Fic: Vizzini's Rule (12/105)
Title: Vizzini's Rule, Chapter 12
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, character death
Spoilers: Cyberwoman (1x4)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around!
Summary: The origin fic continues - in which Ianto's secret is discovered...
Notes: Comments and con/crit much appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has been reading and encouraging me to keep writing!! :o)
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter Twelve
Ianto could barely hold the key still long enough to fit it in the lock. Once he had won the fight with the stiff deadbolt, he removed the key and tried to open the door. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to tuck the box he was holding under his arm and use both hands to turn the knob. He noticed that he’d left a smear of blood on the brass and made a mental note to clean it. Later, he thought as he pushed his way inside.
The flat smelled stale. It was to be expected since he hadn’t spent any time there since he’d leased it. He forced himself to close the door and lock it behind him. Although if Jack wanted in, Ianto didn’t think a measly deadbolt would stop him. Jack Ianto shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Jack. He didn’t want to think about anything.
Ianto took a few steps into the main room of the flat. Each one was agony, pulling at bruises and strains. He looked down at the box in his hands. Lisa He took another step, but his abused body gave out on him and he crumpled to the floor. He fell to his hands and knees and stayed there for a moment, panting with the pain. His eyes caught a glimpse of his bloody hands against the stark white of the rug. With a cry of despair he fell back and bashed his head on the edge of the coffee table. The room spun before him and Ianto prayed he would black out. He didn’t.
He noticed the box he had carried from the Hub. It had fallen when he did and was resting a few feet away from him. He crawled over to it and clutched it to his chest. Lisa He felt the sob begin somewhere deep inside him. He knew if he let it out he would never be able to stop. Gasping with the effort, he pulled himself upright and staggered to the bathroom. Just like the night of Canary Wharf, he dragged his bloody, battered body into the shower. He set the box on the toilet lid and then slid the shower door closed. Still fully clothed, he reached for the handle and turned the water on full blast. It was cold for quite some time but Ianto didn’t care. He stood under the spray, letting it beat down on his head as he watched the blood swirl on the tile, dancing in sinuous lines to the drain.
When the water finally began to warm, he slowly stripped off his sodden suit. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall as he took off his clothes, unable to close them for fear of what he would see. Lisa Blood Doctor Monster Death Gun Jack
“Oh God, Jack,” he groaned and then bit his tongue. It was too soon for talking, too soon for thinking. But it was also too late. With an anguished groan, Ianto sank to the floor of the shower and drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs. The sob he’d fought earlier started to rise and this time he couldn’t win. He dropped his head to his knees and felt the tears begin again.
When he closed his eyes, he was instantly assaulted with visions of the Hub. Lisa, smiling, able to breathe on her own, somehow strong enough to walk The doctor, dead on the floor, his body corrupted with metal implants Gwen, screaming as the blades descended, blades I didn’t put there, strapped to the table by Lisa Not Lisa Not my Lisa Ianto shook his head, his mouth forming the word ‘no’ over and over again around his sobs. Jack with his gun at my head, on my knees with a gun at my head For Lisa Jack Confusion and hurt in Tosh’s eyes Fear in Owen’s Lisa’s strange voice No, not Lisa But still Lisa I try, I try to reach her, to remind her That voice That cold voice Not Lisa Saying awful things Reaching for me Reaching for me
Ianto curled into himself even tighter. The water was too hot now, scalding his back and his neck but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t remember anything after that. Not until Jack. Jack Jack’s arms around me Jack’s mouth Jack’s hand at my throat, caressing not crushing Not like I deserve Jack So close, his eyes, his mouth, his arms
Lisa again Lisa screaming and Jack holding her off, pushing me on the lift, Owen’s arms holding me back “I tried, I tried,” Ianto sobbed out loud, his voice bouncing back at him off the tiles, echoing. “I’m so sorry, I tried…sorry…tried.” The screaming Myfanwy’s screams Lisa screams My screams
“Nonononononono,” Ianto muttered. He rocked side to side, hitting his head against the hard tile of the shower wall with every ‘no’ that fell from his lips. The images were coming too fast to make sense of them anymore Cold air Fury The feel of Jack’s jaw against my fist Running The gun Pointing it at God, the gun Jack’s gun in my face Again Jack Execute Monster KillKILL
The hot water had run out. Ianto was freezing, his teeth chattering against his knees, his body racked with sobs and shuddering with cold. “LISA!” he screamed. He saw her again, lying in a pool of blood. My Lisa My beautiful Lisa Gone Forever gone The lies all for nothing Jack All for nothing And then that voice Saying my name Not Lisa NOT LISA!
“NO!” The word exploded from him. He raised his head, the icy sting of the water on his face bringing him back to the world. He was freezing. Relaxing stiffened muscles with difficulty, he slowly uncurled and stood up. He turned off the water and grabbed one of the towels just outside the shower, wrapping it around his waist. When he stepped out of the shower, he saw the other towel Lisa’s towel on the bar. He had purchased all new accessories for the bath and the bedroom, wanting the flat to be perfect when Lisa came home. Lisa Slowly he reached out a hand for the second towel. He brought it to his face and used it to wipe the tears that were still flowing. Sighing, he threw it over his shoulders for warmth as he padded over to the sink.
He peeled the plastic off the brand new bar of rose scented soap Lisa's favorite with shaking hands. He searched around in a drawer for a moment until he found a nail brush. He lathered it up, almost choking on the smell of roses, and used it to clean the blood and ash from under and around his nails. He painstakingly avoided his reflection in the mirror, concentrating on one finger at a time. When his hands were finally clean Lisa he threw away the brush. He knew he’d never be able to touch it again. He threw the soap in the bin as well.
He dropped the towels on the floor who’s to care? and pulled his dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. He tied it carefully, not wanting to put pressure on the bruises covering his torso and his possibly cracked ribs. Owen had wanted to look at him before he left, but Ianto wouldn’t let anyone touch him. After he was finished God, the blood cleaning up the storeroom scrubbing at the bloodstains on my hands and knees
Ianto barely made it to the toilet as his stomach rebelled at the memory of Jack standing over him, watching him clean the blood from the stone floor, rubbing his face in his transgressions like a dog. After his body stopped heaving, he fell back on the floor, breathing heavily. Jack God, Jack I’m so sorry so sorry He didn’t think that sorry would be enough. He was sure that at any moment, Jack would burst through his front door with, best case scenario, a dose of Retcon strong enough to send him back to puberty. Worst case? A bullet with his name on it.
Sighing, Ianto wiped the tears from his face again. He felt like he’d been crying for days. Had it really only been seven hours ago that Lisa smiled? Life could turn on the edge of a knife. Ianto knew this, had lived through it before. And yet I’m so colossally stupid that it always takes me by surprise He sighed heavily again. He hauled himself to his feet, grabbing the small box which had fallen on the floor in his dash for the toilet. He hugged it to his chest for a moment and then walked out of the bathroom.
He stood in the bedroom for a moment, staring blankly at the bed. New sheets New duvet New pillows Nothing left of Lisa Nothing left He walked slowly over to the dressing table and took out a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms and a fleecy sweatshirt. He pulled them on, grimacing when he stretched a particularly sore muscle or dragged the fabric over a scrape or bruise.
He walked slowly into the kitchen, still clasping the box in his arms. He flinched when he turned on the bright, overhead light. Jack had dragged him under a bright light when he was done cleaning. Ianto set the box down and grasped the edge of the table as he bent over, keening with another memory.
He dug his nails into the wood, remembering Jack pulling him close, his hands knotted in Ianto’s lapels. Get rid of the body, he’d said I’ll deal with the doctor and the pizza girl Annie, her name is Annie I’m sorry I’m sorry Jack shaking him Get rid of the body Ianto breathed deeply, fighting the urge to pass out. Get rid of the body Lisa the body He dropped into the chair and buried his face in his hands.
He had taken her, lifting her gently from the life support bed where she had lain all those months. He had taken her, crying quietly, the gut-wrenching sobs having subsided in Jack’s presence. He had taken her to the small room at the back of the morgue. The room where they dealt with alien remains too decimated to be of use, too dangerous to leave lying around for the bin-men. He had held her for a long moment, pressing his cheek to hers, his tears falling onto her face. Then he had kissed her, one last time. He had whispered, “Goodbye, my love,” and then laid her gently in the casket shaped box. He had reached in and closed her eyes. He had placed the lid on the box and turned on the machine. He had fled the room while the machine was running, unable to stand there and listen as she burned.
“Oh, God,” he moaned, half exclamation, half heart-felt prayer. Ianto scrubbed his face with both hands and pushed the chair back from the table. He placed a hand on top of the box Lisa and then stumbled over to the counter. He went through the motions of making coffee, not because he wanted a drink, but because the movements were soothing. For nine and a half minutes his mind was blissfully blank as he watched his hands fill the kettle, plug it in, measure the beans, grind them, fill the press, pour the water. At the end of it all, he had his usual perfectly brewed coffee. He grabbed a mug and filled it, just for something else to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. First cup of coffee after Lisa died, he thought. He looked at it for a long moment and then picked up the mug and hurled it against the wall. It shattered with such a gratifying crash that he moved into the dining area.
Ianto was greeted with the pathetic sight of the dinner table set for two. The wine glasses were first, but their delicate tinkle against the exposed brick of the wall didn’t satisfy. The plates and chargers made a much better crash as they joined the glasses. The vase of flowers was the pièce de résistance. It exploded, showering the floor with tiny shards of glass.
He turned and continued through to the living room, smashing picture frames, trinkets, anything that reminded him of Lisa. He tore her favorite Renoir print off the wall and slammed it repeatedly on the coffee table until the thick glass finally splintered. He was still holding the pieces of the frame when the front door crashed in.
He’d been right. The deadbolt didn’t stop Jack.
TBC in Chapter Thirteen
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, character death
Spoilers: Cyberwoman (1x4)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around!
Summary: The origin fic continues - in which Ianto's secret is discovered...
Notes: Comments and con/crit much appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has been reading and encouraging me to keep writing!! :o)
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter Twelve
Ianto could barely hold the key still long enough to fit it in the lock. Once he had won the fight with the stiff deadbolt, he removed the key and tried to open the door. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to tuck the box he was holding under his arm and use both hands to turn the knob. He noticed that he’d left a smear of blood on the brass and made a mental note to clean it. Later, he thought as he pushed his way inside.
The flat smelled stale. It was to be expected since he hadn’t spent any time there since he’d leased it. He forced himself to close the door and lock it behind him. Although if Jack wanted in, Ianto didn’t think a measly deadbolt would stop him. Jack Ianto shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Jack. He didn’t want to think about anything.
Ianto took a few steps into the main room of the flat. Each one was agony, pulling at bruises and strains. He looked down at the box in his hands. Lisa He took another step, but his abused body gave out on him and he crumpled to the floor. He fell to his hands and knees and stayed there for a moment, panting with the pain. His eyes caught a glimpse of his bloody hands against the stark white of the rug. With a cry of despair he fell back and bashed his head on the edge of the coffee table. The room spun before him and Ianto prayed he would black out. He didn’t.
He noticed the box he had carried from the Hub. It had fallen when he did and was resting a few feet away from him. He crawled over to it and clutched it to his chest. Lisa He felt the sob begin somewhere deep inside him. He knew if he let it out he would never be able to stop. Gasping with the effort, he pulled himself upright and staggered to the bathroom. Just like the night of Canary Wharf, he dragged his bloody, battered body into the shower. He set the box on the toilet lid and then slid the shower door closed. Still fully clothed, he reached for the handle and turned the water on full blast. It was cold for quite some time but Ianto didn’t care. He stood under the spray, letting it beat down on his head as he watched the blood swirl on the tile, dancing in sinuous lines to the drain.
When the water finally began to warm, he slowly stripped off his sodden suit. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall as he took off his clothes, unable to close them for fear of what he would see. Lisa Blood Doctor Monster Death Gun Jack
“Oh God, Jack,” he groaned and then bit his tongue. It was too soon for talking, too soon for thinking. But it was also too late. With an anguished groan, Ianto sank to the floor of the shower and drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs. The sob he’d fought earlier started to rise and this time he couldn’t win. He dropped his head to his knees and felt the tears begin again.
When he closed his eyes, he was instantly assaulted with visions of the Hub. Lisa, smiling, able to breathe on her own, somehow strong enough to walk The doctor, dead on the floor, his body corrupted with metal implants Gwen, screaming as the blades descended, blades I didn’t put there, strapped to the table by Lisa Not Lisa Not my Lisa Ianto shook his head, his mouth forming the word ‘no’ over and over again around his sobs. Jack with his gun at my head, on my knees with a gun at my head For Lisa Jack Confusion and hurt in Tosh’s eyes Fear in Owen’s Lisa’s strange voice No, not Lisa But still Lisa I try, I try to reach her, to remind her That voice That cold voice Not Lisa Saying awful things Reaching for me Reaching for me
Ianto curled into himself even tighter. The water was too hot now, scalding his back and his neck but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t remember anything after that. Not until Jack. Jack Jack’s arms around me Jack’s mouth Jack’s hand at my throat, caressing not crushing Not like I deserve Jack So close, his eyes, his mouth, his arms
Lisa again Lisa screaming and Jack holding her off, pushing me on the lift, Owen’s arms holding me back “I tried, I tried,” Ianto sobbed out loud, his voice bouncing back at him off the tiles, echoing. “I’m so sorry, I tried…sorry…tried.” The screaming Myfanwy’s screams Lisa screams My screams
“Nonononononono,” Ianto muttered. He rocked side to side, hitting his head against the hard tile of the shower wall with every ‘no’ that fell from his lips. The images were coming too fast to make sense of them anymore Cold air Fury The feel of Jack’s jaw against my fist Running The gun Pointing it at God, the gun Jack’s gun in my face Again Jack Execute Monster KillKILL
The hot water had run out. Ianto was freezing, his teeth chattering against his knees, his body racked with sobs and shuddering with cold. “LISA!” he screamed. He saw her again, lying in a pool of blood. My Lisa My beautiful Lisa Gone Forever gone The lies all for nothing Jack All for nothing And then that voice Saying my name Not Lisa NOT LISA!
“NO!” The word exploded from him. He raised his head, the icy sting of the water on his face bringing him back to the world. He was freezing. Relaxing stiffened muscles with difficulty, he slowly uncurled and stood up. He turned off the water and grabbed one of the towels just outside the shower, wrapping it around his waist. When he stepped out of the shower, he saw the other towel Lisa’s towel on the bar. He had purchased all new accessories for the bath and the bedroom, wanting the flat to be perfect when Lisa came home. Lisa Slowly he reached out a hand for the second towel. He brought it to his face and used it to wipe the tears that were still flowing. Sighing, he threw it over his shoulders for warmth as he padded over to the sink.
He peeled the plastic off the brand new bar of rose scented soap Lisa's favorite with shaking hands. He searched around in a drawer for a moment until he found a nail brush. He lathered it up, almost choking on the smell of roses, and used it to clean the blood and ash from under and around his nails. He painstakingly avoided his reflection in the mirror, concentrating on one finger at a time. When his hands were finally clean Lisa he threw away the brush. He knew he’d never be able to touch it again. He threw the soap in the bin as well.
He dropped the towels on the floor who’s to care? and pulled his dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. He tied it carefully, not wanting to put pressure on the bruises covering his torso and his possibly cracked ribs. Owen had wanted to look at him before he left, but Ianto wouldn’t let anyone touch him. After he was finished God, the blood cleaning up the storeroom scrubbing at the bloodstains on my hands and knees
Ianto barely made it to the toilet as his stomach rebelled at the memory of Jack standing over him, watching him clean the blood from the stone floor, rubbing his face in his transgressions like a dog. After his body stopped heaving, he fell back on the floor, breathing heavily. Jack God, Jack I’m so sorry so sorry He didn’t think that sorry would be enough. He was sure that at any moment, Jack would burst through his front door with, best case scenario, a dose of Retcon strong enough to send him back to puberty. Worst case? A bullet with his name on it.
Sighing, Ianto wiped the tears from his face again. He felt like he’d been crying for days. Had it really only been seven hours ago that Lisa smiled? Life could turn on the edge of a knife. Ianto knew this, had lived through it before. And yet I’m so colossally stupid that it always takes me by surprise He sighed heavily again. He hauled himself to his feet, grabbing the small box which had fallen on the floor in his dash for the toilet. He hugged it to his chest for a moment and then walked out of the bathroom.
He stood in the bedroom for a moment, staring blankly at the bed. New sheets New duvet New pillows Nothing left of Lisa Nothing left He walked slowly over to the dressing table and took out a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms and a fleecy sweatshirt. He pulled them on, grimacing when he stretched a particularly sore muscle or dragged the fabric over a scrape or bruise.
He walked slowly into the kitchen, still clasping the box in his arms. He flinched when he turned on the bright, overhead light. Jack had dragged him under a bright light when he was done cleaning. Ianto set the box down and grasped the edge of the table as he bent over, keening with another memory.
He dug his nails into the wood, remembering Jack pulling him close, his hands knotted in Ianto’s lapels. Get rid of the body, he’d said I’ll deal with the doctor and the pizza girl Annie, her name is Annie I’m sorry I’m sorry Jack shaking him Get rid of the body Ianto breathed deeply, fighting the urge to pass out. Get rid of the body Lisa the body He dropped into the chair and buried his face in his hands.
He had taken her, lifting her gently from the life support bed where she had lain all those months. He had taken her, crying quietly, the gut-wrenching sobs having subsided in Jack’s presence. He had taken her to the small room at the back of the morgue. The room where they dealt with alien remains too decimated to be of use, too dangerous to leave lying around for the bin-men. He had held her for a long moment, pressing his cheek to hers, his tears falling onto her face. Then he had kissed her, one last time. He had whispered, “Goodbye, my love,” and then laid her gently in the casket shaped box. He had reached in and closed her eyes. He had placed the lid on the box and turned on the machine. He had fled the room while the machine was running, unable to stand there and listen as she burned.
“Oh, God,” he moaned, half exclamation, half heart-felt prayer. Ianto scrubbed his face with both hands and pushed the chair back from the table. He placed a hand on top of the box Lisa and then stumbled over to the counter. He went through the motions of making coffee, not because he wanted a drink, but because the movements were soothing. For nine and a half minutes his mind was blissfully blank as he watched his hands fill the kettle, plug it in, measure the beans, grind them, fill the press, pour the water. At the end of it all, he had his usual perfectly brewed coffee. He grabbed a mug and filled it, just for something else to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. First cup of coffee after Lisa died, he thought. He looked at it for a long moment and then picked up the mug and hurled it against the wall. It shattered with such a gratifying crash that he moved into the dining area.
Ianto was greeted with the pathetic sight of the dinner table set for two. The wine glasses were first, but their delicate tinkle against the exposed brick of the wall didn’t satisfy. The plates and chargers made a much better crash as they joined the glasses. The vase of flowers was the pièce de résistance. It exploded, showering the floor with tiny shards of glass.
He turned and continued through to the living room, smashing picture frames, trinkets, anything that reminded him of Lisa. He tore her favorite Renoir print off the wall and slammed it repeatedly on the coffee table until the thick glass finally splintered. He was still holding the pieces of the frame when the front door crashed in.
He’d been right. The deadbolt didn’t stop Jack.
TBC in Chapter Thirteen