Title: How You Gonna See Me Now
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1, 50scenes
Prompt: 10, Writer's Choice - Broken
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

Ianto put down the book he was trying to read, realizing that he'd been staring at the same page now for more than twenty minutes, reading the words over and over again without taking in any of them. He had no idea what he'd been reading, and he couldn't have cared less if the book had grown wings and decided to fly away.

The words had all blurred before his eyes, his own thoughts superseding anything on a written page. How could he sit here and read when the Doctor was in their bedroom, probably tossing and turning and caught in the throes of some nightmare? He cursed himself for not being there next to the man he loved, holding him and protecting him from those dreams.

He tossed the book to the floor, getting up and heading for the bedroom. He hadn't heard the Time Lord make a sound, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, he told himself, his steps quickening as he hurried down the short hallway between the small sitting room and the back of his flat. He had the uncanny ability to stay quiet, even when he was in distress.

Ianto let out a sigh of relief when he cautiously peered into their bedroom; the Doctor was asleep, his pale face turned to the side, his thin chest rising and falling steadily. He didn't seem to be having any trouble sleeping, something that the young Welshman was grateful for. He'd been awakened from his own dreams often enough in the past week.

Not that he minded, he said to himself as he crossed the room to sit down on the bed and take the Doctor's small hand in his own. He still didn't know just what had been done to the Time Lord while he'd been the Master's captive; the Doctor refused to talk about it, only telling Ianto that it was over and done with, and that it was something he didn't wish to talk about.

The young man had respected the Time Lord's wishes, but there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that insisted on knowing what the Doctor had been through. He didn't want to know, not really, his conscious mind insisted -- he had to know. He needed to know what he was up against, and if there was anything he could do to ease his lover's troubled mind.

The Doctor wouldn't talk to him about what had been done to him; Ianto respected that, and didn't push the other man for any explanations. But he wasn't going to let the Time Lord lose himself in melancholy and silence -- that wasn't healthy, either for his well-being or for their relationship. Maybe talking about it would be the best thing for him.

But how was he going to get the Doctor to realize that? Ianto sighed, chewing at his lower lip. He didn't want to push the Doctor to talk about something that had obviously been a traumatic experience; but at the same time, he wasn't going to let his lover push away his concerns.

All that he could do was to be there for the other man, listen to him if he needed to talk -- and try the best he could to help his lover get past what had happened and come to terms with it. He'd be able to do a better job of that if he knew exactly what had taken place -- but maybe that was something he was better off not knowing.

Yes, that was probably the case, Ianto told himself firmly, trying to make himself believe those words. If he knew exactly what had been done to the Doctor, he'd more than likely want to track down the Master himself, and he knew that could only result in disaster. He couldn't his temper and his need for revenge get the better of him.

That was something that Jack would do, he told himself wryly, wishing that he had the physical capabilities that the immortal did -- if only he could find the Master and wreak some kind of revenge on him without worrying that it might be the last thing he ever did. But he wasn't Jack; he had far more limitations than the other man did, and he had to accept them.

His eyes wandered to the Doctor's pale face; he couldn't keep himself from reaching out to smooth a few errant strands of tawny hair away from the Time Lord's face. His eyes moved over the other man's face, drinking in those features that he loved so much, that face that was imprinted in his mind's eye -- that face that he could never get enough of looking at.

The bruises were starting to fade, the physical proof of what the Doctor had been through. When Ianto had first found him in that abandoned warehouse, he'd been sure that the Time Lord was dead; he'd been so pale and bruised that it didn't seem possible for him to still be breathing. But miraculously, he was, though it had taken him quite a while to regain consciousness.

It had taken Ianto much longer than he'd thought it would to get the Doctor out of there and back to the flat, but he'd managed. By the time he'd gotten them safely inside with the door locked and bolted, he'd been sobbing in frustration and anger, unable to express his anger in any other way. It was a good thing, too, he told himself -- he'd gone a little mad for a while.

He wasn't sure how he'd managed to take care of the Doctor; he hadn't really done much of anything other than undress his lover, wiping away the blood and trying to make him as comfortable as possible. It had been hours before the Doctor had awakened, hours that Ianto had spent by his side, anxiously watching him with fear in his heart.

He'd wanted to take the Time Lord into his arms, hold him and wail his anguish to the world. But he hadn't; he'd simply sat there, holding the Doctor's limp hand, watching his face and praying that he would wake up soon. When the Doctor's eyelashes had fluttered, he'd felt a wave of relief so strong that he'd thought he would pass out, but, of course, he hadn't.

Ianto hadn't been able to indulge himself, for the Doctor's sake. He'd wanted to break down, but he'd kept a firm rein on his emotions; crying wouldn't have done the Time Lord any good. So instead, he had tried to be cool and calm, not revealing what he was feeling underneath the facade.

He should have known that he wouldn't fool the Doctor with that impassive mask. The Time Lord had carefully avoided answering his questions, as though he was tiptoeing around Ianto's feelings, just waiting for his young lover to break -- and it had been obvious to Ianto that the other man was on the verge of breaking himself, though the Doctor would never have admitted to it.

As the days had gone by, he'd been more and more quiet -- until Ianto felt that he couldn't bear the silence any more. He had to talk to the Doctor, had to find out exactly what had happened to the Time Lord. After all, he couldn't try to make things better if he didn't know what he was dealing with, he reasoned, leaning over the sleeping man to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The Doctor's eyes opened slowly, as though he was breaking the surface of a sleep that had closed over him like a suffocating sheet of water. He even sounded as though he was coming up for air, Ianto thought worriedly, hearing the Time Lord's breath catch in his throat in a quickly suppressed gasp. He sounded strained, frantic; that couldn't be good.

He took the Doctor's hands in his own, twining their fingers together, not giving the Time Lord a chance to speak before he did. "Doctor, we need to talk about what's happened. I feel like I'm at a loss to help you, because I don't know what's happened to you. Please tell me. I want to try to make things better, but I have no idea how to do that."

The Doctor shook his head, looking away from his young lover and closing his eyes. "You don't need to know, Ianto. I'll be all right, really. You don't have to worry about me." His voice was quiet, but Ianto could sense the tremulous quality underneath the calm words, the undercurrent of anxiety and fear that permeated the air around them.

"Doctor ...." Ianto raised the other man's face to his, forcing the Doctor to meet his gaze. "You don't have to tell me everything, sweetheart. I know enough about what he's like to be able to guess at the worst of it. But I ...." He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I want to be able to help you get past this, if I can. I just don't know where to start."

"You don't have to start anywhere," the Time Lord whispered, his eyes glistening with tears. He looked away from Ianto, dashing a hand across his eyes. "Just be with me. I'll be all right, Ianto. Really. I just need some time to push it all to the back of my mind. It isn't as though I haven't done that before, you know."

"You need to come to terms with what's happened -- but ignoring it isn't going to help," Ianto said softly, sliding one arm around the Doctor's slender waist and pulling the other man close against his body. "If you do that, then those memories will eventually come back to attack you again. Believe me, Doctor, I know what that's like, after Canary Wharf."

"I know you do," the Doctor told him, his voice catching in his throat. "I just .... I don't want you do see me as flawed, I suppose. I know you don't expect me to be some sort of Superman, but ...." He sighed, looking down, his voice lowering until it was barely above a whisper. "I suppose I'm afraid that you're going to leave me if you feel that I've been .... tainted."

"Tainted?" Ianto could hardly believe his ears. "What on Earth would make you say that? Doctor, I'll never think that about you. What happened to you wasn't your fault." He placed one hand firmly beneath the Doctor's chin again, making the Time Lord meet his eyes and not letting him look away. "It wasn't your fault. I would never leave you because of this. You have to know that."

"That's easy for you to say, Ianto." The Doctor's eyes had filled with tears; they were starting to slide down his face, spilling over as though he couldn't hold them back. "You've never had to make the choice of being with someone who you could see as being .... broken. I'm not what you may have bargained for when you first met me -- I'm --"

He stopped, looking down and falling silent. Ianto bowed his head, brushing his lips across the Time Lord's forehead, distressed to realize that the other man actually believed what he was saying. He actually thought that Ianto would leave him -- over something that had been out of his control, something that he hadn't invited upon himself.

"What is it, love?" he whispered, needing to know what the Time Lord seemed so reluctant to say aloud. "You're what?"

"'Damaged goods,'" the Doctor whispered, almost choking on the two syllables. "That's what he kept insisting I would be when you got me back. And I --" The Doctor gulped, finally forcing more words out. "-- I think he's probably right."

Ianto shook his head, negating the Doctor's words as soon as they were out of his mouth. "No, you're not," he said firmly, his arms tightening around the Doctor. "You aren't damaged, love. Not to me. If anything, you're stronger for having endured that experience and come out of it on the other side. You may be a bit bruised and battered -- but not damaged goods. Never to me."

"I don't want you to see me in a different light," the Doctor said softly, stumbling over the words as though he wanted to get them out quickly. "He .... kept taunting me with that, Ianto. That once he was done with me, you would never see me in the same way again. That you would never be able to want me in the same way. That you .... wouldn't be able to love me."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Ianto murmured, anger flaring in him at the thought of how those cruel words must have made the Doctor feel. "That proves that he knows nothing about love, or what it's like to be in love. I could never love you any less, Doctor. Especially not for the reasons he gave you. If he truly believes that, then he doesn't know me."

"You're right," the Doctor said, his voice starting to gain strength. "He doesn't know what it's like to love. I don't think he's capable of such an emotion."

"He's not," Ianto said with conviction. That was one thing he was sure of. The Master didn't have a clue about love -- not judging from the vicious way he'd treated the Doctor, a man who'd been his friend at one time. He had no idea what love was, or loyalty, or any real emotion, Ianto thought fiercely. "Maybe he was at one time, but --"

"He was," the Doctor whispered, his voice nearly a whisper again. "At one time, we were close -- and I thought that we would be like that for the rest of our lives. I couldn't have known what he would become -- and I've spent centuries cursing myself for not being able to pull him back from that abyss he's spent his lives spiralling down into."

"That isn't your fault either, Doctor," Ianto told him, sighing softly as he pressed a kiss against the Doctor's soft hair. "You can't save everyone, you know. That's not easy to accept, I'm sure -- but you aren't omnipotent. You've done the best you can, and that's all anyone can ask of you. That's all you can ask of yourself."

"I suppose you're right," the Doctor said, closing his eyes and leaning against his young lover, letting his body go limp in Ianto's arms. "But that doesn't mean that I'll stop trying."

"You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't," Ianto said softly, raising the Doctor's face to his again and brushing his lips against the Time Lord's mouth. "That's proof that you're not broken, Doctor, whatever he might have wanted you to think. You're so much stronger than he realises -- and stronger than you may realise, too."

The Doctor didn't reply to that statement; he only slid his arms around Ianto's neck, pulling the young man down beside him and kissing him back more passionately than Ianto had expected. Unexpected, perhaps -- but not unappreciated.

Damaged goods? No, Ianto thought to himself as he pulled the Doctor close against him in a protective embrace. This man was stronger than anyone he'd ever known -- and no matter what anyone said, Ianto would never see him as in any other way.

***