Cursed

When Jack next woke, he watched Ianto sleep until hunger wakened him.  Later, after Ianto took his potions, they ate a modest lunch, though Jack was pleased to see Ianto’s appetite improving slightly, with each passing day.  He then helped Ianto to shower and dress while one of the young healing assistants changed the bed linens. 

Ianto settled back in the bed, fatigued from the small effort.  Before he could settle in for a nap, Susan and Bill arrived to check on him.  Jack asked how long Ianto would be kept in hospital, knowing that he wanted his own bed but hoping they would watch over him for a bit longer.  Jack was relieved when Susan informed them that they wanted to watch Ianto closely as he recovered from the ordeal of the multiple curse-breakings and as the potions helped his system to settle.

Now that he was more verbal, Ianto was able to thank them for helping to ease the pain of his changed physical appearance.  He only had one more potion to go, and he was almost giddy with relief.  Jack had often wondered about the pinched expression that Owen had unkindly called ‘Ianto’s constipation face’.  To realize now that it was a constant, low-level, unrelenting pain caused by the compression of muscle and sinew and bone…

It made him want to go find the corpses of the Carrow siblings and shoot each of them in the face a few more times.

But thankfully, the potions had eased the pain from the compression.  Jack had briefly wondered if they were somehow making those extra two inches just go away, since the changes were irreversible.  In the end, he didn’t suppose it mattered, as long as they could stop the pain.  Susan had promised that within another week, the pain would be completely alleviated.  Ianto almost wept at the news, his joy and relief palpable.

Susan and Bill had taken the opportunity, now that Ianto was awake, aware, and verbal, to question him minutely about the curses and his various symptoms, so they could gauge any possible reactions.  After a good many diagnostic spells, they were able to declare him on the mend and free of the curses that had been broken. 

Susan mentioned one ‘loose end’ that she was confident could wait another day or two.  She had reached out to the Headmistress of Hogwarts to get the receipt[1] for one last potion, and Bill had plans that evening to procure the primary ingredient, which was apparently quite rare. 

In the meantime, she was pleased to tell Ianto that his health was no longer in danger.  Still, she wanted him to stay at St. Mungo’s until he was finished with the various courses of treatment, so they could continue to monitor his condition.  When Ianto tried to argue, she quietly informed him that they would be taking no chances.

“Ianto, your system was deeply stressed by everything.  I’m not sure how much longer you could have continued, as you were.  If the stress didn’t cause some sort of physical collapse, then the despair would have caused a mental one.”

“Seems to me, it did,” Jack pointed out from the chair by the bed, and Ianto huffed.

“But that’s all gone, now,” he argued.

Susan sat on the bed next to Ianto’s knees and looked at him, her face full of care and compassion.  “Ianto, you tried to kill yourself.  I know the reason for your despair has been removed, but we would be remiss if we assumed those feelings had just dissipated.  So we’re going to watch over you, now.  We’re going to make sure your mood stabilizes, and your mental well-being is re-established. 

“We’re also going to make sure there are no lingering effects of that killing potion you swallowed.”  Her voice was gentle, but she made it clear that this was not up for debate.  “Your system was under extraordinary strain, and you are showing all the hallmarks of exhaustion.  Plus, you haven’t been eating – neither well, nor enough.  We need to make sure that your physical recovery is complete.  I don’t anticipate any complications, but if there are any, we can deal with them here far more quickly than if you leave.”

“We also need to make sure there are no curses lingering that might have delayed triggers,” Bill added.  He held up his hand to quiet Jack’s horrified protest.  “I don’t think there are, and if there were, they would be mitigated by the deaths of the Carrows, but we have to be certain.”

Ianto stared at his hands, trying to quell his disappointment.  He wanted to go home.  He hated the idea of being in London, even if he was within the protective embrace of a wizarding world with the Carrows no longer in it.  And he wanted to do more than fall asleep on Jack.  He felt almost desperate to reconnect with his lover, now that the curses were broken and he could, theoretically, love on the idiot with the abandon he had been repressing since they began their affair.

It was not lost on him that being required to stay was far more distressing than it should have been, and that was down to all the reasons his friends had outlined.  But he could not hide the emotions that were rising, and he found it deeply disconcerting that his masks were not up to their usual standards.

Susan reached out and took one of Ianto’s hands.  “What is it?” she asked gently.

He shook his head.  “’s stupid,” he muttered, trying to ignore the ridiculous tears.  He felt even more ridiculous at the sheer sense of relief he felt when Jack sat next to him, his warmth and weight a profound comfort.

“Ianto, I have every confidence that it may be a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them,” Jack muttered into his hair as he wrapped his arms around the wizard.

Ianto gave in to the temptation and snaked his arms around Jack, leaning into his warmth and closing his eyes.  He tried to will the tears to stop, but the comfort of Jack’s arms just seemed to further loosen his hold on his emotions.  He hid his face and prayed he didn’t get Jack’s shirt too wet.

“You don’t feel safe in London, do you?” Jack said, his voice quiet.  Ianto went still, then pulled Jack closer, his answer plain in his refusal to reply.  “I imagine Canary Wharf was just the final straw.”

“I hate it here,” Ianto whispered.

“I know,” Jack replied, rocking Ianto to and fro as he kissed the younger man’s head.  “But I’ll be here with you.  I won’t leave you.  Does that help?”

“But the rift…”

“Is in capable hands,” Jack assured him.  “Tosh says there’s a month of quiet coming, and has informed me that if I return without you I’ll be locked in a cell to provide Janet with a permanent fresh food source.”  He smiled at the small huff of amusement Ianto let out.  “So I have no intention of returning to Cardiff until you are completely healed and well and can come with me and protect me from the Tiny Terror.”

“Is she okay?” Ianto asked.  “I know she was upset about Tommy.”

Jack kissed Ianto’s head and smiled.  “Yeah, she’s all right.  Probably good that she has work to keep her busy right now, though.”

“I was going to take her some ice cream, but…”

“But I hit you and made you want to die,” Jack said, his eyes wet.  Ianto had given up, because of him.  Every time he got a little distance from that fact, something brought it back home, to devastating effect.  Toshiko had lost a lover that day, and not only was she deprived of the ice cream and comfort she deserved; she almost lost her best friend, as well. 

Ianto jolted back, looking at Jack with horror.  “That wasn’t your fault,” he said, the expression on his tear-streaked face showing his unwavering conviction that this was the absolute truth.

Jack reached out and cupped Ianto’s cheek.  “I hurt you in so many ways.  Decisions I made to push you away… they had nothing to do with the curse, and I can’t call them anything but intentional.  All of it is inexcusable, and so I have no room for forgiveness, not even for the unintentional hurts.”

“That’s as may be,” Ianto said, collapsing back against Jack and sighing, “but none of it is yours to forgive, you twpsyn[2].”

“What?” Jack asked, confused.

“If I am the one who was wronged,” Ianto said, his voice patient, “then I am the one to forgive the wrongs.”  He looked up at Jack’s face.  “Yes?”

He leaned back and popped one of Jack’s braces, a sign that he wanted them off. 

Jack smiled sweetly at the younger man.  “I suppose that is the way it normally works.”

“Right, then.  You’re forgiven, and I’m tired.  Stop messing about and come be my pillow.”

Jack gave a surprised and somewhat tearful laugh and moved to the edge of the bed so he could take off his shoes and socks.

“And I think that’s our cue,” Susan smiled as Bill chuckled.  “We’ll check in on you, later.”

They left, and Jack stripped down to his vest and pants before climbing into the bed.  But Ianto didn’t burrow into his chest this time.  He turned on his side to face Jack, and tangled their legs together as he watched the older man’s face.  Jack wondered for a moment what Ianto was looking for, but then realized that he was still recovering from a series of experiences, any one of which could have been called devastating as an understatement.  And he was less than a day out from the profound shock that Jack’s death had prompted. 

So Ianto was allowed to pace himself.

Still, the look was so intent, so focused, so…

“What?” Jack finally asked.

“I want to kiss you,” Ianto whispered.

“Is that a bad thing?” Jack asked, but the smile that was forming died on his lips as he remembered that Ianto had never initiated anything without being punished cruelly for it.

“No,” he quickly replied, knowing what Jack was thinking of.  “No, it’s not a bad thing, but…  Now that I can, you know, properly…” he looked down, and then smiled bashfully as Jack wondered what Ianto might mean by properly.  “I think I’m not going to want to stop.”

Jack chuckled and moved closer, hoping Ianto would feel safe enough to initiate a kiss.  “I think we can work with that,” he said, with only a very little bit of lechery in his tone.

Ianto laughed, and Jack wondered how, a mere fortnight ago, he could have taken that sound for granted.  He resolved in that moment to do what he could to ensure the sound was made more often.  “You are so beautiful,” he marveled.

***

[1] For some reason, this word insisted on being used.  It is an archaic version of recipe.  Seems like maybe the wizarding world would use the more obscure word.

[2] Idiot