Season of Mists, Chapter Four (REVISED)
Title: Season of Mists, Chapter Four: And the Season of Mists
Author: lookninjas
Character/Pairing(s): Gwen, Andy, John Hart, Jack Harkness, Archie (Torchwood Two), Dr. Simon Tau (OC), Dr. Derrial Shepherd (OC), Jayne Warren (OC), the Doctor (Eleventh), Dream of the Endless, Ianto Jones
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for Children of Earth. Character death, experimenting on human subjects, briefly and clinically described torture. Note: This chapter contains graphic violence and descriptions of serious injury.
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.
Summary: A CoE fixit. In which it is decided whether we are to run from our destinies or run to them.
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three
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.
This story was originally written for the first Torchwood Big Bang, and an earlier draft has been posted to this journal. So if the story looks familiar to you, that's why.
Much thanks to ambiguous_opal, who talked me through the first draft (so long ago!); kel_riley, who beta'd the final version; and tearoseandhoney, who stuck it out with me through three drafts and what must be about a year's worth of work by now. This fic would not exist without the three of you, and that's just facts.
This chapter was too long for lj, so it's been broken into two sections. There will be a link to the second half at the bottom of this post.
File: IJ 3927
Report: Interview, 6/12 (transcript) [excerpt]
INTERVIEWER: Tell me about [redacted].
IJ 3927 (SUBJECT): Don't know if I can, really. It's just the one room. And the screen. I made it into the corridor once. Four whole feet. Metal. The walls were all metal.
INTERVIEWER: What was the room like?
IJ 3927: Like this one. White. White and chrome. Never turned the lights off. Probably why I'm remembering it now.
[pause]
IJ 3927: I miss the screen. Jack's shirt was blue. Always the same blue shirt. But still, it wasn't white. Which is the main thing, really.
[pause]
IJ 3927: My doctor wears a red tie sometimes, but it's just not the same.
INTERVIEWER: Were there any experiments run? When you were [redacted]?
IJ 3927: No. They killed me a few times, when I was trying to get away. Once I gave up, they more or less left me alone. She visited me, sometimes.
INTERVIEWER: And by She, you mean [redacted].
IJ 3927: Yes.
INTERVIEWER: Did anyone else ever visit? Say, [redacted]? Did he visit you?
IJ 3927: He didn't know I was there. She kept it from him. Never quite knew why.
INTERVIEWER: And how long were you there?
IJ 3927: I don't know. No clock, no watches, nothing to carve lines in.
[pause]
IJ 3927: Honestly, it was the same as here.
[pause]
IJ 3927: There may have been experiments run on Jack. [redacted] certainly hurt him often enough. Don't think there was a reason behind it. I think he just liked it.
[pause]
IJ 3927: Is there a reason for this, d'you think?
*
She was back at the pub, with Jack, clutching her beer in both hands as he took a sip from his water... No, it wasn't water, it was whiskey, and he wasn't wearing his greatcoat, but a black uniform, and more than that, she was pretty sure it wasn't actually Jack. And she knew, absolutely knew, that the drugs weren't in her drink this time, but in his.
She knew it, because she'd put them there.
"It's boring, really," the man in the black uniform said. "I've been put on guard detail, lots of standing around and such. Sometimes I open the door, let Her into his room. Other than that, not much. He doesn't do much anymore; used to be he'd try to break out, and we'd shoot him, and then he'd come back to life and we'd do the whole thing over again, but--" He clapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly realizing what he'd said. "Fuck." The word came out distorted, blocked by his own tight grip. "Oh fuck." Then he had to let go, clutching at the bar for support, swaying on his stool. "You've... oh, fuck!"
Gwen smiled. It didn't feel like her own smile. "So," she said, and her voice wasn't her own, either. It was harder, colder. "You're guarding a man who can't die. Now you're going to tell me where to find him."
Then she was running, firing her weapon, more men in black uniforms falling, and she heard Jack's voice echoing from somewhere, and she was going the wrong way, but she kept running, until all the men were sprawled on the floor, and she was standing in front of a door. She grabbed a keycard off one of the guard's bodies, swiped it through the lock, and the door hissed open. There was a woman in red, watching her with strange, empty eyes, calm despite the man holding her in front of him like a shield, one arm around her throat, the other twisting her arm behind her back. The man who couldn't die.
He wasn't who she'd thought he'd be.
"Gwen," Ianto said, his voice no more than a whisper.
Then they were running again, only this time the shots weren't coming from her gun-- there were more guards, too many guards, and even though they were closing in on Jack's voice, they'd never reach it in time. Something hit her back, something small and so insignificant, and it stung a bit when she reached back, trying to feel for damage. But her arm was so heavy, and her legs were so weak, and the floor was right there, and she was... she was...
"Gwen!" Ianto fell to his knees next to her, his hand on her hair. "No, Gwen... Gwen, please, get up, you have to get up, Gwen please..."
She wanted to tell him to keep running.
She couldn't find the words.
Then he was crumpled next to her, curled up in a ball, one hand still reaching out for hers. From her position on the floor, Gwen couldn't see the person approaching them, only the white robes shifting with every step, like waves cresting. Only the slim, white hand reaching out for hers. "Come with me," someone said.
And she reached out. She took the figure's hand. And she was gone.
"We're dreaming," Ianto said.
"Are you sure?" Gwen asked. It didn't feel like a dream. The Hub was warm and damp around them; she could feel the grating of the floor under her bare feet. It smelled of ozone and metal, coffee and gunpowder and the faint trace of Ianto's cologne. She could hear the hum of the computers, the whir of a fan, the soft sounds Myfanwy made re-settling in her nest. When she turned, she could see Ianto standing there in his hospital gown. His hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, he had a thick growth of beard going, and he was skinnier than ever, paler than ever.
He glanced down at her and smiled-- she thought he looked a bit wistful. "Hub's gone, remember?" he asked. "We're dreaming, Gwen."
Odd that he didn't say that he was dreaming, or that she was dreaming. They were dreaming, together. She reached out and took his hand; his grip was firm and warm, reassuring. "Ianto," she said, and then stopped. There was so much she wanted to say, too much. It was all crowded together, and she couldn't settle on just one thing to start with.
"Call's coming through," he said, and leaned forward to tap at the computer's keyboard.
The screen flickered, and for a moment, Gwen tensed up, expecting-- But there was no doctor in a white lab coat, no Ianto lying, broken, on a gurney. Instead there was a man in a tweed suit with a bow tie, dark hair hanging over his eyes. He looked familiar; she couldn't say from where. "Doctor," Ianto said, politely.
"Hullo, Ianto. Hullo, Gwen." The man's face was somber, and Gwen frowned.
"That doesn't look like the Doctor," she pointed out.
Ianto sighed. "He regenerates," he said, with that patient tone that used to grate so much. "When he dies, he comes back in a different body. Same man, same memories, just... a little different."
Gwen tried to see the Doctor she'd met in this new version's face. It was hard. Maybe it was because he was so serious now; even at the end of the world, the old Doctor hadn't managed to seem so grave. "So who's that behind him?" she asked, pointing.
The figure-- she supposed it had to be a man, and yet it wasn't quite-- at the Doctor's shoulder was striking, clad all in white. His skin was pale as paper, as was his hair, and his eyes were twin stars in pools of blackness. Ianto laughed softly and squeezed her hand. "This is why I never take you to the movies."
"I thought it was because the last time we tried, it turned into us chasing after soul-stealing aliens."
"That, too." When she looked up, she saw that Ianto was grinning, even though his eyes were fixed on the screen.
The Doctor cleared his throat, and Gwen looked back at the screen in a hurry. "Sorry," she said, although she didn't feel very sorry.
"Don't be," the Doctor said, and maybe it was him, at that. There was something fond in his eyes as he looked at them. "I wish I could give you more time. But we've only got so long." He glanced over his shoulder.
Then the strange man was stepping forward, so pale, with those starlike eyes (and really, she'd never thought of anyone's eyes in those terms, and it was ridiculous, but it was also true in a way she couldn't have ever explained), and the Doctor moved aside with a curious deference. "Ianto Jones," the man said. "Gwen Cooper. Remember this. Many dreams come through the gates of ivory, and those are meaningless. But some dreams, a few dreams, come through the gates of horn. Those dreams speak truth, if you heed them."
Gwen swallowed. "What about... the ship, and the... the woman in red? What about those dreams?" Ianto clenched her hand tightly; he was shaking a little bit.
The strange man and the Doctor looked at one another; the strange man was grave, and the Doctor seemed chastened. "What is done can never truly be undone," the strange man said. "Not as long as any living soul remembers."
"Jack," Ianto said, softly.
"Listen to me," the Doctor said, stepping forward. "This isn't the end of anything. There's so much... Right now, it's down to the two of you. Later, hopefully, I'll..." He stepped back, ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered. "But I promise you, Gwen, I will never turn my face away. Not from this planet, and not from any of you. You will see me again. Just -- whatever you do, don't let Jack be hurt. Because if it's not your Jack, if it's Jack before he met me--"
"Then he's mortal," Gwen finished. "And he can die."
"And you can't let that happen," the Doctor said.
"Right," Ianto said, obviously trying to sound calm, obviously failing. "Keep Jack Harkness from getting himself killed. Shouldn't be too much of a challenge." He let out a strained, nervous laugh that didn't sound very much like him at all, and Gwen leaned in closer, wrapped her arm around his waist. He held tight to her.
"If anyone can keep him in line, it's the two of you," the Doctor said. "You'll do just fine. Keep him safe, keep each other safe. And I'll see you soon, I promise."
Gwen nodded. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the screen was blank.
"You'll be waking up now," Ianto said. His voice was calmer than before, but Gwen knew better than to trust that. Turning, she wrapped both arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder. After a moment, he kissed her hair.
"We're coming, Ianto. We'll get you out, I promise. I--"
He was already gone.
And she woke up, screaming, on a hospital trolley. The room was cold, the flourescent lights blue-white and flickering, there were green curtains all around her, and her heart was going a hundred miles an hour, and she'd died, she'd died, and she couldn't seem to stop screaming. Then there were people surrounding her, pinning her down, and she couldn't break their grip, she couldn't get free, and--
"What the fuck?"
"Thought she was a DOA!"
"She doesn't fucking look dead to me!"
"Everyone!" The voice was commanding, and even Gwen felt herself stilling at the sound of it. "Calm down. You, and you. Stay. The rest of you, get back to work." No one moved for a few seconds; then, as if someone had flipped a switch, everyone started filtering out of the little curtained cubby, heads down and very quiet. Only three people remained; one man holding down her shoulders, another with his hands on her ankles, and a dark-skinned man with white hair and a white doctor's jacket, leaning over her. "Well then," the man said, peering into her eyes and then picking her wrist up to take her pulse. "Gave us a bit of a start, didn't you? We weren't expecting you to wake up that way." He chuckled.
"Where am I?" she asked, trying to sit up again. "They said I was dead! What's going on?"
"Calm down, calm down." The doctor laid a hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed just a little bit. The doctor looked up at the man who was standing by her shoulders, nodding, and the man let her go, walking away. "You're in the hospital. Everything's all right. Can you tell me your name?"
She swallowed hard; her mouth was parched, her throat aching. "Gwen," she said. "Gwen Williams. It's my married name. I've got a husband, Rhys, and a baby, and oh God--" Again, she tried to sit up. Again, the doctor pushed her down, gently, but all the same.
The Doctor. He'd been in her dream, but he hadn't looked like himself. He hadn't looked like this, either. Nor had he looked like Simon, because Simon looked like Ianto, and... "Was your husband with you?" this doctor asked. "Or the baby? Were they hurt?"
She shook her head. That much she knew. "No," she said. "They're back home, in Cardiff." Cardiff, where the Hub wasn't, where Torchwood was gone. She remembered that, too.
"Ah. And where are you?"
"Glasgow." Glasgow, where Torchwood also wasn't. Because they'd torn it down and built the Project on top of it. Everything was coming back, faster and faster, and she briefly wondered if she wouldn't have been better off had it stayed gone. But no. Because Simon and all the others were going to come for her whether she remembered them or not, and she couldn't help Ianto, couldn't help anyone, if she gave up and forgot the whole thing. "I'm in Glasgow."
"Good." This doctor rubbed her shoulder, soothingly. "Can I ask what brings you to Glasgow?"
"Looking for someone," she said. "Thirsty. Could I have some water?"
This doctor glanced down at the man holding Gwen's ankles, and he, too, moved away. It was just her and this doctor now, and he sat on the edge of the trolley, leaving his hand still on her shoulder. "Mrs. Williams," he said, quietly. "Do you remember what happened to you? Anything at all?"
At another time, she might have had to fake this, the semi-hysterical incoherency, just another frightened woman who shouldn't be bothered with a lot of questions. There was no need, though, not with her heart still racing like it was, her breath coming sharp and fast, scraping in her throat. "I found him. The man I was looking for. I found him. Only he found me, really. Just... there he was, and there was this feeling in my neck, like little needles, and then... It was so dark..."
This doctor patted her arm, then stood up. "You're safe, now." He helped her to sit up and handed her a paper cup. "I'll be right back."
"Wait!" She grabbed his arm before he could pull away. "Who are you? What's your name?"
"Shepherd," he said, with a smile. "Dr. Derrial Shepherd. Excuse me." He withdrew from her grasp, and left the alcove.
Gwen sipped her water, pulling her legs up underneath her. Now that she could look about a bit, she could see one of the orderlies who'd been holding her down, standing as far away from her as he could, his arms tightly folded over his chest. There was something about the way he looked at her, the fear in his eyes. She wondered if Ianto had faced that look before, when he'd come back to life in Thames House. She knew that Jack had.
She didn't envy either of them.
Outside, someone, a woman, was talking. "No heartrate, no respirations, no pulse. We tried everything. Cardiac infusers, pulmonary stimulators... Look at her temperature. She was cooling by the time she got here. She wasn't alive, Dr. Shepherd. There's no way she was alive."
Shepherd said something; she recognized the man's voice, but couldn't make out the words. The woman he was talking to let out a sigh. "It's too late. I heard the call go out over my radio. There's already someone en route." Shepherd spoke again; he didn't sound happy. Gwen crept a little closer to the edge of the trolley, trying to hear him. "Look, you know the rules. We all know the rules. Her name's on the list. You're going to have to let her go." The next bit was inaudible. Gwen shifted just a bit further, her legs hanging off the side of the trolley now, dangling above the floor.
"Here, now." The orderly's voice was harsh, and she froze, looking over at him. He'd uncrossed his arms and was walking over to her. "Where do you think you're going?"
Acting scared and helpless seemed to have worked so far, so she decided to stick with it. "I want to go home," she said. "Please, I just want to--"
"Now, now." Shepherd came back into the room, crossing swiftly to where she sat. Another orderly and a woman in a paramedic's uniform trailed in his wake. "You'll soon be home. We just want to make sure you're all right. I'm going to draw some blood, so we can run some tests, and then we'll take you to your own room. Would you like that? Your own room?"
She nodded, biting her lip, and didn't fight when he took her arm in blue-gloved hands and stuck a syringe in her. When it was full, he gave it to one of the orderlies in exchange for another, this one full of clear liquid. "What's that?" she asked, as he drew the cover from the needle. "I don't want it. I don't want--"
Shepherd looked back at the woman in the paramedic's uniform; she nodded. "This'll just calm you down a little. Trust me?" When Gwen's eyes met his, he gave her a quick wink. She nodded, and let him stick the needle in, let him inject her with whatever it was. "I'll take this," Shepherd added, stealing the cup of water from her hand, and urged her to lie back down. "And now, we'll move you to your room. All right?"
Gwen nodded again. The orderlies moved to either side of the trolley, rolling her out into the hallway, with Shepherd and the paramedic following after.
The flourescent lights flickered over her as she was moved. Strange how she didn't feel drugged. In fact, she felt clearer. More awake. She closed her eyes anyway, figuring it was best to play along. After a little while, they stopped moving, and she heard a soft chime, doors sliding open. A lift. "Where are we going?" one of the orderlies asked.
"Morgue," the woman replied.
"But she's not--"
"It's all right," Shepherd said, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "Push the button, Jayne." And they were moving down, down.
If everything went according to plan, this was the point where Simon would be entering the building. Gwen sent out a silent prayer that everything would, indeed, go according to plan. The lift stopped, the doors whooshed open, and she was pushed out into the hallway. "Look, I don't understand," the orderly said. "Why are we doing this? I thought you said--"
"We're transferring her to a specialized facility," Shepherd said. He didn't sound particularly happy. "It's out of our hands."
The trolley rolled to a stop. "Is this her?" Simon's voice, soothingly familiar, and Gwen's pulse leapt for a moment, although she forced herself to stay still, like she was knocked out.
"You've seen her file," the paramedic said. "What do you think?"
"Who are you people?" The orderly's voice was sharp, frightened and angry. "What are you doing?"
Simon ignored him. "Is there CCTV coverage in this section of the hospital?"
"It's on the blink," the paramedic said. She was particularly terse; something in her voice made Gwen think of the army, of uniforms and guns and red berets. "Hasn't been working all day."
"Good," Simon said. "We'll need to talk to anyone who might have seen the patient, find out what they saw, what they heard. My friends here will..."
The orderly was still obviously against the whole thing; it might have been touching had it not been such a danger to their plans. "I'm not talking to anyone unless you tell me what the hell is going--"
"Or," Simon continued, his voice quiet and calm, "you could fight. You can always do that."
There was a silence; Gwen guessed that weapons had been drawn. "The others are upstairs," Shepherd said, sounding a little shaken. "Please, follow me."
Footsteps strode off, back towards the lift, and then Gwen was being wheeled forwards again.
They hadn't gone far, maybe fifty feet down the hallway, when the sound of a scuffle broke out behind them, shouting, and then a sharp crack like a gun had been fired. "What the--" someone called, not Simon, one of the guards, maybe.
"Now!" Simon shouted, and the scuffle came abruptly closer. There was the soft sound of fists hitting flesh, the harder crack of skulls against tiles, and someone knocked into the trolley, someone's warm weight landed on top of Gwen, like they were trying to protect her with their body. Her eyes flew open, locked with Simon's; he was covering her as fights continued on either side, men in grey uniforms grappling with one another. A grunt, a muttered curse, a few more thuds, and everything was quiet again.
"All right?" Simon asked, looking at Gwen. She nodded, a bit breathless, and he pushed himself off her, looking around. "Andy? Captain Harkness?"
"Yeah," Andy said. He sounded a bit winded. "Yeah, fine. Not much worse than a drunk on rugby night, really."
Jack was dusting his hands off on his uniform. His hair was barely ruffled. "We should get these two under cover, in case someone comes through and--"
"Don't worry about them," Shepherd said, and Gwen sat up so quickly that her head spun. His knuckles were bleeding, and his coat was crumpled as if someone had been clutching at it. The paramedic Gwen had heard speaking to him, with her clipped, military tones, was following at his shoulder, looking similarly disheveled. "We'll put them with the others."
"I heard a gunshot," Simon said. "Was anyone--"
"One of your idiots shot himself in the foot," the paramedic said. Her face was stern. "You're ahead of schedule," she added. "If something goes wrong, I don't know if I'll be able to muster a team to pull you out of there."
Simon smiled, faintly. "If something goes wrong, Jayne, there won't be anything left of me to pull out," he said. "Just shut them down; that's all I ask."
"With pleasure," Jayne said, and turned to leave.
Shepherd followed her for a few steps, before turning back. "I'll be waiting for you at the rendezvous point. Good luck, Simon."
"Thank you, Derrial." The two clasped hands, briefly, then let go. Jayne had stopped, one hand on her hip, waiting. Shepherd took a few long strides to catch up with her and the two went off together. Simon took a deep breath, then straightened his shoulders. "Right. Captain Harkness, have you got that perception filter?"
"Never leave home without it," Jack said, pulling a key on a chain from his coat pocket. He pulled it on over his head, and suddenly, Gwen couldn't see him. Or she could, but he kept sliding away. "You know, when this is all over with, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about these friends of yours. The ones who just appeared out of nowhere, apparently knowing more about our plan than we do, and then took out four armed Project operatives without getting more than a little rumpled."
"And I'll be happy to explain everything," Simon said. "Assuming I'm still alive at that point. Right, we've got to go." He glanced at Gwen, and she nodded, lying back and closing her eyes. "Okay," Simon said. "Come on."
They hurried down the corridor, wheels rattling against the tiled floor. There was a whoosh of double doors opening, and even through closed eyelids, Gwen could see the bright light of day outside. Then it was up, and in, and she came to a stop. Probably inside the ambulance now. The others scrambled in after her, the doors closed, and they were moving.
"Radio ahead," Simon called, over the rumble of the exhaust. "Let them know we're coming. And put the flashers on."
"Sirens?" someone asked. John Hart. Gwen had never been so relieved to hear his voice.
"Just the flashers. We'd better get her in the restraints before she fights off the sedative. No point risking a repeat of last time."
Gwen felt cold leather going around her wrists and ankles. A rough finger traced down her palm-- Jack's-- and she closed her hand around it, just for the comfort. Her heart was starting to pick up again; she didn't like being held down at the best of times, and she was starting to get nervous now. It was all happening so fast.
"Heart rate monitor?" Andy asked, from the general vicinity of her feet.
The ambulance hit a bump, and everything swayed; Gwen could hear the others reaching out to cling to something, feel someone steadying the stretcher. "Leave it," Simon said, sounding a bit strained now. "We'll be lucky if it's in one piece by the time we get back."
"We'll be lucky if we're in one piece by the time we get back," Andy muttered, his tone a bit mournful. Gwen wished she could reassure him, but there was nothing she could do but lie back and think of Wales.
They settled into silence. Gwen felt like she'd reached a strange plateau. It wasn't like being awake and alert and functioning. More like when they'd all been up for 36 hours straight, functioning on coffee and Jubilee Pizza (no more Meat Feast-- Ianto'd stopped ordering it after Owen died the first time), her movements no longer under her control, but just a matter of jittering her way into the right direction. Or trying to go home, go to bed, after a particularly deadly chase, her heart still hammering in her chest, keeping her twitching even when she wanted nothing more, needed nothing more, then to just go limp and mindless for as many hours as she could snatch before Torchwood sucked her back. Torchwood always sucked you back again.
She knew she could manage, knew that when the time came she could run and fire her weapon with steady hands and do whatever she needed to, but still. The relief she'd felt in the hospital, in coming back to life when she'd been so sure she wouldn't, was all but gone now. There was still room for someone to turn traitor, and even if no one did, there was no guarantee they'd actually manage to get Ianto out, and even if they did that, it wouldn't mean that they'd all survive.
She allowed herself the luxury of a deep breath, and thought about Ianto, lying pale on the bed, his mangled leg black and obscene against the white of the sheets. She pictured his face, contorted, desperate, trying to fight back the pain even though he couldn't, really, had never been any good at it. It didn't matter, none of the rest of it mattered. She would do what she had to do, knowing that had their positions been reversed, he'd have done the same for her.
The ambulance slowed to a stop. This was it.
Fuck, Gwen thought, her body tensing despite her best efforts to keep it relaxed. The back doors of the ambulance swung open, and she trembled slightly, hopefully surreptitiously.
"Papers," someone said.
"Here," Simon said, footsteps on metal as he stepped towards the front of the ambulance. There was a rustle as he handed something over; Gwen felt like her senses were on overdrive, hyperfocused and keen. She twitched again.
"Doctor, she's coming to," Andy said, sounding desperately nervous.
"This shouldn't take long," Simon replied, a little sharply. Just don't act too unconscious, he'd told her. Gwen began twitching in earnest, occasionally letting out little whimpers, hoping that she wasn't playing it up too much.
"Doctor." Andy's voice was louder, now, high-pitched and frightened.
Simon shuffled back, picked up Gwen's wrist and checked her pulse. "Christ," he muttered. "If we're done here, I need to get the Subject secured."
"She looks secure enough," someone said, from just outside the ambulance. He hadn't stepped inside, though. Afraid, maybe? Gwen turned slightly, tugging at her restraints, moaning.
"So did the last one," Simon pointed out, leaning over Gwen to pin both her wrists down, "and it took four of us--"
"All right, all right. You're clear." After a few moments, the door swung closed, and someone thumped on it. There was a rumble and a roar as the ambulance started up again and began rattling along.
"Not bad, Gwen Cooper," Simon muttered, his voice tickling her ear, before he pulled away. She smiled faintly at him before resuming her tossing and muttering.
Everything was moving faster and faster now. At least it'd be over with soon. Eyes closed, Gwen couldn't see what was happening, only guess at it. The ambulance stopped, the doors were opened, her stretcher lowered down, wheels unfolding to hit the pavement. A soft whoosh like electric doors opening. Rolling across the tiled floors. They were in now, she reckoned, and decided to keep shifting, tugging at her restraints, eyes closed but moaning and mumbling under her breath. "Better hurry," Simon said, and they rolled her along faster. "Don't want her causing a scene."
She wondered how long it would be until John started up the distraction. Her heart was pounding faster now. "Nearly there," Simon said. He sounded a bit out of breath. "Get the door, would you?"
Another electronic swooshing, and then the sound of a door closing behind them. They stopped. For a moment, no one spoke, or even seemed to breathe. "Right. Cameras off," Simon said. His voice was shaking, and he wasn't bothering to hide it. "Gwen, let's get you up and moving."
Finally. Her eyes flew open in time to see the three of them descending on her bindings, Jack on one wrist, Simon on the other, Andy fumbling with her feet. Jack must have taken the key off, because she could see him again; couldn't seem to stop looking at him, in fact. There was something very reassuring about having him there.
She sat up as soon as her wrists were free-- Simon bumped Andy out of the way and quickly undid the remaining restraint, as Gwen rubbed the red marks on her forearms. She hadn't been struggling too hard, or so she'd thought, but it'd left marks anyway.
Somewhere along the line, they'd replaced her clothes with a hospital gown. Simon ducked under the trolley for a moment and pulled out a set of scrubs, handing them over. "Thanks," Gwen said, sliding off the table and pulling the pants on underneath the gown, not bothering to wait for anyone to turn around or cover their eyes. The gown was tied loosely, and she yanked it off easily, pulling the scrub top on over bare breasts. Andy went pink and turned away, even though there was nothing else to see.
"Here," Jack said, handing her a gun and a mobile. Her own-- John must have looted them from her once he'd knocked her out. She'd have to thank him for that, assuming they both survived. "You going to be okay?"
She checked the gun to make sure it was loaded. Jack handed over another clip, and she slid it into the back pocket of her scrubs, alongside her mobile. "Not seeing double or anything, and I'm on my feet," she said. Granted, her heart was pounding and her hands were shaky, but that didn't matter. It had never mattered. "Let's go save Ianto."
Simon was already by the door, listening intently. "No one in the hall yet," he murmured. "Either Captain Hart is stealthier than I thought, or--" Then a deafening klaxon sounded, leaving the four of them clutching at their ears. The lights all flashed red in unison.
"Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning--"
"That's him," Simon shouted, barely audible over the alarms, the computerized voice announcing the situation to all and sundry. "Come on."
They scrambled out into the hallway, Simon in the lead, Jack and Gwen close at his heels and Andy bringing up the rear.
"Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning--"
The door to Ianto's room was shut fast-- Jack reached for his wrist strap, but Simon waved him off, working his fingers into the gap between the door and the wall and forcing it open with surprising strength. Then he was through, the others on his heels. The sight of Ianto on his bed in the middle of the room, sitting up as much as he was able with his wrists strapped to the metal railing, gaping at them, froze Gwen in her tracks for a moment. He looked exactly as he had in her dream, thin, pale, with long hair and a beard. Andy pushed past her, then skidded to a halt with a sharp intake of breath.
"Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility ha--"
The klaxons, the flashing lights, and the eerie computerized voice all stopped at once, and the lights went out, stranding them in darkness. Then there was a humming sound, and the lights kicked back in, dimmer now. "He took out the power supply," Simon said, making quick work of the bindings on Ianto's wrists, then hurrying to free his ankles. "Hopefully, that'll slow them down a bit." He turned to Ianto, who had sat up fully, and was staring at each of them in turn, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and stunned. "We've got to move," he said. "Can you walk?"
Ianto wasn't looking at him. He was staring at Jack, eyes fixed on him, shaking his head from side to side. "No," he said, voice barely a whisper. "No, Jack, you can't... They'll catch you, and they'll hurt you, and I can't, Jack, I can't watch that, not again, you have to go, you have to--"
He lunged forward, and Simon was just barely fast enough to stop him taking a header off the bed. "Ianto," he said, voice firm and loud. Gwen could see his hand tapping at Ianto's shoulder, patting out a message in dits and dahs. "Ianto, look at me. Ianto, look at me; it's all right. You're not on the ship. Ianto, you're not--"
"You didn't come for me." Ianto had turned his gaze towards Gwen; he was wild-eyed, frantic. "You came for Jack. You didn't know I was here. You didn't-- It's all right, though. Just take him. Take him and go!"
"Not without you." Jack pushed past Gwen easily, broad-shouldered and tall and every inch the Captain at that moment, even without the greatcoat and Webley to costume him. He glanced at Simon, who stepped away, passing Ianto into Jack's hands. "I'm not leaving you, Ianto. Not again."
Ianto sagged in Jack's grip, but didn't fall into his arms, still holding himself back. "It's the worst thing," he said, quietly. "The rest, I don't care; you get used to the needles and the knives and the... even when She... I'm used to it. It doesn't hurt anymore. But you... I can't, Jack. I can't stand to watch. Not anymore. I can't..."
Jack leaned his forehead against Ianto's, cupping Ianto's face in his hands. One thumb grazed along Ianto's cheekbone, then tapped, lightly. Graze. Tap. Tap. Graze. "Then close your eyes," he said, quietly. And Ianto did. "Take a deep breath." And Ianto did, as Jack tapped out his message, steady and calm and so intimate that Gwen had to turn her face away. "And another one. Good. Keep breathing. That's right. Just keep breathing."
"Not like I can stop," Ianto said, and there was something painful in his voice then. But then he said, "Jack," in such a strange, awestruck way, and when Gwen looked at them again, she saw Ianto's eyes open, staring at Jack, and she knew that he'd come back to them. "Jack. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."
"You know me better than that," Jack replied, his voice very gentle.
"Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again." They looked at each other for a few seconds, just looking, before Ianto turned to Gwen. "Gwen," he said, softly. Then he craned his neck, gaze sweeping the room. "Andy," he said. "They finally dragged you into this mess, eh?"
"Kicking and screaming," Andy said, stepping forwards, away from the door. "Don't tell me you're not glad of the daring rescue."
"Swooning any second now."
Simon had stepped away for a moment to a side cabinet; he came back with a syringe in one hand, scrub bottoms draped over his arm. "We're running out of time," he said. "Better get you up and moving." He handed the trousers to Jack and uncapped the syringe. Ianto glanced at it, nervously. "It's to counteract the effects of the sedatives," Simon said, his voice gentler than Gwen had heard it before. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ianto."
"I know," Ianto said, and held out his arm. Jack was kneeling at the floor by Ianto's feet, guiding his legs into the scrub bottoms, and Gwen had to close her eyes. It wasn't for her to watch.
When she looked again, Jack was pulling away from Ianto-- slowly, perhaps reluctantly, leaving Ianto to balance himself with one hand on Simon's shoulder, Simon's hand on his waist. The syringe was gone. Ianto was still looking at Jack, as if he'd never seen him before. "You were right, you know," he said. "It hurts. Every time."
"Ianto," Jack said, his voice a little choked. "I--" He reached out.
"No!"
Simon lunged forward with a cry, shoving Ianto into Jack's arms as he pulled his gun, and for a moment, Gwen thought he'd turned on them. But then she felt metal digging into her back, cold through the thin top. A hand closed on her shoulder.
They'd been caught.
"Dr. Tau," a voice said, warm breath puffing past Gwen's ear, and she stiffened. "You didn't think this was going to work, did you?"
Ianto let out a choked noise and tried to lurch forward, but he stumbled, and Jack had to catch him quickly. To their left, Gwen saw Andy slipping along the wall, trying to get behind her captor.
"Stop that, PC Davidson," the man said. "I will shoot her. Don't think for an instant that I won't."
Andy froze in place.
"Let her go," Ianto said, his voice hoarse. "I'll stay here. I won't try to run. Just let her go."
"Why should I?" It didn't matter that Gwen couldn't see the face of the man holding her hostage; she knew who it was. The doctor from the video, small and white-haired, the one who'd seemed so ordinary, the one who'd done such terrible things. "She's a perfectly viable Subject. Torchwood Three background, and there's already been one apparent resurrection... Granted, she might have faked that, but we'll find out soon enough what she can do. We'll have you as well, and the Captain, never fear that. We'll have all three of you."
"No, you won't," Simon snapped. But the hands that held the gun were shaking. "You won't live long enough for that."
"Who's going to kill me, Dr. Tau? You?" The doctor's voice was still perfectly calm, perfectly composed. "It's funny, really. I really didn't want you to come into direct contact with the Subject at all. The Board overruled me. But all in all, I'd say it turned out rather well."
Gwen looked up at Jack, looking for some sort of guidance, but he was staring past her. So was Ianto, for that matter. Both of them, eyes fixed on someone behind her, and Ianto's hand patting restlessly at Jack's arm. Gwen stiffened. Even if this was what she hoped it was, she'd only have one shot at saving herself. Best make it a good one.
"It doesn't matter--" Simon was saying, but Jack silenced him with an upraised hand.
"You knew that I was here," Jack said, his eyes focused once more on the doctor. "How?"
The doctor shrugged; Gwen felt the barrel of the gun shift slightly against her skin. It was reassuring, the way the gun moved with him. Made the odds a little better. "There's CCTV everywhere these days, Captain Harkness. You only had to get caught on camera the once. It was enough."
Jack actually smiled at that. "How long ago was it? Just for curiosity's sake. A week? A month?"
"Six months," the doctor replied. For a moment, Gwen was confused. Then she remembered, and she knew who was behind her.
"Ah," Jack said, grin widening. "See, that's interesting. Because I wasn't even on this planet six months ago. Although I can see how you'd get confused. The resemblance is pretty striking."
"You think?" Jack's voice was suddenly coming from behind Gwen, although she could see him standing in front of her, mouth tight shut. If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn it was some kind of a trick. "Personally, I'm a little insulted. You've aged well, I grant you that, but still. I do not look that old."
The grip on Gwen's shoulder weakened-- the barrel of the gun pulled just a little to the right against her back. "It's a trick," the doctor said.
"If it's a trick, then why does Dr. Tau look so surprised?" The first Jack, Gwen's Jack, sounded outright amused. Gwen didn't risk a glance at him or at Simon; she closed her eyes, tensing her muscles, ready to spring. "I've only known him for two days, but even I know he's not that good of an actor."
The barrel pulled to the right just a little bit more.
"I would have introduced myself sooner," the other Jack said. "But you know how John is. Wants to keep me all to himself. Really, I've never met anyone so--"
And the doctor turned; Gwen felt it in the slackening of the hand on her shoulder, the gun finally pulling away. She was wrenching herself sideways even as Jack snapped out, "Now!" The shot came a second later, hot air passing her harmlessly as she fell to the floor, rolling, and another shot was fired, and a body hit the floor with a thump. Then Ianto was crouched in front of her, on his knees, running his hands over her arms and down her sides, checking for blood.
"You're not hurt," he said, finally, his hands still resting on her side.
"Not this time," she said, pushing herself up onto her knees. He stared at her, running one hand through her hair, the other pressed to her side, then turned to stare up at the doorway.
Gwen followed his gaze, heart skipping in her chest. She'd known this could happen, known that there were... but it was different to see it, to have it made real. Jack Harkness dressed in black fatigues, standing in the doorway, still braced for recoil. And back by the bed, Jack Harkness in a grey Project uniform, one hand on his weapon, although he hadn't drawn it. Yet.
"What the fuck?" Andy asked. His gun was still out, but he didn't seem to know quite where to point it.
"My thoughts exactly," Jack breathed. His attention was still on the other Jack, the Time Agent. "Who the hell are you?".
"Time Agent 21177." The Time Agent's voice was crisper than Jack's, the accent subtly different. "The Project was on the verge of causing a major paradox. I was sent to stop it. Erase all the evidence; leave nothing behind."
"You're going to blow the place up," Jack said, glancing at Gwen and Ianto with dismay on his face. "How long have we got?"
The Time Agent checked his wrist strap. "Forty-five minutes," he said. "Just enough time for me to get out before you arrived, let you rescue the Subject, and--"
Suddenly, Ianto pushed Gwen down, diving over her, and for a few moments, sprawled on her back, she thought he'd attacked one of the Jacks, either one. Then she pushed up onto her knees, and saw Ianto wrestling with someone on the floor. The doctor, wounded, but not dead, and still armed.
She cried out, "Ianto!" and scrambled forward on all fours, Jack and Simon lunging with her, but it was too late. The gun went off, echoingly loud in the small space, and Ianto fell backwards, blood blooming on his hospital gown. Gwen caught him, leaning him against her chest-- he gasped for breath, hands clutching uselessly at nothing. "Ianto, no. Stay with us. Ianto, please, not now, please just--"
"Hurts," Ianto gasped, one hand settling briefly on her arm, too feeble to hold on, and then he was sagging, limp. Dead weight in her arms.
"No... Ianto, no..." She was crying, stroking his hair, and his hospital gown was bright red and saturated, and she'd failed him again, hadn't saved him, again.
"He'll come back," said a voice, no longer calm, no longer composed. Gwen stared down at the doctor who had started the whole bloody thing, laying on the floor, clutching his wounded side. "He'll come back."
Simon knelt by the man, picked up the gun abandoned on the floor, and cocked it, his expression almost thoughtful. "You won't," he said. The first shot went right between the doctor's eyes. After the second and the third, the man's head was a bloody ruin, and Simon's hands were shaking so much that he couldn't hold the weapon. It dropped to the doctor's chest; Jack picked it up, reloaded it, and handed it back to him.
"Keep this," he said. "You'll need it."
The Time Agent stepped forward, gun holstered out of sight, and tried to pull Ianto from Gwen's grasp, but she fought him, blindly, until Jack's restraining hand on her shoulder made her let go. "It's all right," Jack said, quietly, although the wariness never left his eyes as the Time Agent lifted Ianto, gently, as though he were a child. Jack looked up at the Time Agent. "I don't remember any of this," he said.
"No," the Agent said, sounding bitter. "Well. You wouldn't. They took the whole thing, didn't they? Two years, wiped away."
Jack frowned, pushing himself up to his feet. "How old are you?"
"Earth Standard?" The Time Agent frowned. "Thirty-four. Why does it matter?"
"You're mortal; that's why." Jack pulled the perception filter out of his pocket, and placed it around his doppelganger's neck. Suddenly, both he and Ianto were sliding, always at the corner of Gwen's eyes, never right in front of them. Jack helped her to her feet, picked up her weapon, discarded on the floor, and gave it back to her. "Stay in the middle. Simon, you're with me. Lead us out of here. Gwen, you and Andy are rear guard." He looked down at her, brushed a tear away with his thumb. "He'll be all right," he said, quietly, and she nodded, trying to believe him. "Let's go."
Simon spared one last glance down at the dead man on the floor, then hurried to follow Jack, the Time Agent striding after them, carrying Ianto's body as though it weighed nothing. Gwen and Andy fell into step behind them, weapons raised.
Once out into the hallway, she could hear distant gunfire, shouting. "I take it John didn't warn you about the bombs?" the Agent asked. "Of course, he'd have had to explain to you who was setting the bombs, and that wouldn't have been easy. I guess I should be flattered he went to the trouble of outright lying to me, instead of just--"
"Perception filters work better when you keep your mouth shut," Jack said, tersely.
The gunfire was getting closer, now accompanied by running footsteps. "We need cover," Gwen called to Simon, thumb on the safety of her weapon, praying that muscle memory would be enough to let her shoot straight. "They're almost on top of us!"
"The corridor splits off just ahead," Simon called back.
"I see it," Jack said. "Gwen, go left. Andy, right. The rest of you, stay with me." They started running. Sure enough, another corridor intersected theirs, just a few feet ahead. Gwen and Andy split off from the others, flattening themselves against opposite walls.
"Let's slow them down a bit, yeah?" Gwen asked, and Andy nodded, face pale, eyes wide with fear. He moved when she moved, leaning out into the open for just a moment, seeing the guards coming in their black uniforms, and firing once, twice, even as Andy did the same. There was an outburst of cursing, and then answering gunfire echoing down the hallway, bullets ricocheting off the tiles. When the hail of bullets was over, Gwen stepped out into the open again, firing four more rounds as quickly as she could, reassured when she heard someone grunting in pain. Andy was a few seconds behind her in stepping out to shoot, and too slow in getting under cover-- one of the guards got a lucky shot off and clipped his shoulder, sending him back into the wall with a soft gasp, one hand clutching at the wound. "All right?" Gwen shouted over the gunfire.
Andy didn't speak, only nodded, and stepped out again, finishing his clip off, ejecting it and reloading. Gwen took her turn while he was under cover-- there were three grey-clad bodies on the floor now, and she thought she'd hit a fourth one in the knee. The answering fire was slow in coming, but she didn't dare assume they'd stopped. Probably just regrouping. She ejected her spent clip, reloaded, and nodded at Andy. "Let's catch up to the others," she said. She stayed where she was until he bolted down the hall-- only then did she follow him.
The others weren't far ahead-- she could see Simon and Jack moving cautiously, weapons raised, talking in quiet voices. "--wait for him?" Simon asked, quietly.
"We still have to get through the gate," Jack replied. "Ten minutes, at most. And that's if we don't-- Move!"
Gwen dove for a nearby doorway, pulling Andy with her-- seconds later, bullets were rattling down the hallway, and she could hear footsteps approaching from behind them. They were pinned down. "Somehow, I don't think Captain Hart managed to keep the guards distracted for long," Andy said, one hand pressed to his shoulder. He almost sounded cheerful.
"Jack!" Gwen shouted. "Simon!"
"Exit's blocked," Jack called back. She craned her neck to see, then tucked herself quickly back into cover. More gunfire, this time answered by one or both of the others. "Agent 21177, report!"
"Holding position," he replied. "All right up there?"
"Just stay down!" Jack called back. "I'll tell you when to move!"
More gunfire. When Gwen peeked out again, she saw the shadows of the second group of guards, the ones coming up from behind, stretching out along the tiled floors. She raised her weapon, made herself ready. Then there was an explosion-- flames, and black smoke, and screaming. The lights behind them went out. There was no sound now besides the ringing of her ears, just silence.
"What was that?" Jack called. "Gwen? Gwen, report!"
"I can't see anything, Jack!" Someone was coming; she could hear limping footsteps dragging their way down the hall. She raised the neckline of her scrub top to cover her mouth and nose, and squinted into the haze. She could just make out the shape of a man, a slight man with a ridiculously large gun, stumbling towards them. She swallowed hard, then pushed herself out into the open. "Hold it," she ordered, trying to keep her voice steady.
Then the man was pressing her back into the doorway as gunfire rained down on them. "Don't want me on my knees this time, then?" John asked, his mouth inches from her ear. His shirt was sticky where they were pressed together, and his voice was ragged, not nearly as smug.
"You're hurt," Gwen murmured, reaching up to check the damage-- he stopped her with a hand on her wrist, blood on his hands, on her skin now.
"It's nothing," John said. "Did you get Ianto, or were you too busy standing here making a target out of yourself?"
"We've--" Gwen stopped short, remembering Ianto dying in her arms. "He was-- He got--"
"Fuck. Well. Guess he's not lucid, then." Gunfire from Simon and Jack; gunfire from the guards.
"Gwen, report!" Jack called again.
She opened her mouth to call back, but was stopped by John's hand, coppery taste of his blood in her mouth, silencing her. "But you brought him?" he asked. "He's up there?"
"The Agent's got him," Gwen said.
Hart pulled back a little-- his eyes were in shadow, and she couldn't guess what he was thinking. "The Agent?" he repeated. "The Time Agent?"
Gwen nodded. "He's got a perception filter on-- it's hard to see him--"
"Not if you're looking for him." John stepped back, pushing the gun into her hands. "Take this. Follow me." Then he slipped out into the smoke; Gwen hefted the weapon into position, spreading her feet to help her take the weight of it, then went after him, Andy on her heels.
The Agent was barely ten feet from them, in the mouth of a hallway, Ianto still cradled in his arms, almost protectively. John peered down the hallway without a word to either of them, then pulled a grenade from his belt, yanking the pin out with his teeth and hurling it. Another explosion-- more screaming, more smoke. "You two," John said, looking from the Agent to Andy. "Stay. Gwen, with me."
Gwen traced John's footsteps to the best of her ability, trying to move as stealthily as he did. The smoke helped-- it and the explosions seemed to have confused the guards ahead. Another twenty feet and they were with Jack and Simon, huddled behind what appeared to be a reception desk. Jack was wrapping a scrap of cloth around Simon's right leg, like some sort of a makeshift bandage. Gwen tucked down by Jack's side, John hovering over them.
"How many?" John hissed.
"Nine, now," Jack said, tying the bandage off. Simon was clutching his gun with white knuckles, shaking from head to toe. "What about the others?"
"Behind us," John said. "Did they split?"
Jack nodded, barely visible in the dim light, the smoky haze. John pulled another grenade from his belt, but didn't go for the pin, not yet. "I'll go left. You and Gwen go right." He glanced down at Simon. "You make sure the others get out." Simon nodded, wordlessly, and pushed to his feet-- most of his weight was on the left leg. "On my word."
They hovered for a moment, Gwen's palms sweating, her breath coming quick and fast, and then John shouted, "Now!" and everything seemed to happen at once, the three of them bursting from their positions in a sudden flurry of gunfire, the gun in Gwen's arms rattling out bullets so fast she could hardly stand, and then there was an explosion, too close, the heat of it singing her. The return fire slowed but didn't stop; bullets ricocheting off the walls, and something hit Gwen in the temple; she staggered, dropping the automatic weapon she'd been carrying so she could reach up and touch her forehead. Her hand came away bloody.
Then the others were racing past her, Simon snagging her elbow as he stumbled along in the rear, and she wrapped her arm around his waist to hold him up as they ran.
They burst through the doors out into daylight, racing for the ambulance, a scattering of guards coming from their posts at the fence after them. Another bullet caught Gwen in the hip and she staggered, clutching at it, but Simon's arm was around her shoulders, pulling her along with him. Then Andy was yanking the ambulance doors open and the Time Agent was lifting Ianto in, scrambling up after him. Jack dove into the driver's seat and started the engine. Andy and the Time Agent were still at the doorway, hands reaching out, pulling John in, then Simon, then finally Gwen herself.
The doors were still open when they started to move; Gwen caught one, Andy the other, and they yanked them shut, collapsing against the sides of the ambulance.
"Hold tight!" Jack shouted. They were picking up speed. "They've closed off the gates!" Gwen braced herself as best she could, standing against the wall of the ambulance with nothing to hold onto. Then there was a crash of metal, and the entire ambulance rocked.
Gwen crashed against the side, with Andy landing nearly on top of her, the two of them barely able to hold each other up. He was laughing, like he couldn't stop himself. "Fuck me," he gasped, as the ambulance stabilized and they managed to catch their balance. "Oh, fuck me. Christ." He sagged away from Gwen, back towards the opposite wall, clutching at his shoulder.
Gwen panted for breath, staring around the ambulance. Simon was picking himself up slowly from where he'd sprawled on the floor. The Time Agent, Jack-who-wasn't, was sat next to him, cradling Ianto's body in his lap, eyes closed. Andy had dark smudges on his cheek, one hand pressed to his shoulder, still laughing breathlessly with that helpless, pained look on his face. And John was curled up on the floor, both hands clutching at his abdomen, the fingers black with blood.
"Shit," Gwen breathed, and crawled over to him, even though her head was spinning and her hip flared with pain every time she moved.
"All right back there?" Jack called from the front of the ambulance.
"John's hurt," she shouted in reply.
John opened his eyes, and coughed. "'S'all right," he muttered. "Job's done; that's what counts."
Simon nudged her away gently, peeling John's shirt up and away from the wound -- he hissed, but didn't try to flinch away. He looked strange without that ridiculous red jacket, almost naked. "Shot to the abdomen," Simon said, voice pitched loud enough that Jack could hear him. "I can probably clean him up, get him stable--"
"You'd better," Jack said. "Because I've got a lot of questions for him."
"Well, you'll have to wait," Simon snapped. He turned to Gwen. "I need the box behind you -- no, not that. The other one."
Andy helped her find it, and she passed it over. Simon pulled out gauze and antiseptic, and started to clean the blood off John's pale stomach. Gwen wanted to turn away, but there wasn't anywhere else to look. "Can't change what's already done, Jack," John mumbled. "Had to make sure it all-- 'S what we do, innit? Make things happen."
"No more talking," Simon said, tersely. He glared at the Time Agent, who looked as though he'd been about to speak, but snapped his mouth shut.
John's head lolled back against the floor of the ambulance; he almost appeared to be smiling. "Looks like you owe it all to me, Jack," he murmured. "Hope you're grateful."
There was a distant roar behind them, something like thunder. Or like an explosion. Andy swore as the ambulance pitched again, nearly knocking him off his feet. Simon didn't look up from his work, his hands steady and calm. The Time Agent pulled Ianto's limp body a little bit closer to his chest.
"Maybe I am," Jack said, quietly.
Continue to Part Two
Author: lookninjas
Character/Pairing(s): Gwen, Andy, John Hart, Jack Harkness, Archie (Torchwood Two), Dr. Simon Tau (OC), Dr. Derrial Shepherd (OC), Jayne Warren (OC), the Doctor (Eleventh), Dream of the Endless, Ianto Jones
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers for Children of Earth. Character death, experimenting on human subjects, briefly and clinically described torture. Note: This chapter contains graphic violence and descriptions of serious injury.
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.
Summary: A CoE fixit. In which it is decided whether we are to run from our destinies or run to them.
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three
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.
This story was originally written for the first Torchwood Big Bang, and an earlier draft has been posted to this journal. So if the story looks familiar to you, that's why.
Much thanks to ambiguous_opal, who talked me through the first draft (so long ago!); kel_riley, who beta'd the final version; and tearoseandhoney, who stuck it out with me through three drafts and what must be about a year's worth of work by now. This fic would not exist without the three of you, and that's just facts.
This chapter was too long for lj, so it's been broken into two sections. There will be a link to the second half at the bottom of this post.
File: IJ 3927
Report: Interview, 6/12 (transcript) [excerpt]
INTERVIEWER: Tell me about [redacted].
IJ 3927 (SUBJECT): Don't know if I can, really. It's just the one room. And the screen. I made it into the corridor once. Four whole feet. Metal. The walls were all metal.
INTERVIEWER: What was the room like?
IJ 3927: Like this one. White. White and chrome. Never turned the lights off. Probably why I'm remembering it now.
[pause]
IJ 3927: I miss the screen. Jack's shirt was blue. Always the same blue shirt. But still, it wasn't white. Which is the main thing, really.
[pause]
IJ 3927: My doctor wears a red tie sometimes, but it's just not the same.
INTERVIEWER: Were there any experiments run? When you were [redacted]?
IJ 3927: No. They killed me a few times, when I was trying to get away. Once I gave up, they more or less left me alone. She visited me, sometimes.
INTERVIEWER: And by She, you mean [redacted].
IJ 3927: Yes.
INTERVIEWER: Did anyone else ever visit? Say, [redacted]? Did he visit you?
IJ 3927: He didn't know I was there. She kept it from him. Never quite knew why.
INTERVIEWER: And how long were you there?
IJ 3927: I don't know. No clock, no watches, nothing to carve lines in.
[pause]
IJ 3927: Honestly, it was the same as here.
[pause]
IJ 3927: There may have been experiments run on Jack. [redacted] certainly hurt him often enough. Don't think there was a reason behind it. I think he just liked it.
[pause]
IJ 3927: Is there a reason for this, d'you think?
*
She was back at the pub, with Jack, clutching her beer in both hands as he took a sip from his water... No, it wasn't water, it was whiskey, and he wasn't wearing his greatcoat, but a black uniform, and more than that, she was pretty sure it wasn't actually Jack. And she knew, absolutely knew, that the drugs weren't in her drink this time, but in his.
She knew it, because she'd put them there.
"It's boring, really," the man in the black uniform said. "I've been put on guard detail, lots of standing around and such. Sometimes I open the door, let Her into his room. Other than that, not much. He doesn't do much anymore; used to be he'd try to break out, and we'd shoot him, and then he'd come back to life and we'd do the whole thing over again, but--" He clapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly realizing what he'd said. "Fuck." The word came out distorted, blocked by his own tight grip. "Oh fuck." Then he had to let go, clutching at the bar for support, swaying on his stool. "You've... oh, fuck!"
Gwen smiled. It didn't feel like her own smile. "So," she said, and her voice wasn't her own, either. It was harder, colder. "You're guarding a man who can't die. Now you're going to tell me where to find him."
Then she was running, firing her weapon, more men in black uniforms falling, and she heard Jack's voice echoing from somewhere, and she was going the wrong way, but she kept running, until all the men were sprawled on the floor, and she was standing in front of a door. She grabbed a keycard off one of the guard's bodies, swiped it through the lock, and the door hissed open. There was a woman in red, watching her with strange, empty eyes, calm despite the man holding her in front of him like a shield, one arm around her throat, the other twisting her arm behind her back. The man who couldn't die.
He wasn't who she'd thought he'd be.
"Gwen," Ianto said, his voice no more than a whisper.
Then they were running again, only this time the shots weren't coming from her gun-- there were more guards, too many guards, and even though they were closing in on Jack's voice, they'd never reach it in time. Something hit her back, something small and so insignificant, and it stung a bit when she reached back, trying to feel for damage. But her arm was so heavy, and her legs were so weak, and the floor was right there, and she was... she was...
"Gwen!" Ianto fell to his knees next to her, his hand on her hair. "No, Gwen... Gwen, please, get up, you have to get up, Gwen please..."
She wanted to tell him to keep running.
She couldn't find the words.
Then he was crumpled next to her, curled up in a ball, one hand still reaching out for hers. From her position on the floor, Gwen couldn't see the person approaching them, only the white robes shifting with every step, like waves cresting. Only the slim, white hand reaching out for hers. "Come with me," someone said.
And she reached out. She took the figure's hand. And she was gone.
"We're dreaming," Ianto said.
"Are you sure?" Gwen asked. It didn't feel like a dream. The Hub was warm and damp around them; she could feel the grating of the floor under her bare feet. It smelled of ozone and metal, coffee and gunpowder and the faint trace of Ianto's cologne. She could hear the hum of the computers, the whir of a fan, the soft sounds Myfanwy made re-settling in her nest. When she turned, she could see Ianto standing there in his hospital gown. His hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, he had a thick growth of beard going, and he was skinnier than ever, paler than ever.
He glanced down at her and smiled-- she thought he looked a bit wistful. "Hub's gone, remember?" he asked. "We're dreaming, Gwen."
Odd that he didn't say that he was dreaming, or that she was dreaming. They were dreaming, together. She reached out and took his hand; his grip was firm and warm, reassuring. "Ianto," she said, and then stopped. There was so much she wanted to say, too much. It was all crowded together, and she couldn't settle on just one thing to start with.
"Call's coming through," he said, and leaned forward to tap at the computer's keyboard.
The screen flickered, and for a moment, Gwen tensed up, expecting-- But there was no doctor in a white lab coat, no Ianto lying, broken, on a gurney. Instead there was a man in a tweed suit with a bow tie, dark hair hanging over his eyes. He looked familiar; she couldn't say from where. "Doctor," Ianto said, politely.
"Hullo, Ianto. Hullo, Gwen." The man's face was somber, and Gwen frowned.
"That doesn't look like the Doctor," she pointed out.
Ianto sighed. "He regenerates," he said, with that patient tone that used to grate so much. "When he dies, he comes back in a different body. Same man, same memories, just... a little different."
Gwen tried to see the Doctor she'd met in this new version's face. It was hard. Maybe it was because he was so serious now; even at the end of the world, the old Doctor hadn't managed to seem so grave. "So who's that behind him?" she asked, pointing.
The figure-- she supposed it had to be a man, and yet it wasn't quite-- at the Doctor's shoulder was striking, clad all in white. His skin was pale as paper, as was his hair, and his eyes were twin stars in pools of blackness. Ianto laughed softly and squeezed her hand. "This is why I never take you to the movies."
"I thought it was because the last time we tried, it turned into us chasing after soul-stealing aliens."
"That, too." When she looked up, she saw that Ianto was grinning, even though his eyes were fixed on the screen.
The Doctor cleared his throat, and Gwen looked back at the screen in a hurry. "Sorry," she said, although she didn't feel very sorry.
"Don't be," the Doctor said, and maybe it was him, at that. There was something fond in his eyes as he looked at them. "I wish I could give you more time. But we've only got so long." He glanced over his shoulder.
Then the strange man was stepping forward, so pale, with those starlike eyes (and really, she'd never thought of anyone's eyes in those terms, and it was ridiculous, but it was also true in a way she couldn't have ever explained), and the Doctor moved aside with a curious deference. "Ianto Jones," the man said. "Gwen Cooper. Remember this. Many dreams come through the gates of ivory, and those are meaningless. But some dreams, a few dreams, come through the gates of horn. Those dreams speak truth, if you heed them."
Gwen swallowed. "What about... the ship, and the... the woman in red? What about those dreams?" Ianto clenched her hand tightly; he was shaking a little bit.
The strange man and the Doctor looked at one another; the strange man was grave, and the Doctor seemed chastened. "What is done can never truly be undone," the strange man said. "Not as long as any living soul remembers."
"Jack," Ianto said, softly.
"Listen to me," the Doctor said, stepping forward. "This isn't the end of anything. There's so much... Right now, it's down to the two of you. Later, hopefully, I'll..." He stepped back, ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered. "But I promise you, Gwen, I will never turn my face away. Not from this planet, and not from any of you. You will see me again. Just -- whatever you do, don't let Jack be hurt. Because if it's not your Jack, if it's Jack before he met me--"
"Then he's mortal," Gwen finished. "And he can die."
"And you can't let that happen," the Doctor said.
"Right," Ianto said, obviously trying to sound calm, obviously failing. "Keep Jack Harkness from getting himself killed. Shouldn't be too much of a challenge." He let out a strained, nervous laugh that didn't sound very much like him at all, and Gwen leaned in closer, wrapped her arm around his waist. He held tight to her.
"If anyone can keep him in line, it's the two of you," the Doctor said. "You'll do just fine. Keep him safe, keep each other safe. And I'll see you soon, I promise."
Gwen nodded. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the screen was blank.
"You'll be waking up now," Ianto said. His voice was calmer than before, but Gwen knew better than to trust that. Turning, she wrapped both arms around him and pressed her face into his shoulder. After a moment, he kissed her hair.
"We're coming, Ianto. We'll get you out, I promise. I--"
He was already gone.
And she woke up, screaming, on a hospital trolley. The room was cold, the flourescent lights blue-white and flickering, there were green curtains all around her, and her heart was going a hundred miles an hour, and she'd died, she'd died, and she couldn't seem to stop screaming. Then there were people surrounding her, pinning her down, and she couldn't break their grip, she couldn't get free, and--
"What the fuck?"
"Thought she was a DOA!"
"She doesn't fucking look dead to me!"
"Everyone!" The voice was commanding, and even Gwen felt herself stilling at the sound of it. "Calm down. You, and you. Stay. The rest of you, get back to work." No one moved for a few seconds; then, as if someone had flipped a switch, everyone started filtering out of the little curtained cubby, heads down and very quiet. Only three people remained; one man holding down her shoulders, another with his hands on her ankles, and a dark-skinned man with white hair and a white doctor's jacket, leaning over her. "Well then," the man said, peering into her eyes and then picking her wrist up to take her pulse. "Gave us a bit of a start, didn't you? We weren't expecting you to wake up that way." He chuckled.
"Where am I?" she asked, trying to sit up again. "They said I was dead! What's going on?"
"Calm down, calm down." The doctor laid a hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed just a little bit. The doctor looked up at the man who was standing by her shoulders, nodding, and the man let her go, walking away. "You're in the hospital. Everything's all right. Can you tell me your name?"
She swallowed hard; her mouth was parched, her throat aching. "Gwen," she said. "Gwen Williams. It's my married name. I've got a husband, Rhys, and a baby, and oh God--" Again, she tried to sit up. Again, the doctor pushed her down, gently, but all the same.
The Doctor. He'd been in her dream, but he hadn't looked like himself. He hadn't looked like this, either. Nor had he looked like Simon, because Simon looked like Ianto, and... "Was your husband with you?" this doctor asked. "Or the baby? Were they hurt?"
She shook her head. That much she knew. "No," she said. "They're back home, in Cardiff." Cardiff, where the Hub wasn't, where Torchwood was gone. She remembered that, too.
"Ah. And where are you?"
"Glasgow." Glasgow, where Torchwood also wasn't. Because they'd torn it down and built the Project on top of it. Everything was coming back, faster and faster, and she briefly wondered if she wouldn't have been better off had it stayed gone. But no. Because Simon and all the others were going to come for her whether she remembered them or not, and she couldn't help Ianto, couldn't help anyone, if she gave up and forgot the whole thing. "I'm in Glasgow."
"Good." This doctor rubbed her shoulder, soothingly. "Can I ask what brings you to Glasgow?"
"Looking for someone," she said. "Thirsty. Could I have some water?"
This doctor glanced down at the man holding Gwen's ankles, and he, too, moved away. It was just her and this doctor now, and he sat on the edge of the trolley, leaving his hand still on her shoulder. "Mrs. Williams," he said, quietly. "Do you remember what happened to you? Anything at all?"
At another time, she might have had to fake this, the semi-hysterical incoherency, just another frightened woman who shouldn't be bothered with a lot of questions. There was no need, though, not with her heart still racing like it was, her breath coming sharp and fast, scraping in her throat. "I found him. The man I was looking for. I found him. Only he found me, really. Just... there he was, and there was this feeling in my neck, like little needles, and then... It was so dark..."
This doctor patted her arm, then stood up. "You're safe, now." He helped her to sit up and handed her a paper cup. "I'll be right back."
"Wait!" She grabbed his arm before he could pull away. "Who are you? What's your name?"
"Shepherd," he said, with a smile. "Dr. Derrial Shepherd. Excuse me." He withdrew from her grasp, and left the alcove.
Gwen sipped her water, pulling her legs up underneath her. Now that she could look about a bit, she could see one of the orderlies who'd been holding her down, standing as far away from her as he could, his arms tightly folded over his chest. There was something about the way he looked at her, the fear in his eyes. She wondered if Ianto had faced that look before, when he'd come back to life in Thames House. She knew that Jack had.
She didn't envy either of them.
Outside, someone, a woman, was talking. "No heartrate, no respirations, no pulse. We tried everything. Cardiac infusers, pulmonary stimulators... Look at her temperature. She was cooling by the time she got here. She wasn't alive, Dr. Shepherd. There's no way she was alive."
Shepherd said something; she recognized the man's voice, but couldn't make out the words. The woman he was talking to let out a sigh. "It's too late. I heard the call go out over my radio. There's already someone en route." Shepherd spoke again; he didn't sound happy. Gwen crept a little closer to the edge of the trolley, trying to hear him. "Look, you know the rules. We all know the rules. Her name's on the list. You're going to have to let her go." The next bit was inaudible. Gwen shifted just a bit further, her legs hanging off the side of the trolley now, dangling above the floor.
"Here, now." The orderly's voice was harsh, and she froze, looking over at him. He'd uncrossed his arms and was walking over to her. "Where do you think you're going?"
Acting scared and helpless seemed to have worked so far, so she decided to stick with it. "I want to go home," she said. "Please, I just want to--"
"Now, now." Shepherd came back into the room, crossing swiftly to where she sat. Another orderly and a woman in a paramedic's uniform trailed in his wake. "You'll soon be home. We just want to make sure you're all right. I'm going to draw some blood, so we can run some tests, and then we'll take you to your own room. Would you like that? Your own room?"
She nodded, biting her lip, and didn't fight when he took her arm in blue-gloved hands and stuck a syringe in her. When it was full, he gave it to one of the orderlies in exchange for another, this one full of clear liquid. "What's that?" she asked, as he drew the cover from the needle. "I don't want it. I don't want--"
Shepherd looked back at the woman in the paramedic's uniform; she nodded. "This'll just calm you down a little. Trust me?" When Gwen's eyes met his, he gave her a quick wink. She nodded, and let him stick the needle in, let him inject her with whatever it was. "I'll take this," Shepherd added, stealing the cup of water from her hand, and urged her to lie back down. "And now, we'll move you to your room. All right?"
Gwen nodded again. The orderlies moved to either side of the trolley, rolling her out into the hallway, with Shepherd and the paramedic following after.
The flourescent lights flickered over her as she was moved. Strange how she didn't feel drugged. In fact, she felt clearer. More awake. She closed her eyes anyway, figuring it was best to play along. After a little while, they stopped moving, and she heard a soft chime, doors sliding open. A lift. "Where are we going?" one of the orderlies asked.
"Morgue," the woman replied.
"But she's not--"
"It's all right," Shepherd said, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "Push the button, Jayne." And they were moving down, down.
If everything went according to plan, this was the point where Simon would be entering the building. Gwen sent out a silent prayer that everything would, indeed, go according to plan. The lift stopped, the doors whooshed open, and she was pushed out into the hallway. "Look, I don't understand," the orderly said. "Why are we doing this? I thought you said--"
"We're transferring her to a specialized facility," Shepherd said. He didn't sound particularly happy. "It's out of our hands."
The trolley rolled to a stop. "Is this her?" Simon's voice, soothingly familiar, and Gwen's pulse leapt for a moment, although she forced herself to stay still, like she was knocked out.
"You've seen her file," the paramedic said. "What do you think?"
"Who are you people?" The orderly's voice was sharp, frightened and angry. "What are you doing?"
Simon ignored him. "Is there CCTV coverage in this section of the hospital?"
"It's on the blink," the paramedic said. She was particularly terse; something in her voice made Gwen think of the army, of uniforms and guns and red berets. "Hasn't been working all day."
"Good," Simon said. "We'll need to talk to anyone who might have seen the patient, find out what they saw, what they heard. My friends here will..."
The orderly was still obviously against the whole thing; it might have been touching had it not been such a danger to their plans. "I'm not talking to anyone unless you tell me what the hell is going--"
"Or," Simon continued, his voice quiet and calm, "you could fight. You can always do that."
There was a silence; Gwen guessed that weapons had been drawn. "The others are upstairs," Shepherd said, sounding a little shaken. "Please, follow me."
Footsteps strode off, back towards the lift, and then Gwen was being wheeled forwards again.
They hadn't gone far, maybe fifty feet down the hallway, when the sound of a scuffle broke out behind them, shouting, and then a sharp crack like a gun had been fired. "What the--" someone called, not Simon, one of the guards, maybe.
"Now!" Simon shouted, and the scuffle came abruptly closer. There was the soft sound of fists hitting flesh, the harder crack of skulls against tiles, and someone knocked into the trolley, someone's warm weight landed on top of Gwen, like they were trying to protect her with their body. Her eyes flew open, locked with Simon's; he was covering her as fights continued on either side, men in grey uniforms grappling with one another. A grunt, a muttered curse, a few more thuds, and everything was quiet again.
"All right?" Simon asked, looking at Gwen. She nodded, a bit breathless, and he pushed himself off her, looking around. "Andy? Captain Harkness?"
"Yeah," Andy said. He sounded a bit winded. "Yeah, fine. Not much worse than a drunk on rugby night, really."
Jack was dusting his hands off on his uniform. His hair was barely ruffled. "We should get these two under cover, in case someone comes through and--"
"Don't worry about them," Shepherd said, and Gwen sat up so quickly that her head spun. His knuckles were bleeding, and his coat was crumpled as if someone had been clutching at it. The paramedic Gwen had heard speaking to him, with her clipped, military tones, was following at his shoulder, looking similarly disheveled. "We'll put them with the others."
"I heard a gunshot," Simon said. "Was anyone--"
"One of your idiots shot himself in the foot," the paramedic said. Her face was stern. "You're ahead of schedule," she added. "If something goes wrong, I don't know if I'll be able to muster a team to pull you out of there."
Simon smiled, faintly. "If something goes wrong, Jayne, there won't be anything left of me to pull out," he said. "Just shut them down; that's all I ask."
"With pleasure," Jayne said, and turned to leave.
Shepherd followed her for a few steps, before turning back. "I'll be waiting for you at the rendezvous point. Good luck, Simon."
"Thank you, Derrial." The two clasped hands, briefly, then let go. Jayne had stopped, one hand on her hip, waiting. Shepherd took a few long strides to catch up with her and the two went off together. Simon took a deep breath, then straightened his shoulders. "Right. Captain Harkness, have you got that perception filter?"
"Never leave home without it," Jack said, pulling a key on a chain from his coat pocket. He pulled it on over his head, and suddenly, Gwen couldn't see him. Or she could, but he kept sliding away. "You know, when this is all over with, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about these friends of yours. The ones who just appeared out of nowhere, apparently knowing more about our plan than we do, and then took out four armed Project operatives without getting more than a little rumpled."
"And I'll be happy to explain everything," Simon said. "Assuming I'm still alive at that point. Right, we've got to go." He glanced at Gwen, and she nodded, lying back and closing her eyes. "Okay," Simon said. "Come on."
They hurried down the corridor, wheels rattling against the tiled floor. There was a whoosh of double doors opening, and even through closed eyelids, Gwen could see the bright light of day outside. Then it was up, and in, and she came to a stop. Probably inside the ambulance now. The others scrambled in after her, the doors closed, and they were moving.
"Radio ahead," Simon called, over the rumble of the exhaust. "Let them know we're coming. And put the flashers on."
"Sirens?" someone asked. John Hart. Gwen had never been so relieved to hear his voice.
"Just the flashers. We'd better get her in the restraints before she fights off the sedative. No point risking a repeat of last time."
Gwen felt cold leather going around her wrists and ankles. A rough finger traced down her palm-- Jack's-- and she closed her hand around it, just for the comfort. Her heart was starting to pick up again; she didn't like being held down at the best of times, and she was starting to get nervous now. It was all happening so fast.
"Heart rate monitor?" Andy asked, from the general vicinity of her feet.
The ambulance hit a bump, and everything swayed; Gwen could hear the others reaching out to cling to something, feel someone steadying the stretcher. "Leave it," Simon said, sounding a bit strained now. "We'll be lucky if it's in one piece by the time we get back."
"We'll be lucky if we're in one piece by the time we get back," Andy muttered, his tone a bit mournful. Gwen wished she could reassure him, but there was nothing she could do but lie back and think of Wales.
They settled into silence. Gwen felt like she'd reached a strange plateau. It wasn't like being awake and alert and functioning. More like when they'd all been up for 36 hours straight, functioning on coffee and Jubilee Pizza (no more Meat Feast-- Ianto'd stopped ordering it after Owen died the first time), her movements no longer under her control, but just a matter of jittering her way into the right direction. Or trying to go home, go to bed, after a particularly deadly chase, her heart still hammering in her chest, keeping her twitching even when she wanted nothing more, needed nothing more, then to just go limp and mindless for as many hours as she could snatch before Torchwood sucked her back. Torchwood always sucked you back again.
She knew she could manage, knew that when the time came she could run and fire her weapon with steady hands and do whatever she needed to, but still. The relief she'd felt in the hospital, in coming back to life when she'd been so sure she wouldn't, was all but gone now. There was still room for someone to turn traitor, and even if no one did, there was no guarantee they'd actually manage to get Ianto out, and even if they did that, it wouldn't mean that they'd all survive.
She allowed herself the luxury of a deep breath, and thought about Ianto, lying pale on the bed, his mangled leg black and obscene against the white of the sheets. She pictured his face, contorted, desperate, trying to fight back the pain even though he couldn't, really, had never been any good at it. It didn't matter, none of the rest of it mattered. She would do what she had to do, knowing that had their positions been reversed, he'd have done the same for her.
The ambulance slowed to a stop. This was it.
Fuck, Gwen thought, her body tensing despite her best efforts to keep it relaxed. The back doors of the ambulance swung open, and she trembled slightly, hopefully surreptitiously.
"Papers," someone said.
"Here," Simon said, footsteps on metal as he stepped towards the front of the ambulance. There was a rustle as he handed something over; Gwen felt like her senses were on overdrive, hyperfocused and keen. She twitched again.
"Doctor, she's coming to," Andy said, sounding desperately nervous.
"This shouldn't take long," Simon replied, a little sharply. Just don't act too unconscious, he'd told her. Gwen began twitching in earnest, occasionally letting out little whimpers, hoping that she wasn't playing it up too much.
"Doctor." Andy's voice was louder, now, high-pitched and frightened.
Simon shuffled back, picked up Gwen's wrist and checked her pulse. "Christ," he muttered. "If we're done here, I need to get the Subject secured."
"She looks secure enough," someone said, from just outside the ambulance. He hadn't stepped inside, though. Afraid, maybe? Gwen turned slightly, tugging at her restraints, moaning.
"So did the last one," Simon pointed out, leaning over Gwen to pin both her wrists down, "and it took four of us--"
"All right, all right. You're clear." After a few moments, the door swung closed, and someone thumped on it. There was a rumble and a roar as the ambulance started up again and began rattling along.
"Not bad, Gwen Cooper," Simon muttered, his voice tickling her ear, before he pulled away. She smiled faintly at him before resuming her tossing and muttering.
Everything was moving faster and faster now. At least it'd be over with soon. Eyes closed, Gwen couldn't see what was happening, only guess at it. The ambulance stopped, the doors were opened, her stretcher lowered down, wheels unfolding to hit the pavement. A soft whoosh like electric doors opening. Rolling across the tiled floors. They were in now, she reckoned, and decided to keep shifting, tugging at her restraints, eyes closed but moaning and mumbling under her breath. "Better hurry," Simon said, and they rolled her along faster. "Don't want her causing a scene."
She wondered how long it would be until John started up the distraction. Her heart was pounding faster now. "Nearly there," Simon said. He sounded a bit out of breath. "Get the door, would you?"
Another electronic swooshing, and then the sound of a door closing behind them. They stopped. For a moment, no one spoke, or even seemed to breathe. "Right. Cameras off," Simon said. His voice was shaking, and he wasn't bothering to hide it. "Gwen, let's get you up and moving."
Finally. Her eyes flew open in time to see the three of them descending on her bindings, Jack on one wrist, Simon on the other, Andy fumbling with her feet. Jack must have taken the key off, because she could see him again; couldn't seem to stop looking at him, in fact. There was something very reassuring about having him there.
She sat up as soon as her wrists were free-- Simon bumped Andy out of the way and quickly undid the remaining restraint, as Gwen rubbed the red marks on her forearms. She hadn't been struggling too hard, or so she'd thought, but it'd left marks anyway.
Somewhere along the line, they'd replaced her clothes with a hospital gown. Simon ducked under the trolley for a moment and pulled out a set of scrubs, handing them over. "Thanks," Gwen said, sliding off the table and pulling the pants on underneath the gown, not bothering to wait for anyone to turn around or cover their eyes. The gown was tied loosely, and she yanked it off easily, pulling the scrub top on over bare breasts. Andy went pink and turned away, even though there was nothing else to see.
"Here," Jack said, handing her a gun and a mobile. Her own-- John must have looted them from her once he'd knocked her out. She'd have to thank him for that, assuming they both survived. "You going to be okay?"
She checked the gun to make sure it was loaded. Jack handed over another clip, and she slid it into the back pocket of her scrubs, alongside her mobile. "Not seeing double or anything, and I'm on my feet," she said. Granted, her heart was pounding and her hands were shaky, but that didn't matter. It had never mattered. "Let's go save Ianto."
Simon was already by the door, listening intently. "No one in the hall yet," he murmured. "Either Captain Hart is stealthier than I thought, or--" Then a deafening klaxon sounded, leaving the four of them clutching at their ears. The lights all flashed red in unison.
"Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning--"
"That's him," Simon shouted, barely audible over the alarms, the computerized voice announcing the situation to all and sundry. "Come on."
They scrambled out into the hallway, Simon in the lead, Jack and Gwen close at his heels and Andy bringing up the rear.
"Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning--"
The door to Ianto's room was shut fast-- Jack reached for his wrist strap, but Simon waved him off, working his fingers into the gap between the door and the wall and forcing it open with surprising strength. Then he was through, the others on his heels. The sight of Ianto on his bed in the middle of the room, sitting up as much as he was able with his wrists strapped to the metal railing, gaping at them, froze Gwen in her tracks for a moment. He looked exactly as he had in her dream, thin, pale, with long hair and a beard. Andy pushed past her, then skidded to a halt with a sharp intake of breath.
"Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility has been breached. Warning: Facility ha--"
The klaxons, the flashing lights, and the eerie computerized voice all stopped at once, and the lights went out, stranding them in darkness. Then there was a humming sound, and the lights kicked back in, dimmer now. "He took out the power supply," Simon said, making quick work of the bindings on Ianto's wrists, then hurrying to free his ankles. "Hopefully, that'll slow them down a bit." He turned to Ianto, who had sat up fully, and was staring at each of them in turn, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and stunned. "We've got to move," he said. "Can you walk?"
Ianto wasn't looking at him. He was staring at Jack, eyes fixed on him, shaking his head from side to side. "No," he said, voice barely a whisper. "No, Jack, you can't... They'll catch you, and they'll hurt you, and I can't, Jack, I can't watch that, not again, you have to go, you have to--"
He lunged forward, and Simon was just barely fast enough to stop him taking a header off the bed. "Ianto," he said, voice firm and loud. Gwen could see his hand tapping at Ianto's shoulder, patting out a message in dits and dahs. "Ianto, look at me. Ianto, look at me; it's all right. You're not on the ship. Ianto, you're not--"
"You didn't come for me." Ianto had turned his gaze towards Gwen; he was wild-eyed, frantic. "You came for Jack. You didn't know I was here. You didn't-- It's all right, though. Just take him. Take him and go!"
"Not without you." Jack pushed past Gwen easily, broad-shouldered and tall and every inch the Captain at that moment, even without the greatcoat and Webley to costume him. He glanced at Simon, who stepped away, passing Ianto into Jack's hands. "I'm not leaving you, Ianto. Not again."
Ianto sagged in Jack's grip, but didn't fall into his arms, still holding himself back. "It's the worst thing," he said, quietly. "The rest, I don't care; you get used to the needles and the knives and the... even when She... I'm used to it. It doesn't hurt anymore. But you... I can't, Jack. I can't stand to watch. Not anymore. I can't..."
Jack leaned his forehead against Ianto's, cupping Ianto's face in his hands. One thumb grazed along Ianto's cheekbone, then tapped, lightly. Graze. Tap. Tap. Graze. "Then close your eyes," he said, quietly. And Ianto did. "Take a deep breath." And Ianto did, as Jack tapped out his message, steady and calm and so intimate that Gwen had to turn her face away. "And another one. Good. Keep breathing. That's right. Just keep breathing."
"Not like I can stop," Ianto said, and there was something painful in his voice then. But then he said, "Jack," in such a strange, awestruck way, and when Gwen looked at them again, she saw Ianto's eyes open, staring at Jack, and she knew that he'd come back to them. "Jack. I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."
"You know me better than that," Jack replied, his voice very gentle.
"Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again." They looked at each other for a few seconds, just looking, before Ianto turned to Gwen. "Gwen," he said, softly. Then he craned his neck, gaze sweeping the room. "Andy," he said. "They finally dragged you into this mess, eh?"
"Kicking and screaming," Andy said, stepping forwards, away from the door. "Don't tell me you're not glad of the daring rescue."
"Swooning any second now."
Simon had stepped away for a moment to a side cabinet; he came back with a syringe in one hand, scrub bottoms draped over his arm. "We're running out of time," he said. "Better get you up and moving." He handed the trousers to Jack and uncapped the syringe. Ianto glanced at it, nervously. "It's to counteract the effects of the sedatives," Simon said, his voice gentler than Gwen had heard it before. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ianto."
"I know," Ianto said, and held out his arm. Jack was kneeling at the floor by Ianto's feet, guiding his legs into the scrub bottoms, and Gwen had to close her eyes. It wasn't for her to watch.
When she looked again, Jack was pulling away from Ianto-- slowly, perhaps reluctantly, leaving Ianto to balance himself with one hand on Simon's shoulder, Simon's hand on his waist. The syringe was gone. Ianto was still looking at Jack, as if he'd never seen him before. "You were right, you know," he said. "It hurts. Every time."
"Ianto," Jack said, his voice a little choked. "I--" He reached out.
"No!"
Simon lunged forward with a cry, shoving Ianto into Jack's arms as he pulled his gun, and for a moment, Gwen thought he'd turned on them. But then she felt metal digging into her back, cold through the thin top. A hand closed on her shoulder.
They'd been caught.
"Dr. Tau," a voice said, warm breath puffing past Gwen's ear, and she stiffened. "You didn't think this was going to work, did you?"
Ianto let out a choked noise and tried to lurch forward, but he stumbled, and Jack had to catch him quickly. To their left, Gwen saw Andy slipping along the wall, trying to get behind her captor.
"Stop that, PC Davidson," the man said. "I will shoot her. Don't think for an instant that I won't."
Andy froze in place.
"Let her go," Ianto said, his voice hoarse. "I'll stay here. I won't try to run. Just let her go."
"Why should I?" It didn't matter that Gwen couldn't see the face of the man holding her hostage; she knew who it was. The doctor from the video, small and white-haired, the one who'd seemed so ordinary, the one who'd done such terrible things. "She's a perfectly viable Subject. Torchwood Three background, and there's already been one apparent resurrection... Granted, she might have faked that, but we'll find out soon enough what she can do. We'll have you as well, and the Captain, never fear that. We'll have all three of you."
"No, you won't," Simon snapped. But the hands that held the gun were shaking. "You won't live long enough for that."
"Who's going to kill me, Dr. Tau? You?" The doctor's voice was still perfectly calm, perfectly composed. "It's funny, really. I really didn't want you to come into direct contact with the Subject at all. The Board overruled me. But all in all, I'd say it turned out rather well."
Gwen looked up at Jack, looking for some sort of guidance, but he was staring past her. So was Ianto, for that matter. Both of them, eyes fixed on someone behind her, and Ianto's hand patting restlessly at Jack's arm. Gwen stiffened. Even if this was what she hoped it was, she'd only have one shot at saving herself. Best make it a good one.
"It doesn't matter--" Simon was saying, but Jack silenced him with an upraised hand.
"You knew that I was here," Jack said, his eyes focused once more on the doctor. "How?"
The doctor shrugged; Gwen felt the barrel of the gun shift slightly against her skin. It was reassuring, the way the gun moved with him. Made the odds a little better. "There's CCTV everywhere these days, Captain Harkness. You only had to get caught on camera the once. It was enough."
Jack actually smiled at that. "How long ago was it? Just for curiosity's sake. A week? A month?"
"Six months," the doctor replied. For a moment, Gwen was confused. Then she remembered, and she knew who was behind her.
"Ah," Jack said, grin widening. "See, that's interesting. Because I wasn't even on this planet six months ago. Although I can see how you'd get confused. The resemblance is pretty striking."
"You think?" Jack's voice was suddenly coming from behind Gwen, although she could see him standing in front of her, mouth tight shut. If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn it was some kind of a trick. "Personally, I'm a little insulted. You've aged well, I grant you that, but still. I do not look that old."
The grip on Gwen's shoulder weakened-- the barrel of the gun pulled just a little to the right against her back. "It's a trick," the doctor said.
"If it's a trick, then why does Dr. Tau look so surprised?" The first Jack, Gwen's Jack, sounded outright amused. Gwen didn't risk a glance at him or at Simon; she closed her eyes, tensing her muscles, ready to spring. "I've only known him for two days, but even I know he's not that good of an actor."
The barrel pulled to the right just a little bit more.
"I would have introduced myself sooner," the other Jack said. "But you know how John is. Wants to keep me all to himself. Really, I've never met anyone so--"
And the doctor turned; Gwen felt it in the slackening of the hand on her shoulder, the gun finally pulling away. She was wrenching herself sideways even as Jack snapped out, "Now!" The shot came a second later, hot air passing her harmlessly as she fell to the floor, rolling, and another shot was fired, and a body hit the floor with a thump. Then Ianto was crouched in front of her, on his knees, running his hands over her arms and down her sides, checking for blood.
"You're not hurt," he said, finally, his hands still resting on her side.
"Not this time," she said, pushing herself up onto her knees. He stared at her, running one hand through her hair, the other pressed to her side, then turned to stare up at the doorway.
Gwen followed his gaze, heart skipping in her chest. She'd known this could happen, known that there were... but it was different to see it, to have it made real. Jack Harkness dressed in black fatigues, standing in the doorway, still braced for recoil. And back by the bed, Jack Harkness in a grey Project uniform, one hand on his weapon, although he hadn't drawn it. Yet.
"What the fuck?" Andy asked. His gun was still out, but he didn't seem to know quite where to point it.
"My thoughts exactly," Jack breathed. His attention was still on the other Jack, the Time Agent. "Who the hell are you?".
"Time Agent 21177." The Time Agent's voice was crisper than Jack's, the accent subtly different. "The Project was on the verge of causing a major paradox. I was sent to stop it. Erase all the evidence; leave nothing behind."
"You're going to blow the place up," Jack said, glancing at Gwen and Ianto with dismay on his face. "How long have we got?"
The Time Agent checked his wrist strap. "Forty-five minutes," he said. "Just enough time for me to get out before you arrived, let you rescue the Subject, and--"
Suddenly, Ianto pushed Gwen down, diving over her, and for a few moments, sprawled on her back, she thought he'd attacked one of the Jacks, either one. Then she pushed up onto her knees, and saw Ianto wrestling with someone on the floor. The doctor, wounded, but not dead, and still armed.
She cried out, "Ianto!" and scrambled forward on all fours, Jack and Simon lunging with her, but it was too late. The gun went off, echoingly loud in the small space, and Ianto fell backwards, blood blooming on his hospital gown. Gwen caught him, leaning him against her chest-- he gasped for breath, hands clutching uselessly at nothing. "Ianto, no. Stay with us. Ianto, please, not now, please just--"
"Hurts," Ianto gasped, one hand settling briefly on her arm, too feeble to hold on, and then he was sagging, limp. Dead weight in her arms.
"No... Ianto, no..." She was crying, stroking his hair, and his hospital gown was bright red and saturated, and she'd failed him again, hadn't saved him, again.
"He'll come back," said a voice, no longer calm, no longer composed. Gwen stared down at the doctor who had started the whole bloody thing, laying on the floor, clutching his wounded side. "He'll come back."
Simon knelt by the man, picked up the gun abandoned on the floor, and cocked it, his expression almost thoughtful. "You won't," he said. The first shot went right between the doctor's eyes. After the second and the third, the man's head was a bloody ruin, and Simon's hands were shaking so much that he couldn't hold the weapon. It dropped to the doctor's chest; Jack picked it up, reloaded it, and handed it back to him.
"Keep this," he said. "You'll need it."
The Time Agent stepped forward, gun holstered out of sight, and tried to pull Ianto from Gwen's grasp, but she fought him, blindly, until Jack's restraining hand on her shoulder made her let go. "It's all right," Jack said, quietly, although the wariness never left his eyes as the Time Agent lifted Ianto, gently, as though he were a child. Jack looked up at the Time Agent. "I don't remember any of this," he said.
"No," the Agent said, sounding bitter. "Well. You wouldn't. They took the whole thing, didn't they? Two years, wiped away."
Jack frowned, pushing himself up to his feet. "How old are you?"
"Earth Standard?" The Time Agent frowned. "Thirty-four. Why does it matter?"
"You're mortal; that's why." Jack pulled the perception filter out of his pocket, and placed it around his doppelganger's neck. Suddenly, both he and Ianto were sliding, always at the corner of Gwen's eyes, never right in front of them. Jack helped her to her feet, picked up her weapon, discarded on the floor, and gave it back to her. "Stay in the middle. Simon, you're with me. Lead us out of here. Gwen, you and Andy are rear guard." He looked down at her, brushed a tear away with his thumb. "He'll be all right," he said, quietly, and she nodded, trying to believe him. "Let's go."
Simon spared one last glance down at the dead man on the floor, then hurried to follow Jack, the Time Agent striding after them, carrying Ianto's body as though it weighed nothing. Gwen and Andy fell into step behind them, weapons raised.
Once out into the hallway, she could hear distant gunfire, shouting. "I take it John didn't warn you about the bombs?" the Agent asked. "Of course, he'd have had to explain to you who was setting the bombs, and that wouldn't have been easy. I guess I should be flattered he went to the trouble of outright lying to me, instead of just--"
"Perception filters work better when you keep your mouth shut," Jack said, tersely.
The gunfire was getting closer, now accompanied by running footsteps. "We need cover," Gwen called to Simon, thumb on the safety of her weapon, praying that muscle memory would be enough to let her shoot straight. "They're almost on top of us!"
"The corridor splits off just ahead," Simon called back.
"I see it," Jack said. "Gwen, go left. Andy, right. The rest of you, stay with me." They started running. Sure enough, another corridor intersected theirs, just a few feet ahead. Gwen and Andy split off from the others, flattening themselves against opposite walls.
"Let's slow them down a bit, yeah?" Gwen asked, and Andy nodded, face pale, eyes wide with fear. He moved when she moved, leaning out into the open for just a moment, seeing the guards coming in their black uniforms, and firing once, twice, even as Andy did the same. There was an outburst of cursing, and then answering gunfire echoing down the hallway, bullets ricocheting off the tiles. When the hail of bullets was over, Gwen stepped out into the open again, firing four more rounds as quickly as she could, reassured when she heard someone grunting in pain. Andy was a few seconds behind her in stepping out to shoot, and too slow in getting under cover-- one of the guards got a lucky shot off and clipped his shoulder, sending him back into the wall with a soft gasp, one hand clutching at the wound. "All right?" Gwen shouted over the gunfire.
Andy didn't speak, only nodded, and stepped out again, finishing his clip off, ejecting it and reloading. Gwen took her turn while he was under cover-- there were three grey-clad bodies on the floor now, and she thought she'd hit a fourth one in the knee. The answering fire was slow in coming, but she didn't dare assume they'd stopped. Probably just regrouping. She ejected her spent clip, reloaded, and nodded at Andy. "Let's catch up to the others," she said. She stayed where she was until he bolted down the hall-- only then did she follow him.
The others weren't far ahead-- she could see Simon and Jack moving cautiously, weapons raised, talking in quiet voices. "--wait for him?" Simon asked, quietly.
"We still have to get through the gate," Jack replied. "Ten minutes, at most. And that's if we don't-- Move!"
Gwen dove for a nearby doorway, pulling Andy with her-- seconds later, bullets were rattling down the hallway, and she could hear footsteps approaching from behind them. They were pinned down. "Somehow, I don't think Captain Hart managed to keep the guards distracted for long," Andy said, one hand pressed to his shoulder. He almost sounded cheerful.
"Jack!" Gwen shouted. "Simon!"
"Exit's blocked," Jack called back. She craned her neck to see, then tucked herself quickly back into cover. More gunfire, this time answered by one or both of the others. "Agent 21177, report!"
"Holding position," he replied. "All right up there?"
"Just stay down!" Jack called back. "I'll tell you when to move!"
More gunfire. When Gwen peeked out again, she saw the shadows of the second group of guards, the ones coming up from behind, stretching out along the tiled floors. She raised her weapon, made herself ready. Then there was an explosion-- flames, and black smoke, and screaming. The lights behind them went out. There was no sound now besides the ringing of her ears, just silence.
"What was that?" Jack called. "Gwen? Gwen, report!"
"I can't see anything, Jack!" Someone was coming; she could hear limping footsteps dragging their way down the hall. She raised the neckline of her scrub top to cover her mouth and nose, and squinted into the haze. She could just make out the shape of a man, a slight man with a ridiculously large gun, stumbling towards them. She swallowed hard, then pushed herself out into the open. "Hold it," she ordered, trying to keep her voice steady.
Then the man was pressing her back into the doorway as gunfire rained down on them. "Don't want me on my knees this time, then?" John asked, his mouth inches from her ear. His shirt was sticky where they were pressed together, and his voice was ragged, not nearly as smug.
"You're hurt," Gwen murmured, reaching up to check the damage-- he stopped her with a hand on her wrist, blood on his hands, on her skin now.
"It's nothing," John said. "Did you get Ianto, or were you too busy standing here making a target out of yourself?"
"We've--" Gwen stopped short, remembering Ianto dying in her arms. "He was-- He got--"
"Fuck. Well. Guess he's not lucid, then." Gunfire from Simon and Jack; gunfire from the guards.
"Gwen, report!" Jack called again.
She opened her mouth to call back, but was stopped by John's hand, coppery taste of his blood in her mouth, silencing her. "But you brought him?" he asked. "He's up there?"
"The Agent's got him," Gwen said.
Hart pulled back a little-- his eyes were in shadow, and she couldn't guess what he was thinking. "The Agent?" he repeated. "The Time Agent?"
Gwen nodded. "He's got a perception filter on-- it's hard to see him--"
"Not if you're looking for him." John stepped back, pushing the gun into her hands. "Take this. Follow me." Then he slipped out into the smoke; Gwen hefted the weapon into position, spreading her feet to help her take the weight of it, then went after him, Andy on her heels.
The Agent was barely ten feet from them, in the mouth of a hallway, Ianto still cradled in his arms, almost protectively. John peered down the hallway without a word to either of them, then pulled a grenade from his belt, yanking the pin out with his teeth and hurling it. Another explosion-- more screaming, more smoke. "You two," John said, looking from the Agent to Andy. "Stay. Gwen, with me."
Gwen traced John's footsteps to the best of her ability, trying to move as stealthily as he did. The smoke helped-- it and the explosions seemed to have confused the guards ahead. Another twenty feet and they were with Jack and Simon, huddled behind what appeared to be a reception desk. Jack was wrapping a scrap of cloth around Simon's right leg, like some sort of a makeshift bandage. Gwen tucked down by Jack's side, John hovering over them.
"How many?" John hissed.
"Nine, now," Jack said, tying the bandage off. Simon was clutching his gun with white knuckles, shaking from head to toe. "What about the others?"
"Behind us," John said. "Did they split?"
Jack nodded, barely visible in the dim light, the smoky haze. John pulled another grenade from his belt, but didn't go for the pin, not yet. "I'll go left. You and Gwen go right." He glanced down at Simon. "You make sure the others get out." Simon nodded, wordlessly, and pushed to his feet-- most of his weight was on the left leg. "On my word."
They hovered for a moment, Gwen's palms sweating, her breath coming quick and fast, and then John shouted, "Now!" and everything seemed to happen at once, the three of them bursting from their positions in a sudden flurry of gunfire, the gun in Gwen's arms rattling out bullets so fast she could hardly stand, and then there was an explosion, too close, the heat of it singing her. The return fire slowed but didn't stop; bullets ricocheting off the walls, and something hit Gwen in the temple; she staggered, dropping the automatic weapon she'd been carrying so she could reach up and touch her forehead. Her hand came away bloody.
Then the others were racing past her, Simon snagging her elbow as he stumbled along in the rear, and she wrapped her arm around his waist to hold him up as they ran.
They burst through the doors out into daylight, racing for the ambulance, a scattering of guards coming from their posts at the fence after them. Another bullet caught Gwen in the hip and she staggered, clutching at it, but Simon's arm was around her shoulders, pulling her along with him. Then Andy was yanking the ambulance doors open and the Time Agent was lifting Ianto in, scrambling up after him. Jack dove into the driver's seat and started the engine. Andy and the Time Agent were still at the doorway, hands reaching out, pulling John in, then Simon, then finally Gwen herself.
The doors were still open when they started to move; Gwen caught one, Andy the other, and they yanked them shut, collapsing against the sides of the ambulance.
"Hold tight!" Jack shouted. They were picking up speed. "They've closed off the gates!" Gwen braced herself as best she could, standing against the wall of the ambulance with nothing to hold onto. Then there was a crash of metal, and the entire ambulance rocked.
Gwen crashed against the side, with Andy landing nearly on top of her, the two of them barely able to hold each other up. He was laughing, like he couldn't stop himself. "Fuck me," he gasped, as the ambulance stabilized and they managed to catch their balance. "Oh, fuck me. Christ." He sagged away from Gwen, back towards the opposite wall, clutching at his shoulder.
Gwen panted for breath, staring around the ambulance. Simon was picking himself up slowly from where he'd sprawled on the floor. The Time Agent, Jack-who-wasn't, was sat next to him, cradling Ianto's body in his lap, eyes closed. Andy had dark smudges on his cheek, one hand pressed to his shoulder, still laughing breathlessly with that helpless, pained look on his face. And John was curled up on the floor, both hands clutching at his abdomen, the fingers black with blood.
"Shit," Gwen breathed, and crawled over to him, even though her head was spinning and her hip flared with pain every time she moved.
"All right back there?" Jack called from the front of the ambulance.
"John's hurt," she shouted in reply.
John opened his eyes, and coughed. "'S'all right," he muttered. "Job's done; that's what counts."
Simon nudged her away gently, peeling John's shirt up and away from the wound -- he hissed, but didn't try to flinch away. He looked strange without that ridiculous red jacket, almost naked. "Shot to the abdomen," Simon said, voice pitched loud enough that Jack could hear him. "I can probably clean him up, get him stable--"
"You'd better," Jack said. "Because I've got a lot of questions for him."
"Well, you'll have to wait," Simon snapped. He turned to Gwen. "I need the box behind you -- no, not that. The other one."
Andy helped her find it, and she passed it over. Simon pulled out gauze and antiseptic, and started to clean the blood off John's pale stomach. Gwen wanted to turn away, but there wasn't anywhere else to look. "Can't change what's already done, Jack," John mumbled. "Had to make sure it all-- 'S what we do, innit? Make things happen."
"No more talking," Simon said, tersely. He glared at the Time Agent, who looked as though he'd been about to speak, but snapped his mouth shut.
John's head lolled back against the floor of the ambulance; he almost appeared to be smiling. "Looks like you owe it all to me, Jack," he murmured. "Hope you're grateful."
There was a distant roar behind them, something like thunder. Or like an explosion. Andy swore as the ambulance pitched again, nearly knocking him off his feet. Simon didn't look up from his work, his hands steady and calm. The Time Agent pulled Ianto's limp body a little bit closer to his chest.
"Maybe I am," Jack said, quietly.
Continue to Part Two