Title: Mood Indigo
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: R
Table: 5
Prompt: 38, Moody
Author's Note: Continuation of Stigmata Martyr.
Warnings: Rape.
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.

***

Ianto sighed softly as he sat up against the pillows that the Doctor had propped behind him. Ever since the Time Lord had been able to bring him home from the hospital, he'd been quiet, thinking about the events that had led to this point.

The Doctor wasn't pulling away from him. No, it was the other way around. Ianto bit his lip, teeth grinding down ferociously, hoping that the pain would force the tears back from prickling just behind his eyelids, so close to the surface that he was sure they would spill over at any second.

He didn't want the Doctor to see him crying, didn't want his love to think that he was giving in to weakness. No, it was bad enough that the first thing he'd done when he'd awakened at the hospital and seen the Time Lord gazing down into his face was to burst into tears, covering his face with both hands and sobbing like a child.

He was sure that the Doctor had never cried in all the times that he'd been through much more horrific torture at the Master's hands than what that monster had done to Ianto. The Time Lord had survived much worse, both emotionally and physically, than Ianto could ever imagine in his wildest dreams. The young Welshman was sure of that.

If the Doctor didn't give in to the pain, then he wouldn't either.

Ianto stirred restlessly, wondering just where the Doctor was. He was tired of spending day after day in bed, but the Gallifreyan insisted that he had to give his body time to recover. Still, laying in bed -- especially when the Doctor's slim body wasn't curled against his own -- wasn't his idea of a good way to pass the time.

"Ow." He'd finally managed to draw blood from all the chewing on his lip; Ianto frowned, raising a hand to his mouth and bringing his fingers away smeared with redness. He sighed, reaching for the box of Kleenex on the table by the bed. The Doctor would scold him for that, he was sure.

Ianto let his head fall back against the pillows with a sigh. He still felt weak, too weak to move at much more than a slow shuffle around the apartment, leaning against the Doctor for support. The Time Lord hadn't shown the slightest bit of annoyance at his slow recovery -- in fact, he'd been more than patient. No, Ianto was the restless, impatient one, rather than his lover.

He frowned again, burrowing into the pillow and turning onto his side. The Doctor had been more patient than Ianto would have thought was possible. He should be past this weakness, taking his share of the burdens that fell onto the Time Lord's slender shoulders.

The Doctor had been through so much that Ianto didn't know about -- and if he was honest with himself, there were some things that he didn't really want to know. He knew that the Doctor had survived things that he wouldn't speak of with Ianto, things that he didn't want his young lover to have to contemplate. Ianto sighed softly, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around one of the pillows.

It was all well and good for the Time Lord to protect him. But now that he was drawn into the world that the Doctor inhabited, wouldn't he be safer if he understood exactly what he might be facing?

He'd already been thrust into that world without warning -- something that the Doctor obviously hadn't expected. But Ianto fully intended to be forewarned from the point on.

Ianto turned to his other side, tossing restlessly. He hoped this strange mood would pass; he knew that the Doctor could easily pick up on a human's state of mind, and he didn't want his love to fall into the same blue funk that seemed to be taking him over. The Gallifreyan was so sensitive to his lover's feelings.

Actually, he'd seemed to be rather moody himself in the past few days ....

A thought struck Ianto with the force of a blow. Had what he himself been through brought back some of the Doctor's own fragmented memories of what he'd endured at the Master's sadistic whims?

He could feel the blood draining from his face. Ianto turned his face to the pillow again, fervently hoping that what had happened to him wasn't going to bring back memories that the Doctor would rather keep buried.

He raised his head from the pillow when the Doctor entered the room, sitting up and holding out a hand to his love. "Can I get out of bed? Please?" Ianto tilted his head to one side, dark eyes beseeching.

The Doctor sat down on the bed, carefully balancing the tray that contained a teapot and two cups before sitting it down on the table by the bed. He contemplated his young lover, reaching out to carefully brush his fingers through Ianto's short hair. "I don't see why not," he answered, his voice soft and husky.

Before Ianto could protest, the Doctor stood up, bending down to slide his arms under the Welshman's prone body. He lifted Ianto in his arms as if the young man weighed no more than a feather, moving to the door of their bedroom and down the hallway into the living room.

"Doctor!" Ianto gasped out the name, instinctively wrapping his arms around the Time Lord's slender shoulders and holding onto him. It amazed him that the Gallifreyan could carry him like this; the Doctor was so thin that he didn't look as if he could carry anything heavier than a medium-sized grocery bag, But looks could be deceiving, Ianto reminded himself.

The Doctor deposited him on the couch, quickly exiting the room and going back into the bedroom for the tea tray. When he'd brought it out into the living room and sat it on the table in front of them, he reached for his young lover, pulling Ianto close and wrapping long, thin arms around Ianto's waist.

"What's bothering you, my love?" he asked softly, lips brushing against Ianto's cheek.

Now was the time. Now was when he should ask the Doctor his questions, tell his lover how he was feeling. But Ianto couldn't do it. For some reason, every fiber of his being shrank from posing questions that would undoubtedly upset the Doctor -- and would give him answers to some of those questions that would more than likely upset him.

"Nothing," he murmured, turning his head to rest his cheek against the Doctor's shoulder. "I'm just restless. A bit stir crazy, I think. I need to get up, get out, get on with things."

He could hear the Doctor's soft sigh, the susurrus of breath against his skin feeling warm and intimate. He knew that his lover probably didn't believe his words -- but Ianto was also fairly sure that the Doctor was just as eager to avoid giving out reluctant answers to difficult questions as he was to ask for them.

So. This left them at some sort of impasse. Ianto only hoped that it was one they could manage to cross over at some point.

"We have to speak of it sometime." The Doctor's voice was low, barely a whisper in the quiet room.

Ianto nodded, slowly, reluctantly. "Not now," he whispered, his own voice almost a plea. Dammit, he was nearly on the verge of tears again. "Please, not now."

The Time Lord's lips were on his skin, those elegant, long-fingered hands threading gently through his hair. "No, my love, not until you're ready," he whispered, laying his cheek against Ianto's hair and closing his eyes.

"He's a monster," Ianto whispered, closing his eyes against the images that were playing through his mind.

Not images of his own rape and torture at the hands of the Master. No, he was seeing the Doctor in his place -- and imagining the Time Lord enduring more horrific brutality than he would ever have to face.

"Yes," the Doctor agreed, not elaborating on the admission.

"I'm terrified of him," Ianto admitted, the words slipping almost unbidden from his tongue. "I'm bloody terrified of what he could do."

He didn't let the rest of the sentence he'd meant to speak slip out -- "... to you." But he didn't need to. The Doctor was more than able to fill in the spaces between the words that Ianto didn't say.

The Doctor's arms tightened around him, the Time Lord's words low and barely audible. "So am I, my love. So am I."

Ianto curled into the Doctor's embrace, the Gallifreyan's words echoing in his mind. He'd never thought he would see the Doctor in fear of anything or anyone.

When the Doctor finally spoke, his voice was more shaky than Ianto had ever heard it.

"He frightens me more than anything ever has."

The knowledge of that fear wasn't a comforting thought.

***

Next story in series - Guilt Runs Red