Cursed

Ianto slept for another two days.  He tolerated Jack leaving the bed, but grew restless after an hour or so.  Jack had no problem staying close to his lover.  To his mind, Ianto had been stripped bare and was raw from the intense curse-breaking he had endured, as well as whatever he had done for Jack.  It seemed only natural that he craved some sort of closeness, to soothe his heart and mind.

During one of their conversations, Bill pointed out that after so many years of loneliness and isolation, Ianto was undoubtedly drawn to the new connection that he and Jack had established.  Jack could easily admit that this was true for him, as well.  His own isolation had been of a different variety, but no less painful.  It was yet another reason why he was just as disinclined to stray far from Ianto’s bed as Ianto was to have him do so.

The afternoon that Ianto woke, Jack was sitting in the bed, reading a favorite old book.  His hand was idly carding through Ianto’s hair when he felt a shift.  Ianto had moved around very little, his sleep deep and dreamless.  So any movement was unusual.  Jack closed his book and set it aside as he watched Ianto begin to stir.

Ianto woke slowly, and Jack idly wondered if the younger man was having the same cotton wool experience that he’d had, just a few days before.  After a while, he seemed to frown, and Jack had to remind himself that this was not the time to remember how adorable a sleepy Ianto could be, particularly when his face was that close to Jack’s lap.  Slowly, Ianto lifted his face, looking up at Jack with bleary eyes the color of midnight.

Jack’s heart turned over in his chest, and he realized he needed to tell this man he loved him, and soon.  He gave Ianto a gentle smile.  “Hey, there.  How’re you feeling?”

A small indentation appeared between Ianto’s eyebrows, and his obvious confusion seemed to be not only at Jack’s words, but his location.  He sat up slowly, shaking with weakness, and looked around the room, his frown deepening.

“Ianto?”  In the next moment, Jack realized.  He put his hand on Ianto’s arm to draw his attention.  He gave a reassuring smile and held his hand up, asking permission.

Ianto’s frown stayed in place, but he did not move away from Jack as he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.  Jack entered Ianto’s mind to find a jarring, disconcerting silence.  There were no thoughts, no words.  Everything was a complete blank.

Doing his best not to panic, he withdrew and took Ianto into his arms.  The wizard came freely, relaxing against Jack’s body and wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist as he buried his face in Jack’s neck, snuffling.

Jack tried to ignore the tickle of Ianto taking in his scent, and he reached out an arm and clicked his fingers loudly, trying to get Bill’s attention.  Bill jerked from his doze and strode forward, pulling out his wand and frowning at the concerned look on Jack’s face.

“What is it?”

“He…” Jack swallowed.  “He seemed confused.  So I took a look.  There’s… there’s nothing.”  His voice caught. 

“What do you mean, nothing?” Bill frowned.

“No words.  No vocabulary.  No memories.  No thoughts.  Nothing!” he gritted, but then he felt Ianto tense in his arms, either at the tone of his voice or some sort of empathy for Jack's fear.  “Shhh,” he soothed, pulling Ianto closer and rocking him slightly.

Bill waved his wand and read the runes that appeared around Ianto.  He almost slumped in relief when he realized what was going on.  “He’s all right,” he said to Jack, his voice calm.

“Then why can’t I…”

Bill held up a hand.  “Do you know how many curses we broke?”

“I lost count,” Jack admitted.

“Thirteen,” Bill said, with some feeling.  “Between the spellbinding and the hexes and curses and hidden spells that came free when spells were broken, he had thirteen curses on him and was cut off from his magic.  They were literally leaching the life from him.  And then there’s the damage from the torture that never healed because the curses overlaid it.  That’s all come to the fore, now.  Which means we can heal it, but still…”

“But shouldn’t he be better?” Jack asked, with still only a tenuous grip on his panic.

“Think about it, Jack.  Thirteen breakings of various degrees of brutality.  The damage inflicted by each.  Old damage surfacing.  Taking on a massive load of vortex energy.  Re-acclimating to his magic.  And let’s not forget that healing he did for you.”

“He’s overwhelmed.”

“Complete whiteout.  Or, maybe an analogy you’re more used to – the system overloaded and is in the process of rebooting.”

Jack eyed him closely.  “What do you know about computers?”

“Only enough to make a useful metaphor,” Bill admitted with a smile.  “He’s okay, Jack.  This… blankness is just a buffer, is all.  It’s giving him a bit of a break, letting his system settle after the horrors of this week.”

“It was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” Jack asked.

“I’ve been a curse-breaker for almost my entire career.  And I’ve been specializing in helping those the death eaters targeted since before the war ended.  So I don’t say this lightly.  This was the worst set of non-lethal curses I’ve ever seen.  They were designed to make him suffer.  To drive him to despair, so that eventually he would die, but by his own hand, alone and in pain.”

“Are they still out there?” Jack asked, trying to shield his anger so Ianto wouldn’t feel it.  He knew he wasn’t entirely successful, because the younger man gave a small whimper and tightened his hold on Jack.

“They are.  But,” Bill gave an unpleasant smile, “even though the curses were over seven years old, they still had some very distinct signatures.  The Carrows’ bolt-hole has been solid enough that there hasn’t been a whiff of them, in all this time.  But people get lazy, after a while.  I think they’re likely still holed up wherever they did this to Ianto.  And I think the Aurors will be able to find them, this time.”

“How do I get in on that?” Jack asked.

“Take it up with Potter,” Bill smiled.  Normally a civilian – a muggle civilian, at that – would never be considered for a mission.  But given that Jack was no ordinary muggle, and not exactly a civilian, his offer of help might just be accepted.  An angry immortal could provide one hell of a distraction, if one were ruthlessly practical about it.  He wondered if Kingsley would see it that way.  The Carrows were, after all, the two most wanted death eaters still at large.  Their capture would be a major coup for the Ministry.

“He’s not responding to words or tone of voice, this time,” Jack’s attention turned back to Ianto. 

“I think he’s been stripped of language, for the moment.  I’m surprised tone isn’t having an effect, though.”  Bill cast another spell and read more runes.  “Everything has been peeled back.  He’s all… sensation, now.  Touch will be very important.  And I think everything will be a bit empathic for a little while.  So be careful about what you’re projecting his way, yeah?”

Jack nodded.  Touching Ianto was certainly no hardship.  He leaned back, and as Ianto reluctantly lifted his head from Jack’s shoulder, Jack projected peace and affection and was pleased to find Ianto’s frown ease.  He was helping Ianto drink some water when Hermione, Ron, and Harry arrived.

“He’s awake!” Ron said, but looked to his brother with a frown when Ianto made a solid attempt to burrow in to Jack’s chest.

“Shhh,” Jack soothed.  “It’s all right.”  He spoke softly until Ianto calmed, knowing the words meant nothing, but projecting feelings of peace and safety as Bill explained.

“How long will this last, do you think?” Harry asked.

“No idea.  But I think everyone needs to be warned to brush up on their occlumency and speak in hushed tones.”

They sat with Ianto for a while, each speaking to him, but it was clear that only Jack was getting through to him in any real sense.  Bill had determined that Ianto was in a fair amount of pain, but his tolerance had obviously become quite high, as Jack could sense nothing from him out of the ordinary.  Which told them that Ianto had just become inured to the pain and simply carried it without showing any sign of discomfort.

This made Jack unspeakably angry, and he quickly dressed and left the room until he could calm himself, so as not to project his anger towards Ianto.  When he re-entered the room, he took Harry aside and told him he wanted in when they went after the Carrows.

Harry told him that the Unspeakables had been working on the captured materials from the broken curses, and they had already narrowed down the location of the death eaters’ hideout.  A few days’ surveillance would tell them if they had the right place.  Harry promised Jack he would pass along the offer of assistance.

Jack helped Ianto wash and dress in some pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt while Hermione went to find Susan.  When they arrived, several Healers were with them.  Bill explained Ianto’s current state to them, and Jack stayed close because the comfort of his touch seemed to be the only thing that alleviated Ianto’s uneasiness and confusion.

Susan enlisted Jack’s help in administering a series of potions to Ianto.  Some were meant to heal the old damage from the torture, some to heal the pain from the curse-breaking, and one in particular to help his body accept its not-so-new stature. 

“This course of potions will take about ten days, but he’s going to feel so much better, once it’s done,” Susan smiled as Ianto finished the last potion. 

Jack felt a bit guilty, because Ianto had unquestioningly swallowed each of the potions, despite the obvious bad taste.  “Oh!” he exclaimed, remembering one of the things he’d shoved into Ianto’s bag.  He crossed the room and grabbed it, unwrapping it on his way back to sit beside his lover.  “Chocolate,” he grinned at the others, “Preferably dark.”

He crooned sweetly to Ianto about his serotonin levels as he fed him a bit of chocolate.  This went over exceptionally well, after the foul-tasting potions.  Ianto smiled at him sweetly, and Jack leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss.

Ianto went very still and touched his fingertips to his lips, looking at Jack with wide eyes.  Jack gave him a reassuring smile, realizing he would have to be more careful.  Ianto was exceptionally vulnerable at the moment, and Jack could not abuse that.  He raised his hand and caressed Ianto’s cheek, finding the scruff of a few days’ growth of beard unusual for his normally immaculate lover, though it did help to mask the gauntness of his features after the grueling breakings and days of sleep without proper meals.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and Ianto closed his eyes, leaning into Jack’s touch with a sigh.  Without warning, he became heavy, and it was all Jack could do, to catch him before he toppled out of the bed.

Jack lay Ianto down and kissed his cheek as he arranged the blankets around him.  He stayed sitting on the bed, watching his lover sleep.  “That was sudden,” he remarked.

“It will take weeks, perhaps even months, for the exhaustion to settle,” Susan replied quietly.  “He has been through seven years of hell, and now it’s over, he’s going to have to contend with fatigue and be patient in his recovery.”

Jack snorted.  “Historically, Ianto has not been patient in his recoveries.”

“He’ll have little choice,” Susan said, her voice gentle.  “This isn’t something that can be ignored, no matter how bloody-minded he may be.”

Jack chuckled and picked up Ianto’s hand.  He began reciting a poem in Boeshanian, the lyrical and obviously alien language catching everyone’s attention.

***