[fic] Bloody Torchwood (12/18)
Title: Bloody Torchwood (12/18)
Author: noscrubs12345
sirius100 Prompt: Variations on Reality (original)
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Sirius Black knew there was something he didn't like about Cardiff. He just didn't expect it to be a rift in time and space. But, once taken, will he be able to make it back to the wizarding world? Or will he be stuck with bloody Torchwood if his friends don't find him first? And what does a mysterious blonde woman have to do with the strange blue box hidden inside the Department of Mysteries?
Warnings: spoilers through Torchwood series two and Doctor Who series four
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Russell T Davies, the BBC, various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Missed the beginning?: Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV || Part V || Part VI || Part VII || Part VIII || Part IX || Part X || Part XI
or
Bloody Torchwood @ AO3
Remus met James and Peter by the castle gates at half eight the next morning. If they noticed his red rimmed and bloodshot eyes, they didn’t mention it. Instead James nodded and clapped his shoulder, hand lingering a second longer than strictly necessary. His smile when Peter hugged him quickly turned into a frown as the man winced as his forearm knocked against Remus’s elbow.
“All right, Peter?” he asked when they pulled away.
“Yeah,” he said quickly, his embarrassed laugh high and thin. “The cat knocked the kettle over this morning. Guess who was standing too near?”
“Ouch,” Remus said, cringing in sympathy, and ducked his head. “Sorry.”
“You know me. Clumsy old Wormtail,” Peter quipped, self-depricating, and cleared his throat. “H-how are you holding up, Remus?”
Remus sighed and picked at the fraying hem of his sleeve. “The sooner we get this sorted, the better.”
Peter nodded and looked over his shoulder at James.
The dark haired man cleared his throat and motioned towards the castle. “Maybe we should go on up?”
“Yeah,” Remus mumbled, wrapping his cloak and arms tightly around himself. As he followed James and Peter up the path leading to Hogwarts and through the oaken front doors, he let his mind wander. Thoughts of Sirius-where and when he possibly was, if he was safe, if he was missing them or having the time of his life-drifted through his head as they passed through the corridors and up the labyrinthine staircases. If the students milling through the halls noticed him and his companions, they paid them little notice.
Around every corner was a reminder of Sirius: a hastily stolen kiss, a prank gone awry, a fight with one of the Slytherins. As engrossed in his thoughts as he was, he missed the concerned look James and Peter shared.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he ran into Peter when they stopped in front of the statue concealing the entrance to Dumbledore’s office
“You sure you’re all right?” James asked again, frowning as he glanced at Peter. “If you’d rather sit this out-“
“No,” Remus said curtly and glared at them. “I’m not made of glass nor do I need to be handled like it. If we’re going to get Sirius back, I’m going to help.”
“All right, mate,” Peter said. “Listen, if I can do anything, let me know. I could come round this afternoon with some of Mum’s shepherd’s pie maybe.”
“He’s missing, Wormtail, not dead,” James said tersely. Looking between his friends, he placed a hand on their shoulders and added, “This isn’t easy on any of us. We’ll get him back. Together.”
“And if we can’t? If he’s just...gone?” Remus cursed his voice when it cracked.
“We will find him, Moony,” James said, gently shaking him. “I won’t rest ‘til I’ve got my best mate back.” He paused. “Besides, he’ll wish he’d have stayed gone if he manages to miss the birth. Lily’d never let him forget it.”
Remus managed a strained smile of his own. “We’d better get him back soon, then.”
“That’s the spirit,” James said and stepped back. He turned around to face the gargoyle. “Ready?”
“Yep,” Peter squeaked and took a half-step of his own towards the carved creature.
“Let’s do this,” Remus said, steeling his shoulders as he pushed aside his doubts for the time being.
“Fizzing Whizzbees,” James called and the gargoyle jumped aside to reveal the winding staircase.
“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Peter asked as they started forward.
“And it’s still all Padfoot’s fault,” James said, throwing them a grin as he jogged up the stairs.
Remus followed, Peter on his heels, and laughed. He was surprised when the echo didn’t sound hysterical. “At least this time I hope I won’t have to come up with some half-arsed excuse to save yours.”
“Could we still blame it on Snivellus?” Peter called up, his breathing loud and slightly laboured.
“We could try, but I doubt it’d do any good.” James’s voice trailed off as he reached the top of the steps.
James waited until Peter had reached the landing before raising his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could. On the other side, Dumbledore stood in his travelling cloak and a frowned tugged his lips downward. He looked tired as he regarded them for a long moment before stepping back to let them enter.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to make this quick,” he said as they filed past him. The door banged shut as he closed it and Fawkes cried out in protest. Dumbledore chuckled and regarded the bird firmly as he turned on his perch, his feathers ruffled. “I’ve just had word from the Ministry regarding the blue box. Mr Pettigrew, has Mr Potter filled you in about all that has happened?”
Peter blushed, looking down at his shoes and tucking his hands into his pockets out of habit. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last night. Mum wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t leave her.”
Dumbledore dismissed his excuse with a wave of his hand. “I hope she’s doing better.” He smiled and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat, gentlemen.”
Peter obliged almost immediately, falling back into old habits, and James slid into the other chair when Remus declined it. Instead, he crossed to the window and stared down at the grounds. He could feel Dumbledore’s gaze on him, but didn’t turn, didn’t flinch as he heard the scratching of Dumbledore’s chair against the floor.
“So, how are we getting him back?” James said, voice tight. “I’m not leaving this office until we’ve come up with something.”
Dumbledore chuckled, and Remus turned his head enough to watch the man settle back in his chair.
“I may have found a way of getting us into the Department of Mysteries. However, you, Mr Potter, are not going to like it.”
“Bollocks,” James said, deflating, and Remus smiled to himself. “Why not?”
“Because I can only get myself and two other people inside. We’ll need you to monitor everything from your desk. The first sign of trouble, you send me your Patronus.”
Remus turned around in time to see James’s pout. Leaning back against the windowsill, he asked, “So where do the rest of us come in?”
Dumbledore looked between him and Peter before sitting up straight. He pulled out one of his desk drawers, rummaging in it before removing two shimmering purple vials. He sat them on his desk and steepled his fingers under his chin as he leaned back. “You and Mr Pettigrew will be accompanying me into the Department of Mysteries.”
“But they’ll never let us in,” Peter said, his voice shaky. “Remus and I are civilians. Not to mention Remus’s...condition. They won’t let him past the entrance.”
Remus noted the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye. “Quite right, Peter. As it may be, myself and my dear friend Nicholas Flamel have been asked to have a look at the TARDIS. Unfortunately, Nicholas is away on business in Florence and won’t be back until early next week.”
James snorted. “Great. Hope he gets in a few sights while he’s there. But that helps us how?”
“Nicholas’s return owl to the Ministry saying he couldn’t attend may have got lost somewhere over France. No one is the wiser,” Dumbledore said with a secretive smile. “And his personal assistant would, of course, be accompanying him.”
“So we us Polyjuice,” Remus said, nodding to the purple vials. “Peter and I take it, slip in and no one knows we aren’t who we say we are. It’s simple.”
“It’s too simple. Something could go wrong,” Peter added, visibly swallowing. “What if it’s warded like Gringotts?”
“Ah, it may be simple, but the fewer steps our plan has, the fewer things to go wrong,” Dumbledore said. “The backup plan is I go in alone. And I assure you, Mr Pettigrew, you will go unnoticed if luck is on our side.
“And what happens once we’re in?” Peter asked. Remus noted the way he was nervously wringing his hands.
“Our priority is getting to the TARDIS and finding a way inside if at all possible,” Dumbledore said with a curt nod. Turning to Remus, he asked, “That woman you were talking to last night in the street. Who was she?”
“And why don’t I know about this?” James asked, eyes wide and glasses slipping down his nose as he looked at Remus.
“It was none of your business, Jimmy,” Remus said, a wan smile flitting across his lips when James moue of distaste at the nickname. He sobered as he turned to Dumbledore. “The one I was telling you about, the werewolf who isn’t a werewolf.”
Peter groaned and slumped down in his chair. “Do I want to know what that means?”
“We’ll spare you the headache,” Remus quipped, sighing as he looked back at an expectant Dumbledore. “She basically reiterated what you said, sir. She had this device she claimed helped her walk between universes. And she mentioned something called ‘Torchwood.’”
Dumbledore made a noncommittal noise. “I’ve never heard of anything called ‘Torchwood.’ What else did she say?”
Remus swallowed. “She told me to find the TARDIS, and that a man called the Doctor should be inside it. She claimed he was the only one who could stop the Darkness from coming.”
“‘Doctor’? Doctor who?” James asked, frowning at Remus. “She didn’t give a name?”
“Just ‘the Doctor.’ She implied he was a Time Lord.”
“Impossible. They all died,” Dumbledore said, surprise tinged with suspicion in his voice.
“Maybe not all of them if a TARDIS has shown up,” Remus said, his quiet voice loud in the suddenly charged room. “She...she said she’d be back when we found it.”
“This woman, did she say what her name was?” Dumbledore said after a beat.
“No,” Remus said, a shiver running down his spine, “she wouldn’t answer when I asked. I...when she was around, I felt...wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
“Like I wanted to turn tail and run home as quickly as I could,” Remus said as his heartbeat quickened and a sweat broke out on his brow. “The wolf can sense something about her. What exactly I don’t know. But he fears her, I think. I’ve never felt anything like it before, not even around other lycanthropes.”
“What is she?” Peter asked, his voice rising as he looked between his friends and Dumbledore.
“Something new,” Remus whispered, giving himself a mental shake. “But I can tell you she’s a Muggle. Should we be worried about her finding us out? Is she a threat?”
“No,” Dumbledore said firmly. “We shouldn’t be afraid of what we don’t know, of the big bad wolf. We go in as planned, find the TARDIS, and if she finds us, so be it. We deal with any threats when and if they should arise. Three wizards against one Muggle is hardly a match. Strength in numbers, boys. We stop at nothing.” He looked between the three friends, studying each in turn. “The question is, are we ready?”
He waited until each of the men nodded before breaking into a wide grin. “Good. We meet at Mr Lupin’s flat at dawn tomorrow. Then we sneak in to get a look at this TARDIS. Let us just hope it holds our answers.”
***
“Is all this really necessary?” Sirius asked, glancing between the multitude of carrier bags in his and Jones’s hands. “I think there may still be some clothes left in the shops.”
Jones chuckled, looking over at him as they walked through the car park. “If you’re going to stay on you’ll need them. Trust me.”
“I still feel like we bought everything,” Sirius said and smiled at Jones. “The styles have certainly changed since 1979.”
“Just be glad you didn’t land in the Eighties. You really dodged a bullet there.”
“That bad?” Sirius asked, slowing as they reached Jones’s car. He watched, still awestruck, as Jones unlocked it remotely and opened the boot with the push of a button.
“Worse,” the man deadpanned and stashed the bags inside.
“Oh,” Sirius said, pondering the plight of the 1980s as he placed his own bags in the boot. He stood back as Jones slammed the lid down. “What were they like? The Eighties.”
“All I remember is my mam’s horrible shoulder pads and my sister listening to Duran Duran and New Kids on the Block incessantly,” Jones said, suppressing a shiver. “And I remember Rhiannon’s Care Bear meeting an untimely end, but that had nothing to do with me. Well, maybe just a little but she deserved it.”
Sirius frowned as he walked over to the passenger side, wondering what Care Bears were and what function shoulder pads served. Over the top of the car, he asked, “Was it really so terrible a decade?”
Jones bit his lip, absently scratching at a speck of dirt on top of the Audi. “I don’t know how much I should or can tell you, but most people seem to think it was a more carefree decade. Even if the fashion was ghastly.”
“And by ghastly you mean-?” Sirius pried, a small half-smile tugging at his lips as a wistful expression crossed Jones’s face.
“Acid wash jeans, Day-Glo, really big hair, and leg warmers. Like I said, the fashion was abominable, but the music wasn’t half bad.”
“So does that mean it isn’t half good either?” Sirius asked, opening the car door and sliding in. He watched Jones get behind the wheel, an eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer.
Jones clicked his seat belt into place and placed the keys in the ignition before he turned to smirk at Sirius. “Let me put it this way, if I hear ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go Go’ one more time I may murder someone.”
Sirius chuckled hollowly, wishing he understood the reference, and did up his own seat belt. He saw Jones slip in his earwig and check his mobile before backing out of the parking space. With a sigh, Sirius settled into his seat and stared out the window. He watched the city pass by as they drove-parents with prams, shoppers with arms full of bags, businessmen and women in suits talking into mobile phones and hurrying to their next meetings, students laughing and jostling with their mates in the midday sun. He shifted in his seat, vaguely aware of Jones humming along quietly to the radio, and wished he were back home with his own friends. He stared down at his hands as the car started to slow at a traffic light. He only looked up when they started moving again after what seemed an eternity.
He recognised the tune Jones was humming. Something old, something Muggle that Lily and James had danced to at their wedding. He couldn’t remember the name of the song-some old standard by Glenn Miller, he knew that much-but he pushed aside the memories, turning back to look out the window once more. As they turned a corner, he caught sight of a couple in front of a jewellery shop. Both were women, one fair as the other was dark, and their hands were clasped tight as they stared into the shop window and pointed at the display of engagement rings. He couldn’t help the shuddering sigh that escaped his lips as Remus’s face swam behind his eyes.
He would never hold his hand again if he was forced to stay here. He could almost feel the phantom weight of it in his own, but the memory disappeared as soon as he tightened his fist against the leather of his seat. It wasn’t fair. They’d only just moved into their own flat. Sirius had been going to take him away to Paris in a few months if the situation with Voldemort hadn’t worsened. The full moons were getting harder, even though Remus refused to admit it, and Sirius thought that if the war didn’t take Remus from him, they eventually would. Being without him was too much to even begin to think about.
“All right?” Jones asked quietly, startling Sirius from his thoughts.
Sirius looked around frantically, trying to gather his bearings, letting out a breath as he took in a semi-familiar street. “If I said I was, would you believe me?”
Jones was quiet for a beat. Sirius watched as he gripped the wheel tighter and took a breath, his hands relaxing as the young man exhaled through his mouth. “Not in the least.”
He watched Jones out the corner of his eye as he manoeuvred the car through the streets. There was something about the man, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He thought back to the night before, of the way Jones’s face had hardened at the mention of whatever had happened at Torchwood’s London office. He also remembered Harkness’s haunted and pained face, the way the American drew strength from the younger man with nothing more than a touch. He could barely reconcile such strength with the Welshman’s easy smile and baby face.
“So…you and Harkness?” he asked lightly, regretting it immediately when Jones stiffened and braked hard.
“What about Jack and me?” Jones replied, looking away from the road for a brief moment to frown at him.
“It’s just….You’re together, yeah? And you work for the government?” Sirius asked quietly, staring down at his jeans and picking at the grain of the denim. Even he had to keep his and Remus’s relationship secret from the Ministry. It would be bad enough if his boss knew he was dating a werewolf, but a male one? He’d be back to checking up on little old ladies who thought Voldemort was trying to contact them through the Daily Prophet. He knew prejudice was just a bad in the Muggle world.
He heard Jones sigh and saw him relax out the corner of his eye. “Things have changed since you left. People are much more accepting.”
Sirius looked up at him, a little surprised. “How do you mean? I thought it’d never change. I mean, in our world it’s still a bit taboo, I suppose. I mean, it’s only been legal for a few years, and still not in Scotland.” And both he and Remus were still twenty, so technically not even of age yet. Bastard government.
“Like I said, attitudes have changed,” Jones said, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. “Jack and I could even get married if we wanted.”
Sirius’s head snapped up, eyes wide, and he let Jones’s rich chuckle wash over him. It was infectious, and he tried not to start himself. “What?”
“You heard me,” Jones said. “And if what Jack says is true, things are going to change even more in the future. The Twenty-First Century is when everything changes, as he like to say.”
“You both talk a load of rubbish, you know that?” Sirius said disbelievingly.
“It’s not rubbish,” Jones said, laughter colouring his voice, “but just don’t listen to Jack’s ridiculous stories about where he’s from. I think he makes half of them up.”
Sirius frowned, all good humour leaving him. “He’s not from America?”
Jones paused for a moment and Sirius spared a glance at him. His lips were pursed and his eyes firmly fixed on the road. “I figure he must have been something big in the CIA at some point.”
Sirius frowned. He knew it was a lie. “But that coat of his is from the Second Great War.”
“Jack likes the period,” Jones said tersely. “It was his father’s coat. They were quiet close. He inherited it after he passed a few years back.”
“If I asked for the truth, would you tell it to me?” Sirius asked with a sigh. “The Rift and aliens I can believe, but that’s the biggest piece of bullshit I’ve heard since I got here.”
Jones was quiet for a moment, his grip alternately tightening and loosening on the steering wheel. “The truth, Sirius, is that it’s Jack’s story. It’s not my place to tell it.”
“You’re protecting him,” Sirius said, an air of disbelief in his voice as he turned away.
“And I’d willingly go to my grave to keep doing so if I had to,” Jones said, fixing Sirius with an incomprehensible look as they came to another stop light. “If it meant I could spare him just a little pain, I wouldn’t think twice. I think you most of all could understand that.”
Sirius drew in a shaking breath and looked away from the young Welshman, memories coming back to him of rushing Remus to St Mungo’s a few months back after a particularly bad full moon. “I do, yes.”
Jones nodded, turning back to the front as they started to move again. They fell into a silence punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the music on the radio. Sirius slouched down in his seat, thoughts of Remus flitting through his head. They were painful, but not unwelcome, an almost-comfort in this strange new world. The Cardiff blurring past wasn’t one he recognised, whether it was the turn of twenty-nine years or because it wasn’t the same city he knew, he didn’t really care. A part of him wondered what London would be like now.
His reverie was interrupted by the shrill ring of Jones’s mobile. He watched, half-fascinated, as he fumbled for it. The small smile on his lips when he looked at the display was enough to make Sirius look away, heart constricting.
“Jack,” Jones answered, voice light as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. Surely that couldn’t be safe, driving and talking on the telephone at the same time?
Sirius regarded Jones with a frown as the man tensed beside him. “Almost back home. Why? What’s going on?”
Sirius felt his heart start to pound as Jones made a u-turn and sped off back the way they’d come.
“We’ll meet you there in-“ he checked the dashboard clock “-ten minutes. Don’t do anything stupid, Jack.”
Sirius ducked his head to hide his grin as Jones rolled his eyes and scoffed.
“Humour me, Jack. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jones said and hung up, tossing the mobile back into one of the cup holders.
“What was that all about, then?” Sirius asked, steadying himself with a hand against the dash as Jones made another quick turn.
“How do you feel about weevil hunting, Mr Black?” Jones asked, face set in a roguish grin.
Sirius wrinkled his nose. “What’s so exciting about hunting beetles?”
Jones’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine. “I’m afraid this kind of weevil is much larger and much more vicious than their namesake.”
“Aliens?”
“Aliens.”
Sirius didn’t know whether he wanted Jones to hurry or slow down enough so he could jump out of the car.
***
Ianto couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips when Black paled and gripped the edge of his seat. As he drove, he could feel his heart pounding in anticipation as adrenaline started to flood his system. He took a kerb too quickly, cursing under his breath as one of the tyres went up on it.
“Sorry,” he called to Black, who rolled his eyes.
“Whatever,” the man said and shifted nervously in his seat. “So, these weevil things. What are they?”
“Creatures that have come through the Rift. They live in the sewers.” Ianto spared Black a look and sped up as all the traffics lights ahead of them suddenly changed to green. “If they come up and go rouge, we catch them and make sure they don’t cause any mischief.”
Ianto winced as the sound of car horns and screeching tyres filled the air.
Black swore and braced himself in his seat. “How did they all change like that?”
Ianto chuckled and lifted a hand to his ear, activating his comm. “I’m assuming that was you, Gwen.”
“Thanks to Tosh,” Gwen’s tinny voice whistled through the device. “Jack’s just about there now. How far out are you?”
“Almost there. A few minutes maybe,” Ianto said with a frown. “You sitting this one out, Gwen?”
“Well, someone’s got to coordinate,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve got the weevil on CCTV. It seems pretty vicious. It’s already taken out some poor sod. The police are dealing with the scene as we speak. And my wrist is still acting up from the Auton incident last week.”
“You just had to remind me, didn’t you?” Ianto groaned. Out the corner of his eye he could see Black staring at him in bewilderment. “I’m still having nightmares about that.”
“Tell me about it. Who knew shop window dummies could be so sadistic.”
“Maybe the Mythbusters?” Ianto joked as he turned onto the proper street. He pulled up behind the SUV and quickly killed the engine.
“Either way, the result would still have ended with a big boom,” Jack’s voiced echoed over the comm.
“Where are you?” Ianto asked, looking around for him as he fumbled under his seat one-handed for his gun.
“The alley between the Thai place and the electronics shop. The weevil’s disappeared behind a skip.”
“I’ll catch you up,” Ianto said and curled his fingers around the handle of his modified Glock.
“Be careful, boys,” Gwen’s said tensely.
“You know me, Gwen. I’m always careful.” Jack's grin was evident even through the tinny connection.
“And I’m the Ambassador for Wales,” Ianto said, smiling to himself as Jack’s hearty chuckle filled his ear. He pulled the gun from underneath his seat and racked the slide, a strangled sound from the passenger seat caught his attention.
“Has that thing been there the whole time?” Black asked, pointing at the gun and scooting as close to the door as possible.
“It always pays to be prepared, Mr Black,” Ianto said grimly and undid his seat belt. The man looked like he wanted to crawl out through the window. “Now, stay in the car no matter what happens. Let me and Jack handle it.”
“But there must be something I can-“
“Let me and Jack handle it,” Ianto reiterated, taking the keys from the ignition and slipping them into his pocket as he got out. “Stay in the car.”
“But-“
“Car! Stay! Good boy!” Ianto called back and slammed the door behind him. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Black, who was glowering at him, before jogging to meet up with Jack.
He stopped at the mouth of the alley, the stench of rotting food and piss assaulting his nostrils, eyes immediately landing on Jack, holster undone and Webley glinting in the pale sunlight, standing in front of some familiar graffiti.
Jack half-turned as he approached and fixed him with a blinding grin. He motioned with a can of weevil spray to the skip at the end of the alley. “Down there. You go left, I’ll go right.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another can of the spray and a hood, tossing them both to Ianto. “Try to take it down without shooting it if you can.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, tucking the hood into the waistband of his trousers. “If I did shoot it, I’d just end up playing doctor.”
“Speaking of playing doctor....”
“Boys. Let’s try to get this done as quickly as possible, yeah?” Gwen said exasperatedly through the comms. “Before it decides to have you as its lunch?”
“Sorry,” Jack said, not bothering to hide his smile as he started forward, crossing in front of Ianto.
“You don’t sound sorry,” Ianto quipped, smirking when Jack winked at him.
“Later?”
“We’ll see.”
“It’s a date then,” Jack said, fixing Ianto with a small, private smile before he fell quiet as they approached the skip. After a moment’s silence, he whispered, “Just promise me you won’t hesitate if necessary?”
“I won’t,” he said with a curt nod. Ianto could feel the surge of adrenaline as they approached, his heart beating out a savage rhyme. He followed behind Jack, alert for any potential threats or targets for the weevil. As they got closer, he could hear the weevil shuffling through the rubbish piled behind the skip. He split away from Jack when he gave the signal, raising his gun as he neared the skip. He glanced sideways, smiling to himself when he saw Jack do the same.
“Ready?” Jack whispered and nodded towards the weevil’s hiding spot.
Ianto nodded. “On three?”
Jack stared at him for a moment, an unreadable expression flitting across his face for only a second, before nodding back. Ianto rolled his shoulders and tightened his hold on his gun, ready should the weevil make any sudden moves.
“ I’ll do the honours then?” Gwen said and Ianto could just make out the clacking of a keyboard over the comm. He heard the mechanics whirring as the CCTV camera at the end of the alley moved to face them.“One.”
Ianto shifted his stance, placing his weight on his left foot, and glanced at Jack out the corner of his eye.
“Two.”
He saw Jack mirror his movement, shifting to the right and inhaling slowly. He took in his own lungful of the wretched air, trying to suppress a dry heave at the alley’s stench.
“Three.”
Ianto surged forward, movements clipped and efficient as he rounded the skip, gun and spray raised. The weevil was crouched between the skip and alley wall, a ripped apart bin bag in front of it. Its attention shifted from the assortment of takeaway containers and rubbish, head snapping to its left as Jack chuckled.
“So,” Jack taunted the creature, “is this dessert or was that yobbo just a starter?”
“Jack,” Ianto chided, taking a step forward as the weevil snarled at him.
“Or maybe he was just a snack,” Jack said, raising his chin and taking a few steps back as the weevil inched forward towards him. He spared a look at the boxes of half-eaten and fermenting food in front of it and grimaced. “Though I’m sure there’s no accounting for taste.”
The weevil lunged at Jack in a blur of motion. Ianto felt panic surge through him, but quickly pushed it away and rushed to the other side of the skip. Upon seeing Jack grappling with the weevil, wincing in sympathy as his lover threw futile punches at the creature, he rushed forward. Thinking quickly, Ianto lunged as Jack and the weevil turned in a half-circle, giving him a better angle. With an ease that would make him sick to his stomach later, he brought the butt of his gun down across the weevil’s temple, stunning it and giving Jack enough time to get his spray up.
“I had everything under control,” Jack said through pants of breath as he subdued the weevil.
“Of course, sir,” Ianto deadpanned and pulled the hood from his belt. He placed it over the weevil’s head, his hand brushing Jack’s as he did so. “I’ll arrange your fee for the weevil fight club, shall I?”
“Very funny,” Jack said dryly, holstering his Webley and pocketing the spray. “Mind giving me a hand?”
“Here? It’s a bit...filthy. But then again you did seem to enjoy yourself that time on the docks,” Ianto said, one eyebrow raised as he put his own gun away.
Over the comms, Gwen groaned. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“If you’d like, I could give you all the details,” Jack said, smirking when Ianto scoffed. “Preferably over ice cream and Love, Actually. We could make it a proper girls night in.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Gwen said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “Just get that thing back here before it wakes up and decides it needs another nosh.”
“Not a word,” Ianto said tersely, cutting Jack off as he opened his mouth to retort.
“You’re no fun,” Jack grumbled, his lips set in a pout.
“So I’ve been told,” Ianto said and moved to grab the weevil’s feet. He scrunched his nose in disgust as he hefted the lower half of the weevil’s body, sighing a grunt as Jack lifted its shoulders. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, though.”
“Oh?” Jack said through his teeth. “What has this thing been eating?”
“Yep. Proper date and everything. I’ll even let you buy me dinner,” Ianto said, turning his head to watch where he was going. “I don’t think small pets and miscellaneous pedestrians makes for a very healthy diet, do you?”
“How gentlemanly of me,” Jack said, straining a smile in Ianto’s direction. “Well, he certainly doesn’t seem to be worried about his girlish figure.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “If you play the gentleman, what does that make me? Your Girl Friday?”
Jack forced out a laugh and adjusted his grip on the weevil as it started to slip from his hold. “Of course not. You make the better Cary Grant. Besides, I look absolutely ravishing in a skirt. Watch your step. We’re almost there.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Ianto said, sparing Jack a teasing smile before glancing over his shoulder. “You got the keys?”
“You love me anyway,” Jack said and Ianto noticed that his grin didn’t meet his eyes. “In my left trouser pocket.”
“Well, you’re getting them yourself,” Ianto stuttered, setting the weevil down as Jack lowered its torso. He leaned against the side of the SUV as Jack dug in his pocket for the keys, not meeting the man’s eyes and ignoring the pang in his chest at Jack’s words. It was a moment before he realised Jack had said something else.
He looked up, sparing a glance at his car and a very bored looking Black, and met Jack’s eyes. “Sorry. What was that?”
Jack sighed and reached out to caress Ianto’s cheek. “I said help me get it into the boot?”
“Oh,” Ianto said and started to move away from him. “Sure.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath when Jack’s other hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb slowly brushing against his lips. He shivered at the pleasant tickle, lips parting with a soft gasp.
“Why won’t you say it?” Jack asked softly and Ianto hated himself for the hurt in Jack’s voice. “I wouldn’t tell you how I feel and it be a lie. Especially not to you, Ianto. Never you.”
Ianto sighed and leaned into Jack’s touch. “I just can’t, Jack,” he whispered, gently nipping at Jack’s thumb.
“Why not, Ianto? Do you really think it’s so easy for me?” Jack asked, letting out a shaky breath.
“Is this really the time and place to be talking about this?” Ianto asked meekly, looking down and intently studying the cut of the weevil’s boiler suit.
“Don’t try to just brush this off,” Jack said, his voice taking on an edge. “I need to know, Ianto. If we’re nothing more than a part-time shag, then please let me know.”
Ianto’s head snapped up. “What?” he whispered incredulously. “No. No, of course not. Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
“Then why can’t you tell me?” Jack said quietly, brokenly.
Ianto looked into Jack’s eyes, placing his hands on the other man’s hips as he leaned into him. He chastely pressed his lips to Jack’s, pulling back before either could deepen the kiss. “Because I’m just a blip in time for you. One day I’ll be gone and you’ll forget me. You’ll move on.”
Jack’s breath was hot against Ianto’s lips and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his. “That’s not true, Ianto Jones.”
“The only other person I loved died,” Ianto confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t go through that again, Jack.”
He heard Jack sigh and felt his arms wrap around him, holding him close. He closed his eyes, lids shut tight against unwelcome tears, and rested his head against Jack’s shoulder, deeply breathing in Jack’s scent.
“I’m not her, Ianto,” Jack whispered, one hand slowly trailing up his back to card fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear. Not like that.”
“You can’t promise me though, can you?” Ianto whispered bitterly.
“I wish I could,” Jack said, voice full of emotion, “but I meant what I said. I came back for you. I’ll always come back for you. Even when you’re old and grey.”
“And full of sleep?” Ianto asked, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
“Oh, you hush,” Jack laughed lightly, turning to press a kiss to Ianto’s temple. “I mean it. I’ll always come back. Even from death itself. It’s not like I have a say in it.”
“We don’t know that,” Ianto said, sobering. “Every time you die, I can’t help thinking what if you don’t come back this time? What would I do without you?”
“You’d be all right,” Jack whispered, lips brushing against Ianto’s temple.
“I need you, Jack. I hate myself for it, but I need you.”
“Needing someone isn’t so bad,” Jack said softly, pulling away from Ianto enough to smile at him. “I need you much more than you need me, Ianto Jones.”
“You’re just saying that,” Ianto said quickly, looking away.
“No, I’m not. We don’t know what the future holds. And I really do need to say it. Before it’s too late,” Jack said, gently cupping Ianto’s chin. “Look at me.”
Ianto lifted his gaze after a few long seconds and met Jack’s sparkling blue eyes. His lips tugged upwards slightly as Jack fixed him with a warm smile.
“I love you,” he said softly and pressed a chaste kiss to Ianto’s lips.
“Jack,” Ianto whispered as they pulled apart, the name like a prayer on his lips. “I-“
Before he could say anything, their comms sprang to life as a snarl cut through the air.
“Ianto! Behind you!” Gwen shouted through the device.
It all seemed in slow motion to Ianto as Jack pushed him out of the way, his hip colliding painfully with the SUV. He cried out as Jack intercepted the weevil and wrenched his gun from its holster. Ianto didn’t hesitate as the creature overpowered Jack, knocking him to the ground and sinking its teeth into Jack’s neck. As Jack screamed, he opened fire, not stopping until he’d emptied the clip into the weevil’s chest.
The gun clattered to the ground and Ianto rushed over as the creature went limp, barely registering a car door slamming and the pair of hands helping him pull the weevil’s dead weight from Jack.
“Jack!” Ianto cried, dropping to his knees and reaching for him. His hand grasped weekly at Ianto’s forearm, blood seeping too quickly from his wound as Black vainly tried to apply pressure to it.
“Ianto,” Jack said, voice laboured and almost too quiet to be heard.
“I’m here, Jack. I’m here and...and I love you too . So much. So very, very much,” Ianto said, leaning down to press a kiss to Jack’s forehead.
“Ianto,” Jack whispered with a wheeze, though he grinned weakly. He grip went slack on Ianto’s arm.
“Oh, Merlin!” Black moaned, sitting back on his heels and staring between Ianto and Jack’s body. “He’s dead.”
Ianto ignored him and brushed back Jack’s fringe from his forehead. He felt empty as he moved to cradle Jack’s head in his lap. He sighed and settled Jack against him, his fingers gently running through Jack’s soft hair.
“He saved you,” Black said quietly, poking at the dead weevil with one cautious finger, “from that thing you caught’s...?”
“Mate, probably,” Ianto said absently, half-listening to Black and cutting his connection to the Hub, silencing Gwen’s shouts to know what had happened.
“What do we do?” Black asked, eyes wide and voice soft.
Ianto paused for a moment, his other hand drifting to trace the wound on Jack’s neck. “Now we wait.”
“Wait?” Black asked incredulously. “Wait for what? He’s dead, Mr Jones. He’s not coming back.”
Ianto chuckled darkly and his voice sounded as dead as the man in his arms when he answered, “You don’t know him.”
Ianto looked away from Black’s indignant spluttering and turned back to Jack. He let his hand drift upward, tracing Jack’s jaw and lips. He sent up a prayer to a god he didn’t know if he believed in anymore.
Jack was coming back.
He had too.
He promised.
Part XIII
Author: noscrubs12345
sirius100 Prompt: Variations on Reality (original)
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Sirius Black knew there was something he didn't like about Cardiff. He just didn't expect it to be a rift in time and space. But, once taken, will he be able to make it back to the wizarding world? Or will he be stuck with bloody Torchwood if his friends don't find him first? And what does a mysterious blonde woman have to do with the strange blue box hidden inside the Department of Mysteries?
Warnings: spoilers through Torchwood series two and Doctor Who series four
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Russell T Davies, the BBC, various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Missed the beginning?: Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV || Part V || Part VI || Part VII || Part VIII || Part IX || Part X || Part XI
or
Bloody Torchwood @ AO3
Remus met James and Peter by the castle gates at half eight the next morning. If they noticed his red rimmed and bloodshot eyes, they didn’t mention it. Instead James nodded and clapped his shoulder, hand lingering a second longer than strictly necessary. His smile when Peter hugged him quickly turned into a frown as the man winced as his forearm knocked against Remus’s elbow.
“All right, Peter?” he asked when they pulled away.
“Yeah,” he said quickly, his embarrassed laugh high and thin. “The cat knocked the kettle over this morning. Guess who was standing too near?”
“Ouch,” Remus said, cringing in sympathy, and ducked his head. “Sorry.”
“You know me. Clumsy old Wormtail,” Peter quipped, self-depricating, and cleared his throat. “H-how are you holding up, Remus?”
Remus sighed and picked at the fraying hem of his sleeve. “The sooner we get this sorted, the better.”
Peter nodded and looked over his shoulder at James.
The dark haired man cleared his throat and motioned towards the castle. “Maybe we should go on up?”
“Yeah,” Remus mumbled, wrapping his cloak and arms tightly around himself. As he followed James and Peter up the path leading to Hogwarts and through the oaken front doors, he let his mind wander. Thoughts of Sirius-where and when he possibly was, if he was safe, if he was missing them or having the time of his life-drifted through his head as they passed through the corridors and up the labyrinthine staircases. If the students milling through the halls noticed him and his companions, they paid them little notice.
Around every corner was a reminder of Sirius: a hastily stolen kiss, a prank gone awry, a fight with one of the Slytherins. As engrossed in his thoughts as he was, he missed the concerned look James and Peter shared.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he ran into Peter when they stopped in front of the statue concealing the entrance to Dumbledore’s office
“You sure you’re all right?” James asked again, frowning as he glanced at Peter. “If you’d rather sit this out-“
“No,” Remus said curtly and glared at them. “I’m not made of glass nor do I need to be handled like it. If we’re going to get Sirius back, I’m going to help.”
“All right, mate,” Peter said. “Listen, if I can do anything, let me know. I could come round this afternoon with some of Mum’s shepherd’s pie maybe.”
“He’s missing, Wormtail, not dead,” James said tersely. Looking between his friends, he placed a hand on their shoulders and added, “This isn’t easy on any of us. We’ll get him back. Together.”
“And if we can’t? If he’s just...gone?” Remus cursed his voice when it cracked.
“We will find him, Moony,” James said, gently shaking him. “I won’t rest ‘til I’ve got my best mate back.” He paused. “Besides, he’ll wish he’d have stayed gone if he manages to miss the birth. Lily’d never let him forget it.”
Remus managed a strained smile of his own. “We’d better get him back soon, then.”
“That’s the spirit,” James said and stepped back. He turned around to face the gargoyle. “Ready?”
“Yep,” Peter squeaked and took a half-step of his own towards the carved creature.
“Let’s do this,” Remus said, steeling his shoulders as he pushed aside his doubts for the time being.
“Fizzing Whizzbees,” James called and the gargoyle jumped aside to reveal the winding staircase.
“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Peter asked as they started forward.
“And it’s still all Padfoot’s fault,” James said, throwing them a grin as he jogged up the stairs.
Remus followed, Peter on his heels, and laughed. He was surprised when the echo didn’t sound hysterical. “At least this time I hope I won’t have to come up with some half-arsed excuse to save yours.”
“Could we still blame it on Snivellus?” Peter called up, his breathing loud and slightly laboured.
“We could try, but I doubt it’d do any good.” James’s voice trailed off as he reached the top of the steps.
James waited until Peter had reached the landing before raising his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could. On the other side, Dumbledore stood in his travelling cloak and a frowned tugged his lips downward. He looked tired as he regarded them for a long moment before stepping back to let them enter.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to make this quick,” he said as they filed past him. The door banged shut as he closed it and Fawkes cried out in protest. Dumbledore chuckled and regarded the bird firmly as he turned on his perch, his feathers ruffled. “I’ve just had word from the Ministry regarding the blue box. Mr Pettigrew, has Mr Potter filled you in about all that has happened?”
Peter blushed, looking down at his shoes and tucking his hands into his pockets out of habit. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last night. Mum wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t leave her.”
Dumbledore dismissed his excuse with a wave of his hand. “I hope she’s doing better.” He smiled and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat, gentlemen.”
Peter obliged almost immediately, falling back into old habits, and James slid into the other chair when Remus declined it. Instead, he crossed to the window and stared down at the grounds. He could feel Dumbledore’s gaze on him, but didn’t turn, didn’t flinch as he heard the scratching of Dumbledore’s chair against the floor.
“So, how are we getting him back?” James said, voice tight. “I’m not leaving this office until we’ve come up with something.”
Dumbledore chuckled, and Remus turned his head enough to watch the man settle back in his chair.
“I may have found a way of getting us into the Department of Mysteries. However, you, Mr Potter, are not going to like it.”
“Bollocks,” James said, deflating, and Remus smiled to himself. “Why not?”
“Because I can only get myself and two other people inside. We’ll need you to monitor everything from your desk. The first sign of trouble, you send me your Patronus.”
Remus turned around in time to see James’s pout. Leaning back against the windowsill, he asked, “So where do the rest of us come in?”
Dumbledore looked between him and Peter before sitting up straight. He pulled out one of his desk drawers, rummaging in it before removing two shimmering purple vials. He sat them on his desk and steepled his fingers under his chin as he leaned back. “You and Mr Pettigrew will be accompanying me into the Department of Mysteries.”
“But they’ll never let us in,” Peter said, his voice shaky. “Remus and I are civilians. Not to mention Remus’s...condition. They won’t let him past the entrance.”
Remus noted the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye. “Quite right, Peter. As it may be, myself and my dear friend Nicholas Flamel have been asked to have a look at the TARDIS. Unfortunately, Nicholas is away on business in Florence and won’t be back until early next week.”
James snorted. “Great. Hope he gets in a few sights while he’s there. But that helps us how?”
“Nicholas’s return owl to the Ministry saying he couldn’t attend may have got lost somewhere over France. No one is the wiser,” Dumbledore said with a secretive smile. “And his personal assistant would, of course, be accompanying him.”
“So we us Polyjuice,” Remus said, nodding to the purple vials. “Peter and I take it, slip in and no one knows we aren’t who we say we are. It’s simple.”
“It’s too simple. Something could go wrong,” Peter added, visibly swallowing. “What if it’s warded like Gringotts?”
“Ah, it may be simple, but the fewer steps our plan has, the fewer things to go wrong,” Dumbledore said. “The backup plan is I go in alone. And I assure you, Mr Pettigrew, you will go unnoticed if luck is on our side.
“And what happens once we’re in?” Peter asked. Remus noted the way he was nervously wringing his hands.
“Our priority is getting to the TARDIS and finding a way inside if at all possible,” Dumbledore said with a curt nod. Turning to Remus, he asked, “That woman you were talking to last night in the street. Who was she?”
“And why don’t I know about this?” James asked, eyes wide and glasses slipping down his nose as he looked at Remus.
“It was none of your business, Jimmy,” Remus said, a wan smile flitting across his lips when James moue of distaste at the nickname. He sobered as he turned to Dumbledore. “The one I was telling you about, the werewolf who isn’t a werewolf.”
Peter groaned and slumped down in his chair. “Do I want to know what that means?”
“We’ll spare you the headache,” Remus quipped, sighing as he looked back at an expectant Dumbledore. “She basically reiterated what you said, sir. She had this device she claimed helped her walk between universes. And she mentioned something called ‘Torchwood.’”
Dumbledore made a noncommittal noise. “I’ve never heard of anything called ‘Torchwood.’ What else did she say?”
Remus swallowed. “She told me to find the TARDIS, and that a man called the Doctor should be inside it. She claimed he was the only one who could stop the Darkness from coming.”
“‘Doctor’? Doctor who?” James asked, frowning at Remus. “She didn’t give a name?”
“Just ‘the Doctor.’ She implied he was a Time Lord.”
“Impossible. They all died,” Dumbledore said, surprise tinged with suspicion in his voice.
“Maybe not all of them if a TARDIS has shown up,” Remus said, his quiet voice loud in the suddenly charged room. “She...she said she’d be back when we found it.”
“This woman, did she say what her name was?” Dumbledore said after a beat.
“No,” Remus said, a shiver running down his spine, “she wouldn’t answer when I asked. I...when she was around, I felt...wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
“Like I wanted to turn tail and run home as quickly as I could,” Remus said as his heartbeat quickened and a sweat broke out on his brow. “The wolf can sense something about her. What exactly I don’t know. But he fears her, I think. I’ve never felt anything like it before, not even around other lycanthropes.”
“What is she?” Peter asked, his voice rising as he looked between his friends and Dumbledore.
“Something new,” Remus whispered, giving himself a mental shake. “But I can tell you she’s a Muggle. Should we be worried about her finding us out? Is she a threat?”
“No,” Dumbledore said firmly. “We shouldn’t be afraid of what we don’t know, of the big bad wolf. We go in as planned, find the TARDIS, and if she finds us, so be it. We deal with any threats when and if they should arise. Three wizards against one Muggle is hardly a match. Strength in numbers, boys. We stop at nothing.” He looked between the three friends, studying each in turn. “The question is, are we ready?”
He waited until each of the men nodded before breaking into a wide grin. “Good. We meet at Mr Lupin’s flat at dawn tomorrow. Then we sneak in to get a look at this TARDIS. Let us just hope it holds our answers.”
***
“Is all this really necessary?” Sirius asked, glancing between the multitude of carrier bags in his and Jones’s hands. “I think there may still be some clothes left in the shops.”
Jones chuckled, looking over at him as they walked through the car park. “If you’re going to stay on you’ll need them. Trust me.”
“I still feel like we bought everything,” Sirius said and smiled at Jones. “The styles have certainly changed since 1979.”
“Just be glad you didn’t land in the Eighties. You really dodged a bullet there.”
“That bad?” Sirius asked, slowing as they reached Jones’s car. He watched, still awestruck, as Jones unlocked it remotely and opened the boot with the push of a button.
“Worse,” the man deadpanned and stashed the bags inside.
“Oh,” Sirius said, pondering the plight of the 1980s as he placed his own bags in the boot. He stood back as Jones slammed the lid down. “What were they like? The Eighties.”
“All I remember is my mam’s horrible shoulder pads and my sister listening to Duran Duran and New Kids on the Block incessantly,” Jones said, suppressing a shiver. “And I remember Rhiannon’s Care Bear meeting an untimely end, but that had nothing to do with me. Well, maybe just a little but she deserved it.”
Sirius frowned as he walked over to the passenger side, wondering what Care Bears were and what function shoulder pads served. Over the top of the car, he asked, “Was it really so terrible a decade?”
Jones bit his lip, absently scratching at a speck of dirt on top of the Audi. “I don’t know how much I should or can tell you, but most people seem to think it was a more carefree decade. Even if the fashion was ghastly.”
“And by ghastly you mean-?” Sirius pried, a small half-smile tugging at his lips as a wistful expression crossed Jones’s face.
“Acid wash jeans, Day-Glo, really big hair, and leg warmers. Like I said, the fashion was abominable, but the music wasn’t half bad.”
“So does that mean it isn’t half good either?” Sirius asked, opening the car door and sliding in. He watched Jones get behind the wheel, an eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer.
Jones clicked his seat belt into place and placed the keys in the ignition before he turned to smirk at Sirius. “Let me put it this way, if I hear ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go Go’ one more time I may murder someone.”
Sirius chuckled hollowly, wishing he understood the reference, and did up his own seat belt. He saw Jones slip in his earwig and check his mobile before backing out of the parking space. With a sigh, Sirius settled into his seat and stared out the window. He watched the city pass by as they drove-parents with prams, shoppers with arms full of bags, businessmen and women in suits talking into mobile phones and hurrying to their next meetings, students laughing and jostling with their mates in the midday sun. He shifted in his seat, vaguely aware of Jones humming along quietly to the radio, and wished he were back home with his own friends. He stared down at his hands as the car started to slow at a traffic light. He only looked up when they started moving again after what seemed an eternity.
He recognised the tune Jones was humming. Something old, something Muggle that Lily and James had danced to at their wedding. He couldn’t remember the name of the song-some old standard by Glenn Miller, he knew that much-but he pushed aside the memories, turning back to look out the window once more. As they turned a corner, he caught sight of a couple in front of a jewellery shop. Both were women, one fair as the other was dark, and their hands were clasped tight as they stared into the shop window and pointed at the display of engagement rings. He couldn’t help the shuddering sigh that escaped his lips as Remus’s face swam behind his eyes.
He would never hold his hand again if he was forced to stay here. He could almost feel the phantom weight of it in his own, but the memory disappeared as soon as he tightened his fist against the leather of his seat. It wasn’t fair. They’d only just moved into their own flat. Sirius had been going to take him away to Paris in a few months if the situation with Voldemort hadn’t worsened. The full moons were getting harder, even though Remus refused to admit it, and Sirius thought that if the war didn’t take Remus from him, they eventually would. Being without him was too much to even begin to think about.
“All right?” Jones asked quietly, startling Sirius from his thoughts.
Sirius looked around frantically, trying to gather his bearings, letting out a breath as he took in a semi-familiar street. “If I said I was, would you believe me?”
Jones was quiet for a beat. Sirius watched as he gripped the wheel tighter and took a breath, his hands relaxing as the young man exhaled through his mouth. “Not in the least.”
He watched Jones out the corner of his eye as he manoeuvred the car through the streets. There was something about the man, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He thought back to the night before, of the way Jones’s face had hardened at the mention of whatever had happened at Torchwood’s London office. He also remembered Harkness’s haunted and pained face, the way the American drew strength from the younger man with nothing more than a touch. He could barely reconcile such strength with the Welshman’s easy smile and baby face.
“So…you and Harkness?” he asked lightly, regretting it immediately when Jones stiffened and braked hard.
“What about Jack and me?” Jones replied, looking away from the road for a brief moment to frown at him.
“It’s just….You’re together, yeah? And you work for the government?” Sirius asked quietly, staring down at his jeans and picking at the grain of the denim. Even he had to keep his and Remus’s relationship secret from the Ministry. It would be bad enough if his boss knew he was dating a werewolf, but a male one? He’d be back to checking up on little old ladies who thought Voldemort was trying to contact them through the Daily Prophet. He knew prejudice was just a bad in the Muggle world.
He heard Jones sigh and saw him relax out the corner of his eye. “Things have changed since you left. People are much more accepting.”
Sirius looked up at him, a little surprised. “How do you mean? I thought it’d never change. I mean, in our world it’s still a bit taboo, I suppose. I mean, it’s only been legal for a few years, and still not in Scotland.” And both he and Remus were still twenty, so technically not even of age yet. Bastard government.
“Like I said, attitudes have changed,” Jones said, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. “Jack and I could even get married if we wanted.”
Sirius’s head snapped up, eyes wide, and he let Jones’s rich chuckle wash over him. It was infectious, and he tried not to start himself. “What?”
“You heard me,” Jones said. “And if what Jack says is true, things are going to change even more in the future. The Twenty-First Century is when everything changes, as he like to say.”
“You both talk a load of rubbish, you know that?” Sirius said disbelievingly.
“It’s not rubbish,” Jones said, laughter colouring his voice, “but just don’t listen to Jack’s ridiculous stories about where he’s from. I think he makes half of them up.”
Sirius frowned, all good humour leaving him. “He’s not from America?”
Jones paused for a moment and Sirius spared a glance at him. His lips were pursed and his eyes firmly fixed on the road. “I figure he must have been something big in the CIA at some point.”
Sirius frowned. He knew it was a lie. “But that coat of his is from the Second Great War.”
“Jack likes the period,” Jones said tersely. “It was his father’s coat. They were quiet close. He inherited it after he passed a few years back.”
“If I asked for the truth, would you tell it to me?” Sirius asked with a sigh. “The Rift and aliens I can believe, but that’s the biggest piece of bullshit I’ve heard since I got here.”
Jones was quiet for a moment, his grip alternately tightening and loosening on the steering wheel. “The truth, Sirius, is that it’s Jack’s story. It’s not my place to tell it.”
“You’re protecting him,” Sirius said, an air of disbelief in his voice as he turned away.
“And I’d willingly go to my grave to keep doing so if I had to,” Jones said, fixing Sirius with an incomprehensible look as they came to another stop light. “If it meant I could spare him just a little pain, I wouldn’t think twice. I think you most of all could understand that.”
Sirius drew in a shaking breath and looked away from the young Welshman, memories coming back to him of rushing Remus to St Mungo’s a few months back after a particularly bad full moon. “I do, yes.”
Jones nodded, turning back to the front as they started to move again. They fell into a silence punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the music on the radio. Sirius slouched down in his seat, thoughts of Remus flitting through his head. They were painful, but not unwelcome, an almost-comfort in this strange new world. The Cardiff blurring past wasn’t one he recognised, whether it was the turn of twenty-nine years or because it wasn’t the same city he knew, he didn’t really care. A part of him wondered what London would be like now.
His reverie was interrupted by the shrill ring of Jones’s mobile. He watched, half-fascinated, as he fumbled for it. The small smile on his lips when he looked at the display was enough to make Sirius look away, heart constricting.
“Jack,” Jones answered, voice light as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. Surely that couldn’t be safe, driving and talking on the telephone at the same time?
Sirius regarded Jones with a frown as the man tensed beside him. “Almost back home. Why? What’s going on?”
Sirius felt his heart start to pound as Jones made a u-turn and sped off back the way they’d come.
“We’ll meet you there in-“ he checked the dashboard clock “-ten minutes. Don’t do anything stupid, Jack.”
Sirius ducked his head to hide his grin as Jones rolled his eyes and scoffed.
“Humour me, Jack. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jones said and hung up, tossing the mobile back into one of the cup holders.
“What was that all about, then?” Sirius asked, steadying himself with a hand against the dash as Jones made another quick turn.
“How do you feel about weevil hunting, Mr Black?” Jones asked, face set in a roguish grin.
Sirius wrinkled his nose. “What’s so exciting about hunting beetles?”
Jones’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine. “I’m afraid this kind of weevil is much larger and much more vicious than their namesake.”
“Aliens?”
“Aliens.”
Sirius didn’t know whether he wanted Jones to hurry or slow down enough so he could jump out of the car.
***
Ianto couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips when Black paled and gripped the edge of his seat. As he drove, he could feel his heart pounding in anticipation as adrenaline started to flood his system. He took a kerb too quickly, cursing under his breath as one of the tyres went up on it.
“Sorry,” he called to Black, who rolled his eyes.
“Whatever,” the man said and shifted nervously in his seat. “So, these weevil things. What are they?”
“Creatures that have come through the Rift. They live in the sewers.” Ianto spared Black a look and sped up as all the traffics lights ahead of them suddenly changed to green. “If they come up and go rouge, we catch them and make sure they don’t cause any mischief.”
Ianto winced as the sound of car horns and screeching tyres filled the air.
Black swore and braced himself in his seat. “How did they all change like that?”
Ianto chuckled and lifted a hand to his ear, activating his comm. “I’m assuming that was you, Gwen.”
“Thanks to Tosh,” Gwen’s tinny voice whistled through the device. “Jack’s just about there now. How far out are you?”
“Almost there. A few minutes maybe,” Ianto said with a frown. “You sitting this one out, Gwen?”
“Well, someone’s got to coordinate,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve got the weevil on CCTV. It seems pretty vicious. It’s already taken out some poor sod. The police are dealing with the scene as we speak. And my wrist is still acting up from the Auton incident last week.”
“You just had to remind me, didn’t you?” Ianto groaned. Out the corner of his eye he could see Black staring at him in bewilderment. “I’m still having nightmares about that.”
“Tell me about it. Who knew shop window dummies could be so sadistic.”
“Maybe the Mythbusters?” Ianto joked as he turned onto the proper street. He pulled up behind the SUV and quickly killed the engine.
“Either way, the result would still have ended with a big boom,” Jack’s voiced echoed over the comm.
“Where are you?” Ianto asked, looking around for him as he fumbled under his seat one-handed for his gun.
“The alley between the Thai place and the electronics shop. The weevil’s disappeared behind a skip.”
“I’ll catch you up,” Ianto said and curled his fingers around the handle of his modified Glock.
“Be careful, boys,” Gwen’s said tensely.
“You know me, Gwen. I’m always careful.” Jack's grin was evident even through the tinny connection.
“And I’m the Ambassador for Wales,” Ianto said, smiling to himself as Jack’s hearty chuckle filled his ear. He pulled the gun from underneath his seat and racked the slide, a strangled sound from the passenger seat caught his attention.
“Has that thing been there the whole time?” Black asked, pointing at the gun and scooting as close to the door as possible.
“It always pays to be prepared, Mr Black,” Ianto said grimly and undid his seat belt. The man looked like he wanted to crawl out through the window. “Now, stay in the car no matter what happens. Let me and Jack handle it.”
“But there must be something I can-“
“Let me and Jack handle it,” Ianto reiterated, taking the keys from the ignition and slipping them into his pocket as he got out. “Stay in the car.”
“But-“
“Car! Stay! Good boy!” Ianto called back and slammed the door behind him. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Black, who was glowering at him, before jogging to meet up with Jack.
He stopped at the mouth of the alley, the stench of rotting food and piss assaulting his nostrils, eyes immediately landing on Jack, holster undone and Webley glinting in the pale sunlight, standing in front of some familiar graffiti.
Jack half-turned as he approached and fixed him with a blinding grin. He motioned with a can of weevil spray to the skip at the end of the alley. “Down there. You go left, I’ll go right.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another can of the spray and a hood, tossing them both to Ianto. “Try to take it down without shooting it if you can.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, tucking the hood into the waistband of his trousers. “If I did shoot it, I’d just end up playing doctor.”
“Speaking of playing doctor....”
“Boys. Let’s try to get this done as quickly as possible, yeah?” Gwen said exasperatedly through the comms. “Before it decides to have you as its lunch?”
“Sorry,” Jack said, not bothering to hide his smile as he started forward, crossing in front of Ianto.
“You don’t sound sorry,” Ianto quipped, smirking when Jack winked at him.
“Later?”
“We’ll see.”
“It’s a date then,” Jack said, fixing Ianto with a small, private smile before he fell quiet as they approached the skip. After a moment’s silence, he whispered, “Just promise me you won’t hesitate if necessary?”
“I won’t,” he said with a curt nod. Ianto could feel the surge of adrenaline as they approached, his heart beating out a savage rhyme. He followed behind Jack, alert for any potential threats or targets for the weevil. As they got closer, he could hear the weevil shuffling through the rubbish piled behind the skip. He split away from Jack when he gave the signal, raising his gun as he neared the skip. He glanced sideways, smiling to himself when he saw Jack do the same.
“Ready?” Jack whispered and nodded towards the weevil’s hiding spot.
Ianto nodded. “On three?”
Jack stared at him for a moment, an unreadable expression flitting across his face for only a second, before nodding back. Ianto rolled his shoulders and tightened his hold on his gun, ready should the weevil make any sudden moves.
“ I’ll do the honours then?” Gwen said and Ianto could just make out the clacking of a keyboard over the comm. He heard the mechanics whirring as the CCTV camera at the end of the alley moved to face them.“One.”
Ianto shifted his stance, placing his weight on his left foot, and glanced at Jack out the corner of his eye.
“Two.”
He saw Jack mirror his movement, shifting to the right and inhaling slowly. He took in his own lungful of the wretched air, trying to suppress a dry heave at the alley’s stench.
“Three.”
Ianto surged forward, movements clipped and efficient as he rounded the skip, gun and spray raised. The weevil was crouched between the skip and alley wall, a ripped apart bin bag in front of it. Its attention shifted from the assortment of takeaway containers and rubbish, head snapping to its left as Jack chuckled.
“So,” Jack taunted the creature, “is this dessert or was that yobbo just a starter?”
“Jack,” Ianto chided, taking a step forward as the weevil snarled at him.
“Or maybe he was just a snack,” Jack said, raising his chin and taking a few steps back as the weevil inched forward towards him. He spared a look at the boxes of half-eaten and fermenting food in front of it and grimaced. “Though I’m sure there’s no accounting for taste.”
The weevil lunged at Jack in a blur of motion. Ianto felt panic surge through him, but quickly pushed it away and rushed to the other side of the skip. Upon seeing Jack grappling with the weevil, wincing in sympathy as his lover threw futile punches at the creature, he rushed forward. Thinking quickly, Ianto lunged as Jack and the weevil turned in a half-circle, giving him a better angle. With an ease that would make him sick to his stomach later, he brought the butt of his gun down across the weevil’s temple, stunning it and giving Jack enough time to get his spray up.
“I had everything under control,” Jack said through pants of breath as he subdued the weevil.
“Of course, sir,” Ianto deadpanned and pulled the hood from his belt. He placed it over the weevil’s head, his hand brushing Jack’s as he did so. “I’ll arrange your fee for the weevil fight club, shall I?”
“Very funny,” Jack said dryly, holstering his Webley and pocketing the spray. “Mind giving me a hand?”
“Here? It’s a bit...filthy. But then again you did seem to enjoy yourself that time on the docks,” Ianto said, one eyebrow raised as he put his own gun away.
Over the comms, Gwen groaned. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“If you’d like, I could give you all the details,” Jack said, smirking when Ianto scoffed. “Preferably over ice cream and Love, Actually. We could make it a proper girls night in.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Gwen said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “Just get that thing back here before it wakes up and decides it needs another nosh.”
“Not a word,” Ianto said tersely, cutting Jack off as he opened his mouth to retort.
“You’re no fun,” Jack grumbled, his lips set in a pout.
“So I’ve been told,” Ianto said and moved to grab the weevil’s feet. He scrunched his nose in disgust as he hefted the lower half of the weevil’s body, sighing a grunt as Jack lifted its shoulders. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, though.”
“Oh?” Jack said through his teeth. “What has this thing been eating?”
“Yep. Proper date and everything. I’ll even let you buy me dinner,” Ianto said, turning his head to watch where he was going. “I don’t think small pets and miscellaneous pedestrians makes for a very healthy diet, do you?”
“How gentlemanly of me,” Jack said, straining a smile in Ianto’s direction. “Well, he certainly doesn’t seem to be worried about his girlish figure.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “If you play the gentleman, what does that make me? Your Girl Friday?”
Jack forced out a laugh and adjusted his grip on the weevil as it started to slip from his hold. “Of course not. You make the better Cary Grant. Besides, I look absolutely ravishing in a skirt. Watch your step. We’re almost there.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Ianto said, sparing Jack a teasing smile before glancing over his shoulder. “You got the keys?”
“You love me anyway,” Jack said and Ianto noticed that his grin didn’t meet his eyes. “In my left trouser pocket.”
“Well, you’re getting them yourself,” Ianto stuttered, setting the weevil down as Jack lowered its torso. He leaned against the side of the SUV as Jack dug in his pocket for the keys, not meeting the man’s eyes and ignoring the pang in his chest at Jack’s words. It was a moment before he realised Jack had said something else.
He looked up, sparing a glance at his car and a very bored looking Black, and met Jack’s eyes. “Sorry. What was that?”
Jack sighed and reached out to caress Ianto’s cheek. “I said help me get it into the boot?”
“Oh,” Ianto said and started to move away from him. “Sure.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath when Jack’s other hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb slowly brushing against his lips. He shivered at the pleasant tickle, lips parting with a soft gasp.
“Why won’t you say it?” Jack asked softly and Ianto hated himself for the hurt in Jack’s voice. “I wouldn’t tell you how I feel and it be a lie. Especially not to you, Ianto. Never you.”
Ianto sighed and leaned into Jack’s touch. “I just can’t, Jack,” he whispered, gently nipping at Jack’s thumb.
“Why not, Ianto? Do you really think it’s so easy for me?” Jack asked, letting out a shaky breath.
“Is this really the time and place to be talking about this?” Ianto asked meekly, looking down and intently studying the cut of the weevil’s boiler suit.
“Don’t try to just brush this off,” Jack said, his voice taking on an edge. “I need to know, Ianto. If we’re nothing more than a part-time shag, then please let me know.”
Ianto’s head snapped up. “What?” he whispered incredulously. “No. No, of course not. Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
“Then why can’t you tell me?” Jack said quietly, brokenly.
Ianto looked into Jack’s eyes, placing his hands on the other man’s hips as he leaned into him. He chastely pressed his lips to Jack’s, pulling back before either could deepen the kiss. “Because I’m just a blip in time for you. One day I’ll be gone and you’ll forget me. You’ll move on.”
Jack’s breath was hot against Ianto’s lips and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his. “That’s not true, Ianto Jones.”
“The only other person I loved died,” Ianto confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t go through that again, Jack.”
He heard Jack sigh and felt his arms wrap around him, holding him close. He closed his eyes, lids shut tight against unwelcome tears, and rested his head against Jack’s shoulder, deeply breathing in Jack’s scent.
“I’m not her, Ianto,” Jack whispered, one hand slowly trailing up his back to card fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear. Not like that.”
“You can’t promise me though, can you?” Ianto whispered bitterly.
“I wish I could,” Jack said, voice full of emotion, “but I meant what I said. I came back for you. I’ll always come back for you. Even when you’re old and grey.”
“And full of sleep?” Ianto asked, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
“Oh, you hush,” Jack laughed lightly, turning to press a kiss to Ianto’s temple. “I mean it. I’ll always come back. Even from death itself. It’s not like I have a say in it.”
“We don’t know that,” Ianto said, sobering. “Every time you die, I can’t help thinking what if you don’t come back this time? What would I do without you?”
“You’d be all right,” Jack whispered, lips brushing against Ianto’s temple.
“I need you, Jack. I hate myself for it, but I need you.”
“Needing someone isn’t so bad,” Jack said softly, pulling away from Ianto enough to smile at him. “I need you much more than you need me, Ianto Jones.”
“You’re just saying that,” Ianto said quickly, looking away.
“No, I’m not. We don’t know what the future holds. And I really do need to say it. Before it’s too late,” Jack said, gently cupping Ianto’s chin. “Look at me.”
Ianto lifted his gaze after a few long seconds and met Jack’s sparkling blue eyes. His lips tugged upwards slightly as Jack fixed him with a warm smile.
“I love you,” he said softly and pressed a chaste kiss to Ianto’s lips.
“Jack,” Ianto whispered as they pulled apart, the name like a prayer on his lips. “I-“
Before he could say anything, their comms sprang to life as a snarl cut through the air.
“Ianto! Behind you!” Gwen shouted through the device.
It all seemed in slow motion to Ianto as Jack pushed him out of the way, his hip colliding painfully with the SUV. He cried out as Jack intercepted the weevil and wrenched his gun from its holster. Ianto didn’t hesitate as the creature overpowered Jack, knocking him to the ground and sinking its teeth into Jack’s neck. As Jack screamed, he opened fire, not stopping until he’d emptied the clip into the weevil’s chest.
The gun clattered to the ground and Ianto rushed over as the creature went limp, barely registering a car door slamming and the pair of hands helping him pull the weevil’s dead weight from Jack.
“Jack!” Ianto cried, dropping to his knees and reaching for him. His hand grasped weekly at Ianto’s forearm, blood seeping too quickly from his wound as Black vainly tried to apply pressure to it.
“Ianto,” Jack said, voice laboured and almost too quiet to be heard.
“I’m here, Jack. I’m here and...and I love you too . So much. So very, very much,” Ianto said, leaning down to press a kiss to Jack’s forehead.
“Ianto,” Jack whispered with a wheeze, though he grinned weakly. He grip went slack on Ianto’s arm.
“Oh, Merlin!” Black moaned, sitting back on his heels and staring between Ianto and Jack’s body. “He’s dead.”
Ianto ignored him and brushed back Jack’s fringe from his forehead. He felt empty as he moved to cradle Jack’s head in his lap. He sighed and settled Jack against him, his fingers gently running through Jack’s soft hair.
“He saved you,” Black said quietly, poking at the dead weevil with one cautious finger, “from that thing you caught’s...?”
“Mate, probably,” Ianto said absently, half-listening to Black and cutting his connection to the Hub, silencing Gwen’s shouts to know what had happened.
“What do we do?” Black asked, eyes wide and voice soft.
Ianto paused for a moment, his other hand drifting to trace the wound on Jack’s neck. “Now we wait.”
“Wait?” Black asked incredulously. “Wait for what? He’s dead, Mr Jones. He’s not coming back.”
Ianto chuckled darkly and his voice sounded as dead as the man in his arms when he answered, “You don’t know him.”
Ianto looked away from Black’s indignant spluttering and turned back to Jack. He let his hand drift upward, tracing Jack’s jaw and lips. He sent up a prayer to a god he didn’t know if he believed in anymore.
Jack was coming back.
He had too.
He promised.
Part XIII