(no subject)
Title: Through Other Eyes, Part 4/4: Day One (like the day before)
Word Count: 1,535
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Summary: An AU in which Ianto is offered command of Torchwood Three after Canary Wharf. Written for tw_exchange
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
He 'borrowed' Gwen, in the end, but all too quickly the provisional basis became permanent. Police liason was her official title, but in reality she began to take on paperwork because she was bored of being Owen's lab rat. It was helpful, to have another set of eyes, someone to read through the data stream, make telephone calls, do the little bits of investigating that Torchwood generally avoided.
Her first day was also the first time Ianto saw Jack die.
It went well until the evening, when two reports on opposite sides of Cardiff forced them into dividing.
Ianto sent Tosh and Owen off to investigate a crashed meteor with Gwen in tow. The Army had already secured the site, so all the trio had to do was take readings and, if necessary, pack up the rock and bring it back to the base. He was thankful he'd stressed protocol when, later that night, Owen had cracked the surface of the meteor and became infected with some sort of purple alien gas. He'd been in a containment suite at the time, and Tosh had freed him safely.
Meanwhile, Ianto had taken his own car and Jack to check out the police reports that indicated that there was something prowling through a residential area. The police had suspected dogs, until sightings had begun to feature words like gelatinous and fangs.
They started with a canvas of the area where the sightings were most concentrated.
"Look," Ianto called, squatting down by some garbage bins and pulling out his torch. In the light, a thin, almost translucent trail shimmered. "Not terrestial, then."
Jack joined him, took one look, and remarked, "Certainly not dogs." He held out one finger and touched it to the trail. Immediately, he inhaled sharply and wiped the slime on another patch of ground. "Acid. Wonder why we haven't gotten reports of that."
"Gloves," Ianto reminded idly, but Jack didn't notice. He was already on his feet again, motioning for silence.
After a few-second pause, he pointed to the end of the block, where the entrance to an alley was just barely visible. Ianto nodded, took out his gun, then moved in front of Jack. For a moment, he thought the other man was going to argue, but he seemed to come to terms with the situation because he set his mouth and stayed silent.
The alien was there. It didn't even attempt to hide itself. Ianto fingered the portable cell that he had pocketed before leaving the SUV. If only he could get closer-- if only. In fact, he was only a few feet closer when it attacked. He made for cover, and it was only after he was safely behind something that he heard Jack scream.
He moved back out into the open, only to see Jack struggling with it. None of Jack's bullets had seemed to impact or if they did, the alien showed no effect. Ianto took aim, but realised too quickly that he couldn't fire without risk to Jack.
He was beginning to formulate a new plan when he saw the alien's tail. It resembled a scorpion's, though in concept more than form.
The tail struck. Jack went down. Ianto fired three bullets into what he hoped was the heart of the creature; as soon as it stopped moving, he was at Jack's side.
No pulse. No respiration. There was something lodged in the side of his neck-- a barb? When Ianto eased it out, it was nearly blunted and the wound didn't bleed. He smelled it and identified a sharp, pungent odour. Poison. Fast-acting poison.
He grabbed his mobile and dialled 999. "Ambulance," he gasped into the phone as someone picked up. He gave the address. "Torchwood security code alpha-alpha-six."
He felt foolish, now, for the nights he'd spent poring over Suzie's legacy-- the files from the archives. Photographs all the way back the 1800s, fuzzy and grainy and of men who might have been Jack's relatives. Documents, Torchwood and otherwise, yellowed and falling to pieces, with a signature that might have been Jack's, handwriting so similar it was hard to believe, and the initials JH. Newspaper articles and stories from private correspondence, of a man living through a lightning strike, of a soldier being mistaken for dead and piled with the corpses.
He had almost begun to believe in the obsessions of a dead woman. He might have come to, some day, were Jack not dead in front of him; it had been easy to wonder about the secrets beneath the empty smile, beneath the knowledge Jack shouldn't have had and the wrist device Ianto'd always supposed had fallen through the Rift. Secrets, yes, but it looked like immortality was not one of them.
Ianto put on hand flat on Jack's chest. Vaguely, he wondered when he would stop losing people.
Today, he told himself. He tilted Jack's head back, pinched his nose, and breathed for him, twice. Feeling heavy and hopeless, he started chest compressions, counting to himself in a gravelly voice.
As Ianto got to his third "twenty-nine," Jack gasped.
Ianto pulled back with a start, almost stumbling away, which was incredibly bad CPR technique. But this wasn't anything that should have happened from CPR. Jack was breathing, his eyes were open, and as Ianto brought one hand to his wrist, he found a strong pulse.
"You're alive," Ianto said, immediately chiding himself for stating the obvious.
"Yeah." Jack's voice was hoarse, his breathing shallow, and yet he was still attempting to sit up. Ianto was too dazed to stop him; instead, he helped ease him into a sitting position. "Happens sometimes."
It happened too quickly to think. One moment he was looking at Jack and attempting to classify what had just happened, and the next there was a kiss. He was aware of a response, weak but thorough, and also that he had somehow lifted one hand to cup Jack's face, fingertips threading into his hair.
"You were dead," he gasped against Jack's neck. He wanted to believe that his shoulders weren't shaking, that he had had a more professional reaction to a colleague reanimating-- not for the first time, either, though of course he was glad not to have to do any re-killing at present.
Something occured to him and he pulled back thoughtfully. "You kissed me."
"Actually," Jack said with a rapidly strengthingly laugh, "You kissed me. I think that might be harrassment."
Ianto would have had a witty retort, he told himself, if only the ambulance hadn't chosen that moment to arrive. Instead, he merely stared at the jelly-like corpse that lay several feet to one side.
*****
"You can't die." Ianto looked Jack square in the eye. Without breaking the gaze, he opened his drawer, removed Suzie's file, and threw it, open, to the desk between them. Jack's eyes flickered down, then back up.
"No," he said, "I can't." And then, because he seemed to be having trouble believing it, "You knew."
"I suspected. I found these. Did Suzie know for certain?"
"No. At least, I don't think she did. Look, is this going to be a problem?"
"You're alive," Ianto answered calmly. "Of course that isn't a problem. But you could have told me, Jack. You should have told me."
"Hi, welcome to Torchwood Three, and oh by the way, I'm immortal?" He moved closer, still watching Ianto. Ianto wondered when he became the one who was being studied. "No, I don't think that would have worked. The others don't know either, before you ask."
He had a point. Torchwood, and particularly Torchwood One, had never had a good track record with dealing with people so profoundly different. At times it bordered on out-and-out xenophobia. Another agent might have dragged Jack in for study-- but Ianto was not another agent.
"There's nothing in your file to indicate you're anything but human."
"I change it every once in a while. But I am human. I promise you that."
"You're my second, Jack," he said, and suddenly he was not at all impressed with the sound of his own voice. "I need to be able to rely on you. Hell, I do rely on you, more than I ought. I'm not going to stop because of this, but I might if you continue to keep secrets that could affect the job."
Jack sighed; he looked resigned. "It never has before, and I've been doing this a long time. You know, I could have your position if I wanted it. Several times over."
"Do you want to get dinner?" Ianto frowned as his brain caught up his mouth, and then promptly stopped frowning as it occured to him what that must look like. "To talk, like. I think we could use it."
"Depends," Jack said, perching on Ianto's desk and leaning back teasingly. Ianto marvelled at how he seemed to speak with his entire body when he wanted to, only he tried to do it without staring. "Do you cook?"
"Yes, but not tonight. I'm shattered. There's a fantastic Thai place by my flat. Late-night take-away?"
Slowly, Jack smiled-- not the grin, not any of the looks used for deflection. This seemed serious somehow, like the dullness Ianto sometimes saw in Jack's eyes. "You're on."
Ianto smiled. If nothing else, it was a start.
Word Count: 1,535
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Summary: An AU in which Ianto is offered command of Torchwood Three after Canary Wharf. Written for tw_exchange
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
He 'borrowed' Gwen, in the end, but all too quickly the provisional basis became permanent. Police liason was her official title, but in reality she began to take on paperwork because she was bored of being Owen's lab rat. It was helpful, to have another set of eyes, someone to read through the data stream, make telephone calls, do the little bits of investigating that Torchwood generally avoided.
Her first day was also the first time Ianto saw Jack die.
It went well until the evening, when two reports on opposite sides of Cardiff forced them into dividing.
Ianto sent Tosh and Owen off to investigate a crashed meteor with Gwen in tow. The Army had already secured the site, so all the trio had to do was take readings and, if necessary, pack up the rock and bring it back to the base. He was thankful he'd stressed protocol when, later that night, Owen had cracked the surface of the meteor and became infected with some sort of purple alien gas. He'd been in a containment suite at the time, and Tosh had freed him safely.
Meanwhile, Ianto had taken his own car and Jack to check out the police reports that indicated that there was something prowling through a residential area. The police had suspected dogs, until sightings had begun to feature words like gelatinous and fangs.
They started with a canvas of the area where the sightings were most concentrated.
"Look," Ianto called, squatting down by some garbage bins and pulling out his torch. In the light, a thin, almost translucent trail shimmered. "Not terrestial, then."
Jack joined him, took one look, and remarked, "Certainly not dogs." He held out one finger and touched it to the trail. Immediately, he inhaled sharply and wiped the slime on another patch of ground. "Acid. Wonder why we haven't gotten reports of that."
"Gloves," Ianto reminded idly, but Jack didn't notice. He was already on his feet again, motioning for silence.
After a few-second pause, he pointed to the end of the block, where the entrance to an alley was just barely visible. Ianto nodded, took out his gun, then moved in front of Jack. For a moment, he thought the other man was going to argue, but he seemed to come to terms with the situation because he set his mouth and stayed silent.
The alien was there. It didn't even attempt to hide itself. Ianto fingered the portable cell that he had pocketed before leaving the SUV. If only he could get closer-- if only. In fact, he was only a few feet closer when it attacked. He made for cover, and it was only after he was safely behind something that he heard Jack scream.
He moved back out into the open, only to see Jack struggling with it. None of Jack's bullets had seemed to impact or if they did, the alien showed no effect. Ianto took aim, but realised too quickly that he couldn't fire without risk to Jack.
He was beginning to formulate a new plan when he saw the alien's tail. It resembled a scorpion's, though in concept more than form.
The tail struck. Jack went down. Ianto fired three bullets into what he hoped was the heart of the creature; as soon as it stopped moving, he was at Jack's side.
No pulse. No respiration. There was something lodged in the side of his neck-- a barb? When Ianto eased it out, it was nearly blunted and the wound didn't bleed. He smelled it and identified a sharp, pungent odour. Poison. Fast-acting poison.
He grabbed his mobile and dialled 999. "Ambulance," he gasped into the phone as someone picked up. He gave the address. "Torchwood security code alpha-alpha-six."
He felt foolish, now, for the nights he'd spent poring over Suzie's legacy-- the files from the archives. Photographs all the way back the 1800s, fuzzy and grainy and of men who might have been Jack's relatives. Documents, Torchwood and otherwise, yellowed and falling to pieces, with a signature that might have been Jack's, handwriting so similar it was hard to believe, and the initials JH. Newspaper articles and stories from private correspondence, of a man living through a lightning strike, of a soldier being mistaken for dead and piled with the corpses.
He had almost begun to believe in the obsessions of a dead woman. He might have come to, some day, were Jack not dead in front of him; it had been easy to wonder about the secrets beneath the empty smile, beneath the knowledge Jack shouldn't have had and the wrist device Ianto'd always supposed had fallen through the Rift. Secrets, yes, but it looked like immortality was not one of them.
Ianto put on hand flat on Jack's chest. Vaguely, he wondered when he would stop losing people.
Today, he told himself. He tilted Jack's head back, pinched his nose, and breathed for him, twice. Feeling heavy and hopeless, he started chest compressions, counting to himself in a gravelly voice.
As Ianto got to his third "twenty-nine," Jack gasped.
Ianto pulled back with a start, almost stumbling away, which was incredibly bad CPR technique. But this wasn't anything that should have happened from CPR. Jack was breathing, his eyes were open, and as Ianto brought one hand to his wrist, he found a strong pulse.
"You're alive," Ianto said, immediately chiding himself for stating the obvious.
"Yeah." Jack's voice was hoarse, his breathing shallow, and yet he was still attempting to sit up. Ianto was too dazed to stop him; instead, he helped ease him into a sitting position. "Happens sometimes."
It happened too quickly to think. One moment he was looking at Jack and attempting to classify what had just happened, and the next there was a kiss. He was aware of a response, weak but thorough, and also that he had somehow lifted one hand to cup Jack's face, fingertips threading into his hair.
"You were dead," he gasped against Jack's neck. He wanted to believe that his shoulders weren't shaking, that he had had a more professional reaction to a colleague reanimating-- not for the first time, either, though of course he was glad not to have to do any re-killing at present.
Something occured to him and he pulled back thoughtfully. "You kissed me."
"Actually," Jack said with a rapidly strengthingly laugh, "You kissed me. I think that might be harrassment."
Ianto would have had a witty retort, he told himself, if only the ambulance hadn't chosen that moment to arrive. Instead, he merely stared at the jelly-like corpse that lay several feet to one side.
*****
"You can't die." Ianto looked Jack square in the eye. Without breaking the gaze, he opened his drawer, removed Suzie's file, and threw it, open, to the desk between them. Jack's eyes flickered down, then back up.
"No," he said, "I can't." And then, because he seemed to be having trouble believing it, "You knew."
"I suspected. I found these. Did Suzie know for certain?"
"No. At least, I don't think she did. Look, is this going to be a problem?"
"You're alive," Ianto answered calmly. "Of course that isn't a problem. But you could have told me, Jack. You should have told me."
"Hi, welcome to Torchwood Three, and oh by the way, I'm immortal?" He moved closer, still watching Ianto. Ianto wondered when he became the one who was being studied. "No, I don't think that would have worked. The others don't know either, before you ask."
He had a point. Torchwood, and particularly Torchwood One, had never had a good track record with dealing with people so profoundly different. At times it bordered on out-and-out xenophobia. Another agent might have dragged Jack in for study-- but Ianto was not another agent.
"There's nothing in your file to indicate you're anything but human."
"I change it every once in a while. But I am human. I promise you that."
"You're my second, Jack," he said, and suddenly he was not at all impressed with the sound of his own voice. "I need to be able to rely on you. Hell, I do rely on you, more than I ought. I'm not going to stop because of this, but I might if you continue to keep secrets that could affect the job."
Jack sighed; he looked resigned. "It never has before, and I've been doing this a long time. You know, I could have your position if I wanted it. Several times over."
"Do you want to get dinner?" Ianto frowned as his brain caught up his mouth, and then promptly stopped frowning as it occured to him what that must look like. "To talk, like. I think we could use it."
"Depends," Jack said, perching on Ianto's desk and leaning back teasingly. Ianto marvelled at how he seemed to speak with his entire body when he wanted to, only he tried to do it without staring. "Do you cook?"
"Yes, but not tonight. I'm shattered. There's a fantastic Thai place by my flat. Late-night take-away?"
Slowly, Jack smiled-- not the grin, not any of the looks used for deflection. This seemed serious somehow, like the dullness Ianto sometimes saw in Jack's eyes. "You're on."
Ianto smiled. If nothing else, it was a start.