Fic: Red Glow on the Horizon (S2: Chap 6, SoI 21)
Chapter Title: Red Glow on the Horizon (S2: Chap 6, SoI 21)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Choices
A/N: SoI is back! Thanks everyone who have beared with me while I allowed the limbs to heal - RSI is a bitch! That's what I get for writing 10k long chapters ;) Then after the symptoms died down and I could move my shoulders and wrists without wanting to weep, it was so hard to get back into writing after the lengthy break, even though the story is just desperate to get out. But, got back into the groove and here it is! Picking up right where Chap 5 left off. Only 3 chapters left! Muahahahaha. *rubs her hands together evily*
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
Previously on Shades of Ianto...
"This has just been a test of our defenses. Thousands more have been launched from the ships; we have about four minutes, twenty-five seconds until they breach our atmosphere."
The silence that followed (interspersed with Jean-Luc's continued swearing) was gratingly tense, broken by a stifled sob by Gwen. She understood. They all did. They had struggled to defeat the six over Cardiff, and even if they weren't fully aware of the rest of the world, they knew how difficult it had been. Ianto didn't know the stories of their victories, but if they were anything like his and Sheppard's, he knew they had probably occurred by slim margins. And with help from UNIT and the RAF.
And now ... thousands.
Ianto's mobile rang, the number identifying the Japanese director, Yasuo Watanabe. Turning away from the others for a moment (and just a moment, time ticked past Ianto's eyes faster than he would have liked) he rapidly exchanged information with the man, snapping his mobile shut to disconnect the call when it was finished (four minutes three seconds, two, one...). He stared at a scorched patch of earth, seeing the globe and the continents as they had been laid out before him on Sheppard's ship. Billions of people, a few hundred aliens. It should have been simple, the math was in their favor. Simple was never the Torchwood way, however, and in the superimposed map of the earth, Ianto began to draw question marks.
"Japan killed three and ran off five dragons which attacked Tokyo. Those aliens split up and were tracked to two other locations," Ianto didn't look at the others, maintaining his focus on his map. Another question mark. "Japan lost communications with Beijing and Seoul approximately fifteen minutes ago and have sent two squadrons to assist. There's been no contact with Sydney or New Delhi since the incursion began."
Of course, no contact didn't mean much, those cities could very well be intact and fighting. The chances that the members of those alien-fighting communities were still alive were another question. He'd been concerned, sending off the formulas to the various Torchwoodesque institutions around the world; some were no more than poorly funded civilian groups who wouldn't have the ear of the government, or possibly even their respect if a warning was issued. Some countries might not even have means to produce the enzyme to assist their fight. But he hadn't wished to bypass channels and trod upon political relationships of which he had no understanding; upon reflection, perhaps he should have. As time ticked away (three forty-five, forty-four, forty-three...) and thousands approached, Ianto realized once again that he was in part responsible by both his action and non-action.
This time, however, there would be no Lisa.
And cities were falling.
"What are our options?"
Ignoring Jack's question, Ianto flipped open his phone again, this time connecting to the emergency broadband to alert the nations he hoped were listening in, adding UNIT and the RAF to the signal. "Prepare for another attack. Thousands more approaching Earth in a matter of minutes. One weakness appears to be their internal systems -- aim explosives down their throats and run as fast as you can. I repeat, prepare for another attack. Thousands more approaching." Ianto paused, then added, "May mankind prevail. Britain, out."
Three minutes, twenty-two seconds, twenty-one, twenty...
Sheppard was speaking into his communications device, nodding as Ianto closed his phone and slipped it into his TAC vest. He wouldn't be needing it again.
"U.S. military are headed towards those four cities as we speak from naval and air force bases in Japan."
For the sake of their "guests," Ianto pretended he didn't hear Jean-Luc pause mid-rant to begin cursing and railing about the infectious, hegemonic U.S. military.
Three minutes, one second, three, two minutes, fifty-nine...
Ianto turned to look at Jack, knowing this would be the most opportune time for him to leave. The battle was no longer his, of his time, and Ianto certainly didn't see any blue police boxes lingering, offering hope. Not that Ianto was defeated, he most certainly wasn't. He just understood the odds, he could do the math. The world's military resources would be extinguished quickly by a concentrated air effort; a ground battle might last a while longer. Cities would burn in the mean time. One country would fall, and then another. Thousands of lives would be lost -- or altered, Ianto grimly reminded himself -- and how soon would it be before the militaries turned desperate? Used more and more vicious weapons leaving a greater scar on the people of Earth than the dragons themselves? To what ends did a country go?
Blanching, Ianto realized it was he who had to make that decision. This was an alien attack. Torchwood was in charge.
God, he wasn't prepared.
"Use me."
Ianto blinked and turned away from his Jack stare (which had earned him a raised eyebrow as Ianto's focus slipped and he lost himself in the small hole in Jack's shirt) and found Jean-Luc standing in front of him, looking far too determined. "Use you for what?"
"Let me fight."
Shaking his head in a firm negative, Ianto ignored Sheppard and Gwen's confused questions. He glanced at Stephen who slowly approached, before turning back to Jean-Luc, his hands clutching the straps of the TAC vest like an anchor. "Absolutely not. You destroyed a building and then collapsed for twenty-four hours. These are thousands of massive, moving objects. No, it would kill you."
"Let us fight, Ianto," Stephen's soothing voice added, and Ianto looked at him incredulously. Stephen's powers were limited, Ianto knew that. There was no way Stephen could fight in any effective manner and survive. Not against many; he'd burn out his mind. These were thousands of dragons, and Jean-Luc and Stephen were not volunteering to fight with weapons. They would fight as the weapons.
Two minutes, thirty-three seconds. Thirty-two. Thirty-one... "What about your ship, Sheppard?" Ianto turned away from Stephen and Jean-Luc to address the figure who looked remarkably unruffled for what he and Ianto had been through. Yet another testament to what Sheppard must have gone through. He kept darting looks between Ianto and the two men from Avalon, but finally his gaze stilled for a moment. "Don't you have weapons on board that can destroy these things?"
Sheppard shook his head, appearing as apologetic as Ianto had ever seen him. "Limited arms -- the Spes Nostra isn't a battle cruiser. And my team still haven't found a way to get past their shields, so even if our battle ships arrived in time, they wouldn't be able to take out the enemy ships. We can open fire, certainly, but we'll lose whatever surprise we might need to destroy those ships."
"Ianto, you're missing the point." Stephen interrupted Ianto's blink of surprise at the idea of battle ships (he wondered if UNIT had anything similar in the works and if they did, why the hell they weren't in the air), standing proud next to Jean-Luc and looking equally convinced of his choice. "We can all fight, all of Avalon, through Jean-Luc. Like our security when he's not playing solitary sentinel. They link up, are stronger together. You've fought and won. Let us have our turn. Let us have our fight."
Ianto couldn't look at Stephen, couldn't face the impassioned plea he was making to take that risk, to risk the lives of all the children of Avalon. Instead, he watched Tosh rush towards the group (two minutes, eight, seven, six...), and a flash of Akira floated across his mind. And Rani. And Lana. All the faces, all the names. If they didn't fight, they were at risk. If they fought, they most certainly at risk. But they were children, for god's sake.
He couldn't.
And he refused to think of Jack's sacrifice with Jasmine. He refused. He wouldn't have to make that choice. That was Jack, an older Jack, far more wise and capable. His Jack made those choices. Ms. White made those choices. Ianto didn't.
Tosh arrived, out of breath but reporting that Owen was resting comfortably and stable, then asked what was wrong amidst the deafening silence of the group. Ianto interrupted before anyone could respond. "What would you say, Tosh, if Akira chose to fight?"
Stunned by his question, probably by the reveal of Avalon secrets in front of the others as much as the content, Tosh looked at Jean-Luc and Stephen before stubbornly lifting her chin. Ianto didn't think she had forgotten Torchwood Four, nor the kids' fear or relief at being rescued. "If Akira wished to fight, then my family would be honored by her choice."
"Thirty seconds, Ianto. We will be ready in thirty seconds."
Ianto looked at Jean-Luc whose eyes were distant -- staring through Ianto, but Ianto knew he was fully aware of his vow -- then to Stephen and Tosh. All he could see was confidence smothering the fear, a bravery Ianto felt he himself truly lacked.
He understood fear; knew it perhaps better than the others, but that didn't mean he knew courage.
And upon the face of Jean-Luc, the others' (god, even Jack's, Jack who wasn't his but was still ultimately Jack) and those behind Jean-Luc's eyes, courage was written.
The helicopter which had been circling their area landed roughly near where the group stood, startling Ianto. He flinched out of instinct as much as concern for the aircraft and the pilot. He watched as the pilot stepped out even as the blades still spun, standing at attention and watching the group, never moving to join. He was confused for a moment by her actions until he understood what thirty seconds had possibly meant; Jean-Luc had given a warning, thirty seconds to get ready and out of harm's way.
Like pilots flying helicopters.
God, what sacrifices did one make to save a world and her people?
Torn, Ianto looked back at Jean-Luc, his friend for almost two decades, and suddenly the pale blue eyes focused on Ianto, the power behind those eyes causing Ianto to stumble back a few steps before hands steadied him (Ronon, judging by the close smell of leather). Jean-Luc's voice rang softly in Ianto's head, but it wasn't just Jean-Luc's voice. It was melodious, dozens upon dozens of voices, he could hear individuals, Stephen's lilt, Lana's sultry purr, many more he didn't recognize but felt he knew, a multi-toned voice humming with power.
"We wish to fight."
They were kids. They were adults (one minute, forty-four seconds, forty-three, forty-two...). Hundreds of voices, filling his mind, all united by the power that was Jean-Luc. So many. Ianto felt love, a tender hand smoothing over his mind, knowing it had stemmed from Jean-Luc but was echoed in force by the hundreds of children and adults lending their power. Avalon. All the gifted. All echoing the same wish, the same hope, the same love and willingness to sacrifice.
"Let us fight."
There were thousands coming. Losses equalling that, maybe more. Probably more. They might fight a military battle, but at what cost? What cities would fall? Would Cardiff? London?
Britain would suffer.
Britain would burn before they could save her.
He couldn't allow that (one minute, fifteen seconds, fourteen, thirteen...). He had duty; he had his responsibilities. He had his family. He had a choice -- the fate of Britain and the world or the fate of Avalon. Avalon had made their choice, they had their own families, their own friends and responsibilities, their own nations to defend and they had made their choice.
Now it was time for his.
Ianto worked his jaw furiously for a moment, teeth grinding in an effort not to throw up his hands and throw the tantrum he so wished to indulge in. Fairness had no value here, nor did want (fifty-seven, fifty-six, fifty-five...). Only desperation and the bravery of hundreds of souls staring back at him from behind Jean-Luc's eyes.
Ignoring the wet fall of sorrow on his face he could scarcely blame on rain, Ianto jerked his head into a nod and turned away as Jean-Luc's face broke into a grin and Stephen's face blanked completely. He paid no attention either to the air crackling with power behind him as he strode away from Jean-Luc and Stephen, Avalon and his decision. He couldn't watch as the gifted partook in a battle he couldn't join, a fight which very well could destroy Avalon. He stared at the skies instead, countless white-red dots appearing like falling stars in the skies. There was commotion behind him, voiced but wordless, a mere muffled rumble falling on his ears.
"Ianto!" His head nearly shook off his shoulders; Ianto absently realized Sheppard was shaking him to get his attention. His eyes never left the sky as Ianto listened to Sheppard shouting, "What the hell is going on? Three of my crew just stopped, blank as your friend and the pilot."
"The dragons are about to learn the wrath of Avalon," Ianto smiled, pointing up to the hundreds of dots filling the sky. Wrath they had ten-fold, all those of Avalon (and the few outsiders who Avalon had missed) who had been taken from their homes, lost family members and friends, and been forced into cells.
"What the fuck is Avalon? Who-"
Sheppard's voice suddenly cut off, though his hands still clasped Ianto's shoulders, at the same moment as Gwen released an "oh my god!" and Ianto heard Ronon's growled question to Sheppard. It didn't matter now, Ianto's choice. Perhaps this was what the faeries had meant, all those ages ago. It felt a lifetime. Maybe they meant not his choice to become Mr. Black, but rather this sacrifice, his friend and mentor and all the gifted in the world.
The dots were quietly blinking out of sight, vanishing before Ianto's eyes and he knew this was what had distracted Sheppard. He supposed they were exploding, there was a brief moment when each dot grew larger and then ... nothing. Over and over, the dots across the sky vanished into the twilight of dusk. Ianto felt a hand at his shoulder, he knew without looking it was Jack and while he desperately didn't want to, he found himself leaning into the touch all the same. He was quite stunned that Jack hadn't left yet but this other Jack was proving him wrong time and again, acting more like the Jack he knew than not. It didn't seem right, there ought to be something wrong, something different because the man was most certainly not his Jack, but he felt just the same. He touched just the same.
Ianto caught sight of a flash of black on the horizon, barely visible as night crept her hand over Cardiff. At first, he thought it was just a UNIT or RAF jet, sweeping the land but then he saw the wings curl. He stiffened, heard Jack's concerned "Ianto?" and felt his heart leap to his throat and threaten to strangle him. In a breath, clarity came to Ianto and he saw why Avalon had been taken, why all the gifted had been rounded up and locked away in psi-proof cells.
He'd felt their touch; Owen had as well. The dragons were a telepathic race.
They knew.
Fear tasted bitter on his tongue. "Protect Jean-Luc!" Ianto shouted, reclaiming the ability to move once the thread of hope he'd been clinging to unraveled before his eyes, hands burning as the thread was torn away to leave him tumbling back into the sprawling nightmare of the day. Turning his back on the beast, Ianto sprinted to where he had dropped his weapon. He quickly phoned UNIT, requesting immediate assistance at the airfield as he picked up his gun. Stuffing it back in his vest, he directed the others as he moved between Jean-Luc and the dragon. "Do whatever it takes, do not let that dragon touch him!"
The others quickly armed themselves; Jack raced back to the SUVs; Ianto figured now was as good a time as any. They might not make it past this battle with the dragon; Ianto wouldn't have to explain why Jack left. Gwen came and stood beside Ianto, forming a feeble line of defense with Ianto's semi-automatic from Sheppard's ship. "I'm an ace shot, ya know."
Ianto spared a moment in his calculations to glance at the shorn head of Gwen, her face tilted up in a smile. "Are you, now?"
"Yup." She cocked her gun, eyeing the still-too-far-away dragon in her line of sight. "Two bullets in this gun, but I only need the one."
He couldn't help but smile in return at the bravado, knowing full well (as did Gwen) it would take more than one bullet and no enzyme to defeat the dragon, but willing to play along with Gwen's confidence. They just had to buy time. He checked his magazine, realizing he had the single bullet in the chamber left. "Fancy a wager? Your one bullet over mine."
"You lot are certifiable, you know that?" Rhys stood beside Gwen, looking very uncomfortable with his gun but apparently willing to put up a fight. Ianto wouldn't deny him his chance any more than he had denied Avalon, he just hoped Gwen had instructed him how to disarm the safety.
Tosh stood on the other side of Ianto, touching his arm before standing tall. "For Torchwood?"
"For Torchwood."
Ianto blinked in surprise and momentarily turned away from the approaching dragon to stare at the smirking Jack over Tosh's head. He had a bazooka thrown over his shoulder and tossed Ianto a spare clip. Ianto didn't question where or how he'd gotten it, just snapped it into place, a bit more relieved to have more between him and the dragon than a single bullet. (Gwen protested and called their bet off but immediately reinstated it when Jack passed another semi-automatic down the line to her. Ianto didn't think he'd seen Gwen's eyes light up like that since Jack had called a three-day weekend.) Ianto glanced again at Jack, certain there had been a swap, that his Jack had shown because only his Jack smirked like that in the face of death. No swap, however, there was the small scar above Jack's right eye where he'd misjudged an alien's attack. But no matter how Ianto tried to tell himself otherwise, the other man looked like Ianto's Jack, minus the greatcoat.
Ianto missed the greatcoat.
"For Queen and country," Ianto softly quoted, pretending he couldn't feel Avalon behind him. Turning to face their enemy, Ianto figured the dragon's flame-reach and the probability they would have in all of them surviving. Better odds minus the fire. They were toast if it started spitting fire. They stood in the open field with no shelter, protecting equally unprotected Jean-Luc and Stephen. Protection. 'And who protects us?' he'd asked Tosh, back when their enemy were human, and still to the day, the words rang true. It was only luck and experience which protected Torchwood, heavily favoring the luck. And an occasional bout of heroics from Jack. Ianto wondered if those heroics held in this version of Jack, for they were running short on luck and experience had run out with the last attack.
Twin roars caught Ianto's attention, breaking to his far left and his far right. He had to turn his head to quickly scan the horizons at opposite links, sight confirming what instinct told him. Their attacking dragon had brought back-up; pale white against the darkening sky.
The breeders.
The power thrumming behind them was palpable, a tension so thick in the air that Ianto didn't need to look to know Jean-Luc was hard at work, destroying their foe in whatever method that worked for those kids. Adults, too. But god, the kids.
And their UNIT backup was still not in sight.
Panic threatened to overwhelm him as Ianto tried to remember from his lessons and time spent at Avalon as to what would happen to all the others linked up with Jean-Luc if his friend were to be killed. Ianto gestured sharply at the three dragons approaching. "Gwen, Rhys, focus on the white to the southeast. Shoot for its eyes, we know those are unprotected and might buy us time. Jack? Take the other. Tosh and I will-"
Helicopter blades thumping to life stunned them all, and the front turned to see the pilot still standing still, blank faced and motionless, still a part of the Avalon meld destroying the thousands raining down upon the Earth. There were two in the helicopter, however, and as it rose from the ground Ianto saw the unmistakable figures of Sheppard and Ronon.
Sheppard? A pilot?
Ianto watched in disbelief, feeling the syncopation of the blades just out of step with his racing heart as the helicopter darted past, launching twin missiles at the white dragon to the southeast, scoring a hit that left them cheering and the alien shrieking in pain. From what Ianto could see, the whites were significantly less protected than their black and red brethren; a point in Torchwood's favor. Sheppard's missiles had torn easily through the hide, leaving a gaping wound which failed to bring down the white but it had altered its flight path from a straight shot to a wobbly, drunken swerve reminding Ianto of late nights following a binge at the local pub, he and Lisa leaning on each other for support as they laughed and made their way to her flat.
Those nights were easy to sleep off. Unfortunately, he didn't believe this night would be as easily cast aside with a pain reliever and club soda, if the red glow of fire on the horizon meant anything.
Sheppard evaded the shaky stream of fire ejected as the white dragon sputtered a retaliatory blaze; Ianto noted with relief that the man knew how to fly a helicopter as it veered away. A lesser pilot might have been charred to a crisp and while Ianto knew the American was old enough to make his own choices, Ianto couldn't bear the burden of that guilt. Too much guilt; too many deaths. Guilt for what he controlled, guilt for what he couldn't.
Glancing up at the darkening night sky, the flares of falling warrior dragons twinkling in the distance, Ianto lost count as each alien life blinked out of existence.
Guilt with purpose.
One torching flame down for at least three minutes, two remaining as steadily beating wings carried the dragons closer to the line of Torchwood defense. Ianto calculated the distances; not promising, but perhaps better odds with one injured dragon. He kept a mindful watch on Sheppard and Ronon as they sped out of harm's way and tried to figure out how to best take down the two before they turned to cinder.
"I can do better than a one-eyed pilot. Eat my missile, lizard-breath."
Ianto blinked and wished the roar of the approaching black and red war dragon had been a little less than eardrum-shattering, but he was fairly certain he hadn't misheard Jack when Tosh giggled, then burst into peals of laughter as Jack squared his shoulders and fired his rocket-launcher at the remaining healthy white breeder. The situation wasn't funny; it really wasn't. In fact, the situation was about as dire as Ianto had faced; the battle of Canary Wharf running a close second to the utter chaos and desperation. But despite the threat, despite the fear and the hopelessness, Ianto couldn't help himself, the corners of his lips twitching with effort to maintain a calm demeanor completely failing.
He laughed, right along with Tosh.
Not nervous laughter, not a chuckle borne from extremes sounding false and hollow. Ianto couldn't help it; the ridiculousness and arrogance of Jack; still so true even if he knew this Jack wasn't his, his laughter rang true, echoing down the airfield and bouncing off distant trees. God, was Jack trying to show up Sheppard? In the middle of a battlefield? Leave it to Jack to know his priorities.
Still far more amused than he ought to be given the situation, Ianto watched the rocket spiral towards the white dragon whose wings beat a rhythm drawing it closer and closer (thump.thump. slower than his heart dancing double-time with adrenaline against his ribcage thumpthumpthump) to the group until Ianto could swear he could smell the sulfur pouring off the beast blend with the heavy scent of scorched earth into a cloying mixture suffocating Ianto's senses. He knew that feeling and he could almost see the levity fleeing as tendrils of memory crept along his consciousness, leaving a fight to keep his mind clear of doubt and fear, of failure on the grandest scale when only a handful survived, a handful witnessing the failure of man and the downfall of one of the strongest organizations in the world. They'd thought themselves invincible. They'd believed themselves superior. And oh, how they'd fallen amongst fire and savagery, humanity erased to mechanical purity. Thump. Thump. Clank. Clank. Dragging Lisa through the halls, screaming as the ceiling burned and smoke snuffed the air from his lungs.
God, he'd been here before. Living again. How many times can one fight and still live? Who would he be dragging through the halls to safety this time?
"Ianto!"
Ianto blinked at the sound of Gwen's voice, dazed for a moment as black and red encroached into his peripheral vision. He did the only thing he could think of -- he hit the ground (and hard) as the downdraft power of the wings assisted gravity. Rolling to get himself as far away from the warrior dragon as he could, Ianto felt the ground explode where he had just lain, the beast's club tail cratering the earth and showering him with pebble and chunks of clumped grass and dirt. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could even as he felt arms pulling him up, Rhys providing both support and hindrance to his action. Ianto's ears were still ringing as he took in his surroundings, chest heaving when he chased his breath. There was a lump on the ground a distance away, a white writhing lump. One of the whites, Ianto's mind slowly supplied. He wasn't sure where the other was, but the one was at least temporarily down. Tosh and Gwen stood beside Rhys, but their attention was focused elsewhere, a spot beyond Ianto's shoulder, a look upon their faces which Ianto wished he could burn from his memory.
Brushing dirt from his TAC vest, Ianto spun to see what had drawn the horrified looks of Gwen, Tosh and Rhys.
Without thought to action or consequence, Ianto bolted forward, a roar of protest on his lips echoing with the dragon cries across the field. He didn't think, he couldn't think of the consequences. What would happen to the past and present if timelines were altered? The grandfather paradox. He'd read and studied this in one of Torchwood One's databases. There was plenty of evidence in the Archives of the disasters that could happen should past, present, and future collide and erase. Theories from across the universe and expanse of time, all indicating cessation in time/space as one understood it. The butterfly flapping its wings. Or as others would argue, multiple branches of reality fractured upon the back of a butterfly's wings. Ianto couldn't fathom what implications this would have on the present, if this really was grandfather's paradox in action.
Could they have already lost?
As he got closer, he could see the hint of once-blue shirt between the claws and familiar boots sticking out beyond the cage the dragon's claws had created. The black and red dragon had yet to singe its prey (had yet to eat its prey too, Ianto's mind helpfully supplied), and he could see Jack struggling to escape the alien's grasp as it pinned him to the ground. He passed the used missile launcher as he ran, not giving it a second thought as he had nothing to arm it with, his hands tearing at his TAC vest for the blade he knew was inside. Of course. Jack had been the biggest threat on the ground with the bazooka and after he'd struck the other white, the warrior beast had targeted Jack.
It was what Ianto would have done, had he been a building-sized fire-breathing dragon hellbent on conquering earth to turn it into a lush dragon paradise with billions of humans-turned-Weevils running about at his command.
The blade Ianto unsheathed was hardly a threat, measuring a mere six inches in length but it looked sharp and Ianto briefly thanked Sheppard's crew for maintaining their equipment. He had no idea what he would do with the knife against the impossibly hard armor covering the black and red dragons; Ianto hardly had a chance of slicing through an artery or striking its heart. If it had arteries and a heart. But his momentum was already carrying him forward and he really had no other recourse as Jack was still pinned to the ground and the possibility of this Jack dying and thus unraveling space/time was too much for Ianto to consider.
Ianto pretended the notion that it was still Jack didn't cross his mind.
The dragon was actually scaled, Ianto realized, long, thick stripes covering its red belly like a snake and he wasted no time shoving the utility knife up between the scales as the dragon's attention focused on Jack. The rotten stench of dragon blood was the first indication that he had succeeded in damaging the dragon, puncturing the hide beneath the scales. He had no idea how deep he'd struck, what he'd struck, if anything, but he knew he had shed the dragon's blood and caused it pain as Ianto felt himself being lifted upwards, hand still on the blade embedded elbow-deep between the scales. He quickly let go, the hard scales scraping across his arm stealing his breath but the sheer panic of the situation masked it in victory. He'd hurt the dragon; he watched as it reared upwards, a blast of fire burning the skies, not Jack and the ground. Darting forward under the alien's talons, he grabbed at Jack who was slow standing but seemed relatively unharmed. There was no time, no time to check him over but Jack was alive, alive and well, and not causing a catastrophic shift in timelines or proving himself an alien in disguise.
Jack was alive.
"Come on!" Ianto shouted at Jack as he half-dragged, half-guided the man towards the others, his voice sounded like a whisper next to the boom of the warrior dragon's bellow. The ground quaked beneath his feet, causing Ianto to stumble, Jack all but falling to his knees if not for the support Ianto was bodily providing. Ianto didn't want to look behind him; didn't want to see death approaching in shades of black and red. It was almost better, death at their backs as they ran from the angry beast. At least Ianto wouldn't know if he'd failed Torchwood and the Queen, his family and his nephews, his fellow survivors in London and the rest of the world. The wind picked up, nearly blowing them over as they ran; Ianto could hear the whooshing thumpthump (Clank. Clank.) behind them, the dragon's wings building speed to give chase. Maybe if they split up, Ianto could push Jack to the side, Ianto could distract the dragon, provide cover while the others escaped. Jack had to live. Jack needed to live. As much as the world needed him to survive this far, Jack needed to survive this. Get to the SUVs. Drive away as fast as possible. He needed-
"OI! Ugly! Over here, you bloody tosser!"
This time Ianto did trip up, crashing inelegantly to the ground with Jack in tow, surprise and fear contrasting elements as his feet continued escaping but his mind tried to rationalize and understand what it had heard. He looked down when he felt a hand upon his wrist, Jack steadying him with both hand and eye, a calming gesture which allowed Ianto to look towards Owen in time to catch another sight he wished to wipe clean from his mind. The dragon's neck billowed like a balloon for an instant before splitting like a pulled zipper, dragon blood splattering a heavy rain on the ground while the neck collapsed inward, the head pulling back, looking as though it were withdrawing but it did without control as the long neck crashed into the body, its head falling to the earth and soon its body tumbled after, the air currents knocking Owen to the ground like a domino.
Ianto stared in disbelief as dirt kicked up by the fallen alien pelted Jack and him, stared as Owen stood and brushed off his denims, stared again at the dragon and tried to comprehend the incomprehensible.
Then again, Owen had stared down a Weevil.
By the time Ianto and Jack made it over to where Owen stood, Tosh and Gwen were already latched onto him like large versions of Ianto's leech nephews, and an embarrassed Owen was trying to retain dignity and poise by pretending it didn't matter. The women stepped aside as Jack and Ianto approached; Owen raising his chin in defiance and pride.
"Some dragon slayer you are, St. George. What'd you think you were going to do with a bloody bamboo shoot under its fingernail? Tickle it to death?"
Ianto was just as surprised as Owen when he hugged the obnoxious doctor. And nearly fainted when Owen returned the embrace. "Thought you were cowering in the auto."
"Couldn't let you lot bollocks up saving the world and all now, could I?"
"You still look like shite." And the doctor did, his trembling hands and pallor visible even as night descended. Ianto gave Owen's shoulders a squeeze then stepped away, partially embarrassed by his own relieved display. Jack wasn't nearly as restrained, stepping forward to give Owen a hug before turning it into a grandiose snog of thanks, which left the women giggling and Owen slapping at Jack's back in blustered affront.
Ianto smirked and watched a moment before drawing his attention towards Jean-Luc and Stephen who remained as still and statuesque as they had before the dragons attacked. Beads of sweat lined Stephen's forehead, showing the strain of his contribution. Jean-Luc's battle, however, was much more apparent as blood curled over his fists where his fingernails had dug into his skin, arms vibrating with tension and Avalon's wrath. His pale blue eyes were still as powerful as ever, so intense that Ianto couldn't bear to look; like a nuclear flare it was just too much to see. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose; what that meant Ianto hadn't the slightest, but it couldn't be good -- his own experience with Jean-Luc's shout and all the time spent at Avalon had never indicated blood was a positive sign. A touch at his elbow let him know Tosh had seen it as well.
"Ianto? Is he-"
Ianto wrapped his arm around Tosh's shoulders, turning her away from what they couldn't help. Avalon was out of their control; out of his. He couldn't stop his friend no matter how hard he'd try, no matter the destruction or danger to Jean-Luc. Ianto didn't understand Jean-Luc's plan -- he didn't understand anything outside the concept. But whatever he was doing, whatever Avalon was doing, it was working.
He quickly stepped in front of Tosh as a screech laced with pain sounded to the north of the group; dim light reflecting off the white leathery hide reminded Ianto instantly that their celebration was too soon. He'd forgotten the others, the two white dragons. He wasn't sure if the lump on the ground had risen, in the failing light it was hard to discern objects on the ground but he could see the pale hide of one careening for the group at breakneck speed, reminding Ianto of shuffleboard and he wondered how far he'd bounce when the kamikaze dragon struck.
Too soon to figure out what could be done against this threat, the heavens erupted into a brilliant white flare. Ianto slammed his eyes shut and threw his arm up as a shield against the blinding light, but even then, the negative afterimage bounced on his eyelids, giving a false sense of movement. Unsteady but keeping his balance, Ianto watched behind his arm as the light flared again and the screech from the forgotten white dragon sounded far more to his left than it had from in front of him seconds before. Warily opening his eyes, he saw the world returning to its moonlit blacks and greys, an unusual light in the sky as large blotches grew dim.
Two flashes. There were two alien ships. Ianto refused to consider the idea that the Spes Nostra and her crew were gone; Avalon was better than that. There were two alien ships and the skies had just exploded. Perhaps it was too much to hope for but maybe, just maybe, there was reason to hope against the alien threat. Dragons. Bloody-
Dragon. Ianto scanned the horizon, then the ground and the skies, searching for the white breeder. He could hardly see, however, his eyes watering furiously from the initial shock of the light and specks of what he knew were false images still dancing in front of him. Another roar, to his right, but then a steady echo, more a throb. Disoriented, Ianto shouted for Torchwood to search for the dragon, but the others were having as much a problem as he between the sound and the blasts in the sky. He could feel Tosh holding on to the back of his TAC vest; at least he hoped it was Tosh and not a Weevil snuck up behind them. Gwen, Rhys, and Owen responded as well, weapons aimed at everything and nothing.
Twin flashes blinked in the night sky; Ianto caught them shining like two red eyes. They were unmistakable, those flashes, as were the dozens of others as they dotted pinpricks across the horizon. Trying to track the missiles was impossible, so Ianto settled for listening to the sound as they passed overhead, ending in an explosion not quite on the scale of the two before. But this, this had been smaller, more dragon-sized.
It seemed their back-up had arrived.
More blasts and a corner of the field lit up in a fireball, the shockwave rocking Ianto back on his heels, but nothing threatening to topple him. Spotlights turned on as jets screamed over their heads; Ianto turned his head up to watch before watching the strobe-effect of the lighting on the airfield battered and burnt, but with the Torchwood team still standing.
Two familiar figures exited one of the helicopters, the exceedingly tall man indicating to Ianto who the pair were.
"Sorry about that, had to rearm and then we ran into some friends of yours."
Ianto breathed easier, relieved to hear Sheppard hadn't been battled from the sky and that he and Ronon were in one piece.
And made quick friends with the RAF and UNIT, it would seem.
"I reckon there aren't many who claim hatred against their fellow man right now," Ianto shook Sheppard's hand before he was pulled into the umpteenth hug of the day; for one so reserved he had been on the giving or receiving end of far more tactile acts than he had probably in his career at Torchwood. But it didn't matter, a lot of things would be excused from the day. 'The Spes Nostra?"
"Commander Weir reports that the two alien vessels were destroyed; how she could only guess since there were no reports of ballistics fire from the surface. They're off to help the Chinese since their cover is no longer necessary." Sheppard nodded towards where Stephen and Jean-Luc stood. "Seems your friends were rather angry with those dragons, no signs of any of the pods breaking atmosphere as well."
"They had their reason to defend Earth." Ianto thought back to his own family, tucked away safe he hoped in the lands far removed from Cardiff and all the trouble. And of his mother. Ms. White. And of Simone, Caleb, and all the other innocents lost. And their families. God, how many had been killed trying to prevent this?
"So what exactly is Avalon?" Sheppard asked, Ianto's stomach flopping as he realized the secret and hidden nature of Avalon was probably secret no longer.
Ianto didn't have time to answer when Tosh's cry sent that stab of fear spiking again. Dragon? More? At least with the RAF and UNIT circling overhead they had more protection but how much fighting could take place before the fighters collapsed? Ianto shook himself free of any thinking in general when he saw Tosh kneeling near the prone form of Jean-Luc; Stephen appeared down as well.
Racing to his friend's side, Ianto felt for a pulse first, hope surfacing once he determined that it was at least steady, if faint. "Owen!" Ianto barked, laying a hand gently on Jean-Luc's chest to make sure he still breathed. The doctor appeared to have forgotten his own earlier medical concerns as he ran for Ianto's side, unceremoniously shoving Ianto out of the way so he could triage with the shaken Tosh.
"What the fuck am I dealing with here, Ianto?"
Ianto shrugged as he moved to Stephen's side. "Over-exertion? I don't know symptoms or treatment for any of this. Jack? Do you know?"
Sheppard interrupted, hand on his communication device. "Three of my crew just collapsed. Ianto?"
"And I've got about two hundred kids likely in the same state, Colonel. I don't know." Ianto tersely answered, ignoring Tosh's gasp of 'Akira!' and Owen's curses, nodding at Ronon who broke from the shadowed darkness, carrying the forgotten helicopter pilot in his arms. "Avalon's a school for the gifted."
Owen scoffed at the idea, his contempt and disregard lying thick on every word, something Ianto was used to under normal circumstances, but not these. "A school? You let kids get involved in this?"
Ianto wasn't aware he moved, but suddenly he was on his feet, forgetting Stephen and lunging for Owen, determined to do something to displace the guilt into anger rightly served as a fist across Owen's jaw. Or perhaps the eye. Either location would feel equally justified since Ianto couldn't hit himself.
"Ianto! Focus on what's important." Ianto's shoulders strained against the two hands restraining his arms; Jack's grip was solid and as much as he wanted to wipe the condescending scowl from Owen's face, he knew Jack was right. He fought Jack's hold a moment more, just to prove to Jack (and himself) that Owen wasn't right to question his judgment, the twat just didn't know he was wrong. Jack finally released him, Ianto grimacing as Jack's hands tugged and pulled at the scratch from the dragon scales he'd forgotten. "You're hurt."
Ianto pointed to Jean-Luc and ignored Jack. "We need to get them to Avalon. Sheppard? Can you transport us?"
"Lead the way. I assume you at least know how to get there."
Ianto let the jibe slide past and bent to lift Jean-Luc; Jack helped, to Ianto's relief. Sheppard and Rhys carried Stephen, and between the five of them, loaded the three unconscious heroes into the helicopter. "Owen!" Ianto called for the doctor despite his anger, "we're going to need you at Avalon."
Tosh stopped him before they left and Ianto sighed, closing his eyes, not wanting to deal with the knowledge that he might have killed both her niece and her boyfriend. It was too much for the moment, too much to consider. They'd destroyed the threat, but at what cost? Could they have succeeded militarily instead? He'd been so willing to believe Jean-Luc that it was the only viable option. And now...
"Don't listen to Owen. They chose this, Ianto. Avalon wanted to fight."
He tried to smile, he really did. Tosh wasn't fooled, and the sympathy was far too much for Ianto at the moment. If he stared too long, he'd just sit down on the spot and weep, weep for what was lost, what might be, and what never was. It was hard to believe the battle was over; they'd only fought a day but the morning seemed a lifetime ago when Sheppard first appeared on Torchwood's doorstep and the horrors had descended once again. The horizon glowed with fire, but Cardiff still stood; Britain still stood. It should have been a victory; Ianto should have felt elation; joy, if the old Jack hadn't left, he'd have asked Jack to go out for a drink. And then to fuck him slowly on the crisp linens of Jack's bed.
But for as much as victory there was loss; and Ianto didn't know where the two met. Watching Ronon carefully lift Jean-Luc into the helicopter, it seemed as though the victory didn't matter. Not if it was at such a cost. He'd done it. He'd followed in his mother's footsteps and made the choices she made, choosing one life over another.
Ianto wished he could ask her how she lived with herself.
"Take the Rovers, meet us at Avalon." Ianto replied instead, turning away from Tosh. He climbed into the helicopter and made certain the three were secure before he strapped himself in, ignoring Owen and refusing to look out at Jack as he shut the doors on the craft.
Six collapsed, unresponsive. Probably all of Avalon.
Many questions would be sought; and Ianto feared every answer. He had no answers, not even Tosh's reassurances meant anything. Avalon had chosen to fight, but Ianto had permitted it.
He began listing the gods he knew, a prayer in every tongue to every deity across space and time, any who might listen and respond, and even those Ianto really doubted listened at all.
Pray, let Avalon be safe.
Next Chapter, Part 1
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Choices
A/N: SoI is back! Thanks everyone who have beared with me while I allowed the limbs to heal - RSI is a bitch! That's what I get for writing 10k long chapters ;) Then after the symptoms died down and I could move my shoulders and wrists without wanting to weep, it was so hard to get back into writing after the lengthy break, even though the story is just desperate to get out. But, got back into the groove and here it is! Picking up right where Chap 5 left off. Only 3 chapters left! Muahahahaha. *rubs her hands together evily*
For Shades of Ianto series information, please see Prologue, Chapter 1
Previous Chapters:
Prologue: Chapters 1-7 (Complete)
Series1: Chapters 1-8 (Complete)
S2: Chap 1, SoI 16
S2: Chap 2, SoI 17
S2: Chap 3, SoI 18
S2: Chap 4, SoI 19
S2: Chap 5, SoI 20 (Two Parts)
Previously on Shades of Ianto...
"This has just been a test of our defenses. Thousands more have been launched from the ships; we have about four minutes, twenty-five seconds until they breach our atmosphere."
The silence that followed (interspersed with Jean-Luc's continued swearing) was gratingly tense, broken by a stifled sob by Gwen. She understood. They all did. They had struggled to defeat the six over Cardiff, and even if they weren't fully aware of the rest of the world, they knew how difficult it had been. Ianto didn't know the stories of their victories, but if they were anything like his and Sheppard's, he knew they had probably occurred by slim margins. And with help from UNIT and the RAF.
And now ... thousands.
Ianto's mobile rang, the number identifying the Japanese director, Yasuo Watanabe. Turning away from the others for a moment (and just a moment, time ticked past Ianto's eyes faster than he would have liked) he rapidly exchanged information with the man, snapping his mobile shut to disconnect the call when it was finished (four minutes three seconds, two, one...). He stared at a scorched patch of earth, seeing the globe and the continents as they had been laid out before him on Sheppard's ship. Billions of people, a few hundred aliens. It should have been simple, the math was in their favor. Simple was never the Torchwood way, however, and in the superimposed map of the earth, Ianto began to draw question marks.
"Japan killed three and ran off five dragons which attacked Tokyo. Those aliens split up and were tracked to two other locations," Ianto didn't look at the others, maintaining his focus on his map. Another question mark. "Japan lost communications with Beijing and Seoul approximately fifteen minutes ago and have sent two squadrons to assist. There's been no contact with Sydney or New Delhi since the incursion began."
Of course, no contact didn't mean much, those cities could very well be intact and fighting. The chances that the members of those alien-fighting communities were still alive were another question. He'd been concerned, sending off the formulas to the various Torchwoodesque institutions around the world; some were no more than poorly funded civilian groups who wouldn't have the ear of the government, or possibly even their respect if a warning was issued. Some countries might not even have means to produce the enzyme to assist their fight. But he hadn't wished to bypass channels and trod upon political relationships of which he had no understanding; upon reflection, perhaps he should have. As time ticked away (three forty-five, forty-four, forty-three...) and thousands approached, Ianto realized once again that he was in part responsible by both his action and non-action.
This time, however, there would be no Lisa.
And cities were falling.
"What are our options?"
Ignoring Jack's question, Ianto flipped open his phone again, this time connecting to the emergency broadband to alert the nations he hoped were listening in, adding UNIT and the RAF to the signal. "Prepare for another attack. Thousands more approaching Earth in a matter of minutes. One weakness appears to be their internal systems -- aim explosives down their throats and run as fast as you can. I repeat, prepare for another attack. Thousands more approaching." Ianto paused, then added, "May mankind prevail. Britain, out."
Three minutes, twenty-two seconds, twenty-one, twenty...
Sheppard was speaking into his communications device, nodding as Ianto closed his phone and slipped it into his TAC vest. He wouldn't be needing it again.
"U.S. military are headed towards those four cities as we speak from naval and air force bases in Japan."
For the sake of their "guests," Ianto pretended he didn't hear Jean-Luc pause mid-rant to begin cursing and railing about the infectious, hegemonic U.S. military.
Three minutes, one second, three, two minutes, fifty-nine...
Ianto turned to look at Jack, knowing this would be the most opportune time for him to leave. The battle was no longer his, of his time, and Ianto certainly didn't see any blue police boxes lingering, offering hope. Not that Ianto was defeated, he most certainly wasn't. He just understood the odds, he could do the math. The world's military resources would be extinguished quickly by a concentrated air effort; a ground battle might last a while longer. Cities would burn in the mean time. One country would fall, and then another. Thousands of lives would be lost -- or altered, Ianto grimly reminded himself -- and how soon would it be before the militaries turned desperate? Used more and more vicious weapons leaving a greater scar on the people of Earth than the dragons themselves? To what ends did a country go?
Blanching, Ianto realized it was he who had to make that decision. This was an alien attack. Torchwood was in charge.
God, he wasn't prepared.
"Use me."
Ianto blinked and turned away from his Jack stare (which had earned him a raised eyebrow as Ianto's focus slipped and he lost himself in the small hole in Jack's shirt) and found Jean-Luc standing in front of him, looking far too determined. "Use you for what?"
"Let me fight."
Shaking his head in a firm negative, Ianto ignored Sheppard and Gwen's confused questions. He glanced at Stephen who slowly approached, before turning back to Jean-Luc, his hands clutching the straps of the TAC vest like an anchor. "Absolutely not. You destroyed a building and then collapsed for twenty-four hours. These are thousands of massive, moving objects. No, it would kill you."
"Let us fight, Ianto," Stephen's soothing voice added, and Ianto looked at him incredulously. Stephen's powers were limited, Ianto knew that. There was no way Stephen could fight in any effective manner and survive. Not against many; he'd burn out his mind. These were thousands of dragons, and Jean-Luc and Stephen were not volunteering to fight with weapons. They would fight as the weapons.
Two minutes, thirty-three seconds. Thirty-two. Thirty-one... "What about your ship, Sheppard?" Ianto turned away from Stephen and Jean-Luc to address the figure who looked remarkably unruffled for what he and Ianto had been through. Yet another testament to what Sheppard must have gone through. He kept darting looks between Ianto and the two men from Avalon, but finally his gaze stilled for a moment. "Don't you have weapons on board that can destroy these things?"
Sheppard shook his head, appearing as apologetic as Ianto had ever seen him. "Limited arms -- the Spes Nostra isn't a battle cruiser. And my team still haven't found a way to get past their shields, so even if our battle ships arrived in time, they wouldn't be able to take out the enemy ships. We can open fire, certainly, but we'll lose whatever surprise we might need to destroy those ships."
"Ianto, you're missing the point." Stephen interrupted Ianto's blink of surprise at the idea of battle ships (he wondered if UNIT had anything similar in the works and if they did, why the hell they weren't in the air), standing proud next to Jean-Luc and looking equally convinced of his choice. "We can all fight, all of Avalon, through Jean-Luc. Like our security when he's not playing solitary sentinel. They link up, are stronger together. You've fought and won. Let us have our turn. Let us have our fight."
Ianto couldn't look at Stephen, couldn't face the impassioned plea he was making to take that risk, to risk the lives of all the children of Avalon. Instead, he watched Tosh rush towards the group (two minutes, eight, seven, six...), and a flash of Akira floated across his mind. And Rani. And Lana. All the faces, all the names. If they didn't fight, they were at risk. If they fought, they most certainly at risk. But they were children, for god's sake.
He couldn't.
And he refused to think of Jack's sacrifice with Jasmine. He refused. He wouldn't have to make that choice. That was Jack, an older Jack, far more wise and capable. His Jack made those choices. Ms. White made those choices. Ianto didn't.
Tosh arrived, out of breath but reporting that Owen was resting comfortably and stable, then asked what was wrong amidst the deafening silence of the group. Ianto interrupted before anyone could respond. "What would you say, Tosh, if Akira chose to fight?"
Stunned by his question, probably by the reveal of Avalon secrets in front of the others as much as the content, Tosh looked at Jean-Luc and Stephen before stubbornly lifting her chin. Ianto didn't think she had forgotten Torchwood Four, nor the kids' fear or relief at being rescued. "If Akira wished to fight, then my family would be honored by her choice."
"Thirty seconds, Ianto. We will be ready in thirty seconds."
Ianto looked at Jean-Luc whose eyes were distant -- staring through Ianto, but Ianto knew he was fully aware of his vow -- then to Stephen and Tosh. All he could see was confidence smothering the fear, a bravery Ianto felt he himself truly lacked.
He understood fear; knew it perhaps better than the others, but that didn't mean he knew courage.
And upon the face of Jean-Luc, the others' (god, even Jack's, Jack who wasn't his but was still ultimately Jack) and those behind Jean-Luc's eyes, courage was written.
The helicopter which had been circling their area landed roughly near where the group stood, startling Ianto. He flinched out of instinct as much as concern for the aircraft and the pilot. He watched as the pilot stepped out even as the blades still spun, standing at attention and watching the group, never moving to join. He was confused for a moment by her actions until he understood what thirty seconds had possibly meant; Jean-Luc had given a warning, thirty seconds to get ready and out of harm's way.
Like pilots flying helicopters.
God, what sacrifices did one make to save a world and her people?
Torn, Ianto looked back at Jean-Luc, his friend for almost two decades, and suddenly the pale blue eyes focused on Ianto, the power behind those eyes causing Ianto to stumble back a few steps before hands steadied him (Ronon, judging by the close smell of leather). Jean-Luc's voice rang softly in Ianto's head, but it wasn't just Jean-Luc's voice. It was melodious, dozens upon dozens of voices, he could hear individuals, Stephen's lilt, Lana's sultry purr, many more he didn't recognize but felt he knew, a multi-toned voice humming with power.
"We wish to fight."
They were kids. They were adults (one minute, forty-four seconds, forty-three, forty-two...). Hundreds of voices, filling his mind, all united by the power that was Jean-Luc. So many. Ianto felt love, a tender hand smoothing over his mind, knowing it had stemmed from Jean-Luc but was echoed in force by the hundreds of children and adults lending their power. Avalon. All the gifted. All echoing the same wish, the same hope, the same love and willingness to sacrifice.
"Let us fight."
There were thousands coming. Losses equalling that, maybe more. Probably more. They might fight a military battle, but at what cost? What cities would fall? Would Cardiff? London?
Britain would suffer.
Britain would burn before they could save her.
He couldn't allow that (one minute, fifteen seconds, fourteen, thirteen...). He had duty; he had his responsibilities. He had his family. He had a choice -- the fate of Britain and the world or the fate of Avalon. Avalon had made their choice, they had their own families, their own friends and responsibilities, their own nations to defend and they had made their choice.
Now it was time for his.
Ianto worked his jaw furiously for a moment, teeth grinding in an effort not to throw up his hands and throw the tantrum he so wished to indulge in. Fairness had no value here, nor did want (fifty-seven, fifty-six, fifty-five...). Only desperation and the bravery of hundreds of souls staring back at him from behind Jean-Luc's eyes.
Ignoring the wet fall of sorrow on his face he could scarcely blame on rain, Ianto jerked his head into a nod and turned away as Jean-Luc's face broke into a grin and Stephen's face blanked completely. He paid no attention either to the air crackling with power behind him as he strode away from Jean-Luc and Stephen, Avalon and his decision. He couldn't watch as the gifted partook in a battle he couldn't join, a fight which very well could destroy Avalon. He stared at the skies instead, countless white-red dots appearing like falling stars in the skies. There was commotion behind him, voiced but wordless, a mere muffled rumble falling on his ears.
"Ianto!" His head nearly shook off his shoulders; Ianto absently realized Sheppard was shaking him to get his attention. His eyes never left the sky as Ianto listened to Sheppard shouting, "What the hell is going on? Three of my crew just stopped, blank as your friend and the pilot."
"The dragons are about to learn the wrath of Avalon," Ianto smiled, pointing up to the hundreds of dots filling the sky. Wrath they had ten-fold, all those of Avalon (and the few outsiders who Avalon had missed) who had been taken from their homes, lost family members and friends, and been forced into cells.
"What the fuck is Avalon? Who-"
Sheppard's voice suddenly cut off, though his hands still clasped Ianto's shoulders, at the same moment as Gwen released an "oh my god!" and Ianto heard Ronon's growled question to Sheppard. It didn't matter now, Ianto's choice. Perhaps this was what the faeries had meant, all those ages ago. It felt a lifetime. Maybe they meant not his choice to become Mr. Black, but rather this sacrifice, his friend and mentor and all the gifted in the world.
The dots were quietly blinking out of sight, vanishing before Ianto's eyes and he knew this was what had distracted Sheppard. He supposed they were exploding, there was a brief moment when each dot grew larger and then ... nothing. Over and over, the dots across the sky vanished into the twilight of dusk. Ianto felt a hand at his shoulder, he knew without looking it was Jack and while he desperately didn't want to, he found himself leaning into the touch all the same. He was quite stunned that Jack hadn't left yet but this other Jack was proving him wrong time and again, acting more like the Jack he knew than not. It didn't seem right, there ought to be something wrong, something different because the man was most certainly not his Jack, but he felt just the same. He touched just the same.
Ianto caught sight of a flash of black on the horizon, barely visible as night crept her hand over Cardiff. At first, he thought it was just a UNIT or RAF jet, sweeping the land but then he saw the wings curl. He stiffened, heard Jack's concerned "Ianto?" and felt his heart leap to his throat and threaten to strangle him. In a breath, clarity came to Ianto and he saw why Avalon had been taken, why all the gifted had been rounded up and locked away in psi-proof cells.
He'd felt their touch; Owen had as well. The dragons were a telepathic race.
They knew.
Fear tasted bitter on his tongue. "Protect Jean-Luc!" Ianto shouted, reclaiming the ability to move once the thread of hope he'd been clinging to unraveled before his eyes, hands burning as the thread was torn away to leave him tumbling back into the sprawling nightmare of the day. Turning his back on the beast, Ianto sprinted to where he had dropped his weapon. He quickly phoned UNIT, requesting immediate assistance at the airfield as he picked up his gun. Stuffing it back in his vest, he directed the others as he moved between Jean-Luc and the dragon. "Do whatever it takes, do not let that dragon touch him!"
The others quickly armed themselves; Jack raced back to the SUVs; Ianto figured now was as good a time as any. They might not make it past this battle with the dragon; Ianto wouldn't have to explain why Jack left. Gwen came and stood beside Ianto, forming a feeble line of defense with Ianto's semi-automatic from Sheppard's ship. "I'm an ace shot, ya know."
Ianto spared a moment in his calculations to glance at the shorn head of Gwen, her face tilted up in a smile. "Are you, now?"
"Yup." She cocked her gun, eyeing the still-too-far-away dragon in her line of sight. "Two bullets in this gun, but I only need the one."
He couldn't help but smile in return at the bravado, knowing full well (as did Gwen) it would take more than one bullet and no enzyme to defeat the dragon, but willing to play along with Gwen's confidence. They just had to buy time. He checked his magazine, realizing he had the single bullet in the chamber left. "Fancy a wager? Your one bullet over mine."
"You lot are certifiable, you know that?" Rhys stood beside Gwen, looking very uncomfortable with his gun but apparently willing to put up a fight. Ianto wouldn't deny him his chance any more than he had denied Avalon, he just hoped Gwen had instructed him how to disarm the safety.
Tosh stood on the other side of Ianto, touching his arm before standing tall. "For Torchwood?"
"For Torchwood."
Ianto blinked in surprise and momentarily turned away from the approaching dragon to stare at the smirking Jack over Tosh's head. He had a bazooka thrown over his shoulder and tossed Ianto a spare clip. Ianto didn't question where or how he'd gotten it, just snapped it into place, a bit more relieved to have more between him and the dragon than a single bullet. (Gwen protested and called their bet off but immediately reinstated it when Jack passed another semi-automatic down the line to her. Ianto didn't think he'd seen Gwen's eyes light up like that since Jack had called a three-day weekend.) Ianto glanced again at Jack, certain there had been a swap, that his Jack had shown because only his Jack smirked like that in the face of death. No swap, however, there was the small scar above Jack's right eye where he'd misjudged an alien's attack. But no matter how Ianto tried to tell himself otherwise, the other man looked like Ianto's Jack, minus the greatcoat.
Ianto missed the greatcoat.
"For Queen and country," Ianto softly quoted, pretending he couldn't feel Avalon behind him. Turning to face their enemy, Ianto figured the dragon's flame-reach and the probability they would have in all of them surviving. Better odds minus the fire. They were toast if it started spitting fire. They stood in the open field with no shelter, protecting equally unprotected Jean-Luc and Stephen. Protection. 'And who protects us?' he'd asked Tosh, back when their enemy were human, and still to the day, the words rang true. It was only luck and experience which protected Torchwood, heavily favoring the luck. And an occasional bout of heroics from Jack. Ianto wondered if those heroics held in this version of Jack, for they were running short on luck and experience had run out with the last attack.
Twin roars caught Ianto's attention, breaking to his far left and his far right. He had to turn his head to quickly scan the horizons at opposite links, sight confirming what instinct told him. Their attacking dragon had brought back-up; pale white against the darkening sky.
The breeders.
The power thrumming behind them was palpable, a tension so thick in the air that Ianto didn't need to look to know Jean-Luc was hard at work, destroying their foe in whatever method that worked for those kids. Adults, too. But god, the kids.
And their UNIT backup was still not in sight.
Panic threatened to overwhelm him as Ianto tried to remember from his lessons and time spent at Avalon as to what would happen to all the others linked up with Jean-Luc if his friend were to be killed. Ianto gestured sharply at the three dragons approaching. "Gwen, Rhys, focus on the white to the southeast. Shoot for its eyes, we know those are unprotected and might buy us time. Jack? Take the other. Tosh and I will-"
Helicopter blades thumping to life stunned them all, and the front turned to see the pilot still standing still, blank faced and motionless, still a part of the Avalon meld destroying the thousands raining down upon the Earth. There were two in the helicopter, however, and as it rose from the ground Ianto saw the unmistakable figures of Sheppard and Ronon.
Sheppard? A pilot?
Ianto watched in disbelief, feeling the syncopation of the blades just out of step with his racing heart as the helicopter darted past, launching twin missiles at the white dragon to the southeast, scoring a hit that left them cheering and the alien shrieking in pain. From what Ianto could see, the whites were significantly less protected than their black and red brethren; a point in Torchwood's favor. Sheppard's missiles had torn easily through the hide, leaving a gaping wound which failed to bring down the white but it had altered its flight path from a straight shot to a wobbly, drunken swerve reminding Ianto of late nights following a binge at the local pub, he and Lisa leaning on each other for support as they laughed and made their way to her flat.
Those nights were easy to sleep off. Unfortunately, he didn't believe this night would be as easily cast aside with a pain reliever and club soda, if the red glow of fire on the horizon meant anything.
Sheppard evaded the shaky stream of fire ejected as the white dragon sputtered a retaliatory blaze; Ianto noted with relief that the man knew how to fly a helicopter as it veered away. A lesser pilot might have been charred to a crisp and while Ianto knew the American was old enough to make his own choices, Ianto couldn't bear the burden of that guilt. Too much guilt; too many deaths. Guilt for what he controlled, guilt for what he couldn't.
Glancing up at the darkening night sky, the flares of falling warrior dragons twinkling in the distance, Ianto lost count as each alien life blinked out of existence.
Guilt with purpose.
One torching flame down for at least three minutes, two remaining as steadily beating wings carried the dragons closer to the line of Torchwood defense. Ianto calculated the distances; not promising, but perhaps better odds with one injured dragon. He kept a mindful watch on Sheppard and Ronon as they sped out of harm's way and tried to figure out how to best take down the two before they turned to cinder.
"I can do better than a one-eyed pilot. Eat my missile, lizard-breath."
Ianto blinked and wished the roar of the approaching black and red war dragon had been a little less than eardrum-shattering, but he was fairly certain he hadn't misheard Jack when Tosh giggled, then burst into peals of laughter as Jack squared his shoulders and fired his rocket-launcher at the remaining healthy white breeder. The situation wasn't funny; it really wasn't. In fact, the situation was about as dire as Ianto had faced; the battle of Canary Wharf running a close second to the utter chaos and desperation. But despite the threat, despite the fear and the hopelessness, Ianto couldn't help himself, the corners of his lips twitching with effort to maintain a calm demeanor completely failing.
He laughed, right along with Tosh.
Not nervous laughter, not a chuckle borne from extremes sounding false and hollow. Ianto couldn't help it; the ridiculousness and arrogance of Jack; still so true even if he knew this Jack wasn't his, his laughter rang true, echoing down the airfield and bouncing off distant trees. God, was Jack trying to show up Sheppard? In the middle of a battlefield? Leave it to Jack to know his priorities.
Still far more amused than he ought to be given the situation, Ianto watched the rocket spiral towards the white dragon whose wings beat a rhythm drawing it closer and closer (thump.thump. slower than his heart dancing double-time with adrenaline against his ribcage thumpthumpthump) to the group until Ianto could swear he could smell the sulfur pouring off the beast blend with the heavy scent of scorched earth into a cloying mixture suffocating Ianto's senses. He knew that feeling and he could almost see the levity fleeing as tendrils of memory crept along his consciousness, leaving a fight to keep his mind clear of doubt and fear, of failure on the grandest scale when only a handful survived, a handful witnessing the failure of man and the downfall of one of the strongest organizations in the world. They'd thought themselves invincible. They'd believed themselves superior. And oh, how they'd fallen amongst fire and savagery, humanity erased to mechanical purity. Thump. Thump. Clank. Clank. Dragging Lisa through the halls, screaming as the ceiling burned and smoke snuffed the air from his lungs.
God, he'd been here before. Living again. How many times can one fight and still live? Who would he be dragging through the halls to safety this time?
"Ianto!"
Ianto blinked at the sound of Gwen's voice, dazed for a moment as black and red encroached into his peripheral vision. He did the only thing he could think of -- he hit the ground (and hard) as the downdraft power of the wings assisted gravity. Rolling to get himself as far away from the warrior dragon as he could, Ianto felt the ground explode where he had just lain, the beast's club tail cratering the earth and showering him with pebble and chunks of clumped grass and dirt. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could even as he felt arms pulling him up, Rhys providing both support and hindrance to his action. Ianto's ears were still ringing as he took in his surroundings, chest heaving when he chased his breath. There was a lump on the ground a distance away, a white writhing lump. One of the whites, Ianto's mind slowly supplied. He wasn't sure where the other was, but the one was at least temporarily down. Tosh and Gwen stood beside Rhys, but their attention was focused elsewhere, a spot beyond Ianto's shoulder, a look upon their faces which Ianto wished he could burn from his memory.
Brushing dirt from his TAC vest, Ianto spun to see what had drawn the horrified looks of Gwen, Tosh and Rhys.
Without thought to action or consequence, Ianto bolted forward, a roar of protest on his lips echoing with the dragon cries across the field. He didn't think, he couldn't think of the consequences. What would happen to the past and present if timelines were altered? The grandfather paradox. He'd read and studied this in one of Torchwood One's databases. There was plenty of evidence in the Archives of the disasters that could happen should past, present, and future collide and erase. Theories from across the universe and expanse of time, all indicating cessation in time/space as one understood it. The butterfly flapping its wings. Or as others would argue, multiple branches of reality fractured upon the back of a butterfly's wings. Ianto couldn't fathom what implications this would have on the present, if this really was grandfather's paradox in action.
Could they have already lost?
As he got closer, he could see the hint of once-blue shirt between the claws and familiar boots sticking out beyond the cage the dragon's claws had created. The black and red dragon had yet to singe its prey (had yet to eat its prey too, Ianto's mind helpfully supplied), and he could see Jack struggling to escape the alien's grasp as it pinned him to the ground. He passed the used missile launcher as he ran, not giving it a second thought as he had nothing to arm it with, his hands tearing at his TAC vest for the blade he knew was inside. Of course. Jack had been the biggest threat on the ground with the bazooka and after he'd struck the other white, the warrior beast had targeted Jack.
It was what Ianto would have done, had he been a building-sized fire-breathing dragon hellbent on conquering earth to turn it into a lush dragon paradise with billions of humans-turned-Weevils running about at his command.
The blade Ianto unsheathed was hardly a threat, measuring a mere six inches in length but it looked sharp and Ianto briefly thanked Sheppard's crew for maintaining their equipment. He had no idea what he would do with the knife against the impossibly hard armor covering the black and red dragons; Ianto hardly had a chance of slicing through an artery or striking its heart. If it had arteries and a heart. But his momentum was already carrying him forward and he really had no other recourse as Jack was still pinned to the ground and the possibility of this Jack dying and thus unraveling space/time was too much for Ianto to consider.
Ianto pretended the notion that it was still Jack didn't cross his mind.
The dragon was actually scaled, Ianto realized, long, thick stripes covering its red belly like a snake and he wasted no time shoving the utility knife up between the scales as the dragon's attention focused on Jack. The rotten stench of dragon blood was the first indication that he had succeeded in damaging the dragon, puncturing the hide beneath the scales. He had no idea how deep he'd struck, what he'd struck, if anything, but he knew he had shed the dragon's blood and caused it pain as Ianto felt himself being lifted upwards, hand still on the blade embedded elbow-deep between the scales. He quickly let go, the hard scales scraping across his arm stealing his breath but the sheer panic of the situation masked it in victory. He'd hurt the dragon; he watched as it reared upwards, a blast of fire burning the skies, not Jack and the ground. Darting forward under the alien's talons, he grabbed at Jack who was slow standing but seemed relatively unharmed. There was no time, no time to check him over but Jack was alive, alive and well, and not causing a catastrophic shift in timelines or proving himself an alien in disguise.
Jack was alive.
"Come on!" Ianto shouted at Jack as he half-dragged, half-guided the man towards the others, his voice sounded like a whisper next to the boom of the warrior dragon's bellow. The ground quaked beneath his feet, causing Ianto to stumble, Jack all but falling to his knees if not for the support Ianto was bodily providing. Ianto didn't want to look behind him; didn't want to see death approaching in shades of black and red. It was almost better, death at their backs as they ran from the angry beast. At least Ianto wouldn't know if he'd failed Torchwood and the Queen, his family and his nephews, his fellow survivors in London and the rest of the world. The wind picked up, nearly blowing them over as they ran; Ianto could hear the whooshing thumpthump (Clank. Clank.) behind them, the dragon's wings building speed to give chase. Maybe if they split up, Ianto could push Jack to the side, Ianto could distract the dragon, provide cover while the others escaped. Jack had to live. Jack needed to live. As much as the world needed him to survive this far, Jack needed to survive this. Get to the SUVs. Drive away as fast as possible. He needed-
"OI! Ugly! Over here, you bloody tosser!"
This time Ianto did trip up, crashing inelegantly to the ground with Jack in tow, surprise and fear contrasting elements as his feet continued escaping but his mind tried to rationalize and understand what it had heard. He looked down when he felt a hand upon his wrist, Jack steadying him with both hand and eye, a calming gesture which allowed Ianto to look towards Owen in time to catch another sight he wished to wipe clean from his mind. The dragon's neck billowed like a balloon for an instant before splitting like a pulled zipper, dragon blood splattering a heavy rain on the ground while the neck collapsed inward, the head pulling back, looking as though it were withdrawing but it did without control as the long neck crashed into the body, its head falling to the earth and soon its body tumbled after, the air currents knocking Owen to the ground like a domino.
Ianto stared in disbelief as dirt kicked up by the fallen alien pelted Jack and him, stared as Owen stood and brushed off his denims, stared again at the dragon and tried to comprehend the incomprehensible.
Then again, Owen had stared down a Weevil.
By the time Ianto and Jack made it over to where Owen stood, Tosh and Gwen were already latched onto him like large versions of Ianto's leech nephews, and an embarrassed Owen was trying to retain dignity and poise by pretending it didn't matter. The women stepped aside as Jack and Ianto approached; Owen raising his chin in defiance and pride.
"Some dragon slayer you are, St. George. What'd you think you were going to do with a bloody bamboo shoot under its fingernail? Tickle it to death?"
Ianto was just as surprised as Owen when he hugged the obnoxious doctor. And nearly fainted when Owen returned the embrace. "Thought you were cowering in the auto."
"Couldn't let you lot bollocks up saving the world and all now, could I?"
"You still look like shite." And the doctor did, his trembling hands and pallor visible even as night descended. Ianto gave Owen's shoulders a squeeze then stepped away, partially embarrassed by his own relieved display. Jack wasn't nearly as restrained, stepping forward to give Owen a hug before turning it into a grandiose snog of thanks, which left the women giggling and Owen slapping at Jack's back in blustered affront.
Ianto smirked and watched a moment before drawing his attention towards Jean-Luc and Stephen who remained as still and statuesque as they had before the dragons attacked. Beads of sweat lined Stephen's forehead, showing the strain of his contribution. Jean-Luc's battle, however, was much more apparent as blood curled over his fists where his fingernails had dug into his skin, arms vibrating with tension and Avalon's wrath. His pale blue eyes were still as powerful as ever, so intense that Ianto couldn't bear to look; like a nuclear flare it was just too much to see. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose; what that meant Ianto hadn't the slightest, but it couldn't be good -- his own experience with Jean-Luc's shout and all the time spent at Avalon had never indicated blood was a positive sign. A touch at his elbow let him know Tosh had seen it as well.
"Ianto? Is he-"
Ianto wrapped his arm around Tosh's shoulders, turning her away from what they couldn't help. Avalon was out of their control; out of his. He couldn't stop his friend no matter how hard he'd try, no matter the destruction or danger to Jean-Luc. Ianto didn't understand Jean-Luc's plan -- he didn't understand anything outside the concept. But whatever he was doing, whatever Avalon was doing, it was working.
He quickly stepped in front of Tosh as a screech laced with pain sounded to the north of the group; dim light reflecting off the white leathery hide reminded Ianto instantly that their celebration was too soon. He'd forgotten the others, the two white dragons. He wasn't sure if the lump on the ground had risen, in the failing light it was hard to discern objects on the ground but he could see the pale hide of one careening for the group at breakneck speed, reminding Ianto of shuffleboard and he wondered how far he'd bounce when the kamikaze dragon struck.
Too soon to figure out what could be done against this threat, the heavens erupted into a brilliant white flare. Ianto slammed his eyes shut and threw his arm up as a shield against the blinding light, but even then, the negative afterimage bounced on his eyelids, giving a false sense of movement. Unsteady but keeping his balance, Ianto watched behind his arm as the light flared again and the screech from the forgotten white dragon sounded far more to his left than it had from in front of him seconds before. Warily opening his eyes, he saw the world returning to its moonlit blacks and greys, an unusual light in the sky as large blotches grew dim.
Two flashes. There were two alien ships. Ianto refused to consider the idea that the Spes Nostra and her crew were gone; Avalon was better than that. There were two alien ships and the skies had just exploded. Perhaps it was too much to hope for but maybe, just maybe, there was reason to hope against the alien threat. Dragons. Bloody-
Dragon. Ianto scanned the horizon, then the ground and the skies, searching for the white breeder. He could hardly see, however, his eyes watering furiously from the initial shock of the light and specks of what he knew were false images still dancing in front of him. Another roar, to his right, but then a steady echo, more a throb. Disoriented, Ianto shouted for Torchwood to search for the dragon, but the others were having as much a problem as he between the sound and the blasts in the sky. He could feel Tosh holding on to the back of his TAC vest; at least he hoped it was Tosh and not a Weevil snuck up behind them. Gwen, Rhys, and Owen responded as well, weapons aimed at everything and nothing.
Twin flashes blinked in the night sky; Ianto caught them shining like two red eyes. They were unmistakable, those flashes, as were the dozens of others as they dotted pinpricks across the horizon. Trying to track the missiles was impossible, so Ianto settled for listening to the sound as they passed overhead, ending in an explosion not quite on the scale of the two before. But this, this had been smaller, more dragon-sized.
It seemed their back-up had arrived.
More blasts and a corner of the field lit up in a fireball, the shockwave rocking Ianto back on his heels, but nothing threatening to topple him. Spotlights turned on as jets screamed over their heads; Ianto turned his head up to watch before watching the strobe-effect of the lighting on the airfield battered and burnt, but with the Torchwood team still standing.
Two familiar figures exited one of the helicopters, the exceedingly tall man indicating to Ianto who the pair were.
"Sorry about that, had to rearm and then we ran into some friends of yours."
Ianto breathed easier, relieved to hear Sheppard hadn't been battled from the sky and that he and Ronon were in one piece.
And made quick friends with the RAF and UNIT, it would seem.
"I reckon there aren't many who claim hatred against their fellow man right now," Ianto shook Sheppard's hand before he was pulled into the umpteenth hug of the day; for one so reserved he had been on the giving or receiving end of far more tactile acts than he had probably in his career at Torchwood. But it didn't matter, a lot of things would be excused from the day. 'The Spes Nostra?"
"Commander Weir reports that the two alien vessels were destroyed; how she could only guess since there were no reports of ballistics fire from the surface. They're off to help the Chinese since their cover is no longer necessary." Sheppard nodded towards where Stephen and Jean-Luc stood. "Seems your friends were rather angry with those dragons, no signs of any of the pods breaking atmosphere as well."
"They had their reason to defend Earth." Ianto thought back to his own family, tucked away safe he hoped in the lands far removed from Cardiff and all the trouble. And of his mother. Ms. White. And of Simone, Caleb, and all the other innocents lost. And their families. God, how many had been killed trying to prevent this?
"So what exactly is Avalon?" Sheppard asked, Ianto's stomach flopping as he realized the secret and hidden nature of Avalon was probably secret no longer.
Ianto didn't have time to answer when Tosh's cry sent that stab of fear spiking again. Dragon? More? At least with the RAF and UNIT circling overhead they had more protection but how much fighting could take place before the fighters collapsed? Ianto shook himself free of any thinking in general when he saw Tosh kneeling near the prone form of Jean-Luc; Stephen appeared down as well.
Racing to his friend's side, Ianto felt for a pulse first, hope surfacing once he determined that it was at least steady, if faint. "Owen!" Ianto barked, laying a hand gently on Jean-Luc's chest to make sure he still breathed. The doctor appeared to have forgotten his own earlier medical concerns as he ran for Ianto's side, unceremoniously shoving Ianto out of the way so he could triage with the shaken Tosh.
"What the fuck am I dealing with here, Ianto?"
Ianto shrugged as he moved to Stephen's side. "Over-exertion? I don't know symptoms or treatment for any of this. Jack? Do you know?"
Sheppard interrupted, hand on his communication device. "Three of my crew just collapsed. Ianto?"
"And I've got about two hundred kids likely in the same state, Colonel. I don't know." Ianto tersely answered, ignoring Tosh's gasp of 'Akira!' and Owen's curses, nodding at Ronon who broke from the shadowed darkness, carrying the forgotten helicopter pilot in his arms. "Avalon's a school for the gifted."
Owen scoffed at the idea, his contempt and disregard lying thick on every word, something Ianto was used to under normal circumstances, but not these. "A school? You let kids get involved in this?"
Ianto wasn't aware he moved, but suddenly he was on his feet, forgetting Stephen and lunging for Owen, determined to do something to displace the guilt into anger rightly served as a fist across Owen's jaw. Or perhaps the eye. Either location would feel equally justified since Ianto couldn't hit himself.
"Ianto! Focus on what's important." Ianto's shoulders strained against the two hands restraining his arms; Jack's grip was solid and as much as he wanted to wipe the condescending scowl from Owen's face, he knew Jack was right. He fought Jack's hold a moment more, just to prove to Jack (and himself) that Owen wasn't right to question his judgment, the twat just didn't know he was wrong. Jack finally released him, Ianto grimacing as Jack's hands tugged and pulled at the scratch from the dragon scales he'd forgotten. "You're hurt."
Ianto pointed to Jean-Luc and ignored Jack. "We need to get them to Avalon. Sheppard? Can you transport us?"
"Lead the way. I assume you at least know how to get there."
Ianto let the jibe slide past and bent to lift Jean-Luc; Jack helped, to Ianto's relief. Sheppard and Rhys carried Stephen, and between the five of them, loaded the three unconscious heroes into the helicopter. "Owen!" Ianto called for the doctor despite his anger, "we're going to need you at Avalon."
Tosh stopped him before they left and Ianto sighed, closing his eyes, not wanting to deal with the knowledge that he might have killed both her niece and her boyfriend. It was too much for the moment, too much to consider. They'd destroyed the threat, but at what cost? Could they have succeeded militarily instead? He'd been so willing to believe Jean-Luc that it was the only viable option. And now...
"Don't listen to Owen. They chose this, Ianto. Avalon wanted to fight."
He tried to smile, he really did. Tosh wasn't fooled, and the sympathy was far too much for Ianto at the moment. If he stared too long, he'd just sit down on the spot and weep, weep for what was lost, what might be, and what never was. It was hard to believe the battle was over; they'd only fought a day but the morning seemed a lifetime ago when Sheppard first appeared on Torchwood's doorstep and the horrors had descended once again. The horizon glowed with fire, but Cardiff still stood; Britain still stood. It should have been a victory; Ianto should have felt elation; joy, if the old Jack hadn't left, he'd have asked Jack to go out for a drink. And then to fuck him slowly on the crisp linens of Jack's bed.
But for as much as victory there was loss; and Ianto didn't know where the two met. Watching Ronon carefully lift Jean-Luc into the helicopter, it seemed as though the victory didn't matter. Not if it was at such a cost. He'd done it. He'd followed in his mother's footsteps and made the choices she made, choosing one life over another.
Ianto wished he could ask her how she lived with herself.
"Take the Rovers, meet us at Avalon." Ianto replied instead, turning away from Tosh. He climbed into the helicopter and made certain the three were secure before he strapped himself in, ignoring Owen and refusing to look out at Jack as he shut the doors on the craft.
Six collapsed, unresponsive. Probably all of Avalon.
Many questions would be sought; and Ianto feared every answer. He had no answers, not even Tosh's reassurances meant anything. Avalon had chosen to fight, but Ianto had permitted it.
He began listing the gods he knew, a prayer in every tongue to every deity across space and time, any who might listen and respond, and even those Ianto really doubted listened at all.
Pray, let Avalon be safe.
Next Chapter, Part 1