Warnings: slight Doctor-bashing
Genre: Domestic, Fluff
Summary: See title!
Commentary: Sometimes, you just need something WAFFul. This fits the bill pretty well.
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Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Interlude 1 (immediately after first line break in ch. 7) | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Interlude 2 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14a | Chapter 14b | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Interlude 3.1 (takes place before the ending of ch. 16) | Interlude 3.2 (takes place before the ending of ch. 16) | Chapter 17a | Chapter 17b | Chapter 18a | Chapter 18b | Chapter 19a | Chapter 19b | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | ...
Her mobile rang late at night as they were about to go to bed. She answered and held the device up to her ear, as Rhys paused in the doorway to their bedroom, attracted by the sound. When she heard the message Andy had for her on the other end, she turned to look at him in shock.
"I'll be there in a minute," she said immediately, and flipped the phone shut while still staring at it.
"What is it?" Rhys asked, coming over and looking at her in concern.
Gwen slowly dragged her eyes up to his face. "Ianto's been hurt. They've got him at St Helen's, I have to go there, with Jack out of town..." Jack was away for a few days, a UNIT conference and several meetings with the Queen's treasurers requiring that he leave his team alone. He wasn't due back for two days, and that was the reason why Gwen had got the phone call.
-- SEQUEL --
Title: Is Affecting (Present Continious)
Summary: He was dealing with it, he was giving it a place. He just wasn't sure he liked the place it was taking up for itself.
Warnings: Small spoilers for Exit Wounds.
Comment or Excerpt from fic: This is the sequel to it, and it's Ianto dealing with the aftermath of the attack. It's still sad - but I think it works.
It was awkward, keeping his bandaged hand out from under the spray. The bruises and cuts that hadn't required stitches stung, and made showers in general an unpleasant experience. However, he stubbornly resisted baths or washing up at the sink, refusing to let his routine be altered by something trivial.
Except it wasn't really trivial.
He suppressed the thought and continued his morning ritual, carefully scraping the razor over his cheek. The pain caused by the injuries was secondary to what had happened, secondary to the memories. He knew, when he contemplated it, that it wasn't the violence or the aggression that made him wake up trembling some nights. It had been a week now; he shouldn't still be doing that.
It wasn't that he was ignoring it, or underestimating the emotional toll it was taking, or that he wanted to pretend that he was stronger than he actually was. It was that he didn't want to let it get to him like this; his struggle was with the change, how from one moment to the next it had stopped being ordinary, and started being extraordinary. How the aftermath had changed from straightforward to the raised eyebrows on Andy Davidson's face, the hushed words of the nurse, the quiver of Gwen's lip.