“Well done everyone, you’ve all done brilliantly, in fact, have tomorrow off,” said Jack, coming down the stairs from his office. It had taken three, tiring days of non-stop work, endless field missions and liaisons with UNIT to bring Cardiff back from the brink of destruction.
“Blimmey, where’s the real Jack?” smirked Owen, looking up from where he’d been helping Tosh collate some data.
“I’ll have you know I’m an extremely benevolent leader, but if your dedication is that strong, then there’s a mountain of paperwork in my office that still needs doing,” said Jack pointedly, crossing his arms.
“Nah, you’re alright. Besides, I’ve got pubs to visit and pints to drink. You coming, Tosh?” asked Owen, turning back to his colleague who was doing some complex equations that had way too many letters in in his opinion.
“I’ll be along in a minute, I’ve just got to finish this,” said Tosh distractedly, her gaze never leaving the screen,
“Tosh, that can wait. Go home, relax, get drunk, do whatever you want. You deserve it, both of you. I’ll call if the Apocalypse happens…again,” smiled Jack handing her her bag.
“Well I’m convinced, let’s go before he changes his mind,” said Owen, dragging Tosh away from her beloved computers and towards the light.
“Oh, by the way, have either of you seen Ianto?” asked Jack, remembering how the young man had never been around when he’d wanted him the last couple of days.
“He disappeared about ten minutes ago, he’s definitely in the building though,” said Owen as he and Tosh left.
“Well that narrows it down,” muttered Jack, bringing up the CCTV and locating the clip of Ianto heading towards the locker room looking distinctly green. Frowning, he called up other clips from the three-day period all of which showed Ianto going to and from the locker room on a regular basis. Strange, Ianto hadn’t given any outward sign that he was ill but then, he wouldn’t. It was worrying how good the young man was at internalising these sorts of things. Jack made a mental note to talk to him about it later.
Walking into the locker room, Jack saw Ianto had left his jacket and tie on the bench and was being violently sick in the adjoining room. Sighing, Jack picked up the jacket and sat down to wait, absently mindedly fiddling with the soft fabric for lack of nothing better to do. He so wanted to go and help the young man but the Hub toilets were barely big enough for one let alone two. Yet another flaw in the ancient architecture.
After several minutes, Ianto emerged in his shirtsleeves looking completely drained as he leant against the peeling paint of the doorframe.
“Ianto…” murmured Jack softly, alerting the man to his presence.
Ianto jumped slightly before turning to face Jack, his feature ashen, “oh sorry. I didn’t see you there,” he said pleasantly, trying to construct a veneer of stoicism as if to pretend he hadn’t been throwing up for the last ten minutes.
“A good looking guy like you goes missing? I was sending out search parties,” said Jack, not being fooled for a minute. The young man smiled with a put upon air as he slowly walked over, sitting next to the Immortal so their thighs were touching.
“Where’re the others?” he asked softly, his arms crossed in his lap, trying and failing to ease his discomfort.
“Sent them home which is where you should be,” said Jack gently, brushing tendrils of hair off his forehead.
“I’m fine, really. Besides, I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to catch up on,” said Ianto nonchalantly. Truth be told, he felt like death warmed up and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for a week.
“Ianto, you’ve been working flat out for three days, you’re exhausted and you feel like shit, the last thing you want to be doing is paperwork,” said Jack firmly, putting his arm round the pale man’s shoulders, drawing him close and noting how warm he felt.
“Let me look after you,” he murmured, gently stroking his back, trying to alleviate some of the tension.
“You just want to play doctors and nurses,” mumbled Ianto, resting his forehead against the curve of Jack’s neck, letting the steady pulse distract him from the pounding headache and tidal waves of nausea.
“Never even crossed my mind,” muttered Jack, kissing his ruffled hair. For once, he was telling the truth.
http://welsh-scotsman.livejournal.com/6225.html chapter two