, Ianto wondered if he should've taken Jack's advice and stayed home that day. It wasn't really in his nature to take a day off and he'd already hidden at home yesterday, but from the second he'd walked in with Jack to find Gwen smiling sympathetically and Owen scowling at him, he wished he'd stayed away.
You managed to get through it after Lisa, he reminded himself. You can do the same now.
So he kept his head down and just got on with things; the occasional reassuring smile from Jack became the high-point of his day, the scraps that he clung to in order to get by, even if his eyes were continually drawn to the pristine white bandage on Jack's arm.
He hadn't been thinking clearly from the second Jack's thumb had touched his lips, and he really couldn't help but feel guilty about that despite Jack's repeated attempts to assure him that it was fine, that he was fine, that everything was just fine.
Every word out of Jack's mouth was a lie and fabrication, but last night… Even now, with the rest of the team's trust in him shaken, he couldn't help but smile when he remembered how last night had eventually ended.
That wistful smile still played on his face as he wandered through the Hub again, past Gwen's desk. "Can I get you anything?" he asked, only just hiding his eagerness to try and win back her trust again, to convince her that he wasn't a threat.
She only glanced up briefly.
She then stared bug-eyed at her desk and rearranged the files there. "No thanks, love," she mumbled – and he didn't think he'd ever heard her turn down an offer of coffee, even an indirect one. Fuck.
With his smile more forced now, he nodded as if it didn't matter then headed straight into the kitchen. While walking, he couldn't help noticing the way Owen's eyes tracked him around the Hub, as if convinced he was going to jump up and attack them all at any second.
Watching Ianto disappear into the Hub's kitchen, Owen gritted his teeth. He didn't get it, why that guy was still here, still with them, when he was clearly a danger. Jack had been killed once and it looked like his arm had also been thoroughly attacked last night too.
Jack might be immortal, but the rest of them weren't. Tosh wasn't. Gwen wasn't.
Most importantly, he wasn't.
So the idea of some blood-sucking vampire – or blood-sucking alien-infested freak; whichever worked – running around with no restraint wasn't a pleasant one. Gwen was visibly shaken by it too, and though Tosh was hiding it better she still seemed worried. Whether it was concern for Ianto or herself, Owen didn't know and didn't especially care.
He was doing something about it. Ignoring the report he'd been slowly writing up about Ianto's original attacker so that they could finally put the body away for good (apparently, Gwen was grossed out by the fact that it had been lying on the autopsy table for over twenty-four hours now; she'd been complaining about it loudly for ages. Bloody whiner), Owen stood up from his desk and headed confidently over to Jack's office.
Jack glanced up as he entered, and stood from where he'd been sat behind his desk. The bandage that could be seen on his arm, beneath where his shirt-sleeves had been rolled up, quickly demanded Owen's attention. "Did he do that to you, then?" he asked straight away.
Jack folded his arms over his chest with only the faintest hint of a wince, but shook his head. "No. Did it to myself."
Owen raised an eyebrow. "For him though, right?"
Jack admitted to it reluctantly with a small nod. "Yeah."
"That's stupid." Owen couldn't think of a simpler way to put it than that, but his comment just got Jack to smile. "I mean it. That thing's dangerous."
"'That thing' is our friend."
"Your friend."
"Our friend," Jack repeated. Owen snorted, and struggled not to remind Jack that he had a gun-shot shaped scar on his shoulder because of that guy. "He won't hurt anyone here, if that's what you're worried about. You're not in any danger."
"Need I remind you that he's actually killed you once already? The rest of us aren't just gonna spring back up like you did. If he's here, he should be locked up."
"He can't do his work if he's in a cage," Jack said, tiredly. "Learn to live with it, Owen. It won't be forever."
"You've got a plan?" Owen asked hopefully – about sodding time.
-- but Jack shrugged non-committally, and wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm working on it."
Owen snorted, and felt his hopes for an easy solution to this quickly crumble and die. Jack had faced these things before, it should've been simple; however, he got the impression that Jack's previous encounter with this invasive aliens hadn't ended too happily. "You don't have a clue what we're gonna do, do you?"
Jack sighed – he didn't shake his head, but he didn't defend himself either. Damn it. "Just get back to work, Owen. Finish up with that corpse before Gwen really starts nagging us. And just try to stay away from Ianto for the day. Alright?"
It was only five minutes later that Ianto felt Jack's arms slipping around him from behind, Jack's chin resting on his shoulder after he'd lightly kissed his neck for a moment.
"How're you doing?" he asked gently – he didn't sound worried, but Jack was usually good at hiding emotions like that. Annoyingly good, actually. Ianto usually wished that he could steal a little of that skill.
He had his own methods of coping, though. Taking a breath and pulling away from Jack, he nodded benignly. "Fine, sir."
He didn't have to turn around to know that Jack didn't believe him. Jack was smarter than that. That was another annoying aspect of him. Good at conning people, smart, stubborn, and reckless.
He moved over to the sink, telling himself that the abandoned dishes in there needed to be cleaned right now – dirty plates and cups, nothing important, nothing special, nothing that needed his attention for at least another hour or so, but washing up was so much better than dealing with Jack when he was in this mood.
As expected, though, Jack didn't back off or give in or anything or the sort. "I was wondering if you wanted to take the day off again?" Jack suggested, as casually as he possibly could.
A smirk found its way to Ianto's lips, as he started to fill the sink with water. "I'm not going to hide away," he said. If there was a legitimate reason to send him home, then he would of course follow orders. If that legitimate reason was simply that Owen kept glaring at him, then he was going to stay right where he was.
"I thought I'd come home at lunch too?" Jack suggested. That, at least, caused Ianto to look away from the sink and towards him, eyebrows raised in surprise. 'Home'? Jack shifted on the spot, looking almost uncomfortable for once. "Well. Come and see you," he said to quickly change the wording.
The slip-up still made Ianto smile, though, for reasons he decided not to study too in-depth, and he was quickly a lot more willing to take Jack's advice and return to his flat. "That could turn out to be interesting," he admitted levelly.
"Very interesting," Jack confirmed, as he stepped forward – close enough to brush his hand over Ianto's hip for a split-second.
Ianto looked down to observe the contact, a small frown forming on his face when he was sure he should have been smiling. "You're sure about all this?" he asked, as he looked up again. "About me? I'm dangerous. I know Owen thinks so."
"Ignore Owen. I'm not getting into this with you again," Jack said; he sounded so wearied of this entire subject, his voice as stressed as it had been when he'd first reappeared from his trip with the Doctor, months ago. "Just go home, relax, and wait for me."
He kissed Ianto lightly on the nose then stepped away, his old grin back again. Walking away without a pause, he was half-way out the door before he called back, "And that's an order!"
For once, Ianto knew better than to argue.
Finally getting rid of this damn body in the mortuary – and really trying not to breathe any more than he had to; with the aliens in the body, it was decomposing at an amazing rate – Owen couldn't wait for this day to be over.
It already was, for Ianto, and though Owen had been pushing to get him out of the Hub, he couldn't help but feel bitter that the vampire got a day off when he still had to slave away here. "Unfair, that's what it is," he murmured, to no one.
The Hub was more or less empty at the moment, in any case. Jack was upstairs, tucked safely away in his office: Owen got the impression that he was planning on leaving early too. Tosh and Gwen had disappeared out to get lunch for them all – Owen was pretty sure that this was the first time in history that he was the only one of the team doing any actual work.
"'S all your fault, y'know," he said, looking down at the corpse. He wished someone else was down here with him. This place weirded him out, death clinging to the walls. "If you never showed up, none of this would've happened."
Taking a deep breath through his nose – and instantly wishing he hadn't, when the stench hit him – he reached to zip up the body bag and get this stupid case over with.
He barely managed to tug closed more than a few centimetres before the long-dead body grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip. The eyes of the corpse snapped open, blood-shot and much too wide, and looked leisurely around the room as Owen struggled to free his wrist, almost dislocating his shoulder in the process.
He didn't register the pain: when you've got a zombie in your mortuary – zombie? Vampire? Whatever it is, it isn't natural – there are more important things to think about than getting injured.
Like getting killed for a start.
"We rise," the body said, in a voice that clunked and grated, sounding unnatural in that mouth.
The hand holding his wrist felt soft and moist, but it could still grip with the strength of nothing Owen had felt before. "Yeah? Good for you," he muttered back to it, before giving up on breaking his wrist free and instead trying an alternate technique – his other hand formed a fist and he punched this creature as hard as he could.
It barely reacted, even though his knuckles alone stung from the force. It simply blinked once and watched him. "Where is your leader?" it asked. "Jack. Where is he?"
"Right. Like I'm really gonna tell you." Owen was tempted, though, as the creature's grip tightened after that comment. He didn't have a plan, though, didn't have a gun, didn't have anything. Maybe sending it right to Jack's door would be a good idea? He'd probably know what to do with it.
But he didn't know what to do with Ianto – and seeing as this was Ianto's attacker, this corpse had the same aliens in its blood as their colleague did, Owen guessed that Jack wouldn't have a clue what to do with it either.
In other words, they were totally screwed. That was confirmed when the being dismissed him with a small snarl. "Useless."
Two seconds later, it delivered a punch in response Owen's; better technique, so much stronger, Owen lost consciousness before he'd even hit the ground.
The creature stepped onto the ground, dead body moving with complete ease, and licked its lips.
It's time.
We rise.
Now.