Title: Hold Back the Rain
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: R
Table: 1, 10_hurt_comfort
Prompt: 3, Tears
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.

***

He'd know in just a few moments. He couldn't be kept in the dark much longer .... the waiting had already seemed interminable, and it couldn't go on.

Why was it that a Time Lord seemed to have the least control over time when they needed it the most? If the situation wasn't so dire, that thought might make him laugh, or at least smile, the Doctor thought, almost wanting to wring his hands.

He hated hospitals. He hated being here, and all he wanted to do was make for the nearest exit as quickly as he could. But of course, he couldn't do that -- not when Ianto was here, and he had no idea if his young lover was all right.

At any rate, even if he knew that Ianto was going to be fine, he wouldn't leave this place without spending some time with the man he loved. He'd stay here all night if he had to, sleeping in one of these cursedly uncomfortable chairs.

He'd already done that, actually. It seemed that Ianto had been here for a much longer time than the Doctor had thought he would be -- which told the Time Lord that his condition was much more serious than he'd thought when he'd burst through the doors of the emergency room.

There was so much blood when someone was shot .... it had seemed to be everywhere, all over Ianto's skin, his clothes, even his hair.

He hadn't been able to stop the blood; all he'd been able to do was slow it down a bit. He'd gotten Ianto here, where he could be properly looked after, and he'd called Jack and brought him and Owen to the scene as soon as he could.

Fortunately, Jack had taken over the responsibility of giving the hospital any information, saying that the Doctor wasn't from this part of the country. He'd merely given the immortal a grateful look, unable at that moment to get any coherent words out.

Owen was in the operating room with Ianto; he and Jack had insisted on that. The Doctor was sure that his lover was getting the best of care, but there was still a viselike grip of fear around his hearts, constricting his throat, making his mind whirl with questions and doubts.

What if something unforeseen happened? What if he hadn't gotten Ianto here in time? What if .... there were so many questions, so many possibilities. He couldn't answer any of them, and even though no one else could either, he wanted those answers.

He didn't just want them -- he needed them. He needed the reassurance that Ianto was going to make it, that the two of them would be able to walk out of here.

Not today, obviously. Ianto would need to stay here for at least a few days, where the people who were best qualified to take care of him could keep an eye on his progress. But the Doctor was determined to take his lover away with him as soon as he could.

And also determined to keep him out of the path of anything like this again. He should have known better than to take Ianto with him when he'd gone back in time; he'd known that he was heading into a dangerous area, into a situation that wasn't optimal.

But he'd let his need to have Ianto with him override his better judgement -- and this was what had happened. It was his fault that Ianto had been hurt, his fault that his love was lying on an operating table with the odds possibly aganst him making it through this.

"Hey." A hand on his knee, Jack's voice coming to him through the haze of his thoughts. The Doctor's head jerked up, eyes wide, a gasp coming from his throat as he brought himself out of his contemplations to see Jack looking at him, a frown on his face.

"Doc .... you can't let this destroy you. Ianto's getting the best of care. You did the best you could do, and none of this is your fault," the immortal told him, his voice soft and gentle.

The Doctor nodded, unable to speak. If he did, he'd do one of two things: He'd either burst into tears, which would not only be humiliating for him, but uncomfortable for Jack -- or he'd begin to babble and not be able to make himself stop.

He didn't realize that there were already tears on his cheeks until Jack's fingers brushed softly against his skin, and he could see the wetness of teardrops clinging to Jack's flesh. He hadn't known that his inner feelings were making such a public appearance.

Swallowing hard, he tried to force himself to gulp back the tears; that wasn't going to do Ianto the slightest bit of good. All it would achieve was stirring up his own emotions, and they were already unsettled enough as it was. He had to keep those tears at bay.

That wasn't easy to do -- it was like attempting to hold back a rain shower that had been rumbling in the clouds all day long. But he'd do it, no matter what it took. He had to be strong, the Doctor reminded himself. For Ianto.

How long could he keep those tears back? Holding back the rain would be easier, he told himself, taking a shaky breath. He couldn't remember having been this emotional in a long time -- but then, he'd never had as much to lose before.

"I know it wasn't my fault -- but I should have taken better care of him. I should have been able to protect him," he finally murmured, the guilt starting to seep in.

"Hey." Jack tapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head and frowning. "You can't let yourself think like that. Ianto's a big boy. He knew the risks he was taking by going places with you. This wasn't your fault, and nobody's going to see it that way. Especially not Ianto."

The Doctor didn't say that Ianto might not live through this to speak to him again and tell him that it wasn't his fault. The words loomed large in his mind, but he shrank away from speaking them; it was as if saying them aloud might make them come true.

He didn't have time to think about that for long; at that moment, the double doors that Ianto had been taken away through opened, and Owen came striding through them, his eyes searching the waiting room for the two of them.

When the young doctor saw them, he didn't hesitate; he walked straight towards the Doctor, his steps purposeful. The Doctor stood up quickly, nervously brushing the wrinkles from his suit; his hands were trembling, and he couldn't think of anything else to do with them.

Owen didn't mince words, instead coming directly to the point. "It was a difficult surgery -- but he'll be all right," he said, his gaze meeting the Time Lord's squarely. "He was lucky."

The Doctor's knees felt weak; he wasn't sure that his legs would keep holding him up, so he let himself sink back into the chair he'd been sitting in for what felt like an eternity. Relief was washing over his body, leaving him lightheaded and almost giddy.

Ianto was safe. He was going to be all right. He wasn't lying on the operating table dead, lifeless, never to smile at the Doctor again, or speak to him, or take him into those strong arms. He was going to recover. The Doctor had gotten him here in time.

"Th-thank you," he managed to say, his gaze fastening on Owen's face. "Thank you for saving him. I-I don't know what else to say. I could just keep saying that over and over, but you'd probably get tired of hearing it. Just know that I mean it more than I've ever meant anything."

He was crying again, tears slipping down his cheeks, tears that he didn't bother to try and wipe away. But this time, they were tears of relief, of joy. They weren't tears that he had to hide, or to be ashamed of. He didn't care if the whole world saw them.

Owen's gaze had softened, a smile crossing his face. "You're welcome," he said, his eyes lingering on the Time Lord. "I know how much he means to you."

Jack got to his feet, reaching out to pull the Doctor up with him. He quirked an eyebrow at Owen, who stood aside to let them walk by. "He's in recovery now. You can go in if you want to sit with him for a while," he said, leading them towards the doors.

The Doctor took a deep breath, raising a hand to wipe the tears away from his face. He couldn't let them show, not now. They'd served their purpose -- in different ways. But now was the time for hope, for happiness. And hopefully, there wouldn't be any more tears for a good long while.

***