Fic: They Come in Pairs - Part 1
Jack/Ianto
NC-17
set between 1x08 and 1x13




They Come in Pairs - Chapter 1

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Jack's gunshot was an almost instant echo of the first, flying over Ianto's shoulder, finding its target with precise aim, and slicing through the man's skull directly between his eyes. A perfect killshot. Fired a split-second too fucking late.

His gun fell from his fingers as he stepped around Ianto, hands latching into the material of his jacket, then quickly catching, preventing the other man's collapse.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Jack demanded, eyes searching for the location of the bullet wound he knew was there.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time, Sir," Ianto replied, trying to make light of his stepping in front of the shot that had been meant for Jack.

Wrapping his arm more securely around Ianto's suddenly dead weight, Jack sank carefully to his knees, easing Ianto to ground. He winced and choked on a small cry of pain.

"I'm sure those pine needles can't be very comfortable," Jack commented as he worked at tearing Ianto's shirt away from the wound, "but we'll have you back on your feet in no time. Just need to stop the bleeding, then it's a twenty-minute walk back to the road. Then there's a syringe of morphine in the med kit with your name on it."

Ianto gritted his teeth, but nodded. He met Jack's eyes for a moment before squeezing his own tightly shut and breathing hard. "Help me up."

"I haven't gotten the bleeding under control yet."

"Jack..." Ianto moved his hand to Jack's which were pressed firmly now to his chest and already covered in blood. "Help me up."

His protest died on his lips as Jack finally allowed himself to listen, not to Ianto's words but to the already labored breathing. The labored breathing that was beginning to sound wet. He swore, then grabbed Ianto's hand in his blood-slick one and pulled the man's arm over his shoulder as he dragged him back to his feet.

The bullet had hit his lung, and even if Jack was able to stop the external bleeding, there was nothing he could do about internal damage.

After all of four steps, Jack was dragging Ianto rather than merely lending a shoulder to lean on. He shifted his grip in order to lightly slap Ianto's face, leaving a smear of red. "Keep walking. If I have to carry you, it'll get blood all over my coat, and you damn well know who'll be washing it out."

"Wouldn't want that," he replied in a tone that sounded far too serious for Jack's liking. And he turned his head away from Jack as he coughed, and Jack knew he was coughing blood. They weren't going to make it even a tenth of the trek back out of the forest.

Instinct had Jack reaching for the headset on his ear, but the rest of his team were back in Cardiff, currently over an hour's drive away. They'd been out getting lunch when the rift had dropped its mysterious something off the usual beaten path, so Jack had promptly volunteered Ianto to accompany him on a little pickup mission. He'd promised them back in time for dinner. Ianto'd merely replied that Jack would be the one buying said dinner as he'd followed him out of the hub. The comment undoubtedly meant that Ianto wasn't looking forward to their impromptu road trip, but to Jack, well, if he were paying, that made it a date then, didn't it?

Another fit of coughing drew Jack's attention back to the present. He eased Ianto down to the ground once more. He wasn't going to get the chance to convince him that tonight actually was a date. They weren't going to make it to that dinner. Ianto was going to drown in his own blood and die in Jack's arms instead.

"Shallow breaths," Jack instructed, rolling Ianto onto his side to aid his attempts. He merely shivered and choked on more blood as Jack braced him. "You're going into shock."

"What about the box?"

The box that had fallen through the rift and that Ianto had gotten shot for. Somebody else had found it first, some alien conspiracy geek who'd sworn Torchwood couldn't hide the truth this time. "Fuck the box."

"I at least want to know what I'm dying for."

That remark was dismissed instantly. "Okay, plan B, I'm carrying you."

"Don't pretend you don't need to know also." Ianto struggled to keep talking as the task of breathing got more difficult with every passing second. "Don't you dare leave that box behind, Jack."

He shook his head. He was not leaving Ianto's side to go back and get the whatever it was. It wouldn't be a teleport or a healing device or anything that could help. "You are not dying for some piece of space garbage!"

"Then you lie, Sir." He tried to get his unfocussed gaze to meet Jack's. "And tell me it's something grand."

"Doesn't matter what it is," he snapped back firmly. "You aren't dying for it."

"No," he agreed quietly, "not for it."

It took Jack a moment to understand. When guns had been drawn, when neither Jack nor the other man would back down, Ianto hadn't tried desperately to play peacemaker because of the box. He hadn't stepped between Jack and a bullet because of the box. And he certainly wasn't giving up his life because of the box.

"You stupid idiot," Jack said softly before letting anger and denial take the place of grief. He shook Ianto roughly. "You finally had your chance, and you were too much of a damned foolish coward to take it. You were supposed to watch me suffer and die, remember? You weren't supposed to save me!"

"I know." Ianto closed his eyes, unable to keep forcing them to focus.

Jack shook him again. "You fucking bastard! You threw your life away for nothing. I can't die." He kept shaking the body in his arms. "Wake up! I can't die, do you hear me? So you can't do this, because it's meaningless. It's meaningless and so goddamn stupid... You can't do this."

There was no reply, and Jack froze. Ianto wasn't breathing. He waited a moment, until there was no doubt that no more shallow breaths were forthcoming, then he slid his fingers to wait next for a pulse. It too was absent. Ianto had died while he'd been busy calling him a fucking bastard.

Jack swiftly shifted the limp body in his arms to lie flat on the ground, then he began CPR.

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It was twilight before Jack gave up his efforts. His hands were stained red and trembling from exhaustion, and his mouth tasted of blood from Ianto's lips.

He had to get moving. It would be dark soon, and there was a long walk ahead of him back to the SUV. He would need to carry his friend's body.

He decided on a fireman's carry. Slinging Ianto's body over his shoulder didn't seem as respectful as cradling him securely in his arms, but his arms were already tired from his failed attempts at CPR. The other position would get the job done just the same.

He touched already cold skin and paused. The approaching night air bit sharply, and Ianto's jacket and shirt had both been torn and were caked with half-dry blood. Jack shrugged out of his own coat and carefully wrapped it around Ianto. He should have thought to do that sooner, when Ianto had still been shivering from blood loss and shock.

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It was after Jack had gotten Ianto settled into the SUV that he returned for the box. His flashlight beam stilled on the body of the man he'd shot, but he felt no sympathy or regret and turned to the item he sought. The corpse would be left in the woods. Maybe he'd call it in to the police, but he wasn't taking it back and putting it next to Ianto.

Sighing deeply, he stared at the box on the ground. Moment of truth. It was some kind of metal, slightly bigger than a breadbox, and also locked. He frowned before ignoring any possible hazard trapped inside. He found his discarded gun still exactly where he'd dropped it, and he didn't hesitate before firing.

The bullet dented the box and broke the lock enough for Jack to pry open. He almost laughed in ironic disbelief. Turned out Ianto had been correct.

"I guess this qualifies as grand." He stared at the crafted metal which held disturbing and alluring possibilities.

He lifted the silver glove from the damaged box and slid it smoothly onto his left hand.

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TBC