Not that Jack would have noticed. He snarled softly, and the pain kept growing. Shortly after Ianto left, the water pooling around Jack's feet at the drain turned pink and then red with blood.
It kept being washed down the drain, which was just fantastic as far as clean up was concerned, but it was definitely, definitely, not a good sign for Jack.
Especially not standing on wet tile.
When he felt himself get dizzy he made himself turn off the water, and get out of the shower. He trailed blood from the bathroom to the bedroom, where he climbed onto the bed. One knee up, face in the pillow, skin pale.
This wasn't going to get better. It just kept getting worse. His clue that it was time to do something about it wasn't the blood, it wasn't that he was hemorraging.
It was that death sounded better than the constant, shredding, agony ripping through his guts.