Play Me Dear

This one is for @TLorie. It's uhm...a bit graphic, so not for the faint-hearted. Or those opposed to slash.

The first thing he was aware of as he woke up was the screams - wait, no, that's not quite accurate. The first thing he was aware of was that he was Ianto Jones, 24, working for Torchwood 3 in Cardiff and that Lisa was dead. While for most people such thoughts go without saying, for one of the Torchwood team it was a good day when they could remember who they were, especially when they've been hit on the head - which was in fact the third thing he was aware of. This was closely followed by the awareness that he was blindfolded and tied in a fairly sturdy chair. All of this pointed to awareness number five, he'd been captured.

Wait, something wrong with this picture. Screams, no pain - well, no fresh pain. Screams meant someone else being hurt, and there shouldn't be anyone else involved unless something had gone terribly terribly wrong. No one else even knew this group was operating in Cardiff, let alone where they were. They'd checked.

The screams stopped abruptly, with the kind of finality that indicated death. Whoever it was, it was too late now, and if they killed him - it was a man screaming, that much he could tell - then they wouldn't hesitate to kill Ianto too. He bowed his head for a moment, praying to a God he didn't believe in that Jack and the team would be able to find him first.

A sound - was that a footstep? He cocked his head, listening intently, and heard several more steps, near-silent but loud in the atmosphere of death hanging in the air. It lay heavily on the back of his tongue as he breathed through his nose, the unmistakable metallic tang of blood, and he swallowed thickly as he realised those footsteps were coming towards him. Already time? He wasn't ready to die, wasn't ready to meet Lisa on the other side - how could he explain? He wanted -

There was a rapid intake of breath that tumbled his thoughts to a stop, and suddenly the owner of the footsteps was beside him, rough hands fumbling expertly at his ties. Breath sounded loud in his ear and the stench of death was even thicker now. Why was he being untied? Who was it? He couldn't give away the names of his team mates so he didn't ask for them, pressed his lips together holding in the questions that wanted to spill out - and then he was free, ropes sliding loose around him as the hands moved to his ankles. He reached up to his blindfold, the slap of rope hitting the floor almost inaudible in his confusion, and looked down at... "Jack?"

Jack looked up and nodded, but the splash of blood across his face made Ianto flinch in his seat. Jack had been the one making someone scream, Jack had ended that scream permanently.

"The gang?" he managed to ask after swallowing several times. They were still human his mind wailed, 

needing to make the distinction.

"Dead," Jack replied shortly, none of the usual levity in his tone. Ianto should have been looking around, figuring out exactly where he was and how to fix this, but as ever when Jack was around, he was completely focussed on his Captain.

"Why?" Ianto asked, needing it to be justified. Jack frowned and caught his wrists, looking at the chafing before examining his head.

"You're hurt," Jack pointed out, changing the subject, but Ianto was having none of it.

"Why?" he pressed, and stopped breathing when those blue eyes met his. He'd never seen them so lifeless, not even when Jack was dead.

"Because monsters don't deserve to live."

TBC