Jack and Ianto's Foray Into Troy 5/11
Crossover: Torchwood/The Trojan War
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Achilles/Patroclus, Hector/Andromache, others mentioned
Word Count: Oh, goodness knows.
Number of Parts: 10 plus an Epilogue
Summary: The heroes battle it out, but tragedy is on the horizon.
Note: Guys...please don't lynch me for what I did here! I will make it okay, I promise!
I also made myself cry writing this part.
Part 5
Jack sat up as he saw Patroclus approaching the Myrmidon ships. He moved to ask him what was going on, but the minute he saw the tears on his face, he knew that he didn’t have to ask that at all.
“How bad is it?” he asked instead, catching his hand.
“It’s bad,” answered Patroclus with a weary sigh. “There is almost no one standing. All our best men are injured; Agamemnon, Odysseus - even Diomedes!” He looked so woebegone that Jack’s tender heart was touched and he pulled him into his arms, trying not to wish that he could be holding Ianto like that. He spoke softly, letting the words fly over towards the distraught man.
“Go to Achilles,” he said, kissing his forehead. “Tell him what’s happening; if nothing else, he will listen to you.” Gently rubbing his hand, he followed him to where Achilles was sat at his ship. When he saw them, the leader moved swiftly and caught Patroclus’ shoulders, a concerned look in his eyes that didn’t match the words that, to Jack, almost sounded uncaring and hard. Patroclus was anything but a ‘little girl’! He couldn’t deny the stupidity of some of the Greeks, though.
When the news of what was happening had been relayed, Patroclus took a moment to wipe his eyes, before he finally made his famous proposal. He suggested that he return to the battle himself, only wearing Achilles’ armour.
Watching them, Jack couldn’t help but feel a bit shocked. He had known that this was going to happen, obviously, but he had never anticipated the pang of guilt that swept through him. It was then that he realised that Patroclus reminded him so much of Ianto; the only man who could get through to him and tell him when he was being an idiot - just as Patroclus had done so with Achilles now.
For his part, Achilles was extremely worried as Patroclus pleaded with him. He knew well that what had just been said was true and, turning to look at Jack, he saw that he knew it as well. Jack, however, wasn’t looking at him; instead he was staring at the other man as if he had never seen him before. Looking at him, he realised something; when he looked at them, Jack was seeing himself and Ianto. The way that Patroclus was talking now…it was just like the way that the young man was with Jack; open and honest - and, in return, Jack was open and honest with him.
It was this, perhaps, that spurred Achilles on to his next words. Taking Patroclus’ hands, he spoke softly, conceding that he was wrong to try and brood for ever. He didn’t say as much, but his words made his shame clear; he knew that he had acted badly and, deep down, he had always known it, but had been too angry to see it. But now, at least, he had a chance to do what was right. He may not say the exact words, but he could convey them in other ways. It was like Ianto had once said; it wasn’t what was said, it was what wasn’t said. It was all in the little things.
Coming back to the present, he then agreed that Patroclus should save the ships, but that was all; he should not try to gain glory or do anything rash; just do what he had to do. His voice was firm and hard, but his eyes were gentle and it was plain that he cared.
Jack sighed. He knew perfectly well what was going to happen next and, while he still wasn’t sure if he could prevent it, he could at least help out. He started to put on his armour and gather his weapons (only just realising how strange it felt not to have his gun with him). Halfway through arming, however, he felt an urge to turn around and what he saw almost broke his heart.
Achilles was standing alongside Patroclus, watching him arm himself and smiling slightly, his eyes shimmering with pride. Every so often, though, he would let his guard slip slightly and a look of bitter sorrow would pass over his face. It was only for a second, but it was so clear and so painful that Jack could barely look at him.
Patroclus didn’t appear to be watching at first, but then, when he was fully armed, he finally looked up properly and caught the look before Achilles could turn away. He didn’t say anything but, as he stepped towards the chariot, he stopped and brushed Achilles’ hand with his, at the same time looking him straight in the eye.
~*~
Ianto could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins as he rode across the plains alongside his partner. He could see Hector’s flashing helmet some distance away and smiled slightly as he saw him tearing through the Greek lines. It was still weird carrying a spear instead of a gun, but he was growing used to it - heck, he was almost enjoying it. He didn’t even find himself missing Jack as much as he used to.
Suddenly, he heard a shout and barely managed to get out of the way as a long spear flew past his ear. He looked up and felt his heart in his mouth as he saw the massing ranks of the Myrmidon army bearing down upon them like a swarm of deadly bronzed ants. For a moment, Ianto froze in panic, before he remembered that it wasn’t actually Achilles there, but Patroclus.
Then, for just one moment, he wondered what he was doing here. He remembered his argument with Jack - hadn’t the whole thing been about changing what was going to happen? And yet, here he was - in the middle of a melee, making no attempt to do what he had begged his partner to do.
He didn’t have much time to dwell on that, however, as their ranks began to fall back under Patroclus’ onslaught. Ianto watched, horrified, as the field quickly turned into a bloodbath. He could barely bring himself to look at it.
A rousing cry was what distracted him, however, and he looked to see the handsome figure of Sarpedon approaching, his eyes aflame as he called out to the army before him - his ranks of ‘beltless Lycians’, Ianto recalled vaguely. Then, he leapt from his chariot and so, on the other side, unnoticed by some, did Patroclus. They encircled each other for a few moments before charging.
Ianto knew how this duel turned out, but he had never thought it would be so brutal. Patroclus, who had been so approachable towards him, seemed to have turned into something out of a nightmare. His spear never missed its target. Sarpedon was a brave fighter, but he never had a chance against the strong son of Menoetius.
Ianto knew this. But it didn’t prepare him for the weight that slammed into his chest when he saw Sarpedon finally fall and call upon his friend Glaucus as he died. It didn’t prepare him for the rage that burned within him at the sight of Patroclus and the Greeks stripping his armour.
At that moment, Ianto Jones ceased to exist. He felt like a warrior - he was a warrior; his eyes blazed with a fiery passion for blood that, at another time, would have scared him.
But now, he knew no fear and he sprang towards Patroclus and, barely even stopping to consider, threw his spear. His arm was strong and his aim was accurate, striking the barbaric man in between the shoulder blades and sending him crashing down. It didn’t kill him, but moments later, Hector arrived on the scene, seeing him weakened and wounded. Ianto watched as the godlike prince sent his spear straight through his victim’s stomach and taunted him as he lay there, dying. There was a battle raging around him, but Ianto didn’t care - he didn’t even notice when he was shoved aside as a spear came at him. He vaguely recognised young Euphorbus, the very man who had first shown him how to throw a spear skilfully, and who smiled at him as he fell. He could see Menelaus rushing towards Patroclus’ body, but all else was lost in the drums of war.
And then…just as suddenly as it started, everything stopped. Hector, who moments earlier had been stripping the body, knelt as if frozen. Menelaus was staring in shock and puzzlement as he turned to the man stood beside him, who promptly hung his head.
Every single man, whether he was Greek or Trojan, was stunned into silence.
Curious, Ianto also edged forwards to see what had drawn their attention. He could see the half-stripped body of the man…but it wasn’t until he looked at his face that he realised why.
The man he was looking at wasn’t Patroclus at all.
It was Jack.
~*~
Patroclus stood by Menelaus’ side as he watched Hector start to strip Achilles’ armour from Jack’s body. He could hardly stand to look at him when he had laid down his life for someone whom he had barely known. Suddenly, he realised what Hector was doing and sprang forwards to stop him.
That was when he caught sight of a familiar pair of blue eyes staring at him. He stared long and hard at him, wondering if he was dreaming. But then his strange voice sounded in front of him, as real as the day.
“Patroclus…I didn’t…”
But he didn’t need to hear any more. He had seen what had happened and he felt his anger rise. He sprang towards Ianto, his sword gleaming threateningly. The other man didn’t even have a chance to move as the sword pierced through his armour and penetrated his skin. Ianto didn’t even whimper as he slid to the ground, his blue eyes suddenly raw with so many different emotions as he fell onto Jack’s body and the cold sword slipped silently out of his chest.
But then, to his utter shock, there was a loud gasp, as if all the air in the world was being gathered in one place. Moments later, and as he shuddered violently, Jack’s eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. He smiled in relief when he saw that Patroclus was alive - but that joy quickly turned to horror when he realised that Ianto’s body was sprawled, unmoving, across his. He looked around for a few seconds as he got his bearings - and then his eyes fell on the bloodstained sword in Patroclus’ hand.
The minute Jack saw it, he knew. He felt it…the shock turning to anger…the heat in his gut and the roaring in his ears…everything else faded away, all he could see was Patroclus…standing there, his sword stained with the blood of his lover…
He didn’t even remember getting up, or even moving. All he knew was that he was suddenly on his feet and Patroclus was lying on the ground, blood streaming from his slim white throat, his dark eyes gazing upwards. It was only when he heard the ringing silence around him that he realised what he had done…
He’d been a ruthless man once before, but this…it was beyond ruthless, it was almost sickening to see. Patroclus had actually thought him dead…he wouldn’t have stabbed Ianto if he hadn’t.
Ianto…oh, God…what is he going to think of me? What am I going to tell Achilles?
It was almost a relief when Hector came forwards, his helmet no longer flashing and his eyes unusually downcast. He looked at the dying man on the floor and nodded. With barely a look at anyone, he took his spear and plunged it deep, taking Patroclus’ life instantly. It was horrible, but at least he wouldn’t suffer.
There was a long silence…which was suddenly broken by a hoarse whisper behind him.
“Jack…”
~*~
Hera’s eyes closed. “Well…they say things get worse before they get better,” she said hoarsely. “Let’s hope they get better now.”
Athena said nothing, but she closed her eyes, in a silent gesture of respect for the multitude of brave men who had fallen that day.
There was no sound for a while after Hera’s voice. Zeus was stood at the back, still silently weeping for his son, Sarpedon and even Ares was too shocked to speak. Artemis and Aphrodite were, for once, united and sobbed in each other’s arms.
Eventually, Apollo spoke and his words flew.
“Now, they have to carry on.”
“How?” asked Artemis. “I don’t see how they can.”
“They can,” said Apollo, “they have been apart for a long time, but their love is strong. They will get through this and start again.” He turned to look at the other gods, his handsome face solemn. “The end is where they must start from.”
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Achilles/Patroclus, Hector/Andromache, others mentioned
Word Count: Oh, goodness knows.
Number of Parts: 10 plus an Epilogue
Summary: The heroes battle it out, but tragedy is on the horizon.
Note: Guys...please don't lynch me for what I did here! I will make it okay, I promise!
I also made myself cry writing this part.
Part 5
Jack sat up as he saw Patroclus approaching the Myrmidon ships. He moved to ask him what was going on, but the minute he saw the tears on his face, he knew that he didn’t have to ask that at all.
“How bad is it?” he asked instead, catching his hand.
“It’s bad,” answered Patroclus with a weary sigh. “There is almost no one standing. All our best men are injured; Agamemnon, Odysseus - even Diomedes!” He looked so woebegone that Jack’s tender heart was touched and he pulled him into his arms, trying not to wish that he could be holding Ianto like that. He spoke softly, letting the words fly over towards the distraught man.
“Go to Achilles,” he said, kissing his forehead. “Tell him what’s happening; if nothing else, he will listen to you.” Gently rubbing his hand, he followed him to where Achilles was sat at his ship. When he saw them, the leader moved swiftly and caught Patroclus’ shoulders, a concerned look in his eyes that didn’t match the words that, to Jack, almost sounded uncaring and hard. Patroclus was anything but a ‘little girl’! He couldn’t deny the stupidity of some of the Greeks, though.
When the news of what was happening had been relayed, Patroclus took a moment to wipe his eyes, before he finally made his famous proposal. He suggested that he return to the battle himself, only wearing Achilles’ armour.
Watching them, Jack couldn’t help but feel a bit shocked. He had known that this was going to happen, obviously, but he had never anticipated the pang of guilt that swept through him. It was then that he realised that Patroclus reminded him so much of Ianto; the only man who could get through to him and tell him when he was being an idiot - just as Patroclus had done so with Achilles now.
For his part, Achilles was extremely worried as Patroclus pleaded with him. He knew well that what had just been said was true and, turning to look at Jack, he saw that he knew it as well. Jack, however, wasn’t looking at him; instead he was staring at the other man as if he had never seen him before. Looking at him, he realised something; when he looked at them, Jack was seeing himself and Ianto. The way that Patroclus was talking now…it was just like the way that the young man was with Jack; open and honest - and, in return, Jack was open and honest with him.
It was this, perhaps, that spurred Achilles on to his next words. Taking Patroclus’ hands, he spoke softly, conceding that he was wrong to try and brood for ever. He didn’t say as much, but his words made his shame clear; he knew that he had acted badly and, deep down, he had always known it, but had been too angry to see it. But now, at least, he had a chance to do what was right. He may not say the exact words, but he could convey them in other ways. It was like Ianto had once said; it wasn’t what was said, it was what wasn’t said. It was all in the little things.
Coming back to the present, he then agreed that Patroclus should save the ships, but that was all; he should not try to gain glory or do anything rash; just do what he had to do. His voice was firm and hard, but his eyes were gentle and it was plain that he cared.
Jack sighed. He knew perfectly well what was going to happen next and, while he still wasn’t sure if he could prevent it, he could at least help out. He started to put on his armour and gather his weapons (only just realising how strange it felt not to have his gun with him). Halfway through arming, however, he felt an urge to turn around and what he saw almost broke his heart.
Achilles was standing alongside Patroclus, watching him arm himself and smiling slightly, his eyes shimmering with pride. Every so often, though, he would let his guard slip slightly and a look of bitter sorrow would pass over his face. It was only for a second, but it was so clear and so painful that Jack could barely look at him.
Patroclus didn’t appear to be watching at first, but then, when he was fully armed, he finally looked up properly and caught the look before Achilles could turn away. He didn’t say anything but, as he stepped towards the chariot, he stopped and brushed Achilles’ hand with his, at the same time looking him straight in the eye.
~*~
Ianto could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins as he rode across the plains alongside his partner. He could see Hector’s flashing helmet some distance away and smiled slightly as he saw him tearing through the Greek lines. It was still weird carrying a spear instead of a gun, but he was growing used to it - heck, he was almost enjoying it. He didn’t even find himself missing Jack as much as he used to.
Suddenly, he heard a shout and barely managed to get out of the way as a long spear flew past his ear. He looked up and felt his heart in his mouth as he saw the massing ranks of the Myrmidon army bearing down upon them like a swarm of deadly bronzed ants. For a moment, Ianto froze in panic, before he remembered that it wasn’t actually Achilles there, but Patroclus.
Then, for just one moment, he wondered what he was doing here. He remembered his argument with Jack - hadn’t the whole thing been about changing what was going to happen? And yet, here he was - in the middle of a melee, making no attempt to do what he had begged his partner to do.
He didn’t have much time to dwell on that, however, as their ranks began to fall back under Patroclus’ onslaught. Ianto watched, horrified, as the field quickly turned into a bloodbath. He could barely bring himself to look at it.
A rousing cry was what distracted him, however, and he looked to see the handsome figure of Sarpedon approaching, his eyes aflame as he called out to the army before him - his ranks of ‘beltless Lycians’, Ianto recalled vaguely. Then, he leapt from his chariot and so, on the other side, unnoticed by some, did Patroclus. They encircled each other for a few moments before charging.
Ianto knew how this duel turned out, but he had never thought it would be so brutal. Patroclus, who had been so approachable towards him, seemed to have turned into something out of a nightmare. His spear never missed its target. Sarpedon was a brave fighter, but he never had a chance against the strong son of Menoetius.
Ianto knew this. But it didn’t prepare him for the weight that slammed into his chest when he saw Sarpedon finally fall and call upon his friend Glaucus as he died. It didn’t prepare him for the rage that burned within him at the sight of Patroclus and the Greeks stripping his armour.
At that moment, Ianto Jones ceased to exist. He felt like a warrior - he was a warrior; his eyes blazed with a fiery passion for blood that, at another time, would have scared him.
But now, he knew no fear and he sprang towards Patroclus and, barely even stopping to consider, threw his spear. His arm was strong and his aim was accurate, striking the barbaric man in between the shoulder blades and sending him crashing down. It didn’t kill him, but moments later, Hector arrived on the scene, seeing him weakened and wounded. Ianto watched as the godlike prince sent his spear straight through his victim’s stomach and taunted him as he lay there, dying. There was a battle raging around him, but Ianto didn’t care - he didn’t even notice when he was shoved aside as a spear came at him. He vaguely recognised young Euphorbus, the very man who had first shown him how to throw a spear skilfully, and who smiled at him as he fell. He could see Menelaus rushing towards Patroclus’ body, but all else was lost in the drums of war.
And then…just as suddenly as it started, everything stopped. Hector, who moments earlier had been stripping the body, knelt as if frozen. Menelaus was staring in shock and puzzlement as he turned to the man stood beside him, who promptly hung his head.
Every single man, whether he was Greek or Trojan, was stunned into silence.
Curious, Ianto also edged forwards to see what had drawn their attention. He could see the half-stripped body of the man…but it wasn’t until he looked at his face that he realised why.
The man he was looking at wasn’t Patroclus at all.
It was Jack.
~*~
Patroclus stood by Menelaus’ side as he watched Hector start to strip Achilles’ armour from Jack’s body. He could hardly stand to look at him when he had laid down his life for someone whom he had barely known. Suddenly, he realised what Hector was doing and sprang forwards to stop him.
That was when he caught sight of a familiar pair of blue eyes staring at him. He stared long and hard at him, wondering if he was dreaming. But then his strange voice sounded in front of him, as real as the day.
“Patroclus…I didn’t…”
But he didn’t need to hear any more. He had seen what had happened and he felt his anger rise. He sprang towards Ianto, his sword gleaming threateningly. The other man didn’t even have a chance to move as the sword pierced through his armour and penetrated his skin. Ianto didn’t even whimper as he slid to the ground, his blue eyes suddenly raw with so many different emotions as he fell onto Jack’s body and the cold sword slipped silently out of his chest.
But then, to his utter shock, there was a loud gasp, as if all the air in the world was being gathered in one place. Moments later, and as he shuddered violently, Jack’s eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. He smiled in relief when he saw that Patroclus was alive - but that joy quickly turned to horror when he realised that Ianto’s body was sprawled, unmoving, across his. He looked around for a few seconds as he got his bearings - and then his eyes fell on the bloodstained sword in Patroclus’ hand.
The minute Jack saw it, he knew. He felt it…the shock turning to anger…the heat in his gut and the roaring in his ears…everything else faded away, all he could see was Patroclus…standing there, his sword stained with the blood of his lover…
He didn’t even remember getting up, or even moving. All he knew was that he was suddenly on his feet and Patroclus was lying on the ground, blood streaming from his slim white throat, his dark eyes gazing upwards. It was only when he heard the ringing silence around him that he realised what he had done…
He’d been a ruthless man once before, but this…it was beyond ruthless, it was almost sickening to see. Patroclus had actually thought him dead…he wouldn’t have stabbed Ianto if he hadn’t.
Ianto…oh, God…what is he going to think of me? What am I going to tell Achilles?
It was almost a relief when Hector came forwards, his helmet no longer flashing and his eyes unusually downcast. He looked at the dying man on the floor and nodded. With barely a look at anyone, he took his spear and plunged it deep, taking Patroclus’ life instantly. It was horrible, but at least he wouldn’t suffer.
There was a long silence…which was suddenly broken by a hoarse whisper behind him.
“Jack…”
~*~
Hera’s eyes closed. “Well…they say things get worse before they get better,” she said hoarsely. “Let’s hope they get better now.”
Athena said nothing, but she closed her eyes, in a silent gesture of respect for the multitude of brave men who had fallen that day.
There was no sound for a while after Hera’s voice. Zeus was stood at the back, still silently weeping for his son, Sarpedon and even Ares was too shocked to speak. Artemis and Aphrodite were, for once, united and sobbed in each other’s arms.
Eventually, Apollo spoke and his words flew.
“Now, they have to carry on.”
“How?” asked Artemis. “I don’t see how they can.”
“They can,” said Apollo, “they have been apart for a long time, but their love is strong. They will get through this and start again.” He turned to look at the other gods, his handsome face solemn. “The end is where they must start from.”