Title: Quiet Desperation
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: R
Table: 1, 10_hurt_comfort
Prompt: 7, Desperation
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.

***

The Doctor looked down at the young man in his arms, his own tears almost blinding him. "Ianto, hang on," he whispered, hoping that his lover could hear him. "We're not far from the Hub. Owen's going to patch you up, and you're going to be all right."

Ianto didn't stir; the Time Lord had no idea if he'd actually heard the words or not. "Ianto, you can't fall asleep on me," he said, his voice a little louder than it had been. "You have to stay awake. Come on, love, talk to me."

Those blue-grey eyes opened, just a bit, seeming like dark pools in his pale face. His lips moved slightly, whispering something that was barely audible; the Doctor had to bend down with his ear close to those lips to hear the words.

"I'm sorry .... to .... put you .... through this," Ianto murmured, the words harsh and choked. "Sorry .... I couldn't .... be what you .... needed me to be."

The Doctor shook his head vehemently, clutching Ianto even more tightly. "Ianto, don't say that. You're everything I need you to be, and more. You're the love of my life, you know that. And you're not leaving me!"

The last words came out on a sob; he could barely hold his tears back. No, he couldn't let himself break down now. He had to be strong -- for Ianto. He had to make sure that they got the young man to a place where he could be taken care of before he let himself go.

Ianto wasn't going to die, he told himself, repeating the words over and over like a mantra. They were going to get him to the Hub, and Owen was going to take care of him. The Doctor would take him home and look after him. He would be all right.

What else could he think? He wasn't going to let himself contemplate the worst. A life without Ianto .... that would be no life at all. He would spend the rest of his days as a shell of the person he had been, wandering aimlessly with nothing to light his way.

"Jack, can't you go any faster?" He almost shouted the words to the other man, in spite of the fact that they seemed to be passing everything on the road and going far too fast as it was. But this was a matter of life and death, and speed was of the essence.

"I'm going as fast as I can, Doctor!" Jack's voice held the same panic that his own words did; he knew that the other man was feeling just as desperate as he was.

"Maybe it would be better to take him to a hospital," the Doctor said, fighting to keep his voice calm as he looked down at his young lover again. Ianto was struggling to speak again, his breath rasping in his throat.

"No, don't talk," the Time Lord murmured, placing gentle fingers on Ianto's lips. "Just don't go to sleep, Ianto. Focus on me, focus on what I'm saying. I'm here, love, and we're getting you to somewhere that you'll be taken care of."

Ianto nodded, the movement seeming to take a great deal of effort. The Doctor cursed as the SUV made a sharp turn, nearly careening around a corner with the siren blaring. What in the nine hells was Jack doing?

Before he could ask, the immortal fired a few words back at him. "I'm getting us to the nearest hospital. Owen's going to meet us there. It's closer than the Hub, and there'll be better facilities in case Ianto needs them."

The Doctor nodded, his hearts feeling as though they were lodged in his throat, choking back the words he wanted to say. But there was really nothing to say, was there? All he could do was keep murmuring encouraging words to Ianto -- and hope.

They would be there in just a few moments. Ianto's rbeathing was sounding more and more ragged, as though he was having difficulty drawing air into his lungs.

The SUV came to a screeching halt, almost throwing the Doctor against the side and jolting Ianto in his arms. The Time Lord bit back a curse; that was certainly going to help the bleeding, wasn't it? But he knew it probably couldn't be helped; Jack was doing his best.

The back doors flew open, three men jumping into the vehicle and bending over Ianto. At first, the Doctor didn't want to let him go; it was only when he realized that one of the men was Owen that he reluctantly loosened his grip on his young lover.

"We'll take care of him, Doctor," Owen told him, resting a hand on the Time Lord's shoulder for just a moment. "I know it looks bad, but we'll do our best. We're not going to let anyone die today. I can't make any promises, but --"

"But you'll try. I know," the Doctor whispered, looking up at Owen and managing a trembling smile. He didn't feel like smiling; all he wanted to do was cry, scream, break down and let his emotions come rushing to the surface.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't let himself go, as much as he wanted to -- as much as he needed to. He had to hold on to that facade of strength, push down his fears and panic and keep himself as calm as possible.

Having a breakdown wouldn't do Ianto any good. He had to be there for the man he loved, had to be a lifeline for him, a tower of strength for him to lean on.

But sometimes that was so hard. Especially when the man he loved was hovering between life and death, and there was no certainty of any sort that he would live. It was hard to stay calm when the one life that was most important to him was hanging by a thread.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor climbed out of the SUV, watching as the stretcher that Ianto had been laid on was wheeled into the hospital and vanished. He couldn't do anything more; Ianto's life was in the hands of those doctors who would work to save him.

"You need to get out of those clothes," Jack said from somewhere behind him. "You've got blood all over you, and that's not going to feel too good when it dries. I'll see if I can find you soemthing to wear while we're here."

The Doctor was almost ready to turn around and fire off some choice words at the immortal; how could Jack think about what he was wearing at a time like this? But his common sense told him that the other man was only trying to be practical -- and to keep him calm.

He swallowed back his irritation and his fear, managing to nod and speak in a constrained voice. "All right. I'll .... I'll be in the waiting room. I'm not leaving, Jack. Don't try to talk me into going back to the Hub. I'm staying here until I know he's all right."

"I don't think the bullet hit anything vital," Jack murmured, resting his hand on the Time Lord's shoulder. "He wouldn't have made it this far if it had."

The Doctor swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in his throat that kept him from speaking -- and threatened to send tears coursing down his cheeks. No breaking down. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't, and he was sticking to that vow.

"Just .... hope, Jack," he finally managed to whisper, each word struggling to force its way past the lump in his throat. "Hope that he'll be all right. Hope that fate won't take him away from me. I don't think I can deal with that happening."

Jack squeezed his shoulder, a bit harder than was called for, before he headed inside to see about finding the Doctor some clean clothes. All that the Time Lord could do was follow him, going into the hospital waiting room and sitting down.

There was nothing left to do but cling to the hope that his love would be all right. The Doctor looked up at the clock, making a note of the time.

He would sit here for as long as he had to, letting his own quiet desperation get him through whatever might happen. He had no other choice; he wasn't going to leave this hospital until he was sure of what his future would be.

Everything hinged on what was happening behind those doors at this moment, he thought, fixing his gaze on the double doors that hid the operating room from the people anxiously waiting outside. He wasn't going to look away from them until he had some kind of answer -- for better or for worse.

***