So it figures it only took me about 2 seconds to write a post-Countrycide fic. LOVE the episode, and have wanted to do something for it for a long time. I feel like this is almost obligatory at some point for all Torchwood writers. There's just so much to work with that I feel I could write about this ep for days.

Anyways, hope you enjoy. Be sure to let me know what you think! :) Snow

Jack had piled them into the SUV hours ago now. Ianto was barely aware of their leader declaring to the local police that he was done with their bumbling of the scene. He didn't blame the man really; something as gruesome as they witnessed a few hours ago should have been noticed long before Torchwood took an interest. The young man had been sitting on the open tail of the SUV, his hands braced on his thighs. Blue eyes took in the display in front of him, but Ianto wasn't sure if he was really seeing anything. He couldn't remember who eventually helped him into the back seat of the vehicle, buckled him in, and shut the door.

Everything hurt. He wasn't sure what didn't at this point. Beside him Owen sat in the middle, Gwen on the far right. The doctor kept shifting his focus from Gwen to him, trying his best to treat their injuries with his limited supplies. He had borrowed some better painkillers than what they normally kept from the paramedics, but Ianto had insisted that they be used on Gwen, her being shot and all. While not happy about it, Owen had agreed, especially once he determined Ianto to have a mild concussion. From what he could remember, Owen said he had various scrapes and bruises, the cuts on his face and a growing black eye, along with what were for sure bruised, possibly even broken ribs on his right side. There would be additional prodding when they reached the hub for sure.

Someone was groaning, especially when the SUV hit another bump. Groaning, and leaning head back as far as he could, oh, that sound was him. Pain, throbbing through his side, cutting in viciously as he tried to struggle at whatever was restraining him. Hands, loosening the hold on his chest, propping him up against something warm. Smelled funny, and the low voice cut across whatever haze his mind was in.

"Jack, take it easy on the bumps, eh!"

"I thought you said you wanted them back in the hub sooner than later," came a strained voice from somewhere ahead of him.

"Yes, but I would also like two conscious, non-puking patients when we get there."

Ianto didn't hear the reply, but he wasn't sure the reply was actually words. Then, the feeling of slowing, and an arm that braced him against slamming into the seat in front of him. He groaned again, feeling his ribs protest to any movement.

"Easy Ianto. Try to relax; we'll be back shortly."

Ianto sunk back into the hazy darkness he was in, not really sleeping, but losing all sense of time. His mind floated lazily as he slumped, now more against the door so as to ease the pressure on his right side. There was a fuzziness in his head; a thickness he couldn't seem to shake. He was aware of the dryness in his mouth and the stale taste of the cotton that was shoved inside only a few hours ago served as an unwelcome reminder of his experience in the Beacons.

The change of terrain was apparent the moment they entered the city, the bumps smoothing out, leading instead to Ianto having to lean one way or the other to try and keep himself from falling all over every time Jack took a turn. He was a little more alert, if only because of the added movement, not to mention the pain in his side with every turn. He nearly wanted to cry in relief by the time they reached the garage, nearly falling out of his seat in his desire to exit the vehicle. He braced himself on the back door of the SUV, trying to take a deep breath, but finding it impossible with the pain radiating up his chest. The salt of the wharf almost stung his open wounds, and the smell sent tears to his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there before a familiar presence was at his side. The smell of 51st century pheromones washed over him, and a strong grip encased his left shoulder. "Ianto?" He looked up into concerned blue eyes, breath still coming in short bursts. He responded to the unasked question by reaching up his own hand to grasp the man's forearm, straightening his body and allowing himself to be ushered into the hub proper. He felt Jack's arm come around his waist, trying to be supportive without putting excess pressure on him. He leaned into the touch, grateful for the added stability. If Ianto was in his right mind, he would have been embarrassed by this show of weakness, but now, he was simply trying to keep one foot in front of the other with some semblance of grace.

Jack helped him down into the medical bay. He could see both Tosh and Gwen sitting on the autopsy table and he gingerly climbed up next to them while Owen began running tests. His breathing was still labored, but then Owen stuck something in his arm that made feel like he was floating. Jack's hands once again braced him as he felt his lungs expand, and the support kept him from slithering down to the floor in a pile of goo. It didn't take long for Owen to finish his exam of the girls, as he had treated their more immediate issues in the field. Once they removed themselves from the table, Jack and Owen eased Ianto into a lying position, and he saw Owen return almost immediately with the body scanner.

"Right," Owen mumbled. "Bloody hell! Bruised ribs along the right side, one cracked just below the sternum. Several marks on the chest, abdomen, and mid back, and evidence of kidney bruising as well. What the fuck did they do to you?! It looks like they beat you with a cricket bat."

"Baseball actually," Ianto grimaced. He opened his eyes (when did he close them?) to find Owen staring at him incredulously. The doctor clearly didn't think he was serious. "And the rifle," he shuddered at that a bit, remembering the way that woman had slammed it towards his face before he lost consciousness. His eyes closed again, and he could feel the terror creeping up on him. He could hear the words his captors used about preparation, cooking times, and their overbearing presence as they decided the best way to season their meal would be to tenderize him first. Ianto could feel the whimper building as he remembered the men taking turns...

"Ianto," Jack's voice above him. A hand grasped his left, and he squeezed tightly to it. Another caressed his cheek, so soft compared to the touches of his captors. "Ianto, stay with me," commanded the man, and Ianto felt compelled to obey, feeling the tension that had begun to build slowly dissipate. He opened his eyes again, and was rewarded with a warm smile, "That's good. Focus on here, you're safe here."

Ianto could hear other voices, and saw Jack turn his head to take in the conversation going on between Tosh and Owen. He realized quickly that Tosh was relaying the events of their time together in that house, before they split up. He glanced at Jack when the fingers on his tightened, once they heard about Evan's plan to prep the 'meat,' before Ianto's timely diversion. Even though it had been unsuccessful in getting Tosh completely away from their captors, it gave her time to reach help, and ultimately, gave Jack enough time to get to the team before anyone was hurt beyond repair.

Owen quickly returned to his patient to begin a course of treatment. "You're not going to like this mate, but the bruising will need to sort itself out in time. I can treat the scrapes and cuts with an antiseptic, and you won't need any stitches. I'll also give you a mild painkiller and sedative so you can get some sleep. Once the symptoms of the concussion wear off, I'll give you something a bit stronger. Until then, you're going to need to take it easy, and I would feel better if you didn't sleep alone for the next few days in case of any complications. Do you have anyone you can stay with that can look after you a bit?"

Ianto was about to shake his head and assure he would be okay on his own, but Jack's voice interceded for him. "I'll keep an eye on him Owen. I want everyone to take the next few days off. We need a chance to heal from this before we'll be ready to take on the Rift again."

Owen nodded and turned to Jack. "Make sure he gets plenty of fluids and something to eat. Painkillers are not good on an empty stomach. Keep it light; some toast and fruit- non acidic preferably to start. No coffee, weak tea at most." He walked over to his medicine cabinet, keys rattling as he opened the contents. The doctor returned to Jack with a small bag of pills. "One to two every 6 hours, depending on how he feels, always with food. Lots of sleep until then, and I'll come back to check on him in the morning."

The voices drifted away from him, and when Ianto opened his eyes again, he was still in the med bay, but the lights were dimmed. He shifted, feeling a heavy weight on his body, before realizing that it was warm and smelled of Jack. His coat. Ianto clutched it to himself as he forced his body into an upright position, not moving again as he combated a wave of unexpected dizziness.

"Careful there," a voice said in his ear, and he felt Jack's hands on him again, easing the coat onto his lap and helping him to straighten out. "Nice and slow."

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"They just left. Owen is going to make sure both of the girls get home, and he'll be by in a few hours to check on you." Ianto vaguely remembered a conversation about painkillers and coffee as Jack sat on the bench next to him, allowing the young man to rest his weight against the man's chest. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he mumbled.

"Do you feel up to a walk? I thought we can get you cleaned up in the bunker and you can crash on the bed down there."

Ianto nodded his head lightly, feeling the man begin to pull away. "Jack?" Blue eyes met blue and Ianto could almost feel his face beginning to flush. "Thank you," he whispered.

"What for?"

"Coming for us," Ianto wasn't sure if that exactly what he was thanking the man for, but it summed up the current thoughts in his head.

Truth be told, there could be a lot of things that statement could be applied to as of late. Only in the last few weeks had he and Jack seemed to mend the tears in their relationship caused by the cyberwoman. Their awkward silence had given way finally to talking, then banter, as their early relationship had been full of. Ianto had wondered lately if they would even take the next step and continue what had been developing. So far nothing had occurred besides a few more pointed flirts and a secret kiss or two, but their touches before had always held the promise of something more. Jack was a tactile person, but even he had reserved himself as their relationship continued to rebuild.

Jack's hands brought him out of his reverie once more, and Ianto's eyes focused on the handsome face in his vision. Jack's face loomed closer, and the man bestowed a kiss to his forehead, careful of the bruising, before dropping another on his lips, too quick for him to respond. "I will always come back for you," the captain declared, his eyes meeting with Ianto's again.

It took some maneuvering, but Jack was able to guide the injured man down into the bunker. It was not without discomfort, but Ianto sighed gratefully at the sight of a real bed in his future. He wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the pillows and curl up. Jack's hands guided him away from that for the time being, bringing him into the man's bathroom, which was bigger than what he would have expected. Tiled flooring, vanity, toilet, and large stand up shower. Jack turned to him, trepidation in his eyes as he assessed Ianto in front of him.

"We need to get you cleaned up before you can rest," Jack said, lowering himself slightly to meet Ianto's slouched level. "Do you trust me?"

It wasn't even a question. One look into Jack's eyes made Ianto know he would trust this man with anything, even his life. He nodded enough for the message to get across, and watched as Jack took the knowledge and begin to undress himself. "This wasn't exactly the first thought in my mind when I think of seeing you naked for the first time," he blurted out. The redness on his cheeks was back.

The large grin on Jack's face made the comment worth it as he stripped down to his boxers, leaving everything in a pile on the floor. "Believe me, this wasn't what I was picturing either." Another kiss pressed against Ianto's temple. "But we'll have time to make up for that. Come here."

Ianto winced as Jack began to pull the ragged white shirt off of his shoulders. He could already feel his ribs protesting the movement, and they still needed to remove his black undershirt. Jack was very careful however, and lifted as much of the material as he could without needing him to move his arms, pulling the fabric over his head and down quickly.

The sucked in breath at his exposed upper half definitely belonged to Jack. Hands traced his sides and the man dropped to his knees to inspect the damage. Ianto could see the disbelief and empathy the older man had at seeing the damage for himself, and he closed his eyes when Jack leaned forward and began kissing at the bruise marks, the touch devastatingly tender on his sensitive skin. The arms at his sides gripped his hips tightly, keeping him in place while Jack tried to erase the consequences of the last few hours.

When Ianto eventually put his hands on Jack's shoulders, the man stood and wrapped his arms more fully around him, keeping his grip light and gentle. He sniffed quietly as the wears from the day began to drag at him, bringing unexpected tears to his eyes. Fingers carded at his hair, and Ianto felt drops on his cheeks when he squeezed his eyes.

The archivist wasn't sure how long they stood there, drifting in the embrace, before Jack divested them both of remaining clothing, and pulling them both into the hot spray of a shower he didn't remember getting turned on. The steam opened up his airway even more, and Ianto relished another halfway normal breath. He kept his hands on Jack's waist, even more tired than he was earlier, and allowed himself the comfort of being taken care of. Jack tenderly washed his hair, meticulous in making sure all of the blood and dirt rinsed out. He then took a bottle of bath gel and worked his hands into a lather, smoothing it over Ianto's face and upper body, rubbing in circles that both relaxed and flared across his nerve endings.

Jack continued this process down his body, aware of the effect he was having on the Welshman. Ianto eventually felt as if he had no body, no existence tying him to the ground. The anchoring effect of his grip on Jack kept him from floating away, as the warm water and soothing caresses left him blissfully pain free for a few moments. When done, Jack took him back into a light hug, allowing the feeling to continue for as long as possible. Warm murmurs trailed a path along his hairline, and his head began to feel heavy resting against the shoulder in front of him.

He wouldn't remember much of the journey from the shower to the bed, too drowsy at this point to keep his eyelids more than half open anymore. He felt the cooling cocoon of blankets and pillows, and the overwhelmingly comforting scent of Jack surrounding him, deep in the fibers. He took another breath, shorter this time, and bleary eyes drifted open to take in the sight of the man he was slowly falling for kneeling in front of him. That man leaned in, kissed his lips again, and whispered, "Sleep."

"Stay?" his reply, quiet as the hub around him.

The response wasn't vocal, but Ianto felt Jack climb in next to him, a barrier that kept him between the wall and the edge of the bed. He wouldn't be able to fall out. Those arms that embraced him earlier pulled Ianto's body closer, resting the injured portion against Jack's body. He leaned upwards and kissed Jack this time, the most basic of kisses, but one that lasted many seconds longer than the ones issued previously. Ianto felt himself drifting back into the haze, and welcomed sleep greedily, safe and secure.

Jack would look after him.