A/N: Hi! So . . . This is my first endeavor into Torchwood fan fiction. Let me know how I did on characterization.

Enjoy!

disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Torchwood.

Phantom Pain

Jack had the Weevil cornered in an alley. He grinned. There was no way it could escape.

By the looks of it, the Weevil knew it too. It snarled, twisting the features of its grotesque face. It made no attempt to escape or attack, though.

"That's it." Jack murmured. "Easy. This will be over soon."

Jack couldn't wait to finally be finished. Not that he didn't enjoy Weevil hunting, because he did, but there were other things he liked better. Since meeting a certain Welshman, the post-hunt victory shag that followed was one of those things. God, the things that man could do with his tongue . . .

Speaking of said Welshman . . .

"Sir?" a voice whispered through the comms. "Have you found it?"

Jack kept his eyes trained on the Weevil as he spoke. "Yeah, I've got it cornered." Jack's hand drifted to his pocket for the Weevil spray. "Could you bring the SUV around?"

"Of course, sir."

"Oh, and Ianto?"

"Yes?"

"Once we're finished here, I'm-" Jack's lewd comment was cut off as the Weevil abrupt by lunged forward. "Shit!"

The Weevil sank its teeth into Jack's neck. The world exploded in pain. Jack couldn't stop the cry of pain escaping his lips. "Agh!"

"Jack?" Ianto sounded worried. That was nice. Warmth blossomed in Jack's heart. Ianto was worried for him. The feeling didn't alleviate the pain enough for Jack to form a response, though.

The warm blood gushing out of his skin helped a little, though.

"Jack? Jack!" Ianto's voice rose with panic.

Jack's vision blurred. He could feel his blood on his skin, warm and sticky. The world was fading. He was dying. Again.

His team would be unsettled for a few days. They all dealt with his multiple deaths in their own ways.

Gwen would mother him. Once he had made the mistake of confiding in her about what coming back to life felt like. He knew she meant well, but it was irritating to have her hovering, treating him like glass.

Tosh would ask if he was alright. Then she would carry on as if nothing had happened. He figured it was her way of compensating for Gwen's behavior.

Owen would freak. So far, he was having the hardest time coming to terms with Jack's inability to stay dead. Jack figured it was because of Owen's medical training. The doctor had been taught that people who died stayed dead. It didn't help that Owen had only learned of Jack's ability after killing the captain.

Then there was Ianto. He would act like he was pissed. He would say he was getting tired of making up stories for the dry cleaners. One could only bring in bloodstained clothes so many times before arousing suspicion. Ianto had once complained about having to change dry cleaners at least three times since joining Torchwood Three. Once he proposed a solution for his dilemma: Jack would have to stop dying so frequently. After that, Jack could tell Ianto's behavior was a façade to hide his worry.

"Jack! Jack!" Ianto's voice was getting closer, and Jack could hear shoes pounding into the pavement.

Bang! Jack heard a gunshot.

The Weevil went limp, mouth still attached to Jack's neck. Jack couldn't muster the strength to pry the mouth off. The weight was pulling too much at his shredded skin. God, it hurt. Jack sank to the ground. His vision was blurring.

"Jack? Cariad?" Ianto's voice was softer now, but much closer.

"Ianto." Jack murmured. Or he meant to, anyway. The pain was too much. His attempt to speak came out garbled and unintelligible.

"Sh." Ianto murmured in Jack's ear. "Don't speak. Save your breath."

Jack felt the teeth move as Ianto pried the Weevil off. Jack screamed. He couldn't help it. It hurt, dammit.

"Sh, cariad." Ianto's voice was low and soothing. "It's alright now."

It wouldn't be alright. Jack had lost too much blood. He was going to die. He would be out for a while, too. His blood would have to replenish before he revived.

Jack felt Ianto's arms wrap around him.

Through the haze of the pain, Jack was aware Ianto was half carrying, half dragging Jack away from the alley.

Jack fought to stay in the land of the living, but it was a futile battle.

Before long, the world was reduced to nothing but pain.

Then nothing at all . . .

Jack woke up with Ianto's arms wrapped around him in a strong embrace.

After the initial struggle of returning to life, Jack relaxed back into Ianto's arms.

"Welcome back, sir." Ianto's Welsh vowels were a warm welcome.

This was why Ianto was special. Jack's immortality had inevitably, invariably driven a wedge between Jack and all his past lovers (except for John Hart, but they had a whole host of other issues). But not this time. Not with Ianto. Ianto knew about Jack's immortality, and miraculously he didn't resent Jack for it. He accepted and embraced it as part of Jack. And Jack, despite knowing he would one day lose Ianto - it was inevitable - was finding it impossible to maintain any kind of distance between himself and his young lover.

There was so much about Ianto that Jack loved. Ianto's accent. His dry humor. His coffee. How he purposely wore red shirts just because he knew Jack liked them. The rare moments when Ianto would respond to Jack's flirting during work hours. How the professional demeanor gave way to a passionate lover the moment the Hub cleared out. How he never ceased to surprise Jack. Jack loved it all.

One of the things Jack loved most about Ianto was that the Welshman was always there when Jack returned from the dead. Ever since Ianto learned of Jack's immortality, he was always present when Jack revived. Jack had never had anyone so supportive and accepting of his inability to stay dead, and he loved it.

He loved Ianto.

"How long?" asked Jack. He couldn't deal with this revelation right now. Later. He would find a roof and deal with this later.

"Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. Long enough to get you and the Weevil back to the SUV." Ianto paused. "The Weevil's dead. I had to kill it."

Jack lingered a moment longer. Then it was time to get back to work. "We should probably get the Weevil back to the Hub." Jack sat up.

"We have time. That Weevil isn't going anywhere." murmured Ianto, a gleam in his eyes.

Jack didn't waste another second. He leaned forward and kissed Ianto. The kiss was gentle, and far more inimate than any previous kiss they had shared. Jack tried to pour all the words he never said into it.

Soon though, the kiss deepened into something hungrier, and full of lust. Gentle intimacy gave was to hard, fiery passion. Hands roamed, slipping under shirts and into trousers.

It was quite a while before they took the Weevil back to the Hub.

God, this was perfect. Jack was going to keep it that way for as long as he could.

"Shit." That was all Jack managed to say before the Judoon fired its gun. Death seemed a bit extreme for theft. Well . . . spacecraft theft, but theft all the same. He spent days working out a scam that would leave everyone alive. Besides, being vaporized took a hell of a long time to revive from.

The Judoon pulled the trigger and fired.

Then there was nothing . . .

For a second . . .

For eternity . . .

Nothing . . .

Then pain. The awful pain that clawed at his soul as he was dragged back into the land of the living.

"Sir?" a voice inquired. "Sir? Are you alright?" A hand wrapped around Jack's.

Jack smiled. Ianto was amazing. Instead of turning away in fear or disgust, he was making sure Jack was okay.

"Yeah. I think so. You should probably kiss me better." Jack leered. "You know, just to be on the safe side."

Jack waited for Ianto to respond, probably with a sarcastic remark. Although there had been this one time . . .

Jack's smile morphed into a frown when his words were answered with silence. Something was off.

Jack opened his eyes and sat up.

There was a young girl. Her skin was tinted violet. She was staring at Jack with concerned eyes. Her cheeks were a shade darker than the rest of her skin.

Ianto was no where to be seen.

Jack took in his surroundings. He was in an alley. It took only a second to see he wasn't on earth. Too many alien life forms strutting about in broad daylight for that.

"It you're alright, I'll just . . . go." the girl stammered, before walking away.

Where was Ianto?

Then, like water bursting through a dam, Jack remembered all over again.

All around them, sirens were going off as the building went into lockdown. Everyone in the building was going to die. None of that mattered anymore to Jack. All that mattered to him was saving the dying man he cradled in his arms.

"I love you."

"Don't." Don't say goodbye. Don't leave. "Ianto? Ianto? Ianto, stay with me. Ianto stay with me, please. Stay with me! Stay with me please!" He was begging now, not that it would do any good.

"Hey. It was good. Yeah?"

"Yeah." It was the best.

"Don't forget me."

"Never could." How could he? It was impossible.

"A thousand years' time? You won't remember me."

"Yes I will. I promise. I will." As if there was any doubt about that.

Ianto's eyes closed. His body went limp in Jack's arms.

"Ianto?" His voice was barely more than a whisper. He couldn't manage more than that. "Don't go. Don't leave me, please. Please don't."

He knew begging wouldn't help, but he couldn't help it.

"You will die, and tomorrow your people will deliver the children."

He glared at the tank for a moment. The tank that housed one of the fucking aliens that killed Ianto.

He let his gaze lower back to Ianto. Ianto was the only thing that mattered now.

He kissed Ianto's dead, unresponsive lips. Goodbye Ianto. I love you.

He felt the virus weakening his body. He was going to die again.

Part of him wouldn't come back this time. Chances were it never would.

Jack gasped. He felt the sharp pain tear through his heart as he recalled Ianto's death all over again.

Ianto Jones. How did you ever think I would forget you? Jack wondered.

Eighty years had passed since that day in Thames House, yet there were still times when Jack forgot Ianto was dead, only to have his heart break all over again as soon as he remembered.

Sometimes it was little things. Jack would make a horribly inappropriate comment and expect to be scolded. He would make a decision and ask for a second opinion. He would flirt and wait for a sarcastic reply. He would hear a Welsh accent, and think for one shining moment that his Welshman was there. He would wake up in bed and imagine the scent of the best damn coffee in the entire universe.

It was times like these that hurt the worst. Returning from the dead, expecting to wake in Ianto's arms, only to remember his lover was dead.

Ianto had died, and he had taken part of Jack with him. Jack doubted he would ever feel whole again.

God, would it ever stop hurting?

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