an easy answer
Feb. 25th, 2024 09:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jupiter2932Title: an easy answer
Author:jupiter2932
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: T
Word Count: 506
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Owen
Notes: Written for Febuwhump, day 15, "Who did this to you?"
Summary:
Towards the end of the torture, when they string him up by the hands and whip him, they stick a sort of bit int his mouth, a steel thing with sharp edges that bite into his gums and wedge in when he clamps his jaw together and then rip loose the flesh on their way out when he screams.
There's blood bubbling from his mouth with every breath heaved when they find him, cuts on his lips and his tongue and the inside of his cheek, his gums now twin ribbons of loose, torn flesh. All he can taste is metal.
Gwen blanches and Owen says, Jesus Christ, the bastards, with a wince when they get him down and Tosh's voice is so loud, on the other end of the comms, that Jack can faintly hear the buzz of it when Owen leans in close over him.
But Ianto takes it all in rock-faced, bracing Jack and bringing him down and settling him carefully on the floor on Owen's orders, grip firm and steady but his hands as gentle as can be.
He waits until Jack's more than semi-conscious again, until Jack's eyes focus on their faces with lucidity, until Jack reaches out with the hand of his that isn't broken and finds Ianto's and squeezes it tight as he can without hurting his fingers where they took his nails off.
It's then, and only then, when he knows Jack's been assured he's present, that Ianto cups his palm over the top of Jack's head, the one part of himself that Jack can feel that doesn't hurt.
"Who did this to you?" Ianto asks, and his voice shakes with anger.
He's probably not expecting an answer then, not really, but Jack's eyes flicker over towards the door at the back of the warehouse the last of his captors escaped through just before his team broke in the front.
Ianto's eyes follow. His face changes. Clears. He reaches back to pat his gun to make sure it's holstered, nods, and then stops and gives Jack a smile—the one he usually reserves for early mornings when they're saying soft, silly things to each other in bed and putting off getting up for a few minutes more.
"Thank you," he says, and leans own and presses a kiss to Jack's temple, butterfly soft and careful and just a little damp with sweat from the breach. "I'll be back directly."
In one smooth move he stands and pulls his gun and takes the safety off it, and he's off.
Gwen picks herself off her knees and scrambles to her feet with a curse as he strides away.
"I'll go after him," she says, waiting until Owen nods to make sure he's got Jack in hand on his own. "Make sure he doesn't do anything he regrets."
Jack doesn't think Ianto will mind the help, but he'd tell her, if he could speak: whatever Ianto does to those men, he's never going to lose a minute of sleep over it.
Author:
jupiter2932Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: T
Word Count: 506
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Owen
Notes: Written for Febuwhump, day 15, "Who did this to you?"
Summary:
Towards the end of the torture, when they string him up by the hands and whip him, they stick a sort of bit int his mouth, a steel thing with sharp edges that bite into his gums and wedge in when he clamps his jaw together and then rip loose the flesh on their way out when he screams.
There's blood bubbling from his mouth with every breath heaved when they find him, cuts on his lips and his tongue and the inside of his cheek, his gums now twin ribbons of loose, torn flesh. All he can taste is metal.
Gwen blanches and Owen says, Jesus Christ, the bastards, with a wince when they get him down and Tosh's voice is so loud, on the other end of the comms, that Jack can faintly hear the buzz of it when Owen leans in close over him.
But Ianto takes it all in rock-faced, bracing Jack and bringing him down and settling him carefully on the floor on Owen's orders, grip firm and steady but his hands as gentle as can be.
He waits until Jack's more than semi-conscious again, until Jack's eyes focus on their faces with lucidity, until Jack reaches out with the hand of his that isn't broken and finds Ianto's and squeezes it tight as he can without hurting his fingers where they took his nails off.
It's then, and only then, when he knows Jack's been assured he's present, that Ianto cups his palm over the top of Jack's head, the one part of himself that Jack can feel that doesn't hurt.
"Who did this to you?" Ianto asks, and his voice shakes with anger.
He's probably not expecting an answer then, not really, but Jack's eyes flicker over towards the door at the back of the warehouse the last of his captors escaped through just before his team broke in the front.
Ianto's eyes follow. His face changes. Clears. He reaches back to pat his gun to make sure it's holstered, nods, and then stops and gives Jack a smile—the one he usually reserves for early mornings when they're saying soft, silly things to each other in bed and putting off getting up for a few minutes more.
"Thank you," he says, and leans own and presses a kiss to Jack's temple, butterfly soft and careful and just a little damp with sweat from the breach. "I'll be back directly."
In one smooth move he stands and pulls his gun and takes the safety off it, and he's off.
Gwen picks herself off her knees and scrambles to her feet with a curse as he strides away.
"I'll go after him," she says, waiting until Owen nods to make sure he's got Jack in hand on his own. "Make sure he doesn't do anything he regrets."
Jack doesn't think Ianto will mind the help, but he'd tell her, if he could speak: whatever Ianto does to those men, he's never going to lose a minute of sleep over it.
