Memories 12/14
Title/Series Info: Memories
Pairing: Hints of Jack/Ianto
Rating/Warning: Rated T for the usual Torchwood antics
Summary: Ianto Jones wakes up in hospital with no memory of how he got there. Who are the Agniton? What do they want with Jack? It’s up to Torchwood to find out and prevent any more deaths occurring… Janto pairing. Pre-COE.
Disclaimer: No matter how much of Ianto's coffee I drink, I still don't own Torchwood
CHAPTER 12
“Oh god,” gasped Gwen, as the two Agniton Scouts began to move towards them. “Jack, what do we do?!”
“Okay, I’ll try and distract them, while you run. They can read minds, so try and keep your thoughts to a minimum. ”
“Oh. So much for giving them the element of surprise, then.” Ianto deadpanned.
“See if you can get in a position to shoot or, if the worst comes to the worst… well, let’s hope we don’t get to that bit.” Before they dispersed, Jack kissed them briefly on the forehead, whispering: “good luck!”
Jack ran out towards the work stations, aware that his every movement was being observed. “Frankly,” he yelled, “I don’t like what you guys are doing on this planet, so we’re gonna sort this out right here, right now!” He was heading for a pile of debris, which was waiting to be incinerated, near the spiral staircase to the Hothouse. Please let there be some piping, he thought frantically.
His lucky day, however, this was not.
Jack found himself suddenly flying backwards with great force and, on colliding with the tiled wall, was knocked completely breathless. Wheezing painfully, Jack managed to drag himself upright, grabbing the back of a nearby chair for support.
“Telepathy and telekinesis? That’s just showing off…” his sentence trailed off as the piece of piping sliced through the air, like an arrow shot from a powerful crossbow.
“Sh…argh!” He yelled, dropping his head to see the long, thin object protruding from his chest, blood beginning to seep through the cotton fibres of his shirt. Piping; oh, the irony. It had pierced straight into his heart, the pain rendering Jack immobile after collapsing to the ground. “Oh, so this is how you want to play, huh? Well, in that case, we’re playing by my rules…!”
This is not a game, Jack. We are aware of your ‘gift’ and certainly intend to use it to our advantage. Just imagine: one entity to provide us with an eternal feeding source…
“So, if I’m what you want, why - ” he was finding it difficult to think properly; the significant blood loss combined with the unbearable headache was playing havoc with his focus, “ - why not find me first, rather than kill those other people?”
Apart from restoring strength, what better way to get your attention, Jack? Furthermore, your exposure to the bodies has left you and your little friends more acceptable to our telepathic influence. The Agnitons’ heads titled to one side, as if in contemplation. You have weakened physically, yet the brain impulses remain intact. We have disabled you primarily, allowing us to deal with your colleagues. Once we have fed, we shall then return for you. Leaving this planet, just as you requested, Jack...
“You lay a finger on them, and I swear…”
Such big words, yet so little power. We have evolved beyond belief, Jack. Abilities you could only dream of…
Jack snorted in laughter, tears of pain streaking down his cheeks. “You really wouldn’t want to know what I dream of!”
We will soon make that decision for ourselves…
**********
Gwen had positioned herself behind a pile of cardboard boxes tucked away in the corner of the Hub, though she soon wished she had chosen somewhere slightly nearer. When describing the Agniton’s anatomy, Jack had failed to mention that the pulsing nuclei was tiny, not to mention nigh impossible to aim at from a distance. Bugger. Crouched low to the ground, Gwen wrinkled her nose; there was an awful smell nearby and, looking over her shoulder, realised where it was coming from. Ew, she thought in disgust, dinosaur crap…
On seeing Jack impaled with the metal pipe, her own heart flipped - as did her stomach when the blood began to pour. How many times did that man have to die? They had all experienced great pain, but none so much as the Captain. He had sacrificed himself on a number of occasions in order to help others; even now, on the brink of death, he was creating a distraction for herself and Ianto to kill the alien Scouts. She couldn’t muck this up; there was too much at risk. Shuffling gently, Gwen rose the Glock to eye level and rested her arm on the top of a box, trying to steady her hand for a better aim. The shuffling, however, had not been a good idea. Losing balance slightly, Gwen nudged into her barricade and, inevitably, the boxes came tumbling down.
“Damn it!” She’d blown her cover and the palpable movement had attracted unwanted attention. The Agniton were now advancing towards her, and Gwen ran. However, the blinding pain behind her eyes had started to restrict her vision, causing her to stumble and topple as she headed for shelter. She had no idea where Ianto had gone, but she could make out Jack just ahead. Gwen knew that hiding was useless - the Agniton could read minds for Christ’s sake! - but she didn’t know what else to do. Her instinct warned her to keep running and not look back, yet her body told her otherwise. Her head was spinning and she could no longer think clearly, so - a foolish decision she quickly realised afterwards - Gwen gave her body dominance. Breaking her concentration, her leg caught the end of the coffee table and she fell awkwardly to her knees.
“Shit!” she cried, as her gun flew far from reach. One of the Scouts drew up behind her and a sudden feeling of paralysis swept over her. Gwen no longer had control over body or mind. She could hear Jack screaming her name, but there was nothing she could do.
This was it. Her luck had run out…
-----
A/N: Just to let you know, this isn’t intended as Gwen-bashing. And, if I'm in a good mood after the SJA finale, I may upload the penultimate chapter this evening! Thanks for reading! :)
Pairing: Hints of Jack/Ianto
Rating/Warning: Rated T for the usual Torchwood antics
Summary: Ianto Jones wakes up in hospital with no memory of how he got there. Who are the Agniton? What do they want with Jack? It’s up to Torchwood to find out and prevent any more deaths occurring… Janto pairing. Pre-COE.
Disclaimer: No matter how much of Ianto's coffee I drink, I still don't own Torchwood
CHAPTER 12
“Oh god,” gasped Gwen, as the two Agniton Scouts began to move towards them. “Jack, what do we do?!”
“Okay, I’ll try and distract them, while you run. They can read minds, so try and keep your thoughts to a minimum. ”
“Oh. So much for giving them the element of surprise, then.” Ianto deadpanned.
“See if you can get in a position to shoot or, if the worst comes to the worst… well, let’s hope we don’t get to that bit.” Before they dispersed, Jack kissed them briefly on the forehead, whispering: “good luck!”
Jack ran out towards the work stations, aware that his every movement was being observed. “Frankly,” he yelled, “I don’t like what you guys are doing on this planet, so we’re gonna sort this out right here, right now!” He was heading for a pile of debris, which was waiting to be incinerated, near the spiral staircase to the Hothouse. Please let there be some piping, he thought frantically.
His lucky day, however, this was not.
Jack found himself suddenly flying backwards with great force and, on colliding with the tiled wall, was knocked completely breathless. Wheezing painfully, Jack managed to drag himself upright, grabbing the back of a nearby chair for support.
“Telepathy and telekinesis? That’s just showing off…” his sentence trailed off as the piece of piping sliced through the air, like an arrow shot from a powerful crossbow.
“Sh…argh!” He yelled, dropping his head to see the long, thin object protruding from his chest, blood beginning to seep through the cotton fibres of his shirt. Piping; oh, the irony. It had pierced straight into his heart, the pain rendering Jack immobile after collapsing to the ground. “Oh, so this is how you want to play, huh? Well, in that case, we’re playing by my rules…!”
This is not a game, Jack. We are aware of your ‘gift’ and certainly intend to use it to our advantage. Just imagine: one entity to provide us with an eternal feeding source…
“So, if I’m what you want, why - ” he was finding it difficult to think properly; the significant blood loss combined with the unbearable headache was playing havoc with his focus, “ - why not find me first, rather than kill those other people?”
Apart from restoring strength, what better way to get your attention, Jack? Furthermore, your exposure to the bodies has left you and your little friends more acceptable to our telepathic influence. The Agnitons’ heads titled to one side, as if in contemplation. You have weakened physically, yet the brain impulses remain intact. We have disabled you primarily, allowing us to deal with your colleagues. Once we have fed, we shall then return for you. Leaving this planet, just as you requested, Jack...
“You lay a finger on them, and I swear…”
Such big words, yet so little power. We have evolved beyond belief, Jack. Abilities you could only dream of…
Jack snorted in laughter, tears of pain streaking down his cheeks. “You really wouldn’t want to know what I dream of!”
We will soon make that decision for ourselves…
**********
Gwen had positioned herself behind a pile of cardboard boxes tucked away in the corner of the Hub, though she soon wished she had chosen somewhere slightly nearer. When describing the Agniton’s anatomy, Jack had failed to mention that the pulsing nuclei was tiny, not to mention nigh impossible to aim at from a distance. Bugger. Crouched low to the ground, Gwen wrinkled her nose; there was an awful smell nearby and, looking over her shoulder, realised where it was coming from. Ew, she thought in disgust, dinosaur crap…
On seeing Jack impaled with the metal pipe, her own heart flipped - as did her stomach when the blood began to pour. How many times did that man have to die? They had all experienced great pain, but none so much as the Captain. He had sacrificed himself on a number of occasions in order to help others; even now, on the brink of death, he was creating a distraction for herself and Ianto to kill the alien Scouts. She couldn’t muck this up; there was too much at risk. Shuffling gently, Gwen rose the Glock to eye level and rested her arm on the top of a box, trying to steady her hand for a better aim. The shuffling, however, had not been a good idea. Losing balance slightly, Gwen nudged into her barricade and, inevitably, the boxes came tumbling down.
“Damn it!” She’d blown her cover and the palpable movement had attracted unwanted attention. The Agniton were now advancing towards her, and Gwen ran. However, the blinding pain behind her eyes had started to restrict her vision, causing her to stumble and topple as she headed for shelter. She had no idea where Ianto had gone, but she could make out Jack just ahead. Gwen knew that hiding was useless - the Agniton could read minds for Christ’s sake! - but she didn’t know what else to do. Her instinct warned her to keep running and not look back, yet her body told her otherwise. Her head was spinning and she could no longer think clearly, so - a foolish decision she quickly realised afterwards - Gwen gave her body dominance. Breaking her concentration, her leg caught the end of the coffee table and she fell awkwardly to her knees.
“Shit!” she cried, as her gun flew far from reach. One of the Scouts drew up behind her and a sudden feeling of paralysis swept over her. Gwen no longer had control over body or mind. She could hear Jack screaming her name, but there was nothing she could do.
This was it. Her luck had run out…
-----
A/N: Just to let you know, this isn’t intended as Gwen-bashing. And, if I'm in a good mood after the SJA finale, I may upload the penultimate chapter this evening! Thanks for reading! :)