Chapter 9

"Jack, this is ridiculous," Ianto grumbled from the bed. He had been cooped up in Jack's little space under his office for God-knows how long, and all he wanted to do was get up and move around. Instead, he had to sit in Jack's bed with his broken leg propped up on three pillows while above him, he could hear the rest of the team moving about, doing their jobs. They'd come down in shifts every so often; Owen came for medical updates, Gwen and Toshiko out of polite interest, and Jack because… Well…

"If you keep complaining, I'll break you're other leg," Jack warned teasingly, entering the room with a steaming cup of coffee. "What do you think about that?" He crawled onto the bed beside Ianto, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Ianto took the mug and sniffed tentatively; he hadn't drunk a brew that wasn't his own in years. In a way, it was a nice change.

"I think," Ianto replied, cringing away from sipping the drink, "you suck at making coffee." He set the mug on the bedside table, smiling at Jack's slightly crestfallen look. "Don't worry; I set the bar pretty high."

"Mhm," Jack nodded sarcastically, kissing him on the cheek. "I think being stuck down here for so long has made you a little cynical." His nose grazed gently up and down the trail of Ianto jaw, and his mouth rested at the space below his ear. He sucked on the soft flesh there, feeling Ianto's pulse quicken.

"Then maybe you should let me out of here," he replied in a low voice, turning his face so their noses were barely touching each other. Their breath intermingled between them, smelling like coffee.

"Oh," Jack moaned slowly, leaning to press his lips against the other's. He moved his free arm to the other side of Ianto and maneuvered so he was lying partially on top of him. "You know I can't do that," he muttered between kisses to Ianto's throat and jaw.

"Well, then," Ianto said, using his hands to pull Jack's face up to his own. He licked his lips and glanced down at Jack's own, soft lips, taking in a deep breath. "Forget about it." Ianto leaned away and grabbed the mug from the side table, taking a small sip while Jack dragged himself off with a frown.

"That was cruel," he murmured, and Ianto just smiled behind the cup of coffee.

"No, cruel is making me lie down here for two days while everyone else gets to keep busy." He set the mug aside again, discovering it hadn't started tasting better yet. "But anyway," he went on, ignoring the dejected look on Jack's face, "how's Mae?" Ianto had heard that Mae and Scott had been taken to the hospital after Toshiko shot him. Apparently Scott hadn't survived the car ride there, but Mae hadn't been too broken up about it. She had just kept repeating that it was time, and that it was fine. Once at the hospital, doctors had looked into her condition, but the results weren't exactly uplifting. She was in the last stages of the disease, and within a few hours she had started having troubles breathing.

"No better," Jack replied, his tone changing entirely. "I called the hospital this morning, and they've got her on assisted breathing. The doctors are saying she hasn't got much time left." With no family left to visit her, Jack had taken up dropping in on her at the hospital every once in a while. Ianto wasn't sure whether the visits were making the captain feel better or worse.

"Are you okay?" Ianto furrowed his brow, placing his hand over Jack's.

"Yeah," he whispered, taking a deep breath. He nodded his head firmly and smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. The Weevils are back where they should be, Scott's no longer a threat, and I have you stuck in my bed," he laughed and wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulders again. "I'm better than fine; I'm great."

Ianto was quiet a moment before looking Jack in the eye. "It wasn't your fault, you know." The captain didn't reply, but he knew Jack thought it was all his fault. The broken leg, Mae on her death bed, everything. He had a tendency to make himself the center of everything wrong in the world, despite the fact that his job was to help people and save lives. "Don't beat yourself up," he advised, "please."

"I won't," he replied weakly. Ianto rested his head on his shoulder and sighed deeply, staring off at nothing in particular. "I love you."

It was weird, actually; now Ianto felt like the phrase meant more to him. Before, he had thought it was just something Jack said to everyone and everything. He figured everyone was just a tiny, insignificant blip in Jack's timeline. Each person Jack met was another "I love you" just passing through. He assumed, quite frankly, that he'd be just the same. He'd sleep with Jack for a while, then be forgotten like the rest. He knew now that he couldn't be more wrong.

The fact that Jack honestly had no recollection of Scott or Mae was, in one sense, quite heartbreaking. In the perspective of Scott, then yes, it was completely tragic. But when he looked at it from another angle, Ianto was comforted. There was this awful moment in Jack's life, one which any normal person would have remembered, but the captain forgot entirely. And why did he forget them? Because he had no attachment to them. He remembered people he loved.

I love you…

Ianto felt like he might sob out of relief and humiliation. Had he really let Owen get to him with two simple words? Now Fuck Buddy just sounded like a fun bedroom nickname, whereas before he had stayed up at night thinking about what it could possibly mean, and what kind of label it stamped on him. Jack loved him, and he would absolutely live on in his mind. He certainly wouldn't stay there forever, but at least for a while.

"I love you, too," he breathed, relishing the phrase for a moment before taking his head off of Jack's shoulder. He should be getting back to work upstairs anyway.

"I should be getting back to work," Jack said, though he didn't seem to want to leave. He pouted slightly and leaned in for a kiss, and Ianto complied happily. They kissed sweetly for a moment, then Ianto pulled away.

"Go," he ordered, shooing him off. If he didn't send him out now, the captain would never leave. Jack took a minute to be dramatic and sulk, but eventually began to make his way out. Ianto watched as he slowly walked off, sending a few pitiful looks over his shoulder. When he was almost gone, a sly smile grew on Ianto's face. "And buy that fax machine you promised me," he called, waiting for, and grinning when he got, the expected, loud groan that came from the captain as he left.

When he was sure Jack had gone, Ianto let his head fall back and he sighed contentedly, feeling better than he had in a very long time.

She looked so fragile. Her shoulders were narrow, and her neck looked like it'd snap in half if her head lolled forward. She had tubes everywhere, and machines bleeping noisily around her bed. Despite being a little woman made of glass, Mae seemed peaceful. Or, rather, very ready to be peaceful.

Jack walked forward, quiet as a ghost, and sat in a chair beside the hospital bed. He was shaking, but he wasn't sure why. He told himself it was the cold atmosphere of the room. It felt like someone had already died, and for once, it wasn't him.

More slowly than the steady beep of the heart monitor, Mae's milky eyes drifted open, coming to rest on the captain before her. Jack felt his stomach flip, and a hard lump stuck in his throat.

"Hi," he whispered, fearing his voice might be enough to shatter her. Mae didn't exactly reply, but her lips seemed to form the word 'hi' in response to him. After that, Jack wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't going to make small talk in Mae's last hours, but he felt the need to say something.

Before he could say anything more, Mae's eyes fluttered shut again and she felt asleep. He realized there wasn't much he wanted to say, really. There was a lot he wanted to do, but it was a little late for that. Instead, he reached forward and took Mae's hand in his own. It was cold and felt lifeless, limp in his own. Still, he held it gently, trying to hold back the trembling throughout his body without success.

Without any warning, the steady beep of the heart monitor flat lined. Jack drew in a sharp breath, looking at the tiny hand he held on to. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, any possible words being blocked by the painful lump in his throat.

A nurse entered the room, but he hardly noticed. Just as she began to usher him away, Jack managed to choke out the only words he ever wanted to say to the girl he never knew. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, letting himself be led away.

Outside the room, Jack could feel his eyes burning with the want to cry. The nurse placed a hand on his shoulder to sooth him. "Her lungs stopped functioning," she said gently. "She stopped breathing in her sleep. It was a very peaceful death." As if that was supposed to make everything better. The point was Jack was completely useless. He turned away, rubbing his face with his hands, one of which he swore still felt cool from Mae's chilling touch. He had to sit back and watch that poor girl die, and he couldn't do a damn thing.

Jack left the hospital, a heavy weight in his chest. He couldn't help anyone, but he sure as hell could hurt anyone. He seemed to be awfully good at that.

The saying Survival is a game of chance, revenge is a calculated plan of action kept replaying itself in Jack's mind. At the moment, it was the most relevant thing in the world to him. Mae died by sheer chance, a one in a million kind of fate. And he, lucky bastard that he was, got to live on forever by that same cruel fate. It was unbelievably unfair, and absolutely uncontrollable.

But the one thing Jack still had control of, the one thing he could manipulate in this damned, fateful life, was revenge. He could put some sort of justice back into the system, which, in his eyes, was nothing but fair.

The man spread out before him on the ground, bound by his wrists, was just beginning to stir awake. Unlike his sister, Scott Walker awoke without any sort of grace, grumbling and squeezing his eyes open and closed. His shoulder was tightly bound where Toshiko had shot him; the same shot that everyone was told had killed Scott.

"Wha—"

Jack cut him off with the appearance of his gun. The tall man fell silent, panic rising on his face. "Ianto told me everything that happened in the sewers," he started, not sure if this was lifting the weight from his chest or adding to it. "However," he cocked the weapon, "I don't have to follow your exact actions." The gun pointed to Scott's leg, and two loud shots echoed out, followed by a deafening scream.

When someone falls by chance, more often than not there's somebody else that gets bruised. As evident by the growing hurt in his chest, Jack was bearing the wounds from Ianto's fall, and by chance, he had to take it out on someone else who had fallen harder than anyone.

Notes: Aaaaaaand that's it... Hope that wasn't too bad for a first shot at a Torchwood fic. Thank you to anyone and everyone who read this story, let alone all of the reviews and whatnot. They really do mean a lot to me. :)

I know the end could kind of be considered a bit open-ended, perhaps. When I was writing the last section, I thought about making a sequel about Jack kind of losing it or something, but I'm honestly not sure if I will. I'll just let the wind take me where I may go or whatever.

And on that lovely note, I bid you all ado.