ianto and jack and gwen helping each other cope post exit wounds in the ways they all need
Oh I have so many ideas for this I could write a series (/hj) but I hope this suffices!
Coping
a/n: Presenting the third fic for my 25-follower celebration! Minor content warning for nightmares. WC: 906
The sound of yelling from upstairs in the Hub startled Ianto.
No. Not again. He sprinted up three flights from the archives to the main Hub, taking the steps two at a time, and followed the sound of the shouting without noticing where he was or where it was actually coming from.
It was Gwen’s voice, he processed through the adrenaline that set his heart to racing and his blood to pounding in his ears, and that was worse, because if Gray was somehow awake like Beth had been or if John was back, Jack could deal with them--he shouldn’t have to, but he could, and Ianto hated himself for thinking it--but Gwen was just as mortal as Tosh and Owen, and he couldn’t lose her.
He found himself in the rest and recreation room, where the couch was--where Gwen was asleep on the couch, yelling nonsensically, and Jack was standing over her, pleading with her to just wake up and breathe and calm down.
Ianto paused, breathing slowly and deeply for a moment and trying to focus past Gwen’s outward reaction to her nightmare. When he was shaking a little less from the adrenaline crash, he came up to the arm of her couch, behind her head, and stroked her hair gently, carding his hand through it near the roots where she could feel it. It was soft--a little oily, but then none of them had been doing much outside of the Hub since Gray, so if she wasn’t getting a chance to wash her hair as often as she needed Ianto certainly wasn’t going to judge.
Jack gave Ianto a grateful look, but Gwen still slept, still yelled. She must be exhausted, Ianto thought, and continued his gentle smoothing down of her hair.
Eventually, Gwen began to calm under his ministrations, and Jack folded himself into the narrow space on the couch behind her where he could barely fit to wrap himself around her and hold her close, providing the comfort he could. Gwen and Jack were both so tactile, and had only become more so after Gray.
Her yelling calmed to murmuring, to snuffling, and to snoring, until she was peacefully asleep again. Ianto continued to caress the top of her head anyway, because he wasn’t sure how else to help. He was still shaking a bit, though, and didn’t want to go back down into the archives alone, especially if Gwen was at risk for further nightmares.
Jack’s face was buried in the crook between Gwen’s neck and shoulder, but he looked up at Ianto. “You two need to go home,” he said, softly, so as not to wake her (though if her shouting and her nightmare hadn’t, she was probably still fast asleep).
“You know we can’t,” Ianto replied, voice just as low. “There’s too much--”
“I know. There’s too much to do around here.” Jack sighed, and Ianto watched the air of it stir some of Gwen’s stray hairs. “You can’t keep going like this.”
“Neither can you, Jack,” Ianto reminded him. Just because he couldn’t stay dead didn’t mean he couldn’t die, and he was not about to succumb to sheer exhaustion on Ianto’s watch. “Have you talked to Martha?”
Jack’s lips pursed.
It was Ianto’s turn to sigh, though he found that despite his mild discontent, talking with Jack was calming. The trembling in his hands slowed and stalled as they spoke in low tones.
Eventually, Gwen stirred in Jack’s arms, under Ianto’s hand.
“Good morning, Rhys,” she said blearily.
Jack chuckled, and Ianto flushed.
“Actually, you’re still at the Hub,” Jack told her.
Gwen grumbled. “Of course it’s you. Bloody Jack Harkness.”
Jack’s chuckles grew into a full belly laugh. “Now that you’re awake from your nap, I’m afraid I’m sending you home to get some real sleep. I don’t want you back here for at least twelve hours.”
Gwen’s eyes flew open at that. “We can’t leave the Rift unattended for that long--” she began.
“I know,” Jack said, and at least his tone was more solemn. “The Rift isn’t as important as you and Ianto, and you’re working yourselves to exhaustion.”
“Not as important?” Gwen asked, incredulous. “If the wrong thing, or god forbid, person, comes through the Rift, it could be a matter of life or death for the entire city!”
“I know and I don’t care,” Jack replied, with just the hint of a defensive growl in his tone. “You and Ianto are more important than the entire city. Do you understand me?”
Ianto’s brow furrowed when he looked at Jack. What a difference, what a remarkable change loss could make even in a person who had lived well over two millennia.
“Go home, Gwen Cooper. Don’t let it drift.” Jack kissed her on the cheek and urged her to get up. “You too, Ianto.”
Ianto leveled a look at Jack as Gwen stood, rolled her shoulders a few times, and went to find her coat.
“You’re the only thing I have to let drift,” Ianto said when she was out of earshot. “If I’m going home, you’re coming with me.”
Jack’s expression softened. “We really can’t leave the Rift unattended--”
“We get notifications from Tosh’s Rift monitoring program,” Ianto said, and the timing of the wrench in his gut and Jack’s flinch was impeccable and painful. Oh, how he missed her. “We won’t be leaving the Rift unattended. Come home, Jack. Sleep.”
