theatrical_muse
ooc: Um. Set in aces_are_rare's Torchwood!Ace universe, sort of. And rest assured that writing Seven is hard.
"No," Ianto gasped, as he made it around the corner and heard the door shut behind him. For a moment, it was all he could do to rest his back against the wall and doubled over, forcing himself to breathe. He heard rather than than saw Ace fastening both the locks, and when that sunk in he managed to look up at her. "No, no, no."
"Well, come on," she said, moving closer, "what were they?" He shook his head; he couldn't say it. Saying it would make it real. Too real. "Ianto?"
"They can't--" Ianto choked on his own words, and he had to close his eyes. Close. Open. Breathe in, breathe out. Unknot his tie. He couldn't think.
"Gordon Bennett!" Ace reached out to him, but let her hand hover just above his shoulder. He couldn't stop the way his hand jerked when she got close, couldn't stop the way his finger tensed toward the trigger of his gun. Shaken, she looked past him. "He's really scared, Professor."
"Scared?" Ianto put his free hand through his hair and laughed; for a brief moment, he thought that maybe he just wouldn't stop. "No, I'm fucking terrified."
"Yes, I can see," said the Doctor. He fidgeted with his hat; when he stepped up beside Ianto, it was in his hands. "I'm assuming it's something awfully nasty for a reaction like that. But Ianto, Ianto, you're going to have to tell me what it was."
"Something bad, that what I'm betting. Hope it isn't Daleks again."
There was a loud crash, as if somewhere nearby a door were being torn from its hinges. Before it had even faded, the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps could be heard. "No, Ace," the Doctor replied, his voice grim and his eyes on the door, as he answered his own question: "Cybermen."
"Cybermen!" Ace's eyes widened. "But we got rid of them, didn't we, Professor?"
He sighed and put his hat back on his head-- crooked, so it sat at a ridiculous angle. "No," he said, "I'm afraid it isn't nearly that simple. The seventies, nineteen-eighty-five, nineteen-eighty-six, nineteen-eighty-eight... No, they always come back."
"They always do," Ianto repeated hollowly. He checked and double-checked his ammunition, for a moment all his attention on the weapon he hadn't had to use since coming aboard the TARDIS. "There's fifteen of them, maybe twenty. That I saw, at least." He replaced the clip with a click and a sense of finality. "That's too many."
"Not too many for us," Ace responded, doing her best at cheer.
"I think," the Doctor started, motioning with one hand even as he turned toward the work table at the far end of the room, "we're about to find out."
Ianto grabbed Ace, ignoring as she struggled and protested his name, and maneuvered them so that she was shielded by his body. He held himself at a half-turn and kept his firearm trained on the door. If they broke in, they were not going to get her, and they were not going to get anywhere until they got through him.
"Ianto," she said again, not able to break his grip without more of a fight than she was willing to put up against a friend. "C'mon! Let me go!"
"I think you might want to honor the young lady's request, Mr. Jones." The Doctor, busy shuffling through a selection of various tech, glanced over his shoulder. "Ace, about that Nitro-9..."
"I stopped with all that, you know that. Got to be responsible, you said."
"Good girl." He smiled almost tenderly. Ianto glanced between them, then back to the doorway, nothing registering but Cybermen. The footsteps were close, too close, and unless his eyes were playing tricks, the door strained on its hinges. "But when that door comes down, you're still going to be prepared to buy us some time, I hope?"
Ace grinned slowly, her struggle ceasing. In return, the grip on her loosened-- but nothing else changed. "'Course!" she said with enthusiasm. She patted Ianto's arm and twisted around to look up at him. "Reckon you've never seen a metal man taken out by a can of deodorant, have ya?"
"No," Ianto gasped, as he made it around the corner and heard the door shut behind him. For a moment, it was all he could do to rest his back against the wall and doubled over, forcing himself to breathe. He heard rather than than saw Ace fastening both the locks, and when that sunk in he managed to look up at her. "No, no, no."
"Well, come on," she said, moving closer, "what were they?" He shook his head; he couldn't say it. Saying it would make it real. Too real. "Ianto?"
"They can't--" Ianto choked on his own words, and he had to close his eyes. Close. Open. Breathe in, breathe out. Unknot his tie. He couldn't think.
"Gordon Bennett!" Ace reached out to him, but let her hand hover just above his shoulder. He couldn't stop the way his hand jerked when she got close, couldn't stop the way his finger tensed toward the trigger of his gun. Shaken, she looked past him. "He's really scared, Professor."
"Scared?" Ianto put his free hand through his hair and laughed; for a brief moment, he thought that maybe he just wouldn't stop. "No, I'm fucking terrified."
"Yes, I can see," said the Doctor. He fidgeted with his hat; when he stepped up beside Ianto, it was in his hands. "I'm assuming it's something awfully nasty for a reaction like that. But Ianto, Ianto, you're going to have to tell me what it was."
"Something bad, that what I'm betting. Hope it isn't Daleks again."
There was a loud crash, as if somewhere nearby a door were being torn from its hinges. Before it had even faded, the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps could be heard. "No, Ace," the Doctor replied, his voice grim and his eyes on the door, as he answered his own question: "Cybermen."
"Cybermen!" Ace's eyes widened. "But we got rid of them, didn't we, Professor?"
He sighed and put his hat back on his head-- crooked, so it sat at a ridiculous angle. "No," he said, "I'm afraid it isn't nearly that simple. The seventies, nineteen-eighty-five, nineteen-eighty-six, nineteen-eighty-eight... No, they always come back."
"They always do," Ianto repeated hollowly. He checked and double-checked his ammunition, for a moment all his attention on the weapon he hadn't had to use since coming aboard the TARDIS. "There's fifteen of them, maybe twenty. That I saw, at least." He replaced the clip with a click and a sense of finality. "That's too many."
"Not too many for us," Ace responded, doing her best at cheer.
"I think," the Doctor started, motioning with one hand even as he turned toward the work table at the far end of the room, "we're about to find out."
Ianto grabbed Ace, ignoring as she struggled and protested his name, and maneuvered them so that she was shielded by his body. He held himself at a half-turn and kept his firearm trained on the door. If they broke in, they were not going to get her, and they were not going to get anywhere until they got through him.
"Ianto," she said again, not able to break his grip without more of a fight than she was willing to put up against a friend. "C'mon! Let me go!"
"I think you might want to honor the young lady's request, Mr. Jones." The Doctor, busy shuffling through a selection of various tech, glanced over his shoulder. "Ace, about that Nitro-9..."
"I stopped with all that, you know that. Got to be responsible, you said."
"Good girl." He smiled almost tenderly. Ianto glanced between them, then back to the doorway, nothing registering but Cybermen. The footsteps were close, too close, and unless his eyes were playing tricks, the door strained on its hinges. "But when that door comes down, you're still going to be prepared to buy us some time, I hope?"
Ace grinned slowly, her struggle ceasing. In return, the grip on her loosened-- but nothing else changed. "'Course!" she said with enthusiasm. She patted Ianto's arm and twisted around to look up at him. "Reckon you've never seen a metal man taken out by a can of deodorant, have ya?"