I've not written an epic fix yet, but I will. At some point. I have a lot of fic ideas flying around and not enough time to write them all, but after consulting queenfanfiction on this one, I was told to post it and quickly. So, here we go...
Title: Returning Home
Author: Yours truly! Ginger (gingerbreadlass).
Rating: U (for all!)
Warnings: Shameless fixit!fic with a good deal of denial thrown in. Very mild Ten bashing.
Spoilers: CoE Day 4, The End of Time
Disclaimer: This lot aren't mine - they are the BBC's playthings. If they were mine, I wouldn't even have to write this, because Ianto would never have died in the first place.
A/N: If you can guess which book is quoted, I'll... congratulate you but be mildly worried at the same time. Concrit gladly accepted, though I am feeling mildly fragile at the moment.
Jack slumped home from the bar, hands in his pockets, alone. He locked the door behind him before hanging up his coat with care and climbing the stairs. In his hand, crumpled up, he held the note he had been given. He stepped into the first room on the left, again closing the door behind him.
"Saw the Doctor," he said, with a shrug, and slumped into a chair, beside a bed.
"Yeah. We didn't talk. He gave me a note and went."
"There was a guy sitting next to me. Sailor of some sort. The Doctor gave me this note, which gave me his name, which so happened to be Alonzo. Obviously trying to do me a favour. I flirted with him for a while, then came home. I don't need the Doctor's favours."
Jack laughed loudly. "Exactly. What does he know? I'm not a cheap whore."
"Alonzo's a stupid name."
"Oh, he was cute, I guess. Looked a bit panicked, if I'm honest. Way in over his head."
"I did, at first."
"You did not. Don't lie. You were on top of it completely." He paused. "The Doctor looked depressed. Like... way depressed."
"Shame." The tone there was decidedly sarcastic.
"That's cruel," Jack admonished lightly.
"I guess." He scooted further forward. "How's the breathing?"
"Same. Easier than yesterday."
"Really? Great - and your heart rate's doing better, too. What d'ya think? Get out of bed next week?"
"If I can."
"Your speech sounds better today. I think we're finally getting somewhere." Jack smiled, and bent over the bed to kiss his patient's forehead lightly. It had been a rough couple of weeks, and now the Doctor on top of it all, fixing him up with sailors? How humiliating. "More of those gorgeous vowels, too."
"And you love me for it," he replied, trying to be breezy, taking one cold hand from the bed and holding it in both of his, the long, chilly fingers wrapping around his limply.
"Yup. Lost cause."
"You or me?"
"Well, if it's any consolation, Ianto Jones, I don't mind being a lost cause with you."
Ianto laughed, though the noise came out more of a hollow rattle than a chuckle. Jack looked alarmed, but relaxed visibly as soon as he realised what had happened. He tucked up the blankets over Ianto's chest, trying not to disturb any of the tubing or sensors across his torso, and took special care to make sure the tube helping him breathe was securely in place. That one had slipped several times, and it was worrying Jack sick. He'd managed to get this far on this particularly risky rescue plan and he was informed by the physician he'd been consulting that, thankfully, it wouldn't be long until the anti-virus he'd procured against the damn 456's poisons worked its magic.
Ianto would be permanently weakened (while they could enact medical miracles, rescuing him a day after he'd died wasn't quite fast enough to save him completely), but it was a price Jack was willing to pay. His mind hadn't gone anywhere, and that was all that really mattered. Jack had been promised that Ianto's speech would improve, once his vocal chords were more in practice - the real problem was shortness of breath, really, and that could be fixed. His lungs were still playing up from the toxins.
"Sop," Ianto told him, raising an eyebrow a little.
"Oh, don't I know it." He kissed Ianto's lips lightly. "Were you alright on your own?"
"Only an hour."
"I'd get bored. Stuck here for an hour alone."
Jack laughed. "Yeah, and you know what I'm like. The bar was colourful, but I didn't really want to talk to anyone, and the Doctor turning matchmaker was the last thing I needed." He looked to the table beside the bed, and picked up a book from the side, opening it at the marker. "Shall I keep reading?"
Ianto gave a small, tight lipped smile. "Please."
"Alright... where were we... ah." He cleared his throat ostentatiously, putting on a stereotypical southern English accent as he spoke. "Our breakfast table was cleared early, and Holmes waited in his dressing-gown for the promised interview..."