Title: Slow Motion
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 1, 10_hurt_comfort
Prompt: 1, Injured
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.

***

When had everything spiralled out of control? Ianto wished he had an answer to that question, but there was no way he could. It had all happened so quickly, in what to him was a flash of light.

Events had seemed to move in slow motion when they happened. The screams, the sense of danger, the Doctor's mad dash towards the trouble instead of away from it. Wlel, he should have expected that, shouldn't he? He knew that his lover wasn't going to let people be harmed if he could help it.

Not for the first time, he wanted to curse the Doctor's selflessness -- but he couldn't. That aspect of the Time Lord that made him feel that he was expendable, that sent him rushing in to help others, was only one of the many things that made Ianto love him so deeply. He wouldn't change it, not for any reason.

But where had it gotten them? Here, back in the 21st century, with the Doctor lying still and pale in their bed in his flat after a frantic trip to Torchwood. Owen had looked the unconscious Time Lord over and said that he would be all right, but Ianto wasn't taking any chances.

He was going to keep the Doctor here until he was absolutely sure that the Gallifreyan had recovered from his injuries, even though Owen had said that they weren't serious. Ianto had rounded on the other man when he'd made that statement, his hands clenched into fists, nearly screaming at the young doctor.

"A building nearly fell on him, Owen! Because he thought nothing of the risks to himself and was trying to get people out! How can you say that he'll just 'be all right' and leave it at that? He's injured, can't you see that? I could have lost him!"

"But you didn't lose him," Owen had pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Ianto. "He's going to be all right, Ianto. Yes, he's injured, but not mortally wounded. He isn't going to regenerate, and he's certainly not going to die."

Jack had broken into the conversation then, laying a hand on Ianto's shoulder and tellling him that he would help get the Doctor to Ianto's flat. He'd accepted the help, turning abruptly away from Owen without another word and following Jack out of the room.

He felt bad about that now -- after all, Owen had been concerned for the Doctor's welfare. But he didn't seem to understand just what the Time Lord meant to Ianto, and how frantic he'd been when he had thought that the Doctor might be more badly injured than he was.

How could Owen know what his feelings were? He'd never felt this way about anyone. Ianto sighed, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. That wasn't fair. Owen had been in love before; he knew that. But with a person he'd only known for a few days. That was far, far different from his relationship with the Doctor. It was like comparing apples and oranges, really.

Ianto glanced over at the bed, his eyes fixing on the Doctor's pale face. The Time Lord was breathing deeply, obviously deep in the healing sleep that Owen said he needed. There didn't seem to be any sort of immediate need for Ianto do do anything -- but he felt that he had to.

That had always been there, from the first time he'd met the Time Lord. That irresistible urge to touch him, to have some sort of physical contact. And that feeling only grew stronger as time went on.

He got up from the chair, moving to the bed and sitting down. He hoped that the slight movement wouldn't wake the Doctor; he held his breath, watching the Time Lord's face, but he showed no sign of waking; his breathing remained slow and steady, his chest rising and falling at an even rate.

Ianto reached out to take one small, delicate hand in his own, twining their fingers together. It never ceased to amaze him how fragile the Doctor seemed; but underneath that deceptively delicate appearance was a will of steel. This man was the strongest person Ianto had ever known -- or was ever likely to meet.

And yet .... he was unbelievably fragile in some ways. Ianto thought of the nights that the Doctor had awakened in a cold sweat, that he'd held the Gallifreyan until he'd fallen asleep again; nights that the Time Lord had awakened in tears, or cried in his sleep.

Yes, he was fragile in ways that didn't necessarily show on the outside. And Ianto was sure that he had always kept that side of himself hidden, tucked away from the rest of the world. Even Jack might not have seen it, despite how close he and the Doctor had been at one point.

Well, Jack had probably seen that side of the Doctor -- or at least part of it. Ianto felt a momentary pang of jealousy; he hated to think that anyone else could know the Doctor as well as he did, hated to think that the Time Lord had ever given his hearts -- or this particular body -- to anyone else.

He sighed again, shaking his head and feeling annoyed with himself. That was a silly attitude to take. Of course he wasn't the first person who the Doctor had loved. The man was over 900 years old, after all. Ianto couldn't expect him to have waited patiently for him to come along through all of those centuries.

And after all, he had no need to feel jealous of anyone. He was the man who the Doctor was mated with. The man who was with the Time Lord for the rest of their lives. They were soul mates. Him, not anyone else. He was the man who the Doctor had chosen.

Ianto let his gaze rest lovingly on the Time Lord's still, pale features. What would he have done if the Doctor had been taken from him? He didn't want to answer that question. It was too frightening to contemplate.

Losing this man wasn't an option. He wasn't going to let it happen; he would protect the Doctor with his life. Of course, he knew that the Time Lord felt the same way about him -- and that thought gave him more strength and courage than he'd ever imagined he could have.

He heaved a sigh, closing his eyes. Yes, the Doctor was injured, but he was going to be all right, as Owen had said. They'd stay here for a while, and when the Time Lord felt ready, they would go back out into time and space. It was what the Doctor was meant to do -- and what Ianto was meant for, as well, now that he'd found his soul mate.

This was what -- and who -- he'd been meant for. And he had no regrets. No matter what happened, he wouldn't give up this man and the bond that they'd forged. Not for any reason.

His fingers tightened around the hand in his own, and he took a deep breath. He'd have to go back to Torchwood in the morning and apologize to Owen. He'd reacted badly, and the other man hadn't deserved to have Ianto's fear for the Doctor transferred onto him in that way.

He'd been lucky this time. He hadn't lost the man he loved. But what lay ahead of them? What would happen in the future? Ianto wished he knew, but there was no way to find out. And besides .... it was better not to know. Better for his sanity.

He didn't need to know what the future held. All he needed to know was that the Doctor was here with him, and safe from any danger for the present moment. There was no telling how long that safety would last, of course; the Doctor would inevitably throw himself into danger again, at some point. But it was enough. For now, it would have to be.

***