SilverFish by a_silver_story | Chapter 10
Title: SilverFish
Chapter 10/??
Author a_silver_story
Genre: Alternate Universe
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Jack and Ianto in prison - with plot, and lots and lots of smut. Sorry, I can't help it.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Torchwood Index
First Chapter
Ianto paced around the room, the sound of the chain binding him to the radiator clinking in time with his footsteps. He was somewhere on the top floor, and out of the window he could see the hospital car park and a couple of other small buildings dotted around. The hospital was laid out in department buildings like a campus, with walkways interconnecting them and a few noticeboards consisting of maps at intervals.
As Jack's condition was 'critical', he'd been allowed to have Ianto with him at the hospital for 'moral support', but Jack had been put to sleep pretty much the moment he'd gotten there so that the doctors could do their work. Some medics had been dispatched to the prison to deal with the lesser cases there, and last Ianto had heard Owen and the other convicts who had fallen ill the worst were to be detained overnight in a secure ward.
Ianto had been given this bare room he was currently pacing on the top floor to sleep in, and he'd been left alone there for nearly two hours now. He was waiting for an orderly who had gone to bring him bedding, leaving him to stew in his own thoughts.
There was a sharp knock on the door, and Ianto smiled politely at the new empty-handed orderly waiting in the doorway.
“Downstairs wants you to stop pacing,” he told Ianto briskly, an air of force-politeness seeping into his tone.
“I'll stop pacing when someone fetches the bedding I'm waiting for,” Ianto replied, mirroring his guest's passive-aggressive and forced politeness while indicating the bare bed.
The orderly's jaw tensed. “I'll go and check up on that for you, sir,” he said, and turned and left without waiting for a reply.
Ianto sighed, and settled himself onto the mattress to save whomever was downstairs the racket he was apparently causing with his pacing. He rubbed his forehead, wishing he wasn't chained to the bed and able to nip down the hallway to check on Jack. Turning onto his side, he curled up and folded his arms.
When he'd been here after his blow to the head, he'd had a television in his room and he'd been offered a multitude of books. There was nothing in this room aside from the bed, a pair of curtains and a shelf that acted as a bedside table with a lamp on it and an empty jug. He felt properly like 'a convict', and while nurses and doctors had ethical codes, he was beginning to assume orderlies did not.
Waiting, Ianto began to count the links of the fine chain that cuffed him to the bed. He reached forty-five as the orderly returned with the bedding and quickly left it on the foot of the mattress for Ianto to deal with himself. He didn't overly mind much. He was more than adept.
“Hang on,” Ianto called after the orderly, watching as he warily paused. “How's Captain Harkness?” he asked.
The only reply was a shrug.
“Can you find out for me, then, please?” he asked.
The orderly left again and Ianto sighed heavily, dressing his bed and waiting. A few more minutes later, he was told that Captain Harkness was 'fine' and 'doing well' but needed plenty of rest.
With that, Ianto was left for the rest of the night to brood and sleep.
~*~*~*~
As Ianto was led into Jack's room, a young nurse was exiting, giggling and flushed a little pink. Jack was sat in his bed looking very pleased with himself and not the least bit ill, a plate of hospital food half-empty on his bed tray and a fork in his hand as he worked his way through it. There was a heart monitor and a drip with three bags dangling from it, but other than that and his blown pupils he seemed like himself.
“Ianto!” he grinned through a mouthful of macaroni cheese. “Where've you been all morning?”
“Waiting for someone to untie me from the bed,” Ianto grumbled, then realised what he'd said when Jack's grin turned into a smirk.
“Aww,” Jack patronised. “And I've got a nurse and two student nurses fussing over me non-stop …”
“You get all the fun,” sulked Ianto. “Even when someone tries to murder you, you still get all the fun.”
“You can have my pudding if you want it.”
Ianto thanked him and accepted the little plate covered with clingfilm, containing a chocolate fudge cake and plastic spork. He unwrapped it carefully and delicately dug in as Jack began devouring his macaroni cheese again.
When both their plates were empty, Ianto chanced a glance at the on-duty officer guarding the door. He reached out and squeezed Jack's hand comfortingly. “How are you?” he asked quietly.
Jack pointed at the foot of the bed. “Read my chart,” he said.
Ianto shook his head. “No … I mean … How are you? Really?”
Jack shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I feel much better. The doctor says I need to stay here for a few days to be observed and medicated and stuff. They want weekly check-ins after that so that they can deduce whether or not I'm developing any kidney stones or other problems.”
Ianto nodded. “So … what's in your drip?”
“Magical stuff that stops me feeling anything bad,” smiled Jack. “I'm guessing more than saline, anyway. And look - I have a button.” He showed Ianto what looked like a remote control on a wire with only one large, red button on it. “I tried it a bit too much earlier,” he admitted. “The nurse had me disconnected for a while.”
“Do you know what happened to you?” Ianto asked. “Has anyone explained anything?”
Jack shook his head. “No idea - Owen's been taken to give a statement, though.”
“They want one from me, too.”
“Has anyone told you what happened?” Jack asked, pushing his empty plate away from him.
Ianto shook his head and stretched back into his chair. “Only that you were poisoned; that everyone was poisoned. I reckon you were the primary target, though. The rest would have been a collateral bonus.”
Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I don't think Adam knew what he did. Not really,” he said.
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because Adam's not got it in him. I think he was told it was a laxative, but really it was something else. Whomever is really responsible would want to be as far away from the crime as possible. Adam is a scapegoat.”
Ianto 'mm'd' despondently and played with the metal cuff on his wrist as a comfortable silence fell. After a while, there was a quick rap on the door, and they raised their heads to see two police officers, an Inspector and a doctor in the doorway.
“Ianto Jones?” asked the Inspector, and Ianto nodded at her. “We need you to take your statement now.”
Ianto nodded again, and showed her the cuff on his hand. One of the officers flanking her stepped forward and unlocked it, before cuffing his hands again with standard handcuffs and leading him out. He wondered for a moment where they were taking him, ignoring the looks he was getting from the other patients, and soon realised he was being led out of the building.
“Aren't we just gonna go to a quiet room or something?” he asked the Inspector as the doors of the main entrance slid open.
“I'm afraid we're going to have to take you to the station.”
“Why? I worked as a legal secretary for Smith & Saxon for two-”
“Call it an informal questioning,” the Inspector snipped.
“Questioning? Do I need my solicitor?”
“Informal, Mr. Jones.”
“I demand representation.”
A lump caught in his throat as they approached the parked police car, memories of the day he'd first been arrested surfacing, that sense of foreboding at being pushed into the back seat of one of those cars returning and making him feel queasy and tight-chested, like he could barely breathe.
Once inside, the locks clicked and the car began to pull away. Ianto was sat in the back next to one of the police officers, the other officer driving and the Inspector in the passenger seat, glancing up at him in her sun shade mirror.
“Erm …” Ianto frowned as they took a left at the hospital exit. “The police station was the other way?” he reminded the driver.
“Roadworks are blocking that way this weekend,” he explained with a grunt. “Sit back,” he added.
Ianto sighed and leaned back in his seat. He knew where he was, and he knew there was another way to get to the station from here, but he hadn't seen any signs the day before indicating road works. As he thought about it, the driver took another 'wrong' turning.
“No - you should have gone that way,” he pointed. “There's a roundabout coming up, you can double back on yourself.”
His companions in the car laughed.
“They said he'd probably be like this,” sighed the Inspector. She twisted back in her chair to smirk at him, her blue eyes glittering amusedly.
Ianto swallowed, looking from her face to that of the officer sat next to him. With a jolt he realised what they were and what they weren't, and instantly tried tugging the handle of the door with his cuffed hands to get it open. Arms encircled him from behind, one snaking around his neck as the other began to lift a white cloth to cover his mouth and nose. He struggled and kicked out, bringing his elbow back and managing to wind the 'officer' that had hold of him.
The Inspector leaned back to join the little fight, Ianto once again in the grip of the officer. He struggled again in vain, but before he could get the upper hand that white cloth that smelled oh-so-nice was pressed firmly against his face, darkness creeping into the sides of his vision and his eyes becoming too heavy to hold open as sleep overwhelmed him.
In a few seconds, he was limp and unconscious in the back of the speeding police car.
~*~*~*~
“Well, Captain,” the doctor began, moving aside as Ianto was led from the room. “I have the results. Your Dr. Harper was correct: oxalic acid poisoning. A very concentrated dose.”
“Oxalic acid?”
“Commonly found in rhubarb, but not in this concentration. My best guess is somebody extracted the acid over a long period of time from the prison vegetable patch for the sole purpose of creating a poison - and I mean a long time. A reaction like this for a man your stature would probably mean you consumed around twenty-five grams of oxalic acid from one bowl of food alone. You're very lucky, Captain Harkness.”
“I certainly feel it.” Jack stretched out in his bed, cracking his back loudly. “So … When can I go … 'back', Doctor …?”
“Houghton. I'm sticking to my original assessment of 'a few days observation', I'm afraid,” replied Dr. Houghton.
“Oh. Can I have more pudding, then?” Jack asked with a cheeky smile.
“Ask your nurse,” Houghton told him with a mock-exasperated eye-roll that made Jack think of Ianto.
The doctor left, and Jack used his remote to turn on the TV. It was all Bargain Hunt and Cash in the Attic, and he grimaced at the bad daytime TV. He couldn't believe he was finding himself wishing he was back in prison - at least he could wander around without feeling like part of his wrist was ripping out. He'd been cuffed to his bed that morning, and not in the way he liked.
He was finally tucking into a pudding when a middle-aged man in a suit, a younger man in jeans and dress shirt and two police officers entered the room with a slight knock. Their eyes scanned the room, then landed on Jack accusingly.
“Where's Ianto Jones?” demanded the middle-aged one.
Jack's eyes narrowed. “A female Inspector and two PCs took him about an hour ago to take a statement.”
The two non-uniformed cops looked at each other.
“I'm Detective Inspector Doncaster; this is my Constable, DC Besengai. We're leading the investigation into the attempted murder of yourself, Captain Harkness. We came to obtain Mr. Jones' statement - us, nobody else.”
Jack felt his whole body turn rigid. He stared at the Inspector, his jaw clenching. “The two officers were both male, from five-nine to six feet, Caucasian. One had red hair, the other had dark brown. The female inspector never gave a name, but she was about five-seven, blue eyes, blonde hair. Really curly.” The Inspector and his Constable were still narrowing their eyes at him. Jack clapped his hands together. “Hospital CCTV,” he said loudly. “Find them!”
~*~*~*~
Ianto felt like he was trying to raise himself up from the dead. Every part of him felt heavy and sluggish, and his head was pounding. There was a multitude of colours dancing around his right eye, and in a tumult of memories the last few moments before he fell unconscious came back to him.
The space he was in was tiny. He'd been folded up so that he'd fit inside it, curled up foetally on his side. There wasn't that much space above him, either - enough room to move his elbow, perhaps - and a claustrophobia he never knew he had began to take hold. It felt like all around him was solid stone, and there was no way he could dig or claw his way through that.
He tried to search for any suggestion of sunlight, but it was just black. He thought about calling out, but then wondered who he could possibly call for. He settled on looking for a way out himself first, trying to discern which was the 'entrance' side to this tiny box and attempting to get his way through it.
He tapped the 'side' in front of him first, then the 'floor'. They both sounded the same. With great difficulty, he managed to manoeuvre himself so that he could tap the wall behind him. It sounded the same as the others - and then made him jump violently and knock his head so hard he could see prominent colours in his right eye when somebody knocked back.
Ianto was just wondering if he should knock again, when more knocking began to draw steadily closer above him. He quickly realised that this knocking was in fact footsteps, possibly from heeled shoes. Closing his eyes and straining his ears, he calmed his breathing to try and hear properly. The footsteps paused, and there was a very quiet, muffled voice from above him.
Deciding he was probably underground, Ianto began to feeling panicky again.
He'd been kidnapped, drugged … and now he'd been buried alive.
Unfortunately, judging from the returned knocks from the wall behind him, he was most likely not the only one, either.
Taking a deep, quiet breath, he settled himself as still as possible to wait, wondering what might possibly happen next.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index
Chapter 10/??
Author a_silver_story
Genre: Alternate Universe
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Jack and Ianto in prison - with plot, and lots and lots of smut. Sorry, I can't help it.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Torchwood Index
First Chapter
Ianto paced around the room, the sound of the chain binding him to the radiator clinking in time with his footsteps. He was somewhere on the top floor, and out of the window he could see the hospital car park and a couple of other small buildings dotted around. The hospital was laid out in department buildings like a campus, with walkways interconnecting them and a few noticeboards consisting of maps at intervals.
As Jack's condition was 'critical', he'd been allowed to have Ianto with him at the hospital for 'moral support', but Jack had been put to sleep pretty much the moment he'd gotten there so that the doctors could do their work. Some medics had been dispatched to the prison to deal with the lesser cases there, and last Ianto had heard Owen and the other convicts who had fallen ill the worst were to be detained overnight in a secure ward.
Ianto had been given this bare room he was currently pacing on the top floor to sleep in, and he'd been left alone there for nearly two hours now. He was waiting for an orderly who had gone to bring him bedding, leaving him to stew in his own thoughts.
There was a sharp knock on the door, and Ianto smiled politely at the new empty-handed orderly waiting in the doorway.
“Downstairs wants you to stop pacing,” he told Ianto briskly, an air of force-politeness seeping into his tone.
“I'll stop pacing when someone fetches the bedding I'm waiting for,” Ianto replied, mirroring his guest's passive-aggressive and forced politeness while indicating the bare bed.
The orderly's jaw tensed. “I'll go and check up on that for you, sir,” he said, and turned and left without waiting for a reply.
Ianto sighed, and settled himself onto the mattress to save whomever was downstairs the racket he was apparently causing with his pacing. He rubbed his forehead, wishing he wasn't chained to the bed and able to nip down the hallway to check on Jack. Turning onto his side, he curled up and folded his arms.
When he'd been here after his blow to the head, he'd had a television in his room and he'd been offered a multitude of books. There was nothing in this room aside from the bed, a pair of curtains and a shelf that acted as a bedside table with a lamp on it and an empty jug. He felt properly like 'a convict', and while nurses and doctors had ethical codes, he was beginning to assume orderlies did not.
Waiting, Ianto began to count the links of the fine chain that cuffed him to the bed. He reached forty-five as the orderly returned with the bedding and quickly left it on the foot of the mattress for Ianto to deal with himself. He didn't overly mind much. He was more than adept.
“Hang on,” Ianto called after the orderly, watching as he warily paused. “How's Captain Harkness?” he asked.
The only reply was a shrug.
“Can you find out for me, then, please?” he asked.
The orderly left again and Ianto sighed heavily, dressing his bed and waiting. A few more minutes later, he was told that Captain Harkness was 'fine' and 'doing well' but needed plenty of rest.
With that, Ianto was left for the rest of the night to brood and sleep.
~*~*~*~
As Ianto was led into Jack's room, a young nurse was exiting, giggling and flushed a little pink. Jack was sat in his bed looking very pleased with himself and not the least bit ill, a plate of hospital food half-empty on his bed tray and a fork in his hand as he worked his way through it. There was a heart monitor and a drip with three bags dangling from it, but other than that and his blown pupils he seemed like himself.
“Ianto!” he grinned through a mouthful of macaroni cheese. “Where've you been all morning?”
“Waiting for someone to untie me from the bed,” Ianto grumbled, then realised what he'd said when Jack's grin turned into a smirk.
“Aww,” Jack patronised. “And I've got a nurse and two student nurses fussing over me non-stop …”
“You get all the fun,” sulked Ianto. “Even when someone tries to murder you, you still get all the fun.”
“You can have my pudding if you want it.”
Ianto thanked him and accepted the little plate covered with clingfilm, containing a chocolate fudge cake and plastic spork. He unwrapped it carefully and delicately dug in as Jack began devouring his macaroni cheese again.
When both their plates were empty, Ianto chanced a glance at the on-duty officer guarding the door. He reached out and squeezed Jack's hand comfortingly. “How are you?” he asked quietly.
Jack pointed at the foot of the bed. “Read my chart,” he said.
Ianto shook his head. “No … I mean … How are you? Really?”
Jack shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I feel much better. The doctor says I need to stay here for a few days to be observed and medicated and stuff. They want weekly check-ins after that so that they can deduce whether or not I'm developing any kidney stones or other problems.”
Ianto nodded. “So … what's in your drip?”
“Magical stuff that stops me feeling anything bad,” smiled Jack. “I'm guessing more than saline, anyway. And look - I have a button.” He showed Ianto what looked like a remote control on a wire with only one large, red button on it. “I tried it a bit too much earlier,” he admitted. “The nurse had me disconnected for a while.”
“Do you know what happened to you?” Ianto asked. “Has anyone explained anything?”
Jack shook his head. “No idea - Owen's been taken to give a statement, though.”
“They want one from me, too.”
“Has anyone told you what happened?” Jack asked, pushing his empty plate away from him.
Ianto shook his head and stretched back into his chair. “Only that you were poisoned; that everyone was poisoned. I reckon you were the primary target, though. The rest would have been a collateral bonus.”
Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I don't think Adam knew what he did. Not really,” he said.
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because Adam's not got it in him. I think he was told it was a laxative, but really it was something else. Whomever is really responsible would want to be as far away from the crime as possible. Adam is a scapegoat.”
Ianto 'mm'd' despondently and played with the metal cuff on his wrist as a comfortable silence fell. After a while, there was a quick rap on the door, and they raised their heads to see two police officers, an Inspector and a doctor in the doorway.
“Ianto Jones?” asked the Inspector, and Ianto nodded at her. “We need you to take your statement now.”
Ianto nodded again, and showed her the cuff on his hand. One of the officers flanking her stepped forward and unlocked it, before cuffing his hands again with standard handcuffs and leading him out. He wondered for a moment where they were taking him, ignoring the looks he was getting from the other patients, and soon realised he was being led out of the building.
“Aren't we just gonna go to a quiet room or something?” he asked the Inspector as the doors of the main entrance slid open.
“I'm afraid we're going to have to take you to the station.”
“Why? I worked as a legal secretary for Smith & Saxon for two-”
“Call it an informal questioning,” the Inspector snipped.
“Questioning? Do I need my solicitor?”
“Informal, Mr. Jones.”
“I demand representation.”
A lump caught in his throat as they approached the parked police car, memories of the day he'd first been arrested surfacing, that sense of foreboding at being pushed into the back seat of one of those cars returning and making him feel queasy and tight-chested, like he could barely breathe.
Once inside, the locks clicked and the car began to pull away. Ianto was sat in the back next to one of the police officers, the other officer driving and the Inspector in the passenger seat, glancing up at him in her sun shade mirror.
“Erm …” Ianto frowned as they took a left at the hospital exit. “The police station was the other way?” he reminded the driver.
“Roadworks are blocking that way this weekend,” he explained with a grunt. “Sit back,” he added.
Ianto sighed and leaned back in his seat. He knew where he was, and he knew there was another way to get to the station from here, but he hadn't seen any signs the day before indicating road works. As he thought about it, the driver took another 'wrong' turning.
“No - you should have gone that way,” he pointed. “There's a roundabout coming up, you can double back on yourself.”
His companions in the car laughed.
“They said he'd probably be like this,” sighed the Inspector. She twisted back in her chair to smirk at him, her blue eyes glittering amusedly.
Ianto swallowed, looking from her face to that of the officer sat next to him. With a jolt he realised what they were and what they weren't, and instantly tried tugging the handle of the door with his cuffed hands to get it open. Arms encircled him from behind, one snaking around his neck as the other began to lift a white cloth to cover his mouth and nose. He struggled and kicked out, bringing his elbow back and managing to wind the 'officer' that had hold of him.
The Inspector leaned back to join the little fight, Ianto once again in the grip of the officer. He struggled again in vain, but before he could get the upper hand that white cloth that smelled oh-so-nice was pressed firmly against his face, darkness creeping into the sides of his vision and his eyes becoming too heavy to hold open as sleep overwhelmed him.
In a few seconds, he was limp and unconscious in the back of the speeding police car.
~*~*~*~
“Well, Captain,” the doctor began, moving aside as Ianto was led from the room. “I have the results. Your Dr. Harper was correct: oxalic acid poisoning. A very concentrated dose.”
“Oxalic acid?”
“Commonly found in rhubarb, but not in this concentration. My best guess is somebody extracted the acid over a long period of time from the prison vegetable patch for the sole purpose of creating a poison - and I mean a long time. A reaction like this for a man your stature would probably mean you consumed around twenty-five grams of oxalic acid from one bowl of food alone. You're very lucky, Captain Harkness.”
“I certainly feel it.” Jack stretched out in his bed, cracking his back loudly. “So … When can I go … 'back', Doctor …?”
“Houghton. I'm sticking to my original assessment of 'a few days observation', I'm afraid,” replied Dr. Houghton.
“Oh. Can I have more pudding, then?” Jack asked with a cheeky smile.
“Ask your nurse,” Houghton told him with a mock-exasperated eye-roll that made Jack think of Ianto.
The doctor left, and Jack used his remote to turn on the TV. It was all Bargain Hunt and Cash in the Attic, and he grimaced at the bad daytime TV. He couldn't believe he was finding himself wishing he was back in prison - at least he could wander around without feeling like part of his wrist was ripping out. He'd been cuffed to his bed that morning, and not in the way he liked.
He was finally tucking into a pudding when a middle-aged man in a suit, a younger man in jeans and dress shirt and two police officers entered the room with a slight knock. Their eyes scanned the room, then landed on Jack accusingly.
“Where's Ianto Jones?” demanded the middle-aged one.
Jack's eyes narrowed. “A female Inspector and two PCs took him about an hour ago to take a statement.”
The two non-uniformed cops looked at each other.
“I'm Detective Inspector Doncaster; this is my Constable, DC Besengai. We're leading the investigation into the attempted murder of yourself, Captain Harkness. We came to obtain Mr. Jones' statement - us, nobody else.”
Jack felt his whole body turn rigid. He stared at the Inspector, his jaw clenching. “The two officers were both male, from five-nine to six feet, Caucasian. One had red hair, the other had dark brown. The female inspector never gave a name, but she was about five-seven, blue eyes, blonde hair. Really curly.” The Inspector and his Constable were still narrowing their eyes at him. Jack clapped his hands together. “Hospital CCTV,” he said loudly. “Find them!”
~*~*~*~
Ianto felt like he was trying to raise himself up from the dead. Every part of him felt heavy and sluggish, and his head was pounding. There was a multitude of colours dancing around his right eye, and in a tumult of memories the last few moments before he fell unconscious came back to him.
The space he was in was tiny. He'd been folded up so that he'd fit inside it, curled up foetally on his side. There wasn't that much space above him, either - enough room to move his elbow, perhaps - and a claustrophobia he never knew he had began to take hold. It felt like all around him was solid stone, and there was no way he could dig or claw his way through that.
He tried to search for any suggestion of sunlight, but it was just black. He thought about calling out, but then wondered who he could possibly call for. He settled on looking for a way out himself first, trying to discern which was the 'entrance' side to this tiny box and attempting to get his way through it.
He tapped the 'side' in front of him first, then the 'floor'. They both sounded the same. With great difficulty, he managed to manoeuvre himself so that he could tap the wall behind him. It sounded the same as the others - and then made him jump violently and knock his head so hard he could see prominent colours in his right eye when somebody knocked back.
Ianto was just wondering if he should knock again, when more knocking began to draw steadily closer above him. He quickly realised that this knocking was in fact footsteps, possibly from heeled shoes. Closing his eyes and straining his ears, he calmed his breathing to try and hear properly. The footsteps paused, and there was a very quiet, muffled voice from above him.
Deciding he was probably underground, Ianto began to feeling panicky again.
He'd been kidnapped, drugged … and now he'd been buried alive.
Unfortunately, judging from the returned knocks from the wall behind him, he was most likely not the only one, either.
Taking a deep, quiet breath, he settled himself as still as possible to wait, wondering what might possibly happen next.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index