Hatful of Hollow - 5/13
Title: Hatful of Hollow (Part 5 of 13)
Disclaimer: I'm not RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood, though I have been known to order pizza under that name.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13 or so for language and implied sexuality.
Notes: Takes place during/after "They Keep Killing Suzie" and includes lines from the episode. Title refers the Smiths album that inspired this mess. Constructive criticism, comments, naked pictures of GDL, and good coffee welcomed. Unbeta-ed, because I still haven't found the right victim assistant.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
When the team leaves, Ianto takes a few moments to sit quietly on the couch in the Hub. He feels nervous. At loose ends. Entirely too alone. He knows in his gut that they'll be raising Suzie Costello from the dead in a few hours, if that. He is also sure he won't be going home tonight, and not for the usual reason.
The others buzz in his ear, but he isn't really listening. Technically, he's on comms duty, but they're investigating a Torchwood storage unit full of Suzie's things, not asking him to pull data from police databases or help them improve their route. He mutes his mic.
When he stands and walks into the autopsy room, he can't believe he's entertaining the notion of actually using the bloody thing. He's seen what it can do, and doesn't much fancy becoming a murderous psychopath. And yet, there it is, resting mutely on an instrument tray. The Risen Mitten.
Ianto has only ever touched the glove twice: once to catalog it, and once to --
He stops the thought, but not before he sees the man's eyes snap open in his mind. Not before he remembers the screaming.
The glove scares the shit out of him.
It is cold when he lifts it from the tray. It does not warm up as he carries it -- cradles it, almost -- to the morgue.
He can't be doing this. He isn't doing this. He can't --
He pulls the tray from the wall and unzips the body bag. He holds his breath as he pulls the plastic away to reveal her face. Annie's corpse has not weathered its time in the morgue drawer well. She is pale unto being translucent, and her eyes look bruised and sunken. The jagged gash across her head has gone all black. She is not like Alex Arwen, or the Briscoes. She is not sleeping. She is a profoundly closed casket affair. A movie zombie.
Almost against his will, Ianto puts on the glove. It warms up to his touch almost immediately. It practically vibrates. It feels hungry. He clenches and unclenches his fist, dumbfounded. It does not even feel like his hand. Shaking, he returns his gaze to the body in front of him. Slowly, he begins to reach out to touch Annie's skull. To wake Lisa.
The thing is practically crackling now. Ordering him.
"No." His voice is reedy, and he is panting. "No, you can't make me."
Ianto withdraws his hand. He already knows how this will end. When Lisa wakes up, she will scream. She will cry and beg to be put back into the conversion unit. He will weep as she reaches out to try and delete him over and over and over with Annie's all-too-human hands. For a few seconds, they will be connected, and he will only feel the emptiness. The machine.
Ianto returns the glove to the autopsy room, then blanks the CCTV footage. When he is finished, he takes off his jacket and is violently sick in the kitchenette sink. He lets himself slide down onto the cool tile floor, lets relief wash over him. He takes Jack's stopwatch from his pocket and holds it tightly in his fist. It warms against his skin in wholly natural, reassuring ways. When the proximity alarm alerts him to the team's return, he stands, straightens his suit, and puts the coffee on.
# # #
Ianto has been working for at least thirty-six hours straight when the Hub goes into lockdown. Suzie Costello won't die, and Gwen won't live, and they are locked into the Hub with the glove. He tries not to think about the last time the Hub went into lockdown. Or metal-clad hands. He is queasy again, and would like to panic, but he is working. Maybe later, he thinks, even though that doesn't make any sense.
The others, meanwhile, are doing their usual adrenaline crazed problem-solving tricks. He would like to help, but he's exhausted and a little bit delirious. Jack and Owen run to the cells and Tosh punches uselessly at her keyboard.
The fairy lights are still on, he thinks to himself. I wonder where the wires go?
Wait. Wires?
Ianto feels in his pocket for his mobile. In seconds, he's popped the back of the case open. In the blue and red auxillary light, he can see antenna contacts gleaming.
He glides, ghostlike, toward a worktable. Wires, he thinks matter-of-factly as he unearths a long set of leads with alligator clips at the ends. Jack, Tosh, and Owen do not notice as he sits down on the walkway next to the tower and quick solders the clips to the antenna contacts, voiding the warranty. He begins clipping the leads to shiny, conductive-looking bits of metal. He is stunned when his signal bar jumps from nothing to full.
"I've got reception, sir!"
The three of them turn to look at him. They are so surprised that Owen doesn't even have time to be dismissive.
"How'd you do that? We're sealed off."
"Just use the water tower as a relay." Kiss me, he thinks as Jack's expression shifts from baffled to worshipful. But Jack does not kiss him. There is a murder investigation on. Jack calls Detective Swanson and recounts their predicament.
"It's not funny," Jack repeats.
# # #
The world has gone very clear and sharp by the time Ianto starts filling out the death certificate. He credits this to his own coffee, and to the fact that he has worked more than two days straight. When Jack joins him in the morgue, it is as if the man is a series of frames on a filmstrip. Ianto blinks and goes back to the certificate.
He isn't sure where the words come from, but before he can stop he hears himself say, "If you're interested, I've still got that stopwatch."
"So?"
"Well. Think about it. Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch." He feels giddy. Almost floaty. And relieved. And physically desperate.
"I'll send the others home early. See you in my office in ten."
"That's ten minutes and counting." He starts the watch. Jack pushes away from the wall and starts across the bridge back into the Hub. Ianto sneaks a peek at Jack's backside, then goes back to the certificate.
"Oh, Jack? What do you want me to say on the death certificate?"
"Good question." Jack is solemn again.
"She had quite a few deaths in the end."
"I don't know." Jack knots his brow. "Death by Torchwood."
"I'll put a lock on the door just in case she goes walking again." He smiles. I should put a lock on all of them, he thinks a little wildly.
"Nah. No chance of that. The resurrection days are over, thank god."
"I wouldn't be too sure. That's the thing about gloves, sir. They come in pairs."
# # #
Jack is waiting for him when he arrives in the office. He can see the CCTV footage that he remembers blanking up on Jack's monitor. Watches himself close up Annie/Lisa's morgue drawer. Watches himself vomit in the sink. Ianto's ears and cheeks go violently red.
"Is that why you asked, sir?"
Jack nods. He is sitting on his desk, arms crossed. He smiles and wraps his fingers around the front of Ianto's belt, pulling him close. Kissing him on the mouth. Running hands up under his jacket and pushing it down onto the floor. Presses tight against him.
Ianto has forgotten entirely about the stopwatch in his trouser pocket when Jack retrieves it, puts it in Ianto's mouth, and makes him kneel.
===
Prev. Ep: 4/13
Next Ep: 6/13
Disclaimer: I'm not RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood, though I have been known to order pizza under that name.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13 or so for language and implied sexuality.
Notes: Takes place during/after "They Keep Killing Suzie" and includes lines from the episode. Title refers the Smiths album that inspired this mess. Constructive criticism, comments, naked pictures of GDL, and good coffee welcomed. Unbeta-ed, because I still haven't found the right victim assistant.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
When the team leaves, Ianto takes a few moments to sit quietly on the couch in the Hub. He feels nervous. At loose ends. Entirely too alone. He knows in his gut that they'll be raising Suzie Costello from the dead in a few hours, if that. He is also sure he won't be going home tonight, and not for the usual reason.
The others buzz in his ear, but he isn't really listening. Technically, he's on comms duty, but they're investigating a Torchwood storage unit full of Suzie's things, not asking him to pull data from police databases or help them improve their route. He mutes his mic.
When he stands and walks into the autopsy room, he can't believe he's entertaining the notion of actually using the bloody thing. He's seen what it can do, and doesn't much fancy becoming a murderous psychopath. And yet, there it is, resting mutely on an instrument tray. The Risen Mitten.
Ianto has only ever touched the glove twice: once to catalog it, and once to --
He stops the thought, but not before he sees the man's eyes snap open in his mind. Not before he remembers the screaming.
The glove scares the shit out of him.
It is cold when he lifts it from the tray. It does not warm up as he carries it -- cradles it, almost -- to the morgue.
He can't be doing this. He isn't doing this. He can't --
He pulls the tray from the wall and unzips the body bag. He holds his breath as he pulls the plastic away to reveal her face. Annie's corpse has not weathered its time in the morgue drawer well. She is pale unto being translucent, and her eyes look bruised and sunken. The jagged gash across her head has gone all black. She is not like Alex Arwen, or the Briscoes. She is not sleeping. She is a profoundly closed casket affair. A movie zombie.
Almost against his will, Ianto puts on the glove. It warms up to his touch almost immediately. It practically vibrates. It feels hungry. He clenches and unclenches his fist, dumbfounded. It does not even feel like his hand. Shaking, he returns his gaze to the body in front of him. Slowly, he begins to reach out to touch Annie's skull. To wake Lisa.
The thing is practically crackling now. Ordering him.
"No." His voice is reedy, and he is panting. "No, you can't make me."
Ianto withdraws his hand. He already knows how this will end. When Lisa wakes up, she will scream. She will cry and beg to be put back into the conversion unit. He will weep as she reaches out to try and delete him over and over and over with Annie's all-too-human hands. For a few seconds, they will be connected, and he will only feel the emptiness. The machine.
Ianto returns the glove to the autopsy room, then blanks the CCTV footage. When he is finished, he takes off his jacket and is violently sick in the kitchenette sink. He lets himself slide down onto the cool tile floor, lets relief wash over him. He takes Jack's stopwatch from his pocket and holds it tightly in his fist. It warms against his skin in wholly natural, reassuring ways. When the proximity alarm alerts him to the team's return, he stands, straightens his suit, and puts the coffee on.
# # #
Ianto has been working for at least thirty-six hours straight when the Hub goes into lockdown. Suzie Costello won't die, and Gwen won't live, and they are locked into the Hub with the glove. He tries not to think about the last time the Hub went into lockdown. Or metal-clad hands. He is queasy again, and would like to panic, but he is working. Maybe later, he thinks, even though that doesn't make any sense.
The others, meanwhile, are doing their usual adrenaline crazed problem-solving tricks. He would like to help, but he's exhausted and a little bit delirious. Jack and Owen run to the cells and Tosh punches uselessly at her keyboard.
The fairy lights are still on, he thinks to himself. I wonder where the wires go?
Wait. Wires?
Ianto feels in his pocket for his mobile. In seconds, he's popped the back of the case open. In the blue and red auxillary light, he can see antenna contacts gleaming.
He glides, ghostlike, toward a worktable. Wires, he thinks matter-of-factly as he unearths a long set of leads with alligator clips at the ends. Jack, Tosh, and Owen do not notice as he sits down on the walkway next to the tower and quick solders the clips to the antenna contacts, voiding the warranty. He begins clipping the leads to shiny, conductive-looking bits of metal. He is stunned when his signal bar jumps from nothing to full.
"I've got reception, sir!"
The three of them turn to look at him. They are so surprised that Owen doesn't even have time to be dismissive.
"How'd you do that? We're sealed off."
"Just use the water tower as a relay." Kiss me, he thinks as Jack's expression shifts from baffled to worshipful. But Jack does not kiss him. There is a murder investigation on. Jack calls Detective Swanson and recounts their predicament.
"It's not funny," Jack repeats.
# # #
The world has gone very clear and sharp by the time Ianto starts filling out the death certificate. He credits this to his own coffee, and to the fact that he has worked more than two days straight. When Jack joins him in the morgue, it is as if the man is a series of frames on a filmstrip. Ianto blinks and goes back to the certificate.
He isn't sure where the words come from, but before he can stop he hears himself say, "If you're interested, I've still got that stopwatch."
"So?"
"Well. Think about it. Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch." He feels giddy. Almost floaty. And relieved. And physically desperate.
"I'll send the others home early. See you in my office in ten."
"That's ten minutes and counting." He starts the watch. Jack pushes away from the wall and starts across the bridge back into the Hub. Ianto sneaks a peek at Jack's backside, then goes back to the certificate.
"Oh, Jack? What do you want me to say on the death certificate?"
"Good question." Jack is solemn again.
"She had quite a few deaths in the end."
"I don't know." Jack knots his brow. "Death by Torchwood."
"I'll put a lock on the door just in case she goes walking again." He smiles. I should put a lock on all of them, he thinks a little wildly.
"Nah. No chance of that. The resurrection days are over, thank god."
"I wouldn't be too sure. That's the thing about gloves, sir. They come in pairs."
# # #
Jack is waiting for him when he arrives in the office. He can see the CCTV footage that he remembers blanking up on Jack's monitor. Watches himself close up Annie/Lisa's morgue drawer. Watches himself vomit in the sink. Ianto's ears and cheeks go violently red.
"Is that why you asked, sir?"
Jack nods. He is sitting on his desk, arms crossed. He smiles and wraps his fingers around the front of Ianto's belt, pulling him close. Kissing him on the mouth. Running hands up under his jacket and pushing it down onto the floor. Presses tight against him.
Ianto has forgotten entirely about the stopwatch in his trouser pocket when Jack retrieves it, puts it in Ianto's mouth, and makes him kneel.
===
Prev. Ep: 4/13
Next Ep: 6/13