Season of Mists, epilogue: Give the Devil His Due
Title: Season of Mists, epilogue: Give the Devil His Due
Author: lookninjas aka ninjasnano
Beta(s): tearoseandhoney, ambiguous_opal
Artist/Fanmixer: enkanowen
Character/Pairing(s): Gwen, Andy, John Hart, Jack Harkness, Archie, Dr. Simon Tau, Dr. Derrial Shepherd (OC), Ianto Jones, and a Mysterious Woman in Red
Rating: R
Word Count: 1175
Warnings: Spoilers for Children of Earth. Character death, experimenting on human subjects, briefly and clinically described torture.
Disclaimer: I do not own copyright to Torchwood, Dr. Who, or Neil Gaiman's the Sandman, and make no claim to them. This story is for entertainment only, and I make no profit from this.
Author's Note(s): Although this story references (and borrows a character from) Neil Gaiman's the Sandman, you don't need to be at all familiar with Sandman canon to understand the story. It would help, however, to have seen Dr. Who's The Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords.
Summary: In which it is never really over.
File: ST 0963
Report: Last Communication
[Note: This message was received over the Project intranet only hours after the destruction of the Facility, along with a virus that destroyed much of the electronic archives. The current whereabouts of ST 0963 and all those who helped him [see File: IJ 3927, Report: Project Termination] are currently unknown.]
I don't know who you are, but I do know a few things about you.
I know that you helped to fund Richard Lazarus, all those years ago, when he broke off from the Project. I know that you had some relationship with Harold Saxon, both as Minister of Defense and during his brief tenure as Prime Minister, and were almost certainly on the Valiant with him when he assassinated the President of the United States. You were the one to bring the Valiant Files into the archive, to make sure that they would never be forgotten. Why? What do they say?
I don't know. Maybe, at some point, I'll try to find out. As of now, however, I'm destroying them, and every other scrap of information you have -- about me, about Torchwood, about Ianto and Captain Harkness and John Hart and Gwen Cooper, and everyone else you've kept files on. Maybe you've got backups of everything; probably you've got backups of everything. All I can do is hope to slow you down, and that's all I'm doing.
Please understand; I don't think this is over. You'll come looking for all of us again, sooner or later. I don't know you, so I can't say what you're planning. It wouldn't surprise me to know that you wanted us to free Ianto, that by attempting to save him, we've been playing into your hands. I don't think anything would surprise me at this point. I suppose that takes away one of your advantages.
Like I said, I can't stop you, not yet. But I will do everything in my power to slow you down, counter your moves, figure out who you are and what you want. And when I've done that, when I really understand why you've done what you've done, I will give everything I have if it'll stop you.
This isn't over.
-- Dr. Simon Tau
*
"He's not yours anymore," the woman in red said, and there was something in her voice, something Gwen hadn't noticed before. "He's ours. Our freak."
"Why are you doing this?" Gwen asked. Behind her, Ianto was pushing himself to his feet. He had to put one hand on her waist to steady himself, but he was standing, and that was a start.
"Because that's the way of things," the woman in red said. "The Time Lord. The Companion. The Freak. It has to be like this."
"He never told you to do this, though, did he?" Ianto's voice was little more than a rough whisper -- Gwen had given him all her water when she'd finally tracked him down, and it had barely been enough to get him standing. Whoever these people really were, they didn't take good care of their pets. "You've never brought him to see me, never told him..." Ianto pulled in a deep breath. "Does he even know about me?"
The woman in red took a step back, lip trembling, eyes filling with tears. "He's terrible," she whispered. "The things he shows me, the things he does... I thought it could be beautiful. But it's nothing. Nothing but death." She kept backing away, step by step. "I can't stop them," she said. "Go ahead and run. But I won't be able to hold them long enough for it to help."
Then she was running away from them, and Gwen and Ianto were running away from her, but not fast enough, never fast enough. Gwen heard the gunshot, tried to turn, fell, and then --
Gwen gasped back to consciousness, to the cot and the closet. They were in Glasgow. They were safe.
Her dreams, however, hadn't changed. Maybe they weren't going to.
She closed her eyes and swallowed back a sob. They'd come so far, and gone through so much, and it wasn't over, and it wasn't fair, and --
"Are you all right?" She startled, glancing up at the doorway. Ianto was standing there, freshly showered and shaved and wearing real clothing, a jumper and jeans that looked to have come from Simon's wardrobe. He was still pale, still thin, and his hair was still far too long, but he was starting to look like himself again. And that, she supposed, was something. "You were dreaming."
"I was," she said.
Ianto took a small step forward, looming over her with his face shrouded in shadow. "Where do you go when you dream?" he asked.
Gwen swallowed hard. "The Valiant," she said, finally.
"A UNIT transport ship," Ianto said, softly. "Comissioned and designed by then Minister of Defence Harold Saxon. He was on it when he killed the President of the United States. Then his wife shot him. It was all over the news. " He shook his head. "We were in Pakistan, of course. Never set foot on the Valiant."
"Didn't we?" Gwen asked him.
For a moment, she thought he was going to leave, and she wasn't sure she'd try to stop him. But then, sighing, he sank down on the cot next to her. "It doesn't make sense, Gwen," he said. "It couldn't have happened."
"It did happen," she said. After a moment's thought, she took his hand; his fingers closed tentatively around hers. "I don't understand it either," she added, resting her head on his shoulder. "But it was real, and it happened."
"You died," Ianto said, his voice childlike and small.
"I know."
For a long time, they sat like that, leaning against each other in the darkness. "Her name is Lucy Saxon," Ianto said, finally. "The woman in red; that's her name. Harold Saxon's wife, the one who shot him." Gwen picked her head up off his shoulder and looked at him. He smiled slightly. "We might be able to find her."
Gwen wasn't entirely sure what to say, so she pulled him down to kiss his cheek. "Brilliant, you are."
His smile widened, then, inexplicably, faded. "You ... you might have to start without me," he said. "I'm not sure... I want to come with you, but..." He stared down at his lap.
Gwen reached out, rubbed his back in soothing circles. Jack was right; he'd been through a lot. It wouldn't be fair to thrust him back into Torchwood so soon, without a chance to recover. "Just as long as you come back to us in the end."
"Promise." He looked at her for just a moment, then quickly looked away. "I could get you... a cup of tea, or something, or coffee. There's nothing but instant, but --"
Gwen laughed, shaking her head. "Just stay," she said. "Just for now."
"Okay," he said. After a few seconds, he took her hand again.
Author: lookninjas aka ninjasnano
Beta(s): tearoseandhoney, ambiguous_opal
Artist/Fanmixer: enkanowen
Character/Pairing(s): Gwen, Andy, John Hart, Jack Harkness, Archie, Dr. Simon Tau, Dr. Derrial Shepherd (OC), Ianto Jones, and a Mysterious Woman in Red
Rating: R
Word Count: 1175
Warnings: Spoilers for Children of Earth. Character death, experimenting on human subjects, briefly and clinically described torture.
Disclaimer: I do not own copyright to Torchwood, Dr. Who, or Neil Gaiman's the Sandman, and make no claim to them. This story is for entertainment only, and I make no profit from this.
Author's Note(s): Although this story references (and borrows a character from) Neil Gaiman's the Sandman, you don't need to be at all familiar with Sandman canon to understand the story. It would help, however, to have seen Dr. Who's The Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords.
Summary: In which it is never really over.
File: ST 0963
Report: Last Communication
[Note: This message was received over the Project intranet only hours after the destruction of the Facility, along with a virus that destroyed much of the electronic archives. The current whereabouts of ST 0963 and all those who helped him [see File: IJ 3927, Report: Project Termination] are currently unknown.]
I don't know who you are, but I do know a few things about you.
I know that you helped to fund Richard Lazarus, all those years ago, when he broke off from the Project. I know that you had some relationship with Harold Saxon, both as Minister of Defense and during his brief tenure as Prime Minister, and were almost certainly on the Valiant with him when he assassinated the President of the United States. You were the one to bring the Valiant Files into the archive, to make sure that they would never be forgotten. Why? What do they say?
I don't know. Maybe, at some point, I'll try to find out. As of now, however, I'm destroying them, and every other scrap of information you have -- about me, about Torchwood, about Ianto and Captain Harkness and John Hart and Gwen Cooper, and everyone else you've kept files on. Maybe you've got backups of everything; probably you've got backups of everything. All I can do is hope to slow you down, and that's all I'm doing.
Please understand; I don't think this is over. You'll come looking for all of us again, sooner or later. I don't know you, so I can't say what you're planning. It wouldn't surprise me to know that you wanted us to free Ianto, that by attempting to save him, we've been playing into your hands. I don't think anything would surprise me at this point. I suppose that takes away one of your advantages.
Like I said, I can't stop you, not yet. But I will do everything in my power to slow you down, counter your moves, figure out who you are and what you want. And when I've done that, when I really understand why you've done what you've done, I will give everything I have if it'll stop you.
This isn't over.
-- Dr. Simon Tau
*
"He's not yours anymore," the woman in red said, and there was something in her voice, something Gwen hadn't noticed before. "He's ours. Our freak."
"Why are you doing this?" Gwen asked. Behind her, Ianto was pushing himself to his feet. He had to put one hand on her waist to steady himself, but he was standing, and that was a start.
"Because that's the way of things," the woman in red said. "The Time Lord. The Companion. The Freak. It has to be like this."
"He never told you to do this, though, did he?" Ianto's voice was little more than a rough whisper -- Gwen had given him all her water when she'd finally tracked him down, and it had barely been enough to get him standing. Whoever these people really were, they didn't take good care of their pets. "You've never brought him to see me, never told him..." Ianto pulled in a deep breath. "Does he even know about me?"
The woman in red took a step back, lip trembling, eyes filling with tears. "He's terrible," she whispered. "The things he shows me, the things he does... I thought it could be beautiful. But it's nothing. Nothing but death." She kept backing away, step by step. "I can't stop them," she said. "Go ahead and run. But I won't be able to hold them long enough for it to help."
Then she was running away from them, and Gwen and Ianto were running away from her, but not fast enough, never fast enough. Gwen heard the gunshot, tried to turn, fell, and then --
Gwen gasped back to consciousness, to the cot and the closet. They were in Glasgow. They were safe.
Her dreams, however, hadn't changed. Maybe they weren't going to.
She closed her eyes and swallowed back a sob. They'd come so far, and gone through so much, and it wasn't over, and it wasn't fair, and --
"Are you all right?" She startled, glancing up at the doorway. Ianto was standing there, freshly showered and shaved and wearing real clothing, a jumper and jeans that looked to have come from Simon's wardrobe. He was still pale, still thin, and his hair was still far too long, but he was starting to look like himself again. And that, she supposed, was something. "You were dreaming."
"I was," she said.
Ianto took a small step forward, looming over her with his face shrouded in shadow. "Where do you go when you dream?" he asked.
Gwen swallowed hard. "The Valiant," she said, finally.
"A UNIT transport ship," Ianto said, softly. "Comissioned and designed by then Minister of Defence Harold Saxon. He was on it when he killed the President of the United States. Then his wife shot him. It was all over the news. " He shook his head. "We were in Pakistan, of course. Never set foot on the Valiant."
"Didn't we?" Gwen asked him.
For a moment, she thought he was going to leave, and she wasn't sure she'd try to stop him. But then, sighing, he sank down on the cot next to her. "It doesn't make sense, Gwen," he said. "It couldn't have happened."
"It did happen," she said. After a moment's thought, she took his hand; his fingers closed tentatively around hers. "I don't understand it either," she added, resting her head on his shoulder. "But it was real, and it happened."
"You died," Ianto said, his voice childlike and small.
"I know."
For a long time, they sat like that, leaning against each other in the darkness. "Her name is Lucy Saxon," Ianto said, finally. "The woman in red; that's her name. Harold Saxon's wife, the one who shot him." Gwen picked her head up off his shoulder and looked at him. He smiled slightly. "We might be able to find her."
Gwen wasn't entirely sure what to say, so she pulled him down to kiss his cheek. "Brilliant, you are."
His smile widened, then, inexplicably, faded. "You ... you might have to start without me," he said. "I'm not sure... I want to come with you, but..." He stared down at his lap.
Gwen reached out, rubbed his back in soothing circles. Jack was right; he'd been through a lot. It wouldn't be fair to thrust him back into Torchwood so soon, without a chance to recover. "Just as long as you come back to us in the end."
"Promise." He looked at her for just a moment, then quickly looked away. "I could get you... a cup of tea, or something, or coffee. There's nothing but instant, but --"
Gwen laughed, shaking her head. "Just stay," she said. "Just for now."
"Okay," he said. After a few seconds, he took her hand again.