Title: Beloved
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: R
Table: 11
Prompt: 47, Reunited
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Jack Harkness. Please do not sue.

***

It's only a body. Only a body.

The Doctor repeated the words over and over to himself, the litany of them calming him somewhat. At least the repetition took his mind away from the pain that seemed to be shooting through every nerve and fiber of that body.

He'd been able to keep himself from regenerating -- at least that was some comfort. He was still in the same body, battered though it was.

But at what cost? How badly was he damaged?

He squeezed his eyes closed, clamping his mind down on the pain in another effort to eradicate it. It wasn't working, but at least he could try.

There had been no choice. No regeneration. He wouldn't do it -- he wouldn't even think about it. And at least this was proof that he couldn't be forced into doing it.

He'd managed to preserve this body that Ianto had fallen in love with. It might be damaged, but it was still what Ianto wanted. Not only his mind, the essence of who he was, but his physical self. He wasn't going to take that away from his young lover.

A chilling thought struck the Doctor with the force of a blow to the solar plexus.

What if he was so badly damaged -- physically -- that Ianto wouldn't be able to love this body any more, either?

What if it had all been for nothing -- the pain he'd endured, the days and nights of feeling himself bruised and battered physically, until he could no longer separate his body from the pain he was feeling? What if, after everything he'd been through, Ianto were to turn away from him and not look back?

The Doctor shook his head, raising a hand as though to ward off yet another blow. Ianto would never do that, he whispered to himself, the absurd urge to cry crowding up into his throat. Ianto wouldn't abandon him. Not now.

But first he had to get to Ianto. If he could get to his feet and move, get out of this place.

That would be a bit difficult, as he didn't even know where he was. Whatever place the Master had brought him to seemed desolate, devoid of any kind of life.

Except his own. At least he still had that.

The Time Lord sat up slowly, wincing at the fresh pain that shot through his protesting body. He couldn't give in to the pain, he told himself fiercely, willing himself to keep moving. It would only be a sign of his own weakness, an admission that the Master had won.

No. He hadn't won. He would never win. The Doctor's teeth ground together as he lifted himself to his feet, every muscle groaning in protest.

The rape had been brutal, the Master sparing him nothing. The words he had spoken had driven into the Doctor's helpless body with as much force as the physical violation, rending his soul in much the same way as the Master was tearing his body.

Not only once, the Doctor thought to himself with a shiver, repulsed by the memory. Too many times to count. All the venom, all the hatred that the Master had always carried inside him, had finally spewed out -- and caught him in its path.

Tears formed in his eyes, threatening to spill over and pour down his cheeks. He could no longer say that Ianto was the only man who'd had this body.

Would Ianto even want this body any more once he found out that the Doctor was tainted? Would he ever be able to look at the Time Lord in the same way again?

The Doctor could only pray that the answers to those questions would be what he wanted to hear.

The Gallifreyan wrapped his arms around his nude body, closing his eyes for a moment. He was still on Earth, he knew that. The Master had taunted him with the fact that his love was near, that Ianto had the capability of rescuing him from the interminable pain -- if Ianto knew where he was. It was some comfort to know that he hadn't been taken away to a place where Ianto would never be able to reach him.

For all he knew, he could still be in Cardiff. Close to his love, but in the Master's clutches, as far away as if he'd been spirited off to some other world, to a place where Ianto could never follow him.

The fact that he was still on Earth presented another problem.

How in the hell was he going to find his way out of this place -- and wander the streets to Ianto's home without clothes? It wasn't as though he could roam the city naked.

The Doctor straightened up slowly, clenching his teeth against the pain that seemed to shoot through him. The first order of business was to find some covering, he told himself, trying to keep his mind from exploding into a silent scream.

He shuffled forward a few steps before a wave of dizziness overcame him, nearly sending him crashing to the floor. Instead, he fell to his knees, unable to stay on his feet. He couldn't do this, his mind screamed in the dark emptiness that surrounded him. He couldn't. It hurt too much. Far too much.

It was all going black .... slowly, but inexorably. He was sinking and he couldn't make it stop.

The Doctor didn't know how long he'd knelt there before he'd slowly lost his grip on consciousness. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus, swimming up from the black depths of blessed oblivion.

There was someone with him. Arms around him .... something wrapped around his naked body, taking the edge off the cold.

Lips on his face, soft lips pressed against his own, tears falling onto his skin.

A voice .... the voice he'd thought that he might never hear again. Murmuring the one word he wanted to hear.

"Beloved."

The Doctor forced his eyes open, taking a few moments to adjust to the darkness around them. Ianto was here. Ianto was holding him, kissing him, murmuring the single word over and over again. He was safe.

The throbbing pain in his body receded somewhat at the sound of that word, the feel of those lips on his skin. Ianto had found him. He would somehow manage to make everything all right.

"Ianto," he whispered, his lips refusing to form any other words.

The young man took the Doctor's face between his hands, kissing him again. Kissing him as if he were trying to pour all of his energy, all of his life force, into those desperate kisses.

"I love you," he murmured against the Time Lord's mouth. "I love you. Oh god, I love you."

"I love you, too," the Doctor managed to say, his bruised mouth feeling its way around forming the words, his senses reeling from the onslaught of Ianto's frantic kisses.

Ianto lifted the thin body into his arms, turning towards the entrance to the cavernous building that the Doctor had been held prisoner in.

"I'm taking you home," he whispered, tucking the edge of the blanket that covered the Doctor around the Time Lord's bare shoulder. "You'll be safe there. I'll look after you, beloved. It's going to be all right."

The Doctor nodded, his exhausted body starting to lose its grip on consciousness again.

"Sleep, beloved," Ianto whispered, pressing another kiss to the Gallifreyan's lips. "You'll wake up in our bed."

The Doctor relaxed his fumbling grasp on reality, sinking into oblivion again, not knowing when Ianto carried him out into the dawn and to safety.

***

Next story in series - Present Tense.