Don't rely on the medical stuff in this story should you ever find yourself chilling in Cardiff Bay on Christmas Eve. It is what I remember from the ski mountain rescue course I did a while back. You'd do much better to go chill somewhere more convivial! Thanks everyone for the reviews. They are always so welcome. Torchwood 3 on Monday for the lucky ones amongst us, eh! Can't wait. I will miss Owen and Tosh though. Ahh, Owen.

A Hunting We Will Go – Christmas Day

"No, Owen, he isn't breathing for himself!" Jack's voice hitched. Owen could tell that Jack was bordering on panic. Luckily years of having to keep calm in crisis situations had kicked in semi-automatically.

"Don't panic, Jack. Just stay calm." Owen felt anything other than calm himself, but he managed to project a facade of complete control. The last thing he could afford was Jack going off the rails. And Jack was clearly going to be unpredictable; he'd been in the icy waters of Cardiff Bay saving Ianto and was now suffering the trauma of losing his lover.

"But he's not breathing, Owen, he isn't breathing and I can't find a pulse." Jack's voice hitched.

"He probably hasn't been breathing for a while, actually," said Owen, assessing the situation and, belatedly, wishing he hadn't externalised his thoughts.

"But what can I do?" asked Jack, on the edge of cracking. "There must be something I can do!" Owen's heart went out to the man; he could hear the desperation and the barely suppressed panic. He began to quickly list what Jack needed to do before he could get there.

Jack was on overload. He was now only vaguely aware that Owen had started to give him instructions. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't concentrate, couldn't make sense of what he was hearing.

"JACK! How long were you in the water?" Owen was shouting in his ear. He had no idea what Owen had been saying. Owen's voice jolted Jack back to reality. He realised that he'd drifted away again. He couldn't believe he had dozed off while Owen was telling him how to save Ianto's life.

"Dunno." His eyes opened with a jerk. He felt surprisingly warm. That didn't make sense, he'd been in icy water and was still wearing wet clothes. And the Hub was never the warmest of buildings. But he was really quite hot. He peeled back his braces and took off his shirt, stripping to his undershirt. There. That should help him cool off.

There was a tinny sound coming from a long distance away. He looked around for the source and realised that it was coming from the phone, which he'd placed on the counter while he took off his shirt.

He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear again. Owen's voice was bordering on hysterical. He had seldom heard the doctor sound so helpless. Jack dragged himself reluctantly back to full reality and forced himself to listen. "Sorry Owen. Tell me everything again. I'm in a bit of trouble here too, I think."

"OK, Jack, OK. " Owen soothed. "I'll be there as quickly as I can. But listen to me. You must listen."

As soon as he had Jack's attention, Owen calmed down and was instantly professional again. "Now, listen to me carefully this time Jack. Concentrate on my voice. Concentrate. I think you are hypothermic too. I need you to help Ianto, but first you've got to help yourself. I can't have you collapsing on me now, you'd be no use to Ianto. Get out of your wet clothes. Get yourself warmed up. What? You are warm? No, you aren't, you only think you are. Trust me, that's a side effect of hypothermia."

"Put on something warm and dry. And make yourself a hot drink. Shove it in the microwave while you change. Nick one of Gwen's cuppa soups out of the cupboard above the sink; I often do." Owen realized he'd perhaps said too much because the search for the soup thief had been hotting up in the office recently. He wasn't about to tell Gwen that he actually had a drawer full of unused soups he'd been pilfering regularly from the kitchen, out of the boxes clearly marked 'Gwen' in stern, no-nonsense lettering. He didn't actually like them, but it was an entertainment that could be counted on to liven up a rift-less day.

"Then go get the oxygen. I need you to do more rescue breathing for Ianto. But he will undoubtedly be hypoxic by now, so if you breathe the oxygen first, you can get a higher percentage of oxygen into him than just using your normal expelled air. And Jack? Just do it. With luck, your abundant life force will help in the mix. But we need to rely on medical science, not the Vortex for this. Now, get yourself dry."

Jack murmured "But Ianto?"

Owen was firm. "Sort yourself out first. You might be immortal, but you are no good to Ianto whatsoever if you keel over, which I think you are in danger of doing. There's not time for the whole resurrection thing. I'm at least 30 minutes away. Just put Ianto on the couch and cover him up for now. Then go get dry, put on some warm clothes as quickly as you can. I'll call you back in a couple of minutes and talk you through what you need to do next for the teaboy."

Owen realized that Jack's brain was barely able to process the instructions he'd just given him, let alone retain what needed to be done in the next half hour for the Welshman. In the time it took Jack to get changed, Owen figured he could be showered, dressed and in his car on his way back to the Hub. He considered whether he could skip the shower but decided in view of the amount of chocolate still smeared over his naked body, fifteen seconds under the warm water was a necessity not a luxury.

He considered calling the local ambulance service, but was sure that which ever of the two possible outcomes would play out, they could do no more than he was already orchestrating. And they had less experience in such matters anyway. It would take them time to come to conclusions, but by experience Owen already knew what to do.

The roads were deserted at that time of night; the only encounter Owen risked was one with a police patrol. He weighed up the risk and drove as fast as he safely could towards Mermaid Quay. He rang Jack, who answered swiftly. Even in such a short time, he sounded measurably better.

"Owen, what do I need to do for Ianto?"

"First Jack, tell me. Are you warm, dry and dressed? Is your thinking any clearer?"

"I'm dry Owen, but now I am cold again. It's all a bit confusing still."

"OK." Owen needed to know how Jack was in order to properly judge the level of instruction he could safely give to him. "Have you had a hot drink?"

"Yes," replied Jack. "I've got one of Gwen's Cream of Tomato in my blue and white striped mug."

"Jack. Concentrate. It is good that you have had a drink. But I really don't need to know what mug you made it in." Owen was worried by the way that Jack seemed unable to really tell the important points from the trivial. But he wasn't surprised, he'd seen such things before; long before he'd met Katie, as a young intern, he'd been an enthusiastic climber. He had spent one perfect summer in the Bernese Oberland at Interlaken climbing the Eiger, then going to France to attempt the north face of the Dru from Chamonix before using the cable car to get up to the Aiguilles du Midi and then across the glacier and, via Point Helbronner, into Italy for a wonderful interrailing holiday in Italy. The following summer he had spent in the Andes, making an ascent of Siula Grande. Back in those days, he had even embraced camping.

Then he'd met Katie at a pub in Cardiff and everything had changed. She hated what she saw as dangerous hobbies like climbing mountains and he'd reluctantly restricted himself to the occasional climbing wall in Cardiff. None of his Torchwood colleagues knew this side of Owen. He'd packed it all away, just like he'd packed away his hurt and grief at losing Katie, and kept it bottled up as an explosive memory.

"Have you been doing the rescue breathing?" Owen continued.

"Oh yes," said Jack, sleepy again. "It's OK now. Ianto is breathing for himself." And this worried Owen more than anything. Not for Ianto, but for Jack. Under normal circumstances Jack would have been an emotional wreck at having nearly lost Ianto and now brought him back. But he was so matter of fact and dispassionate.

"Listen to me. Listen. That is great news that Ianto is breathing for himself. Get an oxygen mask on him if you can. But you need to get him warmed up, for sure. So listen carefully. I am going to tell you what you mustn't do. I repeat, this is what you must not do. Listen to me and try to concentrate on what I'm saying. Don't massage him, don't try to rub him warm. Understand? You need to be very gentle with him; he's in danger of a cardiac arrest. Can you get him onto the couch? Yes? Great. Well, undress him. Try not to move him too much. Cut his clothes off if you have to. But be careful and be gentle." Owen stopped himself before he added a sentence that almost slipped out. He was very close to saying "I'm sure you've had plenty of experience of undressing the teaboy." But he managed to check himself. This was neither the time nor the place for a quip about the boss's relationship with the archivist.

Jack missed the hesitation. He was busy thinking about what Ianto would say to the idea of having his suit cut off him, but as it was almost certainly ruined by the water anyhow, it didn't matter.

Owen continued: "Warm him gently with some compresses on his neck, his chest and his groin. Yes, the major points. But not his arms or legs, that could force the cold blood back to his heart. And that's not what we want at all. And then tuck him in and keep him warm. Check his breathing and pulse regularly, they'll be difficult to find though. OK? And just wait for me to get there."

"OK"

"Oh, and Jack?"

"Yes, Owen?"

"Feel free to share your body heat with him."

Jack snorted into the phone.

Owen could tell that Jack's condition was improving.

Jack carried Ianto through to the main part of the Hub, a trail of blood and water marking their progress. Well, he thought, at least Owen will have no trouble locating them. It was yet another mess that would need cleaning up before Ianto saw it.

Jack started to remove Ianto's cold and sodden clothes; his coat, suit jacket and shirt were all in tatters where the weevil had slashed at him with its claws. Jack had ripped them even further open when he thought he would need to do CPR. Jack had those off quickly. He also soon stripped Ianto of trousers and underwear, so that the warm compresses could work directly on his skin. That was when he noticed the severity of the leg wound. In fact, from the angle of the ankle Jack wondered if it might be broken. All that went a long way to explaining why Ianto had been unable to get out of the water unassisted.

Jack realized that he was now shivering periodically himself, but he was thinking more clearly. He fetched his duvet from his sleeping quarters, and some blankets from the medical area. He folded one insulating foil blanket and rolled it under Ianto; the couch was a little damp from where the Welshman had been lying for a short while in his wet clothes.

Jack reviewed the instructions Owen had given him and was satisfied that he'd carried them out as best he could. He was anxious for Owen to arrive. He was about to start pacing when he remember the doctor's parting comment "Feel free to share your body heat." He removed the towel he'd looped around his waist after he'd dried off. He had totally forgotten Owen's instructions to get dressed.

And that was how Owen found them, twenty minutes later. Jack, lying drowsily on the couch, his body plastered to every contour of Ianto's back. He was holding the unconscious Ianto tightly, beneath a nest made up of assorted bedclothes, crooning gentle words of encouragement into the Welshman's oblivious ear. If asked later, neither Jack nor Owen would have had any idea what Jack had been whispering, though Jack suspected it might have been a song his mother used to sing to him and his brother long ago in the future.

"Oh Lord, Jack!" exclaimed Owen. "Whatever have you two got yourselves into this time? Let's have a look at the teaboy." He pulled the blankets back from the pair. He eyed his captain closely, digesting every physical sign he could see. "And then," he added "after we've taken care of Ianto, I'm going to put you to bed properly."

Under normal circumstances, Jack would have found innuendo in this sentence but now, he simply didn't have the energy. Owen peeled Jack off Ianto and knelt down to begin his examination. He produced a thermometer from his medical pack and put it under Ianto's armpit. Much to Jack's surprise, he produced a second and shoved it unceremoniously into Jack's mouth before Jack could say a thing. Jack was about to wave him away when Owen scowled at him, but put a gentle hand on his arm. "Me thinks my captain doth protest too much. Now, shut up and suck on that or else I'll take a true core reading and I'm not sure you'd want me to put it there." Jack smiled at the slight emphasis Owen placed on the word 'me'.

Jack did as he was told, trying to still his chattering teeth.

After a while, Owen looked up from Ianto. "You did a good job here, Jacko, my boy. Another few minutes in the water and it would be a different story. He's by no means out of the woods yet though."

Owen's use of the nickname surprised Jack; he hadn't traded under that in a long time and it didn't bring back good memories. But Owen didn't know that.

"Young Mr Jones has lost a lot of blood, though it could have been worse. The cold of the water stopped him bleeding so heavily. He could've bled out. The cold was definitely a blessing in disguise. I think he's broken his ankle but I need to X-Ray it later, once I've stabilized him, just to be sure. But at the moment, his core temperature is still under 31 degrees centigrade. Getting him warm is our first priority."

Owen took the thermometer from Jack's mouth."You are still low, too low. Only 33 degrees," he observed. "For heaven's sakes get dressed and then go warm up the autopsy bay. Actually, warm up the whole Hub. We might as well all be comfortable for a change in this mausoleum. But first – go put some clothes on. You'll catch your death of cold like that. I thought I already told you to get dressed in dry stuff."

Jack shrugged then grinned, aware for the first time that he and his lover had both been naked, on the couch. Under normal circumstances, he might have tried to play the situation, but today was not that day. "Sharing body heat." He offered by way of explanation.

Five minutes later, Jack was dressed in clothes Owen didn't realise Jack owned. He was layered in T-shirt, fleecy sweat shirt, North Face fleece jacket and matching trousers. Owen cocked a questioning eyebrow up at him from the autopsy bay.

"We went hiking in Snowdonia last winter. I was prepared!" he retorted with a smile, and went down to join the doctor. Despite his wiry build, Owen was strong and had carried the Welshman there on his own. He'd roughly splinted the injured ankle to stop it moving and causing more damage. He was preparing to give Ianto a blood transfusion. Ianto was now cocooned amongst heated blankets. Jack marvelled that their supplies actually extended to such things. He left all that kind of medical administrative work to Ianto and Owen. He felt a flush of pride in knowing that his team was good, damned good.

"Jack, I've got two litres of saline warming, could you get them for me?" Owen commanded, rather than asked, as he inserted a port into the vein in the crook of Ianto's left arm and hooked up the blood.

Jack handed him the package, which Owen hung on the hook of the stand, adjacent to the blood. "This could take a while. He needs fluids and blood. Why don't you have a rest yourself? Because then I am going to need your help while I sew him up. But I don't want to move him too much until he is warmer. Too much chance of arrhythmia."

Jack wanted to protest but quickly saw the wisdom of Owen's thinking. Much better to be more rested and alert and useful later than a hovering, worried boyfriend now. Owen marvelled sometimes that Jack could turn emotions on and off seemingly at the flick of an internal switch, and looked on enviously as Jack retreated upstairs to lie down on the couch and, warmly wrapped, slept deeply without dreams.

"Jack, I need to sew him up now. Do you think you are in a fit state to assist me?"

Jack woke up, instantly alert and nodded; his shivering had abated and he was feeling better, though still chilled to the very marrow.

"Can you manage the instruments without fumbling? Or should I call one of the girls to come in and help?"

"No, I'd rather do it." said Jack. "I'll be alright."

"OK, if you are sure. Let's get started."

Although he was pretty certain that Ianto could feel nothing, Owen still injected each site with a local anaesthetic before he started working. As he finished at each site, while he waited for the next injection to take effect, he had Jack lift Ianto's eyelids and shine the bright penlight torch into Ianto's eyes; it saved him removing his blood soaked gloves if Jack did it.

"He probably has a concussion too," Owen explained. "I don't think it is serious but I can't tell for sure yet. I'm kinda glad he is still out of it, I couldn't give him any pain relief at the moment and, if he was awake, he'd sure as hell be hurting from these weevil wounds."

It took Owen four hours to finish sewing up Ianto. The stitches were neat, tiny and meticulous. It always amazed Jack when he saw Owen work. The professional doctor was so unlike the malcontent Owen they usually saw. Jack wondered briefly quite what that said about Owen. Though actually, he thought, he didn't have to wonder. Like the rest of the Torchwood staff, Owen was a troubled, hurt individual. He was as broken as the rest of them and only when immersed in his work did he stop hiding behind a facade and really become himself again.

Periodically as he worked, Owen measured both Ianto's and Jack's temperatures. Jack was coming back towards normal satisfactorily, Ianto remained dangerously low.

"Well, that's about it for now." Said Owen. "I still want to get that leg X-rayed, but I think Ianto needs some time out now. As do we all."

He touched his fingers quickly to Jack's neck before Jack could shy away. "Pulse is fine. You'll do." He said. "But you're still cold. He threw a blanket around Jack's shoulders. "Let's go upstairs and rest some more."

Jack didn't argue. Owen guided him back to the couch in main Hub, then disappeared for five minutes in the direction of the kitchen. Jack heard some worrying noises coming from that area and added "clean up coffee machine before Ianto sees it" to the ever-growing housekeeping inventory. But, nonetheless, he craved a cup of coffee, even Owen's.

Owen emerged carrying two steaming mugs. "I think I've cracked it!" he said.

"Great!" said Jack, holding out a hand for one of the mugs Owen was carrying. They'd all tried to use the coffee machine at some point or another, but no one made coffee like Ianto. However, just maybe Owen had managed something drinkable for a change.

"Actually, not so great." said Owen, with more than a hint of apology in his voice. "When I said 'I think I've cracked it', I meant 'I think I've cracked it'….I think I broke the coffee machine".

Jack sighed. It was shaping up to be an expensive Christmas if they needed a new coffee machine. And he'd only done the expenses as far as September. Had it really only been eight hours ago that he'd finished September? He gratefully accepted his coffee from Owen and closed his eyes as he took a first sip, wanting to savour the heat and flavour of his first caffeine in hours.

He spluttered and opened his eyes. "What the hell is this?" he asked Owen accusingly, noticing that Owen was smiling suspiciously. "Where's my coffee?"

"Sorry, Jack." Said Owen. "You're not getting caffeine at the moment. It constricts the blood vessels. You've got hot chocolate. It will help you sleep. Don't forget, you've had something of a hard evening! " He held up a warning finger, pointing meaningfully at Jack, to forestall the protests he knew were about to come. "You need to recover, there's nothing more you can do at the moment for Ianto. That will come soon enough and you'll need all your strength. So just humour your doctor, huh? Drink up and go to bed. Or do I have to drug you to make you sleep?"

Jack knew when he was beaten. As soon as Owen pulled medical rank, there was little he would do. Owen only did that when it was necessary.

Jack put the cup down on the table and held up both hands in defeat. "OK, OK."

"Drink your chocolate." instructed Owen firmly. "Or I'll put it in a sippy cup and feed it to you."

"I'm drinkin', I'm drinkin'." Jack pulled a face to indicate his supreme displeasure and started working his way through the mug. Although he wouldn't give Owen the satisfaction of admitting it, he did feel measurably better as he drank it. He was only half way through when he felt his eyelids slipping closed. He wondered briefly whether he'd been drugged but realised it was just delayed reaction to the evening's events. He jerked awake and took another sip. His eyes started to slide shut again. Owen caught the mug before it fell, and placed it on the table in front of them. He had intended getting Jack into bed but the near-comatose figure of Jack, on the sofa, presented rather a problem. Strong as he was, Owen knew he wasn't equal to the task of getting all six feet two inches of Jack safely down the ladder that led to his somewhat incongruous bedroom area in the bunker off the office.

Instead, Owen encouraged Jack to lie on the couch so recently vacated by Ianto, lifting Jack's legs up, taking the blanket from Jack's shoulders and tossing it over him on the couch. He fetched two more and tucked Jack in firmly. After one last check of pulse and temperature, Owen reached out to smooth the hair back from Jack's face in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.

Jack's eyes flickered open "Thanks, Owen. Sorry that we spoiled your evening," he muttered, feeling like a clock whose spring had run down. He yawned widely and burrowed deep into the couch beneath the heavy blankets. Exhausted, and finally warm, he fell asleep almost instantly.

"Sorry you ruined my evening," repeated Owen, quietly to himself. "Oh you will be Jacko, you will be. Because as soon as the pair of you are better, I'm gonna kill you!"

Owen was not embarrassed that Jack had registered the gesture. Owen knew the value of a touch, a smile, a comforting gesture. It was something that he had lacked so often himself, growing up. And after Katie died. Oh, how alone he'd been then; alone with his anger and sorrow. He touched Jack tenderly on the cheek. "Now, just shut up for a change."

When Gwen came in that afternoon, to collect the Christmas present she'd been hiding from Rhys at the Hub, she was astounded to find the tourist office looking like a whirlwind had hit it. Her first thought was that Jack and Ianto had dabbled on their way home. She stopped to gather the scattered papers and put them on the counter top. Ianto would have to sort out the mess, she surely wasn't going to. When she noticed blood on the counter, she became very anxious. She drew her gun and moved slowly and cautiously through the corridors to the main Hub.

The sight that greeted her there was not one she had been expecting. If she were to be honest, she couldn't really say just what she'd been expecting but what she saw hadn't entered into her possibilities. Jack was sound asleep on the couch swathed in heavy blankets, sweating profusely, and Owen was sitting on the floor fully dressed. He was leaning against the couch, his head back, snoring gently through his open mouth. Jack's hand had worked loose from the blankets in which he was swaddled and rested lightly on top of Owen's head.

She realized that the temperature was stiflingly hot throughout the Hub. Simultaneously she realized that Jack had opened one eye and was watching her sleepily and that she could hear the constant reassuring beep of a patient monitor issuing forth from the autopsy bay. Jack too was listening to the sound.

"Ianto?" she mouthed soundlessly at Jack, not wanting to wake the sleeping doctor.

Jack nodded and Gwen hurried to the rail at the top of the bay and looked down. "You boys seem to have had a busy day," she whispered.

"Busy night, actually," he replied. "Owen is exhausted, he's only just got to sleep. He's been fussing with Ianto for hours." Jack filled her in on what had happened.

"Just can't leave you boys alone for a moment," she commented. Jack looked at her from under lids hooded with amusement. "That's not what I meant, Harkness! I suppose someone around here had better feed the animals. And then I'll take care of Janet and Myfanwy afterwards." She smiled at her own joke.

Gwen disappeared towards the kitchen, intent on rustling up some bacon and scrambled eggs or an omelette. Jack was grateful. He realised that he was actually rather hungry.

Owen stirred, reluctantly dragging himself awake. Jack was suddenly aware that his hand still rested on Owen's head. He ruffled the doctor's hair playfully. "Take it easy, Dr Harper, you did a fine job last night."

Owen scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to wake up. "Bloody hell, it's warm in here. I wouldn't be surprised if we aren't all dehydrated now." He checked Jack. "You'll do. Warm enough."

Jack smiled, feeling well enough again to venture "Most people reckon I'm pretty hot, actually."

Owen ignored him and went down into the autopsy bay. Jack stretched out on the couch, trying to straighten the kinks in his back. With every ounce of his being he wanted to follow Owen, but he found the resolve to let the doctor go to his patient alone. Owen had dealt with a hugely difficult situation the previous night and deserved the full confidence of his captain still the next morning.

"He's sleeping normally," was Owen's verdict when he returned a few moments later. "You can go see him once you've eaten." Gwen handed him a plate of bacon and eggs and toast which he accepted gratefully. "Odd time for breakfast," he commented ruefully. "I was expecting to have just finished Christmas dinner now."

Jack nodded. "Yes, us too."

A look of horror overcame Gwen, as she unceremoniously thrust a plate towards Jack. "Ooh, bloody hell. Rhys! The turkey!"

Owen reprimanded her. "Rhys isn't that bad, surely."

Gwen didn't even bother with a glare, she pulled on her coat and raced from the Hub. Owen took the virtual glare as given.

"Eat your breakfast, Jack, he'll be fine." Owen answered Jack's unspoken question. "He's sleeping normally. Yes, we have that leg to work on but he will be good as new in a few weeks."

Jack took a few mouthfuls, this time with obvious relief and relish. Nothing finer than bacon, eggs and toast when someone has just told you that your whole world is back on track. "But tell me Owen, how come he was in the water so long without drowning? Oh, I know he wasn't underwater all that time, but surely he must have inhaled a huge amount every time he went under or the waves broke over him?"

"The human body is an amazing thing, Jack. You of all people should know that. As soon as Ianto hit the cold water his layrynx – that is his vocal chords – contracted and effectively sealed off his lungs from the water. Mind, this stops the air getting to the lungs too but because he was so cold he was able to survive. He was extremely lucky, given everything else, not to go into cardiac arrest. But I guess our teaboy is made of sterner stuff than any of us thought."

The doctor and the captain finished their breakfasts. "Coffee?" said Jack, part offering to make it and part asking if he might please now have some.

"Sure," said Owen.

As Jack went to make the coffee, the phone rang. Owen answered it on speaker phone. It was Tosh, wishing whoever was at the Hub a happy Christmas. Owen assured her that his presence did not indicate anything bad had happened, simply that he had left his iPod there and called in to collect it. There was no point worrying Tosh with the happenings of the previous night. She'd find out soon enough anyway and there was nothing she could do except ruin her own family celebration by fretting.

As he hung up, Owen heard a weak voice attempt to gain attention from the autopsy bay. Ianto was clearly starting the long road to recovery. Owen jogged across and took the steps two at a time.

Still very pale, Ianto stared up at him, clearly trying to process where he was; what had happened.

"Welcome back, teaboy," said Owen with a tenderness and relief that panicked Ianto more than anything.

"Bad?" croaked the Welshman.

"Bad." replied the doctor.

"Bugger," they said, in unison and then laughed.

Owen shone his pen light in Ianto's eyes. "Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you."

Wanly, Ianto grimaced against his pain. "Yeah?"

"No concussion. So give me around 30 seconds and I can stop you hurting. Morphine for Christmas. For free. Not an offer you get every day. Say 'thank you Santa.'"

"Thanks, Owen." Ianto put his hand shakily on Owen's forearm. His eyes said it all. He didn't yet know what he had to be grateful for, but he knew it was big.

Jack chose that moment to return from his clearing up mission, and bounded into the autopsy bay when he heard Ianto was awake. Despite his desire to pick Ianto up and hold him close, he took his cue from the bluey-greyness of the Welshman's pallor and the vehement way the doctor was shaking his head. He settled for a gentle kiss to the lips, which were still colder than normal. Whilst making that intimate contact, he whispered "I love you, Ianto." He wasn't sure if Ianto had heard, but he knew that he would tell him again, more loudly, in private very very soon. The events of the evening had clarified many things in Jack's mind.

"Owen?" asked Ianto, trying unsuccessfully to prop himself up on an elbow. He looked worried. "You said there was bad news too."

Owen took a step back distancing himself from the captain and the archivist. "You bet!" Suddenly his voice was harsh. "What the fuck did you two think you were playing at? Jack, since when does any of us go out weevil hunting alone? What the hell were you thinking, to let Ianto go out on his own, into the dark and snow and ice to chase an alien?"

Jack and Ianto exchanged glances. It had all seemed so natural at the time. It had just slotted into place. It had seemed so obvious.

"If I'd waited for Jack, I wouldn't have caught the weevil," replied Ianto, by way of simple, but obvious, explanation. Jack nodded in agreement.

"So, where's the weevil, then?" challenged Owen, his gestures starting to become very animated.

Ianto's face fell. He was forced to admit: "I didn't catch it."

"So how would waiting have hurt? No! Don't answer. Don't say anymore. That was rhetorical, because I am going to tell you! It wouldn't have hurt. It wouldn't have hurt at all. In fact, if you'd waited, you wouldn't be hurting now, Teaboy. And the pair of you might even have caught the bloody weevil. I thought we had rules about not letting anyone out on field work without backup?" His face was getting redder and redder as his speech got faster.

"But no. Oh, no. You two are just so stupid you don't think of that when a weevil is on your doorstep. What do the insurance companies say? Most accidents happen at home? Well, talk about living proof. And you, teaboy, are lucky to still be alive. If the weevil didn't kill you, you are lucky that I haven't. I've got a good mind to switch off the morphine and let you suffer, Ianto, just to teach you a lesson."

Neither Jack nor Ianto disbelieved him. Ianto was about to say that he'd learned his lesson and didn't need additional homework, when Owen continued in a somewhat different tone.

"But," he said, "I am a professional, unlike the pair of you two bloody idiots, and I wouldn't take away your pain relief. But believe me, if ever – EVER – you do anything like this again, my resignation will be on your desk, Harkness, faster than you can count to one."

Jack and Ianto had no choice but to accept this dressing down. They knew they soundly deserved it.

"But," continued Owen, softening a little having made his point, "it is Christmas and we've all suffered enough. Let's just put this behind us and learn from it."

Jack and Ianto nodded gratefully, hoping the matter was at an end.

"And, actually, Harkness, you have a far bigger problem than me," said Owen, smiling now.

They looked at him.

"Talk sense," entreated Jack. He'd had enough and just wanted some peace and quiet and time to sit with Ianto.

"When I took the breakfast dishes to the kitchen and stacked them in the sink with the other dirty cups, I found a note." Owen produced the note from his lab coat pocket. "It is from Gwen. And I don't think she is very happy. Not happy at all."

Ianto propped himself up on one elbow easily this time, the morphine obviously doing its job. "What does it say?" he croaked. Owen offered him some ice chips, which he gratefully sucked.

"It says, and I quote, 'I can see from the tomato stains in your mug that you are clearly the culprit, Harkness. Under normal circumstances, I imagine that Ianto does the clean-up job for you but this time you have given yourself away!"

Ianto looked uncomprehendingly at Owen. But Owen, who had clearly understood the situation, was laughing as he read the end of the note.

"What's going on?" Ianto asked. No one heard.

Jack, too, was laughing hard, and slapping his leg. "Oh, that is priceless!"

"What's priceless?" Ianto was starting to get agitated, and the patient monitor was making a tachycardic beep as his heart started to race.

Owen pressed him gently, encouraging him to lie back. "Sssh, take it easy, mate."

"Well," replied Jack, "You know how Gwen has been complaining that someone has been stealing her cuppa soups?"

"Yeah," said Ianto, slowly, wondering in trepidation what was coming next.

"It was actually Owen all along," continued Jack. "But tonight I took a tomato, just to get me a bit warmed up and now she thinks it was me taking them all."

The captain and the doctor were laughing. The archivist remained serious.

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" he asked. "Gwen's well scary when she's angry."

"We?" echoed Jack and Owen, in unison.

"Yes, we," repeated Ianto, "because I'm the one who took her Cream of Mushroom with croutons!"

End