Disclaimer: Everything recognisable to either Torchwood or the Whoniverse belongs to Russell T. Davies and the BBC. Had I to owned any of the characters borrowed from the Whoniverse, I'd have given them to Steven Moffat by now.
The best thing about the whole trip was that the windows were blacked out.
While it did stop people from the outside looking in, for this particular vehicle it also stopped the occupants of the van from seeing out. And Ianto didn't want to see out. His freedom was zipping past from urban jungle to expanses of fields and rolling hills, giving way to the intimidating and imposing silhouette of the gaol and carrying him closer and closer to his fate.
The judge's voice still echoed through the courtroom in his memory: guilty, six years imprisonment. Less for good behaviour.
Ianto had honestly expected a 'not guilty' verdict - he was, after all, innocent - so having the jury glare at him so disdainfully and vote him into prison was like a punch in the gut. No - worse than that. A knee in the balls.
His sister, Rhiannon , had shrieked like a banshee as Yvonne Hartman, the Bitch in Black, had smirked and made her way out of the courtroom. Ianto had stared, watching her walk out through the doors as he stood frozen in the dock, a guard beside him to cuff his wrists and lead him to the van waiting outside.
Ianto climbed in and sagged in his seat as the engine grumbled into life and the cabin lurched with the momentum of them moving forward. The guard had accompanied him into the back, since only one out of the three possible travellers that day had actually been convicted. Ianto sighed and put his head in his hands. His cuffed hands.
The guard with him - supervising him - was called Officer Williams , though he insisted on 'Rhys'. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, trying to make conversation and 'ease him into the way of things', as Rhys put it. Ianto wasn't really in the mood to chat, and didn't really respond to much of he was saying beyond grunts and 'mmm's. In the end, it was Rhys talking about his future housemates that brought him into conversation.
"... you're going to C Wing, which is probably both our noisiest and quietest lot. They have their ups and downs, y'know?"
"How so?" asked Ianto, and Rhys looked a little startled at gaining a response.
"They're ... sorta split down the middle. Two groups, and each group is like a family, and they sorta ... hate each other. A lot. They go through civil phases, and everything's fine. But then something little will start off a while new feud and ... well ... it can get ugly."
Ianto stared at him wide-eyed. "You're throwing me into a gang war?"
"No, no, no!" Rhys assured him nervously. "It's more ... Montagues and Capulets."
Ianto's eyes went a little wider. "They spent most of the play killing each other!"
"You'll be fine!" Rhys assured him. "Things are a little quiet at the moment, so you can let your group pick you and just ... fit in until things get ... aggravated. You'll be fine," he repeated. "As long as you know what you're going into."
"What am I going into?" asked Ianto.
"It's like Mods and Rockers. You can tell who's side who is on from how they're wearing the uniform. Neat and tidy: Saxon. Top half of the jumpsuit unfastened slung low: Torchwood."
"Which gang gets in the least trouble?"
"They're as bad as each other, really," sighed Rhys. "But whichever one picks you will look after you. You look like a quiet one, so they'll guard you close."
"What if neither of them pick me?" Ianto worried.
"Don't worry - they both need numbers. It's all playground politics really, an no ones been seriously hurt for months now."
Ianto's eyes went wide again, and Rhys laughed nervously again. They fell quiet for a while, listening to the rumble of the van moving further and further away from the city.
"Who should I watch out for, would you think?"
"If you're a Saxon, look out for Alex , Hart and Handsome Jack . If you're Torchwood, look out for Saxon , Unit and Greyhound. And Lumic. He may be in a chair, but he's dangerous."
Rhys fell silent again, probably realising he wasn't being as reassuring as he hoped he was. He could probably see that Ianto wasn't really 'prison' material, and most probably pitied him. For another half-hour, they travelled on quietly, not speaking to each other. Finally, Ianto could hear the sound of gravel crunching under wheels and the voices of security guards checking credentials. The back door was flung open to reveal two formidable women in guard uniform.
Rhys climbed out first, Ianto close, behind, and was lead into a room with a wooden counter for the women to stand behind as well as a medical examination table and screen in the corner. There was a dark haired doctor stood by it, waiting for him.
The women assumed their positions behind the counter, one of them filling out forms as Rhys introduced Ianto via his prisoner number and a sharp, "Jones, I." He shuddered, as he was introduced to Doctor Milligan and told to get behind the screen and take off his clothes. He was poked, prodded and strip-searched (inside and out) to make sure he wasn't smuggling anything in and to check he was fit and healthy. Satisfied, Ianto was handed a grey jumpsuit, a white t-shirt, y-fronts, socks and trainers. He pulled them all on disdainfully.
The female officers were named Officer Guppy and Officer Holroyd , and they held themselves with the distinct air of 'do not cross me'. Paperwork complete, Guppy turned to Rhys. "Take him through, Williams," she commanded, and Rhys took Ianto's upper arm and guided him out of the room, giving him a clear plastic bag containing toiletries, socks, a change of clothes and a towel.
He was led through gates and reinforced doors until they finally found themselves stood on the edge of a large room filled with tables and chairs - a canteen - with a high, vaulted ceiling and balconies and walkways lining the outer sides, leading to the cells. The stairs were metal and rickety-looking, and the army of grey jumpsuit filling the hall was occasionally punctured by the black and white of the guards.
A hush went around the room, and a silence fell like a blanket on all but two tables. The occupants of the two tables muttered between themselves, and Ianto could see the difference between the two halves of the hall they represented clearly. The ones on the right were Saxons, clearly, with their close-cut hair, jumpsuits fastened to the neck and generally neater and smarter appearance. Torchwood, on the left hand side, seemed to lounge rather than sit, with their jumpsuits unbuttoned to the waist or the top-halves slung down with the sleeves tied around their middles as Rhys had described.
A couple around the Torchwood table were giving him doubtful looks, and Ianto could see they were probably going to hand him - already looking quite neat, and already with close-cut hair - over to the Saxons, whom Rhys seemed to hint was full of the more insane and dangerous types.
Eventually, the muttering on the left hand table stopped, a grey-haired man shrugging at the tanned man beside him who had turned so that Ianto couldn't really see his face. He glanced over at the Saxon table, and the man who seemed in charge there stood. "Name?" was all he asked.
Rhys cleared his throat. "This is Jones. Ianto Jones. You play nice, boys, okay? Make him feel welcome?"
The Saxon nodded. "I'm Harry Saxon. C'mere and meet the lads," he offered, indicating a vacant seat opposite him and a little to the right.
Ianto was about to step towards them, when he glanced back at the Torchwood table. The tanned man had turned around, and instantly Ianto knew that this was definitely 'Handsome Jack'. He didn't need to be bicurious to know that this was most probably the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. He nearly kicked himself: he wasn't at home now. He shouldn't think things like that any more.
His eyes were drawn to Handsome Jack's face, and their gazes locked. The other man's gaze was blue and piercing, weighing him up, assessing him. Handsome Jack turned back to the grey-haired man beside him, whom Ianto assumed must be 'Alex', and said something quietly as Ianto began walking over to the Saxon table, trying to shake off the shiver he'd suddenly felt run through him.
A deep, Scottish accented voice called out, "There's more room at our table," and Ianto froze, turning back. The grey-haired man had spoken, making the offer, and Handsome Jack had turned again to watch proceedings. The corners of his mouth quirked into an almost-smirk as Ianto caught him looking at him, and Ianto bit his lip, unsure what to do. He glanced over to Rhys, who looked just as confused as he was.
Apparently, no one had been offered a place in both of the two gangs before, and now Ianto was landed with a choice that could wind him up in the hospital wing. Fucking wonderful, Ianto groaned inwardly.
"Our table's closer," offered Saxon. There was a titter of laughter around him.
"Our table is worth the extra meter," shrugged Alex.
"Our table is better dressed," countered Saxon, and there was a murmur of discontent from the Torchwood side.
Rhys cleared his throat. "Now, now, boys. No need to arg-"
A voice from the back of the Torchwood side called out: "Our table won't stab you in the showers and leave you to bleed to death!"
"I told you," Saxon smirked, speaking loud so all could hear. "Greg cut his own femoral artery."
"Like hell he did!" replied the voice.
"Our table," continued Saxon. "will take care of you and stop one of that lot getting you alone in the showers."
"OOooooooo!" sang a bunch of voices, and another murmur of malcontent ran through Torchwood.
"We already assured him it's your lot that are less shower-friendly," replied Alex, coolly, his accent thickening slightly. Handsome Jack spoke with him again, and he nodded.
"What do you want him for anyway?" snapped Saxon. "Look at him: he's clearly one of us."
Alex turned to Handsome Jack again, and they had a whispered and harried discussion. A blue-eyed man with dark curls leant forward to volunteer an opinion. Eventually, Handsome Jack threw his hands up in exasperation, and stood as Saxon had done.
"Maybe we want to save him from the lies, deceit and back-stabbing that is synonymous with your lot."
Ianto was surprised - when the man spoke, his accent was American, his voice deep and lilting. He supposed it made the 'tan and perfect teeth' thing less out-of-place. He glanced between the two tables again, unsure.
"Kid," called Handsome Jack. "Seriously. They'll do you no good."
Ianto searched the faces of the - what? The Torchies? - watching him, and then turned to the Saxons. He spotted a young man, about his age, sat quite close to Saxon and staring at him almost imploringly. Ianto made eye-contact, and the young man shook his head almost minutely, almost as if he was begging Ianto not to sit with them.
Ianto took a deep breath. If there were more psychos on Saxon's team, that's where he wanted to be. Then the psychos wouldn't come after him. But the Torchies seemed ... happier. More relaxed. Alex discussed with his people - Saxon went ahead and made his own decisions.
"I ... I don't know ..." Ianto eventually mumbled, and raised his eyes to meet that blue gaze again. Handsome Jack smiled softly, reassuringly, stepping away from his chair and a little closer to Ianto. Ianto could have sworn those blue eyes slid down to his lips and back up again, and he realised why Handsome Jack was so keen to have him on side.
Before Ianto could register what his legs were doing, he was backing up a little. He collided straight into the solid form of Saxon, who had left his own seat to come and stand behind him, creating a stand off.
"Back off, Harkness," Saxon murmured, threatening.
Handsome Jack - Harkness - drew himself up to his full height. "Why? What do you want with him?" he challenged, repeating Saxon's question from earlier. Two Torchies - both with dark hair, and both skinny - came up behind him and flanked him either side, wingmen to stop a fight.
"Leave it, Jack," one of them murmured, cockney by the sounds of it.
"Rip him to pieces," the other one goaded, blue-eyed, high-cheekboned and curly-haired - the one who had leaned into the hushed discussions moments ago. He, too was handsome, if a little more weathered than Jack. Shorter, but just as threatening.
And Jack was, now, threatening. His kind demeanour was lost, and he was spoiling for a fight, his shoulders and jaw set tight as he glowered at Saxon. Ianto found himself cowering sightly, even though the rage wasn't directed at him.
The guards were watching from the sidelines, apparently watching happily and not really going to do anything about the impending fight.
Ianto sighed. He was going to have to end this before it started - by picking a side. Brilliant - and whichever side he didn't pick would have a vendetta against him for not picking it. From what he could tell, Torchwood seemed like the braun. He wouldn't mind hiding behind them, he decided - especially when the braun was, on the whole, much better looking than the possible brains.
With a sigh, he set his plastic bag of things down opposite Alex on the Torchwood table, and Alex gave him an almost fatherly smile. "Jack, Owen , John!" he called, and the three men facing Saxon turned to their names, though Ianto had yet to figure which was Owen and which was John.
Saxon shot him a death glare before returning to his seat, muttering darkly with those around him. Handsome Jack didn't return to the table, and instead gave Ianto a curt nod before turning on his heel and making his way towards the metal stairs. Ianto watched his progress a little way further than would most likely be normal, but was brought back to his current surroundings by the return of Owen and John - in anonymous order - to the table.
"I'm Alex," began Alex. "this is Owen, and this is John," he said, indicating the cockney then the handsome, blue-eyed one. "Captain Jack has ... buggered off somewhere. This is Archie, another Scot, and that's everyone else ..." He made a gesture to encompass the entire Torchwood side of the building. "Saxon and Unit - real name Oduya - are the ones to avoid. And don't get in the way of Lumic. He may be in a chair, but he's one evil motherfucker. Your cell mate can explain the rest."
"Who ... who is my cell mate?" asked Ianto.
"Jack wanted him," huffed Owen. "Stick him with him."
"Er - he already has a cell mate?" pointed out John.
"You're leaving in two months anyway," shrugged Owen. "At least like this he'll definitely still be with Torchwood rather than a Saxon. Unless, of course, there's a special and specific reason why you'd want to stay in Jack's cell, John?" asked Owen, a sly sideways glance and smile finding their way to John.
John glowered at him in response.
"That's sorted then," Alex grinned, oblivious to what Ianto could quite clearly see being passed between Owen and John. Was something going on between John and Jack? They didn't seem ... 'The' type. Maybe it was one-sided. Ianto hoped it was one-sided, though he wasn't going to admit to himself just yet why. "John - you can move in with Owen. I think six weeks is too long for the good doctor to have his own cell. Ianto can go under Jack's wing."
"... more like under Jack ..." muttered John darkly, getting up from his seat and heading off in the direction Handsome Jack had left in. Ianto felt himself pink. He had no intention of ... of ... definitely not. Well, maybe. He had always been curious about ... but no. Not in here.
Owen looked taken aback. "I was only joking, Alex!"
Alex shrugged. "I think it'd be good for them."
"John's leaving in-"
"I know. But those two really have pushed it beyond the pail. Screws were planning on splitting them up anyway."
There was an electronic buzz through the PA, and Ianto jumped slightly, much to the amusement of the people around him.
"C'mon," sighed Owen. "Playtime, New Boy."
Ianto followed Alex and Owen as they got up and began to traipse with the rest of the crowd towards re-enforced double doors and metal gates at the back of the canteen. He was a little jostled by the crowd, and at one point would have been lost if Owen hadn't reached out and pulled him back in by his sleeve.
There was a loud bang of a door slamming overhead, and the crowd paused to look up to the topmost walkway along the cells. Nothing much happened for a few moments, then John appeared, marching nonchalantly down the row to another cell.
"Jack didn't take the news well, then," Owen muttered to Alex, just within Ianto's earshot.
"He'll get over it," shrugged Alex.
Owen bit his lip, folding his arms as the crowd began to move again. "Put the kid in my cell, Alex. Really," he tried.
"Jack wanted him - you said so yourself."
"I didn't think you'd split him and John up though - they're a pair. They go together. I mean ... you wouldn't split up Holmes and Watson, would you?"
"Jack and John are troublemakers," sighed Alex. "I think splitting them up will do Torchwood some good."
"Are you going to ban them from playing with each other, too?" asked Owen, sarcasm dripping through his tone.
"Splitting them up gives them less chance to plot and scheme and stew together."
"You're incurring the wrath of His Harkness," sighed Owen as they approached the exit to the exercise yard. "We're all going to suffer for it. Especially the new kid."
Ianto gulped so loudly that Owen turned and gave him a sharp look.
"What did you hear?" he demanded.
"Erm ... the birds swaying and the trees singing?" he offered, unsure what words were tumbling out of his mouth.
Owen blinked, then narrowed his eyes, then smiled. "That's about right."
Ianto yelped as he was suddenly shoved, stumbling and falling to his knees. There was cajoling and laughter, that died a little too suddenly for Ianto's comfort. He hissed as his knees burned, and looked up to find the crowd had stopped to watch again, just inside the building. Ianto found that Handsome Jack had returned from his cell, and had been making his way through the crowd when Ianto had been shoved. He was now squared up to a Saxon twice the size he was, though he could glower with twice the intimidating force despite smaller stature.
Owen was helping Ianto back to his feet, then going to stand by Jack. John appeared at his other side, and Ianto watched with the rest of the crowd as Alex groaned quietly.
"In a hurry, Oduya?" growled Jack.
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
"What for? The exercise yard is gonna be there for the next seven years," shrugged Jack, and Oduya twitched. "What's the rush?"
"Unit!" barked a voice, and the crowd parted as Harry Saxon pushed his way through. "Ah ... Handsome Jack. Causing trouble again, are we?"
Jack gave a laugh, and turned to Saxon. Oduya (or 'Unit') was now staring down John, and eventually slunk back into the crowd. "I wanna make it clear, Saxon," Jack began. "Jones is under my protection, and if any of your guys touch him they're gonna find themselves-"
"Harkness!" barked a female voice, and John audibly groaned. Officers Guppy and Holroyd appeared, looking menacing. "What's the hold up?"
Owen made a disgruntled sound. "Saxons started it. They pushed whatsisface ... New Boy ... and Jack was marking his ground. You didn't write up Davies for it yesterday," he shrugged.
"Davies doesn't have the reputation to be written up," snapped Guppy.
"Oh what?" snapped John, and he and Jack exchanged dark looks. Guppy was already pulling out her notebook, uncapping her pen and thinking about what to write. Saxons were smirking to each other, and Officer Guppy gave them a pointed look.
"I don't know what you boys are smirking at," she glared, and their smiles vanished under her gaze. She scribbled some more in her notebook. "One more warning, Harkness, and you're in isolation. Understand? Same for you, Hart; Harper. This is a word-of-mouth warning to you, Jones."
Ianto felt his mouth open and close a few times. In the end he just settled on a 'Yes, ma'am'.
"Carry on!" Guppy commanded, and the crowd began moving again. Owen tried to say something to Jack, but he strode away and pushed himself forcefully through the crowd, not looking at Ianto when he passed him and disappearing into the throng.
Being jostled, he started moving again towards the exit, aware that he'd lost Alex and couldn't see Owen or John anywhere. He decided to bear left, into the thick of the Torchwood crowd, consciously unbuttoning the front of his jumpsuit a little way to try and fit in a bit better and look less like the opposing team.
A hand grabbed his sleeve, and he spun, shaking it off and finding Owen and John behind him.
"Don't wander off, New Boy. You'll get yourself cornered," John half sighed, half chastised.
"Stop calling me that," scowled Ianto.
"But .. you are the New Boy ..." pointed out Owen.
John smirked. "What would you prefer to be called?"
"Ianto will do fine. Two syllables - pretty easy. If you can't quite manage that, there's always 'Jones' ..."
John cocked an eyebrow, then pulled on Owen's sleeve like a child. "I like Eye-Candy. Owen, can we call him 'Eye-Candy'?"
"You can, John. I'm not feeling so inclined."
Ianto knew his face was probably contorted with disgust. "You can't call me that!"
John's expression turned serious. "You gave us cheek - you expect us to let that go?"
"You were calling me 'New Boy'."
"Because you are the New Boy. Or ... rather ... were. Now, you're Eye-Candy."
Ianto snapped his mouth shut and turned on his heel, and John and Owen made similar exasperated sounds.
"Don't wander off!" John repeated, pulling him back by his wrist. They were finally outside and the crowd was dispersing as everyone grouped off to do whatever it is they did while outside. "Owen: keep your eye on him. I'll find Jack."
Owen was about to protest, but John darted off. "C'mon then, Wales. Let's find the others."
"Wales?" Ianto repeated.
"Do you prefer Eye-Candy?"
"Why don't you just call me 'Ianto'? It's my name."
"For the first couple of weeks we'll try and find a nickname for you. Something that highlights an attribute, or something that brings attention to a flaw to show you're not frightened of it."
"What's your nickname?"
"I'm just Doctor Harper. Or 'The Good Doctor'."
Owen gave a small laugh, then pointed to a patch of grass by an asphalt basketball court where a bunch of Torchwood men were lounging either on a picnic bench or the grass itself. Others were on the court, stood in a huddle as they decided teams to play. Owen lead him towards the table, but there was only room enough for one to sit so Ianto was told to sit on the grass.
He ran the blades through his fingers, little buttercups sprouting around him, and he watched as the basketball game began. He didn't really understand the rules, and now that he was sat still the chilly wind was going straight to his bones. Quickly he got bored, and instead started listening to what was going on and being said around him. Most of it was about the game, or gossip he didn't yet understand, so he leant back on his hands to get a better view of the entire exercise yard.
He quickly spotted Saxon, sat at a table and benches on the other side, and as he moved his gaze he saw John and Handsome Jack sat on the grass by one of the shorter edges of the basketball court. Jack both sat with one knee bent and one leg extended before him, looking relaxed as he chatted with a cross-legged John, habitually shredding blades of grass between his fingers as he said something that made Jack laugh.
Ianto looked down at his hands, then raised his head to look up at the endless sky above him just as a red and black butterfly decided to flutter just out of reach. Ianto watched it as it flew a hairpin, doubling back on itself and gliding towards him. He leant back a little to stop its wings brushing his nose.
"Too late in the season for you," he muttered to it as it drifted on, looping and heading upwards, the diving and soaring. Ianto tracked its progress, following it with his eyes and head until it disappeared. His focus shifted, and he could see Jack and John playfighting, punching each other's arms and stomachs as they sat on the grass and laughing.
Ianto sighed. He wished he had a friend. Scanning his surroundings again, he realised he was the only one who seemed to be sat on his own and felt even lonelier. He also noticed a group of Saxons stood in a huddle, muttering to one another and casting dark looks in the direction of Jack and John, who were obliviously chatting and laughing again. Ianto didn't have to be a genius to work out they were planning something, and something that would most likely get Jack and John in trouble, or at least be rather unpleasant for them.
Glancing up at Owen, who was absorbed in conversation with Alex at the table, Ianto started to get up. No one stopped him, so he made his way over to where Jack and John were sitting. They abruptly stopped chatting, and Ianto felt awkward, asking if he could sit.
"Sure," shrugged John, and Ianto sat next to him.
"Those Saxons over there," Ianto nodded in the direction of the group. "They're planning something for you. See how they keep looking over, thinking they're being subtle?"
Jack and John both managed surreptitious glances, moments before a couple of the group decided to make their way towards them.
"C'mon," sighed Jack, speaking more to John than Ianto, and he started getting up. John and Ianto followed suit, and Jack lead them over to the bench where Alex, Owen and a few others were sat. Owen looked up at them as they approached, then down at the patch of grass where Ianto was supposed to be sat, then back up at them. Chancing a quick glance behind, Ianto could see that the Saxons had retreated back to their gaggle now that Jack and John were with the rest of Torchwood.
Ianto was a little annoyed to see that when Jack and John approached the table, two spaces were vacated for them. He hesitated a moment, then sat on the grass where he had been before. He hugged his knees and stared into space, then was drawn back sharply by the sound of Jack addressing him.
"Ianto - sit here," he indicated as another inmate with a shaven head and plaited beard - three times the size of Ianto himself - was told to make room for him. Grumbling, he got up and went off somewhere else. Ianto slid onto the bench opposite Jack, and stared down at the wood nervously.
He listened quietly to the conversation around him, though he didn't really take any of it in. He felt eyes burning into him, and he looked up to find Handsome Jack watching him. Their gazes locked, and after a few seconds Jack looked away, blinking a little and once again concentrating on what Alex was saying.
Ianto bit his lip, and returned to staring at the wood grain. He completely missed John's eyes flicking between him and Jack, jaw set, fists clenched and lips pressed into a tense, taught line.
Well, his first day hadn't been so bad.
He hadn't exactly made any friends, and had gained about fifty or so enemies, but at least his cellmate wasn't afraid to stand up to them on his behalf. Ianto liked to fight his own intellectual battles, but if someone was willing to take a punch for him, he wasn't going to turn them down.
Ianto had yet to actually have a conversation with his new cellmate, but figured he had plenty of time to get to know him. It was coming up to nine 'o' clock, and any moment now the guards were going to come and lock them in together.
"You're on the bottom bunk," was the first thing Jack said to him when he'd finally made his way up all the stairs to the top row of cells. John had already collected up his few belongings and moved further down the row into Owen's cell.
"Okay," mumbled Ianto, and then, "I'm sorry about you getting split up with your friend."
"Screws were gonna do it anyway," Jack muttered, turning to the little sink and getting his toothpaste and toothbrush out. "You gonna unpack?" he asked.
"Er - what space is mine?"
"Anywhere my stuff isn't."
Ianto nodded, and opened his clear plastic bag of toiletries, towels and change of clothes and shoes. His sister would bring the few items he'd be allowed to have from the outside world when she came to visit. He put his things away neatly and quietly, casting his eyes quickly over Jack's things. He didn't have much - a little tin box, a CD player and three CDs (Glenn Miller, Del Shannon and Scott Walker), but they somehow managed to look scruffy where they sat on the shelf. Ianto had no idea how he did it.
He quietly and awkwardly started pulling on his prison-issue pyjamas, and sat on his bed and hugged his knees. After a moment, he started pulling at the covers and moving the pillows from one end to the other.
"Woahh woah ... what are you doing?" asked Jack, and Ianto froze mid-rearrange.
"I ... I prefer to sleep with the wall on my other side," he explained.
"Never sleep with your head towards the door. If a Saxon sees you he'll pour boiling water over you - and wouldn't you rather it was your feet than your face?"
Ianto felt his eyes widen, and Jack saw it, his expression changing to slightly amused.
Needless to say, Ianto started putting his pillows back.
The sound of metal doors slamming below as the prison officers locked each cell individually was growing closer, and Jack sighed heavily. "I'll be back in a minute," he muttered, and left Ianto on his own without waiting for a reply. He left the cell and turned right, and Ianto knew that's where Owen and John's cell was situated.
Five minutes later, he came back, looking sullen, drawn, and very upset, a novel in his hand.
"Are you okay?" Ianto asked cautiously.
"Why? What does it matter to you?" Jack snapped, hauling himself up onto his bed with the book.
Ianto said nothing, wriggling his toes under his thin blanket. "It's cold," he tried, hoping to strike up some form of conversation.
"You have no idea," replied Jack irritably, noisily turning pages.
"What book are you reading?"
Jack was interrupted from answering when a young blond guard appeared in the doorway. "Lights out in an hour!" he called jovially. "Night, you two."
"Night, Andy," grumbled Jack.
"Goodnight," Ianto replied politely as the door was hauled shut and the locks clunked home. He yawned, though it was far too early to go to sleep yet. He decided to leave Jack be, since he seemed pissed off at him still, despite none of it being his fault, and turned over onto his side and tried to find a comfortable position. He was vaguely aware of Jack occasionally turning pages, of the sound of 'Andy' locking up the remaining cells and the sound of the distant motorway outside. "Night, Jack," he mumbled, yawning again.
He couldn't help it, and fell asleep, briefly aware of Jack's reply before unconsciousness took him.